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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.

Where will you fall?

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Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
What she got was the opposite of what she wanted, also known as the subtitle to her marriage.
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#1
May 15, 1892 - DADA Office, Hogwarts
Gus stared down at the last batch of essays he had to grade for the year, still neatly piled up in front of him. He’d made it, even if it’d only been a semester rather than an entire year, but he’d made it. That was a feat in itself, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d celebrate yet - he still had to worry about securing a place to live because he wasn’t going to live with his sister and her husband, nor did he have any intentions of living with his parents in his childhood bedroom. He loved them, but he knew they’d worry every time he went out the door, and Gus was never one to sit still.

He groaned softly as he rubbed his eyes, watching the words of the essay swim for a moment. They were all similar and all so boring. He couldn’t fault them though - Gus had been the one to give the assignment, and it wasn’t as if they could put any pizazz in words like they could during a lesson. While grateful for a job and the ability to be at Hogwarts again, he was tired and had an overwhelming desire to curl up in his bed and sleep until the exams started. But he couldn’t - he had to give the graded essays back to his first and second years so they knew what to study for their final practical exams. But, as Gus covered his mouth to hide a yawn, a quick nap might not hurt.

Stretching his legs, the professor stood before he strode over toward the door to close it, lest a student wander in and need his help, or a professor pop by to check in on him. (Not dead yet, was always his go to response with a wide grin.) However, as soon as Gus reached the door, his fingers curled around the handle to close it, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a ghostly face suddenly appeared before him. His hand moved to rest on his chest as he choked out a laugh.




#2
Theodosia read over the letter again and scowled. Rather than any of her friends in the afterlife returning her nice messages, it was the Spirit Division informing her of an upcoming interview next Thursday. Probably with the dreadfully boring Mr. Humphreys again. The meetings always felt like she was in trouble, and it seemed like since her last outburst they had been scheduled more frequently. Since it was a ghostly letter like the kind sent between spirits (The Ministry wouldn’t find much success sending ghosts regular letters), Theodosia took great pleasure in managing the misty page of parchment and trying to throw it through a window. Of course, it faded into a thinning cloud of mist and then nothing once she let go.

With that tiny bit of catharsis ruined, she set about moping around the third floor corridors. The hallways were not too crowded and her passing through walls and turning torches briefly blue went unnoticed. She sulked halfway through the length of the castle until floating through the DADA classroom. There she paused briefly to admire the darkening evening sky as the sun sank towards the horizon. Blues, pinks, and oranges filled the sky like a beautiful watercolor landscape.

She turned from the window and flew towards the office, intending to take a shortcut towards Ravenclaw Tower. The clatter of a hasty jump backward on the stone floor and shocked laugh indicated that the professor was seemingly in. Theodosia tilted her head and gazed down at the professor. She couldn’t say she’d met him yet. His name was probably brought up in conversations she overheard but if she’d heard it, she didn’t retain it. Well, better late than never to make an introduction.

“So sorry about that, I didn’t mean to give you a fright. This was just an easy shortcut to my destination.” She nodded to the office she was about to fly through before continuing. “I do not think we have met before. Miss Theodosia Bartlett, a pleasure to meet you. You must be the new defense against the dark arts professor. That or you’re going through their office.”, she added with a smile, fairly confident that the redheaded man wasn’t a student snooping around looking for exam answers.



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#3
For living in a place with ghosts for several years then picking a career where he ran into a handful of them, some of the encounters Gus would rather forget, he was never quite prepared to run into one. He still had his hand pressed to his chest as he breathed out another laugh, watching the woman before he stopped to address him. He was still getting reacquainted with most of the ghosts at the castle, and as he scrambled to think of her name she offered it before his mind could come with it.

He turned to her with an easy smile, his hands folding behind his back to keep from offering one to her. Would she fall through him? Was she solid? Gus didn't know a lot about ghosts but as his mind began to turn, he found he had so many questions for her. He bit his tongue; the point was to not offend her. “Gus Lissington, at your pleasure Miss Bartlett.” He hesitated then, taking a glance around the office - even after nearly five months, the office still didn’t feel like his. He hated sitting behind the desk (any desk, really, but he tried not to whine too much about that), and with summer just within arm’s reach, Gus was thrilled to not have to sit behind one. His grin widened then. “Who’s to say I’m not snooping around another professor’s office?”

Laughing then, the redhead rubbed the back of his head. “Where are you headed? I feel pretty isolated here, and I mean, anywhere is better than staring at essays right now.” Gus did that often, inviting himself into people’s plans. He cast a glance at the papers behind him.





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#4
She smirked at the professor’s reversal of her joke that he was a student snooping through a professor’s office. Although she knew it wasn’t true. Before he had noticed her, he had been staring down at the papers at the desk as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world. “Well, if you were spying on another professor’s office you probably would not look so bored and unexcited.” It was a look she saw not infrequently on the faces of professors throughout the castle. Between teaching actual classes, patrolling the castle, and all the other duties of being a professor it was incredible that Hogwarts professors found time to grade all of their students' assignments. It could be draining for anyone.

