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.
Garrison Thwamp had lost count of how many competitions he had judged in his five-score career. As was always the case, however, the potioneer had brought with him a spark of wit to accompany his wealth of knowledge and decided air of haughtiness—after all, he could find his next apprentice in the batch of upper-year students before him
(Stranger things had happened.)
"I expect that this is not the first competition for any of you," he stated matter-of-factly, "and so I shall not waste your time with preamble. You may begin your Hiccoughing Solution!"
Hermia was bubbling more than her potential potion as she awaited instruction. Next to Quidditch matches, meeting newly sorted Hufflepuffs, and the annual Dueling Competition (alright, and maybe exams), the annual Potion Brewing Competition was her favorite event. She'd loved watching the NEWT competition in previous years and finally, it was her turn! This year meant potions from memory and Hermia was in her element. It was about time her ridiculous memory was helpful for more than History of Magic.
Hermia jumped into preparation as soon as she was set loose. Running through the potion and its properties, its similarities to other potions in its classification, Hermia hummed softly to herself as she worked through her memory toward the pale yellow glow of a completed Hiccoughing Solution. After finishing her work and stepping back for critique, Hermia was all smiles as she saw the work around her. She loved magic.
The Hiccoughing Solution was actually amongst the ones Seneca had bookmarked as 'useful for when I'm a debutante'. Her thinking had been that if there was another deb who posed a threat to her at the social game, she could use the potion to sabotage her.
Other than that, she thought it a silly potion.
She worked in a clean and methodical way, keeping her working space extremely organized as she worked. When she was finished, she wiped her hands on a towel and stepped back, awaiting the Mr. Thwamp's critique.
As soon as they were free to work on their potions, Angelique moved quickly, arranging her ingredients before actually beginning the potion. She kept her workspace rather neat, though of course, it was potions, one of the messier disciplines of magic. Effort would keep things from getting out of hand.
Once the contents of her cauldron were the proper shade, she stepped back, hands clasped in front of her as she waited politely for critique.
He was not quite the potions prodigy Idunn was, but at least he had done well enough to keep taking at NEWT level. There was something meditative in being able to do something practical without needing to stress about it or worry about saying anything: all chopping and stirring and careful observation.
He had zoned out a little during the all the stirring. Now noting he had not been amongst the first to finish, Nelson narrowed his eyes at his own mixture, gently letting it simmer until he was as happy as he could be with his efforts, at which point he stepped away.
Much like his poison-happy mother before him, Potions was Sages expertise. It was an area in which he typically shone though he was very aware that he was up against fellow talented budding Potioneers. He did not allow this to shake him, working at his usual level and patiently waiting to see who would be eliminated in the first round once he had finished.
Narcissus concentrated on brewing his potion, trying his best not to note the talents he was up against. He was determined to put forth his best efforts. He was the last to finish but he was confident that he had done well.
Well. It seemed as though neither Miss Farbridge nor Messers Laurent and Higgs would be joining the Guild any time soon. While none of the potions were an outright disaster—indeed, young Mister Macnair's in particular was flawless—the trio were far enough off the mark that Thwamp expected their brews were as likely to kill him as to give him hiccoughs.
With the rejected potions cleared away and their brewers bid farewell, Thwamp addressed the three who remained.
What a development! Hermia wasn't surprised at the quality of her potion, but being the last sixth year standing with the two older Slytherins was quite the compliment. Quietly wishing both Miss Lestrange and Mr. Macnair good fortune on their next round, Hermia turned her focus inward. Time to give her best for Hufflepuff, sixth years, and herself.
Taking the time to jot out the steps on the provided parchment before she touched a thing, Hermia relaxed a bit when she saw the steps clear before her. It wasn't a potion brewed often this term, but Hermia loved it for all of the colors it went through and the sunshine and rainbows it gave off at the finish. Could there be a more Hufflepuff potion?
Working methodically through the steps, Hermia's mood improved as she went. Was it the potion's vapors or just the joy of the work? It was hard to tell but by the time she finished, Hermia already felt irrationally happy.
Sage was not too surprised when both himself and his cousin passed the first round alongside a Hufflepuff prefect. He could accept a defeat more easily if it came at the hand of Senecas victory. Putting both girls out of his mind, Sage set about brewing his potion. Once he was done, he stepped back.
Seneca expected nothing less than to pass onto the next stage of the competition. It was with calmness and confidence that she started brewing the second potion. So sure she was of herself, that she didn't think much about having finished last.
Miss Bonaccord's burnt-orange coloured concoction certainly did not induce euphoria within Thwamp who, regrettably, had no choice but to dismiss the only member of his former house in this particular grouping.
"And finally," he announced to the remaining would-be potioneers, "a love potion antitode. You may begin."
A love potion antidote... with all the mishaps that had happened over the years thanks to Amortentia or similar, Sage figured people must be clamoring to be skilled at this potion. It was just himself and his cousin now, which he had expected to happen. Even so, he paid her little mind as he set about brewing the antidote.
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