Informed
Chapter 2: Welcome to Sydney
Gilderoy Lockhart awoke on an operating table. The light flooded in, but his pupils seem to enlarge. Gilderoy tried to close his eyes, but it was useless. Something was restricting them.
He tried to probe his mind, trying to think of something about himself as he looked around the room. A male and female in white lab coats were on the opposite side of the room, discussing something in whispers. He could make out some of it.
"He...gone...kill..." said the man.
"No...that...work..." said the woman. It was all Gilderoy could make out. They're going to kill me, he told himself. He tried to get off the table, but it was no use. He was strapped in. I'm going to die...I've gotta get out of here...
His mouth wasn't gagged...maybe that would work. Gilderoy screamed. The woman ran up to Gilderoy and pulled something out of her coat pocket. It was a needle, or at least it appeared to be. Was it too long? Too thick? Too brown?
There was a beam of light, and all went black. Again.
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart awoke, having not remembered that just three hours ago he had screamed. Doctor Felicia Alberta stood above him, a needle in her hand. Gilderoy's mouth was gagged, his eyes dilated still, even if he couldn't remember that either.
"Hello," Felicia said in a much colder voice than she had ever spoken before. Gilderoy tried to remember her, but he couldn't. But he felt that he had seen her before...was this deja vu? What was going on?
Gilderoy wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He felt as if he didn't belong here...who was he? His mind raced, trying to figure out the answers. He had no memory of his self. There was a literal blank there.
"You like this needle? I don't," said the doctor. She took the towel out of Gilderoy's mouth and set the needle in her jacket pocket.
"What the heck is going on?" Gilderoy asked. "Who am I? Who are you? Why am I strapped in like this?" The doctor put her hand over Gilderoy's mouth.
"I'm Felicia, and I'm going to help you," she said. Gilderoy nodded.
"Help me with what?" Gilderoy asked. "I need to know who I am. Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, I know who you are," Doctor Alberta said.
"Okay. Now tell me," Gilderoy said in his calm manner. "Tell me who I am, and why I'm here strapped like this."
"Your name...you name is Lennie Gil," Doctor Alberta lied. "You were born in London, but you came to this Asylum to escape the hustle and bustle of modern times."
"What year is it?" Gilderoy asked.
"1993, Lennie." Gilderoy nodded. "Let me get you out of these straps..." Gilderoy was unbound from the leather straps, and his eyes almost simultaneously seemed to return to normal.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you very much." Felicia nodded and smiled.
"You're welcome. Now, I'm going to teach you about the world...everything you've forgotten," Felicia said. Gilderoy nodded, but his face seemed to look confused.
"How did this come about?" Gilderoy asked in his soft tone. Felicia sighed. She was basically going to be lying about everything and inventing this man's life...she'd have to remember it all, and she didn't have that good of a memory. It felt so wrong, but it was her job...and she was going to do it.
"The straps?" she asked. Gilderoy nodded. "You had a nervous breakdown, and you started to punch through the padding in the walls. So we had to strap you in."
"Did you do anything to me?" Gilderoy asked, unsure of just what was going on. He was completely clueless, but there was most definitely something wrong with his present situation. He could see something...
Two figures stood across the room, talking about something. Gilderoy watched on as he saw himself sitting on an operating table, the same one he was on right now. He was strapped in. What were the two figures saying? Gilderoy saw himself reacting to what he heard, then the Gilderoy of the past screamed as a bright beam of light filled the room.
Gilderoy looked at Felicia, trying to make something out of her eyes. There was an almost soft hardness to them. She obviously carried herself in a tough manner, but that was just an exterior. A shell. On the inside there seemed to be a softness, a caring soul. Or so Gilderoy figured.
"We haven't done anything to you besides put you on the table," Felicia lied. Gilderoy couldn't believe her.
"Then how come I don't remember the nervous breakdown I had a few hours ago?" Gilderoy asked. Felicia hadn't thought of that. Always overlooking the small things, Felicia told herself.
"It's an effect of the medication. Your memory will come back," Felicia assured Gilderoy.
"I can see me...on this operating table...and you...and some other person...discussing something...I guess it was about me...I screamed...and suddenly I'm here...the events leading up to the point in the conversation," Gilderoy said. "I don't believe you."
"You don't have to; but I would prefer you do, Lennie," Felicia told Gilderoy, smiling. "Because it's the truth."
"Okay," Gilderoy said. "How long will I be staying here?"
"Until you're ready to leave," Felicia said with a smile. Her hand fell over Gilderoy's. It was soft and a soothing feel to Gilderoy, who just wanted to figure things out. Gilderoy looked down at it, and he stared up in Felicia's eyes.
