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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months ago

Note

Could we get a follow up to Dealer!Remus and Shy!reader where we get a glimps into their book date? Absolutely loved what you did with their first interaction ✨

Part one wc: 792

You’ve changed outfits at least three times already and you’re not sure if what you’ve got on now will be your last outfit.

Remus texted you half an hour ago to let you know he was on his way for you with a well worn copy of ‘You’ve Reached Sam’ and directions to a cafe that served the best hot chocolate and sticky buns.

You’re pinning your hair down when there’s a rap at your door. “Fuck,” you mutter as you shove your socked feet into your shoes and grab your book off your vanity before rushing down the stairs.

You take a couple seconds to catch your breath before opening the door.

Remus stands before you in a burnt orange sweater that features a black cat on its back kicking up a purple ball of yarn, and dark brown corduroys.

He’s also got a small bouquet of flowers in his hands- baby breaths, pink roses and a couple peonies.

“Hi,” you hope you don’t sound as awkward as you feel. Sure Remus is nice and he’s possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes upon, but it makes him a little more intimidating.

“Hi,” his smile is slow and easily given. “You look lovely.”

He means it too. You’re wearing a red Christmas sweater over a white collared shirt that's got little pink stars on it, a black skirt and ruby red Mary Jane’s with hot pink socks with a star rainbow on the ankle.

In your hands is your prized possession; the last book you’d read that you’d gone home and annotated after you left Remus’ dispensary.

“Thank you,” you motion him inside. “Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.” You manage the words without tripping over them and for that you’re grateful.

Remus hands them over as you fill a vase, watch as you carefully take them out of the cellophane and snip the ends.

“Ready?” You ask as you look up, finding Remus’ gaze laser focused on you. Dear god, you hope your nose isn’t sweating.

“Yeah,” Remus smiles when you pull the door shut behind you, your perfume floats behind you and he gets a good bit of the cappuccino, whipped cream and caramel scent and decides it’s the only thing he wishes to smell for the rest of his life.

“Do you know which hot chocolate you’re getting?”

You bite your lips as Remus opens the passenger side door for you and shake your head.

You deliberate your words carefully, you fight the urge to nibble on the side of your nails- Mary had just painted them a pretty red for the season.

Your voice is soft and a little quiet, but Remus hears you just fine as he buckles himself into the car.

“I usually get a peppermint one, but I like the classic one to form an opinion.”

Remus nods, a smile on his face as he starts the car.

“That’s a good plan, dove.” The pet name slips out like it’s the most normal thing, and Remus doesn’t miss the way you flip the book over in your lap nervously.

“Did you know there was controversy about the story?” You ask quickly, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear as you hazard a glance at Remus.

“I did not. Can you tell me or will it cloud my judgement?” He catches the barest of smiles on your face and wants to keep it there.

“It might, maybe when you’re finished I’ll tell you and you can let me know if you agree with it or not?”

It comes across flirty and it wasn’t your intention but Remus chuckles softly and nods so you don’t rush to take it back.

“I would love that,” he parks and turns to you as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I have to forewarn you,”

Your breath hitches, your hands gripping the book in your lap as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“The book does make you cry.”

You breathe out harshly, your eyebrows smoothing out as he smiles at you- all mischief and a little bit of teasing.

“You’re mean, Remus.” He chuckles with a tiny shrug.

“C’mon, let’s go get our treats.”

You spend nearly two hours in the cafe, talking with Remus over a sticky bun and a hot chai instead of chocolate because it went better- per Remus’ suggestion.

In turn he’d taken your suggestion of a hot chocolate and a slice of orange cinnamon coffee cake which he loved.

The date was wonderful, Remus got you an extra sticky bun to go and you’d smiled when he kissed your cheek at your doorstep.

You smiled even more when he didn’t drive off till you shut your front door behind you.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x shy!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x black reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin headcanon

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supercap2319 · 6 months ago

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"Hey, Owen? If I go to jail for being in love with a guy who robs dispensaries and promotes gangbangs, I'm gonna call myself 'Dynamite'. It'll be my prison nickname." Y/N says with glee.

Owen looks at his naive and innocent boyfriend with a smile on his handsome face. "Oh? And what are you going to be doing in prison, 'Dynamite?'"

"Getting super buff with this guy named Moose, lifting weights, getting a tattoo, and eating pudding. I wonder if they only have chocolate and vanilla?"

