September 2, 1893 — Hospital Wing

The start of Fiona's second year as the school nurse was much easier than her first. By now she had a rhythm down, and had a better idea of how stocked her stores needed to be to avoid disasters. And she knew what constituted a "disaster" in this context--which, frankly, considering the things she had seen in her time at the hospital, was all relatively tame. Though perhaps she shouldn't tempt fate.

This early in the school year, of course, the hospital wing was very quiet. It was mid-afternoon now, and the most Fi had seen was a couple of young students who were suffering a nervous stomach and homesickness--at least one of those she had a cure for, at least. She was in her office with the door standing open so she could hear if someone came in, so when just this thing happened, Fi appeared in the doorway just in time to see someone hobbling in.

"Oh my," Fi said, "What's happened, then?" She was already pulling her wand from her pocket, and managed to stop herself from saying Already? It was only the second day!

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Well it hadn't been his most glorious moment - stopping on the stairs to dramatically opine on the state of his empty belly on the way to lunch only to trip on a trick step as the staircase started to move. But at least he'd managed to find his way here curtsey of the very pretty Head Girl who had helped him along. He didn't mind in the least that he'd gotten her attention.

And it was only because of the presence of Miss Thompsett that he decided he'd be brave and shoulder through it like a knight. He wanted to impress her after all, if his soliloquy hadn't already done that before his fall. "Just tripped on the stairs." He shrugged and gave the nurse a big toothy grin. The head girl (sadly from Toby's point of view) excused herself as he was now in the care of the nurse. Well he'd started the act of being heroic he ought to finish it. "I tried to save a frog from leaping off when the stairs started moving." There had been no frog, but that was perfectly fine, a frog made a much better story.

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   Aldous Crouch, Millie Potts

Fiona thanked Miss Thompsett, then turned to the younger student. "A frog on the stairs, hmm?" she asked, skeptically. "Was it perhaps someone's escaped pet toad?" she suggested. That at least seemed more likely to be found indoors. Though it wouldn't be the first time something had "mysteriously" found its way inside that shouldn't have been there.

"Why don't you have a seat," Fi motioned toward one of the beds. "What specifically hurts?"

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Well a frog would have been a better story, Toby thought. But never one to fear he nodded, "Yes. A toad." He could work with a toad. "He didn't make it though." He gave her his best morose look. Perhaps he ought to give the frog/toad a eulogy.

He hobbled his way toward the bed she indicated, trying not to grimace at the pain shooting up from his knee. He flopped on the edge of the bed. "My knee." Honestly even when he didn't have weight on it the whole thing felt like fire. Well he was a Gryffindor, he'd better darn well act like one. So he'd suffer in silence then. And perhaps if he had to cry he'd blame it on his grief for the frog/toad.

  

Fiona raised her eyebrows at the apparent demise of this toad who may or may not exist--she was not entirely convinced, but also, it didn't affect what she had to do one way or another.

"Well, let's have a look at it, then," she said. "Roll up your pant leg to the knee, please." She turned to a cabinet by the wall, where she kept a variety of poultices for things like scraped knees, which was what she assumed this was at the moment.[/b]

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The woman was regretfully not interested in hearing of the toad further, shame, he had thought of a good passing speech for the creature. But his thoughts were distracted as he followed her directions, rolling up his pant leg and wincing in pain. When he had finally managed to expose his knee it was already purple and he was quite certain it was larger than it had been when he put his trousers on this morning.

"Are you going to need to cut it off?" Toby asked in earnest. He wondered if he could make the tale of amputation heroic. Surely it'd set him apart from the other first years. If nothing else the head girl would certainly have to spend lots of time helping him around the castle if he lost his leg.

  

Fiona bit back a smile. See, this was why she preferred working with children. At the hospital, every patient who came across her path was, by nature of them being there at all, was in some level of terrible distress. Not that children never had serious problems for her to solve, but it certainly wasn't as frequent--certainly not a daily occurrence.

"Well," she said, mock-gravely, "I won't rule it out, but let's have a look first, shall we?" With that, she stooped slightly--not terribly far, as she was, after all, about the same size as a first year--and peered at the boy's knee. He had a rather nasty looking bruise forming, but it was nothing too dramatic. "There now, I think I have just the thing," she said, straightening up. Selecting a jar that she'd retrieved from the cupboard, she said, "I'll need to apply this poultice, and you should be good as new."

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He hadn't been serious. Well, it could be argued that he was always serious. But he could work with an amputated leg. And if it was only the knee down he'd even be able to still sit a broom. Wouldn't that make quite the story? Losing a leg and making the house team. He'd be team captain for sure after only a year on the team.

Well, that was... anticlimactic. Disappointment mixed with relief flooded Toby as the woman stood to get a poultice. When she opened it it smelled just like something his mother made. She'd likely told him the ingredients well over a hundred times by now and he still couldn't place any of it. Except mint.

The problem was the salve stung as she put it on his tender knee and against Toby's every desire to seem brave his breathe hissed through his teeth at the sting. It must be poison!

"You've poisoned me!" He declared, scrambling slightly back, wondering if he used his robe to rub off the still burning salve if it would only make things worse. "Oh! I shall die an ignominious death!" He clutched at his chest and flopped dramatically onto his back against the mattress.

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   Henry Berkwood

Oh, Merlin. Fiona shook her head, only managing not to laugh aloud thanks to much practice. "Keep that on," she told the boy. "It will stop burning in a few moments, I promise, and then you can be on your way."

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Toby opened his eyes a sliver and looked at the nurse with a great deal of skeptism. "How do I know I can trust you?" He grit out dramatically. For all the flare he was giving on ought to think he was destined for the stage at the very least.

  

"I promise, I've never let anyone die on my watch," Fiona said, with appropriate gravitas. This was, of course, a bald-faced lie--she'd worked at the hospital through Plague and disasters and the very normal, every day things that befell magical folk--but she was hardly going to tell this very dramatic child that.

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Toby blinked at her, considering her words. It helped that the burning of the salve seemed to fade into a gentle coolness. Perhaps she wouldn't kill him after all. "Okay."

He sat himself back up, pushing himself off the bed and wincing as his knee took weight again. But he didn't let it stop him as he flourished a low bow to her, complete with doffing his black first year cap. "My most sincere thanks, kind lady, for allowing me to live."

  

Fiona allowed herself a kind smile--with just a bit of amusement leaking through, because she couldn't help it. "You are welcome. Do be more careful in your heroic efforts."

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