Hannah Bombay was sat in her superior’s office looking considerably better presented than she had last time she’d seen Jason Marren. This time her hair was carefully pinned back, the bruises and scratches had been banished away with charms and potions and she looked a great deal healthier, the pasty pallor having tanned once more.  This time Hannah wore a slim black skirt, a smart cream blouse with black robes and high cream shoes that elongated the no longer scratched legs further. She was ready to do battle with the moron that had thought it fun to suspend her from her work.

Marren didn’t know she was in here. She had quietly entered the ward and slipped into the office and proceeded to remain sat on the leather sofa against the wall as she watched the door. It had been about half an hour before the door finally opened and in walked Healer-in-charge Marren.

“On the 11th of March, due to the grave events of the day I remained on shift for the progressing night despite the reality my shift was due to end at 7 in the evening. That night, as I am sure you recollect, a young  woman proceeded to transform into a werewolf in the heart of this ward. Myself, along with several other members of staff attempted to restrain her pending a member of staff from the ministry arriving to diffuse the situation and take the werewolf back to be placed in a cell.” Hannah spoke softly, calmly as she sat upright in the chair.

“I was bitten by this werewolf while restraining it. I told no one on the ward due to worry and the denial I held within the belief that I could bandage the wound up and not deal with any effects of the werewolf bite. The following morning I went straight to the ministry as requested by them to research the cause for both the daylight werewolf transformations and the overly aggressive behaviour of werewolves supposedly under the influence of the correct dosage of wolfsbane potion.

“There I witnessed a usually well respected and important member of our society being referred to as a ‘flea bitten dog’ and shown every ounce of disrespect a wizard wouldn’t even show a wild beast.” The witch took in a deep breath and released it slowly as she watched the Healer-In-Charge. “I was certainly not willing to subject myself to that depraved disrespect when I am an experienced potioneer with the capabilities of brewing a perfect wolfsbane to aid a transformation.”

Sometimes Jason didn’t know why he chose to be in-charge. It pulled him out of his bed at all hours of the night, he had more drama to deal with at work than he thought was possible, and he had to hand out discipline like it was candy. Sometimes he just wanted to be a Healer again and not have all the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

But he also enjoyed having that. Management was a new role for him; he staffed when they were short, but otherwise he was In-Charge. Still, it didn’t make putting Bombay on suspension any easier. Jason still wasn’t quite sure where to go from where he was with it.

So when he stepped into his office, the last thing he was expecting was the younger woman sitting in there waiting. Fingers through his hair, he was halfway to his desk when her voice startled him into a panicked jump and sudden swirl. He would not have screamed; that’s what he kept telling himself as he tried to calm his thumping heart.

Blinking and then frowning, he put up a hand to try and stop her, slow her down, get a breath in and try and process what it was she was saying. But she just kept going, and so he finally collapsed into his chair, leaning back and resting an elbow on the arm of the chair. His chin fit in his palm.

He did recall the woman. Realization started to settle upon him as she explained the bite. Letting out a slow breath, he finally felt his heart slowing down from roadrunner speed. Licking his lips, Jason sat up in his chair and rested his arms on the table, glancing down at the messy desk. He still had papers to sign… letters to send out. Decisions to make and people to set straight. But amongst all of that, he still had people to listen to and support and offer what he could.

Again the stress weighed on his shoulders. Running his fingers through his hair once more, he finally sat up straight and watched her carefully. “And yet you suggested yourself to improper handling of a werewolf and were bitten.” On his ward. Pushing himself up, he moved around and sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossing over his chest as he studied her face.

“People always have a hard time accepting something they can’t experience themselves. It’s not something new, Healer Bombay. That’s not a good enough reason to hide it.” Rubbing at his eyes, he thought maybe he was being too harsh. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must have been.” And that was an experience that Hannah was going to have to share on her own. “The registry is confidential, though.”

“I did no such thing.” Hannah had never suggested incompetence in dealing with the situation. She had followed protocol. She had aided others on the ward to restrain a fully transformed werewolf and with a lapse of tired concentration she had been savagely bitten by the beast. Hannah never displayed incompetence. She did everything by the book and with the utmost precision. Hannah Bombay was a perfectionist, why would she have gone against all of that on one particular night and baited a werewolf alone? The suggestion was ludicrously offensive.

