Evening. Rooftop, St. Mungo's Hospital.


Yavin Morgenthau lowered the flame at the tip of his wand into the bowl of his rosewood pipe, and gave it a moment before shaking it out. A thin wisp of smoke escaped into the cold night air and he gave the mouthpiece a few puffs to get it started, breathing in its sweet fragrance of dokha tobacco. He tucked his wand behind his ear and stood close to the ledge, a thin and brightly coloured figure in the night. It was late but the old wizard was wide awake, and the lights across London's skyline were reflected in his spectacles. Somewhere below him on the fourth floor, Lawrence Musgrave was probably in the middle of a nightmare.

They were making progress with him. Yavin was relieved; he did not like to think of himself as beholden to the Ministry of Magic but concrete progress would continue to justify the loan of a convict to their study. He was happy to help Lawrence - happier even to anticipate the possibility of helping dozens of others affected by Dementors.

Sighing contentedly, Yavin blew smoke rings into the air. The rooftop door clicked open behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see who else had snuck out for a smoke at this hour. St.Mungo's was full of workaholics, each with their own indulgent sins, and it had been a simple task to find this secret smoking spot.

Every hospital had one. Some things you could always count upon.

With fifty minutes left on a delicate potion-making process that had left him somewhat lightheaded, the healer had sought out some manner of respite that didn't involve sleep. This proved futile; there was only so much entertainment the wireless could provide before he inevitably nodded off, and he'd drank enough tea.

The cold brisk air that hit him as the door swung open couldn't have been a more welcome sensation. Fingers in a pocket absently digging, his gaze drifted off into the distance of darkened buildings that made up London's skyline. He turned his head, and in the process his gaze changed course to have the view interrupted by the darker form of a person, surprising but unmistakable. He squinted in the dark, his eyes still adjusting - was it his smoking friend? No, it was someone else entirely different. Familiar but only on the distant edges of his tired mind. Too much effort to spare on that.

Arcturus politely, but silently, took up a place with a respectable distance from the other person as he lit the Muggle fag between his lips. The first drag, sinful and indulgent, felt like a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders.

It was a Healer. Not one Yavin recognised - so none of the guys from level four, then, and not one of the green robed wizards he had ever seen around Miranda Storm. All the weird ones came out at night. Self-included.

"Evening," he called out to the stranger, gesturing with his pipe. "Not intruding on your, aha, on your quiet time am I?" Yavin had no qualms chatting to people he did not know; it was the best way to make friends outside of the Ministry's insular social circle. Working on Lawrence had the unexpected benefit of exploring new territory or, in this case, familiar but now-abandoned territory.

Once a Healer himself, Yavin was fascinated by St.Mungo's. It reminded him of his younger days - learning Legilimency, healing, meeting his wife. The older wizard pressed on conversationally. "Yavin Morgenthau. Mysteries," he stepped over to extend his free hand. "And, um, and you are?"

It felt like ages since he'd ever said hi to a stranger. The patients he saw to every day didn't count - there was a comforting familiarity even amidst the daily humdrum of "I accidentally drank from the wrong bottle" cases he had had to deal with. No, a real stranger, the uncharted territory that came with an unknown face. He shook himself mentally; this wasn't the time to wax philosophical about his lack of human contact.

When had he spoken to Johann?

"Not intruding, no," he replied after a pull to calm the abrupt prickling sensation from that thought. "Not accustomed to a non-Mungo's staffperson atop the hospital though." He eked his hand out from his coat pocket where it had nestled for warmth, still prickling from the wool as he gripped the man's hand. Ministry official. Well, he'd have to rein in his dislike then. "Arcturus Hollingbury, Potions and Poisoning. How recent to this place up here? Though I would suppose that it wasn't hard to find out."

            "Arcturus Hollingbury... How recent to this place... suppose that it wasn't hard to find out."

Potions and poisonings, ah, that explained it then. He wasn't familiar with that floor and had little reason to visit, though he had been sympathetic to their plight when he read about last year's potion contaminations. "Only, aha, only two months. But I've been about since, that is, since September."

Had it been that long? And here they were on the brink of a new year. He was looking forward to it. Even after all these years, Yavin could feel excitement for the dawn of another cycle.

"Working on a study with your, hm, your Healer-in-Charge," he explained helpfully. "How is life on, ah, on three then? I imagine it's quieter than, say, than the likes of one."

"Only, aha, only two months. But I've been about since, that is, since September."

Recent, muttered the shadowed voice in his mind, but it did not press which was great since he wanted to listen with full attention. It kept his mind off the bastard in his head, after all.

