Head Healer Miranda Elliot was habitually immaculately put together with smart work clothing, long elegant head healer’s robes and neat pinned back hair. For years she had built a professional persona, one that didn’t let people see behind Healer Elliot to Mira the witch underneath. From a hospital bed after having spent ten days in a coma, it was near impossible to present such a persona and retain her professionalism when she was sat in a hospital gown with hair scruffily scraped back into a ponytail and features pale with nausea and tiredness.

The Head Healer of St Mungo’s had woken up the evening before to be greeted by her relieved other half (whom she’d previously hoped had been a secret), her Irish healer, and a serious bout of nausea. The healer had instructed her to remain in bed for the following few days, her other half had agreed (probably aware of how likely his lover was to follow up on the instruction), and her nausea had remained through the night.

Calling a meeting the following morning had seemed a necessary action considering her hospital had been left in the hands of the healers in charge for the past ten days. She’d been told about the poison in the potions and how she hadn’t been the only one affected but telling a witch just woken from a coma a lot of detailed information had apparently not been on the minds of Healer MacQueen nor Ignan. Yet she needed details.

The hospital room was considerably smaller than the Head Healer’s office or the meeting room and the Healers in Charge and others that were significantly involved in the case were squashed in around the head healer’s bed. She felt oddly ridiculous sat up in bed, the leader of a hospital hospitalised herself. She was still weak and uneasy on her legs but wasn’t going to leave her hospital to its own devices any longer.

“What’s the death toll?” She addressed the crowd around her. “What have you done to address this?”

Still Jules had not cracked. Well, maybe she had started to crack, but barely. Her hair wasn’t its best, and she had been wearing these clothes for two… or was it three? … consecutive days. Jules was ambitious and determined when it came to the solution, and they were just scrambling together an antidote now. The last couple of days… how long had it been, since?... and all on top of Healer Elliot being out of commission. Much as she hated to admit it, Jules longed for the woman’s advice and perspective.

“Good to see you’re feeling better,” Jules said with some sincerity, though it came flat. A frazzled Jules looked at a clipboard to give her the information. “We’ve identified the toxins. We’ve just come up with a successful antidote and have been administering it to the patients that come in with symptoms…” Sometimes the deaths happened quickly though, too fast to get to a hospital. Apparently the poisoning had come from high up, and over-the-counter potions had been affected as well. Jules didn’t want to think about the death toll overall. She just focused on lowering it; particularly the ones at St Mungo’s.

“We lost 29 the first day.” Jules told her. She closed her eyes, that had dark bags beneath, and looked toward her feet. Pointy heels, like always. She wasn’t a particularly tall woman, and the boost helped her confidence, which she usually had in abundance. These past two weeks had taken a lot out of her, and the heels might have been the only things keeping her up.

Getting called into a meeting with the Head Healer was not a surprise to Arcturus. Not that he did have a choice, as the summons was "all Healers-in-Charge and healers involved with the poisoning". He was only surprised the room wasn't more crowded, since he remembered most of his fellow healers, even on the other floors, were pitching in a hand.

He looked around the faces around him as his superior spoke, the first one to take the leap in the face of answering the Head Healer's no-nonsense questions. The answer was, to his surprise, simpler than he'd expected, though he assumed that Jules had been plenty frazzled of late and perhaps wasn't recalling so easily right now. He sympathised. He'd been the same way. Though that wouldn't excuse her for wearing heels like that, amazing she hasn't twisted an ankle on these smooth floors yet, the cynical voice muttered in his head. He shushed it. Not the time.

"Twenty-nine the first day, number dwindled on consecutive days, most of them children and elderly," he said, following up his superior's information. "We're now dealing with stragglers, discharged patients to whom the contaminated potions were prescribed to. Four separate contaminants were isolated and identified a few days after, but antidote creation took more time than that." That had been too much of Golpalott's Third Law in the past few days. "The British Association of Herbologists and the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries offered help to us - Herbologists suggesting alternative remedies and providing us a database of possible cures, and the Society giving us additional help in tracking the paper trail."

Past that, it was all that he could offer. He'd been mostly on the floor otherwise. "Most of the healthier patients are just about waking up from comatose sleep. They are on the mend and hopefully we'll be discharging them by the end of this week. It's the weaker ones we're worried about, the already ill, the young and the old." Arcturus looked down at the floor, or what he could see of it beneath the feet of the crowd around him. He still somewhat felt like he wasn't doing enough, though there was little else he could do at this stage.

