In an isolated system entropy can only increase

Here they moved into more precarious territory.  Shylock knew his definition of acceptable was bound to be a lot different than Robert Lupin's.  He could tell from the man's tone.

Shylock didn't like the sound of effects to his magical ability. And if he was suffering, then why was Destrey okay? He frowned.

"What do you mean how much I can do?  You mean how much power I can put behind a spell, or how many spells I can cast in succession?  There's an important distinction," he pointed out.

One of the greatest shocks of being ill, and probably one of the reasons nobody had noticed for so long was that Shylock had always been more suited to endurance than the rest of his siblings. He didn't know if his parents had done it deliberately, but the predisposition was there nonetheless. Besides, there were probably ways a creative mind could add power besides their own to a spell and Shylock had always been creative.

He sighed in frustration as Lupin asked about other symptoms.  

"Isn't that what your tests are for?" he asked.  "You said there were others."

"Let me try to explain,"he said, understanding that a lot of the things he often had to say were received with anxiety.  Sometimes the best way to cushion it was to help it make sense. "If you've ever damaged a muscle, how you experience it is relative, to some extent, to your own perceptions of it. How much you can flex that muscle might depend, to some degree, on how much pain you associate with that muscle. Someone else damaging the same muscle might be able to do less or more, depending on how their brain processes the pain or flexibility.


"So, I guess I'm saying that your experience could be unique to you.  Your magical system is part of your body's hardwiring, very similar to the neurological system. Your nerves aren't exactly color coded like wiring. Neurological damage is assessed in part by the symptoms that the damage causes.  In using your magic, it could affect spell potency, range, accuracy, sustainability, control, memory, imprinting, and number of things.


"If you prefer to make me go the long way around the proverbial barn, then we can certainly do that, but your input is definitely helpful to help us come more directly to the point."

Yes.  Fu¢k yes.  

Shylock yearned to go the long way round the proverbial barn (and wasn't that the most delicious double entendre?), although Robert Lupin wasn't exactly the person he'd like to do that with.  He promptly made a bet with himself that he could get palmed off onto a younger and far more fu¢kable colleague.  Shylock didn't know what it was about the healing professions, but even the women were too hot for coherent description.

Shylock's foot dropped from his knee.  He shifted in his seat, letting his head loll against the back of the chair to expose his neck.  This time, instead of shutting his eyes, he dropped his lids and looked out at Robert from under still-dark eyelashes.  No way was he lightening those babies.

He simply watched the healer for what felt like a long time, enjoying the attention and the feeling of the tension between them.  The discomfort this kind of thing brought for other people was at least half the fun.

"It could be any number of things," his reply, when it finally came, was a sharp contrast to the bright tone he'd been using earlier.  Something between a sigh and a drawl.

"Very well," he said, bored of pulling teeth with Ashcroft. He didn't start doing this job yesterday. In fact, he'd been doing it over 40 years. He certainly could pick up on the vibe when someone was trying to play him for something or another. It wasn't Robert's job to know why, actually. Frankly, he didn't care. 

He had a professional interest in caring for Ashcroft's symptoms and the reasons that brought him there, but one thing Robert was good at was not getting emotionally involved. Robert could feel clearly the dark magic damage. One thing Robert knew well was the feel that any sort of curse, dark spell, dark potion, etc., left behind in a wizard's body.


"Very well, then," he said, taking out a lab order form. "Let's do some additional diagnostic studies. We'll run a full panel." He wrote Ashcroft's name on the form, the date, and began checking boxes on the diagnostic form to order enough studies to check as much of Ashcroft's physical functioning, particularly his metabolic and magic systems. 


"You'll be seeing Mr. Barlig," Robert said. "The lab office is on this floor right between the healers' offices and the non-emergent care clinic." Barlig was a very efficient goblin that Robert respected for his accuracy.  One thing Barlig had never been known for was humor, but then again, goblins in general weren't known for their sense of humor.


"Hair samples, skin samples, blood testing, you know. That sort of thing. I'll have the results a couple of days after you see him."  


He got up, unlocked a cabinet, selected a bottle of the standard nutrition potion and wrote the dosage instructions clearly on the label, locking the cabinet again before he went back and sat down.  The potion was, for all purposes, a tonic for malnourished wizards, loaded with vitamins, minerals, and all the nutrition a witch or wizard needed to recharge a worn out system.


"The potion does take time, so don't expect an immediate response. It is a blood level dependent tonic, so the right dose over time is what causes the best results."


He handed the lab order form  and the potion to Ashcroft.


"Now, about the psychiatrist, I can refer you to one in the hospital or you're welcome to see one in the community. The choice is yours, of course. You just need to tell me which you'd like to do."

(ooc: yeah, obviously the psychiatrist is about as real as Barlig is, but i think it gives you more control about what you want Robert to know or not if Robert simply gets reports of some sort from an npc.  Thoughts?)

Score.

Shylock didn't know whether it had been the... shall we say... change of scene, or his subtle display of dominance, but Lupin had indeed given him what he wanted.  Far more easily than Shylock had expected, what's more.

Barlig.  The name conjured images of dusky skinned men from the subcontinent.  Shylock didn't object to that at all.

He tilted his head up slightly to watch Lupin move about the room, but now that he'd been given to someone else, there didn't seem much point in wasting precious energy (and Shylock's energy really was precious, he'd used up a great deal of it in this consultation) pretending to be interested in what the other man was doing.

He was given a potion and directions for taking it, but who even knew how long he'd stick to that before giving in to temptation?

And then there was this psychiatrist.  The only psychiatrist Shylock even knew of was Teddy Lupin.  So either way he was screwed.  

"Why don't you refer me to your nephew and we can keep it all in the family?" he suggested.

"I can certainly send a referral to Mr. Lupin, if you like," Robert said, picking up a could more forms. He filled out one referral for Teddy and one for the mental health clinic at St. Mungos. 


"I'm sure you understand I have no power over who has openings in their caseloads right now," Robert said.  "I'll send another referral to our clinic here as well, and I'm sure one or the other can accommodate you."


Teddy.  Robert didn't really even know Teddy, and Robert largely felt indifferent about it.  The boy had been raised by the much more famous Potter/Weasley clan. The boy had been in good hands, so there had been no attempts in all those years from either side to interfere with Teddy's upbringing, and Teddy just didn't seem to have much interest in learning about his father's family. Why would he? There were more than sufficient Potters and Weasleys to see to his every need.  The sheer fact was that nepotism between Robert and Teddy just didn't exist. Perhaps that would work in Ashcroft's favor. Who knew?  He tucked the forms in the chart for his nurse to send the referrals forward. 


"The referrals will be sent by the end of the day today," he said. "Once I have the results from Mr. Barlig, we'll be getting in touch with you for your follow up appointment.  I know we've gone through a lot of information. What questions do you have for me that I haven't addressed so far?"

A lot of information? Shylock begged to differ. He'd already known most of what Lupin told him, and the rest had been a matter of hindering the man's attempts to poke at his past.

Not that Shylock didn't wish to get better, or at least manage his symptoms. They said you never really recovered from an eating disorder. But telling anyone about his childhood in any kind of detail was unthinkable. Placating Lupin with the story about his relationship with Destrey had been anxiety ridden enough.

Shylock perked up quite a bit as Lupin spoke; it was clearly the end of his torment.

"None," he responded, cheerful once more. "You've made everything crystal clear."

He wondered whether Lupin's heart of stone façade would stay in place if he turned up in a skirt next time. Lusk had been in Gryffindor, too...