Hey y'all! This is Celtic-Dragon-89 & Gregslabrat comin at ya live with our first co-written story! For those of you who don't know us, we are two people who JUST SO HAPPEN to work together (as in occupational wise) and we both write storys....especially me! (GregsLabrat) Oh be quite! (Celtic-Dragon-89) anyway, the first half is written by me (Celtic-Dragon-89) and the other half is written by me (GregsLabrat) Please read and enjoy!

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In Little Wingding, England a house was burning; potions, poisons, and alcohol were spilling down the unexpecting streets along with the water the firefighters were using. When the fire was completely out the firefighters noticed that the water runoff had started to dump into the stream, not particularly worried about it they started checking for hotspots within the burned out shell, first dowsing the wreckage in more water. A groan from inside, alerted them to the severely burned fat man they found. As the fireman yelled for an ambulance the fat man shuddered and whispered something. The nearest fireman took off his helmet and held his ear close to the man's mouth asking him to repeat it. The fat man repeated again "Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him, Scabbers is sorry. Nothing I can do will repay him."

The fat man gave a shuddering breathe as the fireman nodded not understanding that he was going to change one man's summer in a startling way. The fireman canceled the ambulance as the burned fat man succumbed to his injuries.

In a house not even a mile from the burned out wreck many families were glued to their TV's staring in horror at the burned out shell of what was once the oldest house in Little Wingding. One Family in particular had two ties to that house. One was the hate of an aunt for the inhabitant that whisked her sister into a world that neither of them were ready for. The other was a boy who's most hated teacher used to live there. As the reporter switched back to herself she mentioned that someone had been found within the wreckage, she walked up to the Fireman that had talked with the severely burned victim. The reporter turned the camera saying, "This is the brave man who talked with the severely burned victim found inside. Sir … did he say anything?"

The fireman nodded looking confused. "I believe he was delirious but I told him that I would repeat his words. He said and I quote 'Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him, Scabbers is sorry. Nothing I can do will repay him.' I don't know what that means, I don't know who he thought I was, I hope that he passed on to a better place."

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At the center of London in what looked like an "Under Renovations" Women's Clothing Shop was a Healer with one hell of an attitude. He was on a very controversial case, healing the minister of magic's only son, from something unknown. On a piece of parchment he wrote. "Come down to your son's private room, he won't last much longer. I need you to come down here and sign the form so I can do my test so I can figure out what's wrong with your son." He then sent it off with his owl Caduceus and asked him to take it directly to the ministers office post hast. Caduceus rubbed his head against his owner's hand and took off through the window. Healer Gregory House smirked as he turned around and started walking to his differential room, and walked into a meeting of his possible new hires. Looking around the room he noticed that Ginger, Hiruko, and Carlin were all still in the group of 15 or so fresh healer students that wanted to be on his team. "Alright, Today we are all doing my clinic duty. "

"But, Healer House, what about the patient?" asked Hiruko.

"Who?"

"The Minister's son. Aren't we going to treat him?" asked Ginger.

"Yes, let's treat him for a disease that we don't know. I found that guessing what he has and providing him with a treatment that could make him worse does the trick."

As much as all of them hated his sarcasticness, all of the potential healers were dying to get a job underneath one of London's finest healers in history. He solved the unsolvable, healed the unhealable and had a certain knack for finding the most crucial clues when they seem to be nonexistant. "As I was saying..." he continued.

"But, sir, we only looked at all the magical possibilities...we haven't examined the Muggle sicknesses yet," stated Carlin.

"That's because the Minister states that it can't be a Muggle sickness because he's not a Muggle. As much as I agree that yes, it's a Muggle problem, you're going to have to take that issue up with the Minister. Good luck with that. Anyway, back as to what I was saying, Carlin, you'll be taking my clinic duty for today for your brilliant idea. The rest of you can go do...whatever it is you do when we have nothing to do."

The entire 15 possibles started to get up and leave when House called, "Ginger, I need to talk to you."

Ginger was, in fact, a ginger. She had red hair and blue eyes while her face was littered with freckles. Ever since the first day, everyone had placed some of their sickles on her to be the first one fired. As everyone left, Ginger went to the front to talk with House. "Yes, House?"

"You got the job."

It was plain as day. He didn't fiddle around the idea to make it some complex mystery she had to figure out. He just said it bluntly. "Excuse me?"

"You...got...the...job. Do I need to repeat it slower for you?"

"I'm in?"

"Yes! How many times do I have to say it?! You got the damn job!"

"But how?"

"You're smart, you're pretty, you have nice hair, you aren't afraid to think outside the box, you're willing to look at other possible diagnoses, you side with me on my Muggle practices, do I need to continue? Now, go on and rub it in everyone's faces that you got the job before I change my mind."

With a smile and a skip in her step, Ginger ran out after the rest of the possibles to rub it in their face that she got the first position. There was a hint of laughter in House's smile as he turned, only to be met by the Head Healer, Mira. "House."

