Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.

With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
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    News
    06.24 AC incoming!
    06.15 Prefect season has begun!
    06.13 Abilities, adoptables, and notes on the CML
    06.11 Prepare yourselves - June 15th is coming!
    06.09 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHARMING!
    06.03 Networking has been cleaned up.
    06.01 New skins! Not kidding!
    06.01 June reminders!
    05.31 New skins...
    05.28 Students, get to work!
    05.27 A brief activity check reminder!
    05.21 Networking spring clean imminent!
    05.15 Important info for all students and professors!
    05.06 Activity Check underway; end of year approaching.
    04.29 It's gonna be May.
    June 1887
    06.01 - 06.30 Posting Wizard
    June Writing Challenge
    06.09 Reconciliation Day
    06.17 Broom Jousting
    06.20 Irvingly Jubilee Picnic
    And More!
     
        
     
    As I Lay Dying
    #1
    See Inside... Thread 
    Joust between Lock and @Elmer Macmillan but open to spectators if you like!

    So far, broom jousting had not been either as exciting as he had anticipated, or as dangerous as Ruth had feared it would be. Hatch had gone down hard in the first round and been carted off to the infirmary, but with Lock's somewhat seasoned eye from Quidditch referreeing, he didn't really think any harm would come to him. A few bruises, maybe, but a ten-foot-fall wasn't going to kill anyone. It particularly wasn't going to kill someone after they'd survived it long enough to get transported to the hospital.

    Mostly his day had consisted of waiting around. He'd had two jousts already (technically, if you could even count the one against Kettleburn), but there were many others who had to match up, so mostly he was wandering around, watching and finding things to eat.

    Finally, it was his turn again. As he mounted his broom and took his lance Lock was fairly confident--the man on the opposite end of the run was obviously pretty posh, and didn't really have a Quidditch player's build, to say the least.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887

    #2
    Elmer didn't usually like sports activities, those were best left to his brothers. However, jousting wasn't like most sports. It had a very Romantic ring to it. Knights would joust, in the Middle Ages. They would also receive a favour from their lady, but Elmer's lady was espoused to another. At least she was here, as Elmer had very happily observed throughout the competition. It was her presence that kept him going. Who would have thought that he, Elmer Macmillan, would reach his fourth joust for the day!

    He dramatically glanced at the sun as he put on his helmet. His favourite part was removing it, really. The first round he'd been sloppy, but the next two he'd done so quite charmingly indeed. That was after he'd noticed that November was in the crowd.

    "May the best man win, Mr. Lockhart!" Elmer said dramatically, as though they were about to duel with pistols, as if they were in a Russian novel.
    [Image: ElmerSigL.png]
    #3
    Lock hadn't expected his opponent to say anything, so he was quite unprepared to reply. "Mm!" was what he managed, with a nod as he got his own light padding in place. He thought the precautions a bit unnecessary--no one in Quidditch ever wore helmets, after all--but he supposed it made people feel better. Especially since some of the participants weren't used to physical activity like this, and weren't used to having an element of danger involved in anything they did. The Lockharts, of course, had grown very used to the reality of danger on the Quidditch field, after his incident a month ago.

    With the ensemble in place, Lock shifted his lance into a better position and rose up to ten feet. He glanced out at the crowd to see whether he could spot Rue, but he didn't really have time to look too carefully before he shifted his attention back to the referee, waiting for the signal to begin the run.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887

    #4
    He caught a glimpse of November in the crowd and he tried to smile at her. Then, the referee's whistle went off. By the time Elmer took off, Lockhart's lance was already going at him. He didn't have the time to deflect it. Elmer closed his eyes dramatically.
    [Image: ElmerSigL.png]
    #5
    Well, Lock hadn't expected it to be that easy. His lance hit his opponent square in the chest, while Macmillan's didn't even touch him as it was too far left, and passed through nothing but empty air. Breaking a lance wasn't the be-all, end-all of this sort of event, and so Lock was expecting to have to set up for another run, but as he passed Macmillan, he saw the other man slip from his broom and start to fall. Lock had enough time to notice, with surprise, that his eyes were closed.

    He couldn't have seriously hurt him, could he?

