Absit Omen RPG

Not checked out but not hit. Miranda wanted a look at the runes, her irrational mind suddenly believing them to be at risk. Perhaps it wasn’t irrational considering no one really knew how long they might work for or what might affect them. The uncertainty was something she spent most of the time trying to forget, but a moment like this only dragged it back to light.

“They what?” Miranda’s expression had changed from concern to disbelief. “You’ve informed the Ministry? And Balfort?” She took a swig of wine and leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “It’s a pretty sick statement, no? Use the face of Almasy’s son when terrorising werewolves?” She pushed herself to stand, but felt the knot in her stomach pushing away any possible hunger that she may have felt before.

“What was their aim? This, imposter. What exactly did you foil?”

It was near impossible for the Head Healer to switch off from work when she was home, especially when it wasn’t even a full year since she’d almost lost her second husband to a vicious attack. As such, seeing him return home so weathered set her on edge. Miranda, already now sat up straighter on the sofa, glanced down at his grazed hand then across his face. He’d been in a duel, and her stomach found itself knotting uncomfortably. Ignan, a former auror, could handle himself well, but, unfortunately, others could do better.

“Without a fight.” Miranda repeated quietly, dark eyes studying her husband’s face. He was purposefully avoiding her gaze. Perhaps she should have asked how these two girls were, but instead her mind was rushing through the thought of Ignan ending back in a wand fight and not coming out the other side. It was silly, she knew. He was sat right here with her.

“Have you been checked out?” She knew the answer, but she asked anyway. Ignan was an awful patient and his wife was probably the only person that could force him to submit himself to a medical check. “You weren’t hit, were you?”

As the fireplace burst into life, Miranda looked up from her book. She’d anticipated Ignan to come through the front door rather than by floo, and the fact that her husband was stepping from the fireplace was, by itself, abnormal. The smell that came with the wizard simply served to stir her curiosity. As he leant over to kiss her, Miranda’s eyes scanned the mudded cloak down to the scuffed footwear.

“It’s fine.” She waved his apology, dark eyes scanning his face. She’d not eaten yet without him. Gerda had prepared a stew which had been left in the kitchen maintaining a steady heat until the couple were ready to eat. In truth, she’d been rather distracted by the wine and the final book in the Elf on Fire trilogy which, despite Gerda’s disapproving glanced at the cover, had nothing to do with Elves aflame.

“Clearly not as eventful as yours.” The healer raised an eyebrow at her husband before untangling her legs from the cat and planting her feet on the floor. “You look dreadful.” It may not have been a question but it expected an answer in response.

Miranda Storm
Head Healer
St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Thank you for your letter.

It would be helpful to know who the other parties are that have informed you of progress on our clandestine research. Perhaps these other parties are also experts in the matter of legilimency and mind healing?

It would also be helpful to know who, other than myself and the board of Warlocks leading the hospital, is in a sufficient position to decide on the best interests of St Mungo’s.

A study cannot be rushed, but must be concluded when the study is ready to be concluded. Currently, the study is unable to be concluded and forcing such actions will result in the entire study having pointlessly taken place.

Regards,



Head Healer

Fully aware of the hospital’s security on the scene and the aurors having been called, Miranda, after informing a few of the healers to initiate a lockdown of their floors, arrived on the scene to see the chaos ensuing. Morgenthau was there, 3 aurors, her own security hitwizard team, Cepheus Gamp, and a bedraggled looking Sandy who was pleading caution. Mortimer Gamp was Sandy’s patient, and they’d only been discussing the umbrella incident the evening before all of this.

Miranda, acutely aware of her lack of expertise in the specific area of seizing a metamorph maniac imposter who was trying to save her insane husband from incarceration and umbrellas, chose to stand back and let the far more experienced wand wavers take control of the situation. Instead, she glanced to Sandy.
“I told you to stay put.” He’d been stunned, and while it mostly tended to have little long term effect, she wanted him checked out not knocked out again.

It was with relief that Miranda listened to Sandy’s answer about their first patient with Scrofungulus. Knowing it was actually Sandy, however, made his situation of being in the cupboard in his underwear even more uncomfortable. Miranda had, as a healer, seen a lot of people in a state of undress in a professional sense. Never her longest standing friend and colleague.

"Why is someone pretending to be ... to be me?" Sandy asked the big question and the Gamp wizard responded about trying to get to their father. Mortimer Gamp. The long-term patient/prisoner wizard who’d been turning things into umbrellas in recent days. He’d been under Sandy’s care.

The young Gamp left shortly after the security wixes, and Sandy pleaded for Miranda to go. Keeping her wand in her grip, she rose back to a standing position.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.” He needed checking over completely and she’d be the one to do it.

