Sandy smiled and said hello to Andy's assistant Deliah Snardworthy. "She is expecting me." He said to her. He had a big file in his arms. He had taken off his green robes. He was in trousers and shirt. He rolled up his sleeves. It was warm. He knocked on Andy's door. He let himself in.

"Good evening." Sandy said. He shut the door. He smiled at Andy. "I thought I could be late. We had an emergency half an hour before. Wizard splinched in half. Very messy. I do not think I could eat spaghetti tonight." Sandy sat down. He decided not to put the file on Andy's desk. It was like the emergency! "Are you going to eat that?" He asked. There was a stale leftover sandwich. It was right in front of him. He put it in the bin.

"You wanted t-to talk about the dementor cases?" Sandy asked. "Well one...?" He was little nervous.

"Good evening." Sandy entered the office and the door closed behind him. Miranda didn’t originally glance up from the parchment she was currently putting her barely legible scrawl to. Snardsworthy had become quite the expert at deciphering what her boss had written, making legible or type written versions for the staff or board. There was barely any register of her deputy entering the room other than a change of facial expression at the mention of spaghetti. Now dark brown eyes did snap up accompanied by a knowing smirk.

“Not Italian tonight then?” She muttered as he binned a leftover sandwich from Merlin knew when. Miranda hardly spent much time in the office during the day and Snardsworthy certainly wasn’t good at tidying the office.

“I did.” Miranda signed her name at the bottom of the document, having gotten used to signing ‘M.Storm’ rather than ‘M.Elliot’ by accident months ago now.
With the document signed off, the Head Healer placed it atop a pile to the right of the desk and stood. She moved around the desk to a sideboard from which she took two crystal wine glasses and a bottle from within, bringing them over to the desk.

She leaned against the desk, in close proximity to Sandy as she poured two glasses of a deep red wine. One was handed to her friend and she took the other.
“I want Lawrence Musgrave.”

Sandy looked surprised. "Y-you want?" Sandy stuttered. He took the wine glass. "T-thank you." He did not know what she meant. "You want him what? Here?!" Sandy said in shock. When he had Lawrence at Oulton Broad Andy said he was a fool. Said it was a stupid plan. It had gone wrong. "It is not safe?" Sandy protested.

"Y-you want?" The wizard was stumped and, as usual, stuttering. Of course he was stuttering, struggling over his words. But with the glass of wine in his hand, he quickly recovered and started to question her. She’d expected to be questioned, she expected people to think her mad and she expected a lot of push back for her plan. The ministry wouldn’t eagerly abide her request and she highly doubted Lawrence would come willingly. Ignan, too, would have a lot to say about her plan when she finally decided to share it with him.

“Why not?” The witch asked, her voice calm, her manner collected. She’d been prepared for the discussion and she’d gone through answers to several possible questions before he’d come to the office. She needed Sandy on side if this was going to work. “We’ve a history of looking after mentally compromised criminals. Lawrence is no different.”

Sandy thought quickly.
"I know we just got rid of Mr Gamp, Andy..." He said. "But you do not have to keep a quota." Sandy did not like the thought of Lawrence here. He had a hit wizard on the door and he was in the middle of the Ministry! He was still intelligent. He was still lucid. Worst of all he knew them both. Sandy had healed him. Andy was obliviated. She did not remember. If she looked in Lawrence's head she would know. If he came to the hospital Sandy would have to obliviate that memory. It was a miracle Lawrence had not told the aurors. "Lawrence is not compromised." Sandy said. "But having him here could compromise the hospital."

Disagreement with her plan had been predictable. Miranda hadn’t anticipated her oldest friend to simply nod and agree, asking her how he could help. He would have his concerns, his worries. Despite what others may have thought, or what even Sandy may have believed, Miranda valued his opinion, she respected him. It was why he’d been promoted to her deputy. She trusted Sandy.

“Having him here could save all of those rotting away on the fourth floor with no hopes of ever feeling joy again.” Miranda pushed off the desk and dropped gracefully into the chair beside him. She twisted her body to face him. “Minister Zephyr asked me to do what I could, asked us as a hospital to find something to help these people; to give the country hope that the dementors aren’t going to destroy their lives. Lawrence Musgrave…what is in his mind, in his soul could help us.”

“I want to fix him, Sandy and I need to fix all of those poor souls that are in our care upstairs.” She frowned, her dark eyed gaze on his. “I need your support for this as my friend and my colleague.”

Sandy felt a bit sick. Different sick now. He did not want Andy to see Lawrence. Lawrence did not want to see Andy. He did not trust Lawrence. He had escaped last time the three of them met. If he had not told anyone about Sandy then he was using that as power. But... Sandy had made progress. He had studied Lawrence in summer. It was worth studying. He could obliviate Lawrence. Before Andy looked. Because Andy always got her way.
"I-It could be a long time." Sandy said. "I think he t-trusts me. But I do not trust him." He looked back at Andy. "Do you trust him? Does the Ministry trust us?"

Sandy stuttered over the idea of trust, as if real trust had anything to do with any of this. Trust was a tough thing to gain and so easy to lose. Miranda wasn’t certain if she completely trusted anyone. Even Ignan kept secrets from her. Trusting a person was dangerous.

