Disclaimer: Harry Potter, all places and characters, the names etcetera belongs to Mrs J.K Rowling, her publishers (there are so much of them, so, well …), and Warner Brothers™. All rights reserved. This is not meant as theft or insult – I wrote it for fun. I own the story.
Rating: G. Probably the most innocent thing I have ever written.ence)
Dedicated to all my reviewers, as a 'Thank you!' for your time it took you to review.
Gilderoy's ordinary day
Gilderoy Lockman was really a strange man, even before the mysterious events in the Chamber of Secrets two years ago, the Heralers of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries thought.
He had always loved publicity, and being at the Daily Prophet's front page was enough to make him happy. Now, he had not read a paper for two years. He had to learn everything he could before again, and now, he could not ever write his own name, which he should be afterwards he had always loved writing autographs to each and everyone, and if they wanted it did not matter to him.
Gilderoy himself was almost exactly as a three-year-old. The only difference was that Gilderoy did not act as such physically. He did not toddler; he formed words just exactly as the forty-something year old man he actually was. The size of his body did also witness about his real age. He was six feet tall, and his blonde hair began to become grey. Now, Gilderoy was about to strode a little bit in the corridor, but he went stopped by a nurse.
'Gilderoy, dear, what are you doing? Come, I will take you back to the room.'
That was how they all treated poor Gilderoy. He had not many guests, which was strange afterwards he was so famous once upon the time. But several witches kept writing to him every week. Gilderoy was not quite sure why they all wrote to him, but he enjoyed it when someone read them to him, because of his inability to read by himself.
When the others in his room had visitors, Gilderoy always watched in envy. But Gilderoy was easy to get happy. You could just tell him about the fact that maybe it would come to visit him during the day. The Healers knew that it was not going to be like that, but Gilderoy believed it, and he was always looking at the door in case of the door went open.
The Healers always felt guilty just watching him sitting there, day after day, all alone.
Author Notes I don't think this is as good as 'An unpleasant meetng', but it is (obviously) good enough to get published. Again, constructive critism, and to my Swedish readers; Do I write better in English or in Swedish? Please, Review in English, because of the same reason as on 'An unpleasant meeting'.
P.S. This was, as the end of my Swedish story 'Où sont les Horcruxes?' and my two One-Shots 'An unpleasant meeting' and 'A Night With the Friends', written during my journey to Tunisia. D.S.