Rumored Nervous Breakdown

Severus and I have not spoken since the meeting two days ago. I wish that I had not fallen apart like that in front of the staff, because it serves to validate his contention that I am unbalanced. I know what was said between Severus and Regulus that night, and it was not some hallucination. Only three people will over know what was said that night in the hospital wing, Regulus is dead, Dumbledore backs Severus, and I am suicidal invalid.

I would love to know how Severus found out about my first attempt, because only some select staff members were privy to this information.

When I woke up out of that coma in my fifth year, I told Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey what I overheard that night. They told me that it was impossible for me to have comprehended speech when I was unconscious. Aggie made it worse, by placating me whenever the subject was brought up. I was so humiliated; I withdrew from everyone around me. I spent hours in my dormitory just trying to convince myself that it was not a hallucination.

During the winter holiday, I thought being at home would make the sad feelings go away. My parents knew about the conversation that I allegedly had listened to, but they felt it was an overactive imagination. I did not want to stay home after the holiday; I did not want to hear the taunting and teasing at school. I just wanted to make it all go away, because my feelings were not being validated. Thinking I had no choice, I went into the cabinet to steal the extra bottle of potion for my seizures. I decided the best thing to do was overdose when everyone went for breakfast in the Great Hall, because that would buy me more time to be successful. I can remember that day so vividly in my mind.

"Nell, I am so glad to be back at school, because I miss you." Aggie's voice seems to hold a hollow cheeriness.

"Yeah, me too." I decide just to go along with her drift in the conversation, nodding in all the appropriate places.

"Nell, are you still worried about what happened in potions? I am sure that you heard something. Nell you were very ill, you will never know what was real or imagined." I turn my back on her when she finishes her sentence. I don't want her to see me cry.

"You sound like Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. They did not believe me, either." I wish she would leave the room, so I can remove myself from a world that does not believe me.

The opportunity for my plan does not occur until the morning. I pretend to be sleepy, and Aggie gives up on me.

I managed to leave a short note discussing my anger about being poisoned, and the hurt of not being believed someone would try murdering me. I had never felt so alone in my life. When I did not appear at breakfast, Aggie had thought I slept in; however, when I did not appear in Charms, she panicked thinking I was laying somewhere having a seizure. She ran to find Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey to go look for me. The first placed they checked was Gryffindor Tower. I was found with the note pinned to my pillow, and a smashed potion bottle on the floor.

Dear Friends and Teachers,

I am now gone, because no one will believe me about what was said in the Hospital Wing. I know Severus tried to kill me, and I trusted all of you take what I said seriously; however, I was told I was hallucinating, the illness was playing tricks on my mind, or I am making this up for attention. Rather than give Severus another chance to hurt me, I am going to finish the job he started. I am sorry, but I cannot find a way to end these horrible feelings. I tried to ask for help, and what I received was a pat on the back with, "You were ill, it was probably your imagination." I am alone, and I feel all of you are better off not hearing me "cry wolf," again.

Please let my Mum know I love her, and I am sorry.

Eleanor

I wake up to find myself at St. Mungo's in a children's ward, and my parents at my side. The professors are not placating me or telling me the poisoning is in my imagination. When I get back to school, I am forced to have therapy at St. Mungo's twice a week for a month and then only once a week for the rest of the year. The teacher's were forbidden to talk about my suicide attempt, and I agreed to quit obsessing about Severus. My heart would strengthen, the tiredness eased, but the injuries on the spirit were harder to heal.

I find out a few years later, I was not the only student to attempt suicide. I am the only one that was nearly successful. Dumbledore had a specialist from St. Mungo's come in for "suicide prevention" training, and the staff was instructed to be more aware of childhood depression.

They found me just in time, and I managed to recover quickly; however, the incident was kept quiet. The school and my parents arranged for me to have therapy once a week for an entire year, I was not allowed access to any medication, I had to account for every minute of the day, and my room was searched three times per week at random. I felt like I was in prison. After a year, I was pronounced safe to be removed from constant supervision.

With the week drawing to a close, I am looking forward to the weekend. I am snowed under with grading essays, and planning lessons for the coming week. Dolores has been very low key on harassing the staff, but I am waiting for her to renew her campaign with a vengeance.

I do not like walking down the hallways after the students, and teachers have turned in for the night. The deep-seated paranoia of being attacked from any direction is haunting me. Lately, I have been humoring this impulse. I decide that there is a need to fulfill my duties as a teacher, and get my paperwork up to date.

Walking down the hallway towards my office, Dolores appears out of a dark corner of the corridor, points her wand at my chest, and forces me into a classroom. As she is pushing me into the room, I hear a faint meow, the slamming of a door, and wheezy chuckle.

