this chapter took me a week and a half to write. this one has been retouched and done up so many times it probably looks nothing like it was originally... in fact, i still have the backup draft which focused more on Percy and Arthur but this scene doesn't even do much past mention Arthur (and that 1 or 2 sentences don't mention him in a positive light either). it's almost like starting a new story (and i loathe starting new stories. if i can't get the beginning right then the whole thing's a bunch of bollocks) considering how difficult it was to implement this part of Percy's life efficiently.
Percy's volunteer work will be better explained in the subsequent chapters (at least that's what i've got planned) and there will be an exploration of the relationships he had before and the dynamic change. as always, the warnings still stand: isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute. also, there is so much sexual topics talk, but not really a scene or anything. it's mostly just implications and ideas of who does what, where and how. maybe even a why. there's also a very disturbing image in this particular chapter... you'll know it when you get there, but aye, i couldn't re-write it somehow.
i absolutely adore this chapter. if only all chapters was as good as this one, then i could stop editing the bloody thing so much!
the French in this chapter... well, a friend helped do that bit for me. i know very little French but what little i understood from it seemed to make some sense to me.
general statement, since it's been bought up a couple of times already (and a bit of a spoiler alert): Percy isn't going to die in this fanfic. mostly because the ending i have planned doesn't call for death. if i do kill him, it'll be an unnecessary death without much substance to it. however... i cannot guarantee that other characters won't snuff it, whether it be intentional or not. the reason i put these warnings is because 90% of the time i have no idea where the fanfic will take itself, but i have the majority of this particular fanfic planned. i have at least one scene in mind but i'm not sure which character i want to die in that particular scene. if i was to go along with it.
replies to any other inquiries:
Ward Vermassen: thus far, the interaction between Percy and Harry is so minimal but it'll probably grow with him being prefect and all (and Ron as well). though i will probably make it minimal for fear of making either Harry or Ron OOC. i've read so many bashing fanfics i've forgotten how poor Ron is actually like at this point. though the next few chapters is a summer re-tell. i absolutely adore your comments! and as i stated up there, don't worry about Percy dying. at least not in this fanfic.
Phoenixx Rising: i'm wondering what you're thinking. the actual plot is somewhat explained at Chapter 32. "Is Marcus actually going to Durmstrang? That would totally suck." aye, bye bye Marcus for now, but he'll come back. he's an important character.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brilliant. Percy thought to himself, as he stormed down St Mungo's corridors, fuming. His skin was flushed into a rubicund hue, and his cheeks were puffed and red. His extremely freckled and exceedingly scrawny chest was exposed—which happened to be covered in a thick, sticky layer of a white substance. Just brilliant!
A few nurses around him tried to stifle their giggles as he passed, to which Percy shot an icy look at them.
Percy managed to get around to the boys' locker room without anymore incriminating comments regarding the amorphous muggy and viscous substance streaked across his chest.
Yes, Percy knew how it looked like... No, he would not learn how to swallow better next time!
That inane old coot he had to see on his rounds in the Geriatrics unit this morning—Mr Roberts—decided to down a warming potion when his nurse wasn't looking because 'he fancied a drink with a kick' and the senile, blind bat couldn't tell the difference between the amber colour of a firewhiskey bottle and the bright red colour of a warming potion!
To add insult to injury, Roberts had already spiked a forty degree fever before he decided to take aforementioned warming potion... which made his temperature rise to around fifty-three degrees ("Oh, that firewhiskey sure packed a punch now, didn't it?" Mr Roberts serenely asked, as Percy hysterically looked for a cooling potion before that man's purposeless neurons started to disintegrate and his brain would start to liquefy). When Percy managed to shove down two things of cooling potions down Mr Robert's throat, it was too late—for Mr Roberts' magical IV line had gotten to the point where it could barely cope with Roberts' body temperature and spontaneously burst, sending white, waxy slime all over Percy's skinny frame... that refused to wash off with a quick wash in the sink at the far corner of the room. It didn't take long for one of the nurses to mention he'd need to siphon off the liquid with a Tergeo.
Unfortunately for Percy, the nurses around him were too busy laughing their arses off to siphon that thing off, which thereby led to poor Percy walking down to the boys' locker rooms to find his wand... but not before the whole of the hospital found it in them to make every sexual implication under the sun.
This day could not get any worse.
