Healer's Notebook

POPPY POMFREY resumes her duties as the Matron of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, treating the ailments and injuries of students. When she is not reversing hexes, applying salve to potions burns, calling a halt to rampant contagion, and administering dose after dose of Dry Dreams syrup or Himalayan HotWot, she enjoys time with colleagues, Halloween feasts in the Great Hall, summer rambles hither and yon, and keeping up with her friends near and far.

In the second summer of the Peace, she makes a trip to Europe and, in consultation with an historian friend who specialises in the battles and betrayals of the Grindelwald era, Poppy locates the likely burial place of her husband, Rafe. She'll never be entirely certain, but she feels better for having made the trip.

A highlight of her later years, is the opportunity to be the keynoter at a joint Magical-Scientific conference on adolescent health and healing. Sally-Anne submitted her name to the conference planners. Poppy addresses one of the mysteries of the adolescent mind, the entirely predictable predisposition of teens to make self-destructive choices even while possessed of all the evidence needed to choose wisely. She particularly looks at the accumulated evidence that possession of a wand magnifies the likelihood and severity of accidental injuries and death amongst the 11-17 year-old population. In this, she concludes, wizards are in no way different from or advantaged over the non-magical population.

Over the years, Poppy has brightened her small office with things given her by her friends and students. Most prized amongst these are several beautiful cut-paper snowflakes made her by Terry Longbottom; a number of cunning drawings given her by Colin Creevey (her favourite remains a coy rabbit, caught with a mouthful of tender grass shoots); and a pair of ridiculous red silk slippers that curve up to a point with bells on, which were a Christmas present from her much beloved and certainly ridiculous cousin, Caradoc Dearborn. Poppy is blessed in her friends, her long life, and her good memories.

Why is Antonin Dolohov writing you privately?

All. I also have some progress to report--this, on the admittedly fraught conversations regarding St Mungo's neutrality. I've represented the Order; Cornelius Jugson's represented the post-Protectorate government; Socrates Kosta and Armenius Fletcher have represented the St Mungo's administration; and we've managed to bring Osiris Sinclair (New London, Bath, Hogsmeade, etc.) and Eurydice Scripps (Bristol, Leeds, Edinburgh) to the table, representing the morticians' guild.

We've inked and signed a treaty of neutrality that reiterates the Healers' Oath to treat all patients to the utmost of our abilities, and further promises that no Healers affiliated with the Order or with St Mungo's will breach any patient's privacy by alerting authorities of an opposing side of that person's presence within a hospital, infirmary, or triage centre in our (the Order's or St M's) control. Additionally, there are promises that Coroners affiliated with the Order or with St M's will release bodies to next of kin without prejudice and without any collaboration with hostile parties, which might lead to entrapment of bereaved families seeking to collect remains. The independent morticians have likewise subscribed to these promises.

It's been a difficult undertaking, and the result is far from a perfect document. I feel certain you will all immediately see that it does not and cannot ensure anyone's safety should one find oneself transported to St Mungo's (or should one be forced to deal with a mortician in New London or elsewhere for whatever reason). I suppose that makes it all sound absurd.

And yet it was not a wasted effort.

The talks did produce some positive results. My contacts within St M's tell me that Kosta and Fletcher appear increasingly under pressure from without and that their command within the hospital is slipping. I can report that they appeared to have orders directly from Rowle and Lestrange to take these negotiations with due seriousness, which hints at the state of things outside the hospital. (For that matter, the choice of Jugson to represent the government is also a signal; they could have sent an underling, but they sent a Councilwizard.) And I'm told that Fletcher and Kosta are at least giving lip service to enshrining the articles of the treaty in hospital protocol.

One happy revelation from our people on the inside: we have more friends at St Mungo's than we knew, and it's their impression, in fact, that the numbers have now turned in our favour.

That's hearsay, of course. And the sort of thing one wishes to hear, at that. But it's hopeful.

Met today with senior healing staff.

Hierarchies are still provisional as we continue recruitment, but it was a great good thing when Frances Oxley came our way. I've every confidence in her ability to manage the organisational challenges. Protocols have been agreed and compensation matters settled enough to see us through. Able Bellweather's agreed to direct our regional clinics and coordinate triage units when we've a need for them. Now if we can merely keep supplies moving, we should be well-equipped.

