“Why are we here again?” Draco asked, whining slightly.
“Because we really don’t have any other choice.” Harry replied sourly.
‘Here’ was the overly plush and frankly more off putting than actually comforting waiting room of one Alexander Horowitz, professional head shrink and unofficial whiny pain in the butt. Not that Harry or any of the others had anything against those working in the field of mental health (in fact, they regularly gave them props since they fully understood how difficult and important a job it was) - in general. This very particular practitioner however...
Alexander Horowitz had a theory you see; one that he believed would completely revolutionize the entire field of mental health, turning him into the next Sigmund Frued or Carl Jung. The only thing holding back, he was thinking, was the closed mindedness of the rest of the professionals in the mental health field who clung stubbornly to the old ways of thinking. If he could just prove that his innovative new method worked - that is, he could show off a bunch of patients who were cured of all their psychological ills thanks to his method - why then he’d be set for life.
The main problem with this, is that his ‘revolutionary’ method was pure bullshite. It straight up didn’t work because he was in essence trying to cure the incurable. Most mental illnesses were chronic conditions that relied on a complex web of strategies woven together to help a patient reach a point where they could not only function in life, but perhaps even begin to thrive a little. Sometimes this meant talking things out with a trusted therapist to examine complicated thoughts and emotions before they could be properly processed. Sometimes it meant cognitive or behavioural therapy to help develop healthy coping mechanisms and redirect destructive behaviours into nondestructive ones. Sometimes it meant regularly taking prescribed medication to even out chemical balances. And, yes, sometimes it even meant exchanging freedom and complete autonomy for the safety and security of being institutionalized. Then there were the things that weren’t even mental illnesses and thus didn’t need to be cured on account of not being wrong in the first place. Such as a woman not simply not wanting to get married and have kids , or a grown man wanting to relax after a hard day of work by reading a comic book. (And let’s not mention his feelings about the whole LBGTQA+ community were)
He hadn’t been able to attract many clients, and had had difficulties when it came to retaining them. Most of his client base ended up being parents looking for someone to straighten (often quite literally) out their kids and since that wasn’t giving him the exposure he needed to get the rest of the mental health field to take him and his method seriously, he’d turned to other avenues to drum up clients. Namely he made such a nuisance of himself that a cousin of his in the hero oversight organization ‘greatly encouraged’ various heroes to start attending therapy sessions - specifically his (and by greatly encouraged, I mean that he heavily implied that they might just end up getting their hero licence revoked.) - just to get him to shut up about it. It was barely legal and in no way ethical, but what realistically speaking was Harry going to do. He felt that he couldn’t afford to lose his hero license; not if he wanted to keep his current clearance. So here they were (because apparently it wasn’t ‘normal’ for a bunch of guys to live together once they’ve all finished with their formal schooling).
Harry knew that he was messed up. They all were in one way or another (even if you don’t take the whole Remembering thing into account). Draco had spent his life being groomed into a miniature version of his father, complete with all the arrogance and bigoted attitude that the elder Malfoy held. Both Percy and Ron had felt unnoticed and underappreciated (Percy due to his quiet studious nature and Ron for being the youngest son but not the youngest child) thanks to growing up in a rather large family. Neville had had it almost as bad as Harry; orphaned at a young age (even if his parents were still technically alive) and constantly put down and dismissed by his family (and then there was the issue of the regular attempts on his life from one of his uncles who had been ‘only trying to help him discover his quirk’ that no one ever did anything to stop or speak out against). And then there was Harry and his abusive past (the less said - or thought - about that, the better). But they were managing to function quite well in polite society despite their issues.
“Well, we know that you and Ron don’t have a choice. But why the hell are the rest of us here?” Draco asked; it was a legitimate question. Yes the five of them shared a house, but it wasn’t like they didn’t all have their own lives and friends outside of their little circle. (Okay, so Harry didn’t have much in terms of outside friends but that was more a result of his having a very demanding job that didn’t leave him with much free time to begin with and usually too tired to do anything when he did).
“Look” Ron said shortly, “I want to do this just about as much as you do. We might have to be here, but he can’t make us tell him anything or listen to anything we’re saying.”
“Like he won’t slam us into some subpar funny farm so fast our heads’ll spin if he doesn’t like how we’re acting.” Draco snarked back.
“He can try.” Harry snorted, “Worst he can legally do is slap us with an psychiatric observation
hold; and that’s only for seventy two hours at most. Plus his reputation’s so far down the toilet that no reputable psychologist would honor that.”
“And a disreputable one?” Draco asked. It was a legitimate question since it wasn’t impossible for someone running a psychiatric institution to be corrupt enough to lock them up and throw away the key on only this quack’s say so. After all, if everyone (else) were such upstanding moral citizens they wouldn’t be here in the first place.
“Do you know how much of a ruckus would be raised if any of us – never mind all of us - just up and disappeared one day? It wouldn’t take long for someone to find out that the last place we’d been was here, and from there...” Harry pointed out, “I don’t think anyone involved would enjoy being exposed like that, or what the consequences of getting caught out will be.”
“I’m surprised he’s been allowed to get away with this for as long as he has.” Neville said mildly.
“First, seeing as he’s a therapist and not a psychiatrist or a psychologist, he’s fairly free to run his practice as he sees fit given that therapists are not held to the same licensing and oversight standards as psychiatrists or psychologists are. Second, as long as his clients are happy with his services there is no reason for anyone to intervene. So long as dissatisfied clients don’t complain or take legal action and simply seek treatment elsewhere instead, there’s nothing that can be done. Third, he’s not the one who’s actually going to get into trouble since there wouldn’t be any proof of wrongdoing and he isn’t actually doing anything illegal.” Percy pointed out with a frown. Perhaps it was a result of his law abiding nature, or having had to deal with smarmy fraudsters and scammers over the course of his work, but this kind of person really rubbed him the wrong way. (Although to be fair, this kind of thing rubbed all of them the wrong way. There was just something about slimy people who thought that ethics and morals were for other people that just... irked.)
“Harry Potter, Mr. Horowitz will see you now.” the receptionist called out blandly before Draco could point out that no one had actually answered his question. Harry took a fortifying breath and stood; ready to wage battle in this farce.