Rumored Nervous Breakdown

It has been several days since I left the Hospital Wing and owled Dorrish and Perks about revising my will. I am planning on working on the document, but I will find a way to use this opportunity as a vehicle of putting the wheels of justice in motion.

It is very early in the morning, and I cannot stay in bed any longer, so I decide to pull on a dressing gown and sit in front of the fire to mull over my thoughts. There is a pounding at my door, and I jerk it open to reveal a very angry Dolores holding a torn envelope in her hand addressed to me.

"Why do you need to see a lawyer?" she asks, pushing the letter violently into my hand. I notice that she must have dressed in haste, because her cardigan is misbuttoned, her hair is not curled in its normal fashion, and she has not put on any make-up to disguise the age spots on her face.

"Dolores, I am sure you have read the contents of the letter; I need to revise my will to make some changes," I tell her, and motion her into the parlor. I am worried that our conversation will be overheard by the students.

"You are not allowed to visit with others without permission and this extends to the school," she says in a self righteous tone, as she sits down heavily on the chintz sofa. "I want to be there to prevent you from getting into mischief or do something embarrassing that could harm the school's image," she says. "Look at the Prophet from two days ago; the parents said they saw you running around with men and drinking. You are too irresponsible to be out in public."

"Dolores, it seems to have escaped your attention that I am not exactly the healthiest teacher in this school. There are problems with my will. I need to make certain provisions for the distribution of my property."

There is a long pause as Dolores searches for a comment, and a loud pop from the fireplace causes me to jump slightly. It is difficult to figure out Dolores's moods or possible actions, because her behavior is unpredictable. I am poised to pounce should she go on the offensive.

"I want to be there to prevent you from getting into mischief or doing something embarrassing that could harm the school's image," she says.

"Sorry, Dolores, there is something called 'Attorney-Client Privilege.'" I watch her expression change from a pious look of triumph to one of boiling anger. "That means you are not allowed to be there."

"Eleanor, keep in mind I know everything that happens in this school," she warns, and shoves the letter into my hand. She walks out the door and closes it with a distinct snap.

"Everything, Dolores? I guess you don't know that I am about to dismantle your little universe piece by piece. The only things you will have left are a subscription to the Prophet and those horrible kitten plates."

According to the letter, Lyle Perks is coming up tomorrow to discuss and finalize my new will. This is probably my best chance to take care of the Prophet first.

I am waiting in the Entrance Hall for Perks to show up, and I find that Filch has joined my welcoming committee. An elderly gentleman carrying a battered brief case walks up to join me with someone I have not seen since I left school. Rupert Osgood was in Hufflepuff, and we had many classes together. He used to sit behind me and ask to borrow the odd quill. I used to think he was careless with his materials, but Aggie told me a few years later about his rabid crush on me. Rupert was not considered one of the most attractive boys in school. He had a serious overbite, was poorly coordinated, and wore some of the most oddly-shaped glasses I had ever seen.

Rupert seems to have grown into his looks. He has lost the overbite and found himself glasses that complement the shape of his face. I notice Rupert is gaping at me like he used to in Herbology. I cannot decide if I find it creepy or flattering.

I decide to use an abandoned classroom so we can talk privately with some charms to protect our conversation.

We spend several hours hammering out the details of my will, and I decide it is an opportunity to discuss the libel suit.

"Lyle, I know my father has been speaking to you about the articles in the Prophet.

I want to file a suit about the lies they are publishing and file an injunction to stop printing stories about me," I tell him quietly, and I notice a smile creeping across his face.

"I was hoping we would discuss this," the elderly gentleman says, and instructs Rupert to start taking more notes.

I finally get to discuss what happened over the holidays with an outside party who does not see this as hopeless ranting. I find out Dad has been talking to Perks about what happened to me. Our discussion continues well towards lunch, and I have a house-elf send up some food. The legal discussion drags on until there is a loud knock on the classroom door.

