Session One
I have a degree. Three of them, actually. All from top universities where I have studied psychiatry. I specialize in family therapy, sexual dysfunction, and post-Freudian childhood trauma analysis. While I don't have that many clients, I am doing a very profitable business and I am pleased to say that I have succeeded in aiding many people into making their own lives comfortable for themselves and their loved ones.
I try to help out where I can. It is unfortunate, however, that most of my clients revolve around housewives. The last interesting case I received was from a man who had to wear diapers due to a control issue. I had to recommend him to an associate of mine because as his problem became clearer, it was obvious I could not aid him properly.
Well, that and I just did not care to deal with the toilet-training program once again. As for my family life, I have a daughter, aged 19 who is currently in college now. I'm divorced, live in the middle-class residency of Little Hangleton and run my business in Muggle London.
All in all, I lead an uneventful life. Plain and simple. I wake up, I shower and change, I'm in my office at 8 and have my first appointment at 9. I stay at the office until 6:30 and I go home to eat and do whatever I damn well choose to do. Normally, it's watch some tv, call my daughter, and fall asleep early. On weekends, I like to go out to eat with my friends, colleagues, or, if I'm lucky, a date.
I'd like to think of myself as a good person. Someone who's quiet, sticks to herself, aids the ones that come into my office and remains a non- threatening member of society to both the Muggle and wizarding world.
So it was that I had to wonder just why I opened the door at 3 pm to encounter 'him' in my waiting room.
"Thought you were supposed to be a Muggle," were the first words out of his mouth.
There wasn't much I could say to that. 'Sorry to disappoint' sounded far too rude and I couldn't just shrug at him.
I had known that he would be coming. He had made the appointment with my secretary but I couldn't believe it until after I had seen him.
He stared at me for a good long while and I guess he was also expecting a wizard, not a witch. I gave him my best smile and directed him to my office while trembling inside.
I knew him. He was one of the prominent wizarding figure of Great Britain, a member of the upper echelons of society, and, as far as the rumours could tell, a very dangerous man. Second only to that of You-Know-Who. To be honest, I wasn't sure just what the hell I was supposed to do with him. Sit him on the couch and ask him about the traumas of working with a Dark Lord? He had come here for a good reason. Having been recommended to me by the family physician for therapy regarding a few attacks. Not panic attacks. Attacks of loss of control, a sort of blacking out period during which, massive amounts of damage were done by him.
Standard procedures had been taken. Neurological scans came back negative, as had his blood tests. All that was needed, they stated, was therapy, perhaps some medication. And then, they gave him my name and told him to call and schedule an appointment. I'm surprised he did so, all things considered.
So here he was now, sitting down upon one of the chairs there (he steadfastly refused to lay on the couch), and stared at the table in front of him while I took him in.
He did not look dangerous. Nothing like the brutal sadistic killer most people say he is. He looked..handsome. There's no way around that fact. He was an attractive man, long hair that was carefully pulled back, not a strand out of place. Roman nose, striking eyes, and a good build if a bit small for an average male.
I knew not to underestimate him based on looks. I'm a psychiatrist. I know to look for what lies behind his eyes. And really, that was my problem. Here was temptation in the flesh.
The man brought an allure into my small office. An excitement, almost, in the form of a deviation from listening to the many housewives I had in. Then there was the intellectual curiosity. Here sat the perfect example of a sociopathic personality if one was to believe the stories. And even if I didn't believe them, what better psyche to see into than this man's? Even disregarding all of that, there was the knowledge that by treating this man, I was testing my own limits. Already I was seeing him as the ultimate nut to crack.
He hadn't even started talking and already I was looking for ways to bring out the alleged good in him and treat the bad. But what was the bad? What was causing these blackouts?
It couldn't have been financial issues, naturally. He was filthy rich. High- stress job? I could've laughed at that. High-stress. Well, naturally.
I quit my thoughts as soon as I realized that he was staring at me. No, not staring. Analyzing. As though our positions were reversed and it was his job to scrutinize me and dig out my filthy little secrets. Something told me that if he tried, he would be highly successful at it. I sat up straighter, though, making myself comfortable in the other chair across from him.
"We need to keep this private, understand?" He asked, his voice low and gods, but the looks went with the voice. I tried to picture him screaming in anger, threatening to kill someone with that voice and failed.
"Of course. Patient-therapist confidentiality is a law. The only restriction being that if I hear about a crime that will be taking place, it is law for me to get in contact with the authorities." To my credit, my voice didn't shake. That would ruin everything. For this man, I had to keep myself completely unintimidated, no matter how much of a scare he put into me.
And I almost found myself wanting to be scared of him. Unprofessional behaviour, I chided myself.
He nodded and looked away, my guess is he was uncertain as to where to begin. Thus, it fell to me to open up the grounds for conversation.
"Why don't you tell me about these blackouts you've been having?" My hand was poised over the pen and notepad, all ready to take notes.
And then he started talking. And talking. And talking. And I forgot my pen and notepad and started listening, absorbing what he was saying because what he was saying was anything but dull.