Another family member impersonating their brother? Where the hell did her Deputy Head Healer come into this? Miranda, somehow remaining calm in the face of this emerging problem, started to piece it together. Impersonating Sandy gave this family member an easy way in to Mortimer Gamp. Had they taken his wand as well?

With a gasp and wide eyes, Sandy came to, grabbing her arm in shock. One of the seemingly many Gamps handed him a robe and, stutter free, her long-term colleague started to blabber about what had happened to him. He tried to get up and Miranda steadied him.
“Watch yourself. You were stunned.” He knew what after effects came with that.

Searching his gaze, Miranda remembered what Ignan had insisted upon so many times since their encounters with Lawrence Musgrave. Don’t just presume.
“Sandy, our first shared patient when we were set loose, what condition did she have?” An imposter wouldn’t know about a patient from 30 years ago.

Behind her, in the dooway, a couple wizards in smart blue robes appeared. “Head Healer?”

Miranda turned her head, frowning. “I’m informed we have an imposter posing as Healer Misslethorpe. Don’t raise the alarms yet, we don’t need to spook them.”

A nod and they were off. She looked back to Sandy, frowning.

"Where is the other Healer Misslethorpe?" The auror asked, causing the Head Healer, wand in hand, to frown. The other Healer Misslethorpe? That meant the real one was lying in his cupboard in a state of undress?

The auror continued to briefly fill Miranda in and she quickly realised who this pair was. Gamps. Their father was Mortimer Gamp who was currently a long-term patient on this very floor. She’d seen them occasionally before, and while Miranda was often poor with names, she was very good with faces.

“Go.” She waved off the auror, and glanced to the other conscious wizard before stepping into the room and rushing over to Sandy. She shoved her her hand in the pocket of her robes and gave her healer’s badge a squeeze. They needed hospital security, if this auror was correct. And she certainly didn’t want a scene. “What does she mean reuinite with your father?” Miranda asked, dropping down to glance over Sandy. She reached forward, fingers gently lifting his eyelids. His pupils were blurry, glazed over. “He’s been stunned.”

At least stunning, if that’s all it was, had an easy fix. And then they could figure out what the hell was going on. No need to panic.
Her wand tip was pointed at Sandy’s chest and she muttered “Rennervate.” A red light shot from her wand towards her friend and colleague.

Despite the Head Healer’s disinterest in Valentine’s Day and the romance involved by couples clearly wishing to display their love and unable to do so on any other day of the year, St Mungo’s had been decorated for the occasion. It was supposed to set patients at ease, giving some semblance of normal life while in the hospital. Miranda, as was normal, wasn’t in a Valentine’s spirit. In fact, she was tracking down Sandy who had left his promised budget report on her desk that morning. It wasn’t up to par and he needed to be made aware.

Miranda Storm had said budget report in her grasp when she, Gold and Emerald healer robes over a smart black dress and eye wateringly high heels, made her way along to corridor to her Second’s office. She quickened her pace upon seeing the door open, confident she had caught him in the office. Definitely best for a face to face chat.

When she heard voices, the Head Healer frowned, rounding the corner into the doorway. He had company., She gazed in, frowning deeper. Two unfamiliar figures (one in auror robes) were crouched near the large cupboard. No Sandy in sight.

“Can I help you?” The stern witch asked sternly.

Then she saw beyond them to a pair of feet. Bare men’s feet. Her hand instinctively went to her robe pocket for her wand.

To Miranda Storm, the prospect of cooking as a hobby, for joy, was an alien one. Neither she nor her husband took any joy in it and she was grateful for the house elf that Ignan had brought to their small home. The witch had never held any strong opinions in the past about wixes owning house elves, and she’d still not given it a great deal of thought since moving in with Ignan. Gerda was treated fairly and seemed content enough. She cooked well, too, and she’d been very good at helping to keep Ignan in line when he’d been recovering or ill.

Miranda shared a smile with her husband before he mentioned teaching him to cook. For a moment, there was no reaction until the smile turned to a smirk and a raised eyebrow. That idea would fail for at least two reasons. The first was that they didn’t succeed in teaching the other anything, the second was her own disinterest in the art of the kitchen.

“I’ve grown rather fond of our marriage, old man.” She answered before forking some curry. There was a plethora of far more interesting and rewarding things they could do as a couple. Like the Sunday crossword.

