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.
He’s reeling from his interactions with Foxwood and the need to run with his tail between his legs is overwhelming. He’s already penned a letter to Headmaster Black to resign from his post, he just needs to head to Gringotts first to ensure the goblins would allow him to crawl back and beg for forgiveness. Desk duty doesn’t sound awful, and it was in London far from the reaches of the castle. Gus will have to wait for his personal weekend to have any moving parts, probably nearer to Halloween than now, and he wasn’t sure he’d last that long with all the thoughts in his head.
So he sits down at his desk and pens a letter, the words shakier than normal as he does his best to keep himself from shattering. It’s short and some of the ink has blotted in places on the parchment, and the letters are smeared from having not waited to fold it before sending it.
Of course we will see each other on the 10th, early evening, say 4pm?
But darling, what has happened that makes you write to me in such a frightful way? I’m afraid waiting ten days sounds unbearable at this point. I know your schedule is demanding, but write to me often, won’t you? Each day so I know you won’t keep me waiting.
And remember what we’ve talked about. You and I are the same when it comes to these things. So no rash or sudden decisions, yes? Can’t pivot until we find our footing. And you have two left feet, you’re bound to need more time.
Tell me about your day. Perhaps something silly. Here is mine: The other day Julian decided to be inconsolable, sobbing over how I “refused” to turn off the sun so that his pumpkin candle would light up. Spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in his fort with my darkness charm, telling his pumpkin that I’m a monster. The nerve of this little gremlin.
Four works. I can also do this Saturday, same time, same place if you're free? I have a free weekend. You're right. Ten days is a long time.
I don't even know how to explain this in letter, but I feel like my heart was ripped out of my chest. It's hard to breath, to think, and I know you said no rash decisions but I may have already made one? I wrote a letter at least. Unsent. With intentions to do so when I can.
Aw, Julian is so funny. How dare you not turn off the sun for him, Sophia Voss. I'm glad that you were able to appease him. You should enchant it to talk to him. Or smile at him. I have nothing funny to share. But a friend gave me a baby niffler and he's so tiny that I can carry him around in my pocket right now; he likes to bundle himself in my scarf when we're going to sleep. He snores something terrible for such a little thing. He's all out of sorts right now because QB has it and well... I guess I should probably buy another one.
I feel much better seeing you sooner, so this weekend it is. But I insist you still write regularly until we meet, okay?
As for the other letter… you can bring it, I can proof it if you’d like. Make your decision sound well and final. Although don’t send it. Nothing good comes from a hastily sent letter. Trust me.
My dear Gus, that niffler sounds outrageous. That does count as something silly though I know you are being very serious. Does he have a name? And must I strangle QB to retrieve The Scarf? (It’s that ratty one you’ve kept since year three now, isn’t it? )
Ok. This weekend. Four PM. Hog's Head. Regularly, well... I'll try. We both know it's not my strongest suit, but I can try to send something out with breakfast.
Er. I don't think you'll like it. But if you want to look at it, you can. It would probably be best if you did, actually. So you can tell me it's a bad idea. And I do trust you, with my life. And my life choices. I guess I need you to tell me if it's a good idea? Bad idea? I don't even know what I want right now. I just don't want to be here.
His name is Phil, after nothing in particular. And yes, that scarf although I don't think it's ratty. Just.... well loved. No, please don't strangle QB. It's time for a new one, isn't it? I got that one my first year and well, I don't want Phil's little paw to get stuck in one of the holes. Not that it has any! Well-loved. It's well-loved.
I plan on bringing the rest of my Zalatimo Sweets to share while I tell you my woes. Oh Sof, I wish you could have been there to know the details.
I shall meet you this weekend then, and expect your post each morning until! It will be excellent to have a bit of reading material as I go through my warm ups. And I will dream fondly of these zalatimo sweets until we meet too. You know how much I loved them last time.
It is terribly inconvenient that we cannot telepathically communicate at this stage in our relationship. Worse that I cannot be there to give you a great big hug of comfort in person. You are being awfully opaque in your letters about what is the matter Gus, which is unlike you (and why I confess that I am very worried). Though I believe after all these years I might have some idea as to what is going on. I will leave it until our meeting for you to confirm or deny my hunch.
At any rate, we’ll get to the bottom of this and sort out what you truly want. Of course I insist on looking at your letter. Of course it is better that I do! You know I’ll do anything to help, right? More than anything.
Phil is a ridiculous name for it, although I do enjoy the image of him rolled up in your rattybeloved old scarf. It pains me that you’ll hold onto something so ancient however. I never took you for such a sentimental type. Since when has this been your condition?
Well, don’t get hurt during your warmups when you have to pause when you’re doing to figure out a word. I think I will plan on spending some of Christmas in Egypt, to restock. I’m staying. I’ll try to come back. Promise. Cross my heart & hope to die.
Oh darling, if you could read my thoughts sometimes you’d be appalled. It’s probably for the best you can’t, but I’ll take a hug. And well…. I guess the big points were QB finally said I love you (and I can die happy now, because I’ve waited so long to hear it), but I winded up walking away from him.
I have regretted it every second since. I feel like I had to do it to protect myself. I actually considered taking a wife just to be done with this whole thing but I don’t think I could do that to anyone. Plus now I have a tiny piece of hope but I think I ruined everything.
Well, I don’t think that. I know that. I think I need you to tell me that but it’ll be easier when I can start from the beginning.
Phil is a fantastic name. And the scarf Soph is a reminder that I’m invincible. And if I have to wear these forsaken professor robes I might as well wear something I like. They’re so stiff and uncomfortable. And I trip over the damn thing all the time. I’d rather wear just the well-loved scarf and nothing more.