I stop to find out who is there, and I discover Dolores is our visitor. She says, "Lyle, I did not know you would be coming up today. You must stay for dinner; I would like to catch up on old times." I feel this is an attempt to show me her large circle of control on the Wizarding World; however, Perks does not feed into it.

"Madam Umbridge, I am sorry, but I have more pressing matters of legal interest," he

says. "Now, I need to finish talking to my client." He shuts the door in her face.

"Where are the Creevey boys with their camera when you need them? I would love to have a picture of her face when Perks shut the door. This is just too priceless."

Perks breaks into a wide grin and sits down. "Rupert here is about to become a partner in the firm, and I would like to turn this case over to him. He has a talent for dealing with the Prophet. This is not the first case of libel he has handled. Rupert handled the case of Marchbanks when they published rumors about her dealings with subversive goblin groups."

We make an appointment for Rupert to come in once a week to work on the suit and check in on the dealings with Dolores. Both lawyers are concerned about my physical and mental well being.

As I walk down the hallway to see my guests out, I find Dolores conveniently in conversation with Severus. He is looking with particular hatred at Rupert. I have no idea why Severus would even care about him. Rupert was that "every kid" who filled the empty seat in the classroom, and I don't remember him having any run-ins with any other students. Severus continues staring until both lawyers leave the front doors, and when I turn around, he looks at me with contempt. As I walk away from him, I hear a loud sniff of discontent.

It is only a few days before I resume my teaching duties, and I need to start setting up lessons and getting my office in order. The substitute teacher, Deena, seems to be a sweet person, but it is apparent she cannot leave soon enough. Her belongings have been crated up for the past week. Dolores's constant nagging and demands have driven her over the edge. According to Deena, Dolores was not happy about Dumbledore's selection for a substitute teacher, because she was not on the Ministry's approved list of candidates. Dolores was popping surprise inspections, calling meetings with her constantly, and setting up duties that had nothing to do with supervising students.

"Ah, Nell, I see that you are ready to resume your duties in a few days," Dumbledore says, appearing in the doorway. "I am sure you found everything in order to begin classes. I see you are ready to go home, Professor Ipswitch." He grabs one of the carpet bags out of her hands and steps into the hallway.

As the substitute's footsteps retreat with the Headmaster's, I hear that all too familiar cough. "Hem, hem."

Before she is even near the door, I yell, "What now, Dolores!"

She slithers into the office with that horrible sticky grin on her face that normally means one of her plans to torment someone is in progress.

"Eleanor, here is your schedule and duty roster. As you notice, you have hall monitoring duties before breakfast in the Entrance Hall and evening patrol after lights out from 9:00 to 10:30." She stands before me with a neatly handwritten schedule waiting for me to make a comment; her face seems to fall when I do not respond. "There is a faculty meeting in fifteen minutes; there will be consequences if you do not show up on time." She turns on her heel and strides out the door towards her impromptu meeting.

Somehow, I arrive early enough to beat Dolores to the Staff Room. Severus is sitting on his throne in the corner looking rather put out. I look around quickly to see who else is in the room, and I realize that we are alone.

I can feel the weight of his gaze, and I ask him, "What are you leering at?"

"Rupert Osgood, Eleanor?" he asks sharply. "Isn't he a bit below your standards?"

"Standards for what?" I ask defensively. I move across the room to confront him.

"I heard he was absolutely infatuated with you when you were in school. I see nothing has changed. He is still carrying a torch for you, or didn't you notice?" he asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. He normally reserved this tone for a student he was about to curse when he was a teenager.

"He's my lawyer, if it's any of your business. Jealous, Severus?" I ask him, and he seems to be caught off guard.

"Eleanor, with all the accusations of your promiscuity, I would be careful of the company you keep," he tells me, as if I were a teenager coming in late from a date.

"For the last time, stay out of my life!!" I shout, and then turn away from him so I can compose myself.

