8PM Foyer of St Mungo's Hospital

The entrance to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was welcoming and bright. Large banners had been erected to welcome the visitors and donors that would hopefully be giving charitably to the cause this evening[1]. Ministry officials, governors and anyone notably rich or having donated before had been invited to the hospital this evening by the Head Healer herself. Or close enough. They had been selected by Flynn Hughes and sent owls from administration staff, signed off in Miranda Elliot’s name with the barely legible rushed scrawl of a distracted healer.

So the foyer was full of witches and wizards from the public, the press and the ministry mingling with healers who, having been apparently off duty, had been somewhat blackmailed into spending their free evening at the hospital in order to raise money for their wards, their fellow staff and their resources. Those who valued their jobs and good relations with their tough new boss had shown up and were brightly smiling at the potential donors, ready to offer themselves for the healer auction and sell a few calendars of smiling healers.

Non healing staff had been deployed to lead tours of the hospital, an exciting way for the public to see the hospital behind the scenes; to see the real job of their healers. Miranda had been advised the public liked and appreciated such things.

Upon their entrance, guests were being plied with Whine[2], an accidental order made by Miranda with thanks to her illegible scrawl and an assistant at the wine merchants who couldn’t read correctly. Unfortunately now, guests who the St Mungo’s staff were trying to schmooze were being insulted by their own beverages.

The Head Healer herself was being insulted by her own Whine as she smiled warmly at an aged wizard standing at barely 5 foot in his gleaming purple velvet robes. He’d gripped her right hand, holding it close to his lips.

“To have such a lovely Head Healer Madam Elliot. Very happy, us Warlocks on the board. Very happy indeed my dear.” Dry wrinkled lips brushed the witch’s skin once more and it took all of Miranda’s self-control not to yank her hand away and hex the old wizard.

“As am I Sir. I do hope that encourages you to donate generously.” She raised an eyebrow, a half joke half completely serious. The old wizard gave a chuckle, released Miranda’s hand and turned to leave.

“Adorable. Very adorable.”
As the wizard vanished into the crowd, Miranda’s smile grew tighter and she glanced to her side at the wizard she’d been glad to see make his way through the doors earlier in the evening. Ignan was probably the only person that right now she didn’t want to curse with an imperious to empty their pockets and leave.
“The next hand I have to shake I want to burn three fingers off it.” Her smile remained tight and uncomfortable. Healer Elliot was not a natural with people she had to be nice and polite to.

1.	Benefit in order to raise money for St Mungo's. See plotting page for more details.
2.	Whine is a type of wine which insults and berates the drinker. See Wiki page. (With thanks to Kelly)

Emmylou was technically no longer an employee of the teashop, but she was practically family. In some cases, she was literally family. It would have been criminal not to show up and do her part to help the sick.

Thus, the veteran coffee-maker had come up with a small donation, thrown on a dress, and gone looking for familiar faces.

Besides, she spent plenty of time sipping caffeine (on the house) with friends who did still work here, so it was like she hadn’t left at all. If one squinted and used their imagination. She was also a frequent visitor of hospital patients, much thanks to George, who had given the staff plenty to do, creating Amelia and falling off his broom in quick succession. (Good job, George.)

Aunt Miranda had to love the pair of them to bits for their various methods of keeping St. Mungo’s up and running.

The young witch smiled brightly as she passed a group of ancient wizards. It was her best charitable smile, even if she hadn’t been one of the chosen ones instructed to grin via threat. Near the lavatory, she stopped to chat for a few minutes with another young witch who had clearly drawn the prime straw on posts. They laughed about it until a weak-bladdered guest required attention.

But it was ok, there were plenty of people to talk to before Emmylou needed to spring up on her aunt. Whom she was still convinced was a cougar. She just had to find out which young healer it was. Who could blame her for taking donations from a hot, young, bearded thing? Emmylou had, recently. Just not a healer. But… then... he was a healer.