As she moves her wand to press into my neck, I notice that my air is cut off. The only thing I can do is choke out one word, "Dolores."

The girly voice is absent as she says, "I am going to give you just this warning, and never a second one. If you interfere in anyway, I will see that you will never do it again."

I am feeling dizzy from a lack of oxygen, and darkness is creeping into my vision. She seems to pick up on my fear as she says, "Frightened, Eleanor? I think you should be."

Dolores is enjoying causing me pain, and she will not release my neck. For once in her presence, I am afraid she will kill me.

"There are so many isolated rooms, and halls in this school. I don't think anyone could hear a plea for help. What if someone should fall ill and collapse? They would not be found hours, or even days." She continues with, "If you were found dead in a room, no one would question what caused your premature death. Let's see, what would they think killed you? I can make your tragic death look like a horrible seizure, or another suicide attempt." Dolores lets out a sickening giggle. "Go run to Minerva, she did not believe you the first time someone wanted to kill you. What makes you think she will believe you now," she asks.

My eyes are beginning roll up inside my head, and I feel she is fulfilling her promise to kill me right where I am standing.

"What Eleanor, no cheeky comeback? This is not up to your usual standards," she says releasing her hold on my neck.

I slide down the wall coughing hard, but my look remains defiant.

Leaving the room she says, " Remember that this is the last warning, next time you may live to regret it. I know everything that goes on in this school."

Sheer terror drives me back to the safety of the Staff Wing, but I do not stop until I collapse on my own bed. I no longer know who to trust, or when to trust them. Dolores is in a position to cause someone to be killed.

The funny wheeze that can snowball into a seizure is being held back by complete will power. I fight the oncoming tide, and I win. The weight of this week's events comes crashing down on top of me, and I just want to hide somewhere until it stops. No one believed me when I was poisoned, so why should they believe me now? Writing to my family now would be very foolish, because all communication is being watched. I feel isolated, and trapped behind the walls of the school.

Daisy puts her muzzle on my shoulder as I lay in bed; She tries to comfort me as I cry myself to sleep. All of the horrible memories are flooding back to me, and I feel like I am drowning in despair.

I find myself walking down a familiar corridor watching for some sort of attack. I see a group walking ahead me, but I am not interested in what they are saying. I hear a strangled yell from a person wearing Aurors's robes, and I run to the source of the sound. There is a sickening feeling of dread as I realize it is Aggie. Although my first impulse it to help her, my first duty is to one of the men standing in front of me. I yell to the people at the front of the line to run into a room down the hall, but I manage to push through the crowd to hurry them along. When the crowd is out of harms way, I turn back to take care of Aggie. Before I can go to her, I realize there is someone standing behind with a wand pointed at me. My first instinct is to defend myself, but he is quicker. He hit me with a curse that cuts across my neck from my right ear, to my left shoulder blade. I hear a succession of sounds coming from my spine. First, there is a soft pop at the base of my skull. Second, a succession of three loud pops. Finally, a snap from between my shoulder blades accompanied by the sizzle of my skin as I fall over. I desperately try to catch myself on the banister of the stairwell, but I strike my head hard on the stairs.

My last thought, "I am going to miss you Aggie."

I wake up in a cold sweat with the sheets twisted around my body, and I begin to cry. I have not had that nightmare in years. The dream is so vivid that I hear Aggie's last cries, the sound of my spine breaking, and the agony of those last horrible minutes of consciousness.

The feelings that have lain dormant all these years are bubbling to the surface. I want these bad feelings to go away, and I cannot find a method. I have grown tired of living with the fear and depression as a constant companion; however, I have difficulty expressing my feelings. The attempts I took on my life were a reaction to feeling isolated, and not wanting to let people know I was dying inside.

As I absent -mindedly run my hand over the scar on my neck, I notice poor Daisy on the floor looking very unhappy about being kicked out of bed.

"Daisy, I am so sorry. Can you forgive me," I ask my traumatized terrier. Daisy curls up in my lap, and waits for me to scratch her under the chin. Her small token of affection chases away the remnants of the nightmare, but the fear is still there.

I did not sleep the rest of the night, because there were decisions to be made.

"Am I going to hang up my life, or hang in there?"

My body tends to rebel violently to a lack of sleep; it is starting a war with me. I have a bad case of the "jerks," and a blazing headache by nine o'clock. So, breakfast is out of the question. Today is Ron's first day of playing keeper for the house team; I need to keep going so that I can support him.

I have known Percy, Ron, and Ginny since the day they were born. All three of them have a strong difference in personality, and Ron reminds me most of his father. Like Arthur, Ron is kind hearted, inquisitive, and very sensitive. Arthur tends to be enthusiastic, but easily flustered when off footed. In this case, the apple did not fall that far from the tree.

