Crown of the North

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Blue Flowers of Transition

Saturday 28 July - Monday 24 December 1984

Diagon Alley, London.

Rated PG for adult themes (specifically, the need to earn a living).

On Saturday the N.E.W.T. results arrived. Ariadne watched the Ministry owls swoop down on her friends without taking much interest in her own letter. Hestia seemed nervous - Ariadne reassured herself that the slight laugh and shaky fingers had always characterised Hestia before an exam; she must not assume that everything she observed in other people was now wrong. Hestia broke open the envelope (it tore awkwardly) and flushed pink all over her face.

"Yes! I did! Ivor will be so pleased!"

"Going to share the good news?" asked Sarah slyly.

Hestia held her letter to her chest for a moment, then passed it over. Sarah's eyes widened. "Ooh, I see. Very nice. So you're glad you stuck with old Snape now?"

Hestia nodded gleefully. "Exceeds Expectations in Potions, Transfiguration and Defence, and Acceptable in Herbology. Oh, and an Outstanding in Charms. So now will you show me yours?"

"Nothing at all surprising in mine. Unless you'd be surprised to hear that I passed anything. Acceptable in Herbology and Defence, Exceeds Expectations in Charms and Creatures." Sarah struck a bored pose, but Ariadne could tell she was pleased. At least, she thought Sarah was pleased. For somebody who so consistently boycotted homework, Sarah really had done better than anybody could have predicted.

"So what about the star pupil, then?" Sarah threw a glance at Ariadne.

Ariadne remembered that she was supposed to open her letter. But she was not wanting to do it in front of her friends. She had always thought Remus would be the first one to know her results. Remus is not interested any more, she reminded herself, and she slowly worked the envelope open to expose her certificate.

NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TESTS

Pass Grades:
Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E)
Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades:
Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)

ARIADNE FEILTIARNA MACDOUGAL HAS ACHIEVED:

Ancient Runes O
Astronomy E
Charms O
Herbology O
Potions O
Transfiguration E

Signed on behalf of the Board
G. R. Marchbanks, Head of Board
Sapiens Tofty, Secretary to the Board

Suddenly Sarah and Hestia were wildly excited. Ariadne did not understand what the cheering was about until Sarah demanded, "Well, aren't you pleased? After all the hours you put in, don't the results mean anything to you?"

"They do... I am indeed pleased," Ariadne said. She was, for a moment, but then she remembered that she had expected it of herself. Remus had worked so hard to coach her; it was not really surprising that she had managed to improve her Transfiguration to an E standard and her Charms to an O. This was his triumph as much as hers, and it seemed very unfair that he would never know about it. Instead, she performed a Zerocso Charm so the Ministry owl could take a copy to her parents.

"So, girls, do you have good news?" Ivor's head was in the fireplace.

"Very good for all of us," said Hestia. "Come through, Ivor, and show us yours. Why don't all of you come through?"

Ivor withdrew his head, then stepped into their lounge in a swirl of green fire. He was followed by Richard, Joe and Kingsley. The boys were sharing a flat at the far end of Diagon Alley, about ten minutes' walk away. Hestia had returned from her one visit reporting that they had leased it dirty and had not bothered to clean it up since, and predicting that "they'll be camping with us before we know it".

"Well, they're not staying the night," said Sarah firmly. "Ariadne's parents would have a heart attack if they thought men were sleeping over, and she'd never be allowed to live here again. And if eating our food is what they have in mind, they can jolly well help us cook it." But she had authorised the boys to Floo into their flat, and eating the girls' food was very obviously what the boys had in mind today. They claimed that Joe was a good cook, but he was tired of cooking every day, and they all deserved to be waited on at a time of celebration.

Joe had managed three N.E.W.T.s (History of Magic, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies) and had secured for himself a job in the Butterbeer factory. Sarah did not understand how he would manage the spells to control the machinery, but Richard assured them that Joe was still capable of a non-verbal charm when it was absolutely necessary, so the job would give him practice. Richard had four Exceeds Expectations and only wished his employer showed more interest. "All Mr Wadcock could say was, ‘Never mind about your marks in that book-learning stuff, it's sales skills and memory for Quidditch facts that count in this business.'" Ivor had five N.E.W.T.s, which would look very proper in his file at Gringotts Personnel, and Kingsley had six Outstandings, which meant that he would be accepted into Auror training.

