Denton Zander had left his parent's home in the city when he was too young, too poor, and too stupid. A few long months of fruitless wandering brought Zander to the middle of nowhere, where he found Tenvy. There he met Vincent Allard, an aging farmer in need of a young wizard to help him with his livestock. Zander had no interest in working for Mr. Allard at first, but the old man had galleons- something Zander didn't, so he took the job.
Twelve years later Zander was still working for Mr. Allard, and better for it. The farmer had given him a roof over his head and steady pay, and over time Zander and Mr. Allard had grown close. But Mr. Allard was old when Zander met him, and he wasn't getting any younger. Zander was slowly taking on more and more work around the farm to ease the load on Mr. Allard. So when Zander was startled awake by a load rapping on his door one morning, he thought little of it. The sun had not yet risen, but Mr. Allard was a farmer, and he often got up early to accomplish as much as he could before breakfast. Throwing back the covers Zander glanced at the clock, 4:00 am. 4'o clock was early, even for a man like Mr. Allard. Something must have happened 'round the farm, thought Zander as he rose to grab his boots. Leaving the warmth of his bed was hard, but duty called. More impatient knocks sounded from the door.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" called Zander
Opening the door Zander was met with Mr. Allard, walking stick in hand and money pouch slung over his neck, waiting for him.
"Are we going somewhere sir?" asked Zander eyeing the pouch
"I need you to help me up to town, Denton," said Mr. Allard already turning to walk away "we done got a hurt ewe and I want 'a see if Thakes has got anything I could give 'er,"
Thomas Thakes ran Tenvy's apothecary, and while Zander was fairly certain the man had lost his marbles years ago, he was trusted by the farmers to provide cure-alls for sick or injured animals. Taking Mr. Allard's arm the two began heading up the path that would take them into town, Mr. Allard grumbling all the way.
"I wouldn't be foolin' with 'er except she's that pretty one I was hoping to take to the fair next month 'n I'd rather not lose 'er," he eventually said
"What happened?" Zander questioned. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, warming the chilly morning air. Zander unbuttoned his coat.
"I'm not sure, she got scratched up real bad looks like. Prob'ly one of Wilbur's stupid dogs,"
Zander nodded, and fixed his eyes on the path before them, squinting slightly when something caught his eye. The rising sun glinted off something running down the side of the path, too dark to be water. Besides, it hadn't rained. Zander started when he realized it was blood.
"Hey, Mr. Allard? Do you see that?"
The man next to him looked over to where the dark trail was slowly dripping down the path and shrugged.
"There's deer all 'round these parts," he said "one's luck must've ran out,"
They continued towards town, Mr. Allard leaning heavily on Zander as they reached a slight incline. The sun had risen enough to give the whole field a warm glow, and Zander looked around, enjoying the pleasant morning. Glancing off to his left Zander saw an unfamiliar lump laying in the grass just off the path. It was too irregularly shaped to be a bush, and too flat to be a rock. Zander squinted, trying to distinguish what it was. Zander saw that the form was smeared with the same red dripping down the path. Must be that unlucky deer, he thought chuckling to himself. Until he noticed what looked like a pale hand not far from the lump. Zander froze. Seeing the younger wizard's confusion Mr. Allard stopped, and followed Zander's gaze to the lump in the grass. He saw the hand too, and even with his rudimentary education, Mr. Allard knew that animal carcasses did not have hands.
Zander stepped off the path and into the grass, carefully making his way over to the dark form. From his place on the path Mr. Allard couldn't make out much, but he watched as Zander's creased brow lifted and his face drained of color. Zander stood for a few moments, mouth hanging open above the form. Mr. Allard grew impatient.
"Well?" he called
The sound of his voice seemed to break the younger man's reverie and Zanders looked up, panic written all over his face.
"Call St. Mungo's!"
The fifth floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was surprisingly uneventful on the morning of August the 3, 1987. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising however, considering that it was a Thursday. St. Mungo's was always busy, but it was even more so on Fridays and Saturdays, when wizards and witches managed to injure themselves with reckless weekend activities. Needless to say, Nancy Cummings was enjoying the peace as she busied herself with completing her morning duties. The list was depressingly short, Nancy thought, but the Lycanthropy ward didn't require much maintenance. It was really only used once a month, after a full moon when someone was either newly bitten- or tore themselves up bad enough to require serious medical attention. Even then however, it was mostly just a matter of stitches and dittany, Nancy rarely ever had someone stay in the ward for a long period of time. Nancy knew herself to be a capable nurse, she had been down on the second floor dealing with potions related accidents for twenty years; that was until she was replaced by a pretty blonde and transferred upstairs. It was the one thing about her job that grated on Nancy's nerves. While she was content working in the Lycanthropy ward, it seemed to be where St. Mungo's sent those who would have otherwise been fired. The dismal staff consisted of herself, another nurse named Waldean, and a handful of doctors who were technically assigned to the ward, but spent most of their time downstairs.
