Having become the Head Healer for St Mungo’s well over a year ago now, Miranda Storm had become accustomed to being late for meetings or events. She’d accepted working unsociable hours decades ago and it had only become worse through being on 24 hour call if required. Obviously, things had improved in workload with the promotion of Sandy Misslethorpe to become her deputy, but Miranda was a hands-on boss and had acknowledged that she’d never change.

Sunday night, she’d worked through, filling a gap they’d had due to personal problems of a creature injuries healer. It had been good to spend the night on the floor, getting a decent feel for the workings of her hospital from the epicentre. But now she was drained, worn out and ready for bed.

Unfortunately, there was a vital meeting to attend first.

Healer Storm was somewhat later that planned heading back to her office to change and refresh herself. The gold and emerald healer’s robes were tossed on the hat stand in favour of plain black and the witch was going through the floo to the Ministry for Magic by ten past the hour. At 15 minutes past the hour, Miranda was navigating the corridors of Level 1 with a set of ropey directions from an unwelcoming welcome witch.

At 20 minutes past the hour, Miranda Storm was led into the minister’s office by an assistant to see Edwin Glass and Solomon Carstairs patiently waiting for her arrival.
“Gentlemen.” The witch nodded at each. “Good morning.” At least she hoped it would be, Mira considered as the door was closed behind her and she proceeded into the large office towards an empty seat. “Please excuse the tardiness, nasty case reattaching a half-digested arm. Very messy.”

She was late, but that was no great surprise to the Minister. It gave him time to discuss some other matters and thoughts with Solomon Carstairs, one of the most trusted.

“After what feels like months treading water,” Edwin remarked, a hint of a smile on his face, “it finally feels as if we are making progress. The terrible business with Gamp will be behind us, his permanent replacement agreed…”

Jacqueline’s face had been a picture, Edwin remembered. She’d been so sure she’d get the job after being the stop gap, but truth was Edwin couldn’t stand her, and the whole Department was a shambles. Shambles was putting it very politely indeed. Zephyr had tried before him to put a broom through it, and Glass appreciated just how difficult it was. In one way, the terrible acts of Mortimer Gamp had enabled the Ministry to finally clear house. He would be confined to Azkaban until he perished.

“And if all goes well this morning, we’ll be rid of our parasite and onto something tangible with the ruddy dementors.” He rubbed his pudgy hands together, counting his chickens before they hatched, maybe.

When the door finally opened, the Head Healer appeared, twenty minutes later than agreed. For someone so interested in acquiring a madman for their research, Edwin would have expected her to be more punctual. But maybe she thought she was doing them a favour, and in a way she was, but not exactly as she believed. 
“Head Healer Storm,” Edwin greeted, getting to his feet to greet her. “One hopes not your own arm.” Armless pun.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet us both, in response to your letter.” The enchanted tea set on the table amongst the cluster of chairs in the office lifted of its own volition and began to pour their new arrival a cup of whatever it divined she would prefer, saving the tedious questions.

“On my desk,” the Minister began, a gesture to his desk behind them, “I have papers ready to send Lawrence Musgrave to Azkaban, but you have decided he can be of use.” He settled back in his seat, folding one leg over the other, and his hands over each other on them. “Solve the issues of dementors by reading his mind.” Edwin studied Miranda, a slight hint of sarcasm to his tone as he summarised her letter.

“Carstairs and his team have spent the past four months examining Musgrave. It is astonishing to hear he can be of use to someone else, especially after being such a blight. Do you not agree, Mr Carstairs?”

Solomon Carstairs, whose brief victory over Ira Almasy had been succeeded by the Keswick incident, was more a creature of work than play nowadays. He treasured what free time the job afforded him - so in a way he could forgive Miranda for being late. As the Head Healer of St.Mungo's, she no doubt possessed only approximate control over her own schedule. Neither crime nor accident followed a strict regime.

It worked in their favour anyway. One could never complain about unexpectedly having the Minister's ear, nor the Minister having theirs. Glass seemed rather focused on getting the government in order: a clean slate, a re-energised fight against the forces of darkness.

How odd that part of this would come in the shape and form of Miranda Storm. On cue, the witch in question finally arrived and Solomon realised he was looking forward to having some tea. He eyed the cups being poured whilst Edwin eased them into what would eventually become a laying out of specific details.