There were also drinks, even more appealing than figuring out which overgrown boy in medical robes it was. As she queued up for a refill, she continued to look around, eyes finding the calendars. “Who’s Mr. February?” She asked the nearest stranger. Maybe that was Miranda’s type.

An employee looked at her with an insistent grin, waiting for the witch to take a new glass. “Thanks! There’s a newborn in my family, her screams are a little sweeter. But this is good.” She gave him a wink and turned back to the substantial conversation on seasonal accuracy.

Ignan chuckled, the skin at the corners of his eyes creasing with genuine amusement.
"Just three?" He asked Mira softly, keeping his expression verging on approachable for appearances sake, "And you only have to give the nod, my dear."

This was a somewhat unusual turn-up for the books, Ignan had thought to himself, but observing and hearing snippets of the trials of the event planning the past week or two had made him believe that steering clear of the whole event was not going to win him any points with Mira. Besides, he'd got so very good at the 'schmoozing' as one of his Hogwarts colleagues had put it, with the Tetrawizard all the past academic year. He was now a rather recognisable face for Hogwarts (that wasn't too hard to achieve, since most of the faces came and went since a revolving door had replaced the castle's front door.) His appearance tonight was an inference of Hogwarts support too.

There were quite a number of familiar faces dotted about, somewhere amongst them was Johann who seemed to squeeze an invite to some of the most unlikely events in his role. However, with a stock of friends who were healers and an outpatient himself, it wasn't too unsurprising as he considered it.

"Do they have to kiss your hand?" Ignan asked quietly, his tone almost a little whine. "Or at all. It's so very hard not to curse them when they do." His protest was almost entirely drowned out by both their wine glasses protesting loudly about the speed they drank.

"Oh, you're up again." He sank back just a fraction beside her, becoming her polite shadow of support.

Edwin was attending alone owing to the last-minute unfortunate cancellation of Morgana, who he had hoped would be able to attend with him. Unfortunately he had to put in an appearance, magical catastrophe of national scale permitting. With any luck it would prove as dramatic as the opera from winter, but at least in the hospital they would be well-stocked with the methods of patching people back together.

The whine was proving a hoot amongst the attendees, and had become a talking point at first, though the novelty was rapidly beginning to wear off, Edwin thought as he swallowed down the liquid as it declared his cheeks were becoming ruddy.

Up ahead Warlock Winston Periwinkle was begging audience with Head Healer Elliot, dressed in purple velvet robes that would not have looked out of place with the queen's crown jewels sat upon them. He gave her a few moments after Periwinkle departed before he approached, where it appeared she had an assistant with her.

"Healer Elliot." Edwin greeted, extending a hand, changing at the last minute when he twigged a certain body language between the witch and her companion, who on closer inspection turned out to be the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts who Edwin had met most recently while setting up the fourth task of the tournament. The tall, white haired wizard inclined slightly towards the head healer and muttered what sounded like Edwin's name.

"Thank you very much for the invitation," he continued, shaking her hand rather than taking it to kiss as Periwinkle had. "And may I thank you for your and your hospital's continued efforts to look after my Department. Magical Accidents and Catastrophes are forever in your debt." He smiled, releasing her hand from a firm handshake.
"I'll see the outstanding invoices paid as soon as I can." He added in a quiet tone and gave a nod.

"I trust the evening will be a great success for St Mungo's under your lead."

Past the overly touchy Warlock now making his way towards a group of young female healers, Miranda caught a glimpse of her chatty and bold niece weaving her way through the crowd. The urge to purse her lips tightly was overcome by the need to maintain the smile and approachable manner expected of the Head Healer in charge of such an occasion. As long as Emily didn’t make a loud approach, harping on about young bearded wizards and her aunt’s need to visit trendy bars, Miranda would allow her to stay.

"Do they have to kiss your hand?" Ignan’s voice betrayed some of his thoughts and Mira’s expression changed from one of strained friendliness to intrigue. His final words were difficult to catch when her Whine declared she was an alcoholic harpie who needed to slow down her guzzling. Therefore when Ignan stepped back and the newest wizard stepped up, Miranda placed the bothersome glass on a table nearby and held out her hand to shake.