"Working on a study with your, hm, your Healer-in-Charge... How is life on, ah, on three then? I imagine it's quieter than, say, than the likes of one."

Study? With the in-charge? He'd not heard of any official news; rumours yes but Arcturus cared little for rumours and gossip. Inefficient use of his head space. "It's quiet, yes," he said, pausing to take a short pull and exhale thoughtfully to silence the nattering voice in his head. "Most people do have an inclination to read the label before using a potion, for which I'm thankful. Still there's no exception to what people may or may not do."

He took another deep breath of smoke and let it out in a long, loose stream into the night air. The voice in his head was now nattering about how it had been barely ten minutes into the potion brewing. "What nature of study, may I ask? Or is that classified information?"

Easy on the edge, you might cut yourself, the shadow muttered. Arcturus restrained an urge to roll his eyes at himself.

Yavin smiled sympathetically, himself never once inclined to specialise on the same floor as this new acquaintance. Though he would deny it now, his training as a Healer had been peppered with the same youthful impatience and arrogance that he detected in his protege - which was to say, Yavin did not suffer fools back then.

Quite fond of them nowadays, though.

            "What nature of study, may I ask? Or is that classified information?"

"Mm, you could say that," Yavin raised his smoking pipe to his lips, giving it another puff before continuing. "I'm on the, hm, the Musgrave study."

It was strange to call it that, especially now that he was on a first name basis with Lawrence. Of course the Healers at St.Mungo's knew little about Miranda's study: all they were allowed to know was that they were 'healing' Lawrence, and that Mysteries was involved. No doubt people speculated.

From what he could glean from this wizard's thoughts - besides that peculiar double voice - there hadn't been many rumours on level three at least. Yav raised a pinky finger to his lips, winking at Arcturus. "Hush hush and, aha, and all that."

"I'm on the, hm, the Musgrave study. Hush hush and, aha, and all that."

Normally innate curiosity would have been piqued, but instead it was a bitter twist of alarm and fear, like a worm abruptly constricting in a hurry to put some distance between itself and whatever threatened it. Arcturus bit down harder on the cigarette than he would have normally done, taking a forceful drag that filled his lungs with as much smoke as he could possibly take. Musgrave. The voice in his head had gone silent.

It was but a moment, and then the voice in his head whispered, not now. Two words, but enough to bring him back down.

"Ah, that one. Yes, it's quite hush... I won't prod further." Because, frankly, it was none of his business unless the man had been poisoned with something not even a bezoar could fix. "Doing overtime then? Ministry officials don't usually hang around after midnight over here. A hospital's hardly the cheery place to be, after all."

It would be difficult not to notice the other man's singular mental reaction to Yavin's answer. Alarm bells ringing - oh, yes, Lawrence Musgrave's name certainly rang a few for most people. But perhaps not as loudly as for this Arcturus fella. The healer wasn't keen on lingering on it, apparently.

            "Doing overtime then? Ministry officials don't...hardly the cheery place to be, after all."

Yavin smiled, mouthing his pipe thoughtfully. "I, hm, I find it comforting. My, um, my mother was a healer so I grew up in a hospital......" he gestured at their surroundings with his free hand, fingers wiggling. "Where wizardkind come to, aha, to suffer and heal."

Weak but comforting hospital coffee, mild foods, periods of silence punctuated by alarums of emergencies. Yavin found these things homely.

"Do you, ah, do you not personally find it a cheery place?" he considered Arcturus through his gleaming spectacles, eyes dark and friendly. "You've chosen a, um, a peculiar calling if so."

"Do you, ah, do you not personally find it a cheery place?... You've chosen a, um, a peculiar calling if so."

"Cheery wouldn't be the word I'd use." It was something he'd personally wondered. "Familiar. A regular fixture that I know will be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the next. A guarantee... a promise." An anchor in the storm, the voice in his head added, because he could always count on it being honest. "You'd be an exception, but it seems you have a previous connection to the hospital... not so surprising, then."

He paused; that didn't seem so adequate an answer in response to the latter half of Morgenthau's remark. "I have my own promise to keep," he said. "To quote an old treatise, 'Ignoring the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom - it is indolence.' I like to think of it as a duty that I fully believe in, more than my calling in life."

The healer blew out another stream of smoke after a pause. "But given that you know the workings of this place, I may be preaching to the choir here... forgive the repeated words of a tired healer, if so."

Fifteen minutes out of fifty, said the voice in his head to fill the silence. Or twenty. Perhaps in between.

