𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 115

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
AND FIFTEEN
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-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH MR WEASLEY 
IS IN TROUBLE

. . .

When all the presents had been exchanged and their Christmas lunch had, they all readied themselves for another visit Mr Weasley in St. Mungo's. Stuffed full of the wondrous food Mrs Weasley had cooked, they left Sirius humming Muggle songs as he washed up, and piled into the car that Mundungus had somehow acquired and Mad-Eye Moody, who was escorting them all there alongside Remus, had used the Enlarging charm for it be much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. 

Mundungus drove them all to St. Mungo's, and a quick drive it was; due to the holiday London was nowhere near as busy as it had been the last time they traipsed over to the hospital, the roads were quiet and without public transport running, the people on the streets were only those walking alongside their families, most not daring to leave their houses on account of the cold. 

A small trickle of witches and wizards were creeping furtively up the deserted street that Mundungus came to a stop on, and the group to visit Mr Weasley joined them, ending up in a queue to get through the old entrance before strolling quite casually into the glass with the mannequin in green nylon stood. 

Like Grimmauld Place, the reception area of St. Mungo's had transformed into a pleasantly festive scene. The crystal orbs that served as lights had turned to red and gold so that they became gigantic, glowing Christmas baubles, holly hung around every doorway and shining white Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in every corner, topped with a gleaming golden star each.

It was last time they had been there, although still plenty busy, and Harry had to pull Aviana out of the path of a particularly angry-looking witch with a walnut jammed up her nostril as she stomped her way to the front of the queue. 

"Family argument, eh?" The blonde witch behind the desk smirked, and the walnut-woman looked positively fuming. "You're the third I've seen today, Spell Damage, fourth floor." She instructed, and the queue shuffled forward.

They were signed in and given visitor passes in no time, and they found Mr Weasley propped up on his extortionate amount of pillows with the remnants of his turkey dinner balanced upon a tray in his lap, a rather sheepish expression on his face. 

"Everything alright, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked, after they had all greeted him with well-wishes and messages of Christmas, handing over their presents.

"Fine, fine." Mr Weasley replied, a little too heartily. "You - er - you haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?" He asked.

"No." Mrs Weasley replied, suspicious. "Why?" 

"Nothing, nothing." Mr Weasley replied airily, already beginning to unwrap is pile of gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry - this is absolutely wonderful!" He had just opened Harry's gifts of fuse-wire and screwdrivers, and despite several looks of complete confusion, Harry grinned as Mr Weasley leant over to shake his hand. 

All the while, Mrs Weasley took the chance of his distraction to peer at the bandaging under his nightshirt, and she straightened up, glaring. "Arthur," she snapped, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow." 

"What?" Mr Weasley looked particularly frightened, pulling the bed covers higher up over his chest. "No, no - it's nothing - it's... I..." He seemed to deflate under Mrs Weasley's glare and trailed off, before swallowing anxiously and beginning to explain. "Well, now, don't get upset Molly, but August Pye had an idea - he's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in... um... complementary medicine.... I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies-"

Aviana made a particularly distinct face at the idea, and Harry was beginning to think that perhaps Mr Weasley's interest in all things Muggle-related was not going to be just as cheery this time. 

"They're called stitches, Molly," Mr Weasley continued, and Aviana only looked more disapproving at the idea. As did Mrs Weasley. "They work very well on - on Muggle wounds-"

Mrs Weasley made an odd, ominous sound somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Remus, rather tactfully strolled away from the bed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and was looking rather witfully at the crowd around Mr Weasley. Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea and Fred and George leapt up to accompanying him, grinning.

"Do you mean to tell me," Mrs Weasley began, her voice growing louder with every word and apparently unaware that the crowd was slowly dispersing, scurrying for cover, "that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

Aviana was slowly beginning to back away, and neither Ron or Harry, nor Hermione and Ginny disagreed with that idea, all slowly rising out of their chairs.

"Not messing about, Molly, dear." Mr Weasley said imploringly. "It was just - just something Pye and I thought we'd try - only, most unfortunately - well with these particular wounds - it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped."

"Meaning?"

"Well... well, I don't know whether you know what... what stitches are?" 

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together." Mrs Weasley said, with a snort of mirthless laughter as the ludicrousness of the idea. "But even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid." 

"Tea?" Harry suggested, looking around at the others, all of which decided the slow, seamless journey, trying not to be noticed as they got out of their seats was entirely useless. 

"Quite fancy a cuppa." Ron nodded, and the five remaining around the bedside made a beeline for the door. 

As it swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs Weasley shriek, 'What do you mean, that's the general idea!", followed by several words that were not commonplace in her vocabulary. 

"Typical Dad," Ginny said, as they set off up the corridor. "Stitches... I ask you..."

"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds." Hermione said fairly, looking particularly uncomfortable at the thought. 

"They won't work with the snake's venom." Aviana shook her head. "Pye was going on all about them when I visited, and I told them they were a load of shit and couldn't be used for serious things like snake bites. They're made of synthetic polymer fibres, apparently, and snake venom dissolves just about anything so they would be entirely useless." 

"Yeah, that." Ron said, stifling a laugh and trying to look serious.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and began to look around the hallway for some kind of signage. "I wonder where the tearoom is?"

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