Rumored Nervous Breakdown

Even with my head throbbing, I manage to get the behavior surveys for the staff to fill out. The inventories contain questions about self-stimulation, anxiety, and delusions of grandeur. I need to find a way to send them to select staff members without being detected by Dolores. I find an emancipated house-elf named Dobby to deliver the letters; all he wants is a pair of socks.

Dear Colleagues and Friends,

I am very concerned about the potential mental illness of a certain Hogwarts Inquisitor, and the impact it will have on the school. The sheets I have given you contain a behavior inventory, and I need to receive the results within the next seven days. Please answer all questions to the best of your ability; however, if you have any incidental observations, please write them in a letter. Your responses will be confidential, but I ask that you refrain from discussing responses amongst yourselves.

Eleanor A. Howard

Psychological Profiler

I was a pioneer in the Wizarding World in the field of criminal psychology. I went to America on my own for special training for a year, and this effort has paid off. My most famous exploit is the profile I made of Voldemort two years ago; it was put in an Auror training text in several countries. My diagnosis will be beyond question, and the results will be a career killer for Dolores.

I have been walking on eggshells for the past several days; because I fear Dolores would know there is a plot to discredit her. I keep peeking around corners, and keeping my back against a wall when I can. She seems to be everywhere I go and disappears when she catches my attention. If she isn't watching me, Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, is my constant shadow. I fight the urge to stuff her in a vanishing cabinet just to get rid of her for five minutes. Every time the urge strikes, I remember Ginny's obsession with everything feline.

When I was in the second year of Auror training, we had the chance to learn the art of becoming an Animagus. One of my strongest talents is transfiguration, and I found the effort worth it; I make one cute little Jack Russell terrier. I will pay that stupid cat back, when I chase her from one end of the school to the other.

"Sorry, Ginny, I am trying to behave myself."

A distinct feeling of impending doom is hitting my body this morning. I am so overwhelmed by the stress being placed on me. I am sitting on the edge of my bed, and that sinking feeling of a seizure is hitting me. I hope it is one that just makes me space out for a few minutes, and I will have a headache for the rest of the day. My seizures were normally like this as a kid, but they have been gaining in intensity in the past few years.

"Classes start in an hour; I cannot afford to not make it to class. This will give Dolores a reason to escalate her attacks on me."

I have convinced myself that I can fight this one off by will power. I feel the need to just "suck it up" and get dressed for class.

I walk into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, and the air is suddenly sucked out of my lungs. There is a sensation of someone pouring hot tar over my head, and my whole body is beginning to shake. I grab the edge of the sink; my hand slips, knocking a glass to the floor, and the world is beginning to fade. I sense Daisy is near me, because I hear her whining in confusion.

I am beginning to have a sense of the room coming back into focus, and I wonder how long I have been on the bathroom floor. The back of my head is pounding, the pain in my body is unbearable, and there is puddle of blood on the floor from an unknown source. Daisy has her muzzle against my arm in a protective gesture. I roll over on my stomach and try crawling towards the bed; however, my body is too exhausted to remain conscious. The room is becoming darker and I black out.

"What do you mean she did not show up for her class?" I hear from my position on the floor. I am aware that someone is at my door, but I am too groggy to ask for help.

"Our Muggle Studies teacher is obviously too irresponsible to show up for her classes," a muffled voice says from the other side of the door.

"Nell, open the door!" the voice commands. The constant pounding is giving me a headache.

"Maybe she has finally cracked? She's probably overdosed again," a male voice drawls. "Eleanor's always been off balance, you should have let me send her to St. Mungo's weeks ago."

"Well if she has killed herself, I need to go inform the Ministry to hire another teacher," Dolores says in exasperation. "I'll have Filch come down and clean up the mess."

"Nell! Open this door!" the voice commands as pounding continues, and the door handle rattles. "Something is wrong; she is never late for her classes."

"Nell!" the voice yells with urgency. The pounding resumes and Daisy begins to bark.

"Did someone get Poppy?" Minerva asks. "Eleanor April Howard, open this door!" she yells with fear. The last time she called me by my given name was when I put toe shoes on Severus. I hear her say, "You just had to push her too hard, Severus. If I find her dead, I will hold you responsible."

"I'll go find Poppy, I need the exercise," the drawling voice says.

Boom! The door explodes, and the dust flies everywhere.

Daisy runs out of the bathroom barking like mad.

