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Sorting [Chapter 3]
iru
new_moongirl
Title: Sorting
Rating: T
Summary:What chance in the world did Zuko have in beating an ancient magical hat? none he decided as he resigned himself to his fate, hoping briefly that his father wouldn't be too disappointed, but knowing otherwise

Zuko-centric

Harry Potter/Avatar TLA crossover


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Chapter 3: The Scar

It was a few seconds before the lack of pain registered. He had, in a word, expected pain. All his life, his father never allowed the Medic's to give him any type of pain-relievers. Not even that when he broke his arm as a child, was he allowed such kindness. Pain was, in his father's words, "to be his teacher," and "made him stronger." In the face of such commandments, who was Zuko, Ozai's loyal son, to question? Hell, if his father said the sky was purple than it was.

And so, it was with much surprise that the teen found himself snoozing, in what he supposed, was the hospital wing, completely fine… or at least feeling completely fine. Really, even if everything was healed, Zuko wasn't sure if he was permanently damaged in some way. Maybe he was missing a limb, and just couldn't tell yet. Blinking his eyes open, Zuko, grimaced. He'd read in books that sterile, medical rooms were usually blindingly bright and white. They hadn't lied. His retinas burned.

The third thing he noticed, first being the lack of pain and second being the blinding wretchedness that was the hospital wing, was that his left eye didn't open all the way. He was almost afraid to touch it. Maybe he was horribly disfigured? He wouldn't have been surprised. He had tried to burn off half his FACE. Holding back some nasty mutterings, the teen wrenched himself into sitting position, determined to (A) find a bathroom and (B) find a mirror. If both happened to be in the same place, than all the better for him. Of course with his luck, they'd be on opposite sides of the school, or something just as unfair.

Getting out of bed proved harder than expected. He tilted one way and then the other, holding firmly onto the bed frame in his distress. It was probably a side effect of something they'd given him…or it might be because his range of vision had changed. He didn't really care either way, he'd adjust quickly enough.

Regaining his footing, he padded gently across cool stone, through the lavatory door, and sighed. He was almost tempted to avoid his reflection. But then, he had always been the type of person to face things head on. Glancing right and left, he turned toward the toilet first. Procrastinating… he scolded himself mentally. Nothing good ever came out of procrastinating…unless there was a serial killer waiting just outside the door. He chuckled at the absurdity of the thought.

Time to face the ugly truth, he gathered his courage. He'd always been told that he was a decently handsome young man. The "spitting image of his mother and father." He'd always wanted to rip out their eyeballs after such a comment. Neither was a compliment; for his father was a psycho, and he most certainly wasn't womanly.

Approaching the sink, his eyes closed one hand gripping the rim of the sink as the other's fingers ran over cold glass. Biting his lip, he snapped his eyes open in a moment of decision and grimaced. It looked like a bad burn, and he was right. Half of his face was now toughened scar tissue. Tracing the disfigurement, he felt the urge to cry, and promptly covered his new scar. He didn't want to see the proof of his disownment, of his father's disapproval. Putting down his hand, and taking one last glance at the mirror, Zuko pushed himself off the sink, before slinking back into the main wing. Only to be attacked (really there was no better word) by the nurse.

Ugh…she wasn't his mother, why was she making such a big deal over his health? He was fine, he could see (reasonable well) walk, talk, and do complicated arithmetic. "Now," she said, "I'm sure it was a shock to see your face in such a state, but there was nothing that we could do about it. Usually when the right poultices and potions are given in a timely manner, scarring can be avoided. But in your case, the combination of the curse and, the, umm, magical-based fire, led to the irreversible scarring. But don't worry young man, Professor Snape says that he's been working on a scar removing formula for a while, and it may prove useful to you when he's finished with it."

The patient grunted. What was he supposed to say? "yay! Thank you so much! I just can't wait for that day in the far future when this scar can be removed forever?" He wouldn't be cruel enough to give himself such hope. Closing his eyes, he opted for the least painful way to spend his time in the hospital wing: by sleeping. That was the plan.

Until his sister came waltzing into the wing, all smiles and roses. Deadly thorny roses that is. "oh Zuzu, Zuzu, Zuzu."

-newmoongirl


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