Chapter 66: Year Three - Chapter Seventeen
Harry Potter was spending time with his godfather during the Hogsmeade visits. Since Sirius Black had been cleared, and Remus Lupin was a friend of his, the trio could sometimes be spotted hanging around, with Harry smiling from ear to ear and Sirius literally gushing over every little thing. If Harry ever had to summon forth the strength of a good memory to deal with a Dementor through the usage of an Expecto Patronum, then he'd make a blindingly white stag without a doubt.
Still, just as Harry was given the chance to spend Hogsmeade's visits with Sirius, it also meant that not wanting to be a bother, both Ron and Hermione had decided to stick around my own group until Harry returned.
This was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing, because it meant I didn't need to suffer anyone's peculiar brand of madness alone, since for everyone's singularity, there were many who suffered on my boat. It was also a curse, because everyone had something that made them tick. For Wayne it was chocolate, for Amanda it was Quidditch equipment -I had to use magic to pry her away from Hogsmeade's Quidditch equipment shop, and from the exposed Firebolt.
Luna wasn't allowed at Hogsmeade until the next year, so I didn't have to worry about her scurrying off hunting Nargles, and even if she did, there was Ginny Weasley with her keeping an eye out.
Megan would waste hours at the apothecary, either in front of the shop or inside, but still she would examine the ingredients with a critical eye, as if the freshness of the dried nettles could influence anything beyond the taste of a potion.
I didn't doubt the potions' would vary their effects based on a single teaspoon of sugar, being such things extremely skewed from common logic, but at the same time there had to be a limit.
This left Hermione and her mania of books, and Ron and his interesting ideas on where to spend the time.
I found a cozy corner of rest and relaxation in J. Pippins' Potions, a shop that sold, as the name implied, potions of all kinds. Since it also sold volatile and explosive potions, one had to remain silent while within, which didn't suit anyone other than me, and sometimes Hermione and Megan. However Megan preferred an apothecary to a potions' shop, because she liked brewing them, not buying them, and Hermione would rather stick with the others than get the chance to actually apologies in private, I reckoned, and thus there I was in my quaint little corner of a potions' shop, quietly reading through the potions.
There were potions for everything. Some to remove warts, others to add them. Some potions made one beautiful, others merely turned the voice suave. A couple of extremely pricey potions were currently on sale, but still beyond my budget, and dealt with having permanently luscious hair and glossy skin. A couple of witches looked at those with dreamy eyes, and even a few wizards.
Some potions were behind thick, iron cabinets and stickers with their names appearing from beyond the glass. Those were the explosive ones. There were a few that were publicized for excellent use in clearing pipes, and others instead were meant to detonate a whole garden to get it rid of pests.
A couple of potions with the warning for poisons rested in glass domes that could be easily lifted, but normally weren't. Most of them were harmless to wizards, but not to garden pests like gnomes, pixies or even fairies.
"Have a fairy infestation? Get the Fairy-Remover! Smear it on the leafs of your garden and they'll move away. It mucks their wings and nothing makes fairies run like having their wings dirtied," the wizard owner of the shop spoke to a fellow witch, "They're even on sale right now, get three potions for the price of two."
Convenient, since normally one would make a cauldron's worth of potion, it would probably fill more than a dozen flasks. Perhaps two dozens even, and all of that from really common ingredients to boot.
Potion-Making was perhaps one of the few areas where wizards actually could earn a lot based on their manufacturing process. You couldn't magic the process through with a charm, and you couldn't transfigure a completed potion. If you wanted flawless, perfect skin forever, you had to spend more than six months brewing a very delicate skin-beautifying potion and hope you didn't make a single misstep along the way.
Thus, that level of labor had to be well-paid, differently from everything else that could be done by charming a quill to rewrite it flawlessly forever, or transfiguring a fully functional set of furniture from the prime materials with a swish of the wand.
"You looking for an antidote against the most common pranks?" the owner said, "No better potions that those of Jeremy Pippins, none at all," he neared as I was looking at the salves against stings and burns. "My personal favorite is the Imperviating salve; it prevents changes to one's skin in the area it's applied. No more fear of tentacles sprouting from your face, or a pumpkin head. Just apply it equally and be safe and sound. Only four Galleons, and you get three flasks at the price of two."
I glanced up at the wizard, a portly looking man with wild hair growing in all directions, and a smile that reeked of garlic and pungent Worcestershire sauce. I looked back at the salves, and then shook my head. "Bit out of budget this month," I answered in the end, "Sorry."
"Nah, don't worry," the man winked. "See you next month then," he gave a playful shove on my shoulder and then moved on to another client, rambling on about special promotions for elderly wizards and witches needing Wideye or Magi-Me-More potions.
I walked out a few minutes later, taking in the cold air of November and letting its chill permeate my bones. The time to return to the castle would soon come, and we'd form neat lines and get on the thestral-led carriages, but I reckoned I still had a few more minutes for some quiet mulling.
My walking brought me in front of Madame Rosmerta's pub, and as I stepped inside I waved a cheerful hello at the rest of the gang, happily gathered by a table. It was to be our meeting point half an hour before the end of the trip, just so we could speak a bit while drinking Butterbeer, and find one another if we got lost.
I got lost quite a lot, admittedly, but it was because I enjoyed my peace and quiet very much.
"Hey, Shade," Megan said, "Are you doing anything this Christmas?"
"Well, yeah, I'm staying at Hogwarts with the professors," I answered in turn. "I'm nearly done with the Headmaster's gift too. Just need to get the singing charm down to play a catchy tune whenever the sock moves."
"Musical socks. You're gifting the Headmaster musical socks," Ron mouthed. "That's got to be insane."
"It's practical, and he likes songs and socks," I answered.
"So you're not really doing anything for Christmas yet," Megan pressed on.
I looked at Megan, and then helplessly shrugged. "I guess not?"
"Would you like to spend Christmas with my family?" Megan asked, and a sudden silence settled into my head. It was the sound of the brain within me dying. It was the sound of my thoughts crashing against the inevitable discomfort, embarrassment and utter lack of reason behind such an offer. It was a kind offer, I admitted it easily. It was the kind of offer anyone would give without first consulting their parents. However, it meant for a friend to stay over for more than a week, and I didn't want to impose that much. Even so, Christmas was a day for family.
The Italians had a saying about it. Christmas with your parents, Easter with whoever you want. Since Easter was a long time away, my brain died.
"I...Have you asked your parents already? I don't want to be a bother," I didn't doubt that the kindness of an impromptu question might be genuine, but I didn't really want to impose on someone's family without any reason. Perhaps they'd see just how awkward the thing would be, and wouldn't-
Quietly, a dark thought lurched that I'd be wasting time I could better spend practicing other charms. Yet, another thought crossed the first one out. I had time. I had all the time in the world. Nothing would go wrong for the reminder of the year. I could have fun. I could play Christmas games with someone other than the House Elves, who always did their best to lose.
"I did," Megan said. "They'd be happy to have you."
"Oh, well, then...I guess I'll need to prepare some gifts for them too? What do they like-" as I began to speak about it, I inwardly began to think about just how short of a time I had to get the gifts ready.
My mind shifted to the dragons. The dragon statues I had been working on. If I shrunk one, and kept it tiny, it could be a tiny and lovable magical pet capable of spouting fire and flying around.
Yes.
That would be the perfect gift.
Who wouldn't want a fairy-sized dragon statue capable of flight and spewing flames as a guard-dog of sorts?
I'd need to learn the charm for changing ownership of a Gargoyle though, but once I did...
...perhaps those things could even be commercially sold?
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