All day, Orla had been in her basement working. First she'd started on the next batch of pain potions she knew Millicent Bulstrode would be crawling back for soon enough. She wanted to have those done and out of the way since they were so simple, and that was she could concentrate on other things for the next few days. Orla did have a lot on her plate, including her latest brew which she stood over now and carefully stirred.
She was working on a synthetic blood mixture, one to be used up at the shack for the instances when a patient came in having lost too much to survive long enough to be healed. The Muggles had loads of the stuff, but then they had people donating it every day and it was real. But there were fewer witches and wizards and therefore fewer incidents that actually needed false blood for a transfusion of any sort. Orla liked to have things on hand though, and most of all she liked a challenege for a rainy Saturday afternoon. What else would she do besides?
It took some time to brew the potion and when it came time to test it, she was stuck until the absolutely ridiculous came to mind. It was down to slashing a major artery, letting herself bleed out, and having someone at the Shack transfuse her, or simply writing to the one person she knew who would be able to tell her whether she'd nailed it or not.
She chose the option that didn't involve slicing her wrist.
Dennis,
It's much appreciated. I'll see you then, and don't worry, it'll be our little secret. Come in through the back.
Yours, Orla
She pulled off the robes she'd been wearing all day then, and went up stairs to change into something that didn't smell so much like Mandrake. When she emerged from her bedroom and headed back down the stairs, she went for the kitchen and brewed up a cup of tea to sip while she waited by the back door.