"Nell, where are you?" Minerva asks, looking for where I am lying.

I let out a small moan, because I realize my lower lip is too swollen for speech.

"Nell, what happened?" she asks while walking into the bathroom. Minerva promptly vanishes the glass on the floor.

"I don't know," I say in a slurred tone. Minerva turns me over carefully, puts a towel under my head, and wraps me in a blanket she has conjured. "I'm cold," I manage to mumble through chattering teeth. Breathing is becoming an issue, and I can hear myself wheezing.

Dolores is trailing behind her and says, "See, Severus is right, Eleanor has cracked." she stands over me and says, "Look at all of the blood on this floor." Then she triumphantly asks, "Slit your wrists, did you?"

"I'm sorry it took so long. You know the doors are charmed to not allow anyone in without your consent," Minerva says apologetically.

"Eleanor, get yourself cleaned up, and go to class," Dolores orders and throws a damp washcloth at my head. Minerva snatches it up, and attempts to clean up my face. I suddenly discover the source of blood on the floor is coming from the deep cuts on my arms, but the wounds are resisting Minerva's efforts to stem the flow.

"Dolores, now is not the..." Minerva is cut off by Dolores.

"Eleanor, get up before you stain the floor! Poor Filch, it will take him hours to clean this up," Dolores says with little sympathy. She prods my ankle with her foot; however, when I don't respond, she resorts to kicking me hard in the leg.

"Go away," I mumble in Dolores's direction.

"I am the High Inquisitor; you will appear in class this morning. You cannot take the day off just for little a suicide attempt; all sick leave has to be applied for forty-eight hours in advance. I will be forced to dock your pay," she orders, standing over me.

"Shut it, Dolores," I mumble, feeling very dizzy, and I want to shut my eyes.

"Eleanor, look at me when I speak to you!" Dolores demands, and her voice is echoes painfully around the bathroom.

"Dolores ..." My voice cuts out, because I seem to have lost control of my eyes; they threaten to roll up in my head.

"Why did I leave my wand in the other room?"

I realize Minerva is tapping me lightly on the cheek and says, "Nell, come on, and stay with me. Don't fall asleep."

I am getting sleepy, and I want to be left alone. I cannot figure out why these people are making a fuss.

There is movement at the bathroom door, but I don't have the energy to investigate who is moving.

Minerva has moved my head into her lap and tells the newcomer, "She was awake for a few minutes, and now she won't respond to me. I don't know if it is a seizure, or she has decided to hurt herself."

"Nell, look at me," Poppy says. Her voice is penetrating the darkness, but I want to sleep. I wake up for a moment when she says, "Come on, open your eyes, and tell me what happened."

"Eleanor, get off this floor, you have classes today. Someone just give her Pepper-up Potion and a Band-Aid; there is still time until the next class!" Dolores whines.

"Dolores, if you don't clear out, I will be forced to hurt you!" Minerva yells.

There is a sudden flood of images coming from my right eye. Someone is pulling my eyelids apart. I want to summon the energy to slap at her, but my body is not responding.

I feel Poppy grab my wrist, check for a pulse and then push stray hairs off of my sweaty forehead. "Her heart is racing. How long has she been like this?" she asks someone in a concerned tone.

"Eleanor, you cannot die; all leave must be submitted forty-eight hours in advance!" Dolores announces to the room.

"If I die, I am coming back to haunt you! If you think Myrtle's stunt with Hornby was bad, I will make your life a living hell!"

"Dolores, put your wand away!" Minerva shouts. I feel her move my head back on to the towel. I try grabbing her robes, but I cannot make my arms work.

"As the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, I am taking some executive action. Poppy, I am ordering you to get out of the way!" Dolores screeches. I am being pulled violently by the elbow into a sitting position against the bathroom wall; my head lolls dangerously into my chest. My wheezing is becoming more pronounced.

"Dolores put your wand away!" Poppy orders in panic. "That could kill her!"

"Ennerva..." Dolores starts the spell, but something stops her.

There is a loud bang and then a thud.

"Professor Umbridge, I believe that was unnecessary," Dumbledore says with an edge of anger.

As my hold on the world around me relaxes, I hear Dumbledore's voice, and I sense he is guiding my head back to the towel on the floor.

I am faintly aware of being moved from the bathroom floor, and to my bed. Someone is encouraging Daisy to stay at my side; I find her presence comforting.

