Chapter 2

The Doctor's Visit

"Boy" Aunt Petunia screeched. "Get down here."

Harry took a deep breath resignedly. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

He wandered downstairs slowly, wondering to himself where they were going and how long they would be gone if they were sending him to Mrs. Figg's. She was his babysitter, and although most 15-year-old's might not need one, Harry knew the Dursley's would never trust him to be in the house along for long. Perhaps, Mrs. Figg might give him some news of what was happening in the wizarding world. But Harry also wondered if he really wanted to know.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was surprised to find Aunt Petunia waiting for him. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?" Harry said questioningly.

"We are going to the doctors today. Hurry up and eat your breakfast or we will be late."

Harry looked at his aunt hesitantly. "Are you ill?" he asked.

"No." snapped Aunt Petunia. "You are."

"I am?"

"Yes," his aunt replied tersely. "You spend all your time in that room, not eating, not sleeping, and when you are sleeping that god-awful screaming ... not even sending out that bloody owl ... not doing any chores ... lying about staring at the ceiling ... doing nothing..."

Harry looked disbelievingly at his aunt. She was taking him to the doctor's office? If his aunt was concerned there really must be something wrong with him and he was in worse shape then he knew, Harry thought. Harry had not been to a muggle doctor's office since he had pneumonia when he was 4-years-old and that was only because his temperature had reached 104 degrees and his aunt was raving that the boy was going to die and the police would cart them all off to jail.

"Okay," he replied tentatively unsure of exactly what to say.


Harry and Petunia arrived at the doctor's office a little after nine. Before they went inside she grabbed him by the arm. "None of that freaky business."

Harry sat down while Aunt Petunia went to speak with the receptionist. Shortly there after, Harry was called back to the see the physician.

The doctor was a slightly balding man in his early forties. He seemed like a pleasant man, Harry thought. "So how can I help you today?" he asked.

Aunt Petunia looked to the man and gestured to Harry. "It's the b ... my nephew, he doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, and doesn't do anything."

The doctor looked to Harry and asked, "Is this true?"

Harry shrugged. "I eat."

"Well young man, what seems to be the problem?"

Harry shuttered. How could he possibly explain his problem to this man? 'Let's see, a dark lord keeps trying to kill me, because of him I killed my parents, my godfather, and a classmate. The minister has most of the wizarding world believing I'm a delusional, attention-seeking maniac. And let's not forget I'm stuck in muggle hell with relatives who can't even stand the sight of me.' He sighed. "I'm fine."

"Well now, son, you don't seem fine."

Annoyed now, Harry glared. "I'm fine." He snapped.

The doctor looked him over and found no signs of illness. He tried several more times to get Harry to speak with him to no avail. Realizing he was not getting anywhere with Harry, gestured towards the door. "Why don't you go into the waiting area a moment while I speak to your aunt?"


During the ride home, Harry found out the doctor had recommended he see a counselor who worked with troubled youths and his aunt was taking him there this afternoon. He was again warned not to do or talk any of that freaky stuff. As if he could or would. They'd lock him away and throw away the key if he told them about the wizarding world; course then again so would the Ministry for violating the secrecy act. Not that they were far from locking him up anyway.

As they rode the lift up to the fourth floor counselor's office, his aunt hissed at him, "Do not embarrass me, boy."

Harry was surprised that the counselor was so young. She was an amiable woman with blond hair who looked no more then 25-years-old. He was surprised that she didn't barrage him with questions but rather sat looking at him expectantly. He wasn't sure if it was her demeanor or her long blond hair but something about her reminded him of Luna and Luna reminded him of the Department of mysteries.

Harry shuddered when he thought about the last year and all that went wrong. He lost his godfather, and put his friends in danger. Anyone of them could have been lost. He spoke softly almost at a whisper, "My godfather died."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sympathetically.

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Tell me about him."

Harry was surprised by her question, that she asked about the man rather then the death. He sat quietly for a while thinking about Sirius, staring out the plate glass windows that overlooked High Street. "He was a ... a friend of my parents, a jokester, he loved life."

"He sounds wonderful."

Harry actually managed half a smile. "He was. He loved me. He ... he died because of me."

"Surely that's not true."

"It is." Harry replied angrily. "He would have never been there if it wasn't for me."

"Been where?"

Harry started to speak them snapped shut quickly. There was something about this woman. Something that made her far too easy to talk to. He was had resolved himself not to say anything to her at all. Not only did he tell her about Sirius but he almost told her of the Department of Mysteries. "He ... Well, I ... er, I was somewhere I shouldn't have been and Sirius, that was his name, he ... he came to get me and he had an, er, accident."

"He should have stayed safe." Harry stated heatedly.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to be safe?" she asked softly.

Harry actually growled even though he knew she had no idea how that would anger him. "Stay safe ... stay safe ... be a good boy go upstairs ... you don't need to know ... you're only a child... do what your told ... learn Occulmency ... "

The counselor raised her eyebrows a bit but allowed him to continue his catharsis.

"Do what you're told ... Umbridge, that b- ... AAHHH ... I hate them all." Harry shouted.

The counselor gave him a moment to compose himself. "Who?"

"The Dursley's, Umbridge, Voldemort, Dumbledore, yes, that's it Dumbledore ... he should have known, he should have told ... HE COULD HAVE PREVENTED ALL OF THIS!" Harry screeched.

Harry felt the anger rising, the fury of being placed with the Dursleys, the abuse, the times he faced Voldemort, and let us not forget the prophecy. He flushed and the air around him started to crackle. The counselor jumped up and directed Harry sternly. "Take a deep breath, calm down."

Unfortunately, that was the last thing Harry wanted. The pain, guilt and ferocity of all of his almost 16 years swirled in him, it moved through him and around him. The counselor took a step back his fury took form and a brilliant reddish hue enveloped Harry. Just as suddenly as it appeared it exploded outwards. The entire wall of windows shattered, the counselor was knocked to the floor, the door was torn of its hinges, even the chairs in the waiting area were overturned, including the one his aunt had been sitting in. A very pale Aunt Petunia rushed passed the door now lying in the hall. "What did you do boy?" She gasped just before falling into a faint.

Harry just stared at the disaster area. It looked almost as if a bomb had detonated. Well in a way, it had. Harry sighed despairingly and sat on the floor to await the Ministry. Harry snorted to himself as he looked to the missing windows, 'Well at least the ministry owls won't have any trouble making it up here.'