Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Show a pattern of selfish behaviour with your character. You should have at least three threads (ten posts, three+ yours) of your character doing cruel things. Character accounts cannot be combined.
Did You Know?
Queen Victoria was known for putting jackets and dresses on her pups, causing clothing for dogs to become so popular that fashion houses for just dog clothes started popping up all over Paris. — Fox
It would be easy to assume that Evangeline came to the Lady Morgana only to pick fights. That wasn't true at all. They also had very good biscuits. — Evangeline RowleinCheck Your Privilege
Owls in the dining room, though not exactly hygienic, were not an uncommon sight, particularly over breakfast. What was less common, however, was mail for Idunn Fraser, the youngest of the family. The end of July, though, brought annually the supply list from school (nothing particularly exciting), and so this was all Idunn expected when she opened her envelope.
What she got was a chunk of metal falling into her porridge.
Confused, the Ravenclaw spooned it out to get a better look.
Ewart had been faraway in thought (not unusual, particularly at breakfast) until he saw, out of the corner of his eye, his daughter spooning out a strange looking lump of porridge. Oh, and the owl was here too.
Absently, Ewart fed the creature a bit of bacon as he squinted at the porridge-covered thing. “What’ve you got there? The owl didn’t cough up a pellet in there, did he?” Ewart inquired with a chuckle - although he hadn’t heard the familiar hacking noise of a owl regurgitating, so it had probably been something else.
A finger on the porridge-y surface revealed something hard and metallic underneath; awkwardly, Idunn shook and scraped off her breakfast, her suspicions growing with each oat that fell away.
"I think it's a badge," she remarked in surprise before shutting her mouth quickly. A badge. A prefect's badge—and, Merlin help her, she'd just admitted as much aloud!
“A badge!” Ewart repeated, loudly enough to wake half the house. It took him a moment to recall how old Idunn was, and thus which year she was set to begin - less because he was a disinterested father and more because time was the oddest thing - but as he leapt up and rounded the table to get a better look at it, the badge confirmed it. A fifth year.
A fifth year prefect.
“Well I never!” he said, planting his hands on the back of his daughter’s chair to blink back his mild disbelief. “I had no idea you were such a favourite of the school authorities, Idunn!” He had presumed she and her oddball friends, like the oddball family from whence she had come, would be the sort of students to go against the grain rather than with it. But first the summer apprenticeship, and now this!
On her way down to breakfast Ailsa had been temporarily distracted – for the span of about fifteen minutes, in which time her stomach had begun to rumble quite dreadfully – but her husband’s voice cut through her reveries and drew her straight towards the source.
What was it he had said? Something about a badger?
“What have I missed?” Ailsa asked cheerily as she entered the room. “Oh Idunn, you really oughtn’t play with your food.”
Idunn's face flushed as she looked decidedly away from her father—only to make eye contact with her newly-arrived mother. The Ravenclaw could not quite bring herself to share the news aloud.
Ailsa's eyes widened with surprise. In the years since she had been at Hogwarts herself she had entirely forgotten that there even were prefects at Hogwarts and none of her other children had ever given her cause to remember the titbit.
"The first in the family," Ailsa cooed, crossing the room to lean down and wrap an arm around her daughter. "How on earth did you manage it?"
In spite of herself, Idunn found her cheeks flushing in satisfaction at her mother's praise, though she quickly shrugged off the woman's arm.
"I am an excellent student, Mother," the redhead answered matter-of-factly, though even so, she had not expected such an honour. Typically, prefects' badges tended to find themselves on the robes of wealthy, airheaded girls who would marry well and accomplish little else in their lives. That the school's leadership had seen the fog clear from their minds at least once was, in Idunn's estimation, a noteworthy occasion.
“Well, of course she is!” Ewart boomed, because he considered all their children exceptional creatures, and Idunn no exception to that rule. Like his wife, however, in the passing years Ewart had become even more oblivious to the nature of prefects than he had been whilst at school, playing Goblin Rebellions with his friends and attempting to sneak into classes in which he was not enrolled.
“What sort of special powers does the badge give you?” Ewart inquired interestedly, though his following thought was perhaps more important than the first. “And whatever shall we do to celebrate?!”
The words nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to leap from Idunn's tongue. She was happy by this development—surprised, but happy—but did not wish either parent to use it as an excuse to veer towards the ridiculous, as both mother and father were prone to doing.
"I only mean," the Ravenclaw added carefully after a beat, "that to be recognized for my achievements is quite enough; let us save the celebration for when I have performed my new duties admirably."
Attempts to evade praise, however skilfully attempted, went inevitably over Ailsa's head and though she nodded along at her daughter's suggestion - mostly in awe of how clever she was - she also disregarded the sentiment.
"Oh pish posh Idunn, you deserve a treat immediately. We would have done the same for your brother and sisters so it's only fair," placing a kiss on her daughter's forehead Ailsa locked eyes with Ewart over Idunn's head, smiling knowingly as a notion came to her that she doubted even Idunn would dislike. "Perhaps it's time you had a new cauldron?"
“Well, indeed, that or a matching sash,” Ewart said mock-seriously; he fancied Ailsa could have fashioned a frilly thing inscribed with the wording our favourite prefect in no time. That said, Ailsa knew what she was doing, and so he raised his eyebrows at their daughter, wondering whether she would be quite so quick to pooh-pooh the whole thought now. “What say you, Idunn?”
Idunn, however, for all her cleverness, could not see the way in which it was a trap, and so in spite of her wariness, she allowed a small smile on her features.
"I would so love a new cauldron," she acknowledged, thinking that the sash was probably(?) a joke and was most likely to remain that way if she did not bring it up again.
"To Diagon Alley then!" Ailsa proclaimed merrily as she took her place at the table. "A new cauldron and some lovely blue and silver fabric for a little something special from me," Ailsa added with a quick wink at her husband. She would fashion and decorate a handkerchief, nothing too ostentatious, but enough that Ailsa would know she was loved whenever she saw it. A sash would be glorious of course but she doubted it would be allowed as part of the uniform: the headmaster was a miser after all.
That settled it, then! He beamed at his wife and her talents at whatever she made - he had no doubt it would be so lovely (and not-a-sash) that Idunn would simply have to like it - and turned his smile indulgently upon their daughter once more.
“Congratulations again, Idunn,” Ewart murmured, settling back in his chair and marvelling about it all over again. First the Potions apprenticeship, now a prefectship - “Careful, dear, or you’ll be Head Girl next!”
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