More concerning than the the bizarre experience of the MRI was another round of quieted confused voices as what the muggle doctors expected to happen didn't seem to happen. Despite Dr. Schäfer's very fine efforts, the dread in Tamzin couldn't be quieted. It wasn't Dr. Schäfer's fault, of course. She would't know. And on top of that, she couldn't know. Couldn't know that nothing about her patient was going to make any sense and that every little test and question was going to add to the stack of befuddlement for all of them.

She carried on with Dr. Schäfer with as much pleasantness and compliance she could summon.

"No trying to run off, now," said Dr. Shafer.

Tamzin responded with a little laugh. "Oof, don't think I could if I wanted to..."

And for the first time in hours, Tamzin Ollivander was left alone in the muggle hospital.

"About time," she whispered. With the minimal haste she could muster, and with careful maneuvering around the broken bones, Tamzin began an escape attempt. To her great exasperation, sitting up was all she could muster and even that worried her. If she could just ...

She closed her eyes and let a breath settle warm in her gut, then with intensity and feeling she whispered, "Accio wand!"

There! She heard it! Tamzin was no great Wandless Magic Wonder, but there! To her left by the window her wand had rustled in her bag! She tried the spell again, inspiring another wiggle from her wand. It was just out of reach on the large window sill. There were rails on the beds and that blasted little tube was still in her arm. She quickly fussed with both. Not as soon as she'd have liked, she detached some part of the IV and found the release for the bed rail. With a lurch on her good let, a stifled wince of pain, and knocking something over, Tamzin had her hand on her bag.

Then, her hand on her wand. And then, she disappeared.

Shrank away to nine pounds, actually. Quick as a wink, as fast as her fingers made proper contact with the living handle, the white-haired witch became a white-furred cat with violet eyes. She had all the injuries she'd earned earlier that night, but all of the resilience, sturdiness, and whiskers of a feline. The door had been left open, so there was no time to lose.

Tamzin's progress was stumbling, hasty, and she had no idea where she was going.  But at least she was out of that bed.

"Oh my god, there's a cat!"

"Trevelyan," Jonas corrected, flashing the doctor a quick smile as he gripped her hand. 

The handshake was brisk and no-nonsense, just as Dr. Schäfer appeared to be.  Within moments, she was leading him back into the hallway towards Tamzin's room.

Expectedly, she also had plenty of questions for him.  He'd gotten good enough at making up answers on the spot during the several weeks that Tamis Raynor had spent in a Muggle hospital a couple of years prior.[1]  Apparently, if Tamzin giving his name out was anything to judge by, his experience in Muggle-ness had earned him the unofficial role of Muggle Liaison when his friends got into trouble with the mundane.

"Friend of the family," he replied, which was technically true.  After all, he'd first met Tamzin's uncle when he was eleven.  "Most of Tam's family lives outside of the city, though, which might be why she had me down as a contact.  Is she alright?"

They stepped into the hallway, Dr. Schäfer leading the way as she updated him on Tamzin's condition.  Brow furrowing, Jonas concentrating on keeping pace with her, trying to minimize his limp.

"Tamzin was brought in late last night after a motor vehicle accident," she continued. "She's stable and doesn't appear to have any life-threatening injuries but we are monitoring for any complications.  Do you know how we might contact her primary physician?"

That was a question he hadn't thought to prepare an answer for. 

"Ah," Jonas said, mentally running through a list of all of the healers he knew at St. Mungo's.  Were any of them Muggleborn?  Somehow, he didn't trust any of the few he'd interacted with to act as a successful liaison with a sharp-as-a-whip Muggle doctor.  It was really too bad that Grace was only twenty, because she could have probably provided an effective cover.

Before he could open his mouth to respond, betting on the fact that a family friend wouldn't necessarily know someone's personal physician, he was saved by an unexpected feline.

"Oh my god, there's a cat!"

And there was indeed: a familiar white-furred feline stumbled down the hallway towards them, looking more than a little worse for wear, with several frantic people in blue scrubs chasing after it. 

Jonas stopped in his tracks, momentarily closing his eyes.  As soon as he got back to the Ministry on Thursday, he was going to personally organize a workshop on What Not to Do When Incapacitated in a Muggle Hospital and force every single Animagus in his circle of acquaintances to attend.