"You're hiding something from me," he said. "And I know you don't want to lie to me." Felicia nodded.
"You see–" she began, only to be caught off by the sound off a door opening.
"Felicia?" asked Doctor Galen. Felicia turned back, taking her hand off Gilderoy's.
"Yes, Wright?" she responded.
"I need to see you in my office. Now."
* * *
"Doctor, I'm very sorry about what happened..." Felicia began as Doctor Galen slammed the door to his small office shut.
"Take a seat and shut up," Doctor Galen commanded. Felicia did as she was told. "Now, there is a law stating doctors cannot get involved with patients. And you know the type of involved I'm talking about here."
"I'm afraid not," Felicia lied, trying to hide the obvious truth. Her heart beat quickly, and her breathing seemed to increase.
"You know just what I am talking about, Felicia. I watched you in the room while you were with Gilderoy," Doctor Galen said with the stern tone he used when he was mad at someone. "I'm not an idiot," he added.
"You told me you'd leave me alone with him!" Felicia exclaimed. Doctor Galen nodded as he sat back in his chair, which squeaked at a rather high tone.
"And I did. I left you alone in the room with him and watched you. What you're suggesting is another thing. I'm in charge of that patient, and I'm certainly not letting him out of my site," Galen told Felicia. Felicia nodded and jumped out her chair.
"He's not a stupid idiot! It's not his fault! It's that Weasley boy's and Harry Potter's! If they hadn't been off trying to play hero instead of letting the master do the work, Gilderoy would still have his memory; and he'd still be at Hogwarts!" Felicia yelled. Doctor Galen nodded and smiled to himself.
"You do realize he never did a thing for his books besides write them, do you?" he asked. "If he even did that..." Felicia was horrified. The Ministry had been good about keeping this bit of evidence secret, and she really couldn't believe it.
"You're lying!" she yelled. It was all she could say. "He's the bravest man on the planet; and he's always gonna be, no matter who he thinks he is!" She began to cry.
Wright stared down at the small frame in front of him, sighing. "I don't want to do this at all, Felicia. I really don't. But I have to. You're off Gilderoy. He's no longer your patient."
"What? You can't do this! Not to me! Only the Ministry can fire me!" Felicia swung at Wright from across the desk. Wright caught her fist and twisted it. Felicia sobbed.
Wright let go abruptly, and Felicia fell to the ground. "Leave," Wright told Felicia. "Leave now. I'm in charge of this patient, and I'm ordering you to go. Now."
Felicia stomped her foot on the ground, her face flooded with tears. She pointed a finger at Wright.
"Mark my words, Wright. Taking me off this is the worst thing that's ever going to happen to this, and he's going to get revenge...got that?"
Felicia stormed out the room, slamming the door shut.
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart was taken from the room by a masked man in a lab coat. He was shoved into his dark room, and the man that led him in said nothing. Gilderoy clapped twice, turning the lights on.
The mysterious man left, not saying a word. I hate this job, Lucas George thought to himself as he closed the door.
* * *
And Gilderoy Lockhart was educated in the ways of Muggles. His name was now Lennie Gil (nickname: Gil) to everyone. The Ministry had taken extra steps in assuring Gilderoy believed he was Muggle, including providing him with news on events in the Muggle world with newspapers like World News Weekly, where Gilderoy had learned about the recent alien infestation of the White House.
There were others: The National Enquirer, The Sun...it goes on. They were all known to Muggles as supermarket tabloids. To the wizard world, it was an example of how insane Muggles were. Wizards also seemed to think they were the highest class of reporting in the Muggle world.
Gilderoy was currently immersing himself in the latest issue of World News Weekly, discovering the news that Bill Clinton was having a scandal with a woman named Monica. It was all a rumor right now, but the paper said it could he true.
There was a knock on the door. Gilderoy focused his attention on the door, turning away from the paper.
"Yes?" he asked. The day was January 23, 1998.
"Mister Gil, it is time for your evaluation," said the gruff voice behind the door, whom Gilderoy recognized as Doctor Wright Galen.
"My evaluation?" Gilderoy asked. "For what?"
"To determine whether or not you are ready to leave and set out into the real world. Gil, you cannot stay hear forever," came the reply.
Doctor Galen heard Gilderoy sigh to himself; the time was coming, and he knew it. The Ministry had lessened the budget, which required the removal of some patients. And Gilderoy was ready to go out into the Muggle world. Right?
* * *
"Welcome, Mister Gil," said a man unknown to Gilderoy; his name was Doctor Donald Maximus. The room was a lime green color; there was a loud fan slowly rotating on the ceiling.
"Who are you?" Gilderoy asked.
