Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.

With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
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    You have found our archive! Charming lives on here!
    02.05 One last puzzle before we depart!
    02.01 AC? What AC?
    01.26 Impending URL changes!
    01.11 I've got a bit of a reputation...
    01.06 AC underway, and a puzzle to solve!
    01.01 Happy new year! Have some announcements of varying importance.
    12.31 Enter the Winter Labyrinth if you dare!
    12.23 Professional Quidditch things...
    12.21 New stamp!
    12.20 Concerning immortality
    12.16 A heads up that the Secret Swap deadline is fast approaching!
    12.14 Introducing our new Minister of Magic!
    12.13 On the first day of Charming, Kayte gave to me...
    12.11 Some quick reminders!
    12.08 Another peek at what's to come...
    Sinking Scarves
    Private Thread 
    Word Count: 277 | Tag: @'Elias Grimstone'/@'Kristoffer Lestrange' | Date: November 01, 1887

    November was here, and that meant the season for sweaters and scarves had finally returned! Winter fashion, in Holly's opinion, was the best, as accessories were less likely to cause one to sweat the entirety of their skin off! She much preferred when she could bundle herself without looking stupid and being overheated, and the cool winter air provided the perfect opportunity.

    Enjoying the winter weather also meant being outdoors instead of being inside. She enjoyed her spot that looked down over the Black Lake, as it provided the perfect scenery and view of the endless forests of Scotland. It was much better than the busy, dirty streets of London that were full of poor people and muggles! She much preferred to be surrounded by magical people and magical forests.

    Sometimes, however, the winter weather wasn't all too kind to her. The wind had been picking up that day, leaving Holly to grasp her hat tight between her fingers. However, it seemed that her scarf seemed to slip off as a particularly powerful gust of wind came soaring down the hill, and the piece of fabric wallowed down the grass and right towards the lake!

    Not being a good runner, the first year awkwardly stumbled down the hillside and attempted to catch her sweater. It seemed that the piece of fabric hated her as much as some of the other first years, though, as it attempted to drown itself in the lake as soon as she reached it!

    "Someone please help! My scarf - er - it's fallen into the lake! It's my favorite one, too!" she wailed. A pout slipped onto her face and she looked around helplessly.
    NEWT levels were supposed to be a fair step up from OWLs, with professors expecting higher standards and setting far worse workloads, but so far Kristoffer hadn't felt the effects of it, and had been delighting in all the new free periods he had in his day. Classes had finished for the day by now, though, Kristoffer suspected, watching students filtering out from the great oak doors in the distance. The grounds already weren't as pleasant as they had been in early September, but Kris expected the weather would get still worse before term ended in December.

    He'd put on a cloak and chosen the outdoors instead of the library, because there was nowhere he loathed quite so much as the library (nowhere made him feel less like doing schoolwork), but even out here the only thing he'd transfigured in his Transfiguration textbook were its margins, which were now sporting a few crude doodles. He did notice the figure - one of the little first year girls - tearing down the slope nearby in either childish abandon or in distress. By the sound of her cry that came a few moments later, it was the latter.

    Kristoffer snapped his book shut and got to his feet. Prefect or no, the call for help did not instil a sense of urgency within him - but he sauntered over towards her nonetheless, which was something. He hadn't decided to help - but she was a young Slytherin, so he hadn't ruled it out, either.

    She was at the shore of the lake when he joined her, and he hadn't really been listening to her cries. "What's happened to you, then?" Kristoffer began, merely offering her an appraising glance and a bemused smirk.
    Word Count: 140 | Tag: @'Kristoffer Lestrange' | Date: November 01, 1887

    She definitely knew the identity of the other boy, and despite respecting his name and status as a prefect, she was aware that he wasn't known for being the most friendly student in the Slytherin house! She was somewhat afraid to ask him for assistance, but her dire need for her beloved scarf seemed that it was going to overpower her fear to ask for help. Perhaps ... Perhaps she could get him to help her get it back with some simple flattery.

    "Oh, Mr. Lestrange!" she responded as he reached her. "The Black Lake decided to swallow my scarf and it's my favorite one," she explained. "You're really good at magic, right? And you're a beater — you must be strong! Do you think you could help me get it back?" she asked respectfully, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.
    He puffed up his chest in pride at her flattery. Obvious as it was, people just didn't do enough arse-kissing around here, so it made a rather nice change.

    "Of course I could," he agreed, with the emphasis upon his capability to do so rather than his certain inclination for it. He didn't deny her outright, either, because she had a point, and it might be a good opportunity to show off.

    He wasn't in a rush, though, particularly not for a scarf. A Summoning Charm ought to do it, probably.

    "You're Seneca's new little pet, aren't you?" He asked in return, eyeing her. He was sure he'd seen her hanging on to his cousin's every word before in the common room or at the Slytherin table or somewhere. Despite pretending absolutely no interest in Seneca's life, whether at school or not, he did have to be curious about what she saw in this little girl.
    @'Holly Scrimgeour'
    The sweet smile she wore in an attempt to charm him into help her disappeared in almost a flash, and her expression dropped into a pursed-lips one. He was going to make this difficult, wasn't he? She'd heard plenty of his self-centered nature and never of his kindness, so she shouldn't have been surprised.

    "I am no one's pet, Mr. Lestrange. No one owns me," she said firmly, keeping a firm, yet neutral expression. She did like Seneca Lestrange, but she too had provided Holly with many situations where she'd been forced to defend herself (which she'd appreciated at the end of the day, as it made her far less vulnerable to being used by others). "To suggest such a thing to a young lady like myself is incredibly rude. Miss Lestrange is more of a friendly mentor than my boss."

    She wasn't exactly the most patient eleven-year-old; she'd already decided that if he made things too difficult, she'd jump in the lake and force him to help (lest it make him appear like an awful human being).