April 3
2:00pm

Tempest Sage thought herself a rather accomplished witch. Sure, she might never be a contender for Minister for Magic but that had never been an aspiration for the youthful witch in the first place. Sage was quite content indeed with her post as Hogwarts Healer and was honored to be the youngest witch on the St. Mungo's Board of Warlocks. Both of her duties she took seriously and tried to handle with care and precision. Efficiency was important for anyone in the healing profession but was especially important for the administration. A ship needed a captain, and not a captain that was absent from their duties.

Head Healer Miranda Storm had been through a terrible time, Tempest was well aware. Though truth be told, Temp wasn't completely convinced that she hadn't brought at least part of her troubles on herself. It was Miranda Storm's duty to keep the wizarding hospital running smoothly at all times. Whatever may be happening in her personal life was of little to no consequence, and it was Healer Sage's unfortunate duty to inform the witch of such.

Time had been given for Miranda to help her husband's recovery - but he was home now, on the mend, and Healer Storm had still not resumed her normal duties. This was a problem and so Tempest had sent an owl ahead to the Storm's residence requesting a meeting with the Head Healer. She had asked Miranda to be present at two in the afternoon, and then arrived at noon. The representative of the Board of Warlocks spent the majority of those two hours strolling through the hospital, taking note of the condition of each floor. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting time, Tempest grabbed a cup of strong coffee from the fifth floor and took the lift back down to the ground floor.

She entered Miranda's office to find the room dark and empty - Miranda hadn't yet arrived. A wave of her wand rectified the light issue, and though she knew it was rude and would probably irritate Healer Storm she strolled behind the desk and took the seat there. She would, of course, take to the opposite side of the desk when Miranda arrived, but it would show Tempest's displeasure without her having to state it aloud. She took a sip of her coffee and placed the cup atop Miranda's desk - then she sat back comfortably and waited.

It was a couple of minutes before 2 in the afternoon when the fireplace in Miranda Storm’s office sprang to life and the witch stepped out with the grace of someone accustomed to travelling in this manner on a daily basis. The elegance of her entrance was, however, inhibited by the observation that someone was sat behind her desk already waiting for her. Irritation was pushed aside but the raise of the eyebrows wasn’t subdued as dark eyes made contact with the other set in the room.

“Sizing it up, Miss Sage?” The Head Healer asked calmly, “I was under the impression our meeting was at 2. Most people have the manners to wait outside the office.” But Tempest Sage apparently lacked the proper manners. She thought herself above her station and the promotion to become the token young witch on the Board of Warlocks had gone to her head. Miranda’s opinion on the promotion? It was a wonderful way for a group of grumpy old retired wizards to look like they were giving equal opportunities. Hiring someone both young and female was a big win.

Now, Miranda was certainly irked to have been called in for a meeting when she was at home keeping an eye on her husband while working from her small office in the cottage. She worked tirelessly for St Mungo’s, so, during her off time to recovery from the tragedy of what had happened, to be called into an unnecessary meeting was unfair and unprofessional.

Tempest didn't have long to wait - she'd timed her arrival perfectly it seemed. She had barely made herself comfortable when the grate filled with green flames and deposited the Head Healer. As Tempest took to her feet, she took a long sweeping look at Miranda and bit her tongue sharply to refrain from commenting on the witch's disheveled attire. Muggle jeans to a meeting with a member of the Board was like a slap to the face. Miranda Storm didn't even have the common respect to dress in a manner befitting her station, what if her staff or a patient took in her unkempt appearance?