"Oi!" he called out to it, putting an emphasis on the word. And then, realizing it would likely look a bit strange if the cat made a beeline for him with no context, he bent over, getting  closer to its level.  "Uh, here, kitty, kitty?"

1.	An extended hospital stay followed the events of Curiosity Killed the Cat in January 2009.

"Friend of the family, most of Tam's family lives outside of the city, though, which might be why she had me down as a contact.  Is she alright?"

Hanna nodded and let out a long, slow sigh.  Well, luckily, she hadn't divulged too much personal information to a friend of the family.  And, Tamzin had requested they contact this man.  Hopefully, one of the nurses had ... or would ... remember to get her to sign a disclosure authorization and no one would care what had been said before or after said paperwork. 

Except ... as she neared the end of the wing, the quiet, peaceful hospital room she'd left not moments ago had turned into utter mayhem.  A very confused and slightly nervous nurse was standing outside the woman's hospital door with a shrug that could be interpreted one of several different ways.  None of which were good. 

Nurses, PAs, other physicians and custodial staff were all gathered around the open area outside the nurse's station, all staring at the scraggly feline that was limping across the floor. 

"Oh my god, there's a cat!"

"It looks sickly!"

"Did it come in with Danny?"

"Don't let it get away!  We need to start checking patients for bites."

"You can't think it's rabid, can you?  When's the last time the UK has had a rabid cat?"

"Look at the state of it!  Maybe someone sneaked it in."

Hanna had remained quiet amidst the mayhem, narrowed, critical eyes sliding from the staggering cat to the remarkably non-plussed visitor who was simply - albeit awkwardly - calling the cat towards him.  He wasn't sharing in the general surprise and alarm.  The cat, as well, seemed remarkably less fractious than she'd anticipate most cats being in this position.  Damn, their own house cat threw a full out tantrum if they tried to hold it still to trim its nails and this one seemed ...

Blind.  Injured, not sick.  Broken leg ... in fact ... two broken legs.  A rear and a front, on the right side, if Hanna weren't mistaken.  Exactly like ...

Hanna's gaze flickered, again, from the man crouching next to her to the nurse standing by the open door to the hospital room and back to the cat.  Taking a deep breath, she made a split-moment decision - one that could very well cost her her job, and maybe her license, if she had guessed wrong. 

She raised her hands, trying to signal for the growing din to calm somewhat as she turned towards this Jonas.  "Mr. Trevelyan, I understand your intentions, but you really should have checked with hospital policy.  Patients' pets can not be brought to the hospital to visit, for ... obvious reasons."  She gestured towards the mayhem-imbedded cat.  "It's too much of a risk to both patients and the animal.  If you would please pick up the cat; we'll need to get vaccination records in the morning but, for now, please let's just get her back into the exam room before there's more chaos."  She glanced pointedly at the cat before looking towards Trevelyan.  "Patients are trying to sleep." 

Tamzin ordered herself not to regret what she'd just done. She loved being an Animagus, treasured the skill, and the world when she was a cat - it bloomed. Everything was more detailed and rich and with these four paws on the ground, she could almost fly. Well, when she wasn't a wreck, that is. In her current state, her senses didn't so much bloom as blare and her feet were not so nimble. The cacophony was sharp and steely and every smell was soaked in something sour and chemical.

Through the mess, however, Tamzin found a familiar figure! Jonas! These clever muggles had located him somehow. He shouted and then, oh the power-of-Merlin, he didn't....

"Uh, here, kitty, kitty."

Oh, sharp lad this one! Here, kitty, kitty! Honestly, had the man ever interacted with a cat in his life? What actual cat would respond to that sulky ballad? Bah! With effort she slid under a cart that was set against the wall. He'd seen her she knew, so no more use running around. So much of her attention was consumed with trying to cope with the intense pain that every movement brought her.

The doctor's instructions worked to calm the ruckus; but more than that, her improvisation about Jonas bringing felines for visitors was concerning. And puzzling. Not at all a comforting omen.

The cart moved and Jonas picked her up.

Hiss! Careful!

Tamzin snapped at him despite herself, clawing crookedly for secure purchase in his arms. She ended up halfway up his shoulder, her head behind his, and her thick fluffy tail lashing against his face.

Move your hand! Not like that! Hiss!