Beside Miranda’s bedside was a pile of Daily Prophets she’d requested last night when she’d woken up. The story had been carefully followed each day, bringing the public up to date with what the healers were willing to share or unwilling but got out. During the night, despite a suggestion to rest (hadn’t she had enough?), Miranda had read, reread and read the articles again before calling this meeting to get the details the public hadn’t been privy to.

The articles from the 5th December lay open on the Head Healer’s lap.


“We lost 29 the first day.” Confirmed Healer Deville, a resigned expression etched into her features. Elliot’s lips tightened together, forming a small line as she considered the lives entrusted into her healers having been taken so suddenly. It felt as if she’d woken into a nightmare. St Mungo’s Hospital was supposed to be a safe place where the sick and injured could recover. It was the safe place Miranda had worked at for nearly 30 years. It wasn’t the place where trained healers unknowingly poisoned their patients.

Healer Hollingbury went into further detail while Miranda’s eyes refused to meet the gaze of any staff member. She looked down at the article in her lap, taking in the spoken words from a healer she’d threatened back in October. “Be in no doubt of who you need to impress.”[2] she’d offered her parting words at their first meeting. Now, even in these horrific circumstances, his knowledge was doing that.

“I see.” For a moment the Head Healer was struggling for words. Part of her wanted to hide under the bedsheets and not come out until the whole mess had blown over. Would the death toll have risen so high if she’d not been poisoned and had instead continued to lead her hospital? Would she have made a difference to it all?

Finally the nauseated witch looked up from the article, her expression stern.
“Four contaminants means this wasn’t an accident or something we could have stopped when we take potions in from suppliers because it’s cheaper and easier than brewing them in house.” She’d complained to the board of warlocks once before about the hospital not brewing their own potions. Everything was a money saving effort. “That is something I will argue with the board of warlocks.”

“These have been horrible circumstances,” Miranda took a breath, finding her words in a brain overwhelmed by the news she’d taken in. “and I feel an enormous amount of guilt for not having been in a state to lead you. However,” she paused, eyes dancing between each healer, “I am very proud to be the Head of a Hospital with such excellent staff. We’ve all lost patients in our time, I…I can name you everyone that‘s died in my care. For every one, I’ve visited the family in their home afterwards. St Mungo’s was a safe place to be and people need to know that it still is. They need to know that we care.

“In the next two weeks, if any of you have been involved in the loss of one of these patients, I expect you to visit their loved ones and tell them how sorry we at St Mungo’s are. We are going to be sued. My desk is going to be piled high with complaints and grievances about our hospital’s negligence. This that I’m asking of you isn’t about stopping that. People have a right to compensation for their enormous loses. What I need you all to do is show them that the people here care.”

1.	Daily Prophet Article written the day Miranda fell into the coma
2.	[Oct 18] She Who Breathes Fire

Jason stood quietly in the back, leaning his shoulder against the wall, hand in front of his mouth to keep bitter, pent up words from spilling out. Everyone had lost people on their wards. His ward, thankfully, was not as full as it could be. Whatever had caused this hadn’t taken the full moon into consideration, and for that... Jason was grateful. But he had plenty of other creature induced injuries.

People who were dragon bit often wanted painkillers, and if they were particularly uncontrollable, sedatives were used to help ease their healing. The last thing one expects from a sedated patient with their arm bit off thanks to a hungry dragon is for them to start vomiting glowing bile everywhere. Of course, they used plenty of healing potions. A child bit by a Jarvey wasn’t expected to start laughing uncontrollably, nor were they expected to slump into a sleep that his staff couldn’t arouse the child from. The little boy was supposed to stop crying and feel better.

Jason had slept in his office, the small sofa not quite as comfortable as his bed, available whenever his staff needed him. Things had started to slow down, especially when they figured out what exactly it was that was causing it. People were just as distraught to have to moan through their pain as they seemed about being poisoned. Emergency batches were being brought up for testing before healers were mixing them, but all of that took time.

“And what if their family, so distraught in the loss of a loved one, attempts to attack us? Many of them blame our staff for these untimely deaths.” His hand fell away from his mouth as he began talking, slipping it into his pocket as he frowned. “And we still have people coming in despite the news because they need help. Where are we going to get uncontaminated ingredients to appease the public? We can’t offer to regrow bones without also offering something to take the edge off that pain.”