He did not mention any names, nothing incriminating, preferring to dub them as WM or Mr. V. and some such like.
By the end of the session, I concluded that there were quite a few assessments to make for him but the key was to make him come to that realization himself. I started to speak to him about Mr. V., but as soon as his eyes drifted to the clock, he saw that the hour was up and he was out of my office like a bat out of hell.
I stared at the chair he had just vacated before looking down at my notepad. The pen flew to it and I started writing down everything I could remember.
"Mr. V. - 'father-figure', apparent centre in LM's world, twisted- homoerotic Electra complex?, obvious codependency.
WM - 'brother-figure', strange dependency upon him for moral support.
With all 'family figures' where is his family?
Narcissa - wife, equal in household, has a hatred for Mr. V.
Could be the domineering part of relationship, must ask about sex life.
Snake - Betrayed by him, feelings of guilt, depression, malice.
Underneath could be something more. Need to investigate.
Draco - Son, heir to fortune, displaying same depressive tendencies as father, LM is fearful of son turning into him.
Job - Ministry employee...
Nonspecific job, seemed very hesitant to speak on it, the only thing he was hesitant to speak on.
LM - Appears to be confused, lost, afraid of losing something close to him, cannot define what this is. Hostile tendencies, a need to hide certain truths.
Childhood - non-negotiable, must talk more on this."
My notes were not as detailed as they could have been, but from what I managed to get from the man, they were enough to start on. As for the blackouts, I could only make a few surmises as to the cause, but nothing definite, not yet.
Anxiety seemed to feature in prominently with my latest patient. He seemed anxious about his immediate family, his son especially. And then there was Mr. V. The elusive Mr. V. that I had a very good idea just what the V stood for. It was clear that there was some severe emotional trauma that centered around this man for both what he stood for and what he meant to my patient.
There was a dependence, a very heavy dependence that LM fostered with Mr. V. Something that was all too binding and from what I managed to gather, I don't think I'd be too far off the mark by thinking of Mr. V. as my patient's 'boss' so to speak. LM's attentions would be much better off being directed elsewhere. Perhaps more to his homelife, but I still need to get more information of his family from him to see if they're able to suit his needs.
I was no longer inclined into believing the rumours. Oh, I would not be blind to the fact that I was treating a potentially dangerous man with some very dangerous friends, but I was not going to look at him with any biased attitudes. The decision to better himself would have to be from his own self. If I could help him, I would.
I just pray I'm not doing this in order to help him adjust to the guilt of killing anyone.
I have a degree. Three of them, actually. All from top universities where I have studied psychiatry. I specialize in family therapy, sexual dysfunction, and post-Freudian childhood trauma analysis. While I don't have that many clients, I am doing a very profitable business and I am pleased to say that I have succeeded in aiding many people into making their own lives comfortable for themselves and their loved ones.
I try to help out where I can. It is unfortunate, however, that most of my clients revolve around housewives. The last interesting case I received was from a man who had to wear diapers due to a control issue. I had to recommend him to an associate of mine because as his problem became clearer, it was obvious I could not aid him properly.
Well, that and I just did not care to deal with the toilet-training program once again. As for my family life, I have a daughter, aged 19 who is currently in college now. I'm divorced, live in the middle-class residency of Little Hangleton and run my business in Muggle London.
All in all, I lead an uneventful life. Plain and simple. I wake up, I shower and change, I'm in my office at 8 and have my first appointment at 9. I stay at the office until 6:30 and I go home to eat and do whatever I damn well choose to do. Normally, it's watch some tv, call my daughter, and fall asleep early. On weekends, I like to go out to eat with my friends, colleagues, or, if I'm lucky, a date.
I'd like to think of myself as a good person. Someone who's quiet, sticks to herself, aids the ones that come into my office and remains a non- threatening member of society to both the Muggle and wizarding world.
So it was that I had to wonder just why I opened the door at 3 pm to encounter 'him' in my waiting room.
"Thought you were supposed to be a Muggle," were the first words out of his mouth.
There wasn't much I could say to that. 'Sorry to disappoint' sounded far too rude and I couldn't just shrug at him.
I had known that he would be coming. He had made the appointment with my secretary but I couldn't believe it until after I had seen him.
He stared at me for a good long while and I guess he was also expecting a wizard, not a witch. I gave him my best smile and directed him to my office while trembling inside.
I knew him. He was one of the prominent wizarding figure of Great Britain, a member of the upper echelons of society, and, as far as the rumours could tell, a very dangerous man. Second only to that of You-Know-Who. To be honest, I wasn't sure just what the hell I was supposed to do with him. Sit him on the couch and ask him about the traumas of working with a Dark Lord? He had come here for a good reason. Having been recommended to me by the family physician for therapy regarding a few attacks. Not panic attacks. Attacks of loss of control, a sort of blacking out period during which, massive amounts of damage were done by him.
Standard procedures had been taken. Neurological scans came back negative, as had his blood tests. All that was needed, they stated, was therapy, perhaps some medication. And then, they gave him my name and told him to call and schedule an appointment. I'm surprised he did so, all things considered.
