jointheclub: (and here it is)
Horace Slughorn ([personal profile] jointheclub) wrote in [community profile] undergrounds2015-06-11 12:53 pm

Man About Town [Open]

A. Wandsworth

Tucked away down an unassuming little street, an innocent dilapidated building sat as it always had, and probably always would, as far as mortal eyes were concerned. They would never see the sign over the door, which itself looked as if it had seen better days: an S crossed with two bars. Spells sat on this sign and this building, an illusion that shielded it from mundane view and revealed itself to the supernatural.

This, then, was the Apothecarium of Horace E. F. Slughorn, now open for business.

Inside, the portly old witch puttered about a dozen or so cauldrons, humming quietly to himself as he added a pinch of this or a dash of that. While a younger and less-experienced brewer would hew closely to a written recipe, carefully measuring out each ingredient and confirming each step twice before proceeding, Slughorn had long passed that step. Like any skill, potionmaking became more instinctive with practice. Just as a skilled driver did not need to consciously think about stepping on the accelerator, or a skilled marksman did not need to consciously order his muscles to squeeze a trigger, so too did Slughorn not need a recipe or a cup to tell him when seven pinches of basil or six counterclockwise stirs would suffice.

So curious colors and fantastic smells filled the air, all different but never quite in painful opposition, as Slughorn prepared the first of his stock for his new business.

Now Open.

B. A Well-Earned Rest.

Evening found Slughorn quite comfortable enshrined in a comfortable corner of a tavern, a pint on the table by his side and fingers digging through a tin of crystallized pineapple for the finest pieces. Not an unusual sight, unless one were other than human. The same spells that protected his sign also protected the chair he had casually smuggled in earlier in the day. The ordinary patrons, the bartender, the passers-by all saw it as just another wooden affair that seemed lucky it could bear the witch's weight -- never suspecting the true form that keener eyes could see, a comfortable armchair well-suited for a man of his age and girth.

Part of Slughorn's good cheer, then, came from getting one over on the mundanes. But to those who could see the truth, well, it was hard to ask for a more incongruous sight.
rules_winter: (aren't you interesting)

leaving a little room for you to get a last word in before she disappears. :)

[personal profile] rules_winter 2015-06-26 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
Mab would be happy to show Slughorn the difference sometime. Oh Sluggy so grumpy. Mab does have that effect on people. "There are many types of Order." Mab replied absently, "I ask because I will learn different things for different people Horace Slughorn. I should think that was obvious."

She lifted her mug to her lips and sipped. Her eyes studied him for a moment. Finally she set her mug down, the liquid inside icy cold. "Very well, you do not know enough right now. I will call on you again Horace Slughorn." That last sounded almost like ritual. She left unsaid that she would expect him to know more. It was even fine if he tried to get out of answering. Nothing like a little cat and mouse. The waitress walked nearby and Mab turned to go, tucking some money into the woman's apron to cover the drinks. It wouldn't be money tomorrow but that was beside the point. Slughorn would not have to pay for the drinks. A fair trade for what little information he provided.