Theodosia tilted her head, not used to people asking what her plans were. After all, what plans could a ghost possibly have? Surely they had done it all in the decades and centuries since their death. They would just float around and do the same old routines over and over for eternity. At least that seemed like how some of the living viewed ghosts. Someone expressing an interest in her caused her smirk to grow into a beaming smile.

“I was thinking about taking a shortcut over to mope around Ravenclaw Tower.”, she answered, nodding towards the wall behind the professor. “Unless you have a broom in here and feel like leaping from that window it would be a bit difficult to bring you with me.” Theodosia sailed through the corner of the professor’s desk, narrowly avoiding passing her arm through him as she floated to the window. There wasn’t anything in particular about the tower that made her choose it and she was sure that it didn’t sound all that interesting to the professor. “But, there are always other things to do. We can explore the grounds and I can show you where I died. Go to the library. All sorts of things if you need a break from those essays.” The library remark was a bit selfish on her part, as if she wanted to read she would need to find someone else already reading and read over their shoulder or get a very patient living person to flip pages for her.





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#5

She smirked and Gus tossed a look over his shoulder at the stack of essays that taunted him. In fact if he concentrated hard enough on them, he could hear the words on the paper laughing at him that he had to sit down, read and grade the papers before the end of the term. Gus might join her as a ghost with the cause of death of boredom. Would he die here? In his actual classroom? Or perhaps in the Great Hall where he sometimes tried to grade papers, because what better way to pass the time of being forced to grade than stuffing his face? His eyes kept going cross from reading the same words over and over again, with the occasional reprise from students who didn’t understand the assignment.

Her expression morphed and Gus grinned back at her. He glanced behind him again as she nodded, and as he turned back to her. “Afraid not. I’m not one for quidditch, and another professor here forbids me from jumping off things without a broom.” He laughed quietly, taking a small step away from her as she glided past him. He’d been friends with Basil Foxwood when they were in their final year at Hogwarts, and Gus had asked Foxwood if he thought he could summon a broom faster than he’d fall. Basil hadn’t been amused by the thought, and ten years later Gus still didn’t have an answer to that question. It was a theory he’d test sooner rather than later.


His eyes widened for a moment before he rubbed the back of his head. Was her death spot not… intimate? He wasn’t a ghost, so he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about showing people where he died. “If you don’t mind, the grounds would be my preference. I would like to hear about your life, if you’d like to share.” He smiled at her. Right now he was avoiding the library like the plague because he’d tried his best to befriend the librarian, but then she’d up and quit! He could only hope it wasn’t his fault for pestering her one one too many times.

“And, I’ll show my spot, and exactly why I’m not allowed to jump without brooms.” He laughed as he shook his head before he shuffled around a few pieces of paper to grab his wand from his desk. One would never be too sure when they’d need it, especially waltzing around the ground. He locked the door on his way out, just in case. Last time he’d left it unlocked, Gus had winded up with a baby mandrake on his floor.






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#6
“Of course, I would be honored if you would join me for a walk and float of the grounds, respectively!” she said with a chuckle. She swept over the top of Professor Lissington’s desk, turning any coffee that remained in his cup cold. While the professor gathered his wand, she watched the sun continue its descent beneath the horizon outside. She heard the door click closed and glided along to not be left behind. The door didn’t provide much of a barrier as she just emerged from the other side as if the wooden door was just more air.

She let the professor lead the way since he was much more limited in his mobility through the castle. If it was just her flying to the grounds would be as simple as drawing a straight line. But her new friend would slam into a stone wall if he tried to follow her. Instead, she floated along beside him and followed him through the corridor. With each window they passed, she grew happier that evening was the time chosen for such a walk through the grounds. The last rays of daylight filtering through the windows barely disturbed her image. Were it midday she would barely be visible outside.

Theodosia watched him curiously, fighting a nagging sense of familiarity. Although that was nearly universal for her. Every witch or wizard alive in Britain who attended Hogwarts had probably passed her by at some point. They might not remember or even see her. But she remembered all their faces, however faintly. If he had attended Hogwarts as a child she would have seen him around in some form.

What she did know for a fact was that Professor Lissington was newer to Hogwarts. Her last stop by Defense Against the Dark Arts had been to see a different face teaching. She really needed to sit in on some more classes regardless of who was teaching. They were always fun. “If I’m not mistaken, you are a bit new to Hogwarts.” she said, watching for a reaction to see if she was right. “How did you wind up here in the castle? And why Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Hogwarts professors needed some kind of experience in their field. Was the redheaded teacher formerly an auror or hunter of dark creatures? He would surely have some interesting stories to tell.



