"Will you please stop fidgeting?" Aileen narrowed her eyes at her younger sister, who was flitting about the Healer's room, looking at diagrams on the walls and fiddling with the various potion vials laid out on the shelves.

"Why, is it bothering you?" Abby faced her with one of the empty vials, turning it over in her hands. She widened her eyes and pretended to drop it, grinning when Aileen jumped, and then actually dropping the vial when the door suddenly opened.

Glass shattered on the floor as the Healer's Aide poked her head in and told them Healer Foley would be with them in a moment.

Stony-faced, Aileen drew her wand and silently collected the bits of glass, dumping them into the rubbish bin. Abby slunk into the chair next to Aileen and mumbled a sorry. They sat in silence for a minute or two, Aileen flipping through her appointment book and making notes while Abby tapped the heel of her foot on the chair leg. Tap. Tap Tap.

Though she tried to ignore it, Aileen soon slammed the book shut and glared at her.

"Sorry! Why are you so mad all the time? You're acting like mum," Abby muttered, seeming to regret it the instant she'd said it.

Aileen visibly bristled, looking at Abby as if she'd just betrayed her somehow. She saw the teenager's pale face, the dullness of her hair, and the reddish tint of her nose, and was still unable to hold back the harsh words that sprang to her mind.

"Our mother would not have set up this appointment, would not even be here with you right now. She would have ordered the house elf to take care of you and then ignored the problem. You know that as well as I do."

However true it was, hearing it said aloud in such a coldly angry voice did neither of them any favors. Abby crossed her arms and glanced away. Aileen stared straight ahead, telling herself she was being generous, that if she was mad, it wasn't her fault, and Abby needed to grow up and see that people were cruel, so she'd better get used to facing obstacle after obstacle with very little help from others.

"I'm not doing this on purpose," Abby sniffed, wiping her nose with her hand. Biting back a sigh, Aileen opened her purse and handed her a handkerchief. It was a ritual they'd adopted since Abby had caught the cold of all colds last week.

"I know."

"Then why-"

"Abby, I just want to get through today, alright? I'm sorry I've been snappy," Aileen gave her an apologetic, yet exasperated look. Abby looked as if she wanted to substitute 'snappy' with another word.

"Listen," she tilted her head back and let out a breath. "I'm not mad at you. I'm frustrated." Her voice caught on the last word and she swallowed. Frustrated that they had this new problem, on top of Trevor's arrest, the trial, the werewolf attacks that Simon had gotten caught up in, the blackmail from Analiza and Joao, and the pressure to find a cure for the cursed dagger. She didn't feel prepared to handle this very confusing and worrisome 'cold' that Abby had contracted.

Aileen glanced at Abby. Her younger sister was staring at her like she'd sprouted an elephant's trunk. Then a few things happened at once. Abby reached for Aileen, her nose twitching as she brought the handkerchief to her face. Abby's face scrunched up, Aileen looked startled, and then...

"ACHOOO!"

As the ceiling light burst, the door opened, and the room fell into darkness. A tall figure was outlined in the doorway, some light spilling from behind her.

Aileen waved her wand with a resigned air, "Lumos."

In the pinprick of light, Abby still held the handkerchief to her nose with a guilty expression, and Aileen stood to inspect the damage, glancing over at the Healer. "I apologize," she spoke for Abby, using formalities to help hide her embarrassment. "This," she gestured at the mess, "is why we're here to see you."

A squib with a cold, was who Delilah's next appointment was scheduled for that day. The common cold was a simple matter of giving the patient a potion and sending them on their way, nothing a capable mediwitch couldn't handle, witch or wizard, or not. But obviously someone was incompetent, or someone was mistaking the symptom of a cold for something else. It was especially more worrisome that purebloods were involved, but Delilah withheld her judgment.

The Jamaican witch strode down the hall towards the patient's room the idle chatter of two women, one with the annoyed demeanor of a teenager, and the other with the clipped exasperation of an overwhelmed guardian--a sign of distracted or absent parents, something Delilah could empathize to, especially with two sisters of her own.

An abrupt silence interrupted the girls as Delilah reached the room and placed her slim and lanky fingers on the door--

• "ACHOOO!"

The door violently swung from her touch as the room crashed into darkness, and kicked the ends of her long knitted locks with a whisp of air. Delilah looped her arms across her chest and leaned back into her full height, with a cautious raise of her eyebrow at the figures in the dark.

