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
    08.08 We have two PW winners for July: Soph and Beanie!
    08.07 SWP7 update for those working/in Hogsmeade
    08.05 Hogwarts updates have begun! Also, the AC is underway.
    08.01 Happy August!
    07.31 SWP meets Monthly Grouper in an opportunity to network and get some stamps.
    07.29 AC incoming et al.
    07.28 And the prefects are...
    07.23 Your stamp collection is about to get bigger!
    07.21 Calling in the banners!
    07.15 The rubble has been cleared and deadlines loom!
    07.10 Not one, not two, but THREE more stamps to add to your collection~
    07.09 New Account Change Feature!
    07.09 Disaster strikes!
    07.08 Charmers go above and beyond...
    07.07 Pop-up protest and photobucket things
    07.06 Photobucket emergency! Read me!
    07.04 A plot is afoot ;)
    07.01 July has come! Group threads are coming!
    August 1887
    SWP7 is live!
    08.01 - 08.31 Posting Wizard
    07.01 - 08.31 Camp Charming
    08.09 - 08.16 Adinbury Hunt
    08.14 Anti-Ban Protest
    08.16 - 08.23 Sanditon Regatta
    08.25 Hogsmeade Hall Dance
    And More!
     
        
     
    Stay Up Late
    #1
    Private Thread 
    After the weekend rush, the Monday workday had always felt quieter, and Basil was always home a little earlier that night than the rest of the week. Which was not to say it was early (he was usually too fussy to leave the rest of the Three Broomsticks staff until he was satisfied everything was on schedule and under control), but it did give him a little extra time to sit up at the rickety kitchen table and go through his drafts. He had spent most of the workday on the inn's book-keeping, so his mind wasn't yet tired from the switch from numbers to words, although he had to keep rubbing his eyes from the dimness of the room, and had set his lit-up wand beside his pages, the Lumos a little extra reading light.  

    He was just scratching out a few words when a door creaked open and shut, and Basil was too absorbed in his work to catch whether the footsteps had come from out of the house or simply down the stairs. Regardless, he could tell without looking that it was his son and not one of his sisters who had just joined him, and his mouth tugged in a brief smile down at his pages. "Oscar," he said in greeting, not quite able to look up from his work just yet, but also not inclined to let his son slip back off to wherever he was so soon. The holidays were the only time he actually got to see Oscar, and he liked to capitalise on that. (It helped that his son was always an ally in the house against the damned pair of harpies he called his sisters.)

    "Still some leftovers from the Broomsticks, if you're hungry," Basil added, pointing with his quill over to the pot he'd brought home, as he did sometimes. Not that he minded rustling meals up himself, but the Broomsticks fare was nothing to sniff at - what had it been tonight, mutton chops and vegetables? It was perhaps a little late to eat, he thought, glancing briefly at the clock, but the summer hours always did push his appetite back, and Oscar, well; Oscar was a teenage boy.
    @Oscar Stretton
    @Cassius Lestrange
    [Image: ItRvDO.png]
    #2
    Oscar sidled into his house from a day of various adventures. He nearly started at the sound of his name, but immediately relaxed once his brain processed it as Basil's voice. He really didn't want to run into his aunts - surely Angelica would somehow be able to tell that he drank one beer three hours ago. 

    He was also concerned that Da would be able to tell, but that was much less of a threat than Angelica was. Da would get it, probably.

    "Da," he said, "Oh, Merlin - Mutton?" Oscar grinned genuinely. Mutton was one of his favorites - (he was a fifteen year old boy, and everything was his favorite) - and traipsed over to the bowl to grab a large plate.

    He practically bounced from the pot over to his father, bowl in hand, and perched across from him at the kitchen table. "How's the writing?"
    [Image: KB18mgj.png]
    Adopt a Stretton!
    my set is by soph, the light of my life
    #3
    Not that he had been in a bad mood to start with - weary, perhaps, yes - but the mere presence of his son lifted his spirits a little, saw him sit up a little straighter. He wasn't hungry anymore himself, but Oscar's enthusiasm and the smell of the leftovers as it wafted over to the table were enough to second-guess himself. No, no, he wasn't hungry. Instead he tapped his wand on the rim of the cup before him, refilling it with water.

    "I'll have something for you in a few minutes, I think," Basil replied with a half-smile, riffling the sheets in front of him as a sign to show he was nearly finished with a chapter. He'd already planned this instalment - with his son's input here and there - weeks ago, but he was finally finished churning out it in full prose; it just needed one more once over before he owled it off to the printer. What was to happen in the last third of this knutcracker in the series (about the rogue cursebreaker, again), on the other hand, was anyone's guess, and it had been needling at Basil a while, and was where a fresh perspective might come in handy.  

    Amidst crossing the last few t's and dotting his i's, Basil paused with the quill a few inches away from the paper to pose a congenial question in return. "How're the boys?" He hadn't any idea what his son had been up to today, but he presumed Oscar was spending his summer hanging with his usual crowd of friends.
    [Image: ItRvDO.png]
    #4
    "Excellent," Oscar said cheerfully. Like his mother, he was told, he had a soft-spot for penny dreadfuls even if they were arguably the lowest form of literature. Like his father, he recognized their money-making properties. These things combined to make him a very committed editor of his father's work, and he was excited to see how this knutcracker series ended.

    "They're good," Oscar said, "I walked over to Gabe's place earlier today." Gabe lived in Pennyworth, and Oscar was quite impressed by the shiny new neighborhood even if its construction had been somewhat of a shitshow. Maybe when he was a healer they could move there - as long as he got the required O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores.

    "I think Hudson might stage a protest about the half-breeds, though," Oscar added belatedly, with a rolling shrug of his shoulders. He didn't Get the issues either way, but then he didn't get most of what Hudson yelled about. Karl Marx, and all that.
    [Image: KB18mgj.png]
    Adopt a Stretton!
    my set is by soph, the light of my life
    #5
    "Oh?" Basil asked, mostly to show he was still listening to Oscar as the boy mentioned which friend's house he had been at, because his eyes had dropped back to his papers. Gabe - the Vance boy, then; one of the families from this area who had moved to Pennyworth.

    And Hudson was one of the Pines, Basil knew that. He was nevertheless surprised to hear about the thought of a protest, and his quill paused in its scratching again.

    "He's... he's not half-human though, is he?" Basil asked, wondering if he had been paying enough attention to the kids his son was friends with. Though he did not feel outward revulsion at living in the same society as most part-humans - a good proportion of them seemed to try not to cause trouble, despite what they were - Basil did feel an instinctive dread at the thought of his son getting too mixed up with the whole halfbreed mess. His mouth only tightened into a frown at his next thought, which may prove a rather more unfair consequence of the new rules. "Or is he having trouble with his records?" How many students would be cast out because of it, projected roughly back into the Slums without the prospects they deserved?
    [Image: ItRvDO.png]