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.
September 3, 1893 - Darling House, Wellingtonshire, Hogsmeade for Candidates' Tea
This event was a nice change of pace from organizing her own events. She was open and willing to talk with others, but she wasn't a socialite by any stretch of the imagination. People were being polite thus far. Sweetie had answered a few questions here and there, but mostly the day was consisting of small talk. More relaxed than a full-on rally. As a result, Sweetie was a little on the antsy side. She wanted to reach out, talk, start meaningful conversations beyond fanciful polite society chatter. Some of the candidates seemed right at home, while others seemed to be holding some level of anxiety of their own. Whether said anxiety was the same as hers, she couldn't tell.
Overall, Sweetie wasn't actively approaching the other candidates too often. She was more inclined to listen in the background and hear what they had to say. Mostly, she didn't agree on the right leaning points that a lot of them were making. They needed to move forward, not backward. It was absurd that Sweetie was confined to her brother's 'care' or being sold off for marriage, absurd that she couldn't write in her own vote, absurd that not everyone could marry those that they chose. But she tried to hold her tongue when another candidate brought it up. The debates were coming, and she would be more than happy to discuss her thoughts as time went on.
Maybe Dempsy's demeanor was rubbing her the wrong way, maybe it was the rumors that he had been trash talking several candidates — including herself. But listening to a group conversation that he was currently participating in, she soon found herself with her arms crossed and a brief roll of her eyes. Unladylike, she knew. Her chaperone/campaign manager knew as well, as Mrs. Patton gave a subtle cough and Sweetie corrected her demeanor. Clearing her own throat, a little louder than Mrs. Patton, she decided to give a bit of input. "Mr. Dempsy, please enlighten me. What experiences have given you reason to believe that you have notable qualifications? The only other two candidates that are not currently in the Ministry ranks have previous Ministry experience." She asked with a tone that was, on the surface, rather polite and innocently curious — though someone could read into the underlying annoyance if they looked for it.
Since the announcement of her candidacy, Oz had been mostly ignoring Miss Whitledge's existence, except to share in a chuckle when anyone else made a joke at her expense (which, her being a twenty-one-year-old woman, was rather frequently). They were still in the phase of the election where new candidates arose from the ether by the week, and Ozy was waiting for time to pass and a few of them to establish themselves as clear forerunners before he incorporated any of them into his campaign strategy as competitors. He rather doubted that Miss Whitledge would qualify. Not that he had anything against her personally, per ce... he didn't think he'd ever actually had a conversation with her, but had determined based on the one piece of evidence he had (her candidacy) that she was almost certainly a naive fool.
She addressed him and he turned to look at her, apparently taking notice of her for the first time (though in reality he hadn't missed her pouting a moment ago, from the corner of his eye — cute, he supposed, and who could really blame her for being moody? She was essentially still a teenage girl). He looked her over for a long moment, his expression withering.
"I reject your premise," he replied. If he considered her any serious threat to his campaign, or if he wanted to win her vote, he might have given her a lengthier answer. Since neither was the case, he left it at that and turned his attention back to the gentleman she'd interrupted, hoping she would take the hint and disappear.
Judging by her age was fine. She could live with that, even used it when it suited her. But when someone judged her based solely by her gender, it speaks more to ignorance and arrogance. A blindness towards half of the population. If Sweetie Whitledge wasn't a prideful Slytherin, she'd be rather pleased by his lack of willingness to see her as a real threat. In a few days, she would be glad to use this further to her advantage. But right now it was just agrivating. She could see it in his eyes and it took everything in her to keep her expression calm. There was, however, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
His look of mock surprise was easy to see through. More effort was needed to not desplay another eye roll. Could he be any more predictable? His overabundance in confidence was pathetic at best. The idea of him ever being a leader repulsed her. There were plenty of candidates here that she would prefer by far. If she didn't make it further in the trail, there was no way that she would back this prick.
The man that she had 'interrupted' didn't seem quick to continue whatever Mr. Dempsy was so invested in, rather than being respectful enough to answer her inquiry. "My premise? I am disappointed that any candidate would deflect an incredibly simple question so quickly." She could at least hear one or two attempts to hide a laugh somewhere in their little group. She didn't bother to look away from him. She wasn't intimidated. His look had given her no pause, nor had his attempts to avoid her question.
She couldn't take a hint; now he knew something else about her. Oz glances back towards her languidly. "I'm disappointed in how many Ministry types take such a myopic view of what qualifies someone to lead." He paused a second, then added, "And that anyone attempting to run for office would waste their breath asking simple questions. I suppose you figured you were the only one clever enough to come up with such a stinging barb?"
Take a hint? Yeah, she knew how to take a hint. She also knew how to punch a hint in the face when it was being an obnoxious twerp. Making entitled men uncomfortable was her delight. Her confidence did rise a little, her back straightening. "I am not surprised that you can't answer my question in any meaningful way. Has anyone ever told you that even a simple question can mean everything?" she gave a disappointed, small shrug, glancing around the group in a gesture to say 'how sad'. "There are, indeed, many qualifications outside of the Ministry that would lend themselves to a leadership role. Business, research, teaching, and I'm sure several others. From my recollection, you haven't listed a single valued point. Once again, I must express my disappointment."
It was pathetic that he only saw these points as a barb. Should she ever have the right to vote, these would be the questions she would begin with. Questions should be asked, that's why her rallies had plenty of times for people to ask questions. Why she was willing to ask her own questions. From potential voters, people in power, and fellow candidates. Sadly, this man was too arrogant to even try to see that. His NEWTs must have been a sad sight to see.
Oz did have research credentials to his name, and a handful of successful patents, but listing them off at this venture would make it seem as though he felt he needed to prove himself to this young woman, which he absolutely did not. Perhaps she felt as though she was making a good show of herself here, but if so her social inexperience was showing. She had accosted someone without provocation and had said nothing so far of any substance, just repeated the same tired criticism she'd probably stolen from a third-rate thinker three weeks ago.
Come back when your disappointment means anything, he thought, but saying it would be stooping to her level — pettiness for its own sake. While typically he enjoyed any opportunity to be petty, he (unlike her) had the maturity to realize doing so wouldn't have served his interests at the moment.
"As we were saying," he said to the gentlemen next to him, turning his attention pointedly away from her. "The tariffs against Spain have really done more damage to our own economy than anything..."
He may not feel as though he needed to prove himself to Sweetie, but part of her wasn't even doing it for her. One of her primary goals was to give the other guests something to think about. To hesitate and second guess the man before her. Not simply listen to everything he said and take it at face value. Mr. Dempsy's stubbornness and 'not needing to prove himself to this woman' was feeding right into her end game. Sure, some might not notice and will only see his side of things. Others, she could even see in their eyes through the sides of her vision, seemed to hesitate. Shift uncomfortably. But still, she let herself look a little disappointed. The sad little lady who had lost. But her eyes had a spark to them. They both seemed to think that they had gotten somewhere on this day. Anyone supporting either of them could very well say the same to both.
"Good day, Mr. Dempsy." she said pointedly. At least she actually presented some manners. Before he even had a chance to respond, she gracefully walked away. Privately, she gave Mrs. Patton a look and a little, prideful smile. Pity to the poor person who debated against that man. Whoever got stuck with him was going to be struggling to stay awake!
