Rumored Nervous Breakdown

I look at my calendar with disbelief: tomorrow at noon, it will all be over. Dolores will get her papers, and I will get my life back. I reach down to the desk pick up the letter from Kingsley inviting me to dinner at a restaurant in Diagon Alley. He didn't ask any questions about what I want to tell him; however, it only gave a time and place to meet.

An owl has arrived from the embassy with my credentials and identification from the Canadian government. It is my new life wrapped up in a few written documents. I feel both apprehensive and relieved about leaving the school. I will miss some of my friends; there is a whole new world waiting for me to start over with.

I have wrestled with how much I should tell Kingsley about what I know concerning the papers and Death Eaters. I settle on showing him the picture of the Carrow family reunion in Boston, and how it was probably funded. I have already made some interesting connections with the Carrows and the Death Eater movement in North America. I will not be showing him any of the receipts. I am leery of showing them in public. Kingsley is smart enough to put two and two together. I'm taking a chance at telling anyone outside of my now adopted government about what is happening. Kingsley is an honest, talented, and upstanding Auror and I don't see him abusing this knowledge by leaking it to the wrong people. I have to trust him.

It is well past one o'clock when I realize that Parks will be here in less than two hours to take me to Gringotts to pick up the original papers. As I finish getting ready, I feel the internal tug-of-war taking place in my gut again. It is all about these papers. Part of me says to leave them buried in the vault and forget about their existence; however, the other part tells me that there could be clues yet to be teased from the individual sheets of paper. Another sickening thought stabs at my heart. Is this some bizarre subconscious attempt on my part to keep my feelings for Rupert alive? After all, he is the one who kept them in the end. Will I only end up torturing myself? I have to face this at some point.

With thoughts of Rupert invading my mind, I would really like to go get the papers by myself instead of with Parks. I remind myself that protocol is protocol, but I still jump when I see Parks' head in the fire.

Before I realize it, I am standing in Diagon Alley feeling a bit odd as I see that we are being shadowed by one of the security wizards from the Canadian embassy.

Parks is leaving for Canada as soon as our meeting with Kingsley is finished, and I have asked him to take the papers to my new office for safe keeping. I feel more comfortable with a little bit of subterfuge, because there is always someone who figures out the truth without you knowing about it.

It is only a minute or so as we enter the doors to the bank. As soon as we enter the bank, we are approached by one of the goblins, inquiring as to our business. As we get into one of the carts to go to my vault, I have trouble keeping control of my breathing.

When we get down to the high security vaults, I feel light-headed as I hand over my key to open up the door. As I walk into the newly opened chamber and the torches take light, I have a feeling of déjà vu. It's like my nightmare about Aggie and Rupert. I am back in that horrid churchyard crypt; lost and looking for help. Guilt over Rupert's death swoops out of the dark to slap me in the face. I glance around the half-light of the room expecting to see three coffins. My heart is pounding painfully in my chest as I fight the urge to run out of the tight space. I reach a hand out to the damp stone wall to steady myself and take a few deep breaths.

"Eleanor?" a male voice inquires. From the doorway, I see one of two tall, shadowy forms walk towards me. "Need any help?"

For one hopeful moment, I want to call out for Rupert, but I catch myself quickly. It takes my brain a couple of seconds to register Parks' presence. "I'm fine," I lie as my voice echoes loudly. "I just need a few minutes to sort though everything." I feel like the air has been sucked out of the room, but I have to do this.

"Rupert, you made me promise to move on, and I will keep that promise. This doesn't mean I'll stop loving you."

I walk over to an antique desk and remove several books from a drawer. Within the pages, the papers that took Rupert away from me are placed. I pull out the book, The Raven that contains the receipts about Dolores' dodgy math with the tax account. In another drawer, I find Rupert's sacrifice, the receipts in a book titled, A Boy's Life, by Robert Frost. I can't bring myself to pull the book out of the drawer. I have copies of the receipts already in Canada. What would be the point of moving them? There are enough security charms on this vault to rival some at the school.

