Welcome to Charming
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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Did You Know?
As clocks and other timepieces were expensive, working class folk who could not afford to rise with the sun could employ a “knocker-upper” to tap on their windowpane at a scheduled time. Knocker-uppers would work through the night and into the early morning. — Kayte
But then Miss Dempsey paid her so great a compliment that she wanted to hurl herself over the edge of the theater balcony in delight.
sobbing alone in front of a haunted piano

Never Let Them See You Cry
October 7th, 1891 — Near the Black Lake

The lake at the school was alright, Tommy supposed, but it wasn't even almost as nice as the actual ocean- or, the channel, at least. Sitting by it was nothing like wading through the sand at North Beach or ducking and dodging between dockworkers, legs at the docks, but it was the best he had here, so he still visited every day, mostly to write to Mum and Tuppence. If you really listened close, the water coming up on the shore sounded a bit like the waves at the beach when it was really, really calm.

Mum or Dad or Tuppence mostly wrote back every day. Uncle Theo wrote too sometimes too, but it was hard to write back to him since he couldn't actually tell him the truth. He had to pretend it was a normal, not magic school and he was there because a man visiting from Scotland for the summer invited him to come since he owned the school and Dad took him and his family out on the boat. He didn't like writing back for those letters since it was a lie and lying was wrong. He would take any sort of letter from anyone back home around now, though. It had been almost five days since he'd gotten anything. from anyone and he was really getting worried.

The first day, he'd written most of the letters back. The next day, he wrote the last one back. The next day, he checked the owl place up in the towers where someone said the owls were just to see if there were any they forgot to bring. Yesterday, he tried to just distract himself by making himself practice flying. He promised Quincy he would and he could even fly in a straight line now as tall as he was on his own. It wasn't even scary anymore unless he tried a turn. Today, he was back at the lake, sat in a tree with no letters to write back for, thinking of all the worst things that could have happened to everyone.

What if the boat had sunk while they were fishing and Mum, Tuppence and Tilly were along with them? They weren't usually, but they might've been. Tuppence always wanted to. They might all have washed up on the beach by now or been eaten by crabs. Or what if one of them was very ill? Or all of them? What if they were dying? They always wrote before. He couldn't stop the tears that had started to drip down his cheeks. It was a good job he was up in the tree and the weather wasn't nice enough for too many people to be out anyway.

@James Fletcher
Now that it was October, the weather was slowly worsening – you had to take the dry days when you could. Today Jimmy, slightly frustrated by how quidditch practices were going (when all the Chasers, on his team or otherwise, had been playing for years, it was kind of unfair!) had come out to try and play catch with a quaffle, somewhere out of the way.

So far, so good, except one bad throw sent the quaffle smashing into the trunk of a tree. The upper branches shook a little, but when Jimmy wandered over and glanced up, it was to something far more amusing than a few falling leaves.

Jimmy snorted. The quaffle might have been a second’s warning, but it was already too late for little Hufflepuff – Tupper, he knew, he’d watched them all sit under the hat last month – to disguise what he’d been doing. Because –

“Tommy Tupper, sitting in a tree,” Jimmy exclaimed, singsong, ecstatic at this discovery. “C - R - Y - I - N - G -” he broke off there to throw up a question instead, but the broad grin on his face undermined any concern in the asking. “Oi. Why’re you crying, anyway?”

Tommy might have wished for a distraction from just worrying earlier, but the funny quidditch ball- he thought Quincy called it a waffle or something like that- that came barreling at him and slammed into the tree definitely wasn't what he'd wanted, neither was the boy that came swooping over on his broom after it.

He'd met him before, or seen him before at least, plenty of times in class. He might have even said hi to him a few times. He seemed okay... but sort of rude sometimes... maybe a lot. Plus Quincy knew him from Quidditch and detention at least once. He wasn't exactly the kind of person you wanted around when you were sad, and, between the mean smile spread across his face once he got close for Tommy to see it and the not so nice song he made up, it didn't seem like he'd be much better now.

Still, Mum always said, just because someone else was rude didn't mean you should lower yourself to being rude back (mostly when Tuppence had gotten in trouble at school for being rude, but he listened too). God was always watching, after all, and he didn't care who started it.  So, he made sure to still be as polite as he could as he scrubbed the tears awaay from his eyes a murmured "Hi Fletcher." He was pretty sure that was his name, or his family name at least. He didn't know his first name yet. He was actually pretty surprised the other boy knew his. Maybe he'd heard him and Quincy talking or something? The only friend he thought Fletcher had was that girl, Billie Farrow that looked kind of like a boy and she just called him Fletcher too.

He didn't think there was anything he could say that would stop the bigger boy from laughing at him. Even telling him he didn't want to tell him would probably just make him guess embarrassing things, so he just went with the truth (even though he had to squeeze it out of a tightening throat while new tears flooded up into his eyes) "I'm just worried because... I think my family might all be dead."

It was even more horrible saying it than thinking it. Even though he knew he would be upset later about making a bigger kid like Fletcher think he was even more of a baby than he already did, it didn't feel like there was anything he could do to him just then that was any worse than what was already happening. "They haven't written at all, not in five whole days! They always write, every day!" he sobbed, burying his face in his hands. "They wouldn't just stop for no reason!"

@James Fletcher

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