Matters of Due Concern

Monty Pendleton

💡 Inventor | Guardian 💡
 
Messages
10,413
OOC First Name
Claire
Blood Status
Muggleborn
Relationship Status
Single
Sexual Orientation
Asexual
Wand
Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
Age
1/1999 (61)
Monty's searches for weird and wonderful potion ingredients often let him to some curious locations, and today was proving no exception. The particular eggs he was after that afternoon were often stocked at Slug and Jiggers in Diagonal Alley, but alas, he had called there first only to discover that his journey had been for nothing, as they were out of stock. It was no matter. Russia was, after all, an interesting country; and who knew? Perhaps he would pick up something else native to the area whilst he was there.

But the cautious professor's optimism dwindled quickly. If the shadowy street and lack of pedestrians hadn't been concerning enough, the poorly organised shop and lack of a present sales clerk certainly were. Monty frowned, moving quietly around the shelves, which, owing to an incredibly low ceiling, were impossible to see over. Strange. He'd been to a fair few apothecaries in his time, some even in dangerous places, but this one was by far in the worst state. What on earth were those jobberknoll feathers doing beside salamander blood? Resisting the urge to reorganise the stock, Monty pursued what he had travelled here for, and with some difficulty managed to find a jar of roonspoor eggs. Only, upon closer inspection, they appeared not to be roonspoor eggs at all, but perhaps painted pebbles. Monty held the jar a little closer to his face, and then a little further away, trying to decide if he was merely being distrustful; he really couldn't get away with not wearing reading glasses any more.
 
It was not every day that Rachele must go off in search of ingredients she did not already have. When it came to the plants that she needed, those she often grew in her families back garden, but as it happened, fairy wings were an ingredient that not all apothecaries carried. She'd gone right through her last batch of fairy wings a few months back and now she had to restock. Fairies were so difficult to find that their wings were considered a precious ingredient despite the fact they were used in fairly simple potions. It wasn't even that they were illegal, but it could be hard to get hold of a fairy and not have them be very mean little avenging Angels. Rachele did not enjoy having to collect the ingredients herself and so now had to go out in search of someone who stocked them. Many of the more respectable establishments simply refused to try and so Rachele was pretty unlucky in her endeavours. She had to keep going however, because she refused to let down one of her best clients.

Happening upon a tiny Russian town, Rachele's hopes of finding what she needed were dashed as she looked around at the run down state of the place. Already suffering from the cold, Rachele made her way indoors, which were not much warmer in her opinion and looked around. To say that it was a shack would have been an understatement, for Rachele had gathered many of her best ingredients from a shack before. It was barely even feasible for the place to be held together with anything less than the most powerful sticking charms. Appalled at what she was seeing, and unable to stop herself, Rachele immediately moved a precariously punched basket of asphodel to the counter and replaced it with a jar of moonseed. "Really, who puts asphodel on a shelf." She muttered to herself as she went about checking he plant, horrified at the slightly brown colour of them. "My goodness! Are these even asphodel!" She squeaked slightly, looking up to see if anyone had heard her and being slightly ashamed at the sight of a man who appeared to be little more horrified than she was. She walked over and took a look at what was in his hand. "Those are not roonspoor eggs if you are wondering, entirely the wrong shape." She nodded to herself.
 
Monty had been so absorbed in his pursuit of roonspoor eggs that he'd neglected to notice he was not alone - or perhaps that was a result of the shelves being so difficult to see past. Either way, he jumped at the woman's voice, for a second fearing the shopkeeper had come to chastise him for so closely examining her stock. But when all she did was confirm that the roonspoor eggs he held were indeed fake, he visibly relaxed. "Ah, thank you," he said, inserting the jar back into its place. "I wasn't sure." After lingering where he was, the Professor changed his mind and picked the jar up once more, taking it to the counter and setting it down beside a basket of- Goodness, who keeps venemous tentacula leaves in a basket? he thought. This shop was in an atrocious state. And they're mislabelled! An atrocious state, and a danger to the public. Anyone with less than expert potions knowledge was bound to blow themselves up as a result of this negligence. Afraid, he pushed aside his concerns for being told off and found an empty jar, decanting the leaves into it and then rewriting the label. Once more in his intentness he quite forgot he was not alone, and gave little consciousness to what the woman might be doing around him.
 