PERCY threw his shirt—which was dissolving thanks to its contact with the magical IV fluid—to the bench, trying to ignore the vigorous laughing when he'd properly entered the locker room. Percy opened his locker.
"Oi, Wonder Weasel," the irritating sound of one thirteen-year-old Roger Davies, whom had his hands in the pockets of his fairly tight pants. It looked like it had been painted on him. It took all of Percy's mental energy not to transfigure the syringe in his pocket into a sledgehammer. "Is that your mum?"
Percy turned around to see a vibrant-looking redheaded girl blush deeply. She was inappropriately dressed to say the least; her black undergarments barely leaving much to the imagination. Uncouth and rude comments from the boys around her made Percy's blood boil even more. The lass flushed into a hue and with watery, tearful eyes mentioned an I'm sorry before she ran out of the room.
Percy's patience had immediately worn thin, and he grabbed Davies by the collar of his shirt.
"You're an animal," Percy spat out coldly, making a mental note to go check up on that girl after he was done with his final shift today, "And if you dare talk about my mother in that manner ever again..."
Roger stiffened but then melted. "I'm not afraid of you, Weasel. You're nothing but a cowardly lion."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "And you're nothing but a pitiless, repugnant womaniser that is attempting to compensate for his inadequate—"
"Weasel, is that your mum?" another question came from another black-haired Ravenclaw that seemed to want Percy to ram his fist through that pretentious little face of his. Percy turned around, quite ready to see another poor lass that got lost since they'd swapped the girls' and boys' locker room location, only to find Molly Weasley actually standing there with a shocked expression littering her pale face, and a bundle of knitted fabric into her pudgy arms. She looked surprised to see that Percy was in the middle of a quarrel.
"Mum?" Percy seemed surprised to find her here, and then flushed when he remembered the gelatinous pale liquid spluttered all over his chest. "This is not what it looks like!"
A chorus of laughter went round the boys' locker room, as Roger Davies threw on a thick black jumper. They left, but not before one of them leaned forward and whispered something into Molly's ear that made her honey-rimmed brown eyes widen. Knowing Lance, Percy was sure that he had hit on his mother, which made him yell out: "Oh, come off it, Webster! As if my mum would ever give a fumbling tosser like you a second look even if she wasn't happily married," fifteen-year-old Percy snapped coldly.
"Percy! Don't talk like that!" Molly seemed surprised at this before she pulled out a tissue from her overstuffed, nearly fallen-apart violet purse and then tried to wipe away the gummy substance on Percy's chest. When it wouldn't wipe away, she pulled out a wand and muttered a Tergeo, allowing it to vanish to showcase the splatter of freckles that it was hiding. "I know you're a healthy young man and that it's natural to experiment. Sex is a natural thing and nothing to be ashamed of, love but to do it in the hospital—"
"Mum, no!" Percy had all but turned into a beetroot red. "I've only had a magical IV line break is all."
Silently, he thought to himself: I'm not at all surprised you find intercourse natural but I promise you that there is nothing natural about six pregnancies, mother.
Molly seemed surprised as she watched Percy turn around and pick up his wand to siphon off the remaining liquid from his shirt. "Oh, is that poor old soul alright? A magical IV line break! That's... that's something devastating, isn't it? But I wouldn't know, love, I'm not smart with these medical things like you are..."
Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply. "He's just fine. He's just, err... medium well."
Molly arched her eyebrow in confusion and Percy didn't bother explaining.
"What are you doing here, mum? In the boys' locker room? In St Mungo's?" Percy smoothed over his chocolate-brown tweed trousers before he picked up his clipboard. He took one long look at it before his head started to pound. He'd been here since six o'clock. It was nearing three and he had one more round... his most unpleasant one with Lola Hansen.
Molly sighed deeply and placed a hand on his arm. "I thought you were already done. I wanted to apparate you to Diagon Alley just before dinner tonight to help pick out your birthday present."
"Pardon?" fifteen-year-old Percy raised an eyebrow at his mother.
"Your birthday present, Percival," Molly repeated before offering him a knitted jumper (his genuine saving grace as his other option was to go visit Hansen bare-chested). He pulled the carrot-coloured jumper over his frame, grimacing at the thought of wearing something that exaggerated his hair colour. "Today is your birthday... isn't it? It's—"
"My birthday was days ago," Percy reminded her.
