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
He was first to the meeting, which was habitual. The meeting itself was also an habitual one, a fortnightly liaison between Law Enforcement higher-ups, office heads and HODs; Evander was refamiliarising himself with the notes he had to share from his office and the other points scheduled on the agenda while he waited. Habit suggested everyone else would be four to thirteen minutes late.
“Good morning,” Evander said automatically, glancing up from his (habitual) seat at the table when the door opened. His eyebrows swiftly knitted together. “... Zelda? Is everything alright?”
He was halfway out of his seat already. Something must have happened to someone: Alfred had died, or Caroline was in labour (– she was due in just a few weeks, so Evander would be tightly-wound for just as long –), and Zelda was already taking much too long to answer him. She ought to be quicker in an emergency.
Zelda Darrow, and then open to anyone in the DMLE who could feasibly be invited to the meeting
Zelda could have told Evander that she was coming back to the Ministry by now. She certainly talked to Caroline Darrow often, and she knew that their departments would interact. (Misusing muggle artifacts was also, usually, an improper use of magic.) However, she had decided that it would be funnier if he found out at work. Today, her patience would pay off.
She stepped into the room exactly on time and smiled brightly at Evander, feeling only a little bad for her brother-in-law getting out of his seat. "I certainly believe so," Zelda said cheerfully. She took a seat on the opposite side from Evander, and two seats down — (she wanted to observe him, but not stare at him the whole meeting) — and raised an eyebrow at him.
She had sat down. She had sat down. That did not seem to be the action of a person who had made a mortifying mistake. Dumbstruck and dumbfounded, Evander sat back down in his own chair and compulsively straightened the parchment in front of him.
He peered at her again, aware that he was staring. She seemed relaxed; no, she seemed cheery. A new part of the picture registered in his brain, and he said it aloud, stupidly, “...You’re wearing Ministry robes.”
She was wearing Ministry robes. And she was in his meeting room.
Zelda could not entirely halt her expression; the corners of her mouth curled up in a sly smile. "Did my husband not inform you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him — as if she had not asked Alfred to avoid telling Evander until Zelda was able to witness him discovering it.
Evander scowled – although in truth he was pleased to have someone to pin the blame on, and his brother had never once disappointed him in that regard. “His owl must have gotten lost in the post. So you’re – working, again?” He said swiftly, lest she think he had taken leave of his logic so fully that he could not still put two and two together.
(He thought Zelda working was a bad idea, obviously, because she had children and an unreliable husband to worry about – but no one had asked him for advice about it.)
But if she was working, that still did not explain why she had walked into the meeting for heads of office.
She was going to have to tell Alfred about Evander's scowl. He would love this.
She nodded in response. "Have you heard of the turnover in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?" she asked. She was sure that her brother-in-law would be most displeased once he found out what her role was. They were going to have to work together on a regular basis!
“I heard that there was a new...” replacement for the office head, but... His stomach dropped out. His blood ran cold. His fingertips had frozen mid-straightening his quill as the notion sank in. Zelda Fisk (Darrow), Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?! She had been in Catastrophes, she had never managed anyone... Hadn’t there been anyone else?
Evander smoothed his expression, hopefully before he could look too panic-stricken. “Well,” he said weakly, reaching out to shake hands with her entirely out of habit and not at all because he had meant to in this case, “Congratulations?”
Evander's face, briefly, did a particular thing that Zelda was going to have to try to mimic later. She smiled. She knew that this would not be a reaction that came singularly from Evander — she was working and she had small children at home — but she was, above all, happy with what she would be doing here.
Also, she had always liked shocking people — as long as she could control for what was shocking them.
''Thank you," she said, cheerful. "Looking forward to working together."
Oh, dear lord. The shock of the moment having settled slightly, Evander’s mind also turned to the long term – the long term wherein they would be obliged to collaborate on the occasional operation. Merlin. Probably more than the occasional operation. Did Alfred know? (Surely he did, which begged the question: why had Alfred not dissuaded her from this?)
She was pleased about her position, or amused by this – Evander failed to see what was funny. He glanced at the door (he would be pleasant about it the moment anyone else came through, and bury all his bile), and then glanced at her again, mouth a little taut at the corners. Just in concern. Well-intentioned concern. He cleared his throat, and lowered his tone. “Are you certain you will manage?” True, it was not as though she were heading up Accidents & Catastrophes, but even the Misuse office had its trials – “It can be a taxing position, at times. And what with –” he gestured vaguely at her, thinking a woman’s emotions, “your duties to the children, and if Alfred goes underway again...?” Merlin, surely Alfred wouldn’t be so irresponsible as that. Both of them working, and what? Their children left to grow up feral, probably. It was bad enough they lived at a beach resort.
Zelda raised her hand so she could hide her nose and mouth behind it — she did not want Evander to see her wrinkling her nose at him. She was going to have to tell Alfred of his brother's concerns, in regards to her managing — he was so traditional in comparison to Alfred that sometimes it still shocked her that they were related.
She lowered her hand and smiled gently at Evander. "I'm certain that Alfred and I will be able to handle things," she said brightly, "But thank you, brother."
Evander did not share her certainty or her confidence. Perhaps that was clear: in spite of his best efforts, he was not sure he had managed to disguise the doubt written on his face.
And if he asked Alfred (he was never going to bother asking Alfred), he was sure he would get the same answer, but that was no comfort at all. He would just have to ask Caroline her opinion (her honest opinion), then, and relieve himself of his concerns in a safe space there.
“Well, I – admire your optimism,” Evander said, about three beats too late to sound genuine. Perhaps Caroline could go visit them without compunction – and see how they were really getting on, a few months down the line. And – with Caroline as witness of his concerns – Evander was sure he would, sooner or later, be proved right.
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