Absit Omen RPG

"People can be beasts." Agreed Sandy. "But we have fewer manticores in London." He turned the plate with the carrot cake on. Admiring or contemplating it. It was not clear. "You must have got handy at solving problems with limited resources." Presumed Sandy. St Mungo's had a lot at hand. Smaller field hospitals had to make do with what they had. "Or am I mistaken to a stereotype?" Sandy had never visited the places Robin worked for. He had only read accounts in healer digests and papers. "Any notable cases?" Beast healers always had the most gruesome stories. It was best not to eat before hearing them.

"Thank you." Said Sandy. He took the seat. Slid his folder of figures to one side. The rectangular slice of carrot cake beside. He slid a fork from his inside robe pocket. Set it down neatly on the china plate. Everything just so. "Likewise." He said to the kindness of memory. Andy often handed off the hiring paperwork to him. She was just interested in grilling people in person. Robin had made the cut. Or survived the oven.

"Oh? Where did you practice before?" Asked Sandy. "I understand you have traveled around. London must seem mundane." A steaming red rose teapot materialized out of thin air. Or so it seemed. A matching teacup and saucer rattled as they appeared to emerge out of the table itself. Sandy turned to nod thanks to the witch behind the counter.

A flock of teacups bobbed out of the kitchen door. Pink blue red and green. The saucers followed. Rotating slowly in opposing directions. The cakes were depleted. Crumbs left as shadows of the slices. Sandy Misslethorpe took advantage of the lull. Maybe Andy's figures would magically add up differently if he had a slice of carrot cake. Maybe they would not but he would feel slightly better about spending another hour on them.

He held casual chit chat with the witch behind the counter. Feigning more interest about her caravan holiday than was truth. About her dog's love of the beach. He lifted the dainty plate of carrot cake and reinforced his thanks. Successfully negotiating his way out of the conversation. He turned back to the collection of tables. Mostly pockets of families and friends visiting patients. But one stood out to him. The new healer from creatures. Canadian. French sounding surname. Bird name. Robin... Lou...

"Louvelle." Greeted Sandy. Unintentionally towering over the new hire. Carrot cake in one hand. Figures in the other. His pot of tea would follow in a minute. "How are you surviving?" Sandy was wearing his green robes. With the gold trim of the Deputy Head Healer. "Misslethorpe. We met briefly. About the time the Head Healer grilled you."

"Certainly." Said Healer Misslethorpe. "Good day Mr Pepper." The healers stepped out. "Francis." Sandy nodded politely. "All's well. Must get on." He began to walk away. Looked back over his shoulder. "Be good to see you some day. Dinner or drinks. Expect you can make the time." He smirked. "Expect an owl."

The Deputy Head Healer and Healer in Training Näktergal examined Ambrose's buttocks. They were a rude shade of pink. Reinflating like balloons.
"Very good." Healer Misslethorpe agreed. Let the sheet drop back. "Now be a good fellow and rest there. It is important not to disturb the regrowing process. If one wants properly restored buttocks." A young wizard like Ambrose would want it to heal well. "Näktergal will come back about three o'clock to give them a final look before you go home." Sandy had seen a lot of bottoms in his time but he did not need to see Ambrose Pepper's again today! "Do you have any questions Ambrose?"

"Better that way round." Said Sandy. Though poison in the cake had probably sent people to the Plants and Poisoning floor on hundreds of occasions in the hospital's history. "I will go by and give her my regards. Thank you for the reminder." Her story was still sitting with him. "Would you find out the name of that witch? You have me intrigued. The more the thought sits with me the more I feel a familiarity. I just cannot put my finger on it." Was it a patient of his? Or a patient he head heard about? Or the very same patient through someone else. He gave a not so reassuring smile. "Good luck with the bites and blood."

"Me too." Agreed Sandy. That was a bit of a mystery. "You ever heard of something like that before?" He asked. "You are right. That you do not know they are gone until you try to reach them." Memory magic had become one of Sandy's specialties.

"If they were obliviated it is just suppressed. So they cannot access it. It could have been recovered." He had done it before. Smells. Sensations. It took a long time.

"Makes me want to cast a patronus out of worry now you said that."

"Any suggestion they had used dark magic?" Asked Sandy. "Wix can lose a patronus if they cast too many dark spells." Patronus was pure magic. Happy bright magic. It was formed from happy memories. Joy. Brilliance. It was also very hard to cast for very many. "It is not something patients want to tell us you see." Now the war was over it was not as common.

"But losing the happy memory sounds very unusual. Pity they declined the legilimens. Consider this one intrigued." He had got a lot better since working with Yavin Morgenthau. An expert in this.

"A teenager." Said Sandy. "Staying with her mother. Studying for her NEWTs." Meredith had not been a sprog since she turned eleven. She grew up fast. Sandy's ex-wife was another healer. They kept distance. No drama. People did not ask him much about it. He had married before he was ready. Divorced. Athena was much more successful with her love life. "Trying to encourage her to do a little work at the magazine. She wants to be head girl. Last year in September." Where had time gone? It made him feel old.

