Rumored Nervous Breakdown

Ozzy arrived this morning, and I am so happy to see him in the stall. His royal highness is demanding his usual ration of ginger newts and peppermints. Pulling him out into the sunshine, I notice the comforting sounds of the footfalls of his shoes against the stone floor. Seeing him this morning brings back a flood of pleasant memories.

I remember Ozzy as a very homely two-year old. His head was two sizes too big for his body, four short stubby legs, pie plate sized feet, and the most bizarre color of chestnut. I saw something in him, and I don't know what it was. I bought him from a Muggle for the paltry sum of £860. This was the best investment I have ever made. Ozzy is now nineteen and turned out to be a top show horse and cheaper than therapy at St. Mungo's.

I turn Ozzy out and watch him run around the paddock. I decide to go on "Nugget Patrol," because this stall is a disaster. I know the house-elves clean the stalls, but I have found it a great way to clear my head and nose.

"Ozzy, did you have the portlocks over for a house warming party?" I ask, shaking my head. I pick up the pitchfork, the wheel barrow, and Ozzy trots over to the fence to inspect my work.

I decide to dump the debris from the "portlock party" and begin organizing the massive amount of tack belonging to Ozzy.

"I wish I had it as well as my horse, new shoes every six weeks, great dental plan, en suite massage, custom meals, and a wardrobe to dwarf my own."

After lunch, I need to take one last look at the opening lessons for the first week of classes; however what I really want is some Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, and the house-elves are able to acquire it. Sitting in the office with my feet up, I hear footsteps in the hallway.

A very harassed Severus Snape and a smug Dolores Umbridge stop in the doorway. "Eleanor, what are you eating?" she inquires.

"I am eating Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream," I reply with little emotion, childishly lick the back of the spoon.

"So, why are you just sitting there stuffing your face with term starting tomorrow?" she asks me with authority.

"Well, I guess planning on getting 'chip faced' before the start of dinner," I reply with a nasty look. I swear Severus nearly smiled at the comment.

The much-anticipated Feast has arrived, and the teachers are wearing their finest robes; I am no exception. Dolores is several seats away at the Staff Table wearing that tacky pink cardigan of hers.

"With that bow on her head, she reminds me of a deranged Easter Bunny."

Hagrid is noticeably missing, and Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank is sitting in his place. My concerns are beginning to rise at his absence. It is not Hogwarts without Hagrid being here.

Severus Snape catches my gaze, and he seems to be looking straight through me. He is working hard to pretend I do not exist.

The students begin to pack the Great Hall, and the noise in the room begins to rise. The House tables begin to fill, but I look at my old House table. Gryffindors are filing in, and I look for familiar faces.

I doubt if Arthur told his children I would be here, because he does enjoy a joke. The twins walk in recognizing me right away. Fred and George give me a quick wave, laughing hysterically at the sight of me. Ron suddenly realizes what the twins are laughing about, and he looks up at the staff table with horror. He looks away pretending he does not see me. I babysat Ron and Ginny when they were infants, but Ron will have issues having a professor at Hogwarts who used to change his nappies.

I recognize one of Ron's friends. Harry looks so much like his father; however, I don't recognize the bushy haired girl sitting next to Ron. I wonder if she is the girl from Rita Skeeter's article last year?

My gaze shifts to another familiar student, Neville Longbottom. His parents are legendary, but this will be a difficult legacy to live up to.

My eye falls on to the Slytherin House table to Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco. He is the mirror image of his father.

"I hope that he has Narcissa's intelligence and not his father's mouth."

Lucius Malfoy has a massive case of verbal diarrhea, and one day it will be the death of him. When he begins to spout that pure blood rhetoric, he cannot stop talking. He was an easy source of information on the state of the Death Eater movement.

Draco is sitting next the sons of Crabbe and Goyle. Their fathers were a bit harder to question, because neither man possess the intelligence to use speech.

"Crabbe and Goyle prove that evolution can work in reverse."

The wide-eyed first years file in, and Minerva places the Sorting Hat on the stool. I remember that moment, and it still makes my heart skip a beat. I remember it whispering to me about figuring out which House to put me in. It debated between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for several agonizing moments.

Being a Muggle Born, I had little exposure to world I was inducted. The Hat begins the song of the year. It warns danger, and the need of cooperation needed between the Houses. Minerva reads from her list, and soon the new students are sitting at their respective House tables.

I was famished at the start of the evening; however I begin to pick without enthusiasm at dinner, because I am a bit unnerved. A sinking feeling of sitting at the wrong end of a wand haunts me.

As the evening winds down, Dumbledore rises to address the students. The normal notice of painful deaths and detentions are mentioned for misbehavior.

