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.
I hope you’ve been well. Just thought I would send a quick note to inform you that, after a remarkable summer flowering, the pumpkin plants I adopted from you are beginning to bear pumpkins. I know. Unbelievable, isn’t it?
They’re not yet ripe for picking, but they do seem to be growing well in spite of the beetles, who seem quite taken with their leaves. I failed to ever ask whether they were ordinary pumpkins, or a magical variety, so – do you know how big they are likely to get?
(Having witnessed your family’s garden, I suspect a few pumpkins are no miracle in your eyes – and I imagine you’ve had a busy summer season of flowers, so entirely understand if you haven’t the time – but if you ever have a moment and happen to be wandering by, please know that you are very welcome to stop in and marvel at my – or rather, your – pumpkin success.)
Either way, thank you for your expert instruction. I may even try being more adventurous with my garden after this and attempt to grow something more exotic.
Your letter has come at quite the opportune moment; it was a delightful and most welcome surprise. I have not been well, unfortunately, but am now on the mend and this certainly helped.
I am so very pleased to hear that he pumpkin plants are flourishing under your care, I had the utmost faith in you. They are, I'm afraid, ordinary pumpkins, however ours have always grown larger than normal in the past, so you too may be lucky enough to have some of that variety! Last year we had one reach near three feet around, though none quite so large as to be useful in the Pumpkin Regatta.
I would love to come see how things are progressing, I can bring some plants to complement the pumpkins with me to put in as well! The autumn is such a lovely time to plant. I will let you know when I am feeling up to visiting. Thank you again for your kind words.
I’m sorry to hear you haven’t been well. Please pretend I knew it and wrote with the sole purpose of trying to cheer you up. And let me know if there is anything I can do or send to be of help.
Ordinary pumpkins are a more than satisfactory start – I have no plans as yet to begin selling pumpkin boats, so no matter! Perhaps I’ll branch out into pumpkin travel one day, once flying has become outmoded. (You’re familiar with some muggle stories, aren’t you? I am fairly certain there is at least one tale with a pumpkin for a carriage. I am sure I could capitalise on that.)
But I would be glad to see you stop by any time, when you feel better – my garden gate is always open, I suppose – and I am sure that anything you bring with you will also be a most welcome surprise.
You are a well-known seer, are you not? Surely you knew exactly what you were doing. Your letters are providing exemplary cheering up, please do continue.
Only ordinary pumpkins it is then. You could start a franchise of different methods of travel, from brooms to pumpkin carriages and boats made from the leaves! Do keep me in mind when you are a entrepreneurial success, for I would love my own pumpkin carriage. Yellow if you can, I am so very fond of yellow.
When I am feeling more myself, I will find my way through your garden gate, I promise. Letters will suffice for now, which leads me to ask, for we need something to write about; just how does one get into making brooms? I am largely curious about the art, I don't hope you mind me asking, even if I have not ridden on a broom since first year.
Of course, how could I forget! The broommaking is just a hobby; my true calling is Divination, and I manage about ten new prophecies a day. You shall be pleased to hear I have already foreseen your yellow pumpkin-carriage in my Inner Eye, made and standing ready for you.
No, I never took Divination, I took Earth Magic and Muggle Studies instead – many moons ago, obviously. And my father’s a muggle, and he trained in carpentry. So it really didn’t take much to become interested in brooms, and then to apprentice in it myself: it sounds incredibly foolish but the most amazing thing about magic to me is still flying, even now. I am pleased you would call it an art, though – to most it’s a trade like any other.
Speaking of art, I would ask you how precisely you came to be in the business of flowers, but I think even a diviner as unskilled as I am can make a guess at that. So – what do you like best about it, floristry?
My goodness, your divine proclivity is quite astounding! I really do enjoy the thought of a yellow pumpkin carriage. What a delightful fantasy.
I too took Earth Magic, it was rather interesting and I found quite related to Herbology! I also took Runes, but Muggle Studies would have been enjoyable as well. How did you find it, growing up with your father then? I always think muggles are so ingenious with their creations and inventions. Sometimes their creativity is even better than ours! It's lovely that you were able to take your father's work and make it your own, combined with the love of flight. I truly believe any time you are creating, that is art.
I suppose I was also able to take something of my parents' and turn it into my own. It's not entirely different, I suppose, as it looks like I will be the one to take over the business some day, despite being in the middle of my sisters. I find flowers to be both relaxing and intriguing. Not to mention flowers have so very much to say, each variety having its own personality and meaning, much like your broom woods, if I were to venture a guess? I have been doing a little reading on the trees of wandmaking and broommaking, it's all rather fascinating. I had no idea what it took! We have a family of bowtruckles living in a tree in the greenhouse, I adore them so, and apparently this means it is a wand-quality tree!
Would you tell me more about the process of creating a broom?
Much is made of what the muggle world lacks, I think – but you’re right, there is a certain inclination towards innovation there that I fancy the wizarding world could learn from. Wizards can be... well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say lazy, but certainly more wary of change. Set in their ways, maybe.
And you’ve set yourself up in an awful trap, Miss Potts, asking that! I could talk about brooms all day. Really you should see some of the tree farms – obviously some woods are imported, but there are some excellent native trees as well, and they truly are a sight to behold before the likes of broommakers like me strip them for timber and twigs. My sister once studied wandmaking, so I know it is a little alike. Naturally a lot of the work is brooms in the charming of them, but certain woods have certain qualities to them already: my first and oldest model is make of oak, which is as physically sturdy as they come – not the most flashy, but a faithful friend. We ought to only harvest oak wood after the Winter Solstice, though. (I can hardly say why; magical trees are just strange that way.)
But your understanding of plants must be far better than mine – you must be a veritable expert, having grown up with it – and to be in line for the family business! Flowers and plants do all seem to be very individual creatures with particular wants and needs and tastes. What are your favourite flowers? Or is that a stupid question – do you like daffodils, or do you hear the word so frequently you are tired of them? And actually, what kind of personality do daffodils have?
Oh I do agree! I think wizarding folk are slow to change. A flaw of society for sure. We rely on magic for far too much, muggles get on just fine without. I wonder what it would be like.
I willingly asked, because I am genuinely curious and I would love to hear all about it! Honestly, I find it quite fascinating. A tree farm sounds positively delightful, I guess I never really thought of their existence before! I would enjoy that very much. I can only imagine how magnificent they are. Something to add to my bucket list for sure. I would also like to see your workshop sometime, creative spaces are always so fascinating.
Herbology and botany are certainly woven into the family in many aspects. You pose an interesting question and the answer has changed quite a few times over the years. I do enjoy daffodils very much, their meaning (rebirth and new beginnings), the sunny color, the fact that they pop up, year after year, right after the winter. Honestly though, I always fall back to carnations. Perhaps it is because they are the flower of my birth month, but the variety of colors, the smell, they can be variegated or solid, smooth edges or tattered ones. They are quite hearty and each color has its own meaning. I usually keep a few in my office, come to think of it. I am particularly fond of orange ones. Now you've gotten me on a tanget— a trap indeed!
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