Dark

Chapter 43

Harry
It was half-past five when I woke up. The hearing was hours away, and dread seemed to fill every crack and crevice of my mind. I snatched my glasses up from the bedside table and was glad to find that Ron was still fast asleep. I didn’t think I could face anyone this morning knowing that I may not be going back to Hogwarts.
Mrs. Weasley had laid out freshly laundered clothes and I slipped into them, thankful that even the tiny decision of what to wear hadn’t been left up to me. A blank picture frame on the wall above Ron’s bed seemed to snicker at me as I changed. I hadn’t seen anyone in the frame since I arrived, and I wasn’t sure why they were hiding.
When I reached the kitchen door just minutes later, I could hear the soft rumble of voices on the other side. I opened the door to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks at the table. To my great surprise though, Eleanor was seated with them. She had a large book laid out in front of her.
“Breakfast,” Mrs. Weasley said as she saw me. She pulled out her wand and hurried over to the stove.
“M-m-morning, Harry,” Tonks yawned. Her hair was blonde and curly this morning rather than its usual violet shade. “Sleep all right?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“What do you want, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley called. “Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?”
“Just – just toast, thanks,” I answered, taking a seat next to Eleanor.
Lupin glanced up at me before turning to Tonks and asking, “What were you saying about Scrimgeour?”
“Oh…yeah…well, we need to be a bit more careful, he’s been asking Kingsley and me funny questions…”
I was happy to not have to join the conversation. My insides felt as though they were squirming and my head seemed to be so filled with worry over the hearing that I couldn’t think straight. Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of me. I tried to eat it, but it felt as though I were simply chewing carpet. Small snippets of Lupin and Tonks’ conversation would float into my ears from time to time, but none of it ever stuck.
Eventually my attempts to eat the toast became so futile that I just set it down all together and looked around the room. When my eyes fell on Eleanor again I could see how exhausted she still looked. Had she really not slept yet?
“Have you slept at all?” I asked her quietly.
“No.”
She didn’t even bother to look up from her book.
I had tried to be quiet, not to draw attention to Eleanor’s lack of sleep, but I had been overheard anyway.
“You really do need to get some sleep.” Sirius said, watching Eleanor closely.
“No thank you.” She said, still not looking up from her book.
“Eleanor…you’re safe here…you don’t have to be afraid of –“
Eleanor’s head finally shot up, her eyes leaving the pages of her book for the first time since I entered the room, “I’m not afraid.”
“I think we’ll go now,” Mr. Weasley said quickly, standing up from the table and heading for the door.
I stood up, following him. The knots in my stomach only seemed to worsen.
“The hearing’s on my floor, in Amelia Bones’s office. She’s Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she’s the one who’ll be questioning you.” Mr. Weasley said.
“Amelia Bones is okay, Harry,” Tonks said earnestly. “She’s fair, she’ll hear you out.”
“Don’t lose your temper,” Sirius said, finally turning away from Eleanor to give me a small smile. “Be polite and stick to the facts.”
I nodded again. I had Eleanor’s notebook with me. I hadn’t had time to go through the entire thing on my own, but Hermione had looked it over last night and said that it did present plenty of evidence for why they shouldn’t expel me. According to her, if they stuck to their own laws and upheld the precedent that Eleanor had displayed in her notes, then I would be fine. In the end though, we both knew that the Ministry wasn’t likely to play by the same rules for me. Not when they’ve been defacing Dumbledore and I in the Daily Prophet all summer.
“The law’s on your side,” Lupin said quietly. “Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.”
Mrs. Weasley had approached me now, looking over my clothes and straightening out the creases.
“Doesn’t it ever lie flat?” She said desperately as she tried to smooth down my hair.
I just shook my head, having completely lost my voice. I wish that Dumbledore had spoken to me at some point. I wish that I knew what to expect.
“Well, we’ve all got our fingers crossed,” Mrs. Weasley said.
I turned to leave with Mr. Weasley when I heard Eleanor speak to me.
“I hope you’re hearing goes well.” She said.
I turned back toward her, but she was simply looking down at her book again.
“Thanks.” I said quietly, tucking the notebook she had given me a little closer.
Mr. Weasley had determined that it would be best to arrive at the Ministry in as much of a magic free way as possible. He reckoned that it would help my case if I were avoiding magic before the hearing. So, we had to take the underground into the heart of London, and Mr. Weasley had been over excited by the experience. His jubilation didn’t subside until we had finally made it to the lifts inside the Ministry.
“Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office.” A cool female voice rang out from the lift as it clattered to a stop.
The doors opened and I could see a rather untidy-looking corridor covered in Quidditch posters. One of the wizards that had been in lift with us, carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with some difficult and wandered off up the hall. The doors closed again and the lift juddered upward.
“Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center.”
The doors opened again and four witches and wizards left, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift before the doors clanged closed again. I could just catch a glimpse of “Ministry of Magic” stamped along the edges of their wings.
“Just interdepartmental memos,” Mr. Weasley muttered. “We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable…droppings all over the desks…”
Eventually we passed level five – “Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats” – level four – “Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau” – and level three, “Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.” Then we came to level two, “Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”
“This is us, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, following a witch out of the lift and into a corridor lined with doors. “My office is on the other side of the floor.”
“Mr. Weasley,” I said, eyeing a window as we passed, which was spilling sunlight into the corridor, “aren’t we underground?”
“Yes, we are,” Mr. Weasley said, “those are enchanted windows; Magical Maintenance decide what weather we’re getting every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay raise…Just round here, Harry.”
We turned a corner and emerged through a pair of heavy oak doors into a room filled with cubicles. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read “Auror Headquarters.”
We made our way past the cubicles toward a door tucked away in a far corner. It had a brass plaque reading “Misuse of Muggle Artifacts.” When we walked in I was surprised to find that the office seemed smaller than a broom cupboard. Somehow they had managed to fit two desks inside the space, and there was barely any room to move around. Overflowing filing cabinets lined the walls, and there were tottering piles of files everywhere. Sitting in an in-tray was an old toaster that seemed to be hiccupping, and a pair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling their own thumbs. On one of the desks was a picture of the Weasley family. I noticed that Percy’s image had walked outside of the frame.
A memo flew into the room, poking Mr. Weasley in the side of the head. He snatched it out the air and unfolded it.
“’Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately.’ This is getting ridiculous…”
“A regurgitating toilet?”
“Anti-Muggle pranksters,” Mr. Weasley explained, frowning. “We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing – well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those – those pumbles, I think they’re called – you know, the ones who mend pipes and things –“
“Plumbers?”
“– exactly, yes, but of course they’re flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever’s doing it.”
“Will it be Aurors who catch them?”
“Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it’ll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol – ah, Harry, this is Perkins.”
A stooped, timid-looking wizard had just entered the room, panting.
“Oh Arthur!” he said desperately while trying to catch his breath. “Thank goodness, I didn’t know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not, I’ve just sent an owl to your home but you’ve obviously missed it – an urgent message came ten minutes ago –“
“I know about the regurgitating toilet,” Mr. Weasley said.
“No, no, it’s not the toilet, it’s the Potter boy’s hearing – they’ve changed the time and venue – it starts at eight o’clock now and it’s down in old Courtroom Ten –“
“Down in old – but they told me – Merlin’s beard –“
Mr. Weasley leapt up, and let out a yelp as he checked his watch.
“Quick, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!”
We rushed back down the corridor and into the lift. Mr. Weasley jabbed at the buttons impatiently, hopelessly trying to rush the lift downwards.
“Those courtrooms haven’t been used in years,” he said angrily. “I can’t think why they’re doing it down there – unless – but no…”
It took what felt like forever to reach the floor we needed. “Department of Mysteries,” the voice in the lift said.
“Quick, Harry,” Mr. Weasley rushed out the lift as soon as the doors rattled open, me following quickly at his heels.
We sped up a corridor with no doors or windows. There was a door at the end of the corridor that I thought we were headed for, but then Mr. Weasley gripped my sleeve and pulled me off to the left toward a flight of stairs. We rushed down them and into another windowless corridor.
“Down here, down here,” Mr. Weasley panted. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”
We stumbled to a halt in from of a grimy door with a large iron lock on it. Mr. Weasley slumped against the wall, still breathing heavily.
“Go on,” he panted, pointing toward the door. “Get in there.”
“Aren’t – aren’t you coming with –?”
“No, no, I’m not allowed. Good luck!”
My heart seemed to beat violently against my ribcage as I opened the door to the courtroom, completely alone except for Eleanor’s notebook still clutched in my hand.

