Chapter 2
"Well, well, you just had to run," Peter mumbled softly.
Harry opened his eyes slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light that was streaming through the window. He glanced over and saw Peter sitting cross-legged on his bed, a sketch pad propped on one of his knees. His hand was making large sweeping motions across the paper.
"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned, groggily. He sat up and immediately regretted that decision when the room started spinning around him. He leaned back against the wall, trying to focus on Peter and make the room stop moving.
Peter glanced up quickly, smiling at Harry's nauseous look. "You decided to run. You definitely are not the brightest crayon in the box."
"What are you talking about? How should I know I would be beaten down?"
"Well, for one, you were not beaten down, you were shot with a very mild tranquilize. Two, were you really being so stupid that you would think that this place has no security to keep the crazies in? Three, if you had just mentioned to me what your plans were, I would have told you exactly what happens when people try to run. I mean I had to learn the hard way, and I would have loved to spare you the pain of being shot down." Peter paused and examined his picture more closely, then hunched over as he added some finer details to his sketch.
Harry made a face, even if Peter wasn't looking. His brain wasn't able to compute words against this logic. So, he decided to just continue to sit quietly. However, the silence did not last long.
"You are wanted in the office," Peter informed him, still not looking up from his sketch.
"The office?"
"Yeah, the office. That is where all the psychs are?"
"Psychs?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.
"The psychologists, although they like to be called counselors. I don't know why. Maybe because it has a friendlier feeling to it. They want you to be all touchy-feely with them. I bet they want to have a nice little chat about why you ran, what were your thoughts when you decided to run, and what exactly were you running from," Peter imitated his best Freudian accent.
Harry chuckled nervously, wondering how much of what Peter said was true, and he had a feeling it would be more than he would like. "So, where would this office be?"
"Take a left out the door, and take a right at the end of the hallway and follow the happy puppies that will point you along your merry way," Peter finally glanced up at Harry and smiled. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. They aren't so bad."
Harry felt slightly better as he headed out of his room and down the hallway. He followed the instructions and was surprised to find that Peter had been right when he had said that there were puppies on the wall that pointed him, maybe not on his merry way, but at least in the right direction.
He stopped outside a glass window that showed an office area. He opened the door and walked up to the receptionist, whose desk plate read Shirley Porter.
"Hello deary, you can call me Shirley, what can I do for you?" Shirley had mass of curly brown hair that was tied back at the back of her head in a ribbon. Her dress was seasonal with fall leaves scattered all over it.
"My name is Harry Potter and I think a counselor wants to see me or something?" Harry was desperately hoping that this was wrong, and that Shirley would tell him that he must have heard wrong and that he could go back to his room. That however was not the case.
Shirley looked down at an appointment book. "Ummm, I don't have you written down. Let me just check the computer." She typed away for a minute or two. "Mmhmm, I see, this is an emergency meeting and that is why I don't have you down in a regular appointment slot. Go ahead and have a seat and the counselor will be out to see you when they have time," Shirley told him kindly and pointed to the little row of chairs.
Harry gave Shirley a quick smile and a thank you before sitting down at one of the chairs. Harry glanced at the table next to him and the pile of magazines that was sitting on the table that was next to his chair. The top one had a cover of some actor that was supposedly the sexiest man on the planet. He moved that magazine aside and there was one that was going to reveal the secret to losing 10 pounds in two weeks. Harry opted for the pop culture magazine and started to mindless flip through it.
His mind was not on the colorful pictures that filled the pages. Harry couldn't help thinking of why he was here. He had no idea what was going on and what he going to be telling his counselor. He was either going to have to tell the truth or he was going to have to come with a very good story. If he told the counselors the truth, they would probably then have a solid reason for him to be there. However, though the chances are small, the counselor might be a muggle who knew about the wizarding world or was a wizard themselves. There might be a chance that the person will know who he is and will let him go.
"Harry Potter?" a big burley man announced from the opened doorway.
Harry stood up nervously and walked towards the man.
"Hello there Harry, I am Steve. Just follow me back to my room." Steve turned around and started to head down the hallway.
Harry followed him slowly down the hallway, glancing through the different doors. After going past four doors, they stopped at a bright door that was covered in drawings. Some of the drawings looked like they were done by third graders, while others looked like a professional artist did them. All of them had the name Steve somehow incorporated into the picture. Some were plain, with the name Steve just decorated, or others had Steve stand for an object in one of the pictures.
"Harry, come on in," Steve broke Harry's concentration and brought him back to reality.
Harry walked into the room and once again was amazed. This large man who would not look out of place in a motorcycle gang, well except for the khaki pants and gray sweater, had the most colorful room in the world. The walls were painted a bright orange and the bookshelves that were packed with books were a neon green. Multi-colored rugs were all over the floor along with tie-die beanbag chairs. The only normal items in the room were two leather chairs and a desk with a computer on it.
"Go ahead have a seat wherever you want," Steve motioned towards the many seating choices in the room.
As tempted as he was, Harry vied for the leather chair and sat down on the edge, looking around, still studying the room.
Steve sat down on the leather chair, opposite of Harry's chair with a folder and a notepad in his lap. Steve glanced through the file quickly and then put it aside and picked up the notepad and pen. Poised and ready, Steve broke the silence, "So, you're a runner?"
Harry smiled nervously as he rubbed throbbing head. "I promise you I won't be making a habit of it."
Steve laughed, a big and booming laugh that filled the room. "I have no doubts about that one. However, we have to talk about why you did this and why you are here. Often, when kids come here, they were too doped up on drugs or went through too traumatic of an event to even remember why they were here. Is that the case for you Harry?"
