Head Healer Elliot was thirty years into her career. She was at the top of her profession and yet until today she had never dealt directly with the Minister for Magic. For this the witch was grateful. Politics, she believed, was a game for liars with very little conscience. Yet, unfortunately, her new position came with a small share of politics and she had to meet with the head of British wizarding politics.

Having heard varying opinions regarding Persepolis Zephyr, Miranda wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when the minister walked into her office. They’d had small encounters before. Elliot had spent several months as Hogwarts Healer at the time Zephyr had been the Head of the School Governors, ruling over a school in preparation for a country. They’d barely exchanged courtesies at the time, neither witch seeming to consider the other someone worth speaking with and making the acquaintance of.

This lack of knowledge about the minister had put Miranda on edge since she’d woken up. She was a witch who was always exceptionally prepared for everything. She was meticulous and knowledgeable. Yet she had no clue what this meeting would entail and what was expected of her. When the owl had arrived requesting to meet, Mira’s first thought was that it had been addressed to the wrong person. Why would the Minister for Magic meet with a Durmstrang Professor or lowly healer? It had taken minutes to realise that in fact her new positon was important. That she suddenly was the witch people would need to consult with. Conversely, instead of making her feel satisfied, it had made the Head Healer somewhat nauseous.

Before even 10AM this morning Miranda had snapped cruelly at her daughter, almost given a cleaner the sack and set a welcome witch onto the verge of tears. Therefore, the morning was not going especially well when a small knock of her door sounded the arrival of her visitor. The large door was pushed open, her secretary held this open for the Minister and Miranda stood up, smoothing her robes as she stepped out from around her parchment laden desk.

A fake smile was brought to the witch’s features and she held out a hand to shake.
“Madame Minister, good morning.”

Persepolis was in the middle of an unusually sleepy day.  A meeting with Creatures had to be cancelled for a dragon issue, a Wizengamot hearing had been post-poned at the request of the defense, and she'd granted a few extra days for Games & Sports to prepare their budget presentation.  (They did seem to get distracted, didn't they?)

And so she was able to enjoy a leisurely journey from Ministry to Mungo's where she was greeted with great fussing and fauning by a staff who'd clearly been prepared.  She was eager to meet with the Head Healer of St. Mungo's Hospital: Miranda Elliot.  Elliot had made a reputation for herself as ambitious, capable, and a strong leader.  It was no surprise to Zephyr that she was not long for the world of education and that is no slight! Not everyone's calling is ministering to children. 

Persepolis was led in. She put on her smile and strode forward with open arms, her gold and black velvet robes shimmering beautifully.

"Madam Elliot, I am so pleased."  She moved to Elliot, bypassed the offered hand, and embraced her lightly and touched cheeks gently.  "Thank you having me.  Oh we've so much to talk about."

"Tell me, dear, how are you enjoying being back in England? You must have missed home terribly.  Whenever I travel, my mind is never far from Britain.  Even know I pine for Edinburgh."

The first thing to catch Miranda’s eye was the fancy robes, glimmering and undoubtedly expensive (Mira’s own robes she wore as the Head Healer had been cast onto the hat stand in the corner of the office, to only be slipped on when she actually left the office and the mounting pile of work to be done). The next thing to grab the healer’s attention was the Minister’s smile; toothless and not quite reaching her eyes. This unnerved the witch who had her hand held out to shake only to be hugged a moment later.

Now this hug; it wasn’t the usual hug between acquaintances or friends. It was awkward and soft. Mira imagined had she actually shaken hands with Zephyr it would have been limp and unpleasant like the unexpected hug.

“You can only miss home if you are away from it, Minister.” Miranda corrected the Minister with a smile and waved her hand towards a sofa and an armchair in the corner of the cluttered office. She still hadn’t completely organised the office to her liking, casting away old junk to leave room for new, organised storage. The chairs themselves showed their age, worn and sinking. At the end of the month the hospital would be holding a benefit to raise money but sofas that didn’t look moth eaten for when the Minister visited were not on Miranda’s list of priorities.

“I’ve spent enough of my time in Norway in my years for Scandinavia to be another home.” And yet here she was back in England planning to stay. Had it been missing her real home? Missing her daughter perhaps? A wish not to carry on running away? The wizard she’d met and was very much enjoying the company of? “Tea?”

On the small coffee table a welcome witch had left a tea tray along with a small plate of bourbon biscuits and custard creams.  Miranda sat in the armchair, took her wand from behind her ear (somewhere she’d always been told not to put it), and pointed it at the teapot, causing it to start boiling once more.
“I trust you enjoyed the tournament finale, Minister? It was quite disappointing to have to miss it.”