            “...especially after being such a blight. Do you not agree, Mr Carstairs?”

"I do, Minister." Solomon stirred his drink idly and looked up to smile at their guest, his spectacles gleaming in the office light. "His disturbances have additionally been an inconvenience to your personal life, so I am certain you can understand why your proposal came as both a surprise and non-surprise."

The professional tone of Miranda's letter had not distracted him from the fact that she held grievances against Lawrence Musgrave. It had of course been the first issue that his attorney, Miss Graves, brought up when they met to discuss the possibility. Could Healer Storm be trusted not to abuse her power when given overriding authority over her patient's autonomy? It was a lot to ask from someone who had previously shown extreme irrationality[1] in the face of great emotion.

That, too, had involved Legilimency.

"Should this research of yours come to involve Musgrave, there will be conditions. Non-negotiable conditions," he took the first step towards their common goal and paused for a sip of tea. "And it would, of course, be done in collaboration with the Ministry."

1.	Lend a Hand - 7th March

“Head Healer Storm,” Despite how odd it was to addressed as such by a wizard she was on far more familiar terms with, Miranda knew she’d set the tone from her own exceedingly formal letter to both men in the room. It was important to set the line between personal and professional. Personally, Miranda couldn’t abide either wizard and wouldn’t choose to see either. Professionally? Healer Storm needed both men and she was well aware of it.

A strained but polite smile was offered the Minister and his terrible joke as she lowered herself into the seat, gaze casting over the drinks pouring themselves. Snardsworthy needed to learn such an enchantment for her office at the hospital.

Glass started to business straight away, something Miranda was glad for. Unfortunately, he also decided to be sarcastic in his manner. Why invite her to a meeting to discuss the proposal if he didn’t believe her idea would work? As much as it would have been nice to inform him that his own opinion wasn’t relevant as he had no healing experience, Miranda simply pressed her lips together in a fine line and took up the teacup set in front of her.

The Minister continued and the Head Healer took a sip of her tea to stop another possibly biting comment from escaping. Perfectly brewed with one sugar. Allowing her attention to drift momentarily to her surroundings, Miranda found herself lacking in surprise and the ornateness of the office of the leader of Wizarding Britain. But then, if the man had to spend his days caged away behind reams of paperwork and political warfare, he needed a nice place to be caged.

“Non-negotiable conditions.” Miranda repeated and placed her teacup on its saucer.
“Before I hear these conditions, may I answer the questions clearly on both of your minds,” she paused, not wanting them to think she’d been reading them, “the elephant in the room.” Her eyes flashed between the wizards. “Lawrence Musgrave nearly killed my husband. You believe that my judgement may be clouded, my position may be exploited. But when I became a healer, I swore an oath which I take very seriously. That was an oath to protect all life, bodies and minds. Musgrave didn’t make himself exempt with what he did. He is ill. His is still a life I swore to protect.”

“Healer’s aren’t and can’t afford to be like Aurors or Ministry officials.” She waved a hand. “Your treatment of people is dependent upon their actions. That’s your job. My job is to give everyone the same care. Some just might need stronger security measures. I only have intentions to heal Musgrave.”

Carstairs did agree, good man he was. If they were not shipping Musgrave off to Azkaban, they ruddy well wanted to know Miranda’s intentions. There had already been one too many of them ‘experimenting’ this year, and the last thing they needed was to let a dangerous man out into society.

“… I am certain you can understand why your proposal came as both a surprise and non-surprise.”

Edwin’s lips turned into a smug little smirk at Solomon’s statement. The Department Head had witnessed directly, of course, Miranda declaring an interest in looking in the head of other prisoners to help them track down Musgrave in the first place. Such methods were outlawed rightly so by their own laws and the International Confederation. At the time Carstairs had elected to chalk it up to her emotional reaction, Edwin understood.

“… Non-negotiable conditions…. it would, of course, be done in collaboration with the Ministry.”
“Non-negotiable conditions.”

The Minister’s smile continued as he enjoyed watching the other two square up. This would be a most interesting meeting. The number of times the Head Healer had made demands of the Ministry, spoken unwisely about aurors… she would need to do some grovelling, and then she would work for them - voluntarily.

