Welcome to Pigfarts, School of Witchcraft and Fuckery
When Percy finally came back to his senses, the amount of pain he was in made him wish he'd just stayed unconscious.
His entire body ached, as if he'd been thrown into a laundry machine with the settings on heavy duty. His mouth must have been drier than the Sahara desert considering how his tongue had basically fused to the roof of his mouth. Worst of all, his head was pounding with the kind of ache that only came with a concussion– or an English essay induced migraine.
Beyond the constant pulse of pain in his head, Percy could just barely make out a soft murmur of words coming from his left. The words were practically unintelligible to his poor brain, but even if he did magically manage to make out what was being said, he doubted it would have made sense.
"... poor lad, took quite a fall out there..."
"... all because of those ruddy dementors!..."
"... are you kidding me? That was all Grace's fault..."
Grace. Percy's eyes fluttered open weakly, and he winced as the bright lights filled his already blurry vision. Thalia, he thought, already beginning to feel his heart race, Where is she?
To his left, someone gasped. "He's awake!"
Percy blinked, and turned to find six people, all muddy and wearing yellow robes, looking at him with matching expressions of concern. Six people who he was very, very sure he had never met before.
"Perce?" The boy closest to him asked, his blue-grey eyes bright with worry, "You alright?"
Okay. So, apparently, these people knew him, even though he knew for a fact he’d never seen these people in his life. A barrage of questions flooded through his mind, most of them being something along the lines or who the hell are you? Or, where the hell am I? But there was one question on his mind that he really needed an answer to.
Unsticking his tongue from the top of his mouth, he managed to force out, “Where’s Thalia?”
The strangers stared at him as if he were crazy, varying expressions of worry and confusion written all over their faces. The one closest to him cleared his throat awkwardly, then nodded to something on Percy’s right. “She’s, uh, there…”
“Not sure why you would care anyway, mate,” another one of the strangers muttered as Percy turned, heart hammering in his throat. “She’s the one who knocked you off your bloody broom…”
Percy ignored what was being said as he laid his eyes on Thalia, laying on a cot next to him. And- oh, gods.
His stomach flipped uncomfortably as he took in Thalia’s appearance. She was still unconscious, lips slightly parted, and the bruise blossoming under her eye made sure that she wouldn’t have any more fun waking up than Percy did. On top of that, a bandage was wrapped around her head, splattered with little red dots that Percy could only hope wasn’t blood.
“What happened?” He asked hoarsely, barely thinking before he dared to speak. His head was throbbing uncomfortably again, making the room spin and forcing Percy to lay back in his own cot, dizzy. The strangers were glancing between each other and Percy again, clearly unsure about what to do.
“You don’t remember?” A different person piped up- a girl, this time, with auburn hair and freckles. Once he laid eyes on her, Percy was sorely reminded of someone- someone who, at the moment, he couldn’t even remember.
He shook his head, dazed. More anxious glancing. Except this time, one guy stood up and loudly announced, “I’m going to find Madame Pomfrey,” before hurrying away so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet.
Which still left five people staring at Percy like he’d lost his mind. Which, honestly, he might’ve.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened before this… but it was all a dull blur in his head. The memories were right there- he could feel them, lingering just out of reach, needing something to trigger them into motion.
“Percy?” He opened his eyes slowly and found the boy with blue-grey eyes looking at him carefully, like he was a bomb about to detonate. “What… what do you remember?”
There was the question that Percy had been dreading. Because now everyone was staring at him expectantly, almost hopefully, waiting for him to give them an answer he didn’t have. Slowly, he shook his head.
“I don’t remember anything,” he confessed, and someone gasped softly. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his memories to come back to him, but they were stubbornly locked away. Not stolen, not gone, just... slipping through his grasp constantly, as if he were trying to grab a cloud. That frustrated him more than anything, because they were still there. It was as if he was holding a box containing his most prized possessions, but he didn't have the key to open it.
Percy was beginning to wish he had a metaphorical sledgehammer to smash open his metaphorical box when a loud voice cut through the stunned silence. “And just what, exactly, are all of you doing here? This boy needs rest! Shoo, shoo!”
“Sorry, Madame Pomfrey!” One of the strangers yelped, and Percy watched, bewildered, as an elderly woman in a nurse’s uniform shooed them all through the door. Everyone was sure to file out quickly, but not without throwing a few glances back at Percy, who waved awkwardly as a goodbye. The boy with blue-grey eyes caught his gaze and gave him an assuring smile before Madame Pomfrey shut the door in his face.
