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The rooftop of St. Mungo's Hospital was always kept firmly locked. While it lacked safety measures beyond locking charms and heavy iron chains to prevent "secondary accidents," it was, by convention, strictly off-limits.
James Wilson sighed as he climbed the stairs. He was searching for a certain Healer who treated the forbidden rooftop as his own private estate. In truth, the sheer number of regulations this Healer was capable of breaking surpassed even the wildest youthful antics of Albus Dumbledore.
There was no concrete evidence he was hiding on the roof. However, Wilson was moving toward it out of pure instinct. He knew the man’s habit of seeking out the rooftop to smoke Muggle cigarettes, and more importantly, Wilson had already scoured every exam room and storage closet where he might be lurking, finding no trace. Wilson had already surrendered most of House’s hideouts to Cuddy, but he kept this one location a secret—mostly because it was a sanctuary Wilson himself cherished.
Wilson flicked his wand at the bolted door. After a few mechanical rattles, the door swung open. It wasn't magic that had done it; someone had manually opened it from the inside. Wilson squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of the familiar silhouette leaning on a cane—not a wand for casting spells, but a physical mobility aid.
“I knew I’d find you here, doctor house.”
“Jimmy!”
“Director Cuddy is looking for you.”
“Ah, our exemplary Head Boy.”
House limped toward the edge of the railing as if he had no intention of heading downstairs. Wilson followed him with a deep sigh. Behind House’s shoulder, the last sliver of the sunset was sinking below the horizon.
“How long has it been since I turned in my badge, and you’re still calling me that? Besides, Cuddy really is looking for you. Where’s Chase?”
“And I’ve never once been a ‘Doctor,’ so why do you keep calling me that?”
The man never let a single word go. Wilson sighed and tossed off his lime-green robes. Even with the sun down, the summer air remained sweltering. He flicked his wand to drop the temperature slightly, and the beads of sweat on the back of his neck instantly vanished, though the strange heat rising from the floor remained. House’s piercing blue eyes reflected the deepening twilight. Wilson glanced down at House’s hands.
“What’s that now?”
It wasn't a wand, a book, or a Muggle cigarette. It was a pocketknife Wilson had never seen before. The sharp, silver-grey blade rose into the air, spinning in a fluid arc. Every time it traced a path, a milky-white shimmer trailed behind it. So, instead of working, you’ve been up here researching useless magic again. Wilson flicked his wand at the falling knife. Immobulus. With a practiced motion, the knife froze mid-air just before hitting the ground.
House reached for it, but Wilson’s hand was faster. House, perched precariously on the rough stone floor, made a clicking sound of disappointment and looked up at Wilson. His palm was habitually pressing hard against his right thigh.
“Give it here. Don’t go bringing more cursed objects into the hospital to turn the place upside down.”
“Cursed?”
“You used this to pick the lock, didn't you? Where did you get it?”
“Even I am capable of receiving 'gifts of gratitude' from patients or their guardians.”
“And who exactly gave you this?”
Wilson crossed his arms, looking down at House with suspicion. House raised the hand that had been clutching his thigh and flicked his fingers through the air. Before Wilson could even let out a gasp, the knife flew out of Wilson's pocket and snapped into House’s grip. The initials S.B. engraved on the handle glinted in silver. It was a familiar set of initials.
“S.B.... as in Sirius Black?”
The lingering heat of the day rose from beneath their feet. House was busy performing a dangerous stunt, tossing the knife into the air and catching it. Wilson started to scold him but stopped. He noticed House’s right hand, which was now rubbing his injured leg with unusual intensity.
“He called it an all-purpose pocketknife that can open any door.”
“I never thought a kid with the Black name would be into that sort of thing.”
“All parents find a way to ruin their children. In the case of that pathetic idiot who’s pining for his best friend, he was ruined quite spectacularly.”
House stared blankly at the dark blue line of the sky and the faint crescent moon rising above it. Without thinking, Wilson sat down beside House, leaning his head against the iron railing.