“May I answer the question clearly on both of your minds?” Edwin gestured slightly for her to do so and blinked calmly, straightening his expression.

Miranda reiterated her more recent incidents with Musgrave, who they all understood had targeted Miranda directly - specifically for her healing expertise. He had sought out her help for himself on two occasions, but hadn’t appeared to be in a fit state to give consent for treatment, and had instead become violent. The third time he had sought out her expertise for the benefit of his blood relative, Ms Bombay, a former employee of the hospital, who Miranda had let go. This was all before one took into account that Miranda and Misslethorpe, the Deputy Head Healer, were Musgrave’s classmates at Hogwarts.

“He is ill.” Miranda maintained. Edwin tilted his head minutely, acknowledging this was one opinion, shared by Musgrave’s father. He had made a statement reflecting such, though hadn’t seen his son since he had officially become a wanted man, last summer, by breaking parole. The same day he’d tipped Edwin off about the location of the werewolf fights. Edwin wasn’t sure Musgrave had ever been entirely sane, through the years they’d worked together and been friendly through.

“My job is to give everyone the same care. Some just might need stronger security measures. I only have intentions to heal Musgrave.”

“I am, of course,” Edwin began to reply in a soft and considered tone, “no healer, but I might hazard a guess that the process of healing the patient will require a level of understanding his thought processes. His reasoning behind his behaviour the past few months, to treat the supposed ‘illness’.” Edwin watched Miranda was real interest as he continued, “Would you go as far as the hypothesis that all his criminal behaviour has been due to this illness? And have you other patients exhibiting similar symptoms?”

“None of my patients have made attempts at controlling Dementors, Edwin.” The Healer’s tone betrayed the fact that she clearly found the Minister’s question to be imbecilic. It hadn’t helped when he’d suggested Musgrave’s illness to be ‘supposed’. Was the word of the Head Healer not adequate for the new Minister? A Minister she’d helped get into office.

“As for his behaviour?” Her tone softened as she considered, “I couldn’t say.” Miranda wasn’t sure if Glass was hoping for it to be a cover all for Musgrave’s misdoings or if he was genuinely interested in the research. He was a challenging man to read.

Pausing for thought, Miranda crossed her legs and sat back in the seat.
“You’re asking me to make a hypothesis regarding a patient I’ve not handled myself. I’ve spent mere moments in his mind and it’s a catastrophic mess.” Miranda was never willing to guess or make assumptions when it came to her job. A wrong guess could mean the loss of a life or worse, her reputation.

“Musgrave clearly committed criminal acts long before his association with dementors. I wouldn’t presume to make a blanket diagnosis, especially without time with him. Healer Misslethorpe might be more helpful for that question.” A frown creased the Head Healer’s features as she locked eyes with the Minister. “I’m not going to have answers for you after a few weeks, Edwin. This isn’t a fast process. But I truly believe there is a chance it will work.”

Dark eyes shot to the Head of Law Enforcement. “Unless your non-negotiable terms are unworkable.”

He remained unconvinced of the Head Healer's good intentions. Miranda delivered a rather winning speech by addressing the obvious ethical concern of her proposal but Solomon knew that, quite often, words were simply words. That was how Mortimer Gamp had gotten away with his crimes - they trusted he was telling them the truth, and nobody dared to undermine level nine in order to verify his goals. Handing Musgrave over could have similar implications.

Minister Glass posed a more philosophical question, which Mira answered by completely ignoring the subtleties of Lawrence's behaviour. Perhaps she assumed Edwin was being dense. She seemed to think she was the smartest person in the room at all times. That, at least, would change.

            "But I truly believe there is a chance it will work." The witch turned her attention back to Sol, who was pleasantly enjoying his tea. "Unless your non-negotiable terms are unworkable.”

Solomon shrugged, setting down his cup. It didn't matter to him if she thought the terms were unworkable: her mistake had been to provide them with details of her project and to demand a favour at the same time. If Miranda refused, it was possible to seek more cooperative researchers.

It would take longer and the alternative might not be as skilled as her but at least Solomon wouldn't have to worry about their having enabled another power hungry wix into breaking the law.