I need to close this chapter in my life. All I am doing by taking these receipts with me is to keep some sort of connection with Rupert alive. I realize how unhealthy that is. I need to move forward. It's time to let go. I quietly close the drawer, walk to the entrance of the vault, and never give a backwards glance as the door closes for the last time.

I quickly compose myself and tell Parks, "I'm leaving the originals here. There is no point in moving them. They are just as safe here as anywhere else. Very few people know they still exist, so I think they need to stay where they are. I'm sorry for all this trouble."

Parks gives a heavy sigh. "Okay, it's your call. You shouldn't be alone on embassy business anyway." He turns to walk towards the cart, stops, then says, "I believe we have a dinner meeting with a friend. We don't want to be late."

When the cart pulls away, I turn my head so no one can see the tears of grief streaming down my face.

As we exit the bank into the blinding sunshine, Parks tries to engage me into conversation about what it is like at Hogwarts, but we are ambushed by a reporter from the Prophet asking about the Canadian Government's take on the return of Voldemort. Parks doesn't even answer, but motions instead to the security detail following us. The reporter is 'relocated' to a rubbish tip behind the Leaky Cauldron.

I am relieved Kingsley picked a restaurant off the beaten path next to Madam Malkin's. The Leaky Cauldron is too busy to hold a private conversation. This meeting is for business, not pleasure, and I have to remember this.

Kingsley is already waiting for us in the back of the room. He seems to have lost a tremendous amount of weight and looks pinched from a lack of sleep. I bite back the urge to ask him what has made him ill.

The funny pressure and light buzz in my ears tell me that a Muffliato charm is in place around the table, ensuring that our conversation will remain private. I told Kingsley this meeting would be more than a quick good-bye between friends.

As we take our seats, I introduce Parks to Kingsley and I notice our security detail has made himself at home at a table a few feet down from ours. I have to put Kingsley at rest about our companion shadowing us to the restaurant.

"I don't think you brought me down here to go over old times," Kingsley says, picking up the menu. "Your letter said there was something you wanted to discuss before your departure."

"Kingsley, we need to have a little talk about the Ministry you are working for before I leave. There are a few 'dirty little secrets' that you need to know about," I confess, attempting to read the expression on his face.

"What do you mean by 'dirty little secrets'?" he enquires. "The Ministry has always run on greased palms and nepotism." Kingsley swirls his elderflower wine lazily around his goblet and takes a sip.

"What if I told you I had proof that Dolores Umbridge and Fudge were laundering funds for families who are connected with Voldemort's inner circle?" Okay, I put it out there. I hope he doesn't laugh me out the door. "Someone came to me because of some missing money in a fund. After poking through a ton of dusty files, I discovered money being shifted around to accounts and being used for bogus reasons. Dolores would have a party to celebrate something, invite the Malfoys, Fudge, and a few others. She would pull an extravagant amount of money to get supplies and claim to buy them; however, the vendor receipts show the purchase of cheap cucumber sandwiches and pumpkin juice for a start. Where did that money go? On this same thread, when I conducted that audit, I came across some receipts that had Dolores' signatures that were for presents given to employees who were long dead. Now, you know if a gift is given to a Ministry employee and they are unable to claim it, it may go to a family member for cash value. Oddly enough, each of the presents was for people whose families had high-ranking Death Eater ties. The family members claimed the gold." I hope he believes me now. This is my last chance, because he is my most secure person of contact at the Ministry.

"Nell," Kingsley objects. "Just because Malfoy is there does not constitute Death Eater involvement." He sits back in his chair and folds his arms.

"While we are on the topic of Death Eaters, let's play a game, shall we?" I ask. I pull out one of the Muggle surveillance photos taken in Boston of Alecto Carrow, Emory Stokes, and Alecto's second cousin twice removed who has relocated from Toronto to Boston. It is obvious they have made no attempt to blend in with the rest of the Muggles in the area. "It's called: 'Name that Wizard'."

