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Dilys Derwent

St. Mungo’s Healer 1722—1741

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 1741—1768

Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party closely as though counting them; when Harry caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait and vanished.

Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.

“It’s these—ouch—shoes my brother gave me—ow—they’re eating my—OUCH—feet—look at them, there must be some kind of—AARGH—jinx on them and I can’t—AAAAARGH—get them off.” He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

“The shoes don’t prevent you reading, do they?” said the blonde witch, irritably pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. “You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!”

As the wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Harry read the floor guide:

...

ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS. . .Ground floor

Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.

CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES. . .First floor

Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.

MAGICAL BUGS. . .Second floor

Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrojungulus, etc.

POTION AND PLANT POISONING. . .Third floor

Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable 2, etc.

SPELL DAMAGE. . .Fourth floor

Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms, etc.

VISITORS’ TEAROOM / HOSPITAL SHOP. . .Fifth floor

IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOMEWITCH WILL BE PLEASED TO HELP.

A very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now. “I’m here to see Broderick Bode!” he wheezed.

“Ward forty-nine, but I’m afraid you’re wasting your time,” said the witch dismissively. “He’s completely addled, you know—still thinks he’s a teapot. Next!”

A harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out through the back of her romper suit.

“Fourth floor,” said the witch, in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. “Next!”

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