Minerva and Pomona walk in together, and Severus does not make any attempt to respond to my last comment. Both women seem to sense something happened before they walked in, because you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

Pomona makes a token effort to break the silence by asking about how I feel about being in a classroom. I answer her in a distracted fashion politely, but I cannot get the argument I just had out of my head.

"He is just as big of a prat as when we were in school. I guess some of us never grow up."

A happy Dolores strides through the door with a crooked grin that only means trouble. She decides to stand in front of the chalkboard next to a wardrobe that has a bad-tempered boggart in residence. I must suppress my urge to open the door to find out what Dolores's boggart could be.

"It is probably some half-human creature carrying a box of chocolates, a bottle of love potion, and proposing marriage."

Dolores makes a huge production on the next Hogsmeade visit for the students, and she hands out the duty roster for the supervision. I have noticed my name is not included. I have to say I am relieved. Rupert is coming up that day to decide on the first motions to be filed against the Prophet.

We are managing to make it through this meeting without Dolores accusing me of being either one ingredient shy of a potion or a "scarlet woman," as Molly Weasley would say.

As the meeting breaks up, Dolores approaches me with a note in her hand. "This is the time for our first therapy session," she tells me. "It will be on Thursday at 3 p.m. sharp. I think you will recognize the therapist."

I decide to keep any cheeky remarks to myself, because I am sure she is taking notes to use when we meet.

"Just wait until Bulstrode sees me for the first time not out of my mind on potions or tied down to a bed."

Saturday has fallen finally, and I must make my way up to Dolores's office to attend our first therapy session. I find myself curious about what Dolores is planning on using this for.

When I open Dolores's office door, I am greeted by a hot blast of air from the fireplace. I notice there is the last flicker of emerald flames in the hearth. The room is still that horrible shade of pink, and I swear there are even more doilies scattered about the room.

I find Dolores is missing from the room, and I wonder if she has flooed off to some destination unknown.

"Quick! Someone board up the fireplace and remove it from the network! Maybe we will get lucky; she might go one grate too far."

Augusta Bulstrode is the only occupant in the room. She has the familiar clipboard with my thick psychiatric file in her lap.

I have decided to play nice, because any negative behavior would seem to be paranoia and anxiety issues. I am going to let her take the lead until I can figure out what is going on.

"Hello, Healer Bulstrode, where's Dolores?" I inquire. "She said this was supposed to be a session for the three of us." I sit down on one of Dolores's chairs that have a nauseating rose pattern on the cushions.

"Madam Umbridge had some unexpected business to attend to; however, she has given me some observations that she wants me to analyze," she tells me, opening one of the files. I notice there is a thick stack of rose colored parchment normally used by Dolores to write her "hate mail."

"I have to say that I am a bit concerned about a discussion between you and Madam Umbridge in her office about a week ago. She told me that you became violent when she had to impose some conditions upon the resumption of your duties," she expresses to me. "She writes in this entry: Eleanor became enraged when told she was not permitted visitors without proper supervision. She stood up abruptly, pounded the table violently, and stormed out of the room. Nell, what prompted this outburst," she inquires. Bulstrode produces a blank tablet to take down my response.

"Dolores was being unreasonable and condescending towards me," I inform her, and I hear her scribbling furiously on the paper. "I believe I am more than capable of making sound decisions concerning my personal life. I don't understand this obsession she has with my love-life and relationships with men."

"Nell, she is trying to protect you and the school from any scandals. A parent told Dolores that he saw you drunk and running around with different men in the village," she discusses.

"Three guesses on the witness's name. But, the first two don't count."

"That's an odd thing. I think you should look into my file a little deeper, because I don't drink. I am not stupid enough to put my life in jeopardy. Being on the floor convulsing in the Three Broomsticks is not my idea of a good time," I tell Bulstrode with determination. "Alcohol is a trigger for my seizures."

I notice Bulstrode is changing course in the conversation by picking up a different piece of parchment. I think the "drinking allegations" just hit a dead end.

