Cepheus Gamp exhaled deeply, and extended a clammy palm to Healer Misslethorpe. They’d met before, when it was still all up in the air, and seeing him again brought back those sickening thoughts of finding out what on earth their parents had done.
“Thank you for finding the time to see me,” Cepheus spoke, his voice wavering a little, betraying his nerves. He only tended to visit St Mungo’s to visit friends who were staying a few days, or to meet with the staff who helped to manage the blood bank. He’d never been up here to this end of the Spell Damage floor. Where the doors didn’t unlock.

It was unmistakably a healer’s office, the most telling sign for Ceph being the the visitor’s chair - a sturdy-legged piece of furniture, situated not across the desk like his was in his Division Head’s office across London, but at the short end of the desk within easy reach of the healer sat behind. He was glad to sink into it as his own knees felt like jelly. He composed himself rationally, and met Misslethorpe’s gaze.

“I understand our father’s hearing at the Ministry is coming up next month. In honesty, I’ve been putting off coming to see you, I don’t know if my sister’s been at all…” Andromeda was always so pragmatic, so hardened of late when it came to talking about it, especially now she was at the house. “He’s still here, isn’t he?”

1.	17 Feb, A Fine Line Between

Sandy expected Cepheus Gamp for some weeks. The older brother gone away. Sandy recognized a rebel. The sister was an auror. She had been to the hospital before. Injuries in the line of duty. She was resilient. The middle child was softest.
"I could not say." Sandy said. He had confidentiality. "He is still here. I am glad you have come. Shall we talk? What is on your mind?"

The healer spoke calmly, systematically. Cepheus felt a little reassured by this, but also reminded by the way his father addressed him when he and his brother had got into trouble. He’d ask them to think through things step by step, consider their actions and the consequences. It had been excruciating as a child and a teenager, but looking back, a valuable lesson. He licked his lips and brushed back his thick black hair with one hand, trying to find the right words. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come, only that he felt he needed to.

“I know that his hearing will be to decide if my father goes to Azkaban,” Cepheus replied, a little shakily, “and considering what he did, how he let his research consume him beyond the boundaries of morality, I really think he should. Unless, there’s something you can do to fix him here. I don’t really understand why he did it,” Cepheus found it impossible to keep his hands still, gesturing, tapping, wringing his hands. “Did he just make a terrible, terrible decision, did he get driven mad by his research… or, I don't know, is it something in our family?” He huffed and sat up a little straighter. “No, that’s a silly thought, but you see, that’s what’s been in the back of my head. But what exactly is wrong with him?”

On Sandy's desk a small blue quill made notes. Believes should go to Azkaban. Questions father’s motivations. Concerns for family curse. Sandy watched Cepheus wring his hands. He thought about Mortimer. Sandy always watched his hands. Mortimer could still change objects. Only sometimes now. When he arrived he changed cups into balls of wool. And anvils. They had put him in an empty room. His magic was out of control. They had worked hard. It was like a bad case of kid magic. “Why do you think it could be in your family? You do not seem the sort to jump to conclusions.”

Cepheus licked his lips and raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. He couldn’t quite meet Healer Misslethorpe’s gaze at that moment, put on the spot. The healer didn’t mean it badly, he didn’t think, but he was an authority.

“My grandfather,” Cepheus began, “my father’s father, was also an unspeakable. His name was Robard Gamp and he became obsessed with magic in its purest forms, as far as I understand.” There was only so much that could be said in the family, but Cepheus knew the gist, knew what had been said by Robard’s siblings when he was younger. Cepheus glanced up to Sandy again, though his hands were busy.

“He wrote some books on it - Madam Pince told me they were in the restricted section at Hogwarts, showed me the covers when I was studying. I tried to read them as an adult, please my father.” Cepheus frowned, and suddenly sat straighter, given diversion, “If they are of help I have copies? He used to get sick and be laid up for days. My father followed his research and took over I think. I’m not saying any of us have sudden wishes to do the same, but … well…”

He licked his lips again, studying the foot of a nearby piece of furniture in distraction. “Yes… maybe I have jumped to conclusions or worry needlessly. I keep going round and round in circles in my head.” His gaze dropped to his hands, nervously twisting in his lap, “I don’t want it to be one of us. Not my sister next, or my brother. Like a curse.”

Cepheus Gamp worried. He did not need to worry. People said the Gamp children were not like their father. But maybe the daughter was. This one seemed too soft. Too gay. "I do not think it is a curse." Sandy said. He said it surely. He wanted to put his mind at rest. "The symptoms all appear to be related to the magic your father experimented with. Maybe it was similar to your grandfather. As unspeakables I am not even allowed to know the full details." Sandy shrugged. It had made his life more difficult. The Department of Mysteries were secretive. If Sandy knew precisely what Mortimer Gamp had done he could treat him better. He had a good idea. He was not sure he wanted to know too.

Cepheus let out a breath of relief at Misslethorpe’s response. It was just a silly thought then, his family wasn’t cursed. They were just terrible choices for unspeakables, perhaps, due to a wish to experiment with dangerous magic. Cepheus had no wish to go and work on Level 9, and neither did his siblings as far as he knew. Perhaps their generation would be safe.

“Thank you, Healer Misslethorpe,” Cepheus replied, managing a bit of a smile with his relief. He sat up a bit more and felt his shoulders relax a fraction. There were still difficult questions ahead but that had been going round in his head needlessly it seemed.

