Saving Jennifer

Author\'s note: This is an idea for a new story line. Yes - - - it is a Harry Potter story - - - but different. You\'ll soon see. Let me know if you have any interest in hearing more.


Saving Jennifer


Chapter 1 Fall from Grace


The hefty report on Jennifer was spattered with notes, memorandums and medical reports from a number of different sources. The fifteen-year-old girl’s case had begun almost a year earlier. It was a very grievous account of a young girl spiraling out of control, and one that would not have a happy ending.

The night before the girl’s examination, Dr. B had flipped through the girl’s heavy medical folder for over an hour, reading through transcripts from fellow psychiatrists and medical doctors, running his fingers along tapes of electroencephalographs, scanning through the results of MRI’s and blood chemistry. The results were all the same: exactly what one would expect to see from an otherwise healthy girl of her age. Medically speaking, she was fine. Psychologically, however, she was not. The diagnosis, after many costly tests and examinations, were all the same. The girl was suffering from psychotic delusions, borderline schizophrenia.

Dr. Brice Griffin, called Dr. B by staff and patients alike, was a big, affable and intelligent fellow. He had always been kidded about the “B” standing for bear. Yes indeed, he was a bear of a man but a gentle giant just the same.

As head of the Texas Mental Institute for the Criminally Insane, his learned colleagues considered him the “go-to” psychiatrist in such cases. He had been consulted numerous times over the years whenever families exhausted their financial resources to deal with delusional children and finding themselves ineligible for state aid. Such ineligibility was always the case whenever a child suffered from bouts of psychotic delusions. Such children could not be placed in foster homes or children homes by state law. Few choices remained.

The state had opened up a separate building at TMI to house and take care of such disturbed youngsters. It was well apart from the secure adult criminal unit but was just as fortified.

In almost all cases, the families had been greatly relieved to release claim to such children to the custody of the state. There was always a sad finality to such an event, when the final signatures on the final documents severed all ties to the children.

Several years before, Dr. B had turned over management of the adult care unit to other members of his staff. The control of criminal minds usually meant doping. It had become the treatment of choice. Drug programs kept the inmates just barely functional and quiet. Quiet was good. In most cases, the disturbed individuals had been sentenced to lifetimes of incarceration. None would ever be released. There was no hope in such cases. Long-term and expensive psychiatric treatment was out of the question. There simply weren’t enough funds and absolutely no interest.

Not long after Dr. B began his morning tour of duty, Jennifer was brought into his consulting room. She had been transported in a special vest, a newer version of the old straightjacket, which had been used for years to keep such patients from hurting themselves and others.

Dr. Griffin slid two moving panels back along one wall of his office and observed the girl some minutes through a thick, one-way glass. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her face was haggard. The psychiatrist had seen three other cases such as this one so far this year. He shook his head, knowing the girl would most likely be just as troubled. It was such a disturbing situation.

The buzzer on the doctor’s desk sounded, and he slid the two panels together once more, hiding the one-way glass. He walked over to his intercom.

“Yes, Marge,” he said, after pressing a button.

“The girl’s parents are here, sir,” his secretary stated. “Also, they have brought along their priest.”

Dr. Griffin nodded his head. “Yes, of course, please send them in.”

He walked toward his office door, which was quickly opened by the secretary.

“Here you are,” she said, nodding her head and smiling at the three adults, as she waved them into the office.

“I’m Dr. Griffin,” the large man said in greeting, reaching out to shake the hands of the threesome. “Please, come in and sit.”

The priest was the first to speak and appeared to be a very nervous man. “We had no choice, Dr. Griffin. Sarah and Jim have been through so much, and there are the two other children to think about. We are simply at the end of our ropes.”

Jennifer’s father helped his wife into her chair and quickly turned his head to listen to the exchange between the priest and doctor. The man looked almost as distraught as his wife, who wiped at her eyes and nose with a handkerchief.

“I read through Jennifer’s medical history last night. She appears perfectly normal, aside from these so-called delusions. Maybe you could shed a bit of light on the problem,” Dr. Griffin said, looking at the girl’s mother.

The priest again spoke out, nervously adjusting his glasses atop his nose. “Perhaps it would be best if I answered your questions, Dr. Griffin. Sarah and Jim are mentally exhausted and rightfully ashamed of Jennifer’s malicious and sinful behavior. I’ve been personally involved with the case from the very beginning. I saw the problem very early on, you see, and begged them to have her examined.”

