With precise precision, Medwyn carefully tilted the glass test tube so that the shimmering liquid inside slowly slid down towards the edge, a thin stream dripping into the larger tube the nation had placed methodically below. As soon as the liquid splashed into the concoction that awaited, a whisper of smoke floated into the air and the mixture inside the larger tube shifted into a marvellous magenta. Upon seeing this, Medwyn sat back contentedly in his seat, delicately setting down the test tube back into the holder and picking up the larger one to examine his work closely, while pulling an open, old book into his line of his sight for him to study the ancient language etched onto its worn pages. To the Welshman's relief, he'd followed the instructions to a T and had, after several hours of working, managed to replicate a perfect shrinking potion: a tough potion to concoct due to the both the ingredients required for the mixture and the amount of magical energy that needed to be infused into the potion. Yet, Medwyn's hard work had paid off. The Welshman placed the tube down and reached for his pen, scrawling the name of potion onto a small sticky label along with other relevant information such as the date it was made and its side effects. The nation then stuck it onto the front of the tube, placing a chunky cork into the mouth of potion to seal it.
"Hey, we haven't seen you in quite a bit. You ok?" Medwyn bolted upright in his seat, swivelling his head to see Cian leaning against the doorframe that led out of the basement. Wales smiled warmly, standing to greet his sibling with his latest work in his hands. "Yes, I'm fine. I was working on fine tuning my potion making skills, so I challenged myself to make a tough one. I've just finished, see?" The blond thrust the bottle close to the ginger's face, the latter taken by the vibrant colour of the liquid that swished inside. "That's great! But what exactly is it? What does it do?" Cian quizzed, observing Medwyn move a shelving unit where he tenderly placed his finished project next to a row of varied, equally colourful potions. "It's a shrinking potion. Those who ingest it shrink down to the size of a ladybird. Such potions only last a fixed amount of time, for example this one lasts for forty-eight hours and to heal the inflicted before the time is up, the person need only drink a tea mixed with frog blood and the spit of an elf. But making such a potion is a whole other kettle of fish I tell you, procuring the ingredients and casting the spell to make it work was so much more difficult." Medwyn let out a long, deep yawn that he'd been supressing, rubbing his emerald eyes sleepily. Cian's eyes shone with a keen curiosity, admiring his brother's skill and craft in conceiving something that took so much time and energy. The nation could see the toll it had taken on Wales: the man had worked almost nonestop for hours on end on little sleep and isolated away from everyone in the basement where the brothers practiced magic, fuelled by tea and burning determination to rise to the challenge.
"So...Was this just to challenge yourself? Or do you have a use in mind for this particular potion? How'd you even know it works? And will you be making more tricky potions to challenge yourself?" Northern Ireland questioned, entering the room and approaching the desk Medwyn had been previously affixed to, briefly studying the open spell book his brother had been studying. Wales let out a quiet chortle, appreciative of Cian's interest in his work, though he felt tiredness begin to cloud his line of thinking and he was eager to retreat to his quarters. The Welshman moved to his desk, beginning to clear away the equipment he'd used and washing the tubes and containers he'd used. "Great questions Norn! Firstly, this was just to challenge myself, I have no particular need for this potion but you never know, we may need it in the future. Secondly, the magenta colour tells me that this potion is active and will work. If it remained clear in colour as it was before, it would mean the potion wouldn't be effective. Thirdly, I think I will make some more tough potions to challenge myself. I've also wanted to try making an invisibility spell, but right now I need to rest." Cian turned his attention from the strange, foreign language he was unable to decipher in the book to his elder sibling, noting the bags under his eyes. "You look like you need a nap mate," Cian laughed, approaching Medwyn and playfully nudging him in his side, "though be warned, Alistair and Arthur have been arguing all morning." Wales rolled his eyes, shaking his head, retrieving the spell book with a flick of his wrist, where a red spark carried the book back to its designated place on the bookshelf. "Nothing new there then. If you're practicing down here, remember to lock up when you're done." Cian simply nodded to Medwyn, watching as the elder exited the room and he overheard him clamber up the steps back into the main heart of the house.
For a brief time, Northern Ireland stood quietly in the center of the room, examining his surroundings while lost in deep thought. When Medwyn first mentioned the potion he'd been working on and had successfully completed was a shrinking potion, a duplicitous idea momentarily crossed his mind. And again, when Medwyn left him with his own thoughts, the same thought propelled itself to the front of the man's mind. So much so, that Cian retrieved the freshly made potion and sneakily popped the cork off the top, swiftly retrieving a tiny vial from a stack situated in the corner of the room and pouring the pinkish potion into it. He then replaced the cork back on top of the potion and methodically placed it back on the shelf so it appeared untouched, moving to seal the vial and concealing it in his trouser pocket. Northern Ireland, with a sense of thrill and a rising feeling of excitement for the plot that started to formulate in his brain, rushed to lock the basement and flee the scene of the crime. The nation had the most convoluted of schemes to pull what could be one of the most hilarious practical jokes he had ever pulled in his entire existence. What Cian needed to do now, was figure out the logistics of his prank so that it could be pulled off.
