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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    01.11 I've got a bit of a reputation...
    01.06 AC underway, and a puzzle to solve!
    01.01 Happy new year! Have some announcements of varying importance.
    12.31 Enter the Winter Labyrinth if you dare!
    12.23 Professional Quidditch things...
    12.21 New stamp!
    12.20 Concerning immortality
    12.16 A heads up that the Secret Swap deadline is fast approaching!
    12.14 Introducing our new Minister of Magic!
    12.13 On the first day of Charming, Kayte gave to me...
    12.11 Some quick reminders!
    12.08 Another peek at what's to come...
    12.05 It's election day! OOC, at least.
    12.04 We have our PW winners for November!
    12.02 New Skins! In less exciting news, the AC is underway.
    11.27 AC Saturday and election next week!
    11.21 A glimpse at post-move changes.
    11.13 This news is not at all big. Do not bother with it.
    Halloween Ghosts
    Halloween night.

    Topaz wasn't much of an artist, compared to her sister Ruby, at any rate. Even so, she'd spent the entire day either sleeping or sketching. Sleeping, because the night before had exhausted her--they always did. She had been through enough of them now to recognize patterns, and knew that unless something changed dramatically in what happened to her during the full moons, they probably always would. She had spent the rest of her day sketching for a different reason. She never had to go to her lessons, either the Muggle ones in the morning or her tutoring session with Mr. Forfang in the afternoon, on the days in between full moons, so she could do with the time what she wanted. Today, she'd been drawing Halloween costumes.

    She wasn't very good at sketching, so it wasn't really about how to drawings ended up looking. It had more to do with the process of drawing them--because they were all Halloween costumes designed for her, and as she sketched them out, Topaz allowed her mind to wander to a parallel timeline where she was at Hogwarts, surrounded by her friends, and she had the leisure to worry about what she would dress as for Halloween. In her mind she ate pumpkin tarts and went to those club parties where she was too shy to talk to anyone besides the girls in her year, and she clung to the edges of the group and drank punch and no one knew or cared who she was. Topaz wasn't the focus of anything, she was just another person, just another little girl, in a crowd of the same, and she could hide behind the masks she designed and pretend that that was real life.

    No matter how many sketches she did, though, real life remained implacable. She had ended up here again, just as she had the previous night, and three weeks previously, and three weeks before that. She'd said goodbye to her father--who stayed through the night, even though she wished he would go home--and been handed off to the stern lady who chained her up, and now here she was again.

    Topaz kept her eyes on the floor as she walked into the cell. She didn't look directly at the chains in the middle of the room; she never did. This place always made her feel small--even before she'd spent a night here, when she'd just been touring it with Mr. Fisk, it had made her feel small, and the impression had not diminished through familiarity. No matter how many years she had to come here, Topaz thought it would probably still be awful.

    She didn't look at the woman as she slipped the robe off of her shoulders, her scars from previous full moons still standing out white and raised on her skin despite the weeks in which they should have healed or faded. She had the sensation that the lady was judging her for her scars; that she thought them ugly. They were ugly.

    "I guess someday you won't be able to see my skin anymore," she commented in a sort of sulky murmur. "If I keep getting this many scars."

    @Hyacinth Sprout

    The things they made her do... Hyacinth thought rather morously as she accompanied the rather quiet girl to her cell for the night. She of course was used to all the random errands that she was sent on, often because as she possessed female genitalia and most of her department, and its numerous divisions, did not in addition to her normal tasks there were things that they could not do respectably that she found herself saddled with.

    The again it wasn't as if she fully expected them to give the tasks to Mrs. Skeeter, the Assistant Head. She tried to imagine the formidable woman accompanying a scared fourteen year old to be chained in preparation for the roughest night imaginable and tried to stop the smile come to her lips. It really wasn't appropriate.

    The matter was far too serious as the former Minister of Magic, and current member of Wizengamont would not find it amusing and she had to be on her best behaviour, given the gravity of his daughter's illness. The man, after all would be here all night, though so would she - and while the first few nights she'd decided that being at work meant she had to actually work... now she mostly spent the nights of the full moon occupying herself with her reading and research not too far away that if something were to happen she could... well, alert the correct people to handle it though on such a night it was likely that they too were out and about to prevent a full on outbreak of the antisocial disease.

    Somebody really should be working on a cure, she mused and was still pondering such things when they arrived at the cell and the girl began to strip as was their routine. It was such reason that she, Hyacinth Sprout, and not one of the men of the Werewolf Division, was given the task of helping the young girl with the task because for proprieties sake being along with a young witch was simply not done.

