Rumored Nervous Breakdown

I feel like I am a drowning person clawing their way to the surface of the ocean. There are hushed voices in the room; however, I am unable to participate in the conversation. I have this bizarre feeling of disconnection from my limbs.

The first voice I hear is Rupert's saying, "I tried to get to you; I'm so sorry, Nell." I hear him give a rather large sniffle as he breaks off.

"Osgood, sitting there staring at her is not going to make her wake-up any sooner. Stop your blubbering and get your face cleaned up by Poppy," Severus orders, his voice moving closer to where I am. "Although, I have to say the new position of your nose seems to be an improvement."

"Have to get that one last dig in, don't you, Severus?"

I hear Minerva's voice now, and she whispers to someone, "The Headmaster is furious. He has sent Mundungus Fletcher out to see if anyone knows who attacked Nell, not that it will do any good. The fool will probably attempt to sell her attackers a load of stolen cauldrons."

"Fletcher? Didn't I arrest him once for impersonating a tax assessor to 'confiscate' property of those who supposedly did not pay their fees? He managed to wiggle his way out of that one somehow; he is more slippery than Flobberworm snot."

"They should not be hard to spot from the looks of her quarters. Eleanor blew a five foot hole in one wall and severely scorched the paneling on another. Remind me not to sneak up on her in the dark," Severus says almost with cheek. "I hear that Professor Dumbledore is having a chat with our High Inquisitor in regards to the Floo System monitoring practices."

"What has Rupert been going on regarding this book that Nell supposedly had? She has been very upfront about her audit results. Is there something we are missing?" Minerva inquires in concern.

"Minerva, Eleanor has always behaved secretively and irrationally. You never know what is going on in that twisted mind of hers," Severus says. I notice his criticism lacks the conviction of the past, and he seems to be putting up a front.

I am just about to fall back to sleep when I hear Dolores enter the room. By her heavy footfalls and breathing, I can tell she is really angry about something.

"This is where you all are. I see Eleanor is having some breakdown. I have been told she thinks someone was attacking her. I saw the hole and scorch marks on the wall where she was throwing curses at some imaginary foe," Dolores says, pausing to find out what everyone else thinks. Her tone of voice is giving me a headache as it reverberates around where I am lying. "Why, she even says they came in through the Floo Network."

"Madam Umbridge, when the Headmaster and I arrived in Eleanor's quarters, we definitely saw the evidence of someone leaving in the fireplace," Rupert corrects Dolores quickly. "Eleanor was thrown twenty feet across the room into a large table, breaking her shoulder. I doubt she used a banishing curse to throw herself around a room." He continues with, "You should be expecting a meeting with me tomorrow concerning my client's safety, and your negligence to prevent her potential death. I would suggest you and the Ministry should advise your legal council about this."

"Yeah, Rupert, let's fan the flames a bit more!"

"I am afraid I will need for you all to take this somewhere else. I don't need you waking everyone up with this conference," Poppy orders. "Rupert, didn't I tell you to lie down five minutes ago? I am holding you here over night. I am worried about the bump on your head."

I hear everyone move around the room and then a door shut somewhere else. I have a feeling I may have just gained back some credibility with my friends and colleagues. Although, I have mixed feelings about Rupert going after the Ministry for negligence in monitoring the Floo Network Dolores supposedly has full control of here at the school.

It is still dark when I open my eyes. My heart skips a beat when I discover someone sitting next to the bed. From the even and slow breathing, I surmise my visitor is dozing in the chair. The light is too scarce to figure out who is sitting there. The impression is that the person is a male who is slimly built. I know it cannot be Rupert, because Poppy would have put a charm on his bed to detect him leaving it.

"Is someone sitting here watching me? Could he be the 'poet'?"

My curiosity is getting to me; however, I am still too groggy and in pain to attempt communication. Unfortunately, Poppy's potions overtake me; sleep is my newest priority.

The sun is streaming in through the Hospital Wing windows in the staff section, and I notice there are several get-well cards lying on the table next to the bed. I realize with horror many are sent by students.

"What must the students think having a drama queen as a teacher? What about poor Ursula?"

I gingerly sit up, but it is difficult not to use my sore shoulder. Although it is firmly held against my body by a sling, this does not allow total immobilization. I want to open an envelope which is different somehow from the others. Most of the cards and envelopes are colorful with charms to make characters dance on the surface; however, this envelope is very plain.

This time, the words are not printed from a book. On the page, tiny cramped handwriting reveals another poem for me.

