Rumored Nervous Breakdown

"Dolores, you cannot go in there," Poppy Pomfrey shouts as I suddenly wake up.

I feel so groggy and sore; the thought of Dolores seeing me like this is disturbing. I am weak and my guard is low. It will be impossible to stop her from attempting to use this incident against me.

"As the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, I have the right to go anywhere I please. Now, get out of my way," Dolores screeches.

I decide to play the "Nell -Is -Comatose- Game." I hear Dolores stalking up the aisle of the Hospital Wing to a small area used if a staff member fell ill.

"So, what's wrong with her," Dolores questions Poppy.

"Gee, Dolores, I think my lying on the floor of the Staff Room convulsing should be a major clue."

"I don't know, you tell me," Poppy snaps back to Dolores. "You are the 'High Inquisitor."

"Dolores, when Poppy uses that tone, you should run for your life."

"She is obviously trying to shirk her duties with this over-dramatic performance, making those horrible noises and flailing around on the floor." Dolores is really treading on thin ice here.

"If you are quite finished insulting someone who is defenseless on her sick-bed, you really should attend to you own position in this school," Poppy says sternly.

"That a girl Poppy, you tell the over- grown- toad to take a flying leap."

I can hear Dolores's heavy breathing as she pokes her head in the doorway. I think she is trying to see if I am trying to take some time off due to laziness, or I am seriously ill.

I hear this strange scratching noise that is becoming louder with every second.

Dolores mumbles, "Teacher's illness may be causing her to become unstable, and she refuses to stay conscious during a staff meeting."

I hear Dolores's footsteps retreating out of the Hospital Wing, and I realize just how tired I am. Madam Pomfrey's "Someone-Is-Awake-and-Awaiting-Nasty-Potions" radar is zeroing in on me.

"All right young lady, care to tell me what happened on Friday," Madam Pomfrey asks me, as if I really knew. Poppy grabs my wrist to take a pulse. "So, did you have any idea this was coming?"

"Yes. I had the 'jerks' all day." I say, beginning to slide down the pillow, attempting to hide my face. "I thought I could make it though the meeting, and then go to bed."

"Obviously not," she tells me in anger. Poppy always gets pink in the ears when she is trying to control her temper. Right now, it looks like both ears will spontaneously burst into flame.

"Nell, you need to make sure you get help when you feel a seizure coming on. You quit breathing for several minutes. A minute or two longer, your heart would have stopped. In fact, it was barely beating when you were brought here, and it's still irregular," she says in a worried tone to her voice, and I am angry with myself for not being more careful.

"I did not know it was that bad, I'm sorry," I say with a note of shame. I feel so angry, and guilty for worrying my friends.

"Professor McGonagall is so worried about you. I had to pry her hand off of yours. I have never seen her that upset. Professor Snape had to drag her out of the Hospital Wing by force."

"I never want to scare anyone like that again, especially Minerva. She kept me in one piece during my worst moments when I was a student"

"Poppy, what was Severus doing up here? I would never expect him to be worried about anyone," I say in genuine tone of curiosity.

"How do you think you got up here? He was worried that you would begin seizing again, and felt is would be safer to carry you up here," she answers, and turns away to pick up a towel to clean my nose up from when I hit the floor Friday afternoon.

"Well color me stunned."

I relax back on the pillows with this thought, as Poppy puts away the soiled towel. I hear footsteps coming towards my room, and it sounds like the owner is in a hurry.

As I glance towards the door, my worst nightmare is coming true.

"That was quite a floor show you put on," Severus tells me in a tone of voice he normally uses on a student. "I hope this is the last time I have to scrape you off of the floor."

"Thank you for your excellence at scraping a convulsing teacher off of the floor," I say. It is unbelievable that I am telling the person I turned into a ballerina, thank you.

He turns his back with a sniff, whispers something to Poppy, turns on his heels, and leaves the room.

Poppy walks over to my bed with a glass full of moss colored liquid the consistency of hot tar, and orders, "Now, I had this made to order, and you will take it without any comment."

I take the unsavory potion in one gulp to avoid tasting it. I instantly feel drowsy, and all I want to do is sleep.

The first sensation I have when half asleep is a warm hand holding my own, and the owner of the hand is Minerva McGonagall.

"How do you feel, Nell," she asks me with a hint of tears in her eyes, while brushing stray hair off of my forehead. "I am sorry I could not stay with you. Severus dragged me out of here, and would not let me come back."

"Thanks for coming back," I tell her in a slurred tone. This simple exchange takes every ounce of strength, and has the most particular sensation that my tongue is sticking on the roof of my mouth.

