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.
Nico stared hopelessly at the empty pen pot. It wasn't quite a teapot but he could hardly pilfer one of his mother's teapots without getting caught and if he accidentally broke it he'd have a hard time trying to explain the how and the why without fessing up. He couldn't fess up though, it simply wasn't an option. For a start it was illegal, he wasn't supposed to be doing magic outside of school and after Zenobia's stunt last year he was sure his wand would be confiscated in a heartbeat. His father might be lenient if he explained that he was being responsible and only trying to improve his practical transfiguration but that came at the cost of having to admit to his father that he had barely scraped a pass in his exam. He thought he'd much rather have his wand confiscated until September.
Of course if his father happened to ask him how he'd done... Well he wasn't all too sure he knew what he'd say. He'd have a hell of a time lying but it wouldn't be much easier telling the truth. His solution to this was to avoid his father as much as possible and avoid any talk of transfiguration or exams. This tactic was thus far working swimmingly, although he'd not even been home a whole week yet and he had the better part of three months to go before he could consider it a complete success.
He waved his wand and once again tried to turn the pen pot into a tortoise. It sprouted a stubby little tail but otherwise seemed to be unchanged. The tightness in his chest worsened and he had to pause a moment to fight back tears of frustration. His father had probably succeeded first time when he was a third year, he'd probably been top of his class and better than some of the older students. Nico was fairly sure he'd be thoroughly outpaced by even Zenobia.
He finally rallied his spirits again and was halfway through uttering the incantation when he heard his bedroom door open. He'd strategically chosen to sit on the far side of his room - on the floor - so that his bed would mostly obscure what he was doing but that didn't stop him from flying into a panic. He jumped with surprise before hastily shoving the mutant pen pot under his bed and jamming his wand up his sleeve (which was harder than he'd expected) hoping to Merlin he'd acted fast enough.
Hello?! he called out in an effort to distract or stall for time. His wand was almost completely up his sleeve when he turned around and peered over the edge of his bed to see who was there. The bottom dropped out of his stomach and he had to fight the urge to join his pen pot under the bed. Papa... He tried to sound pleasantly surprised but the pleasant part died in his throat. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
This was the first week that his children were home from school, and so far Domitian had interacted with them each in only the most cursory way. He was still working most of the day, so he would see them in the evening for a brief and superficial conversation. There was nothing much to say to them in that setting. Not when he didn't trust anyone, including, sometimes, the two of them.
But things had changed significantly since they'd last been home from Hogwarts. Their aunt was married, in scandalous fashion. They had a new uncle, at least for the moment. Their aunt Bellona had come to stay with them for the summer. Things were changing and there was something in the air Domitian was sure the children could not help but notice, even young as they were. It was the right time to give Nico a gift, he'd decided. At least, he hoped it was the right time. He'd come with the intention of fetching Nico out of his bedroom and bringing him to the study, which would be a better place to give it to him.
There was a flurry of activity when he opened the door, and although Domitian didn't see what it was that Nico was so eager to conceal from him he was suspicious all the same. "Nicodemus," he said in a smooth, expressionless tone. His hand rested on the doorknob for a moment, waiting for an explanation.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
There was something about his father's tone - or perhaps it was the lack thereof - that made Nico's heart skip a beat and his stomach clench sickeningly. No, it wasn't his father's tone at all but his inscrutability and Nico's guilty conscience that filled him with existential dread. There were two paths before him and neither ended in Domitian Zabini's approval or affection. If he was lucky his father would only be angry at him for using magic illegally and perhaps he'd see his wand at the end of summer, otherwise he'd earn his father's disappointment and there could be nothing worse than that.
What could he do? He couldn't possibly lie to his father and there was no doubt he'd already aroused his father's suspicion; even if he could masterfully compose himself and hide all signs of his panic it was far too late now. He slowly got to his feet and then clasped his hands behind his back. It was not unusual for him to stand this way but presently it had the added advantage of discreetly keeping his wand from slipping out of his sleeve. Now he was at a crossroads: did he freely give an explanation for his sheepishness or did he admit nothing and wait for his father to ask directly?
After a noticeable delay, he finally found some courage. I-I'm sorry, Papa, he couldn't look his father in face and instead trained his eyes on his father's shoes, I was- I was practicing magic. He braced himself for what was to follow. Please be less angry with me because I told the truth! It couldn't be as bad as when Zen had started a fire but he was the eldest, he was supposed to be more responsible and set a good example for her... Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
This was an unexpected turn of events. Nicodemus and Zenobia were radically different, and if either of them were going to be experimenting and pushing boundaries in the sanctity of their bedrooms, he would have thought it would be Zenobia. Domitian was a bit at a loss as to how to interpret this. A sign that Nico had a complete private life which Domitian and Matilda knew nothing about, or only a one-time occurrence? If the latter, what would have spurred him to do such a thing? His rational for being ashamed of it was obvious; Domitian had taken a rather hard line stance against underage magic in their household last summer when Zenobia had gotten her wand. In truth he wasn't much opposed to the idea of his children practicing magic, except that Zen had demonstrated she lacked the maturity to be trusted with her wand without direct supervision from a professor. The fact that he'd taken her wand away had more to do with teaching her discipline than preventing her from practicing spellwork, but there was no reason for Nico to know that.