"There are several conditions. First and foremost, however, is that the venture be carried out under the supervision of a Ministry party." Sol surmised that the other terms would be easier to convey; he chose to begin with the one that reminded Miranda she was always under their watchful eye. "Minister Glass and I have selected a suitable professional who must have equal import in your work - and the power to override should he discern a moral fracture in your supposed  oath."

"There are several conditions. First and foremost, however, is that the venture be carried out under the supervision of a Ministry party."

Cartstairs chose to dive straight in with what one would hope to be the worst of the terms. The challenge was for the Healer to maintain a plain expression. She brought her tea to her lips, listening, internally contesting the suggestion already.

Dark eyes shot to Glass and the mention of his name but she still didn’t interrupt. When it was clear that Solomon had finished speaking, Miranda took another sip of her tea, biding time to consider a suitable response. The men had arrived prepared, having backup for the match of wits. They’d already decided an outcome and it was for her to do their dance before they would package up her new present and install him in her hospital to be opened and played with.

It was the dance that she resented having to do.

“A minder.” Storm could ignore his comment about her oath. Solomon Carstairs was a quill pushing ex-auror with very little understanding for much else, or so Miranda presumed. His wife was a werewolf, he was seemingly a tolerant man. Ignan had thought him reasonable. Questioning a Healer’s oath, the Head Healer’s oath wasn’t reasonable.

“With all due respect, Solomon…Edwin, St Mungo’s is my hospital. I can agree to a partner but I can’t have some ministry professional having the ability to overrule me.” Her tone was calm, holding none of her habitual iciness. She could stand her ground but she knew she had to play nice to do it. “I’m the overruling voice on the safety of my patients and staff. If we proceed with this, Lawrence Musgrave will be my patient.”

She frowned, gaze snapping to their Minister for Magic. “Who are you proposing?”

Life as a hatstand was, thus far, unremarkable.

Yavin Morgenthau had been given a brief tour of the Department of Mysteries early this morning - he had been left there to explore what would soon be his central hub of activity as its new head. A confusing place, in terms of layout, but communications with a formal pupil late last night[1] had yielded some of its many secrets. Glancing quirks: doors that only Seers could notice, stairways that lead nowhere, chambers of depthless magnificence.... and wormhole passageways leading to other floors. One in particular had been walled up: level two.[2]

This was how he came to disguise himself as a hatstand in the office of the Minister of Magic. Which was to say, he had found a wormhole leading directly here beforehand, and it didn't seem remiss to assume a harmless form. Yavin was very curious as to the nature of these wixes.

It was really rather fascinating to watch them converse. He could almost taste the acid in the air (if he had a tongue) - were they friends or foes? There was history here.

            "I’m the overruling voice...will be my patient," asserted Miranda Storm, who had luckily entered without hanging up a hat on him. As she spoke, the teapot on the desk rose into the air and began to decant a fourth cup. Splash of milk. "Who are you proposing?"

Now, wouldn't it be rude if he didn't put in an appearance this very moment? Yavin focused, so that his long and lanky appearance as a hatstand was abruptly replaced by his similarly long and lanky appearance as a wizard. He stood still for a moment, by the door, and rolled his shoulders back.

"Oof!" Yavin intoned, blinking rapidly. "Mahogany always leaves a man a little stiff, don't you, ah, you agree?" he was crossing the room in long strides. "Minister Glass," he performed a cheerful bow before lowering his voice dramatically. "Solomon." Carstairs smiled back - the uncertain smile of a man trying not to look startled, considering a hand had gone straight for his wand.

Smoothly, Yavin turned to the little witch sat at the table and held out his hand. He studied her good-humouredly from behind his spectacles. "Yavin Morgenthau. I, ah, I've read you. Jigsaw puzzle, clever clever stuff. Don't mind me?" a gesture at a third chair, before which the tea cup unceremoniously deposited itself. "We don't give hatstands enough credit for how, hah, how tiring it is to stand around all day."

1.	The Walls Are Paper Thin
2.	Wrecking Ball - 14th February, kidnapping victims escaped through this.

Miranda was predictably herself as she fielded their questions, biting back. Edwin did his utmost to maintain an even expression as she pointed him in the direction of her Deputy, Misslethorpe, who Edwin had noted was visiting Musgrave at regular intervals in a healing capacity. He had also been the healer to initially examine Gamp’s mental capacity after his arrest and enable the Ministry to write him off as insane.

