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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1891. 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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During the Victorian era, knitting became a staple of a well-bred woman. Queen Victoria is even reported to have been a fan of knitting herself. It was during this time that knitting wasn’t just restricted to plain yarn fabrics, but changed to involve bead and lace knitting. — Fallin
Yuri didn't know what being a steamed patron was but it sounded like it might be painful.
Anyway, Here's Wonderwall

Anyway, Here's Wonderwall
18th June, 1891 — Padmore Park, Early Evening
The Spirit Ball was in just a few days, and a good ghostly gentleman had allowed Barnaby to borrow his lute for the occasion (which was no trouble as long as the gentleman and it were not separated too far or too long); and Barnaby had, accordingly, been using all his time to practise his performances.

And since he did not otherwise have a profession or a family or earthly responsibilities, including those long-lost mundane occasions of eating, sleeping and breathing, he really did mean all his time.

His repertoire was hardly lacking, though. So by and by he had settled in a new spot in the park, ‘perched’ (in, pardon the pun, spirit) on the back of a park bench. As the sun sank gradually in the sky, Barnaby strummed loosely at the lyre, hummed some as yet unfinished tune, and let his gaze wander in an idle search for muse.

“Hark!” Barnaby called out suddenly, apropos of absolutely nothing the person had done besides exist in his general vicinity. “You there! Ay, you! What is your name?”

Since school had been out Yuri found himself at something of a loss! This time last year boredom or hunger would have sent him strolling through the market to pick a pocket or pilfer something from a shop front but now...well now he was trying to be good. To not let down Mister Mondragon and the kindness he had shown him. Also he had been reliably informed that stealing wasn't a very Hufflepuff trait and he didn't want to let the side down!

Diffident and idle footsteps took him through the park, there might be some ducks or something, or maybe a pick up game of Quidditch to watch - he had not been expecting the ghost that called out to him. 'wot me?' he said, his face screwed up, 'My names Yuri'. Ghosts were hardly new to him, not after a year at school where the sight of one of the various house ghosts or the other spirits that called the school home, but he had never seen one in the park before. 'What you doin' in the park?'

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Look what MJ did!
Well, if this little imp was not the smallest, most wretched, runtiest wastrel he had ever laid eyes upon! Barnaby continued staring, a degree more judgementally. (What could the ragamuffin do, lay hands upon him, rob him? Hardly!)

“Nay, what you doin’ in the park?” Barnaby mimicked to a tee, making an incredulous face to express that he was here playing an instrument and (at least metaphorically and poetically) taking in the fresh air with the air of an idyllic lounging shepherd and the question was better posed to this here urchin, who looked a little lost and could not have projected pastoral peace if he had tried. “And, if I may, what kind of name is Eu-ry?” Barnaby added thoughtfully, struggling to work his head around the name, which he could never recall having heard before, and did not have any immediate rhymes on hand. “What is it short for, Euryalus?” It seemed rather a grand pretentious name to give to a street mouse.

He scoffed at the name - Euryalus, it sounded almost ridiculous to his ears.

'Work'ouse made up me name.' he said matter of fact, he had long ago learned to see the humour in his name - after all having been an orphan, a burden on the parish, then a strong bird bath, a thief and now the 21 year old 'ward' of a wealthy man who had only just finished his first year of Hogwarts - his whole life was a cosmic joke. 'They named up alphabetical. he explained, 'Xeno was 'afore me, Zachariah was after. Them named me Podsnapper, you know an inconvenience that's not possible to ignor'. it was a nasty jibe by the workhouse beadle, but then he had never been nice. 'Yuri Podsnapper - you know....like you're a podsnapper.' he rolled his eyes at the lame joke that the workhouse had made at his expense.

'You dun' look like you know much about the work'ouse. Were you fancy? You know 'afore?' he wasn't sure if there a polite way of saying 'before you kicked the bucket' especially since it did not appear to have been a 'natural' kicking of the bucket.

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Look what MJ did!
Mabel walked into through the park, a large smile on her face. There wasn’t really a reason for her good mood, it was just there. She walked into a clearing, and noticed a ghost talking to someone who seemed near Mabel’s age. Mabel didn’t want to interrupt, so she didn’t say anything. Instead she looked at the plants at the edges of the clearing.