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#7
Gus hummed quietly as he stepped into the hallway, watching as Miss Bartlett floated next to him. Sunlight filtered through the windows as they drew closer toward the ground, and Gus was thrilled it was warmer outside. He hated the cold almost more than anything, and had it been even slightly cooler outside, he wasn’t sure he would have accompanied her. (If he had, the redhead would have bundled himself in scarves and cast a warming spell.)

In fact, after he left for the summer, Gus was going to spend every waking moment outside, and if he was lucky, maybe even find a day or two to sleep under the stars. He had plans to go to the beach (and had even bigger plans of dragging the Herbology professor, Mason with him.) Ms. Bartlett’s comment drew him from his thoughts and he turned toward her with an easy smile as he nodded. A lot of people questioned how he got here. “I started in January. I skipped the Coming Out Ball that night -” He wasn’t interested in women and had zero intention of ever taking a wife. “To immediately portkey to Egypt as soon as we stepped off the boats as official Hogwarts graduates. Spent the last decade here and there, globetrotting I suppose you could say, but I was ready to come home. It’s nice to not live out of a suitcase.” He laughed.

Any time they needed someone for an assignment where it would be hard to contact someone, he’d volunteer for it. Any assignments that were dangerous, sign him up. Gus had sacrificed most of his friendships in London, allowing them to fizzle into nothing. Even his sister had lost contact with him for a while, and she became one of the few he consistently sent letters to. Pushing open the doors toward the grounds, it took Gus another moment to answer the second question. “Honestly, I considered Care of Magical Creatures, but my track record isn’t exactly the best.” He nervously scratched his cheek, recalling the hinkypunk he’d let loose, letting Peeves out by accident and then having to ask Mason for help because of a mandrake on his floor, all earlier in the year. He’d be incompetent if he couldn’t figure out how to handle those situations. “I learned a lot on the job. Life is…difficult, and sometimes you need to protect yourself when you least expect it. And I want them to feel prepared.” He had his doubts on how well he was teaching, but that was for another time. He’d have the entire summer to mull over those thoughts.

Gus turned his eyes toward her. “And you, Ms. Bartlett? I’m sure you have dreams and aspirations.” Although he wondered how much Hogwarts hindered them. He pondered too, what she wanted to do before she died, but figured that might a bit too personal.







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#8
What a life he must have lived! She listened intently, paying no attention to obstacles in her path and letting them pass through her as she focused on Professor Lissington’s story. Traveling the world and having to defend himself against the dark arts. It was very appropriate for his position. She was a million follow-up questions, but he seemed to want to know about her.

When he turned the question on her, she ceased floating forward and hung in place. Asking a ghost about their dreams and aspirations was a bit like asking a blind person to describe their favorite color. She contemplated how best to explain it before saying “Well… I did. I was a student here back in the 1760s up until 1771. I was pretty good at potions, like my father. He was a potioneer. And I would have loved to be one too. Get my O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Graduate top of my class. Go on to be successful and happy and have a husband and a family.” She frowned and gestured to the Hogwarts uniform she still wore in death and muttered “Obviously none of that worked out. I died here at school.” Which he knew already, since she had mentioned she died on the grounds.

“Ghosts don’t really get to have aspirations or dreams anymore.”, she explained, although a bit confused that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wouldn’t know. Granted, he wasn’t exactly teaching Ghoul Studies. However, she imagined there might have been some overlap. “We don’t really change or grow anymore once we are in this imitation afterlife. We can absorb information, make new memories, but who we are at our core stops changing on our physical demise. I am who I was back then. I have the same likes, dislikes, insecurities, annoyances as I did. And I will continue to have those same shortcomings forever.”

It was a bit sad. Beatrice Fitzgerald had tormented her at school until her death. And Beatrice’s taunts that she was a bookworm who always carried around an aura of potion fumes that nobody would ever want to marry still ate at her whenever she thought about them. And Beatrice had long-since died and could never be judgmental towards her again. Theodosia would know, she flew down to London from Hogwarts Castle to witness the funeral.

She continued floating along with Professor Lissington, down the moving staircases. Although she did give him the full width of the staircase, flying on the other side of the handrail. “Now that I’m here forever, I focus on doing what I can for others. I’ve befriended professors, even though most inevitably come and go. I help students when I can, whether they’re just trying to find their classes, or they seem more metaphorically lost and need somebody to talk to. And now with so many people in Hogsmeade I get to see those students I remember well all grown up and see what they made of themselves. Although everybody at this point is at least a little familiar.” Even if that familiarity required mentally de-aging people she may have last seen years ago when they were teenagers or still young children.

Theodosia glanced at the redhead again and pursed her lips, deep in thought. “Were you in Hufflepuff? Or maybe Gryffindor? Something with gold in the mix somewhere.” If she couldn’t remember someone right away, they probably never talked. But most people she could vaguely place if she looked at them long enough. Up to seven years at the castle and she was bound to pass by most people at least once or twice.



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