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.
With the same account, complete eight different threads where your character interacts with eight different usergroups. At least one must be a non-human, and one a student.
Did You Know?
Braces, or suspenders, were almost universally worn due to the high cut of men's trousers. Belts did not become common until the 1920s. — MJ
September 6th, 1893 — Flourish & Blott's, Diagon Alley
The first week of September and the first week of January were the slowest times of year in the bookshop. In both cases it was a welcome change from the rush that had just proceeded it. Christmas shopping or school shopping, and of course if anyone needed books for personal use they would bundle them along in the same order to save a shopping trip. Business would trickle back in slowly as the month wore on, until they were back to something like normal by the beginning of October. In winter the recovery was slower, and a little dependent on the weather — people could often talk themselves out of a shopping trip if going out meant braving the snow.
The drastic reduction in customers meant that Ned was more aware of each one that did come in, though honestly even if they'd been properly busy he might have noticed this woman: she had been lingering for rather a long time, and did not seem particularly decisive. He had determined quite a while ago that she would need his help before she purchased anything, but he'd waited a while to see if she would approach him to ask. She hadn't, and now he was feeling as though he ought to help put her out of her misery (insofar as browsing shelves in a bookshop could ever be called misery).
"Looking for anything in particular, Ma'am?" he asked. She had that vaguely-familiar look of someone who was In Society but whose name he wouldn't be able to place quickly enough for it to be of any use in the conversation.
Being married and awake had some novelty. For one, Sera could go places. Unaccompanied! Today's excursion was to Flourish & Blott's, a bookstore she remembered being enjoyable from her teenage years. Of course, then she'd mostly bought schoolbooks, but she did enjoy the occasional work of fiction! (There were no works of fiction in her home that she had seen. This solidified Sera's opinion that her husband was boring.)
The trouble with being able to make choices was that there were so many options. She'd been in the bookstore for nearly thirty minutes without any real ideas, because the prospect of choosing was so exciting.
The bookseller's question brought her a distinct sense of relief. Sera turned to him, beaming. "I have nothing particular in mind," she said, "Really — anything and everything. Can you help?"
Ned's eyes lit up with amusement at her response. "Can I help with anything and everything? A tall order," he teased lightly. She hadn't exactly given him much direction to start with, but helping people find books was what he did, so he had no doubts he would be able to connect her with what she was looking for.
"It depends what you're trying to achieve," he continued, turning his attention to the shelves. "If you're looking for something to talk to other socialites about, this one has been fairly popular — it's a novel about a young woman coming of age after her parents have just relocated to Australia. Very introspective. If you're looking for something a little more engaging..." he continued — he would not come right out and call the novel about the young woman in Australia boring, but it was eminently safe literature, which was probably what had made it so popular among the wives of Britain. "This is a good choice. A re-imagining of a Chinese fairy tale, set in modern England. And of course, if you're looking to do something specific, explore a topic or learn a new skill, we have a large selection of nonfiction that begins a few shelves over."
"I'm interested in the Chinese fairy-tale," Sera answered in a bright voice; he had her at the word engaging. She didn't want to read what other socialites were reading — because she had never been particularly interested in the mainstream. If she was back, then she wanted to be different.
"In terms of non-fiction — I've always found academic inquiry to be important, but am most interested in practical aspects," Sera said. She'd had the N.E.W.T.s to be set-up for an excellent career in the Ministry — not that anyone had cared. "I cannot think of a specific skill, but — I had excelled in Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Ned beamed and plucked the second novel off of the shelf. He laid it down flat in his arms, anticipating that it would serve as the foundation for a small tower of books; she seemed as though what she was looking for was more than a two-or-three-book ordeal. "Those are quite distinct disciplines," he acknowledged, re: Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Obviously, the shop stocked a much larger supply of practical guides for housewives in the former. Gardening was considered a ladylike pursuit; defense against dark magics was significantly less so. Presumably the average woman was expected to be surrounded by men who would do all the defending for her.
"Ornamental herbology, or practical?" he asked, though given her response about being inclined more towards practical magic he thought he could guess the answer. "There's a rather thorough volume we have on how to grow all variety of poison antidotes. Some of them can be quite challenging, from what I understand. I'm not much of a gardener, myself," he admitted. "But any practical skill book should include something challenging, I think."
"Practical," Sera said, with a wry smile. "I want to be challenged." Could she be very into gardening? She could try. Poison antidotes would be helpful, too, if there was anything new that her father attempted when he woke up.
She stood on her toes for a second, as if to get the measure of the bookstore. "Do you have any secret books?" Sera asked suddenly. The man she was talking to seemed to understand a great deal about this building and its contents; if there were secret books, she expected that he would have the answer for her.
Ned's brow furrowed, his attention to the search for herbology books entirely derailed by this question. "Secret books?" he asked. "What do you mean?" They had books that weren't displayed on the shelves, certainly, but most of those weren't secret. Many of them were simply duplicates of ones that were already out on the floor, stashed away in the storage room so that they could replenish the shelves as books were purchased. There were a handful that were routine kept back from public view, but they weren't necessarily secret, either — just books that it was best casual browsers didn't pick up by mistake. Anyone who knew what to ask for would have been given access to them, but this kept children wandering through the shelves from being accidentally bitten by enchanted pages, for instance.
She was more delighted than she'd expected to have surprised him, and didn't bother hiding it — the smile on her face had turned conspiratorial. "Books you don't let the general public see," Sera elaborated. She gestured with one hand at herself. "Or, books you don't usually show to socialites."
As a debutante, she would have never asked for such things — at least not openly. There were pamphlets passed between her and her friends, books one stole from a married sister or an older brother, but one did not purchase them. But now Seraphina was awake, and she was married, and there seemed to be no harm in inquiring after illicit materials.
