QLFC Round 5 - We All Have Our Flaws

Team: Caerphilly Catapults

Captain: Dishonesty

Word count: 2367

Betas: S L Blake, Wellwick, NevilleGonnaGiveYouUp

Warning: Description of cancer (leukaemia; I tried to keep it relatively abstract), mention of impending death

enjoy reading!

Kind Words For The Oblivious Mind

Madam Pomfrey sighed as she frowned down on the piece of parchment resting on the table in front of her. It had multiple abbreviations listed on it, followed by numbers in various colours, and charts that the untrained eye wouldn't understand. Poppy, however, had cast so many diagnostic charms in her life that she could interpret the results in her sleep. Data at such a magnitude, however, she'd rarely set her eyes on.

Until today.

One particular student had been a frequent visitor for a few weeks now, complaining about symptoms varying from headaches to stomach cramps to weariness. She said it had started a while ago, getting slowly worse. She'd never really thought much about it until she'd gotten a very bad stomach ache that had sent her running to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Poppy wasn't that familiar with Muggle diseases, at least the serious ones. The common flu or an infection were easy to treat as there was a potion for nearly everything nowadays, however, some illnesses could not even be cured with magic.

Her eyes were focussed on one specific value—the leucocytes, or white blood cells. They were way too high.

Throughout her years as a nurse working at Hogwarts, she had started researching various maladies that had yet to have a cure. She had talked to Severus multiple times about her plan of trying to change that. He had been sceptical about it but had given her the benefit of the doubt.

One of the illnesses she had read about, one that was a regular cause of death amongst the Muggles, was cancer. The overactive, uncontrolled growth of cells forming tumours that had the potential to become lethal. It was common amongst Muggles and those with Muggle blood in them, so it wasn't entirely unheard of in the wizarding world. A few eager Healers had tried their hand in developing a spell or potion to cure it, or at least slow down the process, but had come up empty-handed so far.

Another sigh escaped her as she raised her hand and covered her eyes. She felt helpless. The words of a fellow Healer echoed through her mind.

"If this potion doesn't change the leucocyte count, I don't know whether she'll make it to Halloween."

It was September. Halloween was just over one month away.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and as she lifted her head out of her hands, she saw Pomona Sprout standing in the doorway. The look on her face told Poppy that she must have understood the situation perfectly.

"It's not helping, is it?" Hufflepuff's Head of House asked without a greeting as she hesitantly walked into the nurse's office.

Poppy took a few seconds to look at the woman in front of her before shaking her head. "The count increased."

"Merlin." Pomona sat down in the chair in front of Poppy's desk, looking helpless. "So, there's nothing we can do?"

Another sigh. "I fear not. I have looked at every potion there is, I have talked to various experts in the field, but I have come up empty-handed. This potion was our last chance." After a short moment of silence, Poppy asked softly, "How are her parents?"

"How do you think they are?" Pomona asked dejectedly and shook her head. "They aren't doing well."

"Understandably. Anne is thirteen years old."

The two women sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft crackling of the fire and the foreboding ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Poppy couldn't help but think of her own niece, who had turned thirteen two months ago. She couldn't imagine what Anne's parents were going through right now. The helplessness and anger they had to feel was beyond comprehension for anyone who hadn't experienced a tragedy like that before.

That made the fact that she hadn't been able to help the girl even worse. The last couple of nights had mostly been spent poring over heavy books, both magical as well as Muggle, to figure out a way she could help the Hufflepuff, but, alas, she had to admit defeat eventually. It made her feel like a failure. She had studied the arts of medicine to help people, to cure them and to aid them back to health, however, this case had her face just how utterly helpless she truly was when it came to illnesses that medicine could not cure.

Yet.

"How should we tell her?" Pomona broke the silence and Poppy looked up from the sheet of parchment in front of her. She hadn't noticed that her eyes had jumped back to stare at the dangerously high leucocyte value.

"We won't tell her."

The Herbology Professor blinked, clearly taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"We won't tell her."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand."

Poppy smiled sadly. "Anne Palmer is a happy girl. She enjoys sitting outside in the sun, she loves reading fiction books, and she enjoys almost every class she's taken this year. She's looking forward to the Halloween feast and her birthday, which is at the beginning of November. If we tell her that the potion she's been taking for the last couple of weeks isn't doing anything to help her, if we tell her that she most likely won't be alive anymore to enjoy the pumpkin pies served during the Halloween feast, she will lose all hope. She will lose her happiness and she will spend the rest of her remaining weeks in constant fear."

Poppy shook her head. "No, we won't tell her any of what's actually going on inside her. The potion isn't doing her any harm, so she will keep on taking it. For any pain spells or nausea, I will give her other potions that will make her feel better. And that way, she will be able to fully enjoy the time she's got left and not dread Halloween."

It had been a decision she had made late last night. She had been comparing different leucocyte levels with known cases of leukaemia and their recovery rate. Thinking back to how excited the girl had been when she'd come in two days ago, having a few diagnostic spells done as well as picking up a couple of potions to relieve her of the constant nausea she was experiencing, she just couldn't bring herself to deliver the horrible news to the Hufflepuff. She felt like this was the decision of her parents, not of the school's nurse.

"When will she be here?" Pomona asked solemnly, not arguing with Poppy's decision, which she was grateful for.

"She should be here at any moment." The nurse glanced at the clock in the corner and stood up. She felt as if she had aged thirty years throughout the last twenty-four hours alone. She felt run down. Slowly, she picked up her wand that had been resting on her desk for the last few hours, pointed it at the flames in the fireplace, and refreshed the spell to keep the fire going.