“What do you think will happen to him?”
“He’ll probably lead a boring life as a prefect and end up a Hogwarts professor. Just like you.”
Despite the sharp tone, House’s expression wasn't unkind. Wilson leaned back halfway, fixing his gaze on the vast plateau spreading out before them.
A boy named Remus Lupin had been admitted to the Hogwarts infirmary after being hit by an exploding cauldron during Potions. Despite Madam Pomfrey's treatment, he suffered from a mysterious, persistent fever. After a week, she transferred him to St. Mungo's. Initially, he was in the Creature-Induced Injuries department, but as his physical wounds healed, his fever spiked, leading to a transfer to the 4th floor (Potions and Plant Poisoning). That was how he fell into the clutches of Gregory House.
No other Healer on the 4th floor could identify Lupin’s ailment. Logically, a transfer to the 4th floor implied poisoning by a potion or plant, yet no amount of magic could find a trace of magical toxicity.
Gregory House’s diagnosis had been simple. He had unraveled the bandages wrapped around the boy’s limbs with his wand and delivered a quiet verdict:
"It's an infection from the burn scars. Bathe him in Murtlap essence and send him home."
Naturally, every other Healer revolted. When asked for his reasoning, House gave a single-word answer:
"Muggle medical texts."
The backlash grew even fiercer. They argued they couldn't follow the methods of "Muggle lunatics" who cut and carved people open; they were prestigious Healers. The complaints poured in, and eventually, Lisa Cuddy, the Head of St. Mungo’s, caught wind of it. Wilson, as always, watched from a step back. Being Muggle-born, he had no prejudice against Muggle medicine, and more importantly, he knew Cuddy would never truly move against House—it was that damn guilt. Cuddy was plagued by a profound guilt regarding House, a feeling similar to Wilson’s, yet fundamentally different.
As the boy began to hallucinate from the fever, Remus Lupin’s friends practically took up residence at St. Mungo’s. The most restless among them was a strikingly handsome, black-haired boy. Wilson had done a double-take when he heard the boy’s surname was "Black," especially since the tie around the boy's neck was scarlet and gold. A Gryffindor tie.
A Black in Gryffindor?
It didn't take long to learn his history. Sirius made no effort to hide his disdain for his family. Wilson felt a wave of sympathy for Sirius, who had run away to his friend Potter’s house to escape domestic abuse and pureblood indoctrination. Most Healers pitied him.
Naturally, Gregory House was not part of "most." Upon learning Sirius had severed ties with his family, House showed no sympathy; instead, he was jubilant, claiming they should use Veritaserum on Sirius and his friend to get to the truth.
"He cut ties with his parents? Excellent. We won't have the House of Black breathing down our necks."
"Are you insane? If the Ministry catches us abusing that, we will go to Azkaban!"
"You're one to talk about substance abuse."
James Wilson, who had been regularly forging prescriptions for Elixirs for House since his leg was irreparably damaged by an explosion in his final year, went quiet. Wilson didn't provide the Veritaserum, though—mostly because he believed Sirius Black, who stayed up all night holding his friend’s hand, had no reason to lie.
Unable to use Veritaserum, House called Robert Chase, a foreign Healer capable of performing Muggle "hypnosis"—which House described as a cousin to the Imperius Curse—and called sirius.
The result revealed that Remus Lupin was a werewolf suffering from crippling guilt... and that Sirius Black was deeply in love with him. While Wilson and Chase argued they had to report a werewolf to the Ministry, House countered that since Dumbledore had allowed the boy into Hogwarts, there was nothing for St. Mungo’s Healers to do. Instead, he ordered them to borrow an Invisibility Cloak from the friend named Potter.
Thus, they had broken into Remus Lupin’s dormitory under the cloak. (House’s other two associates were excluded from this mission to maintain appearances for Cuddy). After expertly stunning a small, chubby boy who was doing something rather suspicious with a girlfriend in dorm, house ransacked Remus’s bed. He eventually found wild Wolfsbane root hidden beneath a bedpost.