“Mister Glass.” The name was repeated as they shared a firm handshake free of slobber and scabby old lips.
"I'll see the outstanding invoices paid as soon as I can." the head of department informed the witch and she retained her warm smile.
“With an extra donation in addition to that, Mr Glass? My staff can’t help your staff without equipment and potions, after all.” Was this the way to schmooze? She had so little experience of it.
“Oh, how rude of me. You’ve met Professor Storm have you not?” She turned her head. “Professor, this is Edwin Glass,” as Ignan had only whispered in her ear a moment before. “One of our best customers. Surely one of the best donators too, no?”

"Well, Department budget permitting, Madam Elliot, we've actually had them cut of late…" but his protest seemed to fall on deaf ears, Elliot took her statement as less of a suggestion, and more of a demand.

"Er, yes, yes I have." Edwin replied, though shook hands with the silver haired Professor in greeting to be polite.
"Are you a particular benefactor of the hospital, Professor Storm?"

"Well," the professor answered, his eyebrows raising at the query, "I suppose in some ways you could class me as such."

Edwin's glass loudly proclaimed
"Drink some more, it's not like your cheeks could get any redder!" and interrupted the proceedings.

"Curious stuff this Whine," Edwin remarked, his cheeks only reddening, "One wonders if it continues to protest once swallowed."

"Perhaps help yourself to another glass and let us know." The Deputy Headmaster suggested smoothly, and gestured with one hand as if to send Edwin on.

"Yes, perhaps. Healer Elliot, I'll be in touch, and thank you once again for the kind invitation." He gave a nod at Miranda and a glance to Ignan who was now staring at him with quite some intensity.

"Does it still protest when you swallow it?" Ignan echoed quietly to Miranda as the Head of Department left them be rather swiftly. "I can think of better small talk, and that's saying something."

He sighed, and spied that she'd set down her glass.
"That's it leave me here, you know you want to drink me!" it protested from the surface nearby.
 
"Shall I send for Gerda to find some proper wine for you?" He asked, taking pity on her, even though a part of him found the whine insulting the guests rather amusing.

"Think you've got another intolerable idiot incoming."[1]

1.	Open to anyone!

Jordyn was not meant to be at the benefit to have fun or meet people or ask for money.  She was there to support the hospital and she actually got assigned a job.  Up until the morning she’d just been running around collecting things and handing off things to owls (she wasn’t trusted to write anything – yet), but being a studious little worker bee, she hoped to make herself invaluable. 

She’d thought she’d crossed that barrier when Head Healer Elliot approached her before the banquet (Jordyn’s throat had practically closed when she saw her coming).  There was a swift smack to reality when she approached, and almost immediately called her the wrong name: "You! Girl. Ah...Dimplepee. How old are you? You look ok. Some idiot at the wine company sent us this...insulting wine. You look gormless enough to hand it out without causing offence. Just smile and pretend it's nothing out of the ordinary. There's a good girl."   She didn’t even give time to respond, just turning away with some very serious clicks of her heels. 

It would have been a grave mistake to say no, so Jordyn just nodded and accepted the assignment, despite the major blow to her ego.  Gormless?  That stung.  It didn’t to just stand around fiddling with the hem of her dress though.  It was a job, and even the smallest job was something.  The idea of handing out insulting wine – well, her initial instinct was that it was cheap and not to the quality that would have been expected by a woman like Elliot.  Needless to say, once she hurried to her station, she found out her initial instinct had been completely wrong. 

The wine was literally insulting.  When she started opening a bottle, it sputtered about how cold her hands were and was she even old enough to be handling such a bottle?  (It added, probably not because of her clumsy hands with the corkscrew).  Jordyn stared at the bottles, not really sure if they were sentient or not, if she said anything to it, would it matter? 

