Of Blood, Boils, Pustules and Potions ...

Prologue

Albus Dumbledore stood at the head of the staff room's conference table, smiling serenely around at his colleagues who sat with baited breath in anticipation of what was to come. Savouring the moment, Dumbledore surveyed the assembled: to his immediate right sat Minerva McGonagall, her back ramrod straight, looking as prim and proper as ever. Beside Minerva, emitting a faint odour of compost and decaying leaves sat Pomona Sprout, and beside her Celeste Sinistra. Hagrid took up the next three spaces, followed by Violet Vector and perched precariously beside her on a dangerously piled heap of cushions teetered Filius Flitwick. Sybil Trelawney had decided to inflict them with her presence and was at that moment wrestling a sullen looking Head of Slytherin for his tea cup. Severus Snape sat to Dumbledore's left and it remained undisclosed that the darker man secretly relished his place: it was like being sat at the left hand of God.

Taking pity on his Potions Master, Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, prompting Sybil to loosen her grip on the piece of china with a wistful glance and further muttered prophecies of doom.

"Sadly, I must inform you," the old Headmaster began, "that Poppy's sister has been taken ill and regrettably she must leave us for a few days. Therefore, to take charge of the Hospital Wing in her absence, Poppy and I have decided responsibility should fall on the only three among us who have sufficient medical knowledge and expertise," Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect, "namely Minerva, Severus and Pomona."

All eyes turned to the three aforementioned professors.

"And what of our classes, Albus?" Minerva asked.

"Poppy will only be absent over the weekend, Minerva, therefore this shall have no impact on the students education." His Deputy nodded briskly in reply and Albus waited for the growls of protest from Severus or the unenthused sighs from Pomona, and was surprised when none came.

'Goodness, no excuses, no quibbles? It's that old wandless magic called charm, Albus,' thought Dumbledore, 'you've still got it!'

-x-

Later that same evening, Poppy Pomfrey was grabbing her hat and cloak whilst babbling on at the two witches and surly wizard who were sat looking bored on one of the Hospital Wing's beds, "And remember, Susan Bones and Lavender Brown will be up to collect their monthly Bubortuber puss for their acne treatment, but make sure it's diluted well. And for Merlin's sake Severus, don't make any insensitive comments!" Severus huffed indignantly but was thrown knowing looks from the other two witches and instead crossed his arms and began to scowl.

"I've written you all a list of the regulars and the address of where I'm staying if there should be an emergency and you need to floo me, and if you lose that, Albus has a copy. I think there's enough Skele-Gro, let me go and check-"

"Poppy, if there isn't, Severus will make some more," Minerva interjected, taking her flappable friend and colleague by the arm and steering her towards the doors, ignoring Severus' mutterings of "Oh yes, of course Severus will do it. Severus doesn't even need to be asked politely, he'll do whatever he's told..."

"Now be off with you! Go and take care of that sister of yours, we'll be fine holding the fort here."

"Yes, yes, I really should be getting off, look at the time..." Minerva nodded, guiding the other witch through the doors and out into the corridor. She was just turning back to rejoin the others with a roll of her eyes when-

"Did I remind you to check-"

"-Filius takes his Chamomile Capsules because otherwise he gets hyperactive?" three voices finished for her.

"Yes-"

"Now get you gone!" cried Minerva, pushing the flustered witch out through the doors and shutting them firmly behind her. "Honestly! Two days, the Quidditch Season has yet to begin and no lessons- what does she think could possibly happen that three fully trained healers couldn't cope with?"