Jason wasn’t blaming Miranda for napping while St. Mungo’s went up in gossiping flames. Not fully, anyway. His ward had sent flowers to the Head Healer, after all. He knew, however, the concerns that had been continually laid at his feet, and some of them had no answers.

“And what if their family, so distraught in the loss of a loved one, attempts to attack us? Many of them blame our staff for these untimely deaths. And we still have people coming in despite the news because they need help. Where are we going to get uncontaminated ingredients to appease the public? We can’t offer to regrow bones without also offering something to take the edge off that pain.”

This was the first time--that Ahmes knew of--that they'd all been assembled like this.  It was certainly an education. She had never been exposed to the more human aspects--how to talk to families, how to deal with lawyers, and certainly not  anything like what Jason Marren had just described: potentially violent altercations.  Ahmes was beginning to feel like a Muggle in a Magical Menagerie, eyes opened for the first time at a new world of frightening possibilities.  But that last one... that last one she could speak up on.

"Ah," Ahmes said from her position in the back of the room, holding up her quill into the air.  She looked about anxiously.  Most of these healers didn't even know her; she'd been tucked away behind databases, finding efficient billing systems... they might have thought she was with the welcome witches or human resources, for all she knew.

"Ahmes Morgan. Systems and product developer," she said briskly by way of introduction.  It seemed jarring, in this grim room. She took a deep breath.   No one was going to listen if she sounded meek as a mouse. "I honestly don't know how to touch upon Healer Marren's concerns about the families," she gave what she hoped would come across as quite sympathetic though how one even touched upon an issue like that... Focus, Ahmes.

 "--but I do think I have something that could at least help to get you up and running in terms of pain management potions."

Ahmes couldn't read their faces. But their reaction wasn't important.  Even skeptics couldn't argue with results.  Pressing on, she said:  "So I have been looking into the composition of each of the affected potions, and I'm in the process of developing, well it's a... dot." She really needed a better name for that. "It can--or should--help an administering healer determine if a potion's fit for consumption.  With it, you wouldn't need to wonder if what you give your patients is safe. You'd know."   She held up a glass phial, feeling a bit like a peddler.  "It adheres to the semi-porous glass of most brewing phials and there's really a lot more I could say about the reactive process used in developing it--but I know we don't have the time." However different their worlds were, an intensive study of potions was certainly common ground.  "I'll just say that it will turn the proper color--" she still needed to make charts on that, "only if the potion is in balance--fresh, proper ingredients, right viscosity... Of the three classes of potions, I've started with the painkillers first; that seemed particularly important. The initial trial was a success... I'd like to test again to be certain, and then just need to create enough for use." 

She'd taken a lot of their time just now. "I know this is a solution for down the road, but I could do the same thing for the work-aroud potions that you are developing.  And it could show everyone--the public, families--that we are taking action to prevent future instances.  In a day or two, I think I can have," a slight cringe, "dots for the pain potion.  I'll need information on the volumes typically administered, though."  She looked about and added, "If you think it helpful, I could also test the waters at GMM--the company I contract with--to see if they have any imported ingredients that may have been free from contamination." It was unlikely, but worth a shot. 

Standing at the back of the room behind the gathering of healers, Jason Marren had interjected with his question and Miranda pursed her lips, fingers tracing delicately over a crease in the newspaper in her lap. They were obviously sensible questions; one she had an immediate answer to and one that she would have to consider. Having woken up to find her hospital in this mess after ten days asleep had been a great deal to take in. She was only now beginning to form strategy.

Miranda didn’t have an opportunity to respond because "Ahmes Morgan. Systems and product developer," stepped in from the back of the room. They’d had their meetings in the past and while the Head Healer was happy to have an outsider’s perspective on their potions and systems, she’d yet to see a bright idea that would work excellently and improve their hospital come from this witch. Not one that she felt fully behind, anyway.

Until now. Morgan wasn’t a healer; but she’d taken this healer’s problem and found a very possible solution. Miranda listened carefully as she explained her work, trying to overcome another wave of nausea as her body continued to fight off the poison now that she was in a fit state to. Features suddenly white as a sheet, Elliot sat up a bit more in the bed, telling herself she couldn’t be sick in front of so many of her staff.

