My Favorite Poison [open]

[ARTHUR STROUD]

Very rarely did Arthur find himself entertained during the hours of the day. Usually, if the sun was up, he'd be holed up inside the Leaky Cauldron, feeding off some victim from the night before and sipping from a bottle of bourbon in careful rations. He'd play with a few quiet spells, being careful not to set anything on fire or do anything too suspicious, because he couldn't afford to be kicked out of that inn; there were few places nearby that matched its level of comfort.


But today was different. The previous night, Arthur thought that a trip to the infamous Knockturn Alley was a must, at least from the few things he had heard about it. There were a number of peculiar shops there that tickled his fancy, but one stood out more than the rest. Borgin and Burke's was the all-in-one for your shady wizard in today's world. You could buy all the nasty things you could imagine, it was dark, and there were rooms upstairs to rent out if you needed that extra luxury-- and Arthur did. Gone were the days where he would have to pretend to be a good Samaritan to bystanders and customers at the Leaky Cauldron. No longer would he have to make an effort to hide his black eyes or pretend to eat human food. No more would he have to hide his kills, ration his liquor, and sip on old victims. Finally there was a place he could relax and be himself, an they even kept it dark during the day.


That meant that there was no more waiting. There was no more staying in a room with a blanket over the window just to survive. He could go downstairs in this shop, mingle during the day, and he'd be just fine as long as he stayed away from the door. This shop would single-handedly change his life as a vampire. Of course, he was also working on a potion that would allow him to walk in the sun for as long as its effects could last, but that was still very early in the development stage, and lacewing flies were hard to come by.

Today, though, was the day of all days-- his first as a free vampire. Arthur sat in an ebony wood chair-- the same shade as his wand-- downstairs in Borgin in Burke's. Beside him was the shopkeep, a burly, grey-haired man with a large, fleshy scar under his chin, and across the room was his young employee who had a lazy eye and an unruly beard. Arthur and the shopkeep sat behind the counter as the employee placed more cursed jewelry on display.

"Really, just look on the shore of the Black Lake. You can double your supply of grendylow hairs without having to buy from a middleman. Just get it from the source," Arthur said to him, continuing a rather long conversation they'd been having about the shop's lacking supply of proper potion ingredients. "Keep saving me money like this and I'll have to put you on the payroll," the shopkeep joked, finishing wish a hardy laugh that was interrupted by a sudden cough. Arthur grinned, taking a sip of his bourbon that he had bought the previous night.  "If you feel that you must," Arthur joked in return, pouring the shopkeeper a bit more whiskey. 

Arthur poured himself some more as well, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small vial filled with crimson liquid. He let a few drops of blood trickle into his drink before stirring it with his finger, taking a sip, and exhaling with approval. "How long've you been running this place, Islov?" Arthur inquired as he watched the younger employee struggle with box filled with jars of pixie bones. "Going on forty years," the shopkeeper replied, his voice underlined with subtle boasting. Arthur scoffed sarcastically. "Still think you'll be doing this when you're my age?" the vampire replied, taking another sip of his blood whiskey. "If I live to be you're age," Islov began before coughing again. "You're damned near ancient!"


Arthur got a laugh out of that one. He added a few more drops of blood to his drink, and slouched a bit in his chair. Normally he'd be sitting all alone in his small room at the Leaky Cauldron, conjuring up snakes to test his potions on, but now he had an interesting place to spend the daytime, and he had a friend who was around his age-- maybe only twelve years younger. "I'll take that room tonight, if you don't mind," Arthur said, and Islov nodded. "It's yours."


The vampire reached into his pocket to get a few coins to pay for the room, but Islov held up a hand to stop him. "Please, you've saved me enough money to rent that room for a year. Take it as long as you'd like," Islov said, and Arthur nodded in thanks, feeling a tad bit awkward. He wasn't fully comfortable with sincere situations, so he flashed an artificial smile. "So long as you keep saving me money!" Islov spat out, breaking the tension. That made things easier for Arthur, and he was able to laugh again, his smile now genuine. "Please, you'll double your profits by the end of the day if I have anything to say about it," he began. "Start by firing that guy," Arthur roused comically, pointing his finger at the employee who was now sweeping the same spot he had swept an hour ago, obviously just appearing busy. The employee looked to Arthur defensively, his grip around the broom tightening. "Relax, boy. I kid, I kid. But you could make yourself useful and find me some essence of dittany. I plan to brew a thank you gift for you and Islov. I'll pay you, of course."

The man nodded quickly, setting the broom down and heading over to the door. "Where?" he asked plainly. Arthur pointed in a general direction. "Slug and Jigger's should have some. Top shelf behind the counter."  

The employee nodded before heading out the door. Islov chuckled. "You know, he's not going to get it right. He's incapable of even tying his shoes, most days," he said to Arthur, and the vampire grinned evily.

"I don't care what he gets, I just need him gone."

"For what?"

Arthur reached into the inner pocket of his robe, retrieving a small glass flask containing a deep purple liquid. He grinned wickedly. 

"The hell is that?" Islov asked in an almost upset manner, but Arthur maintained his grin. "The future of your shop," he replied.

"This brew is something I'm particularly proud of. Two drops in someone's drink, and they'll forget the last 24 hours. Want to clean up witnesses without getting messy? Want to protect yourself from someone who thinks you may know too much? Hell, maybe you had a bad day and you just want to forget it. Just two drops, and it's gone. I call it... Arthur's Amnesia. What do you think?"