I am startled nearly awake by someone touching my hand, but I cannot identify the person. Someone opens my eye, shines a bright light painfully into it and then feeds me some foul concoction in a cup. I feel like I am swallowing burning ash.

I wake again when I feel someone touching my neck for what seemed to be a pulse, but I am too weak to protest. There are some words spoken softly, and I lose the battle to stay awake.

I am able to focus on the room, and I see Severus sitting by the fire with his back to me, oblivious to the fact I am awake; he is busy writing in a notebook. I cannot help but feel like I am one of his repeat customers for torture.

I roll over to find a more comfortable position in an attempt fall asleep, and Severus must have some form of hypersensitive hearing. He gets up from his position at the fire and walks over to the bed.

"I see you finally decided to wake up from your nap. This is one way to have a day off from work," he says in a bored tone.

"Why are you here?" I groan.

"The Head Master is concerned about your episode this morning and has asked for the staff to baby-sit you. He fears you may injure yourself again. By looking at your arm, the fears are justified," Severus sneers.

"Do you think I did this to myself? I believe my past attempts were a little less messy," I explain to him. This confrontation is leaving me exhausted, and I am out of cheeky remarks to deflect his attack.

"Does everyone think I tried to kill myself again?"

Severus grabs my wrist violently while looking at his watch. He says, "It's still irregular, someone should know about this." When he releases my arm, his expression softens, but there is still an edge to his voice. He explains, "I have instructions for you to drink this, and I would appreciate if you do this task quickly." He shoves a potion bottle into my hand roughly while crossing his arms.

I decide to swallow it quickly, because his stare is really bothering me. I choke it down; the taste is revolting, but ten seconds later I am too drowsy to care. The last sounds I hear are the scratching of a quill, the crackling of flames in the fireplace, and Daisy's rasping snores.

I find myself standing in the reception area in the Ministry, because Fudge is having a meeting. Aggie and I are working a double shift, because I have been told someone will attempt to assassinate Fudge as an act of revenge for the imprisonment of former Death Eaters.

"Nell, I hope your informant is wrong. I want to go home and sleep for a month," Aggie says while stifling a yawn.

"I don't think the Death Eater Movement is totally dissolved. Fudge is a target; he represents the Ministry," I whisper. I am worried by Aggie's relaxed attitude, because she easily lets her guard down.

There is laughter coming from the group walking with Fudge. Aggie takes a position in the back of the group, and I walk in the middle of the pack.

There is a loud explosion from the area next to the "Fountain of Magical Brethren."

"Nell, get Fudge out of here!" Aggie screams in panic. There is a bright red flash of light. A second later, it is followed by a deadly green.

"Get into a room!" I order, but my shouts seem to be dampened by the group's conversation. I finally get to Fudge. I push him hard into an office, and I slam the door on the group hiding inside.

I know Aggie is gone, but the urge to be by her side is overwhelming. I give in to my instinct, but my split-second decision leaves my guard down. As I begin turning around, there is a man wearing the mask of a Death Eater. I hear an incantation, and I see a purple flame in my peripheral vision. The flame cuts into my neck, and there are sickening pops coming from my spine.

I hear screaming, but I realize it is from me. I wake up to find Poppy standing over my bed with a damp cloth.

"Nell, it's just a nightmare," Poppy says with a soothing tone, but her words are lost in my panic. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I begin to hyperventilate.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. The rush of images around me is disorienting.

"I came down here to see how you were feeling, and I'm glad I decided to check on you," she says and sits on the edge of the bed, and moves an unhappy Daisy.

"It's Aggie again, isn't it?" she asks, pulling me in a hug.

"Is she able to read minds? Who told her about my nightmares?"

I take a dose of sedative she gives me, because I have an idea she will force feed it to me if I refuse.

When I wake up the next morning, I discover that I am alone. There is a note on my bedside table with instructions to the doses I am expected to take, plus a warning to remain in bed until Sunday.

I look more carefully; there is an envelope filled with the inventories about Dolores. Since I am stuck in here anyway, I might as well analyze them.

It takes me the entire day to look at the forms, and I decide to write up the analysis.

"If something should happen to me, I don't want to take it to the grave."

This Report is Not for Public Distribution

Confidential and Classified

This profile is based on educated speculation using behaviors exhibited by the subjects in this document. Persons profiled in this document were not assessed in person nor tested.