He considered his son for a moment, then crossed his arms. "Show me."
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
His head snapped up and he stared in horror at his father, mouth slightly agape. He felt a sickening wave of adrenaline rush over him as panic set in. This was so much worse than any of the alternatives he'd come up with; his father being disappointed in him for underage magic was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to the disappointment he'd surely feel witnessing Nico struggle with spells Zenobia would be learning in a few months if she hadn't already!
To make matters worse he could feel his eyes starting to well up with hot tears. It wasn't like him to ignore his father's orders but he couldn't surrender whatever love and respect his father might feel for him so easily. Nico took a couple shaky steps towards his father and fumbled with his sleeve until his wand slid out. I'm s-sorry, I won't do it again. I promise. At that he held his wand out (using both hands for maximum steadiness) for his father to take. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Domitian watched Nico fumble to retrieve his wand with his lips tightly pursed. He didn't know what to make of this. His son had admitted what he'd been doing, and Domitian's response had been nothing but neutral, and yet the boy clearly believed himself to be in a good deal of trouble. Dom looked at his son's wand, but made no move to take it.
"Nicodemus," he said with a frown. "You have next to nothing in common with your sister."
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
It felt to him like both a compliment and a slight at the same time. Not an intentional slight by any means, he simply couldn't help but to think of how easily Zen could cast the spells he should've mastered years ago, spells he ought to be able to cast blindfolded with minimal concentration at this point. His sister might be petulant and impulsive but she could (and hopefully would) grow out of that, he couldn't grow out of having absolutely no aptitude for transfiguration talent was supposed to be there or it wasn't. He would probably be little better than a squib in his father's eyes if he ever found out which now almost seemed to be inevitable.
He ought to be relieved that his father seemed disinterested in unburdening him of his wand but how could he be when it seemed unlikely his father would now drop the matter altogether. Nico lowered his arms but kept his wand clutched in both hand in front of his chest. I'm sorry, Pa, I can't show you, he murmured very tentatively, his voice almost nearing a whisper. He blinked hard but instead of blinking away the wateriness it let one escape. Mortified he snapped his head down to stare at the floor, hoping it would disguise the tear and any that might dare to follow. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Domitian watched his son carefully. He hadn't said that he wouldn't show his father the spell. Nico had said that he couldn't. He was clearly very invested in this moment. The emotion in his voice was obvious, and his body language was speaking volumes beyond that. Dom frowned. He had always thought it more important that his children respect him than that they like him, because his ultimate goal was to give them the tools to survive in this world. He wanted them to learn from him, and if that came at the expense of fond memories to look back on, then that was the price he would pay. Fond memories hadn't done him any good when his parents had divorced.
Now, though, he couldn't help but wonder: was Nicodemus afraid of him?
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
Even though it had seemed inevitable that his father was about to find out - to some extent at least - that his only son was hopelessly incompetent in the one field of magic that mattered, his father's words hit him like a devastating blow nonetheless. It was exactly like nightmares he'd had only this was real and he had no idea which nightmare scenario would match the reality.
The tears were now falling fast and freely and his head was now at such an angle that they were splashing directly onto the floorboards below. It was all he could do to shake his head slightly from side to side in response. He felt like he was already being crushed with the weight of his father's disappointment; his father might not have any reason to suspect his son hadn't been attempting a highly advanced spell but Nico was far too shaken up to try salvaging the situation. It was too late, it was all over for him now, his father would have the whole truth out of him in minutes and there was nothing to be done. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
The room felt five degrees hotter. Domitian reached down and picked his son up easily, depositing him in a sitting position on his bed. Then he knelt at his son's feet and looked up at him, trying to put himself in a position where it would be impossible for Nico not to meet his eyes.
"Now listen to me, Nico," he said, low and quiet. "Listen. This is important. Pay attention. It doesn't matter where you're weak. Everyone has weaknesses. It only matters what they see. Do you understand? Your weaknesses don't matter. Only what you show."
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
None of his nightmares had gone like this. Was that a good thing?