"I still can't believe it." Poppy turned around and looked at her colleague. Pomona was shaking her head and her eyes looked glazed. "That poor girl."

"You will not tell her the truth, Pomona."

The Head of House blinked at the strict tone of voice and for a moment, Poppy thought she would start to argue with her, but in the end, the other woman exhaled loudly. It was as if all energy left her body in that moment, leaving her dejected and pale.

"You are probably right about it," she said before she, as well, stood up. One hand on the edge of the nurse's desk, she looked at Poppy and frowned. "Do you want me to be present for Miss Palmer's appointment?"

"I think if you stay, she might notice that something's off." Poppy pushed her wand into her tightly fitted sleeve and rolled the piece of parchment that held the diagnosis for Anne Palmer into a taut roll. "I believe it would be best if you leave. Maybe you can call her to your office next weekend and have her parents take her out of school for a few days. I can imagine that they would want their daughter with them now."

Slowly, Pomona nodded. "I guess you're right, Poppy. I guess, you're right."

After a few silent seconds, the nurse put the rolled-up parchment into the drawer of her desk and motioned the Herbology Professor to follow her out of her office. It had been a weird interaction, which Poppy was both thankful for, yet felt awkward about. She was glad that she had had the chance to tell someone of her plan before the girl had arrived, as it lightened her conscience somewhat, however, lying to someone wasn't her strong suit. She had grown up believing that telling the truth was the only right way, even if in doing so it might turn some people away from you.

In situations like this, though, she deviated from what she usually thought was right and chose dishonesty. If the truth only caused pain and fear, if it ruined how a person went about life, then Poppy would happily lie to them.

If it kept their spirits up.

In that exact moment, while the door to Poppy's office was still swinging shut, the double doors to the hospital wing were opened and none other than Anne Palmer walked in. She looked pale and tired, but she had a smile on her face and her eyes were shining merrily.

"Professor Sprout!" she exclaimed upon seeing her Head of House, a look of surprise crossing her features. "I didn't expect you here."

"Oh, hello, Miss Palmer. I came here to enjoy a nice cup of tea with Madam Pomfrey, that is all. But now I must head back to the greenhouses if I don't want to be late to my own class."

Poppy had to give it to Pomona—she seemed chipper and her normal self. Unconsciously, the nurse straightened up a bit and put a gentle smile on her face. She needed to prepare herself. She needed to act in a way that would make the girl believe the news she would give her—that she was getting better, that the potions were working, that she would have no reason to worry about her health. It wasn't anything serious, she would be alright.

"Miss Palmer," Poppy said in a pleasant voice as Pomona shuffled around the young Hufflepuff and fled the hospital wing in a hurry. "Very much on time. As always." She smiled at the thirteen-year-old, who was walking towards the nearest bed and sat down on the mattress.

"Of course." The Hufflepuff shifted left and right to get more comfortable. "How did my health scan look, Madam Pomfrey?"

Poppy let out a light laugh as she pulled out her wand and walked over to the bed the girl was sitting on. "Straight to the point, I see. Well, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting any longer, now would I?"

She moved past her patient and stopped in front of the bedside cabinet. It was a habit of hers to always keep an assortment of the most commonly used potions in each cabinet, always within reach—potions and ointments against nausea, stomach cramps, headaches, hangovers, sprained joints, and sore muscles. Three of which she took out and levitated on top of the cabinet for Miss Palmer to see.

For a short moment, Poppy saw worry and a hint of fear creep onto the girl's face before she saw the nurse's reassuring smile.

"I studied the results of the last scan in detail this morning and cross-referenced the values with other cases of weak immune systems, and it seems as if the potion is working."

A smile so wide and honest that Poppy felt a lump build in her throat brightened up Anne's face. "Really?"

"Yes, really." The nurse quickly turned around and closed her eyes for a few seconds, collecting herself. She bit her lip and took a deep breath before picking up one of the potions and handing it to the terminally ill student. "These potions are to help with the symptoms you have told me about—the nausea and the residing aches. Take three spoonfuls of each when you need to. I labelled the flasks, indicating which you can take when."

She picked up the other two flasks and conjured a small paper bag for Anne to put the potions in.

"Do you still have enough of the potion I gave you two weeks ago?" It was an experimental potion, one Severus had invented some time ago, yet had no chance to test until now. It had been risky, but after talking to the girl's parents, they had decided on taking the chance that it might actually help the Hufflepuff and brewed up a cauldron of it.

"I do," Anne said.

"Very good. Now, I want you to keep taking it, four spoonfuls a day, two in the morning and two before going to bed. That combined with these potions"—she pointed at the bag in the girl's lap—"you will soon get better. When you run out of it, just pop in and I will give you another flask."

The sheer delight on young Anne's face both made Poppy's stomach churn as well as fill it with warmth.

Poor girl, she thought as the terminally sick Hufflepuff jumped off the bed, swayed on the spot for a few seconds before thanking the nurse and hurrying out of the hospital wing. She had many exhausting and straining weeks before her, but at least now she could still find joy and peace in life, focussing on the lovely weather outside and the nearing of her favourite holiday.

She could focus on getting better. Even if she never would.

But Poppy had made the right decision, she told herself as she pulled the diagnostics parchment out of her desk later that night. She had made the right decision.

Hadn't she?

I hope you liked it!

Until next time - see ya!