    Lock slowed his broom down and cast his broken lance aside, turning to stare quizzically at the fallen man.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887

    #6
    At least November was the last thing he got to see before dying. Almost. As Elmer shut his eyes closed, he thought of November. Her regal, thin face, her moon-lit hair, her sharp and beautiful wit. She'd be better off without him, Elmer thought. She'd be free to love her husband. Mr. Malfoy could make her happier.

    His back hit the ground and Elmer grunted. That hurt. How long before he died?
    [Image: ElmerSigL.png]
    #7
    Oh, dear. The man had fallen and he hadn't gotten back up, or even really moved much. Lock would have expected at least a slight twitching by now, even if he'd broken something. Breaking something wasn't out of the question with a fall that size, even with the padding, but he couldn't have really broken anything serious, Lock thought. Nothing the healers wouldn't be able to put to rights in an afternoon.

    He couldn't have actually hurt him, Lock reasoned. But the crowd was growing a little quieter at the sight of him not moving, and Lock was starting to get uneasy. He flew over to that area, beating the referee, who did not seem overly concerned and was just walking very leisurely towards the spot. Dismounting, Lock nudged the man's arm with his foot. "H-hey," he managed to call to him.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887

    #8
    Why wasn't he dying yet? Did it really take so long for people to die? It'd seemed so quick in the books and the poems.

    Something finally happened, but it wasn't what Elmer had expected. It wasn't Death, in his black robe who'd come to take him away. It was his opponent.

    Elmer slowly opened his eyes, grimacing at the sunlight that hit him in the face. "Dying takes longer than I thought, Lockhart," Elmer informed his opponent, giving him a sad smile.
    [Image: ElmerSigL.png]
    #9
    Lock's brow furrowed. Dying? Surely he couldn't be dying. There wasn't even any blood! Wasn't that a prerequisite for death? Most of Lock's injuries had involved some amount of blood. Or being struck by lightning, but there had certainly not been any lightning involved in this joust. Even if there had been, even the lightning hadn't turned out to be fatal (though it was a closer scare than most of the other times he'd been hurt).

    Maybe there was some sort of internal broken thing, that Macmillan could feel? Maybe that was why he thought he was dying?

    Lock was no healer, but he decided to try and figure it out anyway. Crouching next to the prone man, he pushed his hand up against the other man's gut experimentally. "Hurt?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Macmillan quizzically.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887

    #10
    "Don't bother, kind man!" Elmer replied dramatically. "I am a goner. There is nothing you can do for me now."

    Well, he could get him to tell November that he loved her, but Elmer didn't want to risk her reputation. He loved her too much. She no longer had to be bound to him. With him dead, she had a chance at happiness.

    "These shall be my last words." Elmer then declared. He couldn't give any last words to November, but maybe he could, in a way, tell her that he loved her. "As I die under the June sky I wish it was November." Elmer recited. "I want it on my tombstone, Mr. Lockhart."
    [Image: ElmerSigL.png]
    #11
    Macmillan didn't really answer his question, but he also didn't immediately cry out in pain, so Lock was pretty sure there were no internal organ problems that were causing him to die a quick and painful death. Frowning, Lock turned his attention to the man's limbs, lifting and then dropping each of his arms while he monologued on about his headstone. Lock then nudged both of Macmillan's legs in turn, shaking them a little, and they, also seemed sound. For all his moaning and groaning, Lock couldn't find anything the matter with him at all.

    Lock shook his head at the request that he write down whatever he was saying about seasons for his tombstone. He normally would have tried to tell the man that he wasn't, in fact, dying, but with his painfully slow speech, all he managed was: "Y-yu-er," an approximation of you're. After that one word he got frustrated and gave up, deciding that the easier way to make the statement was to just prove it. Reaching down, he lifted Macmillan up like a child (with nearly as much ease, though he did let out a slight grunt of effort), stood, and set the man down on his feet again, assuming that from there he would stand up on his own, and all the people in the crowd could stop worrying about him.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887

    #12
    Elmer assumed that Lockhart wanted him to repeat his very clever words. "As I die und-" He couldn't finish what he was saying, because Lockhart lifted him up and then forced him to stand.

    Oh.

    But he was supposed to be dying! He felt disappointed, somewhat.

    "Are you two going to stand there all day?" the referee called out to them.
    [Image: ElmerSigL.png]
    #13
    Lock wasn't particularly inclined to stand there all day. He proved this by shrugging at Macmillan, retrieving his broomstick, and walking away.

    Silas Anthony Lockhart
    24.03.1887