Report Prepared by: E.A. Howard

Certified Profiler #1888 6605890

Dolores is presenting herself as a sociopath personality. She has a grandiose sense of self, and must be at the center of attention at all times. Dolores has a sense of being "entitled" to power, and is using her current position to act as "the long arm" of Cornelius Fudge. She has a lack of remorse from her actions, because of a deep-seated rage toward others. She does not see others around her as human. Through her eyes, people are only targets, or an opportunity to gain power. There are no limits, and she will justify her actions as "the end justifies the means."

Dolores has some of the characteristics of a person with a paranoid personality with narcissist tendencies. She is distrustful of others, and every action is interpreted as a direct threat. She views herself as mistreated, and will seek power over others. Dolores sees herself as having a unique insight into the world and will do anything to protect her "universe."

To: Selected Staff

Re: Risk Assessment

1 December, 1995

Dear Selected Staff,

This document is the analysis of the behavior profiles returned to me. I wish to thank you for your assistance in completing the assessments in a timely manner.

This risk assessment is disturbing; however forewarned is forearmed. Please use this information as a warning to events yet to come.

Dolores is passive aggressive, but she will lash out when provoked. Her paranoia is infectious, and we must recognize the smallest interactions can be seen as a threatening move. Inevitably, she will gather followers who feed into her delusions. In a closed environment like the school, this behavior can turn violent against anyone resisting Dolores.

Please do not share the assessment and this letter with anyone. After reading this document please destroy it to prevent this from falling into the wrong hands.

Enclosure (1)

eh/EH

I decide that I must be brave and eat breakfast in the Great Hall today. I am almost afraid to face my peers, because I don't know how I can face them. As I pull the chair out to sit down, I can feel the weight of everyone's stares at my presence. My face is reddening with shame and embarrassment.

"What do they think of me now?"

Severus is sitting a few seats down the table, and he has a really nasty expression on his face. He seems to be feeding off of my misfortune. As I pull out my chair, Severus reaches over to my place setting and removes the knife and fork from the table. He gives me a twisted smile and mumbles, "Just in case."

I glance down the table to find the entire staff looking for my next reaction; however, I disappoint everyone by sitting down calmly, putting a napkin in my lap, and eating a bowl of oatmeal.

After breakfast, I decide the best course of action is going to class before I say anything stupid or give anyone else something to gossip about. I have hit a new low in self confidence. I do not have a class until after lunch, so I retreat to my office to get my head together.

I am staring down at my desk full of papers to be graded, and I am reminded of the reason I am sitting here. I am here to teach students. I have not been hired to wallow in my own self pity, act like a drama queen, or settle old scores with former classmates.

There are so many little facts about my students that I have tried to share with the other members of the staff. The observations have fallen on deaf ears.

For example, I wonder if anyone has noticed that Gregory Goyle is dyslexic. The poor kid reverses his letters and uses invented spelling. He hides the problem with his poor penmanship. When I tried to discuss it with him, he stormed out of the room in a huff. I wrote Severus a letter earlier this week; however, I am sure he has filed this note in the nearest fireplace.

Speaking of written expression, I have never seen such poor grammar in my life! My mother is a teacher. Although writing has not been my best asset, I can at least keep my verbs in the correct tense. I had to stop grading Pansy's latest assignment, because I became tired of trying to decide on which language it was written in. I wonder if any of the other teachers count off for grammar.

"Hem, hem."

"Great! Fräulein Frog has graced me with her presence."

"What do you want now, Dolores?" I ask with a sigh.

"Eleanor, I am concerned about your behavior. The staff has become concerned that your instability is affecting your job," Dolores says matter-of-factly.

"So what are you going to do about it? Commit me? Fire me? I think that it will be a bad idea to get rid of me," I threaten with a nasty forced stare.

"Are you blackmailing me?" she asks in a whisper.

"Did I say that I have anything that might be incriminating?" I inquire.

"Just watch your step, because I know everything that goes on in this school. Remember my warning, there is more than one way to shut you up," Dolores barks as she walks out the door.

Classes for the rest of the day go by without incident. I walk in to eat my dinner, but I notice my knife and fork are now missing. I look down the table and see Severus with a Cheshire cat grin on his face. I walk over to his seat, snatch the cutlery off his place setting, sit down with a sniff, and start my meal without a word. I know what I have done is childish, but I cannot sit there like a target for humiliation.