"They like their threesomes, don't they?" Miranda had been taking a sip of tea when Yavin completely threw her off and she very nearly snorted it up her nose. Quickly recovering, she took the offered photoframe to see a marginally younger Yavin with a couple. The wizard, she recognised the face from the papers but couldn’t pinpoint him until she skimmed the article with a quick eye. Playwright and performer. That was why she didn’t really recognise him. The article’s subject, however, caused a raised eyebrow and a shared glance with her husband. They better not be dragged into something similar after this lunch date.

When Yavin got up, Miranda muttered towards her husband. “Misslepthorpe is a dead wizard walking if similar gets published about us.” And she wasn’t even kidding; Miranda had grown sick of the media attention the couple had gained in the past year.

When they sat down to the food, Miranda didn’t try to hide the impressed expression from her face. It smelled good and it looked good. Better than anything she or Ignan would create themselves.
“There must be a house elf hiding in your kitchen, Yavin. Or you’ve some tips to share with the two of us. The first time I visited Ignan’s home for dinner, we ended up with fish and chips.”

“You can hear it.”

Biting back a sarcastic response, Miranda simply nodded.

As the wizard continued, the Head Healer tried to keep her expression perfectly plain and free of emotion. As one might expect, it was hardly a struggle for the ice queen. The mention of dementors caused a marginal twitch of the fingers in her lap, however. Miranda had had enough of her own struggles with dementors in the preceding year. Her main focus of magical study at the moment, however, fell very much in line with the problems Hollingbury and his inner mind were sharing.

After a moment of silence, Healer Storm withdrew her wand from the pocket of her emerald and golden robes to point to a stool near the foot of the bed. This stool, with a twist of the witch’s wand, transfigured itself into a chair at the same level with the one she’d chosen to occupy. Next, she pointed her wand at the hospital bed containing the comatose patient. Very slowly, a thin blue veil moved down over the bed.

“We still don’t know what people hear in their sleep.” She explained, probably pointlessly. “Take a seat Hollingbury.”

Ignan, smooth as ever in turning the topic of a conversation, slipped the focus to Yavin’s choice of articles to decorate his hallways. Ignan was, to his wife, a very attractive man, but she wasn’t accustomed to having others say it. As such, she wasn’t sure how either she or Ignan should take the reminder from Yavin of his eyes. Her own dark gaze shot to her husband, wondering if accepting this lunch invitation had been a terrible idea.

“He’s a lot more people friendly than us, Ignan.” Miranda answered her husband’s question with a raise of her eyebrows. Both Mr and Mrs Storm had a reputation for being cold and unfeeling; reputations that didn’t inspire the press to be kind about you. Miranda hadn’t minded it until the Witch Weekly article[1] which suggested she and Ignan had engaged in a shotgun marriage thanks to a baby on the way.

“The Daily Prophet are less of a problem than Witch Weekly. One of their reporters clearly had an obsession.” She informed her colleague before a sip of tea. “Clearly, Ignan and I are fascinating people…”

1.	In Sickness and in Health?

What could he help her with? Miranda resisted an urge to roll her eyes or sigh. It most evidently wasn’t her that needed the help, was it? But in his current mentally compromised state, he would hardly take her usual harsh reaction quite as well as others had learned to. So, she just sat calmly in the chair, resting her hands in her lap.

The voice continued to pierce her mind, grating, harsh, anxious. As if he was internally arguing with himself. Just wonderful, one of her usually decent staff members was losing it. Now, Miranda did sigh. Right now, she would need to engage with Healer Storm and not the ice-cold Head Healer that was his boss. No one appreciated being told that they were mad; and contrary to popular belief, Miranda did actually have a heart deep in there somewhere. Surprisingly, it wasn’t made of ice.

“Is there something you might wish to tell me, Healer?”

The shocked expression upon seeing her in his vicinity; it was a look she’d never grow bored with. Each staff member’s reaction was slightly different. Her middle leadership, healers in charge, they didn’t jump in surprise. They’d learned how to approach their boss, and when the avoid her. It was the minions, the regular healers that seemed to fear her. Miranda knew the names her staff had for her. Ice Queen was still her favourite. She had, after all, built a palace made of ice in her own mind.

Hollingbury’s eyes had gone wide, greeting her in tired surprise. A busy month. Every month was a busy month at St Mungo’s. Every day hosted a new disaster. Clearly, it was taking it’s toll on this wizard.

“I was loo-” Miranda froze mid words as the same snarky, cruel voice invaded her mind once more.

“If it's the latter, well done, your life is about to get worse, Better brace for the flood!”

“I was looking for you, Hollingbury.” Her voice was softer, less cold. Was this voice plaguing him all the time? With a sigh, Miranda lowered herself into the visitor’s seat a few metres from the bed. “What flood?”