(Author's Note: Harry Potter and all associated peoples do not belong to me. I would also like to offer my sincere apology to Disney.)Therapy
Peter Pettigrew watched his Master worriedly from a dark corner. It had been several days now, and Lord Voldemort had yet to leave his chair. Nor had he cursed, slighted, belittled or depressed Peter, or even scratched his ego. He had not even insulted Peter's Bundt cake. Peter was feeling pretty good about himself and that was pretty unusual.
"Master?" Peter offered.
No answer. At least, not an answer directed at Peter.
"I know. I'll turn him into a flea. A harmless little flea. Then, I'll put that flea in a box. Then I'll put that box in another box. Then I'll mail it to myself. And when it arrives, I'll smash it with a hammer! Mwahaha!"
Okay, thought Peter, that can't be good.
The Dark Lord was obsessing over Harry Potter. Again. After failing to kill him for a fourth time, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not demoralized. No, he was going to destroy Harry Potter if it killed him and everyone else in a twenty-mile radius. And he was quite certain that next time he would succeed. He was apparently oblivious to the fact that he was a villain in a children's book.
Peter knew it was up to him to do something. After all, Lord Voldemort was wasting time that would be better spent in taking over the world. It was time to call in the professionals.
Meanwhile, Hermione Granger was faced with an eerily similar situation. Harry Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table, rubbing his scar and worrying himself into an early grave. And Ron Weasley was NOT helping.
"Maybe someone will bribe a house-elf to poison your food!"
"Bribe it with what, Ron?" asked Hermione.
"Or maybe place a deadly creature in our Care of Magical Creatures class…"
"I think Hagrid has that covered," said Hermione.
"Harry, it could be anyone. Even us!"
Harry looked wide-eyed at Ron and ran from the room.
"Well, that was brilliant," said Hermione. "As if he weren't paranoid enough, now he's afraid of us!"
"We've already worked the Polyjuice Potion plotline to death, haven't we?" asked Ron, displaying abnormally annoying alliteration, "Someone could easily pretend to be us!"
Harry was watching them carefully from behind a doorframe.
"Harry," called Hermione, "come back! We have to work out a schedule to study for our OWLs!"
"Because that will bring him back," said Ron.
But, Harry slowly approached the Gryffindor table, making sure to look both ways before crossing the room. Unfortunately, he did not look behind him.
"BWAH!" shouted Draco Malfoy, leaping out behind Harry.
Harry was not waiting around to find out what was going on. He bolted like a drunken college student from a tipping cow.
"Oh, for the love of…" said Hermione.
Draco looked rather pleased with himself, as if he had just factored a binomial equation all by himself. He stuck his tongue out at Hermione and Ron and went on his merry little way.
"Harry hasn't studied in months," sighed Hermione, "He's too busy worrying that his toothbrush may be a Portkey. We have to do something or he'll never pass his OWLS. Then, he'll never live up to his full potential and he'll end up on some horrible American talk show, trying to get his girlfriend back from a transsexual midget!"
"That's a bit overdramatic," said Ron.
"Noel and Noble. How can I help you?"
"Yes," said a man who was obviously using a falsetto. "I need your help. My Master is obsessed with a high-school aged boy."
"Okay, you do realize that pedophilia is illegal and illegal activities are not covered by doctor-patient confidentiality?"
"No, no. Not obsessed like that. He wants to kill the kid."
"Oh, that's a different story."
"Can you help?"
"Absolutely, let's set up an appointment…"
"Noble and Noel. What's your damage?"
"My friend," spoke a young woman, "has problems."
"Yeah, well. Who doesn't?"
"An evil wizard is trying to kill him and he worries about it too much."
"You can worry about that too much?"
"He's not studying!"
"We don't offer tutoring."
"No, he needs to get over it."
"Let's see what I can do…"
SEVERAL DAYS LATER…
Dr. Evadne Noel smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile at the young man who was being led into her office by the two attendants. After all, being led anywhere by the men in white coats was slightly unnerving and Evadne had always felt it was her job to appear comforting. Or whatever.
Basically, Evadne wanted to keep the young man from jumping out her window like the LSD junkie who thought he could fly. She had yet to lose anyone, but there was always a first time. And this young man looked like he could off at any moment.
"Mr. Potter, may I call you Harry?"
Harry looked around the room carefully. There wasn't much there other than a desk, three or four chairs, a bookcase full of faux-leather bound books and a potted fern desperately in of water or light or a miracle, really. Evadne did not have a green thumb.
"Yeah, Harry's fine."
Evadne dismissed the two attendants and gestured for Harry to have a seat in the wooden chair directly across from her desk.
"Now, my associate tells me you have an evil wizard problem…"
"Mr. Voldemort…" said Dr. Sarah Noble.
"It's LORD Voldemort, if you don't mind."
"No, I don't. Now, Mr. Voldemort. In your file it says that you have an unusually strong desire to murder a fifteen-year-old boy. Suffice to say, this is not healthy. Not that we want to shove our definition of healthy down your throat or anything." Mental health is, after all, relative.