She decided it would be best to not try.  People were going to start getting there and as soon as the glasses started pouring and the bottles were notably sassy, Jordyn just had to remember what she had been told: smile and act like nothing is wrong.  It was particularly hard as a little witch who had to be nearly a hundred years old came for a glasas and the bottle commented on her already wobbly walk, suggesting perhaps something else would be a better choice.  Her owlish face made Jordyn raise her hand to her mouth, covering up her laugh with a poorly done fake cough.   

The witch looked at her as though she had something to explain and Jordyn remembered her instruction: smile and act like nothing is wrong.  So, she did smile and bid the witch a good evening.  The woman was so confused… she just left.  Jordyn took a moment to breathe, resetting some of the stemware and the bottles – one huffing at her for her ‘manhandling’ and Jordyn set it down just a litte harder than necessary seemed to shut it up. 

She looked around the room for anyone she might recognize: healer, parent of a friend, mediwitch... it didn't matter at this point.  Except when it did - and she saw Professor Storm.  Her eyes opened wide and she pressed her lips shut as she leaned forward, squinting to try and see better.  Was he standing with Head Healer Elliot?  He was!  Now that was interesting (and potentially fruitful) for her future career...

"Alright Dumbleby?" Elixa snuck up behind her uncorking another bottle of whine with her wand with deft ease. Her tone was upbeat, conversational and she looked full of energy with a grin on her face. Her dark, heavily shadowed eyes took in the younger witch's appearance with admiration.
"You look nice, too nice to be handing out glasses of irritable alcohol if you ask me." There was a pop as the cork came loose and she tossed it aside, nodding to another arrival who scooped glasses from Jordyn's tray a moment later. "We should go somewhere after, be a shame to waste it, and this isn't going to be all that long once people sign their cheques."

She flicked her wand again, pouring glass after glass on another tray for the intern to hand out. Funny to think that she'd set her eyes on Jordyn first at the Hogwarts career fair, and here she was weeks later actually as one of the St Mungo's gang, albeit temporarily. Whereas some people didn't give her the time of day, Elixa had almost made it her mission to find out what she'd been given to do each day and share some of the gossip. Who knew, one day Jordyn might be a useful healer ally!

"Something caught your eye?" She asked, swigging the last of the bottle herself while it protested 'how uncouth!' She scooted up behind Jordyn and peered over her shoulder, scouring her view to check for any good looking wizards, or pretty girls. "You were scowling at something, and I interrupted..."

Jordyn practically jumped as Elixa came up behind her – bubbly as ever.  If there was someone in the building who knew her name and actually cared to get to know her, it was Elixa.  She’d been supremely helpful at the career fair and when jordyn had actually been accepted to the internship program she was one of the friendliest faces Jordyn had encountered.  Normally, Jordyn didn’t require anyone to be friendly to her.  She usually had the confidence required to manage her way around.  The larger world was less keen on having her feel confidence though, and Elixa was an adult Jordyn did not mind associating with – even if she was just a little bubbly. 

Besides, Elixa was already working here.  That counted for something – especially when she’d be applying for their training program after school ended.  At the woman’s comment about her appearance Jordyn laughed gently while shaking her head.  “That could be fun.  I mean, if you have any ideas, I could be up for it,” she commented without true commitment – maybe she’d be able to owl Jai to meet up.  She was intrigued though, if she was going to be honest with herself.  “I didn’t realize how…” she dropped her voice, “boring this is,” she motioned to the crowd and then the drinks.

Of course, one of the bottles scoffed at her comment – apparently they could respond to things and called her a “rude little bint.”  She curled her lip at the bottle, “Who is the rude one?!” she sneered and shook her head.  Alright, that wasn’t productive.  She turned her eyes back to what Elixa was doing, and sighed.  “Thanks for the help,” she added and arranged the tray so she could levitate it carefully, in case she wanted to take a walk around the room with it. 