He'd tensed with surprise and terror the moment his father had hoisted him from the floor. Logically he knew his father wasn't picking him up to unleash some violence upon him but in his distress his mind had temporarily lost the ability to be logical. There was something deeply disturbing about his father kneeling before him, to be looking down at his father was so abnormal it was unnerving. It also meant he couldn't help but to make eye contact even as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't tell if his father was trying to comfort him or chastise him or both.
What Nico could tell was that his father had yet to even comprehend the depths of his firstborn son's failings, he couldn't possibly speak to him this way if he suspected for even a moment. Here was an opportunity to pass off his fuss as a childish overreaction but now that he was here in his waking nightmare it seemed almost dishonest to do so. Besides his father might still ask him to attempt a transfiguration and then it would all be too obvious. But, Papa, he paused and he somehow managed to look even more upset than before, it does matter. It was not like him to contradict his father but he felt undeserving of whatever leniency or sage advice his father was trying to impart upon him. He was a fraud, he was like a cuckoo chick and his father was moments from recognizing the interloper in his nest for what it was. I can't hide it and I can't fix it.You'll be ashamed of me, he thought bitterly. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
"It doesn't matter," Domitian said firmly. He didn't even know what spell Nico had been attempting to cast, but there was nothing Domitian could think that would warrant this kind of reaction. It was one thing to have such strong emotions — Nico had always been sensitive, and Domitian couldn't begrudge him his feelings — but it was another thing entirely to put them on display. The outside world would not look kindly on this, and Domitian had to ensure that his son knew it — or could at least avoid it until he understood.
"I don't care if you can't cast a single spell, you understand? You can make your life as a lawyer and never pick up a wand from the day you leave Hogwarts. Listen, Nicodemus: life is what you make of it. But you need to be strong enough to shape it. You find your strengths. You build on them. You never let them see your weaknesses. Do you understand me?"
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
Nico nodded mutely, struggling to wrap his head around the possibility that his father might not begrudge him if he was the worst wizard in the family. He tried very hard to hide his failings, most of all from his father, so this was not groundbreaking to him though it did convince him he needed to try even harder. It was still secondary to the matter of his magical ability, however. Did his father really mean it or was he only saying it because he couldn't imagine in a million years that his son, his heir wasn't able to master basic first year transfiguration spells?
There was only one way to find out. I understand. He waited a few moments before speaking again so his father would know he took the advice seriously. Do you mean it, would you really not care? It seemed too good to be true, surely he had to care? Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Domitian pursed his lips at his son's question. It seemed he didn't understand, at least not completely. "I doesn't matter what I think," he responded, his voice nearly a growl. "Or your professors at school. They won't be in your life forever. I won't be in your life forever." Maybe not even for much longer, depending on how Matilda reacted to the news of his father's new son. Depending on how his father reacted to it, and what cards Calliope had up her sleeve next. His time left in his children's life might already be quite limited, and there was no way of knowing until it was too late to do anything about it. He'd been trying so far for so long to give his children the skills to be independent in the world, and now he was running out of time and it seemed he'd failed. Somehow, even when Domitian was cool and impersonal with both of his children, Nicodemus had come to crave his approval.
"You shape your own narrative, Nico. You control your own life. You decide what is important to you and what you show to others. Do you understand?"
Bree made this!
September 15, 2021 – 12:10 AM
Last modified: September 15, 2021 – 12:11 AM by Nicodemus Zabini.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
Well he'd thought he'd understood but... It was all well and good what his father was saying but it was completely at odds with all he knew of obligation and being a credit to his family, to his father. Now he wasn't sure what to think, where the lines were supposed to be. Also how could he not care what his father thought? He could choose not to think but surely his father wouldn't want that? He didn't want that, he wanted to make his father proud, he wanted his father to be proud to have him as his heir.
Nico tried to give his father a resolute nod, getting so far as tilting his chin upward before his lower lip trembled and he had to stop as the tears started their reprisal. Pa, I can't do transfiguration! His confession burst forth in a rushed squeak. He didn't know what his father was angling at anymore but he'd come so close to admitting his greatest shame that he couldn't put it back in the bottle again, the only thing that would make sense was his father's reaction now that he'd said it plainly. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Despite what he'd been saying this did sting slightly. The only sign he gave that the admission had phased him at all was that his lips drew slightly tighter, but if what Nico was saying was true Domitian was sorry for it. Not because he thought his son needed to become an animagus in order to succeed in life, or to prove himself, but because of what an experience he would lose out on. Domitian was fiercely proud of his animagus form (not least because of the connection to the maternal branch of his family, though he wouldn't admit as much out loud), and the nights he spent prowling as a jaguar were a refuge for him. The same feeling of uncomplicated freedom should have been Nico's birthright.
"Then don't," he replied firmly. "Pretend it bores you. Make them think it's too easy for you. Put on whatever facade you like."