Almost as soon as she had closed the door, Madame Pomfrey rounded on Percy, her eyes narrowed. Whatever incoherent thoughts were forming in his brain were quickly replaced by the knowledge that messing with Madame Pomfrey meant messing with his life, which he was in no mood to do in his current state.
“Lost your memory, then, Jackson?” Madame Pomfrey asked, moving towards him like a woman on a mission. Percy just nodded quickly, then winced as his head throbbed in protest. Madame Pomfrey stopped in front of him, lips pursed, and Percy fought back the inexplicable urge to shrink away.
But Madame Pomfrey only sighed deeply, heavily, like this was a problem she was all too familiar with. “I’ve healed many different injuries in my life, but memory loss is always a tricky one.” Then, under her breath, she added, “And it’s not everyday that you fall out of the sky after being knocked off your broom… why they haven’t banned that sport yet, I don’t even know…”
Percy, beyond confused by Pomfrey’s cryptic muttering and everything else going on, could also feel himself getting more frustrated as time went on. He’d been here for gods know how long and he still hadn’t gotten a single answer from anybody. He didn’t even know where he was, much less what he could possibly be doing there.
”Would somebody please just tell me what's going on?" Percy demanded, although his raspy voice chipped away at his frustration and made him sound more desperate than anything. Once he started, Percy found he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. "I don't know where I am, or- or what I'm even doing here, and nobody has told me a single thing. Instead of helping, they all just look at me like I'm the crazy one, and not to mention the only person I know here is Thalia, and she's unconscious!-"
There was a series of loud pops! as Percy's temper got away from him, and a shelf lined with different kinds of bottles all exploded suddenly, splashing strange smelling liquids all over the floor. Percy froze, half expecting Madame Pomfrey to freak out, but she merely glanced at the mess before focusing her gaze on Percy. When she spoke, her voice was much gentler than it had been earlier.
“I know it’s frustrating, but regaining your memory is going to be difficult,” she said, although there were still hints of sternness in her voice, as if she were comforting Percy and scolding him all at once. "I'm not sure how much the information will help you, but I will answer your questions as best as I can."
Once Percy heard those words, those oh-so-very-kind and utterly simple words, he felt as though he could cry from relief. Finally, he thought, Answers!
Then the door flew open, and two people walked in.
Madame Pomfrey’s ability to switch personalities at the blink of an eye was admirable. The strangers had barely stepped foot through the door before she had turned around, threatening loudly, “If this is another Quidditch-related injury, I will be filing a report to Dumbledore to ban that ridiculous sport once and for all!”
The man stepping through the doorway didn’t even flinch, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that made it difficult to tell if he was going to smile or scowl. His hair hung around his face in a greasy curtain, and his voice was almost as oily as his hair when he spoke.
“Fortunately for you, Poppy, there were no brooms involved in this accident,” the man said drily, stepping aside so Madame Pomfrey could see who he’d brought in with him. Once Percy saw the boy, recognition hit him like a truck.
“It seems here that Mr. di Angelo is having trouble with his memory-” the greasy man started, but no sooner than he had uttered the words di Angelo did Percy jolt forwards.
“Nico?” He blurted out, ignoring the man’s surprised expression in the background as he was suddenly cut off. Sure enough, Nico stood in the doorway, his features tight with barely restrained panic as he met Percy’s gaze. For a few fleeting, worrying moments, Percy was sure Nico didn’t recognize him, but realization quickly dawned on his pale features.
“Percy?” Nico asked hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure if what he was seeing was real. Then his eyes found Thalia on the next bed over, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Thalia? But- what happened?”
By this point, Madame Pomfrey was looking rather frazzled. “Leave him here, Severus,” she ordered, not wasting a second before ushering Nico to one of the empty cots. He took a seat on the edge, absently fiddling with his skull ring as Pomfrey turned back to the greasy-haired man— Severus, she’d said.
”As I was saying,” Severus told Pomfrey slowly, shooting a venomous glance Percy’s way, “Mr. di Angelo seemed to be having some sort of… episode during Potions. He claims he’s lost his memories, now, with no idea where he is.”
