for those of you that are wondering about Audrey, she is supposed to be introduced when Percy goes to muggle school for the first time... which is still a few chapters away. hopefully, the wait wouldn't be too long! at least that's not what i'm hoping for anyway. i have so many plotlines and ideas i just can't keep them straight sometimes. i decided that hopefully i'm going to make this darker and a lot complicated. hopefully, not too complicated... but you never know.
next chapter is another Weasley family drama chapter, and then hopefully, after that one, there will be Percy going to muggle school undercover with the rest of those guys... hopefully. and though i haven't written it yet, i am planning on him meeting Audrey. i swear since she's a big part of this story!
i do know that parts of this story is confusing. Marcus does tell Percy some information but since we're through his eyes a lot, we can get a little lost along with Percy.
i tried to edit this, but i'm a little tired. i hope there aren't too many spelling / grammar mistakes.
comment replies:
Eli: Audrey should be introduced when i get Percy to go to school since she's a student there. so it should still be a few chapters... a little slow. sorry about that.
Lazy123: thank you. it's just sometimes i'm not quite sure about where i want the story to head, so that's why i ask my readers. that, and i also feel like they should have a choice if the story is not as advertised... especially when i'm not 100% dedicated to the changes that i wanted to make with that specific plotline. it's just there are so many directions i could take this that it's a little overwhelming!
Guest: it sounds like you and i have similar tastes. i hope that this chapter is to your liking then.
finkles89: i honestly had to do that myself and it's my own fanfiction! i'm surprised by how many people are opting for a darker feel to this story... fun!
IvyLovesWinchester: Death-Eaters-to-be! aw. i do love the character building. i still haven't decided what i want Adrian / Cassius to be and i don't want to make too much of a premature decision about it. i have a mini plotline for Adrian, but i'm not sure about it yet. as for dumping his arse in the back alley, i think it's the fear that they'll get discovered if they just let Percy frolic around London unsupervised and being weird because he doesn't know anything about being a muggle. Marcus did explain some of it to a really confused Percy. but it's essentially that Marcus is afraid that people would be looking for them because they're reported as Death Eaters, so consequently, they are lumbered with him because of that Daily Prophet piece!
courgette96: 'hurting so good.' oh dear. it's hard to write this Percy because he's literally so innocent. like he doesn't have a vindictive bone in his body, and i don't think he can hold much of a grudge. and he doesn't understand what's going on at all. their careers as Death Eaters? hmm... we'll get back on that 'short-lived' part of that equation. honestly, i do map out everything before writing but then i spontaneously decide to go a certain way... like for example, the Death Wears Second-Hand Robes, i've mapped out like 7-8 potential story arcs and they were all disrupted because of a split second decision i made! ouch!
Phoenixx Rising: i love Marcus. he's one of my favourites to write because i always like his brash-like personality, but i think he has a soft part to him... maybe i'm just sympathetic towards really unlikeable characters that most people don't pay attention to! as for Adrian and Cassius, i'm still not determined about either of them or their plotlines!
Muggle Me
Chapter Nine: Pain Makes You Think Funny
Percy the amnesiac, ironically, had no memory of any phoenixes or wands. As far as he knew, he had been in so much pain that night that he woke up hooked to an IV line in the hospital. His nurses' favourite activities were to gossip about a nurse called Janine, who liked to spend her time examining orifices. Percy did not know much about nursing, but he supposed examining orifices was part of their job. Which was why kindly asked honey-haired Janine to do a throat exam on him because he was afraid that there might be some white things there.
Strep infections did that, right? Percy read about Strep throat in one of his books that he had to know for his exam.
"Thank you," Percy said when Janine gave him a cup of tea for his non-white-coated throat. They were alone, and Percy decided to say that, "The other nurses are talking about you."
Janine shot a look at the other nurses in the corner, avidly talking. "Yes, well…it doesn't bother me much."
