Rumored Nervous Breakdown

It's only a couple of weeks before the Christmas holidays, and I cannot wait to get away from the school. "Nell-Watch" has become part of my daily routine; however, that does not make it any easier to stomach. I am tired of the insinuation that I will hang, poison, or throw myself off one of the towers, or all of the above at the same time. I think the last option is the most entertaining. Although overdosing is now out of the question, I don't have free access to my medication. I have to report to Poppy like I did when I was fifteen.

This morning, Dolores has decided we need to have a "staff development" session about raising the academic standards of the school. I would love to say that the way to raise standards is to throw Dolores in the lake; however, we might be arrested for animal cruelty against the Giant Squid.

I am sitting in the staff room waiting for our meeting to start. You can cut the tension with a hacksaw. The personal relationships are strained within the staff. I think everyone has grown tired of my drama. Severus keeps throwing nasty stares in my direction; I have this urge to throw the cup of coffee in my hand at his face.

The door to the staff room opens, and a happy Dolores comes bouncing into the room. It makes me wonder which teacher she has managed to torture today. From looking at the missing faces in the staff room, I am worried that it might be Hagrid or Trelawney.

"To raise the academic standards of this school, I am expecting all of you to turn in written lesson plans," Dolores says.

A sense of mutiny is invading the room. Minerva has been here so long; I think she has her lessons scheduled out without thinking.

"Get a lesson plan out of Severus, I don't think so. That would mean that he would need to release his 'hit list' of students for the day."

"The plans should include all lessons from January to June." She is drinking in the discontent like a fine wine.

"I take this is to gain approval that our plans follow your new policies?" Minerva asks.

"I believe it is to ensure that our students are receiving the appropriate information and not some manufactured lies about the Ministry." Dolores looks like an animal raising its hackles when addressing Minerva's question.

"I would like to see your future lesson plans, but anyone can predict the content without even looking," Minerva retorts.

"Hem, hem. I would like to see your plans on my desk before the end of the week," she demands.

"Break out the Kitty Krumbles, because the fur is about to fly."

Dolores runs on for about an hour on proper planning procedures and gives handouts on the new standards set up by the Ministry. I pretend to take notes on the paper, but I am generating a list of ways to annoy Dolores.

I realize that I have been lost in my own self-stimulation, but I am brought to my senses when I hear my name mentioned.

"I wish to thank the staff in assisting the Ministry in her recovery from her breakdown a few weeks ago," Dolores announces.

I am mortified; however, I should have seen this coming. I finally lose my temper and several weeks of pent up anger come to the surface.

"Dolores, to set the record straight, I did not try to kill myself, nor did I have a breakdown. I think the staff should be questioning your sanity!" I shout, and then I run out of the room in tears. I do not stop until I make it to my office. I am glad Dolores called a meeting so early in the morning, because I do not want the kids knowing how divided the staff is.

I put my head on my desk and several weeks of misery pour out of my soul. Someone knocks on my door; however, I don't look up.

"Nell?" someone asks quietly.

"Oh damn, it's Albus Dumbledore. This is just what I need, a one way ticket to St. Mungo's."

"I am not interested in packing my bag for a long holiday at 'Spa St. Mungo's,' thank you very much," I say, trying to control my emotions.

"I'm sorry about the supervision, but we are only looking out for you. I think you are blowing this out of proportion," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I think that it is the other way around. I have been dealing with my health problems since the age of twelve, I don't feel like killing myself, and I am getting tired of the pity parties," I say quietly, but I refuse to meet his gaze.

"Why don't you come by and see me later. In the meantime, I'll have someone check up on you," he says and walks out the door.

"Albus Dumbledore can be one of the most insensitive people on earth! He doesn't get that he is making me worse. He does not see that I am being pushed closer to the edge. I don't think he realizes that the school is crumbling under his feet. I don't think he cares. I thought he would have put up a fight by now. Is he losing his nerve?"

Dolores walks into my office as he leaves, and I wish I had not blown him off.

"Hem, hem. Eleanor, it has become obvious that you have become completely unbalanced. I feel that one more delusional incident will result in involuntary commitment to St. Mungo's," she says, looking like butter would not melt in her mouth.

"I'll be expecting that no matter what I do, you will find away to get rid of me," I say.

"I am just warning you. One more thing happens, and I will have you locked away," she tells me.

In today's classes, I announce that I will be meeting with students who are failing or in danger of failing. There will be the normal letters home, and the letter to their Head of House.

"I cannot wait to see what Dolores will do when she finds out Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle are failing."

I have grown very fond of both students; however, I do not believe in passing students when they have been unable to complete course requirements. I am tired of seeing this class taken as a joke or a soft option.

The weekend has finally arrived, and I have made it two days without any major drama. Unless you count the paper cut I got in the staff room on Friday. I could not find a band-aid, and I was not going to ask for one from Poppy. I found one in a disused desk that had "Martin the Mad Muggle" on it; I kept my hands in my pockets for the rest of the day to hide this before they think I tried to slice myself open.

"I can see the headline, 'Hogwarts Professor Commits Suicide With A Lethal Paper Cut!'"

Daisy and I decide that staying indoors in front of a fire is a wonderful way to spend a Saturday. I left word with a baby-sitter that I will be in my room for most of the day. I am a little shocked no one has come down to find out what I am up to. I find myself riding a fine line about my drama, and the last thing I want is calling more attention to myself.

I hate Sunday evenings, because this means the next morning I will be forced to deal with Dolores on a direct basis. She seems to leave the teachers alone during the weekends; however, she makes up this time with some stupid meeting Monday afternoons.

I have a coffee mug with a muggle cartoon cat character which says, "I hate Mondays."