Kingsley looks confused as he fingers the photo sitting before him. I don't think he is used to seeing the occupants not moving. "What is this...?"

"I'll explain in a moment, but first, who is this?" I point to Alecto Carrow, and he easily gives me her name.

"Very good. Now, who is this lovely bloke?" I urge him for an answer, pointing to Emory Stokes.

"That's never Stokes from the Muggle Liason Office?" Kingsley looks like someone has hit him with a curse. It was not unusual for Kingsley and Stokes to discuss politics over coffee every once in a while.

"Now for the 100,000 Galleon question, who is this charming gentleman?" I quiz, giving Kingsley sufficient time to attempt to find a name.

"Time is up, Mr. Shacklebolt," I advise. "I would like you to meet Edward Carrow, second cousin twice removed to Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Edward is the founder of a society that wishes to further the cause of purity of blood in magic in North America. The Carrow family received a lovely sum of gold through Dolores' reward program." I look at the confusion, hurt, concern on his face, and it breaks my heart. "The Magical and Muggle communities in the States and Canada have taken the Death Eater threat quite seriously. They have been sharing intelligence for years. This is a photo taken from a surveillance camera that Muggles now have on many streets to police the citizens. This was taken in Boston a few weeks ago, and I have many more where this came from. It is not hard to pick out our three wizards, because they have made little effort to conceal themselves."

"Nell, a few pictures and speculation are no proof of any wrong doing. You know as well as anyone how an investigation works; no proof means no crime has been committed," Kingsley points out.

I pull out the poetry books from my bag. The Raven has the receipts that are for Kingsley to use against Dolores and Fudge. "There are two receipts in here that might interest you." I place the book on the table, then slide it across to him.

"There are more; however, they are of more use to me in an investigation in Canada," I explain to Kingsley. "The two receipts in here are for misdirected tax funds and an account with dodgy arithmetic with Dolores and Fudge's signatures. This is in your jurisdiction if you choose to pursue it." I give him a weak smile. It's out of my hands now. "I just wanted to warn you." I take a deep breath. "I have already lost someone I love to this."

"I heard about your friend, Rupert," he says without looking me in the eye, turning the book over in his hand. "Why didn't you come forward with this?"

"Oh yeah, you forget so quickly. I guess you haven't noticed that the entire wizarding world sees me as a some sort of psychotic whore," I snap. "Dolores has made sure of that. There was also an incident where I had a heart attack, and the school staff felt that I had attempted suicide."

"Nell..." Kingsley sputters. He seems off-footed. Kingsley has always treated me with respect and helped me through some serious psychological trauma. He may be worried he has hurt my feelings.

"Kingsley, there is one more thing that I need to tell you. Dolores is underhanded and cruel. She will do anything to get her way, and I mean anything. Sometimes Aurors hide behind the false sense of security in their job titles. Call yourself what you want, but one good curse or poison could still kill you. You're still human after all," I assert.

"Nell, how can I contact you? If it is getting as bad as you say it is, I need to be careful about finding you." Kingsley seems to have taken me seriously. He sits back in his chair and has his fingers steepled on his chin.

"Just contact the embassy. Don't use the international Floo system or other services. We will be glad to handle this," Parks breaks in suddenly. "Your Ministry is not allowed to interfere with Canadian embassy business."

Parks looks up at our security escort, who is attempting to gain our attention. Parks walks over to speak to him briefly as Kingsley and I look on.

A few minutes later, I find myself standing in my fireplace looking at a parlor nearly empty of furniture. After shaking off the soot and ash, I end up in my bedroom to change out of my clothes for a hot bath. I need to figure out what the hell I want to say to Dolores!

Today is the last day of the term, and I wake to the sound of the house-elf leaving my breakfast in my dining area. I shuffle to the table bleary-eyed from a night in which sleep did not come easy. I kept running a speech I wanted to deliver to Dolores in my head over and over.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and reach for an envelope with some flowers sent by Kingsley as a good-bye present.

"How sweet! No need to send a Howler this time."