"I think that you are an absolute delight," Percy immediately said, even though he didn't really know. He'd known this woman for all of two minutes but felt an innate drive to defend her because she told him that he didn't have a life-threatening case of tonsillitis. "Perhaps, they are not very good at examining orifices themselves."
"Um…" Janine went red. "Do you want more sugar?" she asked, looking like she wanted to throw the tea at him.
Percy didn't know why Janine didn't look ecstatic about his compliment. If she had that tea-throwing-look, then maybe the other nurses were right. "Two lumps of sugar," Percy replied, and her eyes bulged when he said that.
"Lumps of…?" Janine repeated, like it was shocking that he said that. "I'm not an afternoon delight, you know!"
Were two lumps of sugar really that excessive? Maybe Percy was a diabetic and he didn't know.
"I… I would like some more cream too," Percy added on when she dropped in two lumps of sugar. "Um…"
The nurses were laughing like there was a secret meaning behind two lumps of sugar and a little cream! What was wrong with a nice serving of hot, white cream to warm the soul? Percy rolled his eyes.
Janine walked away from him, huffing like he just asked her to strip down in the nude and dance whilst he was having a cup of tea. Percy did not understand this, but the bloke that was in the bed beside him was laughing too. Percy shuddered into his hospital bed. He was ill. He did not understand why asking for sugar and cream made him a criminal. It was awfully cold in this room. It was a miracle that he could still feel his pelvis with how cold he was.
Maybe he should tell the other nurses about his numb pelvis! Maybe they could examine that too!
Marcus visited him for about ten minutes. He seemed to have popped out of nowhere and smelled like something that had died out into the streets—which was disgusting. Percy hoped that he didn't kill anyone because killing people was gross… and very wrong. Percy felt the need to wash his hands just thinking about the dirty, congealed blood.
"They're going to ask you questions," Marcus told Percy, who nodded his head.
"Yes, that's what they do in hospitals you know," Percy replied. "It's how they find out what's wrong with you."
"Ha ha, very funny," Marcus rolled his eyes, pointing to Percy's body—Cassius' oversized jacket was covering the slashes and ribbons of blood that Percy had. He supposed that the pain got worse after he decided to start cleaning his hands—you know, because of the thoughts in his mind. They wouldn't go away if he didn't wash his hands.
"You better have studied that file that I gave you to what to say to the mug—people," Marcus said, producing Percy's distressed manila envelope from the pockets of his black frock. Why was Marcus wearing a frock? Come to think of it, those people at that shop selling the chicken feather quills were wearing black and grey frocks too. "Because it's a tad unreadable now." Percy did not know why Marcus was walking around with his files, or why they looked like the files needed to be in the emergency room more than Percy did right now. The state of them! A tad unreadable?
Marcus then explained why he had the files in his pockets. "Our flat got burned down by… people with abilities."
Now, Percy understood why Marcus was covered in soot. Oh! There was a fire at the flat, and fortunately, Percy had been in so much pain from his bear attack wounds that he wasn't there to die in a tragic fire. Incredible!
"Is everyone okay?" Percy asked in a soft voice. Marcus just stared at him like it was impossible to die from fire.
"If psychological trauma doesn't count, then everyone's bloody fine," Marcus said. "I have to go now, but you tell these—these mug… these people the information in the file. I hope you have a bloody great memory because you can't exactly freshen up your knowledge." When he said that, Marcus looked like he was mentally cursing himself.
"I don't have a great memory," Percy said. "I LOST all my memories… REMEMBER?" he inquired—ironically.
Percy now understood what these people were abilities were. They were ABLE to burn down their flat without much effort at all. Did you know how hard it was to start a fire without a whole building noticing? Now, they were all homeless, and Percy wasn't sure where he was supposed to get a baked beans tin from to ask blokes for money!
"Do you remember why the file was important?" Marcus suddenly asked, darting his steel grey eyes around hurriedly.