Islov took the flask in his hand, examining it closely. "This works?" he inquired in a low, intrigued tone. Arthur nodded. "Would I sell you something that didn't, my friend?" I

Islov only stared in awe. 

"The ingredients are cheap, as well," Arthur began, "sell it for seven galleons a flask, and give me three of those. For each you sell. Sounds about fair, doesn't it?"


Islov was almost emotionless as he spoke. "Show me. I have to see that it works before I put it up for sale. I have a reputation, you know."

Arthur clenched his teeth and raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. "Fine. Then find me a test subject."

[HIRA YU]

The sky was hidden amidst the clouds that hung low, almost drifting atop the buildings in Wizarding London. Many nights, the Mistress of Magic would entertain herself by perusing the muggle side, she enjoyed looking at the people who she managed. The muggle Prime minister may think himself all powerful, all politicians did but little did he know the true power that she held. Often, she would have long conversations, three; perhaps four hours worth. Talking policies, the generation gap and the difference between the very rich, and the utterly destitute. Little was to be said on Wizard and Muggle interpersonal relationships, as at the end of the last wizarding war it became apparent that the better the wizarding world hid from the muggles, the easier it would be to rebuild the trust that they had struggled so hard to attain. Instead they focused on how to create a balanced peace,where the wizarding world was completely hidden, never seen, never heard. The Aurors and Department for the misuse of Muggle Artefacts had become increasingly overworked, and with the threat of strikes and walk outs, the Mistress of magic had difficult decisions on her hands.

So she would take nightly strolls. She was an incredibly adept witch, having been trained to an incredibly high standard by ancient masters of their art back in China. There was very little that could take her without having to suffer severe consequences. After all, she had risen through the ranks of the eastern wizarding authorities, first as a wizarding interpersonal officer. Then as the equivalent of an Auror ... through the Defence against the Misuse of Dark Magical Objects department. There were not many things Hira could not do, as an accomplished an experience witch. How many times had she single handedly taken on cases and found herself on the receiving end of a dark hex, only to find that with the proper mind set she could absorb the dark magic, have it take over her very being and explode in a volatile and spectacular show of power. It was something of a speciality. She did not truly absorb the magic, but channel it into her own spell, with sometimes undesirable results.

But tonight there was something different in the air. The people she managed were worried. They had heard things, dark things. Rumours that would make any reasonable person rethink their idea of peacetime and take extra care when out after dark. But not Hira. She knew better than the rumours, better than those peons who worked under her. They would never know the extent of her involvement with this new, terrifying embodiment of evil.

From the day she left her beloved China, in search of western influence on her magic she had known she would be something greater than before. It had been prophesied in her own land that a bringer of darkness would arrive when all those around knew only peace. It had been so long since, at least in Wizarding Europe, those of superior breeding had known the true meaning of their heritage. They were shunned, scorned. Degraded for something she she herself found most desirable. Of course in this day it was difficult finding those who still retained the old ways. The breeding programs that the ministry had tried to pass, that she had herself voted against were barbaric. They were cruel and unusual. Forcing marriages between those who were not in love, who were unmatched in both magical codes and desires. Those who had been chosen were of superior birth, their lineage was beautiful to behold. She had studied their genealogical ancestry and found that, to prevent inbreeding within close relatives the planning involved in the relationships was very similar to how it had been for Hira.

Of course, she had decided to be foolish, to go against the wishes of those who knew better than her. In her youth, she had looked favourably upon a muggle. His life was so far from her own that when she revealed her magic to him, she was met with hatred, scorn and ridicule. She had been dragged through the streets, screams of "Witch", "Demon", "Whore" thrown at her by those who she had grown up surrounded by. The people who had respected her family name now cursed it. Their words found no bearing with magical influence but the long standing effect on their social climbing had been stunted, and they wereRidiculed. There was nothing worse that could have happened. Centuries of careful breeding, of training, of tutoring all crumbled around her feet and it was her family who suffered the consequences. They were forced into hiding from the muggles who, each night gathered at the gates of their home, threats to burn them to the ground, to salt the ground they worked upon and slaughter the animals they kept. It was barbaric, and it was cruel.

She had then been informed that she was not the first to suffer such a fate. Almost all generations of her family were met with the same hostility. Muggles were not to be trusted with the greatness of their magic.

It made her blood boil.

Underneath the wood of the thick, warm fur coat she wore her face turned sour. Her lips pinches and her cheeks hollowed as she scorned the thought of those who had done her wrong. She missed her home, but she was doomed to never return. Her family was once praised by the emperors of old. Their work with potion making was akin to the ancients. Hira's own ancestor being the wizard who discovered the use of powdered Liondragon Eggs. Of course those in the west called them "Chinese Fireballs". From there Dragons had been an important part of her family traditions. Until the International Confederation of Warlocks outlawed the illegal breeding of dragons each generation had been charged with raising a Dragon, respecting them, taming them.

