(NOV13/08) PRELUDE: This fic was written a very long time ago (haha, a year) and since then, I've realized how inaccurate the fic is with some of its terminology and procedures. If this offends you, please press the back button!

Thanks, and enjoy it. :D

Author's Note: A new story :) This was a huge plot bunny... I just thought it was an interesting concept; hope you guys feel the same. :D

This is a big fat AU!! No relation to Hogwarts or other characters; albeit it's still HP/DM slash. :) I've added and will add current characters and past characters into the story of course, I'll try my best not to make up any characters.

ALICE SYNDROME
 Presented by BIOHAZARDCHILD

A screech.

The sealed hydraulic door closed as a wizened man entered the small cell, his eyes tired and actions delayed. He was old; hair silver and trailing down to his back, dressed in a white labcoat, azure irises dark and fatigued behind small spectacles.

"Draco."

A pale man in the corner of the cell looked up, eyes expectant, a smirk pulling up full lips.

"Doctor Dumbledore! I wasn't expecting you; they had told me Doctor Fudge would be seeing me today."

He spoke brightly, tone nonchalant, sitting on the wooden bench that served as his bed.

Dumbledore let out a sigh, closing his eyes and swallowed before speaking in a forced calm tone, "Fudge is dead. You know that as well as anyone, considering you were the one who killed him."

The blond's fine eyebrows rose in mild surprise, "What? How could I have escaped from my chamber? You know better anyone Mattewan is guarded fiercely, inside and out."

"He was seen with you last."

Draco gave a slight sneer, the rays of light pouring in from the small window framing his eyelashes a translucent gold, "Oh, and from your deductive reasoning, I must have killed him? Dear me Doctor, I believe you are quite short-sighted." He lost interest in the other man, and started to stare at his nails inquisitively. He was actually relatively clean, compared to the place, which was rather dirty, but liveable. The convict was dressed in a pale gray habit, with small red lettering stitched across the breast that said, 'Mattewan'. It had been laundered recently; much to the prisoner's relief.

The robed man gave another sigh, this time of faint vexation before turning on his heel, making the white coat billow slightly.

"You may only have one chance left, Draco, take it. Reform and repent."

The blond waved at the silver-haired man as he left, a small smile gracing his lips, malice dancing in those pale irises.

"Certainly, Doctor."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"A psychopath?"

Harry frowned, glancing down at the files he had in his hands, long fingers flipping through the pages. Psychopaths were usually rather difficult to handle, though the few he had treated were impulsive and really only needed a helping hand of sorts.

However, this was a new patient; a new challenge. It had listed the doctors that had attempted to treat this man, most lasting no longer than a few weeks, and a few of them actually ending up dead. Goosebumps ran through his skin, and he felt slightly chilled. Out of the string of psychiatrists that had treated him, his eyes followed a few eminent names: Shacklebolt Passed... Moody Resigned, Dippet Resigned, Slughorn Passed... Granger Resigned, Merrythought Passed, Bones Resigned, McKinnon Resigned... Fudge Passed. These were but a few of the names Harry recognized from the list, many more he did not note. He did not touch his new client's summary just yet.

The woman beside him rolled her eyes; she was exasperated to no end. The doctor was drifting in and out of a daze, browsing those documents and consequently blocking out her.

"Harry?"

He looked up, slightly startled.

"Oh, sorry, Ginny." The psychiatrist said, trying a wobbly grin and snapped the folder shut before the woman could get a good look.

The redhead scowled, eyes glittering with mirth and tinge of annoyance, "Yeah? Finally get to listening to me?" She peered over at the deep red file, reading the name of the hospital on the lapel.

"Mattewan? That big prisoner asylum in Buffalo?"

"Institution." replied Harry tartly, placing the file on the carpeted floor. "And I'm sure it's not a prison anymore; that goes against U.S. Law."

Ginny's scowl deepened, "God Potter," she clicked her tongue, sounding remotely like a mother, "of all the crazy jobs you wanted to pursue—"

"—I've always wanted to be a doctor. Maybe not psychiatrist directly, but I love my job." replied Harry smoothly. He had wanted to be a lot of things growing up... An astronaut... A fireman... A wizard... But the idea of helping others had always captured him; and he had always had a fascination with the mentally ill. It had not been taken kindly in middle and high school, where teachers had frowned on his interest, and simply stated that 'Potter was rude and has a detached absorption with some of the school's more needy children,'. The doctor had remembered his mother's appalled face when she read this and had marched right back up to the school and demanded they explain the statement.

"Anyways..." the woman said, and smiled, breaking her scowl, "are you headed up there then? The infamous Harry Potter going to break this case as well?"

"Of course, Gins, of course." He smiled faintly, his finger tracing the name 'Draco Malfoy'.