Informed
Chapter 1: Cookie
A lone figure sat in a hospital room. A nurse was giving him his food, even though he was asleep. He would wake any minute. She looked over the golden haired man one more time before leaving the room. Shame he lost his memory...we could have gotten Troublesome Teaching: My Adventures at Hogwarts...I think that was the book he was writing...
The man in the hospital room was only being held there temporarily. The Ministry of Magic was trying to decide what to do with him. This man in the room...he had no idea what to call himself, but the wizard world had known him as Gilderoy Lockhart.
* * *
"I say we kill him," said Doctor Darius Cornelius. "He's obviously never going to gain his memory back."
"Kill him? Are you insane? He's just insane now; and for all we could be know, this could be temporary. He wasn't using his wand," stated Doctor Wright Galen.
"It doesn't matter. I say transfer him to a short-term stay at an asylum before we transfer him to an extremely long stay at one of our long-term asylums out of the country," said Doctor Donald Maximus. The small pupils behind his glasses danced stared at the other four doctors with a peculiar intensity.
"And what long-term asylum do you have in mind, Doctor?" Doctor Wright asked. His face was in a frown; but then again, it always was.
"I have my ideas..." Doctor Maximus said.
"I agree with Donald. I think we should study him and make a decision based on our observations," Doctor James Zira said.
"You make him sound like he's an ape or something," Doctor Cornelius stated. There was a pause as Doctor Zira tried to come up with a reply.
"After what's happened to him, he's not much more than one," Doctor Zira said. He looked at the other doctors and nodded to Doctor Honorious.
"Colleagues...fellow doctors, Doctor Zira and I have compiled this report on the mental state of Gilderoy Lockhart, as observed from the Muggles video cameras we have hidden in his hospital room and bathroom. I believe you'll find this interesting. We will screen the footage in three hour blocks starting tomorrow," Doctor Honorious said in his monotone as he handed every doctor in the room a folder.
"You're sick, Thomas. Cameras in the bathroom? Come on..." Doctor Galen said.
* * *
A man in a white coat entered Room 138 at the Charles Logan Memorial Hospital for the Magical. This man, a certain Doctor James Zira, stared at the subject in the bed , who had definitely lost the luster he had previously had, currently eating. It seemed so odd...the man's hair was in a mess, going up in all ends. Nothing like the previous Gilderoy Lockhart.
"What the heck do you want? Who the heck are you? Why isn't anybody answering my questions?" asked Gilderoy Lockhart before he gulped down a glass of milk. "Why can't I leave my room?"
"Hello, I'm Doctor James Zira."
"What are you here for? Why am I here?" Gilderoy asked.
"That doesn't matter now," James assured as he pulled a chair next to Gilderoy's bed.
"Yes, it does. Answer my questions first," Gilderoy said. "Or I won't answer yours."
"Well, you're at Charles Logan Memorial Hospital, Room 138. You...um, pulled your hamstring. I'm your doctor," James said. "What do you think your name is?"
"My name?" Gilderoy asked. "Well, I like to be called Cookie. I mean, I guess it's my name...after all, the first thing they said to me when I woke up here–I was asleep for a long time–was 'Cookie?' I guess you see the logic in that." Gilderoy smiled and ate some of the pudding on the tray elevated above his bed.
"Yes," James said. He checked his pocket. Yes. His tape recorder was recording. "So, Cookie, do you remember anything about yourself?"
"Not really...but I guess a hamstring injury is pretty bad. I don't remember anything about myself. Does a hamstring control your brain or something like that?" Gilderoy, or Cookie as he liked to call himself, asked.
"Something like that," James said. This was definitely a long-term case. "Cookie, I think you're gonna be this hospital in no time."
"Really? And what makes you think that?" Gilderoy asked. "You haven't healed my hamstring; I can't remember anything about myself. I don't know my last name, but I think it's Chip. And I think my middle name is Chocolate. My parents must have been odd, naming me after food." James tried not to crack up. Gilderoy delivered all this with a straight voice, his voice trailing off at the end. He was like a child.
"Um, we're transferring you to a place where we can heal your hamstring because...it's too...uh, severe to treat completely here. So I'd like to move you without delay to the Roberta Magnate Memorial Asylum for the Ill," James said, leaving out the word "mentally." He surveyed the lime green hospital room around him. Everything was so plain.
"Do you have a travel brochure on it? I like to read travel brochures on places; that's the only thing I remember about myself," Gilderoy said.
"I'm sure I could get one," James replied with hesitance. "I will arrange the move. Goodbye, Cookie."
And with that, Doctor James Zira left Room 138 of the Charles Logan Memorial Hospital for the Magical.
* * *
A day later, a nurse wheeled into Room 138. "Mister Chip," she said, stopping near his bed, "we're ready to transfer you to the Roberta Magnate Asylum for the Mentally Ill." The man in bed pondered for a moment. Did he just hear what he thought he did? There was no chance he was mentally ill.
