Attendance

☑ Deus Deres
☑ Jordyn Dimbleby, +3
☑ Rosamund Carstairs, +3

Since the beginning of the year, Ferreole has held Medical Magic seminars, with a considerable break from them during the time of the Pox Upon Salem plot, although Miranda Elliot or Tulojow Nagde may have taught during that time. Seminars are on Saturdays, and typically last most of the day, with 2.5-3 hours of theory followed by a brief break for lunch and an OPTIONAL practical session, for which a signed waiver is mandatory. You can read more about how he holds class HERE

Ferreole LeBeau did not need an amplification spell to be heard over the blustery, late March wind billowing through the cloudy sky. He boomed quite well enough on his own, the buttery gravel wrapped in Cajun flair loud enough on its own that any unwary professors on the east side of the castle who had braved open windows would no doubt frown at the volume and quickly shutter them. "Good Evening!" He barked, despite the fact it was still several minutes before noon, standing proud and tall in his silver topcoat an frilly purple pantaloons, tied with lavender ribbons at the knee, such that his one, spindly leg could proudly display the stripedy purple knee socks he had donned in honor of the occasion—or so he would claim, but no one had quite been able to pin down either which occasion or what stripey knee socks would have to do with it, anyway.

He banged his cane hard on the ground and squinted moodily at the fidgeting bunch that had been with him all morning. "Back from lunch, eh? Bellies full and de brain’s forgotten it all, hrm? WAIVERS. Up here. Bring dem up now." A wave of the wand and the pieces of paper dutifully fluttered up to form a small pile hovering next to the American professor.  "Have jou all got jou kits, jou?" He snorted fantastically, referencing the first aid kits that had been product of the morning’s session. His knobbly cane banged once more, loudly, and then he raised it to point at the crowd of students. Not to any one student in particular, he wasn’t fond of singling them out, but they would have learned if no one volunteered, they would sit there in silence until dinnertime until SOMEONE spoke up. "ONE. WHICH potions should be in every first aid kit? WHAT are dey uses? TWO. Which herbs should be in every first aid kit? WHY. T’REE. WHEN do we use muggle techniques an abstain from magic? FOUR. WHEN,” Here, the sharp, dark brown eyes narrowed as his gaze traveled over each one present, pausing to assess them in silence, for this, truly, was the most of important of questions that he would ask, “Do jou call for professional ‘elp, and HOW d’jou do so?"

Behind the man, a banner stretched between two poles fluttered madly in the wind, emblazoned with the distinctly ominous word, ‘START’, though a glittering curtain of an illusion charm barred from curious eyes  what lay beyond.

 Jordyn’s mind had been made up about her future career in healing for several months now.  She always vowed she’d never go near the ministry (the weight of her last name was enough to make her thing she’d never move beyond glorified tea bringer and paper filer), and working in a shop just… had so little appeal to the young woman.  Healing seemed prestigious enough for her and based on skill and practice.  It was something she could get good at and prove she was good at.  Plus, when witches and wizards got sick, bad things happened… like losing one’s prefect status.  She was sure if someone like herself had been taking care of her she’d have gotten better faster and it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. 

Really, outside of personal desire to be recognized as skilled at something, she could do someone like herself a favor one day.  So, the medical seminars, despite being run by a very eccentric American, did cater to Jordyn’s particular interests.  Sending home a form hadn’t been hard, and her parents just signed it without a moment’s hesitation (at least she figured) to let her do as she pleased.

So, the young witch practically darted forward with it – only to be stopped in her tracks as it was whipped out of her gloved hand with a spell.  Her eyes dutifully followed the paper as it made its way up, and her other hand clutched more firmly around the handles of the aid kit she’d gotten through the morning.  She had taken faithful notes, read everything she had to read, and whatever practical portion was being given to them this afternoon, Jordyn was certainly ready.  She intended to be the best at this. 

In order to be the best, she had to strike first and raised her hand immediately to answer the first question.  “You should always have Pepperup, Restorative and Calming droughts,” Jordyn chanted out of memory, “As they are the most versatile and can be used to put the patient in a place where they can be talked to – whether they need to calm down or wake up - and information can be gathered.  It is advisable to carry a potion for pain relief and wound healing potions.”  Jordyn closed her mouth and looked around the crowd of students, wondering who else would chime in.   

Rosie had no special interest in healing magic, but she had an interest in anything that was new knowledge. So, of course, she'd signed up for the seminars. And she didn't regret it for a second! This was prime information right here. And the Salem headmaster was a most endearing man, Rosie thought. Once her waiver was extracted from her hand, Rosie moved towards the front to make sure that she was able to properly see Professor LeBeau. Endearing tho he may be, the man was also quite intimidating and Rosie found herself nervously playing with the hem of her skirt as she listened to his greeting

His questions where thoughtful and posed quite a lot of possibilities, having Rosamund narrow her eyes in concentration as she thought them over. Jordyn took the first question and after a few moments of careful breathing, Rosie's hand timidly raised in the air. "Ummm, when the cause of the injury is surely of a magical nature, but we're not quite sure what exactly it is or what might have caused it, it might be best to cautiously use muggle techniques?" she more asked, than stated, smiling with flushed cheeks. "I mean–if we use any sort of wizarding methods, they might react with the magically induced malady or injury and as such might cause more harm than good?" she continued, scratching absently at her temple, before quickly adding "Professor" to her last words.

