11:30am

Orion Gamp stopped in the busy reception of St Mungo’s hospital and looked up and around himself, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a well-washed grey t-shirt with three-quarter length sleeves, a leather waistcoat unbuttoned over it, torn black jeans, which had too seen better days. Around his neck hung a set of black beads, which looped at the bottom of his ribs. His dark curls were tied up in a bun at the back of his head.

There was the usual queue to the front desk. He gave it a cursory glance before raising his eyes to the signs. Third Floor: Potion and Plant Poisoning, Fourth Floor: Spell Damage. Beneath a golden clock were a line of gold-framed portrait photographs. He approached, curious. The largest one, set above the rest was of the current Head Healer, Miranda Storm. Orion glanced at the stern looking woman, her dark hair drawn back in a ponytail, and hummed to himself. Beneath her, in smaller gold frames were the Heads of each floor, and a face Orion took particular interest: Deputy Head Healer, Sandy Misslethorpe. The narrow-eyed wizard stood rigid in his photograph, in formal green and gold robes. He wondered how the wizard measured up in the flesh.



The Fourth Floor was oddly quiet in comparison to the floor beneath it. Orion glanced left and right, getting his bearings. There were ward names etched onto a varnished board opposite the top of the stairs. Some of these were closed wards, behind spell and key. One such closed door opened as Orion paused, and a stout man with a bald head stepped out. He wasn’t in healer’s robes, but that of a hitwizard. Orion looked him up and down in an instant, gaze lingering on a St Mungo’s pin on the breast of the wizard. Fendrel Stump headed down the steps the way Orion had come.



Healer Misslethorpe’s office was just as oddly quiet, Orion though to himself as he was shown in. Woven muffliato charms or more complicated, he suspected. It kept up the appearance of order and civility on the Fourth Floor. Andromeda had stayed here a year or so ago, he recalled, coming off worse from her auror duties. The family had visited, and her open ward had just been filled with wixes complaining of their pain or regrowing skin.

It wasn’t his sibling he was here for this time. Misslethorpe knew why - Orion had owled in advance to arrange the time.
“Thought he’d be in Azkaban,” the traveller remarked, once pleasantries were exchanged. He was instilled on a chair the other side of Misslethorpe’s desk, one leg slung over the other in a casual pose. Despite this, he keenly examined the Deputy Head Healer. “Were you not able to fix him?”

Sandy was intrigued by Orion. He was the opposite of his younger brother. Bold. Outspoken. Comfortable and casual in a new space. Sandy knew this confidence. It was found by the bucket at Witch Weekly. It had taken a year to come. But he was not wringing his hands. Not worried at all. Not on the surface.
"His magic is still unpredictable." Healer Misslethorpe replied. Mortimer Gamp's experiments remained unclear. "Only last week his dinner fork became a coat-hanger." Mortimer said it was random. Sandy was suspicious it was half a truth. "He is subject to further study. A magical anomaly." They were collecting those on the floor.

"You have come to visit?" asked Sandy.

Misslethorpe was tall, and broader than Orion. Shoulders wide enough to carry things. Orion felt a certain sense of recognition when he saw the healer in the flesh. That they’d met before, under different circumstances. He spoke formally, but with a gentle tone, as healers often tended. Lulling patients into a reassurance that would loosen their tongues for necessary private insight.

Across the desk, Orion’s dark eyes shone brightly. His gaze rarely left Misslethorpe, even if his whole pose wished to convey only moderate interest.

“His magic is still unpredictable.”

The corner of Orion’s mouth curled upwards. Just a little, but none too much. Amusement at a dinner fork becoming a coat-hanger, perhaps.

“He is subject to further study. A magical anomaly.”

“A true mystery.” Orion responded, a forearm lifting to gesture, wrist twisting, hand flat, as if handing back an invisible parchment. Only fitting for a man who had headed up that very department before his research had driven him past the point of no return. Or very nearly.

“You have come to visit?”

“If anomalies are permitted such,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and resettling in the chair. “Unless you think he’ll turn me into a rocking chair.” The suggestion was delivered deadpan. He looked for Misslethorpe’s reaction. “Have the other two…?”

There were concerns Mortimer Gamp could do that to hospital staff. Orion Gamp's joke was semi realistic. In reality nobody had become a rocking chair. Even if Sandy had written a plan for such an incident. Healer Misslethorpe smiled lightly.

