Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐈𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐇𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅, this was the last thing she would have caught herself doing on Christmas night. Siting at her lab bench, Murphy found herself dividing the brick and a half of cocaine she had left from her uncle into little baggies. With a precision that would have made any drug trafficker proud.
No that was not a good thing.
Her toes brushed against the wooden flooring as she swung her left leg back and forth as she went. The only thing filing the silence being the soft music of a Phoenix in the background and the occasional ruffle of plastic from her hands.
When she had completed the last baggie she sat up straight and stretched her hands over her head, feeling her back crack happily. She looked up at the clock mounted on the wall. Almost midnight. She had been down here for almost six hours. Cleaning the bench of the residue with a flick of her wrist she peered at the couldron placed on a simmer before her. She checked the slowly brewing potion.
She checked the magical timer she had place beside it. "A bout another month before you're ready."
She looked around her lab and couldn't help but smile. It was all a dark mahogany, every wall lined with shelves. Two of three walks were filled with positions that she had made through the years in alphabetical order.
The third was filled with potion books that she had acquired, both in moral and amoral ways.
We don't talk about that.
The singing came to a slow halt, Murphy stood from her bench, wrapping her woollen cardigan tighter around herself she left the potions room, moving to the door way on the left. There was library filled with books that went on for ages a rolling ladder that went from one end to another. There was a small huddle of couches in the middle of the room. Surrounding a small coffee tables.
On the only single couch, perched atop it was a large bird of pray. It's feathers made up of different shades of yellow, orange, red and the occasional blue. It looked like it was flame come to life.
It looked up as she came in.
She smiled sadly, "Time to go Fawks?" She asked the Phoenix bird who inclined his head.
"Yes, little one, Albus has grown rather curious to my whereabouts," the old bird hummed ruffling his feathers.
Murphy frowned, "How disappointing."
Fawks trilled in amusement. "I will be seeing you, Ren."
"As will I old friend."
There was a moment of stillness before the Phoenix bowed his head. "I recommended looking back to nineteen ninety five to ninety six, yes, that may help," he advised wisely, before dipping his head in farewell. He vanished in viscous clap of heat and flame.
