~~~

Suddenly a bright light was blinding Jazz.  Squinting her eyelids as tight as they could go, she attempted to turn her head away from the cause but was overcome with a harsh stiffness in her neck.  "Don't move," said a soothing woman's voice.

Okay, that is definitely not that dreadful mugger.  Wait.  Did I pass out and awoke the next morning? And this woman is helping me?  She felt tugging on her legs, but the shocking pain that came from her right made her shriek.  The woman stopped and started poking around her midsection.  What the hell?  What is she looking-- "Ow!" she said verbally as the woman prodded a particular sensitive and painful area in her ribcage.  Thankfully, the inspection ended and Jazz was able to breathe easily.

"She has three broken bones in her right leg: two in her knee and one in her shin.  She has at least three more in her ribs.  Also with the massive head-trauma and blood-loss, she's had some internal bleeding and internal bruising.  Whoever cursed her did it knowing full well it's illegal, and this person can't be loose to do these things to kids.  This has to be reported."

Wait... I was cursed?  When did that happen?  The last thing I remember was losing my ring, and then the blinding light just now.  Oh no, am I disfigured or something? she wondered frantically, but a male voice was able to make Jazz open her eyes.

"Church?" she asked, blinking several times as if unsure she was really seeing him.

"What the fuck happened to you?" he asked, concerned.  She winced at the language but rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you know, I was just wandering around in a dark alley hoping someone would pop out and take everything because I'm so tired of holding onto them.  Especially the wand, which is totally useless." she said sarcastically bitter.  "And look!  It all came true."

"So you wanted to be mugged?" he countered, crossing his arms.  "That's not funny." he added seriously.

"But isn't it funny?  I was just mugged.  And messed up as well.  Broken bones, blood loss, the whole shebang.  You know me; I put on quite the show." she added with a scoff, but that proved to be too much, as it resulted in her coughing up a trickle of blood.

"Can you heal her already?" Church shot at the woman, whom Jazz just now noticed.  She was middle-aged and wiry, but highly skilled by the look in her gray eyes.  The woman sighed and began tilting Jazz's head forward (much to her discomfort) to work on the bleeding gash.  Jazz reflexively reached for her left thumb: a habit she developed whenever she was in uncomfortable situations, as Johnny's ring was calming and a reassurance that everything would be okay.  But it wasn't there, and she mentally slapped herself for forgetting in that brief moment.

"You found me then?" Jazz asked Church softly, and a simple nod from him prompted another question.  "How did you know to look for me?"

He rolled his eyes.  "Your mom.  Turns out she actually cares enough to call around when her daughter doesn't show up after a couple hours being late."

Jazz made to smack her forehead but was scolded by the woman to not move and had to mentally do it instead.  The woman set her healed head back on the pile of pillows and left the room momentarily.  Probably to get potions for my broken bones, Jazz deduced and let out a frustrating sigh.

"Oh, Lord.  She's never going to let me out of her sight now." Jazz said bitterly, staring up at the ceiling.  The light didn't bother her much anymore.  Church scoffed at the foot of her bed, making Jazz groan and make little whining noises.  "Can't I just... lie and say I was still working on the mural?"

"You could, but how are you going to explain all this?" Church remarked cynically.

"... I'll just say I fell." she said as if a question.  "She'll believe that.  It's pretty well-known I'm a disaster on my feet.  Or I walked into a door.  That's happened at least twice since I got home." she verbally thought it through.  The woman came back in with a few bottles of disgustingly-colored liquids.  After being instructed to drink them all with ten seconds in between intervals, Jazz fought to actually swallow the first one.  It was a brownish liquid that burned like DayQuil.  No, worse than DayQuil, she corrected herself and somehow managed to get it down.  "Jeezy Creezy that's awful." she said to no one in particular, eyes starting to sting and tear up.

"I need to report this," Jazz said in determination once all the bottles were empty and she felt her bones knitting back together.  "That Wacky-Old-Harpy can't get away with taking my wand..." she said bitterly, minding to keep Johnny's ring out of it, lest it make Church go on another rampage about how he wasn't worth it.

"You need to rest.  Report this tomorrow," the woman said while putting things away.

"No!  She could be in Siberia by then!" Jazz exclaimed in frustration.

Jazz and the woman argued for the next few minutes until the woman gave up and announced she was going to make a Floo call to the Ministry and have someone come over.  By then Church had left to assure Jazz was safe, after being sworn to leave out the sordid details and merely say she was still working on her mural and would be home shortly.  This made Jazz visibly relax.

Another half hour later and Jazz was able to retell everything that happened in Diagon Alley.  Apparently, she wasn't the first one this sort of thing happened to recently.  It made Jazz at ease at the knowledge that they were already on a trail to find the perpetrator.  Still, Jazz was able to help by describing exactly what the mugger looked like, down to the last detail.  In the meantime, Jazz had to obtain a sit-in wand until her original wand was found (which she doubted would be the case) or she bought a new one (which she would hold off on until she knew for sure her original wand was unobtainable).

Well, at least my mural's done, she noted, trying to look on the brighter side of things, which would have normally worked, but with the loss of her wand and Johnny's ring, all she felt was bitterness.  She didn't think things would feel right until she was reunited with them.  Jazz was a classic sentimental and it felt as if vital piece of her was missing.  Even more so...

... Shut up, Jazz.