Once this was forbidden however, her family had to become creative. It was then, that Hira Mother showed her true promise. Creating a spell which, with intense Transfiguration understanding could turn any figure of a dragon, into a living; Fire Breathing, life sized magical creature. Of course it could not breed, it could not be used for potions once it had died and once killed ... it crumbled into ash. But for now, it would serve its purpose. She had even had the spell Authorised by the Wizarding Patenting agencies. It had taken a while; but as a cunning and very persuasive witch. ... she could bend people to her way of thinking. It was of course, a secret. She could not have every wizard using her spell for their own purpose. Only a handful of people in the world had been properly taught how to control the dragon once it was fully formed. The spell itself was not too taxing, but like with Fiendfyre ... controlling the monster once it came to life was the true skill.

As she walked, the low 'click' of her shoes echoed across the empty street. It was late. Many of the shops were close to closing down for the night, given that no natural illumination was to be found. She smirked, finding that the crisp, angry air was a comfort to her rather than something to be despised. It reminded her of nights trawling the streets, looking for that one muggle who had caused so much suffering, so much anger. She could never forgive him, or any of his kind. She knew that her task was monumental and there would be many who were against it. But she knew better. Anyone with muggle blood in them, anyone who had bred with muggles, been raised by muggles … they too would see her wrath. Night after night she researched ways to be rid of then only to come up short. But she had an ingenius thought. The dark magical shops of Knockturn Alley would surley hold the key to what she was looking for.

"At last." She said, her accent still thick with the sound of China. She was told that her voice was exotic, very desirable … but that it had left her sounding very cold to the general public unless she truly made an effort to seem pleasant. Only during public relations would she force a smile onto her face. She disliked smiling, it gave the illusion of happiness and she was certainly not that. She would never be satisfied until her mission was complete.

The long, drawn out creak of the door to 'Borgin & Burkes' rang through her ears. She was definitely in the right place.

Still with her hood drawn up against her head she entered the shop and glanced around. She doubted anyone would recognise her under the heavy fur. And she wanted it that way. She disliked having to greet everyone she met. It became tiresome. A chore.

Slowly, she raised her hand, gloved in pale leather and accented with many runes for Protection, Serenity, Prosperity, Wealth … Power. It had been her mothers, and she would put them to use.

Of course as she ran her hand along the edge of the shelves within the shop, lined with hundreds upon hundreds of dark artefacts … it made her magic sing with delight. She was after all … a dark witch. She made no comment once inside the shop, watching the figures resting by the counter and making a note to ensure no one else was around. She may be a powerful witch, and an incredibly formidable political figure. But she was not stupid.

[Deleted]