“I’m not going to have answers for you after a few weeks, Edwin. This isn’t a fast process. But I truly believe there is a chance it will work.”

Work for whom, Edwin did wonder. The Head Healer was absolutely sure the arrangement would work for her.

Solomon brokered the first condition.

“Minister Glass and I have selected a suitable professional who must have equal import in your work - and the power to override should he discern a moral fracture in your supposed oath.” Edwin fought the urge to glance at his hatstand as the smug smile began to creep back into his lips.

“… I can agree to a partner…” Of course she would, she’d choose Misslethorpe, who had already proven receptive to moulding his opinions to meet the needs of others. “… Lawrence Musgrave will be my patient.”

But our prisoner, Edwin added internally, staring at Miranda.

“Who are you proposing?”

The teapot lifted from the tray and began to pour a fourth cup before an empty armchair. Solomon instinctively reached for his wand, Edwin’s smug smile reached his eyes and the hat stand returned to being a wizard. The real one was stood outside the door in the room where Holmes and the other runners worked. To have two seemed perfectly ordinary given the Minister’s grand office.

Morgenthau’s choice of cardigan fitted with the setting.

“Head Healer Storm, Mr Morgenthau will be heading up the Department of Mysteries from the first of the month.” Edwin gestured to the other man as he took a seat, “and one of our conditions.” He flexed his eyebrows upwards a touch as if to say ‘bite me, Miranda’. “Have you heard of his work, Healer?”

The teacup pouring a new drink hadn’t passed Miranda’s attention.

"Oof!"

Miranda’s head span around the see exactly who the pair had in mind. She wasn’t sure whether she was more surprised at the fact that he’d just materialised from a hat stand or who he was.

The lanky wizard strode towards them, long purposeful strides in a travesty of a cardigan. Miranda could only stare. She didn’t need to be told who he was. She had two copies of everything he’d ever published.

He stood in front of her, hand out. To anyone else, Miranda may have glared, unimpressed. But to Yavin Morgenthau? She placed her teacup down and rose to stand. Of course, he drawfed her and she found herself looking up to meet his eyes as she took his hand. Did Yavin Morgenthau just call her work clever? Miranda may have gushed had she not been made of far sterner stuff.

“Thank you, Mr Morgenthau.” After a firm shake, Miranda glanced at a very smug looking Edwin Glass.
“and one of our conditions.” The pudgy wizard said with a raise of his eyebrows. “Have you heard of his work, Healer?”

“Heard of it?” Miranda looked back to the wizard whose words had taught her a lot of what she knew about legilimency. Her smile was genuine. “I use your handbook to train our specialised healers, Mr Mogenthau.” Even Ignan had a copy. “It’s a pleasure.”

The Minister, both kindly and unkindly, made introductions.

Yavin took his seat with a smile at the other three - Miranda's frosty demeanour had somewhat thawed, or so he surmised from her having taken the trouble to get up. Carstairs was eyeing her like she'd sprouted a second pair of arms. Reasonable to assume, then, that they expected a more frigid temperament as the norm. Her good mood was enabled by the topic at hand.

            "I use your handbook to train our specialised healers, Mr Mogenthau. It’s a pleasure."

"It is?" Yavin smiled, accepting his drink from Solomon and smiling at the witch. "I, hm, I can't say I have met any of your specialised healers. Are there many?" he poured the tea into the matching saucer, placing its cup aside. "Will they be assisting in your, ah, your study?"

            "We're getting ahead of ourselves," the DMLE head remarked, attention shifting from Mira's bizarre behaviour to Yavin's strange drinking habits. "Healer Storm hasn't yet agreed to our conditions, so we don't yet know if her study will come to fruition."

His brief life as a hatstand had informed Yavin as much but he had a good feeling about the course of events to come. Glass and Carstairs were not making unaccommodating demands, taking into consideration that the prisoner involved was primarily their responsibility. Yavin was highly conscious of ethical concerns - he had mastered an ability that could poison anyone who didn't respect the sanctity of the mind.

"Right, right. Don't let me get in the, in the way of this -" he gestured a triangular shape between Minister, Healer and Solomon. "- this, ah, um, exchange of directives. I only want to reassure Miranda that she, shall we say, that she doesn't have to worry about me overriding - I'll borrow your word Sol - overriding her decisions without good reason."

