Dark

Chapter 42

Harry
A strange scuffling sound woke me. As I slowly opened my eyes they were stung by the light filling the room. It was only moments before the two issues that had kept me up late into the night seemed to flood into my mind again. The first problem, was that Eleanor had never come back out of her room yesterday. We were all worried about her. We had no clue what had actually happened to her, and we weren’t sure that she would be all right either. Her immediate need to rush toward liquor was a bad sign, a sign of how fragile she really was at the moment.
The second issue I couldn’t keep off my mind was Dumbledore. I hadn’t spoken to him since the end of term. He hadn’t sought me out even after the dementor attack. We’ve seen him coming or going a couple of times since I arrived at Grimmauld place, and still he hadn’t spoken to me once about the upcoming hearing.
The hearing was only a day away, looming like an ever present black cloud.
Once my eyes had fully adjusted to the light, I reached for my glasses and shoved them on. The room became clear and I could finally see what the strange sounds were that had awoken me. Ron was shuffling around the room trying to catch a madly twitter Pigwidgeon.
“Shut up you stupid thing! Get down here, Pig!” Ron said sternly, pointing an angry finger toward the floor.
Pigwidgeon simply continued to move about the room, making a ruckus with Ron chasing after him and Hedwig and I watching on silently.
By the time Ron had calmed Pigwidgeon down, I was dressed. We made our way to the kitchen, stepping into a truly strange sight. Hermione and Ginny were sitting at the table, their eyes fixated on something across the room. As I followed their gaze, I noticed Eleanor moving around near the stove. It looked as though she was cooking.
I turned back to Hermione to ask her what was going on, but she was already looking my way. Without even having to saying anything she shrugged, looking utterly perplexed.
As Ron took a seat at the table I moved across the room.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Eleanor turned away from the counter, a large platter stacked with pancakes in her hand. Had she actually made these? I had no idea she knew how to cook. Eleanor didn’t even look up at me before moving past me and setting the plate on the table.
“Eleanor –“ I started, as she turned back toward the stove.
At that same moment the kitchen door had swung open and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Lupin walked in. Mrs. Weasley’s jaw dropped open as she took in the sight before her. That was when I noticed that Eleanor cooking wasn’t the only strange sight this morning. The kitchen had been cleaned as well. The dishes that had been left in the sink the night before were nowhere to be seen. The counters had been decluttered and wiped down thoroughly, and the floor even looked less grimy that it had before.
“What are you doing? Did you clean everything last night?” Mrs. Weasley asked incredulously.
“Yes, and I cooked breakfast.” Eleanor said simply. “You looked as though you could use a break.”
Mrs. Weasley was left speechless at this, and it wasn’t until Lupin had nudged her shoulder that she moved toward the table. Eleanor still hadn’t acknowledged me, and as she grabbed a plate of French toast and carried it over, I took a seat for myself.
I couldn’t deny that the food looked delicious. As I piled a little of everything onto a plate, the twins joined us. Ron was already digging in hastily.
“This is amazing!” He said loudly.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Sirius asked, looking up from his own plate, a single piece of pancaked speared onto the end of his fork.
“I’ve worked in the orphanage kitchens since I was seven.” Eleanor said. She hadn’t taken a seat at the table.
“Why would they have someone so young working in the kitchens?” Lupin asked, his brows furrowing as he turned around in his seat to face Eleanor.
“It was part of a punishment.” She said.
“A punishment for what?”
Rather than answer, Eleanor turned away. She appeared again a moment later, standing across from me. Before I could say anything she had dropped a large notebook onto the table.
“What is this?” I asked, opening the cover to reveal a heading title Margrove v. Wizengamot.
“Those are various case briefs I made for you, along with notations about the restricted use of underage magic and the situations in which underage magic in the presence of muggles is considered forgivable. In case Dumbledore doesn’t show up to your hearing tomorrow, everything you need to make a cohesive and law abiding argument for refraining from expelling you is in there. According to their own laws, the Ministry can’t expel you for your given situation, and there is clear precedent for not expelling you.”
“Wait, how do you know about the hearing?” I asked, still trying to work out how she knew about these things and where she could have gotten so much information from.
“Kreacher.” Eleanor said.
“You’ve met Kreacher?” George said, his mouth partially filled with food.
“Yes, he brought me the books I needed to put that together.” She answered.
I just stared up at Eleanor, unsure why she was trying to help me. Maybe there was still a chance to fix things with her.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Sirius asked, giving Eleanor a piercing look.
“Of course not.” She said. “Sleeping is a waste of time.”
She turned and had nearly made it out of the kitchen before Mrs. Weasley spoke up, “Aren’t you going to eat dear?”
Eleanor turned, not looking at Mrs. Weasley but instead at the food she had laid out over the table only minutes ago.
“No, I’m not hungry.” She answered. “Besides, breakfast food is revolting.”
With that she left, allowing the door to snap closed behind her.
“Well, that was oddly pleasant.” Fred said, smiling around at everyone.