"Because I am nobody, I have a new identity?" Percy perked up. Before he could answer, Marcus just left. He heard a pop, and Percy felt even more confused than ever. Not knowing was leaving him feeling very uncomfortable.
Percy shifted into his bed. He was sure that Adrian and Cassius were devastated that they'd lost their flat!
He felt nothing. It was like he was completely detached from the flat. He was a little worried about Barry. He didn't care at all about how Adrian, Cassius or Marcus were doing. He didn't think about the other people that were in the flat that might've gotten harmed. He had an uproar over quills but couldn't muster up even the least amount of emotion for these people because of the pain of his infected wounds. He felt uncomfortable with his own emotions. Most people cared if your flat burned down with your flatmates in it… right? But all that Percy could feel was pain.
Why did he also feel so betrayed? It wasn't like Marcus did this to him. It wasn't like Marcus did this to him, and then never told him. How could anyone take his memories? Percy must've bumped his head against something hard—maybe that hard thing was Marcus Flint's head. Get it? Flint? STONE? And that was why Percy felt this way. Maybe that was why Marcus made him not homeless, and told him that he was going to go to school soon…
Later on, the 'doctor' came round to ask him a lot of hard questions such as What is your name? and How old are you?
Remembering the information in the files that Marcus told him to memorise, Percy was able to pass his first exam.
"My name is Clement Charlie Jones," Percy said with little emotion to his voice. "I'm seventeen years old."
Clement had just moved here from Devon where he was home-schooled. A week from now, he had an exam to take that he was studying hard for. He had no living relatives that he knew of anymore. His mum was a kind woman, but she died of breast cancer last year and since then, he'd been living with his older brother, Huck (Huck was Adrian's fake name) and his guardian, Artemis Chambers—which was Carrow in real life. He liked debates, books, polishing badges and washing his hands fifty times a day. To be honest, this Clement bloke sounded like a boring wanker.
"How did you get your wounds?" the doctor asked. "And where are they exactly?"
"Everywhere," Percy replied softly. "They are from a bear attack. I lived in a farm in Devon. I have a friend that is training to be a doctor, and he tried to help. But I… must've passed out from the pain. And the stitches open up."
Percy cleared his throat. "I also think I might have offended one of the nurses here named Janine."
"I'm sure you didn't," the doctor replied automatically. His name was Dr Jonah Michaels Percy now saw on his hospital name-tag, and he felt a little bit more comfortable. "When did this bear attack happen?"
Dr Michaels accepted everything that Percy said. He asked about what happened before the bear attack—if he felt any different or unwell before the attack. He asked about what he remembered when the bear attack, and what happened afterwards. He asked if he lost any feeling or weakness in any of his limbs and why he didn't seek any medical help any sooner. Percy decided this was too many questions and replied with…
"I don't remember," was Percy's response to most of them. "I'm sorry," was shortly followed after. Neither were lies.
Feeling the itch to clean his hands with all the lies that he'd been sprouted, Percy wondered if he'd managed to wash all of his memories away with hydrogen peroxide.
Percy washed his hands a lot, but he didn't know why. If he didn't wash his hands eighteen times when he went to use the lavatory or after he ate, something BAD would happen. The thoughts of the people that he loved being hurt because he didn't wash his hands plagued his mind often. Whenever the thoughts came, they'd go away if Percy just washed his hands. When he washed his hands, everything was fine, and he felt less dirty and defiled on the inside.
Even when his skin was bleeding and the gashes were opening up, Percy still had to wash his hands.
The thoughts didn't make much sense because Percy didn't really love anyone! He couldn't remember anyone that he might've loved… So why did he care if they died a fiery death? Pun completely unintended given the burning flat… but really, it wasn't like he cared much knowing how his flat mates had to suffer a fire when Percy was sat here in the hospital. And it wasn't like washing his hands eighteen times a day prevented that from happening. But… but thinking about why he washed his hands made him want to wash his hands NOW as he was talking to the doctor.