There was a pause once Morgan finished while Mira’s eyes were closed, she breathed deeply to fight off the nausea before her dark gaze finally fell on the witch.
“Please do that Miss Morgan. I have a longer term solution but we need an immediate one as well. Please get in contact with this company and we shall meet tomorrow morning; hopefully in my office” If she could get out of this merlin forsaken hospital bed. “Healer Marren, your questions. If you are worried about patient reactions and your safety, take with you someone better with their wand at protecting themselves than you.” Another wave of nausea and she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath as she gripped the paper in her hands.

“I am not sure what to suggest because I don’t know what has already been done. Have all apothecaries been contacted? Has someone contacted Hogwarts? Any other wizarding hospital in Europe?” Miranda was quickly realising just how important having this meeting had been. She knew far too little about the situation and was still unsure about who had taken a leading role in the disaster in her stead.

“These have been horrible circumstances.”

Whenever something went wrong in the hospital, particularly on her floor - accidents and misdiagnoses, anything of the sort -- Jules felt like it was her fault. It was her responsibility to make sure that these types of things didn’t happen. Though no one could have predicted the poisoning, Jules couldn’t help but feel like she should have. She should have checked all the potions before giving them to patients. She should have started making her own potions to replace them with sooner. She should have… done a lot of things.

So she had been expecting a lot of disappointment on Miranda’s end. Jules had been anxiously waiting for the day when she would wake up and be horrified by the mess they’d made of her hospital. That Miranda wasn’t giving them an earful of yelling; rather, she was sympathetic to all they had been dealing with.

Miranda continued on with one of those intimate talks healers had after a particularly difficult time. She mentioned visiting the families of patients she’d lost, something Jules had never thought to do. She kept her career separate from her emotions -- that was how she worked best. Really, she preferred to show no emotion about anything. However, when Miranda mentioned checking in on and apologizing to the families who had suffered  from the botched potions… the image of Josie, the two-year-old who had been one of the first victims, floated into Jules’ head.

“What I need you all to do is show them that the people here care.”

This was not Jules’ strong suit -- she felt she was skilled enough to go without much ‘bedside manner.’ Jules didn’t feel that was part of the job. But in this intimate scene, Miranda in the sickbed, with Jules worn thin both literally and figuratively, with all the stress mounting and the floating image of Josie caused Jules to do something very unlike herself: she welled up. Her eyes filled to the brim with tears but she refused to let them fall. If she tried to speak, she might not have enough control to keep them there.

Some bickering started up regarding whether this was a good idea, in case the families attacked them. They were probably angry and needed someone to blame… Jules wasn’t comfortable with being this person. She held her breath, because it was getting harder to hold in those tears, and she was using all her might to keep the stone from cracking. She stayed unusually quiet, for the first time unsure of what her opinion was on the matter. She looked down at her heels and clenched her jaw.

Luckily a distraction leapt into the room, with miraculous news. As she explained some of the details, Jules could picture what she was describing -- and of course, cursed herself for not figuring it out first. She had been so neurotic lately that such ingenuity had been impossible for her. She should have thought of something like that first. She had just burrowed into learning everything possible about the contaminants that she possibly could, hoping an antidote would somehow pop into her head.

Perhaps it was this defeat, among all of the others, that loosened that tear from Jules’ ducts of steel and slipped down. She wiped it away and focused on the conversation. If she put all of her concentration into this, she could get through this strange expression of emotions.

“I am not sure what to suggest because I don’t know what has already been done. Have all apothecaries been contacted? Has someone contacted Hogwarts? Any other wizarding hospital in Europe?”

“I’ve contacted the apothecaries and warned Hogwarts about the contamination.” Jules said, ignoring the fact that her nose felt a bit stuffy now that her tear ducts had been activated. She tightened all of her muscles around her eyes to keep them from doing anything unnecessary. She sniffed, hoping it was casual enough that they didn’t suspect Jules had actually been crying. “I’ve learned a lot about the poisons that infiltrated our stock. Ms Morgan, perhaps I could help you with the…. dots.” Throwing herself into work was the best way to repress her emotions.

Oh Merlin, more talking to kin. Arcturus had dealt with so many for the past night that all their faces and names were a blur to him. The Dales had left with a healthy child, but others had not been so lucky, and he was sure the sentiment in the country by now was one of distrust - and not without good reasons. He would try his best, either way. Whether he liked it or not, the Head Healer was right.

