“Prevention is better than cure.” — Desiderius Erasmus

Hogwarts Infirmary
Mid-morning

Healer Sage looked over her patient, hands on hips and a scowl on her face. The wix sitting in the bed before her was slightly blue, especially around the lips and tips - cyanosis. Some aquatic foliage was tangled in the self-proclaimed Nothingpuff's long, dark hair. Her big, dark eyes were sunken back into her skull, baggy and bruised-looking.

"Miss Puddifoot," Tempest said quietly, not taking her eyes from Itzayana Grimlish's shivering frame, "visiting hours are over," the Hufflepuff resisted, of course, until the Healer pointed her wand toward the door, causing it to open with a loud crash. "Out," she hissed, voice dangerous, and waited until the sound of footsteps faded before throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

"Well, Miss Grimlish, you've really done it this time, haven't you?" she asked rhetorically, holding up a hand to forestall any response from the hypothermic gal. "You obviously misjudged your timing, eh? Gillyweed ran out?" The Grimlish girl was secretive about her morning dips into the Black Lake, but Tempest had spent many sunrises jogging around the expansive Hogwarts grounds.

Temp saw more than she told and asked very few questions as a general rule. Hogwarts was a school for magic - accidents, emotional duels, big metal balls flying at children hundreds of feet in the air - injuries were to be expected. She could heal their bodies and time would heal their stupidity... hopefully.

In the case of the youngest Grimlish, now a NEWT student and technically an adult, Tempest wasn't so sure the stupidity would ever fade.

"Drink up," she said, pointing to the steaming goblet clutched in Itzy's unnaturally pale fingers, "Pepper-up Potion,"

As she pulled the curtains around the bay closed, she called out, "and no talking - you likely damaged your esophagus when I expelled half the lake from your lungs,"

Walking across the way, booted heels clicking on the sterile, tile floor, Tempest changed her countenance completely. The scowl was replaced with a friendly smile and her body relaxed. As she slipped behind the cloth curtain, pulling it closed behind her, the Hogwarts Healer glanced at the young Slytherin sat on the bed.

"How was your holiday, Gnarfang?" she asked kindly, walking to the basin in the corner to wash her hands. 

"...Nundu," said the young witch sat primly on the hospital bed, back against the headboard, novel turned to the climatic chapter. "Watch, Lolmis. Creatures that won't be on the book list for the course next year." Said pet rat was burrowing in a double strapped bookbag hung over the bedpost. One with a modernist Czech textile design of trees with spiraling squares.[1] After reading a few lines, Ursula set a ribbon in the book to mark the page, then turned back to begin the novel proper.

Not many pending 3rd Years would be wanting to learn about Nundu right off the bat their first lesson of Care of Magical Creatures. Nor were many 2nd Years reading Rascal Rosier's 'Poisonwood Pulp' for lite reading material. Things got stale the fifth time after reading the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History.

But then there weren't many people like the girl known as Ursula Strougler at Hogwarts. Czech accented but not Bohemian in features, with her right arm replaced by wood carved from the limb of a flesh-eating tree, slow to make friends her actual age. She was used to it.

She was also used to a habit of selective hearing, drowning out the bustle around the elder students, Puddifoot being booted from Grimlish's recovery. More time to look over recently rented books, until she heard the footsteps of the school healer getting closer. Then the book was closed, Ursula sat up straight, and was immediately pleased to be addressed with her hag moniker by Mrs. Sage.

"It was suitably wicked," Ursula Gnarfang said with more perkiness than her usual tone. If there was ever a girl trying hard to look like a stereotypical evil witch, that would the one waiting for her checkup as she worked on her cackling sneer. Slytherin uniform accessorized with striped green socks, the aforementioned gnarly arm and the pointed hat that had fallen out of fashion. She took that off to set on the side table. "The caretaker elf was nice to us staying at the castle. I finished more reading, wrote five letters and somebody gifted me a basket with chocolate and fanged geranium seeds. I was going to coach Lolmis to find the secret knot on the Whomping Willow but he's not brave enough yet."

1.	Much like the ones featured here, first two slides.

The elder witch returned the younger's cackle as she flicked her hands, using a touch of wandless magic to instantaneously dry her hands. It was a simple trick, really, but not an easy one to master and it was an invaluable skill in her line of work.

As she made her way to join Ursula, sitting herself primly on a stool nearby, the Hogwarts Healer smiled, and her laughter turned genuine. Tipper was a good friend and always kept an eye out for the younger students - especially those who were a little different from their peers. "Just don't expect his help with Peeves - you'll want the Baron for that," It was well known Mr. Tipper was sometimes too fond of the poltergeist's antics.