Even though he knew that it wouldn't cure his amnesia or help save a child in Ghana, all he could think about was how he needed to wash his hands—as badly as he needed to breathe. And how anxious he felt sat there, thinking.
Percy's hands were shaking. He excused himself to go to the bathroom and came back with blistered hands.
When he came back, the doctor asked if he could examine him. Percy stiffened and shook his head.
"No," he said, thinking of all the gashes that he'd been trying to run away from. When Percy first took off his clothes and noticed his body marred and soiled in red, he felt ashamed. But why would he feel ashamed about being attacked?
You know it isn't a bear attack, a part of him said. Maybe Percy didn't care about Adrian, Cassius or Marcus because he knew that they were lying to him, but he didn't know how to find out the truth. What bear could write GIT in cursive?
"It's alright," Dr Michaels said, trying to cajole him. "It'll help me find out how to help you if I know the problem."
Percy stiffened even more. "No," he repeated, even weaker than before. "Please don't."
He felt uncomfortable in this hospital bed, thinking about Janine's reaction to his tea. He didn't really even enjoy his tea that much, but suddenly, he was thirsty again. But he didn't want to ask for another cup. And he most definitely did not want the doctor to see him. He looked like a badly stitched frock that a thirteen-year-old made for her formal!
"It'll really help us if we can see the problem," Dr Michaels sounded distressed, but Percy continued to shake his head. "We'd need to see it anyway to see how your friend helped with your dressings. And if there's anything we can do."
"I want to go home," Percy said weakly. He didn't even mean their flat—which had burned down. "Leave me alone!"
"It'll really help, love," one of the nurses that was making fun of Janine told him. She sounded like something that was dipped in honey and sugar. As sweet as pie. "Really. It won't take much. And we've seen a lot—we promise that we won't judge. How could you expect the doctor to help you if he doesn't know what the problem is?"
She talked to him like he was eight and didn't understand English. Percy just sank into his hospital bed.
A few minutes later, Janine came back with her pot of tea and fixed him a cup like he'd wanted it before.
"It'll help calm you down," Janine said, and Percy wondered if the doctor thought that Janine would be able to butter him up. With so much butter and sugar, this felt more like a bloody tea party than it did a trip to the A&E.
When he didn't take the cup, Janine put the tea down next to him on the table.
Percy suddenly felt very alone and afraid. He didn't know if he was sixteen or seventeen or thirty years old and just happened to look young for his age. He just felt like he wished he had someone there that was like a mum. Janine was very maternal-looking, with soft belly and hips and long, chestnut brown hair with streaks of blonde.
"Thank you," Percy said weakly, but he didn't feel very thankful.
"We have contacted your legal guardian," Janine said. Percy didn't know why they'd let that slithering snake into the hospital emergency room. She had more bumps and lumps in her skin than a chocolate-chip biscuit. A wasted woman named Alecto Carrow, hidden by her new alias as Artemis Chambers—apparently, the wonderful woman that Percy met with the undeniably exotic skin—was named his legal guardian. And had stolen the name of a wonderful woman in Greek mythology. "But it's better if you let the doctor have a look at you himself right now, Mr Jones."
Percy just looked away from her. "If I'm a Mr Jones, I'm not sure why you have to contact my legal guardian."
He didn't say much else, and he didn't drink his tea. Even though he really wanted to, and it was getting cold.
"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable," Percy finally said, not trusting the doctor that called the personification of hormonal teenage acne to come by. Even with his bleeding infected gashes that smelled as purulent as ever—and made him feel dirty and contaminated. Oh, and he supposed that the infection could spread and kill him too. "I won't ask for anymore sugar or cream. I didn't know it was rude," he was honest at least.
Janine looked at him with soft eyes. "Your tea is getting cold," she said.
