I IZ A WIZARD

"I'm very sorry Mrs Weasley, but I don't know what to suggest. The boy's quite clearly insane, but he's not in any way dangerous soooo…" Doctor Gilderoy Lockhart gave a tired grin. "I'm afraid it's impossible to take more… cautionary measures."

Mrs Weasley, a well respected lawyer in her district, issued a sound that remarkably echoed a cat being cuddled by a clumsy six-year old child. "I don't understand." For one so intelligent, Molly Weasley had struggled so much with the present situation she felt her mind would surely soon disintegrate. "I…" she cast a wary glance towards her only son, of whom appeared to be having an avid conversation with the garden's lilac bush. "I used to think he was such a happy boy…"

"He is still happy, Mrs Weasley, if I may say so." Doctor Lockhart took a seat and pulled his notes closer towards him. "He's just happy in a very different way to the social norm, so to speak."

Molly could not summon up the words that seemed to be boiling inside her. Instead, she contented herself by pulling out the chair opposite the psychiatrist, and giving him a long, hard stare. "May we discuss the notes?"

"At this time?" The fatigued smile that Lockhart had so unconvincingly wore faded to a blank nothingness- all pretence of 'no need to worry' was firmly over. "That will take a long time, Mrs Weasley-"

"Molly, please."

Lockhart nodded gratefully, and continued as if the interruption had bought him more time to dash and escape. "That will take quite a while, Molly, and I'm not entirely sure if you're up to the emotional strain."

Resisting the urge to shriek 'DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT EMOTIONAL STRAIN!' Mrs Weasley waved her hand with an artful impatience. "Doctor Lockhart-"

"Gilderoy."

A distinct flicker of annoyance passed over Molly's face. Was this man making fun of her? "Doctor Lockhart, I am a lawyer, and a good one at that. I have felt emotional strain like no other in the immediate vicinity. I have stood against petty thieves, axe murderers, drug dealers… I can assure you that this will cause me no pain."

"Molly, I understand that your career does indeed induce a huge amount of stress, but the ones of whom you speak are in no way connected to you. Your worry if you lose your case is merely anxiousness that your reputation will be ruined, or you will not get paid part of your salary."

"Merely."

"This however…" Doctor Lockhart began to fiddle with one of the many red pens which lined his pockets, "is completely different. This concerns your son, your… I believe… nearest and dearest. Unless you have received any news from Arthur?" Blue eyes glittered hopefully at the chance to change the subject.

"Doctor Lockhart, you are my son's psychiatrist, not mine. I have no wish to discuss my private affairs."

Cold woman. Doctor Lockhart shot a barely disguised resentful glance. If she wasn't quite so dismissive, he would have never of left her for that other young filly. Great Scott, the woman is pretty though. A little tired and pale from all her work perhaps, but she would scrub up and make quite a respectable trophy on one's arm. Shame about her son, of course. No man in their right mind would be able to cope with that.

"The notes, Gilderoy?" At the sound of his name, and the thoughts he had been musing earlier, Gilderoy Lockhart gave a faint blush. I've got two to screw at home. One can massage my temples, and the other my cock, anything to deal with this shit. I could try and charm her though. She doesn't look like she's had a decent fuck in months.

"Right you are, Molly." The change in the Doctor's voice was noticeable, but Mrs Weasley was far too preoccupied with thoughts of her own to detect it. I want to know what's going on with my son. I want to understand what's going on. You've turned into a distant woman, Molly, and yet you still can't quite manage to blame yourself. Arthur left me with the dust and the ashes. His Molly-Wobbles, wasn't quite so cuddly anymore.

"Your son, Molly," (Lockhart was quite determined that repetition of her name would bring her closer to him) "is quite adamant that he is a wizard. He even told me a few of his spells, though he confessed that he wasn't rather good."

"Understandable." Molly nodded, wearily. "He get's his intelligence from Arthur's side."