"GOOD," Ferreole boomed, as the sprightly Slytherin lass spoke up first. She had hunger, he thought. It was a good trait for a healer. It meant they wouldn't give up. "T'ree points for jou house."[1] He then nodded to the redhead fille. She had heart, he thought, equally necessary. "CORRECT." He boomed. "T'ree points for jou house, too."[2] "Do no harm. Dis be de oath healers take, dem. abide by it."

A lanky Slytherin raised his hand next, almost lazily, and when Ferreole grunted at him, swung his wand back and forth three times to demonstrate how to call for a healer. "Ennéa-Ennéa-Ennéa."[3] Green sparks emitted from the end of his wand, and a small mirror-like ball hanging at Ferreole's waist like a rememberall begin to glow green. Ferreole picked it up. "Reminder from our lesson dis mornin'—every mediwizard, mediwitch, and healer trained to handle emergencies has one o' dese. If none are in range o' jou spell, den wit'in de UK, jou spell will go to Mungo's directly, and dey will dispatch someone. Do NOT," His cane banged for emphasis, "Hesitate."

"NOW," He boomed. "LINE UP. NEWTS—over dere, one-by-one." His wand flashed with a mutter, and their line was straightened will-they-nil-they. "Fift' years, jou line up in groups o' two or t'ree. And if jou below year 5, you gon' line up dere, and wait for a NEWT to go in wit' jou. Inside, jou gon' find people in need of firs' aid, or somethin' stronger'n first aid. Take jou kits, keep jouself calm, and remember to call for help if it be outta jou skill range. Dere be no shame'n callin' an expert. De shame be in causin' worse harm because jou got cocky." He flapped a hand and someone's release paper transformed itself into a shrill whistle. "First up - GO on den!"

1.	+3 Slytherin
2.	+3 Ravenclaw
3.	This is Greek for nine-nine-nine, which is the emergency number in the UK (I think, says the 9-1-1 dialing American). Most of JK's medical spells are in Greek, rather than Latin which has a whole cool etymology thing behind it. BUT point for now is- I imagine that, like dialing 9-9-9 or 9-1-1, an emergency spell would be incredibly simple by necessity

Jordyn felt a surge of pride as her answer was praised and rewarded.  She didn’t usually admit it, but Jordyn craved acceptance and praise.  She didn’t mind that Rosie picked up some points as well – as long as she curried some favor, that was all that really mattered to her. 

The green sparks that came up  from the wand when it was time to demonstrate how to call for Mungo’s was impressive.  Jordyn quite liked the system, likening it ot the red sparks that people used to call for help, but they were immediately connected to enchanted bells that called healers to a scene.  Jordyn imagined one day wearing one on her person at all times, just in case.  She’d really love that. 

She breathed through her nose when he instructed them to line up and quickly rushed to the front – she didn’t want to look like she was afraid.  She also didn’t want to let others go before her and get to the good stuff.  She had no idea what was going to happen and wasn’t sure if it would continue to happen throughout the course.  Cocky, for her, probably wasn’t the word – at least not the one she’d use, but she did have her pride.

She’d call for help if she needed it – but to start, with the whistle blaring, Jordyn gripped her case and headed straight through the ominous posts with the signs only to be completely confused: monkey bars?  She didn’t sign up for that!  Gulping, she also wasn’t sure how she’d do it with her kit... glancing down, she realized she had her wand and quickly shrunk the kit and tucked it into her pocket before she looked at the bars, wondering to herself if she could just go around them... but decided that probably wasn’t the point, and took a deep breath as she approached and decided that she’d try.

...It was shortlived, and Jordyn only made it to the fourth rung before she dropped into the dirt below, her arms aching as she did, and cursed under her breath, trying to push herself off the ground.  She felt something on the ground though and looked, almost screetching as she saw it. 

A very bloody looking arm was sitting next to her and it was bent all in the wrong shape – identified as clearly broken.  Her eyes went round and she focused herself.  She didn’t need her case, she just needed her wand.  “Ferula,” she announced and tapped the wand (lightly) to the disembodied limb. Bandages sprung forth and  once she was certain it was set, she pointed her wand to the sky signalling for the backup that would be required for a bone injury that she’d only addressed in its beginning stages. 

She pushed herself up off the ground and shuddered a little from the dust that flew up around her – she must have already looked like a mess – first challenge done!  She continued steadfast, noting a strange, grey-black cloud cover over the next portion of the trail...