Donny was alone, utterly alone once again in diagon alley. He was just trying to get a feel of what all the shops were like for future reference as most of the time he came here. He hadn't but one sickle in his robe pocket, but as it did often, it burned a hole in his pocket. He strolled into the Apothecary shop, never being there before, he was quite curious. He walked along the dusty, creaky floor, puffs of dust under his feet as he walked. He looked at each side of him; shelves were full of weird, jarred things that floated in revolting liquids, and jells. He saw all sorts of powdered and crushed substances he knew was obvious for things like potion making and remedies that belonged in the hospital wing. 

He spotted the brightest thing in the shop. It was illuminated by a soft candle light, and was a powdery green. He walked over to it, looking around him cautiously for any signs of life besides the squirming slugs in the bucket next to what he thought ought to be the counter. He picked up the dusty jar, and read 'Floo Powder: Finely crushed for transportation'. He furrowed an eyebrow, quite confused as he had never heard of this powder before. Just then, he felt a soft, decrepit hand lay on his shoulder. He whipped around, greeted by a toothless smile of a witch. He supposed she ran the shop, and was most likely harmless, but he couldn't help but stare at the large warts and moles over her face. 

"Uh, hi-hi!" he said, quite loudly taking himself by surprise. "C-can I buy some of this?" he asked her, his teeth tattering slightly with fear. "Yes, of course! Been traveling?" she asked him, supposing he needed more for something. "Er, no, not much." he said shortly, squinting at the price of the 'Floo Powder,". 

"That'll be one sickle!" said the witch, her voice cracking oddly as she spoke. Donny reached into his robes pocket, pulling out the single sickle and holding into view of his glasses. He then placed it softly on the witch's hand, as if trying not to bruise it. He followed the short witch over to the counter, standing upright and only moving his eyes. She finally handed him a small brown paper bag labeled 'Apothecary shop, since 1200 B.C.' and he took hold of the paper handles. He mouthed the words "Thank you..." and walked out of the shop, sighing as he did so gladly leave.