5…4…3…2…1 Her steady breaths calmed her. Shouting was unnecessary. A waste of energy.
“Were you dropped on your head when you were born?”
“No Ma’am”
“When you were 20?”
“No Ma’am”
“Did someone bash your head in this morning?”
“No Ma’am.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“Ma’am?”
“I. Don’t. Understand.” Miranda Elliot leant forward, elbows on her desk as she spoke to the mediwizard.
“It wasn’t intentional, Ma’am. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“You didn’t know his left leg would come off when you sawed it off?”
“I got confused Healer Elliot!” The wizard was starting to look frazzled, stressed. He gripped his hat between his shaking hands.

“Confused.” The head healer nodded and rose from her chair. She walked around to the wizard and stepped closely. Her voice dropped, sounding soft as she offered him a tissue from her desk. Fringlespig’s eyes widened, nervous.

“It’s ok, Fringlespig.” She gave his arm a firm squeeze. “I get confused as well. I get confused when asked to tell my left from my right. You can’t be blamed for that. It’s very tough. It’s only a wizard’s leg.” Confused, the mediwizard remained frozen to the spot, trying to read his boss’s boss’s boss.

Through the window of the office door Elliot saw her assistant talking to one of the Charges. Miranda smiled calmly at the wizard next to her.
“You can apologise to his wife. Profusely apologise to him and give him your redundancy pay and the last three months wages. Your incompetence isn’t going to ruin our reputation.” His arm was given another squeeze; the witch’s smile grew warmer, as if she was comforting him.

“Now, as you can see, I have a competent staff member waiting for my attention. Don’t ask for a reference.” She gave him a delicate push and waved to her assistant, telling her to welcome Healer Deville into the Head Healer’s office.

“Healer Deville!” Miranda now completely ignored the wizard who wasn’t sure if he was finished with. “How can I help you, healer?”

It took a true conundrum to stump Jules Deville, but the day had finally come. Or days, rather. In the past week, seven patients had come in complaining of a very unique set of symptoms. It hardly took a master observer to figure it out once the patients opened their mouths to relay their troubles. It all came out in song. Not any type of song that she could picture these young wizards and witches wanting to sing, either. Opera, show tunes, even a strange case of polka had been sent to Jules' department.

All the patients claimed that the singing had 'just started,' immediately prompting the general care staff to send them to Jules' department. These were the bulk of her cases, sadly enough. Jules dealt with a lot of druggies who experimented (badly) with black market potions, so she was familiar with the popular ones. None of the potions or plants she had in her mental roledex consisted of this particular set of symptoms. She was therefore unable to diagnose and treat, and as time went on, the patients' voices were becoming hoarse, their throats raw and scratchy.

Time being of the essence, it was time to bring in help. Jules had respect for the new Head Healer and admired all that Miranda had accomplished at a fairly young age. Jules was fairly young for the position she held; reaching the head of a department was quite an accomplishment for someone in their early thirties. Head of the whole of St. Mungos though -- that was really something. Jules couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

The negative feelings abated as she overheard Elliot refer to Jules as a competent staff member -- that was nice, but she'd only been saying it to Fringlespig. He could barely be considered human, his brain was so tiny. Surely he had to be some relative of the goldfish.

"Good afternoon, Healer Elliot," Jules said, showing Miranda the same respect she'd been given. Jules handed a stack of files to Miranda, which contained all the information she'd gathered on the cases she was currently baffled by. "I have eight patients, all under the age of 30, exhibiting extraordinarily strange symptoms. I've never seen any strain of recreational potion resulting in this behavior," Jules explained. She took a deep breath before admitting the last part, "and I was hoping you could offer some insight."

The competent staff member handed her boss a stack of files and began to explain a conundrum while the incompetent staff member lingered by the door. His body language and facial expressions were now revealing his understanding of the situation. He finally realised he’d just been sacked and lost a great deal of money for it. He looked to Elliot who was now focusing her attention on Healer Deville.

“You’ll regret this.” He grit his teeth and left the room, slamming the door behind after his parting comment.

