What's That Smell?

In the Potions lab underneath the lake, Spike snarled softly as she perused a clay tablet marked like-- “Fenris’s bedraggled chewtoy!!” She pounded one fist on the table, nearly crushing a wandering cootie. “I don’t know why I didn’t stick with Divination. Or Nutrition. But no, it had to be Ancient Runes, during the month when we studied early Muggle societies.” She lifted the lid off a container filled with what had been snails, and winced at the aroma in the air. I’d open a window, if I had one. She looked at the glass ceiling above. Maybe … no, probably not.

Trevor came in. “What are you doing, Spike? It smells … well, you know what it smells like in here. Are you going for extra credit in Potions?”

“I wish. No, it’s Ancient Ruins. This is supposed to be a way to make dye from shellfish. Very expensive stuff--and I see why! I wouldn’t put up with this stink cheaply either.”

“So you--”

“Found a cuneiform tablet for Tyrian purple, just like objects that King Ashurbanipal would have had, and now I’m trying to color this square in a gradient.”

“Hooo. That’s a lot of work.”

“Tell me.” Spike rolled her eyes. “Fortunately, I think we’re done.” She flicked her wand to disapparate the smelly goo, leaving a clean square behind.

They looked it over. “Looks nice.  And hey --at least no one is going to drink your dyestock--not like Kool Aid.”