Voldemort – St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries – Balloon Phobia – Androidxs
"That's it, Voldy." Coerced Augustus Pye, newly qualified Healer at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He stood with a photograph of a large red balloon in his hand, trying to persuade the patient to take a glimpse at it. Voldemort sat with the slits of his eyes clenched shut, refusing to open them. His head was titled towards the ceiling as he sat humming, desperate not to hear the word that he detested so much. He placed his long, bony fingers in his ears, wanting to make his point absolutely clear. He would not look at the picture. Even just thinking about it made him shudder. Rocking back and forth to comfort himself, he tried to take his mind off of what was happening around him. Mudbloods, he thought, torturing and killing the lot of them. Smiling at his thoughts he opened his eyes a glimpse to see a blonde man, much younger than himself, trying to grab the photo out of Healer Pye's hands.
"But I want to sign it, you see!" Shouted the young man, waving a quill furiously in one hand, jabbing it towards the photo.
"No, Gilderoy," Pye began, "That isn't a photo of your, or even a photo for you. You need to share." Looking disheartened, the man named Gilderoy continued to jab his quill at the picture. After several more jabs, he made a particularly violent movement which resulted in the ink in the quill splattering over the picture. Dismayed, Healer Pye relinquished his grip upon the photo, giving it to the young man. "Here." He said, dismissively, letting the pleased faced Gilderoy take it to his bed on the other side of the room. Augustus sat down and sighed a heavy sigh looking at Voldemort, who looked back at him.
"Well?" Voldemort asked, harshly.
"Balloon." Augustus said, giving up. Voldemort let out a shrill, high pitched squeal and burst into tears. Calming draught, Augustus said now annoyed at losing his temper at Voldemort's rudeness, he wasn't well and shouldn't expect better. Augustus stood up and jogged across the room, where he asked a younger subordinate to fetch him the draught. The brown haired boy nodded and left through the locked door, muttering the word, "Alohamora." to open it. Within seconds, the boy returned with a goblet of steaming clear liquid. He handed it to Healer Pye who thanked him and returned to Voldemort's side, who was now rocking back and forth next to the chair he was previously sat upon. "Here," Pye said, edging the goblet towards Voldemort's slit mouth, "this will help." He added, trying to persuade Voldemort to drink it. After sniffing the potion and looking suspiciously around the room, he chose to and took, at first, a small sip, followed by a much larger gulp. Within minutes, he was calmed down back to his normal sneering state. "Feeling better?" Healer Pye asked, hoisting Voldemort off of the floor and over to his bed. Voldemort nodded, his red eyes glowing.
"Tomorrow," Voldemort began, "nothing will stop me." Augustus smiled.
"That's the attitude!" He said, while secretly thinking that there was no hope even if Merlin himself were here to aid him. Augustus pulled the curtains around Voldemort, who much preferred his privacy and left, promising to return later with more calming draught.
After he left, Voldemort remained lying in bed. His bald hat was cushioned by the pillow and he began to think of the peculiar state he was in. All the other patients in the ward, the Longbottoms and Gilderoy were here as a result of his power yet now he was too scared to take on the world for fear of those latex balls filled with gas acting as his hubris. They could be his downfall. This long stay on the Janus Thickey Ward would be worth it, he argued, when he could finally become master of death, and defeat Harry Potter.