I think that sums up my feeling during my first class. The students are restless for some reason. I have trouble keeping them on task long enough to complete their assignment. I know they have Dolores after my class, but I wish they would not take their frustration out on me. Their discontent has grown exponentially as the holidays draw near. I have a feeling it will only get worse as we move into the Spring.

The class after lunch is not an improvement, because I have two nosebleeds, and a student uses the rubbish can to regurgitate his lunch. From what I saw when I went to get my medication over the past few days, there has been a rash of the stomach flu, violent nose bleeds, and kids passing out left and right. The Hospital Wing resembles a war zone.

Dolores does not disappoint us this evening. I walk through the staff room door, and I see stacks of large books with the title, "Ministry of Magic Academic Standards." The books are at least three inches thick with rich leather binding.

"How many cows sacrificed their lives for this travesty of the written word."

"Hem, hem. The Ministry has seen the need for you to toe the line when teaching your classes. I expect you to cite each standard you are using in your lesson plans. Failure to use any of the requirements stated in the book will result in having me to personally assist you with adhering to the regulations," Dolores says.

Dolores has micro management down to an art form. Along with the books, she hands out color-coded flip charts, lesson plan templates, and a sheet on the correct vocabulary to use in the classroom. Apparently, the Ministry finds that we are not only incapable of teaching, but we lack the ability to use the English language.

"I can see it now, Severus Snape bent over a flip chart looking for a Ministry-deemed appropriate verb to psychologically scar some poor child for life."

I look around the room to see everyone's reactions; however, no one has said a word. I think we just hope that she will turn us loose if we just keep our mouths shut.

"I expect a rough draft of your January lessons by eight a.m. on Monday," she says, waiting for some response. She seems disappointed when we do not protest, and we are dismissed to go on with the rest of our evening.

I really do not feel well, and I know why. The train wreck that starts with the wheeze and jerk is looming in front of me. I have been keeping any problems away from the rest of the staff. All it will take is one more incident. I will be locked away for my own safety if there is one more bit of drama.

I decide to skip dinner to head straight to my bedroom, because I know that no one will come looking for me until the middle of the meal. No one will ever know about this one, and I can continue as if nothing ever happened.

"I don't think it is fair that I have to deal with this alone. One more incident is going to push everyone into making assumptions about me that are not true. I have not done a thing wrong to deserve this treatment. I feel like I am either in a crisis or totally ignored."

This morning I wake up with a headache, bloody nose, and a rather large chip on my shoulder. I am in no mood to deal with anyone today, especially Severus. He always seems to know when to push my buttons.

He is walking down the hallway towards his classroom, and I pretend not to notice his presence. He steps in front of me forcing me to stop.

"What do you want?" I ask him.

"I just wanted to warn you that there is a good chance you will spend Christmas locked away in St. Mungo's," he says quietly. "The staff is concerned that you are going to do something rash. I agree that your behavior is more disturbed, and your history suggests you are becoming delusional again."

"I don't care. It would be a welcome relief not to look at you every morning," I tell him with an edge of anger.

"I take your levity for this situation as a sign of a breakdown." He has a twisted smile on his face.

"I'm warning you, stay away from me!" My shout echoes around the corridor.

Dolores pops around a corner with a sticky smile on her face. "Anything wrong?" she asks.

Severus beats me to answering her question. "We were having a friendly chat about our plans for the upcoming holiday," he says smoothly.

Dolores gives him a quick smile, and decides to move on; however, I have a feeling she is listening in around the next corner.

I start to walk away before I say something I might regret, but he grabs my arm.

"Didn't I warn you not to touch me again? Stay away from me, or you will regret it. I don't care what you do from now on," I say, as I roughly jerk my arm away from him.

I manage to make it through the end of the week without interacting with Severus. The holiday is only a few days away. I notice my papers and possessions are constantly being moved. I realize someone is looking for more than my potential weapons to kill myself. I have put the nasty little secrets of the Ministry out of my mind. I realize someone may be looking for my potential to blackmail Fudge.

In the winter of this year, I noticed there was money missing from a common fund used to pay for services that were contracted outside of the Ministry. I decided to make sure this was not due to someone who does not understand how to move a decimal point. There was some creative accounting to pay Lucius Malfoy for non-existent consultation fees for fundraising events which never took place. I found my discovery would be suppressed, because it was potentially embarrassing. To make matters worse, Dolores's signature countersigned most of the receipts. After my blow up the day I left, I managed to throw the file into my box while she was distracted with telling me off.

I have decided to move the paperwork from a compartment under my desk to the back of the portrait of the "Master of the Hounds." I hope it will remain there unnoticed. I did not want to risk sending them to another party.

This morning is the last official day of the term, and Dolores seems to be put out by some event that has taken place. No one seems to know what her problem is this morning, but I really don't care. She has been shouting nonstop at the staff about missing students and conspiracy theories. My main objective is to stay out of her way.

I have not even started packing when Dolores storms into my bedroom. She is carrying a letter in her hand, and she looks livid.

"Hem, hem."

"So, Dolores, what have I done now?" I ask.

"Why did you conduct this audit?" she inquires.

"How am I going to talk my way out of this one?"

"What audit?" I ask innocently, but she violently thrusts the letter in my hand.

It is an authorization to release files to my office for an audit. I have no idea how she got hold of this, but right now I just want to put some distance between the two of us.

"I am so screwed."

"The original paperwork is missing, and you were the last one that handled it, Now, where is it?" She looks like a snake poised to strike. She continues, "No one will believe you, Eleanor."

"Why don't we find out who will be believed right now, Dolores?" I ask.

Dolores charges me before I can even move an inch. There is a bright flash then everything seems to fade away.