"Rivoting!" chirruped the Minister.  "I couldn't be prouder of the efforts of all the Champions.  Not a single fatality! There was cake in the Department of International Magical Cooperation in thanks for that.  A rousing success, all around."

She gathered up her robe so she could more easily nagivate to a chair.  As she settled she winked at the other witch.  "Although I won't mention the dragon pox scare if you won't! Between you and me I'm quite sure Durmstrang was behind that kerfuffle, but all the better to practice the procedure.  And again!"

The Minister grinned and clapped her hands.  "Again, no deaths! Just a kidnapping!  We did quite well, I think."

Fact was, the Minister was immensely pleased.  She'd been in full support of the still-missing and former Headmistress of Hogwarts Analiza Snark's efforts to bring the tournament back to Hogwarts when Persepolis was on the board of the school governors.  It had been her hallmark effort at the outset of her tenure as Minister.  And no one had died!  A break from tradition, but one she was happy to part with.

"And if I'm correct you had very little Tournament traffic in here.  So that's jolly good."

To hear someone celebrating a kidnap in the place of any deaths was an obscure thing indeed. Miranda could only stare as Zephyr repeatedly pointed out the lack of deaths occurring during the tournament. The teapot began to whistle and the healer was able to break eye contact, instead busying herself with pouring tea first for her guest before herself.

“Yes, quite disappointing, Madam Minister.” Miranda’s lips twisted into a smirk at the mention of so little tournament traffic within her hospital. “You shall have to ensure it is far more challenging next time. An audience truly appreciates a healthy dose of danger.” Milk was poured into the teacups, one cup was offered to the minister and Miranda slipped her wand back behind her ear, “and my hospital appreciates the business.

“I must say,” Miranda lifted her own teacup to her lips. “I do find it a pity neither team I am loyal to managed to take the cup.” Hogwarts she’d held little hope for. Durmstrang, however, she had believed in their success. They were strong and disciplined, likely winners. Elliot took a sip and placed her cup down. She watched Zephyr carefully. The minister hadn’t come all the way to St Mungo’s to discuss the TetraWizard Tournament. The Head Healer wanted to know what the topic of the day actually was.

Tea was brewed, milk was poured, cups were passed and the all the pleasentries were in place.  Like a chalk circle on the ground and black candles lit, this simple rite of hospitality made everything complete.  Why, they could have been a coven if there was only one more.

Persepolis murmured blithe thanks for the tea and shrugged with diplomatic disappointment that Hogwarts hadn't bested Salem.  Oh well.  If she was honest, it hadn't mattered to her who won.  What mattered is that everyone came out looking cherry.  Everything had gone so smoothly and the Ministry had handled it all.  (Except the Dragon Pox scare which we have agreed not to mention.)

But down to business.  With warm teacups in hand, all was ready.

"I'll admit, it's nasty business, Elliot," Persepolis said with a different tone.  "These Dementors are like a dark maelstrom over our lands. The public is panicked and afraid.  They need to know that there's hope."

She wrinkled her nose, leaned forward, and whispered: "Here. At St. Mungo's."

It took a moment to take in the words of the minister. Furthermore, it took another moment to get over the other witch leaning forward and whispering to her as if they were sharing a secret. This action put her on edge as she wasn’t sure how to take it. So Miranda just started until she could think of a response.

“Hope?” St Mungo’s Head Healer finally asked over her cup of tea as if they were discussing a bland and unexciting topic. She placed the cup down on the table and stood. Around the other side of the messy desk, Mira found a piece of parchment and her glasses that had been hanging around her neck were pulled on to scan it. “I’m not seeing much hope in our patient histories, Minister.”

Was this one of those political things? You told the people whose support you needed how they would provide hope and change and they would suddenly bend to your will to help? Elliot wasn’t sure how she felt about this witch in her office trying to do such things.

The parchment was placed on the table in front of Zephyr and Miranda sat back down opposite.
“How does St Mungo’s give the abstract hope that the public needs when our permanent damage ward is now cramming at the seams?”

Like so many powerful witches Persepolis had come to know since her appointment to Minister, Miranda Elliot was excellent at her work and her work, but lacking in the arcana of public-facing concerns.  She, like Tamis Raynor or Minerva McGongall went about their trades with focus and diligence but often forgot to consider how their work looked.  Perhaps only Gabrielle Harker was the exception.

She could tell the Head Healer was bristling with territorialness and offense, but at least she had the tact to ask instead of refuse.  That there was the beginning of hope.

"I know it must seem like only decoration, but public morale is directly relevant to our survival.  Unity of purpose can bolster defensive measures and cooperation towards a goal.  Hope will dispel despair - a most deadly ail.  Despair will ruin us.  Hope of recovery here in your wards...I'm sure you must see how a positive outlook affects patient's recovery."

