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Thread: Weekly Drabble Challenge: St. Mungos - Results

  1. #11
    Gin_Drinka
    Guest

    The Rule of Life

    Okay, I've never done this before and don't really know how it works but I gave it a try anyway. I hope this isn't too much, it didn't say there was a limit. But if there is, sorry!

    Title: The Rule of Life
    Author: Gin_Drinka
    House: Hufflepuff
    Words: 498


    Ginny watched the sickly, sleeping boy quietly. His eyes were staring off somewhere, she did no know where, but it seemed to hold his attention very well. He had always liked to lose himself in a world of his own, at least since she’d met him. That had been about six months ago, on the very first day she had come to St. Mungo’s as a trainee healer, wanting to do her part in the war. He was a victim of a Death Eater attack. He was the only one out of his family to survive, but he had been so badly injured that he had not left this very bed for over half a year. And now, on the 22 of May, Jaime Foster would finally leave his hospital bed.

    It was tragic. From the very beginning Ginny had taken a liking to the skinny 13 year old, and he to her. And now she’d have to say goodbye.

    As a woman who dealt with death every day Ginny had become good at giving last looks. The kind you give when you don’t want yourself to forget. The kind that takes in everything you had never noticed before, because you will never get another chance. She was giving Jamie that look and she knew that he could tell.

    He glanced at her intense, searching eyes and smiled the weak, sad smile of acceptance.

    “So, Ms. Weasley,” he asked as he had every single day she had taken care of him, with a smile on his face, “am I going to make it?”

    She pursed her lips in an attempt to steady them and fight back the sadness.

    “Of course. Everything will be alright. Soon, everything will be okay,” she answered in the usual way, but this time she sounded much more depressing to her own ears. She wondered if she had said those things for his sake or for her own.

    He knew for whom she said it. Again, he smiled and held out his hand for her to hold. She took it and held it tightly

    “You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself, okay? It wasn’t you. No one could save me; it is just my time. And that’s okay.”

    She was struggling. She wondered how he could keep such a straight face

    “I’ll miss you,” she whispered. Her vision swam out of focus as she lifted his hand to her face, keeping it there, wishing she could warm it that way.

    He said in a low voice that sounded clogged, “So will I. You were the best nurse I could have wished for.”

    She couldn’t stand it anymore. She buried her face on his side and she made an attempt to swallow her tears.

    He put his other hand on her head and stroked her hair a little. A tear fell from his eyes. She looked up in time to see him smile. And then he was gone.

    The smile had not left his lips.

  2. #12
    stareyed_in_LA
    Guest
    Name: stareyed_in_LA
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: My Life as a Crummy Receptionist
    Warnings: I am using dialogue between the St. Mungos receptionist and the guy whose feet were being eaten by a pair of shoes from OotP, so some of these words that I am going to use are property of JK Rowling and thus are not mine. Also, warning implied for lots of swearing used.
    Words: 297

    “What is your condition,” I asked the man who was standing in front of me. He was bouncing up and down, alternating feet between steps. It looked like a demented form of a jig.

    “It’s these- ouch- shoes my brother gave me – ow- they’re eating my –OUCH- feet – look at them, there must be some kind of – AARGH- jinx on them and I can’t- AAAAARGH- get them off-“

    I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this guy. He looked like he was in a lot of pain. And he was kind of cute too. Yet, couldn’t this idiot read? There is a huge sign behind me listing the floors and the types of maladies they catered too.

    “The shoes don’t prevent you from reading do they,” I snapped irritably, jerking my finger at the sign. “You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!”

    The next person in line was an old geezer with a hearing trumpet asking where a “Broderick Bode” was. What a waste of his time and my time dealing with him as well. Broderick Bode is insane now. He thinks he is a sodding teapot! He wouldn’t recognize the old geezer to begin with.

    I am wondering why I even took this crummy job as a receptionist at Saint Mungos anyway. Being a receptionist is one of the most boring jobs in the world. I don’t even like working with people. They really annoy me with their problems and expect me to be some miracle worker and make things better for them. The only good I can do for them is to tell them where to go, which gives me a sense of authority.

