Turn and face the strange ch-ch-changes
Quirinus Quirrell sat at the table, hunched over his copy of Moste Potente Potions. He hummed quietly to himself as he slowly ran his finger down the list of ingredients for Polyjuice Potion. First, lacewing flies. Getting these had been no problem. There were scads of them in the gardens and he was glad of it as they ate the aphids that got at the roses. The leeches had been easy too, though picking them up had made him extremely nauseous. Q had been pleased to find that knotgrass was available (certified organic!) at the local health food shop. He’d resolved to try some as a remedy the next time he caught cold. And thank goodness it hadn’t been raining when he’d gone to collect the fluxweed! The bicorn horn had presented a bit of a problem, though when he’d asked for it, the luggage had just popped out and come back an hour later with a small jar full of a nasty-smelling yellow-white powder. Just as well the box had gone for it, as the bicorn fed on human flesh. He wondered how the Apothecary in Diagon Alley got their supply. Q had played and sung for the luggage until he was hoarse as a thank you. The boomslang skin had been easier. When Q had asked the luggage for some, it had opened to reveal enough snake skin to open a belt shop. Q had just taken a bit and shredded it. The flies had been simmering over a magical fire for the requisite three weeks now and all that was left was to mix it up. Singing softly, Q pulled out the little cast iron camp pot he’d gotten. “She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink, ” he crooned as he dumped the flies, leeches and bicorn horn into the pot. “”She said I’m gonna mix it up right here in the sink, ” Q sang on, stirring in the knotgrass and fluxweed with the spoon that he would never, ever use for cooking again. “It smelled like turpentine, it looked like India ink,”, now for the boomslang skin. Q stirred the bits into the rest of the ingredients. “I closed my eyes, I held my nose, I took a drink! There! All done!” Q peered at the dark, muddy-looking goo. It bubbled sluggishly in the cauldron. “Looks good to me!” He called to the luggage. It was sitting by the piano. Q wondered if it felt some sort of kinship with it as it too was a wooden box made by magic. He shrugged. Maybe it just liked the music. “All we need now is a bit of Ianto and a bit of Jack and Bob’s your uncle. I’m going up to the main house to tell them it’s ready. Coming with?” The luggage didn’t reply and Q realised that there was a soft sound of sawing. The luggage was apparently having a nap. “Oh well,” Q shrugged, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the door whistling. He walked up to the back door of the main building and knocked on the door.