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 1896. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete five threads of five posts or more where your character experiences bad luck, such as stepping in a chamberpot, losing the rings for a wedding, etc...
Did You Know?
One of the cheapest homeless shelters in Victorian London charged four pennies to sleep in a coffin. Which was... still better than sleeping upright against a rope? — Jordan / Lynn
If he was being completely honest, the situation didn't look good, but Sylvano was not in the habit of being completely honest about anything. No reason to start now.
— Sylvano Capobiancoinyou & me & the war of the endtimes
Dorothea looked at the stricken ironwork bundled up and sat on a rickety wooden sledge. She had been tasked with picking and collecting a last minute iron fire pit to decorate the garden of the Potts house for a Christmas eve family gathering, her brothers were busy, her parents were preparing food, her sister was probably off courting. Leaving Thea to do the task on her day off.
It wasnt exactly tricky in theory, the store had elves whose sole purpose was to load up and drag the purchase home with her, she couldnt be seen grunting down the street pulling the sledge herself after all. But one of them had seen something, the others had gotten excited and off the popped down an alleyway. This was why she needed a husband. She laughed to herself and started examing the sledge. She gave the rope a little tug and it moved but very begrudgingly, it was far too heavy for her alone and she had left her wand in her other dress.
Barnabas wasn’t usually one to do things last minute, except when it came to gift giving. Specifically, forced gift-giving for holidays such as Christmas to people he didn’t particularly want to give gifts to. His brothers mostly. Getting gifts for his sister Tamsin along with his aunt and nephew didn’t feel like pulling teeth, at least. He’d just left Honeydukes, two small paper-wrapped parcels of sweets for Tamsin and Reginald tucked under his arm, when he spotted a brunette struggling with a very heavy-looking sledge.
He paused mid-step, his cane clicking against the cobblestones as he took in the scene: the bundled ironwork, the rickety wooden sledge, and the distinct absence of any assistance. This was either poor planning on her part, or whoever was supposed to have been helping her didn’t show. How typical of them. Everyone was utterly incompetent during the holidays.
Barnabas couldn’t very well leave her to sort it out on her own now, could he? It was cold, the street was busy with other last-minute shoppers, and she hardly seemed physically capable of getting the sledge to move anywhere at all. ”Forgive me, but you look like you could use some assistance,” he approached politely, a question in his expression. Did she want help? (He didn’t know why she wouldn’t; she clearly wasn’t getting anywhere on her own.)
She huffed and puffed at the situation for a few minutes longer before the gentleman made his presence known. She looked at him, quickly trying to determine if he was some kind of scoundrel or highwayman come to relieve her of her purchase. What a ridiculous thought, this was Hogsmeade, who mugged someone who may very likely be carrying a wand.
"That would be lovely sir, if it isnt too much bother. The elves sent to assist me have absconded. Miss Dorothea Potts at your acquaintance." she gestured into the alleyway where they had headed. "It isnt far honestly. Just to my family residence on Wright Street." it was about a ten minute walk, maybe a fraction longer dragging the sled. A fraction faster if he had other means about him.
Not only did she have common sense, but she was polite as well. Barnabas shook his head in disapproval at the mention of the assistance she’d supposed to have had. "It’s no trouble at all, Miss Potts. Barnabas Skeeter, at your service.” The Potts family was large enough that he'd gone to school with at least a couple of them, though they’d been a bit younger than he. This Miss Potts didn’t seem familiar. It was likely she had attended Hogwarts after him, since she didn’t appear to be older than him.
Barnabas pulled his wand from his pocket and levitated his own parcels from under his arm, sending them to hover just above the sledge's load. Wright Street wasn't far, fortunately. (Or perhaps unfortunately, depending on whether Miss Potts was pleasant company.) “I’ll cast a lightening charm on the sledge itself, and a simple locomotion spell ought to manage it well enough.” he explained to her, since it was rather rude to just start throwing spells at other people’s belongings.
A Skeeter? She wondered if he was any relation to the late head of house, but it wouldnt be proper to enquire after his dead relatives so she just politely smiled and nodded her head at his greeting.
She blushed a little bit. "That does sound like the most sensible proposition. In my haste to get things done I managed to leave my wand in another dress this morning." she laughed at herself and shrugged, at least it gave her the opputunity to chat to chat to someone different as they walked.