"He has not had a family visitor." Orion meant his brother and sister. Sandy was not in the business of breaking confidentiality. It had been too risky to let family in. But it had been a long time now. Orion looked brave enough. "You would like to?" asked Sandy. "It can be arranged." Mortimer did not have a hit wizard outside his door. Unlike another of Sandy's patients. "What do you hope to get out of it?"

“He has not had a family visitor.” This was not at all surprising to Orion. All conversation about it with Cepheus and Andromeda was prickly.

“You would like to?”
“Yes.” Orion spoke confidently, without hesitation.
“It can be arranged. What do you hope to get out of it?”

Ah, a good question. But he was prepared for questions. Even so, he paused for dramatic effect, one leg slung over the other, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, and fingers splayed, tips resting on his chin in pensive pose. His eyes looked to the ceiling.

“I’m curious.” He stated bluntly. “I want to see what he has to say. If he’s all there.” He lowered his gaze to Misslethorpe again. “The Ministry released statements suggesting he was insane, and that these were random acts. I never saw my father do anything at random in all my life.”

Orion’s gaze was unfaltering, and intent. “What’s your professional opinion, Healer Misslethopre?”

A direct question. Yes he could see that sister and this brother were similar. They asked exactly what they wanted to know. Plain speaking. Sandy was careful. He could not speak about everything in this case.

"Your father’s situation is unique Orion." said Sandy. That was true. It really was. Sandy had specialised in spell damage for years and years. He had never had a patient try to absorb someone else’s magic. It was the sort of tails you read in adventure stories and fairytales. Mortimer was like an evil witch. That was true. "He has meddled with powerful elemental magic. The effects cannot be underestimated." Mortimer Gamp would be the subject of several research papers. Sandy thought his patient would be pleased to know his name got in research again. Even if it was only as patient zero. Sandy could not answer. So he used the company line. "I am not at liberty to discuss the finer details. Even with family."

Of course Healer Misslethorpe would be cagey about the details. He held all the cards in this situation. Orion’s father was imprisoned in this hospital, and he’d not so much as had a visitor from family in a year. A small part of Orion wondered if their father was even alive, given they’d seen nothing about him. But something, somewhere, in Orion’s gut instinct, told him that somewhere nearby an old wizard was waiting. Still, it was clear Ri would not be getting much out of Misslethorpe on his father’s condition.

He changed tact slightly, to the thought of visiting.
“So the room he’s kept in,” Ri asked, “is heavily fortified?” The question alone would sound a little strange, so he recrossed his legs, gestured with his hands, “You see I heard you have more than one ‘prisoner’ here for the Ministry.” He illustrated the air quotes with his fingers. “Must be like working Azkaban up here. All the locked wards, two crazy old wizards.” Ri wiggled his fingers. “That’s to keep them in, right?”

If Orion Gamp had spent a year thinking about these questions. He was no wasting time when he asked them. "Again." said Sandy "I could not comment."

He felt bad he could not tell Orion more. Perhaps there were harmless details he could share. He stopped to think. Imagined the room in his mind. Careful to keep his mind occluded.

"The isolation room is simple." said Sandy. "Your father's condition means he has experienced involuntary transfiguration." Food changed to random objects. "It's practical to limit what he is surrounded with." Sandy knew it did not happen so much now. But there was no reason to give Mortimer more to play with. Just like Lawrence they controlled the rooms. Both wizards were resourceful. Clever. Well clever enough. They were both imprisoned!

"Only authorized staff are allowed in to treat him. Your father receives the best of care." Sandy touched his St Mungo's pin without thinking. "As a visitor you would not be left alone."

Careful, careful Sandy Misslethorpe. But not as careful as he thought he really was. Ri gave a dramatic sigh and let his hands flop into his lap. He was meant to be frustrated with these official lines and prepared statements. He had met them at every turn with finding out about their father.

“Well,” Orion resolved, as if accepting he was defeated, “I suppose if you are able to organise our meet I shall see for myself.” He nodded respectfully to Misslethorpe and smiled politely. The wizard was only doing his job, wasn’t he? He couldn’t have become Deputy Head Healer without knowing his stuff.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t transfigure me into something else!” Orion grinned like the Cheshire Cat, putting on a happy face despite the unknown ahead. A son who was unsure about coming face to face with his murderous father. What adventure! One he was sure Andromeda should have already pursued. Now who was the bravest Gamp?

Orion jumped to his feet, impatient, and thrust his weathered hand out to Sandy. He gripped the Healer’s hand tightly as they shook.
“Pleasure meeting you Healer Misslethorpe.” Orion’s gaze swept over his features, those narrow eyes. “Will see you again very soon.”


End