When I open the card, a memo from the Ministry of Magic falls out of the card, and I nearly choke on the hot drink.

It discusses an internal inquiry of Dolores and Fudge's handling of the diversion of tax funds from last year. Oddly enough, Ursula's father heads the investigation.

Dolores has been recalled immediately to 'assist in the investigation' and is suspended with pay until further notice. Fudge, on the other hand, is in even hotter water.

I have decided that since I have a few hours until my noon appointment, I will finish packing the last of my possessions so I can leave as soon as I can. I wonder which one of us will be first out of the front doors of the castle? She doesn't have any real authority anywhere right now, so I can stay when and where I want.

The chiming of the clock telling me it is half past eleven calls me back to reality as I fold the last of my clothing and place it into my bag. I decide to change into some of my better robes and put my hair up for a change. Dolores always hated it when I put my hair up, because it shows the scar on the back of my neck.

A few minutes later, I can't believe that I am standing in front of Dolores's door. She has been in the hospital wing since Dumbledore has returned so no one has had a chance to see her. It seems a bit surreal as I look at the gargoyle knocker leering at me. I have rehearsed my speech a hundred times in my head, but I have already forgotten what I want to say. Do I let the battle axe have it, or do I just hand her the envelope and walk away? I don't want to let her know it was me who spilled the beans on her little accounting problem with the tax funds. My biggest worry is with the Death Eater issue, because she will find a way to slither out of the tax revenue debacle.

I knock on the door, then open it without waiting for a response. The room is almost unrecognizable from the last time I was here. There is still pink paint everywhere; however, the kittens, ugly chintz chairs, and doilies are missing. The only thing left is a framed picture on her desk and some boxes scattered about.

Dolores turns to look at me, and I notice that she seems to have lost a bit of weight since she and I last confronted each other. She looks less threatening now. I don't know why.

"You're almost late," she snarls, holding her hand out to snatch the papers out of my hand. Her meticulously manicured nails are broken and missing their normal pink polish. "This had better be all of them." She opens the envelope and examines the contents carefully. Placing the papers back into the envelope, she turns her back on me and sticks them into her pink leather handbag. I can see a copy of the memo underneath an open bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey. It looks like she has started drinking rather early this morning by the smell of stale alcohol in the room.

"I see you are giving up on the teaching business, are we, Dolores?" I inquire, walking forward to examine a box with kitten plates mewing with disdain, as they are stacked on top of each other. "So much for your dreams of single-handedly revolutionizing education here at Hogwarts."

"Shut it! You stupid, whore!" she screams. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she seems close to hysteria.

Something whizzes by my head before I can register it, and smashes into the wall behind me. I turn to find shards of a kitten plate at my feet. "What could the likes of you understand about how the magical community should be run?" Her face looks demonic as she stands before me.

"Dolores, what the hell?" She picks up another kitten plate from a box. It hisses in anger as she holds it above her head. "Put that down!" I order.

Dolores is so out of control, she cannot even reach for her stubby little wand. I am forced to summon the plate out of her hand before she can throw it at me.

"You have done nothing but cause chaos and embarrassment to the Ministry, the school, and the entire community!" Her face is completely red and sweaty. I hear a window crack behind her.

"Dolores, it's over," I explain. "I will be three thousand miles away from here, working in another country. You will probably never see or hear from me ever again." I hope this calms her down; however, I'm horribly wrong. Another plate surfaces from a box with a screech from its occupant. I barely manage to duck before it hits the wall by my shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Muggleborns don't deserve the opportunities you have gotten. Don't you wonder why everyone questions how you got all those jobs?" Dolores inquires, picking up another plate.

"Dolores, I earned every opportunity I ever had. I am leaving now." I turn to walk calmly out the door.

A loud bellow of anger comes from behind me and another plate hits the wall. "Go to hell, Eleanor!"

I square up my shoulders and I never turn back. I have plenty of work ahead of me. Time to pull my team together and formulate one hell of a plan. We will cut off Voldemort's little plan for universal domination at the knees if it kills me.