10th June, 1888 — The Fountain, Salem Square
@'Dionisia Tweedy'

When he got his hands on the utter bastard who had caused his current, dire circumstance then Enoch did not think he could be held accountable for his actions. He certainly doubted anybody would deny him the pleasure given that he was an auror for the Ministry who had bravely entered into the mystery fog of Irvingly in pursuit of a criminal and the man in question was an illiterate scumbag who Enoch was convinced – from his few sightings of him – had yet to master the ability to wash.

Gritting his teeth Enoch tried, for the third time, to push himself to her feet but, for the third time, his ankle buckled the moment he tried to put pressure on it and he fell backwards, narrowly missing the edge of the fountain with his head. He swore as he sat up, dragging himself until his back was against the marble stone and grasped for his wand. He tried to shoot a red spark into the sky but, as anticipated, nothing came from the tip of his wand.

“Help!” He called, feeling an utter fool and swearing to himself as he did. “Is anybody out there?!”

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   Frida Lestrange

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While the Ministry may have ruled for the moment that the fog itself was harmless, it was apparent that the effects it had on both the magic and non-magical community meant that wasn't the case. While she hadn't heard any reports of suffocation, coughing fits, or poisonings from the dusty substance that clouded the air, she had been dispatched to deal with reports of collisions, trippings, and sticky situations that people were incapable of magicing themselves out of! Altogether, Dionisa had just grown impatient—especially since her wand didn't work here.

She'd been in Irvingly that afternoon on routine—it had become protocol for one mediwizard or witch from Hogsmeade Hospital to be stationed in the nearby village—when the cries of a gentleman were heard. Dionisa had made it through the day unscathed, yet had been finding her stress levels rising simply because her vision had become impaired.

Thus, she relied on her hearing to find her way to the auror, who she didn't notice until a foot appeared through the thickness of the fog. "Sir!" she called, moving closer until his entire body came into sight.

"Sir, what's happened to you?" She addressed him in alarm, crouching beside him and beginning to search his body for any profuse bleeding—or worse. Hopefully, this was nothing more than a mere tripping.

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Having spent the last Merlin-knows-how-long quite convinced he was going to be stuck here until his ankle miraculously healed itself or he was desperate enough to drag himself to the edges of the village Enoch was so thankful to hear a voice that he didn’t care in the slightest who it belonged to. It could be the fat, muggle Queen for all he cared, as long as they had a pair of working legs he was pleased to see them!

Fortunately for him the woman that appeared through the fog appeared more capable than he could have hoped for and as she crouched next to him he immediately felt relief begin to sweep through him.

“I was in pursuit of a criminal and the degenerate led me along a perilous path,” he winced as he attempted to bring his ankle to her attention. “The result I’m afraid, was not to my favour.”

  

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In pursuit of a criminal, he'd said.

"You're an auror then," she stated as more of a matter of fact than a question. "Well fortunately for you, I'm a mediwitch," she said, beginning to rummage through the contents of her pockets—which, fortunately, took advantage of an undetectable extension charm to ensure she had everything needed, including potions, bandages, and bottled ingredients. Pressing a hand around his leg, she made out the distinct swelling in the surrounding area and took great care to avoid direct contact. The last thing she needed was a good knee to the face.

"What caused the injury? Bang it against the fountain? Spell damage?" she questioned, all the while unraveling a bandage. While forcing him to walk on it was perhaps not the best course of action, it was the one that would see him under the care of a better-trained hand.

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A mediwitch. Merlin, if he were a godly man he might have sent up a prayer of thanks but Enoch had never darkened the doorsteps of a church and never would; still, it did not lessen the intensity of how glad he was to see her. She was even pretty – this day, clearly not his finest, was improving if he was now to be tended to by a comely medic.

“Devastating assault,” he lied. He had fallen over, pure and simple, but as he had been impaired of vision and in pursuit at the time Enoch considered it to be very much the fault of the bugger he was chasing so a small fib was called for. He didn’t want to seem the pillock he felt after all. “The bastard tackled me in the fog and sent me flying before I knew what had hit me,” he added dramatically before pausing, his instinct kicking in over the pain. “Please do excuse my language miss, it has been quite the day.”

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   Edric Umbridge

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Any other situation might have prompted a roll of her eyes, but this was serious—there was really no telling what was lurking in the fog, especially with how thick it was. She diligently worked to wrap the ankle as quickly and gently as she could, all the while wondering how heavy he was and if it would be even possible to support his weight if he managed to get onto his feet. He had to be at least half a foot taller than she; it seemed unlikely.

"Language be damned," she murmured, though she was sure he could hear her through the dead silence of the day. Most people have opted to stay indoors, which was good. "There are more important things to be concerned with than manners at the moment—don't you think, Mr....?"

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“Rosier. Enoch Rosier,” he supplied with urgency, wondering in one grasping moment whether it was possible this young woman had actually been sent to help him by his office, anticipating that he might have become injured in the fog. She didn’t have much reaction do he doubted it, but it did not stop him being grateful for her presence.

“I quite agree with your assessment Miss,” he added as he tried to flex his newly wrapped ankle and found that while it still hurt he might just about be able to put some pressure on it and not be forced to sit on this stone forever. “With that in mind I wonder if you would be so kind as to help me to my feet? I think we both need to be somewhere considerably safer than this.”

  

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Rosier. She was no expert on the families of magical Britain, but it sounded familiar—perhaps the name of a notable Ministry official or one of those families. Still, that fact made her no less inclined to offer her assistance with utmost kindness, so she rose to her feet and offered a delicate hand.

