Rumored Nervous Breakdown

The trip back to school seems to happen in a blur, and I suddenly find myself standing in my new bedroom. I am not taking up my old residence in the Staff Wing. The substitute teacher still lives there for another two weeks; it would be inappropriate for me to move there at this time. Since I arrived a few hours ago, I have noticed that the staff seems to regard me with an air of pity and fear of my dropping dead at any moment. I have a feeling that only a few really know the entire story about what has happened over Christmas.

When I arrived here this morning, the first thing that happened was a short meeting in the parlor of my quarters near the Hospital Wing with Dumbledore, Minerva, and Poppy. We have decided that when talking to the press, I would have no memory from the day before I left the school to the day I was found at St. Mark's.

As I walk through the Staff Room door for a quiet luncheon with some of the teachers, I find myself suddenly pulled off to one side by a large pink blur; a bright flash of light announces my arrival into the room.

"Wonderful!" someone exclaims with excitement. "This one rates the front page! Now, Miss Howard, you can show a bit more emotion at seeing your friend again."

Dolores has on iron grip on my shoulder, but the more I fight to get away from her grasp, the harder she holds on to me. I am struggling with the urge to curse her. I know this is one of her PR stunts, and I know I will be in the Daily Prophet in the morning.

"Eleanor, I have missed you so much," she exclaims, and plants a kiss on my cheek.

"Let go of me, you twisted Hag, before I wipe that smirk off your face permanently."

"Miss Howard, how does it feel to be reunited with the staff? What are your plans concerning maternity leave?" the idiot reporter asks me. He seems to be bubbling over with excitement.

I finally get a chance to clear the air about the "baby issue," and I tell him, "The reports concerning the birth of my child are false; I am not now, nor have I ever been pregnant."

"So, tell our readers what really happened," he says expectantly.

"I don't remember," I snap.

"Did you become inebriated at some get-together and wander off?" he asks accusingly, tapping the pad of paper with the end of his quill. The ink is being cast off, staining the cuffs of his shirt. "Were you so ashamed about this that you ran away?"

"I don't drink, so I find that quite improbable," I say with obvious irritation. I notice Dolores has finally released me. "I don't remember any events from the day before the holidays to the day I woke up at St. Mark's." I feel my temper rising up like a snake about to strike.

"Hem, hem. Oh, this is such a tragedy for my beloved friend," Dolores says, pulling out a tissue to wipe away imaginary tears. "Amnesia is such a horrible situation to endure." She sniffles into the tissue, blows her nose, and wipes away another imaginary tear.

"Could your problems stem from the same type episodes that sent you to the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo's?" he asks, fishing for some tidbit to use against me.

I notice Severus's amusement as the reporter continues to badger me for answers. I know he is bursting to say he saw me at the "Ministry Funny Farm." He has his mouth cocked in a barely discernable smirk.

Minerva seems unable to stomach much more of this as she says, "I think that is enough for her, and it is time you should leave."

The reporter and photographer pack up their gear. Before they leave, I can see the reporter shooting me poisonous looks.

"Hem, hem. Let's take time to review some procedures put in place since some staff members went missing," Dolores says pointedly, tapping her stubby wand on a blackboard behind her.

The words form in cursive writing seen in the assignments handed in by love-sick female adolescents.

I desperately want to make some cheeky remark, but I know the result would have me packed off to St. Mungo's faster than one can say "delusional."

"Hem, hem. Now that we have gone over the procedures for this term, I would like to express the importance of supporting our Eleanor in her recovery. Please remember that pressing her for details could harm her delicate psychiatric state," Dolores says, her voice is sickeningly sweet. "Shall we enjoy this delicious lunch?"

I knew she would say something like this; however, my guess at her behavior does little to soften the blow. I look around to read the expression of everyone in the room. Everyone seems to be treating Dolores like a refugee from a Dragon Pox quarantine ward.

Minerva and several teachers walk over to talk to me as if it were any other day at the school. Everyone seems to be making it a mission to shun Dolores during this function. Severus hovers in the background surveying the scene around him. I have a feeling he is waiting to make comments when he can catch me on my own.

Lunch seems to fly by without me getting a meal. I suddenly realize how badly unaccustomed to activity I have become, and I make my way back to my room for a badly needed nap.

"Eleanor Howard, the professional victim and drama queen makes her way back to Hogwarts," Severus's voice calls out behind me.

I desperately want to turn around to tell him off, but I am too tired to think of a nasty comment so I keep on walking.