Ariadne set a peeling charm to the potatoes and a chopping charm to the onions, but Kingsley interrupted her. "Ariadne, don't be such a push-over. Delegate the chores around all of us."

"I'll be boss," said Sarah. "Hestia, guard the frying pan. Kingsley, you can cut the meat. Ivor, the carrots... whatever does one do to carrots? Ariadne and Hestia are both such good cooks that I don't usually bother."

"You scrape carrots with a blunt knife," Hestia came to the rescue. "Richard, you can mix some herbs with flour and shake around the meat as Kingsley finishes dicing it. Joe, boil us some water, then chop up some greens. And Sarah... oh, well done, Sarah, I don't think there is a job left for you."

"You do manage your life well, Sarah," admired Kingsley.

"I'll lay the table," said Sarah primly. "But before you call me a freeloader, remember that I do all the laundry around here. Ariadne and Hestia haven't a clue about the correct way to iron; if I let them do their own, they'd wear their clothes out in six months."

Perhaps Ariadne was imagining it, but all the boys looked very bewildered by the news that there was a "correct" way to iron a robe.

The congratulatory owls began to arrive as they were eating. Ariadne's parents wrote with unqualified delight:

Darling, these are wonderful results, even better than we had been hoping. We obviously did the right thing in setting that English farmhand to tutor you: you put in long, long hours, and it paid off. We are enclosing 100G to spend on books, or whatever you are needing in your new home.

They had obviously been quick to spread the good news, for half an hour later there was a note from Aunt Macmillan, together with a copy of the new edition of Mrs Skower's Complete Guide to Housekeeping, and then a line from Cousin Lucius, wrapped around a box of pearl earrings. Owls for all of them flew in and out of the diamond-paned windows, and as well as down both chimneys, all through the evening. Among the masses of packing and wrapping paper, the gifts for Ariadne included a small alabaster vase from Madam Bones, six china mugs from the Patils, a set of padded coat hangers from the Cornfoots, two packs of cards from the Macnairs, and a signed and framed photograph of the Parkinson family.

There was no message from the person whose handwriting she most longed to see, not a single word.

The gift that most surprised Ariadne was a packet of seeds attached to a terse note.

Ariadne,

You are indeed fortunate to have been accepted as Professor Jigger's disciple. I hope I need not remind you to apply yourself diligently to your apprenticeship.

Enclosed is a sample of the seeds you desired. The supplier is Blomsters in Stockholm.

Regards,

Severus.

She recognised that the tone of the letter was, for him, friendly, and realised that he was telling her that he was willing to be her cousin again. He was even willing to help her find a plant she had once wanted, one neither relevant to her studies nor readily available in Britain. But... why napellus? She frowned at the label, sure she had never asked for that plant, and unable to imagine why he thought it might interest her.

Ariadne soaked her seeds in lukewarm water for the rest of the evening, then sealed them under a freezing charm for the night. The next day she planted them in the terracotta window-boxes, well mulched with dragon's dung. Sarah agreed to let the napellus take up the whole of their tiny growing space "because it's a point of historic interest to be able to claim any kind of present from Snape."

"It will not last long in the window," said Ariadne. "It's really more of a bush than a pot plant, and it'll grow too large for these boxes. Then we'll have nowhere to put it."

It was only when the plants began to grow, first glossy green leaves, then deep blue flowers, that Ariadne realised why Severus might have sent them. She had once asked him for a plant, naming it in Latin; he had evidently remembered the genus she required, but not bothered to note the precise species. Now, meaning to be friendly, he had sent her a sample of the genus, quite unaware that this species would be of no use at all to her, although it was undoubtedly ornamental. It seemed odd that he could not remember a Latin word for long enough to make such a basic distinction, but... but nothing. If Severus had sent her the wrong seeds deliberately, in order to send some kind of subliminal message, she was not wanting to know what it was.

* * * * * * *

But long before the window-boxes showed any green shoot, Ariadne began her apprenticeship with Arsenius Jigger. She was supposed to begin at nine o' clock on Wednesday morning but, knowing Professor Jigger's ways, she walked out of the flat at eight. His shop was still called Slug and Jigger's, although it was a hundred and twenty years since the last Miss Slug had married the Muggle Sir Hilary Horn and sold her share in the shop to the Belby family. Their son, Hadrian Slug-Horn, had of course been Professor Slughorn's father. It was said that whichever Belby now owned - and underwrote - the business never showed his face inside the laboratory, but Ariadne knew that he produced a steady stream of research publications. Slug and Jigger's was evidently an establishment that cared about academic rigour.