I notice that Severus is leaving, and I jump up from the table to run after him. I catch up with him in the hallway to confront him.

"What the hell is your problem?" I shout at him while he is walking away.

He turns to face me without a word. Severus seems shocked that I would confront him.

"I just want to prevent any accidents," he says with a false concern.

"Since when do you care about my well-being?" I ask with an edge in my voice. "Stay out of my life!"

"I am concerned that I will need to have you committed for your own safety," Severus threatens.

"Do it then," I order him and walk away.

Severus is really beginning to irritate me, and he needed to be reminded about what will happen when I am pushed beyond my limits. The memory of our last lesson still makes me laugh.

Aggie and I are walking back to the Great Hall in the spring of my fifth year. I still have problems with climbing the stairs, because Severus's attempt at poisoning me has damaged my heart and muscles.

"Aggie, wait up," I gasp while climbing up the staircase. Aggie stops, but I am concerned her patience with my illness is waning.

"Get out of the way, Nellie," Margie Parkinson demands.

"Don't be rude, Parkinson, we wouldn't want the pathetic Mudblood convulsing on the stairs." I hear someone laugh behind me, but I resolve not to turn around.

"Oh do be careful, if she wets herself, you might step in the puddle," Margie's voice jeers behind me.

"Leave her alone!" Aggie demands.

"Shut it, you pathetic blood traitor!" Severus snaps and looks for Aggie to have a reaction; however, he is disappointed when she does not take the bait.

"The stupid Mudblood may need some encouragement to hurry up; dinner will be getting cold," Margie whines, while throwing stinging hexes at me. I lose my balance, and I am forced to crawl to the top of the stairs. There are students gathering behind him watching from below. There is laughter at the sight of my humiliation.

"Severus, leave her alone," Aggie orders, drawing her wand, but Margie quickly disarms her; however, Severus is not finished humiliating me.

Two stairs from the top, Severus kicks me hard in the back; my head slams into the last step from the landing.

"Don't you dare touch me again!" I warn him, crawling to the landing. I lie prone on the floor, and I pull out my wand discreetly.

"What are you going to do about it, you piece of slime?" he asks, hitting me with another stinging hex at my back. "Nellie, face me and say it again," he demands.

"Never call me, Nellie!" I shout. I have grown tired of being a doormat; he needs to learn some manners.

"Expelliarmus!" I bellow the incantation, catch his wand quickly, transfigure his robes into a pink ballerina costume, and charm the toe shoes to begin making him dance "en pointe". There is laughter coming from the crowd below. Margie Parkinson attempts to run, but she is too late.

I send a tripping hex in her direction, and she falls hard on her belly. Margie looks terrified when I deprive her of a wand. Margie whimpers with fear as I say, "You're not so brave without your boyfriend." I begin to cast a charm, but my wand flies out of my hand. I realize Professor McGonagall is standing behind me with Professor Slughorn, the head of Slytherin House.

"Eleanor April Howard, I am shocked!" Professor McGonagall yells, and her mouth falls open in surprise.

"I am so screwed."

Professor McGonagall sits me down in her office, and she has been rendered speechless for the past half-hour. When she calms down, she walks me up to Professor Dumbledore's office. I am disappointed to see Severus without the tutu, but I fight down the urge to laugh at my own memory.

Dumbledore reads Severus and me the "riot act." We are both sentenced to detention. I have to weed the Quidditch Pitch for a week with a pair of tweezers. Severus gets off easy; he has to clean frog guts off of the dungeon ceiling.

This was the day I liberated myself from Severus's shadow, and gained back my dignity. I was no longer the "Mad Witch of Gryffindor;" I am the "Witch that Kicked Snape's Ass." From that day forward, the Slytherin students stopped teasing me, hitting me with any spells, and lived in fear of becoming a dancer in a tutu.

I return back to my room to discover that my door is not locked. I find Dolores standing in my parlor, grinning from ear to ear.

"Do I need to take out a restraining order on you?" I ask in anger.

She walks over to me and shoves a note in my hand. The contents tell me to be in the Headmaster's office in half an hour.

"Don't be late," Dolores orders as she storms out the door.

Half an hour later, I find myself sitting in Dumbledore's office feeling like a little kid again. Seated in a row in front of the Headmaster's desk are Minerva, Dolores, and Poppy.

"I know what is coming. They are going to do the 'suicide prevention' speech."

