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At the end north side of the street of Diagon Alley, sandwiched between Quality Quidditch Supplies and an intersecting alley that leads to Knockturn Alley, sits a small building made of light grey stones. A peal of small bells made of gold tinkle together in a rather quiet unison as the glass door of the shop opens and reveals the stationary supplies store, which is brightly lit thanks to the front glass window that allows sunlight to filter inside the shop. The smell of the store is a surprisingly pleasant combination of wood, old parchment, ink and, shockingly enough, scented candles.
Every single inch of the store seems to be crammed with shelves full of the artifacts sold at the shop, and though it might look and sound messy, the place is surprisingly organized, and whatever item that costumers might be looking for, can undoubtedly be found easily; rolls of parchment, stationery sets, quills made of the most unthinkable and exotic feathers, and every imaginable sort of decorative paper -– you think of it, and this store has it. Inks are the place's specialty, and as such, here you'll find ink of every colour and style that you could possibly imagine.
Behind the tall and smooth wooden counter, the shopkeeper can normally be found. With a frown on his forehead, the shopkeeper is usually busy sorting through piles of parchment, which would be stock orders, bills, magazines, or just plain letters that have been addressed to him. This is the place where you come if you are in need of help, or to pay for the items you wish to acquire at Scribbulus Writing Implements.
SPOILER!!: inventory
Quills Standard Quills
Barn & Tawny Owl [3 sickles 10 knuts]
With her list of school supplies neatly tucked in her purse, the youngling made her way to the Scribbulus shop. Etta smiled and her eyes scanned the shop in complete awe. Diagon Alley never ceased to surprise her or perhaps this go-around life wasn’t so complicated as last year.
With the tinkle of the bells Etta made her through the shelves. There was so much to see and so much she wanted to buy! In no means was she affluent, but her big sister did give her a hefty allowance for her school shopping (her sister was not far, surely keeping a close eye on the young Slytherin). Etta’s first stop was with the quills!
“Do I want a standard quill or one of these fancy ones?” Etta had a habit of expressing herself out loud, albeit in a quiet voice without noticing it sometimes. ”Spell-checking quills? Ooooh! That would really come in handy.” She most definitely needed this in her arsenal. ”You’re coming home with me.” The youngling excitedly pointed out before heading to the next shelf.
Moving to the inks, there were so many to choose from! Oh my goodness where to start?!
Glow in the dark ink! M’what?! Mind blown. Disappearing and scented inks? Would these be practical?
M’yes!
Besides getting the standard ink, Etta would splurge a little and take one of the cooler ones (in her opinion). The real would be, which one?
With her index finger lightly tapping her chin, Etta’s eyebrows furrowed. Deep in thought.
For the past he-didn't-even-know-how-long, Yves had been in the kind of 'want to do everything' mood that often got him in trouble. At Stemp House, this meant a lot of wandering aimlessly but energetically between rooms and hassling the staff for a trip to Diagon Alley. More often than not, he found his wish granted, or at least found that there was already a trip he could tag along with. It wasn't until today, when he'd been asked directly by one of the care workers how it could be that he didn't have all his supplies yet, with all his trips to London, that Yves remembered he had any supplies to get at all.
So, even though the quill and ink shop was not the first place he'd have directed himself to, Yves headed that way - mostly because today's chaperone had literally turned him and nudged him in this direction. After he got new ink, though, he'd be off to do whatever happened to take his fancy.
Yves was barely inside the shop, however, when his attention was diverted by someone speaking. Quietly, but definitely speaking, and apparently to no one. He recognised the speaker from school; they'd been sorted in the same batch, and into the same house, though this girl was in the year below him. A dorm mate of Phoebe, then.
Taking the quiet mutterings as his cue, Yves approached and followed the girl towards the huge array of ink bottles lined up on the shelves, where he stood beside her.
"Colour-changing ink, yes, that one would be fun," he said at once in his thick French accent, smiling wide and pointing at the ink in question. Not that she'd asked him anything, or said anything he'd might have been responding to. He'd just seen the expression of 'deep thought' and made his assumptions about what she could be deliberating over, and promptly dispensed with any and all context. "Or scented, though I am guessing it depends on the scent, no?"
Oh yes, and: "Hello!"
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Days of Potter 2023:___________________________ Which Bertie Botts Flavour Are You?
For the past he-didn't-even-know-how-long, Yves had been in the kind of 'want to do everything' mood that often got him in trouble. At Stemp House, this meant a lot of wandering aimlessly but energetically between rooms and hassling the staff for a trip to Diagon Alley. More often than not, he found his wish granted, or at least found that there was already a trip he could tag along with. It wasn't until today, when he'd been asked directly by one of the care workers how it could be that he didn't have all his supplies yet, with all his trips to London, that Yves remembered he had any supplies to get at all.
So, even though the quill and ink shop was not the first place he'd have directed himself to, Yves headed that way - mostly because today's chaperone had literally turned him and nudged him in this direction. After he got new ink, though, he'd be off to do whatever happened to take his fancy.
Yves was barely inside the shop, however, when his attention was diverted by someone speaking. Quietly, but definitely speaking, and apparently to no one. He recognised the speaker from school; they'd been sorted in the same batch, and into the same house, though this girl was in the year below him. A dorm mate of Phoebe, then.
Taking the quiet mutterings as his cue, Yves approached and followed the girl towards the huge array of ink bottles lined up on the shelves, where he stood beside her.
"Colour-changing ink, yes, that one would be fun," he said at once in his thick French accent, smiling wide and pointing at the ink in question. Not that she'd asked him anything, or said anything he'd might have been responding to. He'd just seen the expression of 'deep thought' and made his assumptions about what she could be deliberating over, and promptly dispensed with any and all context. "Or scented, though I am guessing it depends on the scent, no?"
Oh yes, and: "Hello!"
Startled a bit, Etta jumped a little and turned to the person next to her. Unaware he might’ve overheard the young girl’s monologue. He seemed kind and welcoming so Etta returned the smile.
”It does look very fun!” Etta beamed, ”Though, the scented is rather interesting too.” Tough choice. Tough choice. ”The invisible ink is also a contender!” The youngling mischievously smiled. ”Imagine all the notes one could exchange. Top secret.” Etta giggled.
Oh right! ”Hello!” Etta beamed. The young girl couldn’t not recall if she interacted with the young boy, housemate. Introductions were in order! ”I’m Etta.” Henrietta politely bowed and smiled. "Which would you pick?" She nodded towards the inks.
"Secret notes are the best kind, I think." Unless, of course, the secret was one being kept from Yves. Then he didn't like them so much. But, as far as he was either aware or concerned, no such messages were likely to happen. He'd know. Somehow, he'd know.
His own smile was bright bright bright, one that came from feeling free as a dove. Freedom suited him, see; it fit him like a glove. "Enchanté, Etta. I am Yves," he said, slipping into the French while only half meaning to. He turned to the inks on the shelves, but the many options were almost overwhelming, and suddenly a world of possibility felt open to him. Because of ink. Yes. Think of all that had been created in the world, the production of all those things that were only possible with access to ink. "All of them. If I had the money." That, of course, didn't answer the question, so he reached out for one ink bottle - paused - then went for the one above it. Maybe he'd go ahead and buy it, with the money he had for his actual supplies.
Yves showed the bottle of ink to Etta as his answer, even as he spoke a new question, bouncing lightly on his toes because he simply couldn't stand to be still for too long. "We are in the same house at Hogwarts. You are going into your second year?"
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Days of Potter 2023:___________________________ Which Bertie Botts Flavour Are You?