15 October 2011
7pm @ Sellaphix Apothecary

A key rattled in the locks of the back door of the darkened Sellaphix Apothecary. As Figaro entered a shaft of diffused twilight laid a path down the narrow hallway. It had taken him awhile and he'd turned down offers to help; the shop had been left in disarray since his mother ended up in St. Mungo's. He'd stopped by briefly to make sure everything was locked up, but he hadn't dealt with the mess.

He walked out from the back and used his wand to light the old iron chandeliers. As the Sellaphix's reluctant eldest son looked at the damage, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

"Shit."

His mum and Elixa had done some clean-up already, and the windows weren't broken or anything, but there was still a lot of work to do. Zelda and Rafe had always kept the shop as tidy and organized as possible, as it was always filled to the absolute brim with the best London offered. There were going to be spoiled or destroyed reagents to sort through, others to preserve in the cellar before they went bad. And he'd have to remember where everything went. Honestly, Frank would be a help in this situation. Even though he was just a little kid, he had taken better to the family business.

Fig turned and went up the stairs to the balcony. More dissaray on these shelves and the storage rooms, but the office was untouched. He made sure. The books were still there, their records, invoices, and locked safes. While she was still lucid, Zelda had told her son that she'd done it, that she was the one who ransacked the shop, but Figaro had a hard time accepting that. All the evidence pointed to Zelda's claim (no sign of a break-in, nothing stolen), but it was nicer to think of a burglar than his mother being possess by some dark magic.

He went down and checked the cellar. It was a similar state of affairs, some products wrecked, others not. It would be hours of cleaning but he'd rather do it on his own. He had to be the one to do something.