There's a time & place for joking, this isn't it. Date: 03 December 2005 Characters: Harry Potter, Michael Corner Location: St. Mungo's Private/Public: Public Rating/Warnings: N/A Summary: Harry runs into a familiar face while getting a quick burn healing.
Harry had run out of burn salve a week ago, a point that had been driven home by his his superior Aurors quite bluntly just this afternoon. Limping slightly on his charred right foot, he made his way through to the burn ward of St. Mungo's with grimaces and a sour taste in his mouth. Cursing his training boot to burn him as a way to teach him not to run out of the basic supplies wasn't a practical joke Harry found all that funny, but the guys in the locker room at the Ministry had been quite amused. Cursing them under his breath again (not a magical curse, mind you), he sat down in front of a pretty little redheaded mediwitch and explained the spell that had been used on the boot. She chuckled slightly and fixed him, handing him a big tuber of salve before sending him on his way with another light laugh. Harry waited till her back was turned and made a face at her, nonetheless grateful that he again had a fully functioning foot.
Hopping down off the table, he made his way through the hospital corridors with a new bounce in his step, excited to get back to the office and get back to work (who needed medical absences? You were always bound to be banged up, Harry figured). There was much to do, with Matthew's kidnappers still on the run and Neville having asked for Harry's help in particular. He wouldn't sleep, wouldn't play practical jokes in the meantime. Shaking his head at the thought, he entered the main lobby and was surprised to see a familiar blond head in the crowd.