Around 9pm, about an hour and a half before Storm of Souls.


Lorelei Hunt stood in the waiting area of St. Mungo's hospital, dressed in dreary but formal Ministry robes, a stolen badge pinned on the front of her robe. She wore a stern face, her olive-toned skin tanned from the sun, her eyes expressive and dark, and her shoulder-length hair in bad need of a cut. The taste of the polyjuice potion still lingered in her mouth. It tasted of spices and crisp, fall air. Lore ran her tongue over her teeth and made a slight face.

Lorelei had left Cannenta Caldwell in a deep sleep in her flat off of Diagon Alley, a sleep that would last well into the morning, when she would no doubt discover that she'd misplaced her shiny, new Board of Warlocks badge. The badge was the second thing that Lorelei had stolen from the Healer. The first had been a strand of her rich brown hair. Lore had plucked it from Cannenta's head about a month ago, upon discovering Lawrence Musgrave's transfer to the hospital[1].

The wixes at the front desk hadn't recognized her, which Lorelei had counted on. Cannenta had trained at St. Mungo's, and spent the past twenty years traveling with disaster response programs similar to IDREAD before settling into her newly appointed role on the Board of Warlocks, where her outspoken demeanor and impatience for red tape had yet to earn her friends.

Lore paced the tiled floor of the waiting area, glancing at the clock. Whether Cannenta discovered that she'd been impersonated tonight, Lore didn't much care. She only needed a few hours to learn what the Healers had discovered. 

By now, they must have learned something to help the dementor victims. Her brother's life depended on it.

The irony that the very wixes left cleaning up after her mess might hold the solution to Leander's damaged soul was not lost on her. If she hadn't suffered so much, she would have found it amusing. Dementor victims, pentral victims, and desperate criminals all flocked to Mungo's and piled their troubles at the feet of the green-robed saints.

Her skin itched under the layers of disguises she'd donned, thick as winter cloaks. She gritted her teeth at the sound of a child wailing in a nearby chair. The worried father eyed her golden badge. She paced further away before he could open his mouth and ask for her help.
 
Finally! Sandy Misslethorpe appeared, walking down the hall from the lifts, and stopping by the front desk of the hospital. The wix at the desk gestured to her. Lorelei relaxed. They had an appointment at nine, scheduled via the letters she'd forged in Cannenta's name.

Miranda Storm had been removed from Musgrave's care, leaving deputy head healer Sandy Misslethorpe in her place. He had hands in two pots, one in Level Four of St. Mungo's and the other in Witch Weekly publishing, but Lorelei hoped that merely kept him busy rather than distracted. If he lacked the information she needed, she would not be pleased.

"Healer Misselthorpe? Cannenta Caldwell, from the Board of Warlocks." She stuck out her hand. A ring glittered on her index finger. The third thing she'd stolen from Cannenta.

"Thank you for meeting with me at this hour. I won't take up too much of your time. A Healer's work never ceases, does it?"

Lorelei smiled widely, and then a second later remembered to crinkle her eyes.

1.	Editor's Letter

"Hello there." Sandy said. He shook hands. "No it does not." He agreed. "And the board is keeping you busy?" He asked. "How do you find it?" Cannenta Caldwell was new. Sandy had not met her before. Sandy had shown members of the board around before. But not important ones. Andy showed them around. If it suited her. He hoped Caldwell was sensible. The board were meant to help. Not cause them stress! "What is it I can help you with?" Sandy said. "You wanted to see our work about dementors?" 

The man was tall, wore tidy robes and a serious expression. Lorelei dimmed her smile ever so slightly to match his countenance.

"Yes, you know how it is. Never-ending paperwork, boxes to tick and the like," she patted the scroll and quill in the pocket of her robe. She fought the urge to elaborate and exaggerate. To create a story. To prove that she'd studied this Cannenta Caldwell, with her dowdy formal robes and pinned back hair and tendency to prattle about the countries she'd visited and the lives she'd saved. What a bore!

"The board has asked me to check in on the dementor victims, see how their health is progressing. Are they worsening, are they stagnant. Are some getting better?" Her voice lilted up a fraction, watching Misslethorpe's face as she continued to explain. "And of course, we are here to lend our assistance and support, be it additional staff, specialists. Other resources, if needed," she gestured. "With the strange surge of dementors in August and the attacks since then," she lowered her voice discreetly at the sound of voices behind them. "We're all quite invested in helping the patients improve."

She moved aside smoothly as a witch with tiny, red horns erupting from her skin hurried to the front desk, hiding her face with her hands. The woman let out a sob.

Lorelei stared, mildly curious as to what had caused such a skin condition. Between the crying child in the seat and the crying witch at the desk, she felt a mixture of triumph and disdain, as if she'd won in life simply by witnessing another's distress. Lore shifted her attention back to Sandy Misslethorpe and affected another smile.

"Perhaps you'd be so kind as to offer me a tour of the fourth floor? I've not been here since my training days," Lorelei could not help but add. Little truths. The fourth, fifth, and sixth things she'd stolen from Cannenta Caldwell.

Sandy walked Cannenta Caldwell upstairs. The hospital was busy. Each of the Spell Damage wards had a different atmosphere. Some were calm. Some were joyful. Some were silent. Up here Sandy could reply. Without wrong people listening.
"We are successful when we treat short term exposure." said Sandy. "Chance attacks. Short time with dementors. Cheering charms. Chocolate. Be with family." Sandy held the door for Madam Caldwell. "The more acute exposure is our focus. We have potions specialists. They are looking at mood altering potions. Reality altering ones even. But we are making some inroads with legilimency." The screaming was clearer now. From a ward nearby. Sandy did not look like he noticed.

She nodded as he held the door open for her. She knew all that, about the short-term effects. That wasn't why she was here.

Mood-altering and reality-altering potions treated the symptoms, relieving them, she supposed, but when you were a shell of yourself, was it possible to infuse someone with the remnants of their lost personality? To bring back pieces of their soul?

"Legilimency," Lore repeated, as if she knew what he was talking about, though she hadn't heard of it being used to treat patients suffering dementor affects.

"Do you move on to try Legilimency when the potions haven't worked? Is it reserved for the most serious cases?"

Lore walked with Healer Misslethorpe down the hall of of the fourth floor, her gaze drifting to the screams.

"What percentage of patients would you say it's helping?"

She didn't care, but it sounded like the sort of thing a stick-up-her-arse Ministry peon might ask, and she needed more information about whether she should continue to try to heal Leander with potions, or abandon her attempts for another method.