Dolores opens up the conversation with that horrible simpering voice. "Now, Eleanor, your history has shown this propensity towards self-harm. The Ministry is supportive of its employees. The incident last week is certainly suspicious in nature; however, the Headmaster feels that this may have been a very unfortunate accident," she tells me in a motherly way.

"Dolores, I don't feel what happened was a suicide attempt," Poppy interjects.

"Hem, hem. I feel that certain precautions should be taken to insure the safety of yourself and the school. I am going to require you to be supervised at some points during the day. I or another person will randomly check up on you daily. As you noticed, I have been able to access your room. I will be checking to make sure you don't have anything that could be used to harm yourself," Dolores tells me authority.

"Are the rest of you going to put up with this?" I inquire to the rest of the room.

"I unfortunately feel this might be a good idea." Dumbledore finally speaks up. "Although, I do not agree for the reason Professor Umbridge has proposed."

"I am thirty-five years old. I think I can handle myself. For the record, I have not tried to injure myself in over ten years!" I proclaim to the group.

Poppy stands up to put her hand on my shoulder. "Your health has become rather frail; I think this is for the best," she says sympathetically.

"Hem, hem. I think this option would be best. Any other way, I would have you placed in another setting. Even if you were to leave, I would be compelled to prevent you from committing self-harm." Dolores delivers this directive with a self-satisfied smile.

I am trapped, unable to fight back, and I have lost credibility with my friends. This brings me back to how I felt after my episode when I was fifteen.

"I cannot wait to see how they divvy up the 'shifts.' I wonder who will be involved on 'suicide watch.'"

This evening I decide to challenge my chaperones to an endurance test. I decide to go play with Ozzy for a few hours. Rolanda Hooch is babysitting tonight, because we normally work our horses together.

I am not worried about Ozzy's behavior. Although he is a brat, he is reliable when it comes to manners. I more worried about Rolanda's ability to control her horse, Gracie. Gracie can be described as 1300 lbs. of stupid, and Rolanda rides her like a racing broom too fast, no control, and without common sense.

From the start, the atmosphere does not seem right. Both animals are spooky, but Gracie seems traumatized by something in the bushes. Ozzy seems to settle down when he decides it takes too much energy to fuss about some invisible creature in the shrubbery. Gracie is taking full advantage of Rolanda, and I cannot take the constant misbehavior. It was time to get a handle on this mess so I decide to make a swap.

"Well, I guess I need to live up to my suicidal reputation. I think my Auror's retirement plan will pay out, because there is no suicide clause. If I live through this one, I think I will read the fine print more closely."

I manage to get on and walk around for a minute, and I think about just getting off; however, there is a flash of light, and a tree explodes about fifty feet in front of us. Gracie attempts to bolt, but my attempt to stop her progress is making things worse.

Gracie slams my leg into the boards of the fence when she loses her balance. The only thing I feel is the burning of my knee and the sheer terror of Gracie falling on her side.

I wake up a few hours later lying in the Hospital Wing with a bandaged knee and a bad headache. Unfortunately, the "Pomfrey Putrid Potions Radar" has zeroed in, and I am forced to swallow some horrible concoction that nearly knocks me cold.

As I am in the twilight of a potion-induced relaxation, there is a presence next to the bed. I feel someone cover my mouth; there is the sickening smell of rose perfume.

"I warned you not to interfere, Eleanor," Dolores says in a threatening whisper. "I know about the little stunt with your letter to the staff. That old nag of Hooch's did not seem to like my fireworks display. I meant to hit you with that hex, but my aim just isn't what it used to be," she says with a childish giggle.

The sedative has taken its full effect, and my eyes roll up in my head. "I warned you there is more than one way to shut you up," Dolores says with a snigger. I hear the laughter echoing in my head as I sink into oblivion.

Today is one of the worst days in my life. I return to my regular routine, but this means going to eat breakfast with everyone else. I am tired of the stares and pity parties. This whole incident has left me labled as suicidal, accident prone, and someone seeking attention. I am not suicidal; however, I do tend to be accident prone due to my lack judgment. I certainly do not want any more attention from anybody. I feel like a disaster waiting for a place to occur. Who is going to believe what happened was not an accident? I would not believe me either. I would love to go screaming through the hallways telling the entire school that I am not crazy, and Dolores Umbridge is narcissist with homicidal tendencies.

"I guess that bed in the upstairs psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's is available for reservations. I ought to commit myself before someone else does."