“What I did was my job, Healer Marren. As I have been trained.” Granted, she had been trained in far more peaceful and precise tasks since then but she still remembered everything from last time she’d been in the hospital.

Hannah didn’t read people well. She didn’t know people well or how they dealt with emotions. She had never taken an interest in it and to be honest didn’t care one way or another. Unless their actions were directly affecting her and her ability to go about what she was best at and enjoyed. Jason Marren was standing in her way and treating this topic she found personal and quite terrifying as if she’d had a gross misconduct with a potion and a patient and that it could be written on file and ignored after that. He was talking to her as if she had broken protocol and that was it.

 That wasn’t it. Healer Bombay was sat in her charge’s office wondering if she was going to be arrested by a hitwizard for breaking wizarding law or lose her employment. All thanks to the fact that this man felt it was his business to stick his over sized nose into the equation.

“It may be confidential in principle but in reality the registry is as classified as witch weekly, Healer Marren.” Hannah responded coldly. She had spent her time at school being bullied because she was apparently weird and creepy and now it would only get worse if she registered to be even more out of the ordinary. “I know this. I have worked for the ministry. I still do. I was the primary healer to investigate the wolfsbane potion. These otherwise law abiding citizens are still being kept in cages after their transformation because the cowardice ministry requires someone to blame.”

“I can’t accept it, Healer Marren.” The young witch began to look worried as she slowly shook her head, eyes on her superior. "I can’t register when I don’t accept it. When I know that by registering I am submitting myself to the same disrespect and treatment I witnessed last month.” Hannah looked down at the hands that rested comfortably in her lap.

He tried not to let his disbelief show on his face, and he thought he did well with a small frown and purse of the lips, matching her gaze. If she hadn’t breeched protocol, then how did she get bitten? The steps to handling a dangerous werewolf were well practiced, and left his staff unbitten for a long time prior to this. As questionable as it was, a werewolf was given a muzzle to prevent accidental bites. Securing the muzzle sometimes proved difficult, but that was why they were well manned for full moons.

Of course, Jason tried to work the floor enough to relate to his healers. He knew it was difficult to follow every protocol to the letter. “As you’ve been being trained.” It was an afterthought, something muttered as he put a hand over his lips, holding on to his chin as his arm rested over one crossed over his chest. He was thinking, contemplating the ramifications of this. Clearly he needed to hammer down the technique some more…

He was just frustrated that it took this sort of incident to bring about change. But wasn’t that the quickest way to get something done? Have something really awful happen to slap the big wigs into spending out to get safety and compliance.

Raising an eyebrow at her parallel, his hands fell to his lap, loosely clasped. He couldn’t say she wasn’t wrong, but he also knew the law. “I don’t know… about citizens in cages after…” The downside to working in the hospital was that he only dealt with what happened. He didn’t move on with them past the walls of St. Mungo’s. If they were still kept in cells after they were capable of conscious thought and… human again, that was an ethical blow out that the papers should grab on to.

Biting his lower lip, he watched her face before crossing his arms over his chest, leaning forward slightly. “Healer Bombay…” Jason paused as he considered what he was about to say. “It’s against the law not to register… I don’t agree with the disrespect and mistreatment, but there are ways to bring about change to that. Everyone who is different is subjected to heckling from the majority who consider themselves normal.”

It was a lesson learned early in life. “Register with a lawyer by your side, or… something. Give yourself ammunition against them if that’s what you need.” Jason had done some wrongs in his life, but he was a law-abiding citizen, drunken broom rides excluded. What would he do if he was in her situation? Would Sam leave him? Would he get his son taken away from him? Structured visits? Surely not… “I might—” Oh Good Golly Godric, was he really thinking about saying this? “—mm-might be able to get someone to do a-an interview. A s-s-story. To help.” Jason winced at the thought of asking Skeeter for a favor.

Jason Marren made ridiculous suggestion after ridiculous suggestion and Hannah stared ahead at him. Her lips were pursed in thought as she took her time to decide how to tell him to shove his outlandish propositions up the rear end of a dragon with volatile and explosive diarrhoea in a much more eloquent manner.

