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.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
25th January, 1895 — Potion Brewing Competition, Hogsmeade Hall
He had deigned to offer his services judging this competition, and the Potioneers’ Guild had given him the Ladies’ category? Phineas considered his expertise badly abused here: he ought to have had the serious professionals, not this assortment of socialites.
Hands clasped stiffly behind his back, he surveyed the contestants critically, though making every effort to avoid any eye contact with them at all. If he imagined being back in the Potions classroom belittling students through an exam instead, this was fine.
“I will be watching your technique as you brew as well as the final result of your potion – I urge you to take good care and precision,”so that they did not embarrass themselves, Phineas did not add. “Your first potion will be a calming draught.”
The hourglass turned, and the ingredients and instructions now at their stations, he gave them a brisk wave and an impassive, “Begin.”
Clarissa was no Potions wiz, having not even taken it at a NEWT level. She brewed beauty potions now and then but that was the extent of it these days. Even so, she had casually mentioned the potions competition in conversation with Mister Abbott and he had suggested she sign up. At least it was something to do and it would help her suitor see that she was willing to put herself out there among her peers.
She would feel better about this if their proctor was not Headmaster Black. She felt like she was having war flashbacks of her time as a Slytherin prefect and student as she brewed under his watchful gaze.
A calming draught was a useless potion, Dru thought disdainfully as she glanced through the instructions. Peppermint and lavender, so the drinker was going to smell it as well as taste it, and it turned out a blueish color when it was done. So you could only give it to someone if they knew they were taking it, not surreptitiously add it to a drink, and if the person you wanted to subdue already knew they needed to calm down and was amenable to taking a potion for it then whatever was the point? They clearly had never been properly upset at all.
But she supposed they wouldn't want to feature any of the really useful potions in a competition like this. It might go giving the ladies ideas. She followed the instructions down to the letter and stood back when her brew was complete, waiting for the Headmaster (not as intimidating as he hoped to be, she thought) to come take a look.
Georgia didn't fancy herself to be the best at potions, but she liked the occasional foray into competitiveness for the sake of it--and wouldn't die from embarrassment if she failed spectacularly--so here she was. A calming draught seemed like a simple enough thing to her, hopefully, so she brewed it the best she could and hoped for the best. Or at least the most interesting, if "the best" was too much.
For a moment, Iphegenia was taken aback to see Headmaster Black here—his time as potions professor predated her own tenure at Hogwarts, though she supposed judging people in this regard suited his self-important nature. The debutante, however, was not about to let this surprise impede her chances, and Genia deftly focused her attentions upon the task at hand.
Calming Draught. It was not a complicated concoction, as potions went, but at least this was an arena of competition no one could begrudge a debuante. Besides, if it was not complicated, surely Genia should do splendidly.
The witch set about doing just that, carefully measuring her ingredients and adding them to the cauldron. When finished, Genia raised a confident hand for judgement.
Not even Henry could begrudge her competing in a ladies' potions competition. Sera knew she was probably rusty with her potions because she had not touched them in a very long time, but she was determined to make a good-faith effort. So once Headmaster Black had finished their instructions, her efforts were just that — made in good faith.
A calming draught didn't concern her, it was a simple potion that was covered multiple times in her Hogwarts career. What did concern her was that now, years after graduating, the Headmaster was still the most frightening person in the room. Turning her attention to her cauldron and away from the man with a particular distaste for everything, Hermia began to brew.
“Too much peppermint oil,” Phineas tutted, as he began with Miss Cosgrove’s potion – he could smell it as much as see it in the potion’s off colour. “You are as likely to make the drinker cry as calm them.”
He had – begrudgingly – less to say to Mrs. Pettigrew’s attempt (competent), Mrs. Quirke’s (passable), or Miss Adebayo’s (flawless). Phineas was almost irritated by this, but he granted her potion a crisp nod – on the bright side, it did speak highly of his Hogwarts governance, that his latest graduates were well-trained potioneers. Even the women.
He might have managed a cordial comment for Miss Bonaccord, too, only... Mrs. Bythesea and her station had disappeared behind a cloud of hissing, foul-smelling brown smoke that was making his eyes water from here. Coughing as he neared it, Phineas vanished the potion and ordered everyone to step away, and a window to be opened, before they could continue on.
“Miss Cosgrove and Mrs. Bythesea,” he declared some time later, when there was fresh air to be had in the hall again; he gave the latter an especially dirty look, “you are dismissed. Congratulations, everyone else – your next task is a cure for boils. Please do continue to follow the instructions, for the sake of all our lungs. Begin.”
CLARISSA: 6.5 | DRUSILLA: 10 | GEORGIA: 7.5 | IPHIGENIA: 11 | SERAPHINA: -2 | HERMIA: 8 You have 72 hours to post your response.
Please do not assume success —that's what the dice are for! First to post will get a small bonus. Drusilla PettigrewIphigenia AdebayoHermia BonaccordGeorgia Quirke
This potion was more interesting to her... or rather, the ingredients were, at least. She didn't plan to be in need of a cure for boils any time soon (though someone might have been if they'd been standing too near Mrs. Bythesea, she thought), but she liked working with sharp things and this had a lot of those.
She was less familiar with this recipe — had they done this one in school? — so wasn't entirely sure if the color was perfect or not, but she had followed the recipe and nothing had blown up along the way (or at least, it hadn't yet — the pink smoke at the end was mentioned in the recipe, so that must have been all to plan). She stepped back and indicated to the Headmaster that she was finished.
This was a potion that every young lady was quite insistent she did not need, but used in secret; as such, Genia had brewed it on occasion in her younger years, as girlhood and womanhood had waged war against one another in the battlefield of her body. That, coupled with her clear success in the first round and her general confidence had the witch feeling quite sure of herself as she went about her second brew of the competition.
Surviving the first round and avoiding the Headmaster's general disdain for everything, Hermia turned her intentions to her second potion. As she prepared her ingredients, she found herself praying for a passing result, not so much for herself but for the lungs and noses of her fellow competitors. Thank God she didn't make such a ruckus.
Mrs. Pettigrew’s speed had not done her finished potion any favours, in the end – haste or overconfidence had made her brewing imprecise. Still, it was better than Mrs. Quirke’s – Phineas pulled a face at hers, which was a muddy purple and the consistency of... well, mud, actually. He had seen better cures for boils brewed by first years.
Between Misses Adebayo and Bonaccord, Phineas was hard-pressed to differentiate the quality of their presentations (and if he could not, he doubted any of the guild would be able to for love nor money, either). “Adequate, both,” he admitted finally, as he stepped away from the cauldrons and gave his final verdict. “Which means Miss Adebayo and Miss Bonaccord will proceed to the Ladies’ final.”
DRUSILLA: 5 | GEORGIA: 3.5 | IPHIGENIA: 8 | HERMIA: 8 You have 72 hours to post your response.
Please do not assume success —that's what the dice are for! First to post will get a small bonus. Iphigenia AdebayoHermia Bonaccord
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