Disclaimer: Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.
Rated T for language
A/N: Yet another far-too-late chapter. But with Thanksgiving break, I finally got a little time to devote to writing.
Chapter 29
Triage was Lynn's least favorite part of being a Healer.
That was a recent discovery. When she had first started working at St. Mungo's, she would have said the worst part was losing a patient. And yes, that was bad. Really, really bad. There were always choked explanations and apologies to family members, tears on time of death reports, a sick feeling in her stomach that refused to go away. But somehow, it just wasn't as bad. If one of Lynn's patients died, you damn well knew she had spent every possible fucking second at their side, doing everything she could to try to save them. But with triage it was different. With triage, she couldn't devote herself entirely to saving someone. With triage, Lynn had to choose. She had to choose who she helped immediately, and who had to stand by bleeding. She had to choose who got the best potions, and who had to get by on the quickly cast spells. Who lived, and who died.
Triage meant playing God, and everything Lynn had seen and experienced in her life had left her believing that if God even existed, he had to be some kind of heartless bastard.
And so when she and Percy twisted into existence in the safe house and the deadly calm of the forest burst into shouts, screams, sounds of chaos and some fellow Healer was calling out to her to help, Lynn leapt to her feet with a feeling of doom threatening to overcome her.
The sound of Percy's voice was strangely distant, even though he was shouting right next to her. "What happened? What's going on?"
Lynn didn't bother to concentrate on the answer to his question; she was already striding purposefully over to where the injured were lying on stretchers. Lynn tried to shut out her compassion as she cast an objective medical eye over those wounded, helpless people gasping and moaning in pain. She focused on the first one she caught sight of.
Male, mid-twenties, minor burns, broken arm, superficial cuts. Diagnosis: Not critical. Someone else can handle this.
Making a note to come back and check on him after the situation was stabilized, she moved on to the next poor soul, who was gasping and thrashing in agony.
Female, late thirties to early forties. Serious lesions, collapsed lung… major curse damage. Diagnosis: Not going to make it.
Lynn turned away, on to the next patient.
As they appeared in the safe house, Percy could immediately see that something was seriously wrong. This place lacked the usual strained fear and instead was full of audible panic. He and Lynn leapt up. Percy glanced to his side and saw on his friends face a stoic, emotionless mask.
"What happened? What's going on?" he demanded of no one in particular as Lynn pushed past him. His gaze lingered on the rows and rows of victims.
A disheveled, wide-eyed man who was rushing past turned to him and answered. "There have been raids everywhere, all across the country," he choked out, words tumbling over one another. "They're sending people anywhere there's room and a chance of being helped." The man suddenly frowned, putting a hand to Percy's chin and turning his face sharply. "Are you hurt?"
Percy was flabbergasted for a second before he remembered. The scars. At first sight, the old dragon fire burns almost looked fresh. "No," he said quickly. "It's fine." Still frowning, the man left him and pushed away through the rows of stretches.
As he went, Percy felt a numbness spreading through his chest. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't. He was supposed to be a goddamned office worker, not a Healer. He wasn't supposed to have to deal with blood and hurt and pain and death—
"PERCY!" The desperate cry pulled Percy back into reality. Suddenly pale hands were grabbing at his filthy robes and big eyes were boring into him.
"Magnolia!" he sputtered out, recognizing her at once. Thank Merlin. He'd finally found her. "I have—"
"Simon! Thank God!" Magnolia gasped, voice full of relief and joy. She took the baby out of Percy's arms, cuddling him to her chest, face split by a giant grin as Simon gurgled happily.
Before Percy could get out another word, she had exclaimed a quick goodbye, pushed away through the crowds and was gone. He blinked stupidly after where the young mother had disappeared, hoping she knew where she was going, for Simon's sake.
"Oi! Hey, you!" A hand grabbed the back of Percy's robes and he spun around. Another man, harassed, slightly irritated-looking stood before him. "Are you just going to stand there or can you help?"
"Uh, I—I," Percy stammered out. I'm not a Healer! Sure, he could heal minor cuts and spell damage, reverse some hexes and jinxes, all the little tricks he had picked up from Lynn and Madame Pomfrey and his Mum, but…
"Yes or no?" the man bit out curtly, practically yelling to be heard clearly over the surrounding bedlam.
"Yes," Percy replied, praying that he didn't sound as sick to his stomach as he felt.
"Good. Get on with it." The man spun around on his heel and was engulfed by the panicked mass of people. Trying to shake off his apprehension and downright fear, Percy quickly hurried over to one of the injured masses on the floor. He pulled out his wand, trying to pretend his hand wasn't shaking.