Taking a chance, Lockhart reached across the small table and touched her hand. Molly flinched and pulled away. Too soon, too intimate. He'd try again in a few minutes. "Your son also burbles non-stop about his best friends, Hermione Granger-"

"Ah! The little thing from his youth group. I rather thought he had a small crush on her."

"-And, more pressingly, a certain Harry Potter."

Mrs Weasley's face drew a blank.

"Ring any bells?"

"None at all. He doesn't exist, or if he does, I've never heard the name." To Molly's horror, she burst into tears. Lockhart saw his opening, and grabbed it. This time, Molly made no effort to pull away. "Castles! Wands! Spell books! Harry Potter! He's twelve for goodness sake, and he has an imaginary friend!"

"You don't know that," silkily, Lockhart wrapped his arms round her body that was shaking with violent sobs. "He could of picked up the name from anywhere. A friend from school…"

"He has no friends!"

"…An acquaintance then. A teacher he particularly admires. He also mentioned a Mr Severus Snape."

"His chemistry teacher? He's a lovely man, I've spoken to him on several occasions."

"Really?" Lockhart scanned his 'notes' that were mainly just doodles of pneumatically breasted women. One, in particular. "Your son describes him as a bit of a tyrant, and the potions master of 'Hogwarts'- which I suppose makes some sense."

Mrs Weasley burst into fresh howls, and Professor Lockhart gently cupped her face. Surprised, Molly lifted her head and stared at him, her own watery blues eyes reflected in his. "I want to help you." The psychiatrist's voice was husky. "I really want to help you." With his fingers, he brushed the tears from Molly's cheeks.

"How?"

"I know what's wrong with him. It is a dying out disease, but sometimes it crops up…"

"What? What is it?" Molly's voice was getting shriller by the second.

"Gingeritis. Your son is a redhead."

Molly Weasley pulled away from the doctor so fast, his arms jerked back and slapped painfully into the wall behind him. "He is no such thing!"

"Molly, while assessing him, I quite clearly saw the roots of his hair follicles. They were most certainly red. I also noticed this in your bathroom, while I went to… relieve myself." In more ways than one. Lockhart held aloft an empty, faded packet of brown hair dye. Molly Weasley gave a gasp, and went to snatch it. Gilderoy let her, and she flung the evidence into the bin.

"You should have been aware for awhile that he could never lead a normal life." The Doctor pressed on, his face serious though he was really suppressing a grin. This would get her. "And dyeing his hair, naturally, would never solve the problem. I assume that you are a natural brunette?"

Mrs Weasley nodded. Thank God.

"Then, you know the procedure. Your son will have to be taken away, where he can mingle happily with others of his kind. You understand?"

Tears were now becoming a fast flowing river, and Molly could only wince in acceptance. Doctor Lockhart got to his feet.

"I'll have him collected this evening. Now I must-"

"No!" Molly leapt to her feet, and dragged him back. "Leave it until tomorrow! Please! He's my son!"

"Molly, I have been aware of your son's… condition, for the past few hours. I must admit that I contacted the agency at once. They should be here within half an hour."

She couldn't cry anymore. She couldn't talk, she couldn't scream. "I…" The very words choked her. "I can't say goodbye."

Doctor Lockhart gazed at her, and for the first time, his eyes were very soft. "Come with me. I'll make you feel better."

She couldn't say goodbye. Not to her son, not to her only thing left. She had no doubt that the agency knew where he was, Lockhart was so organised about such things. Half an hour, and he would be gone. Half an hour, and she could start healing herself from the inevitable pain. Meanwhile, she had to keep herself occupied.

Casting a last long look at her Ron Weasley- now occupied with the broom she swept the courtyard with- Molly Weasley finally turned away and followed Doctor Lockhart upstairs.

A/N: Jeez, this was meant to be a funny story. A little dark-humoured for all those light-heartists out there I'm afraid. On the other hand… first fanfiction in months! I think I might be getting the knack back. Love you all. Now review this crap :P xx