Upstairs, Wales wasted no time and taking himself off to his bedroom. The man flopped unceremoniously onto his bed, grateful for the plush pillow that greeted him as he pulled the duvet over his body and snuggled deep into its thickness. In no time, Medwyn felt his eyes grow heavy and the need for slumber called to him like a siren called to unknowing sailors at sea. After a few minutes, Medwyn gave into sleep and was soon snoring blissfully. Elsewhere in the home, Arthur and Alistair worked diligently in a shared office space though the pair worked in stone cold silence, having spent the best part of their Saturday morning arguing over Brexit arrangements. Arthur consulted his wristwatch for the time, noting that it was only ten o'clock in the morning, frowning at how slow time seemed to be ticking. Alistair observed Arthur from the corner of his eye, sparing a glance to the mountain of paperwork stacked in his in-tray with his brow furrowed. The two men proceeded with their individual work, with only the sound of pen making contact with paper to ease the tension in the room. That was, until Cian entered the room.
"Cian, there you are! There's a mountain of paperwork here just for you. You can work here with us if you like." Arthur greeted his younger brother, secretly relieved for the distraction. Northern Ireland peered over at his usual work station, shuddering at the sight of the paperwork that was piled onto it. "Yes, I will thank you. But before I get stuck in, I'm going to make myself a cuppa. I'd wager you two would like one." The very mention of tea saw Scotland lift his head from the policy draft he'd been analysing. Arthur hummed, "yes please, if you don't mind of course." Northern Ireland nodded, turning on his heel, but not before he heard Alistair blurt out, "and please bring some biscuits! We'll be here a while." Cian smirked at Alistair, taking his leave. Cian purposely volunteered himself for tea duty for it would give him ample opportunity to put his plan into motion. The young man felt exhilarated; he could already envision the faces of his brothers, with tears scrolling down their cheeks and faces tinted red from laughing so hard at his shenanigans. This alone, acted as a motivation for Northern Ireland to see out his plan to pull one of his biggest pranks, the anticipation of what was to come tingling at his finger tips.
Descending down the stairs, Cian headed directly for the kitchen and began to prepare a tea tray for himself, Arthur and Alistair. The ginger-haired man began by brewing the kettle and placing some tea bags into a tea pot, then placing three cups onto the tray while rummaging in the cupboards for some biscuits. Once the kettle had boiled, Cian poured the boiling liquid into the teapot and placed the lid on top, neatly placing the digestive biscuits he'd found onto a small plate and lastly ensuring the tray had small jugs of milk, tea spoons and a jar of sugar. It looked like an ordinary tea tray however, today it would have a twist. Cian prised the vial containing Medwyn's shrinking potion from his pocket and poured its contents into a single tea cup, which he decided would be England's cup, disposing of the vial in the rubbish bin. With everything needed loaded onto the tray, Cian cautiously carried the tray through the house, thoughtfully planting each step to ensure he didn't cause a spillage. All the while, the nation imagined what would happen after Arthur ingested the drink. What would he do with a tiny Arthur? Perhaps he could place him in a jar and simply leave him to one side. Maybe he might decide to play a game of hide and seek with his 'little' brother, whoever found Arthur first would get some kind of prize. While this was a practical joke, it would also serve as payback for Cian, as Arthur had recently gotten on every last one of Cian's nerves.
Reaching the office door, Northern Ireland used his hip to push the door ajar and slid in, placing the tray down on a side table. "I'm back! I'll pour us a cuppa. Oh and Scot, we only had digestives." Alistair grunted, tearing his reading glasses from his face and massaging his temples with a pained expression on his face. Arthur sighed, placing another document into his out-tray and turning to Cian, his lips forming a small smile. "Thank you very much Cian, I think we could all use a break." Cian, with his back to his brothers as he organised the tray, poured Arthur's cup of tea first. The potion blended in unexpectedly well with the colour of the tea. Adding a spot of milk and two sugars, Cian turned to hand his elder brother his beverage, to which Arthur gratefully accepted and immediately began to sip at. Cian then poured Alistair a cup of tea, with a drop of milk and no sugar, and gave the brunette the drink as well as placing the plate of digestives on his desk. Lastly, Cian fixed himself a drink, stealing a biscuit from the plate as he sat down at his own desk. The nation looked to Arthur, who was slowly slurping his tea with no issue, his face contorting into a wicked smirk at the Englishman unknowingly lapping up a powerful potion.