"Doctor Donald Maximus. Me and Wright will be performing your evaluation," he responded. The door shut; and Doctor Galen took a seat next to Donald, across from where Gilderoy was supposed to sit. "Sit down."
"Yes, Sir," Gilderoy responded, taking a seat. The fan's deafening roar stopped, and Gilderoy jumped.
"Don't be alarmed; it happens all the time with the fan," Donald said. Gilderoy nodded.
"Have I been in here before? It looks oddly familiar..." he said.
"All the rooms are like this," Wright said. He sneezed, blowing the dust on the table around him off the table.
"Yes, I know," Gilderoy said as he sneezed.
"Stop the sneezing," Donald snapped. Wright was halfway in the middle of a sneeze, and he suddenly stopped.
"Now, Gilderoy," Donald began, "I'm going to test you on this Muggle knowledge..."
* * *
On February 1, 1998, the Ministry of Magic officially pronounced Gilderoy Lockhart cured. Gilderoy was, according to the Ministry of Magic, ready to set out into the Muggle world and not harm any wizard. He would have no knowledge of the wizard world.
The Ministry was going to watch Gilderoy closely as he left; that was the plan: they were going to observe his actions for three months. They would remove him if need be and start over again. The Ministry had far less dangerous patients in the hospitals. But Gilderoy was never supposed to stay for as long as he did.
Gilderoy Lockhart was escorted out of Asthenia (Wizard District of Sydney, where his former residence was located) and to a Muggle apartment.
Gilderoy was given his key. His rent would be paid for the next year as he settled into the world. Only his bills would be paid. Gilderoy would have to find a job on his own.
He stepped into the large door and was greeted by the freezing cold air conditioning. Gilderoy shivered.
The men standing next to him (in Muggle business suits) pressed the "UP" button on the elevator. The group of men stepped in the elevator and disappeared as the door closed.
* * *
The group reappeared on floor nine. Gilderoy's apartment number was 912. He slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened, and the group stepped in. Gilderoy's bags were already in the room.
"Mister Gil, this is your apartment. You have money in your top drawer, and here is your key. You have another one on your bed," one man said; his name was Charlie. "We've set everything up here for you so you won't go through all the troubles of doing it yourself. Enjoy the rest of your life."
The men stepped out of the apartment door and slammed it shut. Gilderoy ran to the door and quickly opened it.
"Hello?" he said. He looked around. No one was there. Not this again, Gilderoy told himself, recalling the strange happenings of life at the Asylum.
A woman appeared from across the hall. She wondered what was going on.
"Stupid Brits," she mumbled to herself. She closed the door.
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart stood in his room. He eyed the phone. His memories of the Asylum were vivid...except for one: a woman. He just remembered her name: Felicia Alberta. She had been a doctor. Gilderoy picked up the phone and dialed the operator.
"Hello?" asked the operator. Gilderoy smiled to himself; he was reaching success.
"I need directory assistance," Gilderoy said.
"Please hold," the Australian recording stated. Gilderoy was getting jumpy.
"Directory assistance," stated a calm man.
"I need to make a call," Gilderoy said.
"Yes, I know that, mate. Where to?"
"The United States," Gilderoy said. "Louisiana."
"Where in the US, mate?"
"Natchitoches," Gilderoy said. "To Felicia Alberta."
"Hold on..." the operator said. "Hmm...there's no one in Natchitoches named Felicia Alberta. Perhaps the number's unlisted. Sorry," the operator said.
"Oh," Gilderoy said.
"Is that all?" the operator asked.
"Yes," Gilderoy said. "That is all."
There was a click on the other side, and Gilderoy hung the phone up. He stared around his apartment. It was in a good condition, the ceilings white and no holes in the wall. Gilderoy walked into the bathroom and took a relaxing bath.
* * *
"Mister Gil, I welcome you to Plum Software Incorporated. Your programming knowledge is quite vast, as I see from your test," said Jon Sikes, Gilderoy's boss.
"Well, your Roofs operating system is regarded very high. I'm proud to be a part of Plum," Gilderoy said.
"You're being placed in our Programming Department. It looks like you'll become a top programmer," Sikes told Gilderoy, patting his back.
"Thank you," Gilderoy said. "I know this is gonna be great."
"Yes, now here's your employee information. Your cubicle is number eight-oh-three. G'day, mate," John said. He threw a manilla folder into Gilderoy's chest. Gilderoy walked away from the testing room, full of computers.
* * *
Gilderoy entered the Programming Room, home of all the programmers. He walked past the isles of cubicles. Suddenly, a man rushed in front of him.
"Are you with the dancing monkeys he asked?" he asked. The man's tie was over his shoulder, and his hair was a mess. His face was painted and his shirt untucked. His pants were covered with dirt.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Gilderoy told him.
