Rumored Nervous Breakdown

I cannot help feeling like I have brought this horrible situation on myself. I find I'm playing the "what if" game. What if I hadn't seen the accounting statements from the general fund at the Ministry? What if I had not taken the teaching job? What if I had taken the rear guard the day that Aggie was killed?

The door opening takes my mind away from its own pity party. Bulstrode has walked into the room carrying her little clipboard. I am stunned when she takes off the restraints.

"Eleanor, I think we have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I think we need to discuss your situation," she says.

"What led you to believe our relationship had a rocky start? Was it when I woke up here strapped down screaming with fear or the incident where Dolores had to dodge my lunch?" I ask.

"I noticed from your file there is a notation saying that you have a nickname," Bulstrode states, while looking through the papers on the clipboard. "Well, I would like to call you 'Nell' instead."

"You can call me anything you want. I really don't care," I mumble and turn away.

"I would just like to talk for a little while today about you." She picks up a self inking quill poised to record our conversation.

"Let me check my social calendar." My voice is dripping with sarcasm; however, I don't think she really cares.

"Tell me what sent you to the children's ward when you were fifteen," she prods.

"Don't they ever read their own files? What is this, Twenty Questions?"

"Okay, I'll tell you." Bulstrode is surprised by this response. I think she was expecting me to say no.

"A classmate tried to poison me, but no one believed me," I tell her. "I thought I might finish the job."

"I cannot imagine that happening at such a prestigious school," she says with interest. "Why would a child want to murder another one?"

"I think it had something to do with ancestry, house affiliation, and the fact I was considered a bit of a 'smart ass,'" I tell her stiffly.

I hear her taking notes urgently on her little clipboard. She seems to be hanging on every word; however, I cannot believe I am being so direct. I hate talking about that time in my life.

"Tell me what he did to you." She directs me to give an answer, but I am unable to articulate a response; no one ever said that something did happen. "Tell me, Nell."

"He had a mate slip it into something of mine, and this caused me to have a seizure that lasted nearly ten minutes; I ended up in a coma. I heard them talking about how they managed to poison me when I was lying on my deathbed," I relate to her. I wait for her to say the words "that's impossible."

"I know of cases where that has happened before. You could have overheard the conversation," she says, patting me on the hand.

I am afraid I have said too much, let her in too close, and allowed her to play head games with me. I decide to shut up while I am ahead.

"Nell, tell me what they said." She wants me to keep going.

"I'm tired, and I don't want to talk anymore," I say, turning my head in the other direction.

"That's all right, I will send Copperbottom in with your breakfast. I would like to continue after you have something to eat," she says.

I stare at the ceiling trying to get a handle on the situation, but I cannot decide if they are just playing head games to gain my confidence. I won't fall for it.

I don't have long to wait for my breakfast, and I come to the realization that I have not had a decent meal in two days. Copperbottom walks in with a tray, and I decide to eat something to maintain my new rapport with my babysitters. I half expect him to spoon feed my meal; however, he sets the tray in front of me to eat on my own.

"Hey garçon, where's the coffee? The service still sucks on this ward."

I inhale the runny eggs, but I hesitate on the lumpy oatmeal. When I finish, I find myself staring at a purple liquid in the glass. I am afraid I will be forced to swallow it one way or another. I wait for something to make me sick or knock me cold, but I am relieved when it turns out to be grape juice that has not been spiked with anything.

"One more head game."

Once he leaves after picking up the tray, I sit up with my chin on my knees waiting for Bulstrode to show up again. I keep staring at the door; I realize I am starved for human interaction. The use of isolation is a technique to break prisoners of war, and now I am experiencing the same treatment first hand at this hospital.

"Another head game."

I must have nodded off, because the opening of the door suddenly catches my attention. Bulstrode walks in with a smile carrying a vase of roses and a teddy bear with the words "get well soon" emblazoned upon its chest.

"Isn't this lovely, your good friend, Dolores, has sent these to you," Bulstrode says in a cheery voice. She hands me the card, and I open up the envelope. It says "You are always on my mind" on the front; the inside message says "Enjoy the roses, your friend, Dolores."

I can feel my eyes water, and I need to tell Bulstrode to get the roses and bear out of the room. This is not out of panic or anger. I'm allergic to roses and Dolores knows that! The entire office at the Ministry knows this, because the Minister sent me roses after I was hospitalized after a seizure. The incident left me wheezing for a week. I can smell Dolores's perfume soaked into the fur of the stuffed animal, and the stench is making me want to vomit.

"Please, take it away," I say insistently, my eyes watering out of control.