The taller male laughs. "Hopefully."

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #drugstore june #danny griffin #Owen Mcavoy #Owen McAvoy x male reader

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1d1195 · 2 years ago

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Love and Dryer Sheets I

I haven't figured out how long this will be just yet but I anticipate at least three parts. This is where I'll keep the rest of it: Love and Dryer Sheets

~3.6k words (I know it's shorter. I just want to post and get some more ideas flowing)

Warnings: Harry is VERY grumpy/angry, right person, wrong place.

“I never miss the opportunity to say I told you so,” she giggled.

Harry snorted as he chuckled. “Your boyfriend mus’ love that,” he mumbled.

“Very smooth, Harry.”

The door slapped open and hit against the wall loudly so that she had no choice but to look up. The sound was followed by a tall man entering the room with a scowl on his face. He looked like he was having an internal argument with someone that wasn’t even privy to the conversation. She glanced away from the page she was reading briefly at the noise but turned right back to the book to give the grumpy person their own space. But it didn’t stop her from discreetly peeking up from the novel to catch sight of how pretty the man was. The first thing she noticed was his height and his scowl. But his hair was the color of chocolate twisting around his head in the softest, gentlest curls she had ever seen on a man. His skin was tanned, and he looked like he should be a model for sweatpants. Below the scowl, she could just make out that his eyes were green, but she was too far away to make out much more.

Except that he was very beautiful.

So beautiful that not even his crankiness could take her mind away from the idea of him. It seemed wrong that he was so angry. Someone as attractive as he was shouldn’t have been that upset. Especially about laundry. The anger had to be misplaced.

Stop analyzing a stranger just because he’s hot. Her brain yelled at her.

“Can’t even...” he grumbled. “Fucking laundry,” he slammed the washer lid shut and continued his angry mumbles.

She pretended not to hear and stopped stealing glances. It seemed he only just realized he was doing laundry because he muttered something unintelligible about detergent as he made his way over to the little dispensary machine containing fabric softener and the like. He dropped five quarters in it, grumbling the entire time, and twisted the knob. But unfortunately, there was nothing. No detergent fell from the space the way it was supposed to. She had only watched this man for all of a minute, but she already knew the inconvenience was going to be bad for his already crummy mood.

He slammed the side of his fist into the machine causing a loud metallic clang to echo through the room. Loud enough to be heard over the sound of the washers and dryers running throughout the room. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He ran a hand over his face. She wondered what his next move was going to be but without her really realizing, she started to speak.

“Hey, I have detergent if you need some,” she offered kindly. Smooth. Her internal voice rolled its eyes. Interact with the maybe psychopath yelling at laundry. Honestly, she did it more as a favor to herself than to the stranger. Conflict was one of her least favorite things. Even if he was having conflict with an inanimate object. Growing up in a household where her parents displayed argument after argument as if it were normal for two people who “loved” each other to constantly talk in terms of passive aggressive remarks and angry tones for hours of her childhood did a number on her. As it was with the laundry debacle here, it felt like it was her responsibility to mediate the argument. Reduce the tension. Find a solution.

He only just seemed to realize he wasn’t alone in the communal laundry room. It was a bit naïve on his part to forget it, even. The laundry room was often one of the busiest spaces in the apartment building. Moreover, there were about five or six washers and dryers going at any one time—like right now. Usually, people just left their stuff but here was this girl sitting on top of the washer, one leg propped up so she could lean her book against it while the other dangled over the front of the machine and rested on the top of her overturned tall basket.

The angry air left him in a heavy sigh. He turned more directly toward her. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he sounded a bit shy. Embarrassed by his outburst it seemed. She slid off the washer and lifted her basket right side up to reveal the jug of detergent and a bag with folders and papers in it. Briefly he wondered what they were, but it was none of his business and it was weird he wanted to know. He hadn’t even learned her name yet.

“S’okay. Laundry can be intense, I get it,” she joked.

He smirked, feeling the annoyance leave him the longer he looked at her. She was so pretty. He shouldn’t have thought that way. Not at all. But it was impossible not to notice. Her hair was in a ponytail and pieces were falling around her face like she meant for it to frame her features. It was like the little strands were pointing directly at her with the intention of drawing his eyes across her kind face. The slope of her lips, the way her cheeks bloomed as she smiled gently at him, how the corners of her eyes crinkled and her lashes brushed against her cheeks when she blinked.

