Damned and defective, Lizzie Black was born to a mass-murderer and a vampire. As the culmination of two legacies of darkness, Lizzie's mind is as black as her surname. But, luckily for the girl who was named after the faintest constellation in the s...
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Chapter II
Lizzie the Loon
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And that was why Lacerta Elizabeth Black wasted the summer of her second year being carted around the world by her well-meaning auntie, shoved into brightly painted therapist offices by said auntie, forced to spend hours without end in a Buddhist wizarding temple with celibate monks and forced into hiking with a weirdo named Weiner Magnet.
A whole month of her life wasted by idiots with PhDs or exciting, hopeful ideas. None of them understood –– none of them could possibly fathom what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, with voices that sometimes seemed very real telling you that you were worthless, incompetent, abominable. Sometimes Lizzie's brain didn't even need to conjure voices; Lizzie was well-able to put herself down without a chorus of voices echoing her deepest insecurities.
Still, though, she had agreed to travel the world with Auntie Appy in search of a cure. But she wasn't delusional in her hopes, even though a therapist in Estonia threw around the diagnosis 'Delusional Disorder' among many other farfetched disorders. Like her grandfather, Lizzie was a pessimist. She wasn't going to get her hopes up for a magical cure, even if she did live in a world where unicorns and hippogriffs existed. Evenin the Wizarding World, mental health wasn't something that could be fixed with snapping fingers or an esteemed potion.
So, Lizzie refused to delude herself, and remained the unenthusiastic pessimist throughout her trip, and poor Appy had to drag her from one professional to the next.
"Just one more, Liz," Apollina encouraged her niece as she not-so-gently dragged her into the new therapist's office. They were in Germany now. "This could be the one –– you might like her; she's really esteemed in the mental health community of wizards, and an expert in mental health issues in subsets of wizards. She'll be the last one, I swear, then we can go home."
"You said that about Wiener Magnet," Lizzie deadpanned, a blank and disapproving look on her face as she took in her auntie's words, which she knew were a lie.
"Weinar Magnút, Lizzie," Appy corrected in annoyance for what felt like the hundredth time that week to the young adult. "And, well, you didn't give your all during those sessions, did you? You spent the whole time teasing the poor fellow about his name or complaining about getting your boots dirty."
"They were new boots!" Lizzie exclaimed, in a 'in-my-defence' sort of tone.
Appy rolled her eyes to heaven and back and fixed her niece with a disbelieving stare. "They were hiking boots, that you will never wear again because you hate hiking."