Jonas had already decided that his wife was right and he should never pick up his phone after 8 pm.  Now, as he struggled to gather up the unhappy cat, he had to deal with sharp claws, dusty fur, a ferocious tail, and the undeniable feeling that he was about to sneeze.

“Ow!  Careful!”  He yanked his hand back out of the way as teeth connected a little too firmly.

The cat had been the focus of the entire hallway’s attention a few moments before.  Now, as the feline settled unhappily onto his shoulder, getting a few last snips in as it did, all of the eyes had shifted to stare at him. 

Luckily — or perhaps unluckily — the doctor had already decided to step in.

“Mr. Trevelyan, I understand your intentions, but you really should have checked with hospital policy...”

Bloody hell.  Now he was going to have to figure out how to talk his way out of this one, all while struggling with an upset, allergy-inducing Tamzin the Cat.  At least if they got kicked out of the hospital, he could take Tamzin to St. Mungo’s and then be on his way, hopefully directly to pick up allergy medication from a 24-hour drugstore.

Jonas was in the process of opening his mouth, although he was still deciding whether his best course of action was to protest or apologize profusely and leave, when the doctor’s last few words registered.

“Please let’s just get her back into the exam room before there’s more chaos.”

The red-headed Auror blinked.

“Right,” he said, putting a hand to the cat to steady it. This turned out not to be the right move; Tamzin snapped at his fingers again.  Jonas tried to shoot her a look, but unfortunately, a whiff of dander in the process turned it into a sneeze.

Did the doctor know something?  He hadn’t caught her dropping any verbal cues a few minutes before when they’d been talking privately, but she’d been awfully quick to jump in with a story.  Was this all just a coincidence, or was there another reason why she was the one treating Tamzin?

Doing his best to mitigate the clearly unhappy cat, who did not seem to want him to move back in the direction that it had come from, he followed Dr. Schafer back to the exam room.

After spending the better part of the night chasing after that one, small missing piece of the puzzle that would make all of this come together, Hanna had a strong suspicion that she'd found it.  Everything about how that ragged looking cat and the non-family member visitor (who had arrived with no sign of feline companionship) supported that presumptive diagnosis. 

It had been over three decades since she'd last seen proper, real magic.  Those early experiences with wands and spells and potions and people who could become other animals had almost completely faded into the recesses of distant memory.  They had almost been completely forgotten until that china teacup Micha had dropped nearly a year ago had managed to land on the soft cushions of the sofa in the next room. 

And, as unlikely and fantastical an explanation as it might be, it was the only one that fit all the separate pieces.  Unfortunately, there were no serology tests or diagnostic procedures that would confirm her suspicion and no recommended protocols for handling things, if her suspicions were correct.  And still no way to explain to hospital admins why a blind, multi-fractured hit-by-car managed to disappear amidst the mysterious cat invasion. 

This time, Hanna closed the exam room door behind her as she followed the man and the cat inside.  "That is her, yes?" she asked, as she retrieved the cat's ... woman's chart from the end of the hospital bed and flipped it open, glancing over the test results for the twentieth time. 

"What happens now?  I don't recall that we've ever treated your kind here and, given how excited we get when a Lyme disease rash walks through the door, I imagine such a case would make for a memorable grand rounds." 

Merlin's incorruptible bones and all three moons, she knew? The muggle knew. 'Your kind,' she said. Not a witch, not a squib, a muggle and she knew. That meant she must be in the family, but not enough to tell right away. Either way, the jig was up. The cat was, (so sorry), out of the bag.

Tamzin, delicately but with feeling, moved in Jonas's arms in that pointed way cats did to demand they be set down.  Once she was on the soft bed, she became herself again.

"Ahhh-h-h," she breathed. Everything bloody hurt. She was in the hospital gown and her wand in her hand.

Her first words were to Jonas as she tried to find a position that didn't hurt.  "Oh, Jonas, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. It smells here and and now -," she paused and leaned a little towards Jonas.

"And now we have to '_obliviate' this one." She mouthed the name of the spell. "I can't get in trouble with Three again. Ahhh-h-h. Don't look," she ordered the doctor.

"Episkokaley," she flicked the spell at her leg.[1] There were some sickening snaps and cracks and Tamzin's grit teeth told all that this was not comfortable, but soon it was done and she laid back with a sigh. "Oh, stars. Stars and unicorns and all that's good, thank you."

