(1937-10-11) Trouble's Brewing
Details for Trouble's Brewing
Summary: Magnus checks in on Niamh to see how his potions are coming along.
Date: October 11, 1937
Location: MacDiarmarda Apothecary
Related: Customers Welcome, others.

MacDiarmarda Apothecary

Built in the late 1700s, MacDiarmarda Apothecary has been in business from the building's inception. Windows line the walls facing the street, a fireplace creates a cheery atmosphere within. Shelves line the walls from floor to high ceiling, dusty wooden boxes of who knows what are held there. There is a large library ladder on wheels that helps the proprietress gather ingredients that may be out of her grasp normally. A counter stretches across the back of the store, a door behind it. There are two work areas, one next to the other. One is purely a 'cutting up' and preparing area, the table showing marks from use over the centuries. The other is the actual creating of a potion area- cauldrons, distillery and various sources of heat.
The store's interior is packed full of goods, with barrels of Purple Toad Warts, Flobberworm Mucus, Leech Juice and other large quantities of potion ingredients on the floor. Shelves that line the wall are filled with jars and old wooden boxes that contain Knotgrass, Aconite, Newt Eyes.. and many, many other herbs, roots and powders. Bunches of feathers, fangs and claws hang from the ceiling, and in some cases the unwary customer may knock into them. The combonation of smells coming from all these different ingredients PLUS the age of the shop itself, creates an overall.. stench of bad eggs and rotten cabbages that permeates every corner of the room.

Evening at the Apothecary. Nothing's really changed; the sun rises, the sun sets, Niamh O'Shea can be found at her shop doing— something. Working, mostly. She's currently behind the distillery checking the lines as the slow *drip*drip* happens into a medium sized beaker. Within, the liquid is something of a bright.. purple. She's whistling an Irish song; one who knows such things would know it as a revolutionary ditty. No words are filled in.. it's just.. a soft hum.

Magnus is dressed in the same indistinct outfit he had on last time he was here; a loose grey cloak, the hood thrown up, and a pair of black gloves. The man steps through the door quickly, pulls it closed behind him, and smiles at the apothecary once his grey eyes find her. He makes no pretense of secrecy this time, since they've already met elsewhere, and his hood goes down as he paces slowly towards her. "Good evening, Miss - O'Shea, wasn't it?"

Niamh's gaze rises at the opening of the door, and her mouth opens ever so slightly, only to close again. The humming ceases, and straightening, her chin rises. "Yes, that's it.." Coming out from behind her distillery, she shakes her head, "I don't know who you are, though.." and her brows crease as she studies him, "An' don't worry.. it's not as if I go talkin' about my customers.. even if I do run a shop that's on the up and up." An easy search; her paperwork is all filed with the Ministry and they've never had cause to do any investigations. "Did ye bring the ingredients?"

The ambassador tilts his head slightly to one side. Perhaps the apothecary didn't commit him to memory in the cafe - in that case, all the better for him. Magnus's thin lips form a smile and he nods, reaching with one hand into a deep pocket of his robe and withdrawing a small satchel. He opens it, revealing locks of thick blonde hair, then closes it again and extends it to Niamh. "I do. But this is only half." He withdraws his wand, reaches up to clasp a long lock of his own hair, and mutters a quick, "Diffindo." It comes free, and he removes another, smaller satchel into which he drops the hair. This, too, is held out to her.

Oh.. she does remember. Does she believe the name she heard is the real one? Not so sure, as his behavior attested back at the cafe. Nia knows something about the necessity of discretion, however. Her brother relies upon it! Reaching out for the first satchel of hair, she puts it into the pocket of her ingredient-stained work robe. And the other, though as the hair is taken from himself, her brows rise. She doesn't say anything, however, as the second small bag is passed over. It, too, is dropped into her pocket, beside the first. "I'll make sure t'colour each one so ye know what each is." Two different batches will require some differentiation, after all. "It's all started, an' I'm near the point t'add this."

Magnus grins and claps his gloved hands together softly at the news. "Excellent. That is /extremely/ fortunate, Miss O'Shea. Do you happen to have an idea of how much longer I've yet to wait until they're finished?" When she explains that she'll mark the two vials with different colors, he nods appreciately. "Clever. One other thing - would it be too much of an inconvenience if I put in an order for more of these potions?" He motions towards Niamh's robe, where she's stowed away the satchels. "Only with the first batch of hair, however - the blonde hair. There's quite a lot there, enough for several extra potions."

"It's still a few weeks out, I'm afraid," comes the response in her singsong Irish lilt. Nia offers a smile to Magnus' own grin and pleasure. "I've made a bit more. Y'never know who might want such a thing.. an' I think I may be able t'get a few more potions out of the mix, if it's done proper-like." She knows little tricks of the trade, obviously. "An'.. okay. Just with the first batch." Gesturing back to the distillery, she chuckles, "Part o'the draught, right there. Purple's now, but won't be at the end."

The ambassador leans down to look at the thick purple gloop. A look of mild disappointment crosses his face when she gives her verdict on the amount of time required, but he dispels it and straightens up after a moment with a smile. "Good, good. As many extras as possible, preferably. And here you are - this should more than cover the additional costs." Magnus reaches into his robe and removes a third bag. This one jingles with the familiar sound of galleons clinking together - quite a lot of them. Probably far too many, but he simply sets it on the counter without pause and then gives a slight half bow and puts his hood back up. "Put those under 'Julius' too, Miss O'Shea. Thank you, and have a very good evening." The man walks to the door and slips back outside into the cool weather.

"As many extras.. I'll see what I can get out of the batch." She's already mentally working on how to add without adding too much time on the end of it all; as a result, she looks a touch distracted. The smile is there, however, and as the galleons are put on the counter, she blinks and nods. "Aye, I will." Niamh's hand falls back on the two small satchels in her pocket, making sure they're there. "Have a good evening.."

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