Note to self: check weather before Apparating.
Jamie Potter sighed as the rain drenched her, pointing her wand at the briefcase she clutched in her free hand and muttering a quick impervius before doing the spell on herself.
Shaking her head at her lack of foresight, she made her way across the street, weaving her way through the crowds. She finally reached the old red-bricked department store and stepped through the window. She stepped onto the waxed tile floor of St. Mungo's and wasted no time in waving her wand before her to dry herself. She checked with the Welcome Wizard at the front desk and discovered Abby was currently working on a patient, so after thanking the man, she took the elevator to the fourth floor to wait.
She waited nearly twenty minutes before the double-doors opened and the Healers came out, appearing exhausted as they removed their aprons, masks, and gloves, leaving them clad in their lime-green uniforms.
"No, there's no point in trying again," came one voice muffled over the mask that had yet to be removed. She finally pulled it down after chucking her gloves and apron into the bin. "His leg was sliced into with a Dark Curse. I can't do anything about it. He and his brother shouldn't have been messing around with that kind of magic."
They started to gravitate toward the hallway to the right, so Jamie cleared her throat and stood up.
"Abby." When the slight brunette woman glanced over, Jamie nodded toward the hall. "Got a minute?"
Judging by how Abby looked to be steeling herself for the conversation, she must have some idea what the topic would be. Jamie narrowed her eyes. That wasn't a good sign.
Abby nodded before muttering a quick farewell to her fellow Mediwizards. They moved on down the hallway while Abby stood in place, watching Jamie as she approached her.
Jamie sighed once she stood before her, scratching the back of her neck. "Look, I don't want to do this anymore than you do. But as I'm sure you know, things are getting bad."
"Bad?" said Abby sharply. "I would consider that to be an understatement, Jamie. Our first floor is packed to the brim and there's nothing we can do about it. 'Bad' doesn't begin to cover it."
Jamie swallowed, hating the dry, sawdust taste in her mouth. "I know. Are they...they aren't..."
"Are they getting better? No," said Abby curtly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Half of the ones that have lost their magic are refusing to leave until we get it back. They won't listen when we explain that there's nothing we can do. Most of them have a breakdown and have to be admitted anyway. We had a Pureblood in here that tried to kill himself. Said he'd rather die than be a Squib. The rest of those poor people do nothing but take up space—they've lost their magic and their souls, so what are we supposed to do with them? Put them out of their misery like they're a bunch of animals?"
"No. No, I—I think you're making the right choice," said Jamie, swallowing again. "I wouldn't let them out either, in case it starts a panic. We just need to figure this out."
"Starts a panic?" said Abby incredulously. "Look around you, Jamie. People are already panicking! My own daughter was attacked in Hogsmeade! Why she was even out of Hogwarts anyway is beyond me—"
"They had a party. Kids being kids. Kane blocked the exit, so it won't happen again."
"Jamie."
Jamie closed her eyes for a brief moment; when she opened them again, it was as though she'd aged twenty years. "I know," she said wearily. "This is...a disaster, honestly. We're trying our best. We only have a little over three months until the tournament ends, and we're nearly finished getting everything in place."