The darkest of nights were reserved for the dirtiest of business – and that coming night would be a sordid affair indeed. Although young, Aurelia Adler had seen much of the darkness of the world. She was no fairy tale character that had risen about the darkness that had consumed her life. No – Aurelia had been subsumed by it. Perhaps, deep within her, there was a flicker of light still left. However, it was faint. Rare moments ignited this hope. But, she had been quick to fill those empty spaces with dark deeds. Aurelia was no saint. Well, that would be rather ridiculous considering she killed people for monetary gain. The years had whittled away her sense of compassion. She filled her nights often with men, dealing in lust. She enjoyed the power it gave her. With her deep red lips and alluring eyes, she lured in unsuspecting men and then left them to rot. However, she was no fan of the actual act. It was a tedious affair with people she had no cares for. However, she remembered those tedious sticky fumblings with boys in darkened alleyways when she was younger, while dreaming of getting out… getting anywhere… perhaps even getting all the way to the Ministry. Oh, they had been foolish dreams, caked in the illusion of romance. Oh, but Aurelia was not a destitute woman, holding on to the dreams of what was long past. Oh no – she had relinquished those foolish, empty ideas and given in to what she was good at. She was a potioneer on the surface – the finest in England. However, when she was examined closely, she was a woman who used poison to eradicate the vermin of the world. Well, she could glamorise it like that. She destroyed those deemed to be vermin by her clients. Mostly, good people stuck in a difficult position. Sometimes, the person who hired her and the person whom she killed were equally worthless. Aurelia was exceptional at what she did. She hid in the underworld, straying far from the realms of civilised men. Her dreams of getting out had fallen away. She would describe herself as someone of worth. Beneath the seductive exterior, she knew she was nothing. The day loomed outside, cloudy and unforgiving. Aurelia had some preparations to take care of before she embarked on her job tomorrow night. A poor ministry official was going to meet his match, most certainly. The only thing she had to know about the man was that he had double crossed some less than defensive dark witch who had a reputation to uphold. That made it near impossible for her to do the dirty work herself – after all, if her client killed a man it would be greatly frowned upon. A hundred galleons insured the man’s death within a fortnight. Aurelia would see it done, shamelessly. However, she needed to acquire some supplies at Borgin and Burkes. Aurelia gazed outside her window, her eyes catching a glimpse of her reflection. Dark rings hung under her eyes, and her hair fell in messy tangles about her face. She pursed her lips, her face hardening. Heavy lines had begun to outline her eyes. Here, in this moment, the chips in her armour were showing. Hunted for much of her life, she had lost the innocence that had once illuminated her eyes. The sun hung lazily behind the clouds, barely illuminating them. Aurelia had to light a candle in order to get enough light to put back on her armour. With careful strokes, she lined her eyes with dark makeup and painted red onto her full lips. The addition of makeup did not remove all of the hardness that characterised her face. It only made her more appealing to gaze upon. Oh, Aurelia was very pleasing to look upon – she was built finely, with some rather voluptuous curves. Her eyes, large and dark, were the key to her ability to lure people in. She certainly was not afraid to use her sexuality to get what she wanted. She had had few sexual encounters that had meant something more than selfish gain. But those encounters, she refused to mention, even to herself. Placing her coat over her black dress, she made her way out of her little hovel down in Knockturn Alley. Aurelia had a small potioneer’s shop, located under a stairway. In attracted just enough attention to gain business but not enough so that people came looking for her. Oh, how proud her family would be to see her cowering in a hovel by day and lurking in the shadows by night. She shifted those thoughts from her mind. They were dead. They could not say anything. The walk to Borgin and Burkes was a short one. She paused, her eyes darted to the figure that had just made her way into the shop … yes, definitely a woman. Her stature was small and the hints of curves could not be entirely hidden by the heavy cloak she wore. She heard the figure’s voice – heavily feminine with exotic tones. Aurelia frowned, her thoughts turned cautious. Oh, there were few magical beings from China that frequented this area. With rumours of an order called the Black Lotus lurking in the shadows, Aurelia knew that this witch may be a formidable character. Although, she did not think on it long. If her business was in Borgin and Burkes, she would want to remain as unseen as Aurelia did. So, without much hesitation, Aurelia took a few strides to the door and pushed it open with one hand. The door was heavy, squeaking with effort to open. She glanced around for a second, her ears catching the final words of a man at the counter. They needed a test subject… she frowned, knowing that between her and the woman that had just walked in, a sticky situation may occur. But she recognised that voice – she froze, her eyes wide. Arthur… the only part of the name she had gotten off him. Although, she had only given him her first name. Oh, names were dangerous. This encounter had been different… The man had attempted to slip a love potion into her drink one night. Oh, and how poorly made it was – a silly grin touched her lips momentarily. He was certainly a good potioneer – but, she had claimed to be better that night. However, the moments that followed had not required his potion to initiate. In the words they exchanged that night, that girl that wanted to get out of this dark hove had emerged. She had shed her armour with her clothing that night. The regrets came that morning as she snuck away from his sleeping body. The regret was not that she had allowed him into her bed – Aurelia was not shy in that regard. Oh definitely not. Her regret was that she almost let it mean something more. She could not allow that. She dipped her face, allowing her dark hair to fall in front of her face. It was probably little use. They would have noticed her as she walked into the little shop. Her eyes darted to the exotic woman, running her hands across the shelves. She made Aurelia uncomfortable. If the rumours of the Dark Lotus were true, this world was standing very precariously against the edge of change. Aurelia did not know how she would fair in such an uprising. Undoubtedly, she would have to join the winning side, or die. Aurelia was not ready to die but she resented needing to swear her loyalty to some power hungry fiends. She was her own person, ruled by none. She gazed deliberating at the vampire, a small smirk curling up on her blood red lips. She would not let him see the chink in her armour. The chink was undoubtable there. “Are you still so terrible at potions?” she asked, almost innocently. Rather rudely, she leant between the shop keeper and Arthur, making sure her back was turned to the vampire. She was close enough for a normal to catch a whiff of her perfume. She passed a piece of paper to Islov and a handful of galleons. In a small neat handwriting, she had a short list of items that she needed. The shop keeper nodded. “I would like that in a day, please,” she requested, before taking a step back, out of the range of the two males. Her eyes glanced nervously to the other woman in the shop and then to the two men. She briefly glanced at the shop help in the back, but deemed him to be of little importance.

[ARTHUR STROUD]

"Fine. Then find me a test subject..."


The words floated lightly in the air as they left his lips. Islov's face was alight with both intrigue and hesitation, but Arthur knew that the man wouldn't pass up a opportunity like this for something as pointless as sympathy for someone he didn't know. Business was business, after all. Borgin and Burkes was dark all times of the day, but the conditions outdoor were making it even more haunting and dim than usual. The windows that weren't boarded or covered were tinted with neglected filth, and the few lanterns that sat about were dying slowly with the sun. Night would soon be upon them, and Arthur would be free to roam once more, though he was having a perfectly nice time in the shop.

Not a second after he spoke, the thick air gave birth to a loud, lengthy creak from the slow-moving door, and Arthur's hand shot into his robe to put the flask back inside of it. A smaller figure-- definitely human by the scent-- pushed through the doorway, a fur coat with the hood drawn covering her face and all of her other features, but that was expected of a customer in this shop. Borgin and Burkes was rarely a shop one would waltz into proudly; oftentimes people would wait until the dead of night to stroll into the shop so they would not be seen. Arthur was an exception.

At this age, Arthur had learned to care little about what people thought of him-- he was going to outlive them all, anyway. He needn't hide his head when he was seen doing something unfavorable, because those who would resent him would fall soon enough, and he would be there to see it happen. Still, while he didn't care much about what people thought of him, he didn't exactly advertise that he was a vampire. Whenever he went out to clubs or bars at night, he would take a potion that changed the color of his eyes so he couldn't be identified at first sight. There were a few, though, who had the wits to figure it out, but those who were smart enough to peg him as a vampire were usually the sort of people he liked too much to kill.

The woman in the coat didn't say a word to them-- as expected-- she just dragged her gloved hand along the shelves, perusing the store's wares. Just as the door had closed, a creak sounded once more, and this time a familiar face appeared afterward.


