WHO: Imogen Ollivander & Svetlana Kozlov. WHAT: Imogen's last patient of the day. Her Valentine's is going super well. WHEN: 14 February, 2018 - after the BOTCH Ball. WHERE: St. Mungo's. WARNINGS: None.
The first thing Imogen had done when she'd heard about the admittance of a few hoity-toity purists from whatever stupid event was running this evening was check to see if Graham's name was listed anywhere. Relieved to discover that it wasn't, and that most of the injuries didn't seem to be life threatening, she was about to finish her rounds and head back to Leon's clinic to check in on Lewis when Clement Max, her number one worst enemy of a hospital administrator, called her in with one last patient.
"Svetlana? Hi! I'm Healer Ollivander, how are you feeling?" she asked, entering the room and checking over the woman's files. "Have the pain potions kicked in yet?"
The woman, a well to-do purist of Russian heritage, looked up at the healer in disgusting lime green robes. She snapped a reply, quickly and angrily at the woman, and then rolled her eyes heavily upon receiving no response. Oh, right. These people didn’t even speak Russian.
“Is this what passes for medical coverage here? I am ashamed. Ashamed!”
"I'm sorry that you feel that way. Why don't I take a look at your leg and assess the damage?" Imogen moved to pull the blankets back gingerly, psyching herself up to hold firm just in case she got an earful of Russian again.
“My leg! It is very important! Do you know who I am? I’m Svetlana Kozlov, a figure skater of much renown, and you British will pay for this!” Still, the woman made no move to stop Imogen from checking on the (relatively) minor damage.
Imogen, of course, had absolutely no idea who the fuck Svetlana Kozlov was. Figure skating always looked beautiful, but wasn't exactly a sport she cared deeply about. And certainly not more than a currently cursed and deeply in pain muggleborn confined to a clinic, waiting for her shift to hurry up and end.
But Imogen had taken an oath. And this job paid her bills. So she sucked it in and began her inspection.
The leg was revealed to be three times the normal size, in strange shades of purple and red blotches, the curse bubbling beneath the surface of Svetlana's skin, threatening to cause the leg to swell further.
"Oh, I've seen worse. We'll have you right as rain in a couple of days," Imogen assured her as friendly as she could manage in the face of such entitled anger. "It looks like the mediwizard on the scene was only able to slow down the swelling. I'll have to stop it entirely and then work on bringing it down."
“A couple of days?!” Svetlana screeched, voice upping at least two octaves. “What kind of shady healers do you have here?” She huffed, and balled a hand into a fist. “I ought to—” she mimicked a stabbing motion, but then stopped half-way. “Are you even old enough to be a healer? Where are your credentials?”
"There is no need for death threats!" Imogen countered, frowning. "Look, I'm very sorry for what happened to you, but I'm only trying to help. Will you please sit up and move your knees to face me?"
“Have you not heard the rumours of my ice skate?” Svetlana tried to smirk, but it ended in a grimace as she shifted around, doing what she was told anyway.
She hadn't, but from the stabbing gesture, she could two and two together. "I very much hope that they aren't true. It isn't nice to assault people, Svetlana." Imogen reached over to tap her wand against Svetlana's skin to see how volatile the curse was at the moment. And also to check whether the poor woman's nerves were damaged or if she could still feel anything in her swollen leg. "Did you feel that?"
“It was not assault.” The corners of Svetlana’s lips curled and twitched, but then she shrieked as the healer’s wand touched her leg. “Ow, ow, that was assault!” Apparently, it was tender. Go figure.
"Surely you didn't kill anyone with your skates, Ms Kozlov!"
“You’re a healer, barely. Not a lawyer or Hitwizard.”
Officially irritated, Imogen straightened and checked the time. It was well past clocking off, and she was sure whoever was on night healing could handle any of Svetlana's emergencies, so she motioned for the nurse. "Monitor the leg until I'm able to determine which spell was used. Keep measuring every couple of hours, and replenish her potion. Maybe a sleeping draught will help for tonight?" That was more for the nurses than it was Svetlana.
To Svetlana, she smiled as nicely as she could. "I'll check in on you first thing in the morning."
“Or I will write Moscow and have a real healer sent.” Then, she crossed her arms and looked pointedly away from Imogen.
"Oh, and nurse, let's fetch her an owl. One that can get to Moscow," Imogen added, before exiting the room.