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.
It was easy to find Kit Moony; or, there were only so many places a man like Kit would hang out in in Wizarding London. He was a man who (sort of) didn't have a family and it was early on a Sunday evening, so - most everyone else was with their families. Not Kit, though. And Peregrine knew most of his haunts, and besides that -- if Kit was up to something Peregrine was usually involved, and so it had not taken him long to spot the auror at the bar. He had actually checked the Jinxed Jackrabbit first, because if Kit wasn't there then at the very least Peregrine could get a drink.
"I have a proposition for you," Peregrine said, dropping into the seat next to Kit, like they had planned to meet here, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It may as well have been planned; Peregrine had semi-deliberately implanted himself in Kit's life over the past several months, although he was not sure why. Kit Moony was a trainwreck in slow motion, a man in crisis, an auror who was probably going to die or get fired eventually - he was interesting to watch up close. And Peregrine liked him, which was rare - he did not usually actually like the people he watched. So - they were friends.
Inns and pubs—the grand dining room of the working class gentleman with nowhere else to go, save for a small, sparse space in a rooming house and an office with far too much oversight. At least at the Jackrabbit, Kit Moony could reasonably pretend he was 'working', for "shady" described both the lighting and the clientele. It was also, mercifully, often quiet, at least until about nine o'clock when the rowdier sort tended to make their entrance.
Quiet and solitude had become two of Kit's favourite things.
Peregrine Umbernauld had a habit of shitting all over both.
"Legal?" he asked, tone not at all interested, but knowing it would be easier to let the lad speak his peace than be needled at for the next hour. As company went (if one had to have company), Umbernauld was quite good, when Kit was in the mood for it.
"Extremely legal," Peregrine said, "As if I'd come to you with anything else." Well. He had thought of it, a few times, but even though Moony was on the edge he did not seem to have slid into allowing illegalities under his nose yet. As far as Kit Moony was concerned, Peregrine could pretend to be clean as a whistle - or as clean as a whistle who had never been arrested but knew a lot about illegal things.
"But I think that between the two of us it could be rather lucrative," Peregrine said. "And I've already thought about the organizational notes, and I have a location, and everything."
Alright, here it was. "A boxing match," Peregrine said. He tapped his finger against the surface of the bar. "I have a venue, we can charge at the door for tickets. And bets, of course. And I have an opponent lined up. But I need you to fight him." Kit was good, really good - sort of scary when he got going, in a way that Peregrine really enjoyed - and the house always won on bets, but with Kit involved he was pretty sure he could arrange things really well, financially.
A boxing match was well and good, but Kit as the fighter? He raised his eyebrows in some degree of disbelief.
"I had thought you'd said it would be lucrative?" the auror challenged. "I hardly see myself as a draw for a more legitimate—and wealthier—sort of audience."
"You underestimate the appeal of -" Peregrine waved a hand at Moony, meant to encompass his physicality and career history as well as his general appearance. "Also, you're new, and therefor shiny."
"You'd need someone established in order to be a proper draw," he pointed out, his deflections weakening as the tiniest ember of warmth towards the idea ignited within him.
It wouldn't do to appear too enthused, so Peregrine kept his expression smooth, but he was delighted that Moony was starting to bend. "Oh, you think I would come to you without an idea?" Peregrine said, as if that was silly. "Are you familiar with Cornelius Wormtail?"
Wormtail. Now that was enough to make Kit's eyebrows arch in interest.
Cornelius Wormtail was one of the better-known names, at least for the moment, in the sort of boxing matches that a gentleman might actually mention attending to his wife before setting off for the afternoon. Indeed, before Christmas, Wormtail had summarily dispatched the Pride of Prussia who had, until then, been undefeated for the better part of a year. Wormtail would certainly draw the right kind of attention.
He also would also be fun.
The auror's grin answered before his tongue could.
That was what Peregrine had been waiting for - Kit Moony's grin. Now that he was on board, Peregrine could start moving other pieces around. "I thought that would appeal to you," he said brightly, a little smug, "How do you feel about a late February, early March situation?"
"March," he answered, definitively. Enough time to ensure he had things squared away at work. Kit had not been a model employee since his return, but he did not actively set out to shirk his duties.
Peregrine nodded, committed that to memory. "I think the first Saturday would be a good day for attendance," he said, "The sixth. What do you think about that?" If Kit Mooney was a professional boxer, and not an auror, Peregrine would have simply taken over as manager and handled all the details himself - but he didn't think that Moony would have taken particularly kindly to that.
"Thirteenth would be better," he countered after taking a moment to think about it. The sixth, he knew, was a quidditch match, a rare opportunity to see the children outside of the normal school holidays. True, he had approached neither Ned nor Anne about the date, but still, was it not best to keep one's options open (and hopes alive)?
"Thirteenth it is, then," Peregrine said, because he could make that work just as well as he could make the sixth work. Probably. Wormtail's schedule was much more open than Moony's was, because he didn't have an actual job. "And as far as the winnings - which are obviously greater if you win, but - we should discuss how we'll split them."
"As the one whose face is on the line, I confess that I have some strong feelings on the matter," he pointed out before taking another sip of his drink. At the same time, Kit did know how such events went—the match organizer took a pretty penny for his time, and rightly so. The...athletes were seldom motivated enough to do the heavy lifting until the match began, and with a legitimate enterprise such as this, that lifting was trebled. "But I suspect you do as well?"
