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
Zelda pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. The nanny was ill, which happened, but she needed someone to relieve her. Alfred couldn't do it, because he was underway and probably closer to Trafalgar than home. Zelda couldn't do it because she had a meeting with Elsie Kirke's husband in twenty-five minutes, and because it was the middle of the workday and she would like to keep her job. She felt guilty asking the Fudges for too many favors. Which left — various relatives, who would definitely tell her father about this, or Caroline, and she didn't think she could handle whatever gloating would ensue.
After firing off some notes, securing Roslyn's help, and owling the nanny that Ros would be taking the floo to relieve her, twenty-four minutes had passed. Zelda ran to the lift, took it to the Games & Sports floor, and trotted over to Kirke's office. She knocked on the side of the door and stepped inside.
"I'm so sorry to be late, Mr. Kirke," Zelda said, self-conscious and aware of the flush in her cheeks and her flyaway hairs from the run — she sounded a bit out of breath.
Tybalt had convinced himself he didn’t possibly have time to do any more work before his meeting with Mrs. Darrow, so in lieu of starting on the new bout of paperwork, he had eaten a sandwich and then twiddled his thumbs for the next ten minutes. Presently, he was flicking a faulty gobstone (one he had nicked from the Gobstones office next door) across the length of his desk when the knock came. It was Zelda Darrow after all.
Tyb jumped slightly in his seat, dropped the gobstone into a desk drawer where it would probably squirt its stuff all over the unsuspecting files already in there and waved her in, smiling brightly in spite of her apologies.
“Oh, it’s fine!” Tyb said cheerfully, half because Zelda Darrow was one of Elsie’s friends and also happened to be Caroline’s sister-in-law, and half because it felt kind of nice to be on the other side of this situation for once in his life. He hadn’t had to leave his office this time, but he had been ready on time. He might as well have the whole universe in the palm of his hand. “I’ve been there,” he assured her, pleased to be magnanimous about it when so often Ministry fellows had glared daggers at him when he had dared to be three minutes late after lunch. Still, Zelda Darrow looked like she had run here, which was – impressive dedication to a meeting that was comparatively unimportant and almost certainly doomed to be dull for them both. Tyb peered at her with a little more concern. “Is everything alright?” he queried.
Tybalt Kirke was being awfully nice about this, which Zelda probably would have found alarming if she didn't know his wife. She spent so much time interacting with the boys' club of law enforcement that she was used to having to be on time, because if she was not going to see someone who would make her feel bad about it she was going to see someone she was related to, which was worse. (Occasionally it was both.)
"More or less," Zelda said, with a wry smile. And because she did not want to develop a reputation for this, she added, "My nanny fell ill, so I had to — wrangle some things."
(She knew too much about Kirke to worry that he would hold Having Children against her.)
Tybalt might have laughed at the cryptic answer, more or less, because it made her or events sound entirely mysterious – only she explained about the nanny, which was disappointingly mundane. And stressful. “Ah,” Tyb said, pulling a face. He didn’t need to worry about it much right now, who was looking after the children; but once Elsie went back to the library again he fancied it would play on his mind.
(Half probably because Tyb would have much rather begged off work and spent the day playing with and corralling the children, through their multitude of tantrums and all, but – they had Miss Halliwell for that. It was only a pity Miss Halliwell didn’t have an interest in organising duelling tournaments. Then they could have swapped roles.)
“And how did you get on? Everyone successfully wrangled?” he asked, sincere. He wouldn’t be mad if they pushed the meeting, to be perfectly honest – and if Mrs. Darrow’s mind was elsewhere, it would be pointless to try and plough ahead.
If it was anyone but Elsie's husband, Zelda really would have been suspicious about his questions. But Elsie was so genuine, and she had not described Mr. Kirke as the sort of person who could carry ulterior motives — so Zelda was going to have to believe that Tybalt Kirke was actually like that, and let him be her friend.
"Everyone wrangled," Zelda answered, with a smile. "Mrs. Ross is off to relieve my nanny, and I'll just have to fetch my children from her in Hogsmeade."
Hopefully Ros would not be weird and judgy about it.