“I will if I have to the replace the door.” Miranda didn’t spare a glance at the parting wizard. She absentmindedly mumbled her own response while taking the files around to her desk to sit down.  The glasses from her desk were placed on her nose and Mira opened the file.

Jules Deville was a decent healer. Her rise through the ranks to Healer in Charge was evidence of that. She was a young Charge but then three of her five specialised healers in charge were around 30 years of age. In this career if you were good at the job, had ambition and the opportunity presented itself, you could rise quickly. Miranda was confirmation of that as Head Healer before the age of fifty. But the opportunity had come up and as long as she could control it, a similar opportunity would not reappear for her subordinates until she was happy to retire in a very long time.

Or at least Miranda thought Deville was bright…

“Singing?” The Head Healer looked over her glasses at the Charge. She shut the file, too much to glance over on a topic that she didn’t completely believe was genuine. Her analytical gaze studied Deville for a few moments before she pushed her glasses up onto her head.
“What have you done to make sure they’re not wasting our time?” 8 young witches and wizards coming in complaining of only being able to sing was ridiculous. Surely the healer understood this?

"Singing?.... What have you done to make sure they're not wasting our time?"

It took all of Jules' might not to react sharply to Elliot's condescension. She was unable to keep her left eyebrow from shooting up in suspicion, but her mouth remained tightly closed. "It's a pattern. Seven patients this week and three last," Jules informed her. "Two of them were released after it was discovered they had just taken a large dose of Singing Soluble from that toy shop." Zonko's was the name of the place Jules was thinking of, but she was so unfamiliar with that breed of people that the name escaped her in that moment.

"None of the other patients have responded to the treatment for the Soluble," Jules continued. The antidote  for the Soluable was a simple concoction of unicorn tears and marrow of a Dementor, but Jules often wished it was a heavy dose of reality. That was something she could also provide, with fewer materials. That technique hadn't worked on the remaining singers, either.

Deville did a beautiful job of recounting what Elliot could find on the first page of the file she’d been handed. Was that an indignant expression flashing across the purple haired witch’s face? Miranda’s lips pursed and she leaned across her desk, grasping her teacup and sliding it across the desk to rest in front of her.

It was rare that healers willingly came to this office for advice. Most healers wanted to get on with their work without the Head getting involved. Miranda Elliot was known for being meticulous, a rigid perfectionist who was pushing relentlessly for an improvement in standards at St Mungo’s. People didn’t want to get up close and personal with her, let alone ask for help with a case. Elliot’s reaction to this was probably one of the reasons why.

“You didn’t answer my question.” The head healer’s glasses were pushed back onto her head and she scrutinised Deville with a sharp stare. “They won’t respond to treatment if they’re wasting our time, Healer Deville. How do you know they’re genuine? I could wander up now to the third floor and break out into my own rendition of "Do the Hippogriff"[1]. How do you know if I've taken something, been poisoned, or I'm having a joke?"

1.	A Weird Sisters song

Again, Jules found herself setting and clenching her jaw to avoid saying something insubordinate to her boss. As the head of her department, she had grown accustomed to being the boss. She was the one who got to patronize her staff, not the one who received the criticism. She had done her dues.

At the same time she understood Elliot's interrogation. As much as it infuriated her, Jules would have acted the same in Elliot's shoes. It was better to be doubtful rather than jump to conclusions. Still - it never felt good to be condescended to, especially being a well-established medical professional. Jules took a breath.

"Singing yourself raw and bloody is a rather extreme dedication to a joke," Jules noted. Perhaps it was her lack of a childish spirit, but she was fairly certain that any sane person would agree with her. She had cared for patients who went too far with a joke -- most healers had dealt with such people. Idiots were abundant anywhere you had people smart enough to take care of them.

Most people didn’t value or appreciate criticism. They didn’t gladly listen to superiors questioning their skill and work ethic. They didn’t enjoy being instructed to explain their reasoning only for it to be evaluated by someone higher up with more power. Miranda had been in Deville’s position countless times. She’d stood in the office of the Head Healer explaining theories and research ideas only to be shot down without a second thought.

