Characters Allowed: Delame and Gideon…maybe a Healer or two…anyone who wants to pop in and visit
With a pop, I found myself in the Apparition point at St. Mungo’s. A kindly old wizard smiled at me and put aside the crossword he was working on.
“Hello, sonny,” his voice whistled through his gums. “Who’re you here to see?”
“Abime Delame, sir.” I smiled politely as I shook off my cloak and went through the entry point scanner. His smile turned into a sympathetic one as the scanner blinked green and beeped an “all-clear”.
“Ah, poor man, read about him in the Prophet. To think, it happened on his honeymoon. I’ve heard of disastrous wedding nights—my own was one them,” he chuckled a bit, “—but that’s just too much of an extreme, isn’t it? Poor man.” He repeated with a shake of his head. I nodded and headed for the door that was waiting ahead of me. “The lifts are under inspection so it’d be quicker if you take the stairs, young man.”
“Thank you, sir.” I replied with a grateful smile and headed up the long flights of stairs leading up to the fifth floor. I smiled at a few of the healers and people I saw along the way. A few portraits greeted me along the way and I even managed a small conversation with the portrait of one of Dad’s distant cousins, Barthemia Prewett. She told me to watch out for some mad portrait a few floors up that likes to bother people with freckles.
“Calls them ‘spattergroit’, that loon.” She tsked as I thanked her and headed on. Luckily, I rushed up the stairs as soon as I hit the fourth floor, avoiding the portrait she told me about. I opened the door and a wave of cleaning potions and anti-bacterial antidotes overwhelmed my senses. It took me a while to get used to the sudden bombardment of sharp smells and for my eyes to clear. I walked up to the reception desk and told the blonde trainee who I was and why I came. She nodded and checked her clipboard before showing me around the ward and leading me to a secluded corner.
His room looked like an extra large cubicle. His bed was in the middle, against the wall. A standing lamp and a few chairs were on one side and a bed side table and one more chair was on the other. A neat desk, laden with books, cups, paper and quills and ink, was across from his bed. A lonely palm plant gave a small bit of color to the white room. I shuddered; it felt like a prison, a fairly comfortable one. Professor Delame was sitting on his bed, reading a small bit of parchment. The witch knocked on his wall and alerted him of our presence.
“Mister Delame? A visitor for you.”