OOC sry its short, im a bit busy rn

love all, trust a few, do wrong to none
Mabel Laura Rose
No one is usless in this world who lightens the burden of another
Be soft, do not let the
world make you hard,
Do not let pain
male you hate,
Do not let bitterness
steal your sweetness,
Yuri turned to the newcomer in the clearing, it was a girl from his own house and the year above, he didn't know much about her, since he wasn't much interested in girls or those in a better class than himself, but he knew she shared a dorm with a girl whose mum worked at the bakers in town. He jerked his head in greeting, one of those country nods he had seen the older men in the village giving to others to acknowledge their existence and their acquaintance.

'So? What di' ya do 'adfore?' he asked again of the ghost, the prospect of a murder story having more appeal than a housemate.

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Look what MJ did!
Barnaby had seen and heard much in his three centuries a ghost, but he would confess to looking entirely nonplussed by the poor boy’s tale. An inconvenience not possible to ignore! Heavens. “A life made to be told in a ballad,” Barnaby mused, strumming the lute experimentally – before he was interrupted by the boy’s prodding questions.

Fortunately, about the only activity Barnaby preferred to composing ballads was talking about himself.

“I have never set foot – nor spirit – in a workhouse,” Barnaby agreed plainly, as was only right – he was of gentle birth, why ought he have? Or – fancy, as this diminutive lad professed. “I suppose you might say that. I was –” dear Merlin, what had he been, besides fancy? what had he actually accomplished in his Life? “I never had anything so lowly as an occupation, if that is what you mean,” Barnaby said, a little haughtily, but he brightened to add, “but I was a most esteemed patron of the arts.”

No job - he must have been fancy.

Yuri didn't know what being a steamed patron was but it sounded like it might be painful, but it certainly sounded as though he might not known much about hard work, he must have been like Mister Mondragon, the grey and ghostly coloured remains of his clothing looked fancy, a bit like the clothing of the actors who had done the play about the talking donkey in the park last year. He hadn't watched much of it, and understood even less, but the donkey man had looked funny. And there were lots of pictures in Mister Mondragon's house and at school who were dressed just like he was.

He liked the idea of being the subject of a song, 'You a good singer then?' he asked nosily, because you obviously were not good at sword fighting he added internally.

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   Barnaby Wye

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Look what MJ did!
“One moment,” Barnaby said, touching a finger to his temples and closing his eyes, mouthing to himself in what appeared to be deep, intense, artistic thought. He opened his eyes, gave the boy a short nod, and cleared his throat in demonstration.

There was a poor boy / with a cursèd sad name,” Barnaby trilled over the lute-strings, with his best pitch and balladeering air, he came from the workhouse / but then he found fame... Barnaby trailed off there, without a great deal more to go on to stretch the story out beyond that couplet, for the moment. “– er, what is it you do now?” The boy couldn’t possibly still be in the workhouse, if he was just wandering the park as happy as pie. Hopefully he had achieved something interesting in his short life on earth?
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   Murdock Greyback

Yuri could not help his grin as the ghost of a man made a song of his name, he would need to tell Billie about this later. He actually was good at singing, at least as far as Yuri knew about singing, better than old Bill who would get blattered on Porter and sing sea shantys in the Hogs Head most evenings, even though he had never been to sea.

'Aftr the work'ouse an ol'lady turn me into a bird bath for ages' he drew out the word as though to express the eons he had spent having moss growing on his behind. 'When she died they turned me back, and sent me to an 'ome for unwanted kids, but it was awful, then I robbed an 'ouse and now I live with Mister Mondragon who is fearful rich but awful nice.' he explained, counting off the stages on his fingers in case he should forget, as though he ever could, one of the various chapters of his short little life, offering the last with a flourish. He extended his arms to his sides, so the other could take in the plain, but neat and well tailored single breasted alpine suit. 'He pays for my schooling and stuff' he explained, 'I'm at 'Ogwarts now with my friend Billie'

@Barnaby Wye

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Look what MJ did!

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