Mrs. Ross – it took him a moment to remember that the former Minister’s wife must have been one of her sisters. (It was much too hard to keep track of the Fisk family, generally – Tyb would not be surprised if it turned out there were even more siblings than the ten he thought there were.)
If she had taken them to Hogsmeade, then – “You know you could always ask Elsie, in a pinch,” he said genuinely, probably too informally for work (Mrs. Kirke, he ought to have said; or better yet, nothing, it wasn’t his place to pry); but he was almost certain Elsie would have offered the same to her already. She spoke highly of Zelda Darrow – they had become friends, as he’d heard it – so Elsie was unlikely to mind if she hadn’t said as much. Even with a month old newborn at home. “She’s not quite back at the library yet,” he shrugged; and even then, the hours she worked were not quite a match for a Ministry schedule, so she might be able to lend a hand.
“Better yet, bring them in,” Tyb added, which was (sadly) a joke. He gestured around at his mediocrely-sized office as though it had all the appeal of a playroom – as if anyone could get away with sneaking their children in in the middle of the workday. He would have liked to meet the little Darrows, though. Bentley had certainly babbled on about their boy before.
She maybe should have asked Elsie. It felt embarrassing to tell a friend about this — as if she were admitting to a failing, even if it was impossible to predict a major illness — but Elsie did not talk to Zelda's father, and was incredibly non-judgmental. "I'll let her know next time," Zelda said, meaning it. She had wrinkled her nose at the image of her children in the Ministry.
"With all the broken artifacts near my office? Orion would manage to touch all of them," she joked. Mr. Kirke had not met Zelda's son, but she'd met his, and heard Elsie's tales that both of the Kirke children were very much like their father. If that was right, then Zelda was sure that Kirke would understand a toddler's desire to get into things they shouldn't.
“Oh, adventurous, is he?” Tyb laughed at the trouble Orion might get into. (He was also not sure he would be much better-restrained than her son, if there was a room full of artifacts he was not supposed to touch. Merlin, the temptation.)
So Mrs. Darrow was probably right: any of the children running rampant around the offices would be a hazard waiting to happen. “Just as long as they didn’t get into the Gobstones office –” he countered, pulling a face at the chaos. “They’d get them straight in their mouths.” Mistake the place for Honeyduke’s, probably. He knew this, because on more than one occasion in his adulthood he had also considered that gobstones looked unfortunately tasty.
“What made you choose Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?” Tyb added, which had been going to be him moving onto the actual topic of their meeting, but may have ended up rather more of another curious aside. She had been in a different department before, hadn’t she?
Zelda nodded, laughing half in-response to Mr. Kirke's laugh — Orion was awfully adventurous, sometimes she worried about him with the sea they lived so near, and he would certainly find a way to put gobstones in his mouth if given even the slightest opportunity to.
She considered Mr. Kirke's question, tilting her head slightly. "I used to be in Accidents & Catastrophes," she said, after a beat, "So I — like complicated magic." She was good with her wand. "And muggle artifacts has complicated magic, but it's also much safer."
Safer, and a bit more boring, but she was kept out of crises and generally knew when she would get home — and since Alfred didn't, it had felt important to her.
AMAZING set by MJ
Yesterday – 5:39 PM
Last modified: Yesterday – 5:39 PM by Tybalt Kirke.
He couldn’t relate to any of her passion for complicated magic (or a Ministry career generally, to be perfectly honest) but one part of it he did understand. “Ah,” Tyb acknowledged, with a slow nod. “Definitely safer.”
He hadn’t left quidditch for that – it had been so many years now that he shouldn’t even still pine for it, probably – but Tyb supposed, if he had not had to quit for the money, that he might have had to when they had started having children, just to be sure he came home at night in one piece. The thought had briefly depressed him – but then he wouldn’t trade their children for anything, so maybe one hard decision had only made things easier in the long run. Maybe it had all worked out in the end.
And if he had to suffer through a boring job until the end of time, maybe it was a small enough price to pay. Besides, duelling was not as boring as some departments. “Well, at least you weren’t late for a Catastrophe today,” Tybalt joked, on the bright side – though he probably oughtn’t remind her of her lateness. “Let’s talk artifacts, shall we?”
![[Image: xXXD462.png]](https://i.imgur.com/xXXD462.png)