Something warm seems to be dripping from my nose, and her sudden movement to touch my face startles me. Minerva calms me down by saying, "Your nose is bleeding. I guess Madam Pomfrey should know." I feel her cleaning my face off the best she can.

I hear her talking softly to me, but I cannot process what she is saying. I am falling asleep again as her voice lulls me to into darkness.

It is dark in here, and it must be late in the night. Everything is so fuzzy, I want to fall back to sleep. There are hollow footsteps walking into the room, and they stop at the side of the bed.

I hear a baritone voice say, "How did you ever survive with this? I never realized how horrible this could have been as child."

"Was that Severus showing some sympathy? Who would have thought?"

I feel him check my pulse on my neck as he says, "Your heart is still irregular. I may need to try something different in the next dose." I guess he did not realize I could hear him. He sits by the bed watching me, and leaves quietly a few minutes later.

I can tell it is early morning by the sounds changing in the Hospital Wing. I feel something cold, and wet against my face.

"Don't touch me. I am so tired just let me sleep please. Why is everyone so intent on making sure I am still alive?"

I begin to slap at the offending person who is bothering me. I want to be left alone, and be antisocial in peace.

"Nell, stop fighting me," Poppy shouts while simply attempting to clean my nose that is starting.

Standing beside Poppy are Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. They seem pleased that I am awake.

Dumbledore sits in a chair by the bed and says," If you wanted the day off, why didn't you just ask?"

"Sorry about the show, I thought Dolores's speech was getting a little boring," I say wishing he would quit smiling at my comment.

"Next time, just tell someone, and go to bed. That's an order," Dumbledore says with a wink.

"I don't understand something I heard Dolores say when I first woke up. What is a 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor,'" I ask sounding stupid, but I really want to get this.

"Dolores has too much time on her hands, and feels the need to be noticed. I think the coughing has stopped working," Dumbledore answers in a less than satisfying response.

Minerva tries to look stern, but she is doing a horrible job. "I expect to see you in your classroom on Tuesday," she says beginning to grin, as her back turns toward me.

After a short stay, I am being released from the Hospital Wing Monday night; I am resuming my regular routine with stern instructions not to over tax myself.

It is Tuesday. I walk down to breakfast, and begin to look down the staff table. Every teacher with the exception of Severus is looking as though they have been force-fed stink sap.

"What is going on here," I whisper with my mouth hanging open with surprise.

"That stupid woman is 'inspecting' the other teachers," Minerva tells me through a clinched jaw. I notice that she is probably trying to bite back the urge to start swearing.

I hear, "Hem, hem. Glad you could finally join us, Eleanor." Dolores sits down next to Minerva and myself. I think she is trying to listen in.

I lean over towards Minerva and whisper, "Kind of makes you nostalgic for the Dementors, doesn't it?"

Minerva loses self-control, and tries to laugh. The mouth full of tea she has just sipped shoots out of her nose. Unfortunately for Dolores, the trajectory of the laughter induced disaster lands in her hair.

Dolores stands up so quickly that her chair falls over backwards. As she walks off in a huff, I hear her say, "Just wait until your inspection."

"Hem, hem. Just can't wait Dolores," Minerva says, unable to resist that dig at her.

I have a suspicion Dolores is trying to probe for weaknesses and loyalties among the staff. Knowing Dolores's habits, she will target the weaker teachers first. I find out I am right. The first victim on the line of fire is Sybill Trelawney, and she does not have the social skills or a highly developed sense of self-esteem. It will not be long before Sybill cracks under pressure.

Dinner has rolled around, I found a very traumatized Sybill walking through the halls. She is mumbling in coherently, and looking paler than Nearly Headless Nick.

"Sybill, what is wrong," I ask. She looks fearfully like I am going to assault her in someway.

"Nell, It was horrible; she called me incompetent and a fraud."

"For once, Dolores may be on the mark."

"I cannot leave here this is my home," she tells me with tears spilling on her cheek.

"Oh Sybill, I wish I could make it better." I am heartbroken by the sight of her.

Sybill is one of those people who could listen to you for hours on end. She is always equipped with a pot of strong tea, and dark morbid predictions. The dire warnings made you forget the problem at hand, and put your mind on something else. She seems to be a little daft, but underneath it all is a genuine human with a kind heart. Sybill does not have a strong sense of self worth, and she easily presents herself as a target. After staring down Death Eaters, and coming back more than once from the brink of death, I feel very little fear of anything that could hurt me mentally and physically. Sybill does not have experience to stand up against anything or anyone. Being at Hogwarts all these years has probably prevented her from falling to pieces.

