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.
There's a horrible blizzard here. We're all shut up inside, my father is worried about the trees in this cold snap, and I'm still wondering about your travels. Is there bad weather there, too? It has to be different weather — you're so far away from here, and everything in Avalon Glen.
The day seems to have repeated itself, but no one else in my house believes me. It's silly and romantic of me, but I like to think that you would have remembered with me.
I obviously know that you know my family, but I've been wondering what you think of them. You were in school with so many of us, at least a bit — I wish I had known you better when we were sharing a house, but I was too shy to talk to you back then. I was too shy to really talk to you even before you left. It appears I can only be bold in letters — Gwyn's such a Gryffindor that I am certain she would be disappointed in me if she knew how much I have wanted to confess!
(Of course, if I wanted to confess, I probably would have.)
I love my sisters but they can be so much sometimes — I wish when I just shared a room with Gwyn. Nimue is having a meltdown about her potential upstairs, which — obviously she is jealous that Gwyn and Izzy and I are doing exactly what we want, but there is not a great deal I can do about it. And she got the exact same schooling as Gwyn! This all sounds deeply cruel of me, but I do not know what she wants from me about it —
I should not be treating my letters to you as a diary, even if they are unsent. I've always wondered what you think of your older brother, but it would be so forward of me to ask and
You've been gone for almost two months now, and it's a little over two months until you come back. Sometimes I wonder if I'll be bold enough to tell you how I feel when you come back — I don't think I am. (After all, these letters are in a journal, not in the actual post.) I'm not a Gryffindor. But maybe I'll be bold enough to spend more time with you — that, itself, would be a win.
Sending me a book is almost comical levels of romantic. I wish there was someone I had told about this — but I fear that they are only going to tell me that the class difference is too much, and once the secret isn't mine, what if they told you?
Now my life would certainly be more romantic if I had the courage to say that I am excited for you to return, excited to see you — but Gwyn was always the Gryffindor, and I think too much, and this is more a journal than it is letters, anyways.