    I should have been Ministry worker. At least there isn’t much human interaction

  3. #13
    crazy_purple_hp_freak
    Guest
    Name: crazy_purple_hp_freak
    House: Slytherin
    Title: When will they come home?
    Warnings: Mental Illness. I apologise if my portrayal of Frank and Alice's condition offends anybody - I know nothing of these matters.
    Words: 497

    “Per – ma…um…Per – ma –…” The boy trailed off. “Gran, what does that say?”

    “Permanent, dear,” said Augusta, taking her grandson’s hand and leading him away from the sign. “Come on Neville!”

    “But Gran! What does it mean?”

    Augusta was silent as they walked into the ward.

    The air was musty with a disinfected hospital smell that Neville hated. He hated the whitewashed walls and grimy windows. He hated the rusted bedsteads that made empty, hollow sounds when tapped.

    “Mrs Longbottom!” The Healer spotted them and hurried over. “Hello Neville,” she smiled, handing him a Chocolate Frog wrapped in plastic packaging. He could feel the shape of the card inside and longed to see if it was one he hadn’t yet collected, Flamel or Cliodna. But he knew he couldn’t open it here, he always had to be on his best behaviour when in St Mungos.

    “How are you today, Neville?” asked the Healer, kneeling down to his level, still smiling.

    “Okay,” mumbled Neville, staring hard at the floor. He could never understand why everyone was so nice to him here. He’d visited Mum and Dad every week for three months (Gran would never let him come before) and each time he came, everyone would glance his way. People here seemed to smile at him an awful lot, and he couldn’t understand why.

    They took their seats around the two beds. The room was even darker as the yellow-green, dusty light was shielded by yellow-green curtains that had been drawn around them.

    His mother grinned when she saw him. “Neaooo!”

    Neville smiled uncertainly. “Hi Mum.” On the other side, his father rolled up the sleeves of his checked pyjamas clumsily and thumped his duvet. “Aeoo Narroo!”

    “Hi Dad.”

    The Healer backed out, saying, “They’ve been great today. Really great.” She smiled at Neville whilst behind him, his grandmother frowned. “They’re improving a lot!”

    “Really?”

    “Yes – really!”

    “Does that mean they can come home soon?”

    The Healer and Augusta exchanged worried glances. “Well, perhaps not yet…”

    “But I want them to come home soon! I want to show them my new room that Uncle Algie painted for me. And I want to show Dad my new Quidditch posters – doesn’t Dad like Quidditch? Maybe he can play with me when he gets better! We could go out to the orchard, and he could teach me how to play properly - ”

    In front of him, Frank turned and banged his pillow against the wall, scattering feathers.

    “Neville,” his grandmother said gently. “Perhaps they won’t be home for a while.”

    “But when? They’ve been here for ages! When people get ill they get better after a week, not months or years! Maybe it’s the hospital - if we just take them home they’ll get better! I know they will!”

    Augusta smiled sadly at her grandson. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, pet.”

    “But when will they come home? It’ll be soon, right?”

    “I don’t know, pet. I’m afraid I don’t know.”

  4. #14
    kumydabookworm
    Guest
    Name: kumydabookworm
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Let Him Fight
    Warnings: Mental Illness
    Word Count: 472

    "There, there, Mr. Weasley," whispered the nurse.

    The shadows from a lit wand barely illuminated her face, casting fearsome shadows on her stark profile. She desperately tries to keep from waking the rest of the ward's patients - one is more than she can handle.

    Ron can feel the laughter bubbling up in him. It is so strange that they would keep him here, closed in a white room with nothing. He knows his friends are out there, fighting...dying for him.

    He fights to speak around his languid tongue - fights to show the nurse he is sane.


    The nurse gasps as Ron begins to giggle. "Mr. Weasley?" She shouldn't stay - she knows that laughter is a sign his mania is getting worse. But she can swear she sees a flicker of something sane in his eyes.

    "Let me fight," he breathes through his laughter. Hands reach out to wrap around her throat.