When I return to the office, I see Dolores has left me a pink perfumed piece of parchment to tell me when I will have my inspection.

"Next in the line of fire, me."

I once took an informal poll in the Magical Law Enforcement office. The topic: If you had to be locked in a closet without a wand, whom would you pick? The choice was Dolores or Voldemort. Voldemort won by a huge margin. It seemed he won, because being locked in a closet with Dolores would be a slow death by insanity. With Voldemort, your death will be painful, but brief.

"Hem, hem I take it that you received my note," she says looking at me with that horrible sticky grin of hers.

"How could I forget it, Dolores, it was on puke colored parchment with rose perfume. I sneezed for an hour and half after reading it," I snap at her.

"I really should not bait her before my 'inspection.'"

"Dolores, I have one question, what will you do if you don't like my teaching technique? Will you cancel my union card, take away my apparating license, cancel my subscription to the 'Prophet,' or write my mother," I ask with genuine curiosity.

Dolores turns away, and walks out the door without comment.

This morning, I am taking the most irritating approach to this lesson, because Dolores hates noise, and students actually learning something. I am playing a game with the students; it is called, "Grab Bag." I throw Muggle items in a sack, and the students have three chances to guess the item.

The first item is a potato peeler. We go an entire round without anyone figuring out the item. The top answers were: A hammer, eggbeater, and a curling iron.

The next item on the list is a cordless phone, and I am happy the students figured this out quickly.

From the back of the room I hear, "Hem, hem." Five minutes later, a yawn punctuates from her corner to keep the party going.

I hate to tell Dolores the term for her vocalization, and obsessive note taking are a form of self-stimulation. This is a way for the brain to keep itself functioning, while it begins to go idle.

" I would just love to scream, 'Stop self-stimulating!'"

Susan Bones is next, and draws a cassette tape. Her first guess is a spatula, then a comb, and finally a bar of soap.

"Hem, hem."

This annoying sound causes the entire class to be disrupted. I give her one of my famous "Death Stares."

"Hem, hem," Dolores grunts.

"Teacher allows classroom to be messy and disorganized," she says under her breath.

"All right Princess, just wait until the class clears out."

Pansy Parkinson is next. She draws a remote control to a television set my parents once owned.

Pansy guesses, "It's a shoe horn."

"Good try, Pansy, but it is the remote control to a television," I say with a slight note of laughter to my voice.

"Hem, hem. Teacher is deliberately negative to Slytherin House students," Dolores grunts under her breath. I am struggling with my desire to take the remote, and smack her across the face with it.

I throw in a rubber duck when no one is looking. It is Gregory Goyle's turn, and he reaches into the sack. Goyle drops the sack as if it were on fire. He bolts out of the room screaming, "It's one of those Muggle Attack Ducks!" The entire class is laughing, and I cannot contain myself.

My reverie is cut short by, "Hem, hem." Then that stupid scratching begins again.

"Teacher is torturing student for class's amusement. Student is traumatized by the experience."

Goyle walks back into the room looking as though he would kill the first person that cracks a smile.

"Hem, hem," Dolores growls from her chair.

I turn away from her face, put my palm to my forehead, and roll my eyes to the ceiling while shaking my head.

I hear the bizarre scratching noise; Dolores is mumbling, "Teacher is unable to keep control of temper. She shows signs of imbalance and inability to control her emotions."

"I guess Dolores does not realize, I can hear every word she is saying; I have a sudden desire to change her cardigan into a fluffy pink Pit Bull terrier."

The students exit when the bell rings, and Dolores is looking rather smug.

"All right Princess, I going to let you have it!"

When she is finished, she makes an earth-shattering announcement, "You will have your results in ten days."

"Dolores, I must tell you colleague to colleague. I am worried about your cough, because there has been a deadly outbreak of 'Bitchinstein' disease. You might want to check with Poppy right away," I say barely able to contain myself. I will bet my entire year's salary that she is going to see Poppy before dinner.

I know Poppy will be amused, because she came up with the term out of disgust when describing Dolores's interest in the health of selected staff members. She declared this diagnosis one night at the "Three Broomsticks" over a pint of mead.

"Lucius Malfoy's verbal diarrhea is contagious, I need to find a cure quickly."

Sitting down for dinner at the staff table, I notice a letter on my plate with familiar handwriting. I begin to open up the envelope, and I hear, "Hem, hem."

I decide to conjure a bottle of cat fur ball cure and throw it on Dolores's plate without a word.

"I hope she likes tuna and egg flavors." I want to laugh at my own thought, and I realize that may inflame her worse.

