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.
"I saw Tycho Dodonus watering what looked like a cut of Devils Snare on his front porch. He was singing some song I had never heard before to it."
It wasn't said to him and he had to remind himself several times as they continued that he wasn't in that conversation. He shouldn't have even been listening. He couldn't ask are you sure it was devil's snare? or how did he look, how was he doing? or which song was it?
A few months ago if he'd overheard this he would have known what song, he thought. He would have been able to picture Tycho on his porch and known how long his hair was and what he was probably wearing and which song he'd gotten stuck in his head recently. Then he would have known; now he would have had to ask.
Huh. Tycho might have expected a letter shortly after being rescued from the pit but that had been some time ago. He was unsure what prompted this newest missive. Though he supposed perhaps Ford was just missing him as much as Ty always missed Ford.
xx, 1894
Dearheart
I did not die after falling into that pit so I suppose one might call that doing well. That sure taught me to be out and about on Sunday mornings where I am meant to be quite asleep.
Are you well?
Ever yours, Ty
enclosed with a Pink camellia (longing for you)
Can we dance like we're all alone
Stop the time and make it still
Hold you like I always will
Not really, no, Ford thought as he twirled the camellia between his fingers, Tycho's letter in his other hand. Never, while I'm here and you're there.
It was thoughtless of Ty to sign the letter ever yours, because now Ford couldn't keep it. Shouldn't Tycho have known he would want to cling to this, to any remaining scrap of him?
Well enough, considering? He was not sure what that was supposed to mean. Then again, he had seen Ford looking like the attentive husband at some events. Like that time at the Coming Out Ball. While he was here, his roof still a resolute mourning black.
xx, 1894
Dearheart
Good to hear. I think you are the adaptable sort so I guess it is unsurprising.
I have a Devils Snare now. I've named it Venice.
Ever yours, Ty
enclosed with a raven feather (from his animagus form)
Can we dance like we're all alone
Stop the time and make it still
Hold you like I always will
That's a romantic name for something that could kill you. But anyway — I just wanted to hear how you were doing. Now I know, so — I'll see you, I suppose.
Enclosed is a poem; not handwritten. It appears to have been duplicated via a spell from a library book; page numbers are visible in the bottom corners.