Her Voice

The wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily-cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering;
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,
Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun,-
It shall be, I said, for eternity
'Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done;
Love's web is spun.
Look upward where the poplar trees
Sway and sway in the summer air,
Here in the valley never a breeze
Scatters the thistledown, but there
Great winds blow fair
From the mighty murmuring mystical seas,
And the wave-lashed leas.
Look upward where the white gull screams,
What does it see that we do not see?
Is that a star? or the lamp that gleams
On some outward voyaging argosy,
Ah! can it be
We have lived our lives in a land of dreams!
How sad it seems.
Sweet, there is nothing left to say
But this, that love is never lost,
Keen winter stabs the breasts of May
Whose crimson roses burst his frost,
Ships tempest-tossed
Will find a harbour in some bay,
And so we may.

And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,-you your Art,
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you.

Oscar Wilde

This poem is not as creepy as the others, and it does not raise goose flesh on my skin. Although the poem is sad, I find it a bit easier to understand. The imagery is not complicated, and I do not find myself searching for hidden symbolism.

"I see we have finally woken up," Poppy says, shocking me back to reality. "How are you feeling?"

I grab the poem and shove it quickly into the envelope before she notices. I have never known Poppy to pry into the content of get well cards to the staff, but I am not taking any chances.

"I am just a bit stiff. What time is it anyway?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"It's Monday morning, Nell. I have been letting you sleep, so you won't be using your arm. That was a nasty break in your shoulder. Rupert said you were thrown at least twenty feet; it is a wonder why you didn't injure anything else."

"No! Really, Poppy! I would have never guessed I broke something! So, that's why my shoulder feels like it has been used as a chew toy by one of Hagrid's pets!"

I hear someone enter the room behind Poppy's back. I find that my visitor is Minerva and Albus Dumbledore. He seems pleased to see me; however, his eyes project serious concern. I have always wondered how anyone could stay so serene in an emotionally charged event like this. If I walked in and found anyone, begrudgingly even Severus, being attacked and thrown across the room, I would be rather inclined to go on a rampage, cursing anyone within a one mile radius.

"You are looking much better this morning," Dumbledore says in a cheerful way. "I am sure you noticed the cards given to you by several students."

"What did you tell them?" I ask, stiffening up unconsciously. "I am sure the students were not told, 'Your Muggle Studies professor is hiding secret information meant to rock the current political regime to its knees.' My guess is that it did not include someone jumping out of my fireplace, the idiotic intruders being roasted by one ex-Auror with a reputation for being a bit off center, and tossing said Auror twenty feet into a mahogany dinner table."

Dumbledore seems a bit amused; however, Minerva looks scandalized.

Dumbledore pulls up a chair to reduce the strain on my neck from looking up at him, and Minerva sits gingerly on the bed. Poppy has never been one for crowds, and she busies herself with some task elsewhere in the Hospital Wing.

"Your classes are being handled by the same substitute teacher who stepped in for you after the holidays. They only know you have been ill, and you should be back to work by the end of the week," he informs me. "Unofficially, the rumor is you were injured in the line of duty. Someone spread the tale you were foiling one of Peeves's plans for mischief, and you were injured falling down a flight of stairs." He seems a bit amused by this tall tale.

"Why, Albus Dumbledore, who could have started this wild rumor?"

"I think we need to formulate some action on taking care of the p..." Dumbledore holds his hand up to stop my sentence before I can finish my thought.

"Now is not the time to discuss any possible complications. When you leave the Hospital Wing this week, we can talk in private. I have a feeling conversations are no longer private any more," he says, patting me affectionately on my good hand. There is an aura of sadness seeming to envelope the elderly wizard. Even the cheerful colors of his robes seem to dull as he takes a deep breath.

I realize Minerva is still here when she tensely says, "Nell, I don't think it is safe for a return to your rooms when you leave here. You would be better off in the Staff Wing." Her shoulders seem to relax as if she let go of feelings she has been holding in for a long time. She reaches out to stroke the top of my head like she did when I was a student. This was a common behavior after my fifth year. I overheard Slughorn tell Flitwick that Minerva was very unnerved when she walked into Viridian's class to find me nearly dead on the classroom floor. From that day on, it was common for her to sit with me after a major seizure, stroking my head and holding my hand until the danger had passed.

"No, I don't want to move, because Dolores's room is in the Staff Wing also. The less I have to see of her, the better. Besides, there is a fireplace hooked up to the network all over this school," I say, smiling back at her. I turn my hand to squeeze hers in a sign of confidence.

"Sorry Minerva, this is not the product of Gryffindor courage; this is an exercise in pure stubbornness to not be defeated by a perceived enemy."