I met privately with Oxley and Bellweather afterwards. Both assure me their contacts at St M's remain firm, and that when the time comes, we can count on key staff to stand with us. I've heard directly from Healer Allthorpe, who is currently head of department for the magical maladies unit, but is standing ready to pull his staff in behind him when our moment arrives.

All's quiet on the ward here, so I've agreed to go tomorrow with Miss Weasley to pay a call on one or two of the families she's identified as likely candidates.

If either of you will be in the castle tomorrow evening, perhaps we could meet then for a fuller briefing if you'd care for one.

Alice, you'll want to send someone out to the gates in a few minutes. Healer Repton Chandless and his family (his wife, Meliflua, and 2 young children plus his mother-in-law and her mother) will arrive as soon as they've collected their belongings.

Meliflua sings with the opera company in New London. Her mother is, I believe, a painter or perhaps it's weaving she does, I'm not certain. The great-grandmother was a curse-breaker for Gringotts in her day, though I gather she gave it up quite some years ago. (Perhaps when she married the second time.)

Healer Knox declined to join us and had to be Obliviated, as did Healer Behm, I regret to say.

We're headed for Derbyshire now to pay a call on Tempus and Delilah Grandin; I expect he's on-shift this morning, but if she's persuadable, we'll ask her to call him home. I believe they've got small children, as well. Wish me luck. I don't have the history there that I do with some others, but he came to Hogwarts once for one of Aurora's YPL programmes, and he was both solid in his craft and a clear, patient instructor with the students. He would be an asset were we to bring him over, and he's certainly on the list of people who might come under suspicion for having been connected in that way with known Order members.

Auror Harkiss, Enforcers Jordan, Cooke and Brindl came with me, but I've left Cooke and Brindl with Melchior Culpeper to make rounds of people M thought he might be able to talk over to our side.


I'm determined to wring whatever advantage I can from the Nesbitts' tragedy.

My dear, I am just on my way to check on you.

Do not feel you ought to answer here or that you need greet me when I arrive. I hope that you are already resting, but if not, we'll see what we can do to make you more comfortable.

To those on ground floor and grounds: have Greenhouse 1 staged for receiving patients. Have a number here already, in fact.

Kingsley and his lot have warded the area well, and are maintaining safe passage between here and the side door.

Are either of you at Grimmauld this morning or have you gone along to Malfoy Manor?

I've something to pass along to you that is both time-sensitive and in need of special handling. From Smythstone.

Alice, Remus, Albus, All:

First off: I'm safe, and have all my faculties and limbs intact.

I had, however, quite a close shave in Salisbury last night. Albus: Merridel Hedges is no longer one of ours.

I noticed the warding as soon as I entered the inn, but I didn't suspect it was anything more sinister than security to keep anyone from surprising them. In the event, it was rather more sinister, indeed.

The gathering began normally enough with people trailing in, sharing their own news and other people's, and there was the usual fuss about finding the programme on the wireless. There were a number of first- or second-time visitors, and there was lots of sharing about how they'd all first heard about the 'fugitive station' and how they'd come to learn about the listening parties.

And naturally, there was lots of chat about my being there, and how long it had been since this or that one had seen me, and stories of the accidents and ailments that had laid them up in the hospital wing all those years ago. And then, of course, they told how shocked they'd been when I'd had to leave the school. (No one ever speaks of Pomona, but there are mournful looks that say she's on the minds of many.) I was momentarily taken aback when the talk turned to that 'Professor Brutka', who'd come from France and turned out to be one of us. It's never come up, and to be honest, I'd forgotten that outside a small circle, no one knows that was you, Albus.

That topic passed, thankfully, as it was getting on towards time for 'The Tuckers', and several people wanted to know if I've met Ms Morgansen and were quite enchanted to think I had done. What is she like in person? Is she tall or tiny? Pleasant or annoying? Could I bring them signed copies of her books? Or her signature on a serviette, even? And then Merridel Hedges turned the questions to the programming and the presenters, and who else besides Astra Morgansen were writing for the shows? And where on earth were they broadcasting from? Was it one, fixed location or were they having to always be moving about?