The spells he cast worked like a charm (funny that) and soon they were on their way back towards the Potts home. If he offered a crooked arm she would politelty take it. "So what has you about today? I hope I havent distracted you from anything too important?" she said as way of apology for being a bit of a nuisance. The spinster's demeanor was pleasant and refined, returning to its natural state after having expressed her ire at the troublesome elves. She might write a letter to their employer, but she probably wouldn't.
Barnabas offered his arm—the one holding his cane—once the sledge was moving steadily behind them. He kept his wand hand free to maintain the spell, guiding the ironwork along at a respectful distance. It was the proper thing to do, and besides, the streets were busy enough with last-minute shoppers that she’d be better off with someone to navigate alongside.
“Last-minute Christmas shopping, I’m afraid,” he admitted, gesturing with his wand toward the hovering parcels. “Sweets for my sister and nephew. I’ve never been particularly good at planning ahead for these things.” He glanced at the sledge, then back at her. “As for your wand—well, at least you had the good sense to wait for assistance rather than attempting to muscle that iron along yourself. It would be very easy to get injured.“
Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me
January 5, 2026 – 9:46 AM
Last modified: January 5, 2026 – 9:47 AM by Dorothea Potts.
She squeezed his arm as they walked. "Thats very good of you to be out and about buying them gifts so late, a gentleman often has so much on his plate. Your wife was preoccupied in suppose?" she asked, effortlessly polite but curiously probing as she was prone to doing. Buying gifts was a woman's job typically, and as he had mentioned buying gifts for two women and not mentioned a wife she could only assume there was not one.
A pair of children ran past. About eleven or so "Hi Miss Potts! Merry Christmas! Bye Miss Potts" and off they went chasing a small enchanted flying toy down the street. She looked after them before returning her attention to Skeeter. "I'm a matron at the school. Say, I dont suppose you are a relative of the late professor?"
Barnabas kept his eyes forward as the children ran past, their cheerful voices calling out to Miss Potts before disappearing down the street with their enchanted toy. The holiday cheer around them—the laughter, the families shopping together—made the question about a wife sting more than it should have. Miss Potts was petite, brunette, pretty in that practical way that didn't require excessive fussing. And she wasn't scowling at him, which already put her ahead of most women he'd encountered recently.
”No wife, just yet.” The words came out sounding almost like a tired sigh. ”I’m chaperoning my sister through the season—she lives in London. I returned from America for my cousin Mason's funeral earlier this year and she convinced me to stay.” He paused, adjusting the levitation spell as the sledge bumped over a rut. I’ve taken a position as Squad Chief in the Law Enforcement Office. Hence the last-minute shopping—it’s been several years since I’ve celebrated the holiday. I’m a bit out of practice, it seems.” It wasn’t like he had anyone in America he had been close enough to for a gift exchange.
She wasnt displeased that there was no wife, she was only human after all and she could chalk it up to not wanting to being spotted escorted by a married man. She nodded softly at the mention of Mason. His death had preceded her employment at the school but she knew much about him. "I am sorry for your family's loss. Professor Skeeter was a great man." she gave a moment of silence to her words and then rubbed her arms at the cold.
"Gentlemen never learn do they?" she said playfully teasing the man for his ill preparation. "My father has but ine person to buy for, but guess who ends up out seeking a gift for mother." there was a laugh this time. Her family home now loomed not far ahead, it was a shame they couldnt talk a little longer. "Would it be terribly rude for me to offer you a drink for your efforts? My family are likely reading in the lounge so it would be an entirely proper visit."
"Thank you," Barnabas said, nodding at her condolences about Mason. He hadn't known his cousin particularly well—family gatherings had been the extent of their relationship—but it seemed the appropriate response. "The family appreciated the support from the community.”
When she extended the invitation for a drink, Barnabas considered it for only a brief moment. A drink. At her family home. With her family present in the lounge. Entirely proper, as she'd said—which meant there was no reason to refuse. More importantly, Miss Potts was attractive, unmarried, and hadn't scowled at him once during their entire interaction. That alone made this worth seeing out.
"That's very kind of you, Miss Potts," he said, keeping his tone polite and measured. "I wouldn't want to impose, but a drink would be most welcome. It's been rather a long day." Tamsin could wait. She'd managed six years in Britain without him—another half hour wouldn't make a difference. And if Miss Potts was extending the invitation, it would be foolish not to accept. Opportunities like this didn't present themselves often.
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