The turning point
May 1998
The smell of antiseptic burned Percy's nose as he staggered through St. Mungo's makeshift war ward. Three days after the Battle of Hogwarts, the hospital looked more like a field tent - cots overflowing into hallways, the air thick with the sizzle of healing charms.
He'd come to visit Ron. That's what he told himself.
But when he passed the Janus Thickey Ward and saw the line of shrouded bodies, his feet moved without permission. The sheet over the third form was too small. Far too small.
"First year Hufflepuff," said a weary healer. "Crushing curse. We're still trying to notify the parents."
Something in Percy's chest cracked open.
CHAPTER 2: THE INTERVIEW
June 1998
Matron Smethwyck slammed Percy's academic record onto her desk. "Twelve NEWTs. Bloody hell."
Percy resisted the urge to straighten his robes. "I believe my qualifications—"
"What they qualify," she interrupted, "is that you're used to being the cleverest person in the room." She leaned forward. "Tell me, Mr. Twelve-NEWTs - how do you handle being wrong?"
The question struck like a Stinging Hex. Percy opened his mouth, then closed it.
Smethwyck nodded. "Healing isn't about knowing everything. It's about listening when the spells fail." She tossed him a hospital gown. "Prove you can do that, and we'll talk."
CHAPTER 3: THE FIRST DEATH
July 1998
Patient 47-B wasn't supposed to die.
Percy had checked the potions calculations thrice. The curse reversal should have worked. When the elderly wizard's breathing stopped, his mind automatically recited: 0.7% mortality rate. Statistically insignificant except to the deceased.
The widow's wail shattered his clinical detachment.
He found George later on the roof of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Without speaking, his brother passed him a firewhisky.
"Twelve NEWTs," Percy whispered, the glass shaking. "Not one taught me how to tell a woman her husband is gone."
George studied the stars. "Fred failed Potions twice. Still saved six people with a hastily brewed Pepper-Up during the battle."
Percy's breath hitched.
"Sometimes," George said softly, "the best healers aren't the ones who never fail. They're the ones who keep trying anyway."
CHAPTER 4: THE DISCOVERY
August 1998
George found the notes by accident while searching for spare parchment in Percy's old room.
Page after page of meticulous medical diagrams, annotated in his brother's cramped handwriting:
"Combination of Alchemical principles and Advanced Arithmancy suggests possible counter-curse matrix for Sectumsempra residuals... Requires simultaneous casting in three magical languages..."
At the bottom of the pile, a half-finished letter:
Dear Mum,
You asked why I chose healing. Remember when I was seven, and Charlie got dragon pox? How I read all those potions books until I found that alternative fever reducer?
I thought I wanted to make rules. Turns out, I just wanted to fix things.
George's throat tightened. He left the notes exactly as he found them - but that night, he slipped a prototype onto Percy's bedside table: a silver wristband etched with runes.
For when the calculations fail, read the attached note. Try feeling instead.
CHAPTER 5: THE BREAKTHROUGH
September 1998
The breakthrough came at 3 AM in the hospital library.
Percy stared at the overlapping diagrams - his twelve NEWT subjects laid like a magical lattice over a cursed wound schematic. The wristband hummed against his skin as he worked.
"You've done it," whispered Healer Singh, peering over his shoulder. "A counter-curse matrix for werewolf bite infections."
Percy's quill hovered. "It requires casting in three languages simultaneously. I'm the only one who—"
"Who studied all twelve disciplines needed to conceive this?" Singh grinned. "Thank Merlin for overachievers."
When the spell worked, Percy expected triumph. What he felt was simpler: rightness. His mind - once weaponized for bureaucratic warfare - had just saved a life.
EPILOGUE: THE MIRROR
May 2003
The man in the mirror was unfamiliar.
Broad shoulders from lifting patients. Scars from cursed splatter. Calm eyes that had seen too much to still be arrogant.
Behind him, George appeared, holding two steaming mugs. "Breaking news: Healer Weasley's groundbreaking matrix has been adopted by hospitals worldwide." He smirked. "Twelve NEWTs finally good for something, eh?"
Percy took the mug, his wristband glinting. "Turns out the most important thing I ever learned wasn't on any exam."
George raised an eyebrow.
"How to ask for help," Percy said softly.
Outside the window, the sun rose over a rebuilt London - imperfect, healing, alive.