"Oh, but I will."
Voldemort studied the office he had been led to after being ambushed by a couple of burly guys. The office was the complete opposite of professional. Beanbag chairs and a giant inflatable banana were strewn randomly at the foot of a bookcase filled with hollow books with horrible Day-Glo covers. Voldemort was not impressed with this office but, hell, when was he ever impressed with anything? Wormtail would pay for his betrayal. Oh, yes. Postage would be due.
"If I had my wand…" said Voldemort, picking up a book off Sarah's desk.
"If I had a dime every time I heard that," said Sarah, "I'd have…well, a dime, really."
Voldemort looked at the cover of the book while considering whether to hurl it at the woman or not. So You've Decided to Be Evil by T.M. Riddle.
"Ahhh…so, you dabble in the Dark Arts, doctor?"
"No, I just borrowed that from Eva for research purposes before you came. Now, why don't you tell me about this boy you want to kill?"
"ARGH! The Potter brat will die! I will kill him and stuff him in a small box and place it in my attic and forget about it for a few years!"
"Wait, did you say Potter?"
"Yes, Potter! And when I remember, I will fumigate my attic…"
"Hold that thought. I'll be right back."
Harry was a bit unnerved by the earnest nature of the woman. She did not have the look of an entirely trustworthy person, and Harry was beginning to wonder if this could perhaps be some Death Eater trick.
"Harry, the person who reported you to my office claims that you suffer from the paranoid fantasy that an evil wizard is trying to kill you."
"He IS trying to kill me!"
"Yes, four times, correct?"
"Uh-huh. And I don't think it's paranoia when someone is actually trying to kill you. I think it's very valid-noia."
well. He's never actually succeeded in
killing you, has he?"
"OBVIOUSLY NOT, WOMAN!"
"Now, now. Don't shout. Let's all be very calm. Breathe…"
At this moment, Sarah stuck her head in the door.
Evadne did not hear, as she was still illustrating the concept of breathing to Harry.
"Excuse me. Sarah appears to have sprung a leak."
Harry watched suspiciously as Evadne and Sarah held a little conference in the doorjamb.
This was not comforting.
Evadne put on her biggest and most fake smile as she turned around to address Harry.
"Harry, I think we've found a solution."
"Over my dead immortal body!"
"Now, now, boys. Everything will be fine."
"Don't you dare tell me to breathe again!"
Several large attendants were dragging Voldemort into Evadne's office. It was pretty rough work as both Harry and Voldemort were very upset by the idea of being in the same room, and were both fighting to escape like two squirrels in a bear trap.
"Whassamatta, don't think group therapy is the answer?" Sarah gave them both a blatantly evil grin. "This is gonna be great!"
Voldemort reached for his wand instinctively, only to discover it was missing. Sarah noticed Voldemort's frantic searching.
"Looking for your wand again? Don't bother. They're in a super secret location."
"You mean Evadne's pocket?" asked Harry. "I can see them."
"Yeah, well. You're both strapped to chairs, so it doesn't matter much anyway," said Sarah.
"Now, if everyone is all tied up," said Evadne, "we can start with the healing! Harry, you're upset because Voldemort wants to kill you? Voldemort, why do you want to kill Harry?"
Voldemort looked away. "I can't tell you," he mumbled.
"It would ruin a vital plot point."
"I see," said Sarah. "Does Harry know about this plot point?"
"I think," said Evadne, "that we need to open up the lines of communication between these two. They don't want to talk in front of us."
"Absolutely. We are going to leave you two alone to discuss your mutual dissatisfaction with each other."
Sarah and Evadne took their leave.
"Are they secure?" hissed Evadne to a particularly tall attendant.
He nodded curtly. Sarah turned and smiled thinly at Harry and Voldemort, left in the center of the room. She pointed to the tall attendant.
"This is Tim, co-inventor of Blacktop Ricochet Death Frisbee. If we hear anything suspicious coming from this room while we are not here, we will be very unhappy. And we will communicate our unhappiness to Tim with a series of grunts and whistles. And he will communicate our unhappiness to you. Understand?"
Harry paled. Voldemort paled even more than usual.
"Glad to see we're all on the same page." Sarah then cackled.
"Honestly," said Evadne, "I don't how you hope to inspire confidence like that."
Once the door was shut, Harry and Voldemort were left alone in silence. Voldemort was still steaming over having been deprived of his wand and tied to a chair, and Harry couldn't think of anything to say to the man…er, thing, that had tried to kill him four times. Well, nothing nice anyway. The moments dragged awkwardly.
"I don't hear any talking in there!" shouted Sarah from the other side of the door.
"Emotions!" shouted Harry.
"Feelings!" shrieked Voldemort.
They stared at each other. Finally, Voldemort sighed.
"Okay, Potter, here's the deal: You don't want to be stuck here with these people anymore than I do. So, when they come back in a couple of minutes, you make nice. You are nice, aren't you?"
"Comparatively speaking." Harry was a bit wary. What was Voldemort up to? Why was he afraid it was going to end in his death?
