Legend of the Lamp {Open}

"What do you mean you 'don't sell it'?!" Quintos croaked in a harsh, somewhat-loud whisper.

Quntos had finally caved. Months of living as basically a hermit, even a wizarding one, would take its toll on anyone. He had become too stressed to foresee the future naturally, a skill which he desperately needed right now. He couldn't think of any other way to resolve the situation aside from coming out of hiding or possibly being discovered (which he was not about to do). Things were going to get even worse before they got better: that much he'd been able to foresee. He knew he couldn't be overtly involved with the wizarding world just yet. However, without frequent use of his gift, he couldn't plan for and adapt to anything that was to come. Thus he had only one option: force his abilities.

His family was littered throughout the ages with many gifted seers. They had carefully crafted the art of divination into an easily usable tool. However, this tool had it's limits: namely a limited access to prophetic potential. Yes, simple results and trends were easy to predict for those with the natural talent, but truly prophetic outcomes to complex and detailed situations were rare and hard to come by. Many seers were lucky to make a handful of these prophecies in a lifetime. A solution to this was desperately craved and in time one arrived. It was a dark secret passed on through the generations of his family: a potion that induced prophecy. It was known as Prophet's Poison.

It was a closely guarded secret that this potion existed, but even if it weren't, it would still probably be frowned upon or even a banned or controlled substance. This was due to the side effects of the potion. It was extraordinarily addictive and in most cases impossible to quit. Abuse of the substance often led to many bizarre magical side effects that seemed to differ from person to person. If the side effects didn't get you, eventually a dose of this potion would be the last. How many doses it took before it killed you also seemed to vary between people, but what was clear was that it took exceptionally fewer doses in those with less natural talent in the art. Many times, even, just one dose was enough to kill.

Quintos, however, knew he had more than enough of a gift to stomach a dose of poison. He had convinced himself that he could just use it once, get his bearings for the near future and perhaps create a more stable situation for him to live and adapt to the future in. That was all he would do however. He knew all too well of the perils of Prophet's Poison. His family was littered with those that had succumbed to it, both seers and non-seers alike. The seers became addicted to it and started using it as a crutch until it finally killed them, while the non-seers often died in one shot, trying to pretend they had the innate ability of their relatives. No, Quintos wasn't stupid enough to let that happen. However, he wasn't about to let such a powerful tool in his arsenal go to complete waste. If there ever was a time for his trump card, it was now.

Thus here he was at Borgin and Burkes, attempting to obtain some of the less common ingredients he would need for the potion. Before he'd gone into hiding, Quin had the foresight to keep tabs on these ingredients should he ever need them. He knew for a fact that this shop had exactly what he needed, but obviously he couldn't reveal that without giving away his disguise. Now, as Chester Mason, his slightly destitute appearance and lack of money up-front seemed to be betraying him. The owner didn't want to give him the time of day and it was making an already irritable Quintos more so.

"I know damned well you have some in the back and unless you want me to get the Imperium Guard involved I suggest you...!" Just then Quintos heard someone enter the shop and for all he knew it could have been the Imperium Guard. He quickly shut up and peered around to see who it was just in case. He didn't need his bluff actually called. The last thing he needed was Imperium Guard involved in this dispute.

"Oh, we're done here..." The shopkeeper replied, attempting to dismiss Quintos once and for all.

"Like hell we are!" Quintos barked, completely ignoring the man who came into the shop whom had turned out to be just some nobody. This situation was not in his favor whatsoever, that much was obvious. Really there was little to nothing that Quin could do without having the money up front. If he didn't calm himself and think of a rational solution to the problem, the Imperium Guard likely would get involved which was the last thing he needed. The real kicker was that Quintos did have the money, but it wasn't as though he could go waltzing up to Gringotts and get it. He'd only been able to withdraw a small portion of his wealth before going into hiding so as not to tip anyone off to his plans. Only now did he realize how much this was hampering everything.

If he was going to think of something, he'd better do it now he told himself. Calming himself, he decided to use the one last trick he had up his sleeve. "Look... I can assure you I have the money. Until I can get it however, I ask that you accept this as a temporary payment and promise that the money is coming." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a gold pendant which he sat on the table before the shopkeeper. It was one of many family heirlooms Quintos had come to acquire. His family crest gleamed up at them while the letters PRYNNE spelling out the family name glinted in the light. "It's worth at least twice as much as the ingredients and should more than cover me for now." Quintos could stand to part with the trinket until then. He'd have to figure out some way to wire money out of his account until then.