Nell,

Thank you for the letter. I am glad to hear that your sanity is intact."

Gee thanks, now I feel like I can sleep at night knowing you have declared me clinically sane."

I don't know how it will stay that way.

"Well, I have not run screaming from Hogwarts yet."

I do wonder if she will survive the Weasley Twins? I know that if she starts trouble with Ron, Harry, Hermione, and their other friends, she will pay dearly for it.

"Hey, if I were Dolores, I would be more afraid of Ginny. That "Bat Bogey" hex of hers can be fairly nasty."

The impression I get from you is that Dolores is as much of a danger inside the school, as when she was working in the Ministry.

"Do you really think so Remus, or is this just wild speculation?"

Nell, please do not allow her to wear you down. I know how you get when you see injustice, and when someone inflicts pain on another. That has been your job for years. With Dolores in complete charge, it will be difficult, and unlikely that you will be able to rescue anyone. Your health will suffer, and Dolores will use it against you.

"No kidding Remus. What are you afraid of? Could it be that she might commit me?"

Yours truly,

R. Lupin

"I don't know if I should send you flowers, or a howler. Thank you for your wonderful assessment of my work environment."

It is now Saturday, and I really need to get some training time in with Ozzy. He does not look pleased, when he sees the bridle. I manage to get the bit in his mouth, and secure the saddle before mounting.

Ozzy begins our workout with a few "spook attacks." He is looking at invisible creatures bent on jumping out of the trees to attack him. Once Ozzy realizes I know that the little critters are not in the woods, he resorts to one of his famous tantrums. Ozzy has the most remarkable ability to rear up repeatedly without stopping for rest.

"Knock it off," I bellow, realizing that my shouting could be heard on the Quiddtich Pitch. Half a dozen brooms suddenly stop to find out who is yelling.

Ozzy has a knick name known through out the show circuit, the "Humiliator." A trainer friend of mine used to borrow Ozzy to "adjust the attitudes" of her students that felt they knew it all. He plays mind games, and seeks to make a fool of those who seek to dominate. His favorite game is the "Make-Me." The strategy of the game is to make you miserable so will get off, and put him away. I have seen him hit the brakes at a full gallop, and send riders over his ears. Once, he stopped at the part of the test at a show that requires me to stop, face the judge, and take off again. We stopped, faced the judge, and went nowhere. No matter how hard I kicked, spurred, and whispered threats of becoming pet food, he refused to move. Eventually, he stumbled to a trot with a loud moan.

Today is not much better. I ask him to walk in a straight line, and all I get is attitude. The rest of the ride is going much better, because we only have one minor outburst. I want to let him run full out, and he is happy to oblige. I make a circuit around the grounds stopping on a small hill overlooking Hogsmeade. I notice a person wearing pink is walking out to talk to another person. There seems to be a quick exchange of words, and a trade of some object I cannot make out. The figure in pink begins to walk back with the mysterious object. She looks on to the top of the hill, and notices I am staring at her. She nearly breaks into a run to hurry our line of sight.

"So, Madam High Inquisitor, what game are we playing," I whisper to myself.

It's Monday, time for the fun, and games to begin for the week. Walking past the "Master of the Hounds" portrait, I notice a sign announcing "Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four."

This cancels all teams, clubs, and students in groups of threes.

"Never mess with Quidditch Dolores, it could be the last thing you will ever do."

By midday, Dolores begins to decide which clubs and teams will be reinstated. The first team reinstated is Slytherin.

"No great shock there."

In my classroom, the kids are unnaturally subdued. I am asking Amy Booth of Ravenclaw a simple question on parking meters, and she is looking straight through me.

"Ms. Booth, what is the purpose of a parking-meter? Ms Booth, Ten points from Ravenclaw for lack of attention," I shout. I hate taking away points, but I need to maintain some discipline.

"Oh no, I am beginning to sound like Severus."

"Sorry, professor what is the question," Amy says, looking like she is waking from a coma.

"Amy, what is the problem? Please be honest."

"Professor Umbridge has cancelled the Gobstones Club," she says in an unnaturally whiney tone.

"She has to be kidding! We need to get this child to get out more." I roll my eyes when I turn around.

"Anyone else have an earth shattering declaration," I say in exasperation.

From the back of the classroom, I see a beefy fist fly into the air, and Gregory Goyle is the owner of the appendage in question.

I am beyond stunned when asking him, "Yes, Mr. Goyle, what is on your brain?"

"As if anyone from the Goyle family has a brain."

" I need to go to the toilet," he announces to the class.

"I should keep Goyle in class, because I am worried he might lose a few IQ points while in the toilet."