She cocked her head with a look of sympathy and deference.  "I know well that you are already doing all that you can to save these poor souls.  Neither your nor I can just utter a spell to wash away the damage.  I wouldn't presume to encroach upon that area of expertise, I hope you'll believe me."

"However, if we can show the public the measures you're taking, the compassion of your Healers, the depth of your diligence, the public will begin to burst with confidence in you.  Think of it.  Statements in the Daily Prophet about your latest innovations in care, interviews with your passionate mediwitches and wizards who break their backs to care for their patients.  Robust declarations that we can and will work tirelessly to overcome!"

As she spoke, Persepolis Zephyr's own passions were evident.  Her brows furrowed in conviction and she gestured close to her heart. 

"I have the utmost faith in you and so should the public.  St. Mungo's is not a morgue.  We are fighting here and the public should know."

Miranda thought of it as instructed by the Minster for Magic. She thought of parading her healers in front of reporters to show how excellent their hospital was and how they were supporting the local community in this time of worry and distress. She thought of herself having to reel off lists to said reporters and journalists. Lists about everything her hospital was doing to protect the public. She thought of the patients lying in these wards still struggling to overcome and recover from what had happened to them under this Minister’s leadership.

There was one thing that Miranda could definitely gather from Zephyr’s conviction. It became clear why the witch had been voted in as Britain’s Minister for Magic. She could talk well.

“You are aware, Zephyr, that a Dementor’s kiss, at present, is still irreversible.” Miranda had dropped the formal addressing of the minister. A witch so evidently lead and focused on outward appearances didn’t exactly capture Elliot’s respect. “Anything less severe can still take years of intensive rehabilitation to recover from. I’ve been inside the mind of someone who nearly lost their soul. It’s dark, it’s…” The healer stopped, as if she’d briefly revisited that place. “It’s not something to be overcome. Some of these victims would be luckier dead.”

“I’m not going to tell the public that St Mungo’s will take care of things, that we’re fighting to heal these witches and wizards when all we can do in reality is try to make their minds mildly less horrific places to be trapped inside.”

When Healer Elliot abruptly abandoned etiquette, Zephyr's face dropped and any shine of her benevolence disappeared.  Zephyr wasn't vain, but she was proud.  And she had an expectation as to how witches of their status - hard won - ought to deal.

"Shame."

She allowed the single word to be ambiguous into what she was referring: the situation or Elliot's brazen refusal to cooperate.  She stood from her chair slowly, without breaking gaze. A gaze that was whitheringly done.  A look that showed disappointment. 

"I shan't coddle and pet you. We could have been done some good together, but we'll just have to do it without you.  In spite of you."

Everything Elliot said pointed to her being insecure, close-minded and obstinate.  Her words made it clear this meeting would go nowhere and there was no amount of favors or money she could divert to Mungo's that would change Elliot's heart or earn her cooperation.  So why waste any of it?

"Goodbye, then."

Zephyr was disappointed. Her enthusiasm and ease had gone to be replaced by a colder gaze as she pushed herself to her feet ready to leave. Miranda found herself feeling relieved, happy to have made her point and have Zephyr accept it. She didn’t want to be telling the prophet about how St Mungo’s was successfully battling the dementor effects and she certainly didn’t wish to be doing this in order to make the job easier for a witch obsessed with public appearances.

“… In spite of you.”

That was when Elliot realised what she’d done.

The Head Healer mentally kicked herself as the minister said her calm goodbye. A mere two weeks into her tenure as the Head of St Mungo’s and she had almost very possibly burnt a bridge with the Minister for Magic who would no doubt be very helpful in the near future.

So ignoring the fact that Zephyr had in fact stood up, Miranda leaned over to the table, refilled the tea cup and offered it to the slightly younger witch.

“Please just… wait a moment, Minister.” Mira put a hand up, frowning. “I don’t mean to offend or shoot your plans down.” The witch’s Devonshire accent started to become stronger as she tried to think of a way to appease Zephyr. “The dementor attacks are something that have caused a real disturbance here at St Mungo’s. I myself have been racking my brains trying to find some sort of…” She started to fiddle about in her robe pocket to pull out a packet of magical cigarettes “treatment.” She took a cigarette herself and offered the pack to Zephyr.

“I want to help you but I’m not comfortable telling the prophet that St Mungo’s is bursting with new innovations and ideas to heal those attacked when to be honest it’s quite the opposite.” Elliot waved at the recently vacated chair. “Please, I’m not working against you.”

A tug of the tiniest smile was enough to break the surface tension.  Zephyr was more than relieved, but she knew better than to even consider exploiting this moment.  She sensed that Elliot was a witch of considerable power and that her power came from her bulwark.  And perhaps, some of that power came from the tiniest light inside, a tiniest light allowing to peek through.