"Why did you come back? Was it that pathetic need for attention or is this another way for you to commit suicide?" he asks, and I stop to face him.

"Why should you care?" I ask, venting my pent-up emotions on him. "You had every opportunity to get me out of the Isolation Ward over Christmas; however, you were so stuck on yourself, the effort to tell someone was beneath you."

"You are clearly delusional," he says, but his voice lacks the conviction of a true insult.

"You say I'm delusional. Tell me how do I know that Flickwick found my wand under a dresser, Minerva spent all night in the Hospital Wing after that note was found, or that I had Remus, how did you say it, 'chasing his tail' over my disappearance?" I inquire, making sure that each word is driven into his soul like a nail being hammered into a coffin lid.

"Your mind is playing tricks on you, Eleanor," he says.

"Bedside confessions, Severus?" I ask. "You might want to talk to a therapist the next time you want to bare your soul instead of telling someone on their deathbed."

"Obviously, your mind has been unbalanced by some process over the holiday," he states, and crosses his arms angrily. "You may need to return to an Isolation Ward at St. Mungo's for your own good."

"Hem, hem." Dolores's cough echoes from another hallway. I can tell by the footfalls that she is not far away.

"Eleanor, shouldn't you be resting? We need you to be at your best for the students," she says with false sweetness, and she pats me affectionately on the cheek.

"Severus, I wanted to tell you that I had dinner with the Malfoys last night in Hogsmeade. Lucius wanted me to send you his highest regards," Dolores says, glowing with excitement.

Dolores is continuing her story about her night out with the Malfoys, and I decide to walk away before I vomit from an overload of Dolores's sugary-sweet commentary. I manage to make a dash for the safety of my bedroom.

I have slept solidly through dinner, and I wake up to the fussing of Poppy; I did not eat the entire day. This makes medication very hard to keep down. I have managed to hold down a bit of toast and weak tea. I just want everyone to leave me alone. I have not had a sound night's sleep since I left school before Christmas.

This morning, I find the standard breakfast waiting for me. But, there is a copy Daily Prophet sitting next to the tray. When I open up the folded paper, I see that Dolores and I did make the front page. My photographic counterpart is struggling furiously against Dolores's vice-like grip. I realize how tired and drawn I must have looked that day.

Controversial Return of Teacher to Hogwarts

Eleanor Howard, 35, returns to her position as the current Muggle Studies teacher after her disappearance over the Christmas Holidays. The only evidence to her potential whereabouts was an antique watch and suicide note found outside the front gates of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An extensive search was launched; however, there were no other clues to where and why she disappeared. On Friday, 26 January, Ms. Howard mysteriously reappeared in the lobby of St .Mark's Hospital in London incoherent and suffering from convulsions.

Geoffrey Fellows, head investigator for the Missing Persons Division, was unable to ascertain the sequence of events from the day she disappeared to her discovery in the hospital lobby. Fellows discussed with this reporter, "Ms. Howard has no concept of where she was during her absence over the holidays. She and her family were uncooperative with this inquiry. When questioned about her absence, Ms. Howard refused to answer any questions, and her father assaulted me when I attempted to discuss matters further with the subject of the investigation."

During a press conference with the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Umbridge, it has been revealed that the alleged motive behind Ms. Howard's disappearance may have not been due to a tragic love affair and pregnancy. She discusses that Ms. Howard's amnesia may be due to psychiatric reasons. The returning teacher has an extensive history of depression, anxiety, and paranoid tendencies. For which, the High Inquisitor has facilitated professional help for her closest friend. She says, "I have an excellent professional who will be coming to the school to help my dear Eleanor in her recovery from any trauma she might be going through."

The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was not present at the news conference but has released this statement: "I am pleased to have our beloved friend and colleague back among us. She is a highly gifted teacher who provides her students with the knowledge and support to succeed."

Several parents have expressed concern with the allegations of questionable personal and professional conduct. One parent, Lucius Malfoy, expressed concerns about her personal choices. This reporter's research has found validity in the concerns of the parents. There are eyewitnesses that say they saw her in the company of many gentlemen during school visits and patronage of local drinking establishments during the school year.

I throw down the paper in disgust. I am owling my lawyer, and the Prophet will be hit where it hurts the most, in their vault at Gringotts. I guess shutting me in a psychiatric ward did not work, so the Ministry is forced to ruin my character. I hope my parents don't see this, because Dad may forget about filing an injunction and settle for throttling the reporter. I still have two weeks of free time to deal with my anger at the paper; I am going to make their lives a living hell.