"What? Everyone knows 'bout the dancing monkeys!" the man said. "You must be with the evil ones! The ones trying to kill them! The ones that say monkeys should not dance!" Gilderoy shrugged.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"You stupid Brits!" the man yelled. "You don't know anything these days."
Gilderoy shrugged and left the man alone. He waled past more cubicles, and it was almost like a war. The workers were soldiers, with war paint and long hair screaming as loud as they possibly could.
"Hey, you the new guy?" whispered a man. "This cubicle yours?" a man asked from a cubicle off to the right, next to Gilderoy's.
"Why yes," Gilderoy said. "That's mine."
"They told me someone knew was coming."
"Who are they talking about...the dancing monkeys?" Gilderoy asked, pointing behind him with his thumb at the insane coworkers.
"The unions...which we don't have," the man said. "There were never enough votes to unionize the company."
"I see," Gilderoy said. "Are the unions the dancing monkeys?"
"Yes, they are. They're supposed to give us higher pay and all this bull. I don't believe that. They can't make any guarantees," the man said. "I'm Greg, by the way."
"Oh, I'm Lennie," Gilderoy said. "Lennie Gil."
"Greg Free," Greg said. "I've been working here for twenty years." Gilderoy studied the man, obviously in his early fifties, maybe late forties. His hair had patches of gray on top of the black hair and beard.
"Well, what did a computer company do twenty years ago?" Gilderoy asked.
"You'd be surprised..." Greg said with a slight grin.
"Why aren't you like president or something?" Gilderoy asked. There was no way a man could be working at a company for twenty years and not get promoted, in his opinion.
"Well, it's all corporate politics, you see. You're not promoted unless you make the right moves, pull the right strings," Greg told him.
"Ah," Gilderoy said. "Well, I guess I better start pulling those strings." Greg nodded.
"Go do that. Go try. See if you aren't designing the clock program for Roofs '99."
Gilderoy smiled and stepped into the cubicle. It was rather small. There was a plastic chair and a desk built into the cubicle. A note was stuck on the monitor of the computer on the desk. There were two drawers under Gilderoy, built into the side of the cubicle. A small phone was next to the monitor. A keyboard pulled out from under the desk.
Gilderoy sat back and yanked the note off the desk.
Begin work immediately on clock program for Roofs 2001.
Roofs 2001? Gilderoy thought to himself. I thought there was only a Roofs '99. Gilderoy shrugged and flipped the computer on.
He programmed madly for three hours in Shingles, the programming language invented specifically for Roofs. The clock program was done and done exactly as was specified in an email he had received from Jon Sikes after booting up the computer and getting on the company server, Tiles.
Gilderoy saved the program on a floppy and walked out of his cubicle. It appeared that the workers were engaged in war. They fired darts at all that were either not for or not with the dancing monkeys. Gilderoy barely survived.
He followed the instructions of the email to the letter, carrying himself and the floppy to the office of Mister Sikes.
He opened the large door, meeting Mister Sikes's large female secretary. "Who are you?" she asked in her Aussie accent.
"I'm Lennie Gil, and I've got something for Mister Sikes." The woman nodded and hit her phone.
"John, someone's here for ya'," she said. There was a cough from the other side.
"Okay," Jon Sikes said. "Send him in."
"Right through that door, mate," the secretary said. Gilderoy nodded and stepped through a large door.
"Lennie!" Jon Sikes said from behind his desk. Jon was buttoning his shirt. Gilderoy noticed Jon's wedding band next to his computer.
"What's going on?" Gilderoy asked as he saw a patch of blonde hair appear from under Jon's desk.
"Nothing, nothing at all," John said. He pulled out a cigar and pushed the hair under the desk.
"Oh..." Gilderoy said. "I finished the program."
"Program? Oh yeah, the clock for 2001! Set it right on my desk and leave," Jon said, emphasizing the part about getting out of his office.
"Okay..." Gilderoy said. He pulled the floppy out of his pocket. "Here, Mister Sikes."
Gilderoy left at once. Jon Sikes set the disk off to the side and went back to what he was doing before he had been interrupted. "It's safe to come out now," he told his other secretary and went back to what he was doing before. He much preferred this to receiving clock programs.
Author's Note: Well? There's a reason this story is PG-13. I enjoyed writing this chapter...thanks to all those that enjoy this story...you still probably have NO IDEA what this is about...but don't worry - you will shortly. Now, I'd like to thank the many that read this chapter (and understood some of the strange humor) and gave me comments on it. Also, you have NO IDEA how cool a review can be. So...if Cassandra Claire can get more reviews than I can get readers, I may suddenly just disappear or something. I'd like to know what readers are thinking! DUH! So, tell me what you think, darn it!