St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Positions Representing: Healer-in-Charge and Healer
Panel & Demonstrations: 11:10 am - 12:00 pm
(Minor & Major Sports Injury Mending)

After entering remain seated in front of table, where pamphlets and werewolf awareness ribbons are available while waiting.

Once the morning rolled around to 11:10 am, outside a disaster relief tent snagged by the St. Mungo's healers that morning, a neat script neat faded onto the bottom of the sign, directing students to enter the tent in an orderly manner. With her dreadlocks knotted into a long ponytail, trailing from atop her head, Delilah Foley watched the remaining stragglers enter the tent and paused to confirm no one else was jumping in behind her.

The tall witch ducked into the tent the world expanded into a large entrance where a round receptionist desk, decorated with werewolf awareness ribbons (something a staff member at Mungo's wasn't letting the healer leave without,) and some magicked origami pamphlets about the healing proffesion in one of its corners, sat atop a few stone steps. Sitting in a patient's chair to the side of the sack, sat a familiar woman, with a mild concussion, a broken arm, and some scrapes and bruises, something else the Jamaican witch snagged that morning, after filling out the proper paperwork, (of course.) Finally, the patient was left in the care of Hannah Bombay, who Delilah was glad had come for her capability of being short enough with people to convey the meaning of the word, "no," or inadvertently frighten them otherwise.

As she waltzed up towards the desk with her strong accent, "Mi name is Delilah Foley, generale Healer-in-Charge of Saint Mungo's an' a member of th' Board of Warlocks," she gestured a slim palm out to the other healer, "'Dis is Hannah Bombay, a healer who works on floor 1," she started to take a few paces towards the patient, and eyed the students with curbed intimidation, "Creature-Induced Injuries." As if any of them couldn't guess how easy her job had been the past few months.

"An' lastly, Athena Ainsley," she parked herself with her shoulders back looking down at the subdued patient before turning her gaze back to the other students, "a Falcon's chaser, but our patient for 'dis morning." There were some issues with ethics at work with the patient, but since they sent Delilah out to fish for new employees, she'd rather test their nerves with a hard-skinned Falcon player than later down the line after a few fragile wizards.

"I'm sure some of you have been in her position, practicing, lunged by a bludger, launched to th' stands, 'den soothed an' kept in check by potions," she crossed her arms as a smirk gently tugged at her lips, "moreso today n' usual, t'ough mostly fore your participation purposes," she added swiftly.

After confirming Ainsley's safety Delilah, and seeing a few intrigued and curious expressions she marched on, "but ferst," she leaned her hip into the arm of the chair, "diagnose th' patient." She let the statement settle into the children before she shrugged, propping up an eyebrow and innocently demanded, "Someone tell me how."

Out of everyone on the creature injuries ward of St Mungo’s that Jason Marren could have chosen to torture with a day of demonstrating healing techniques and answering the questions of horrible teenagers and children, the Healer in Charge certainly chose the least suitable candidate. Hannah Bombay had enjoyed school as much as she’d enjoyed picking adolescent spots. It stung but the necessary evil toward success had been rewarding and gratifying. Come back to Hogwarts to communicate with these children was certainly going to be a horrifying experience for the young witch. An experience she very much resented her boss for.

The witch found herself left alone to tend to a French quidditch player, before Foley re-entered and she stood arms folded over her stomach while her lime green healers robes hung loosely from her shoulders. The tent itself was nicely decorated, the werewolf awareness tape was in bad taste and the Healer in charge seemed a bit too happy to be there. Toward was Hannah’s birthday. Not that that mattered. She rarely celebrated with anything more than a large cup of tea and the large box of bertie bott’s every flavour jelly beans her father sent her annually. Despite the lack of the regularity of celebrating said birthday, Hannah definitely didn’t want to be here on this particular day.

Healer in Charge Foley’s introduction of her companion for the day forced Hannah to offer the students a tight lipped smile. “Morning.”

"Someone tell me how."

Lips pursed, the small healer carefully studied the faces of those Foley was demonstrating to. She’d been told to interact with them and join in the demonstration. That wasn’t exactly necessary right now. Or so the young healer decided and instead left the more experienced and more senior healer to demonstrate. If Hannah couldn’t talk to people in a particularly friendly manner when one on one, she was certainly not going to manage a group of them.

This was so exciting! Eirene had a seat in the first row by the table, and had been there since 10:59 am. There was a real patient in front of them, and two Healers from St. Mungo's, and they were in a real disaster relief tent, and it was all very real!

Eirene almost wished her mother could be there, just to prove to the other students that her mother was an important Healer, but a part of her was also glad she was working, because her presence would make her more nervous.

After Healer Foley asked a surprise question, she threw her hand in the air without thinking, eyes widening a bit when she caught their attention.

"You ask them where it hurts and what happened, first," Eirene talked fast, as if she thought someone else would try to butt in. She folded her hands in her lap and gave the Healer an eager look, clearly ready to elaborate if asked.

"Good," Delilah bobbed up from her sitting position, "But that's jus' part of th' first step."

The witch raised one long forefinger, "People don't always know what's going on wit' themselves, and 'cin be unreliable," she snaked her hands down to her waist as she arched an eyebrow, "or knocked out."

Her feet took a few paces before she shrugged her shoulders towards the students, "Whaddyou rely on then?"

