[st. mungo's] risen from the bottom. [montse]

It was hard not to curse under his breath in a language he doubted anyone near by would be able to understand. It was even harder not to forcefully push them out of his way as he entered the wizarding hospital. Nemsi knew he shouldn't be here, he knew the risk, but he wasn't about to walk away like so many others had. He was appalled by the nature of English witches and wizards who would just walk by as a small child so clearly suffered. The boy was filthy, in tattered clothes, and half the weight he should of been. It was obvious he was a street urchin but it was also painfully obvious that he was sick. And in a way that a simple charm or potion couldn't fix, his eyes were sunk into dark pockets and his skin was scaly and rough. Nemsi had never seen anything like it before but as soon as he saw the condition of the boy he had set down what he had been planning to purchase from a vendor and instead attempted to speak to the young child. How so many others before him had just passed by, ignoring or pretending not to see, he didn't know. He didn't understand.

After some coaxing and quite a language barrier the wizard finally convinced the child to let him bring him to the hospital. He had been trying to keep a low profile, get what he came for, and leave but clearly that was no longer in the cards. If it meant saving the child's life or at the very least saving him from some pain it would be worth it. Even if he was found. Even if it meant danger. He was wearing a lose black cloak, big enough to hide himself beneath the hood should he need to but it was down now. All of his clothes were unassuming, blacks and browns and nothing fancy. Typically he barely wore shirts let alone wizarding robes and his strong muscular arms looked out of place beneath the thick fabric. Scooping up the weightless child easily he did his best to ignore the smell, knowing it wasn't the boy's felt and knowing that he was so much more sensitive to it than an average wizard. He aparated them to the hospital, a place he'd been to only once before, and felt his aggravation rising as they asked him to fill out paperwork instead of seeing to the child's needs.

"I do not. know. his name." He told them slowly, his deep voice becoming more and more stern as he did. Barely conversational English skills left the tall wizard pausing between words and forming strange phrases instead of full sentences. "No." He said often when they asked him things, even things that required more than a simple yes or no answer but it was all he could do from lashing out at them for being so clerical. "He needs help." He said as anger and frustration took hold and he set the boy down in a chair not far from the desk. He picked up the clipboard they were trying to get him to sign and smacked it against the counter top a few times, trying to get their attention even though two more nurses were standing behind the first now. An older one tried to speak slowly but that didn't help, it never helped. "No. paperwork." He said gruffly before smacking the counter again and motioning toward the boy who was barely awake behind him with the clipboard he wanted to break in half. "Help. Him."

@Montserrat Fábregas

Montserrat tucked her hair neatly behind her ears, taking a look at how exhausted she looked and stifling a yawn before opening the faucet to wash her hands thoroughly. She hummed a nursery rhyme to herself as she did, making sure to wash up to her elbows, using the paper towel she conscientiously withdrew from the dispenser to wipe the water that had spilled onto the counter. The quiet of the bathroom was a nice distraction from the commotion outside, it was uncharacteristically busy in the children’s ward and after treating a young boy who had broken a few bones after an attempt to ride a broom gone awry, three women had gone into labor at around the same time, the young woman somehow involved with all three pregnancies and needed to assist in all three labors. She tucked a pen into her robes as she exited the bathroom, making a mental list of all of the things she had to do before returning home in the evening, and that would only happen if she was allowed to go home. Montserrat had been at St. Mungo’s on a hellish 16 hour shift and could seriously use a proper bath and much needed sleep but kept her complaints to herself, the children were waiting to be seen and their troubles were much

As she moved back to her office, her attention was grabbed by the nurse’s station, the man’s obvious frustration at the nurse’s caused her to approach the desk cautiously. It was part of their training, dealing with frustrated patients as it came with the territory. People would come in, tense and extremely on edge and it was the nurse’s job to sort of smooth things over and calm everyone down while gaining the information necessary to serve the patients as effectively as possible. “May I be of assistance?” the young witch asked, tilting her head in concern as the nurse explained the situation quietly, pointing to the clipboard in the man’s hand and then nodding towards the child sitting in the seat close to the desk. Montserrat nodded quietly as she observed all parties involved for a moment before moving over to the child, and crouching down so that she could be eye level with him. “Hello there, love,” she started, a bright smile on her face as she took in his appearance, looking for specific signs that would hint to his ailment. It was obvious that the child had been neglected, and she glanced at the tall men in effort to understand the connection between the two of them—though she wanted to believe that the man had nothing to do with the child’s condition, one could never be too sure. She took the boys pulse, taking a mental note of it before standing up.