Nah, he hadn't heard it. "Okay," he said. "I'm ready to get that bad hamstring of mine fixed." The nurse rolled her eyes. Doctor Zira had certainly pulled some tricks on this one.
"Well, step right in." Gilderoy Lockhart eased himself up from the bed's covers and plopped onto the ground. He got up and slowly made his way toward the wheelchair. "Yes, that's it...nice and easy now..." Apparently, losing half your mind meant losing some memories of walking.
"Thanks," Gilderoy said as he fell into the hard seat of the wheelchair. "Let's head out," he stated, pointing to the door.
"Whatever you want, Mister Chip," the nurse said. She pushed him out the door, into the lime green hallway of the hospital. The hospital itself was only three floors, and they were on the bottom.
This crazy man soon found himself in the lobby. He pointed to the door. "Sun," he said. The nurse nodded.
"Yes, that light is definitely coming from the sun, Mister Chip. Now first, let's have a nice bathroom break..."
She wheeled him into a door labeled "AUTHORIZED PERSONAL ONLY."
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from the door, wearing a straightjacket. "I don't want this! Leave me alone!" He ran across the lobby as a group of men neared closer to the main door of the hospital, each fashioning nets.
"I'm not crazy!" Gilderoy yelled as he struggled to run without the use of his arms. They swayed from side to side as he ran up the stairs.
* * *
"Follow him!" Donald Maximus said from outside, yelling at his men. "I was anticipating this, James." He motioned to the men behind him in white robes. "Get him!"
The men ran inside the hospital door, which was currently showing the reflections of Doctors James Zira and Donald Maximus.
* * *
Joel Coen didn't need this, working for the Ministry on a dumb situation like this. He was a member of the Sirs, with his name changed to that of a film director, like all Sirs. His previous name had been erased from existence.
The Sirs were the Ministry's top agents, their intelligence group and more. They were merely a rumor to the world that no one believe. People knew who the Unspeakables were. You could never know a Sir. The Ministry would make sure of it.
Joel had been trained vigorously three years ago after being identified as one of the best of the best of the best of the Unspeakables. It had been tough, but Joel believed it was worth it. But he just couldn't get why the Ministry would need such a high profile group on such a low profile job like this. But he was married to his job, and he wasn't going to stop now.
He had just entered the main lobby of the hospital and paused, checking his surroundings.
"Joel, take the stairs," said Lucas George. Joel nodded. He grabbed up one of the younger Sirs, Scott Ridley.
"You, come with me," he said, pulling him across the floor to the stairway. The young man was intimidated by Joel.
"Let go of me!" he said as Gilderoy Lockhart closed the doors on them, kicking them. Gilderoy ran up the stairs quickly. He's very physically fit, Joel observed.
Gilderoy Lockhart stared back at Joel through the small window. The pupils on his eyes were small, staring at him with the intensity of Tarzan. He looked as if he was the ape man as well. He's insane.
* * *
Gilderoy turned from the door and looked up the stairs. Hopefully the door was locked. He couldn't do anything about it besides kick it; he could not use his hands thanks to the straightjacket.
Up he ran, going up the floors. He was out of breath by the time he made it to the top. He stared intently at the large window next to him. He then peeked out the door, checking to see if anyone was coming.
No one there. Gilderoy turned his attention back to the large window. He wasn't going to live like this. No, Sir, not in a straightjacket. He wasn't crazy.
Was he? Gilderoy shrugged it off and stared down at the ground. Yes, this was most definitely worth the jump. Here goes, he thought as he rammed into the window.
The window didn't budge.
* * *
"I don't think you have to be so violent, Donald. Yes, I think the Sirs are necessary but not this many," James Zira said to his colleague.
"What's that?" Donald asked James, pointing to a window on the top floor. "There's something trying to break that window."
"Is that Gilderoy?" James thought aloud. "He's trying to break the window open!"
"It's only a three story fall, James," Donald Maximus said. "He can't die."
"You can die by falling down the stairs," James said. "We need to save this man."
"You have a spot for him or something?" Donald asked. No matter how much I don't want him to die, if he wants to commit suicide he can. It's less work for me, he thought to himself.
* * *
Gilderoy's shoulder hurt considerably. I'm going to run at it; it has to break then, he thought. Gilderoy backed up to the wall and ran towards the window. He screamed as the glass broke. His life did not pass by him. He only saw the men standing under him.* * *
Four minutes later, Gilderoy Lockhart opened his eyes. He saw a huddle of people around him, almost all dressed in white lab coats. They were murmuring to themselves.
Two of the doctors pulled away. They were chatting about something. But how had he survived? That was beyond him. It was almost as if magic was at work...wait, there was no such thing as magic.
