"We don't know yet, if he's still dying." Flynn replied, "It will be a couple hours before we can expect to see changes. It's not always immediate." Sometimes, blood magic was. In cases where it is illegally used to harm people, the results can be instantaneous. But the body needs time to heal, even with magical assistance. What most people knew about blood magic was the negative aspects, though. How could they not? The media generally didn't cover the healing portions, and neither did novels.

Regardless of whether or not people had experienced blood magic first hand, it was a scary concept. To imagine a healer using it seemed almost counter-intuitive.

"We used some of his blood to tailor the treatments to his body." Flynn explained, "I will be making potions to help facilitate healing if he improves. At first we used a simulacra and treatments with blood and silver and peridot on the simulacra to help draw the curse out, but that did not succeed so we safely and carefully dispelled and destroyed it." Simulacras needed to be dispelled before being destroyed-- or else, well... That damage would show on the victim's body.

"There are healing runes on his chest, and then I placed a poultice on them that has been tailored to facilitating his body's healing. Wolfsangel, Ul, and Sól. Hopefully they will help the body fight the curse." He paused a moment to let it sink in, "If this doesn't work, our last chance is to transfer some of the curse to somebody or something else, and treat both."

A large proportion of magical healing techniques reaped immediate rewards. Even if a patient didn’t demonstrate instantaneous recovery, they more often than not showed a lack of deterioration. What Hughes had done was experimental, Miranda understood that. Anything they tried on Ignan would be due to the unreported nature of any recovery from the curse. Ignan looked no better, yet he also looked no worse, if that was even possible. Either way this went, the image of him lying in that bed appearing like a corpse would be forever burnt into her memory.

“His body could reject the runes.” Miranda said quietly, her eyes focusing on the wizard in the bed. Her hand still gripping Balfour, she pulled it away and made her way around the bed to near Johann. She knew little of the practice of blood magic and was therefore nervous to see its effects on her husband. Professionally, it was usual for the Head Healer to question the practices of her healers, if experimental. She asked for specific risk assessments to be given to patient families, detailed explanations given if asked for. However, in this time precious case, she’d let Hughes get on with it.

Hughes wanted to transfer the curse and Miranda’s lips pursed tightly. It was hard to take a step back to let him do his job. She wanted to advise, direct. She’d been the charge for this floor for years before him. Yet she was the patient’s wife and she needed to not interfere.

“It wouldn’t work.” Interfering was her job. “All you would simply do is momentarily slow down the effects. He’ll still be dying, only slower.” It was hard to believe she was talking about her husband.

Finally, her gaze landed on the healer. “We need a time limit for when you decide this isn’t working. If he carries on like this, Flynn…” She took a moment, remaining calmer than she’d been upon seeing Johann. “You need another plan and not one that involves putting the curse into someone else.”

He had only managed two swallows of his pasty when the badge went off, which was more than he sometimes had in the mornings anyway. Balfour didn't try to salvage the rest and had to bin the blasted thing on his way down as he followed Miranda and Johann - like them, heart in his throat. Gods knew what news awaited them below.

Life!

Or something resembling life. The Scotsman exchanged a half-surprised and half-amused glance with his partner when the Head Healer grabbed his hand, though he was quick to school it to one more appropriate for their circumstances. He squeezed back reassuringly.

Balfour knew only a little about blood magic. As there was something to do with it and the Spectre estate so his connotations were not entirely negative, and his gaze flicked to the bandages wrapped around Ignan's torso once it had dawned upon him what Flynn had done to the older wizard. It sounded bizarre, makeshift.

Most things were. Bal felt vaguely impressed, being out of his depth.

"What or... or who would you even transfer it to, if that were the case?" he asked even as Miranda objected to the idea. Could an object hold a curse like that? Were any of them self-sacrificing enough for it?

A couple of hours? Did Ignan have a couple of hours? Johann kept his worries internalised. Miranda had said he might not survive the night, so maybe they did, and Flynn had said last ditch attempts. He appreciated the explanations, healers were truly the best of people. As Flynn spoke, he laid a hand gently on Ignan’s left shoulder, which wasn’t bound up, but just covered by the sheet.

“… transfer some of the curse to somebody…” at that explanation, Johann looked spooked. He couldn’t imagine anyone be willing to take on some of this curse - surely that would be incredibly dangerous! Johann looked down at his cousin’s body bound up in bandages, and nodded. He understood from his Runic study at Durmstrang about runes, but he had not seen them used quite this way in healing, and he appreciated that his friend was doing everything he could think of. That these were uncharted waters.

Miranda doubted matters, and released Balfour’s hand on realising it wasn’t Johann, and gravitated towards her relative by marriage.
“You need another plan and not one that involves putting the curse into someone else.” She objected.
“What or… or who would you even transfer it to, if that were the case?” Balfour asked, vocalising the question Johann was also curious to hear an answer on. He glanced between the others and then back to Ignan, gripping his shoulder a little more as he might in solidarity with the older wizard if he were conscious.