“Don’t worry, Nancy, I’ll handle it from here,” she announced and one of the nurses nodded in appreciation before moving to another client, “I apologize, sir,” she said to the man standing at the desk, “I’ll see to him right away,” she reached out for the child, picking him up in her arms as she moved into one of the smaller rooms, waiting for everyone to settle in before closing the door behind her. A nurse helped her lay him down on the examination table, “Could you tell me a little bit about him, sir?” she tried, looking at the man, before looking back down at the child, opening his tattered clothing to take a look at how painfully emaciated he was, she swallowed softly at the sigh. Bringing the stethoscope from around her neck, she looked down at him with a smile, “Don’t be afraid, I’m Montse and I just want to make sure you’re alright, if it’s too cold, let me know,” she added breathing on the chestpiece in order to warm it up before pressing it against his chest, “Breath in, then out slowly,” she encourages. “I think I’d like to start him on some fluids, and draw a bit of blood to start, but I do need a little information and a signature from an adult, is that alright?” she spoke to the man while looking down at the boy, turning to him with a small smile.

He watched with aggressive, protective suspicion as a tall lean witch approached him and then the boy. By nature Nemsi didn't trust anyone, but the boy's wounds were out of his depth and he knew he needed help. He hated to ask for help. Hated it more than he hated vegetables. More than just about anything. But he wasn't so proud a man that he wouldn't do something to help the young urchin. His needs, his pride, no longer mattered. It was about the child. He grunted as she moved to take him away, refusing to leave his side even though he had yet to be asked to. She had a soft voice and kind eyes but he was still wary even as he followed her past the nurse's station and into a small room.

He hated small rooms too.

Feeling trapped and especially like he didn't fit the tall brute of a man grew rigid. She asked him a question, he was fairly certain of that, but he took a moment to formulate the answer. He wasn't ignoring her but finding it hard to bring about sentences in the language she was speaking. He hated London as well. Everyone here spoke English, it was narrow and boring. He was still trying to figure out how to answer her first question when she placed the strange shiny thing on the boys chest and Nemsi took a step forward without realizing it. Eyeing the device sharply he folded his muscular arms over his chest. "What is it?" He asked, pointing at the stethoscope quickly before returning to crossing his arms. She said more words and he liked the sound of her voice but when she said blood he felt his heart jump. "Why? Why you need blood?" He asked, feeling like this medicine was absurd. Since when did fixing someone mean stealing their blood? They needed their blood. It was supposed to be inside the body, not outside, what kind of healer brought the blood outside? Nemsi far from understood practical medicine. They didn't exactly have a sterile operating bay on the Demonfish.

"Blood inside. Not outside." He told her in short abrupt sentences before growing frustrated. "Charm?" He motioned toward the air around him, above his head, in a circle before pointing at his throat. "English, charm?" He asked again, hoping she knew the spell that would allow him to understand what she was saying and the other way around. Nemsi knew very few spells and he'd never actually had a wand. Where he came from they were obsolete. Wizards from his part of the world used other types of items to harness their magics. Items more useful than ornate sticks that broke and got lost. Nemsi of course knew very little real magic, having never attended formal wizarding school, but of course he wasn't about to share that weakness with a stranger.

“This?” she looked over at the man, puzzled by his question, but she smiled anyway, she could sense from the way he acted that he was wary of her intentions and without second thought, answered him, “It’s a stethoscope,” she replied smoothly, putting it back around her neck, “I wanted to make sure that his chest and heart,” she pointed to her chest, “sounded alright,” she explained, shifting the boy around on the bed to make him more comfortable as she waited for the nurse to arrive.

“The blood,” she explained, taking the time to write some notes in her chart, she could tell from the boy’s clothing that he was not in the best condition and wanted to take every precaution to make sure that he was generally healthy—after he was rehydrated, then she could go about seeking advice regarding his situation. “Is to make sure everything inside is okay,” she explained simply, there was no need to go into details, most patients felt intimidated when fancy words were thrown at them and from the brief exchange they had had, she could tell that English was not his first language either.

Though she was still unsure of the relationship between the man and the child—he seemed oddly protective, so the idea that he they were strangers did not occur to her. If they were, in fact, acquainted, why was the child in such condition? She frowned a little but it was no time for such questions. The last thing anyone wanted was to feel accused of a crime when he had taken the first step forward: he had brought him to St. Mungo’s and she would do her best to help him.

