I Know The End {Fred Weasley, ACT I}

Chapter 61- Eleanor v. Dumbledore

Eleanor followed Dumbledore out of the infirmary and to his office, head held high. She was ready for whatever he threw her way. If she could handle Ron almost dying, handle Sirius... she could surely handle him.

Upon entering Dumbledore's office, she startled.

It was a mess. Things had been thrown about, shattered upon the floor. And standing in the middle of the wreckage was her little brother, his tear-stained face frowning at her.

"Harry-"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, standing between the two, "I'd like you to be checked upon by Madam Pomfrey. Would you please make your way to the infirmary? The Weasley family is waiting for you."

"Wait, Harry-"

"Now, please."

Eleanor shot Dumbledore a look of annoyance, glancing back at Harry expecting to see the look mirrored on his face. Instead, his eyes were cool, indifferent, and he walked by her without acknowledging her presence. She frowned, turning to watch him walk away.

"I thought you would like to see for yourself that he was alright," Dumbledore spoke as though the interaction had been pleasant. "Please, take a seat, Ms. Potter."

Eleanor tried to push her confusion aside, sighing as she plopped down in the chair before Dumbledore's desk. He took his time walking around the desk, making a show of slowly taking a seat and situating himself, his gaze piercing.

"Are you impressed with yourself, Ms. Potter?"

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. The question took her by surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Are you impressed with the spectacle you created in the infirmary? Do you stand by those actions?" Dumbledore peered at Eleanor over his spectacles, his face grim. "But most importantly, what was it that you enjoyed: their fear or yours?"

Eleanor sputtered at the question. She tried to regain a semblance of composure, but she couldn't hide her bewilderment. Was she impressed with herself, at her ability to generate so much power and then control said power without so much as a verbal command? She would be lying if she said she wasn't. Especially given that it had been the first time she'd experienced full control over her power.

Well, with Fred's help, of course. She wasn't sure she could have done it if he hadn't been there to hold her hand.

And while she didn't condone her actions, didn't believe the Weasley's deserved to be pelted with razor sharp glass, she didn't want to admit her shame to Dumbledore of all people. She could know her actions were wrong while defending them to lesser men. The only people who were deserving of an apology for what she almost did were the Weasleys, and they would be the only ones to receive the statement I was wrong.

But his last question stumped her. The Weasley's fear had crossed her mind in the moment, had edged her on, and that felt all sorts of wrong. But fearing herself? Had she feared herself? The details were becoming fuzzy as she wracked her brain for answers, the memory slipping away in her desperation to hold it tight.

Her head empty, she went with the only question she felt confident in answering. "Yes, I would say I am pretty impressed with myself."

Dumbledore smiled, a condescending, wicked thing, steepling his fingers and pressing them to his lips. He considered her for a moment, letting silence seep in between them. Eleanor knew that trick well enough. He wanted to coerce more information from her in the awkwardness of it all, in the quiet, but instead she simply mirrored his smile and stared.

"You believe shattering a window to be impressive?"

Mocking, he was mocking her, and the worst part of it was that she felt it working. Sinking into her chair, she let her stare turn venomous, biting her lip to contain herself.