Rachele was not a master herbologist by any standard, in fact she was simply an adept, but even she, a master potioneer for sure, knew that one did not leave certain ingredients out in the open. If one could not properly procure and package potent potion particles, how could one expect to sell them? Rachele was definitely of the opinion that this shack was little more than a failed attempt at covering for some secret organisation that was most likely laundering some sort of illicit substance. No true apothecarian would allow their livelihood to fall into such disrepair. The fact that there appeared not even to be a shop keep, only added to the assumption that this was not the place she was going to find the items she required. Breathing a slight easier, Rachele turned to leave through the, rather decisively disreputable door, only to hear the sound of something slithering ever so slightly along a counter. At first unaware of where the sound may originate, Rachele turned around and squeaked in - quite understandable horror - when she noted, with some alarm, that a fully mature venomous tentacular was attempting to escape it's - wholly unsuitable - dwellings. It was kept out in the open with only a thin glass pane separating it from unwitting Johnny and Jane witch. Crying out in rapid Italian, Rachele raced over to the slithering thing and attempted to seduce it back into its cage. The panes were completely useless and Rachele wondered slightly, if maybe the shop keep was dead. No witch or wizard with half a brain would leave a plant such as this out in the open.
 
Monty could not speak Italian, but he needed not this skill to tell that the woman who had approached him a few moments ago was in distress; and when he turned to the noise, it became quickly apparent why. "Christ," he muttered, hastily brandishing his wand and approaching the tentacled plant. He'd had the misfortune of encountering a few of those things in his lifetime; their vines were spiked, their venom poisonous and their bites fatal. "Get back," he told the woman, so that when he severed the vines that crept over the edge of the glass with a few Diffindo charms, he would not miss and take off any of her fingers. The plant being only temporarily subdued (it probably hadn't eaten in days), Monty rushed back across to the counter and began to rummage through its shelves and cabinets, speaking as he did so. "Did it hurt you? Oh, where are they? You know, those little..." he paused his hunt to gesture helplessly. "They attack electrical objects! That plant eats them." Whatever they were called (perhaps the woman would remember), there had to be a box of them around somewhere - unless the shopkeeper, wherever he or she was, was as clueless about caring for tentaculas as about organising shops.
 
Jumping back the moment the wizard came to her aid, Rachele watched in horrid fascination as he succeeded where she had undoubtedly failed. She'd not thought to severe its limbs, working only to coax it back into it's box, though she supposed in this moment her willingness to care for the thing was not needed, and so she immediately shook her head when he asked if she'd been hurt. She'd luckily managed to keep away from it's flailing limbs, despite its savage need for food, or anything really. Rachele could not imagine that it was being looked after properly and was immensely troubled that it did not have easy access to its food source. The man was rummaging now, looking for something. What was he - "Ah! Si! Chizpurfle!" The tiny parasitic things that tentacular loved. Expecting that this apothecary would not properly stock the critters, Rachele quickly looked around for broken bits of cauldron or something similar. They liked to eat through the magical core is she remembered. "Sir! Behind you!" Pointing to the cauldron behind the man, Rachele went to stand by the slowly moving plant now, so that he could simply pass her the creatures and she could hand them to the poor starving thing. It simply broke her heart to see it acting this way, her grandmother's tentacular was simply gorgeous and not at all like this one.
 
"Yes!" Monty exclaimed when the lady told him their name. "That's it." Chizpurfles. The Potions Professor continued to rummage through the counter until he was instructed to look behind him, at which he turned to obey. Seeing only a cauldron or two there, it took him half a second to realise the relevance. Of course. This place was probably infested with the parasites, if only one knew where to look, and clearly this woman did. Feeling a little ignorant, Monty blushed as he retrieved the beaten old cauldron and moved to give it to his acquaintance. But he soon forgot his embarrassment, for the plant was already beginning to thrash again. "Poor thing. These conditions are appalling," he said gently. He felt a little sorry for having had to sever its vines, but necessity had called for it. Though he didn't like to harm anything living, between the comfort of a plant and the safety of a lady, he was naturally going to prioritise the latter.
 
