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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)
Travelling a little further than usual to obtain high-quality ingredients wasn't a bother in Monty's mind. High-quality ingredients made for reliable potions, and when it came to experimenting with dittany, a powerful and somewhat rare plant, only the freshest sprigs would suffice. Besides, Monty liked to support the self-employed herbologists and gardeners who depended on regular customers for their income. He knew the struggle well himself.

It wasn't difficult to find Mr. Michaels's house. The front garden was beginning to bloom with an array of brightly-coloured winter flowers; ivy crawled up the front of the house and framed the large windows; and attached to the right of the building was an enormous greenhouse. One of the windows was cracked open a little. Monty climbed the porch steps, knocked on the door, and stood back politely, wondering whether the occupant had any relation to the Michaels he knew and taught.


House godmod approved ;p
 
Chal was never much for company. Most days he was grateful that he had so few customers. Today was another of those days as he tended to his petunias. Yes, yes, it was a magical plant shop. It was more a botanical garden where people would buy some of his more useful plants. He had everything here, and that included the muggle plants. It was his pride and joy to tend to this greenery.


He happened to be nearer to the front of his gardens when he heard the knock. He sighed, and walked through the garden and into the house. He stood in the doorway between the two, paying no heed to the dusty register or the odd stacks of books everywhere. “Do come in,” He called, his floppy sun hat covering his eyes.
 
Even after a voice permitted him to enter, Monty hesitated on the doorstep for several seconds. He didn't even feel comfortable letting himself into a good friend's house, much less a stranger's, but he was beginning to feel silly doing nothing and finally turned the door handle.

Dust. That was the first thing Monty noticed. Dust, everywhere. He didn't notice it in a judgemental way, but merely made a mental note not to linger. His allergies had been flaring up more and more frequently of late; the slightest encouragement was enough to set them off. "Hello," he said, his smile a little nervous, as if he was trying to convince someone he wasn't in pain. "I'm Monty - I've come to see your dittany? I think I mentioned in my letter... You have a beautiful garden, by the way."
 
Chal placed a hand on his hip as a man entered his business. He smiled back at the man, nodding. "Yes, yes, that was the name." Chal chuckled. "Thank you, Montgomery. They are my life's work. I am Chalcedony, though you may call me Chal. Follow me.” Chal turned and retreated back into his gardens. He always felt better out here. That might explain why it was about three times bigger than the shop, even including his house above it. After several twists and turns, Chal stopped in front of his dittany. “Here we are, Montgomery.” Chal swelled a bit with pride. There couldn’t be any finer dittany in all the country. “Is this what you had in mind?”
 
"A pleasure to meet you," Monty said, following Chal gladly out into the wintry sunshine and through the labyrinth of pots and shrubs. At last they found the dittany. Monty was sure he saw Chal positively glow as he looked at it - and with good reason. Monty wasn't a herbologist, but he did have a large garden of his own and he knew a healthy herb when he saw one. "Oh, wow. Yes. That's excellent; thank you. I'll take as much as you're willing to spare." He chuckled. I don't suppose you'd be willing to share your secret, would you? The last time I tried to grow dittany... well, let's just say, even the slugs weren't interested."
 
Chal chuckled at Monty’s question. “Trade secret, old chap.” He surveyed the scene around him. “You’re looking at my life’s work. My sister, she spent her years building a shipping company and a family. I’ve been here since I was 18, building this place up.” He ran his fingers over his gardening gloves fondly. “I’ve heard many a time it can’t replace a family, my gardens. My sister has enough for the both of us,” He shook his head. “She has four children- three now, and eight grandchildren. Certainly enough Michaels for the world.” He let out a laugh. “Would you listen to me? Rambling on like an old sod. Pay me no mind, Montgomery- ah, Monty.” He shook his head. “How much dittany would you fancy?” He moved in to collect the plant for his visitor.
 
Monty nodded, feeling guilty that he'd asked, though he'd mostly been joking. He'd have loved to know how to grow his own dittany, but Chal had a business to run; if he shared his secrets with everybody, he'd have put himself out of a job. "Goodness. Well, the hard work has certainly paid off. I'm in awe," Monty said, glancing around the garden. You could have wandered around for hours and still discovered something new. "Hm. This might be an odd question, forgive me, but there wouldn't happen to be an Onyx or a Sapphire in the family, would there?" He realised Chal had asked him a question. "Oh, I was quite serious. I'll take as much as you're willing to spare. Money no object. Well, almost."
 
Chal chuckled. "Thank you." He furrowed his brow at Monty's question. "Sapphire and Onyx, hm? That…Sounds plausible." He rubbed his chin. "I… believe that would be the dramatic one and the lost child, yes?" Chal shook his head. "Small world, is it not? I don't suppose you'd tell me how you know the, ah…" he paused a moment. "The twins?" He settled on, before gathering a small ceramic pot and setting to work on replanting one of his smaller plants. "I can give you a few pointers on keeping the fellow alive, if you'd like." Chal offered as he worked.
 
"Well, I wasn't going to put it like that," Monty said, in the tones of someone who nonetheless didn't disagree. "Oh! Yes, sorry - I taught them. I've taught a few of the Michaels children, in fact. I'm a professor." He felt worried that he might begin to ramble, so he decided to stop talking unless Chal asked him any more questions. "Would you really? I'd be tremendously grateful. As I say, I'm hopeless with this plant."
 
Chal chuckled. "That's right, they are school age, aren't they? What's your class? I always failed Herbology, believe it or not." Chal stood, the little potted plant in hand. He turned, beckoning for Monty to follow him. "Let's get back to that dusty old store and I'll write down some instructions for you."

Chal smiled. "Do feel free to stop by again, Montgomery." Chal didn't often get company, and it was even rarer that he invited them back. "So long as you don't mind a kooky old sod, anyhow."
 
"Really? What happened?" Monty asked, following Chal back inside the shop. "I teach Potions. Actually, come to think of it, I couldn't stand the subject when I was at school, but that was entirely the fault of my professor." He chuckled at the strange but somehow tempting invitation. "You never know; I might run out of dittany more quickly than anticipated," he said, in a tone suggesting it was very likely now that Chal had mentioned it. "How much will that be?"
 
Chal smiled. "Oh yes. Old chap didn't like that I knew more about class than he did." Chal shrugged and gave the man a friendly smile. "Oh, a small fellow like that?" He scribbled some instructions on a small scrap of paper. "Ah, let's day fifteen galleons. How does that sound?" He offered the paper to Montgomery with a flourish.
 
"Yes, something like that," Monty agreed, not wanting to think too much about his school days. His professor hadn't really needed to search for reasons to pick on him; he could simply take his pick. Reaching for his pouch of galleons, Monty counted fifteen and traded them for the slip of paper. "Thank you very much. It was a pleasure to meet you, Chal," he said, tucking the plant in the crook of his elbow. "Good luck with the business; and I'm sure I'll be back before the holidays' end."
 
Chal gave the man a friendly smile, setting the money on the counter. He was sure he would forget about it. "The pleasure has been mine. If you find yourself in the neighborhood, do stop by. I'll make tea." He offered, making a mental note to dust. When had it gotten so dirty in here?
 

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