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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1893. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.

Where will you fall?

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Discovered today that spotted dick is a pudding with raisins in it. But more importantly that "dick" was the victorian word for pudding. — Fallin
His sister and her group were not yet performing, however. Instead it was a plain looking young woman that he did not recognize. She seemed to believe she was singing.
My Idea of Fun

And This Happens Everyday
10 March 1893 — Ministry of Magic

It wasn’t exactly rare for a medi-healer to get called to the Ministry of Magic however, it wasn’t something that happened on a weekly basis either. Mabel always liked entering via the large atrium. The grandness of the great hall seemed to dwarf even the most important figures in the Ministry. Mabel was used to feeling small next to many people, including all six foot something of Dory, however that particular figure had since been quite absent in her day-to-day life. Ever since their falling out last year, she’d missed him something terrible, and being called to the Ministry to help didn’t ease the knot that had been pulled tight in her stomach ever since they’d parted ways.

Moving her gaze from the fountain, Mabel held out the piece of parchment in her hand before opening her palm. The piece of parchment fluttered like a butterfly and flew towards the lift. Mabel followed, easily slipping in with the crowd heading back to the offices after their lunch break. The parchment settled to hovering in the air by her ear while the floors passed by them. With her healer’s kit in hand, the mediwitch kept her gaze down wards; nibbled at her lip hoping the parchment wouldn’t bring her to Dory. Soon enough, rustling by her ear told her it was time to step out of the lift, and Mabel hastened after the parchment before it sailed through open office doors. Figuring this was her cue, Mabel stepped through. “Did someone call for a medi-witch?”
Open to anyone at the Ministry!

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Natty's work as a handiman had brought him to the Ministry that day, tending to one of the department's substantial (and rather chaotic) libraries. An ancient sticking charm had finally faded, leaving an entire wall of bookshelves precariously teetering, with no obvious way to reach the back of the shelves and replace the charm. Natty solved the problem fast enough. He shifted the shelves at the far end of the row, allowing him easy access to the rest. A fresh sticking charm, repositioning the shelves, and a bit of tidying up and he was done — nothing had fallen on anyone, nobody had been hurt.

Until a huge doxy leapt out of a pile of parchments and bit Natty's hand so deep it left a chunk of flesh almost completely detached. An exclamation of pain and alarm brought the library assistant rushing through, and the doxy was dealt with in a flash — leaving Natty bleeding and rather light-headed.

The assistant had fussed over him in an unhelpful panic. Natty insisted he could just apparate himself to the hospital, but his wand hand was his injured one, and, to be fair, the doxy venom was bound to disrupt his attempt at apparation. So he was forced to sit down, hand wrapped in a cloth used for dusting, feeling guilty and awkward as a mediwitch was summoned.

"I am sorry about this", he sighed as the young woman was ushered in by the anxious assistant, "I told them not to fuss."

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   Mabel Brighton

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As she rounded the corner, Mabel could sense the nervous energy radiating off of the assistant. She was stumbling over her words, and quite pale as she led Mabel towards the injured patient. Fishing through her kit, Mabel pulled out a pepper up potion and handed it to the poor woman. Once they’d reached the man, Mabel could see that he wasn’t a Ministry employee at all, but looked like another person contracted to assist the Ministry in some way. At least that’s what the mediwitch surmised given the man’s lack of Ministry uniform or badge. A smile slid easily onto her face as she received the man’s apologies.

“On the contrary, sir you’re ensuring my day isn’t spent taking inventory of our potion supply closet!” she quipped, kneeling down onto the floor next to him. With a wave of her wand, she cast a basic diagnostic spell and waited for it to calibrate while she reached into her kit. “A basic pain potion for you to take while I figure out if it’s just your hand that’s injured. A doxy bite, wasn’t it?” There was a soft trilling emitting from the diagram hovering above the man, indicating the spell had done its work.

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The calm young witch had a few kind words (it was a novelty indeed to be called sir by anyone), and Natty smiled, appreciating her bedside manner. He accepted the offered potion rather clumsily with his non-dominant hand, and drank it for the pain. The sting was pretty intense, but Natty had felt worse — and his overriding feeling was guilt at causing trouble by sitting here and bleeding away on Ministry premises.

"A doxy bite", he confirmed. Once his hand had been unwrapped from the rag he'd wrapped it up in, she'd see it had been a pretty deep bite. "I am feeling a bit... foggy", he admitted, wondering if that was doxy venom taking effect.

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One glance at the diagnostic floating above the patient told her as much. “Your pulse is going quite quickly as well, though both fogginess and increased heart rate are to be expected with a doxy bite and doxy venom,” she replied, stooping to her kit once more to search for an antidote potion. Doxy bites, while extremely venomous, were easily felled by the antidote, and from what it sounded like the gentleman hadn’t been bitten too long ago.

Unstoppering it, she let the vial float in the air next to the man. “I warn you it won’t taste like pumpkin juice, but it’ll do the trick while I take a look at that bite.” Mabel smiled apologetically before gesturing to the wound. “May I? I’m Healer Brighton, by the way.”

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At the information that his pulse was quicker than it should be, Natty glanced up at the hovering diagnostic and took a deep, quiet breath to try and steady himself. "That might be down to guilt", he admitted in something of a murmur. A worker of low standing making this kind of fuss in the Ministry... and not even a Ministry member himself. He felt gently ashamed, but kept his composure as always.

"Thank you. Healer Brighton." He accepted the potion and, well, it tasted the way things designed to help you always taste.

"Jonathan Copper", he introduced himself in turn, while obligingly removing the dusty rag from the deep doxy bite so she could inspect it.

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She returned his introduction with a smile before taking the rag from him and putting it on the floor beside them. “Why the guilt, Mr. Copper?” She inquired, peering down at the bite. Sure enough there was a semi-circle that dotted his hand with jagged little punctures; Mabel winced. Having had the displeasure of experiencing a doxy bite at least once before, she sought to work quickly. Knowing Mr. Copper had the antidote already gave her peace knowing the worst of the effects had been quelled.

Reaching into her kit, she pulled out a small pot of salve and a clean cloth before dabbing at the wound to soak up the residual blood. “Is this not the first time you’ve encountered a doxy bite?”

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