After a relentlessly stormy night, it had finally stopped raining. However, the morning remained gray and the castle was now littered with puddles. The sun was hidden under a thick mass of black clouds but, as if calling out for help, a few rays of light escaped here and there. And as Percy looked up at the sky while slowly making his way to the infirmary, he too felt as if he were calling out for help.
Last night, after the "incident", as he chose to call it because he couldn't bear to go into detail of what he had done, he went straight to his room. Then, he had changed into fresh robes and went to the Great Hall for the feast. Throughout the whole night, he kept turning his head towards the entrance waiting to see Oliver walk in, beaten and bloody, but okay, and accuse him in front of everyone of what he had done.
But as the night carried on, and there was no sign of Oliver, he began to worry. What if the clubs were still beating Oliver?...What if—he died? He had lost his appetite. He just sat there staring at the entrance. Waiting. Watching. Wondering.
Most of all, he sat there in regret—disgust even. He had never believed himself capable of something so horrifically evil, especially not to someone whom he loved so dearly. He began remembering the events that occurred; he knew that, had he not felt so pathetically helpless, he wouldn't have attacked Oliver.
It wasn't until he was in the common room that he was approached by his twin brothers and Angelina. He had been staring at the fire lost in thought. When he looked up and saw them he was waiting to be accused.
"Percy..." began Angelina but she stopped.
"Yeah?"
"Oh I can't do it!" she said and tears trickled down her cheeks.
"What?" Percy said more alarmed now. They didn't know he had done it. He didn't even care if they did know, all that mattered now was Oliver. If anything had happened….he wouldn't be able to live with himself. Even now, he knew that he could never forgive himself.
"He's badly injured…he's in the infirmary." Fred said looking at the floor.
"He was found being beaten to death by bludgers and a pair of enchanted clubs." George continued.
"I bet it was that stupid Marcus Flint!" Angelina said angrily.
" 'course it was him. Bloody bloke is the sorest loser there is." Fred said.
"Probably payback from that duel they got into. Percy, you better watch your back he might come after you too." said George.
And this made Percy flinch with pain. The genuine concern in George's voice made him weak. He didn't deserve it. He was a monster.
"You know about that?" Percy asked.
"Oliver told us. Said how happy he was you were around to save his butt."
"Anyways, we just thought you should know since you two are pretty close. And you should go see him. He needs you." Angelina said. Oliver had only nodded and then went up to his dormitory to sleep.
Now in front of the infirmary door he stopped. Could he go inside? He didn't think he'd be able to see the boy so weak and defenseless and knowing it was his fault. A voice in his head was telling him to turn around, to walk away and disappear somewhere where he'd never be found. But his heart, the dictator of his actions, was demanding for him to go inside.
He took a deep breath and walked in. The room was empty and dim. A soothing fire was audible from the fireplace.
When he reached Oliver's bed he was taken aback. A ray of light, one that Percy imagined had been calling for help, was shining right through the window and fell right where Oliver lay sleeping. And though Oliver's face was bruised, the light illuminated him completely so that he resembled a beautiful cherub. Percy felt as though he had chopped the wings off an angel.
He began to cry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
"It's all my fault." he said out loud.
Then, unable to control himself, he leaned over Oliver and ran his fingers through his hair pushing it to one side and felt his temperature. He was warm. Percy found himself, putting a hand on his chest.
He couldn't feel anything so he put the side of his head on his chest. And then he heard what he wanted to hear. The majestic melody of Oliver's heart.
When Percy was satisfied that Oliver was indeed alive, he raised his head and whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry Oliver."
With that, he pressed his lips to Oliver's forehead and gave him a kiss. He could smell the invigorating scent pine. The one he thought about so often.
Percy took out his wand and pointed at Oliver.
"I love you, Oliver. I'm going to make this right."
Then, he began to cry when he uttered the spell that would alter Oliver's memories. As the memories of their friendship left Oliver's mind forever, they began to fill Percy's.
He remembered their inside jokes.
He remembered the tutoring.
He remembered the talks.
He remembered riding on the back of Oliver's broom.
But all of this, Oliver had now forgotten.
And Percy cried, just stood there crying, because all those moments that he held so dear were drifting into oblivion due to a bad decision and the wave of a wand.
A beautiful friendship that had taken months to nourish was disappearing in a matter of seconds.
And he cried, just stood there crying, that was all he could do now.