Chapter Twelve: The Coop

A large spread of roasted chicken, vegetables, and even a small glass of red wine lay before him. Harry raised his eyebrows and did not touch the food. "Really," he spat coolly. "I have to say, I am not under the same impression."

Dr. Starker sat down in her chair and crossed her arms, appearing amused. She looked at him as though he was a puzzle for her to solve, and she looked like she was the kind of person who liked puzzles a lot. "I see we are still off to a rocky start."

She nodded towards Marcia who left the room. "As an act of good faith, I will allow you to see that Hermione is well."

She gestured behind Harry, who turned around. Manny had arrived and held the door as Marcia led Hermione in. She could barely stand on her own, Marcia supported most of her weight. Soft cuffs held her hands together in front of her.

"Hermione," he shouted, standing up at once, making to go over to her. Manny stepped between them. "What have you done to her?" Harry shouted as he tried to get around Manny.

"Harry, sit down please," said Manny in a warning tone. "No!" yelled Harry. "Look at the state of her! I thought you said she was well?" He rounded on Dr. Starker. "Why is she like this?"

Dr. Starker folded her hands together. "If you sit down, Harry, I shall explain."

Harry reluctantly sat down, glaring at them all. Manny stood behind him and Marcia walked Hermione to a chair and sat her down.

"Hermione has in interesting condition in which we are unable to provide her with our normal level of care," said Dr. Starker softly. "Since many of the potions we would have used in her regime are now unable to be used, Hermione consented to a version of psychotherapy, involving magic and muggle methods."

Harry stared at her unbelievably. "In what world is this something Hermione would want?"

"Hermione will not be this way permanently. In a few weeks she will return to a nearly normal state. At that time, you will have permission to see her again."

Harry swallowed, trying to wrap his head around this. "So…so she will be ok?"

"Yes," smiled Dr. Starker. "In due time, I daresay she will."

The wheels in Harry's head were turning rapidly. "So then can you explain to me why I am here? Why I am incarcerated rather than helping Hermione get well?"

Dr. Starker smirked slightly at him. "You seem to think that you have escaped the war unscathed, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Relatively."

Dr. Starker leaned in towards him and paused. "So then…you have no nightmares? No flashbacks? No memories floating back into your mind at inopportune and unsuspecting moments?"

Harry was silent.

Dr. Starker continued. "I would like to offer the same treatment to you, Harry."

Harry stood up and backed away quickly from her. Manny watched him carefully, ready to intervene. Harry pointed at Hermione. "We are in a war, Dr. Starker. I know you don't realize that. But we are in a war in which I am a very important part of. And you want to do…that…to me? I don't think so."

"No Harry, what I am proposing is vastly different from this," Dr. Starker waved a heavily jewelled hand towards Hermione dismissively. "Both you and Hermione have damage in your brains that far outweighs what happened in the war. At some point in the past, a heavily damaging memory spell has altered your very essence of being. I would like to fix that damage, reroute those pathways, and in the process, redirect your PTSD symptoms into a safe and healthily routed outlet in your brain."

Harry stared at her. "No, no. You're insane. No one has memory charmed me. I need out so I can fight this war. I'm going to end up dead if I stay here and then everyone loses. I have knowledge so risky inside my head right now that even telling you it is there is the most dangerous thing I could do right now. It is not happening."

Dr Starker pursed her lips. "Very well. I do ask that you think on it, Harry." She turned back to the guards. "Take Hermione back to her room. Harry can finish his meal here and then he can go back to his room as well." She swept from the room. Harry called after her, "Wait! I need out of here. You don't understand!" but to no avail. Harry watched helplessly as Marcia led Hermione from the room. Manny tried to encourage him to eat after she was gone but Harry could not, his stomach tied itself in knots as his desperation to get out this place grew even greater. Eventually Harry was led back to his room where his nightmares crept up on him again. The faces of Colin Creevey, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black floated before him like ghosts, begging him not to let them die for him. Harry woke up with tears on his face.

The next day went much like the first, Trent continued to harass him throughout the day, and Harry numbly went to each session. The doctor did not see him that day.

Slowly the weeks ebbed on. Harry's only solace was meditation, which he continued because he thought it might assist in his escape if he could bring up enough magic. It also eased his pain and his nightmares. He even began to take the medication regime in the morning as it seemed to be improving his health. Manny told him about the gym in response to Harry confiding in Arwin's group that he felt pent up and angry. Harry spent every afternoon there, trying to build up enough of a sweat to take the edge off.

It had been a few weeks and Magic 101 had become more interesting. Harry was learning more about the history of how magic had come to be then he had ever known. Spell creation, channeling abilities, and challenging new techniques had all been areas of interest to him now that he had little else to interest him.

He felt himself become less neurotic, less obsessed. He was even more impervious to Trent. He occasionally ate lunch with his group. Samara was quiet and seemed to enjoy things that hurt others far more than she should, although she had a wicked sense of humor. She reminded Harry of a younger and less evil version of Bellatrix Lestrange. Devon was youthful and pleasant, polite and interested in the rare moments Harry had shared of himself. Trent continued to be a bother, harassing Harry about his abandonment of his home, and seemed to enjoy drawing disproportionate representations of penises on his notebooks far too much.

Harry had been invited for tea with Dr. Starker every day that week, which he had been ignoring since he was allowed the choice. He had not heard from Hermione since his last visit with her. Harry was just biting into a chicken sandwich when Manny called him over.

"The doctor would like you to see her today," he said gently.

Harry crossed his arms. "Well I don't want to see her."

"I am afraid today that you do not have a choice." Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, bring me on over then, Manny." Harry followed him back to her office. The doctor was not there.

"I have to leave, Harry, but I will be back," smiled Manny jovially. "Try not to get into trouble while I'm gone." Harry smirked at him. Manny shut the door behind him.

Harry's heart thumped. If he could just get to his wand –

The door opened before he could even stand. Dr. Starker walked in and following her was –

"Hermione!" Harry leapt up and this time he was allowed to reach her. He hugged her gently and she hugged him feebly back. She spoke, but her voice was hoarse. "I'm sorry Harry," she sniffed with tears in her eyes. "For how I acted before."

Harry swept her hair out of her face. "Don't be sorry, you were scared and hurting. I'm the one that should be ashamed." She smiled weakly at him. "I can't stay long, Harry, I just wanted you to know I'm okay." Harry rubbed her back nervously, scared that their imminent separation would invade the moment. Dr. Starker nodded at Marcia, and she led Hermione back down the hallway. She shut the door with a sharp click and Harry's view of the most familiar person he had seen since his arrival was cut away. Harry paced anxiously like a caged cat. He needed out of here. He did not know how to explain the importance of leaving to Dr. Starker in a way that she would understand. Dr. Starker sat down at her desk, appearing to ignore Harry. "You may go, Harry," she spoke dismissively.

"But I need out," he said. "You don't understand, doctor, the desperateness of our situation! Hermione and I are in very real danger here – "

She cut across him loudly "– I do not think you understand, Harry, the very real danger of letting you out into the world in the state you are in! Are you willing to reconsider your consent to the memory procedure?"

"No. I can't – "Harry replied, frustrated.

"Then leave, please, before I have you removed," said the doctor.

Harry gave a long look at the wall behind her but thought better of it. He slammed the door behind him as he left, wandless, angry, and helpless.

The next day Harry arrived at his meditation in a frazzled state. He did not share much in the group but waited for the music, his only relief in this insane prison. He sank down to the floor and crossed his legs beneath him, feeling the rush of magic hit his palms and then run back up his spine, building, building, building, until –

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to shake violently. He heard screams, and then nothing.