"Si, Grazie." The wizard handed her the entire cauldron once he had seen what she'd pointed out and Rachele quickly set about helping the ailing tentacular. From what she could see, she doubted that it had even been prunded beyond what they'd just done to it. Should her Nonna ever see this pathetic creature she would have died on the spot. Rachele's heart reached for it as it tentatively made haste to eat it's fill and so Rachele left it to do just that as she nodded to her fellow traveller. She nodded at his comment and looked around. "Ah, Si. I do not very much like it." She sometimes got her English all turned around, as she had so little instance to use it, but she was fluent at it for the most part. "I can not believe this place is not worse than it is. These ingredients deserve much more." She sighed in slight despair at the way this place was held together. It was horrible to think that some young inexperienced witch or wizard may well have been caused some serious harm from these mislabeled items. Sheer incompetence was inexcusable. "Mi Scusi, I have not told you my name." She said to the stranger. "I am called Rachele. E lei?"
 
Monty watched as the lady tended to the plant, and it suddenly occurred to him that her attempt to manhandle the plant back into its cage might not have been one of nescience, but done purposefully to avoid inflicting harm to it. After all, she knew where to find chizpurfles, and how to spot fake roonspoor eggs - she wasn't ignorant. There was no other explanation for it. A smile crept onto Monty's lips. To think that someone else cared for the wellbeing of a plant! As she turned to look around, Monty dropped his smile at once, lest she wonder what it was there for, and nodded grimly. "I've never seen anything like it," he said. "When I get home, I'll... Oh, blast; we're in Russia, aren't we?" He couldn't very well alert his own ministry to this illegal deathtrap of a shop. Still, he was damned if he wouldn't be writing to someone. Monty smiled again as Rachele introduced herself, though her accent was so thick that he dared not repeat her name for fear he'd completely mispronounce it. "Monty," he replied, before frowning curiously. "What brings you out here?"
 
Rachele blinked slightly as he spoke. He words were very fast and she tried to slow them down in her mind. She laughed slightly as she realised her English was rather more rusty than she had perhaps initially thought. She was going to have to coax Romeo to practice with her. His English girlfriend would be good she thought. Her Italian was appalling. "Eh, Si, Le autorità." She nodded at his suggestion though he'd not appeared to have finished his words. "Yes, Russia is very cold. I do not like it very much." She told him, pulling her fur closer to her body a she glared out at the offending snow. At the introduction of his name, Rachele smiled. "Mon-tea. I like this, buono." She hoped she did not butcher his name, but it sounded quite similar to her ears, though she often did joke that she only heard in Italian. "My inglese needs more practice." But that was not really the answer to his question and so she looked around again, checking if what she needed was in the vicinity. "I did wish to find some... Eh, fairy wings. I have finished my last batch of them and they are uneasy to find on my own."
 
Monty laughed, and then reproached himself for it, because Rachele had clearly been serious in expressing her dislike for the cold. For Monty, cold December weather was something of a blessing; New Zealand was a beautiful country, but for one long accustomed to English climates, it was very hot. In fact, had Arvo been around, Monty was quite sure they'd have been out on the street having an impromptu snowball fight.

"Oh, not at all," Monty said, thinking that Rachele's English was quite excellent as it was; anyone who could speak in a second tongue became an immediate subject of the Professor's envy and admiration. Her pronunciation of his name could have used a little work, but to be perfectly honest, he found the way she said it too endearing to mind. Fairy wings... Monty followed her gaze to the shelf and its disorganised stock. If they did have fairy wings here, they could have been mislabelled as anything. "I'm sure I saw fairy wings recently..." he thought aloud, speaking more slowly now. "Yes! They're stocking them at, um... hold on, I'll write it down." Monty took a piece of parchment and a quill from the counter and wrote down the address of the apothecary - one in New Zealand, as it happened. Then he handed the slip to Rachele. "It's a little way to travel, but the quality is excellent." Monty smiled. "I work at the school nearby, so if you'd like me to show you around, I'd be... well, it'd be my pleasure," he said, nearly backing out of his offer before he'd completed it.
 