Of course, her question was a little more interesting than passing out wine and Jordyn put her wand on the table, hitting her hand down over it, her other hand on her hip.  “You know,” she looked around the immediate area, making sure no one was coming, “I recognized a professor standing with Healer Elliot,” she nudged her head in the direction of where she had seen.  “Have you ever seen Professor Storm here before?  I had no idea he was interested in healing – or St. Mungo’s.”  It wasn’t as though she was outright fishing for information… but… well, maybe she was. 

"A Professor?" Elixa asked, eyebrows raising, "What one of your teachers?" As if it needed clarifying. Her hands went to adjust her slightly less conventional attire for a formal event (she had plans to 'vanish' for a healing emergency when she got bored. So what if the emergency was in Diagon Alley?)

Peering over the top of Jordyn's head with little subtlety, the apothecary adopted much the same expression as the intern had when she'd popped up behind her.
"Nah, not seen him about before. But didn't Elliot used to teach at Durmstrang? The Storms all went to Durmstrang," she fished a glass of wine and ignored its protests, "You know I went there, right?" She asked, gesturing to herself before she took a thirsty sip, wondering if her Swedish accent had been enough of a giveaway, or if she'd mentioned it in passing.

"Why, you reckon it's something a bit more juicy?" She asked, offering Jordyn a glass.

Tonight was the benefit for St. Mungo's, and of course this was also the day that Jules' department was flooded with patients. One particularly spastic wizard had decided to grow a plant in his yard that spit large wads of poisonous goo every so often. This poisonous goo had been spit all over not only his yard, but the yards of his neighbors, who had of course poked at it out of curiosity. So, the band of them had ended up in Jules' department, needing to be cured of the horrible rash that caused your skin to grow mold. It wasn't a pretty scene.

After that gruesome day, Jules had to rush into her fancy dress and look presentable for the benefit. Once she wasn't so moldy, Jules walked into the benefit, unfortunately a little late. Well, it was fashionable to be late, wasn't it? It wasn't really Jules' style -- she was annoyingly punctual -- but nobody seemed to notice or mind.

She made her way to the bar first, of course, and ordered herself a glass of white wine. Jules wouldn't be drinking too much tonight, but after today's events she could use a drink. She left a tip for the bartender and spotted Miranda Elliot, her boss. She looked wrapped up in conversation and Jules didn't want to intrude, so she made her way over to Elixa, the witch who worked in her department. She was talking to someone who looked vaguely familiar.

"Evening, ladies," Jules said coolly, taking an elegant sip from her glass. Elixa had seen her massively drunk before, but at work Jules wanted to keep up appearances. She preferred to look professional and put together all the time, but especially at work.

"Are you a witch or a lampshade? What an awful shade of hair!"

Jules whipped her head around, ready to snap at whoever had just commented on her hair. She wasn't deaf! Unfortunately it seemed like the people around her were in the middle of a conversation. The culprit must've gotten away. "Did you hear that?" she asked the women.

There wasn't a benefit that happened in London that Arathorn wasn't invited to. Being one of the wealthiest men in the United Kingdom had that effect. He was a self man made, he had managed to turn his family's Menagerie business into a large international affair which had granted him the title of Multi Galleonaire. Having such wealth about him meant he was 'easy prey' when those looking for hand outs sent their Owls. In the past he had let his wife handle all the benefits for him, but after her passing during the Second Wizarding War it had fallen to him to be the public face of the Wentworth purse. Arathorn gave generously when he found a cause he deemed worthy though more often than not he made enough of an appearance to satisfy his PR quota and then disappeared. Tonight however was one of those he deemed worthy of his time.

Arathorn Wentworth looked rather dashing in set of ebony dress robes, though his hair was silvered he looked much younger than his years. For benefits such as these he seized the opportunity to introduce those of importance to his grand daughters (of which he seemed to have too many) but many of those were becoming disappointments all of their own. For tonight he was joined by a vision in violet, the only Grand Daughter yet to disappoint. He knew he should have had Xavier by his side but the Tawse name still sat uneasily with the greater Wizarding populace and he wasn't quite sure he could count on his Grandson to behave. Heir or no, this was not the place for the sullen youth.