Yavin raised his eyebrows at the tail end of this flurry of words, and then sipped his tea from the saucer.

"I, hm, I can't say I have met any of your specialised healers. Are there many?" Morgenthau asked as he sat down and took his tea. Miranda also lowered herself back into her seat and crossed her legs at the ankles, reaching for her own drink. The healer, however, failed to respond immediately. Instead, she found herself staring as the wizard she’d always wanted to meet proceeded to pour tea into his saucer. He continued to speak and Mira’s eyes snapped up to meet his gaze, her own teacup frozen in it’s travel to meet her lips.

“I ah…” It was very rare for Miranda Storm to struggle over her words.
Solomon interjected, to the Head Healer’s relief until he continued to make it clear that her study would most definitely not run if she disagreed with their terms. This was one of those times that she wouldn’t win and Miranda knew it.
But the consolation prize?

Despite the travesty of a cardigan and utterly ludicrous tea drinking habits, Yavin Morgenthau was a genius, one she’d have usually delighted in working with.

Morgenthau made an attempt to reassure before once more sipping from what was basically a miniature plate. Miranda’s gaze shot to Carstairs, the hope he might second guess the insistence of having the man drinking from his saucer as the one overriding the Head Healer.

“Of course, Mr Morgenthau, I have absolutely no doubts of your ability.” The witch finally found her words, averting her gaze from the perturbing display of peculiarity.


“But please understand, I am responsible for every patient in my hospital. I am dubious of agreeing to give overriding power to anyone else if Musgrave becomes my patient.”

Edwin gave a little impatient sigh, unperturbed by the saucer drinking. He had witnessed his new Department Head’s odd method of drinking hot tea and gone through the initial disgust and confusion at the method. That and the choice of cardigans. The most intelligent were often a little eccentric, especially on Level Nine.

“Musgrave will not only be a patient,” the Minister interjected, “he will be a prisoner of the Ministry. You will not hold sole control of him. Every decision will be taken in conjunction with your research partner.” Edwin’s gaze slid to the saucer-slurping wizard beside Miranda. His appearance was deceiving at that moment, even Edwin had to agree with the Head Healer’s insecurity based on the visual assessment.

“You seem to believe the Ministry did not have its own plans for studying Musgrave, Head Healer.” The corner of Edwin’s mouth turned up. He would have shoved Lawrence in Azkaban just to see what happened, but he had also told all floors to lend hands to the pump on Nine to solve the dementor issue. They had at least one down there, starving it, trying to extract souls from it to see if they could restore one unfortunate unspeakable, currently a shell. The whole pentrals incident had further complicated matters, though such magic did not seem entirely unfamiliar to the unspeakables.

“He is not a book you are borrowing from the library.” Musgrave was one of those that didn’t leave the library, but the location of said ‘library’ was to be discussed.

He could, in many ways, understand why Morgenthau was on intimate terms with Angela's family[1]. These eccentricities were much more suited to the arts than to the Ministry of Magic - but Mysteries was the exception to many rules. Solomon tried his best to pretend that the other wizard was not drinking out of a saucer, and focused on the exchange between Mira and Edwin. The Head Healer clearly had delusions of grandeur if she thought they would allow her that much sway over their prisoner.

            "He is not a book you are borrowing from the library." Minister Glass reminded her.

"Quite," Solomon agreed with a somber nod. "Even in the context of your own hospital, Miranda, patients have autonomy. They must agree to healing methods, especially experimental ones. Simply put, I do not - and cannot - trust you to respect Musgrave's autonomy. You have disregarded protocol in the past. And if you were truly objective, you would know better than to trust yourself without a safeguard."

He gestured case-in-point towards their imminent head of nine, who had set down his drink with a vague smile. "My, hah, my ability is besides the point." Yavin crossed his legs and relaxed into the armchair. His manner was pleasant and Solomon felt like they might have been in his own living room.

"I, ah, represent the ethical interests of, um, this Mugrave character." Morgenthau raised his eyebrows at Miranda, pointedly. "You have nothing to worry about. Your, let's see, your methods are after all, ethical. Why should you object?"

1.	Edgar & Angela Carstairs, Virgil's parents.