The Wizard of Grimmauld Place

Part 2

Everybody was more or less occupied with something in the Day Room just to get the gears inside their heads working, slick with the littlest amount of oil produced by their brains. The acutes were huddled around the television watching who knows what, three of them sitting on the couch, the farthest to the left had his feet propped up on the center table. One was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed as though in a lotus position, staring blankly on the screen you could not just tell whether he was paying attention or not. Another one, a skinny wide-eyed lad with pale hair cropped uneven sat away from them, holding up a magazine up his face about an inch away, and he was looking at it upside down. And then Darko came strutting in, his shoulders swaying with ease. The point of his nose was upward like a compass facing north. He walked with pompous stature and incredible passion; he felt like the world was at his fingertips, appearing like he was drugged or ecstatic even before the morning medications. He paused for a second by the doorway, looked around and squinted. And then he saw an empty chair near the skinny lad with the pale hair, which he grabbed instantly and straddled it as if a little horse facing the backrest, dragging it even closer to the boy. He looked at him with disgust, shaking his head at how ridiculous the lad looked reading a magazine upside down.

'That's not the correct way you read a magazine, Loony.' Darko said, snatching it away and flipping it over. 'This is.'

'Who are you calling Loony? The name is Lovett. Sole heir to the Lovett Enterprises. One of the largest cargo shipping company in the country. A pleasure to meet you.' He said, extending a hand towards Darko and shaking it firmly. 'I do not know but let me tell you this, I am just as sane as you are.'

Darko gave a laugh. 'I don't know, buddy. But that is not the way they teach you how to read books in kindergarten.'

Lovett looked at him incredulously. 'I don't know which school you have gone to but this is how I was taught to read cryptograms.' And then Lovett leaned towards Darko and spoke in the whisper. 'I work for the British Intelligence.'

Convinced, Darko nodded in response. 'Oh, cool. Then read as you please.'

Just then, the loud screech of the bell rang in the air signaling that it was time for the morning medications. Rubinsky emerged from his station paneled with glass enclosure. He held up both hands and cupped them towards his mouth screaming: MEDICINE! At once everyone gathered, approaching Rubinsky's station in a line. Came first were the acutes, and then the chronics, and then the wheelchair bound, who mostly had problems with swallowing. Rubinsky had to crush their medications on a marble mortar and mix it with applesauce. All the medications were neatly lined on a counter in the station, Rubinsky being helped by another nurse, who appeared to be young and short that his uniform hung baggy and loose on his flimsy stature; too novice, his eyes seemed to twitch each time one of the residents would give him a stare. Each cup was labeled with names and multi-colored cards that indicated how often a medicine should be administered. At the end of each tray lay filled syringes, the sight of it surely would induce one into shudders, but the residents seemed to think that it was the least of their problems, with all the shots that they had had and the shock therapy that blew their brains off to bits.

Darko stood last on the line as usual, carrying a condescending air, pushing the wheelchair-bound up front. Rubinsky did not give as much attention as to this. Darko had his moods, he would help you genuinely at times. When his turn came he received a small white paper cup in his hand, smiled at Rubinsky and said: 'For the fucking glory of Grimmauld Place!'

'Watch your language, Darko.' Said Rubinsky, watching his every move.

Darko tipped the cup in the air. However, he caught glance of something--something that he found new on his set, a tiny yellow pill no larger than a pea, hiding itself in a corner of the cup.