It was slow, tortuous work, going through the refugees. A lot of them were too badly hurt for him to even try to help, too damaged for his inept hands to put back together. He'd never been good at fixing things. But what were worse than the horrendous physical wounds were the people who, when he tried to help them, clutched at him and begged to know how a family member or friend was doing. When that happened, all Percy could do was awkwardly extract himself, stammering out an apology, and stumble away. It cut him up inside, because when he looked into their feverish, desperate eyes all he could think of was his own family…and Audrey.
Audrey. Facing down Death Eaters in Romania without him…shouldn't he be there?
Percy was about to jump up and apparate to her when a pained groan distracted him. He turned immediately to face the source of the noise, dropping to his knees next to the huddled figure. A curtain of terribly knotted, dirty hair that he supposed had been curly at one point covered her face—and it was a her, as Percy could tell. A young woman. He crouched down next to her, and, once he was sure she was aware of his presence, gingerly pulled away the shroud of hair to reveal her pale face.
"Penny?"
The young woman's blue eyes fluttered opened, and they were bright and intelligent, despite her dilapidated appearance. That's when Percy knew he wasn't mistaken about who he was looking at.
"Pen…" he whispered. All of the composed routine he had built up treating patients dissolved, and Percy found himself pathetically wiping at the still-wet blood on her clothes, completely frantic and unsure of what to do.
Penelope's pale lips quirked, turning up into a tired smile. "Perce… it's really you." Her delicate hand moved up to brush his uncharacteristically stubbled face. Her slender fingers passed over the crusty bumps of his scars, making him flinch. Penny, of course, noticed. She had always been so attentive and sensitive; nothing could get past her observant eyes. "What…?"
"It's nothing," he said in a strained murmur, automatically casting the shielding charms over his face before moving his wand to tend to her wounds. They weren't too bad, compared to some he'd seen, but every drop of her blood was too much, every crimson stain a terrible travesty…
It was funny, he thought, how the dark red of her muggle-born blood was exactly the same as that of his pure wizard blood.
Percy was pulling huge, painful looking splinters out of her flesh, ghosting a healing charm over angry red welts that would otherwise form colorful bruises. "Penny, what happened?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. "How could this happen…?"
"Some of us muggle-borns were hiding out underneath an old store…" she groaned again, stretching her body, testing the limbs Percy had freshly healed. He watched her nervously, an unfamiliar protective feeling rising up in his chest. "Some Death Eaters came in and cursed through the floor."
Of course. A wooden floor would explain all the little shards of wood… "I'm so sorry, Penny."
But she gently pushed his hands away as he tried to check her for any other injuries. "It's okay… I'm fine, really…" Penelope sat up, bracing herself against the wall. She gave him a sad smile. "I was one of the lucky ones, you see, to get out."
Percy tried to smile back at her, to be reassuring, but the only expression he could manage was one of horror.
"I wondered if I would ever see you again, you know," she mused after a few moments of silence.
Percy looked into her eyes, wondering himself. When had he last seen her, his first girlfriend? It must have been years ago, probably a chance encounter in the halls of the Ministry, before they had begun putting muggle-borns like Penny on trial.
He remembered their break-up. It had been mutual, of course, it had been logical. He was leaving Hogwarts to start his new job at the Ministry, and she was starting her final year. It made sense to stop seeing each other. They had agreed that they both would be far too busy to be keeping up a long distance relationship.
Percy was beginning to lose track of all the times he looked back on past decisions and thought about what a daft bugger he had been. But if he had stayed with her, would he have ever met Audrey? He had loved Penny in his hormonal teenage years, but somehow, Audrey was just so much more…
"Oh, Penny."
"I'm fine, Percy, really, I…" Penelope broke off suddenly, staring with a frown at something over his shoulder. "Is that your owl?"
"What?" Percy whipped around, shocked, following her soft blue gaze. Sure enough, he saw a familiar streak of brown feathers coming towards them. "Hermes?"
Percy never thought he would see the owl again. When he had gone into hiding, he'd just assumed Hermes had been killed in the inevitable raid of his flat. It had hurt, thinking that one of his oldest friends (even if it was an animal, after all he still hadn't forgiven Ron for letting his old rat die) had been killed, but he hadn't thought about Hermes in a while.
The owl flapped over, settling on his now outstretched arm, glaring at him reproachfully with bright yellow eyes as if to say 'How could you leave me there?' Unconsciously, Percy checked him for a letter, but there was nothing.
Obviously, you should have known, who would possibly be sending you a letter right n—
Percy's thoughts were cut off as another, larger owl glided into the room through some unseen window, drawing startled cries from at least a dozen wizards and witches. This dark gray owl flew over towards him as well and it did have a letter.
Percy was reaching out to remove said letter when he realized that this ruffled owl smelled strongly of—goats?
