Charming

It was a good thing that there was an apothecary in Hogsmeade and in London, because Harry thought he was liable to clear out one of their stock if he only had one at his disposal. He did like to be well-stocked, considering how many potions he made--both for client and for his own, personal experiments. Harry wasn't quite on a first name basis with the shopkeepers--he'd been raised better than that--but it did feel sometimes that he saw them more frequently than friends he was on such close terms with.

He was exiting the apothecary, provisions in hand and headed down the street when he saw a friend walking in his direction, as if summoned by his thoughts. To be fair, Harry was the sort of person who managed to somehow run into people he knew practically everywhere he went. It was a skill. "Good afternoon!" he greeted. "Running errands?"

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“Harry Berkwood!” Effie said, shedding the slightly stern, lost-in-thought expression she had previously been wearing as she walked towards the apothecary and tried to avoid the other passers-by. But Mr. Berkwood was not to be counted among them; he had become an easy friend to have, someone she knew what to expect from. (Unpredictability, usually – he was an odd boy with no sense of health and safety, to say the least – but Effie liked him in spite of this.)

“Just the person I need, actually,” she added, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been a fool and signed up to the potions tournament later this month. I hope you have?” (He must have, surely: it was his career. So it would actually be sensible for him to have, not audacious as it had been for her. When had she last brewed a potion, even?)

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"Of course I have," Harry said easily. He was nothing if not predictable, even he could admit that. Though it was a toss up on whether he'd signed up for the competition because he wanted to show off or because he would have to be physically barred in order to not participate in anything potions related. "What can I help with?"

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Of course he had! And he would stand a good chance, she imagined. “Can you make me an expert potioneer before the end of the month?” Effie intoned, with a rueful grin. No, she did not need quite that much – she was in the Ladies’ bracket, at least, so she would settle for a competent one. “Or, failing that – perhaps help me work out which potions are likely to come up?” She assumed he was the fount of all potions knowledge, so his guesses would be far more educated than hers.

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Harry grinned. "Absolutely," he said. "Or, yes, I can help you prepare at least." He chuckled. Harry actually really enjoyed helping other people with their potions--for someone who was as intense about the subject as he was, he was remarkably patient with other people. If Professor Valenduris ever actually retired, Harry thought he might like teaching the subject at Hogwarts. Still, that was a ways off. "Are you going in for the Hobbyists or the Ladies'?" he asked.

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