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.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
Antigone pocketed the wand she had coerced out of her maid and looked at the glass of the shop window, angling herself so she could see her own reflection. With a few transfiguration charms she had managed to rearrange her features just enough that she shouldn't be immediately recognizable unless someone who knew her well enough was prompted into suspicion. Her own sisters would have a hard time recognizing her! Tiberius would not be hearing of this from anyone, least of all some nosy, meddlesome pest who might happen to walk by. Satisfied, she entered the shop.
"Monsieur Ollivander?" The French was unnecessary in light of the physical disguise she had adopted but the idea of using a different language to hide her identity had occurred to her first and she was rather swept up in her own perceived cleverness. Tig approached the counter which she observed now was unattended and scowled to herself. How dare he ruin her ingenious plan by not being present! He had better be somewhere! "Is anybody here?" Her annoyance seeped into her words a little.
The bell tinkled above the shop's door as it opened, a distant sound echoed by a charmed bell in his workroom. Gervaise took the time to finish the anchoring he was doing—a delicate step in which the wand's core was affixed—before quickly wiping his hands on his leather apron and emerging from the back in time to hear a Frenchwoman (merde.) ask if anyone was present.
"Indeed I am," came his answer as he moved to stand behind the counter, less comfortable in the role of shopkeep than of craftsman but still filling the space as though he belonged there.
Pleased not to be kept waiting any longer Tig's annoyance eased somewhat. "I'll get to the point then; I need a new wand." It suddenly occurred to her that maybe instead of getting a temporary replacement she might be able to get an upgrade. Technically she wouldn't need to get hers back from Tiberius at all but even with a better wand she'd want it back, it was the principle of the thing! "Your best, in fact."
Though he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he did not stop the snort from leaving him. Of course this society woman wanted his best wand—likely as not to replace the one that had plainly been instilled within her.
"The wand chooses the wizard, Madam," he quoted his father's old adage. "Or rather, in this case, the witch. No one wand is 'better' than any other, but there are most certainly wands better suited to you than others."
Tig wrinkled her nose in displeasure at being corrected. So much for being an Ollivander, of course there were superior wands to others, as if some shoddy unicorn haired oak twig was going to be better than something with a bit of dragon in it! A shiny horse would always be inferior to a dragon, that was common sense. Had Ollivander ever seen a dragon? Not that she ever really had, not up close anyway.
"It'd be a very foolish wand to choose me if it's not what I'm looking for." She thought of her hippogriff wand probably locked somewhere in Tiberius' study, she'd been quite content with her wand until the idea of getting something better came into her head and now she couldn't help but wonder where her own ranked. "Do you use hippogriff in any of your wands?"
"I do, Ma'am," he replied with a nod, not quite able to mask his surprise. It was not a common request, at least among ladies. "They make for a stubborn, finicky, but incredibly loyal wand if matched to the right sorcerer."
Well that said absolutely nothing to power but she supposed it was pleasing to know that should anyone else get an inkling to use her wand they'd have difficulty. She doubted Tiberius would bother but it was amusing to think of him struggling. "I see." Tig wanted to probe further about what strengths her wand might have but he seemed unlikely to give her the kind of answers she sought, not to mention it wasn't what she was there for. "I'd prefer a wand that isn't finicky. What do you have?"
He'd have to drag her name out of her by force if he really wanted it but she didn't think there was any chance of that happening. If it weren't for a certain vanity, an interest in maybe hearing something complimentary about her wand, she wouldn't have volunteered that information either. Tig reasoned it would make avoiding the question of her name easier and he'd then have to press the issue if he wanted to find out. "Dogwood and hippogriff." The exact length escaped her but what did that matter anyway? It was quite possible he could do some serious detective work and find her out by her wand but surely he had other things to be doing with his time and it wasn't as though she had access to it at the moment anyway.
"My specialty is transfiguration, although I'd like something equally suited to dueling." That was helpful wasn't it? Surely this Ollivander could find the perfect wand now and not have to waste more of her time telling her how all wands were supposedly created equal. Perhaps she should've gone to the other Ollivander shop, she was starting to think she'd found the reject of the family unless the prestige of Ollivander wandmakers was based on lies and hype.
He offered her a stained smile before excusing himself for the stacks of shelves, biting back a reiteration of the wand chooses the witch. Gervaise knew that any sort of conversation was unlikely to budge the stubborn woman, and would only prolong his own pains. At least she had given him something to go on.
When he returned, it was with three wands, and he offered the first to her.
"This is also dogwood and hippogriff feather, eleven inches," the wandmaker informed her. With any luck, something along the same lines as her original wand would do the trick and he could be swiftly rid of her.
While reassuring that she probably had the best wand all along, Tig was also hoping she'd be handed something shiny and new that would put her wand to shame.
She took the wand from him and pointed at a nearby quill before attempting to transfigure it into a crab. The result was lackluster - the crab was only half-formed and it was obviously the wand and not her own skill. "It's not right," she announced, offering the wand back to its maker.
He gave a nod of agreement (not that she needed it—the nice thing about adults was that they knew when the pairing was good) before taking the rejected wand and replacing it with another.
"Oak and veela hair, eleven and one-sixth inches," he offered next.
Veela hair? Tig wasn't quite sure what to make of that sort of wand, what did it say about her if she matched with a wand that had fiery slutty bird woman hair in it? Not to mention that they were close enough to human that she was inclined to assume it couldn't be as magical as something like a dragon. What was going to win in a fight between a veela and a dragon? Obviously not the veela! "I'd rather not that one," she protested, unwilling to even try it.
"I think it apt to be quite well suited," he protested, the wand in its box still outstretched. "If its plainness is of concern, the casing can be modified."
Had he just...? It was quite clearly a snide remark he possibly thought was going to go right over her head! "I don't care for your insinuation, sir." He'd have to physically grab her hand and force her to touch that wand now, she simply wouldn't have it. "The casing has nothing to do with it. Try another."
"Madam," he sighed, "if you do not wish to trust my expertise, then I invite you to peruse the shelves at your leisure and find a wand that fits your idea of what you deserve. If you are happy to acknowledge that I have been doing this for some time, and my family for centuries, perhaps you will indulge me in this."
