Chapter Text
All in all, it began as a great day for Rachel. No one dying, low numbers of patients, and no stupid magic accident they had to lost hairs on by trying to solve it. A pretty normal night.
...that was before someone came up to the room she was in and explained the situation to those present.
Apparently, someone found a child on the shore while exploring. The explanation was rushed, and didn't make a lot of sense, even when in her job, she had to decode handwrittings everyday. Still, the situation didn't seem too bad from what they'd been told, and so there was no need to worry.
-----
There was all reason to worry.
Rachel was completely and utterly, panicked. Red lights firing, barked orders from her head of team, and a sense of urgency that she never felt so intense before in her time of working as a medi-witch.
It was a crisis.
Three people were already requested to get supplies, jokes of the night shifters fading away, conversations stopping at the same time the loud opening of the double doors was heard. If that wasn't enought, the distinct sounds of urgency and panick finished to end the previously easy-going, lovely atmosphere.
Rachel hands gripped the cold metal of the stretcher hard, her knuckles turning white, quickly walking in a chacophony of hurried steps towards the nearest avaible room, her face pale with horror.
She immediatly had to apply bandages, her colleagues simultanously applying spells for healing and others monitoring the extent of the injuries at the other side of the stretcher.
On it, a eleven year old boy, covered in blood.
Pale skin, too pale in her opinion. Blond wavy hair that would probably be in a brighter shade normally with how blood stained his strands were. A golden leaf on a pin that was presumably a fake one, was the only object that appeared to be of value on the boy. Lastly, his black clothes with little grey accents were unfortunately torn and muddy.
Rachel had to press on the large injury that was likely from a diffindo across his chest, needing to keep him from bleeding out.
He had a few broken bones, a lot of thin but deep cuts, bruises and what looked like recently healed injuries. It was hard to see much more with the amount of blood still covering his clothes and skin.
However, the most proeminant and worrying injury was the mess that was his right cheek.
What looked like the result from a curse she couldn't recognize, traced a pattern of lines that reconnected into one area before ending in other lines across his cheek, below his eye. At that place, his skin was red, burned and chunks of it missing, the deep wound being a disturbing sight.
...she was sure that, had this dark magic touched his eye, he would have lost it.
Even more worrying, his breathing was slow and weak, barely there, the boy hanging on for his life. Blood was dropping down from the sheets near his head, where a
diagnosis spell from someone near showed he had a head injury, probably from a great shock, and was immediatly tended to by two witches. This one was serious, with it being a head wound. But again...the general state of the boy was just as worrying.
The child was uncousious, and, in some part, she tought it to be a mercy with how much pain he would be in, especially since they'd be unable to erase his pain without being unable to detect more wounds. The process of lightning up the areas of where the injuries were didn't work that well when the boy had so many. And it wasn't like they could stop checking his state if they wanted to save him.
It was about 5 in the morning when they finished doing what they could, stabilizing the boy with the help of other people coming along on the crisis, getting him all bandaged, supplies going around levitating everywhere and diagnosis after diagnosis in order to keep track of the state of the patient.
Now came the hard part. They couldn't use more spells on him, since in order to heal properly he'll need potions and, most frustratingly, time.
They didn't have any information on the boy, only being called by a panicked wizard that was exploring the shore. It didn't help that, with his head wound, the child would most likely lost his memory....and that's if he survived at all.
Magic could do a lot of things, but it wasn't a miracle, not for healing, at least. It helped, but it didn't mean it could save anyone, it couldn't heal all injury. And so, they couldn't do anything but wait and hope for the young boy survival.
After a few weeks, the patient was, finally, out of danger of dying.
While changing the patient clothes, a discovery was made : written in the inside of his shirt were the words "Lloyd G." While they had no idea what the G for the family name was standing for, they at least had something to call him.
However, it became very clear that the patient-Lloyd- had lost his memories.
More concerning was that we weren't able to establish what curse had struck him across his cheek, and they often debated on what exactly the cause was and what to give him for it to heal.
At the end, they weren't able to prescribe him anything and so they had to do it the muggle way.
The results weren't very promising; when Lloyd did wake up, it was only for short period of times, and he was still very weak. His healing process was slow, and he likely wouldn't be able to walk for weeks, and wouldn't be standing up and going around in months before he could be completely healed.
Driing ! Driiiing !
Uh. It has been a while since someone had used the telephone they had, nowdays most people just sent owls. Maybe it was a emergency in a muggle family ?
"-yes, this is St Mungos Hospital for Wizards, Britain. What can i do for you ?"
-"*** *** ***** *** ******* ** * **** **** ** **** *** ******* ***"
-"while this is..sudden and, frankly, odd, yes i suppose you can arrange it with the requiered departement- what did you say your name was, sir ?"
-"***"
The witch paused, going still for an instant before realizing she was still on a call and continued it. Once it ended, she put down the telephone. Her jaw dropped.
She hastly went to the resting room to take coffee, and when one staff member asked why she was acting like she was hit by a Rictusempra, she couldn't help but say : "the Lord Corbax came back to britain. He just called, him, by a fricking muggle phone !"