Dumbledore announces three staff changes for the year, and he welcomes back Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. "I wish to announce that Professor Howard will be taking over Muggle Studies," Dumbledore says with a wink in my direction.

Of course, the Weasley Twins look quite pleased with the announcement. In the meantime, Ron is trying to hide himself behind Harry's back.

He then welcomes Dolores to the infamously cursed position of Defense of the Dark Arts position.

"I hope he remembered to tell her about the malignant 'Dark Arts One Year Itch.'"

Dumbledore begins to start several more announcements; however, there is a familiar cough from Dolores.

"Hem, hem," Dolores gags.

"I do not believe this one. It's a two for one special, dinner and a show."

Dolores stands up sharply and interrupts the welcoming speech of the year.

"Dolores, don't you know every rule of public speaking is being violated? Rule One: Never! Never! Interrupt a keynote speaker!"

The staff waits with bated breath for the spectacle about to unfold. It is like watching a train accident; they cannot help themselves.

"Hem, hem," Dolores grinds from the back of her throat.

"Rule Two: Keep the flow of your words consistent, because distracting your audience with unnecessary vocalizations is a definite faux pas."

She faces the students and discusses the pleasure of seeing "their happy little faces."

"Rule Three: Never talk down to your audience; please address your group with respect."

She is still talking in that horrible little girl voice. "Rule Four: Speak in a clear confident voice."

"Hem, hem," coughs Dolores.

"Good grief Dolores, do you need your tonsils removed? You may want to seek out Madam Pomfrey, because you may be contagious!"

Now that her throat is clear, her voice is a bit more business like.

"Wonderful, Princess, you are improving! Just don't say anything stupid, and you mat be able to save this travesty you call a speech."

She is rambling on now about stopping progress, and the Ministry micromanaging the school. It is the same disconnected speech from yesterday, and it has not improved with age.

McGonagall and Sprout exchange looks as if to find a way to overpower Dolores and drag her off of the stage.

"Count us in Minerva, I am sure Snape and I will be happy to stun her and then throw a couple of curses to shut her up," I think, while wand hand is becoming strangely itchy.

"Hem, hem," Dolores gargles.

"Clear your throat one more time Princess, I will hit you with an Unforgivable Curse! No court could convict me, and I have witnesses to say I was provoked!"

She begins to ramble on again, going in circles, and the students are talking amongst themselves.

"Rule Five: Know when to shut up! If I had to mark this speech for grade, I would give her a "D". This is Dreadful! Is there a "T" for Troll? A troll would have made more sense than she did with this disaster."

She sits down while Dumbledore applauds. This was a signal to the rest of the school to give a polite, but distracted air of clapping. Without missing a beat, Dumbledore picks up on his original thread of announcements, and later dismisses the students.

The teachers wander back to the Staff Wing to turn in for the night. We are walking as a group leaving Dolores to hang back behind us.

"Nell, never turn your back on her again. She will hex her Grandmother from the back," I whisper to myself.

"I really need to work on my inner monologue."

I make it to my room, and I take in a deep shuddering breath remembering how I learned not to turn my back on a possible enemy.

After the fall of Voldemort, I had a tip that someone was planning to assassinate Minister Fudge. When walking to a meeting, I heard someone fire off a curse killing another Auror. A staff member and I managed to shove Fudge through the door; when I turned around, a Death Eater was standing behind me.

I remember a feeling like I was being cut in two by a white-hot knife as the curse cut me across the neck, and I crashed to the floor hitting my head very hard on some stairs. I woke up in St. Mungo's a week later discovering that I could not move. I regained my ability to walk several months later and was able to work desk duty in the Cold Case division.

One day when I was putting a file away for a closed case, I had that funny feeling I had at school. My seizures have fallen in the same order, first the air gets sucked out of the room, and I cannot breathe. Second, I feel like I am down the bottom of a well and sounds echo. Third there are tremors topped off by uncontrollable crying.

I am frightened by my decent into the physical hell that is my life. After having the seizure in the office, there was hopeless feeling of never being normal. The Death Eater's curse has slapped me in the face. I became so depressed; I locked myself in my flat, and refused to see anyone. I felt weak, and I was afraid of being dependant on others again. Kingsley talked me into coming back to the office for light desk duty again; however, I began to have a panic attack in the office the first day back, and Kingsley took me to St. Mungo's. He was afraid that I was having another seizure. The Ministry sent a councilor to talk to me when I came home a few days later, but I slammed the door in his face when he arrived. I even entertained the idea of ending it all, but thoughts about my mother having to pick of the pieces after I died caused me to stop. Remus found out about my mental meltdown a few days later. When I refused to open the door, he threatened to blow it apart. We spoke for hours before I began to open up and talk about my feelings. We discussed the paranoid thoughts of having someone sneak up on me, being in mourning for the change in my life, the anger of having to depend on others, and why I wanted to end it all.