She eyed him curiously, his words confusing for a moment before it dawned on her, of course, how could she have been so silly as to not consider that. Nodding as she understood his meaning, reaching into her robes to withdraw her wand, she uttered a quick spell as she had been taught in school. Montserrat rarely used it, preferring to go through the trouble in order to encourage herself to learn the language but it was necessary, she suddenly became curious about his origin and the language he spoke but as long as he understood her, she would save the personal questions for a more appropriate time. “Can you understand me more clearly, now?” she tried, watching as the nurse arrived, putting her hand out to stop her and give her time to explain, “We want to make sure that everything is in running order, sir,” she said cautiously, “Don’t worry, he is in very good hands, St. Mungo’s is one of the best in the country, and I’ve a great team of pediatricians on my side to fill in all the experience I lack,” she reassured him, “Would it be alright to proceed now?” she wanted to move at his pace.

She looked over at the boy and sighed a little, he looked weaker than he had only a few minutes ago, her hand reaching out to stroke his hair as she looked over at the man expectantly. “Do you have any questions you’d like to ask first?”

It was obvious on his face that Nemsi was more than frustrated with not being able to understand what she was saying and more importantly what she was doing to the boy. Modern medicine always looked like torture to him. He was used to potions and salves and humming, not cold metal objects and needles. He brought the boy here because he knew they would do what they could for him but it didn't mean he understood what they were doing. Nemsi didn't know why he cared so much about the health of a stranger he had just met but maybe he saw a little bit of himself in the boy. Maybe if someone had taken a moment to help him when he needed it he wouldn't of ended up in such horrific surroundings. Maybe things would be different. He sucked in a harsh breath of air when she pulled out her wand. Even though he'd asked her to perform magic it didn't make him any more comfortable. He didn't trust wand magic either, how could he, he'd never seen it used for anything but bad.

"Yes much better." He told her, chin raised, as the words she was saying were suddenly presented to his ear's in his own language. It was nice to hear it even if he knew it was a lie. He spoke comfortably back to her in his own tongue and began to relax only ever so slightly. This was progress at least. As soon as he felt a little better another woman came into the room and Nemsi tensed right back up again. He saw the first witch hold her back, noting her superiority and valuing it. "Yes." He told her shortly to answer her question, she could proceed. She was being polite and respectful and now with the barrier of language between them temporarily solved Nemsi wanted to allow her to do what she was trained to do. He knew he couldn't do it, he came here for exactly this, so he would get out of the way.

Stepping back and finding himself up against scratchy wallpaper he watched as Montserrat and the nurse began their work. She asked if he had any questions and of course he did. "What is a... pe-di-atrician?" He sounded the word out as she had said it. It was a word that did not translate to his language and thus a word he did not recognize. "Is that your name?"

 
“Fantastic,” she responded, smiling when he confirmed that he could finally understand her. Relief washed over her and her shoulders relaxed, before she nodded in the direction of the nurse so that she may continue the examination as she stepped to the side. However, Montserrat kept her eyes on the man before her, taking note of his body language in order to stop the nurse should he become agitated. His response to both of them was slightly alarming, nevertheless considering the current state of the boy, it would be insensitive to say that it was not warranted. There seemed to be more to it, though, almost as if his fear originated from a previous experience with healers and that thought made her considerably upset.

Montserrat could sympathize in a way, it was not as if all healers gave off an aura of friendliness and invitation to conversation. It made the young witch wonder about his past and sympathize with it as well, even though she had absolutely no idea where he was from or how he had ended up in London. Although she was very curious, she bit her tongue, this was not the time for those sorts of personal questions after all.

“Oh Merlin, no,” she looked back at the nurse that laughed in turn at his question, their laughs were not malicious however, but the though of anyone ever going by the name pediatrician caused a peculiar image to appear in her mind. She could only assume that he was not familiar with the word because it was not a word that was used in his country, though that sounded like an odd conjecture considering that one could only assume that the world was full of doctors that focused on children’s medicine. Even the muggle world had the same term. Regardless, she did not ponder on it much, it didn’t really matter anyway.

“A pediatrician is a doctor for children,” she explained simply. Of course, Montserrat was not a pediatrician just yet, she had almost completed her course, that much was true, but still had much to learn by the way of medicine. The man before her, however, did not need all that extra complication. So, she moved on, “My name is Montserrat Fábregas,” she disclosed, “It’s a bit of a mouthful so often time I go by Healer Fábregas or more commonly, Montse,” she started, “May I know your name as well?” she asked gently, not wanting to provoke another guarded response as she picked up her keyboard, “And the boy’s if you don’t mind? I’d like to write the information down so that we can process him, he may be here a day or two depending on the results but I will make sure to explain everything in detail before it’s done, so please rest assured that we just want to help,” she emphasized, in case he was unsure of their motives.