1.	Tamzin is a very skilled witch, but not a trained Healer. I imagine this repair job will be tender and require a proper Healer's care.

It didn’t take long for his theory to be confirmed.  The doctor clearly knew more about what was happening here than he would have guessed at first, although her use of the phrase ’Your kind’ made him feel like he needed to twitch.

“Ahhh,” Jonas protested, rubbing at his tickling nose as he released the squirming cat down on the bed.  "We're all really just part of the same kind, aren't we?  It’s not like we’re two completely different species  just because some of us learned how to wiggle a stick about when we—“

He was interrupted by Tamzin turning back into herself again. 

It was good to see his friend as a human again, even if she looked equally worse-for-wear as she had in her cat form.  Tamzin exploded in a wash of words, and he tried to shake his head reassuringly, to let her know that it wasn’t a big deal, up until the point where the conversation took the unfortunate logical turn and she was mouthing the O-word at him.

The Auror winced.

“No one’s getting obliviated,” he said sharply.  If Tamzin had wanted someone to come along and clean up behind her at the hospital without any fuss, she’d rung the wrong emergency contact.  “And Level Three doesn’t need to bloody well know about this.”

Tamzin seemed to be able to relieve the worst of her pain, even if the process of resetting the bones was a bit disturbing, and so Jonas glanced hesitatingly at the doctor.  Of all of his magical friends, he probably had the most to lose when the two worlds started colliding.  Tamzin could simply obliviate everyone around her and go back to her workshop without a second thought, but he still maintained a private office in London and kept up appearances with his Muggle contacts here and in Exeter.  He didn’t need to end up with some sort of bulletin out for him because the patient he’d come to visit at a Muggle hospital had gone missing.  But neither did he want to be the reason for an entire floor of Muggle doctors to get flashy-thinged in a tragic recreation of Men in Black.

Your kind, Dr. Schafer had said.  She clearly knew something about the magical world, even if it wasn’t much, and that meant that someone must have trusted her enough to tell her at some point.  She could even have a son or daughter at Hogwarts, or be married to a wix.

There was nothing to do but follow their lead and trust her, too.

“Let’s try this again, yeah?” he asked, extending his hand to the doctor.  “I’m Jonas Trevelyan.  Sometimes private detective, and now full-time Auror with the Ministry of Magic here in London.” 

He raised an eyebrow, regarding the doctor carefully for a moment.  “How do you know about magic?”

Despite her recent advancement to full time clinician, Hanna Schäfer had just enough training to know that outwardly expressing frustration was counterproductive to treating a patient.  Even if every fiber of the doctor's being wanted to sigh loudly in frustration and massage the headache that was budding just underneath the bridge of her nose. 

“Ahhh.  We're all really just part of the same kind, aren't we?  It’s not like we’re two completely different species  just because some of us learned how to wiggle a stick about when we—“

After all, the middle of the night in the midst of a double shift was probably the least convenient time to dredge up memories of the past and explanations for choice of wording.  Especially with a patient and a stranger, both of whom she'd likely never see again. 

"I'm sorry if that came across as offensive.  I'm afraid, that hasn't been my experience.  I've found the line between the stick wigglers and non-stick wigglers to be rather distinct." 

But, regardless of wands and histories and memories, Hanna was still a doctor.  As the cat on the bed morphed back into her patient, concern quickly replaced the exhaustion and frustration in Hanna's features and she crossed quickly to the side of the bed. 

"Will you please stop moving around," she scolded as Tamzin fidgeted in the bed.  "You are still my patient and I am trying to-" Her words were cut off by the woman's flood of apologies to Jonas with a few stray course exchanges between the two whose meaning Hanna couldn't quite grasp.  This time, despite her best intentions, Hanna couldn't help the quiet sigh and rolled eyes as she slowly shook her head.   

"Wait.  What are you-"  Of course, after raising three children, Hanna was well aware that don't look meant better look, I'm about to do something stupid, but, before she had a chance to intervene, the blind woman had cast a spell at her own injured leg.  She winced, sympathetically, at the familiar sound of bone grating bone and could do little more than hope some of the earlier opioid-benzos cocktail persisted, despite the woman's brief stint as a cat.  "For mercy's sake!" she breathed, looking at Jonas in exacerbation.  "At the very least, here -" she crossed to the small supply room adjacent to the exam room and returned with an ice pack, which she pressed into the woman's hand.  "I'll tell you when you can take it off," she instructed. 