Stop. It. His brain hissed at him.

“Thanks,” he said taking the jug from her and moved over to his washer. He felt all the anger that was rattling his body disappear as he undid the cap, poured the liquid into it, and started the washer. He returned the detergent back to her. “Sorry, ‘bout m’slamming around,” he said sheepishly. “S’jus’...been a day,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his head awkwardly, feeling bad that he looked like an idiot. She shrugged.

“S’okay, doesn’t bother me,” she reached out and grabbed his hand effortlessly. She turned it over as if she randomly grabbed strangers’ hands all the time. “Thought you might have hurt yourself,” she murmured and then dropped his hand. He wished she didn’t, though. Her gentle touch felt like heaven.

He cleared his throat because he absolutely could not find himself losing his mind over a girl he had met for thirty seconds. “M’Harry,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled introducing herself. “I just moved in... third floor, just a little under a week ago.”

Harry nodded. “Welcome,” it sounded a little sarcastic, but not in a mean way. “M’on the fifth floor,” he said. Tell her. Tell her right now. His conscience shouted at him. She hopped back into her position on top of the washer and resumed her reading position. “You don’t have t’stay with your clothes,” he told her as he checked the dials on the machine he was using.

“Hold over from college. My last apartment building was also not very good about it,” she shrugged. “I don’t trust it, but I don’t mind. I have a good book.”

Harry glanced at the title, committing it to memory so he could go purchase his own. No. Don’t. Stop it. You can’t do that. His conscience was screaming but he simply ignored it. It was the first time he didn’t feel angry in hours. She was just this bright little spot in the basement of the apartment building. It was a rainy Saturday and the only light coming in was from the egress windows. It wasn’t very light at all; merely the sun trying to force it’s way through the clouds above but getting trapped among the rain drops. Harry was feeling angry and the weather wasn’t helping.

But there was this...kind and lovely angel just sitting on a washing machine. Inspecting his hand for injury. Pure, gentle, perfect sunlight.

“Gotcha,” he murmured. “Well...m’doing other chores and things...I’ll be back down later.”

“Okay, nice meeting you, Harry,” she smiled. “I hope your day gets better,” her words were warm with kindness. It made him feel off kilter. He had been so angry all day that he nearly forgot what it was like to feel...happy.

He managed to smile at her, give a little wave, and left without another word.

Shortly after he left, she found herself a little flustered by the interaction. She was surprised she inspected his hand like that. It was totally out of character to be so forward—offering detergent and help, checking for injury. But really, taking his hand allowed her to admire the tattoos that lined his wrist and forearm and how the veins in his hand looked like the prettiest spiderweb she’d ever seen. Part of her hoped she would run into Harry again while doing laundry. Smiling, she returned her attention to her book and thought she really wouldn’t mind being around Harry for a longer time period.

Harry’s anger was renewed as he headed back to the laundry room. His chest was achy with the feeling of anxiety and a pressure forming from the annoyance he felt in his life. Part of him thought he should have just stayed in the laundry room with the girl that reminded him of sunshine.

That’s a stupid idea, and you know it.

He was really beginning to hate his conscience.

But his anger skyrocketed further as he entered the laundry room to see piles of laundry on top of washers. First, he was irritated because he was going to be livid if someone touched his clothing. This hadn’t happened in the year and a half he had lived there. But of course, it was going to happen on a day that he was simmering in anger over everything. Maybe more importantly, he thought he had given poor advice to Sunshine, and he was not happy that he did that.

Did you seriously just call her SUNSHINE? His brain was having independent thoughts, but Harry ignored it.

He was practically shaking with anger as he marched over to the washer that he had used earlier in the day. Other washers had piles of wet, crumpled clothing items on top of them waiting for the person to find them and be just as bitter and annoyed as Harry was. But instead, Harry found the washer he was using and none of his clothes had been moved. He felt his face pinch in confusion. That didn’t seem right.

But in place of a lump of wet clothes, was a piece of paper. He felt the confusion deepen. At the very least it made him forget how angry he was. At least for a few minutes. Scrawled across the paper read:

Out of Order. Do NOT use. -Management

Harry felt a new wave of anger wash over him almost instantly. If his clothes were damaged or stuck or something he might lose his mind. But he opened the washer and found his clothes were perfectly spun out. Smelled like the air after it had just rained. The confusion he felt continued as he pulled the items out of the washer and dropped them into the basket so he could throw them in a dryer next. He reread the note on the lid trying to figure out why the apartment management would say the washer was broken when it very obviously wasn’t.