When Miranda spoke, however, Tempest couldn't help the snort of laughter that fell from between her lips. Tea grasped firmly in one hand, the short witch slowly made her way to the other side of the desk and took one of the seats available for guests. "Not for myself, no," she said - the smile plastered on her face offering no warmth. "I do so hope me asking you here wasn't too much of an inconvenience. It's obvious this is a taxing time - if the Head Healer isn't at her station before two in the afternoon,"

"I do apologize for inviting myself in - I fully expected to enter to find you here, where you get paid to be," She said, taking a sip of the warm beverage. Miranda was the youngest Head Healer in St. Mungo's history, it was certainly a feat. Knowing the two were both young witches striving to rise in an old world should have brought the two together, but Tempest couldn't seem to find many things she actually liked about Mrs. Storm.

She, of course, was only one voice on the Board of Directors - but she was a strong voice. Being young and a witch meant that people tended to remember things that she said, as her voice wasn't lost among the monotonous ones of the stuffy elderly wizards that sat on the board among her. Why Miranda felt the need to bump heads was beyond Tempest's comprehension.

Tempest Sage reminded Miranda of a yappy poodle who thought they were far above their present station. She was the grumpy puppy who bit at your ankles because they would never get any higher. This afternoon, she didn’t wait a beat to bite and attempt to assert some imagined authority over the Head Healer. Her position as one on the board certainly didn’t make her Miranda’s boss and therefore didn’t give her the right to critique and pick fault.

The temptation to bite back to the comments about her being absent from her desk was immense. But instead, the witch maintained her regular cold expression as she took the newly vacated seat.

“If the board want their Head Healer shackled to the desk, they best send some shackles.” She sat back, crossing her arms as dark eyes studied the witch now sat in a far more suitable chair.

“Surely you’ve not demanded my presence here to fire shots, Miss Sage. What do you want?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Tempest prepared a diatribe about how Miranda's words were faulty - the board had sent shackles, in the form of Healer Sage and Tempest had indeed come to the hospital merely to fire shots. Those thoughts quickly fell away and left the healer to let out the breath in a small huff of dissatisfaction. The fierce gleam faded from Tempest's eyes and the witch began to relax in her seat - trying to let out all the tension she'd been carrying since arriving at St. Mungo's. Just because the witch got under Tempest's skin did not mean that Tempest could abandon the restraints of her position to berate and belittle the chief of one of the most powerful institutions in the wizarding community.

"You are correct," the healer said, offering Miranda a small smile of apology, "perhaps we both started off on the wrong foot today," Yes, she was giving ground - but that didn't mean that she could resist one last dig in pointing out that Miranda had also been cranky. "It is not our desire to make things more difficult for you, Healer Storm," She said, "actually - our goal is the exact opposite: to make your job easier and more manageable. We know that the duties and responsibilities of the post are numerous,"

"We want to help you," Tempest paused to draw in a breath, the sound of an unspoken 'but' hanging in the silence, "That's hard to do, though, when we don't know what's going on. Today we would simply like a status report," she finished, shrugging her shoulders slightly. Yes, the basis of Tempest's visit was to gain a report on the hospital's well-being - but somehow Tempest had a feeling that the two powerful witches in the room would be disagreeing on quite a bit during the duration of her visit.

The numerous duties and responsibilities of her post were something Miranda could and had been handling since her appointment the year before. To be patronised in such a manner not even a week after the near death of her husband was beyond a joke.

“Less than a week ago I sat upstairs watching my husband die.” Miranda calmly told the witch sat across the desk from her. Her arms were crossed in a far more defensive position than Miranda Storm may normally have taken up. “I’ve not slept for more than a couple of hours at a time since last Tuesday when a killer came to my home and tried to kill my husband and forced me to save his niece whom he’d just executed in front of us.”

“But you want a status report.” A sigh was released. “My husband is recovering slowly, thank you for asking. But if your concern has nothing to do with his health, you best ask my Floor Charges because they’ve stepped up in the short term. Hughes will need a special commendation, of course. He’s a credit to the profession.” The most she spoke, the more she found herself unable to stop. “Perhaps you should ask him to step up as Head Healer. He doesn’t have a spouse to inconveniently end up on death’s door. Apparently, I have made it a bothersome pattern.”