"There are few people whom I love, and still fewer of whom I think well.

The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it;

and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters,

and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."

(Pride and Prejucide)

Chapter 1 - The Welcomewitch

18 December, 1995

It was a comparably quiet night at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The snow outside was falling softly, covering the street in a think layer of crunchy white surface, while the stars above shone brightly. Every now and then, a couple of muggles would walk by, admiring them, or starting drunken snowball fights. The sounds were barely noticeable from the inside, where a cozy fire burned in the corner fireplace and the many chairs stood under Yuletide decorations, empty.

Empty chairs equalled a quiet time for welcomewitch Aisling Finnegan. She'd dozed off in front of her steaming cup of tea, while the busy knitting needles kept klicking away next to her, working on the Christmas scarves for her many little nephews.

The soothing silence ended quite abruptly, when the fire turned a violent green. Four men and a flying stretcher excited, holding a tall, ginger man whose head, neck and shoulder was covered in copious amounts of blood.

"Quick, what department do we have to go to", the youngest of the wizards yelled. "We don't know what got him – the painting said there was a snake- It's an emergency!"

Aisling sighed. These young people… this was a bloody hospital. It was always an emergency! "Creature-induced injuries, first floor," she said, yawning. She flipped a tiny golden switch on the operating board in front of her.

One floor above her, in every office, store cupboard and meeting room, tiny bells started to ring, announcing the newcomers.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aisling called after a young with and wizard who were wearing thick coats over their emerald green healer's robes. "Oi – Pye, Zabini!"

"Home," the curly haired witch answered coldly. "Where else?"

The man besides her, Augustus Pye, blushed violently. "Dahlia…," he murmured.

"I don't think so," the Welcomwitch said sternly. There's an emergency on the first floor. You're in training, you're going nowhere.

The young witch strode up to her, as if she were walking a red carpet. She placed one hand, covered in a meticulously tailored dragon skin glove, on the table and leaned forward. "If you actually checked your paperwork instead of sleeping on the job, you'd know that I haven't been a trainee in months and neither," her dark eyes shone with an aggressive comtempt now, "have I ever worked on the first floor. I've been moved from potion poisoning to spell damage a year ago. So go boss someone else around, you miserable old half-blood!" She turned around, her hair dancing around her sholders, as if it, too, would like to join in the insults. "Come on, Augustus."

Augustus Pye rushed behind her, breathing heavily, as he tried to keep up with her angry pace. "I'm actually on that floor," he said, breathing hard, rearranging his yellow and black scarf.

"I know."

"Maybe I should go back?"

"Don't be such a pushover," she said, laughing at him. "You'll still work there tomorrow. They're fully staffed, there's no reason you have to stay at the end of a full shift, you deserve some rest and – watch it!"

They had almost walked into another pair of wizards, an old man with one normal and one magical round blue eye, and a young witch with bright purple hair.

The witch strode on, seemingly affected by the encounter.

"Are you alright," Augustus asked, offering her his arm, so she wouldn't slip in the snow.

She ignored him, fixing her hair absent-mindedly. "Sure, sure."

"There was no reason to call her half-blood," he murmured, after a few more steps.

She scoffed. "Well, she is. You can always tell be their reactions," she added, as he didn't look understanding at her answer. "Oh, relax, it's just old Finnegan. It's not like she was a patient!"

Augustus Pye walked on, shaking his head over the fact that he'd once had a violent school boy crush on this woman. Guess it's true, he thought to himself, never fall for a Slytherin.

"Can you believe her?" Nymphadora Tonks hissed at her companion. "I can't believe I went to school with people like her. How she ever became a healer…"

"Same way you became an auror, good grades," Moody grunted. "Same year, you say? Couldn't hurt to reach out to a few old school friends, you know. Spread the message."

"Friends?" Tonks spat. "I wouldn't call being tripped in potions class friendship! Trust me, we're better off without her!"

"Someone we should keep an eye on?" he guessed, while his own magical blue eye swivelled into around to look back at the disappearing healers.

"Whatever, as long as I don't have to do it," Tonks snapped. "She's always there when I'm hurt, too, sneering at me like… She likes it! Parading her pretty jewelry around – who wears diamonds to work? And what kind of healer laughs at patients?" she added, as Moody had opened his mouth, trying to get a word in. "What, you think I'm making it up?"

"I think," said Moody, "that we could need a St. Mungo contact. And that they could, too. So if she's so interested in you-"

"Pah!"

"Use it. You know… keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "I'd recruit my cousins before I go for her. Hi," she said to the ill-tempered welcomewitch at the front desk, ignoring the man to her right. It was the sensible thing to do, as he'd just become invisible. "I'm here to take a statement regarding one of your patients. Apparently there was an incident at the ministry. Dai Llwellyn ward, please?"