Post by Deleted on Nov 13, 2018 9:00:28 GMT -5
[attr="class","reasonisobel"]
[attr="class","reasonbodisobel"]It was a relief to have the Potters home. With so much going on in the Wizarding World, Isobel had been worried that the scales would never right themselves. She’d had high hopes, of course, when Andromeda had taken up the helm of Minister of Magic. But it wasn’t the sort of change that Isobel had been expecting. Perhaps, she had been wrong about the woman, after all. Is had always thought her aligned with the Order, but she had chosen to be a neutral power in this regime. She skirted the line between what was right and what appeased the Death Eaters and Is…well, Is couldn’t stand it.
She supposed, however, that she did owe the woman some sort of thanks. The lessening of the regulations on the muggle-borns were the reason that Hermione had been able to return home. Epidemic X helped, in a strange way, too. With so many resources devoted to finding a cure and so many people on alert because they were losing their magic, other mandates had fallen by the wayside. For now, what mattered was that those who were suffering from the sickness were getting the care they needed and deserved.
Isobel was helping, in her own small way. She wasn’t particularly fond of brewing medicinal potions, but she’d been able to put together a few tonics that would serve as ways to pick-up her customers. A few pepper-ups and caffeine-laced potions would do the trick. Still, more and more patrons were coming into the Apothecary, looking for ingredients that Isobel hadn’t sold in years. Some of them were experimenting – presumably trying to find a cure by throwing the most expensive ingredients into a pot and seeing what happened.
But Isobel knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Though necessity was the mother of invention, haphazardly creating a potion by buying up the most expensive herbs and ingredients did little except tout how rich you were. They needed someone with the drive beyond the pull of lucratively. Perhaps there was someone she could talk to at the hospital; a potionologist in need of a patron to provide them with the proper herbs. Isobel nodded to herself as she took a few notes in her ledger. Perhaps she would pay St. Mungo’s a visit and speak with the Director.
The sound of the little bell that was tied to the shop’s front door gave a tinkling noise and Isobel looked up from the books, giving the customer that had just entered a smile. “Contessa, it’s good to see you,” the werewolf was a familiar sight. Isobel might even go as far to say that she was a friend. For a few months, she’d been helping Tessa and her pack prepare for their monthly transformations by brewing them Wolfsbane at her shop. More a herbologist than a potionologist, Isobel preferred to grow the wolfsbane in lieu of actually brewing it, but she knew it was for a good cause.
The potion was difficult – near impossible, even. But she’d grown up around Morag who was quite skilled in potions. She’d picked up her fair share of tricks of the trade. And she enjoyed it, sometimes. Probably more likely, Isobel enjoyed taking care of others. She enjoyed helping Tess’ werewolves when she could.
[attr="class","reasonbgisobel"]
[attr="class","reasonbigisobel"]
high hopes
[attr="class","reasonsmallisobel"]Had to have high, high hopes for a living didn't know how but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million
high hopes
[attr="class","reasonsmallisobel"]Had to have high, high hopes for a living didn't know how but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million
[attr="class","reasonbodisobel"]It was a relief to have the Potters home. With so much going on in the Wizarding World, Isobel had been worried that the scales would never right themselves. She’d had high hopes, of course, when Andromeda had taken up the helm of Minister of Magic. But it wasn’t the sort of change that Isobel had been expecting. Perhaps, she had been wrong about the woman, after all. Is had always thought her aligned with the Order, but she had chosen to be a neutral power in this regime. She skirted the line between what was right and what appeased the Death Eaters and Is…well, Is couldn’t stand it.
She supposed, however, that she did owe the woman some sort of thanks. The lessening of the regulations on the muggle-borns were the reason that Hermione had been able to return home. Epidemic X helped, in a strange way, too. With so many resources devoted to finding a cure and so many people on alert because they were losing their magic, other mandates had fallen by the wayside. For now, what mattered was that those who were suffering from the sickness were getting the care they needed and deserved.
Isobel was helping, in her own small way. She wasn’t particularly fond of brewing medicinal potions, but she’d been able to put together a few tonics that would serve as ways to pick-up her customers. A few pepper-ups and caffeine-laced potions would do the trick. Still, more and more patrons were coming into the Apothecary, looking for ingredients that Isobel hadn’t sold in years. Some of them were experimenting – presumably trying to find a cure by throwing the most expensive ingredients into a pot and seeing what happened.
But Isobel knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Though necessity was the mother of invention, haphazardly creating a potion by buying up the most expensive herbs and ingredients did little except tout how rich you were. They needed someone with the drive beyond the pull of lucratively. Perhaps there was someone she could talk to at the hospital; a potionologist in need of a patron to provide them with the proper herbs. Isobel nodded to herself as she took a few notes in her ledger. Perhaps she would pay St. Mungo’s a visit and speak with the Director.
The sound of the little bell that was tied to the shop’s front door gave a tinkling noise and Isobel looked up from the books, giving the customer that had just entered a smile. “Contessa, it’s good to see you,” the werewolf was a familiar sight. Isobel might even go as far to say that she was a friend. For a few months, she’d been helping Tessa and her pack prepare for their monthly transformations by brewing them Wolfsbane at her shop. More a herbologist than a potionologist, Isobel preferred to grow the wolfsbane in lieu of actually brewing it, but she knew it was for a good cause.
The potion was difficult – near impossible, even. But she’d grown up around Morag who was quite skilled in potions. She’d picked up her fair share of tricks of the trade. And she enjoyed it, sometimes. Probably more likely, Isobel enjoyed taking care of others. She enjoyed helping Tess’ werewolves when she could.
[attr="class","reasontagisobel"]@contessa | 548 | OUTFIT
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