Chapter Two: Unconscious To Conscious

I held the clipboard firmly as I filled out various areas of the patient information. Name: Fred Weasley. Age: Seventeen. Gender: Male. House: Gryffindor.

I reached the largest section of the information sheet. Symptoms. And the truth was, I didn't truly know. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to leave lots of room in case of the discovery of new symptoms so I wrote small. Unconscious upon arrival, bone tissue damage, scarring on face, chest and forearms, internal bruising, increased hair growth.

As this was all I knew, I left the section almost empty, along with the diagnosis section. After signing my signature at the bottom and writing the date, I left the board at the end of the bed. I pulled on a fresh apron to protect my school robes and started waving my wand over Fred's body.

When bright yellow colours appeared it was obvious that Fred was no longer unconscious and was now sleeping peacefully. I took a moment to study his face; the scarring was over his eyebrows, cheeks and chin in parallel diagonal lines. It was like he was scratched by a very wide-clawed creature. His chest was also bare, which at first made me a tad uncomfortable but then I reminded myself that I was training to be a Healer, for Merlin's sake! I couldn't keep feeling like this.

Bravely, I reached out to touch the scars to get a feel of the texture. But it was strange; it was like they were painted on, as there was no true texture to it… this threw me off. It looked very real.

I went back to my clipboard and scribbled a few more notes, particularly on the scars. My wand gave a twitch and the yellow light faded, but I kept writing. I clung to the board when I returned to Fred's side.

"Game's up, Fred," I said with a smile. "I know you're awake."
One of his eyes opened to look at me suspiciously before he sighed and stretched. "I suppose I couldn't keep that up forever," he joked. "What gave me away? Did I blink?"
"I'm a Healer, Fred. I can tell just by looking at you," I bragged. I was not willing to admit that it was my wand that gave him away and I couldn't tell any different. He was an excellent fake sleeper. "You're not a Healer," Fred said confidently.
"Training to be one," I retorted, a blush rising to my cheeks. I flipped the page on the clipboard to a blank piece of parchment. My never-ending ink quill twisted between my fingers as I thought.

Usual snark.

"What's your name?" I asked, deciding that it was best to go through the routine questions with Fred, seeing as his confidence was throwing me off. Maybe it was a side effect?

"Forge."
"What day is it?"
"Tuesday."
"What were you doing prior to the incident?" My curiosity got the best of me – that was not a routine question. I wondered if he'd notice.
"None of your business." Damn.
"Fred, I'm sorry but unless you tell me precisely what you were doing, trying to do, or at least what ingredients or spells you were working with, I can't help you with the damage you've caused to yourself," I said gently.
"What damage?" Fred asked quickly. His worry increased when I didn't answer and his hand went beneath the blankets of the bed. A second later, a sigh of relief. "It can't be that bad."

I summoned a mirror for him. "You have some strange scarring on your face, arms and chest… I can't quite describe it." I handed him the mirror and he observed it closely. Fred went to touch the scar on his cheek.
"So Healer Granger," he said seriously. "Do these scars make me look manly?"
I gaped at him in shock. "You're kidding, right?"
This led to a frown. "They aren't flattering at all?"

I just shook my head at him.

"Fred, do you want my help or not?" I said crossly. Fred grinned at me.
"That depends on the extent of the damage."
"Deadly," I said sternly. Fred laughed.
"I highly doubt that! But sure, it would be nice to see a fresh young face."

And so I set to work, desperate to unravel the mystery Fred refused to share.