"Well, Mr. Rosier," she said cordially. "I must say I agree with your assessment as well." The Irvingly Infirmary couldn't be too far away—she'd sworn she just saw it while coming this way!

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   Elladora Black

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He took the hand that was offered and hesitated. She was a small thing and he was reluctant to cause injury to his one means of salvation, but he needed to pull himself up off the floor and she was the only option. With a grunt on effort he pulled himself up onto his good leg, grateful for the conveniently placed fountain he could push off of, and stumbled into the young woman.

“Ah! Sorry,” he righted himself as best he could, still closer to her than he had intended, just close enough to smell the scent of her hair. After dust and panic overwhelming his senses for so long it was a tonic. “You know I waited here long enough I’m quite convinced you’re the spirit of Dilys Derwent come to save me.”

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   Dionisia Fisk

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It was fortunate that Mr. Rosier had been well enough to help pull himself off; he so heavy even with the assistance that she imagined it would have been nearly impossible to lift him by herself. It was one of the many struggles with being a mediwitch, though not one that had stopped her from pursuing the career path.

His size was even more noticeable once he was on his feet—and he was slouching! She allowed him to lean against her without any complaint, her mind not even moving towards matters of propriety in the moment.

"Don't fret, Mr. Rosier; it's my job to help," she reminded quietly, keeping a strong grasp on his arm in case he decided to take another tumble. His comment was enough to force a chuckle from her lips.

"I'm afraid you're suffering delusions now; your injuries must be worse than I thought," she teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. She glanced around, trying to remember which direction she'd come from. "Come now, Mr. Rosier—I think it's this way," she said with a tight smile and a light tug on his arm.

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Fully aware that he was not at all delusional, though he would concede that he probably wasn’t entirely at his best, Enoch chuckled, the rumble of it sending waves of pain through his leg, growing to a peak in his ankle. It was definitely a break. Under normal circumstances he would strap it up himself with the rudimentary healing training he had receive in auror training before apparating to hospital but now he would have to suffer until they got there.

He gritted his teeth. She was moving them and he hopped experimentally, pleased that he could manage that much at least. He was willing to put himself in her hands and trust she knew the way - he had never seen the point in a town brimming with muggles beyond the odd jaunt to the casino.

“I have every faith in your navigational skills.” He hopped again, wrapping his arm tighter around her slim framr and patting her shoulder encouragingly. “Lead the way Dilys.”

  

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She tentatively moved with him, glancing up at him after every step in order to find a good rhythm. There were very few gentleman she'd ever treated on the field who were as abnormally large as this auror, but most men weren't his size. She even considered herself a little on the taller side, though it showed very little in their clunky movements.

"It's Dionisia, actually," she breathed as her eyes searched for anything—a building outline, a fountain, a distinctive tree, anything that would lead them in the right direction. "Dionisia Tweedy."

It was then that she caught sight of something, but a few steps closer revealed that it was merely another grove of trees. It was enough to give her a little scare, as under normal circumstance she would have figured that out upon sight. Was the fog affecting her mind? She would certainly keep that thought to herself.

"They'll likely keep you at the infirmary for a while," she commented casually, hoping light conversation might prevent them from going mad—him from the pain and her from uncertainty. "I will send a letter to the Auror Office immediately—but only if you'd like, of course."

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The name was a pretty one, even if the unfamiliarity of the surname immediately hinted to Enoch that she was not a connection worth making for the future. Still, that scarcely mattered in this moment when her ability to prop him up was of paramount importance and his ankle would buckle with the slightest pressure being put upon it.

“I would be most obliged Miss Tweedy,” he grimaced, taking another hop. “Hopefully they’ll have missed me by now and sent someone else after the criminal I was chasing, but with the fog like this who knows how well informed they are at the moment.”

He hoped they hadn’t noticed. The auror who caught they man would be the hero of the hour and never mind that he had been injured in the attempt, they would all forget he had even been here. Umbridge was a better prospect of superior than De Montfault had ever been, even if the latter had been much easier to suck up to, and if he was to make a name for himself in the Ministry then he would much rather it was Umbridge.

“Are we close?”

  

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Dionisia did her best to keep a strong hold of Mr. Rosier's arm as they stumbled through the fog. Despite the thickness, every step she took pointed to more familiar geological features. The outline of the sign for the meat market, a small orchid meant to decorate the shopfronts—all were familiar, and more importantly, they revived her sense of direction. She let out a relieved sigh. They were almost there.

"I'm not sure everyone is well-informed at the moment, Mr. Rosier, though I would hope the Auror Office is atop the list of agencies that are," she said, eyes widening as the outline of the infirmary came into view. "We'll know in a moment, though; the infirmary's right over there."

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Breathing a sigh of relief Enoch squinted through the gloomy fog, teeth gritted against the agony in his ankle, and sure enough the outline of an official-looking building became visible. He could have cried. He could almost certainly have kissed his saviour. Fortunately for his reputation, and hers, he did neither and instead managed the last few steps with increasingly troubled steps.

“I’ve never been so glad to see a nurse in my life,” he said as a middle-aged, no-nonsense type emerged from the front door, wheelchair in sturdy hands and flanked by two orderlies. He slumped from Miss Tweedy’s shoulder into the seat and winced as the nurse turned him.

“Make sure somebody looks after her too.” He demanded authoritatively, turning his head awkwardly. “Until we meet again Miss Tweedy.”

wrap?

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   Edric Umbridge

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