Scarred for life
Scar loved potions and herbology, it was just so simple to lose himself in the different structures and scents. And that combined with baking, boy that was a recipe for disaster (pun intended). He took joy in experimenting with different cookie recipes. The weirder the better, he thought.
He took after his parents; his father was a muggle baker and his mother was a potioneer at, first, MACUSA and now the Ministry of Magic. That combined and you get Scar Goodtimes; master of disasters.
That last bit was not a joke.
His name said it all; his body was littered with scars that reminded him of all the things that happened during his childhood. Because from the moment he was born, life seemed after his bits.
The first time Scar got, well, a scar was when his mother accidentally made an potion go off and explode while Scar was a bit too close. His mother’s cauldron had begun to sizzle and boil and that had been too intriguing for little Scar.
His mother luckily noticed the little trouble maker just in time to save him from actually explodificating to death. He ended up with just a few burn marks on his arms which had taken the brunt of the fire, but got off, aside from that, unscattered.
When his father came home to a crying Scar with his arms covered in bandages, he got mad at his mother. Saying that, and I quote; “If you are not careful around our son with your stupid magic liquids, I’ll make sure he gets cut off from the magic world and will never go to Ilvermorny!”
Safe to say that his mother was careful not to let him in the room when she was working on dangerous potions.
The second time he got a real nasty scar was when his father dropped his ironer on top of little Scars feet. Scar had been running around the house barefoot, playing hide and seek with their house cat Munchkin, when his father accidentally dropped the ironer exactly where tiny Scar just so happened to run by.
When his mother got back from a MACUSA appointment that evening to a tiny Scar watching The Lion King with his feet covered in bandages, she got mad at his father. Saying that, and I quote; “If you’re not careful around our son with your stupid muggle shit, I’ll make sure that every muggle thing in this house magically disappears!”
Safe to say that his father, too, was careful not to let him near when he was ironing again.
The third time was no little incident caused by a mishap of his parents. Not. At. All.
The wizarding war had just ended in America, where they lived at that time, and the country was in shambles. A few people were still on the run, this included a specific werewolf (whose name is not relevant to the story).
His family had been in hiding because of his father being a muggle. Scar never knew they were in hiding though, he had been too young to realise what was happening around him. But when they were finally able to come out, the werewolf went after the family and, in broad daylight, attacked the tiny Scar.
Luckily for him his mother was nearby, because without her interference he would not have been alive at this moment. She fent off the werewolf and managed to alert MACUSA just in time for them to capture him. But the damage was done, little Scar would never be able to walk again.
It was due to this event that the Goodtimes moved to the United Kingdom, where it was not only safe but the healthcare was also much better than the American one. St Mungo’s was able to remove lots of scarring, but could not remove the three lines that ran across his face and chest. They were able to provide him with a magic wheelchair that was linked to him through legilimency, his thoughts, and was able to float at wish so he could move up stairs.
The wheelchair made his new life at Hogwarts much more enjoyable, but also brought him the necessary accidents. Once, at the end of his first year, he managed to float a little bit too high and the wheelchair flew, with him still in it, over the railing of a moving stair.
Luckily a fourth year that knew way too much about healing and charms was able to slow his fall drastically and so it only gave him some minimal damage. It was mostly mental damage, because you do not just fall twenty metres and not have any sort of trauma. Xisuma, said fourth year, had brought him into the hospital wing with the help of some others and remained by his side until Scar stopped shaking and he had to go to class.
He was thankful for Xisuma. The man had started a petition to have elevators placed that could take Scar, and other disabled kids, up to their floors without having to deal with the treacherous stairs. But not only did he do that.
Xisuma had also taken him, with permission of professor Sprout, to Hogmead where he had possibly found a solution for his trauma. The elder had taken him to the far ends of the magical village, he had taken him to a cat adoption centre who specialised in therapeutic cats that could help someone with their trauma and prevent panic attacks.
It is the place he met Jellie.
The grey and white cat laid drowsily on the windowsill of the shop and it was love at first sight. He and Jellie bonded so quickly that the owner came up to them and said that she had never seen that before. It was meant to be.
He will never forget what Xisuma had done for him. Never.
That is why he visited him so often! Usually not by choice though, just like what happened with the Whomping Willow.
He usually was never this close to the tree. He had just been floating around in his magical wheelchair when someone had thought it to be funny to push him towards the murder tree. Said murder tree immediately came to life and began hitting its way towards Scar who panicked.
But just like always someone came to his rescue; Iskall of the wonderful Eightfive. Iskall had seen what had happened and immediately sprung into action. Thanks to his knowledge about the moves of the tree the two were able to get away with only a few scratches. Nothing Xisuma could not fix.
The elder Hufflepuff was now in his fifth year and helping Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. Scar was very happy to see that his saviour was pursuing his passion. But Xisuma himself was less than happy to see Scar end up in the hospital wing. Again.
When Iskall brought him into the hospital wing, X came running at them.
“Scar! What happened my friend, where is Jellie? Is she still in your room?” He had questioned to which he could only nod. From there on, Madam Pomfrey took over and X had run down to the dungeons in order to get Jellie.
X had been right of course, Jellie helped him calm down and while she was doing that, Iskall explained what had happened to Xisuma.
And boy was the elder Hufflepuff furious. He heard from Iskall that as soon as Scar had fallen asleep, the, then still Prefect, had run towards professor Dumbledore’s office and had demanded for them to be punished accordingly, as picking on disabled kids would simply not stand.
The boys in question had indeed gotten a severe punishment as the act had been an attempt of murder and were kicked out of Hogwarts. All thanks to Xisuma. Boy oh boy could that sweet man be terrifying when he wanted to.
But even this, of course, would not keep Scar out of the hospital. Because today was his lucky day again!
Two sixth years had been duelling in the courtyard when he and Mumbo, who was without Grian for once, were walking in and one stray spell caught Scar square in his chest making the air leave his lungs. He could not breathe!
Everyone quickly rushed to Scar to make sure he was okay, even the two sixth years. One of them, the one who had presumably thrown the hex in the first place, managed to counter it quickly and rolled him, together with Mumbo, towards the hospital wing.
Call it a sixth sense, but by now Xisuma would wake up with the thought of Scar in the hospital wing, not act on it, and Scar would end up in the hospital wing by the evening.
So the Headboy was not surprised at all and began barking out orders immediately, while he gave Scar Jellie, who he had gotten from their common room after his hunch.
Eventually X ushered everyone, but Mumbo, away and began his therapeutic exercises with Scar to get him to breathe more evenly.
Scar was a clumsy and unfortunate man, but life could throw all it wanted at him. He would withstand all with his friends by his side.