Camille Kendrick. 6 years old. 10: 53 PM. She had gotten ahold of her father’s wand and managed to remove all the bones in her right foot. She had been given skele-gro and potions for the pain. He’d delivered the news of her death to her parents seven hours later.

Perry Evarard, 90. 11:05 PM.  Splinching victim. He had been given a sedative as he had not calmed down, even after dittany was applied. Otherwise, he was in good health for a man of his age.

Kenneth Norris. 27. 11:07 PM. Patient of the Janus Thickley Ward. Prone to delusions after a botched attempt of putting a memory into a pensieve—when it was too distressful for him, he was often sedated.  He had been there for nine years.
Sheldon Kingston. 8. 12:23 AM. He had been recovering from sores inflicted by protective jinxes from his sister’s diary. He burst into laughter, and the healer thought it had been part of the spell damage.

Claire Pepper. 45. 2:01 AM. Patient of the Janus Thickley Ward. Victim of a horrific accident that had shattered her memory. She had been a loving mother and wife. He’d always liked her. She didn’t deserve the hand that was dealt to her, and neither did her family. Claire had been suffering from migraines as a side effect of her current treatment—which had been promising, but showed no evidence of long term success. She had been prescribed pain potions to counteract that.

There were more, too. Far too many. It started on the fourth, and had continued throughout the day—even when they figured out that it was the healers that were causing the damage. Bezoars had been proven to be minimally effective, but were not eradicating the symptoms.

None of these people had imminently life-threatening conditions. They were not supposed to die. Not here—not like this. Flynn’s floor had not been the only one affected. It was the treatment that had been administered. At least two common medical ingredients had been tampered with. Had the tampering been done within the hospital? Was it their supplier? Flynn didn’t know. He couldn’t know. People who should’ve—could’ve been alive had died on his watch.

They were brothers, mothers, husbands and best friends. They had family who were now left with denial, grief, and loss. Because of them. Because of him.

Flynn glanced up at the clock. 2:10 AM.

 Nine minutes ago his cousin had died. It was his fault, though part of him felt like Claire had been lost to the Peppers long ago. No. That didn’t matter. He was in charge of this floor. He should have ceased all treatments immediately. But now, everything was being tested. People were using spells rather than ingredients to keep patients stable until they knew what the source was… And then what the poison was. Families were being notified, but…

How was he going to explain this to Francis?

Flynn closed his bloodshot eyes and took a trembling breath. It was time to go through his texts, their files—and figure out what the toxin was, what had been prescribed, and the time between administration and death. Worrying about what to tell his cousin wasn’t going to help anyone else who had potentially been contaminated. If it had been their suppliers… Then chances were, that people would be coming in with the very symptoms that showed before his patients died.

Bloody tears, rambling nonsense. Delirium? He thought to himself. Delirium. That was nearly impossible to catch on certain patients in the Janus Thickley Ward—many were experiencing delirium before being poisoned.

Flynn rushed into his office, repeating the symptoms in his head. He pulled out a copy of Rare and Unusual Poisons and Herbs, cross checking the symptoms. He had his suspicions but he had to check. And check again.

There were three poisons that fit: Spur-Winged dragon saliva, funnel-webbed newt slime, or… Streeler venom. Flynn gazed at the page for a moment, letting the words sink in before throwing the book against the wall and holding his head in his hands. He felt like there wasn’t enough air in this room, his stomach turned—but there was nothing in his stomach to let up.

“Fuck.” He groaned, rubbing his temples.

He heard a knock on his door and straightened his robes before opening.

Jules looked about as bad as he did.

He motioned for her to come in and closed the door behind them. He suddenly felt very small. "I can't get their faces out of my head." Flynn choked out, meeting the other healer's eyes.

Jules fancied herself a stone; she was a rare and precious gem that you couldn’t squeeze tears from. This rang especially true when it came to her work -- she fought off death every day, but couldn’t get attached to the ones she’d saved from it. Keeping your distance helped if they didn’t. Even after a patient’s death, Jules retained her stoicism.

Today had been hard, though. These last few weeks had been hell, and this day had been the apex of it all. It seemed that none of the Healers could do anything right today, Jules included. Some of the most talented healers lost people, lost children, lost family. And none of it made any medical sense. It was hard when you did all the right things and you still lost your patient. But when you did all the right things and made your patients worse? To say tensions were running high would be an understatement; they were tearing at the seams.

She knew that Flynn had lost family in the messy debacle that was today. Jules had been booted from her department by her staff, informed that she needed rest and that there was nothing more to be done today. Any treatments they tried seemed to make their cases infinitely more complicated and confusing. And agonizing for the patient.

Feeling hollow, she found her way to Flynn’s office. Being alone was the last thing she felt like doing, and she also knew that misery loves company. She was sure that Flynn was beating himself up over the losses, but couldn’t even fathom what it must have been like to lose a family member in such a disastrous way. Although the sick that had died today were patients who had come for help and the healers had not been able to adequately provide it, Jules hadn’t had to face the loss of a family member from it.