Dr. Griffin had never liked consults where another was brought along to speak for the family. He generally put an end to it very quickly, but he decided to let the man have his say. The priest’s presence seemed to be a comfort to the two parents.

“Yes, of course, if Sarah and Jim don’t mind,” he replied, looking at the two.

They both shook their heads and lowered their eyes, looking somewhat ashamed and reluctant to speak out.

“It all started with Jennifer becoming consumed with the occult. It was the Harry Potter books, you see. And she readily admits having read some of them as much as three times. Simply horrid!” the man shouted out.

Dr. Griffin frowned at the man. “Yes?”

The priest adjusted himself in his chair and looked at Jennifer’s mother who began crying into handkerchief. “She’s totally out of control, Doctor. I told Sarah and Jim, if something wasn’t done and done soon, she would drag her younger siblings into the same evil sphere of influence. We’ve tried numerous interventions but nothing has worked. I’m afraid the girl’s soul is lost forever. She has become a truly evil being.”

Dr. Griffin had heard the same story many times over the years. Some of his colleagues now referred to the syndrome as Potter Mania. Usually it came to the attention of psychiatrists and psychologists after a well-meaning, controlling figure in the family’s life pointed out the danger the child was in. It was only too obvious who this figure was before him.

“And she has hurt others?” Dr. Griffin asked.

The priest again shuffled himself around in the chair, coming to the very edge of the seat and waving his hands frantically about. “She has done so much damage, Doctor. More than we will ever know; I’m sure. Most disturbing is that she had actually joined up with others just as immoral on the internet - - - may God condemn such evil - - - and began writing such terrible filth. There is no hope; I tell you - - - absolutely no hope. She has fallen into such a low state of depravity her soul shall never be redeemed. And many others have come to the same conclusion, Doctor,” the man continued, seemingly begging for agreement. “Our poor Jennifer is criminally insane. We’ve lost all hope.”

“And her writings? Do you have copies of them?”

Jennifer’s father stood and carried a thick folder over to Dr. Griffin’s desk. The priest jumped to his feet and rushed to the desk, quickly reaching out and grabbing the folder. He thumbed through it and opened it to a section of text highlighted in bright yellow ink.

“There!” he exclaimed. “That proves her state of mind!”

Dr. B looked down at the text once the priest released the folder into his hands. Words such as ghosts, witches and incantations had been highlighted.

“And you came by these?”

“We have those who help us with such things, Doctor Griffin. You will notice she has joined a number of these immoral sites and has been talking about witches, wizards and other wicked things. It’s more than I can stand,” the man said, bringing a fist to his mouth in an attempt to stifle an urge to cry out in anguish.

Dr. B shook his head is disbelief as he flipped through the pages. Numerous notes were written along the edges of the paper, along with dates and other information. He dropped the folder on the desk and dragged heavy fingers across his face.

The priest again spoke out. “I told Sarah and Jim there was nothing left to do but remove her from their home. She’ll soon poison others around her, if they don’t. Her school is already full of children reading the books and corrupting their minds. Most parents just don’t seem to care anymore - - - but not in this case. We must make an example out of Jennifer. Doing so could save countless children.”

“I see,” Dr. Griffin replied. And the learned doctor of psychiatry did understand. He understood fully.

“And you two are willing to turn your daughter over to the care of the state? You know what that means?” Dr. B asked, looking at the parents.

Sarah and Jim turned their eyes toward the priest. The priest nodded his head and lifted his left hand, urging them to give their reply. The woman began crying again but nodded her head.

“Yes,” Jim reluctantly said. He then reached out and hugged his wife to him.

The priest gratifyingly smiled and nodded his head. “Yes. They know what’s best.”

Dr. B stood and walked around to the front of his desk. “You will need to come back in about two hours. Before we do anything else, I’ll have to speak with Jennifer and, of course, paperwork will have to be prepared.”

Jim helped his wife come to her feet. The priest jumped forward and shook Dr. Griffin’s hand. The man was clearly overjoyed. Dr. B could only imagine what his next sermon would be about.