He pulled the paper off the washer allowing someone else to use it now. As he did, he caught sight of writing on the back.

Told you so :) -304

Harry felt the urge to run out of the laundry room, wet basket of clothes and all, and knock on the door labeled 304 until she answered. He wanted to read beside her. Ask to use one of her dryer sheets or whatever it was that made her laundry smell so good. Her little knowing “told you so” didn’t even bother his already fragile, grumpy state. In fact, it only made him like her more.

STOP IT. His brain shouted. Shaking his head, Harry rid himself of his thoughts of Sunshine. What else am I supposed to call her? He asked rhetorically to his conscience. Instead, he tried not to think about her. He had only chatted with her for all of four minutes and that couldn’t have been nearly enough time to think he was already falling for her...right?

Today she was laying across two washers, a book above her head. She didn’t notice when people filtered in or out and no one paid any mind to her either.

Until Harry showed up.

“More laundry?” He asked.

She smiled, folding the corner of her page down and sitting up so she looked less crazy. Harry had a basket at his hip, and she noted there was a jug of detergent on top of the pile of laundry inside. “I love laundry,” she shrugged.

He wrinkled his nose at her in distaste. “M’least favorite,” he murmured.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” she frowned.

“Thanks for saving m’washer the other day,” he said dumping the items into the washer along the back wall—opposite of where she was seated.

She smiled down at the book in her lap and then looked up at the back of his head. “I never miss the opportunity to say I told you so,” she giggled.

Harry snorted as he chuckled. “Your boyfriend mus’ love that,” he mumbled.

“Very smooth, Harry. Unlike my ex-boyfriend, my imaginary one thinks that my perfectionism and tendency to be right is admirable. He clings to my every thought and word,” she fluttered her eyelashes cutely. If she were magic, she would have made a halo appear above her head.

He rolled his eyes at her and nodded. Tell her! His conscience yelled. RIGHT now. He ignored it as he had been since the last time he saw her. “A new book?” He asked instead.

She nodded, flipping the book over in her hands inspecting the front and back cover carefully. “Yeah...I try to read three books a month. The last one was a little dense but this one is a quick read. Entertaining, ya know?” She smirked. “It’s a little cheesy but it’s cute. It makes me happy,” she shrugged.

Harry thought that was sweet. He wanted her to be happy.

Stop. It.

She watched Harry throw everything in the washer in one load. “You should separate the light and dark stuff.”

“I’ve never had a problem with it before,” he shrugged. “S’this you trying t’be right again?”

She laughed and looked at her lap. The heat rose to her cheeks. “No, actually. Told you, just really like laundry. I notice a difference in my own stuff. But if you don’t obviously it’ll be fine,” she shrugged back. “I just really like laundry,” she repeated.

Part of him wanted to do exactly as she said. But even Harry, not just his conscience, thought it would be too much. She watched as he poured in the detergent, closed the lid, and then he hopped on top of his washer just like her. They were facing one another. She could see how green his eyes were now, a little bloodshot around the iris, she wondered if he had a late night and what from. His smile was sweet, a deep dimple dented the middle of his cheek depending on which side of his lips lifted when he smirked. But right now, he was smiling completely, making him look so innocent and boyish. It made her stomach flutter.

“So...are you in school still? Or do you have a job?” She asked.

“M’gainfully employed. Work in the financial district.”

“A corporate sellout,” she remarked neutrally.

Harry smiled again shaking his head at her banter. “Oh? And you, Sunshine? Y’work for the Lollipop League?”

“It’s the Lollipop Guild, and Lullaby League, actually. But no,” she snorted. “I work in the hospital as a counselor,” she said. “I can see how you would think it’s like being on the set of The Wizard of Oz.”

Harry tapped his fingers against the washing machine and pursed his lips at her. “Mus’ be a tough job,” he murmured.

She nodded. “It’s rewarding though. Gives me a cathartic cry about once a week,” she opened her book back up to where she stopped. She felt Harry watching her though and she realized she probably shouldn’t have admitted to an almost stranger that she cried so often.

Harry hated the idea of her sadness. She was the embodiment of sunshine. Tears shouldn’t have been allowed in her eyes nor on her face. His conscience was angry and loud. Harry Styles stop it.

