BROKEN PIECES & GOLDEN SEAMS

V

09. Percy's cursed? Ha! Of course she is!

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"I'd rather die," Percy intones at the stack of books placed in front of him. An enormous stack, she might add. "a much more peaceful death."

Ron nods with an emphatic frown. He wipes away the dust they have left on the table. The Grimmauld Place stays true to its name as a grim, old place. Maybe they should amend it to say Grimmauldust Place with the ungodly amount of dust it has gathered over the years.

"There'll be no talk of death on the dining table," Molly reprimands, undertaking last preparations to house their target.

"Can there be truth?" She shoots the books wary looks.

Molly merely scoffs as she exits.

"We'll assist you, Ms. Jackson," Minerva assures the girl flicking through the pages as if it would bite her fingers. "That stack will be enough for you to catch up with the fifth years."

"Professor, isn't Percy is old enough to be a sixth year student?" Hermione queries.

"Yes but it'll be much more appropriate for her to join you. You could help her and she'll not be so overwhelmed with the years of magic she'll have to catch up with."

'And we can keep a better eye on her,' Harry adds in his mind, taking a sip of his tea. The girl catches his eyes and offers half a smile, nodding as if she had heard him. The wizard's guts twist and he drops his gaze to his hot beverage.

"That all sounds good but," she grits out, displeased, "I cannot read."

"You can't read?"

Percy cringes, carding a hand through her hair. "I mean I can read but I can't. I'm dyslexic."

"What does that mean?" Ron seems intrigued.

"It's a learning disorder that involves difficulty reading—"

She interrupts the familiar spiel, "The words don't  seem right to me, that's all. I can read but it'll give me a headache and possible death." She eyes the stack.

Ron leans forward, "The letters seem to dance on the page? It doesn't make any sense?"

"Dude, exactly!"

The redhead leans back with his jaw falling open. "I might be dyslexic."

Hermione looks between the two with dawning realisation.

"Yeah man," she toasts her goblet. "But you know, its not so bad." She turns to the Minerva, "Are oral exams available? Extra time? Special reading guides?"

The Deputy Headmistress struggles to answer, "No, not really."

Her lips twist. "Ok," she flicks the books. "It'll take me at least two months to get copies of this. Copies I can read."

"Dyslexic people can still read?"

"Dude, it's very common. With practice, we can even write whole books if we want to,  with the right fonts."

"Where can we get the copies?" Though Minerva may seem present there, her mind is kilometres away in the castle. She wonders about her own students. "Is it hereditary? How does it happen?"

"My Camp, Cabin Six and Eleven will do it. With others, they can even finish it quicker," they can tell she's thinking out loud as her tone reduces to a mutter. She continues without pause to answer, "Yeah, not always though. It happens because of differences in individual parts of the brain."