Mid-September
He let out a sigh as he heard the sound of wicker bristles on the stone floor of Hogwarts. A sound to his ears that was as bad as chalk squeaking on a chalkboard as someone pushed to hard on it.
Unlike the hospital in Belfast, that his mother managed to convince someone to let him help out a bit at it, Hogwarts was predictable. Over the summer in Belfast it was always busy and with the skirmishes resulting in injured he’d spent weeks fetching bandages and potions. As the reality was Hogwarts, for its predictability, had not prepared him to be much of a help in the scheme of things. Yes, he only started working in the hospital wing last term. However, he still had thought as the injured had come to the hospital he’d been working at over the summer he’d of been able to do more.
Though as he got off his seat off to the side of the wing where he was studying his potions textbook for lack of anything else to do. Him and the various shifts of assistants before him in the day had handled all the routine cleaning and bed making meaning there wasn’t much to do. So rather familiar with the particular sound of wicker bristles against stone floor he was hearing he walked towards the door to the wing.
It was Rodger. For some reason it almost always was Rodger the third year Hufflepuff boy who despite having balance issues was determined to be a professional broom racer. Or that was what Rodger told everyone anytime he was given a chance.
Bear let out an audible huff as he just looked down the hallway at Rodger’s approach.
With a shake of his head he watched as Rodger approached leaning on his broom and dragging it within a few steps time as he waved walking side to side. The Rodger had blood coming from their right arm and the right knee appeared to be ripped and bloodied as well. Even worse this time Rodger had managed to somehow get grass stains on the whole right side of his body. The only assumption he could make was the boy had slide and fell off his broom landing on his side with a skid. He was pretty sure similar happened last spring.
He shouted into the wing and said loudly “ Our fearless flyer Rodger is coming in. “ He knew that would give everyone in the wing a clue, or if not they’d soon learn the predictability of Rodger.
Once at the bed he helped Rodger into it and said “ What hurts the worst. “
To which Rodger said “ My leg, and just cut off the pants like you did last winter “
Words he didn’t even hesitate to follow as he started to cut the right pant leg of Rodger’s pants starting at the ankle and going all the way up to the thigh. Thankfully Rodger was wearing boxers which were left uncut.
