Harry gets diagnosed with autism after the 2nd Wizarding War.
Yeet.
Harry POV
Healer Abernathy frowns at a long piece of parchment as I sit on a comfortable chair. I'm rocking back and forth and sitting on my hands because I'm so bored.
He finally looks up after an eternity, flicking raven hair out of his face. His grey eyes are gentle and serene, crow's feet on the edges. "There's fidgets in that drawer there, Mr. Potter, if you need them."
I open said drawer immediately, my curiosity piqued. There's so many weird objects in there! I pick up a little rubber bird that is squishy. Oooh. I like squishy.
I play with the squishy bird until Healer Abernathy clears his throat. "All done now, Harry. The screening is official. Harry James Potter, you have autism."
I look up at him, unsure of what to feel. "Oh. Thank you, sir."
There's an awkward silence as I squeeze the little bird. He speaks up, "It's okay if you don't know how to feel yet, Harry. This is, after all, a pretty big amount of information you just received."
I nod, not sure of what to say. The appointment is concluded after I'm given a couple pamphlets and sheets of parchment.
When I'm back home in my bed, in the flat I share with Ron and Hermione, the emotions all start hitting me. The years of wondering what's wrong with me, being yelled at by the Dursleys, getting overwhelmed easily, suddenly has a name. Why couldn't I have found out sooner? Why did young me have to suffer so long?
My brain is suddenly overloaded, and my clothes feel uncomfortable. I strip off my shirt and pants, changing into my pajamas. I curl up in my warm blankets, my head resting comfortably on my pillow.
It must be at least an hour before I get out of bed, putting on my slippers so the floor doesn't touch my feet.
I read the pamphlets and parchments, dropping them when I feel overwhelmed again.
When Ron comes home, I'm sitting on my bed and flapping my hands as I listen to Slowdive. He peeks in my room, his face softening. "How'd the appointment go?"
I pause the music, trying to find my words. I finally just show the pamphlets to him, and he understands. "So you do have autism?"
I nod, still not able to speak. Ron joins me, and I yawn. He chuckles. "You should probably take a nap, mate."
Good idea. My voice comes back, albeit very quietly as I flap my hands again. "Yeah....I think I'll do that. Too much."
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