"Nell, there is a note discussing a panic attack you had about a week ago. You were found lying in a hallway by another teacher shaking uncontrollably and hyperventilating." Bulstrode is now hanging on my every word.

"I believe that is called a seizure," I snap, realizing I should watch my tone. "Why don't we clear this up with Poppy Pomfrey? I am more than willing for you to look at my records for that morning," I state.

I notice she has scribbled something down as she says, "I am worried that you are becoming suicidal again. Madam Umbridge has told me that you had a lawyer up here to change your will. I am thinking we may need to discuss some measures to insure your safety should this behavior continue."

"I have some property issues that needed addressing. They were brought to light during my holiday on your ward," I growl. "This is my right, and the contents are considered confidential."

"Nell, you are exhibiting the same behaviors that I saw in my ward. I see you displacing your anxiety issues on Madam Umbridge by being hostile and uncooperative. I am glad we have scheduled this for twice a week. I would hate to see this spiral out of control and have you attack her. Like the day you panicked and threw a bowl of soup, because you thought she was going to curse you. She told me that she just wanted conjure up a pot of tea and discuss how you were getting along."

"Conjuring a pot of tea? Somebody's not dealing with reality. That is one lie for the record books."

I have spent the last forty-five minutes with Bulstrode discussing my hostile nature towards Dolores and the Ministry. We go around and around in circles discussing my delusion that Dolores is working a scam. I am really getting tired of this rubbish; however, any display of impatience will be seen as further delusional behavior.

At last, Bulstrode closes the folder and puts her notes in a large handbag, and she informs me that our next session will be with Dolores on Wednesday.

I am leaving Dolores's office to find some place where people will leave me alone. I have decided that I will lock myself in my office

"I am past numb, and I feel like all the emotion has been drained out of my persona. I exist to fill a job here at the school. I cannot cry, scream, or find a way to reach out to others on a personal basis. I find that I am folding more inwardly on myself."

I have spent the entire day sitting in my office staring at pictures of friends, family, and pets; they seem to have existed in another lifetime. With every hardship, my soul seems to grow dimmer and dimmer.

I can hear students and staff chatting loudly in the Great Hall, but I am too depressed to join them for dinner. I don't want my misfortunes to contaminate the mood. I know all the excitement is over the Hogsmeade visit this weekend.

I walk into the parlor of my quarters to find a card with my name on it sitting in the middle of the coffee table. Sitting next to the card is a squeaky troll and a large box of dog biscuits. I am shocked out of my confusion by the sound of excited barking from my bedroom.

As the door opens, I realize what is making the noise. I find myself shouting, "Daisy!"

There is twelve pounds of over-excited terrier grinning up from the floor, and I realize she is just itching for me to throw the troll across the room.

As I do just that, I see the card sitting on the desk. I open the card to the inscription that reads: "Happy Valentine's Day, Love, Mum and Dad."

I find a flicker of hope coursing through my body, and I realize how depressed I am without Daisy or Ozzy in my life. I left them behind, because I did not want to contaminate their happiness with my episodes of melancholy. I remind myself that my pets do not judge me or analyze my behavior. They just love me for who I am and no less.

Today is the big Valentine's Day visit to the village for the students and staff. I am of course not allowed to go; like I really care about missing out on this. Rupert is coming up with some papers for me to sign for the law suit against the Prophet.

As I walk with the students towards the front door, I notice that Severus seems to be shadowing me again, and I fight the urge to turn around to find out what he wants.

I have brought Daisy with me to wait, because she loves playing in the snow with the students. Several students have discovered she likes a game of "fetch" with the snowballs.

"Nell!" Rupert shouts from the courtyard outside. He is covered in snow and carrying a battered bag on his shoulder. He has a wrapped package in his hand. "This is for you," he says with the same amorous stare which he had when we were in school.

I tear open the paper to reveal a book called, Wizarding Probate Law Statutes. There is an inscription reading, "To Nell, Happy Valentine's Day, from Rupert."