But Miranda wasn’t like previous head healers. She didn’t shoot down research ideas and she only wanted to get to the bottom of theories, to know they had the correct grounding. She wouldn’t have been doing her job correctly if she didn’t.

"Singing yourself raw and bloody is a rather extensive dedication to a joke,"

“Finally.” A small, approving smile reached the Head Healer’s lips and she very nearly clapped. “Perhaps took a little longer than I’d have liked but you got there.”

Elliot stood from her chair and gathered her emerald and gold head healer’s robes, pulling them on before she took the file in her hands. She’d rather see for herself the patients rather than reading the file. Healer’s notes could omit so much vital information sometimes.

“Tell me, Healer, what have to tried before coming to me?” She waved to the door, a sign for them to leave the office and find the new Bloody Choir of St Mungo’s.

"Perhaps it took a little longer than I'd have liked but you got there."

The clapping Elliot added to her comment only made Jules feel even more like a horse chomping at the bit, but yet again she remained stood at ease. "It's all in the file," Jules commented (maybe a little passive-aggressively). At least the Head Healer was beginning to realize that this wasn't just some petty case -- they had something potentially serious on their hands.

"Tell me, Healer, what have you tried before coming to me?"

"As I said, I used the Soluble treatment, but with no results. It quieted down the singing to a bit of a stage whisper, but the serenading didn't cease, even after a double dose." She shuddered thinking about the song one of her patients had sung about the love triangle he'd gotten himself caught in. Oh, the woes of teenagers. The last things that should ever be put to song. "To soothe the scraping on their throats, i've given them a potion that will relax the muscles. I'm hoping this might help with the singing as well." Or maybe it would just have the patients singing slow, slurred ballads.

It didn’t take long to reach the third floor as Deville filled Elliot in on what she’d so far done to treat the patients (Elliot could ignore the comment about it all being in the file). The focus had been on treating the symptoms rather than focusing on finding the cause. Healers went about treatments in different ways. The hospital had a diverse staff and Miranda was quite satisfied with different methods employed. Deville was a Healer in Charge who was clearly quite capable. The fact she was asking for help and advice was also telling of the fat she acknowledged she didn’t know everything. Miranda would never claim to know everything, either. She was a specialist in a couple of areas but potion and plant poisoning was not one of them.

“Please! Please find a way to soothe my aching heart!” The voice rang through the corridor as Elliot and Deville pushed their way through the double doors to the ward.”This potion you’ve prescribed me really makes me need to faaaaaarrrt.” The note carried on from the tone deaf singer sat upright in his hospital bed.

“I don’t know what I’ve done, to deserve this pain. I fear that if I keep singing, there will be tons of rain!” The terrible singing and lyrics continued and Miranda already found a headache threatening to rear its ugly head.

“Scilencio is tempting” murmured the Head Healer as she made her way farther into the ward beside the Healer in Charge.

“Have samples been taken? Has anyone checked their memories?”

As Jules and Miranda approached the Potions & Plant Poisoning wing, Jules prepared herself for the dreadful noise that would follow. One could hear the wails from a few steps away, and Jules took a deep breath before the doors opened themselves as she and Elliot walked through.

Even though she had been dealing with this for days, Jules couldn’t help but cringe as the multitude of voices rose. The singing ranged from operatic to completely off-key to screaming. Jules rolled her eyes as she approached the front desk, where there was a large chart of all the patients’ initials and a bit of information about them.

“Silencio is tempting” Jules heard Miranda murmur, and Jules couldn’t help but agree. It was technically ‘immoral’ to silence your patients in case of any type of emergency where they needed to yell out. Or sing out, as it were.

Jules put the files down on the desk and flipped through them to review them yet again. Miranda asked about whether the patients had been tested or checked for memory. “Their blood didn’t test for any of the usual club potions taken by this…” Jules paused, turning up her nose. “Age range. They were all brought in on a weekend, admitted to being mostly at bars and clubs, parties, that sort of thing.” She flipped through the files a bit more, not even really reading anything at this point.