Right?
* * *
Doctor Maximus stared at James Zira blankly. James pointed down at Gilderoy, on the ground trying to figure out how he had survived the fall.
"How?" Donald asked James.
"Cushioning spell," James said with a smile. "Worked for my brother."
* * *
"Welcome to your room, Mister Chip," stated Doctor Felicia Alberta. "Have a pleasant stay."
Gilderoy surveyed his surroundings. His room was bizarrely like a hotel room with padded walls. In a corner was a large bed with an elegant cypress night stand. Gilderoy walked over to it and knocked on it. Would somebody come out the little door at the bottom? No, didn't think so.
Unknown to Gilderoy, he was in the Roberta Magnate Asylum for the Mentally Ill; his memory had been erased, all prior knowledge of his jump to the ground gone.
He turned around, looking at Doctor Alberta. "Well," he said, "I do have to take a shower."
"We like to give sponge baths," Doctor Alberta said with a slight twinkle in her eye.
"Don't even think about it," Gilderoy said. He pointed to the dark red door. "That the bathroom?" Doctor Alberta nodded, smiling.
"Yes," she said. "Would you like me to see you in?" Gilderoy shook his head. His hair was neatly combed, and he certainly did not appear to be insane. But appearances could be deceiving.
"I'm perfectly capable of opening the door by myself, thank you very much for your kind offer. Now please leave me be," Gilderoy said nicely with a smile. He certainly hasn't lost that charm, Doctor Alberta thought.
Doctor Alberta nodded and shut the door to Gilderoy's room. Gilderoy stepped into the bathroom and fiddled with the tub.
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from the bathtub, having slipped in it twice and having seen more blood than soap. His head hurt immensely, and you could make out small dots of red in his blonde hair. He collapsed onto the floor, tired and bleeding. The bathroom could do harsh things.
* * *
"Oh, God..." Gilderoy said to himself as he woke up two hours later. "Cookie, get a hold of yourself." Gilderoy shook his head around crazily and jumped into the bed.
* * *
The bright sunshine hit Gilderoy harshly, nearly blinding him. Gilderoy shielded his eyes as he ran across the city street, filled with traffic of all kinds–pedestrians, cars, animals...it went on. He jumped through the traffic, the cars honking at him. Gilderoy stared back at the cars with a look of fear. He was mad.
Then one caught his eye. It was a blue compact car, halted as it waited for the traffic to move once more, which it did not seem to want to do. Gilderoy stared at the car, his eyes open. The driver stared back at him blankly. Then he ran towards the car and jumped gracefully to the top and stared at the yellow sun. This time he didn't shield his eyes. Why? Gilderoy began to yell.
And Gilderoy woke up. He checked his clammy skin. His back was freezing, his teeth chattering. It was just a dream; it wasn't reality. Right?
Gilderoy went back to bed.
* * *
Gilderoy woke up that morning at around 8:00, or so he believed. Who knew if the clock was right? He had no idea whether or not the clock had the right time.
Gilderoy's head popped up first, his eyes surveying his surroundings. He eyed the strange picture on the wall...where those eyes moving? And just who was that?
Gilderoy lifted the covers up gently, unaware of whether or not they were covers. This was all confusing. They covered him; but they could so easily kill him, smothering him to death. Scary thought.
Gilderoy wiped his hair behind his head and stood up. His feet hit the cold floor, and they certainly weren't ready for it. He heard the door open.
"Rise and shine!" said a bright, happy voice, one Gilderoy recognized as the woman that had shown him to his room last night, Doctor Felicia Alberta.
"Hello," Gilderoy said. "I'm pretty tired." Felicia smiled. She was a middle-aged woman that had been a doctor for a few years now. Her hair was a dark brown, her naked eyes brown as well, though not nearly as brown as her hair. She was wearing simply dressed in a white button down shirt and a khaki skirt.
"Well, so am I; but you don't see me complaining!" Felicia exclaimed in her bright, happy voice. Gilderoy nodded.
"Look, I need to get dressed," he said.
"Oh...do you need any help getting dressed?" Felicia asked Gilderoy, who was shocked. Gilderoy certainly didn't remember getting these types of advances from women. But then again, he couldn't remember much from his life. It was strange, but he felt as if he had always wanted to start over with his life. Perhaps he was just drawing conclusions about his life–why else would he not know anything about it?–but perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he had amnesia. He might never know about his previous life...but his mind told him it had been one big lie.
"I'm fine, but thank you for your kind offer," Gilderoy said.
"Sure thing, Cookie. Call on us if you need help." Felicia shut the door. Gilderoy quickly dressed, choosing a yellow polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants. He studied himself in the mirror, modeling for it.
"What do you think?" he asked the mirror. The mirror's golden border seemed to shrug.
