Shopping for slugs Open

Down in Diagon Alley's narrow side street, the air was sluggish and humid. It pooled around a weathered storefront, peeling and seemingly abandoned. It's display window fogged with condensation and streaked with black grime.

Through the murky window, those with sharp eyes could make out thousands upon thousands of bottles and jars and vials with handwritten labels, their contents pulsating and jiggling and writhing. The place was Pandora’s box, curious to behold but potentially lethal if the shop owner was any less careful.

Past the rotting exterior was a putrid punch of cloying scents, all fighting for dominance over the patron’s poor olfactory bulb. Sulphur and rotten egg wafted lazily between luminescent green globes that bobbed in the air like candy apples. A system of wooden cabinets lined every wall from floor to ceiling, stocked with the obsessive neatness of a museum collection. From the ceiling hung herbs and flowers. No space went unutilised, incentivising care in traversal around its many sections.

Extending almost half of one wall was the shop counter. It was littered with an assortment of equipment in organised chaos, including an ancient typewriting cash register, solid gold set of scales, and a large chopping board. Behind it was a door leading to some backrooms, warded with complex runes to repel wandering students and ill-to-do people.

Jen looked up from her list to observe a jar of green goop. A large bubble rose from its viscous depths, unloosing a belching burp. The yellow label read Flobberworm Mucus, which was apparently completely inert, according to Magical Drafts and Potions.

Jen grimaced and glanced at the Lethe River water, clear and still in its crystal vial. It had an air of melancholy beauty, emitting a deep nothingness. She stopped short at a bush of bright turquoise berries. They stood out like jewels in the night, their shine gleaming with the promise of death - Mistletoe berries. Nearby hung a tangled vine with heart-shaped leaves, misleadingly titled Lovage. Jen retreated to the sanctuary of tamer herbs and flowers - Dittany, peppermint leaves, moly, gallows grass, ginger root, dried nettles, camomile, and marshmallow root. She took a deep breath before plunging back into the foggy depths of animal parts.

On a high shelf, dozens of fat little bugs with helicopter wings floated in a tall cylindrical jar labelled Billywig stings. According to her textbook, these were a bundle of joy. Jen looked back at their slimy bulbous carcasses - indeed they were.

By a jar of wriggling black leeches were lionfish spines and snake fangs, their sharp edges glinting in the low light. A bundle of long black porcupine quills came next, and horklump juice. Jen grabbed a jar packed to the brim with fat horned slugs, and half a kilo of standard ingredient for good measure.

She flitted around the shop, ticking off her list of ingredients. Valerian sprigs -- check. Fire seeds -- check. Aconite -- check.

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