[ WP ] Harry Potter is 18 years old , and he is finally admitting himself to rehab . Magic is n't real , it 's just a drug-induced figment of his imagination . He 's making an honest effort to come to terms with the harsh reality .

`` But Voldemort was *evil! * I do n't care how fucked up I was, the guy must have done *something* wrong.'' 
 The psychiatrist shook her head. 
 `` No Harry. Tom Riddle was just a friend of your father and mother, he cared for you and tried to break through the wall of delusion you'd surrounded yourself with.'' 
 Harry turned the handcuffs on his wrists; they were tight. 
 *'' Alohomora'' * he whispered. 
 The psychologist gave him a pained look. 
 `` Magic is n't real. You ca n't unlock those without an ordinary key.'' 
 Harry fixed her with a steely glare through his battered spectacles, a demented grin splitting the three weeks of beard he refused to shave. 
 `` If it is n't real, then how did you, a muggle, know it was an unlocking charm?'' 
 She patted the massive stack of notes beside her, 
 `` I have it all written here, mister Potter. All your'adventures' at'Hogwarts'. From the spiders in the forest to you defeating the'dark lord'.'' 
 Harry slumped back in his chair. The ward psychiatrist's office was neat and pleasantly furnished. Nothing in it spoke of the world he'd been in, over the last ten years. 
 `` How...'' he began, his jaw working, `` how did it begin? In real life I mean, not inside my... delusions.'' 
 `` It began when drug dealers shot and killed your parents. Then your uncle, Rueben Hagerty, took you into custody.'' 
 `` Hagrid.'' 
 She sighed and closed her notebook. 
 `` I think that's enough for today, Harry.'' 
 `` Look, I'm *trying*,'' he whined, `` from my perspective this could all be some plot of the remnants of the Death Eaters, trying to get revenge for for me defeating Volde-'' 
 He faltered, then gave her a shame faced expression. 
 `` How exactly did I...?'' 
 `` You stabbed him to death. Forty eight stab wounds, mostly to the face and neck.'' 
 Scrubbing at his temples with his cuffed hands, Harry glanced around the room anxiously, his knees jittering, 
 `` I want to go back to Hogwards. *Please* take me back.'' 
 With a sympathetic expression, the psychiatrist lifted the receiver of her desk phone and called for the orderlies. 
 `` It's alright Harry, the orderlies will take you back to Hogwarts. They'll give you a potion to take you back.'' 
 She hated lying to him, but whenever she raised the murder of Tom Riddle, the young man would always regress. 
 As the orderlies picked him up, he turned to face her and smiled, 
 `` Thank you professor Rowling. I'll see you in class tomorrow?'' 
 She smiled, 
 `` Of course Harry.'' 