She let the silence wash over them and Harry didn’t seem to mind. They both went to their books and read silently for a while. She giggled cutely every so often and Harry thought it was an adorable sound. He wished he could ask what she had read. He wanted to recite things to her that made him think of her.

Harry was properly and crazily losing his mind.

The words on the pages of her book blended together. She thought Harry was meant to just be looked at for hours upon hours. He was so insanely beautiful it made her mind turn to mush.

He had to be her soulmate, surely. He mentioned her favorite movie and book completely unprompted. She wanted to ask if he had ever read the book or if he liked the movie. If he would ever want to watch it with her in her apartment cozied up on the couch with apple cider. Growing up, her dad read the twenty-four chapters in a loop over the course of months and years. She found Oz completely magical. It was unbelievable that a total stranger would bring it up.

It had to be fate, right?

She could probably recite the book from memory. When she found out about the movie, she watched it on VHS and then DVD and now streamed it at least once a month or played it in the background when she did chores. It was something she had little ones watch at the hospital and she dressed up as a different character every Halloween to pass out candy to the little ones when trapped in their hospital rooms.

Fortunately, her washer buzzed, alerting her she was done, and Harry glanced up briefly and gave another cute little smirk that she was beginning to think was simply meant to keep her up at night—and maybe looking for things to wash.

“So...s’jus’ you in apartment 304?” He asked.

She smiled to herself. If this was his way of flirting it was lame. “Yeah, just me.”

“Awful lot of laundry you’re doing,” he muttered.

She threw her stuff into a dryer, tossing in the scented beads that made her clothes smell good along with a dryer sheet. “I told you I do laundry the right way.”

He chuckled and she thought that his laugh might have been her new favorite sound. “S’fair, I suppose,” he remarked. Slipping off his washer, he inspected her new book and the back cover. He mentally wrote the title down once more. “Do y’have a favorite book?” He asked.

She nodded. “S’kind of silly. It’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. My dad used to read it to me before bed. And I like history and there’s theories on the symbolism for the populist movement—I don’t know. It just makes me think of my childhood and of course the movie was just—” She stopped suddenly, and Harry was completely riveted by the beginning of her explanation.

“What, Sunshine?” He asked so gently. It felt like he was wrapping her in his arms and whispering in her ear. It was like he was trying to reach into her chest and hold her heart in his hands himself. It was sweet and she hated how nice it felt after they had spoken in total for maybe seven minutes since meeting.

She didn’t turn around to look at him. But she could feel his gaze warming her as he watched her fiddle with the dryer. “Just...don’t want to bore you about The Wizard of Oz.”

He ignored what his conscience was shouting at him once more. “I don’t think y’could bore me,” he murmured.

She turned then, looked at him with these beautiful round eyes that he swore were little suns and brightened the whole room as she met his gaze. “Guess the only way we’ll find out is if we keep chatting. Tell me about your book,” she suggested gently. It was an invitation and Harry didn’t really know what to say because the book hardly made any sense over the last few minutes. He was intently focused on her when he was supposed to be reading. He managed to make up something about how it wasn’t much of a page-turner yet but liked it well enough and thought it would get better.

Eventually, Harry’s washer signaled it was time to switch to the dryer and he worried their time was truly limited because before he knew it, her dryer was done. She stayed to fold her stuff, and they continued reading and chatting casually.

She was falling hard for Harry. It seemed it was inevitable. Between the gentleness he showed her in such a short time, the mention of her favorite story, and simply being there during her favorite chore, it was like Harry was meant to meet her. Meant to find her in the laundry room and befriend her so quickly.

There was no use denying she hoped it would escalate to something more.

Harry’s conscience continued to tell him what a terrible idea it was to keep up this...pretense with her. But his heart was saying that he needed warmth, needed the kindness she showed in just the little bit of time he had been around her.

Sunshine was his cure.

