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!
  • Newbie Guide
  • Apps
  • Rules
  • Playbys
  • Policy
  • Buddy System
  • History Lists
  • Occupations
  • Census
  • Adoptables
  • Hogwarts '87
  • CML
  • Daily Prophet
  • Witch Weekly
  • Lonely Threads
  • House Points
  • 1887
  • Events
  • New Posts
  • Map
  • Suggestions
  • Maintenance
  • Stamps
  • Documentation
  • Toggle Cbox

    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...
    I Am Woman, Hear me Roar!
    Private Thread 
    January 8, 1888
    Emmeline could hardly believe the article she'd read that morning at breakfast. It wasn't often she put much thought into the ludicrous things written about in Witch Weekly but the article about girls being animagi had quickly spread like wildfire and she'd had to read it for herself. As such, she had seethed the entire day just thinking about what had been written. It was absolutely absurd but surely someone would catch wind of it and think it to be quite relevant and that was just not something Emmeline wanted. She'd started earlier in the year to begin researching the process on her own but now she felt as though she needed to take it a step further.

    Once she had finished up her classes, she had headed straight for the Transfiguration classroom to speak with Professor Wiltingham with the offending article clutched tightly in her hand. A quick perusal showed that the professor wasn't in the classroom so the Gryffindor prefect stalked quickly to where she knew the professor's office to be. She rapped quickly on the door before simply opening it and charging in. The frustration and anger was clearly evident in her eyes as they fell on the older woman.

    "Professor!" she exclaimed, catching her breath and sticking a hand out with the article in it, "They don't think girls, women, should be allowed to become animagi!"

    @'Violet Wiltingham'
    [Image: psFZTN.png]
    Professor Wiltingham had rounded a corner, only just having left her classroom after a rather long and tiresome day of teaching first years how to transmute an apple into an orange; nevertheless, she was carrying a basket of oranges (though some were shiny and red on the outside) and strangely enough a lemon. She'd actually given the student who'd conjured a lemon a rare praise and extra point to Hufflepuff for the sheer dumb luck of it. 

    Violet entered her office with a deep, heavy sigh before seating herself beside the hearth, warming her old, veinous hands. With a nod, the gramophone in the corner belched out a sudden hum of violins and proceeded to sing in a warbly voice. 

    But within a moment she'd heard the noise of her office door bang loudly—

    "Miss Woodcroft," she barked suddenly, her eyes bulging and mouth agape. "What is the meaning of this!" She'd composed herself, standing quickly and hobbling towards Miss Woodcroft, snatching the article from the girl's hands and proceeding to stand behind her oaken desk as if to put a barrier between her and the suddenly rabid Gryffindor.

    "My dear," she huffed, "in the future I hope you find more suitable literature to entertain you; this— this nonsensical hogwash will rot your brain!" Violet had always disliked Witch Weekly and was even known for confiscating it within her classroom. Flicking her eyes over the article, she read it rather quickly before gasping.

    "See!? Complete nonsense!" the old woman hissed, she tossed it into the fire of her hearth before summoning a quill and paper to her desk, it neatly writing across the top: TO THE EDITORS OF WITCH WEEKLY... 

    She had suddenly, it seemed, forgotten Emmeline was there.
    [Image: rIPEOxP.png]
    Professor Wiltingham is a severe old lady with an unfortunate desire to say what  is 
    on her mind, though one must credit that to her age.  She uses a cane to walk, and
     should you require a bit of extra-credit, one must simply persuade her with sweets.
    [Image: DFw5U7K.png]

    "I'm sorry professor," Emmeline was quick to say after the slight reprimand she had been given. She really wasn't the type to overstep her bounds, typically known for her calm and meek behavior, but the offending article had really struck a nerve within the a Gryffindor. Becoming an animagi had become a goal of hers and the thought of losing the chance to even try was really quite upsetting.

    She watched her professor quietly as she quickly read through the article and gasped. However, she couldn't help the smile that formed as the older woman began writing a letter clearly to the ridiculous company. She doubted it would do much but at least she knew she had the woman on her side.

    "I know they write nonsense but if someone else just as ignorant who happens to be in a position to make such a change reads it and agrees," she started, grimacing at the thought, "Well Merlin knows what could happen." A small shudder wracked her body then, clearly showing how distraught and frustrated the perfect was over the matter.

    [Image: psFZTN.png]
    Professor Wiltingham's quill began to smoke at the tip as she whispered to it, the parchment suddenly catching flame on the end of the word 'insufferable.'

    "Oh for—Morgana's girdle!" And with a wide gesture she cast it fluttering like a burning paper finch into the fireplace, nestling within the coals beside the now charred copy of Witch Weekly. Looking up sternly at Miss Woodcroft, she rubbed her forehead tensely, listening to her ramble on about the potential consequences of this terrible, incredibly sexist article.

    "Don't be a defeatist, dear," Violet said in her typical, gravelly hum-of-a-voice, "it's very lower class." The old woman tightened her lips together determinedly, her other hand now resting firmly on her abdomen, as if it might help contain the bubbling, feminine fury roaring inside of her as if she were an old kettle that had been boiling over the disgusting and oppressive fire of men for nearly a century— ninety-five years to be exact!

    "Headmaster Black would no sooner find himself transfigured into a chamberpot should he even think of dismissing me, my dear," the old woman assured Miss Woodcroft. "I am, of course, the reigning supreme of my field," Violet cooed proudly, raising her wrinkled chin so high she might've lost her head if she'd done it any faster. "I have single-handedly conquered the male-dominated landscape of the study of Transfiguration with award-winning textbooks and research since 1821!" She shot the girl an undaunted— and possibly devilish—look, her old lips curling into a smile. "I will not tolerate this revolting display of misogyny," Professor Wiltingham said with a raspy caw, summoning a long, folded contract from the tip of her wand.

    "My dear, I have seen your grades— and while they are exceptional— they are not yet outstanding, but I am sure, if we work together, we can make you an animagus, and I will proudly walk with you to the Ministry of Magic to see to it that you are registered." She pointed an old claw to the contract: "All you need do is sign this contract, and we shall begin at once.

    Violet felt a sudden swelling inside of her, though she couldn't tell if it was immense pride or heart burn from the oranges she'd eaten earlier.
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Violet Wiltingham's post:
       Naeva Lécuyer
    [Image: rIPEOxP.png]
    Professor Wiltingham is a severe old lady with an unfortunate desire to say what  is 
    on her mind, though one must credit that to her age.  She uses a cane to walk, and
     should you require a bit of extra-credit, one must simply persuade her with sweets.
    [Image: DFw5U7K.png]