He looked from one healer to the other and back to the first when they began to laugh about his question. Silently he cursed the translation charm, assuming it was faulting and had made him sound like a fool in their language. The only thing that kept him from becoming truly upset was the sound of her laugh. It was melodic, soft, it was comforting like maybe he could trust her. People lied with words but it was much harder to lie with expressions. He liked the way her laugh sounded, it nearly made him smile. When she told him of her name he tried to mouth it out, sound out the words the way that she had said them but it was a lot. The way the words formed was so foriegn to him but Monste was something he could wrap his mind around, that was close enough to something he recognized to be able to repeat without massacring her name. He didn't want to offend her by saying her name incorrectly. "Montse." He repeated, finally smiling ever so slightly only to have the small grin torn from his face only seconds later.

Nemsi had begun to relax again but instantly his shoulders tensed back up and he held his chin high, suspicion in his voice. "Why do you need my name. I am not being healed." He told her, not meaning to sound as rude and ungrateful as he might of. He was paranoid and secretive but for good reason. He had to be just like he had to help the child but he couldn't sacrifice his safety and the safety of his loved ones for the child's either. He wanted both. He wanted to leave his name entirely out of it but there was something about the way she held herself, the way she spoke, the way she smiled, that made him want to trust her. Something about her was different than most people he had met, it was something good. Maybe she was good. He hadn't had much experience with true goodness in his life but perhaps someone who dedicated themselves to treating and helping children was that: good. Honestly good. Maybe she could be trusted.

"I do not know his name. I found him on the street." He told her bluntly, the charm doing it's work as his words sounded strange even as he said them. Magic was odd. "Nemsi, I am Nemsi." He finally confessed, his hand reaching to point at his chest as he did. He didn't give her a last name but it was a lot for him to even give her that. There was more than just a simple word to name. Nemsi knew of the magic that could be performed just on a name alone, not that he thought she would be up to any of that darkness, but he was cautious even so.

"What will you do with him?"

She smiled in return at the sound of her name, his pronunciation was almost perfect. It had been a difficult thing, adjusting to a difficult culture and a different language when she had finally dared to move to London to attend Dilys. While Montserrat had certainly studied English intensively before, it felt different when her entire world, one that had felt so comfortable when she was speaking in either French or Spanish, suddenly felt restricted by what she could or could not say.

There were many things that Montserrat was unable to say even now, her pronunciation of everyday phrases making her feel embarrassed for not being a native speaker. So, when the man before her attempted to learn her name, repeating her pronunciation as closely as he could, she could not help but to admire such a small act. The fact that he smiled afterwards, even if for only a moment, made it even better. Montserrat felt slightly accomplished, maybe it was a sign that he was finally letting his guard down.

At least that’s what she had hoped before he tensed up once more as she asked for his name, “See here,” she tried, moving closer to him cautiously as she attempted to show him the papers in her hand, circling the part at the bottom of the form. “As he is not an adult, we have to get permission to treat him, since his rights as a patient are just important as anyone else’s,” she started, pausing for a moment to make sure that he understood what she was saying, “It would not be fair for us to do all of these things to him without a parent or guardian’s signature. As you have brought him in, then I do need your name,” she stated softly, her eyes wandering back to the little boy as she nurse continued to take notes on his vitals and draw blood.

“I understand your hesitation,” she continued. In a way, Montserrat could. One had to be careful about who they allowed personal information, and one’s name was by far an important part of a human’s identity. For a moment, she wondered if there was an alternative reason that he would be wary of giving her a name, had he done something bad or wrong and was worried about repercussions? But even so, Montserrat did not dwell on it. He seemed like a good man, she would not become suspicious of someone without a good reason. Everyone was good at least to a certain extent.

“I see,” she responded in return when he admitted to not knowing his name and made a note of it on the form. Montserrat was still learning about how these things worked, and therefore needed to ask someone else. But she did not want to give him the impression that she was very inexperienced and so she kept that part to herself. It didn’t matter anyway. “It’s nice to meet you, Nemsi,” she responded with a sweet smile, and simply wrote that down, not feeling comfortable asking for much more. Montserrat did not enjoy bending others to her will, a first name was fine for now. “We will take him in to do some tests, have him rehydrated, and make sure that all is well with him. It would be best for him to stay here a couple of days but you needn’t worry about all of that. Once he is settled into a room, I will call the authorities and they can help us locate his family or a temporary home for him,” she explained.

