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.
Charles Jameshill would never be the name that first came to mind to judge a potion brewing competition, but the retired healer was eager to confirm that no, he was not dead after the incident that had seen him comatose for months, kept alive only through the diligent care of his former employees and a rather large helping of luck. No, the wizard had taken this opportunity to ease his way back into the public eye: though he was not strong enough to return to work—nor did he much care to, having spent so much time in hospital—he could do this with ease.
As this was a novice competition—of the three, the lad looked particularly underqualified—Charles took great care in going over rules and directions, before finally gesturing to the blackboard behind him, on which directions and ingredients had already been inscribed.
"You will be crafting a simple cure for boils," he directed. "You may begin!"
Jemima had never been an academic type, but she'd always been an 'up for the challenge' type. There was something thrilling about competing with other people, especially when she didn't know them and their ability level. She hadn't been so risky as to enter the hobbyist competition, for as bold as she was, she had no desire to embarrass herself.
A cure for boils was one of the easiest potions for anyone to brew, so Jemima decided immediately that there was no way she could ruin it. She would aim for speed instead—and speedily she did.
She was done before any of her competitors, and took a step back to wait for the results.
Excitably Ailsa set to work. She knew this potion - had made it more than once in her time and adapted it too when blisters had been the result of an early experiment with one of her corsets. Although admittedly it hadn't been a professional experiment...
Still, she made her potion with surety, smiling encouragingly at the lovely young lady who had finished before her. My what a figure! Perhaps she could be persuaded to be a model for her?
Domhnall had signed up for the potions tournament on a dare for the most part and now he was regretting it. He had not passed OWLS potions and had not had need to brew a potion since then. He barely even remembered how to do it. And thus, he worked slowly and was not surprised that he was the last to finish. Hopefully his resulting potion would not melt anyones shoes like one of the ones he had brewed during his school days had. He also hoped that the fumes would not randomly have the judge breaking into song. Again, like a past potion attempt of his during his school days had done.
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"I'm afraid it's not supposed to be on fire," Charles remarked dryly to the young man. He vanished the offending concoction and sent the lad on his way before turning his attentions back to the two women.
"To decide the victor between you, you must now brew an antidote to common poisons. You may begin!"
Oh the poor boy! In all probability he had tried to create something new and novel and...well, not entirely thought through the properties but Ailsa was ever in support of innovation and she gave him a smile as he stepped away from his station. Just her and the young lady now - what fun!
Unfortunately Ailsa didn't recall having brewed this particular potion since school - poison not being an especially common thing in their home - so her efforts this time were significantly less confident. Still, she managed to brew something that seemed vaguely right to her and stepped back from her cauldron.
Jemima smiled prettily as the other woman—Mrs. Fraser, had it been?—as it was announced that the boy would be leaving the competition. There was something so freeing about competing against just another woman without it being mandated by the society that had organized the competition. It was only two of them, and it was because they had earned their spot in the second round, not because they'd been deemed less competent than their male counterparts.
Jemima brewed her antidote with vigor, hoping that she might best the older woman this time. Her last potion had been decent enough to make it here, but now she needed the best one. It had been too long since she'd brewed this potion, and she was unable to do it from memory; however, it did not curb her enthusiasm and she stepped back smiling when she was done.
![[Image: oDchrqE.png]](https://i.imgur.com/oDchrqE.png)