Percy took a sip and was relieved that he hadn't been poisoned. "Thank you," he said again. Every time he said the word, it had lost even more meaning than before. "But I'm not going to show the doctor my… my problem."
He had more gashes than most victims in the horror film he'd watched last night. He didn't want to show anyone.
"What are you afraid of?" Janine asked, but he wasn't sure she'd understand if she got offended by sugar in tea.
My bear attack is not really a bear attack, Percy thought to himself. Marcus' flat burned down, and nobody ate my peach tart.
The doctor came back a few minutes later, holding his chart in his hands. Apparently, Percy was very anaemic—enough to make the doctor think that he needed a blood transfusion. Percy wondered why they took blood from him if he was very anaemic. He had told the doctor that he'd been bleeding too! Percy felt cross but kept it to himself.
"It hurts," Percy cut him off when he was telling him about his blood transfusion. "Please."
"I can't do anything about that until I see the problem," Dr Michaels said. "I know that you don't want to—"
"He doesn't want to—" Janine was cut off when Percy practically ripped his jacket open because of how much it hurt.
He remembered Marcus telling him not to show anyone, but he didn't know what else to do because the pain was searing, white hot lava that was burning his skin. When he had his jacket off, the doctor's face contorted a little bit. Percy took off his bloodied pyjama top too, and felt the exposed, blood-stained skin underneath breathe into the cold hospital room. Dr Michaels walked to his right side and looked at the purulent discharge erupting from the awful stitches that had come apart. They stopped bleeding ages ago but the sour-smell coming from them was watering Percy's eyes. His partially open skin was rubbing against the inside of his cotton jumper.
Dr Michaels then tried to compose himself. "Janine," he said to the nurse, "I need gloves."
Percy tried to bite his lip when the doctor tried to prod at the site. "No, no," he said weakly. "It hurts."
The next hour was torturous. They drained the pus away to send it off the laboratory, and then they tried to stitch him back up. The doctor mentioned that he might need a skin graft because his wounds were very extensive. Most of them were open wounds that couldn't be stitched up because there wasn't enough skin between them.
Percy didn't remember much of the conversation. He was sure he almost punched Janine, which made it assault. Almost. He could've done it!
He hated himself, and he just didn't feel very keen about what happened today. He hadn't felt this bad all at once, and he wasn't sure if there was anything that could make him feel any better. They were waiting to get him a bed because they were going to take him up to the ward, and they were going to talk about his treatment options.
The doctor was convinced that it hurt so much that he gave him morphine. Percy didn't know what that was but within a few minutes of him being given that, he was feeling exhausted. By the time that Carrow came around, he was already barely listening to the conversation. Dr Michaels asked his guardian about his mental status.
"It's not my fault!" Carrow told Dr Michaels. "I can't stop him from thinking that he's a terrible person. I can't be around him twenty-four seven to make sure he doesn't try and hurt himself."
The doctors looked at him like he was mental after that. Janine didn't want to talk to him.
Percy didn't feel very good. Like things changed when people realised you carved your skin inside out and then went off to try and clean off your hands ten times a day. When a thought came to his mind that he wanted to hurt himself to distract himself from feeling so dirty, Percy knew that it was him. It was his fault that he looked like this.
No amount of tea seemed to calm him down. Percy wondered if Norma was okay sometimes.
He didn't think of hundreds of people living in that flat, or the people that took care of him for a month. It hurt him to think what Marcus told him about his cuts—that nobody wanted to see it. That he should hide it away forever. He felt an unfathomable, heavy pain in his chest. Even with the antiemetic, Percy felt nauseated the second that he woke up.
You did this to yourself, Percy finally came to terms with. You hate yourself enough to turn yourself into a real-life Eton Mess! He shuddered, because he didn't want to think about all the horrible things that he could've done that made him hate himself enough to try to split himself into halves. Thinking about it made him want to clean himself inside out.
When thoughts of dawning down bottles of chlorhexidine came to mind, Percy asked for more morphine.
