Percy is in their wheelchair, Scabbers on their left hand, doing nothing but just laying there. Percy weakly pets him with their pointer finger, too tired to move anything else.

Two months ago, the veins in their right cerebellum suddenly exploded, leaving them in a wheelchair and needing to use a tracheotomy (the tracheotomy had been taken off, leaving the open wound) for a moment, unable to move their right limbs. They were in a coma for two weeks (not exactly two weeks, more like 15 days. They woke up when that brown rodent was sleeping on their hand).

"Hey, Perce-" Percy felt someone putting their glasses on for them to reveal their mother. "Let's eat, won't you? I've prepared a wonderful meal for you."

They noticed that she sounded like she was holding tears, why is she holding back tears?

Molly prepared a plate of porridge in front of Percy, handing the special spoon in front of Percy's right hand. The spoon had been designed to accommodate them, with a bigger and sturdier handle so they can grip it better. Percy looked down at the spoon, then looked back up at their mother, not touching their food.

"What, Darling?" Molly asked, still with her soft voice. "Come on, you lift a spoon yesterday! You can do it today!"

Percy's eyes went to the side. They were originally right-handed at birth, but somehow, after the brain bleeding, they became active with their left hand and inactive with their right. Molly only frowned, not getting the signal, and Percy sighed.

"L-lef," they stuttered, their voice sounding slow and weird. Merlin, it feels so hard to open their mouth. "Shp-poon. Lef!"

"Lef?" Molly furrowed her brows, not understanding a word they say. Percy contorted their face in frustration, determined to say what they meant to say clearly. They could talk, couldn't he? So they should!

"Lef!" Percy shouted. Molly shook her head, trying to decipher what her child had said. "Shpoon! Lef! Shpoon!"

"Percy, what do you mean?" Percy felt little feet running on their arm, looking down to see Scabbers pushing the spoon from nearing Percy's right hand to nearing Percy's left hand, running up Percy's right arm before encircling himself there. Percy glanced at their mother as if telling her, 'this is what I meant', and grabbed the spoon weakly, spooning some of the contents to their mouth shakily. The brain bleeding left them with a faulty balancing and a faulty strength, but not a faulty memory. If asked, they can still remember the event that led to the accident, or lack thereof.

That's why the illness of theirs is so peculiar, isn't it? Nothing prompts the veins in their right cerebellum to explode, yet it did. It was 25th June when it happened, they were barely thirteen. Molly had said, the explosion happened in their right cerebellum, yet they can't control their right limbs. According to the healers, they should've had troubles controlling their left limbs, which isn't an issue to begin with since they're originally right-handed. But this anomaly occurred, and Percy had to learn to use their left hand for everything, as they can't use their right.

It's like being a baby again.

They can't lift a quill to write, their eyes can't stay still to read the book in front of them (even if their mother levitates it for them so they can read it and they have their glasses on, their eyes can't focus), they can hardly lift a spoon to feed themself, their parents need to help them stand and walk them, they can't talk, and somehow there are times where they can't feel his head. It's weird, isn't it?

"Come on, Percy baby. The spoon is right in front of you, let me help you, my baby," Molly cooed, helping Percy to spoon more. Percy can only glare, though, but if they could, they would've shouted at their mother for 'helping' them. She was not helping them, she was babying them, a gesture they hate the most from her. They hate it. It made them feel weak, and they're far from it. They're not weak.

When they're done eating, they instantly dropped the spoon on the plate, purposefully letting the clinking noise ring very loudly to let their mother know that they were done eating. Their mother takes away the plate, floating it so it can wash itself on the sink.

"Do you want me to read you a story, Baby? You always like books," Molly asked with her soft voice. Percy glared, she should've known already that they hate her tone right now. They always hate it, ever since they were little. Why did she think speaking to them that way was fine, they're not a baby! They're about to be thirteen, they're a big person! Molly takes a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. "What about, umm, oh! The Warlock's Hairy Heart! You always loved this one, don't you, Baby?"

Yes, but they have grown. Get another book, they don't want a fairy tale when they can understand history books and political books. And for the love of Merlin, stop it with the 'baby's. As if on cue, Scabbers ran on Molly's hands, entering her dress. Molly shrieked and tried to get Scabbers off her, to no avail. Percy laughed to themself, letting out amused voiceless chuckle. It's like Scabbers can read their mind, sensing their dislike.

But all humorous things must come to an end, sadly, and Molly managed to capture Scabbers and throw him across the room. Percy widened their eyes as they let out a horrified sound, staring at their mother like she had done the worst sin there ever was to mankind. Molly gasps, running back to where she had thrown Scabbers, hurriedly handing him back to her child.

"I'm so sorry." Percy paid no attention to their mother, diverting all their attention to their limp rat. Come on, wake up!