Chapter 478 - Mr. and Mrs. Prewett (1/2)
After all the criminal's statements are taken, Percius transfigured his Auror uniform into a set of acceptable muggle clothes. Rather than taking a cab, he apparated nearby and made his way on foot to the large, old-fashioned, red brick department store, Purge and Dowse Ltd. The place was still as miserable as ever with the windows displaying chipped dummies with wigs askew and fashion at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read, CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT.
Ignoring the buzzing of the yellow lamp posts, Percius leans close to glass where the ugly female dummy, whose false eyelashes were hanging off and who is still modeling the same green nylon pinafore dress from the time before. ”Here to see, Gideon and Fabian Prewett,” said Percius feeling a wave of déjà vu. This was the second time he'd been to St. Mungo's to see Gideon Prewett.
The dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoning at him with its jointed finger, before he stepped right through the glass and vanished. Percius Prewett arrived at the not very crowded reception area where only one or two rows of wizards and witches sat upon rickety wooden chairs.
Much like the time before some of them looked normal read their out of date copies of Witch Weekly. While others were not as lucky as them. There was witch, who would hiccup every minute a small burst of fire. Another wizard, who was bright red in embarrassment and had a large basket of eggs at his side. It was not until Percius realized that the poor wizard kept laying eggs every minute or so.
The trained medical healers on the late-night shift walked around in lime-green robes. The wizards and witches were walking down the two rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. The emblems on their chests were that of a crossed wand and bone.
Percius headed over to the same tired looking witch at the desk marked with INQUIRIES. The wall behind her was covered with the same notices as before. Only this time around there was a new notice that read, THE WEREWOLFISM POTION DOES NOT CURE ANY OTHER AILMENT!
The large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets, Dily Derwent is sound asleep and snoring. Glancing at the floor guide, Percius waits for the witch before to be pointed in the right direction. Percius tries not to wince at seeing that the witch had an extra eyeball in one eye socket making her way down further in the first floor.
”I'm here to see both Auror's Prewett, they were brought in wounded by a curse,” Percius explained.
”Auror's Prewett?” Yawned the tired looking witch as she ran her finger down a long list before her. ”Yes, they've just been moved into their present room, Fourth floor, third door to your left, Perry Winkle ward.”
”Thank you,” Percius sincerely said, before heading to the lift. Quickly pressing his floor, the old elevator zoomed up as he ignored the other patient this time around. Mercifully the wizard with cat ears and a tail gets off on the third floor.
The hallway is still full of famous healer portraits, while crystal bubbles full of candles brightly lit float about. The halls are empty at this hour as yawning witches and wizard healer apprentices in lime-green robes sleepy wander about this hour. Their healer masters that are on the night shift doze off on an empty bed in one of the wards.
With a grave nod, Percius passes the permanent resident's ward, before arriving at the ”DANGEROUS” Perry Winkle Ward: SERIOUS CURSES. Underneath that was a card in a brass holder which had been handwritten, Healer-in-charge: Lancelot Prewett, Second-in-Command: Hippocrates Smethwyck.
The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles cl.u.s.tered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious wizard on the wall, captioned URQUHART RACHARROW, 1612-1967, INVENTOR OF THE ENTRAIL-EXPELLING CURSE.
Besides Gideon Prewett, there was no one else in the ward for the time being. Percius slowly approached the rather ghastly pale, red headed man on the bed. Gideon Prewett was fast asleep as Fabian sat out of bed with his red hair standing out against the white bandage wrapped around his head. On the other side of the bed sit several people. One is the red headed young woman, Molly Weasley, who loudly sniffs into her hankie.
Next to her sit four other figures. The first three figures he instantly recognized: the silver haired with coiled back hair as Mrs. Prewett the mother of the three Prewett children. As for the dark, silver haired woman and large-nosed man with silver rather than russet hair as Lucretia and Ignatius Prewett. Ignatius Prewett was the younger brother of Mr. Prewett.
Despite not knowing who the silver large nosed man with handsome features is, Percius is certain it is Mr. Prewett, the father of the three Prewett children. Not that he had ever met him, but Mr. Prewett looked enough like both Fabian and Gideon to be anything but their father.
Clearing his throat softly, Percius says, ”How is Gideon? And what of your injury Fabian?”
”Percius!” Fabian gratefully said as he rose to grab his hand and pulled him into a hug. ”You saved us all over again!”
”It's fine,” Percius sputtered red with mortification.
Fabian only released him to only suddenly find himself clutching Molly Weasley at his chest. Percius did not even know where to put his hands on the married young witch as he stiffly patted her on the back. ”Thank you so much, Auror Clements,” Mrs. Weasley sniffed.
Percius nods in reply as Mrs. Prewett says, ”I wasn't able to thank you last time properly, Auror Clements. But thank you once again for saving my sons lives.”
”There is no need for thanks, Mrs. Prewett,” Percius said. ”I'll not have some of finest Auror's ever known die on my watch.”
Mrs. Prewett flashes him a smile as Mr. Prewett holds his hand to be shaken. Percius takes his hand as Mr. Prewett firmly shakes his hand and says, ”Thank you for saving my boys, Mr. Clements.”
Percius only mutters some words it was nothing as the dark haired, silver haired woman, Lucretia Prewett says, ”It was not just nothing, Auror Clements. To us, it was especially important.”
”I didn't mean to imply otherwise, Madam Prewett,” Percius carefully said as her dark gray eyes studied him before nodding in satisfaction.