She put her hand to the front door, wondering if her memory had exaggerated the shop's stink. As soon as the door began to open, she knew it had not exaggerated; an overpowering stench of bad eggs and rotted cabbages swept over her face and almost knocked her over. A plump witch in late middle-age scowled at her over the counter.

"Come to buy something?"

"I'm the new apprentice, Madam - " She did not know why she distrusted the woman; she reminded herself yet again to take Hestia's advice and observe behaviour before she passed judgment.

"Madam Jigger to you. Arsenius said he was expecting someone. Young, aren't you? Are you sure you've left school? Come through to the back."

Stepping past the barrels of slimy stuff and under a string of fangs that hung from the ceiling, Ariadne followed Madam Jigger through to the laboratory. Professor Jigger was stirring at a pewter cauldron while a silver one bubbled violently beside him. He was frowning fiercely; he had not grown a drop more affable in the three years since he had left Hogwarts. He did not look up, but he must have heard them, for he said, "Go back to the shop, Belladonna. So, young lady, you decided to turn up? You've come to bottle fame, brew glory and stopper death?"

"I have, Professor."

"You think you can brew liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses, enthralling the soul, laying bare its defences?"

"I'm intending to learn, Sir."

"You know you'll have to work hard to achieve that. N.E.W.T.s are just the beginning. You'll need to forget most of what you learned at N.E.W.T. level. I don't suppose Snape set you to any kind of research project?"

"He did, sir. I had to develop a new shampoo."

"Shampoo, bah! You didn't think to manage anything useful, I suppose? Something for which there's a market gap, something that huge sectors of the population need or want?"

Ariadne hoped the question was rhetorical and kept quiet.

"Did you bring overalls? Hogwarts black, I see. It'll do for today, but you don't want to look as if you're still at school. It doesn't impress the customers. I put all my staff in navy."

Ariadne was assaulted by an irresistible memory, an image of Remus playing at colour-charms with Morag. Instinctively, she flicked her wand at her overall and instructed it, "Caeruleus Coloro!"

The black cloth lightened to deep blue, and Professor Jigger grunted.

"Wand-work. You won't need much of that here. The first thing you have to learn is that real careers are not all glamour. You'll begin every day by mixing routine potions, the kind we sell in bulk, or according to prescription. Sometimes you won't even mix. You'll be out in the front with Belladonna, pouring and weighing for customers. Then there's the retail aspect - stocktaking supplies, checking quality, storing correctly, selling to the public - which often means teaching the idiots out there what they really want when they only think they know. And there's the cleaning. Don't forget the endless purging and scouring that make a laboratory possible. You'll slave like a house-elf at that."

He seemed to have run out of words, so she said, "I will, Professor."

"But you will do some mixing," he added briskly. This time he almost looked at her, but he seemed incapable of sitting up completely straight. "I'll start you on a small research project right away. Something to improve our customers' quality of life. I think you should develop a diet pill."

She had a bad feeling about this, but, determined not to judge by appearances, she only nodded.

"To be precise, an appetite suppressant. The kind of thing that turns a fat lady into a thin one. Women will give half the wealth of their house for a potion like that. So you'll need to read up on what's been done already - but it isn't much. In giving you this project, I'm making you a genuine pioneer. Well, enough talk for now. Let me see how you clean out a used cauldron."

With an Evanesco and a Scourgify and a powerful disinfectant, Ariadne began to sterilise the indicated set of bronze cauldrons. She felt as if an iron hand were squeezing around her heart. She told herself that it was senseless to miss Remus at a time like this; he would never, under any circumstance, have accompanied her to work and cleaned cauldrons beside her. But she missed him anyway. Her new life had truly begun, and now she recognised fully that Remus was not playing any part in it. As surely as she had severed herself from school and farming in order to set out on the road that would make her an Apothecary, so he had severed himself from her. He would never groan with her over the futility of having to create an appetite suppressant in order to gain a qualification.

He would have seen the funny side of that situation. She knew he would.