“None of them will admit to taking anything, either” Jules sighed, rolling her eyes. “But it’s clear that something is in their system. They’re being- very stubborn. Even attempts at legimens have been used, but they really dont want the truth getting out about this, it seems.” Jules had no idea why the youngins who had landed themselves here were so concerned about hiding what they’d done. “They lied at first, about where they’d been, a few of them. But of course we managed to get that out.”

Attempts at legilimency had been used. Mira didn’t consider attempts to be enough. The word ‘attempts’ meant a lack of success, a failure. It was true there weren’t many people with a skill equalled to hers in legilimency, but then, Miranda had been practicing it for years and was now an expert. She wasn’t sure anyone of her healers could rival her ability.

“They lied at first, about where they’d been, a few of them. But of course we managed to get that out.”
“Of course.” Mira’s lips pursed in disapproval as she glanced around the ward. Ballads, blues, anthems and some plain terrible voices rang out in a variety of volumes. She was only able to feel thankful that whatever the patients had taken didn’t make them dance in addition to singing their hearts out. The prospect of the ward being full of singing and dancing witches and wizards in their twenties didn’t bear thinking about.

“I won’t lie and say potions and plant poisoning is my speciality.” Elliot calmly stated, considering their next step. “That is your domain. However, I shall tell you what they’ve taken and you can take it from there.” And then she escape the singing.

So she span on her heel, long gold and emerald robes billowing as she abandoned Deville at the desk (whether she chose to follow or not) and slipped into the cubicle of a particularly anxious looking warbler.
“Good morning Mr…” The clipboard at the base of his bed was picked up and she pushed her glasses down over her eyes to study the name, “Trunkley”. The young wizard looked like he’d barely left Hogwarts and his hair (longer than Mira’s, she noted) was pulled back into loose a ponytail. He looked up at the witch, worried, his lips tightly sealed together in an attempt to not burst into further song.

“I’m Head Healer Elliot.” Her smile was warm, sympathetic as she looked down at him. He loosened his lips as if to reply and Mira put a hand up to deter him. “Don’t worry about pleasantries.” Elliot stepped further into the cubicle and decided to occupy the chair beside his bed. This was something that she discouraged her staff from doing but one needed to approach the suggestion of legilimency in a certain manner. Barging into a patient cubicle and standing over their bed as you demanded they allow you inside their mind wasn’t the way to go about it and Mira would rather not go where she wasn’t to be accepted.

“Healer Deville informs me that you’re not completely sure what’s caused this.” Mira smiled sadly and sat forward in the chair, resting her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together as she studied the wizard. “We can’t work with no information, Mr Trunkley. And I’ve heard these potions don’t tend to wear off.” A quick glance was cast at Deville, a warning not to correct her.

Jules knew that she had to develop her skills in legimens. Veritaserum was rarely used in medicine anymore, particularly in Jules' field, since it could mix with other potions in the body and make diagnosis even harder. Head Healer Elliot was rumored to be an accomplished invader of minds.

"...That is your domain. However, I shall tell you what they've taken and you can take it from there."

Following Elliot into the room, Jules clenched her jaw and rolled her eyes while Elliot wasn't looking. As if Jules hadn't already figured out which herbs and powders were in the patients' systems. A list of ingredients was not enough in this case; she needed more information about the brewer, as this potion was (until now) totally unheard of. Clearly this person had created their own original recipe, which made treatment difficult.

It was foolish of Elliot to talk to Trunkely, one of the more mutinous teenagers in her ward. However, Elliot made it clear that she had this situation under control. Jules was tired of dealing with Trunkley's egotistical, anti-authoritarian personality.

"We can't work with no information, Mr Trunkley. And I've heard these potions don't tend to wear off."

"Roit, this's typical government bullshit" Trunkley sang in his thick Cockney accent. Jules rolled her eyes openly this time. "If I told you a bloody thing I'd be a tit" This martyr-like attitude may have been over-the-top but Jules had some respect for his commitment, at least. After all, maybe it was the singing that was making him so overzealously dedicated to his rough-tough image.