She glanced at the bag as it wiggled, having missed the rat at first glance, and her smile deepened. Tempest had spent most of her career in traditional hospital settings and it had taken quite some getting used to accept working around the plethora of pets pawing around the place. The healer loved animals and welcomed the familiars of her patients nowadays - so long as they remained well behaved.

"Perhaps it was not a lack of bravery on your small companion's part, but a surplus of wisdom," she continued, scooting the wheeled chair forward. "In a few short months you'll be able to visit the shack without putting your safety in jeopardy,"

"Do you have an interest in herbology?" she asked kindly and with genuine curiosity, noticing the young wix had mentioned both the willow and some gifted seeds. It would make sense, considering the Slytherin's unique prosthesis.

Ursula nodded about the Bloody Baron. She'd been trying to figure out how to get on the house ghost's good side. They could only taste heavily spoiled food. "I hear the Headmaster has a good lead on Peeves too." Not one of control, per sae, but pointing the poltergeist as a calculated lesson gambit to teach students the most through his carnage.

Lolmis scrambled to the top of the bag, nose in the air. Ursula turned on her hip to reach out with her left arm. The rat squinted as her finger massaged his head. "He only pays attention with those young reader books I used for improving English. Where one muggle author mentioned a mouse riding a motorcycle toy, but it must have been magical because there was no battery."

At Mrs. Sage's notice of future Hogsmeade visits, Ursula twisted her lips on the side of her mouth. "It would still be useful to know. If I need a way back from the village quickly it's a shortcut." She wasn't plotting any specific mischief if she got access to a secret passage out of the castle. Yet. But she could still feign childlike interest provided she remained twelve (she didn't fancy being thirteen yet just because an Admittance Book said she was).

"I learned a few early things in Herbology from strýc," catching herself on the word, she coughed and looked away briefly. "Mr. Doubek. He had a covered walk to his greenhouse from the main home." Earning Ursula an early accolade from Prof. Prewett's class for being ahead on 1st Year Herbology.

But Mr. Doubek wasn't her uncle anymore, only an honorary fashion as he'd designed her limb. "You must know loads of Herbology, Mrs. Sage."

Tempest laughed at the younger witch's attempt at a clever evasion, but otherwise chose not to respond. The healer didn't know much about the secret passages in and out of Hogwarts - she assumed there were many - but she could infer from the fact that they were called secret passages any hidden routes in the school would have been built with secrecy in mind rather than speed. The road would likely be the quickest route to travel no matter how many passages young Ursula uncovered. She also knew the known passages were well guarded or destroyed, so she wasn't overly worried about the young witch getting into too much mischief.

The witch shrugged off the compliment about her own Herbology skill. "I've always preferred wandwork, to be completely honest with you," she said. 

Temp was fluent in a couple of languages, but Czech wasn't one of them. Thankfully, this wasn't Ursula's first visit to the Hogwarts Healer and Tempest knew to whom the young Slytherin referred even before the witch elaborated. Though she didn't allow her concern to show on her face, Temp felt a strong compassion for the orphaned gal sitting in the bed across from her.

Generally speaking, Tempest avoided asking questions of those who found themselves in the Infirmary. She was happy to lend an ear to an emotionally distraught teen or give advice to those seeking a future in the art of healing, but serious topics she left to the administration - as was proper. It simply wasn't Temp's place to get involved, but Ursula's situation pulled at the healer's heart in a painful way.

"Any unusual growths?" Temp asked, pulling her attention to the point of the visit and gesturing toward Ursula's arm, putting aside her concern for Ursula's home life for the moment.  "New twigs or leaves? No moss?"

Ursula kept mum when the healer mentioned she was much better at spellwork. The young Slytherin effectively had to learn to grow up left handed, although the awkwardness of early practice with writing suggested she was born right handed, when using her right foot to write felt easier. Quite confirmed when her carved arm was completed, as despite its limits she had quickly picked up on restoring lost motor functions.

Unfortunately, Ursula couldn't cast any spells using her wand in her wooden hand. She didn't like being behind on spellwork compared to being well read and better with Potions or Herbology, which didn't have as much spellcasting. Worse still, she still needed remedial Flying.

The pang of moodiness made her unaware of Ms. Sage's sympathies. "Hmmph?" She asked about strange growths along her prosthetic. "Žádné větvičky.[1] None recently, I mean. When it starts budding leaves I prune them when I'm not wearing the arm."

She held out the arm for Tempest to examine, pulling her sleeve back. "I haven't kept it wet enough to grow moss. That was fun the first year I had it. But not when I came down with Scrofungulus, that was horrible!" She stuck out her tongue. "The fungal growths spread down the arm so I had to stop wearing it. Luckily there was no permanent damage."

1.	"No twigs"