"You look good, but do tuck in the shirt," the mirror said in an elegant voice.
"Excuse me?" Gilderoy asked the mirror. "Tuck in my shirt? Wait a moment, you're a mirror. Mirror's aren't supposed to talk. This isn't right." Gilderoy looked back at the mirror, which shrugged once more.
"Do follow my advice. You'll have a good day if you do," the mirror told him.
"How should you know?" Gilderoy asked. The mirror seemed to smile.
"Mirrors are pretty psychic. We're not here just to make sure you look good," the mirror told Gilderoy.
"Oh..." Gilderoy said. He finished buttoning the polo shirt and slipped on a pair of slippers, then looked back at the mirror.
"I'll see you around, uh..." Gilderoy said, not knowing what to call the mirror.
"They call me Dipisni," the mirror said. "The Mirror of Dipisni." Gilderoy nodded.
"Good day to you, Dipisni." Gilderoy opened the door, only to be greeted by Doctor Alberta.
"Hello, Doctor Alberta," he said. Doctor Alberta smiled and nodded. Her teeth were almost as white as Gilderoy's, which seemed to be losing their shine.
"Hello," she greeted. "I'm going to show you around the Asylum."
"Asylum? I'm not crazy," Gilderoy said as they began to walk down the hallway.
"Yes, we know that, Cookie," Felicia lied. "As in a harbor–"
"I'm not a boat," Gilderoy said, unsure of what she meant.
"A harbor...a haven...a safe place," Felicia corrected as they reached a large set of double doors. Felicia opened them, revealing a small room with padded walls, a fan slowly turning, a long plastic table, and two chairs, each on one side of the table. A large man sat in one.
"Sit down, Cookie," said the man. His hair was white and thin, his glasses thick framed. He wore a white lab coat, and his face seemed to be fixed on a cold, hard, unhappy stare.
Gilderoy took his chair, and Doctor Alberta left the room. The man stared coldly, continuing once more. Gilderoy stared down at the table, not really focusing.
"What's your name?" Gilderoy asked. The man nodded.
"My name? Well, you can call me Doctor Wright Galen," Doctor Wright said. "I don't want to be here, but I am. So I'm stuck helping you."
"Why are all you people doctors? Am I insane? What's going on? Tell me!" Gilderoy yelled. There was something wrong with this place, and it wasn't just the talking mirror.
"Gil–I mean Cookie, you are in an Asylum in Australia," Doctor Galen began.
"Australia? What the heck am I doing in Australia?" Gilderoy asked.
"You have lost your memory...all the memory of your former self is gone. You don't remember a thing about yourself, now, do you?" Doctor Galen asked.
"I see...and you are here to help me regain this memory?" Gilderoy asked.
"Yes," Doctor Galen said.
"I guess this makes me insane," Gilderoy said in a calm manner. Doctor Galen shook his head.
"It doesn't make you insane. Not at all. You just have a memory loss," Galen told him.
"I'm insane; admit it," Gilderoy said. "I'll bet Cookie's not even my name."
"You're right; it's not. But that'll change. We're going to teach you about yourself. Everything you've forgotten. Me and Doctor Alberta are assigned to you," Doctor Galen said.
Gilderoy heard a crash from outside. "What's that?" he yelled as he jumped out his chair. Doctor Galen motioned for him to sit back down.
"We're just replacing your mirror; that's all. Don't worry. We've discovered a default in the reflecting power of every mirror, and the factory can't fix it. We have to destroy them," Galen said with much confidence.
Gilderoy heard a scream. It was Dipisni. "What are you doing to Dipisni? Why are you taking him away? He isn't bothering anybody!"
"What are you talking about? There is no Dipisni! Mirrors don't talk!" Galen lied.
"Yes, they do! Dipisni does! He showed me how to get dressed!" Gilderoy yelled. He jumped from his chair onto the table, running at Doctor Galen.
Doctor Galen stood his ground. He pulled out a long, elegant, cypress rod from his pocket, pointing it at the madman that had grown far too attached to his mirror.
Gilderoy was halfway across the table, gaining closer and closer to Doctor Galen. Wright's mouth opened, and a bright flash of light appeared from his wand.
And for Gilderoy, all went black.
Author's Note: Well, what did you think? This is really the first serious Lockhart story, and I am rather proud of it. The next chapter will come out soon, and don't complain that there appears to be no plot. The plot is taking a backseat for everything to be set up. And there is a lot to set up. I want to think all those that Beta read; there are so many! :-) I swore I would put this up all at once, but I guess I'm not...I guess that you're going to have to wait for the second chapter. Thanks to Moxie, who convinced me to post this.
And, btw, this story takes place before Election; but if you've never read it, that's okay, as this thing stands on its own. This is, well, the Muggle Informing of 1998, hence the title. How it happens...well, that's this story!