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#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

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mushroomsbuyonline · 7 months ago

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saintsenara · 10 months ago

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What are your thoughts on mediwitches and medical care in the Wizarding World?

thank you very much for the asks, @thesilverstarling and @yorickofyore, which i have handily combined into one for the chance to talk about a worldbuilding question i am legitimately obsessed with:

what the hell is going on with wizarding medicine? part one: the structure of the healthcare system

as i've said here, something which is really interesting when thinking about the wizarding healthcare system is that the signing of the statute of secrecy - the event which causes the total separation of the magical and muggle worlds - in 1689 takes place before a period of considerable advancement in western medicine.

i really like the fact that the canonical worldbuilding around potions suggests that many disciplines of wizarding science are more closely rooted in the medieval and early-modern history of science than their muggle equivalents. i also like the fact that the natural end point of the archaic muggle technology which is used in the series to make the wizarding world seem whimsical by virtue of it being old-fashioned [steam trains etc.] is to assume that wizards live in a world where cutting-edge medical technology is unheard of...

and, therefore, to think of wizarding medicine as a discipline which is meaningfully distinct from its muggle cousin.

and which isn't necessarily more advanced...

the historical context

a muggle physician working in what is now the united kingdom when the statute of secrecy was signed lacked much of what we would take to be basic medical knowledge today, even if he'd studied medicine at a university. he wouldn't know what germs were, for example, and he might still believe that the body was governed by four humours [a theory which was starting to be questioned at the time]. he would never have seen a stethoscope [not invented until 1816]. he would consider the microscope [first used in a scientific context in 1666] bizarre, new-fangled technology - and he is unlikely, especially if he worked outside of london, oxford, or cambridge, to have ever seen one.

he would have had less opportunity to learn about human anatomy, no matter the form his training took, than medical students today. dissections were fairly uncommon, for religious reasons, and surgery didn't really exist as a field... not least because anaesthesia wasn't available until the middle of the nineteenth century.

this is not to say, however, that his anatomical knowledge would have been wrong.

he would probably have relied for his understanding of the inner working of the body on a text called de humani corporis fabrica [on the fabric of the human body], published in the 1540s by the belgian surgeon andreas vesalius. this text - a detailed study of the human body [which supplanted the handbooks in use prior to the sixteenth century - those of the roman physician, galen] - was possible because vesalius managed to obtain a steady supply of executed criminals to dissect. it's a fascinating text - not least because it's still pretty accurate.

as a result, our physician would be aware of many of the major medical discoveries of the later 1500s and 1600s - such as the structure of the musculoskeletal system, the fact that blood circulates in the body, and the fact that the human lungs require the inhalation of air to function.

unless the need for a surgical treatment [such as the extraction of a tooth or the amputation of a limb] was obvious, most of the treatments he would prescribe would be herbal - and his dispensary would include not only plants from all over eurasia, but also from european colonies in the americas.

he might, for example, be found prescribing chocolate... which would make madam pomfrey happy:

“Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least,” said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry’s eyes. “I’ve already had some,” said Harry. “Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us.” “Did he, now?” said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. “So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?”

it's important to note that many of these traditional herbal remedies genuinely work. plenty of modern medicines are developed from them [the most widely known, i imagine, being aspirin], and anyone taking a herbal remedy should be aware that they need to check how this remedy interacts with any other medication or supplements they take [especially - i beg - if the herbal remedy in question is st john's wort...]

but it's also true that our early-modern physician would spend a lot of time prescribing various odd pastes, poultices, potions, and powders, made from ingredients such as stones, spiders' webs, animal blood, and human body parts.

[he might even have recommended some of his patients swallow a bezoar - even if the efficacy of these as a cure for poisoning was starting to be doubted in the seventeenth century...]

and his go-to treatment would - of course - be bloodletting, to remove "bad blood", the cause of myriad ills, from the body.

jkr is - obviously - extremely fond of using these medieval and early-modern remedies as part of the worldbuilding around magical medicine. she's also fond of extending the obsolete technology which is used to make the wizarding world feel whimsical into the realm of the body - wizards wear monocles and use ear trumpets, both of which are assistive devices, because they make the setting feel more magical to a reader in 1997 [and beyond] than glasses and hearing aids.

but there is - if one wants there to be - a sinister undercurrent to the idea that all aspects of wizarding healthcare retain a pre-modern flavour.

wizards do canonically have attitudes towards the body, illness, and disability which, when interrogated, don't seem to have moved on much from the 1680s... which is why this answer is definitely going to end up having a part two, on wizarding attitudes to the body.

for now, though, let's look at how the healthcare system is structured.

the structure of the wizarding healthcare system

the two medical institutions we see in canon - st mungo's and the hogwarts hospital wing - are whimsical pastiches of aspects of the british healthcare system: st mungo's is an nhs hospital [hence the reason it seems to be free - although i think it's interesting for authors to imagine that it isn't...] and the hospital wing is a boarding school infirmary.

