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.
See your character from sorting through graduation by completing at least one thread each year (10+ posts, 3+ yours) and participating in the initial sorting ceremony.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Before the 1920's, it was believed that the Milky Way Galaxy was the only galaxy in the universe. — Steph
24th March, 1894 — Konstantin Fisk's Home Zelda Darrow
With the prospect of another week in the doldrums of the department before him Konstantin did the only sensible thing available to him: he supped from a bottle of brown ale and smoked out of the window in deference to his dog, who whined if the room became too stuffy. It was unusually chilly for the time of year and he had wrapped himself in an old cloak, giving him the unfortunate appearance of a destitute loitering in Knockturn Alley. He couldn't quite bring himself to care, nor did he care for the state of his once pin-neat home, and he would have remained there for the afternoon, flipping idly through the newspaper for want of anything else to do, but he was roused by a rapping on the door.
There was no point in ignoring it. He recognised the insistent cadence all too well.
"It's open Zelda," he called out, having given up on nonsense like locking doors some time ago.
Carina was old enough now and Zelda recovered enough that she had just barely started venturing further than the restaurant at the Sanditon. (The restaurant at the Sanditon had lost some of its immediate appeal when Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass left and she was just observing the same old people.)
One of her goals now that she was not pregnant was to Fix her brothers, who obviously all needed fixing desperately. Konstantin was an easy one to start with, as she felt that she understood — and empathized with — exactly what had him in a state of distress.
Zelda stepped through the door at her brother's summons and closed it behind her. She took off her skirt and scarf and hung them on Konstantin's coat rack. "It's dreadfully bleak in here, Kons," she chided.
There was little point in arguing. Firstly, because there was never much use in arguing with Zelda but secondly, and perhaps more damningly, because it was undoubtedly true.
“I have the window open,” he insisted, as though that was all it took to breathe some life back into his world. He threw the cigarette out of the window at least and leaned back against the frame – outside the goods people of Bartonburg went about their perfectly respectable business, quite content in their lives and he wondered, not for the first time, whether it would be better to move somewhere that better suited his mood.
At least in the Slums they might look as miserable as he felt.
“And before you ask I’m fine,” he added, swinging his legs to the ground. “How are you? How’s Carina?”
He still refused to enquire about the other member of the household.
Zelda looked upon the bleak entryway of Kons' house, with her hands on her hips. She had an impulse to start cleaning. She had basically never had an impulse to start cleaning in her life, but Konstantin's house was making her want to.
"The children are lovely," she answered dutifully. "And so is Alfred." Kons would probably hate Alfred until everyone involved was dead, but that didn't mean she had to indulge him.
“Open as many as you like,” he offered cordially, getting to his feet and brushing ash off his shirt. He noticed a small hole in the cuff of his sleeve and wondered briefly whether it was a burn or if Rupert had been nibbling at him without his notice – best not to dwell, he thought, as he turned the cuff up to conceal it.
“What brings you here? I’m not really up to entertaining,” he said sardonically, glancing around the room.
Zelda flicked her wand and muttered a spell to send his window up, and repeated the process a few more times — she was trying to get back into the habit of relying on magic. "I can't just visit my older brother?" she asked, flip — she turned to Kons and smiled at him, almost conspiratorially. She missed Amelia quite terrible, and was sure that Kons missed her more — but he could not go on like this.
If someone had told him years ago that Zelda would one day be the sibling that actually had their life together then Kons would have referred them to the dread asylum in Irvingly immediately. Somehow though, it had come to this. The thought was almost enough to make him want to pull himself back together, but not quite.
“Of course you can,” he said affectionately. “But you’ve never been one for tidying up before.”
Zelda laughed at Kons. It was not the best joke she had ever heard him make, but she was trying to encourage him to do anything other than wallow. ''Would you rather promenade?'' she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. She would happily take dragging him out into the sunlight.
“God no,” he said emphatically, staring out of the window and it’s mocking display of perfectly nice weather with contempt. He was in no fit state for polite company and as he had no intention of neatening himself up today he would have to stay inside – dire though his mood was he still cared what others might think, even if he was desperately trying to convince himself that he didn’t.
“I’d rather know why you’re clucking around me like mama used to.”
Zelda turned around to face her older brother; her hands were on her hips. "Mama's dead, Kons," she said, blunt. "Someone has to keep an eye on everyone." Was she the most natural choice? Absolutely not; but she was the Fisk girl with the least children.
The sting of that particular statement had still not entirely gone away – Kons doubted it ever would – but he managed to stem the burst of emotion is inevitably conjured up. Just about.
“I’m sure she’d be proud,” he managed to say, a little strained, a little gruff, but entirely honest.
Zelda shrugged. She hoped that her mother would be proud, but she couldn't know — so she had to operate as she thought her mother would. "She'd be proud of you, too," Zelda said, "But you can't keep shut in like this."
Kons looked away from his sister, willing the tears in his eyes to go away. He didn’t think his mother would be proud of how he had behaved in the last year – he doubted Amelia would either, but it felt like far too much to pull himself together. What on earth was he doing?
“I doubt anyone’s missed me,” he said shortly, wiping at his face under the pretence of a sniffing fit.
Zelda crossed the room, which seemed only slightly less sad with the blinds up, and prodded Kons in the shoulder with her hunger. "I've missed you, you prat," she said, tone affectionate.
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