"Right. And you being such a nice boy, they'll eventually trust you. Ask them to untie you and when they're comfortable enough, jump the one with the wands. Then you can set me free, we'll kill them and escape."
"No way am I helping you kill anyone. Besides, you'll only kill me after."
"No, I promise not to kill you until we're away from the psychos."
"Like you have the right to call anyone that."
"What's your other option, Potter? Stay here and let them therapize you?"
"No body trusts me! I don't trust me! But they'll trust you! Now! Before they come back."
Harry had to think about this for a minute. Help himself and help his worst enemy…or stay here until they were finished? How bad were they? Well, they had set him up in a room with Voldemort. They couldn't be the nicest people on the planet.
"Hey," came Sarah's voice from the other side of the door, "are you two done yet? We've got a couple of foam bats we'd like to hit you with."
Well, that settled that.
"All right," said Harry, "but no killing. Not them, not me, not the landscaping outside the window."
"Fine, fine. I'll just maim them a bit." Harry glared. "Just kidding. You really are a good little brat, aren't you?"
The door bust open and Sarah and Evadne came in, all fake smiles.
"Sooooo," said Evadne, "have you two worked anything out yet?"
"Er," said Harry, "yes. We hate each other."
"Good. So glad that's out in the open."
"Yes," mutter Harry, "because we were hiding it behind closed doors before."
"Now we can all sit down…"
"We are sitting," interrupted Voldemort.
"…and discuss what you can do to change these feelings," said Evadne, completely blowing off Voldemort's side remark.
"Hey, Eva," said Sarah. "You mind handling this part on your own? Johnathan and I are going to do sordid things in the stock room."
"Where did he come from?" asked Harry.
"Okay," said Evadne as Sarah and Johnathan left. "Gloria, I hope she said they were going to sort things in the stock room."
"No, I distinctly heard her say 'sordid,'" said Voldemort, just to be a jerk.
"Well," said Evadne coolly, "now that we've started helping you through your emotions, why don't we try for one more breakthrough before we end for the day? Harry, do you want to start?"
"I'd like to start," said Voldemort.
"Too freakin' bad. Harry?"
Harry just shook his head.
"Are you sure?"
"What's with the silence?" asked Evadne irritably. "You were talking fine before."
"I'm just a bit anxious being, you know, tied up and everything."
Evadne sighed. "All right. If I let you go, do you promise not to jump out the window?"
"Yep." Which wasn't technically a lie. After all, he had no intention of jumping out of the window.
As Evadne leaned down to undo the straps, Harry braced himself. As soon as he was clear, he leapt up, bringing the woman down hard. He yanked the wands from her pocket as she went down.
"…the hell?" she cried.
Harry was considering running like hell and abandoning Voldemort (which isn't a nice thing to do but hey, the man had tried to kill him multiple times before) when Evadne crashed into his back, knocking him to the floor.
"Huh. Looks like I actually learned something in P.E. football," she said.
Harry was going to need some help. Mentally praying that this whole situation wouldn't end in his death, he cast a spell that would set Voldemort free. It was impeccable timing because Evadne took the wands from him moments after.
"Well, I certainly judged you wrong. But everything is under…"
"Tell me you did not just kill her."
"I did not just kill her. I just dropped a potted plant on her head."
Harry got up to discover that Voldemort had not been lying. Evadne was lying unconscious on the floor with the remains of flowerpot, some dirt and a withered old fern strewn about her head. Voldemort picked up his wand and started blasting the living daylights out of the room.
"What are you doing?" shouted Harry, ducking out of the way.
"A potted plant is not enough carnage for the Dark Lord. I need to blow up a few more things before I go."
With that, Voldemort blew the door of its hinges.
"I think the door was already unlocked," said Harry.
"You may leave now, Potter. But remember, someday we shall meet again. And when we do, I shall crush your skull with the Flower Pot of Death and DOOM! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to steal that other woman's inflatable banana."
"Okay, suddenly I'm not so afraid of you anymore."
Sarah and Johnathan were doing their aforementioned sordid things when the sounds of Voldemort blowing the room up reached the stockroom.
"My Sarah-sense is tingling! Someone is trying to steal my inflatable fruit!" shouted Sarah, running down the hall.
Alas, Sarah arrived at her office too late to stop Voldemort from taking her giant banana, not that there was much she could have done against an evil, magic wielding psychopath anyway.
Sarah rushed into Evadne's office just in time to see the other woman start to wake up and brush the dirt off her head.
"Well. Shit, then," said Evadne.
"It's a good thing you killed that plant before it could kill you," remarked Sarah.
"He blew up my door. Why the door? That poor, poor door."
"Maybe this is why we never have any repeat customers."
"We should just go back to policing."
"Soooo…wanna go get some pizza?"
"What about our 'patients?'"
"Eh. They'll either kill each other or they won't. Not our problem."
"Okay, but I want pepperoni on my half of the pizza."
"Fine, but I'll probably eat more than half."
"Honestly, if you ever took Metabolite, you'd probably burst into flame."