"Wow, what an appropriate gift for a visitation on Valentine's Day."

"Thanks, Rupert. This is quite thoughtful," I tell him, but I am not sure of what to say next. I was not expecting this.

"I figured that since your Dad said you enjoyed working with him at his law office during your summers, you might enjoy this. I ..." Rupert suddenly stops short as the smile on his face withers.

I hear a familiar voice behind me say, "Hello, Rupert." I turn to find Severus standing next to my shoulder. When we were students, Severus was the type of kid that sought out the weakest in the school. Rupert had managed to avoid any prolonged contact with him, but Severus did have a nasty reputation especially when he was hanging around with many future Death Eaters who left school with him.

Rupert stammers slightly before he manages to say, "Severus, how nice it is to see you again." He extends his hand, but Severus refuses to return the greeting. The falling snow is dampening the sounds from the students, causing an eerie silence around us; the flakes make a hiss as they hit our clothes.

Severus seems to be wrestling with his actions inwardly, and he is determined to make poor Rupert uncomfortable.

"Get over it, you stupid git! It's not like he has come here to whisk me away and elope!"

"Severus, don't you have some First Year to traumatize this morning?" I ask him pointedly. I am getting cold, and his piercing stare is not helping me warm up any.

Rupert suddenly finds his confidence and offers me an elbow saying, "If you will excuse us, we have important business to attend to. Severus, it has been interesting to see you again." He has a hint of laughter in his sapphire-colored eyes as I take his elbow.

As I allow Rupert to escort me into the school, I catch a quick glance towards the court yard. Severus is standing motionless in the heavy snow with an expression of distaste. I don't think he was quite finished with the conversation; he was not expecting to be rebuffed by someone he saw inferior when we were in school together.

"Somebody's a bit jealous. He looks like he wants to jinx poor Rupert around the castle and back."

Rupert and I have agreed to meet in my office this morning, and I notice that Dolores is lurking just behind my shoulder.

"Hem, hem."

"Can I help you, Dolores?" I inquire angrily, rolling my eyes and turn around to face her sharply. I cannot stand it when she shadows my every move.

"Eleanor, I just wanted to be sure you are not doing anything to embarrass the school or the Ministry," she says with a sickening simper. "You know that there are certain restrictions on visitors."

I see Rupert open his satchel to produce a thick packet of papers, and I have no clue what this is about. I am a bit angry that I have not been in the loop of information.

"I almost forgot. Consider yourself served, Madam Umbridge," Rupert says with a twisted smirk. "This is a restraining order against you concerning the 'meetings' Nell has for those so-called therapy sessions. You cannot force someone to seek psychological council when they are not a danger to themselves or others. Any referral must be made by the family for a hearing on the psychological competence of an individual. I believe Healer Bulstode was served with an identical order last night."

Dolores's mouth is hanging open; she reminds me of a Wide-Mouthed Bass.

"I believe I have to confer with my client right now," Rupert says. "Well, Ms. Howard, we have an appointment to attend. Good day, Madam Umbridge."

Rupert steers me by the shoulders towards my office. I cannot describe how I am feeling right now. It seems to be a mixture of elation, disbelief, and a dash of apprehension. I am a bit concerned about the backlash I may experience. I always thought Rupert was shy and passive. I have never seen this side of him; I think I have underestimated Mr. Osgood.

Our conference is going well, and I am finding some sense of liberation since Dolores was served with legal papers. The Prophet's editor and owners are being given notice that I am filing suit, and Rupert has filed a motion to slap a gag order on the paper to prevent them from publishing or discussing the case.

I can see a light at the end of the tunnel of my misery. I have the ability to exert my will and take charge. Dolores can no longer hold the weekly sessions over my head. I can handle her when we are one-on-one, but adding a third person into this personal cocktail, causes the delicate balance of power to shift her way. That horrible cloud of misery is going away. I am so looking forward to the next chapter of my life.