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
Sea legs. That was what it was called, Philippa thought, when one felt at home moving about the deck of a ship. Was it lake legs on a small craft like this one, the Gryffindor wondered? Whatever it was called, Pippa quite decidedly did not have them.
"Stop moving about so much!" the first year chastised, firmly seated upon the bench and arms clinging to the side of the sailboat. Her wand was all but forgotten in its holster at her side; she was unwilling to give up stability to do the actual assignment. "You're going to tip us over!"
The lesson was, in theory, simple: the first and second years, in groups of three, were to practice wind charms that would propel their vessels about the lake. They had been practicing with feathers in the classroom to start—Pippa hadn't done terribly, even with her never-admitted struggles with practical magic—and this was to be the next step in their educational growth, or something along those lines. The professor had said something about magical barriers and a retrieval charm that the Gryffindor had only somewhat paid attention to, and now here they were, the witch keenly aware of the fact that she had never learned to swim.
Professor Ellsworth had probably intended this to be fun, Pippa realized gloomily.
"We're not going to tip over," James said, with undoubtedly unwarranted confidence. "Don't worry so much." At the very least, James knew he was a decent swimmer, so even if they did tip over, he was sure they'd be fine. The idea that other people might not be as capable in that department had not occurred to him.
And anyway, James had not yet learned that the power of his spells wasn't directly correlated to the force with which he did his casting movements. As far as he was concerned, the more he moved his wand arm, the stronger the gust of wind was going to be. It wasn't his fault that that also shook the boat.
"Pardon me," Philippa deadpanned, "if I am not overcome with confidence in you."
Mr. Callum looked like a startled goose when he tried to cast spells and while she could begrudgingly acknowledge that his magical efforts tended towards greater efficacy than her own—acknowledge to herself, not aloud!—she would rather fail today's exercise than allow his spasmodic movements drown them all.
James shook his head at Miss Rowle. Pessimists. He could not relate. James did not have a single pessimistic bone in his body.
He cast another wind charm, his arm arcing through the air in an exaggerated motion, and was so pleased by the spell's effectiveness that he didn't really notice that their boat was at an angle one might call unhealthy.
Between a white knuckled grip on the rudder and another on his wand, Alexander hadn't managed to contribute much to the assignment. (Though if pressed he'd insist he was steering.) Unfortunately his stubborn clinging didn't help ground him at all. Try as he might his eyes kept wandering to the water, the murkey depths, and his parents.
Thanks to a lurch from the boat, the rushing noise in his ears faded to what seemed like a meager breeze that filled their sails.
"Atleast sit while you do that." he snaped, feeling immediately betrayed by the tension in his own voice.
The wide-eyed, indignant look that Pippa shot her yearmate at Mr. Waterford's remark conveyed something along the lines of see?! and/or why are you such a human disaster?! Though to be fair, Pippa had rather hoped that Mr. Waterford, as a second year, would prove more useful than he had so far. Oh, why had she had to wind up in the dud boat?
Unfortunately for all involved, James was much better at waving his arms dramatically than he was at interpreting other people's facial expressions, because he did not look at Miss Rowle's face and see a clear and possibly well-justified questioning of his abilities. Or more to the point, he thought Mr. Waterford was being overly cautious at that exact moment, and decided any other input he got in that moment was in agreement with him.
So, when the boat started tipping far to its left, at least James was sure it was only partially his fault.
Rudders being what rudders are, the one he gripped so fiercely did nothing to help him stay centered when the boat started listing. With a yelp he found himself leaning left as much as the little mast was. When he toppled over the edge and hit the water it seemed to close in over him, tugging him down as if it had been waiting to do so the whole time.
What Philippa Rowle experienced was the small vessel listing to one side. What she felt, though, was the entire world slipping out from under her, her life flashing before her eyes, whatever one wished to call it. The Gryffindor wrapped herself desperately upon the thin mast, horrified of falling in. It did not occur to her that the boat might capsize altogether as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, a long shriek leaving her mouth unbidden.
James tried to right the boat. He did. Truly, he didn't want to end up in the lake anymore than anyone else--a lack of concern wasn't the same as wanting to go for an impromptu swim! At least it wasn't today--so he did his best to avoid the inevitable. It wasn't to be, though--James' flailing at the boat's side to push it back only seemed to make the rocking worse, and before long--
He'd spent most of the class trying not to imagine exactly this and yet it was still a surprise. Paralyzed by the shock of it, the water pressed in on him, weightless and quiet. This kind of thing didn't really happen, his instincts insisted. This happened in cautionary lectures adults told. This happened to other people.
This happened to his parents.
His eyes snapped open and a gasp tore from him, filling his mouth and throat with water. He thrashed for the surface, his chest convulsing in protest. Weightless and quiet became heavy and deafening. He could see the blurred sky above, taunting him just out of reach, the bright sun doing nothing for the darkness that curled around the edges of his vision pulling, dragging, holding him down.
And then he broke the surface, coughing and sputtering.
In spite of her efforts, Pippa failed, found herself in the water. The coldness of the lake seeped into her bones as its wetness weighed down her clothes. The second year's head broke the surface long enough for her to let out a high-pitched shriek of primal fear before she was, once again, back under.
Oops. Listen, no one could have foreseen this. James had had everything perfectly under control. Until he hadn't. Maybe the boat was cursed? He was going with that explanation.
His head broke through the surface of the water with a gasp and he floundered a bit, trying to remember how to tread water until he had enough breath to shout, "Help!"
Finding the surface was a victory that came with little relief. There was a din of struggle around him that his ragged coughs only added to as his lungs still fought to be rid of the water he'd inhaled. His limbs limbs flailed on instinct and distant muscle memory, counteracting the the heavy drag of his robes but only just.
Through the tunnel vision of his panic he could just register what must be their boat. Instinct drove him toward it.
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