Harry nodded. "Although it wasn't because I was on drugs or anything, and I'm not a kid," Harry added on stubbornly.
"It says here," Steve tapped the file that was sitting next to him, "that you are 17. Is that not correct?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Well, here that means you are still a child. Everybody here is considered a child. This place is only for people in their teenage years."
"Ok, I got it."
"Good, now lets move on to why you are here. It says in the file that when you were in the hospital you kept telling people that you were the great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. You also kept talking about your wizarding powers or something," Steve stated all of this pretty matter of factly and was observing Harry's response to these accusations.
Harry's mind was reeling a mile a minute, trying to decide what his best course of action was going to be. Part of him was saying that he should just play it cool, and find out exactly what he had told them. The other part of him really wanted to just jump off a cliff and tell them everything. It really couldn't be any worse. But he decided for the first option instead.
"What exactly did I say?" Harry questioned, curious.
Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I believe it is I who should be questioning you. You are in no position to be making demands, but just to keep you happy, I will tell you." Steve opened the file again and started flipping through some of the pages. Finally, finding the one he wanted, Steve cleared his voice and started reading, "I am Harry Potter, the greatest hero of the wizarding and muggle world alike. I am on a journey to finally defeat the great Lord Voldemort. My two best friends Ron and Hermione will be here anytime to save me." Steve stopped there and looked up at Harry. "Do you want me to continue?"
Harry shook his head as he took a big gulp. He was in deep shit. There was no doubt about that. He had told the people in the hospital a lot. They must have had them on a lot of drugs to get him to spill all of that information. Which speaking of, how did he get in the hospital and why7 But he had to take each problem at a time. The first was telling Steve his story. They obviously already thought he was crazy, how crazy was the question.
"So, what will I have to say to convince you that I am sane and don't need to be here right now?" Harry asked, hoping for an easy answer, although there probably was not one.
"There is nothing you can say that is going to get you out of here. It is not a question of your sanity. We don't like to think that people are insane, however people do live in these false delusions."
Harry felt the anger rise in him, he tried to calm himself, but he spoke out anyways, "I am NOT delusional. I am a wizard and I have powers and there really is this evil wizard whose name is Voldemort, and he is going to take over the world if I don't get out of here and stop him."
Steve looked at Harry skeptically, and said hesitantly, "Could you perform a little bit of magic for me?"
Harry's stomach dropped as he made reach his pocket, where his wand would normally be. "No, I don't have my wand. And I haven't mastered doing magic without it."
Steve nodded as if this made sense to him. "Of course, that's fine."
"So, why am I here. How did I come to being here?" Harry asked.
"We can't really say for sure. You just showed up in the hospital one day, really beaten up. They found out who you were, and they contacted you family,"
Harry cut Steve off, "the Dursley's?"
"I am not sure Harry, but all I know is they thought it would be best if you came here since you were muttering and talking about this strange wizarding world. They seemed really worried about this and decided it would be best if you came here."
Harry nodded even though things were still not making sense. It still didn't explain how he got to a hospital and why he would go there instead of going back to Hogwarts, or even Diagon Alley or St. Mungos. Just somewhere that was familiar with him and knew who he was. This didn't seem to be the case.
"So, how and when do I get to go home?" Harry asked.
Steve sat back and got more comfortable. "What is home?"
Harry didn't hesitate to answer, "Hogwarts."
"And Hogwarts is the wizard school?"
"Yeah," Harry answered, not wanting to lie.
"Well, we will let you go back to Hogwarts when we feel you are ready. Now, going on, why did you run?"
Harry leaned back in the chair and brought his legs up to his chest, not liking all of the questions. "I don't know. I just wanted to get out of here. This is unfamiliar."
"Understandable, but running didn't get you anywhere did you?"
Harry shook his head. "No, it only caused pain."
"Exactly," Steve answered brightly, trying to really push this point home. "Running only causes pain. It doesn't fix problems, but lets you avoid them."
Harry felt like there was more to what Steve was saying than what he was flat out saying, but he couldn't get his muddled brain to wrap his mind around these words.
Steve watch Harry for a moment, studying his face, trying to read Harry's mind. After a few minutes of silence, Steve opened Harry's folder and pulled out a stack of papers. "Here are the rules, and your schedule. You are going to be doing a lot of group therapy sessions and of course 3 days a week you are going to come in to see me and we will make note of your progress. This place can be good for you, if you let it." Steve handed the papers to Harry and stood up to open the door.
Harry followed the hint and walked out the door and started walking down the hallway, ignoring the good bye from Steve. He walked through the reception area and started to mindlessly walking down the hallway, his mind as confused as ever. How desperately he wished that he had his wand with him, or at the very least if he had somebody's phone number, like Hermione's family or something. Why didn't he memorize them? He would never have guessed that those would someday be very important to him.
Then his thoughts fell back to Voldemort. Voldemort was still out there killing people as he moved through the country. There had to be some way of escaping to get to him.
Harry stopped and looked around him, unsure of where he was. Once again, the hallway looked the same as the many others he had been down, and there were no little puppies pointing the right way.
A/N-This was the other chapter I promised. I have nothing else written after this, but I have this entire story mapped out. Trust me there is a purpose and it is going to all come together. But it will probably take a while because I write slow. I just wanted to post another chapter, since I got a good response from the first one. Thank you for all the reviews, and I always appreciate more to tell me how I am doing. Thanks.
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