"Oh no, has the devil really come for my soul? Sorry to break it to you, but you probably forgot that I have no soul."

"Very funny, House. The Minister is here to see you. He's in the main lobby."

And with that, Mira left. House stood in his differential room and down at his feet. As much as he wanted to talk to the Minister and tell him how much of an idiot he is for not allowing the thought that MAYBE it was some Muggle disease, he knew that the conversation was going to end well. With no further adue, he headed out of his office and towards the main lobby. Sure enough, standing by the reception desk was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. "Afternoon, Minister," greeted House, causing Fudge to turn to look back at him.

"I recieved your owl."

"I can see that, seeing as how you are standing here."

"What papers do you need me to sign?"

House really didn't want the Minister to yell at him in the open lobby, so he said, "Why don't we discuss this in my office."

Quickly, House led Fudge into his differential room where a clipboard suddenly appeared. "I need you to sign this," he said, handing it to the Minister.

Fudge looked down at the paper and read, "I, Cornelius Fudge, do hereby give Healer Gregory House permission to examine all possible diagnoses, Muggle and Magical, and do hereby allow him to perform an angygogam. What the hell is an angygogam?"

"It's an angiogram! It's where we stick a cathater through his arteries and release a dye that, as it flows through his blood stream, will tell us where the blood clot is."

"Blood clot?"

"He's symptoms come with the conclusion that he has a blood clot in his temporal lobe. It happens all the time."

"How come I've never heard of this angiogam and blood spots?"

"First, it's and AN-GI-O-GRAM and a BLOOD-CLOT! Second, it is because a blood clot is not normal in wizards. In Muggles, yes, but not wizards, and this AN-GI-O-GRAM is a Muggle technique to find BLOOD-CLOTS."

Fudge threw the clipboard at House in anger. "I TOLD YOU THAT IT IS NOT A MUGGLE DISEASE!"

"Since when did you get your M.D., Minister?"

This was House's way of trying to get him to sign the consent form. Get them angry so much that they will consent to it because they want to be proven right. "I don't care what you say, HEALER, but I am not going to sign this."

"Don't you think there is a slight possibility that MAYBE he got a Muggle disease? Besides, what makes our bodies different from Muggles? We both have blood flowing through our veins that could clot, we both have a brain that we can get a tumor on...why do you deny any possibility of your son getting one of those conditions?"

"Because he is not a Muggle!"

"Well, he's going to DIE from a Muggle disease because you refuse to believe he might have one. That blood is on your hands, not mine."

"He's not going to die."

"And what makes you so sure that he won't?"

"Because either you come up with a MAGICAL explanation and cure him, and if you don't, consider yourself banished from the Magical world."

As he turned to leave, House replied, "Fine, but while I look for the non-existant magical disease, why don't you go hold his hand and watch as he slowly dies."

The Minister didn't respond to House's last statement and quickly headed down to his son's private room. That night, Copper Fudge passed away. House, of course, didn't find out until Ginger told him that morning. House didn't care. The Minister was an idiot for not allowing him to perform the Muggle test. If only signed that consent form, then Fudge Jr. would still be alive. After announcing to the rest of the applicants that morning that Hiruko and Carlin got the other two positions, he introduced his three interns to their new case. As he began to write the symptoms on the board, Mira came walking in. "Oh no, she's back! Everyone, hide your eyes!" he shouted, looking away.

"Very funny. I need to see you in my office...now!"

Once she left, House threw his pen at Ginger and replied, "You're incharge until I get back."

Once he walked into Mira's office, he saw Cornelius Fudge standing there, waiting. "Ah, Healer House," he smiled.

House didn't reply. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten what I told you the last time we met."

"Of course not. You told me all about your hoes that were waiting for you at home. Ooops, my bad, guess I wasn't supposed to say that out loud, especially since one of them in standing in the room."

"House, shut up," ordered Mira.

"I'm glad you find this funny. Gregory House, I hereby exile you from Magic London, effective immediately."

This time, Mira countered, "You can't do this! He's our best Healer."

"He also doesn't follow magic practices, but Muggle practices."

"Yeah, and I save thousands of lives. Sorry that puts a bad mark on your record."

Before they could continue arguing, Mira asked, "Healer House has a patient today. Can't he at least finish this last case up before he has to leave...you know, to get everything situated?"

As much as it pained him to say it, Fudge replied, "You have until your new patient is healed. Once he or she is, I don't ever want to see your face around here again."

And with that, Fudge left St. Mundgo's Hospital for the longest period of time. After three weeks, House had healed his patient and was just about to leave when he asked Ginger to come into his office. Once she was inside, House started, "You're probably the most brilliant Healer in this hospital, not including myself. I've talked to Mira and everything is settled. You're going to take my place as Chief of Diagnostics."

Before she could reply, House grabbed his backpack and left St. Mundgo's forever...or so he thought.

TBC...