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.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
Month 21st, 1891 — The Magical Portrait Gallery Opening
It was finally the opening of the Gallery and it felt like Louisa couldn't breathe. Looking out from her chosen corner she saw dozens of familiar faces but not a single one of them was living. The hours and days she spent pouring over each portrait as she'd worked with Irene to prepare the art for the opening had done nothing to prepare herself. There was no one to remove her cracked and darkened varnish to make her presentable for the public.
They even wanted her to give a lecture on conservation. Merlin, had no one told them she was the last person they should want representing the gallery? Restoring and conserving? Absolutely. Being present and visible? No. She wouldn't be the one to tell them - an innocent person wouldn’t warn their employer they had a murderous reputation, not of they wanted to keep their job. But really… had no one told them?
Her anxiety displayed only in a slightly strained, blank expression which she only managed to shake when a nearby portrait piped up. "Cheer up, you're ruining the ambiance." It was a fair critique, the portraits themselves must be quite excited for their debut and she was stood there like she was bracing to be runover by a horse drawn cart. Finally snapped out of it, Louisa drew her hands behind her back, pulling her posture into a confident frame only to realize someone was nearby and had likely heard her getting chided by the painting.
"Have you heard? She's the one that killed her husband!
They couldn't prove it... but everyone says it was her"
Gallery openings were something Ross had enjoyed more before he was the Minister. Now there was an element of schmoozing that had not been present more than a few years ago, and sometimes he just wanted to look at art in peace. He had a brief moment of peace when he heard one of the portraits chide a nervous-looking woman, and had to hide a grin behind his hand.
"Well, the portraits certainly have a personality," he joked, with an easy smile to the woman. He thought that she worked here — she had the look of someone who worked here, or else she was insane, because she was standing in front of the portraits like she worked here — but there was a familiar note about her. Ross wasn't sure — he hadn't managed to place her yet — but he was fairly confident that he recognized her. He just wasn't sure how, yet.
Her lips drew up into the light smile of a person who knew they'd been found out and was only slightly embarrassed about it. Clearly he was amused by it too but Louisa was almost surprised to realize he didn't seem to be mocking her for it. She took a step closer to make the distance between them a little more conversational.
"That they do." She agreed, hands still knotted behind her as she surveyed the portrait he was nearest. "Some with frankly, incredible timing." she shot a look at the portrait who'd called out her dreary behavior. She would not be even slightly surprised if it had waited to say something until someone was near enough to overhear. "Are you familiar with magical portraiture?" she asked lightly. She wasn’t even sure if he even wanted a conversation when he'd commented but having one person to focus on rather than an indistinct crowd was a relief, one she might as well capitalize on.
"Have you heard? She's the one that killed her husband!
They couldn't prove it... but everyone says it was her"
"I'm supposed to have my portrait taken," Ross said, with a small smile. It was true — he had to sit for a portrait before the end of his first term, and then he was supposed to talk to the portrait so that it absorbed his mannerisms. This seemed like an extremely annoying project, and so Ross had been putting it off.
He still couldn't figure out why she looked so familiar. Perhaps she had done something similar at an event for the Ministry? But, no — he was recalling her from too long ago for that. "But other than that, I must confess I am not particularly familiar."
She looked at him directly for the first time, taking in his face and general presence. He'd inspire a beautiful portrait, she concluded immediately. At least visually. What happened after the paint dried was more of a wild card.
"Then you'll soon find this for yourself but - people are sometimes surprised to learn the animation of the finished painting doesn't work like a mirror. It's a product of the painter's impressions of the sitter." She paused as if considering her next words as a subtly mischievous smile colored her face. "Don't share anything with your painter you don't want possibly reflected in your portrait's behavior."
Ross hummed at the woman's comment. "Are there any portrait artists you recommend?" he asked. She seemed like the sort of person who would have opinions on portrait artists; maybe that was why he knew her? He still couldn't figure it out.
She couldn't help but think his would be a fun portrait to paint. There was an intensity in his eyes that stood in contrast to his easy disposition that would be an interesting challenge to try and capture. A small part of her knew she was already forming opinions of him that would impact her work if she were to paint him and wondered if she should try and avoid that.
"Ms. Crawley, another conservator here, and I are both able." She offered, working to keep her tone light and neutral. "But it really depends on what you are looking for - style, medium, size... things like that. " The museum did not take issue with her painting in her own time but it couldn't be a good idea to advertise that too strongly while in the actual museum. She didn't want to get fired that quickly.
"Have you heard? She's the one that killed her husband!
They couldn't prove it... but everyone says it was her"
The woman he was talking to did portraits. This was very convenient for him. "A medium-size portrait is most appropriate for the Ministry," Ross said; this was true from what he had heard, although he did not understand much of the details of the portrait. It ranked consistently low on his priority list, for all he needed to deal with it before the next election.
"If you could send some samples to my assistant," he said, "That would be most helpful."
Ross wasn't sure that Miss Binns had any more expertise than he did, but she at least had the details written somewhere.
His mention of the Ministry cleared up any questions she had for what sort of portrait he was needing. Portraits of office were very particular, in an unwritten sort of way. They almost always had a strong focus on the face with just enough shoulders ground the whole thing and a neutral but subtly varied background.
She nodded, easily picturing a rectangular frame around him in the dimensions of such a portrait. "I can do that. Where would I find your assistant?" His face may have seemed some what familiar to her but she definitely had no idea who his staff was.
"Have you heard? She's the one that killed her husband!
They couldn't prove it... but everyone says it was her"
Ross considered. Either Macmillan or Miss Binns would do for this question, and while it would be more entertaining to make Macmillan look at samples, he thought that Miss Binns would likely be more useful for it. He was not particularly emotionally invested in the outcome of his portrait, but he didn't want it to be bad, either. So: the decision was made.
"You'll want to contact Miss Juliana Binns," Ross said, "She's the secretary for the Office of the Minister."
She repeated the name he gave a few times in her mind, knowing it would be a while before she could get somewhere to write it down. It was such an unexpected turn of events that she didn't even really register that he mentioned the office of the Minister.
"I'll see it done." she said with a nod.
"Have you heard? She's the one that killed her husband!
They couldn't prove it... but everyone says it was her"
