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 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
With the same account, complete eight different threads where your character interacts with eight different usergroups. At least one must be a non-human, and one a student.
Did You Know?
Braces, or suspenders, were almost universally worn due to the high cut of men's trousers. Belts did not become common until the 1920s. — MJ
Thus far, the school brooms proved to be justifiably competent for those learning how to fly, but still managed to leave much to be desired. Rorie had dedicated every waking moment that she could to teaching herself how to fly, which was actually easier than she thought it would be. With flying classes and her experience in horseback riding, she’d succeeded in not being a complete disaster on the pitch. However that didn’t mean she was completely flawless in her execution. Today, for example, was one of her bad days, and for the umpteenth time, she hit the ground with a cry of frustration.
The cushioning charms helped her to, well, not mortally wound herself but that didn’t prevent damage from being done to her pride. As she was clambering up from the ground and brushing her robes off, she felt someone approach her from behind and turned to face them. “I know, that last turn was horrible.” She said preemptively with a snort, her breath puffing out in front of her in white clouds.
James had spent a lot of his first year practicing so he'd be ready for quidditch this year. And it had paid off--he had made the quidditch team, proving that the hours he'd spent doing practice drills on the pitch last year were not in vain. Not that being on the team now meant he could let up at all--probably even less so now, because he had teammates to make sure he didn't let down. And anyway, James loved flying. He'd probably spend time out on the pitch no matter what, quidditch team or no, just because it was the most convenient place to do a hobby he enjoyed.
He was not the only one on the pitch today as he approached, and he reached the edge of the area in time to see the girl crash. She got up easily enough, so James approached with a sympathetic grimace more than real concern. "Turns take a lot of practice," James said sympathetically. "Don't suppose you want some pointers?"
Her hands were frozen. She’d been able to find suitable gloves but eventually they impeded with motor function which meant Rorie preferred to try and go without them. Fingerless gloves were an option, but that still meant her fingertips felt like icicles. The boy who had approached her seemed nice enough. He didn’t seem to be laughing at her, nor did he put off any airs that he was doing her a favor in giving her some advice.
So Rorie gave a sniff - it was cold, which made her nose runny, not that she was that upset - and sighed. Another white cloud expanded in front of her and she nodded. “I suppose a few pointers couldn’t hurt, could it?” She asked rhetorically before sticking her hand out to the boy. “I’m Rorie.”
"James." He hopped on his broom. "Come on, let's get in the air." And with that, he lifted off into the air. To his credit, he resisted the urge to immediately show off, even though it was really tempting. "You just gotta get the hang of it."
Rorie kicked off, following James dutifully before she directed her broom to hover beside him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his initial advice. Of course she just had to get the hang of it, wasn’t that what she was trying to do in the first place?
“How?” She replied. “I keep trying to bank but something happens at the last moment and I lose control.”
When this fella had offered to help, Rorie had expected something more along the lines of tutelage suited to Professor Crouch — not seemingly someone who was also flying by the seat of his pants like she was. Casting him a doubtful look, the Hufflepuff could only nod in agreement and peel off to get into starting position. After a sniffle because her nose was starting to run, Rorie leaned forward and did her best to execute the maneuver.
It was only a matter of seconds until she was deposited swiftly on the ground below, on her back, wanting to punch the Earth. “Is it my broom?” She hollered up to the boy whose name she’d neglected to capture.
"Maybe?" James called back. He swooped back closer in, so he could get a better look at the broom, and so he didn't have to shout. "Is it a school broom?"
His first presumption made Rorie’s heart sink, and she grimaced. “Yes,” She admitted reluctantly as she brushed herself off. Though he’d come back down to her, she held the broom up so he might see, in case he recognized it. Perhaps she had a faulty broom?
James mulled it over for a moment. "Okay, let's try something." He landed in the grass and swung off his broom. "Here, try mine and see if it makes things easier." James' broom wasn't state of the art or anything, but it was certainly newer than any of the school brooms were. Maybe that would make a difference.
Rorie gaped at the broom he’d just handed over. It was certainly nicer than any broom she’d seen up close at least. Grateful, she gave him a smile and nodded before she handed him her broom and mounted it. As she pushed off, Rorie immediately felt something change. The broom somehow felt lighter, more sensitive as she shifted her weight to steer. “Oh, wow…” She murmured, looking down at the handle, then at James. “It certainly feels easier right now.” She observed.
"There you go!" James said. Boy, he hadn't realized how rough the school brooms really were. He was suddenly very grateful to Ella for loaning him her old broom until he could convince his parents to let him get his own--even her secondhand broom had been better. But then again her parents were professionals, so he supposed it made sense. Still. "Would your parents be willing to buy you your own broom, do you think?"
![[Image: 5ust5Up.png]](https://i.ibb.co/SmXRjXd/5ust5Up.png)