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 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
With the same account, complete eight different threads where your character interacts with eight different usergroups. At least one must be a non-human, and one a student.
Did You Know?
Braces, or suspenders, were almost universally worn due to the high cut of men's trousers. Belts did not become common until the 1920s. — MJ
November 20th, 1893 — Rowle Residence, Wellingtonshire
For nearly two months, Seraphina had managed to avoid seeing her father. It was easy enough. As far as she knew, he was not mobile yet, and she had no reason to take an abundance of interest in his health. After all, she had never shown much interest in anything before. (She did feel bad for Miranda and Robert, who had to see him due to their own positions, but not bad enough to do so herself.)
But as the days and weeks stretched on, it became hard to justify avoiding her father. She had no desire to visit the Rowle Residence or the Castle, but some looks from her household staff indicated to Sera that she usually went to the Castle more than she was. And she did not want to care, but Henry had mentioned it to her the other day, and Sera said that she had plans to visit her father on Monday before she could think better of it, because she did not want Henry to pay attention to why she had not seen her father.
And now she was worried that if she did not visit Algernon Rowle, her husband would somehow find out about it. And — technically, logically — her husband, with a wand and all of the legal rights over her, posed more danger. But emotionally, seeing her father was so much worse. She remembered eye contact, and then the fifteen years of being Under, and she found herself wishing that the stroke had killed him so she could have her very complicated feelings about him without having to see her father.
She took the floo to the house in Wellingtonshire, gave her coat to the housekeeper, and took her time on her way to her father's room. Seraphina did not think that she had ever been in her father's bedroom before. The office, certainly — but his room felt strange, like an invasion. She hesitated outside the door.
But if it was strange to avoid him after saying that she would see him, it was stranger to hide in the hallway and avoid him. Her heart thumped, swift and anxious, in her chest. She turned the handle, felt for her wand in her pocket, and stepped into her father's room.
"Father," Sera announced. Her voice was shrill to her own ears. She took two steps in, and stopped. "It's Sera."
If there was good news to be had, Algernon thought, it was that his health didn't seem to be getting worse. He was still confined to his bed, which was frustrating in the extreme. He was so used to being in control of his life, and now he could not even control his own body. If this went on for much longer--and Algernon had no reason to think it wouldn't continue for some time--he was likely to completely lose his mind.
He'd regained enough movement to sit up--assisted, of course--and to turn the pages of a book in his lap, neither of which was ideal. Never in his life had he ever been so sedentary--or so given to complaining. The sooner he could rise from this bed, the sooner his life could get back to some semblance of normal. He was unwilling to entertain any other possibilities.
The door opened, and one of his children entered--Seraphina. If Algernon thought he would have more visits from all of his children, it was just one frustration of many at the moment. "Daughter," he said, because Seraphina was too long for him to manage at the moment--and nicknames were for children and imbeciles. "Come."
She had not expected him to speak. Sera's chest tightened; she did not want to obey. But she could not flee this room so swiftly after appearing, and her father was still bed-bound — it was unlikely that he had been able to acquire a wand, at least not a working one. She was safe. She just did not feel as if she was.
She took several steps towards the bed, looking more graceful than she felt, until she was at the foot of her father's bed. "Would you like me to sit by your side?" she asked. Perhaps he would be too tired — but Sera knew that was too much to hope for. "You're looking better."
(She had not visited when he was comatose; so she had to assume he was looking better.)
Well, yes, he should hope so, Algernon thought. He shuddered to think what he might have looked like while he was out of commission--he refused to think of himself as still out of commission, bed-ridden or not.
"Yes, sit," he said, nodding to the best of his capability. "Tell me--" he began, then faltered. After a moment of struggle, Algernon made a frustrated sound and then said, holding out his hand, "Paper."
(His hand-writing was atrocious, but it was better than nothing.)
She walked across the room, and sat down primly in the seat next to her father's bed. She should have expected he'd have a request; indeed, when her father asked, Sera nodded, like it was inevitable.
Sera had a notebook in her bag; a new addition, since she had come out from being Under. She ripped a blank piece of paper out of the binding and offered it to her father. She hated herself for being so obedient; she had never resisted her father, not even before the curse.
There, now. With frustrating slowness, Algernon scratched out his feeble request on the paper Seraphina handed him. He was stronger than he'd been when he first awoke, but he was still extremely limited. He wanted to know what was going on outside his bedchamber. He could ask Mrs. Banges, he supposed, but Algernon didn't trust the nurse to not do something like lie out of some misplaced notion about not upsetting him.
So he wrote Tell me what has been happening. on the paper and set it down on his lap where his daughter could easily read it, and he could easily take it up again to write something else.
Sera read the question. Her tongue felt leaden in her mouth. What should she tell him? She didn't want to tell him anything real; speaking about her siblings felt like a violation.
She swallowed. "Philippa and my Algernon started at Hogwarts," Sera said, the first thing she could think of. "Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."
Algernon nodded. Good, good. He didn't particularly care about his grandchildren as individuals, obviously--it would be rather hypocritical of him if he did, and, somehow, he was self-aware enough to know that--but it was good to know that the next generation of the family was progressing as expected. Even if it was the part of the next generation that mattered less--Philippa, for being a girl, and young Algernon for not being a Rowle. Still. One less thing to worry about was still one less thing, even if it was small compared to the rest. What else? he wrote.
Sera shifted in her seat. She had known that would not satisfy her father; what could she tell him now? She swallowed. "Have you heard anything from Philip?" she asked. She did not want to get anyone in trouble, but she doubted that Flip would be here anytime soon — he felt like a safer target than Edwin or Robin.
Algernon frowned. No, he wrote. He had heard nothing from Philip, and he wasn't sure if that was cause for concern. Or rather, he wasn't certain it was more cause for concern than the distressingly long list of concerns Algernon already had. Is there news about him?
Sera ran her tongue along the front of her teeth. "He's made an investment recently," she said, mild — maybe her father would not pry? (She did not believe this.)
Investments. Under normal circumstances, that absolutely would have been something that Algernon would have been aware of--and guiding along. The fact that Philip was making investments without him was... worrying, but Algernon didn't know how worrying it was compared to everything else that currently plagued him. What kind of investment?
Sera pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. "He purchased a Quidditch team," she said, airy — and watched carefully to see what their father would do next. Philip wouldn't go to see him, he wouldn't — so Seraphina was sure that she was not causing any real harm.
A quidditch team. A fucking quidditch team. What was happening in his family? What other disasterous nonsense were his children getting up to without him to guide them?
Algernon tried to write something down--something, anything--but his hands were shaking too violently suddenly to manage even that feat of communication.
Even with her father indisposed, Sera balked at his anger — she drew back in her seat to create a tiny fraction of space between them. His hands were shaking. "Father," she said, "Shall I get the nurse?"
No, he did not want the bloody nurse. Still, Algernon jerked his head in a nod and turned away from his daughter, hoping that some semblance of control might return by the time Mrs. Banges arrived.
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