“Obviously, I don’t trust him.” She bit back, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and ask if Sandy was a complete ignoramus. “You. Maybe they trust you.” She sat back in the chair, biting her lip as she thought over his questions. “They won’t trust my motives, of course. They’ll think I want revenge.”

"Which you do not?" Sandy asked. "Not even a little?" He pinched his fingers. He did not stutter. "I would not blame you." His head shook. Sandy's revenge was in print. Or by using someone. They would use Lawrence and find answers. If it was for healing it could be justified. If the benefits outweighed the cost. Vastly. Sandy sipped the wine. "They want to send him to Azkaban." Sandy said. "I saw him again today. They want me to say he is well to go." He looked at Andy. "He is well enough. We have let them send iller people. But when he goes we can not study him." Sandy had been studying him. As best they could in visits. He was coming round to her plans. "The Ministry have honored my instructions up until now..." Sandy said. He looked at Andy.

"Which you do not?" Sandy questioned which only served to gain him a scowl from the woman that had previously been trying to convince him to agree with her and support her plan.
 "Not even a little?"
Miranda’s brows narrowed, her glare piercing, challenging.
"I would not blame you."
It was a challenge to bite back a comment about him not having any understanding of the situation. He’d been married and divorced. He’d never had to watch his spouse being nearly murdered. He’d never needed to sit at their bedside. He’d never slept with the person who would, in the future, try to kill his spouse.

“And they’ll listen to your instructions now.” The witch finally responded, glad her friend had moved away from her apparent need for revenge. Then she glanced down at her wine, considering possible repercussions. “No. You stay impartial in your suggestions.” Her gaze snapped up to his. “Can’t have the ministry thinking I’m trying to influence your decisions. You’re my deputy, not my bootlicker.” She tended not to wear boots. Despite herself, the witch smiled, her legs crossed. “Although I’ve always wondered…”

"Andy are you suggesting I always agree with your plans?" Sandy asked. He narrowed his eyes. Which made them very narrow indeed. Studying Lawrence was his plan first. Andy would never remember. Could never remember. "The M-Ministry will think you want revenge." He agreed with his friend. "If you do I can not support the research either." He shrugged his shoulders. "But I t-trust you. So I will support it. But we must move fast. I can delay one more week maybe."

Sandy drank more wine. "He has very interesting symptoms." He said. "Like a legilimens. He has not allowed me to read. But I can sense his patterns are not regular. He says he is connected to dementors. He has improved. But I prescribe calming potion. He is unstable. Moody. Suspicious. He is still there. I-I ... still recognize him under it." Sandy drank a lot more wine. He and Lawrence had been friends. He never expected him to go bad.

As far as Miranda was concerned, if Sandy thought that he didn’t follow her plans, he was clueless. She was his boss which meant that he had to follow her plans whether he liked them or not. So, suggesting his lack of support if she wanted revenge? It irked her even if she didn’t let it show.

“What version of him do you recognise, Sandy? He’s unrecognisable to me.” It was terrifying to think of how she’d shared a bed with Lawrence for several months. She’d trusted him as far as one could without really getting close. To find out years later that he’d turned had been surprising. Musgrave, to Miranda, had changed beyond all recognition. So how was it that Sandy recognised him?

“I’ll need your notes and reports about these sessions.” The Head Healer took a sip of wine and sat back in the armchair. “Just.. just make sure that you’ve stressed how you don’t feel it would be sensible to incarcerate him in Azkaban yet. He needs treatment.”

"The shit scared version." Sandy said bluntly. Andy never saw that version. As far as Sandy knew Lawrence and Andy remained school contacts. Then professional ones. "He has been cocky ever since school. Ever the Gryffindor. He tries to be now. But I remember when he got brought in here. Hurt. He does not know what to do. To our advantage." Sandy shrugged it off. He did not stutter.

"I will. It is not sensible to put him in Azkaban yet. I agree he has use. But not without great risk. Will you let me help you? I would rather he hurt me than you."

Listening to Sandy discuss Musgrave in such a manner felt obscure. Miranda didn’t believe she could ever feel sympathy for the man who’d nearly murdered her husband. She told herself that the only reason she wanted to help him was for her own gain, for her patient’s treatment. Any other reasons and Ignan would be furious or even hurt.

Sandy’s next words surprised Miranda and her expression made that clear. They’d been friends for a long time, 11 year olds finding common ground in intelligence and interests. It had, however, been a friendship with very distinct limits.


So why say that?

“Don’t be obtuse.” the Head Healer muttered, looking away from him. She felt uncomfortable.

With a frown, Miranda pushed herself up from the chair.
“We’ll see. You’re helping me by getting hold of him.”

"I want to help you more than that." Sandy said. Was Andy being selfish? Was she being obtuse? They could establish. The Ministry may stop them first. He might have difficulty convincing Solomon Carstairs to trust them. Mortimer Gamp was just insane. Lawrence was not. He was resourceful. He hoped to Merlin Andy's plan did not backfire.

"I will get you what you need. But not Italian tonight."