Her scent was what he noticed first, though. Her perfume was engraved in his memory, and inhaling its fumes provoked many thoughts of a passionate night not long ago. Love potions were not Arthur's strong suit, as he preferred for his seduction to be via old-fashioned methods, but he had brought themselves to use them as the nights were short and his time was limited. There were many times since arriving in London that he had slipped a few women love potions in bars and gone home with them, but one particular woman had made a point of catching his attention.


She was the only one who detected it-- a true potioneer who knew the smell of a brew like the back of her hand. Instead of sipping her drink like your average witch, she set her glass down, turned to Arthur, and criticized his use of dragon's blood! Even worse, all Arthur could do was smile like an idiot, because he had been deliberating about that extra drop for the longest time before he put it in. She went on and on about how he should have stirred it clockwise instead of counterclockwise, and how he should have tapped his wand after adding the unicorn hair, not before. How she got all that from a scent was beyond him. He was the one with the heightened sense of smell, after all, and she had deduced all of that with her perfectly human nose. Arthur took her advice to heart, though he had to fight the urge to go on about how love potions aren't a liking of his, and how he's much more capable of brewing mixes that altered appearance. His poisons weren't bad at all, either. But, in truth, Arthur was a merchant. He had to pay for his lifestyle somehow, so he brewed whatever sold the most. Polyjuice, wolfsbane, liquid luck-- it was only during the time in between these potions that he had any time for proper experiments.


Although, it appeared that Arthur didn't need a love potion that night. He got talking to this woman-- who he came to know as Aurelia-- and after a bit of drink and chatter, he had taken her to bed, and it was much more enjoyable that some dime-a-dozen woman who was in the haze of a love potion.

Aurelia smirked at him as she entered, he lips a shade of red so close to blood that Arthur was struck with a sudden craving. "Are you still so terrible at potions?" she asked him, but her intentions were not entirely clear from her tone. That's one of the things that Arthur had liked about her. Everything she said could be interpreted a hundred different ways. Just like him, she knew life was a game, and she played it very well.

Arthur took a sip of his whiskey before reaching into his pocket and retrieving the vial of blood once again. "I have plenty of time to work out the kinks," he replied, adding another  drop of blood to his drink before taking a sip and putting the vial away. He had never really had a straight conversation with this woman; it was always banter. Arthur loved banter. People were always so quick to get to the meat of a conversation, but Arthur liked to dance around with his words. To him, each conversation was a game of chess, and he chose his moves very carefully.

She bent over between the him and Islov, her back facing him. He smiled, knowing that she was intentionally trying to isolate him to gain superiority. It was a good move, but he was a bit too experienced to let it phase him. She handed Islov a list and some coin, adding that she wanted those supplies in a day, and he nodded.

"Have a drink with us," he said plainly, not even the slightest tone of question in his voice. "See if my love potions have improved," he teased, reaching to a cabinet behind him to retrieve a glass. He began to pour her a bit of bourbon, not even bothering to hear her response. With a woman like her, questions were a dangerous thing. It gave her too much of a chance to snap back. Simple statements were the way to go, and Arthur was sure that she knew he would do that. That's what he loved about it-- there was no end to the mind games between them. They got underneath each others' skin.

He took a large gulp of his drink, stretching his mouth open and feeling his fangs with his tongue. He looked to Islov. "Hand me my potion, will you?" he asked, and Islov opened a drawer beside him. "Which one?" he asked, and Arthur let his eyes drift up as he thought for a moment. "Blue eyes," he replied, and Islov handed him a small bottle with a potion as clear as water. Arthur took it, uncapped it, and raised it in the air for an imaginary cheer. "Down the hatch."

He slammed his eyes shut as he swallowed it, and when he opened them, they were a bright blue as vibrant a veela. "How do I look?" he asked, his fangs replaced with a normal human's teeth.

Then, he looked past Aurelia, gazing at the woman in the heavy fur coat. She had been awfully quiet, and Arthur found that rather suspicious for reasons he couldn't explain. Normally, even the quiet customers would shoot him a glance. Hell, he was a very attention-grabbing character-- people could hardly help not to look at him, but every gaze this woman cast was from the very corner of her eye, and her glances were so stealthy that there was no way she wasn't hiding something. "And what about you?" he began, his voice raised to it could reach her strongly. "Care for a drink?"

[HIRA YU]

Hira did enjoy people watching, it was one of her favourite pass times apart from surveying the muggle world and making sure no one stepped out of line within her ranks in the ministry. She was known as fair, but a very strict Mistress of Magic. A reputation that was not without its uses in the world outside of work. It was also the reason that the group she had managed to bring into existence saw her as their leader. That of course, was information not free to the general public. Even members within her own secret organisation had no idea that she was a member, nor that she was the puppet master pulling the strings which led to the desolation of many hundreds of lives in the east. Her home country, once so full and vibrant with the magic that coloured its landscape became pale, weak ... corrupt. She would do anything to see it raised up to its former glory once again.

She had initially only ventured into the shop to look for certain potion ingredients that were ... disapproved of by many around her. But she was a master of the old ways. She knew traditions and secrets that had only existed through the stories passed down from generation to generation. That was the way magic should be. Unique signatures creating an equal balance of light and dark, of harmony and discord. Of life and death. Of which she was definitely a mistress. 