... And somewhere in there I began to have a very bad feeling about where this might all be tending. But then the music came on and the recap of last episode, and everyone was buzzing about what an appalling thing Tertius Apsted had done, and whether we'd have to wait and wait to learn whether Susan Hopping is really Elbert Candle's daughter, and whatever is the story behind Norbert Veigle's limp?

Then, just as the first scene started, there was a scuffling beyond the door, and in burst the Watch. It was madness. People launched themselves every which way. Chairs overturned. Naturally, Apparition had been warded against. And the wards... they'd been set to hold in anyone who'd not been told the counter and given a key stone. I was fortunate that someone looked out for me in the midst of the chaos.

Spells flew. I was briefly Petrified and rolled under a table, but Harry Clover, kindly soul that he is, Finitéd the spell, and someone else hustled me to the cellar door, and then I was rushing down ladders and through tunnels, and out into the night. As soon as I could, I apparated away, and made several quite random hops until I honestly couldn't risk another. I'm out in the western reach of Northumberland now--out above Kielder water--in a trekker's bothy, and I believe I'll stay put here today. It's a peaceful spot.

About last night: I'm painfully certain it was a trap in which I was not only a target but the bait to draw others in. I'm afraid many of the newcomers were arrested and many of the established members. Certainly, their identities are now known to the authorities, and if they got clear, they won't have been able to go home. One fears for their families.

If there's anything we can do for them, I'd like us to try.

I confess I was concerned to read that the ward was closed last evening. Was that at Crouch's insistence? Surely if there'd been another serious illness or injury, those students wouldn't have been turned away?

Never mind. It's not mine to interfere, which is why I didn't wish to write whilst you appeared to be in the midst of a difficult situation.

I trust that you feel things were managed well enough in the end.

Anything further from Bedford? We could transfer several of the women here as soon as they are ready to receive them. That's assuming they are truly willing to take on the burden of longterm care for people not likely to make much improvement. (I've in mind Mrs Bigglesby and Misses Braith, Chandar and Monroe. Miss Wynn and Miss Levi might be candidates for Bedford, as well, though they'll demand a different sort of care, and perhaps we ought to consider other options for them and for Astra Morgansen. I do trust that she'll revive from this nervous collapse. The mania of her first week here was bound to take its toll, but there are good reasons to hope for her recovery.)

Remus, you asked about the Woods and their group from the Vale of Glamorgan: I don't believe they'll consent to Miss Yates' being sent anywhere they were not also going, though she's still not showing improvement. They're absolutely insistent that they'll care for one another and that they'll keep together, the five of them. I've tried to manage their expectations with respect to Miss Yates' condition--I've told them that their own progress has come much more quickly than anyone could have expected and that she may require round the clock care for the rest of her life. They're committed to one another, whatever may come, and they're buoyed by Miss Maddox's progress and Mr Perkins' increased wakefulness. And who knows? They could be right that with their attentive care, Miss Yates will respond one day. Some things are beyond knowing.

We do still need to find longterm situations for the others. I'm afraid I'm not optimistic about Mr Atkinson or our John Does; all remain unresponsive even to painful stimuli. And, of course, there's Dedalus and Mr Kinlan, our hollow men, to make decisions about. Poor Mr Skeates and James Prescott will both need secure facilities in which to convalesce as they're both prone to wandering--there's still no improvement to short term memory for either of them. (Nor long term memory for that matter, but it's their inability to retain where they are or what's been told them that causes us difficulty minute to minute.)

At least I can report that Antigone Cantwell continues to do well: she's emerging from her fog for longer stretches of time, and this weekend's bright mornings have been good for her. As long as the room is bright, she's alert and engaged. She's able to dress herself, and I've set her certain simple tasks, like folding laundry and putting clean cases on pillows for me. She's even gone and plumped pillows for people in nearby beds, and today, I found her sitting with Miss Levi, holding her hand and asking after her symptoms. Of course, I'm pleased to see her acting the Healer again, and I want to encourage this as a way of helping her find herself, but the vital spells do end rather suddenly in exhaustion. She's been napping by noon every day--earlier if the morning turns grey.