"No," Molly said, her face becoming paler. "That's not possible. Your birthday is on—"
"The twenty-second," Percy flicked his wand towards the direction of the calendar sitting beside a map that showed the layout of St Mungo's. The calendar, of course, was clearly dated to the twenty-fifth. Percy pulled out his rucksack from the locker before giving his black ST MUNGO'S VOLUNTEERING badge a polish.
"Oh, I'm so—" Molly's voice was soft, and she squeaked when she felt something run up to her shoulders.
"PERCY!"
"Mum, it's fine," Percy grabbed the plump grey-furred rat from her shoulders before placing the rodent into his pocket. "It's just Scabbers. He's probably just missed me whilst he was waiting for me to come home is all and decided to have a lovely, short trip to the hospital with you—"
"LOVELY TRIP?!" Molly exclaimed, glaring pointedly at Scabbers. "One day, I'll roast that filthy rat!"
Percy grimaced. "Mum, Scabbers isn't filthy! I've given him a long bath this morning! He's perfectly clean," he exclaimed, taking the rat out of his pocket again only to stroke his fur just a little bit, smiling over at him. "Has he finished the food I've left for him?"
Molly just grumbled under her breath, before she caught sight of the calendar again as they left. A taken back and remorseful Molly placed a hand on Percy's freckled arm as they passed by the hallway back down to the Geriatric unit.
"I'm-I'm so sorry, love," Molly's wobbly voice was full of unwavering emotion. "I thought today was the twenty-second. I don't know what's come over me. It looks like your old mum should be put into the Geriatric unit herself—"
"It's fine," Percy said with little emotion in his voice as he placed Scabbers back into the front pocket of his shirt. He did not sound irritated or offended, as he stared back at his clipboard with contempt. Percy's doom was waiting for him in Room 420B, whom had a pending daily anti-arthritic potion she should've taken promptly at eight. It was now well past eight... Percy didn't know if he'd rather see Lola Hansen, or have a repeat of last Christmas where he'd accidentally caught sight of Aunt Muriel in her knickers—that was if it was appropriate to call them knickers. He'd rather call them tents with holes.
This day was absolutely dreadful, but at least he hadn't run into that witch, Penelope Clearwater, who often had the same rounds as him! Last time she'd given him his to-do clipboard (that magically ticked itself when he completed a task), Percy had to inspect aforementioned clipboard for any eagle droppings.
PERCY stepped into Lola Hansen's room, noticing the seventy-year-old white-haired woman was sat in her cot and going off at another nurse in very colourful French. Said nurse did not speak a word of French and looked mildly nauseous and traumatised as Hansen waved round a blood-flavoured lollipop (Percy wished not to understand the context of this situation). Percy offered his clipboard back to a bewildered Molly, whom was raising an eyebrow over at Hansen's uncalled fury. He pulled off his glasses to give them a good polish before putting them back on and said:
« Mademoiselle Hansen, on m'a envoyé ici-bas car vous n'avez pas pris vos potions. » (1)
Hansen's displeasure seemed to escalate, as she responded: « Je les ai prises. » (2)
Percy raised an eyebrow as he picked up his clipboard from his mum, whom seemed to be standing there with her mouth wide open, discombobulated. « C'est ne pas ce que le tableau montre… ou les infirmières, d'ailleurs. » (3) After waving the clipboard in front of her face. Her face contorted in a way that made Percy believed that she seemed to take it as a personal insult on behalf of her ability to read (which Percy never questioned). He stated: « Mademoiselle Hansen, mon supérieur insiste sur le changement de votre ordonnance orale a un suppositoire. » (4)
At the idle threat that Percy had just given her, the woman wailed out: « Bien sur, il l'a suggéré. Ce sera une belle façon de ma baiser dans le cule. » (5)
Percy's cheeks were hot and red by then. He was glad that his mum (hopefully) did not speak a word of French because the last thing he needed was this woman's vulgarity ruining his spiffy day. Percy turned to pick up a bottle of a near colourless liquid and offered it to the woman, whom simply shook her head with a look of absolute scorn burning in her waxen features.
« Mademoiselle Hansen, essayez de coopérer, s'il vous plaît. » (6)
The woman finally took the bottle from Percy's hands and took a quick gulp of the liquid.
Percy felt an instant relief wash over him. He thought that he was going to have to call in for backup and have to force her potion down her throat as last time, where Percy came home with scratches on his back from where the woman physically assaulted him during his shift.
