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.
Head of the Research Committee & Sponsor of the Falmouth Falcons
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A shiver caught Philip at the back of his neck when the knock came at the door, dragging him, like the others, back to the problem at hand.
He even let Robin speak without interruption (though maybe that was because he was too busy grinding his teeth, more than anything). This freedom, if the onslaught of anguish and confusion and rage and hurt was freedom, had all been at the hand of chance. Their father’s stroke had been a... stroke of luck.
The longer he stood here contemplating it, the more adamant he was that he wouldn’t let it all come down to chance again. Philip shifted where he stood, levelling a more sober gaze at each sibling in turn to try and read their thoughts. (Not easy when they were all next to strangers.)
But he saw a begrudging reluctance in Robin, and Mira’s exclamation was already desperate, so –
Philip cleared his throat before he spoke, in case anyone imagined he was joking now. It was airing the obvious, he knew, but who knew which of the others would be resolute enough to say it? He loosened his crossed arms slightly, as if he were about to shrug. “Well, I can think of one way,” he pointed out, “to make sure they won’t.”
If Algernon woke up, Sera could go back under — back into that fog of disinterest, where she did not talk to her children, where her husband wasn't concerned about anything she thought, where she had no friends or hobbies or or or. Her grip on her skirts was starting to hurt, but she could not get herself to loosen it. Robin didn't want to go back. Neither did Mira, who seemed — so frightened, expressing more emotion than she could ever remember Mira showing.
She had never really known Miranda. Her sister was taken away when Sera was two. (Seraphina's children were — she'd learned this as quickly as she could get her thoughts together — thirteen, eleven, and eight.)
She felt her throat tighten at Flip's suggestion. Sera expected herself to object, but instead said: "I don't want to go to prison."
Edwin sat heavily back in his chair as this revelation settled over him, seeping down into his bones. Over the last few days he had been so consumed with trying to orient himself that he had not considered there was a possibility that this was temporary. One by one, his siblings around him voiced their opposition, each in their own way. When it came to what might be his turn a small, insidious whisper in his mind asked would it be so bad?
He didn't look up again until he processed that Sera was talking about prison prison. Actual prison, not the magical prisons they'd just escaped.
Robin placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Miranda's arm in an effort to soothe her, though soothing anyone had never exactly been his strong suit. (Did one stroke the arm? Pat it? Just... leave one's hand there? Robin settled on the last.)
"Of course, Philip should propose the most drastic option. Did it ever occur to you that some things require a degree of finesse? Murder does not typically lead to a happy outcome."
Whatever Philip had suggested went completely over Mira's head, whose only idea of murdering a villain was tapping a sibling with a wooden sword and declaring them slain. But when the word 'murder' was actually in the open, after an initial wave of shock, Mira didn't feel exactly... averse. Wasn't death what happened to villains at the end of every story?
"Can't one of you cast the Imperio curse on him?" Mira asked shyly what she thought to be a good solution. Served him right, to be trapped in his own web! "Then he can do our bidding and we'll get to do what we want with his blessing."
“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.”
"Well you can count me out for murder." he said in some cross between incredulous and sarcasm. "And that." he said gesturing to Mira when she suggested an alternative. He knew her to be his sister, older by nearly a decade and sickly since childhood, and yet she stood there as a hale and healthy stranger that he couldn’t help but think of as quite young some how.
"Will it set back in immediately if he wakes?" he asked with a decidedly more graven tone.
Head of the Research Committee & Sponsor of the Falmouth Falcons
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“No one would need to go to prison for a murder with enough finesse,” Philip muttered darkly. He still wasn’t joking.
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting... no, actually, he had expected them to at least entertain the notion. Sera had at least considered it for a beat long enough to think of the consequences, and maybe Robin had too before pissing on the party. But Edwin. Edwin, who hadn’t seemed to change at all under the curse as far as Philip had ever noticed, who hadn’t seemed the opinionated type, hadn’t even given it a moment’s consideration. (Not that Philip had ever taken much notice of their youngest sibling; he’d never known him closely enough to have any grudges to bear against him.)
Until now, maybe. Equally incredulous, Philip stared. “Why? Have you got a better idea, kid? Or are you telling us you’re happy to just wait and see?”
He’d be damned if he let them do nothing before then – but he didn’t add anything about the prospect of reverse-imperiusing their father. Because if this little get-together had proved anything already, it was that Philip wasn’t about to trust any of these people with the reins to their father.
Edwin might have found relief in what the eldest in the room had to say, even with how he said it; Age had a way of lending credibility, making anything sound like convincing wisdom. Unfortunately Edwin was too distracted by the continued audacious contributions of the other man in the room parading as his brother to appreciate it in that moment.
"Last I heard Imperio was illegal. Why shouldn't we just report him?" he spat back, peevishly. It didn't bother him to be called 'kid', in fact he barely registered it, but the accusation hit harder than it ought to have.
Mira was usually Team Robin in all sibling disagreement (well, that had been the case when she had been a child, at least), but this time she didn't like his approach. Was he suggesting they just hoped their father wouldn't try to Imperio them again?
