The Secret

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Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed Headmistress McGonagall through the fireplace. Harry stepped out, coughing and reorienting himself. He had never really gotten the hand of the Floo network. Flying had always been his preferred way of travel, followed by apparating. The Floo network was too dusty and public. He didn't like the idea of people tracking where he went.

The fireplace was in what appeared to be a private room at St. Mungo's. As Harry looked around, he noticed it looked similar to the room Arthur Weasley had been in, only no other patient shared it. The same white floors, small bed, beige curtain, and odd candles. A group of Healers in long robes were standing between them and a bed, talking to who Harry assumed was Percy. 

McGonagall pushed forward immediately, going right to Percy's side. Harry hadn't realized that the two were so...close. That wasn't really the right word, but they seemed to have grown very comfortable with each other despite being student and teacher so recently.

Harry followed her, shoving past the Healers to stand at the end of Percy's bed, Hermione and Ron right behind him. He sucked in a breath at what he saw, his heart sinking. He'd lost his parents, Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin--all his family and the people he had considered family. Percy, with his incredible wizardry skill and demigod power, had been the one person Harry hadn't expected to lose. And to something as mortal as head trauma, if what McGonagall said was true...it was shocking. Unbelievable. His chest tightened like he couldn't breathe as he took in his older cousin.

Percy was somewhat propped up on pillows. His skin was pale and sickly-looking, a think sheen of sweat covering the flesh. Dark bags circled his eyes that were dull instead of their normal vibrant sea-green. At least he was conscious, but he looked horrible. Even worse, he was wearing faded blue hospital robes, which somehow made everything feel more real.

Percy's eyes turned from the Healers as the others approached him, and they widened in surprise. Expressions flitted across his face: shock, horror, worry, and finally anger as he looked at McGonagall. Harry noticed that his cousin's eyelids fluttered and it looked like he was having trouble focusing his eyes. 

"You--" Percy rasped angrily, glaring at the Headmistress. Even weak as he was, the anger on his face was scary. "You swore--!"

McGonagall seemed unconcerned and simply held up a wrinkled hand, lips thin. "I warned you, Jackson, that withholding this information would become problematic. Something like this was bound to happen."

"I don't care! This is my personal information to disclose!" Percy snarled. He looked around like he wanted to push himself up, but his eyes fluttered and he hung his head, clearly too weak to move himself much.

One of the Healers--a short man who seemed to be in charge--frowned. "I'm afraid, Headmistress, that is technically a breach of patient confidentiality, but we have much more urgent matters to discuss," he added, looking at Percy pointedly.

"What's the assessment?" McGonagall asked, nodding at the Healer. 

"Wait--I want to know what you told them," Percy butted in. "I deserve to know that."

McGonagall sighed, not even bothering to look back at the three students. "I told them only what they need to know: that you sustained a head injury during the Battle of Hogwarts and have been taking potion to stop the bleeding before surgery. Now please, Healer Worrace, continue."

The head Healer, Healer Worrace, looked a little awkward but obeyed the Headmistress. "The good news is that Mr. Jackson was not unconscious for very long, which means this complication is not serious enough that we need to immediately proceed with surgery. We believe that the potion was not working, so the injury was progressing as it does without treatment. Have you been experiencing more symptoms recently, Mr. Jackson?"

Percy looked at the trio. Harry's breath caught. Was he going to kick them out? Was he going to shut Harry out once again? He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Percy was always planning things, doing things, or keeping secrets that Harry was always excluded from. Not this, please. Don't shut me out again. He didn't know what he'd do. If Percy didn't let him know about his declining health, if he couldn't know about this--

The demigod closed his eyes, his face becoming expressionless and numb. He opened his eyes and looked directly at the Healers. "Yes. More blackouts with the flashbacks. I've had some muscle weakness and partial paralysis, and challenges with cognitive processing. I can't remember--when things are said. Sometimes I blank for conversations, or parts of them."

Oh. Oh. That explained...a lot. Harry remembered the first DADA class, when Percy had restarted the conversation five minutes in. He had thought his cousin was just distracted thinking of the first day. There had been other times when Percy would seem confused during lessons or conversations. His eyes would lose focus, and then he'd pull it together and smile it off. The most notable event had been when Harry had walked with Percy by the lake one morning and confessed that he was having really bad nightmares about the war. Ginny had been a huge help, offering a hand to remind himself things were okay, but she couldn't help him at night. Percy had promised to think on it and get back to him with an idea the next morning, but he never had. Harry had thought his cousin just didn't want to deal with Harry's problems since he had so many of his own. He'd been really hurt by that, but now he knew it was a product of Percy's illness, not anything sinister. His cousin had no memory of that conversation.

Harry realized how horrible that must be. Percy didn't remember what he couldn't remember.

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