    Such a painful thing for such a young person to go through (though she was barely a decade younger than Hyacinth), she said perusing the scars without much emotion. She'd read recently that Calendula was being used by some brewers for skin conditions and wondered if it'd work on scars created by the Werewolf transformation or if that too would prove ineffective just like so many other potions or ingredients did when faced with the magical malady.

    "I doubt it," Replied Hyacinth abstractedly, pondering whether it was worth trying to brew, or if she'd prefer to spend her time elsewhere. There was another article that she'd read recently about how the use of apple in a pepper up potion seemed to amplify it's properties and given the fact that there was no end in sight for her long nights a nice potent pepper up potion seemed more worthwhile.

    "You've probably never met many werewolves but from Ive heard many are able to hide in plain sight. They get brought in every now and then and I'll assure you despite hiding their condition for years they all look normal and in complete possession on their skin. though granted," she, explained, not really thinking as she shook out the dress briskly "I do get to see more of yours then theirs."
    Topaz was mildly surprised by the longer explanation. She'd become accustomed to a sort of silence reigning between the two of them as they went about this unfortunate business. Now, though, she couldn't remember whether that was because the lady had seemed actually unwilling to speak, or whether no one had tried to start a conversation before.

    Regardless, Topaz wasn't much bolstered by the idea of other werewolves being able to hide in plain sight. She was a bit touchy about the subject of werewolves hiding at all, given what had happened to her, and since she'd never had the opportunity to hide her own condition, it was easy to her to fall into the habit of condemning everyone who did. Whatever her father's thoughts on the subject might have been, Topaz had never been able to think clearly enough to decide whether she wanted to remain hidden away or not, which gave her, at least in her own mental palace, the moral high ground over those who went lurking through the countryside on full moons and just hoped for the best.

    It was also a bit of a touchy subject since those werewolves had one thing in common that she felt might prevent them from getting so many scars. They had room to run, which was what the Monster wanted. They might not be chained up in the center of a basement room with bars on the door. She'd brought that point up to her father, but to no avail; if he was still able to exercise any of his sway at the Ministry in her support, he seemed unwilling to do so in this case. She was stuck with the chains, stuck with the cell, and stuck with the scars.

    "They don't have to get chained up, I bet," she retorted. "I read that there aren't as many scars if it gets to run around." She hadn't read that. At least, not in a book. She was hardly going to bring up her letters with the mysterious werewolf, though - to this woman, or to anyone. Sometimes she even regretted having told Ruby.

    Hyacinth's eyebrows rose at the retort. Theoretically the girl could be right, the scars came from chaining of the beast because it struggled to be get out and be free however...

    "I hope you don't say such things where other people can hear, Miss Urquart. There's enough anti-werewolf sentiment going around that I'm sure even your father may find it hard to deal with the consequences of somebody thinking you intended to run freely and possibly infect somebody else." Hyacinth caught herself in her rebuke.

    "And I'm sure a great many of them, at least the ones that wish to hide in plain sight, do indeed chain themselves for who could say what it would do if left to run in the wild or if it came across anybody else on its run. I hope you wouldn't want to take the chance of possibly infecting somebody else with the affliction that you seem so fond of." She tried to seem stern, because as the responsible adult it was obviously her job to ensure that Ruby didn't follow such flights of fancy. Especially when they could have such disastrous results. And if the walls had ears.... at least she tried.

    Really though, what sort of reading had such an impressionable girl at such a critical age found? Telling her that she could reduce the scarring by running free. She'd have more luck with a sedative or knockout pill or going somewhere where the sun barely set or the moon couldn't be seen since it was likely the transformation itself created a great many of the scars. Or even doing some research into healing potions and ointments to be applied afterwards, though Hyacinth doubted that the particular combination of ingredients that would be werewolf-tolerant would be published anywhere because that would be almost a confession to either knowing or being a werewolf.
    Topaz huffed angrily as the woman chastised her. It was fine for her to talk all high-and-mighty about how all responsible people ought to just deal with dozens of new scars every night. She didn't have to have them! And Topaz had hardly been suggesting that she go for a jaunt around town on a full moon, though the secretary seemed to think that she was one step away from becoming a wild murderess.

    Most people probably thought that, though. She was a werewolf, after all.

    "Nevermind," she said hotly, and continued to undress in a stormy silence.