"How's Rupert?" I ask, noticing he is not hovering around me.

"Rupert left yesterday to file suit against the Ministry," Minerva informs me quietly. "He will be back tonight for a visit."

"Stupid prat," I blurt out, causing both teachers to stare at me. "Let's just throw more fuel on the fire. He does not live with that psychotic hag on a daily basis. Every time he files a brief, I pay for it." I can feel my face redden in anger. I did not realize how angry I was over this latest development. The legal maneuvers are for my benefit and not to feed his ego by sticking it to the Ministry.

"Minerva, Albus, I told you not to get her worked up," Poppy orders, pulling my hand away from Minerva to take a pulse. "I need for her to get some rest."

No one ever questions an order from Poppy. Even the school's headmaster does not question her requests. She has been able to put Dolores in her place more than once.

Once everyone leaves, Poppy gives me a dose of some foul tasting potion. I always wonder why they cannot be a fruity flavor.

Today is Thursday, and I have decided that I must attend the staff meeting about Ursula before returning to my quarters after being released from the Hospital Wing. The headmaster has been holding off this conference until I am able to be out of bed. Rupert owled a letter saying he would be back on Saturday.

As I enter the Staff Room, I notice all eyes are on me. I cannot tell if my colleagues are wondering about the attack and its effect on my so-called "fragile mental state" or my reaction to the injustice being carried out on one poor Slytherin student.

Dolores is taking center stage with the normal threats of probation for infractions of the educational "disgraces" put in place by her. She seems to be stalling in an effort to maintain control over us.

It is a bit unusual for Dumbledore to conduct these meetings since the beginning of the school year. He manages to wrestle a second to butt into Dolores's meaningless babbling. When he finishes, I become the center of attention.

"I know that Poppy has explained what to do if Ursula should have an episode, but I wanted to give some advice about the aftermath of seizure," I tell my colleagues, watching Dolores in the corner of the room looking furious. "I know what it's like waking up to the staring of classmates and well-meaning teachers. Being seen at such a vulnerable moment is often more frightening then the seizure itself."

It is really therapeutic being able to let loose twenty-four years of anger, fear, humiliation, and doubt. I finally have a room full of my former teachers and headmaster listening to my true feelings without judging me.

"I want to start with knowing when to leave the room before something starts. I know when I am going to have one rather quickly; however, Ursula will need to learn this for herself. Seizures are like finger prints, they are different for every person, but many look quite alike." Minerva and Dumbledore are giving looks of pride as I am able to continue with, "I can only tell you my feelings and sensations."

"Hem, hem." Dolores interjects into the conversation with her signature cough.

"Dolores, can I offer you some of my peppermint tea to sooth the irritation in your throat? I know that Madam Pomfrey has a wonderful cough syrup to tame that ticklle," I hear Minerva tell Dolores, smiling in false pleasantness. If it were possible, I think the entire room would break out in applause for the jibe. Instead, we settle for smirks and sniggering quietly.

"Saucer of milk for two, table three!"

Dolores resumes her sulking near the Boggart-infested wardrobe. Severus, on the other hand, seems to find the exchange very amusing. He has his arms crossed, sitting in an overstuffed blue chair, and tapping one forearm with an index finger.

"Please resume," Dumbledore says, eyes full of amusement.

"I always get some sort of warning, but the Healers at St. Mungo's called this an 'aura.' At that first hint, I always feel a compulsion to leave the room before I can embarrass myself in front of others. I know this is stupid and dangerous, but I just cannot stop myself, because I am not in control of my body. I have to say, we need to recognize this with Ursula. I know the feeling of panic, and I want to save her from any teasing from the other students. We need to agree on a signal for her to let us know when she is about to have a seizure. I know when I went here, I would raise my hand and ask to step out of the room, a teacher would then send another student on an 'errand,' and they would follow me to a predetermined area or to see Poppy. I think this should work fine for Ursula." I stop to catch my breath, and I notice a few heads nodding. Oddly enough, I don't see Severus's normal scowl of disagreement, because I have spoken my mind.

"I feel that is quite agreeable," Minerva says, knowing how well this worked in the past.

"Hem, hem." Dolores walks towards me looking irritated by not being the center of attention. "Giving her this excuse to skive off classes because she wants to miss some assignment is ridiculous."

"I never abused it. I hated calling attention to myself in class. Besides, I had to report to Poppy, and I don't think being poked and prodded by her is a pleasant holiday from class." I look across the room at the school matron to see her reaction. "No offense, Poppy." Poppy has a look of amusement on her face as I finish my defense. "Aden Stanhope is looking for me to help his daughter work through this. I don't think he would appreciate your assistance with her, considering your track record with her well-being."