    He holds her hands tightly. "Please," he murmurs. He can see fear in her eyes. Why is she afraid?

    She immobilizes him - deep, shuddering breaths racking her frame. As she rubs more Unction on the scars covering his arms, she shakes her head. Whatever he went through in the Department of Mysteries so many years ago, no one will speak about now.

    The portraits shout advice at her as she leaves the ward.

    "Use carrots and rat tails in a stew and feed it to him...it will cure mania!" shouts Saint Frederick.

    "No, no, you should leave him under the moon for three nights - he'll be fixed for sure!" Knight Ghalid called.

    She cannot stop the tears. I can't reach him. There's nothing that will help him, no matter what you say.

    The portrait of wartime hero Harry Potter says, "He was my best friend. You must help him. St. Mungo's saved me every time I was wounded in the war - I would have been dead years before if it wasn't for this place. Help him."

    She spins to look at the portrait in wonder. "They say you were the greatest Legilimens since Dumbledore."

    Harry Potter smiles sadly. "I practiced first on Ron. His mind is healthy inside, Sheila. Let him be mad...and eventually the haze will be clear. The potions keep his body from healing itself."

    She bites her lip. "You're not a Healer."

    Harry shakes his head. "I can read his mind. I know what it wants - and it's right. Let him fight."

    Sheila nods slowly. Maybe...

    She feels a desperate sort of laughter rise up in her belly. If he's wrong, I'll never heal again. But risks - that's what makes St. Mungo's the best magical hospital in the world.

    She turns back and begins to tie down Mr. Weasley to protect him from his madness when the potions run out.

  5. #15
    Ron x Hermione
    Guest
    Name: Ron x Hermione
    House: Hufflepuff!
    Title: A Visit for Another
    Warnings: None
    Words: 456

    Hermione had been feeling odd for the past few days, and she didn’t know if it was just something that she had ate, or if it were something big.

    “Hermione, come on. You know that it’s just the flu or something,”

    “Ron, you don’t know that. It could be something… much better…” A lazy grin crossed her face and Ron walked over to her, putting his arms around her.

    “You think it’s another one?” he asked softly, putting his soft hands on her belly.

    “Maybe.”

    ~ * ~

    The next thing she knew, Hermione was walking into a grand-looking building. A small fountain that she had seen so long ago had been replaced by a carving of a tall, bespectacled man with an abnormally large beard. He was surrounded by a house elf and a phoenix. But what caught Hermione’s attention was the boy with messy hair and glasses; along with a lightning-shaped scar beside him.

    Hermione stared at the oversized fountain in awe for a few moments, admiring its beauty. She then tossed a small Knut into it.

    She walked up to the front desk as if she had done so many times before. She hadn’t been here in years- since her fifth year, to be exact. Mr. Weasley had been bitten by a giant snake- and Harry had seen it happen in a dream.

    She waited in line behind a witch that couldn’t seem to stop laughing, or, really cackling.

    “I- ha- can’t- ha- ha- seem to- ha-”

    “You want the third floor, Potions and Plant Poisoning,” the Welcome Witch said pleasantly. She shook her head as the old woman walked away, now hiccupping.

    “I have some-” But before the man could even finish his sentence, a great waft of steam issued from his ears and nose, preventing him from speaking. He sounded like a teapot. Everyone around him covered their ears, including Hermione. She could see the Welcome Witch yelling something at the man; possibly the floor number.

    It finally stopped.

    “You want Spell Damage, fourth floor,” she told the man. He walked to the elevator as another wave of steam burst through the air. Hermione was next.

    “How may I help you?”

    “Yes… I have an appointment with a Healer Deardrum,” she told the woman.

    “Healer Deardrum is not in today, due to an overwhelming account of the flu. To take his place, I’m sure that Healer Corrigan would be pleased to see you.”

    “Thank you,” Hermione told her, walking away.

    After the woman had yelled the floor number from across the room, Hermione walked to the elevator, here to find out what was wrong with her.