When she first came to this country she was nothing more than a glorified Auror. But her tenacity had proven the correct way viewed by the government. She was unlucky however that when she moved here, the Pureblood doctrine had already been destroyed by those who sought to integrate the muggle borns more than had been achieved previously. It was obviously a battle that in the West had been fought in very fierce battles. But she had missed the blood shed, she had missed the horror ... the thrill of battle. It was something she found rather disturbing about the west. Their inability to conform to the old ways, the superior ways was their true downfall.

No, now that she was in the shop and could see the people around her ... listen in to their conversation; muted to her ears as it may be, Hira found she would entertain a different side to this visit.

The entrance of another female behind her caused her to pull the edges of her hood heavier around her face. The initial fear of being caught both without her 'guard' and in the seedy underbelly of the Wizarding shopping district would do nothing for her image. Of course, she was never one to hide away from bad press. She was known for being an active member of politics everywhere in the world of Wizarding Britain. Dark or otherwise. There was something about dark magic which always called to her. When she received her wand at age 9 - students began younger in their official magical training in China - the wand maker had been reluctant to let her leave the shop with her purchase. 'Acromantula web' he had hissed, hardly wishing to touch the wand she now cherished.'Only dark, dangerous things come from these wands. Never in my time did I believe someone would accept her...'. It had been a proud day, knowing that she had been the owner not only of a wand, but of one powerful enough to cause fear in the eyes of a man over a century in experience.

Hira could not quite make out the conversation being had between the shopkeeper and his client, however she did note the familiarity with which they spoke. an odd trait for a shop like this one. But better to be known and understand the dangers of ones clients than to be caught off guard and potentially suffer the dire consequences. However it was nothing close to the closeness of the female who had entered after her. Which Hira hid behind the shelves, perusing the many Illegal ... -she noted - items, the other had walked straight to the front. Joining in the conversation in less than hushed whispers. It was not at all what the Mistress of Magic had suspected.

But then, she was spoken to. Oh how easy the British were at conversation. Nothing like the way she had been raised. Even the pure bloods of Europe were considered rude by the pure blood Chinese. The manners and social hoops that had to be jumped through; just to say hello was so lengthy many decided it was not worth while. It was why many Chinese marriages were drawn up through contracts. In some cases it would be the only time families would speak to one another.

With a smirk, Hira spoke from under her hood. Not disguising the thick Chinese accent and letting the dark red of her lips pull around her polished white teeth. Another perk of her position. "One would think, in places such as this ... that strangers would not engage in conversation. It is dangerous to address those with whom we have no prior knowledge." The way she spoke, in such broken ... but correct English was rare. Many had found her voice stunningly beautiful to listen to. It was something she was incredibly proud to say she flaunted wherever she went.

Slowly pulling the hood back from her head, the Mistress of Magic locked eyes with the vivid blue of the man who spoke to her. "And I shall refrain from that drink ... one can never be too sure who has prepared it ... or where their loyalties lie." In many cased she could get away with what she said as due to linguistic difficulties. But she had been in this country long enough. She knew exactly what she was saying.

[Deleted]

