"NO! NO!" Harry screamed, trying to yank himself free from the magical restraints the two white-robed healers kept on him while a third healer used a hover charm to move a resistant Harry towards his room. "I'M NOT CRAZY!" Harry continued. "I'M NOT CRAZY! ASK PROFESSOR McGONAGALL, SHE PUT THE SPELL ON ME!"
"It's okay, Mr. Potter," the restraining witch on Harry's left said gently. "We're here to help you. St. Mungo's is the best magical hospital in England."
"NO!" Harry screamed again, although this time it was not his magical bonds that he was protesting against; it was the song that was trying to tear his mouth open and confirm the reason Harry had been sent to St. Mungo's in the first place. "Hold up," the witch said, noticing that Harry was now holding his breath. All three healers stopped moving, and the wizard behind Harry lowered the teenager to the floor.
"Merlin," the wizard breathed. "He's turning purple! Do we have a spell for this!"
Ignoring the wizard's question, the third witch—a young-looking blonde whose voice reminded Harry of Pansy Parkinson—stepped forward and kicked Harry in the stomach with her pointed heels.
Harry gasped in pain, but the witch looked delighted. "I just kicked Harry Potter!" she screeched, jumping up and down excitedly. "I'm never washing this foot again!"
Harry tried to get some air back into his lungs while the blonde witch asked him if he would please, please, pretty please with a cockroach cluster on top sign her shoe. When Harry opened his mouth to tell the woman that SHE should be committed instead of HIM, a song came out instead:
"Do you ever feel like breaking down? Do you ever feel out of place? Like somehow you just don't belong, and no one understands you? Do you ever wanna run away? Do you lock yourself in your room with the radio not turned up so loud, but no one hears you screaming? No you don't know what it's like, when nothing feels alright, you don't know what it's like to be like me…
"To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark, to be kicked—when you're down—to feel like you've been pushed around, to be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you. No, you don't know what it's like. Welcome to my life!"
When Harry was finally deposited in a hospital room a few minutes later, he was left sulking and magically restrained to the oversoft mattress beneath him.
This wasn't fair! Harry hadn't asked for McGonagall to put that stupid spell on him! Harry wanted to get out of here and curse Scrimgeour into oblivion for Stunning Harry and bringing him to Mungo's, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon, from the looks of it.
So Harry contented himself with torturing the healers and patients on his floor. He opened his mouth and yelled as loudly as he could, "VOLDEMORT!"
Harry was rewarded with a high-pitched squeak from just outside his room, and then he saw Lockheart run past his open door with a terrified look on his face. Harry grinned.
"VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORTVOLDEMORT!"
An exasperated healer whose body was physically shivering stepped into the room. The clearly jumpy man was trying to express anger by standing with his legs apart and his hands on his hips, but the effect only made Harry want to laugh; the wizard looked like an adamant toddler.
"If you don't mind," the healer said, his voice shaking almost as badly as his body, "some of the other patients are trying to get some rest so they can get better."
Harry smiled evilly at the man and whispered harshly, "Voldemort!"
The healer jumped fearfully out the door with a squeak, leaving Harry to cackle hysterically in his solitary room.
"Thank you for making this easier," said a voice to Harry's left. "Now there will be no one to hear you scream."
Harry looked around for the source of the voice, but he couldn't see anyone. "Who says I'll scream?" he challenged defiantly.
"Because I know you. I know that you'll start screaming for help only when you realize that you can't get rid of me on your own."
"And why can't I?"
"Well, let's see, shall we?" The voice's tone had changed from solemn and sort of sad to amused. "You are magically restrained to a bed, so you can't physically attack me; you don't have your wand, so you can't magically attack me; and I'm not scared of Voldemort's name, so you can't verbally attack me."
Harry paused, realizing that the voice sounded familiar. The person was trying to disguise his voice by making it sound deeper than it really was, but Harry still thought he could hear a bit of something in that voice that rang a bell in his head.
Then the actual content of what the person had said reached Harry's brain, and Harry realized that this person had just explained how helpless he really was.
"HEY!" Harry tried to shout through the open door. "THERE'S A DEATH EATER IN MY ROOM!"
Over the voice's laughter, Harry could just hear a healer shout "Shut up!" It sounded like the same healer who had just tried to shush Harry.
"HEY!" Harry was screaming now. "I'M NOT KIDDING THIS TI—!"
"You're insane, remember?" the voice said, invisible hands clamping Harry's mouth shut. "Now do you want to find Voldemort's horcruxes or not?"
HA! I'll bet none of you thought I was serious when I said the Minister of Magic was thinking about sending Harry to St. Mungo's, did you? No! I was totally, 100 serious! This is actually the major turning point in this fic, where from now on there is actually a plot and not just building up of how the spell works. So I actually managed to trick you all AND incorporate the trick into the fic! I feel so proud of myself!
"Welcome to my Life" belongs to Simple Plan, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
So... who do you think the mysteriously familiar voice belongs to? I'll give you all a hint: it is NOT Sirius Black! (SO DON'T BOTHER GUESSING THAT!)