There is a sharp knock at my door, and I really want to ignore it. I know that the door will be blown apart if I don't answer quickly enough. I open the door to find myself face to face with Filch holding a letter in his hand. I notice the ink is blood red, and it makes my skin crawl.

"This is from the High Inquisitor. Don't be late," he barks without respect. I pull the envelope roughly from his hand and open it. Filch retreats down the hallway without another word.

Eleanor,

You are to report to my office for a meeting in one hour to discuss some measures put in place due to your return. I wish to share some reservations I have about having such a controversial employee working around the students

Dolores Jane Umbridge

Hogwarts High Inquisitor

I know her office is five flights up and on the other side of the school. I decide I need to get dressed quickly, because it will take me awhile to get there on time.

I make it to Dolores's office out of breath and a little late. I open the door to a room with those horrible kitten plates, garish pink paint, and an obscene amount of lace doilies littering the room. There is a roaring fire leaving the room very hot and stuffy.

"You are not starting out on a good note, Eleanor. You are late as usual," she says from behind her desk. She is scribbling notes on that tacky paper of hers.

"Dolores, you are five flights up and across the school from the Hospital Wing. You gave very short notice to get up here," I say with irritation.

"Your return has brought forth some serious issues that could harm the image of the school and Ministry. I am concerned about your unstable temperament and possible poor morals. Eleanor, you are exposing the students to a considerable amount of danger," she says behind her desk, resting her elbows on the faux antique finish.

"Danger, Dolores?" I inquire.

"Let's start with the simple things that show a questionable past," she says, leaning forward to grab my right arm, which was resting on the desk. I have my sleeve rolled up slightly, revealing the ugly reminder of November's accident. There are five slash marks that are still very angry and raised despite Poppy's best efforts.

"I want these covered up at all times," she says, pushing my sleeve toward my elbow. "They are disgusting, and I've heard that suicides are contagious in a setting like this. What example are you setting? I don't want students to think that being so cowardly is acceptable. Speaking of cowardice, I don't like it when you wear your hair up. It shows that horrible scar on your neck. Why were you attacked from the back? Were you afraid of defending the Minister from a killer?" she asks.

"You're calling me a coward, Dolores?" I inquire, and pull my arm violently from her grasp. "Who was the first one out the door when spells started flying?" I ask pointedly. "I seem to recall you nearly ran Fudge over in your haste to save your own arse."

"How dare you?" she asks, puffing up like a pink porcupine. "I will not tolerate any disrespect from you. I have decided you and I will have twice weekly meetings to discuss any issues you may be having in the classroom. Your therapist will be there to assist me in the process."

"You're volunteering to participate in group therapy with me, Dolores? I'm touched," I say to her with sarcasm.

She seems to blow off my comment and says, "I will be conducting surprise inspections weekly. I forbid you to assign detentions, make parent contacts, or conduct meetings without my express permission. Goodness knows what you could do or say that might endanger the prestige of the school. I will be keeping watch on where you go while in residence. If you wish to go down to the village, it will have to be when the students are released for a visit. That way, you will be unable to slip off to do who knows what with some scoundrel or another. I cannot risk another controversy because of your poor personal choices in relationships," she says self-righteously

"Dolores, I am not an 'irresponsible whore' as painted in the Daily Prophet!" I shout, jumping to my feet and pounding hard on the desk with my fist. "Let's put the cards on the table. I am very aware of the events that took place at St. Mungo's during the holiday, and the truth will come out eventually,"

"Sit down!" she shouts. "I will not be addressed like this."

I remain on my feet and say, "You are going to do anything to discredit me, but the truth will come out eventually. We have five months left in the school year, and I know that I will be leaving here either in a coffin or under my own power. I am not tied down here like some of the others. I am sure you will be informing me of my new schedule. Until then, you know where to find me." I turn away from the desk and slam the door behind me.

I walk out into the hallway to return to my room, but I turn around when a shadow falls over my shoulder.

I hear a sniff of a laugh and a familiar voice says, "The drama never ends with you, does it? You cannot be happy unless you are at the center of a crisis," he says.

"Shut it," I say, and I turn to face him. "I didn't ask for this. If you were so sick of my drama, you shouldn't have come to help Dolores keep me around. No Nell, no drama. But, I guess such simple reasoning for you would strain that one last brain cell not damaged by years of potion fumes."

"Eleanor, there will come a point when you will run out of allies, and there will be no one to come find you, not even Lupin," he says in a low tone.