He glanced back at his clipboard and whilst knowing he'd regret it, he asked: « Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas pris vos médicaments ? » (7)
Percy already assumed her reason regarding not taking the potion was poor. There was a red tick next to the task, and but a blank towards the question that Percy had asked... for his superior was keen on the fact that he'd to uncover the reason for why Hansen was so unhappy regarding her daily prescription—not that the cocky bastard would do anything to change it if he figured out why she didn't like it in the first place!
« Bon, mon cher Percival, s'il le faut savoir, c'est parce que maintenant mon sang menstruel est pourpre » (8) was what the bat responded with.
Percy's entire face had gone beetroot red as the answer filled into his clipboard, in French of course... Percy did not know how to translate it to his superior without dying of the utmost humiliation. He was sure that the healer-in-training would love to hear all about what shade of purple Miss Hansen's menstrual blood was at! Percy had heard that in the muggle world, women went through menopause in their forties or fifties. What lucky sods! In the wizarding world, Percy would be hard pressed to find that an eighty-year-old woman whom had already gone through the bloody (no pun intended) thing!
« Euh… Je relaie ca au guérisseur pratiquant… bonne journée, Madame. » (9)
Percy turned around to leave. His mum opened his mouth to speak, before an ear-curdling scream was elicited from the seventy-year-old senile bat's mouth.
« IL Y A UN RAT DANS LA PIECE ! TUEZ CET ETRE DEGOUTANT ! » (10)
Scabbers? He looked at his empty pocket with a terrible realisation. Percy's heart was racing as he looked through the room with a terrified expression etching on his face.
Where was Scabbers?
That was when he saw his poor little rat tread from underneath the bed, with one of the nurses walking right in with wands out and trying to blast Scabbers before Percy told them otherwise. And what could he really tell the nurses pray tell? I'm sorry but my mum has accidentally brought my pet rat to the hospital?
Percy jolted, as the woman's shrieks got louder the closer that Scabbers was to her hospital cot.
« Non, Mademoiselle Hansen, je vous assure que Croûtard n'est pas du tout dégoûtant. Il est en fait très net. Je lui ai juste donne un bain ce matin. » (11)
Scabbers is not filthy, Percy thought to himself. He's cleaner than the bloody twins!
Percy found Scabbers nestling in a little corner and ran towards him, but Scabbers ran away. The unfortunate thing was so frightened that he ran away from everything. Attempting to calm his rat down, Percy cooed to Scabbers in French: « T'es net, Croûtard, n'est pas ? » (12)
That was when Scabbers did his ultimate mistake by climbing up to Hansen's bedside and eliciting a yelp so loud that an aggregate of nurses stormed into the room almost like they were recruits for a second wizarding war. A few seconds ago, there had been blasts of multi-coloured lights towards Scabbers but now, they'd ceased since they were trying not to harm Miss Hansen... although a few looked like they were debating it.
Miss Hansen's screams rocketed through whole bleeding room: « JE PEUX PAS RESPIRER ! » (13)
Whilst the nurses stood there listlessly and his mum still had a face that made Percy that she'd been Stupefied, Percy ran towards the woman and tried to wrangle Scabbers off her before Scabbers got ill from whatever this old toad was carrying round.
« Attendez, Mademoiselle Hansen, je vous assiste. CROUTARD ! NON ! » (14)
Scared, barmy Scabbers ran into the woman's dressing gown, bringing out an even louder sound from the woman's vocal chords. Percy tried to ignore the ringing in his ears as he got to the edge of the bed where Scabbers had popped up, bathed in a purple-red liquid. Percy was just about to hold him when he realised he'd rather Scabbers die than come in contact with anything that came out of Miss Hansen's private parts.
« POUR L'AMOUR DE MERLIN, TEUZ-LE AVANT QU'IL NE NOUS TUE TOUS ! » (15)
A nurse pulled out their wand and Percy paled when he noticed that she was pointing it towards Scabbers.
Just before the nurse could do anything, Molly had finally gotten over the temporary non-stun stun that she was in and had pulled out her wand, siphoning the liquid off Scabbers so that Percy could snatch him right up and put him in his pocket.
This was just about the muckiest, most perturbing moment in Percy's whole summer.