Maybe it was the weariness from being up so late and for so long, but Jules felt like she needed to comfort someone and maybe find some solace for herself. She knocked on the door and let herself in when she was welcomed. Flynn looked exhausted, not to mention bleary with despair. When he looked into her eyes her heart sunk, for normally cheerful eyes looked so forlorn.

“I can’t get their faces out of my head”

Jules had been there. She’d struggled to get past it earlier today, and still the haunting images of the deceased lulled in the back of her mind. “I know,” she said gently, closing her eyes. She opened them again when their neon images appeared on the back of her eyelids. “I know. But it’s part of the job,” Jules sat down in a chair on the other side of Flynn’s desk.

“What am I saying? Fuck that. Today wasn’t supposed to be…” Jules searched for the words, struggling to find them. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

"it's part of the job." Flynn  said to himself-- sitting on the desk close to Jules rather than in his seat across the desk. He didn't want that space right now. "It's part of our job to fight death, every day. It's what we do. If we-- if we fall apart every time a patient dies, then this is not the job for us." His shoulders slumped forward and rested his hands on his knees.  "But today we... We encouraged death. We poisoned them, Jules. We poisoned them and we didn't even..."

Flynn motioned towards the text that was laying open on the floor-- the one that had been thrown against the wall. "There has to be more than one poison, there's so many symptoms-- but one of them I narrowed down to three." He let out a shaky sigh, "I--I should be helping the others test. He needed to be useful-- not... This.

"It's not part of our job to poison people, Jules." But they couldn't know. No one could know.  There was no way.

"We're keeping patients stable with spells while everything is being tested... But that's only temporary." And more were bound to die until the antidotes were found. Spells could only do so much.

"None of us were ever supposed to be killers. It's so fucked. All of it." Flynn said, "How many people on your floor today?"

“But today we… we encouraged death. We poisoned them, Jules. We poisoned them and we didn’t even…”

Jules furrowed her brows and looked down at her folded hands in her lap. Her nails were perfectly manicured, but earlier this afternoon she had chipped one of them. She had been so annoyed by that earlier, thinking it was the worst thing that would happen that day. If she had only known. Sighing, she pursed her lips and looked back up at Flynn, who looked trapped in his own thoughts again. Jules felt more numb than he appeared to be. That would come to bite her in the ass eventually, she knew.

There wasn’t much to be said. As Flynn described what he was doing with his patients Jules nodded along. It was the same thing she was doing with her own.

As the highest ranking expert on poisons in the hospital, Jules was one of the first to detect the infiltration. Just knowing that there was a problem didn’t solve it, though. It had been a long, dreadful day of trying to figure this out. Jules’ mind was reeling from trying to come up with a list of toxins that could have made their way into the systems of all of these patients. There were victims on every floor.

Including Jules’ own. “How many people on your floor today?”  Jules frowned  and her heart hit her throat, just for a moment. “Four,” she said stiffly. A couple in their twenties that smoked gillyweed laced with juice of durian fruit, which caused paralysis. The anecdote for this was simple, or it should have been. There was an old man who, to be fair, hadn’t been the kindest one in the ward, but by no means did he deserve to die. And finally there had been Josie Zinns, only two years old. She was the youngest patient Jules had ever lost. Little Josie had come in giggling, seemingly delighted by the fact that she had eaten something that had made her polka-dotted and ticklish.... The end of her story didn’t match up.

Thinking about her made Jules’ eyes go glossy, the water pricking at her eyelashes but not daring fall down her cheek. Exhaling from her mouth, she clenched her jaw and made every attempt to suck the tears back in. “We have to figure this out.” Jules said fervidly. “What the fuck could have caused… all this?” And so soon after the attack on the Leaky Cauldron… it was almost too coincidental. Jules’ brows laced together again.

"Delirum. Bloody tears. Death. It's a common symptom, but not the only ones... I think there's definitely more than one type of poison at play...."  Flynn stood up, walked over to the book he had tossed, and found the page he had been looking at before Jules came in. He handed it over to her so that she could see. "And judging by how many people have been affected, I believe that contamination is widespread, among many different--" He flushed a bit and let her read-- "You probably figured that out. But I think  I narrowed one of the poisons down to three choices..."

Flynn stood there, paused in anxious silence as he put his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"Spur-Winged dragon saliva, funnel-webbed newt slime, and streeler venom are have those same symptoms. All except streeler venom are incredibly rare." They also had vastly different effects on the internal organs. Streeler venom tended to leave massive internal burns, the dragon saliva caused internal tearing, and the newt slime turned the organs hard as stone after death.

Whatever their head healer, Miranda Elliot had consumed had left her in a coma. Her house elf had brought her in, and now the head healers of each floor had to step in and fill her role. They had to run the hospital without her, as if they didn't have enough on their plates. He was worried about her-- although he hadn't warmed up to her, he still thought she was beyond competent.

Healer Elliot's condition was stable,  the house elf had provided information about any odd behaviors before she passed out which would help narrow down the cause. There were others that were comatose too-- some had passed, some hadn't. What was different?