Healer-in-Charge Marren also had a good point. Arcturus had half a mind to suggest getting the help of the aurors, but he wasn't so sure. To what extent did they have any jurisdiction in these matters? And surely they had more important things to do - while the hospital healers had been running about, it might have been a distraction as part of a plan. Or the actual part of the plan while something else had happened for the aurors to be involved in. Well, he couldn't know without asking, but for now it was best to hear the Head Healer said.

Spell developer, huh? Was he the only healer who wasn't in some position of authority or administration in this room? He took a look around him as said spell developer explained an idea. Well, it sounded solid. He probably expected to see her in the potion rooms soon enough. That was not a problem; external help was best.

Was that a tremble of tears in Deville's voice? Arcturus kept his face blank. At this time, drawing attention to that sort of thing was unwelcome. He'd know that. The apothecaries had indeed been informed, and Hogwarts was Hogwarts. He trusted whoever was stationed there, and perhaps the idea that their supplier had not been the same as the hospital's.

"The nation's herbologists have also been checking their stock, as far as I've heard," he said quietly. "They're very intent on supplying us with local and thoroughly-researched raw ingredients, and a few offered use of their own secure greenhouses. The Association is taking this very seriously, because if anything accusations could also be levelled at them for infiltrating the supply, and they take pride with what they do. The last time I heard about them, the president's been sending suggestions and recommendations on suppliers he has trust in, though of course I think that's ultimately your decision to make, Head Healer." He shrugged. "He also said not to rush in replying, but he'd be happy to help us out to the best of his abilities, including personally coming down from Scotland to arrange matters with you."

Well, he personally didn't mention that all that info was relayed to him via his mother, but that wasn't the point right now.

"Would any section of the Ministry be involved in this, or at least informed?" he asked out loud, more out of curiosity than for his job. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement might need to know, though there's little they could possibly do to mitigate anything now. Maybe law consultation, but I could be wrong and they don't do things like this, and we'd be on our own." Please don't bring up the fact that I do know someone in that department, because I really do know nothing about law.

There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm at Miranda’s instructions, but honestly, after so much death, grief and guilt, it was only to be expected. No one wanted to be the bearer of bad news, especially when it was so unexpected. Tracy himself – though only a trainee, and would be for years yet – hadn’t been spared from the duty, either.

Watching someone’s face crumple… That aged you, hardened you until you went numb in self-defense. Maybe it was naive of him, but Tracy hoped he’d never reach that point. Now that Miranda was awake and resuming her duties—now that they were all doing something to address the situation, to make sure disaster didn’t strike again—it went a long way in easing some of the strain–

Would any section of the Ministry be involved in this, or at least informed?

Tracy leveled his colleague in Potion & Plant Poisoning a bemused look. The way he saw it, if the hospital wasn’t responsible for the contamination, then it had to have been outside interference—which, as the primary investigative force within the department, was where the aurors came in. Even if there still was something that could be done to mitigate things… That wasn’t their job.

And if you still wondered as to whether or not they had any relevance at all because it wasn’t, or that they couldn’t… The idea alone baffled the American lad, if he was honest. But he was sure Arcturus hadn’t meant it that way. After all, he had graduated from Hogwarts, hadn’t he? You couldn’t attend if you didn’t live in the area, and you couldn’t live in the area and not know how your local law enforcement worked.

Reminding people of the obvious was rarely polite, though, and it wasn’t as though the older wizard needed the reminder, so Tracy settled for awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, reluctant to offend but concerned nonetheless.

“Reports have already been filed,”[1] he said carefully, glancing at Jules before settling that solemn gaze on Miranda. After the Head Healer had fallen into a coma, the department heads had stepped in, taking it upon themselves to deal with the DMLE. Since it was protocol to report suspicious poisonings, it was only a matter of making sure everyone was prepared for auror involvement. “The aurors are involved.” And they, the healers, were to be as cooperative as they could without hindering patient care and confidentiality.

Tracy folded his arms over his chest, broad shoulders hunching inoffensively. “We’ve been in contact since the tenth. They assigned a couple to investigate—Adon Eleor and Grace Eddy.”

1.	[Dec 10th] Don't Lie, We're Fixing to Die