"There is no reason to become upset. We really need to work out this anger issue with your dear friend," she tells me, and takes out a handkerchief.

"Please!" I shout.

"Nell, it is time you accept your friend wants to help you." Bulstode seems very insistent that I pick up the bear; however, I recoil away from her, and she places it on my lap. "What a thoughtful thing to do. They smell beautiful, here." She holds a bud up to my nose. The more I pull away, the more she presses me to accept the gift.

"I'm allergic to..." I start sneezing non-stop, my eyes are starting to swell, and I wheeze loudly.

Bulstrode finally catches sight of the hives breaking out on my face and races out of the room with my roses and teddy bear.

She bursts through the door a minute later with a potion, and I swallow it in one gulp; I fall back onto the mattress groaning in agony, because my skin feels like it will crawl away. I want to scream to Bulstrode that Dolores did this out of spite; trying to implicate Dolores in a scheme to harm me would only look like paranoia.

"They have been quoting little facts from my chart, but they miss the notation about flowers! It is in bright red letters pulsating across the page. What idiots!"

The hives are slowly receding, but my face is still very puffy. I am a little annoyed both Healers have decided to sit in the room with me. The antihistamine potion is making me very sleepy. I can feel someone gently stroking my hair as I drift off.

I wake up to the smell chicken soup in my room, but I am in no mood to eat. I am still very itchy and any move amplifies the sensation.

"Nell, sit up and eat some dinner, dear." It's Bulstrode's "Mum Mode" voice. I can feel her put a hand on my shoulder trying to get my attention.

"Where did it come from?" I ask, refusing to turn over.

"What are you talking about?" she asks. "Look at me so we can discuss this properly," Bulstrode demands.

I turn over and sit up quickly. "I want to know who prepared it. The last thing you brought in this room made me sick," I state. "Are you trying to kill me with kindness?" I ask.

"Nell, you should not be paranoid because someone accidentally sends you the wrong gift," she says.

"I'm not being paranoid. Think about it, Bulstrode. Shouldn't a close friend know about an allergy that could injure or kill?" I ask pointedly.

"I think you are blowing this out of proportion," she says, picks up her self inking quill, and the file-laden clipboard. Bulstrode decides to take notes on my responses to the situation.

"Sparky, you couldn't see a conspiracy even if it ran up and bit you in the leg."

"Look, Bulstrode, I will put it in small words so you will not become confused." My voice is developing an edge of anger. "This year at school she has choked me in a classroom, lied about a 'supposed' suicide attempt, blown up a tree, causing a horse to spook and fall on me, and faked my death just to keep me out of her hair. Dolores did not fake my death to save me; she did it to shut me up. My so-called friend has been helping to embezzle funds from the Ministry accounts for years. The same funds that are used to pay for keeping this hospital open."

Bulstrode looks off-footed as she says, "I see how deep your breakdown really is, Nell. Madam Umbridge is a member of this community who is above reproach. I believe this stems from the incident when you feel a classmate tried to poison you."

"So, you are saying I made that one up." I am trying to control the volume of my voice.

"Nell, I feel you have difficulty with trust; you tend to misinterpret the messages others give you," she tells me.

"I give up! The more I tell this woman the truth, the crazier I appear."

Bulstode picks up the bowl of soup and attempts to tempt me to eat; however, I push it away quickly.

"I don't feel well enough to eat," I say quietly. I can see that she has another dose of potion to offer me, and I take it without a word of protest. As I relax, Bulstrode pats me on the shoulder and leaves without a word.

It seems to be morning when I open my eyes to find Copperbottom taking the morning vitals and writing them on his little clipboard.

"How are we feeling this morning?" he asks, looking at the fading rash on my face. "You will need to drink this before I can feed you breakfast." He holds out a small phial, but I refuse to take it.

"What is it?" I inquire suspiciously

"It's your anticonvulsant. Now, take it. I have better things to do," he says impatiently.

It looks nothing like any type of medication I have ever had for my seizures, but I look at his expression. I know he has the advantage of incapacitating me. I decide to obey.

Breakfast is served a short time later, but it is hardly appetizing, and I just pick at it. When you are locked in a room for days at a time, the only things you can do are either mull over your thoughts or pass the time sleeping. I opt for sleeping, because my thoughts just turn darker and darker.

I don't know when I woke up, but I am shocked to my senses by someone calling my name and then saying, "Nell, you need to read this."