The other teachers notice I have put Dolores in her place on my own, and I feel the scale of credibility has shifted closer to me.

"I know Poppy has already gone over the first-aid portion; however, I want to mention the aftermath. I know the feeling of having your classmates watching you lying on the classroom floor, laughing at you. Please, clear the room for her sake. Dismiss the class to the library under pain of death. I know you all understand she is not faking an episode or having a tantrum, Dolores," I say pointedly, looking in her direction with disgust. "I can tell you from experience, she probably cannot hear you or respond."

I start to say something; however, I am cut off by Dolores shouting, "Eleanor, I want to give you a piece of my mind!"

"Sure you can spare it, Dolores!" I shout back.

"How dare you!" She is now on her feet, red faced, and with the wand in her hand spitting out sparks.

"I feel your conduct is unprofessional and disrespectful. You seem to have a wish for us to follow an example of behavior set forth by our omnipotent Ministry, but you violate those parameters constantly, so I chose not to follow," I tell her with little fear.

"You are completely unhinged and need to be committed for your own safety," she says menacingly.

"Didn't your last attempt to reform my behavior over the holidays fail miserably? Stop derailing the conversation, Dolores. We are here to handle the future of one very troubled student." I am attempting to keep the conversation professional; however, I am not doing a good job.

"I will discuss this later with you in my office," she threatens.

"This will have to wait until Saturday when my lawyer is available. Isn't there a restraining order concerning your little meetings," I remind her, feeling quite empowered.

"I refuse to be insulted like this, Eleanor. We shall deal with this later," she says, walking to the door in a blur of pink anger.

I find myself with my back on the assembled group, but I turn around when a round of applause catches my attention. The only person not joining in the celebration is predictably Severus. I have to give him credit, he seems to have a bizarre smirk on his face.

As I leave the meeting, I remember that I need to take inventory of what was stolen. There is nothing incriminating in the books. I think Dolores may be focused on what notes I have written in the law books. I hate to break it to her, most of the scribbling came from reminders of the cases I saw during my summers at school. Dad dragged me to court whenever he could, and I really enjoyed the theatrics of the trials. Dad has a way of giving his summations with a flourish; I always felt the desire to break out into applause after closing arguments.

In each law book, I tried to compare the differences and similarities between wizarding and Muggle law. I found cases that were held in both courts with the same outcomes on each decision. The major differences I found are in the area of tort law. The Muggle courts make it so much easier to file a civil suit, but in the wizarding courts, the cases are filed very rarely; there are very few cases taken to trial because of the difficulty in proving there has been an infraction. I guess the Ministry figures most tort issues can be settled with a wand.

I am shocked when I hear my name is called before I can open up the door. "Nell, let me help you sort through your things," Minerva says.

"I'm a big girl now, and I am certain that nothing incriminating is missing," I tell her, pushing the door open.

I notice someone has fixed the walls, but no one has put anything back the way it was that night. I feel sick when I look at the overturned table where I landed. I can still hear the snap of my shoulder when those idiots hit me with a banishing curse.

I feel Minerva's reassuring arm around my shoulders attempting to comfort me as I survey the chaotic vista in front of me. "I still feel you should move back to the Staff Wing." I can feel the tension in her voice, and Minerva's grip on my shoulder is almost painful.

I manage to extricate myself from her grip to pick up books from the floor wondering what the bumbling thieves took.

Both law books are lying on the floor with one of them open towards the ceiling; my notes are clearly visible to any observer. As I take inventory, I discover that the poems are missing. I have a wide range of emotions running through my brain. I feel violated, relieved my notes are still there, and amusement at how thick a person can be to mistake a book of poetry for law books; however, a pang of worry surfaces to my mind.

"Maybe someone was looking for my poems?"

"Nell, is any thing wrong?" Minerva asks, walking over to me putting her arms around me again. "I know how frightened you must feel."

"No," I coolly lie. "They didn't get a damn thing."

Minerva and I put the room back together and repair the shattered remnants of several picture frames. My heart breaks as Minerva picks up a picture of Remus sitting next to me and Aggie. I can feel the sting of unshed tears in my eyes at the sight of the picture frame with a crack running between me and the two of the most important persons in my life. I sit down on the sofa as I take the frame away from Minerva and repair it without another word.

Three hours later, you cannot tell that some horrible event took place in the room. As Minerva leaves, she attempts to convince me to move to the Staff Wing; however, I stand my ground and promise to see Professor Dumbledore for a discussion on the papers hiding downstairs.