* * * * * * *

Before she had been apprenticed a month, Ariadne wondered if she still wanted to be an apothecary. Arsenius Jigger made it clear that "routine stuff" would dominate her first six months. That was fair enough; somebody had to serve in the shop, stock-take the supplies, clean the equipment, and - dull as it often was - she understood that it was necessary. She was allowed to mix basic potions - the kind that Hogwarts students covered in their first three years - but she would not be allowed to learn a new formula until next February.

This dull work was required for gruelling hours. Officially, she finished work at five. This, Jigger had explained on her second day, was only so as to conform to M.E.S.P. Guild regulations on her contract. In practice, the shop did not close until six, and therefore her working day did not either. Even after the shop was locked, there were supplies to put away, floors to sweep, brews to bottle. Sometimes she even had to stay back to finish a brew that had refused to boil on time. And there was no exception for Saturdays. She would have to put aside all thought of studying for her Apparition licence or sight-seeing in Muggle London.

Then there were the parts of the job that she did not understand. There was a locked cupboard that functioned rather like the Restricted section of a library, or the Teacher's Private Store in a school laboratory. The locking was of limited value, since Ariadne was allowed a key, and nobody except herself and the Jiggers was supposed to penetrate beyond the shop into the laboratory. The real point was that the potions were not labelled. They were identified entirely by their colour, their odour, the shape of their bottles.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Mind your own business!" snapped Jigger. Even Belladonna, it appeared, did not know what most of them were.

But customers did occasionally take these products. One morning, while Ariadne was weighing out butterflies' wings in the laboratory, Jigger crept up behind her and murmured, "Are you acquainted with a Mrs Patil?"

The question, as well as his furtively lowered voice, thoroughly startled her. She replied that she knew a Manjula Patil.

"She will be coming this afternoon to ask for her order. If you're the one serving in the shop at the time, give her that glass bottle - the one tied with a blue ribbon - and ask no questions at all."

Ariadne could not imagine why Mrs Patil's order would be such a great secret. All trading was treated confidentially since some of it concerned ingredients that were open to abuse or medications for embarrassing illnesses; why was this particular potion more confidential still?

Mrs Patil greeted her pleasantly by name and sat quietly while Ariadne went to fetch the bottle. It looked very ordinary, a small bottle with a blue potion. If it were such a great secret, why was it being highlighted with that flamboyant blue ribbon? What was in it?

The Patils had always struck her as a thoroughly decent family. She could not imagine that they would purchase anything for some dishonourable purpose. So why was she, the apprentice, not being told about a potion that she was helping to sell - that she might soon be helping to brew?

Was she wrong about the Patils, as she had been wrong about Remus? Was this some kind of illegal potion, something that Jigger would not want her to report to the Guild? She would not put it past him...

Stop! she ordered her thoughts. Professor Jigger was her employer; she owed him her livelihood and her future expertise; there was not a shred of evidence that he did anything unprofessional or immoral. What possible reason had she for distrusting him? No more reason than she had once had for trusting Remus! Or, for that matter, for trusting the Patils. She had no business to shoot random accusations that assassinated people's characters.

Yet she also had a moral obligation to know what she was handing across the counter.

She brought the bottle into the shop, covered by her two hands, and passed it to Mrs Patil. Mrs Patil closed her own hands around it swiftly and stowed it in her cloak pocket. "Charge it to my account, Miss MacDougal," she said. "Have a good day!"

When the day ended, there was reading homework. Not only did Ariadne have to remind herself of the commonly-sold potions - and memorise the ones that were brewed every week - but she had to research appetite suppressants. Every evening she took home a different edition of the Western Journal of Apothecarism and scoured it for every article that could possibly be relevant to appetite suppressants. There was, as Jigger had warned her, very little research in existence. This was apparently because most apothecaries believed that the best way to lose weight was to eat less and exercise more.

"What do they know?" asked Belladonna crossly, when Ariadne commented on the mainstream attitude. "It's far less work to take a pill that blocks your hunger pangs."

"But is it safe?" asked Ariadne.

"Safe? Well, if the researchers think there are dangers, we write ‘danger' on the packet. But once we have a pill that works, it's not only witches who'll buy it. We can infiltrate it into the Muggle market, and Arsenius will have made his fortune!"

And that, it appeared, was the end-point of the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. Those who researched medicines did nothing more significant than save lives; but those who researched cosmetics and appetite-suppressants had a serious option on making money.