When Ron was five, Charlie decided it was time he learned to handle a broom. He was doing fine, until he caught sight of me cheering him on. He lost control of the broom, and hit the oak tree in the back garden. Poor Ron, he ended up with a black eye, and a bloody lip. It took Molly forever to get him to settle down, so she could clean him up.

Two weeks later, Ron was doing well enough to play an easy game of Quidditch in the back paddock. Charlie and Ron were doing well when it was just the two of them; however Ron fell apart when the twins tried to play. He ended up breaking his nose when a Quaffle caught in the face. I sat with him for hours with an ice pack to keep the swelling down.

There was a pattern to his flying issues, and I sat down with Ron to discuss the situation over a few ginger newts and milk. He explained as well as a five-year old can, he was distracted by his brothers, and was afraid of making a fool out of himself. Ron was tired of his brother's teasing, but he wanted to show Charlie how hard he was working. I asked Ron if I could "have a chat" with his brothers, but he did not want it to get worse. I told Ron that everyone has to start somewhere, and to not feel upset. But I let him in on some inside information, the twins could not keep a broom in the air until they were almost eight; however I did not let him know that the real reason Percy hated Quidditch. Percy has a horrible case of vertigo, and the thought of flying a broom left him in tears.

This game seems to get off to a flying start, and this is one of the intense games I have ever seen at this school. The strategy of the Slytherin team is to exploit Ron's weakness of performance under pressure. I have never been to keen on this game, and I definitely not as well versed. I can see that Ron is not keeping to the center of the goals, and this is allowing the Slytherin team to distract him. He is so flustered; he is missing opportunities to prevent the other team from scoring. The Seeker for Gryffindor has stopped chasing the Snitch, and tries to refocus Ron. Harry's teammates are not happy with the strategy. It looks like Harry figures out the only way to stop the slaughter is to get the Snitch. The strategy works and Gryffindor wins the game.

I get a head start on the way to the school, but my exit is cut short by some shouting on the field. Rolanda is separating some Gryffindor and Slytherin players. There are some words exchanged between the four adults. I see a group led by Dolores is stalking up to the castle. Minerva, Severus, and Rolonda in tow.

It looks like I am trailing behind the argument from the field with Harry, George, and Fred, as they make their way to their Head's office; however the last offense that deserved this flair of temper was the "The Swan Lake Affair" with Severus. She was speechless for half an hour, and did not have a clue on how to respond to that one. I was sentenced to a week's worth of detention weeding the Quidditch Pitch, but there was not a requirement to apologize to Severus.

Fifteen minutes later, I see Dolores walk down to the Entrance Hall carrying a piece of parchment, hanging it with the multitudes of other decrees from the past few months.

Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five

"Okay Dolores, we get the idea, you have no sense of originality."

The High Inquisitor will hence fourth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges that may be ordered by other staff members.

"Welcome to the 'Cornelius Fudge's Maximum Security Romper Room' formerly known as, the 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"

" I am putting a sign on the front door: Abandon Sanity All That Enter Here."

A loud throb reminds me of why I was heading into the direction of my bed, but I hear a noise further up the hallway.

"This is a disgrace," Minerva shouts walking up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. I notice she is carrying a copy of the same notice that is pasted in the Entrance Hall, and it looks as though she would love to force feed the sheet to Dolores.

Severus is walking with her, and sounds quite calm. He bravely says, "Perhaps, there is a need for your students to show more self control."

"Your brave Severus, or you are really stupid. Didn't your last run in with an angry female teach you anything? I think pink toe shoes will clash with your robes, but you may need another tutorial."

"Self control! Did you say, self control," Minerva yells, and the need for me to find a place to hide is increasing. She continues with, "You need to teach your student's some common sense, and basic sportsmanship. Now you have gotten what you have wanted all along, The Weasley Twins and Potter banned from playing for life!"

"Now Minerva, you know this was decided by Dolores Umbridge, I had little to do with this," he says with a sickening grin.

Dolores's barring three innocent children over a simple scuffle while playing Quidditch is hitting a nerve in me. You can threaten to kill me, try to choke me to death, and call me suicidal; however, if you mess with a child, especially the Weasleys, you are in trouble. I have found my reason to stand up to Dolores and not worry about the consequences. The Weasley's have been so good to me. Arthur and Molly took me in, and helped me to heal my spiritual wounds. I have known most of the children since the day they were born. I saw them take their first steps, the first words, and to dry their tears. I cannot let them down, because we are family. I realize it is time to teach Dolores a lesson she will never forget. The first thing you are taught in training is to know your target. I really want to give into the pain and go to bed; however, I have more pressing matters. I walk down to my office, unlock the space under my desk, and fill out the behavior profiles of players on the stage of the Wizarding World.