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Double, Double Toil and Trouble
February 28th, 1890 — Hogwarts's Dungeons, an unused cell/room
While he was often displeased about having to make his way all the way from the tower to the dungeons, he had to agree on the fact the rooms down here made for far better hiding places than any of the classrooms on the upper floors. Which was good considering the pair did not have time or the ability to babysit their potions for twenty-four hours a day. With N.E.W.T.s coming he barely had time to leave the library. Today, something seemed to be in his favor as the day had stretched out an extra twenty-four hours. He literally had more time in the day. Between that and the new wand he'd woken up with that morning, Germander was in an explicitly good mood.

He slipped into the room, making sure he didn't disturb the concealing charm they'd placed over the door, and offer a mindless greeting to his cousin - who had understandable (considering she lived just down the hall) beaten him here.

"It has not gone off, has it?" The room smelt different now - darker, with a bit of a metallic bite that wasn't there before. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to smell that way or not. The instructions hadn't mentioned anything about how it should smell at different stages.
Seneca and Germander wanted to make blood. This was more alchemy, than potion making. They weren't sure that it would work, since they were going off based on an old text they found at the Lestrange library. Most of it was in Ancient Runes, so they spent the entirty of their holidays, and January, translating it and once they were satisfied with the result, they decided to brew it.

They found a secluded dungeon, placed a concealing charm just to be sure and got to work.

Germander was late and while this annoyed Seneca, it also enabled her to do some work on the potion on her own, without having to ask for his input and opinion. Sure her cousin was smart, but Seneca believed that if this potion succeeded, it would be due to her.

"I think blood is supposed to smell like that?" Seneca responded. She suspected that she had more experience on the odour of blood, than Germander did.
After 17 years, Germander was far more than used to his cousin's high and mighty, better than thou attitude. He had one himself, though more subtle perhaps than hers. While Seneca was like on his list of relatives he actually care for, his respect for her as an academic was limited by her gender. Regardless, the fact she did not return his greeting did not even phase him. That was simply Sen.

He paused, then nodded. She was right, the scent, in consideration of what they were making, made sense. He was also curious of how accurately they translated the old recipe. And not only down to a skill level, but some of the issue was simply language. It was old, and surely things could have had different names then they were called now, leaving a fault in the translation. Hopefully, if that was the case, nothing was dramatically wrong. Mother and father would be horribly pissed if he blew up a corridor.

"I brought the bone powder. I'll owe who got this for me, though," he snorted, moving to grab the mortar and pestle resting beside the cauldron. While it was already in power form, the recipe called for finely grounded and one more time in a morter would only help. Who knows how much care the source put into it's preperation. He was going to be royally pissed if this turned out to not be human. "I hate owing people. They always like to call favors worth more trouble than they went through."
"Oh!" Seneca made in a cute, patronising tone. She placed her hands on his shoulder, in an affectionate manner, like a wife might do to her husband after he'd made a complaint about having a difficult day at work. "I admire your dedication, Germander!" she continued in a sweet tone, as he began to work on the bone powder.

As she began to move away from him and towards the cauldron, she continued. "Who did you get it from?"
"Stop being patronizing," he snorted as he shook Seneca's hand off his arm, though his tone was clearly not serious. Not to go as far as saying he was joking but he certainly didn't mean his words harshly when it came to his younger cousin. Seeing her mimicking a motion he'd seen society wives do to their husbands sat weirdly with him. At some point in their lives, she'd passed the status of just another female relative and he'd started to see her as an actual human being and the reminder she'd likely just end up a restless, displeased (at least knowing her) wife seemed an ill fit when he'd come to see she actually had a useful brain.

"Mhm, a cousin on my Father's side. His sister's son - Marcus." Not that he actually expected her to have kept up with his relatives on the other side of the family - especially those that didn't share the Macnair name - and most likely the name would just fade into the background, which is just as well. Marcus wasn't the sort one wanted to be publicly tied too. He lifted the pestle and deciding he was satisfied with the consistency, he scraped the power onto the scale and then added what was needed to the potion. It shifted from a dark purple to an auburn color far more resembling blood than it had look prior as he flicked his wand over the potion, stirring it. "I'll likely have to clean up one of his mess or pay for some random object he just has to have shipped from who knows where."
Germander's request made Seneca want to be even more patronizing. She enjoyed playing this game with her cousins. She enjoyed the idea of having men under her little finger and having them do her bidding. This was something she had been doing ever since she was a child, though then she hadn't realized that she was doing it. As a child, Seneca was the cute, young Lestrange golden child that everyone liked to comment about how special she was (because of her abilities) and how well-behaved she was.

She would enjoy entering society and having pureblooded men fight for her attention. She had no doubt that she would be a highly desirable bride in their pools. Everyone wanted a connection to the Lestranges. She was going to use this to get all the attention her heart desired, until she finally settled for a pureblood with good connections.

She didn't know who this Marcus Macnair(?) was. She had some general knowledge on the significant pureblooded families but she couldn't possibly keep track on every individual member. She didn't even know what every single of her first cousins was up to.

"I see," she commented. "It is such a pity that some of us want to make us weaker." By 'us', Seneca referred to purebloods. If purebloods continued to get arrested and to marry muggles, soon there would be no proper wizards walking the earth. It would be full of half-breeds and halfbloods.

"Haven't you considered to get him under the Influece?" She referred to the Imperius curse. She believed that relatives who acted irrationally had to be stripped away from their free will, because clearly they weren't using it for the common good.

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