If Healer Cantwell is the happiest item in my report Anna Lexington remains the most perplexing. Truly a puzzle. I've tried working out why I suspect her, Alice, but, really, I'm simply less and less convinced by her.

Do you know, she alone of all the patients has made it a point (more than once, actually) to declare her identity to me. Well, there's Astra Morgansen, but that's a rather different matter. Of course, many of them have lost their memories and their sense of themselves, but the ones who can provide their names when asked have seemed somewhat fazed by the question, and they've needed to think before finding the words. Most of them seem quite unmoored from their past lives and from time, including the present moment, but this woman calling herself Anna Lexington is different. She... seems eager to talk about herself; she's continually narrating bits of story about her past.

I've noticed two things about that, however: first, while her talk is almost always about her experiences (supposed experiences) as a Healer's apprentice, she cannot be led to talk about Healing itself--it's always a pleasant anecdote about a patient or their families or about unnamed colleagues, but it's never about particulars of symptoms or treatment; and second, those stories are never about things that would be part of an official record one could check.

I admit she looks enough like my memory of her that when I first saw her, I had no trouble imagining that the girl I knew might have become this hagard woman we liberated from Azkaban. She does resemble her, but... I don't know what to tell you, only, I honestly suspect our Miss Lexington is not, in fact, Anna Lexington, at all.

I'm just on my way up with tea and a light breakfast. Eating at least a little is non-negotiable. So you know.

It's a lovely, clear day outside. Perfect for a ramble with a friend who will not press you to talk and will not startle if you feel inclined to blast every stone on the shore.

The stresses of end of term appear to be overtaking our collective good sense.

I should very much like to see you all off for the holidays in as fine condition as when you arrived for the start of term in September. That end would be more likely achieved if you would all desist from casting the inexplicably popular 'Egg-Head Curse'.

(For you information, Professor Sandoval-Pennifold begs to differ with those who have averred that its use was assigned for her Fourth Year course. I would advise you all to consider carefully before telling such fables in future.)

If you should come upon someone suffering the effects of this curse, do, please, be careful in transporting them here for treatment. It is exceedingly tedious to piece together shattered bits of shell, as must, of course, be done prior to reversing the enchantment.

Aurora, my dear, if your work permits, we'd be pleased if you'd join us for tea on Sunday afternoon. We're planning to taste a bit of this year's vintage--the damson gin, particularly--to see whether it's worthy of gift giving. We can always use another opinion!

If you are at all able, please come to the Hospital Wing. I have need of you.

Severus, I've heard from Nymphadora that she is having contractions. Obviously it is too soon for that child to come. She says you are brewing for her and that they are researching diagnostic procedures. Take it you are at GP? Use a vivi varification spell first. It will confirm one life or two. If that is negative, you should be brewing an abortifacient.

Let me know what is happening.

Obviously it would be awkward for me to go missing with the Protector due here for supper. But I will come if needed.

Alternatively, and this would involve some risk to all--I do also have one colleague I believe would be trustworthy (I hope) and will ask her help if this becomes an emergency and if all concerned agree it worth the risk of exposure.

Let me know.

The post this morning brought me a parcel from Rodolphus Lestrange. I should be able to execute the needed processes over the weekend (assuming there's no outbreak of plague or folly to upset things).

I hope to have results for you by Sunday evening.

On an unrelated note, I expect this evening's visitation will have its stresses and that there will be an uptick in admissions here in the hospital wing. This would be true were it only a holiday feast--people will overdo--but with the Protector's visit, there is potential for... the unforeseen. If need arises, please know that my ward can hold many and that if there's a need to send anyone out of harm's way or... I frankly don't know what to expect... If there's need, I will welcome anyone whether they've a need of healing or merely a safe place out of the way.

Albus. You are a difficult man to catch in person, so let me see whether you might respond to a written approach.

I need to consult with you.

Alice, I was unable to view the book last night, despite Cedric's opening the Headmaster's office to me whilst Dolohov was out. The book resides in his private, inner rooms, which were inaccessible in his absence.

As it was, however, he was immediately in touch upon his return to inquire about my having stopped by. His wards had registered my presence.

Not a surprise in itself, but a useful reminder that he is a master of warding and detection.

I'd hoped we might have a quiet spell tonight, but, alas. Not a private moment to be had.