st mungo's is immediately familiar to anyone who has worked in a hospital - especially characters like this patient from order of the phoenix:

“And that woman over there,” he indicated the only other occupied bed, which was right beside the door, “won’t tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings.”

but the structure of the modern hospital - its departments, its staff - is a post-1689 invention, as are the non-hospital spaces [gp's surgeries, dentist's and optometrist's offices, pharmacies] in which healthcare takes place.

and so how might the places in which healing occurs differ from their muggle equivalents?

st mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries

like any hospital, st mungo's offers a combination of emergency and specialist treatment. it doesn't seem to offer general healthcare - such as check-ups - and it doesn't seem to offer treatment for minor-to-moderate ailments.

this makes sense given its real-world influences - in the uk, most aspects of most people's everyday healthcare are the purview of a general practitioner, and specialists tend not to be seen outside of specific, often more serious contexts.

[for example, i'm a woman in my thirties who has never had an appointment with a gynaecologist - something which shocks american friends. this is because everything to do with reproductive healthcare that i've had to do in my life so far - such as cervical screening - has been done by my gp's surgery.]

st mungo's also doesn't seem to perform general dental or optometrical services. this is also the case in the uk.

we know from canon that it has wards which treat long-term residents - such as the longbottoms. in muggle britain, this wouldn't exactly be the case - nhs trusts manage certain types of residential treatment [such as psychiatric hospitals, or brain-injury rehabilitation centres], which tend to be on separate sites to hospital buildings, but long-term care homes and assisted-living facilities are managed by private companies or local councils. the wizarding population is evidently too small to have any form of local government, so this becoming the purview of the healthcare system makes sense.

what is more interesting, though, is that st mungo's doesn't seem to treat anything which doesn't have a specifically magical cause...

community care

we see in canon that wizards prefer to treat even fairly serious magical conditions in the home [with the hogwarts hospital wing as the pseudo-domestic stand-in] - in the form of ron's fake spattergroit in deathly hallows.

we can also assume, then, that things like birth and death [as well as the treatment of non-magical conditions] also generally take place in the home - and that this is why st mungo's doesn't seem to offer any sort of obstetric care.

and this will have an impact on how wizards understand things like birth, death, and aging which - while not divergent from the muggle understanding of these things historically - would be massively at odds with the muggle attitude contemporarily. only around 2% of births in the uk take place at home, for example - and since around 43% of deaths take place in a hospital and 20% take place in a care home, it is now a minority experience to die in your own home. multi-generational living is extremely uncommon for british muggles outside of specific demographic groups. it would presumably not be - since gerontological care must take place in the home - for british wizards.

[i am aware of the wizarding care home in the cursed child, but i think we can either ignore this as not-canon, or imagine it working as an almshouse - such as the royal hospital, chelsea, founded in 1682 - the early-modern equivalent of a care home]

similarly, the treatment of chronic illnesses must generally take place in the home - which offers a really interesting insight into why, for example, remus lupin appears so much less healthy than werewolves like fenrir greyback, who live in quasi-familial community groups.

so too must the care of the terminally ill - which means that wizards would retain a relationship with death that muggles are increasingly detached from. i was struck when talking about deathly hallows with some friends that they were surprised that fleur delacour can see thestrals - and they automatically assumed that she must have witnessed some sort of traumatic death for this to be the case. but if her grandmother [who seems, as of goblet of fire, to be dead] went through the process of dying [which is not immediate!] at home, she would probably have been there to witness and understand it. this is an entirely natural part of the human experience.

and this means - as we'll come to in part two - that who doesn't get treated in the home becomes an interesting question...

healers and their training

the stringent academic requirements for healing training in canon are a pastiche of those needed for a medical degree in muggle britain. medicine is an extremely competitive subject [as in many places worldwide, the number of places is capped] and all uk medical schools require top a-level [the final-year exams which newts are a mirror of] grades.

in the wizarding world - since university education doesn't appear to exist - the subject is taught by apprenticeship. this makes sense - all muggle medical degrees have a considerable practical component, and i think we can easily imagine that trainee healers are also required to attend lectures etc.

however, since there doesn't appear to be general medicine in the wizarding world, healers seem to apprentice from the off in specific specialities.

similarly, on their wards, they seem to function as a combination of all the levels of staff you would find in a muggle hospital - a doctor would not, for example, hand out christmas gifts on a ward - and there doesn't seem to be any hierarchy post-qualification. you can only be an apprentice or a healer - instead of a junior, registrar, consultant etc. [or the american near-equivalents - intern, resident, attending etc.]