A promise! Yavin laughed lightly, nodding as he blew smoke rings into the air. If moral and occupational certainty was a priority, hospitals were your best bet by far. They were necessary because you can always count on the failure of bodies - if not the success of violence in man and creature. Arcturus was a practical man, then, even taking into account the idealistic quotation.

            "But given that you know the workings of this place... forgive the repeated words of a tired healer, if so."

"Nothing to, ah, to forgive," he dismissed the words with a snort. "I was a, um, a selfish Healer in my time. In it for the art and the, hah," Yavin tapped his forehead with the mouth of his pipe, "the skill. But everyone helps in their own way, eh?"

Not exactly a well-oiled machine but something close to it. When you stepped back and looked at the Ministry and the hospital and everything in between, without which wizarding society might well be thrown into disarray. Although, if Mysteries fell, who knew what would happen? He did. Maybe.

"So if all this is, um, is duty..." Yavin raised his eyebrows, curious now. "Then what is, I mean, what is your passion? Age old question," he laughed abruptly. "What would you do if, ah, if you weren't doing this?"

"So if all this is, um, is duty...then what is, I mean, what is your passion? ...What would you do if, ah, if you weren't doing this?"

The healer closed his eyes, leaning against the railing that ran around the edge to prevent any untimely falls. Pause lengthened to a thoughtful silence, and then an empty one. At length he finally blew two smoke rings and said, "Don't know."

It was uncharacteristic of him, for anyone who knew him, to not give a lengthy answer, but at the moment the few lines of cutting mockery that had erupted from the whisperer in his head, fifteen seconds after the question was asked, was not conducive to crafting a usual response this time.

"Never considered, really," he added, once the whisperer had tired itself out with the snark. "Would have plenty to do and being a Healer facilitates all of it. I suppose if I ever had a reason to consider something else, my mind lies open." He straightened up, fingers absently teetering the glowing cigarette back and forth. "Apart from the Ministry, probably."

            "I suppose if I ever had a reason to consider something else... Apart from the Ministry, probably."

Yavin  deliberated over this - the kind of person who did not dream outside of their vocation. And looking into Arcturus' mind, he saw that there was a great deal of self-loathing in the form of another voice. Possibly the source of having 'never considered' another life. What a poison it was to always doubt yourself.

"Not a fan of the Ministry?" he quipped, glancing into the chamber of his pipe to watch the embers glow. "Can't, hm, can't say I am either. That's why I like, aha, why I like Mysteries."

The many hands of nine. A few might be tied up by the Ministry itself but who knew where the other tentacles disappeared to? "What do you when you're not, I mean, when you're not healing?" Yavin folded an arm over his chest as he sat precariously on the railing. "All work and, um, and no play?"

Maybe all of Miranda's Healers were like her. Workaholics working under a workaholic.

The Ministry, what a joke it is, muttered the shadow. All of it. All of it, what a joke. The war is proof. Arcturus said nothing, blissfully unaware that the man he had just recently acquainted with could hear it.

"What do you when you're not, I mean, when you're not healing?"

"Does having a drink at the Cauldron count?" he asked lightheartedly. "Or intellectual exercises? Or... well, I swim, there's that." When was the last time he'd cooked for someone, though? Not having any memory of it was a little alarming. "They're not of much note, I must say with some regret if you were looking for an idea of what shape my free time has."

You used to walk, said the voice in an accusatory tone. Upon the rolling dale and hill, and a bench upon which you s-

The noise it made as the healer mentally stamped on it was akin to a mouse's dying squeak.

If a little frown marred Yavin's otherwise complacent attitude, he tried not to let it show. The Healer was nearing some kind of mental breakdown - the level of aggression was unusual and possibly dangerous. Arcturus seemed a quiet man, and he didn't underestimate the anger of quiet men. Mortimer Gamp wasn't a chatty guy either.

            "I must say with some regret...an idea of what shape my free time has."

"No, no," Yavin shook his head, drawing a couple of peaceful breaths from his pipe. "Only, hm, only curious. Habit of profession. I'm a great, that is, a great fan of dining out and walking about..." he gestured across the rooftops of London with a smile.

He had travelled all around the world and had yet to tire of good food and a good stroll. "But, um, but not as much in London as I'd like. You're a Londoner?" Yavin raised his eyebrows - it was hard to tell in a city, where accents weren't the most accurate barometer. "I could, hm, could use some recommendations."

Well, not really, he had plenty of those. But he wanted to poke at Arcturus' brain a bit, observe the reactions.