“Has my father said anything about why or what he was doing? I know he was performing some experiment which required young people.” He didn’t make eye contact, “and the best case scenario, is that my mother perished in some magical fire they found my father creating when they apprehended him, and not involved.”

Sandy was happy that Cepheus relaxed. People should come to a hospital to get better. Gamp had unanswered questions. Sandy could not answer everything. He had questions too.
"I know he was burned in many places." Sandy said. Other healers had tried to fix the burns. "They are nearer to fiendfyre burns." They were caused by magic. That is why they did not heal fast. Mortimer did not look like he was upset at disfiguration. Sandy did think he had bigger worries but... "He does not appear to have any understanding of how grave his actions were. Cepheus." It was maybe the most unsettling part. "He is in a near constant state of mild euphoria." It could make a healer hate him.

Cepheus nodded as Healer Misslethorpe explained his father’s condition. The cellar of the house had been burned beyond recognition, and was taking a lot of effort to repair. The family’s house elf would have readily worked itself to death trying, had the younger Gamps not intervened.

“He does not appear to have any understanding of how grave his actions were, Cepheus.”

The middle son of Mortimer Gamp swallowed loudly. His father had always been perceptive, observant, intelligent. He might not have reacted to other people’s emotions or words, but he had recorded it all like a sponge soaked up a spillage. He saw the world like a spiderweb, information, knowledge, causes and consequences linked both on one level and on others. Cepheus never expected to live up to his father’s level of intelligence, but hearing this he was beginning to doubt if his father had been as intelligent as he had thought.

“He is in a near constant state of mild euphoria.”

“He’s insane?” Cepheus grasped on the description. It would explain why his father would do such a horrific thing to people. “Well, that’s what we all figured, since he was here.” Cepheus shrugged, tense again, “But at least he sounds happily insane.” If their father had genuinely lost his marbles and hadn’t acted in his right mind, and didn’t realise what he’d done, at least he wasn’t in any kind of pain or distress. He was obviously not safe to let out in public, and he’d obviously done things that couldn’t be excused, but he wasn’t rational. The cold, calculated, rational Mortimer doing the act seemed all the more awful.

“Do you think he was insane before it all happened?”

"I did not talk with your father often before it all happened." Healer Misslethorpe said. He could not say himself. "Some of the unspeakables reported he was 'happier than normal' on the days before." Every person confirmed it. Nobody said that Mortimer Gamp being happy was a good thing. It was unusual. It was unsettling. "That would be consistent with now." Sandy said. "But we have not found any magical disease or other trigger." They had looked for a long time. He had just ingested too much power. Sandy was not allowed to tell Cepheus. "Look Cepheus." Healer Misslethorpe said. He tried to be empathetic. "He is safe and otherwise healthy. But I am afraid I cannot let you visit him."

Happier than normal. You knew your father was a miserable git if people were suspicious if he was happy.

“But I am afraid I cannot let you visit him.” Healer Misslethorpe was being pragmatic about it all. Cepheus sympathised with the healer. He was looking after a man who many families would like to see dead or worse. The number of families who now shunned the rest of them were noticeable, but Cepheus entirely understood their decision. Despite the Deputy Head Healer’s assurance that it wasn’t a family trait, how could anyone be sure that Ceph, Orion or Andie might not do something equally horrific to their friends and their families in future. It was all alarmist, if he reflected back on it in calmer and more rational moments, but the thought of what had happened could still send Cepheus into irrational worry.

“I’m not sure I want to, honestly.” Cepheus replied, fingers knotted in his lap and forehead lined. “If he’s happy about what he did.” It was altogether easier to convince himself that Mortimer had gone insane and was no longer of sound mind. Seeing his father happy would just rub salt in the wound. If the healers didn’t want them to see him, then they shouldn’t see him.

“I’ve met some of his victims, the ones that survived.” Cepheus explained, “are you treating them too?” Perhaps he couldn’t say. “They’re resilient. I only hope they don’t remember the worst of whatever he was doing.” He didn’t want to ask. If they wanted to tell him, he would of course listen.

Sandy did not reply. He could feel his badge burning. There was an emergency. He was needed!
"They are getting help." Sandy said. He pointed. "I must apologize." He said to Cepheus. "I am called to an emergency." He picked up pamphlets from his desk. He pressed them into Ceph’s hands. "Do come again. Make another appointment at the desk. We can give you a once over. Check everything is right. Put your mind at ease?" Sandy proposed. He shook hands quickly. "I must leave. Very sorry Cepheus." He hurried from his office.

Fate did not allow them long, Cepheus realised as Healer Misslethorpe pointed to his badge and gave apologies. Their short chat had put his mind at rest in the short term, at least. It was good to see him and hear first hand some information about their father and his condition. It was almost a relief to hear he couldn’t see Mortimer, because the expectation to see him evaporated.

“Do come again. Make another appointment … put your mind at ease?” Despite his obvious hurry, Misslethorpe still made time for Cepheus and he appreciated it.

“Thank you,” the Being Division Head replied, shaking hands. “It’s ok, I understand.” He allowed the Deputy Head Healer to rush away, and stepped out of the office. It was then he glanced down to look at the leaflets - amongst them were a support group for spell damage and victims of spell damaged wixes, one to one counselling with a legilimens, and a serious looking one titled: considering self-obliviation? Raising his eyebrows, Cepheus shoved them into his jacket pocket, electing to share them with Andie later.

End