Missing Teacher's Family and Estate Filing Suit Against the Ministry

Eleanor April Howard disappeared 22 December, 1995, from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A thorough search of local towns, Hogsmeade, Muggle hospitals, and St. Mungo's failed to produce any leads. A week later, a suicide note and her watch were found outside of the school grounds; however, Ms. Howard's body has never been located.

Her parents, Vivian and Roger Howard, and the Executor of Ms. Howard's Estate, Remus Lupin, have filed separate law suits against the Ministry accusing the Missing Persons Department of mishandling the search for the woman. Documents filed in court have cited the investigation was superficial and failed to follow up on several leads. The Howard family and Mr. Lupin are demanding both an opportunity to examine the suicide note as well as the return of her watch.

In another development, the family and estate are suing the Hogwarts School Board of Governors for the wrongful death of the deceased. The documents charge the School did not do enough to prevent this tragedy by not seeking help for Ms. Howard after a suicide attempt in November.

The legal counsel retained by her parents and the estate executor is the controversial law firm of Dorish and Perks, who have been in litigation with the Ministry for various reasons since 1968. A recent high profile case was a civil action challenging the legality of the new Werewolf Legislation.

Leave it to my father, the lawyer, to look for a way to litigate a situation. I have a feeling Remus picked the firm, because he chose the one that irritated the Ministry and Dolores the most. Dolores pushed most of the werewolf laws, but the courts have delayed many of the more severe ones. I am concerned this could inflame my situation here at St. Mungo's. This is a crack in the wall of conspiracy keeping me hidden. I wonder if Bulstrode and Copperbottom are aware of the article. I am not sure who left this for me, because I did not recognize the voice which woke from a deep sleep. I decide to hide the article between the mattresses; I do not know who to trust.

I don't have long to wait for Dolores's reaction, because she shows up in the late evening. Bulstrode has a strict time for lights out, and I have found this a bit juvenile. I will never complain about this rule after tonight.

The door opens slowly. I can smell the stench of Dolores's perfume. I can hear the familiar creak of Bulstrode's shoes on the floor.

"I just wanted to take a peek in on her." Dolores is quietly working her way over to the bed. I just keep my eyes closed hoping she will go away. "Has she said anything?" she inquires.

"I cannot tell you specifics due to confidentiality. I can assure you, Dolores, she is very angry with you." Bulstode is moving closer to me.

"She only told you she is angry with me?" Dolores asks.

"I am telling you what I am allowed to tell you," Bulstrode says sternly.

I don't think that was the answer Dolores was ferreting for.

"Stupid move Dolores, you take me somewhere to figure out what I know, and then when I say something, Bulstrode cannot tell you a thing. She has a sense of ethics, imagine that?"

"Nell, someone is here to visit you," Bulstrode says gently, stroking me on the head to gain my attention. I give a token grumble, crack open my eyes to acknowledge Bulstode's presence, and I pretend to fall asleep again.

"Oh, Eleanor, I am so sorry about the roses. I forgot about that silly allergy." As she speaks, she pats me slowly on the arm. I would love to reach up and hit her, because her presence is just for show. I will not open my eyes even if she hits me with a Cruciatus Curse. I love it when she cannot get what she wants.

"Why won't she look at me?" Dolores seems disappointed. "Eleanor, can you hear me?" she asks, shaking me gently by my shoulder. "I said I was sorry."

"The apologetic good friend making amends. Go away before I vomit on that tacky cardigan."

"What ever substitute you have located for her to take, does not agree with her. It seems to leave her tired. It is difficult to work on her issues when she is unconscious all the time, Dolores," Bulstrode says. "I have several other potions I need from you now. You were to get them a week ago. She cannot discuss her problems, dead."

"I will tell my source to make a few adjustments. I do want to get to the core of her delusions." I can hear Dolores moving away.

"I am willing to bet who is supplying Dolores with those potions. He is low enough to comply with her."

"Have you been letting her read anything from the papers?" Dolores asks.

"No, I don't think she is ready to look at anything from the outside world. I fear anything brought in from the outside will cause anxiety and paranoia." Bulstrode sounds concerned about me. "Dolores, I have a question I want to ask you. What are you going to do with her once the publicity dies down? I cannot keep her here forever. Nell requires more specialized care than psychiatric treatment, and she should go to a residential setting where her other medical needs can be met." I can feel her stroking my head. It almost feels like a protective gesture. "There is a lovely place you can send her in Wales with a bed open, they are very discrete."

I never get to hear the answer, because both women suddenly leave the room. This is an interesting question, because what will happen to me? Bulstrode's right, I cannot stay here forever. Someone will figure this out, because no patient is allowed to stay on this ward on a permanent basis. Dolores has never been the type to think things through before acting.