• "Lumos."

The Ancient Runes professor quickly lit her wand and spoke for her sister, and Delilah let the pinprick of light tinted the room in color and cast shadows over her curious gaze falling on the younger girl.

"Interesting," her voice licked out. The healer's eyes brushed over Aileen's form before she slowly stalked into the room and placed her attention back on the younger girl, "Abigail? Is it?" Delilah lowered her chin, "a squib?" her tone prodded with deeper and lower tone, with her gaze resting on Aileen for a moment longer, as she recalled the notes from the original checkup done by the mediwitch, correctly (hopefully.)

She refrained from fixing the lights, in case of another sneeze, and settled with speaking in the dark, "And 'ow long has 'dis been happening?" her tone reeled back more casually.

Abby kept the handkerchief over her nose, just in case the sniffles got the best of her a second time. She'd heard of Delilah Foley, the pureblood Healer in charge of St. Mungo's, and was surprised to see that the woman was even taller than Aileen. Her voice and accent were unique, too.

"Abby," She corrected her, preferring the nickname to her full name. Abby slowly lowered the handkerchief and sniffed, while Aileen took a seat and kept glancing at the light as if she expected the Healer to do something about it. They both nodded when Healer Foley confirmed that she was a squib, and Abby felt the familiar flutter of unease in her stomach.

Healers made her a bit nervous. In her experience, they often acted like she was put on this earth just to baffle them, and they'd rattle on about the differences between squibs and muggles, squibs and wizards, squibs and house elves, even. Then came the questions. Whether they sounded friendly or purely analytical, Abby came away from it feeling like a rare creature in a menagerie. Even worse was when Healers would treat her like she was a child instead of sixteen, or like she didn't deserve magical care and should go to a muggle hospital instead. 

She didn't know what Healer Foley would be like yet, but she'd caught the glance between the Healer and her sister earlier, and was resigning herself to a fate of Aileen talking for her.

Sure enough...
 
"The explosive sneezes have been happening for about a week," Aileen explained. "But she's had a cold for about a week and a half."

"It sucks," Abby interjected, getting her kicks in while she still could, and fully aware that her sister hated that phrase.

Aileen frowned at her, then went on in the same cool and polite tone, "It's not just sneezes, either. Sometimes it's coughing, or laughing, or--"

"The belch of all belches!"

A sigh escaped her older sister. "And then, she's so exhausted from it that she takes the 'nap of all naps'," Aileen slanted her a look, which Abby returned with a grin. "Which is why I'm worried. This is not a normal cold," she stated the obvious, looking at the Healer for answers.

A harsh hum creeked up Delilah's tongue, "An understatement?" She quizzed with a tinge of sarcasm, "Surely," her voice dripped with the confidence of finality.

"Sounds like a bashment[1] of magical flu's grappling fer her attention," she spoke a few words and wave her wand, pulling up a chair across from the younger Reid sister. Despite how close the pair were capable of being, their interest in each other didn't seem to go beyond sisterly concern. So, while Aileen speaking for her sister was helpful, it wasn't going to solve too much of the mystery, since she seemed equally baffled by it.

"And that she could be enjoying eet,"  the tall witch lowered herself into the chair and then craned herself into a perfect posture again, "Abby?" She punctuated her change in attention with a flick of her wand and a lumos spell to offer another pinprick of light within the dim oom, still refraining herself from fixing the light. (It wasn't needed and she didn't want to fix it repetitively if she sneezed again.)

She drew out her tone like a warm cauldron coming to a boil, "Causing mishaps and nonsense around the house," she sizzled to a light and steamy pitch, "must provide some amusement?" It didn't take a legilimens to see the girl found a lot this quite amusing, it didn't take a legilimens to pick out that much, but Delilah needed the younger girl to talk to her, not be talked for.  She may be a squib, but the child seemed perfectly capable of describing her affliction.

Their were only so few things that affected a person's ability to convey symptoms: either they were completely confunded senseless, or they were a rugrat metamorph and unable to discern self-induced goosebumps from dragon pox.

1.

party

Aileen fell silent as Healer Foley addressed her sister (and thankfully, started creating more light in the room), going so far as to suggest that Abby was having fun with this.