    ~ * ~

    “Congratulations, Hermione, it’s a boy,” Ron told her nine short months later.
    ~Lindsey

  6. #16
    gemini282
    Guest
    Name: gemini282
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Bubbles
    Warnings: none
    Words: 311

    “Next!”

    A man with bubbles coming from his mouth stepped up to the desk where Mandy was seated.

    “Hello, sir. You need to go to the fourth floor, spell damage,” Mandy said, faking a sweet smile.

    The man laughed. “I’m not here to get treated myself. No, actually I’m looking for the room my girlfriend is in.”

    A bubble burst in Mandy’s face as the man leaned closer. “I wanted to bring her some flowers. I thought it would be nice.”

    Thankfully the man backed away again.

    “Her name’s Karen Bantam. Could you find her?”

    “Of course, sir, but I really feel you should go see a medi-wizard. You do know you have bubbles coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”

    The man stared at her, dumbfounded, then laughed again. This sent a spray of bubbles at Karen.

    “What are you talking about. Bubbles? Now, why would I have bubbles coming out of my mouth? I think I would know if I did. Just find that room and I’ll be sure to get out of your way.”

    “Of course, sir,” Mandy replied finding the man slightly disturbing. “Your girlfriend is on the second floor, room 253.”

    “Great! Thanks for all your help, miss,” the man said walking away.

    “Good day, sir.”

    Mandy turned to the nest person in line and found herself face to face with a woman who had a carrot instead of a nose.

    “Hello ma’am. You do know that in place of your nose right now, there’s a carrot.”

    The woman stared at her in shock. “Of course I know there’s a carrot on my face. What do you think I am, an idiot?”

    Mandy looked at where the man had just rounded the corner, then turned towards the woman again. “Of course not, ma’am. I was just checking,” Mandy answered, smiling. And this time it was genuine.

  7. #17
    atkarid
    Guest
    Name: atkarid
    House: Hufflepuff!
    Title: Fake
    Warnings: Character Death
    Words: 157

    Fake. Fake in every way.

    The whole place was fake. Fake in every way.

    The clean floors, the smiling Healers, the colorful reception, the cheerful paintings. All were fake. Fake in every way.

    The Healers would lie, “Of course he’s fine. She’ll be better after a while. She won’t die, but she’ll stay like this forever.”

    The patients would lie, “I’m fine. I’m being treated fine. It’s a wonderful place, this is.” All of the people were fake.

    Except for the dead ones, of course.

    Neville walked out of his mother and father’s room. The room was empty, and he couldn’t look anywhere but the floor. They didn’t deserve it. They shouldn’t have gone. They couldn’t have gone.

    He wiped his feet on the floor, clutched the railing on the walls, and then let go. They were bloodstained; cleaned, but they were bloodstained.

    This was supposed to be the best hospital in the Wizarding World.

    It's not.
    Gah... I need to get out of my angsty stage...

  8. #18
    social loner
    Guest
    Name: Social Loner
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Fear
    Warnings: none
    Words: 307


    I sat completely motionless on the cold, steel chair as nurses and healers rushed back and forth in front of me. No one at St. Mungos seemed to take heed of my presence as I stared at the foreboding door across the hall.

    As I stared at the door it seemed to grow larger, taunting me. I knew that at some point I would to face my demons; I would have to confront my fears head on. It was useless to sit and cower with my head between my knees.

    But what if she doesn't remember me?

    This was the thought that fueled my fear. Every minute that ticked by, every hour that passed I grew farther and farther away from that door, from conquering my fears and battling my demons. And as that door grew farther away my hope slowly faded with it.

    As I felt my last hope slip from between my thin fingers I realized what I was loosing, what I was allowing to be stripped away. I couldn't let it go, not like this. Hope was all I had in a world ravaged by war. Hope was all that kept me stiving for a possible future.

    With one last spout of determination I grasped my last hope and anchored it securely in my chest as I slowly stood up from the cold chair. I found my feet steadily leading me closer and closer to the dubious door across the hall. My fingers found the icy silver doorknob and wound themselves around it, gently pushing the door open.

    She was lying on a bed, frail and somehow distorted though unaltered. As I stepped closer to the bed she looked up at me with confused, unfamiliar eyes. I captured her hand in mine and said the only words that could come from my mouth.