Rachele appreciated that she was at least able to be understood. She knew she had a tendency to mispronounce some words and now amount of fluency was going to change that. English was such a strange language. Her accent was very strong and so she was sure that he would have to strain his hearing in parts to understand the words she was saying. He was a very nice person, she did not meet many nice people she was always used to all the angry and unsatisfied customers. They did not get very many of those, but when they did come it was Rachele who must deal with them, she was the older of them. And much more inclined to be nice. "Oh, Si, I will be much greatful if you could please tell me." He started writing something on a piece of paper and when he handed it to her she looked at it happily. "New Zealanda, Si, I have been one time before."

She was especially interested to hear that Monty was an educator. That was very exciting indeed. Rachele once fancied herself as a teacher, but she preferred to homeschool the children rather than to have them educated at a formal establishment. She was not sure that they would learn the finer arts with all of their time filled to the brim with other less important topics. "That is very exciting, Mon-tea. You must really appreciate this as a career, yes?" He did seem the type, truth be told. She was not surprised by the revelation at all and in fact would have been, maybe, a little disappointed if he had been anything else. He certainly had a fine understanding of Herbology at least and she assumed he would have a decent knowledge of potions as well. "Si, I would very much enjoy another visit there, I think. What do you teach there, Mon-tea?" She asked, depositing the scrap into the lining of her fur cloak.
 
"I do. I wouldn't give it up it now for the world," Monty said, smiling as a warmth filled him merely for thinking of the school and his friends there. And Ava. No; thoughts of Ava were prone to make the inventor sad, so he shunned any of the kind immediately and turned his full attention back on his present company.

Though he hadn't been conscious of his anxiety, Monty did relax when his offer was not perceived as obscure or offensive. The very last thing he hoped to do now was upset Rachele in some way, whether it being unintentional irrelevant. "Excellent," he said warmly, keeping half an eye on the venemous tentacula to make sure it wasn't about to attack them again. Beautiful plants, yes, but incredibly temperamental at times. "I teach lower year Potions," he said. "Before that I tutored privately. And, er... what do you do?" It was getting more and more difficult to avoid saying her name.
 
Rachele could see from the look on her companions face that he very much enjoyed his work. She was happy to see that he clearly would take pride in his work. Pride in one's work was important to allow happiness and dedication to become constants. Rachele thought quickly of her family, smiling at the memory that came to her as she thought of the youngest of the boys. Walking had never quite come naturally to the poor boy and he was forever leaning on the counters and walls so that he could keep himself upright. "It is good to have something you love e be able to work in it." She said nodding happily.

Rachele repositioned her cloak again and reached into her hair pulling out a pin that was keeping her hair up. Her neck and ears were cold! She needed to keep them warm, well, warmer than they currently were. "Ah! Potions, Si, I also work with potions. Also Herbology some." She told him, smiling slightly at him. She was very much delighted to discover that they had some in common and that he had not actually tried to hurt the tentacular on purpose. That would have greatly upset her sensibilities. "Grazie, for earlier. You did well with the plant and I am very much happy for the help."
 
Monty nodded with bashful agreement, mentally criticising himself for the way he'd told her of his career. Had he sounded immodest? And, more importantly, why should it have concerned him if he had? His offer had been one made mostly out of courtesy, he'd thought, and not a particular desire to show a stranger through Brightstone Village. Yet he couldn't help but hope she might accept it.

"Ah! I thought you might," he said. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you; but I'd best be making a move. Do let me know how the search goes. And no need - I'm glad you're all right." With a gentle smile, Monty headed out and away, his mind so warmed by this bizarre encounter that he almost forgot it was snowing.
 

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