Abby looked surprised, then annoyed, glancing at Aileen for help. But Aileen merely raised her eyebrows at her. The Healer had a point. Her younger sister wasn't taking this problem seriously, and it had been a struggle of wills to even get her into the hospital. As silence stretched on, Aileen was beginning to realize that yes, she'd spoken for Abby, and rarely gave her a chance to talk in front of Healers and other authority figures. Abby needed someone to look out for her, to give her a voice, and no one else would do it, not even their parents. That's how Aileen justified it, anyway.

"It is a bit funny, you have to admit," Abby finally said, shooting another resentful look at Aileen. "How often do I get to cause magical problems? Oh right, never," she rolled her eyes.

"It's not even a big deal. People nap a lot when they're sick. Teenagers nap a lot."

Aileen opened her mouth, about to point out the flaws in her logic, when Abby slouched in her seat and shook her head.

"I'm not doing it on purpose. If I could control it, I'd be doing much cooler things than blowing up lanterns, believe me. Like, cool as in not destructive."

Aileen knew exactly what she meant, and her mouth pursed into a thin line, waiting to see if the Healer understood just how invested Abby was in the idea that she could control it. Aileen had tried to tell her that it couldn't work that way. But Abby wouldn't hear it from her.

• "It is a bit funny, you have to admit," Abby finally said, shooting another resentful look at Aileen. "How often do I get to cause magical problems? Oh right, never," she rolled her eyes.

With satisfaction tugging the corner of her lips into a smirk, Delilah crossed her leg and propped her glowing wand on her knee, waiting for the child to continue.

• "It's not even a big deal. People nap a lot when they're sick. Teenagers nap a lot."

Her lips settled into a more relaxed and content bend, as she grasped more understanding of the situation, and as the older sister shook her head at her slouching sibling.

• "I'm not doing it on purpose. If I could control it, I'd be doing much cooler things than blowing up lanterns, believe me. Like, cool as in not destructive."

Children. The girl's heart was in a sweet place, at least. Delilah pursed a small sigh from her lips,

Her voice clicked down for a moment,"Throughout di' world, magical or not," then she let her tone roll on, " living t'ings have a relationship wit' each'other."

She raised her her lit wand like a conductor, "Some fish will clean off dirt of larger sea dwellers, 'cus eet's a means of getting food," she flicked it gently, "One creature is cleaned, the odder is fed, both benefit."

Then she dropped her wand tip, as if to point a finger at Abby, "Some creatures feed off o'dder ones to survive," the wand then pivoted in a circle, by her head, "a circle of life, and gets more complex from dere."

She rested her wand on he knee again, and shrugged gently at the facts, "sometimes neid'er benefit, sometimes only one does, and sometimes one suffers," her tone creaked on the last word before she paused a moment to raise a tall eyebrow at Abby.

"This magical bug, usin' you as shell, fer whatever it is doing inside your body," Delilah nodded at the young Reid, "and gradually makin' you more an' more tired--giving no regards to your well-being..." her tone rose with a pitch of curiosity, "What sort of relationship do you think you 'ave wit' 'dat bug?"

Abby was not happy. Aileen was letting her talk for once, and the Healer was actually speaking to her. But this wasn't how this was supposed to go. She still felt like a child, still felt like the adults thought they knew better, and that she was just being silly and immature and inconveniencing them. Did they know what this 'cold' felt like? Did they understand what it was like to suddenly make magical things happen, anything at all happen, after years of boring squib-ness? No!

"What sort of relationship do you think you 'ave wit' 'dat bug?"

When it seemed the Healer had finished her lesson, Abby plastered on a smile and ignored Aileen's warning look.

"A vampiric one!" She answered dramatically, fluttering her hands and widening her eyes. "The bug is a leech, right? Or are we still going off of sea-dweller analogies? Can I be a starfish? It doesn't fit the theory, but-"

"Abby!" Aileen scolded her.

She got quiet for a moment, straightening her shoulders and attempting to hide how much she wanted to curl up in the chair and fall asleep.

"Isn't it possible that maybe whatever this is, isn't a bug at all?" Abby asked the Healer in a more normal tone of voice. "What if I'm--" she cut herself off, glanced away. "What if my body just needs time to adapt?"

She refused to look at her sister, who was resting her head in one hand.

Delilah's curiosity peaked as Abigail came back at her with piss and vinegar, rather than elaborate or rise to her invitation to explain. It was a hurdle that they somehow needed to get over, but then the squib offered her own explanation of her affliction.