AS PERCY and Molly were taken towards his superior's office, which was really just a bunch of desks for healers-in-training because they weren't anywhere near qualified enough to get their own office each. Standing behind a mahogany desk was his superior, whom Percy dubbed in his head as Shoes, considering his terribly distracting choice of shoes, which happened to be fluorescent boots. He supposed that the Geriatric unit did not notice since half of them had lost sight of their vision during the first wizarding war.
"You are in so much trouble," Shoes said in annoyance. "Weasel... A RAT? In a Geriatric unit? What were you thinking about? You could've given that woman a coronary! You're lucky that she isn't threatening to sue any of us! And what exactly was your mother doing in the boys' locker room? I have half a mind to discredit all the work that you've done this summer over this incident!"
You're lucky I still have eyes after seeing Scabbers bathed in her menstrual blood, Percy thought. Else that would be an interesting court case.
"IF YOU DARE DISCREDIT MY SON AFTER HE VOLUNTEERED TO WORK TEN HOUR SHIFTS IN THIS MERLIN FORSAKEN HOSPITAL FOR THE LAST THREE MONTHS—" Molly was fuming.
Shoes looked pale and had to cut an enthralled Molly off, "Don't worry, Miss! I'll just have him tide over an extra hour this week that will not be mentioned in any certification that I'll give him at the end of his three month course! I was only joking... Percy was always just a joker, wasn't he? Good humour."
Shoes gave her an uneasy smile as he nudged Percy as if to say 'please save me here.'
"Percy won't be able to tell what a joke is if he's had to study it as part of his school curriculum," Molly efficiently stated, eyes cold and hard.
Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Mum!"
"It's true, love, I'm sorry," Molly patted onto Percy's shoulder and then stormed out of the office. The fifteen-year-old wizard walked after her, trying to forget about how humiliating and terrible today had been. Scabbers wiggled around Percy's pocket, and if he decided to pull anything remotely funny, Percy was leaving him here to be blasted into a fine powder by one of the second-wizarding-war-trained-nurses.
At least, Percy concluded. It's not my birthday.
Else it would just be the icing on top of the proverbial cake.
"PERCY, can I ask you a question?" Molly asked, as they were walking out of the hospital together.
He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that not only did his mum visit him today whilst he had his volunteer work to complete, but she'd also seen him with a sticky white substance on his chest and assumed that he was having it off with a bloke at the hospital. Pushing aside the fact that Percy was straight as a pin, Percy didn't think he could dare do that in a professional environment such as a hospital, but he supposed that schools were considered to be a 'professional environment' and Percy had definitely had his share of, um, activities in Hogwarts after dark. Though to his defence, most of said 'activities' were in Hogsmeade (though he did not know if that was better or worse).
"Yes?" Percy asked, scratching his neck and staring at the sweat pouring from his skin as a consequence of wearing that jumper in the scorching British heat.
Molly's question wasn't one he expected. "When did you learn French?"
"Pardon?" Percy looked over at her and then flushed deeply. "Err... I've learned it about a few years ago."
"Percy, don't you understand? I should've known. I'm your mother for Merlin's sake. How could I not know what languages my own son spoke?!" Molly took his shoulder and then had him look back down at her. At fifteen, Percy was six feet tall and still as scrawny as he was in his eleven years. Much to his annoyance, his freckles seemed to multiply instead of reduce. She placed a hand to his cheek and stared at him with big begging brown eyes. "You're so closed off that you're a stranger to me, love... I'm worried about you."
Percy was astonished to hear these words coming from his mother's mouth.
"Mum, I'm fine," was all that he could say before pulling her hand away from his face.
"Why didn't you remind any of us about your birthday, Percy?" Molly asked softly. Her voice was guilt-ridden and she looked like she'd aged twenty years.
Percy simply shrugged carelessly. "It isn't particularly important."
"It's your birthday, sweetheart. Of course it's important," Molly crooned as she watched him put his hands in his pockets and stare down at the ground. "Come on. Let me buy you something from Diagon Alley to make it up to you. At the house, Charlie is making sure the that the Ron and Ginny don't ruin your cake. They're playing Extreme Exploding Snap—you know how one of those cards one exploded and ended up all the way from our house to the Lovegood house?"