"If anyone else saw it happen?" Ambrose suggested, sat near to Eirene, he'd come forth to give the healers some support. He admired them all very much for looking after his mother, and as he was still really unsure what he wanted to do as a career - coming along was just to get some freebies and hear a few interesting stories, and to see dad of course.

Grace's attendance at the St. Mungo's booth was a given. The prefect stood close to the front but off to the side enough to hopefully not impede the sight of other onlookers. She wanted to watch the entire demonstration as closely as possible and she also wanted the best view of the healers.

As soon as the Healer-in-Charge began to speak and mentioned the patient, Grace's eyes locked onto Falcon's chaser, Athena Ainsley. Frankly, she was surprised that a Falcon's player was there and not some player from another team, seeing as they were usually the ones inflicting the injuries.

Still, the prospect of seeing the healers work on an honest to goodness sports injury was exciting. Grace liked to test her amateur healing skills on her teammates and even herself during Gryffindor practices, but those efforts would pale in comparison to this.

As Grace tended to do during her classes, she sat back and waited to respond. An eager first year, offered her insight first. After Ambrose spoke, Grace finally decided to chime in. She cleared her throat. “You can also see if there are visible signs of injuries that might need immediate attention, such as bleeding or....bruising, swelling...or in some cases....broken limbs.”

• "If anyone else saw it happen?"

The witch dipped her head of knitted locks in acknowledgement of Ambrose's answer, "...possibly." It was close but not quite what she was looking for, then her dark eyes fell on an older student.

• “You can also see if there are visible signs of injuries that might need immediate attention, such as bleeding or....bruising, swelling...or in some cases....broken limbs.”

After lingering her gaze for a minute, Delilah smiled softly, "Good."

"Observe, ferst, before checking with magic," she smoother her hands into clasping each other as she looked from student to student, "If th' patient is suffering from somet'in magical, 'den certain procedures will be difficult to utilize or rendered useless," she pulled her hands apart and pointed a stray finger at the students, "Get th' magic undeh control and 'den continue your diagnosis."

The tall witch pulled out her wand as she rounded back on the patient, "However, wit' this Miss Ainsley, we know 'dere aren't any so we 'cin move on," Delilah dropped her gaze onto the Quidditch player as she waved her wand, "Clearly we've got a few scrapes," a spell fell through her body, pealing away the visibility of her skin, revealing the abnormal blotches of coloring throughout her body and a cracked bone in her arm, "some deep bruising, a broken bone, and a mild concussion," Delilah peeked at the crowd to judge how they were handling the view; if students were planning on being a healer, and couldn't handle something as simple as the human body, then they had a lot of work ahead of them or the profession wasn't for them. It was a good gauge as far as first impressions on 7th years for the Healer-in-Charge to use.

Delilah waved the spell away and Athena's skin melted back into visibility and the Healer's voice descended sarcastically, "After determining 'dat, we fill out very exciting paperwork wit' the procedure and the diagnosis."

She saw a few smirks surfacing among the students, but fefore anyone could start giggling through their nose the Jamaican continued speaking, "Now, for a more hands-on experience, 1st through 3rd years go to healer Bombay to learn to tend the scrapes and deep bruising, 5th through 7th wit' me for the concussion and broken arm," she stepped up to the desk as she pulled out a few bowls and divided out ingredients between her and Hannah, "Anyt'ing in excess you all can take wit' chyou."

-- I can't resist making an outfit for everything. --

---

It was a very popular belief that Razzy Chancelier was dumb as a brick. While he had plenty of common sense and knowledge of unimportant things, he was academically slow. Unbeknownst to every person who had ever met Razzy, the boy was actually rather intelligent when it came to the hard act of healing. Razzy hardly remembered spells to harm a person, but reversing hexes and treating illness and wounds was his specialty. While Razzy was never truly sure what he wanted to do, career wise, when he was out of school, he always kept healing as a secret interest. A few of his close relatives knew of his abilities, but considering he lived in a high class, most people he knew were prudes and didn't get out much. Therefore, his healing was virtually unnoticeable.

Razzy hadn't wanted to leave his dorm during Career Day, but he had grown disturbingly bored just laying in his bed. He was usually a marvelous sitter, but he couldn't stand the fact that other students were out and about and having fun while he was just staring at his ceiling. He had no mind to socialize, but he wished to take a look around before he settled on staying inside. Besides, he needed the exercise.

The St. Mungo's booth caught his eye rather quickly. A lovely Jamaican woman was doing a small question and answer session with a crowd of students, announcing that there will be groups splitting up by year. His green eyes studied the booth, watching as his peers rose and filtered into their sections. He wasn't certain if he truly wanted to sit in for the demonstration or lesson (whatever the hell it was.) Razzy had a lack of patience that day. But he realized watching a pretty woman talk about concussions and broken arms. He stepped forward, forcing himself into his designated group. Before he followed his fellow students, however, he glanced down at the contents on the table.

Why did they have werewolf awareness ribbons? Razzy's sculpted eyebrows crumbled and he took one of the ribbons for himself, gently pinning it to his sweater. He wasn't open about his soft spot for werewolves. But it was truly an incredibly soft spot.

Razzy joined the group without anymore hesitation. His usually blank face filled with curiosity, and his eyes never darting away from the healer. He had no means to socialize. But he knew it would eventually be inevitable.