"That's my problem, isn't it?" I ask, and continue my journey down the hallway.

I suddenly feel my body taking the full impact of the incredible amount of stress brought on by my return to school. I can feel my heart pounding hard as I manage to make it back within one hallway of my room. I know that I am within a few feet of safety as I feel my breath catch and that all too familiar feeling of being dunked in a bath of hot tar. Sounds from several floors below are echoing painfully in my ears while my eyes lose the battle with my out-of-control nervous system.

"I just cannot afford any more drama. All they see is a walking textbook entry for a brain disorder."

"Nell," someone calls to me. "Nell, open your eyes, dear."

"Oh, god, no. I am either invisible or on fire!"

I am very tired, and I know if I open my eyes I will start crying. This just means one more thing someone can use to prove that I am a drama queen. I find myself attempting to drift off to sleep again. I have never understood the need to sleep like the dead after a seizure. I always have a vivid dream when this happens. My dreams usually contain a memory from a previous day; they are so lifelike, I cannot tell if they are real or not.

"Hem, hem. I was wondering why several of you did not turn up at today's faculty meeting," I hear Dolores say, causing me to come painfully back to reality. "What is the matter now? Did she have a panic attack, try killing herself, or did Eleanor get drunk and fall over?"

"Please tell me this is one of my nightmares and not Dolores in the flesh."

"Dolores, this is not one of your useless multiple choice tests; however, if you insist on a pop quiz, I will pick the choice lettered as 'none of the above,'" Poppy says, and I feel something hit my forehead with a burning sensation. I just cannot summon the energy to pry my eyelids apart.

I cannot believe that I have just pushed myself so far emotionally that I would allow the stress to overwhelm me. I am not weak because this has happened; however, I should not let someone else push my buttons. I know that I will become sick again, but I should not help it along by allowing Dolores to push me to my limits. I must be on the offensive instead of waiting for her to attack. I am in the same position I was in my fifth year at this school; I am angry, unable to find some sense of control, and giving permission for others to run all over me.

I am being subjected to pity parties from Minerva and Poppy. I feel more like an injured puppy looking for comfort than a colleague.

I spend the entire night in the Hospital Wing thinking about my next move. I cannot make Dolores's mistakes of not looking at the road ahead or contingency plans. She tends to act on impulse because of her emotions. I am going to watch the activity around the Master of the Hounds painting and find an opportunity to remove the paperwork. Until that time, I am going to put the wheels of justice in motion. What Dolores has done with the money is a criminal offense, but my cry of "foul" will be lost in her ability to cover her sorry arse. I am going the civil court route, because Dolores will be forced to be on the defensive. She does not plan for all contingencies, and she will be blind-sided by this tactic. I will chip away her best weapon, the Daily Prophet. I know there is a good possibility that I can slap them with a gag order by filing suit for libel. I can appreciate what Potter and Dumbledore must be going through right now. The Prophet is the mouth piece behind Fudge and Dolores. For some strange reason, people tend to believe that words printed on a page must be true and should not be questioned. I see the people of this community being herded like sheep to their doom, because they do not question the world around them and content to take the path of least resistance. Why fight the tide, when you can just let it sweep you along? They will fight me tooth and claw, but I am not going to give up easily.

Dolores will be another story, because she does a good job of snowing everyone; however, I can find a way to use those receipts to shut her up quickly. Unlike the Prophet, she takes the passive aggressive route. I just cannot risk tipping my hand too soon. I cannot leave her room to duck and dodge the truth.

I know that her plan is to keep me from going down to the village to visit, but she did not say anything about inviting someone up here. She cannot deny my right to visit my lawyer. If she puts up a fuss, it just brings more attention to her underhanded tactics for controlling the staff.

I have decided to contact my lawyer. I know Dolores is checking the post; she will not want me to get an owl from the village, or let me near the Floo Network. She won't be able to stop me from revising my will with legal council. It is common knowledge that any situation has the potential for killing me. How horrible would it look if she does not allow me to put my affairs in order?

To The Office of Dorrish and Perks:

As you know, my health has been very unpredictable. Several problems were found in the format and contents of my will. My executor and parents did not have certain provisions for disposal of my debts and property. I did not leave special instructions for property dispersal, burial instructions, or the conversion of some funds to be deposited in my parents' Muggle financial institution. I wish to settle these issues in the next week to be filed with probate court. I would like you to come to meet me at the school, because I am not able to handle a journey down to Hogsmeade.

Eleanor April Howard

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