Percy honestly wouldn't be surprised if that did happen. His feet were aching, and his dodgy leg was pulsating in the outmost pain. He could barely walk, and he wished he could tell his mum that he didn't want a gift, but he supposed that she'd just go on about how she was sorry about forgetting his birthday. Arthur would've probably just told him not to ruin it for everyone else and make a big fuss out of things because it was a 'an honest mistake.' Interestingly enough, nobody ever made such errors when it came to anyone else's birthday yet Percy had his birthday forgotten three years, haphazardly celebrated another, was caught in the woods in another (with no reproduction of the events—though he supposed it was because he was being a larger of a prat than usual those days) and just last year, they'd decided to celebrate his birthday by taking him out to play Quidditch with some famous Quidditch players since they were visiting the Ministry then. Percy didn't even like Quidditch in the slightest! Instead of allowing it to annoy him, he just tried to institute the fact that birthdays were not that big a deal. Still, his childlike heart ached.
This year, he'd genuinely forgotten that this twenty-second was his birthday until he'd done his last shift of the day and the whole of the Geriatric unit decided to surprise him with a cake—his favourite cake? How did they happen to know it? It wasn't exactly anything generic until he recalled a conversation he had with Madame Maximilian a few weeks ago when she asked him what cake he preferred. Percy was astonished at the rate that he'd been bombarded with gifts. He hadn't even opened them yet, but he was sure one of them was a broom. Every fibre in his being wanted to give it to Ron, but he knew that his accident-prone eleven-year-old brother shouldn't be given a broom.
"Percy," Molly's voice pulled him out of his reverie, "That girl has been calling you for ages!"
Percy turned his head around to notice that Penelope was trailing behind him for a while now. Oh, just bloody great... as if this day wasn't phenomenal enough already!
Walking with her pale summer boots and long, flowing blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a serene waterfall, Penelope strode towards him with a look of determination crossing her soft features. She was wearing a rather long silken peach-coloured silken frock which hugged her curvy, voluminous figure. She had her snow-white volunteering robes on top... one that Percy would only get if he'd been volunteering for at least a year. Her scarlet red badge was pinned to the robes (not polished until glittering and gleaming like his own, he added on smugly into his mind). With every step she took, her fairly large bosom seemed to bounce. Percy would've made a comment about how she needed to shop for better undergarments, if not for the fact that it would probably cause his mum to melt down.
"What'd you say to Roger that upset him so much?" Penelope asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know how sensitive he is! I'm going to get my reform group to send you a dozen owls by the end of today on how to appropriately approach an individual that has problems effectively communicating with everyone else—"
"I upset him?" Percy said incredulously. "I assure you, Penelope, I do not want my interactions with Roger to be civil, considering all the rubbish that he's pulled over the last week alone. He copped a feel from Madame Maximillian's daughter and thought he was doing her a service!"
Penelope was offended. "Roger would never do something like that! You don't know him! He's the sweetest bloke I've ever met... he's much better than you will ever be, Percival Ignatius Weasley! I've half a mind to report you to St Mungo's for your closeted epilepsy if not for the fact I don't want to deal with your neuroses—"
What a blow to his rising self-esteem! It was hard enough to try and hide a bloody convulsion without her making his life difficult by worrying him with that inane threat. Percy watched her storm off... he stood corrected. That was the icing on top of the proverbial cake.
"That's Penelope?" Molly was surprised as she watched her walk away. "But she used to love you! She—"
"Let's go home, mother," an exasperated Percy turned around, obviously wanting to close the subject.
(1) "Miss Hansen, I have been sent down here because you have not taken your potions."
(2) "I did."
(3) "That's not what the charts say... or the nurses for that matter."
(4) "Miss Hansen, my superior insisted on changing your oral prescription to a suppository."
(5) "Of course he suggested that. It'll be a nice way of fucking me in the arse."
(6) "Miss Hansen, please try and cooperate."
(7) "Why did you not take your medication?"
(8) "Well, dear Percival, if you must know, my menstrual blood is now purple thanks to your superior's prescription."
(9) "Err... I'll relay this to the practicing healer... good day, madam."
(10) "THERE'S A RAT IN THE ROOM! KILL THAT FILTHY THING!"
(11) "No, Miss Hansen, I assure you Scabbers isn't filthy at all. He's actually properly clean! I've just given him a long bath this morning!"
(12) "You're clean, aren't you, Scabbers?"
(13) "I CAN'T BREATHE!"
(14) "Hold on, Miss Hansen, I'll assist you! SCABBERS! NO!"
(15) "OH, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, KILL IT NOW BEFORE IT KILLS US!"