Her explanation clarified what she had in mind, to a point — within the umbrella of books you don't let the general public see there was still a wide variety of different sorts of books. Some Ned didn't stock and never planned to — books of dark magic, books intended to cause harm and do very little else — but there were plenty of others. Books that were rare and highly specialized, which might make too good a target for thieves to allow out on the floor; books that required special licenses or permits to own because they (or their contents) could be hazardous if not stored correctly; books that were perfectly ordinary themselves but which contained material people didn't like to talk about at parties, and therefore didn't like to be reminded existed when they were out and about shopping. She had not really given him any indication which of those she was interested in.
"It wouldn't be very good business to keep books we didn't let the general public see," he joked, at his usual volume. "We probably wouldn't sell many of them." Then matching her lower, slightly conspiratorial tone, he continued: "We can get just about anything on a special order. Did you want to step into a side room to discuss exactly what it is you're looking for?"
She tilted her head at him, clearly amused — he was right, that people couldn't buy books they could not see. But the tomes had to come from somewhere, and with Sera's mind entirely her own for the first time in fifteen years she was determined to take advantage of the opportunity to access information Society did not want her to have. She did not want to have to try other booksellers, and especially didn't want to go to Knockturn Alley, but she was willing to try it if she had to.
But then he was matching her tone, and offering an alternative. Sera was charmed by the idea of a special order. Seraphina beamed. "I would love to," she said. "Lead the way." Side-room meetings and the opportunity for secret mail — what more could a woman ask for?
Ned beamed back. Of course he was a businessman and happy to make a sale — and special orders of books that typical bookstores did not stock did tend to be more expensive — but beyond that, he was a bibliophile and always happy to enable someone else with a literature habit. Which he assumed she was well on her way to developing, since he was still holding two books for her purchase today, had promised to show her at least a third, and now she wanted to discuss special orders.
"Right this way, Ma'am," he said before making his way towards one of the little enclaves in the shop. It was still part of the store, and its walls were still lined with shelves full of books available for purchase, but it had two overstuffed armchairs and a door with glass panels that could shut it off from the rest of the store, so it was the perfect level of public-private for this conversation. He gestured for her to take a seat if she wanted one, then shut the door behind them and leaned against one of the bookcases.
"So tell me what you're looking for. And while we're at it, perhaps you could tell me who I have the pleasure of speaking with as well," he offered, tone slightly teasing — though if he was going to go ordering secret books for her, he did need to know the name for the account.
The man wasn't sitting, so Seraphina decided not to either — she leaned against the back of one of the armchairs. She glanced around the side-room. Her debutante-instincts, which were still more accessible than any of the socialite instincts she thought she was supposed to have as a woman in her thirties, had her pleased about the glass door. She had snuck away from parties when she could, when she was herself, but she had not been prepared for sneaking when she got to the bookstore today.
"Seraphina Bythesea," she offered, with another crooked smile, as if they were in on a secret. "I'm looking for the sort of books that are engaging —" she was amused at herself for having used his own word "— but which one cannot discuss at parties. And I hope this means I can ask for your name as well?"
"Oh, of course," he said, with an apologetic shake of his head. He hadn't realized she didn't already know; most of the people who came into the bookstore either knew who he was or assumed, because of the name of the shop. "The eponymous Flourish of Flourish & Blott's. And the gentleman about three decades my senior is Blott," he continued. He didn't bother to mention his mother, since she left almost all of the shop up to him nowadays — and obviously there was no point in bringing Nick up to anyone.
"I think your husband has an account with us," he continued — husband or uncle or brother or something, because the name Bythesea was definitely familiar — "But I suppose for particularly engaging books you might want a personal account?"
Mr. Flourish. No wonder he knew so much about the books in the store!
She hadn't realized that Henry had an account here. Sera made a mental note of that; she was trying to learn more about her husband, even though she would never have chosen him. An account suggested that he read, even if the selections she'd seen in the house were dull. She ought to look at them later.
She nodded at Mr. Flourish. "I think a personal account would be an excellent idea," she said cheerfully, "I would not want our orders getting mixed up under the same name, given the content — my husband's tastes tend to be more scholarly in nature." And she liked the idea of having her own account; it was an additional opportunity for agency.
Ned nodded; if he'd caught her meaning right when she said engaging then it was entirely understandable she wouldn't want her husband seeing what she was ordering. Most women who asked for these kinds of things didn't want anyone knowing they'd read them — which had always seemed a bit counterintuitive to Ned. If they wanted to actually do any of the things detailed in the books, reading their husbands in was rather necessary. Though, come to think of it — Ned wasn't sure he knew many men who would cheerfully admit to taking advice on their sex lives, much less from a cheap romance novel, so maybe it wasn't so surprising after all.
"I'm assuming you don't already have titles in mind?" he ventured. If she'd been looking for something specific, she probably would have just said it by now rather than beating around the bush. "I can get a list for you to browse, but — well," he said with an apologetic wince and a half-shrug, an it is what it is sort of gesture. "It would probably be helpful if you could be a little more specific. There are... quite a number of titles that fit the description of engaging but not discussed at parties. But I'm guessing you weren't after tales from the communist revolutions of India," he joked.
Sera laughed, light and airy. "No communism," she agreed with a nod. She paused for a moment as she tried to describe the books. She had never said something like this out loud to a man. It was a struggle to find the words, but she did not think that Mr. Flourish would judge her. He was the one who sold the books, after all, and he had not balked at her allusions. She could be more direct than she was comfortable with. Wasn't that the point of being awake?
"I suppose one could describe them as romantic," Sera said after a beat. She drummed her fingers against the back of the chair. "But — more involved than your typical romance novel. Does that help you catch my meaning?"
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