Edwin offered a good solution that would put their villain father in prison for good!
"I agree with Edwin! You all have your wands and your Hogwarts education, but I would be defenceless if he tried to put me under the spell again and he would because he would want to use me as his own Pythia! I am not going in that stupid wheelchair again, I will not! You can do so much, you went to Hogwarts and learned all these spells so just turn him into a hedgehog and unleash him into the woods forever if you're that scared of going to prison for murder!"
As the reader can probably see, her not going to Hogwarts compared to her siblings was a sore spot for her. Really, couldn't they have defended themselves against their father, duelled him when he tried to cast the spell? Mira had been eight-years-old, but they had all been adults with a full magical education under their belt!
“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.”
Sera looked at Robin in disbelief, but managed to contain herself until after Miranda's outburst. She let the silence settle in before she interjected, in a calmer voice than she expected — "I have no friends and no hobbies and he named my son Algernon." She would not pretend to be that empty husk of a person any longer.
"At the very least we're taking his wand," Sera said. She personally had no intention of seeing her father again — but she did not like the idea of him having a wand regardless.
Robin took a deep breath. Merlin, though he wished he could just devolve into hysterics or give in to his anger fully, but with all of his siblings behaving like this, the wizard was stuck being the Sensible One. Not quite free, then—ah well, he never had been to begin with. Thus was the curse of his birth order.
Picking his battles, and having seen that his earlier efforts to calm Mira had done nothing, he elected to focus on the broader issue and leave his siblings, for the moment, to their respective Issues.
(Really, at least Mira and Philip seemed vaguely justified in their responses; if Sera's biggest concern was a son called Algernon, she had gotten off horrendously lightly in this whole blasted ordeal!)
"We will do nothing unless we are all in agreement."
Though Robert raised his voice to ensure he would be heard, he was not yelling; indeed, there was only the barest hint of emotion to his tone at all (most of it restraint).
"If we act upon our individual grudges, seeking retribution, we will prove to be no better than Him." Calling Algernon Father at this juncture, in this crowd, seemed more likely to harm his cause than help it.
"Edwin, we cannot just report him; it will tarnish all our reputations, not just his. And Sera," he pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a headache coming on, "we certainly can take his wand, and indeed I shall make the arrangements when home to do so, but they are not exactly difficult to come by, in the grand scheme of things."
Head of the Research Committee & Sponsor of the Falmouth Falcons
43 year old Pureblood
6 ft. 3¼ in.
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So Edwin had qualms, but Mira – Mira was there. Philip had felt a flurry of hope at that, and then at Sera’s determination, until Robin started lecturing again.
Philip didn’t say anything until his brother was done, but by the end of that he was fuming beyond measure. “All in agreement?” he hissed, hands curling into fists with the temptation of launching himself at Robert The High-And-Mighty. “Is that a suggestion, or a command?” Who cared about being the better person?
Expression thunderous, he thumped his hand against the wall of the room to resist doing the same to Robin’s face. “He’s been out for two minutes and already you’re giving us orders,” Philip snarled, mutinous. “Who the fuck asked you?”
More to the point, what was stopping him from going to their father’s bedside alone right now? He could do it. He knew he could. Philip was getting nowhere being here.
"No one!" Robin shot back, the wealth of patience he (in his opinion) held for his other siblings non-existent where Philip was concerned. "But someone needs to be in charge of this conversation, at the very least, if we're to get anywhere—ideally someone not preaching crime. But then, if you're so keen to give up your newly reclaimed freedom then, by all means, there's the door." He gestured accordingly. "It isn't as though you'll get much opposition from dearest Papa. I, on the other hand, would prefer to play a long game, would prefer to live the goddamned life that was taken from me."
Sera rolled her eyes — first at Robin, then at Philip — although she largely agreed with him — then at Robin again. "I'm not pretending to be a placid little agoraphobe just so you can keep the peace," she snapped, "That's not living my life, Robert. If you want to be in charge, then suggest something better."
Murder was starting to seem like a better option. But she folded her arms over her chest and sank in her chair. They were probably going to get another knock at the door.
Mira had found Sera's case annoying -- she had gotten to attend Hogwarts and live her life to a more meaningful age. In the grand scheme of things, having a child named after their jailer was not as crippling as being forced to be a weak, sick woman for three decades of her life. And then, Sera was right. This was not living their lives. Mira didn't even know how to live this life, having found herself suddenly so old, but she would at least want not be forced to report to her father and stay home all the time.
"Seven years of Hogwarts were wasted on you if you can't think... if we end up just leaving things as they are and hope father doesn't curse us again!" Mira spat in an accusatory tone. She stood from her seat, which was close to Robin and walked across the room to stand closer to Philip, who she decided was the Best Sibling because at least he was willing to do something. She had no patience for strategy and playing the long game. Much like a child, Mira wanted instant gratification and the reassurance of a final plan and not something that had so much risk of putting her in the wheelchair again.
“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.”
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