elixirs and their makers.
| E | ✧  ✧location. potage's cauldron shop. date. 1st of august, late morning. mentions. esme's family.  The Hestridges arrived at the Leaky Cauldron at precisely 11AM on the first of August. It was a warm day, part of an equally warm and perfectly pleasant summer. The sun’s rays filtered in through the thin layer of dust, highlighting the little particles in the air. Esme was far less focused on the admittedly pretty sight and more focused on coughing the last of the floo powder out. For all the times her family used it, which was not infrequently, she had never gotten used to the sensation. It always got in her mouth and left a slightly greenish tint to her white blonde hair until the next time she could properly brush it out. Fortunately for Esme, even if she was deprived of her hair-care products for the time being, her mother took pity on her and noticed her expression, scrunched up in displeasure. The concerns were waved away with a small flick of Nora’s wand and a chirped out “Scourgify,” directed at her daughter’s hair. With a salon crisis averted, the Hestridges took the time to actually sit down at the counter and plan where to go next. Esme did not particularly feel drawn to any of the options on the list — Flourish and Blotts for books, Potage’s Cauldron Shop for all her brewing needs as a future Hogwarts student, whatever joke “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes” was, Madam Malkin’s for robes, and, last but not least, Ollivander’s for her new wand. That was the one she felt most excited about, but it was one she’d already decided on going to last. Responsibilities had to come before fun, after all; instead, she sipped on her pomegranate juice and opened a chocolate frog to pass the time. As she busied herself with reading the back and learning of Sacharissa Tugwood’s discoveries about the properties of bubotuber pus, her parents discussed the merits of getting textbooks or a cauldron first. It was finally decided that they would go to Potage’s first — it was one of the first shops encountered on Diagon Alley, and having a cauldron already with them meant they could carry the books in it later on. Besides, Thomas Hestridge was a potioneer not only by trade, but by heart — he was not going to pass up the chance to visit a cauldron shop. And so, at a quarter past 11AM, Esme found herself in Potage’s Cauldron Shop with her family. The space smelled of old wood and metal; she found it slightly cramped, but nevertheless mostly clean. The light was a bit dim, stock lined up neatly on every surface blocking how much light was coming in through the windows. It was quiet, the only sound being people’s shuffling footsteps and a soft clunking sound came from one of the shelves, a self-stirring cauldron on display showcasing just what it was meant to do. Another display took up a significant portion of the shop floor — a standard size five cauldron, looking as if it was meant for rituals. Though, Esme conceded, glancing over at her father, who was scrutinizing every shelf packed with potions and brewing materials in sight, it was more likely meant for industrial production. “Let’s see, here…” she then heard her mother, still standing by the door, murmur. Esme shuffled over, coming up to stand on her tiptoes to be able to look over Nora’s forearm and read the supply list she held in hand. “We need to get glass or crystal phials, copper scales, and a cauldron — standard tin model, size two. Oh, do you think we can get the protective gloves here, too?” Eleonora turned to look at Esme. Esme only had to consider the question for a second, knowing the answer with a quick glance around the shelves. “I don’t think so,” she said, turning back and leaning her head against her mum’s arm. “I don’t either,” Nora Hestridge agreed with a soft hum, neatly folding and pocketing the supply list once more and putting it back in her pocket. Esme walked along with her mother for a bit, taking in the rest of the shop. Shelves lined the walls, but for a small section with a door leading to the back, and some stairs leading up to a second floor. It was clear they had expected an influx of new Hogwarts students: all the items listed were shown off front and center. The phials came with a buy one get one free deal “for the clumsy students.” Esme could see some poor kid’s parents looking pointedly at him; he turned red and opted to grab three sets at once. Eleonora seemed to notice the scene too. She patted Esme’s shoulder. “You don’t plan on breaking yours immediately, right?” she murmured with a soft chuckle, full of warmth. Esme shook her head in response, a subtle smile playing across her face. Her mother returned the expression and left Esme’s side to grab a set of glass phials for them as well. Even in their packaging, they reflected the light coming in from Diagon Alley in an extraordinarily pretty fashion, and Esme found herself staring at them. She took the time to look around, take in the shop in all its curious glory. This place, though quaint, felt full of promise, and she could only hope it would soon become familiar as her potion-making capabilities grew. Esme was a naturally reserved person, not prone to outward displays of enthusiasm, but even she felt excited about the upcoming start of the year at Hogwarts. Finally, the potions she watched her father brew and the spells she watched her mother cast would no longer be a mystery. She would no longer just know them from seeing them used, but actually understand them. Soon enough, she'd have not just her own cauldron, but her very own wand, too… Before she could get completely lost in her own musings, Esme's dad’s voice caught her attention. Thomas Hestridge was currently inspecting the copper scales, if you could call frowning intently at them an inspection. “Are you sure they’re properly weighted? When did you last check?” He glanced over at the shop worker, who, to his credit, began to respond in earnest. Esme’s dad listened, nodding along, though with eyes narrowed and a mildly suspicious expression. He did not engage in further conversation, begrudgingly grabbing a set and walking over to where his wife and daughter were standing. “The cauldron— tin?” He tilted his head, lips twisted in something between curiosity and a frown. Esme glanced between her parents, watching Eleonora shrug as she pulled the supply list out from her trouser pocket once again and confirmed. Standard size two cauldron, tin. “Huh,” Thomas Hestridge replied, tilting his head — about to turn on his heel and grab one, but immediately turning back to double check for a final time. “And you’re absolutely sure it says a tin model?” He was met with deadpan stares from both Nora and Esme, and quickly added, “No, no— I just believe iron would be better, though I suppose tin is alright.” Thomas moved on, muttering something about potion brewing standards under his breath. The tone in which he spoke made Esme smile slightly — was she supposed to now try and fight the Hogwarts faculty on what materials their required cauldrons were made of? Certainly wouldn't have made for a good first impression, to try and argue with the potions professor on her first day of classes. Amusing herself with the thought, she turned to pretend to inspect a pair of pliers, rolling her eyes to herself when she was sure neither her mother or her father would not see. After a few more minutes to allow Thomas Hestridge to pace around and take in just about everything in sight (asking the shopkeeper increasingly difficult questions as to how they conducted maintenance), Nora Hestridge cleared her throat. With only a minute more of drag for the sake of one last question, the Hestridges took mercy on the poor shopkeeper, and Esme's dad reached for his wallet. They paid a total of sixteen sickles and twenty-six knuts for their shopping, and shuffled out before long. Exiting Potage's, Esme had to scrunch up her face for a brief moment when her eyes were hit with the sun once again. The light there had been slightly dimmed by all the stock on display, and she found herself squinting for a few seconds as her eyes readjusted and she blinked the last of the unpleasant sensation away. She heard her mother chuckle quietly at the sight, making Esme frown momentarily, before she felt Eleonora's hand gently patting her shoulder. “So, off to Flourish and Blotts, then?” Her mum's tone was gentle, as warm as the summer sun; which, now that Esme could properly open her eyes once more, she had to admit was pleasant. Thomas Hestridge was already walking, making his way further down Diagon Alley. Esme felt a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips — everything was only bringing her one step closer to her future as a witch. To her wand, to her classes… to Hogwarts. Esme smiled up at her mother, feet already picking up off the ground. “Mhm. Let's go.”  wc. 1546 notes. none. ✧✦✧ |
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| alluring.___ability.___ability. ability.___ability.___ability. |
xxxxxxxxx | xxx | stamina. 5__evasion. 4__strength. 2 wisdom. 7__arc power. 5__accuracy. 7 |