Nancy finished putting fresh sheets on the beds, and with a wave of her wand propelled the cart containing various cleaning supplies in front of her and out into the main hall. She headed to the supply closet and deposited the cart back into its place, closing the door behind her. Nancy was torn from her thoughts when the rush of a floo could be heard from the floor below. Immediately after, the sound of voices and the cries of spells could be heard, but the sounds were too distorted by the echo of the stairwell for Nancy to distinguish what was happening. Nancy gave a shake of the head and, turning to head back into the Lycanthropy ward, wondered to herself what all the commotion downstairs was about. She hoped it wasn't yet another case of Peruvian ear worms, they had already had three this week.
Sitting back down at her desk, Nancy settled into her chair, pulling out the previous month's copy of The Handy Healer she had been meaning to catch up on. Unfortunately, a few minutes later the sound of rushing footsteps made Nancy look up. She was met with a flustered Waldean striding into the ward, flinging open cabinets and pulling out bottle after bottle of potions.
"Waldean? You alright?" asked Nancy, putting down her magazine and staring at her coworker who was now taking handfuls of gauze out of a drawer. Waldean gave a start and looked over at Nancy, apparently noticing her for the first time.
"Nancy!" Waldean breathed "get up, get up! Get a bed ready!"
Nancy stood and began turning down a bed, her heart thudding at the other nurse's panicked tone. Nancy could still hear the shouting voices, but they now seemed to be getting closer and more distinct. Suddenly a male nurse came bustling into the room, an arm around another man, who was splattered in red and white as a ghost. Before Nancy could form a question on her lips a stretcher was levitated into the room, doctors huddled around it, and Nancy understood.
Carmen's senses trickled in slowly, then all at once. She first became aware of the sounds around her: muffled speaking, the faint clank of metal on metal, rhythmic beeps and chirps. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and her mind was sluggish. As she slowly regained more and more consciousness Carmen opened her eyes, only to find that she could open them just enough to where she was squinting. Any more and she met resistance. This caused mild panic to flash through her mind, waking her completely. Through the small slits of her eyes Carmen found herself looking up at a whitewashed ceiling high above her head. She went to use her arms to push herself up, only to find that her body would not respond. Now that she noticed, everything felt rather numb, her limbs retaining just enough feeling for her to know that they were there. Carmen allowed a slight whimper to pass her lips, more in frustration at her sudden loss of control than anything, and not a second later she heard footsteps rushing towards her.
"Oh thank heavens!" a woman's voice said "your awake,"
Carmen felt hands gently grasp her torso and raise her up while a pillow was stuffed underneath her.
"Let me just get you situated dear," the woman said as she rested Carmen back against the pillow.
From her new sitting position, Carmen could better take in her surroundings. She looked to be in a large, narrow room. Metal-framed beds seemed to line both walls, and the tall windows between every few beds flooded the room with light. Carmen couldn't seem to move her neck far enough to look to her right or left, but glancing down she could see herself covered in a thick white comforter with two lumps underneath; presumably her legs. The woman who helped her sit up leaned down to look Carmen in the face.
The woman was obviously a nurse, a St. Mungo's nurse, if the neon-green robes were anything to go by. The vibrant attire clashed strongly with her dark skin, but Carmen thought her pretty nonetheless. Her lined face was a kind one, not unlike a grandmother's.
"How are you feeling?" the woman asked, eyebrows drawn in concern "you're not in any pain?"
Carmen opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out but a low gurgle and, much to Carmen's embarrassment, a dribble of spit.
The nurse grabbed a cloth and began wiping Carmen's chin
"I'm sorry dear, I shouldn't have asked you to speak. You've just had us all so worried," she said
Carmen heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor as the woman pulled up a chair to the bedside and sat down.
"My name is Nancy, I'm one of your nurses," she explained, resting a plump arm on Carmen's leg.
"Do you remember anything Carmen? Don't try to use any words, just shake or nod your head,"
Carmen thought back for a moment, but her mind was too foggy for her to remember anything, so she shook her head. Nancy nodded as if that was what she had expected.
"I'm sure your confused dear but you need to rest up a bit more before we have a little chat alright?" Nancy gently patted Carmen's thigh
Carmen's first instinct was to argue, to demand answers, but she couldn't find it in herself to put up a fight. The few minutes she had been awake had drained all her energy, and even as the nurse was talking Carmen could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing she could remember was Nancy still looking into her face with an odd expression, almost as if it pained her.