but all of this makes sense if we consider it alongside the fact that a lot of treatment must take place in the home. healers are - by their very nature - advanced specialists in a specific [and apparently narrow] range of magical illnesses and injuries, who presumably deal with such a small number of patients [arthur weasley is on a ward with only three people, supervised by two healers - i think many of us who've worked in muggle hospitals would kill for that ratio...] that they are able to take the holistic role they do in canon.

other medical staff

and so most aspects of wizarding medicine must be administered by people who are not [by virtue of formal training] healers - both within the home and outside it.

madam pomfrey, for example, seems to have a different, lower level of training than a healer - not least because her title, which she shares with other non-academic staff like madam hooch, is intended to indicate that she is below the hogwarts professors in terms of qualification [however wizards understand this when it comes to fitness to teach]. we see in canon that she needs to send patients to st mungo's for specific magical injuries which she doesn't have the training and/or equipment to treat [mcgonagall after she's stunned in order of the phoenix, katie bell after she's cursed in half-blood prince], but that she's able to treat most magical injuries which are non-life-threatening, and most non-magical injuries and minor illnesses.

in the uk, a school matron would generally be qualified as a nurse - and madam pomfrey reflects this. obviously, this is primarily a narrative detail which helps the [british] reader understand the wizarding world by referencing something with which they are familiar, but from an in-world perspective it suggests that there is a hierarchy of medical training which we don't hear about in canon.

perhaps even because it would be considered beneath the alumni of as elite a boarding school as hogwarts to go into the equivalent of nursing...

[indeed, the apparent absence of credentialism in the presentation of healing being revealed to be a lie would fit the way the series approaches class... and the class distinctions, not only in terms of post-qualification social status, but in terms of background - in 2016, 61% of people studying medicine or dentistry were privately educated - between doctors and nurses in the uk are significant.]

and so i imagine that general medical treatment - as well as more specialised disciplines like midwifery, dentistry, and optometry - is available in the wizarding world [for a fee?] from licensed [anyone offering medical care in england has required a license since the 1520s] community-based practitioners such as madam pomfrey, with people only seeking treatment at st mungo's for urgent magical cases.

there must also be a voluntary aspect to this community-based medical system - i've always assumed that the people who bring arthur weasley to st mungo's are volunteers rather than professional paramedics, for example - and treatment must also be available from shops - such as apothecaries, which can presumably diagnose ailments as well as sell the treatments for them - which provide medical services alongside various other functions.

[maybe the people who make objects such as james and sirius' two-way mirrors are also responsible for lens-crafting and other aspects of optometry.]

this can be a fun worldbuilding detail - historically, surgery [and most dental care] was provided by barbers. clearly, molly doesn't cut her sons' hair at home for financial reasons, but because the one time she let bill go to the barber's on his own, he came back with a gold tooth...

the medical research sector

while the wizarding world doesn't appear to have universities - or other research institutions which look familiar to the modern reader - it clearly has some sort of scientific infrastructure, within which medical and pharmaceutical research [such as the development of the wolfsbane potion in the early 1990s] takes place.

and we can very easily imagine what this infrastructure is...

the statute of secrecy is signed after the emergence in britain of learned societies - essentially, research organisations, which are modelled on the college fellowships of oxford and cambridge [with a little bit of the medieval guild thrown in]. they function as academic networks, peer-review groups, and professional bodies.

in the medical field, the royal college of physicians - which is still going! i'm a member! - was founded in 1519. in the natural sciences more generally, the royal society - probably the most famous learned society in the world - was officially established in 1663.

we know of at least one wizarding learned society from canon - the most extraordinary society of potioneers, founded by hector dagworth-granger - and we know that there are academic journals - such as transfiguration today - which can be presumed to be published by others.

it makes absolute sense that there would be a learned society which focused on the science of healing, and offered publications, lectures, demonstrations [imagine how horrendous the first demonstration of the wolfsbane potion might have been...], research funding, and so on to professionals working in the discipline. it also makes sense that there would be a college or guild for apothecaries.

the real question, though, is what these would be called... after all, the wizarding world tends to have a touch of whimsy to it, but since there's literally a clinical body in the uk called "nice", the muggles might have won this round...

#asks answered #asenora meta #on medicine #real special interest hours who's up?

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