Keeping one eye on her patient, she accepted Jonas' hand and shook it, the doctorly facade relaxing slightly as she grinned and shook her head.  "I don't know what half of that meant but it is good to meet you.  I'm Dr. Hanna Schäfer, ER and critical care physician.  I was on shift when the medics brought Tamzin in."  For a brief moment, she hesitated on the last question but, finally, she offered another slight grin.

"Family trait, I suppose; I grew up around it as a little girl.  Most of my distant relatives could do magic but I haven't had anything to do with that world for decades."  Distant in terms or familiarity and geography, if not along the family tree.  "And, it seems my son has inherited the trait."

The trials Tamzin had put herself through in the last ten minutes were quickly taking their toll, but with her friend come in rescue and her wand back with her where it belonged Tamzin felt calmer than she had since she got here.

The doctor thrust an ice cold pad into her hand and Tamzin shortly realized it was meant to be applied to her now-healed leg. She was skeptical but driven by gratitude for Dr. Schäfer, Tamzin complied. She really had been wonderful; in her urgency to get back to the familiar, Tamzin had almost forgotten. Everyone here, really, had been very kind. Just trying to help and keep her comfortable. She resolved to dutifully 'keep it on' even though it felt a little absurd.

There was still the matter of her other arm, ribs, and whatever else. Jonas was being a diplomat, which was fine with her, and Dr. Schafer's responses were mystifying and intriguing.

"She's been very good," Tamzin said, sneaking in a good work to Jonas about Dr. Schafer. Tamzin might have been happy to lay back and rest (ice pack and all) but something kept her attention.

"How old is your son?" A thousand more questions waited at the gates.

Watching how Dr. Schäfer continued to manage her patient despite being in a situation that was clearly outside the bounds of her normal experiences was a bit like observing an artist at work.  Jonas cocked an eyebrow, his expression a mix between bemusement and impressed appreciation.   Truth be told, Tamzin deserved a bit of pushiness.  The wandmaker valued her independence more than she liked accepting help.

The physician's response to his re-introduction was enough of an insight.  Not quite familiar enough with the Ministry or Level Two for his title to be intimidating; growing up around it with magical distant relatives suggested perhaps a Squib branch of the family.  If her son was truly magical now, that was a bit reassuring.  Immediate family fell within the boundaries of the Statute of Secrecy, so at least no one from Level Three would try to sappy-thing her if they got wind of her involvement.

Tamzin chose to speak up and put in a good word for the doctor.  Jonas slanted the witch a dry look.  Very good was a funny way to describe someone that you had just turned into a cat to escape.

"How old is your son?" Tamzin had asked.

He offered the doctor a small, crooked smile.  "I can understand that a bit -- I was the only one in me family.  My parents still don't quite understand it, even decades later.  But I've got a daughter at Hogwarts meself, now."

Soundlessly and immensely grateful her patient was unable to see her expression, Hanna Schäfer's eyes widened and she slowly shook her head in dismay as the woman ... witch ... pressed the ice pack to her healed leg.  With a gentle but firm hand, she reached out and grasped the other woman's hand and repositioned it, and the ice pack, over her still-swollen shoulder. 

"At the very least, we can keep the inflammation at bay until ..."  Until what?  The woman was transferred to another hospital?  "It would take but a few moments to replace your shoulder.  Unless your planning on handling that, yourself.  All of this would have been much easier, if I knew what I was working with." 

Hanna felt the need to point out the obvious, despite her appreciation of the complement.  Her limitations had been incredibly frustrating.  "I am surprised you don't have a better system in place for this type of situation.  A liaison or on-call point of contact at hospitals that can direct you to better help."  It was uncommon, though not unheard of, that a patient was transferred to a different hospital after they'd been stabilized.  There wasn't any reason the same process couldn't have been applied in Tamzin's situation, if Hanna had known. 

"Micha turned eleven in October," Hanna offered, a trace of a smile settling on her features when conversation turned to family.  "He started showing signs of magic about a year ago, but I'm afraid I'm not that familiar with Hogwarts.  I've heard the name but Durmstrang was the school all my relatives went to."  If the fates had offered her a different fortune, she, too, might have gone there. 