“That thought makes as much sense to me as giving a patient with narcolepsy a sleeping potion, Healer Marren.” Hannah responded finally as she glanced at the door and back to Marren. She pushed herself up from the chair and paced to the other side of the small room in her high shoes.

“This isn’t something I even want to share with the ministry. Why would I willingly tell a reporter about the whole thing?” The young witch lifted a hand up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear as her concerned expression turned to Jason. “Can you even hear yourself, Sir?” It didn’t seem Marren could. She didn’t want this to get out. She wanted to keep it a secret. She wanted it to go away and fade into the distance giving her back her previous freedom. Giving her that assertive confidence back that she’d worked so hard to gain in the first place.

“I’m 23 years old. I’m supposed to be facing the toughest decision of what footwear to sport to go out on a date with a new male each evening. That’s what most witches in their twenties do, isn't it? Instead I’m making up excuses not to see friends and how to hide something this big and scary from my closest friend who’s going to know very soon because he’s obnoxiously intelligent and infuriatingly correct all the time.” The wellspoken witch’s speech sped up the more she said before she removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, breathing steadily to calm her nerves.

“I’m scared, Healer Marren.”

Frowning, Jason tapped his lips in thought with his fingertips. “Because one way to start change is to appeal to the media and blow it up.” That was a path she didn’t seem willing to do, though. No sweat off his back! One less thing to bother Miss Skeeter for, thank Merlin. “But if you don’t want to, then I can understand… that.” At least he offered. Back under the pile that went, and he wasn’t unhappy about it. And he heard himself just fine. Rolling his eyes, he rubbed at them and attempted to concentrate on the issue at hand.

She had to register. Hadn’t she seen all the uproar over those who hadn’t been?

He made a face and his shoulders came up in response to her question: he knew what most males did in their twenties… Scratching the back of his head, he crossed his feet at the ankles and rested on his desk. She had a friend who would figure it out, but was she worried he’d react like the public might? Sometimes it was easy to forget how young some of his healer’s were. Some were older than him, had more experience under their belt, and others were young and stupid. Or naïve.

Whichever way you wanted to swing it, he had to be the older one. And the boss who made the tough decisions. And attempt to offer something to this young witch who didn’t seem to like anything he had to say. “Hannah… I don’t know how you feel. But we deal with a lot of people who do. After you register—” That was his sticking point, “—You should ask them how they deal with it. Hell, it might even make some of them feel better, knowing someone going through the same thing is there.”

His arms crossed over his chest again as he relaxed. “One small consolation is at least you’re a regular werewolf. Those… direwolves, they’re going to cause a lot of problems… and changes.” Glancing down at his shoes, he let out a slow breath through his nose. “There’s also counseling, if you don’t feel comfortable talking… to others.” She was scared, which was completely expected, but Jason wasn’t the best at helping someone through that. He wasn’t trained in that sort of counseling. He dealt with the acute care and sent them on to someone else.

“In the end, Healer Bombay, you will still have a job here, regardless of your situation. As long as you’re registered.”

The word ‘werewolf’ hit Hannah like a snake’s head striking her stomach. It left her winded, as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. Not once had she said that word. It was such a powerful, defining word. It instilled fear and a sense of prejudice in each person that heard the word. No feelings when hearing it were positive. Being a werewolf wasn’t positive and Hannah Bombay still wasn’t ready to accept that she was one.

She wasn’t ready to speak to any papers, any ministry members and certainly any other patients about her part of the curse. She wasn’t prepared to tell people about the pain flooding her senses when the beast’s teeth latched onto her skin, ripping raw flesh from her arm, leaving an unsightly scar covering her forearm. She wasn’t ready to talk about the draining energy the bite seemed to have, leaving her feeling tired, stressed and ill for the first month. Nor was she ready to discuss the physical feelings taking over her body akin to a feline in heat nearing the full moon or the pain flooding her entire being during the transformation in the forest. More than anything Hannah wasn’t willing to discuss the morning after, the shame she felt mixed with the pain, tiredness and despair, stuck in a hopeless situation.