There was no shame for Aurelia in coming to this shop without a cloak. She cared not for the prying eyes of others. After all, she had her own little shop in the bowels of this god forsaken place. So it intrigued Aurelia as to who was beneath the cloak. They certainly did not want to be examined. That only made her more eager to know who it was. Her eyes took hold of some of the runes on the woman’s gloves. She knew them – protection, serenity, power, wealth and prosperity. Aurelia occasionally dabbled in the use of runes to strengthen her potions. The price if a cloak that heavy with fur was high. Definitely someone of money. Aurelia saw much. She had to being an assassin. The class of people often indicated their lifestyle and the ease of the job to be done. Oh, wealthy victims always cost more. Their death was more quickly noted and the job was risky. Although, it was not uncommon for people who entered Borgin and Burkes to hide their faces. Anonymity was valued highly in these circles. Aurelia did not go by her name when dealing with potions and poison. She called herself Aurora. It was an innocent name that was easy to hide as being normal. She also could not risk her name getting out. The reason was twofold. The people who had killed her family were still out there and it would be an inconvenience should the ministry find out her real name. On occasion, Aurelia had to pack up shop for a while after a noted person mysteriously died. She knew that there was a prison cell in Azkaban with her name on. Few people, however, knew how she looked. The rather innocent looking girl that stared back at her in her reflection was hardly pinned for the murderous type. She turned her attention back on Arthur who had replied to her comment smoothly. A stupid grin touched her lips for a second. The man certainly remembered how to play. Aurelia loved words games behind which she could hide herself. Her words wove themselves into her armour. She bit her lip, as she watched him add a drop of blood to his drink. Oh, that tendency to add a little too much blood to his love potions had given her a hint as to what he was. The love potion he had prepared for her that night was hardly terrible – it did the job effectively from what she could deduce. However, it lacked made an exceptional one. She remembered the blue of his eyes that night – she could not quite grasp why a man of his good looks needed a love potion to complete his seduction of woman. She was sure a few carefully placed words and touches would do just the trick. The love potion was certainly predatory. He had not needed a love potion with her. Perhaps she was a fool to follow the man that had tried to drug her to bed. It had been his stupid grin when she told him off that had drawn her in. He had met his match that night. She took the flask that he had given to the shop keeper. She gave him a sly glance before opening it. She tilted the flask, examining the change in colour from the centre to the edges. A slight frown of concentration touched her face. She noted the exact shade of purple and the depth and intensity of the colour. It was a liquid potion with not much thickness. She took a small sniff of the potion before swirling it. She sniffed again, taking in the fragrance of the potion. She watched carefully, noting how quickly the potion ran back down the sides of the glass. This time, she took a breath of the fragrance a little closer to the flask’s edge. A smile slowly formed on her lips. Oh, this concoction of ingredients was genius. “I hate to say it, but I am impressed, little Arthur,” she said nonchalantly. She turned to the poor shopkeeper. “I am pretty sure this works.” In fact, Aurelia was certain it would work. She had never seen a combination of ingredients fall together so well to form perfect gaps in people’s memories. Some people preferred the memory charm, but this had a finesse that the spell lacked. Arthur was a clever man with nothing but time on his hand. Undoubtedly, if he chose to, he could change the face of potions. “Lace wings, Cornish pixie blood, Acromantula venom, Chimaera scales and blood of a jobberknoll,” she trailed off. Yes, it was certainly a clever concoction. The feathers of the jobberknoll were traditionally used in memory enhancing and truth serums. Using the blood with the combination of other ingrediants was a clever manipulation of ingredient. She smiled as she noted that the offer of the drink was not a question. She watched him move to the cabinet and fetch some bourbon. “Please, Arthur, don’t embarrass yourself with another poor attempt at a love potion. It’s a cheap trick to get woman in your bed… baying after your blood. Or is it perhaps a way for you to get a cheap meal?” she smirked, willing to play this little game of his. As the conversation began to flow, she managed to pull up more of a wall between herself and the vampire. She took the drink had been poured and took a gulp. The warmth spread down her throat and she grimaced at the strength. Aurelia watched curiously as the man selected a vial of a clear potion and drank it. Gazing back at her was the beautiful man at the bar, with eyes so bright they were mesmerising. She smiled at the human that disguised his true self. “You look wonderfully normal,” she said simply. That was a lie. Oh, those eyes were anything but normal. She glanced back at the woman that was in the shop when Arthur invited her to join them for a drink. Aurelia shifted nervously. She doubted whether it would be wise to invite a stranger, who clearly did not want to be noticed, for a drink. Aurelia stepped back; making room for the woman should she decide to join them. She heard again the exotic tones of China, rolled in seductive tones. Aurelia stiffened, the beauty of the voice making her more uncomfortable than allured. She moved back a little, unwilling to engage with this person. Oh, there was definitely something off about her. She did not want to be seen in such a place. She disliked her immediately without much of a reason. When her hood was lowered, her suspicions were confirmed. The Mistress of Magic in Borgin and Burkes – an occurrence that made Aurelia uncomfortable. In her long years of dealing with the scum of the world, she could tell them from a mile away. Although high status, her gut shouted don’t trust this one.

[ARTHUR STROUD]

Aurelia had this aura about her that Arthur found challenging, but in a delightfully playful way. She never let him get too close to her in a conversation. As soon as he would get to familiar with her, she'd do something to twist it around, but there was something about the topic of potions that got her to let her guard down. But, of course, she could never allow herself to forfeit her feeling of dominance, so sh nosily swiped Arthur's latest concoction for Islov. The shopkeep looked to Arthur with wide eyes, wondering if he should say something, but Arthur shook his head. Aurelia was one of those people who would only make the situation a hundred times worse for you if you called her out; it was best to just let her do what she wanted until you found your time to strike. In that way, Arthur was patient.


“I hate to say it, but I am impressed, little Arthur,”
she said, playing as if she didn't expect him to be capable of brewing any potion that did anything more than cure a fever. "Oh?" Arthur replied in his usual teasing tone. His lips found his way around his glass, and he sipped deeply as his face accommodated his amused demeanor. “I am pretty sure this works,” she mused, and Arthur looked to her with a grin that stretch from ear-to-ear. He leaned back in his chair a bit, the front legs just barely picking up form the ground.  "Imagine that," he replied, feeling a bit victorious now that she had finally admitted his success.

She went on to name the ingredients out loud, but it seemed to be more to herself than to him. Arthur looked to Islov whose face was just entirely overwhelmed with confusion. Arthur could understand. To those who didn't view life as Arthur and Aurelia did, this banter would grow strenuous remarkably fast, but it was second nature to them. After all, there was a long-standing joke among potioneers that they were all just one wrong ingredient away from accidental death, so it was best to live each day like it was your last. Arthur, of course, used that joke as a guide to life.


After he had taken his potion to make him look like less of a blood-sucking threat, she said that he looked normal, but her ruby red smile said so much more than that. Arthur smiled back before he turned his attention to the hooded figure browsing the shelves, offering her a drink.


Arthur's time in China was greatly limited. He had realized after just a short visit that, not only did he not know the slightest bit of the language, but his type of personality wasn't nearly as charming there. In fact, it was considered incredibly rude, and he had more than his fare share of hexes thrown at him. Still, he recognized her accent, as it was still very thick with the textures of her native tongue. Foreign witches were no rarity in this dark shop, so Arthur didn't think much of it when she first spoke.