“Need to be a bloody great ox.” He uttered, “Ignan’s tough as old boots.” He raised his voice a little, "Hear that, cousin, you’ve got to hang on, let Flynn figure this out with you. You’re not to go dying on Miranda,” his voice betrayed him, emotion creeping back in, “… not on any of us.” He released his grasp and cleared his throat, turning his face away from the rest of them a moment to blink hard before he reached his left arm around Miranda’s shoulders beside him. It was impossible to hide the glassy glint of his eyes, or the way he pressed his lips as he swallowed. The loose hug was as much for him as it was for her.

Miranda was touchy. Fair enough, her husband was in a terrible condition. He had been clear-- the next option was a last ditch attempt. If it hadn't been somebody close to her, Flynn suspected that she would've been more amenable to experimental procedures. It was always different when it was somebody you loved facing uncertainty.

"It isn't my first choice." Flynn replied, "And I wouldn't mention it if it wasn't our last option." He didn't verbally reply to her insisting on him finding another treatment-- a polite nod sufficed. They'd tried every known treatment. He'd researched as many as he could, he had trainees and experienced healers alike help with the research. He wasn't going to stop. Of course he wasn't going to stop. Flynn would not have made it as a Healer-in-charge if he was the type to give up easily. Miranda knew that. Besides, he had hope for the runes treatment.

"In the transferring scenario," Flynn still had to answer Balfour's question, "We would have to transfer the curse to a person or creature in good health. I have not read any cases about it being transferred to an object, but we all know that objects can hold curses. So it's plausible." Flynn wondered how many cursed artifacts were actually a product of a healing. He made a mental note to read more into that. His gaze moved from one person to the next, wondering how much they could actually process at this time. Worry and grief weren't the easiest things to think through.

"When the impact of the curse is spread to another creature, then it should be easier to treat both. But, it is still incredibly risky." The healer looked at Ignan, "If there is an improvement, we can expect to see it in about three, maybe four hours."

Miranda and Flynn were at odds over the final possible treatment route. Johann hoped to Merlin that the runes might do something. He didn’t have huge hopes, but he did believe that if nothing worked, they really had tried their best. It made his heart heavy to consider it, but as described, this was a curse that killed people, in an instant. They wouldn’t have had this time if it had hit its mark. Miranda would be a widow already.

“… in about three, maybe four hours.” Flynn explained.
“And if not, we prepare for the worst.” Johann agreed, his hand gently around Miranda’s shoulder, protective of her, having not forgotten the way she gripped him when they arrived. Miranda was holding herself together, he was holding himself together, but she’d been doing it for far longer, right here. “Whether that is what Flynn proposes, or the end.” He turned his head to Miranda, uttering a little more quietly as he watched her expression, “though he’s never one to inconvenience anyone. A life at what cost?”

He lowered his gaze thoughtfully, blinking away the emotion that was boiling beneath his calm exterior.
“I best notify the others.” Johann reiterated, releasing Miranda. He turned to face her properly, “I’ll go to Hogwarts first, be as short as I can. You don’t have to see them, but they need to know.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he squeezed her tense arm before he moved away.
“Thank you, Flynn. Whatever happens.” He told the healer, nodding. “And no dying on us, grumpy sod.” He told Ignan’s lifeless form, putting on a brave face.

His expression slipped as he turned from both healers and looked to Balfour, wincing like he’d been kicked in the stomach. As they left, he reached for his lover’s hand to grip it tightly.

If Miranda were perfectly honest, she felt relief at seeing Johann and Balfour leave. When was exhausted as she was, having to explain everything and hold it together around people was even more emotionally draining. As she watched them exit the cubicle, Mira sank down into the visitor’s chair and closed her eyes. Flynn was still there having politely taken any questions from the family.

“The curse transference isn’t something I feel comfortable with, Flynn.” The Head Healer spoke quietly, her eyes still closed. “It will endanger you and anyone in the vicinity. Ignan wouldn’t want that. I don’t want it.”

Well aware than in her current position it wasn’t possible to call the shots, Miranda still felt the need to try. Pulling rank wasn’t something she often did; instead trusting her staff. But today she wanted to, to remind him that she was the boss and he needed to follow her instructions. It was tough. She knew her judgement was impaired. It was something she preached to other healers. If emotions were involved, you were compromised. It was impossibly difficult to follow when it was her own husband slowly dying beside her.

When Miranda did open her eyes, she was looking up at the healer stood on the opposite side of the bed.
“I know you are doing everything that you can and I thank you for it.”

Flynn offered Balfour and Johann a half-smile and a partial wave as they left. It was good that Miranda had such a solid support system; even the most stoic and steady of people needed somebody to turn to in these moments.

"I'm not comfortable with curse transference either," He admitted. "As I said, that is a last resort. Besides." He looked over at Ignan briefly before meeting Miranda's gaze. "If we healers didn't push forward every time we felt uncomfortable, we wouldn't make progress." Being a healer, being a researcher had forced Flynn to learn how to sit in discomfort and push through it.

"No thanks are needed." He was doing his job, he didn't need thanks for it. But it was still appreciated. "All we can do now is wait."


End