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
Tycho could not help but feel like he was to be blamed for this. Logically, Tycho knew that none of this had actually been his fault. His visions sometimes just did not make sense. Besides that, those dragons had to have been in transport long before his vision had come to him. But with Tycho he was emotions first, logics second a lot of the time. So he was doing what little he could do to help.
He was good for healing milder injuries, delivering potions, giving rations to hungry people waiting to be evacuated. Whatever he could do to lighten the load on the triage sites healers so that they could focus on the more dire injuries coming through.
He had spotted Ford earlier from across the triage. He didn't know if Ford had spotted him though and Tycho didn't want to disrupt whatever it was the Ministry had ordered Fords department to do. Hopefully Ford was keeping himself safe. He was worried but trusted that his lover would be okay with the rest of his department working alongside him. At least, he was assuming that to be the case. If he let himself worry too much, he would render himself useless.
He was looking around for more to do when a semi-familiar face caught his eye. The main thing knew about Cassius Lestrange was that he had retired from Quidditch and was friends with Ford. "Has a healer seen to you?" He asked as he bounded over, his curls wild around his face.
Ellory was dead. Cash's ears were ringing, and had been since she died — since the screaming had started, and the sound had not gone away since he'd brought her wrenched-open corpse to the triage. He'd tagged her body. Would the hospital tell Claude, or would he?
He'd misplaced his own wife. Cash had an instinct to find Adrienne — he was good with a wand, he could help her — but he didn't know where to start, and besides, how was he supposed to find her when his ears sounded like this? He was wandering around the triage site as if he was in a daze, it was organized but not for people who still had all their limbs, and eventually found a wall to sit against.
Time passed; his pocket watch told him so.
He'd been crouched there for some time with his ears ringing when Ford's friend spoke to him. Cash looked up, quizzical. "Sorry, what?" he said, then shook his head as if to clear it. "Blood's — not mine." Mostly.
"Forgive me for saying so but you seem quite out of it. Are you sure you might not need to see a healer or need a potion for shock?" Tycho asked, taking out his wand and taking it upon himself to help the man clean himself up with a quick cleaning spell.
Cash blinked owlishly at Ford's friend, and then down at his now-clean shirt. "There's injured people," he said. Shock wasn't real, not when people were — bleeding and dying, and the healers had actual things to do. He tapped his thumb against his pocket watch.
"Yes but some injuries can be unseen," Tycho said, concluding that the other seemed at least lucid enough to not need a healer. "Mayhaps a bit of draught of peace?"
Did he need a draught of peace? Cash looked down at his bloody shirtsleeves. "Perhaps," he echoed. He shook his head, trying to clear the ringing again, and looked up at Dodonus. "The blood. Is there — something for the blood?" He'd have to throw the shirt out, when he got home — but home was so far away right now as to feel impossible.
"Let me try a thing," Tycho said before incanting a clothes cleaning spell he thought he had heard one of his maids use to spot clean once. "Oh, look at that, it worked." Probably he should not sound so surprised and delighted about it considering the current circumstances.
Cash looked at his now-clean shirt, and back up at Dodonus. "Thank you," he said, still sounding more absent than grateful. "I think you can help someone else now." He was still thinking about Ellory, but he did not know what to say about her, and it wasn't like Dodonus could do anything about it.
"You're welcome," Tycho said, still rather worried. "Are you quite sure? Ford would never forgive me if I didn't make sure a friend of his was all right to be left alone."
"All right. Come find me if you need help, after all," Tycho said, supposing that there really wasn't much else that he could do here. There were too many people that needed help.