He approached Head Healer Elliot with a charming smile, "Madame Elliot, always a pleasure." He gave her a courteous nod, his hand on his Grand Daughter's - which was looped around his other arm, "May I introduce my Grand Daughter Cadance?"

The lithe blonde on his arm smiled sweetly perpetuating her appearance of a porcelain doll, "Pleasure to meet you." Her cool grey blue eyes moved from the healer to her shadow, "Hope you're having a good evening Professor Storm."

Arathorn's own cool grey blue eyes - the Wentworth Legacy - caught sight of the wizard and he turned his own smile towards him, "Ignan, my good man, I almost missed you there." Arathorn had sat on the Board of Governors at Hogwarts for many years now and had even voted for Storm to move ahead to become full Headmaster when Herschel Reid seemed incapable of taking the post.

 It was sort of a relief to know that Elixa had never seen Storm around before – though she couldn’t say she was terribly happy about it either.  If he had some deeper connection to the hospital, as that could benefit her in the future.  Nepotism might not have been the best way to get into anything… but Jordyn couldn’t help but see its benefits. 

Elixa’s connection about Durmstrang made sense though and Jordyn nodded while her lips were pursed.  “That’s right, isn’t it?” she remarked idly to all of the points presented.  She did remember that Professor Storm was one of Durmstrang’s own, and then Elixa was definitely not from the British Isles, so that made sense.  Her accent, she supposed, should have given it away more readily.  Jordyn hadn’t really thought about it up until that moment. 

She definitely needed to stop staring though – as soon as Cadance and some older man (if Jordyn didn’t know better, she’d say that was the fiancé) approached.  Cadance certainly didn’t look as though she was working the benefit and Jordyn hardly wanted to talk to her.  She was so proper, always trying to please people.  Jordyn refocused. 

Shrugging at the question, Jordyn accepted the glass (which asked quite loudly, “why is an infant in charge of my stemware?” followed by a guffaw) and then she took a sip, tired of the whining glasses and ready to just drink it since they kept taunting her.  Thankfully she was seventeen, and no one would probably notice – or care.  “I’m not sure if it’s jucier than that,” she looked at the other woman out of the corner of her eye, “maybe they just have some mutual connections,” she added with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Another witch approached the table, apparently having just arrived, and Jordyn couldn’t help but smirk over the rim of her glass (”Sipping again already? My what a lush! it commented and Jordyn ignored).  It seemed the lavender haired witch – Jordyn remembered seeing her, but couldn’t for the life of her remember her name already,

When she asked about what she heard, Jordyn shrugged.  “It’s whine,” she turned the bottle and held it up for the woman to exam.  Again, it berated Jordyn for her rough handling and was annoyed at her gloves (as if the stupid thing had a choice), “ordered by accident.  Endless amusement for everyone,” she commented dryly, sort of forgetting her place for a moment before she put the bottle down and was tight lipped, averting her gaze again.  She did not need to be sassy right now.

Flynn had poured plenty of sweat, blood, and tears into putting this event together.

Okay, perhaps that was an exaggeration. But it definitely made him cry on the inside, no matter how much he denied it.

Overall, he was pleased with how it had turned out-- with a glass of Reasoning Riesling in hand, the healer was more than prepared to greet and schmooze anyone who walked through the door. There were plenty of familiar faces about-- coworkers and wealthy benefactors alike. Many were making small talk about the offensive wine; some were exchanging polite niceties, and a lovely selective few were discussing the recent healer calendar. Although it had been difficult to persuade some of the St. Mungo’s staff to participate, his charm had won. Kale Ferris and poor Cassidy MacQueen were among his victims. Flynn doubted that the former particularly minded.

“Who’s Mr. February?”

Although he had been walking away from the voice, Flynn turned right round on his heel and faced the young woman who had such an important inquiry.

“Mr. February, at your service~”  Flynn wiggled his eyebrows comically and raised his glass at the young woman like the giant nerd that he was.