Rufus Scrimgeour’s footsteps echoed through the brightly lit corridors of St. Mungo’s as he made his way to Healer Trelawney’s office. The renowned healer was known for her no-nonsense approach and her reputation for treating even the most problematic of patients. Given the delicate nature of Sirius Black’s situation, Rufus hoped she would set aside her personal feelings for the sake of professionalism.
Healer Trelawney’s office was meticulously organized, every item in its place. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned over the various medical texts stacked neatly on her desk. As Rufus entered, she looked up, her expression a mix of skepticism and professional curiosity.
“Mr. Scrimgeour,” Trelawney greeted, her tone clipped. “What brings you to St. Mungo’s today?”
“I need your assistance with Sirius Black,” Rufus began, his voice steady. “He’s in a deplorable state after years in Azkaban, and we need him to be presentable for the trial. Your expertise is crucial.”
Trelawney’s lips curled into a disdainful frown. “Ah, Sirius Black. The man who has been a thorn in our side for years. The fact that he’s being treated here, of all places, is a testament to our professionalism. But I must remind you, my Hippocratic Oath compels me to treat him despite my personal feelings.”
“I appreciate your commitment,” Rufus said, though he sensed her reluctance. “Let’s ensure he receives the care he needs.”
Rufus, accompanied by a team of Aurors, transported Sirius Black to St. Mungo’s. The journey was uneventful, but Sirius’s condition was evident in every slow, shuffling step he took. The gaunt, hollow-eyed man looked even more wretched in the bright, welcoming environment of the hospital.
Upon arrival, Sirius was escorted to one of St. Mungo’s private wards, a stark contrast to the grim confines of Azkaban. The ward was decorated with soothing colors and calming scents, designed to promote healing.
Healer Trelawney entered the ward, her heels clicking on the polished floor. She looked at Sirius with a mixture of disdain and clinical detachment. “Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Sirius Black in the flesh. You do realize I’m only doing this because I’m bound by my oath. Not because I have any particular fondness for you.”
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Sirius managed a weary smile, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. “I appreciate the help, Healer Trelawney. Even if you’re not thrilled about it.”
Trelawney grumbled under her breath as she prepared her medical equipment. “Thrilled is not the word I’d use. I’ve dealt with enough Death Eaters and their ilk to last a lifetime. You’re no different in my eyes.”
Sirius, despite his weakened state, found a perverse pleasure in Trelawney’s obvious discomfort. He leaned back on the bed and watched her work, his gaze reflecting a mix of resignation and humor.
Trelawney’s hands moved deftly as she administered restorative potions and examined Sirius’s condition. Her muttering continued, punctuated by occasional curses. “This is what happens when you let scum like you run loose,” she muttered. “It’s always up to us to clean up the mess.”
Despite the grumbling, the potions began to take effect. Sirius’s pallor improved slightly, and the oppressive weight of Azkaban seemed to lift, if only a little. Trelawney’s begrudging professionalism ensured that Sirius received the necessary treatment, though her frustration was evident.
As the treatment progressed, Sirius attempted to engage in conversation, though he kept his questions minimal. “How long do you think this will take? I’m not exactly in a position to wait around forever.”
Trelawney rolled her eyes, but her tone softened slightly. “You’re fortunate we’re giving you this chance. The trial is imminent, and you’ll need to be presentable. The restorative potions will help, but your recovery is also dependent on your own strength.”
Sirius nodded, though his thoughts were consumed by the upcoming trial and the lack of information surrounding it. “I understand. I’m just trying to make sense of everything. Why the retest?”
Trelawney’s expression darkened slightly, but she remained professional. “The Ministry has its reasons. You’re not allowed to know all the details, naturally, for ‘security purposes.’ Just focus on getting better. That’s all you can do at the moment.”
As the day drew to a close, Healer Trelawney finished her work, leaving Sirius to rest. She cast one final, disdainful glance at him before exiting the ward. “Rest up, Black. You’ll need all the strength you can get.”
Rufus Scrimgeour, who had been observing from a distance, approached Trelawney as she left. “How is he?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“He’s making progress,” Trelawney replied curtly. “The restorative potions are having an effect, but it remains to be seen how effective they will be in the long run. We’ll continue to monitor him closely.”
Rufus nodded, appreciating the Healer’s efforts despite her clear lack of enthusiasm. “Thank you for your assistance. We’ll ensure that he receives the care he needs leading up to the trial.”
As Rufus departed St. Mungo’s, he reflected on the complexities of Sirius Black’s situation. The road to justice was fraught with obstacles, but with the preparations underway, he hoped that the trial would bring clarity and, ultimately, justice for all involved.