After the threesome were shown out of the outer office, Dr. B stopped by his secretary’s desk. He shook his head. Marge nodded hers. “I figured as much,” she said. “You want me to get started on the paperwork? Is there no hope?”

The gentle giant of a man hesitated. His thoughts turned again to the distraught mother and father. He raised the fingers of his left hand to his forehead and ran them over the skin. “No,” he replied. “None.”

Before he headed to the examination room, Dr. B walked down to the commissary and got two large sodas with ice. After pushing two straws into the drinks, he rode the elevator back up to the third floor and headed to the secure room where Jennifer sat at a long conference table.

As he opened the door, he noticed the girl jump almost out of her chair. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Dr. Griffin. You thirsty?”

The girl nodded her head and eased back into her chair. She nervously watched the large man, as he walked over to her. He pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down next to the girl.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out for the soda and taking a few long draws at the straw.

“So you read Harry Potter, I’ve been told,” Dr. B said, giving the girl a smile.

She froze statue stiff and looked down at her drink. Dr. Griffin knew she was mulling things over in her mind when she didn’t immediately answer. “What should I say?” he figured was one thought going through her mind.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered out and nodded her head. She didn’t look up at him but kept her eyes focused on the drink.

“I guess you’ve read the first five books then?”

Again she nodded her head. “Yes, sir.”

“And whom do you suppose will be the Half-Blood Prince?” he asked.

Jennifer nearly knocked over her drink. She slid back in her chair and turned her face to look into his. Dr. B saw both shock and recognition in them. “You’ve read the books, too?” she asked.

Dr. Griffin slid his chair back and came to his feet. He walked toward the door and asked his secretary to bring in the paperwork.

“Yes, I have. A number of times, in fact,” Dr. B finally replied, after he turned back to face the girl.

“Are you a patient here, too?”

Griffin laughed out loudly. “What a question to ask,” he thought. “Of all the things . . .” But, in truth, most times he felt like a patient. It was like he was trapped in a world with two distinct halves . . . one sane, the other beyond any hope of ever being in that state.

Marge opened the door and walked into the room, making her way down to where Jennifer sat. She flipped open a small green folder and showed the girl where she was to sign.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“Your parents have been convinced by the powers that be that you are hopelessly criminally insane and a danger to your siblings and innocent children everywhere. Several times each year we have other bright youngsters like yourself brought here as a last resort. State law ties our hands, you see. Until you reach your majority, which, in this case, is eighteen years of age, you will have to remain here under our care.”

Tears quickly filled the girl’s eyes. “But I want to go home,” she cried out.

“We understand, Jennifer, and would like nothing more than to see you do just that. But, regretfully, it isn’t going to happen. At least not today,” Dr. B explained.

“It’s not fair,” she said, whimpering and letting her head fall down to the back of her hands resting on the table.

“You’re right. It certainly isn’t fair,” he reiterated.

The girl lifted her head and looked down at the papers. “Are you going to lock me up, then?”

Dr. B shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. But you’ll have to remain with us for a few years.”

Jennifer slowly reached out and picked up the pen Marge had placed alongside the paperwork.

“It’s better this way, Hun,” Marge said. “If you sign here, the state of Texas considers this a voluntary commitment. There won’t be any problems when you reach majority, and it comes time for you to leave. This will be an attachment to the forms your parents will sign.”

The girl read the heading of the voluntary commitment order. She turned her head back up to look at the large doctor. After he knowingly smiled and nodded his head, she signed her name to the document.

“Marge,” he began. “Would you please call down and ask Mrs. Berclair to prepare a lunch for Jennifer? She’ll be here for a few hours yet.”

Marge asked the girl what she would like, and she settled for a sandwich and chips. Dr. Griffin then removed a remote control from the top of a cabinet and brought it over to her.

“There’s a TV right up there,” he said, pointing into the corner of the room. “You’ll have to stay here until all the paperwork is finished up and then I’ll take you over to your housing unit.”

Jennifer wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. Her whole life had just been flushed right down the tubes. She felt so hopeless and unwanted.

Before Dr. Griffin left the room, he lowered his right hand to the girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jennifer. I’m so damned sorry.”

He walked back over to the door and was just about to wrap his fingers around the doorknob when she spoke up.

“Dumbledore!” she said.

“I don’t think so,” Dr. B replied with a smile. “It will be Godric Gryffindor.”