What I wished to tell you is that I've learned a bit more about Healer Drubble. I inquired first of a colleague, who serves on the hospital's Standards Board, and I found her reluctant to say much about the man. She acknowledged his deportment leaves something to be desired, but assured me that his work is adequately supervised.

I found the whole conversation... unsatisfying, so I put a careful question about him to Healer Nesbitt, a friend of many years, who has been at St Mungo's as long as I've been here. She's the sort people tell things to, and she's a good judge of what she hears. What she's heard about Drubble is that he works several shifts a month at one of the werewolf enclaves, a sort of work that is generally felt to be beneath a St Mungo's Healer. Let's say his reputation has not been enhanced by this becoming known at the hospital, but it's Effie's impression that he may have resorted to such employment because he's never been able to secure a full, stable position at the hospital.

There was a bit more to her report, but what follows is much less authoritative. She says she's not heard so much as gathered that there's something unsavoury about the man. (You could have told her as much, I know.) She couldn't be more specific, but she's got the impression that he might be involved in some dodgy business. I mentioned that Madam Merriman had been distinctly unforthcoming about Drubble, and I got a long pause in reply. And then she said, 'Well, either we'll hear eventually that he's been investigated and sacked, or we won't, in which case we can guess that someone's got a reason to keep him on staff and isn't at all interested in having anyone nose into it'. She suggested that in either case, I might do best not to raise the matter in other quarters.

So, that's that. At least for now.

Pomona and I think we've reached 'the moment' for broaching things with Aurora Sinistra--and, with your permission, her mother, Arca. We may have an opportunity this Sunday evening, in fact, when we will all be gathered together. If you'd support our speaking to them. And if one of you would be able come take the oaths should we get so far. Actually, I think it might best be Remus in this case, given the way in which her cottage has been warded, but I'll come back to that. First, I want to brief you a bit on what makes us think them good candidates for recruitment.

The mother is, truly, a much simpler case than the daughter, though you know how long we've been cultivating her: I've every confidence that Arca Sinistra is sympathetic and that she'll be willing to join us in a formal capacity when given the chance. Her work is with the Department of Public Education, where her brief is food and nutrition, which mostly means writing pamphlets and offering seminars for folks struggling to put reasonably appealing meals on the table within an average family's budget. Her professional connections in and out of the Ministry could be quite useful to us, I believe, so I invited her along last Saturday to visit Melchior Culpeper, a dear old friend we share in common with Albus. Melchior was a mentor not only to me, but to Arca's mother, Prosperine Smith--I'd never put the pieces together to realise the relation: mother, daughter, granddaughter. Small world. In any case, I wanted Melchior's opinion on whether we could safely invite her to participate in some of Albus's projects--that's how he thinks of us, of course--and after our afternoon's conversation, there was really no doubt.

As for Aurora, Pomona and I have been making regular visits since her bereavement, and I believe she's finally at the point where she could reasonably consider and responsibly accept an offer from the Order. Certainly, she's reached the stage where she's feeling restless in her seclusion and wanting to find things not only to occupy herself but also to make a tangible contribution for good in the world. I've already involved her in a project of mine to bake enriched biscuits for the Highland village schools where there's an acute malnourishment problem. (She's one of a number of people who've agreed to help me with that; in fact, I've enough now to promise that I'll be able to set aside a proportion for Sherwood and Moddey.)

But back to Aurora. She's at the stage of grief where she's absolutely furious with the Protectorate (and, I believe, the Protector) for what it does to people and for what it fails to provide its people. We've talked about so many of its failings of late. Transfigured food. Shortages of medicinal potion supplies. Restrictions on imports. Incomprehensible regulations and interference with trade of all sorts. Book bans. Surveillance. Restrictions on the press. The lack of funding to support fostered halfbloods. The number of places that make it difficult for halfbloods to secure decent work, or rent a flat, or receive fair treatment or service. Biases in the village schools. Last week she was feeling especially impassioned about the fact that some lines of work and life choices are disproportionately admired (Aurors, Enforcers, having lots of babies for the Protectorate) while so many other objectively necessary, worthy paths are disdained (the necessary support tasks that keep society functioning).