“Well, he’s certainly not the only one,” Madame Pomfrey sighed, shaking her head. “Thank you for bringing him here, Severus. I’ll do what I can.”
Severus only nodded and turned to leave, but not without shooting Percy yet another dirty look over his shoulder. Percy wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to make the man hate him, but knowing himself, it was probably deserved.
“Alright, then.” Madame Pomfrey turned back to Percy and Nico, hands on her hips, like she wasn’t quite sure where to begin with them. “Before I tell you anything, you should know that it is going to sound quite unbelievable, but I would like for you to save your questions for later.”
The preface of the conversation basically told Percy everything he needed to know: he was really, really not going to like what he was going to hear. Still, he wanted answers, so he forced himself to pay attention while also fighting off the growing feeling of dread in his stomach.
Madame Pomfrey spoke like she was ripping off a band aid. “You two are wizards.”
From the corner of his eye, Percy could’ve sworn he saw Nico’s jaw drop, but Pomfrey continued without hesitation. “You are currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest wizarding school in the United Kingdom. Hogwarts is home to four houses— Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Ravenclaw for the wise, and Slytherin for the ambitious. School begins at age eleven and ends at seventeen, which is when wixen are considered legal adults.
“You, Percy Jackson-” Hearing his name, Percy jumped slightly, though he wasn’t sure why. “-are a Hufflepuff student in your sixth year. And you, Nico di Angelo, are a Slytherin student in your third year. Your friend, Thalia Grace, is a Gryffindor in her sixth year as well.
“As for how you and Thalia ended up in the Hospital Wing, Mr. Jackson-” Madame Pomfrey suddenly took a deep breath, like she was trying to stop herself from saying something rude. “-you two collided on your brooms during the most recent Quidditch match, which was a disaster for a multitude of reasons. That accident, I'm assuming, is also the reason why you are having problems with your memory.
"Now," Madame Pomfrey said after a beat of silence, "Questions?"
The silence that filled the Hospital Wing after Madame Pomfrey’s brief explanation was almost deafening. Percy’s mind was buzzing with questions he didn’t know how to voice, but worst of all was the steadily growing pit of dread in his stomach. He’d been expecting Pomfrey’s words to help him remember something, anything, but instead, they only left him feeling more confused than before. Pigfarts? Wizards? Quidditch? None of it made any sense.
“You’re lying.” Nico’s voice cut through the silence and promptly put a stop to the beginning of Percy’s spiral. He was giving Pomfrey a withering look, but the waver in his voice made it all too obvious that it was only a front.
Madame Pomfrey only raised a brow as if to say, Really?, before pulling out what could only be an actual magic wand and pointing it at the remains of shattered glass from Percy’s earlier outburst. Without so much as a word, she waved her wand, and the mess disappeared entirely. Percy was pretty sure it was his turn for his jaw to drop.
“I can assure you, Mr. di Angelo, I am not lying,” she said smoothly, “Although, I can’t expect you to believe me so easily after suffering memory loss as severe as this. Confusion is a common symptom, I assure you.”
Nico stayed silent for a few moments, his jaw tense as his eyes flickered back and forth, as if he were connecting imaginary dots. Slowly, he began to speak, “But… you said I was in third year. That doesn’t make any sense. I’m fourteen.”
“Fourteen?” Now it was Madame Pomfrey’s turn to look confused.
All at once, Percy could feel his heartbeat start to rise steadily, his palms sweat and his eyes smart, as if his entire body was screaming at him, this is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.
Madame Pomfrey frowned at Nico. “My dear, your birthday is in January. It’s only November.”
No, Percy’s mind screamed, although he couldn’t figure out why. No, this is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong!
“But-” The desperation in Nico’s voice mimicked the voice in Percy’s head when he finally spoke, eyes wild, like he was only one step away from unlocking the truth. “But it’s August, isn’t it? It was just August.”
“August 17th.” The words left Percy’s lips without him even knowing where they came from. Pomfrey turned to him, her brow furrowed, and Percy couldn’t stop himself from adding, “It’s the 18th today, isn’t it? Today.. Today’s my birthday.”
Madame Pomfrey looked between the two of them, bewildered, and the chorus of wrong, wrong, wrong in Percy’s head only grew louder.
“August 18th?” The worry in Madame Pomfrey’s voice almost overshadowed her confusion. “I’m not too sure what you two are thinking of, but it’s November 8th. November 8th, 1993.”