"One would think, in places such as this ... that strangers would not engage in conversation. It is dangerous to address those with whom we have no prior knowledge.
"

Arthur cracked his neck quickly, his blue eyes staring at every inch of this Chinese woman as her posture changed slowly, indicating an action of slow importance. Arthur had learned to analyze body language quite effectively, knowing that it was one of the most successful ways to flirt-- that was a subject he made a point of studying in great detail. 

Then, she drew back her hood, he face immediately glowing with a sense of confidence and entitlement. It was a familiar face, he gave her that, but it took Arthur a just a few moments to place it. Of course, she was the Mistress for Magic-- he had seen her in the paper the very few times he had taken to reading it recently. Since the wizarding war had ended, he had cared little for the news. He knew it was awful to say that he missed the days of the war, but they were such interesting days. Hell, he had even considered fighting in it. He didn't really care one way or another about the cause that was at stake, but he figured that killing was killing, and blood was blood, not matter who it was from. Death Eaters had come to him, asking if him and any other vampires would like to fight for the Dark Lord, but Arthur said he was too busy to fight. Instead, he sold them all the potions he needed. Merlin's beard, that war was profitable, another one would certainly be good for business.

"Ah, yes. You're the Mistress for Magic, aren't you? Or were you? Sorry, I've lost track over the years, and I'm sad to say that I've outgrown my care for politics," he responded with his glass in front of his lips, ready to drink. He took a large gulp, feeling his stomach flare up with sudden warmth. 


"And I shall refrain from that drink ... one can never be too sure who has prepared it ... or where their loyalties lie,"
she said. Her diction was very odd, but it certainly seemed to be intentional. She embraced her cultural difference, using it as a means of empowerment. "More for us, then," Arthur replied, pouring everyone another round. He took another large gulp before looking back up the the Mistress. Arthur hated politics now. From his point of view, it was for those who had given up on revolution. Politics was a game where you sat down, looked at the blocks you had, and decided on the best thing you could possible build with those blocks. Arthur had learned that this was a fool's game, because there were plenty of more blocks to discover before building was to begin. Politics, in Arthur's aged mind, as a loser's game, and the Mistress for Magic, well, she was the queen of the losers. Although, there was a certain respect there. He respected her power, he respected her wealth, and he respected her decisions in the past doing pretty much whatever the hell she wanted. This woman was a bright witch, and Arthur thought her talents were shamefully wasted on the Ministry.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your appearance, Ms... Yu, was it?" he asked, setting his glass on the counter in front of him and blinking his sky blue eyes. "Are we in trouble? Because I assure you, I'm a good boy," he teased, raising an eyebrow evily. He looked to Aurelia, his eyes shifting to the vial of his she held, and he smiled as his eyes gazed upon the purple liquid. Well, Arthur, wouldn't the Ministry love to get their hands on a potion like this? he thought to himself.

[HIRA YU]

Hira retained her smirk; it was a look she was prone to show in public. It was as close as she could get to a smile when not really pleased. In private it was rare that she was not frowning. She was not a happy person. She missed the climate of China, she missed the language, she missed the traditions and the family aspect of life. In Europe there was a definite lack of respect for family. The elders were not respected, those in authority were not respected and the young people were allowed to wreak havoc. It was a stark contrast to what she was used to. She had in her early career as Mistress of Magic attempted to impose a new education system which was more focused on respect and how to behave as a member of society. It would have been beneficial to those poor, unfortunate pureblooded children who under the ridiculous doctrine of post war Britain had never been taught how a true member of wizarding society acted.

"It is alright" She said softly "I have not been in the Position for a long time. In fact I am still dealing with the paperwork to take over from my predecessor." She smirked a little wider, her eyes creasing as she thought of the mountain of paperwork that had haunted her ever since she signed a wizards oath to the position. She knew that there would be alot of contractual problems but she had never imagines how difficult it would be to just get the controls to herself. This had not been part of her initial plan; but she would make it work however long it took for her to become properly initiated.

She continued moving around the shop, her gloved hand running along the length of the shelves, noting all the ingredients that should make any normal person terrified to be near. But not her. "I was under the impression, that this shop could procure any ingredient? However I find one distinctly lacking ... What a shame." She huffed a little and removed her hand, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to remove any accumulated dust or ... unexplained grime.  She looked around her again, scanning for anyone who may seem unsavoury but found none more than she had originally expected. "But of course, one cannot expect perfection nowadays. One must learn to compromise." Her eyes fixated on the very handsome man whose blue eyes had drawn her out of the shelter of her hood.

She stalked closer to him, making sure than she maintained eye contact and nodded her head in his direction once she was nearer. "Hira Yu, Grand Sorceress and Minister for Magic." She introduced. "Quite the opposite I must say. I was wandering the streets and thought I should look into such a well known establishment. It could not be as Dark as it is known to be." She forced a smile, although it was obvious that she did not feel it. "And I thought I should look into an ingredient ... and an item I had been searching for, for some time now. Alas I can find neither. I am rather disappointed." 

Her gaze turned to the young female, extending her a similar nod of acknowledgement. "Many apologies, my dear. " Her comment was for the purpose of accepting she had not spoken directly to her, but nothing more. She had nothing to speak to this young woman with. "I do not suppose either of you charming young people would be able to facilitate my search. In China, I would simply walk into the street and ask the nearest wizard available. Alas, Britain does not have this same philosophy."