March, 1891 — Hogsmeade Hospital
Being the Assistant Head instead of just another member of the healing rotation in his department still felt strange, and nevermind that he'd had the job for nearly a year now. He'd had two or three months of just learning the ropes with all the new paperwork and administrative tasks he was assigned to, then another few months of settling in and adjusting to it; it was only now that he was really starting to feel as though he had transitioned. One of the perks was that when it wasn't overwhelmingly busy, he had the option to close himself off in his office and get other things done. His pet project for the past month had been something he thought would be a more effective counterhex to certain categories of interval hexes which targeted the subject's physical body. It was understandably difficult to test properly when he was morally opposed to hexing people in order to conduct research, but he'd been working it through on paper and trying to anticipate any kinks. He had some good momentum built up with what he was doing, but of course it was entirely derailed when his quill broke. He was obliged to take some time to sharpen it again. As he was doing so, he noted a new name appear on the board in one corner of his office. The board was magically linked to the one in the Spell Damage hallway, and represented all of the patients currently checked into the ward. The name that had just appeared was L. Fisk.
"I'll take room twelve," he announced to the trainee healer in the hallway as he emerged from his office. He and Fisk had been in the same year in school and were reasonably friendly, so it seemed the least Victor could do to treat him personally. His friends and family didn't end up checked in to the Spell Damage ward often — fortunately — but when and if they did, he hoped he'd be able to address their issues himself. Not that he didn't trust the rest of his healers, but — well. There were some things one just wanted to handle themselves.
"You look a little worse for wear," he commented as he entered the room, giving Fisk a once-over. "What happened, exactly?"
"I'll take room twelve," he announced to the trainee healer in the hallway as he emerged from his office. He and Fisk had been in the same year in school and were reasonably friendly, so it seemed the least Victor could do to treat him personally. His friends and family didn't end up checked in to the Spell Damage ward often — fortunately — but when and if they did, he hoped he'd be able to address their issues himself. Not that he didn't trust the rest of his healers, but — well. There were some things one just wanted to handle themselves.
"You look a little worse for wear," he commented as he entered the room, giving Fisk a once-over. "What happened, exactly?"
Fabulous set by Lady!