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!
"Are you always this forward?" He asked teasingly since it would be a very short thread if he just ignored her entirely. — Tobin Cartwright in Take A Peek
Did you know? Churchgoers and worshippers had to endure a foul stench during prayers due to the amount of bodies often stored within the vaults of churches and chapels.
Harry nodded eagerly at her comment about snow being magical. Winter had always been his favorite time of year--he didn't mind the cold half so much as he hated the heat, and even blinding snowstorms were much more pleasant than rain. Autumn was nice, too, but the landscape was filled with dying plants. Winter gave everything a clean wash, a fresh start. Innocent and pure and beautifully white. He threw his arms out in the night air, breathing in the crisp coolness and watching the flakes fall.
The moment of savoring the beauty of winter, however, was interrupted after only a second or two by something wet and sloshy hitting the back of his head. He knew immediately what it must have been, and swiped at the back of his neck with his hand to try and clear the remains of the snowball off, turning back to Miss Hatchitt as he did so. "Ooo, oo," he said, trying to shake the cold off. A bit of it had gotten down his collar, but it would melt soon enough.
"Miss Hatchitt," he said, looking at her with mock sternness. "Do you realize that you have just challenged a Quidditch chaser to a snowball fight?"
With a devious smile, he took a few steps backwards, away from her, and bent to form his first snowball. "I'll give you a chance to back out if you want it. Since I'm a gentleman and all," he offered--but he hoped she wouldn't take it.
Tag: Miss Harper
Notes: thread occurs on February 16th, 1881. Harry is a fourth year.
Harper grinned, ducking down to grab another handful of snow. "Oh, I am aware of that, Mr. Primpernelle," she said mischievously. The fact that he was a quidditch player didn't intimidate her at all — Harper might not play on her House team, but she was used to running with people who did.
Slowly, she began packing the snow into a tight, even ball. "The question is, can you keep up with me?" she asked. This was probably completely inappropriate behavior, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. It was not as though she was going to do anything that might compromise her virtue. It was only a snowball fight.
With one eye on Mr. Primpernelle and his snowball, Harper took aim and tossed her second snowball at the Slytherin. "Now don't get too cold and freeze up, little snakey," she joked.
Grinning quite at her comment, Harry forged a second snow ball, though he didn't throw them until she let her second loose. For some reason, even though she'd already tossed one at him and caught him by surprise, it seemed unchivalrous to pelt a lady with snowballs unless he was under attack first.
Bending in ways that non-Quidditch players probably wouldn't find as easy as he did, Harrison dodged the incoming snowball and threw one of his own her way. He had assumed that her comment about being able to keep up had just been a tease, but she was rather quick. Between the soaring snowballs and the still falling drifts of flakes, both the Slytherin and the Gryffindor were quite thoroughly covered in snow a few moments later when Harrison called out, "I'll race you to the picth, snow monster!"
Harrison had a slight advantage there, since in the snowball fight he had circled a little closer to the Quidditch Pitch, while she had moved a little farther away. With a laugh, he danced more than ran backwards towards the pitch, pausing only the briefest of moments to pack together another snowball and send it sailing back her way.
Tag: Miss Harper
Notes: thread occurs on February 16th, 1881. Harry is a fourth year.
"Snow monster, am I?" Harper laughed as she ran after Mr. Primpernelle, determined to beat him to the pitch. It wasn't exactly fair — he as closer to the pitch to start with — but what could you expect from a Slytherin?
Then another snowball came flying back at her, and Harper stopped in her tracks to grab another handful of snow. She wasn't going to beat him to the pitch, but she was going to get him anyway.
Lobbing the snowball after him, Harper scooped up more snow as she started running again. She felt a bit unsteady, but she refused to fall. Laying out in the snow was not exactly on her list of things to do at the moment.
Harrison was good at dodging bludgers, and snowballs were decided much less malicious, but it was dark and he was better on a broom than he was on foot, so he'd been hit once or twice by the time they finally reached the pitch. He'd beaten her there, but then, that was no surprise, since they'd both stopped so often to make new snowballs, and he'd had the lead to begin with.
Laughing heartily, he stopped by the entrance of the pitch to catch his breath, throwing up his hands in a 'stop' motion. "Truce!" he called with a smile. "Truce or I won't unlock my broom for you after all."
Tag: Miss Harper
Notes: thread occurs on February 16th, 1881. Harry is a fourth year.
Harper had been pelted with her fair share of snowballs, and snow now caked her robes in several places. She laughed as they reached the pitch, a final snowball in hand — and then pause.
"Truce," she agreed. "You fight dirty, Mr. Primpernelle. You should be ashamed of yourself." There was no malice in her voice; rather, she was obviously amused by the whole situation. "Thank you again. I really do appreciate not having to use a school broom." She pulled a face, disgusted with the condition of the brooms owned by the school.
With a smirk, Harry moved into the shelter of the archway, starting down for the little side-room where the team kept their brooms while not in use. He had access to Quidditch supplies, too, but she probably wouldn't need those--she had said, after all, that she just wanted to go flying. Clear her head. He wondered privately if it still needed clearing; he fancied the snowball fight had been a pretty good distraction.
Still, Mr. Primpernelle was never one to stand in the way of anyone who wanted to fly. He understood that urge all too well. As he reached the door of the broom closet, he flashed the Gryffindor girl a wide smile. "No problem," he said, adding in a teasing voice, "For you, anything."
Tag: Miss Harper
Notes: thread occurs on February 16th, 1881. Harry is a fourth year.
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