Flynn rested his hand on Jules' shoulder, squeezing slightly. "I have no idea what would possess someone to. do this." It was absolutely horrific.

"We need to look at our suppliers. This was carefully planned by someone who had knowledge about them. There's no other way. Have you spoken to any aurors yet?" Reports had been made to the ministry, but Flynn had been so busy running his floor and attending to patients that none had pulled him aside to question him yet.

“I think it’s more than one type of poison at play…”

Nodding, Jules added, “Especially considering the other symptoms. Glowing vomit, aphasia…” The speech troubles that young Josie faced at the end were not just due to her young age. Some of the other worrisome patients had struggled with their words as well; struggling in ways that they had not been when they were admitted into St. Mungo’s.

“I agree with you. But that makes it more difficult to narrow down which medicines have been affected...” Jules trailed off, trying to match up medicines to diagnoses. This was becoming overwhelming, and unbelievably what Jules wanted most right now was some advice. Particularly from her boss, who had unluckily fallen ill and taken some of the tainted potions herself. It would be a race against time, to rescue all of the people who might have been exposed.

"Spur-Winged dragon saliva, funnel-webbed newt slime, and streeler venom are have those same symptoms. All except streeler venom are incredibly rare."

She had been following Flynn until he dropped these suggestions. Jules couldn’t stop herself from making a skeptical face. He wasn’t wrong about the prospect, in fact she had just been contemplating streeler venom. “And no one in their right mind would have accidentally mixed those. Those ingredients wouldn’t even be in the same room together.” Jules shook her head and looked down. Evidence of dark magic was mounting, but Jules was reluctant to point this out. Most of the staff -- and the rest of the wizarding community, at that -- were still reeling from the attacks on the Cauldron.

"I have no idea what would possess someone to. do this."

Flynn’s hand on her shoulder brought Jules back from the medical textbook inside her mind. Normally Jules preferred to stay distant from her patients and their ailments. It made her job easier when things were a scientific quandary rather than a life-or-death scenario. She could go home and get a fabulous night’s rest, unbothered by the emotions associated with getting ‘too attached.’ Considering the mentality of the poisoning culprit was disturbing, to say the least. Jules clenched her jaw, failing to find any response to what Flynn had said.

“Have you spoken to any aurors yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure they’ll be getting involved soon. I’ll speak with the apothecary to see if there has been any unusual activity from their sources… any trouble, changes in packaging…” Jules drifted off again, scrambling to com up with a way to gather more clues. “We should have the blood of some of the patients analyzed. It’ll be nearly undetectable; the potions will have diluted in their systems. Maybe Josie’s-” Jules’ throat caught, and she cleared it. “The 2-year-old’s, the other children. Since they’re smaller…” They had gone faster, she didn’t say.

"Shit." Flynn's eyes widened, "We need to recall prescriptions. Immediately." If it hadn't been done already. He rubbed his temples, "We need to contact the apothecary, they need to figure out who got what... The testing is going to take awhile. We can't risk anything." His thoughts were all over the place. They went from dead faces, to guilt, to possible poisons, to possible antidotes, to possible victims.... They couldn't stay in one place. He hoped that by verbalizing his thoughts, it would help ground them.

And maybe, just maybe, Jules was thinking the same thing.  Hopefully, she had already done it.

While he was proficient when it came to plants and poisoning, she was the head of the floor. He hoped that she knew the protocol for such an emergency like the back of her hand. She was put into this leadership position for a reason, Flynn knew. The same could be said for himself.

"We'll figure this out." Flynn choked out, "We have to." They had no other choice.

“Shit. We need to recall prescriptions. Immediately.”

“I did that as soon as I realized it was the medication,” Jules confirmed. She’d made the call not too long after Miranda’s lapse into unconsciousness. There was not a Healer in St. Mungo’s who would be stupid enough to mess up their boss’ flu potions, even Marriack, the daft spaz who had been demoted to the mortuary. Jules considered the madness that would ensue in his department tonight and over the next few weeks. There were going to be a lot of bodies, which made Jules feel numb.

She looked toward Flynn, her eyes sheeted with glass. Throughout her years as a Healer she had seen a vast array of emergencies. There had been some truly horrific incidents, and this wasn’t the first case of tainted potions she’d seen. The lengths one would have had to go through to execute such a stunt -- Jules knew the body inside and out, but still couldn’t explain what would make a person do a thing like that.

Jules looked toward Flynn, who looked ragged with distress, and felt a pull at her heart. Flynn was so sensitive -- strong, in so many ways, but he felt things so intensely. For someone as closed-off and skeptical like Jules, it was a lifestyle she couldn’t imagine. She felt unsuited for such an emotionally powered tension, since she was normally so unscrupulous about feelings.

Yet she found herself moving next to Flynn and putting her arm around him, and leaning her head against his shoulder. “These next few weeks will be awful,” she said quietly. “But we can get through this.” They had to. It was their job.