"This little friend was the only thing standing between me and my night off."
After chasing away the other Healers, House forcefully woke the boy and shoved the dirt-covered root in front of him until Remus confessed to chewing on wild Wolfsbane. His reason? He couldn't bear to watch Sirius Black spend his inheritance buying him the expensive, refined Wolfsbane Potion.
"The cause is lead poisoning from the root. This 'good boy' thought eating raw Wolfsbane would cure him, but the soil it grew in was contaminated with lead. Magic won't fix this. Transfer him to a Muggle hospital; they'll know how to treat lead poisoning."
When Cuddy found out House had broken into Hogwarts and stunned a student, she had cast Incarcerous on him and threatened to take it to the Wizengamot. However, after hearing that Remus had been successfully treated and discharged from the Muggle hospital, she seemed to have decided to bury the incident with a sigh.
That is, until she realized he had used Muggle "hypnosis" on Sirius Black to get the diagnosis.
“Shouldn't you be downstairs reporting me to Cuddy like a good little prefect?”
“What, so you can go to the Wizengamot with Chase? Or get locked in the basement wards after Cuddy hits you with Incarcerous? I heard she beat the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the Dueling Club back in the day.”
“Oh, I know. We were in the same house. It’s not a rumor; it’s a fact.”
“Then shouldn't you be more careful?”
“Cuddy doesn't know Sirius gave me this knife, so she won't think to look for me here. She can't conceive of the idea that I’d voluntarily stay at the hospital past clock-out time.”
House’s blue eyes shone with earnestness. Wilson let out a hollow laugh and laid his tired body back against the stone. The lukewarm temperature of the floor felt good against his back. He suppressed a smile as he noticed House following suit, lying back beside him. After all, they had saved a boy, and House had actually received a genuine "gift" from a grateful guardian.
The white stars scattered across the dark velvet sky were beautiful enough to snap his heavy eyelids open. In the corner of his vision, the Milky Way flowed like a hazy smoke of orange and violet. The view from the rooftop of St. Mungo’s, located in the unpolluted Scottish countryside, was always breathtaking—a fact even the cynical Gregory House couldn't deny.
The sound of crickets signaled the start of a tropical night. Wilson pulled his discarded lime robe over his chest. House, with his sleeve pushed halfway up, raised his wand and mouthed a silent incantation. A faint, mist-like substance seeped from the tip of the wand, coalescing before scattering to form the distinct shape of an animal.
“... A Patronus.”
Wilson reached out a hand to stroke the incorporeal antlers of the stag. A soft, silver glow rained down upon them. House turned his head, watching Wilson, whose lips were finally curling into a smile.
Thump. A weight hit House’s shoulder. Wilson had nudged him with an elbow.
“Why don't you ever wear your robes?”
“Doesn't match my eyes. They’re itchy and scratchy.”
“Honestly, I think your mental age is lower than when I first entered Hogwarts. You act like an eleven-year-old.”
“That’s because I am eleven.”
“Right. Breaking into a rooftop to hide because you don't want to work is certainly the peak of maturity. Very appropriate for a man of your social standing.”
As the stag made one last wide circle and vanished, only darkness remained between them. Watching the clouds drift by, Wilson noticed a breeze beginning to stir his hair. He gripped the edge of his robe, lost in thought.
“You’re just glad I’m the one breaking the social contract to act this way, aren't you?”
“... Did you use Legilimency?”
“How can I use Legilimency without looking you in the eye? I can just hear it. Your head is a very noisy place, Jimmy.”
The blue eyes crinkled. A rare, genuine smile tugged at the corners of House's mouth. Wilson fought the urge to smile back too widely. He ran a hand through his hair as the humid wind blew, staring into the glittering void for a long time. The cooling heat of summer washed over them like a pleasant tide.