Tamzin accepted Dr. Schafer's repositioning of the ice pack with a chagrined smile. At the offer to 'replace her shoulder' Tamzin shrugged (winced) and agreed. Only a few minutes, seemed simple enough that. With Jonas here and hearing Dr. Schafer was kindly towards wizarding folk and didn't intend to throw a kerfuffle, Tamzin was growing more trusting of her and her strange methods. The 'morphine' had definitely been a boon.

"Micha will be needing a wand and there's none better than Ollivanders," Tamzin said firmly. She wasn't sure how Durmstrang called its pupils to their castle, but at eleven he'd have already received his letter. Hogwarts was certainly a superior education, but she opted not to say so. "You'll have to come round to Diagon Alley straight away. If you know how to get there..."

She shifted in the bed, making a guess at preparation for whatever Dr. Schafer's muggle method for 'replacing shoulders' consisted off. "And my ribs, Dr. Schafer? A few minutes as well?"

It was a ... slight challenge. Certainly if her ribs were broken as her leg, St. Mungo's could mend them with a word. Did the muggles have a treatment? She did regret her tone. What a spot Dr. Schafer was in! Tamzin didn't have a call to be salty.

Jonas took a step back as the conversation intermingled with the medical. At least Tamzin had abandoned any mention of Obliviation; instead, she'd found an opening to pitch Ollivander wands.  Smiling crookedly, he arched an eyebrow in the witch's direction.  He'd take that as a sign that she was feeling more like herself.

Dr. Schäfer, as she skillfully dealt with Tamzin's injuries, brought up the fact that there really wasn't a plan to deal with situations like this, when a magical folk ended up at a Muggle hospital.  Jonas gave a half-grimace, inclining his head to her in agreement.  In the past couple of years, he'd apparently become the unofficial liaison for Muggle hospital stays, but that wasn't exactly an efficient way to deal with things like this.

All of her relatives had gone to Durmstrang.  That was a bit different than the 'distant relatives' that the good doctor had mentioned earlier.  The Auror cocked a brow, but kept his mouth shut.  Dr. Schäfer might come from a less-magical branch of the family, or she might be a Squib herself.

"Be less of a headache for all of us if there was a system in place, wouldn't it?" he asked, a bit dryly.  "What do you think the best course of action is?  Reckon it's best to avoid drawing too much attention to all of this, innit?"

Doubt and uncertainty creased Hanna's brow, followed by just a moment of grief, as she glanced up from her work and regarded Tamzin Ollivander.  "Getting a wand?" she repeated, before picking up a pen and starting to scribble a few comments and notes down on a scrap of paper.  But as her thoughts shifted back to the medical dilemma in front of her, her features softened back to their normal state of studious, focused but relaxed. 

"No.  I'm afraid I don't know about getting to Diagon Alley.  We haven't, yet, given all of that much thought." 

Which wasn't at all accurate.  She had given it thought a lot of thought.  But, all of that thought tended to come back to the same conclusion: she wasn't sure she was ready for this transition.  She wasn't ready to lose her son to a world she did not, and could not, belong to. 

"All of that is a rather big step and I'm not sure Micha is quite ready for it."

In reality, he was probably more prepared for it than she was.  But, she had the privilege of being the adult and she got to call the shots.  At least, when it came to her kids.  With patients, it was not as simple.

"Your ribs are frac-"  Hanna started to explain but then remembered the flash and grating of bone and instantly-healed leg.  "We don't have anyway of instantly healing fractures.  Luckily, with ribs, it's usually only a couple of weeks before they heal on their own.  I'd rather give you a little more muscle relaxant and pain relief before setting your shoulder.  Is that alright?"

She finished working up her calculations and stuck her head out the door to flag down a passing nurse.  As the nurse ventured off towards the pharmacy, returned to the other two.  "Mind your sticks; he'll be coming back with the meds shortly." 

"Luckily, patient confidentiality is taken very seriously," Hanna offered Jonas.  "Which could work in our favor.  Getting people referred to a specific individual would the simplest approach - claiming they're part of a pharmaceutical trial would be the fastest way to get physicians to contact someone."  She shrugged as she slid a stool up next to the examination table.  "No one wants to risk mixing a drug with an unknown, experimental drug, so they'd contact whoever is linked to that trial in the system.  But, I don't know how you'd go about letting your people know, though."