I Know The End {Fred Weasley, ACT I}

Chapter 60- The Wrath of Eleanor Potter

One minute, flames were engulfing the room, zagging their way to the center of the dais where the woman who had murdered Sirius Black stood and in the next, Eleanor was gone. Her soul having left her body, flown far, far away to a universe in which Sirius Black was still alive, his broken heart still beating in a chest that had caved in from sorrow long ago.

She was a human wrecking ball. A bundle of energy willing to burn everyone and everything to the ground. The devil incarnate.

But not a moment later, she was jolting awake, her body wrapped up in clean, white sheets, bright sunlight assaulting her eyes as she adjusted to the beams that streamed through the window to caress her face. Where was she? More importantly, how'd she come to find herself safe, tucked away into cool sheets?

Was it all a dream? A sick hope took root in her heart. It wasn't real. Sirius was alive and she'd simply had a nightmare. A very intense, uncannily realistic nightmare, but a nightmare, nonetheless.

Bed hangings surrounded her bed, white, translucent curtains that shielded her away from the rest of the world. The strong scent of disinfectant hung in the air, making her grimace. A high sloping ceiling, gray stone, windows that arched above the curtains encasing her bed. She was in the infirmary. At Hogwarts.

But more surprisingly was the figure that sat at her bedside, head in his hands, ginger hair tousled.

"Fred?" Eleanor rasped. Her throat was raw, aching. From screaming, she realized. From when she'd fallen to her knees as Sirius vanished, her anguish ripping through her chest and out of her mouth, tearing her esophagus to shreds.

No, that wasn't possible. How could that be possible? She'd must have had a fit in her potions' exam. A vision, a dream. Because there hadn't been an ending to her dream. Fighting one second, waking the next. That was the recipe for a dream.

Fred jumped at the sound of her voice, his head popping out of his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed pink. Relief washed over his face, followed immediately by sorrow. A deep, fearful sorrow that told Eleanor everything she needed to know.

Sirius Black was dead. The nightmare was real.

"Eleanor." His voice was soft, melodic, the only beautiful thing in the world of pain she'd just woken to find herself in.

Gingerly, she sat up, Fred reaching over to help her position herself. None of her muscles ached, no physical injuries presented themselves. And if she were fine, why was she in the infirmary? Where was everyone else?

"How are you feeling?" Fred asked her, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand soothingly.

"Harry? Where's Harry? Shit, is Ron okay, is he alive? What happened? What happened to me, Fred?"

Words seemed lost upon him. He shook his head a few times, his gaze fixed to where their hands met. "You... followed our brothers to the Ministry and..."

"And Sirius died."

Saying the words, even though she already knew them as truth, was a punch in the gut. The ripping of her heart from her chest. But even still, they made their way up her throat and out of her mouth, her tone flat. Sadness was not coming, such emotion too much to deal with.

No, she was angry. Livid. Rageful.

Fred bit his lip, eyeing her cautiously. "I'm so sorry, Ella-"

"Yes, yes, we all are," Eleanor cut him off, the corner of her mouth quivering as her anger fought for a place on her face, "but I didn't ask about him. I asked where my brother is. Where your brother is, because last I remember he was being suffocated by... something, I don't know."