One person knew about this. He was one person too many. He was sat comfortably in his chair, behind his desk, analysing her situation from the position of an outsider. Someone who it didn’t directly affect. He was telling her quite happily that it could be worse. He suggested counselling as if she was a muggle woman with depression!

“That is the most outlandish suggestion yet, Marren.” Now Hannah wasn’t panicking. She was irritated. She shopped pacing, shoved her glasses up onto the top of her head, pushing stray hairs into various directions and looked at her boss through bright eyes.

Marren informed her she would still her have job at the hospital. If she registered. Hannah blinked before shaking her head. “So that isn’t regardless of my situation, Sir.” As Hannah stood here in his office, she wished she had perfected a nice simple obliviation spell. Or that she possessed a timeturner and had simply not answered her door that day. For such a clever witch she could be extremely stupid with people. Her ignoring of any owls from Azize and allowing Johann to stay with her was testament to that.

“You sound precisely like a broken record, Healer Marren. I should register, talk to people, reporters, patients, muggle head doctors. I should make sure every inhabitant within a one hundred mile radius is prejudice towards me because people I’ve come into contact with don’t think I’m different enough.”

Hannah paused and moved to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. “Have you considered what the Daily Prophet might say about a healer being inflicted with such a curse while on shift?  I realise I have to register. But don’t expect to assign me to those cases so that a patient gets to talk about it with someone who understands.” The witch’s voice was once more calm, unemotional, her usual businesslike tone. “The next full moon isn’t for a few weeks. I will register within the next 7 days.”

Jason didn’t know his newest employee very well, but when others had come to him with personal problems, his suggestions had been taken more seriously than she was taking his. Frowning at her, he considered a moment. They had a few counselors to assist with many different situations. Wizards had psychological issues just like muggles did.

Raising an eyebrow, he considered his wording for a moment. “As it’s illegal to employ a non-registered werewolf if you are aware of it… then I suppose you’re right, it isn’t regardless of your situation.” He’d meant to reassure her, but it seemed Jason wasn’t capable of assisting Hannah with that. She had a job, which was what she was upset with in the beginning, right? Or at some point? Other employers would have sacked her right away, but he was willing to take her on. Accept she might not be available for two or three days every month. Take her and her condition.

It was a very forward thinking approach in the mindset of the general public. She didn’t seem to understand that. Then again, he reminded himself that she was only twenty three and dealing with this life changing situation. “I’m giving you options, Healer Bombay, which sound a lot more appealing than hiding under a pillow for the rest of your life.”

Was she attempting to point the blame back at him? At his department? Frowning a little, he glanced down at his arms crossed over his chest and nodded. He had considered it the moment she brought it up. He was all ready thinking of the policy and procedure in question, considering ways to make it as safe as possible. Which he thought it had all ready been. The problem with their profession was that you could be as careful as possible and still find yourself in trouble. It was the nature of the beast. Not every patient followed your expected protocol.

Standing up from his spot on the front of the desk, he gave her a small smile and walked around to sit in his chair behind it. “Then we’ll see you in seven days. I’ll write up an event report of what happened, make sure you approve of it, and I’ll send it to the ministry for your case.” Picking up a quill, he jotted the idea down. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Healer Bombay? I’m sorry my suggestions didn’t seem to help.”

As Hannah sat listening to the charge call her a werewolf, tell him her was being gracious and offering her options before telling her she couldn’t hide for the rest of her life was causing Hannah to being wondering why she had not let Clifford the lovely snake out of the kitchen and told him that Jason Marren, the nosy wizard that had stood in her living room, was his dinner. That was, after all, about the largest amount of use Hannah could see the man being to her. He could provide a large treat for her boa contristictor and save her on food for the following few days.

Instead she was sat in the office having to listen to this and be informed that until she registered as a monster, she should not bother returning to work. This was extremely unfair and prejudice but unfortunately, for the immediate future, this wizard held the reigns. He was the one in control, manipulating her career with his interfering, prying mouth.

“As am I, Healer Marren.” Bombay finally responded, allowing the bitterness to creep into her otherwise detached tone. “I would, however, appreciate if this was handled discreetly. I would rather not have to deal with prejudices from my own colleagues or any other individuals who need not know and are exceedingly swift to judge.”

After frowning once more at her boss, Hannah stood and left the office.