"You two not considering settling down?" Asked Sandy. She had seen Fournier for a while now. "Catch the bouquet at the Spectre wedding this weekend?" He was not invited for obvious reasons. But it looked like all the hospital was. The number of holiday requests. Or off-shift bargains.

"Not long at all." Said Sandy. Reassuring. "It is likely to be finished later this afternoon. But you must promise to take it easy for two days. Not to sit down for longer than ten minutes at a time. Or go on a hike. That sort of thing." This was very important. One could end up with flat buttocks. Or droopy ones. Like an old man. Requiring more potions. More spells. Painful.

"I need to take a look. Check everything is growing back nicely. Do you mind...?"

"Ambrose Pepper is awake Healer Misslethorpe." Said Healer in Training Micke Näktergal. He was shadowing Sandy today. Useful to have an assistant. But he was keen. Hurrying from one patient to another.
"Splendid." Said Sandy. "We have time to stop by."

"Mr Pepper. Ambrose." Francis was still sat beside his son. Sandy knew the family. They were old friends. But it was the first time he had healed Ambrose. "Ambrose nice to meet you. I am Healer Misslethorpe. This is Healer in Training Näktergal. How are you feeling?"

He paused only a second to hear the reply. "Very good. You splinched. Most people splinch an arm or maybe a leg. You splinched your backside. The Department of Magical Transport did their best to locate them but you were brought here urgently. Not a problem. Buttocks grow back with the right potion. Näktergal here took care of that."

"Is that an offer to cover it?" Asked Sandy. Picking up on it. Gen was the Editor but she had got there through proving herself as a writer. "Enough people are outraged to write in." He picked up a rough pile of letters. "So they are keen to read what happens." He skimmed through the next letter. "He will not get an empty restaurant. He might get a mob outside with placards and a full house. If he does  the man should have paid us more for printing the advert."

Sandy rubbed the shadow on his chin. He narrowed his eyes which could seem an impossibility given his face. "You know those student werewolf sympathizers at the school?" Asked Sandy. He had run into them in Hogsmeade. Gone up to see his daughter Meredith. "What's the grown-up arm? Think we can whisper in a few ears to make sure they turn up with placards?" Sandy was not saying he wanted them to turn up to oppose the owner. Just that it would make a much better story.

"No one." Agreed Sandy. "Look what happened to Carter. In his own home." Sandy did not open the door on full moon. He did not open the front door other days. But especially not full moon. He was more likely to be at the hospital. It was high alert. Especially now they were attacking safe houses.

"He is not from here. He does not know how it is done here. If people are scared of full moon then they will not go out. It is not beyond living memory there were attacks in the alley. Tulip's sister did not make it back from that. It is why she will not work a full moon." A tiny petite witch called Tulip worked magic on all the fashion features. She could make any dull robe look three hundred galleons before a photo-shoot. But for no love nor money would she leave her house on full moon day. They had both tried.

"No we are not in the business of censorship. I agree. What if this is just bluster. To get wixes talking?" Sandy pointed to the advert. "Outrage travels faster than good news. My father taught me that." All the reason to keep complaints at the hospital quiet. But at the magazine... "Do you think he is serious?"

The first Wednesday of the month was the Winery. The time Sandy and Gen discussed complaints, or reader whines over wine. A good month was one bottle. A bad month two. A very good month Gen got to take the bottle. That was rare. Witch Weekly readers knew where they kept their quills and parchment. So they used them. The grate was already burning three. Pointless whines. Did not like the dress color in a photo. Did not get their letter published. Too expensive to advertise their lost cat.

Sandy folded over the latest issue of Witch Weekly. Hit the owls on Saturday. Full page advert for Calaveras. New owner. Good reputation. Apart from some rumors from America. Money to brush Calaveras up. It was looking tired. Dashing. Caused a stir. did not need to buy his own advert. Take a week and there would be a double spread feature. A photographer down there at the launch. Snap anyone notable who went. Then why were there people whining about it?

Werewolves not invited.

"It is at full moon. No werewolf is invited anywhere but a safe house." Sandy flopped the issue on the desk between them. "No law against saying who can come in is there?" It sat uneasy but money was money and Gen had let it go to print.

Sandy lifted Mr Limrick's leg out of the bucket. They waited. It was terribly burned. But it did not reignite. He nodded. "Now treat for burns. The paste Healer Mordent!" His heart lifted. So happy it had worked. He looked over his shoulder. "Good news. The fire is out. We will treat your burns. Hope to save your foot. You should be prepared to stay  a while." He sighed. Relieved. "Good work Healers." Sandy praised the witches.

He would have to notify the Ministry. To find out if the slippers were sold with the rune or without. If this was an accident or an attack. Sandy would be much more careful to put his feet in his slippers in future!

END