𝟙- 𝔸 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕟 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖

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*slight mention of abuse (more so the aftermath).

Hospitals never seem like a joyful place, the atmosphere in this particular ICU mimicked that easily

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Hospitals never seem like a joyful place, the atmosphere in this particular ICU mimicked that easily. The all-pervading smells that greeted the visitor once the heavy doors opened, was overwhelming.  Some smells are expected for a usual visitor - like blood, antiseptic and vomit just to name a few. But there is another predominant smell that people don't expect is to be able to smell, tears. It is clear as day that the smell of a hospital personifies life and death, pain and pleasure, love and heartbreak, happiness and sadness.

Once through those doors people then notice how the corridors seem never ending and there's a constant bustle of people pushing past. All around are clean white walls with bright posters advising the reader with things like 'Quit Smoking' or 'how to avoid the flu'. There are pleather blue chairs that look like they should be comfy but definitely aren't, beside them a overly noisy drinks machine and a few house plants. It is like they try to make whoever is here feel positive as they walk through - but that is almost impossible.

Almost everybody will visit a hospital at least once in their life, whether for themselves or to visit loved ones. However this environment was entirely foreign to the older gentleman as he sauntered in and approached a large wooden desk. When he reached the desk, the lady behind lifted her head and began to greet him.

"Hello Sir -" Before the receptionist could continue on her rehearsed welcome to the ward she couldn't help but notice the clothing the man was wearing and the length of his beard. The lady couldn't stop herself thinking 'my gosh he looks just like Merlin from that Disney film Sword In The Stone'.

The man in front of her began to chuckle before hastily covering it with a small cough to clear his throat.

"Hello Madam, I am here to meet with Dr Bertha Weber." The older man spoke nonchalantly, behaving like he was blissfully unaware to the way he attracted attention.

"May I take your name Sir?" The receptionist spoke politely, even though her mind was thinking many strange things.

"Ah of course, how rude of me." The gentleman extended his arm forward for a handshake, a formal greeting the receptionist wasn't anticipating. "My name is Albus Dumbledore."

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"Thank you so much for coming Professor Dumbledore, I am aware it may have seemed very strange to receive an owl from a long past student." A middle aged lady sat behind a wooden desk, paperwork piled neatly to unimaginable heights that amplified her professionalism.

"Nonsense Ms Weber, it is always an honour to hear from past students" Dumbledore responded pleasantly. "However from your owl it seemed something of deep importance was bothering you."

"That is true. Merlin I don't even know where to begin but I need your advice." Dr Weber placed the tattered takeaway coffee cup down on her desk with a sigh.

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