With the teapots and cups clanking around them, Mabel was able to restore her focus on her patient who had situated himself in a chair. At least he’d been able to sit himself down - the last time she remembered doing this, he’d been antsy as a grasshopper. Casting another series of diagnostic spells, the air filled with glowing orbs and a whirring sound as they did their work whilst Mabel fished through her kit. “Shrivelfigs?” She echoed, stopping her riffling to glance up at him. “Did you use the same supplier as last time?” An exasperated sigh. “Harry I told you, just because his lumbago is acting up doesn’t mean you need to frequent his business, especially if the ingredients are sub par.”

---