Percy was engulfed by the orange light, trying to fight through it and make sense of it all. He moved his arms, fighting hopelessly against the force that was holding him back. He made a small anguished sound and someone called out his name. The world that he had been in split apart and he was brought back down to reality. The orange light was still there, but he could also see a sliver of white through his eyelids. He tried to force them open, but was unsuccessful. "Perce," the voice called out again. "Percy?" He jumped as something cold was placed over his eyes and they shot open. A wash cloth. He was getting a taste of his own medecine.
He found that he was in the hospital wing. The voice had belonged to Hermione Granger, of all people. She nervously explained that she was there because Ron had been with him but had had to go back to the Gryffindor Tower to talk with Professor McGonagall. Percy had mumbled incoherently and Hermione had laughed in the way that people seem to when they don't understand what's going on but don't want to let on that they're clueless. He wanted to know what had happened to him. He remembered nothing. She stared back blankly at him, but he knew her well enough to know that her mind was not blank- it never was. She hurriedly told him that she would go get Madame Pomfrey and scampered away before he could respond. He let his eyes wander through the hospital wing, drifting over each bed. They were all empty now, but the bed across from him still had someone's personal effects on it. He noticed angrily that no one had thought to bring him anything- no books, no clothes, not even his wand. Probably because he'd be released right away- he wasn't really sick. He heard the pit-pat of feet on the stone floor, and flicked his eyes towards Madame Pomfrey. She smiled uncertainly before speaking.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, eyeing him up and down.
"Fine," he responded. "May I go now?" The look on Madame Pomfrey's matched the one that Hermione had given him when he had asked why he was in the hospital wing. The nurse swallowed noticeably and shifted her eyes.
"I think it would be best if you stayed in my care for another few days." She responded. She walked to the bedside table and retreived a mirror from the drawer, handing it to him along with his glasses. "Look, Percy." He put on his glasses and as he looked his brown eyes grew wider and wider behind the shiny silver frames. He dropped the mirror on to the floor with a gasp. It shattered in to a hundred peices and the perfect, neat side of him worried about cleaning it up before anyone could cut themselves. However, the panicked side shoved the perfectionist out of the way and screamed loudly at it to be quiet.
He couldn't believe what he had seen. His skin....it was...it was... all cracked. He looked as if he had spent the last million years under the hot Sahara desert sun. As if the top of his head had contained water that had suddenly overflowed and fought for a way down his face, leaving dry riverbeds on the way. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It was so ironic. The doctor had become the patient. His last thought seemed to have come out of nowhere and he was struck by it. That was right- he had been playing the doctor. Now who would care for Oliver? He couldn't bear it if anyone saw him in this condition, especially Oliver.
Madame Pomfrey was busily moving the shards of glass with magic so that they were all piled together, but she stopped suddenly when Percy asked her a question.
"Madame Pomfrey...will I ever look normal again?" she avoided his eyes as she answered.
"We're not sure. The potion you were trying to make went horribly awry- we think that maybe you added the wrong ingredient. I'm sorry Percy. There's no way to know." He remembered his face and began to cry, silently at first but then sobbing loudly and gasping for air. Hermione returned with Ron, and they both shared a worried and uncomforable look that went unnoticed by Percy before Ron ran to his older brother and wrapped his arms around him.
He found that he was in the hospital wing. The voice had belonged to Hermione Granger, of all people. She nervously explained that she was there because Ron had been with him but had had to go back to the Gryffindor Tower to talk with Professor McGonagall. Percy had mumbled incoherently and Hermione had laughed in the way that people seem to when they don't understand what's going on but don't want to let on that they're clueless. He wanted to know what had happened to him. He remembered nothing. She stared back blankly at him, but he knew her well enough to know that her mind was not blank- it never was. She hurriedly told him that she would go get Madame Pomfrey and scampered away before he could respond. He let his eyes wander through the hospital wing, drifting over each bed. They were all empty now, but the bed across from him still had someone's personal effects on it. He noticed angrily that no one had thought to bring him anything- no books, no clothes, not even his wand. Probably because he'd be released right away- he wasn't really sick. He heard the pit-pat of feet on the stone floor, and flicked his eyes towards Madame Pomfrey. She smiled uncertainly before speaking.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, eyeing him up and down.
"Fine," he responded. "May I go now?" The look on Madame Pomfrey's matched the one that Hermione had given him when he had asked why he was in the hospital wing. The nurse swallowed noticeably and shifted her eyes.
"I think it would be best if you stayed in my care for another few days." She responded. She walked to the bedside table and retreived a mirror from the drawer, handing it to him along with his glasses. "Look, Percy." He put on his glasses and as he looked his brown eyes grew wider and wider behind the shiny silver frames. He dropped the mirror on to the floor with a gasp. It shattered in to a hundred peices and the perfect, neat side of him worried about cleaning it up before anyone could cut themselves. However, the panicked side shoved the perfectionist out of the way and screamed loudly at it to be quiet.
He couldn't believe what he had seen. His skin....it was...it was... all cracked. He looked as if he had spent the last million years under the hot Sahara desert sun. As if the top of his head had contained water that had suddenly overflowed and fought for a way down his face, leaving dry riverbeds on the way. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It was so ironic. The doctor had become the patient. His last thought seemed to have come out of nowhere and he was struck by it. That was right- he had been playing the doctor. Now who would care for Oliver? He couldn't bear it if anyone saw him in this condition, especially Oliver.
Madame Pomfrey was busily moving the shards of glass with magic so that they were all piled together, but she stopped suddenly when Percy asked her a question.
"Madame Pomfrey...will I ever look normal again?" she avoided his eyes as she answered.
"We're not sure. The potion you were trying to make went horribly awry- we think that maybe you added the wrong ingredient. I'm sorry Percy. There's no way to know." He remembered his face and began to cry, silently at first but then sobbing loudly and gasping for air. Hermione returned with Ron, and they both shared a worried and uncomforable look that went unnoticed by Percy before Ron ran to his older brother and wrapped his arms around him.