Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.
A/N:
Summary: How St. Mungo's fought the Death Eaters. Some battles are not fought in the trenches, but in the home. This is the home-front.
To Protect
"What's this about a new strain of Splattergoit?" Daniel asked her.
"Strain F?" she asked, taking a bite of her chicken broccoli Alfredo. "I'm on the team working to cure it, but things don't look good. It's particularly resistant to normal treatments. Honestly, I'm thinking we need to contract outside of the Isles for a Potions Master to work in concert with our Spellcrafte team. Actually, I'm doing a housecall for Molly Weasley tonight; I owe her a favor. Looks like her youngest son has it, and they were worried enough to agree to blood tests."
Daniel winced. Blood was… well, it was just something you didn't take for analysis. Wizards did not trust others with their blood, even medical personnel – at least, not since they'd stopped being oath bound by magic. The original oath had, over time, made certain that children were treated first… which was normally good, but not when they only had a sprained wrist and you were a surgeon needed in the Operating Room immediately. The magic had mutated. Unfortunately, they'd stopped making the oath magical completely (now just a signed statement), and part of that pledge was that any blood taken would not be used for nefarious purposes. The Weasleys must be desperate.
"Oh, I'm going to swear on my magic not to use it for anything but testing and a possible cure, or a base for any other illness he might catch," Celeste assured at his look. "But yes, Molly was panicked enough that that was my suggestion. She's desperate. I'm going to compare it to my own blood and anyone else that will take my oath on magic. Hopefully we can find something to base a potions/spell regimen off of. The spell will likely still have to be crafted, though."
"How many dead?"
"We've lost count," she sighed.
"Well, sorry for ruining your lunch."
"It's fine," she waved him off. "I'm not really hungry. I think I'll just get a cup of tea and be off."
Mostly, this was fine because it would set off the rumor mill.
She and a small group of friends in the hospital had come up with it as a sort of joke. Then her team had started taking it seriously, set on it as a challenge. It was a set of spells; one to mimic the look, the other to register as it. If they couldn't fight the Death Eaters, they could still protect people as best as possible. It was their job to protect.
You see, Strain F Splattergoit didn't exist. F stood for False.