Zephyr intended to cherish this professional confidence.   She softened at once, her shoulders sighing and her long sleeves shimmering. She lowered herself back into the chair with her hands folded against her chest.

She then reached out with the intent to lay her hand gently on Elliot's person.

"I want to help you, Madam Elliot.  And I'm not asking for you to be dishonest, but the people don't need any help understanding the grimness of our situation.  Your genuine efforts, as fraught as they are, will be enough.  If they see your work and know the challenges, I believe they can be a force."

"Now! Tell me. Where are we." 

She leaned forward eagerly.

All of a sudden the cold Minister who had been about to leave the Healer to her business was sweetness and pie and once more smiling. She wanted to help Miranda. She even reached forward and briefly placed a hand on Elliot’s arm. With her other hand the healer lifted her cigarette to her mouth and took a long drag to calm herself. She was already deciding that she hated these kinds of meetings. It felt like one of those few times she was rather out of her depth.

Blowing out the smoke slowly, Healer Elliot considered Zephyr’s words. She wasn’t convinced she completely understood the meaning of the question. Instead, as she watched the minister with her flamboyant robes and toothless smile, her ease in the presence of someone as closed off as Miranda herself, the healer wondered if many people ever really said no to her. Her previous reaction had been one rather unaccustomed to the word.

Miranda’s first instinct of a response had been to inform Zephyr that they were in fact in the office of the Head Healer of St Mungo’s comparing who had the longest and sharpest claws. Much to Elliot’s disdain, it appeared to be her counterpart possessing those more likely to draw blood.
“I can arrange some statements for the prophet. My healers would be willing to oblige you.” Her healers would have little choice in the matter.

It was now Healer Elliot’s turn to lean forward, gripping her cigarette between her fingers and watching Zephyr carefully through dark eyes.
“Now tell me, Minister. Is there reason to further worry? Should I be expecting a further influx of patients attacked or is the Ministry taking control of the situation?” Mira figured she knew which was the honest answer.

Persepolis nodded in thanks, knowing better than to interrupt a witch who was already short on words.  Statements and some pressers with her Healers was certainly a good start.  Zephyr knew no more details on that execution were needed at this time - they both had people for that and witches' words were good.

Zephyr might have expected for the meeting to be over, that the Head Healer would be grateful that business had concluded and have her office and hospital back to herself.  But no, Miranda Elliot had questions of her own. 

Splendid!  Zephyr's eyes sparkled at the gentle challenge.

"Department by department, the Ministry of Magic is doomed to fail in this endeavor," she began grimly.  "If Catastrophes only deals with catastrophes, and Mysteries only considers with mysteries, and Creatures tends only to creatures, then I'm sure we'd crumble to this challenge.

"But my Ministry is inter-departmental and we're already seeing the progress we need to see.  It's not enough.  But it's getting better. That, and constant public education in Cheering Charms and the Patronus Charm is empowering the average witch and wizard to go about their lives.  Did you hear about what happened in Devon in April?[1] Remarkable."

Those who accused Zephyr of being two-faced and manipulative would not be totally incorrect, but there's no one who could truthfully claim she was disingenuous in her faith in the witches and wizards of her country.  And so despite, perhaps, her words having the feel of gold leaf, they came from her heart. 

And then, almost suddenly, she shrugged and sat back.  "But will the cold bodies keep coming to you? Yes. Likely for some time.  We don't know the root cause, so efforts at this point are only stopgap."

1.	April 23 - Devon Locals Turn Back Dementors

Minister Zephyr’s words sounded prepared and well-rehearsed. As Miranda slowly enjoyed her cigarette, she found herself wondering how many times their ministry’s leader had given this exact speech. She was a witch of many, well thought out words. She no doubt had a group of people behind her telling her what to say, how to make her look the best to the public.

Mira briefly imagined herself having someone like that behind her. Would they try to make her out as the kindly matron who only wanted to best for the poor dears in her care? Or would she appear as two faced as Persepolis Zephyr? People had often called Elliot hard and cold hearted, a heartless hag or worse. However, one thing could be said for her; she was always straight to the point. She was honest and what you saw was most certainly what there was.

A surprise came when at the end of the monologue, Zephyr was suddenly strikingly honest. Miranda’s eyebrows raised the tiniest amount and she sat forward in the seat.
“And to find the root cause?” She stubbed the cigarette out on a saucer and took her teacup in hand. “They say it’s wise to keep out of the mind of the insane or soulless and allow them their peace. I’ve never taken much mind of that. You need to explore to find the cause for the mental malady.” Her dark eyes met the minister’s.