I hope you agree that it's worth opening the subject to her now--to both of them--and if so, would you be available Sunday evening to come out to Cornwall to administer oaths? As I said, her cottage wards are an issue (and I hope not a red flag that will scuttle the whole matter). The first issue is that she's not entirely sure what all their layers may because (and this is the second issue) they were set for her by Antonin Dolohov. Ahem.

The first layer of warding is intention-based, so if you mean no harm to Aurora, it should be possible for her to admit you. The concerning thing is that Dolohov has almost certainly placed more specific protections to guard against known enemies of the Council who might conceivably see her as a target. Albus and I discussed this and feel it would be unwise for him to attempt to enter, and I think Alice and Frank are surely in the same category. Remus, I know you're also something of an outlaw, but perhaps not so likely to have been in Dolohov's mind when he was weaving her security spells. And I've been thinking, too, that you might be an excellent first person to introduce to her as she knows you already. I know she thought well of you when you were at the school. If nothing else, her reaction to you would tell us much about her ability to handle the surprises of initiation.

Auri, dear, I'm sorry to write at the last moment, but I seem to have had something off at lunch and am feeling quite poorly now. Well, I suspect the worst has passed, but I don't think I ought to try Apparating.

How were your other visits this week? The young ladies were charming, I'm sure. And how did you manage with the flying?

It was lovely to see you yesterday. (You, too, Frank, but it's Mr Creevey I'm chiefly addressing here.)

And I was not only impressed, but most interested in the drawings you shared with me. Your eye for portraits is truly remarkable. And your choice of moments that capture the personality and depth of character--most insightful. The men in Saltash who worked digging out those tunnels. That whole series is really striking.

Here, such as it is, a sample of my recent sketching. This is the proud gentleman I told you about at Blithfield Hall. Proud to be a Bagot, this one!

Just a brief message to let you know I arrived here at Abbots Bromley in good form last evening and have had a packed first day... and evening. Quite a lot of old friends gathered here, and a snug little pub down the village where we've devoted ourselves to catching up with one another.

It was lovely to see you yesterday, my dear, and reassuring. I doubt you feel it yet yourself, but the records you're keeping do show things levelling out. Incrementally. Two suggestions based on the patterns I see there: first, that your dream content seems less distressi more positive the more regular your dietary intake; second, I suspect that there's more than coincidence linking the walking you'd done Friday and Saturday to yesterday's fairer outlook. Mind you, I'm not at all overlooking the likelihood that you rose to the occasion of my being there and that after my departure you may have sagged rather. I hope that on the whole you found my being there beneficial.

If so, I'd quite like to repeat the pleasure (because I do very much enjoy your company) at the weekend--would Sunday suit?

Aurora, dear.

I stopped by but your brother said you had asked not to be disturbed. I hope that means you're able to get some sleep.

I did leave with him two things that might help if you've reached the point of wishing to try them. Neither is a sleep potion, per se. I know how you feel about those. While each of them should help you find sleep and make the sleep you take more beneficial, neither will keep you asleep artificially should you need or wish to waken. I should also say that neither will make you feel sluggish if you continue awake; the effect will be more an easing of tension and a soothing of thoughts.

The first (in the greenish commercial bottle labelled 'Sweet Relief') is crystalline in form--rather like sugar-- and should be added to tea or tisane (whichever you find most appealing, really): using the small spoon attached to the underside of the lid, add one spoonful per cup. Despite its name and appearance, you shouldn't notice a flavour so much as a pleasant warmth with this one.

The second is a gentle easing syrup (in the small, stoppered bottle labelled 'Small Mercies'). You may add it to broth or tea, whichever you prefer. All you're likely to need is one drop, but there's no reason not to use a bit more if you find it helpful. This one's a recipe from The English Healer's Companion and relies entirely on native herbals. (You remember the book, I'm sure. It was a wonderful gift: I've profited from its wise advice more times than I can tell you.)

Oh, and that makes me think... If you're not feeling more like food by tomorrow, there's another recipe there that makes a nice job of enhancing both the savour and sustenance one takes in eating.

Enough for now, but I will pay a call in the morning again, and I told Storm that you are both to feel absolutely no hesitation in calling me tonight if there is anything at all I can do.