George
It had been strange to learn that Eleanor Potter of all people was a fantastic cook. For someone who didn’t like breakfast food, she certainly knew how to make it well. Fred had been right as well, the entire encounter with Eleanor had been oddly pleasant. She wasn’t any happier than usual, but she had shown a strange side of herself that I’m not sure any of us had seen before.
Making breakfast and cleaning was one thing. According to Ginny though, she had told Mum that she had done it because it looked as though Mum needed a break. Then she had spent what must have been hours putting together a defense for Harry against the Ministry.
I couldn’t help but think back to the time Fred and I had sat with Eleanor in the Quidditch stands, watching teams of Slytherins skirmish each other and telling her all about how Quidditch is played. She had spared a few rare smiles then, and I couldn’t help but wonder why she tried to keep them hidden so often. I thought the same now. Why was Eleanor so cold and distant all the time, and yet she had gone out of her way to help not only Harry but our Mum as well?
Strange was certainly the best way to describe Eleanor. Oddly enough though, she was strange in particularly good way. It was interesting to say the least.
Breakfast had been largely quiet after Eleanor left, though it wasn’t for lack of conversation topics. In fact, everyone seemed to enjoy the food so much that we just ate and forgot about talking for a while. By the end of the meal, Mum was already reminding us of the day’s housecleaning chores.
Our mission: decontaminate the sitting room.
The sitting room was just down the hall from the kitchen, and as Fred and I walked in, we noticed that Eleanor was already there. She was standing in front of a wall that was lined with bookshelves. They reached from the floor to the ceiling, and were filled with large dusty books and strange knick knacks that all seemed to belong in Knockturn Alley. There was even a bust of Salazar Slytherin, which I only recognized from a picture that had been in my History of Magic textbook.
Mum had brought in the spray bottles from a few days ago in case we came across another doxy infestation. We had all started in different areas of the room. Fred and I took the couch and chairs at the center of the room, turning up cushions and making sure nothing was lurking away in any crevices. I had picked up a cushion from the couch and wasn’t altogether surprised when a large dead bug fell off the underside to the floor. What did surprise me though was the large lizard that darted out from under the couch and snatched the bug up with one quick flick of its tongue.
Without meaning to, I yelped and jumped away from it, dropping the cushion.
“What is it?!” Mum called out from across the room.
“I don’t know. A lizard. It must have been nearly a foot long.” I blurted out.
The lizard darted out from under the couch again and I jumped back as Fred lurched forward and tried to catch it. Unfortunately the lizard slipped from his fingers. Fred scrambled up to his knees and was about to lunge for it again when Eleanor approached it.
“Leave it alone. Are you blind?” She asked harshly. “That’s a Moke. They’re rare, and their skin is considered to be really valuable.”
Before anyone could move closer to the creature, Eleanor crouched down and laid her had upon the floor. The Moke scurried into her outstretch fingers and shrunk down to fit in her palm. I watched, eyes wide as she then stood and allowed the lizard the climb up her arm and onto her shoulder.
“Well whatever it is, it seems to like you at least.” Ron said.
I nearly saw it then, the ghost a smile beginning to form on Eleanor’s face. It didn’t stand a chance though, she quickly blinked and turned away, the small moment of near happiness collapsing.
Eleanor returned to the shelves where she had been sorting through the strange objects that were interspersed among the books. I couldn’t help but approach her.
“So,” I said quietly, “how’s our favorite Slytherin doing?”
“You do realize it doesn’t mean anything when you say that, right?” She asked, giving me a serious look before returning to the object she was currently examining. “You don’t actually know any other Slytherins, so it doesn’t really mean anything if you say I’m your favorite.”
“Hey, I know other Slytherins!” I said defensively.
“You may know their names or recognize them at school…but you don’t actually know them.” She said. “Not personally. In fact, you don’t even really know me either.”
“Well in that case, maybe we should get to know you better.” I said, watching her carefully.
“I’m sure that would be a waste of your time.” Eleanor said, not even looking at me.
“You never answered my question.” I told her, lowering my voice more, wanting her to know that this was a conversation just between the two of us.
That was when she finally looked back up at me. It was hard to find, but that questioning expression was in her eyes. It was as though for a moment she was considering telling me the truth, as though she wanted to let someone in. Then it was gone.
“I’m fine.”
I let out a sigh. I hadn’t meant to, but it was frustrating trying to reach out to Eleanor. She was so closed off from everyone, and it seemed as though right now, possibly more than ever, she needed someone to at least be there. I just wished that she would let someone in, that she would be willing to open up to someone, no matter who it was.
“He’s quite ugly, don’t you think?” Eleanor said.
I looked back at her, confused for a moment before I noticed her finger pointing toward the bust of Salazar Slytherin.
“Definitely.” I agreed. “You know who else is ugly?”
“Who?” She asked, her brows scrunching together slightly.
“That lizard.” I said, eyeing the green creature on her shoulder.
That time she really did smile. It only lasted for a moment, but it was there.
“He’s not a ‘lizard’, George. He’s a Moke.” She said. “Much more interesting.”
“Are you going to keep that creepy thing?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
By the time the sitting room was completely decontaminate, the Moke was sound asleep, still resting on Eleanor’s shoulder.