So here he was now, sitting down upon one of the chairs there (he steadfastly refused to lay on the couch), and stared at the table in front of him while I took him in.
He did not look dangerous. Nothing like the brutal sadistic killer most people say he is. He looked..handsome. There's no way around that fact. He was an attractive man, long hair that was carefully pulled back, not a strand out of place. Roman nose, striking eyes, and a good build if a bit small for an average male.
I knew not to underestimate him based on looks. I'm a psychiatrist. I know to look for what lies behind his eyes. And really, that was my problem. Here was temptation in the flesh.
The man brought an allure into my small office. An excitement, almost, in the form of a deviation from listening to the many housewives I had in. Then there was the intellectual curiosity. Here sat the perfect example of a sociopathic personality if one was to believe the stories. And even if I didn't believe them, what better psyche to see into than this man's? Even disregarding all of that, there was the knowledge that by treating this man, I was testing my own limits. Already I was seeing him as the ultimate nut to crack.
He hadn't even started talking and already I was looking for ways to bring out the alleged good in him and treat the bad. But what was the bad? What was causing these blackouts?
It couldn't have been financial issues, naturally. He was filthy rich. High- stress job? I could've laughed at that. High-stress. Well, naturally.
I quit my thoughts as soon as I realized that he was staring at me. No, not staring. Analyzing. As though our positions were reversed and it was his job to scrutinize me and dig out my filthy little secrets. Something told me that if he tried, he would be highly successful at it. I sat up straighter, though, making myself comfortable in the other chair across from him.
"We need to keep this private, understand?" He asked, his voice low and gods, but the looks went with the voice. I tried to picture him screaming in anger, threatening to kill someone with that voice and failed.
"Of course. Patient-therapist confidentiality is a law. The only restriction being that if I hear about a crime that will be taking place, it is law for me to get in contact with the authorities." To my credit, my voice didn't shake. That would ruin everything. For this man, I had to keep myself completely unintimidated, no matter how much of a scare he put into me.
And I almost found myself wanting to be scared of him. Unprofessional behaviour, I chided myself.
He nodded and looked away, my guess is he was uncertain as to where to begin. Thus, it fell to me to open up the grounds for conversation.
"Why don't you tell me about these blackouts you've been having?" My hand was poised over the pen and notepad, all ready to take notes.
And then he started talking. And talking. And talking. And I forgot my pen and notepad and started listening, absorbing what he was saying because what he was saying was anything but dull.
He did not mention any names, nothing incriminating, preferring to dub them as WM or Mr. V. and some such like.
By the end of the session, I concluded that there were quite a few assessments to make for him but the key was to make him come to that realization himself. I started to speak to him about Mr. V., but as soon as his eyes drifted to the clock, he saw that the hour was up and he was out of my office like a bat out of hell.
I stared at the chair he had just vacated before looking down at my notepad. The pen flew to it and I started writing down everything I could remember.
"Mr. V. - 'father-figure', apparent centre in LM's world, twisted- homoerotic Electra complex?, obvious codependency.
WM - 'brother-figure', strange dependency upon him for moral support.
With all 'family figures' where is his family?
Narcissa - wife, equal in household, has a hatred for Mr. V.
Could be the domineering part of relationship, must ask about sex life.
Snake - Betrayed by him, feelings of guilt, depression, malice.
Underneath could be something more. Need to investigate.
Draco - Son, heir to fortune, displaying same depressive tendencies as father, LM is fearful of son turning into him.
Job - Ministry employee...
Nonspecific job, seemed very hesitant to speak on it, the only thing he was hesitant to speak on.
LM - Appears to be confused, lost, afraid of losing something close to him, cannot define what this is. Hostile tendencies, a need to hide certain truths.
Childhood - non-negotiable, must talk more on this."
My notes were not as detailed as they could have been, but from what I managed to get from the man, they were enough to start on. As for the blackouts, I could only make a few surmises as to the cause, but nothing definite, not yet.
Anxiety seemed to feature in prominently with my latest patient. He seemed anxious about his immediate family, his son especially. And then there was Mr. V. The elusive Mr. V. that I had a very good idea just what the V stood for. It was clear that there was some severe emotional trauma that centered around this man for both what he stood for and what he meant to my patient.
There was a dependence, a very heavy dependence that LM fostered with Mr. V. Something that was all too binding and from what I managed to gather, I don't think I'd be too far off the mark by thinking of Mr. V. as my patient's 'boss' so to speak. LM's attentions would be much better off being directed elsewhere. Perhaps more to his homelife, but I still need to get more information of his family from him to see if they're able to suit his needs.
I was no longer inclined into believing the rumours. Oh, I would not be blind to the fact that I was treating a potentially dangerous man with some very dangerous friends, but I was not going to look at him with any biased attitudes. The decision to better himself would have to be from his own self. If I could help him, I would.
I just pray I'm not doing this in order to help him adjust to the guilt of killing anyone.