    "Mom?"

  9. #19
    kask
    Guest
    Name: Kask
    House: Slytherin!
    Title: Almost August
    Warnings: Character birth!
    Words: 439

    When James Potter was sixteen, he spent most of his summer at St. Mungo’s Hospital. His carefree personality never meshed well with the hospital environment. He liked to prank and joke, but soon discovered that it was not the time or place. So, he declared his hate toward hospitals and opposition to becoming a Healer, but stayed to be with his dying father.

    He often compared his days there to being in Azkaban. He wasn’t a prisoner, but the hospital drained all his happiness the way he imaged the jail to do.

    It was different this time, though. He wasn’t there visiting a sick friend or family member. No. It was a completely different reason. This reason made him ecstatic – happier than he had ever been. He was there for the birth of his first child.

    James just hated waiting. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down, only to immediately stand again. He began to pace, wishing his friends were there. James knew they had a good reason not to be – Order business – but wished anyway.

    He listened for any sound -- footsteps, a distant baby’s cry, an exclamation of ‘It’s a girl!’ But he heard nothing. He could only reason that his son or daughter had not been born yet.

    Seven hours he had been there, with few updates and little company. He didn’t know if that was normal, or if Lily was okay. What if he lost her? Or they lost the baby? What if there were complications?

    The clock struck midnight.

    James rubbed his face tiredly. His eyes were probably bloodshot.

    Looking up, he heard something. Was it – footsteps?

    The doorknob turned to reveal a Healer.

    “James Potter?” he asked.

    James looked up and nodded, examining the Healer’s face for any sign of the status of his baby and wife. He held his breath, awaiting the news.

    The Healer grinned.

    “You have a healthy baby boy.” James let out the air he was holding in and smiled wildly.

    “And Lily?” he asked, fearful again.


    “She’s perfect,” the Healer assured.

    “Good,” James breathed, closing his eyes in relief. “A boy?” he croaked, reopening his eyes. His voice was hoarse and tears of joy were in his eyes.

    The Healer nodded. “Born at 11:59. One more minute and he would have been an August baby.”

    “Well,” answered James, wiping his eyes. “July is a good month.”

    “Indeed it is,” the Healer responded.

    James nodded and followed the Healer to see Lily and his son. He couldn’t believe it – his son. It was the happiest moment of his life. Maybe hospitals weren’t all bad.

  10. #20
    Hel
    Guest
    Name: Hel
    House: Gryffindor

    Title: The Women Behind the Desk
    Warnings: None that I can think of…
    Words: 318

    ‘Yes?’

    ‘I’m looking for my husband…’
    ‘…Son…’
    ‘…sister…’
    ‘…mother…’
    ‘She was bitten…’
    ‘…Cursed…’
    ‘…Fallen down a well…’
    ‘Where are they…?’

    Every day thousands of people pass through these halls, and everyday I seem to talk to thousands more.

    This job was a way to help, to aid the sick, and make my life fulfilling… but so far all it has done has killed me. There were the days when I made conversation with all the patients, gave them advice and pity about their problems. I was kind, caring, that wonderful women behind the desk.

    Every day I see thousands pass my desk on their way out of his place, but it’s the ones I don’t see that cause me grief. They have gone out the back door, never to see the light of day again.

    I chatted one to an old man, whose gums were so swollen he could barely talk, only to find out that he had less than a month to live. I smiled at a young boy, who promptly told me he had a werewolf bite by, and would therefore never be able to love. The day after I talked to them both – they died.

    And so I have slowly become more cut off. I cannot deal with seeing families torn apart, and cannot deal with the pain and suffering this place has caused me. Those families have only lost one member, and only have to deal with one loss – but me…

    I have to deal with losses every day, twice, even three times a week. And however much I try to console myself, convince myself that it was their time, and that the next place is better than this one… I can’t quite do it.

    So I cut myself off. I don’t talk to anyone beside the normal brisk requests – and – I float. I was, as of then, that annoying woman behind the desk...

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