The Jamaican witch let her eyes bat and her chin lowered slightly at the comment. Then she shrugged and accepted the consideration of the thought, and raised her chin again.

"Could be," she mused in the dim room, because despite how well Delilah could rationalize arguments against it, she didn't have all the arguments against it, therefore, there was reasonable doubt. Arguing was pointless when a teenager had 'if's and 'but's to rant off of.

She broiled on with a negotiable tone, calmly focusing on Abigail but folding out her hand towards Aileen, "An' since d'magic is so potent," she paused, her teeth gently pinching words off of her lower lip, "and if eet's yours t'ave," her tone turned lighter as she regarded Aileen innocently, "'Den if your sister would be nice 'nough to let you try her wand."

Yes, arguing was pointless, unless you could physically prove your point, "Use di' spell we've been using," she brushed off her free hand and raised her glowing wand.

"Lumos," she confirmed with a shake of her free hand, "don't need t'be right, just try, and aim it over 'dere," she poked her wand to a darker and emptier side of the room, because for all she knew the girl would sneeze again and take half the room with it.

Abby gave the Healer a suspicious look, then took the offered wand from her sister, interpreting Aileen's slight hesitation as discomfort. Give up her wand? What a ballsy thing to suggest to a Pureblood with such control-freak tendencies.

The long, slim wand with the runes inscribed on the handle felt foreign in her hand. Suddenly nervous, she raised the wand, thought about the light, and spoke the spell clearly. She'd seen it done so many times that it didn't take much concentration.

"Lumos."

She held her breath, waited. Nothing. The dark corner of the room remained dark. Only silence filled the space. Abby tried to push back the crushing disappointment, the shame, the frustration that made her want to cry and scream all at once. She set the wand down on the arm of the chair and sniffed, not bothering to dab at her nose with her handkerchief. Her head hurt, her nose was stuffy, but it would have all been worth it if she'd made something happen.

While Aileen understood what Healer Foley was trying to prove, watching her sister's humiliation was not easy, and knowing the Healer saw it made her feel both defensive and protective. Abby mimicked the spell perfectly. Face expressionless, Aileen held her breath, knowing it wouldn't work, and yet unable to squash the emotional reaction.

The corner of the room remained dark, of course, and Aileen was filled with anger and frustration. This was ridiculous. They were here to cure the cold, not play at magic tricks. The disappointment etched on Abby's face tugged at her heart, and she opened her mouth, ready to tell off the Healer, when Abby spoke first:

"A wand that's my own would work better. And I'm tired now, anyway. It's only one spell, one test. Like I said, maybe I just need time-"

"Abby," Aileen snapped at her, rigid in her seat. "Do you hear yourself? We have been through this. We need to focus on chasing this 'bug' away, and you need to work with us to do that, instead of making up excuses. I'm losing my patience."

"You don't have much patience to begin with!" Abby snapped back, then glanced at the Healer.

Delilah propped her thumb and forefinger against a cheek, holding an attentive and cool gaze up at the two girls. She let them have their spat and then directed a hard stare down her thick nose.

 "Stop." Delilah's voice sizzled through the dusky room as she lifted her finger off her cheek, and seesawed it between both Reid sisters, "Unless you wanna have somebody pass out on da' floor and held here," her finger focused on Aileen for a moment, "overnight, because she," the finger pointed back towards Abigail with a calmly raised eyebrow, "was too stubborn and over-exhausted from bickering with her sibling." She shrugged her shoulders back and folded her arms across her chest again.

It was the reality of the situation. If Abigail Reid was so fixated, for over a week, that she might not be a squib, and ran herself ragged, then she could easily be on the verge of passing out just from standing. Irritation, stubbornness, and a grouchy demeanor were all signs she was deprived of the energy she needed, and possibly fed up with her sister.

Her voice cooled to professionalism, reflecting her bearing, "Wands 'mong family should werk," she focused on Abby again, "to varying degrees, especially considering the strength of your magical episodes."

Finally, the witch extinguished her wand, and flicked the African wand towards the ceiling, dimming on the lights again, "Fer now, di' exercise proves my point--that you're infected with somet'ing."

"So we'll focus on 'dat," She wound and brushed off a gesture from her hand, "Tell me 'bout th' past two weeks," just to be thorough, "What, if anyt'ing, has changed and what all have you been doin' differently?"

