Why did it seem that everything in her life was determined to go badly for months and months at a time? Dora stared at the newest decree on the boards just outside the shop. In her fist was a clump of hair, and if she wasn't careful she was likely to rip it straight from her head in anxiety.
She had no idea what she was supposed to do about this. There was nothing to do, really, and that only made her feel worse. She was considering it a blessing that Umbridge hadn't included shapeshifters such as metamorphmagi and animagi on the list (though the latter were supposed to be registered), but it was bad enough as it was. Remus was included and she had no earthly idea what she was meant to do about that.