“It would be fantastic if you could stick around to speak to them in person, since you found him and they would want a full report I assume,” she continued, nodding towards the nurse as she wheeled him out, to the next room. “For now, you can wait in the waiting room,” she said, “I’ll escort you,” she offered, moving slowly towards the door. “Could I also interest you in some tea or coffee while you wait? It may be a few hours,” she explained.

Despite his suspicions, of which there were many, Montse was putting him at ease. He felt like the young wizard would be in good hands with this witch. She seemed not only to understand what she was doing but to easily pick up on the nuances of the situation, even if Nemsi couldn't. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as she took notes. He was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and wondering if she would do him the same favor. He didn't know the child but it wouldn't be the first time assumptions were made during a situation like this. He was a grown man bringing a young wizard in all beat up and sickly, it wasn't hard to leap to the wrong conclusion, but she didn't seem to be. The way she just wanted to gather information and not jump to the wrong answer made him relax slightly. "Nice to meet you." He repeated what she said, the translation charm helping him understand what she had said so he could return it.

And then she said something he was not ready or willing to hear. "No, no." He said, hands up in front of him and head shaking as he began to slowly step backward toward the doors. "No auth-or-ties." He repeated again the word she had used, now knowing what it meant. He didn't want to answer their questions or deal with their suspicions. "They will... assume wrong things." He tried to figure out the ways to say what he meant and the language magic was helping but not nearly fast enough for him to feel confident in the meaning. He began to speak in his own language, fast and hoarse, clearly upset by her wanting him to stay and wait while she got the authorities. She wanted him to stay and talk with them and for a moment he began to consider it. She seemed so trustworthy and truly kind, like she wanted to help, and he wanted to believe her. She was a healer after all. She wasn't an enemy. Nemsi was paranoid and he couldn't help it.

She moved toward the door and he felt himself being ushered out. He stole one last look at the poor kid who was lucky to be in the care of such a well-versed mediwitch and followed her out. Towering over her height Nemsi felt like a child moving along behind her in the narrow brightly lit hall. He tried to take a few quick steps, to move to her side and speak with her about this 'authorities' business but every time he almost peered past her he would have to slow down to let someone pass by them. The hall way led into a larger waiting room and finally he could see her face again.

"Montse, I can not wait for authorities."

"No more questions."

It was not until this very point that his hesitation worried her. What was it about the authorities asking questions that concerned him? Montserrat had never been in trouble with the law but wanted to believe that law enforcement officers had the citizen’s best interest when approaching delicate situations such as these. He did not look familiar, she considered, not someone whose face she had seen on a wanted poster nor did he seem the type to have put these injuries on the young child. Then again, Montserrat had always seen the best in everyone, even when they had done very little to deserve such trust. “Please do not worry, I do not believe that you had anything to do with this,” she reassured him, hoping that her words would somehow ease whatever consternation he might have in regards to what would happen should the authorities show up. “I think you did a very kind thing, most would have simply looked the other way, so thank you for your act of goodness,” she added with a warm smile.

However, it seemed that her words only managed to make him upset, something that she was not expecting. Had she offended him somehow? She hurriedly thought over her words, wondering what exactly might have encouraged such a reaction. Attempting to smooth over any misunderstanding with a smile, she hoped that stepping out of the room would somehow ease the tension between them. Montserrat had never intended to offend, nor look down on him, and she intended to clear such up in the brightly lit hallway. However, she did not want to do so in front of the child, it was obvious that he had gone through enough, watching two adults argue over him would only manage to upset him even further she figure. In fact, Montserrat felt ashamed by the way she had handled the situation to begin with, she was supposed to help the parent or guardian feel safe with her decisions, not threatened by them. It was yet another reminder as to why it was imperative for her to really consider what she said, and made a mental note about it to seek council from one of her many mentors on how to handle such harrowing situations.

She turned back to him when they finally reached the waiting room, her eyes looking up at him in what she hoped would convey equal parts concern and warmth. “I apologize for offending you, it was not my intention to make you feel forced to do something you are not comfortable with,” she expressed slowly, gauging for his reaction as she did. “If you are curious about the boy’s diagnosis, I can…” she started, looking around before lowering her voice, “call the authorities after the exam results have been released so that you can return home with a peace of mind. Alternatively, I can owl you if you feel comfortable…?” she continued, hoping that it would not sound as if she were seeking his information to later stab him in the back.

His concern with law enforcement had only managed to make her curious about his dealings with them but she knew that this was neither the time nor place to ask such personal questions. “I think it’s important for him to see you again before you run off into the night,” she said, smiling a little at her use of words, “For your sake and his,” she added, nodding at his request.