"Something bothering you?" asks Pomona Sprout.

I am startled by her voice, and it is difficult to come up with a response. I decide it is better to get to bed before I accidentally curse someone out of paranoia.

"No, just a little bit tired from the busy day," I tell her in a tired voice. I walk to my door, and I decide to write a letter to one of my dearest friends. I need his advice.

1 September, 1995

Dear Remus,

I am sorry that I have not written in a while, because my life has been a bit turned upside down. The news of my mental break down has been greatly exaggerated in the Prophet, and I can assure you my sanity is quite intact. Dolores is here; she has taken the Dark Arts job and that has cheered me up a great deal. She might catch the "One Year DADA Itch." With the history of that position, I can say she will be infected with a bad case of it. Can you imagine what class will be like for her with the Weasley twins? I know you had them and survived the experience. Maybe I should reserve my bed at St. Mungo's for her, it was quite comfortable, and the food was not too bad.

On a more serious note, I am in fear for everyone in the school. Dolores does not play by the rules, because she does not possess the social skills to be in a closed environment like Hogwarts. Dolores does not recognize when she has crossed the line in controlling the world around her. She only tells her version of the truth and uses people to do her dirty work. She is not trustworthy, and the Ministry is doing everything it can to prevent the truth from being told.

Yours Truly,

Nell

Thank goodness September second is on a Saturday, because it gives me some time to collect my thoughts. The eerie feeling that I felt last night is beginning to fade, and the early morning light streaks into my bedroom welcoming me to a sunny September scene outside.

I am feeling tired, because I do not adjust to changes in routine well. I am developing a headache and every old injury is burning.

"Sorry Ozzy, I have lost the ability of voluntary locomotion," I whisper apologetically. I roll over in bed and close my eyes against the glare.

I know the best thing for me is to curl up with a book and vegetate for the rest of the weekend. I don't know how long I have been asleep, but I am rudely awakened by someone pounding at my door.

"Nell? Nell, are you in there?" a voice inquires loudly.

"Nell, open this door right now," another voice calls through the door sounding angry. Daisy is beside herself barking at the person making that noise and digging at the door jamb.

"Daisy needs to stop barking, and I wish that person would stop pounding at my door."

I trip and fall on the bed clothes in my haste to answer the door. My body hits the floor with a loud thud.

"Nell, are you alright?" asks Poppy, while pounding at the door.

I manage to extricate myself from the sheets and comforter without tripping again, and I cast them aside angrily.

I cannot be angry; they are just looking out for me. "Give me a minute," I grumble, shuffling towards the door.

"Shut it, Daisy!" I yell, yanking the door open.

Minerva and Poppy are standing at my door looking quite concerned.

"Where have you been all day?" Professor McGonagall asks in a tone of concern. She looks like she is about to give me detention and take points fifty points from Gryffindor.

"Sleeping," I say, unable to find a better response. A distict air of relief blows in from the door as they realize nothing has happened. "Why don't you both come in." I gesture for them to come into my parlor, rolling my eyes behind their back.

"Nell Patrol" started when I had my first seizure. If I didn't show up where I was scheduled to be, someone would always come running to find me.

Professor McGonagall is looking at me with an icy stare. "Now that we know you are not lying on the floor convulsing or have attempted to injure yourself; I need to attend an impromptu meeting of all Heads of House." Minerva has a disheartened and disappointed look on her face.

"Minerva must be angry with me and a seizure would be the perfect excuse to blow off Dolores."

"Professor McGonagall, use small words when you speak with Dolores. I heard from the House-elves, she was a little slow at breakfast," I say, feeling it is imperative to give a report of Dolores's cognitive ability at the present time.

After Minerva leaves the room, Madam Pomfrey pulls me sharply by the arm, and forces me to sit down into a chair. "Nell, let's look you over. Why have you been in here all day, young lady," she says. I notice her face lights up with the patented, "Madam Pomfrey Stare of Doom."

"I wish she would not give me that look," my inner voice tells me. "I hated it when I was twelve, and I dread it at thirty-five. I guess I should tell her the whole story before she drags me to the Hospital Wing for a simple migraine."

"I have a headache, so I am trying to sleep it off," I say with an obvious note of irritation.

"Just give me the wallpaper stripper you call a 'headache potion' and let me be antisocial in peace,"

I cringe inwardly as she orders, "Take this potion first and this one before going to bed. I will be back to see you this evening," she threatens. I decide to swallow the potion for the migraine, so I can get rid of the source of indigestion walking out the door.