poppys-pomfrey·:
Where: Hogwarts Infirmary
When: October 22, 1986
Who: Poppy &Â @doloresjaneÂ
After the drama that had come from the ball at the Nott estate, and the whirlwind of emotions that came with the end of October, Poppy was glad to be back at work. While busy, she knew what to expect in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. She ran the triage list in her head:
Two first years who were stirring a a cauldron as it exploded. A seventh year boy with what wizards called Kissing Curse- though Muggle knowledge left her with an understanding that it was just plain old mono. And finally, yet another fifth year girl whoâd attempted cosmetic spells on her face.
Poppy was wringing out a cloth with a cooling salve as she heard the click-clack of footsteps approaching the Hospital Wing. She draped the cloth over a drying rack and reached for another, dousing the fabric in the salve entirely. Poppy could hear the difference between adult footsteps and a childâs- and given she was quite consumed with her children as it was, Poppy didnât habe the time to deal with professors following up with her.Â
âCould you come back later?â Poppy asked, not bothering to look up from her work. Her hair was tied back in a high bun, her face stern as she concentrated. âWeâre quite busy today. You can leave a note in my tray.â Through her drying rack, Poppy saw a pair of pink satin kitten heels.
Things at the Ministry had been frightfully dull for Dolores Jane ever since the commotion at the Nott Estate, with blame being heavily thrown on the lack of Ministry security for prompting the attack on the Nott girl, and all of the Department of Magical Law Enforcementâincluding Doloresâ departmentâdevoting time and manpower to the case to try and save some face.
Except for Ms. Umbridge, that isâwhat did she care about Elizabeth Nottâs slimy little pureblooded brat? In all likelihood the child had just wanted a little bit of attention from the boring adults and their boring adult party and sheâd cried wolf; Dolores couldnât slight the child that, but she also just fully, unequivocally, unabashedly didnât care.
So what does Dolores Jane care about, then?âyou might ask. Well well, as a matter of fact, and speaking of âcrying wolfââŠ
Dolores had been cooking up one of her ideasâa true stroke of genius as they always were, but biding her time quietly, of course. You see, for reasons as of yet undisclosed (and far too ill-mannered and uncouth to expand upon here, thank you very much), Dolores had, since returning to her post at the Ministry at the denouement of the war, OBSESSIVELY wanted nothing more than to personally see the end of that odious brute, Fenrir Greyback.
So Dolores started digging, quietly poking around in the endless backlogs of Ministry paperwork until she found somethingâanythingâshe could use.
Enter onto the desk of Ms. D. J. Umbridge, Head of The Improper Use of Magic Office (ahem), a shiny beacon of possibility: the poorly-maintained, disgustingly disorganized Werewolf Registry, upon which that ugly name which Dolores so loathes has somehow unjustly conned its dastardly way out of inclusion. Well not on this watch, you flea-ridden muttâoh no. Dolores Umbridge is riding this golden ticket all the way to the top and dropping you head-first straight down to the bottom. Just you wait.
So Dolores did the legwork, scoured the research, logged the sweat (I mean not actual sweat, of courseâweâre not talking about blue collar drones, here, gag) that she needed to do to gain traction for the project; she knew she needed to uncover a big find to prove how lax and inefficient the current regulations were, before she could dream of going after her real target.
Which is how sheâd ended up tracking the activities of one Poppy Pomfrey (ugh, even the fucking alliteration tried at Doloresâ last nerve), particularly around each full moonâfor months and months until Dolores had compiled enough circumstantial evidence to conclude that the Hogwarts Healer was, most likely, aiding a werewolf. An unregistered werewolf.
âAhemââ Dolores cleared her throat at the attempted dismissal, standing up taller and standing her ground. ââIâm afraid, Poppy, that I canât come back laterâMinistry time is precious and mine even more soâŠâ She took one lateral step so that the rack was no longer blocking her from view, straightened her thick glasses, and continued, ââŠare you aware, my dear, that purposefully ignoring official correspondence from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is, in fact, a punishable offense?â Dolores bit back a smile, deliberately starting small and holding her other cards close to her chest, for now.