Aileen looked sharply at the Healer when the woman told the two sisters to stop it, but a glance at Abby hushed her up. Abby appeared to be on the verge of tears, sinking back in her chair and pouting. She looked exhausted. They had been fighting for over a week. Aileen sighed. The last thing she needed was for Abby to stay over at the hospital.   

At least Healer Foley explained about the wands, and told her that she must be afflicted with something. Abby shrugged at the Healer's question. Aileen hesitated, but for different reasons. She didn't want to talk about her older brother's trial, or her younger brother getting involved in the werewolf attacks. What could she say? She couldn't mention the artifacts. If the artifacts were the problem, Abby would have been affected long before now.

"I dunno," Abby rubbed at her forehead. "Same old, same old. I study, I take the crup for walks, I go shopping, I send letters to friends, blah blah."

Abby glanced at her guiltily. Aileen tensed.

"Ah, sister dearest?" She said with a grin, picking up Aileen's wand and twirling it in her fingers. "Can you-- can I talk to the Healer alone? Just for a few minutes!"

Aileen's eyes narrowed in suspicion, worry, and hurt, taking great offense at the suggestion. She was the one who had dragged Abby here. She was the adult. Besides that, Abby should not be keeping secrets from her! Aileen sucked in a breath, knowing what she needed to say and do, and hating it all the while.

"Fine," Aileen rose from her seat and plucked her wand from Abby's fingers as she walked past. "I will be in the waiting room if you need me," she clipped each word, then opened the door and walked out.

Once Abby began speaking she noticed Aileen's hesitation, then Abby's guilt, but refrained herself from becoming aware of their thoughts. However she did remember an all-too-familiar tale her husband told her.

When the Runes Professor left, Delilah lazily tilted her head in the direction of the door, "I  hope 'dis is somet'in 'dat can be handled before she gets sick from worryin'." It was an inevitable family dilemma, especially with purebloods: when one came home with bad tidings then everyone had bad tidings.

She then suppressed a sigh with a hopeless tone while resting a finger on the side of her temple,  "And that you aren't di' same Abigail from the British Museum back on New Years." The older sister was gone, but Delilah started to wonder if the sibling's annoyance and worries were that unfounded. Perhaps Abby wasn't born a witch, but she may have a natural talent for trouble.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "She doesn't get sick. Coughing or sneezing would lower her to the level of us mere mortals," Abby rolled her eyes, irritated with herself and her sister, and shoving back the guilt at having asked her to leave.

Before she could fidget and stall over how to talk to Healer Foley, the woman recognized her from the museum, suddenly making Abby very, very glad that Aileen wasn't around to freak out about this.

But that also meant it was up to Abby to downplay any suspicions. "Ah... possibly?" She grinned, then shrugged. "Yeah, you got me. I don't see what that has to do with anything, though. I didn't do anything. And if the mummies set off some curse, it probably would have affected me in January, not now. Right?"

Abby hoped the Healer didn't know about the little pyramid artifact. What she had to talk to her about was completely separate from that, she told herself, and she was definitely not to blame for both disasters.

Delilah hummed at Abby's criticism of her sister, and took note of her reaction to being caught. Knowing she was at the museum helped the Jamaican grasp the scope of situations that might be related to what was wrong with her, but she knew better than to think reanimation of mummies from three months back was responsible for an illness starting two weeks ago.

But it amused her, and interested her; it was for that that her children always opted to denial in any involvement when questioned in the way Abigail Reid had just been. She pressed her lips into a line and shrugged, "Could be," she admitted with an act, and then shrugged her shoulders back, "Egyptians like to be complicated wit' magic, especially the ancients," it was honest advice, regardless of the Healer's play on words and avoidance of saying 'mummies.'

"But you dun have to do somet'ing to get sick, child," she corrected with a nonchalant bore, "My husband hardly takes a step 'fore something tries to get him," her tone was still calm and lazy as waved her hand and held her stoic expression, "don't do him any good his first instinct is climbing up somet'in' to take pictures." Her eyes landed on Abby to study her for a curious and silent pause, wondering how quick the teen caught onto things.

Then Delilah broke it, moving on, more curious about Abby's conditions than the mummies, "No tellin' what went home wit' you," she splayed out a hand in her direction, "do you have some reason to think it's somet'in else?"