Hermione
By the time I had made it out of bed, Harry was already gone. I spent the entire morning sitting at the kitchen table with Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Eleanor. Tonks and Lupin were in and out throughout the day, and eventually Ron, Ginny, and the twins joined us in our wait for news.
I had looked over Eleanor’s notebook the previous night. It was a filled with examples of the Ministry forgiving underage magic in life-threatening situations. If Harry could adequately present that information to the Ministry, then they shouldn’t be able to expel him. As much as I wanted to believe that it would be enough, I knew it wouldn’t be. They’ve spent two months making out Dumbledore and Harry to be liars and kooks. They wanted to be rid of Harry and Dumbledore, and they had probably been waiting for an occasion just like this to expel Harry from Hogwarts.
There wasn’t much talking throughout the morning. Everyone was too anxious, too nervous about what the outcome may be. The only one who didn’t seem concerned was Eleanor. She simply sat there all morning reading. She didn’t talk to any of us, she didn’t look up from her book. She just sat there silent and reading.
Could she really be that upset at Harry still? Does she really not care if he gets expelled from Hogwarts? She must understand what it means to him to be there. I would imagine she prefers Hogwarts over the orphanage, and especially over living on the streets. It must be important to her too. Does she not understand that it’s just as important to Harry, that it’s his home, because the Dursleys have never made him feel welcome?
“Are you worried about Harry’s hearing?” I asked suddenly, not able to contain my curiosity any longer.
“No.” She said simply.
But how? How in the world could she care so little about it? That didn’t make sense though. If she wasn’t worried about it, why would she go to the trouble to helping him establish a defense?
“How are you not worried?” Ginny asked, her eyes narrowed toward Eleanor.
“Firstly, Dumbledore isn’t about to let his golden boy get expelled, he’ll be there. Secondly, if Dumbledore doesn’t show up, I gave Harry everything he needs to prove that there is solid precedent for the use of underage magic in life-threatening situations. Thirdly, if it was me facing expulsion, I’m sure Harry would be pleased to see me go.” It wasn’t until she had said all of this that she finally looked up from her book, returning Ginny’s fierce gaze, “So why waste my time worrying?”
“That isn’t true, he wouldn’t want you to be expelled.” I said, more timidly than I had intended.
I just wish that she could understand, that Harry doesn’t hate her. No matter what he said or did last year, I know he doesn’t hate her. He had been distraught when Eleanor had almost died. It had completely torn him up, and I could tell that he blamed himself. When she had been missing, the only person more worried than Harry had been Sirius. He cared for her. Even if he hadn’t at first, he did now.
Without another word, Eleanor lowered her gaze again to her book. Never before had I understood Ron’s annoyance with my avid reading. Now it finally seemed to make sense.
Suddenly the kitchen door opened and Harry and Mr. Weasley stepped inside. I let out a sigh of relief at the smile on Harry’s face. He wouldn’t be happy if he wasn’t going back to Hogwarts.
“I knew it!” Ron yelled, punching at the air in celebration. “You always get away with stuff!”
“They were bound to clear you,” I said, feeling light headed from the sudden release of the anxiety that had been building all day. “There was no case against you, none at all…”
“Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I’d get off,” Harry said, smiling.
“I tried to tell them it was a waste of time to worry.” Eleanor said. “I assume Dumbledore showed up?”
“Yeah, he did.” Harry said, taking a seat at the table.
“Seems I was right.” Eleanor said, looking between me and Ginny.
Fred and George had jumped up from the table, chanting, “He got off, he got off, he got off –“
“That’s enough, settle down!” Mr. Weasley shouted. “Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry –“
At this, both Sirius and Eleanor’s heads perked up, turning toward Mr. Weasley.
“What?” Sirius asked sharply.
“He got off, he got off, he got off –“
“Be quiet! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge’s office together. Dumbledore ought to know.”
“Absolutely,” Sirius nodded. “We’ll tell him, don’t worry.”
“Well, I’d better get going,” Mr. Weasley looked down at his watch, “there’s a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner –“
“He got off, he got off, he got off –“
“That’s enough – Fred – George!” Mrs. Weasley said loudly as Mr. Weasley rushed out of the kitchen. “Harry dear, what would you like for lunch? You hardly touched your breakfast.”
Soon enough Mrs. Weasley was busying herself making lunch. The twins were still chanting, “He got off,” as Eleanor closed her book. She got up from the table and before leaving the room she leaned down next to Harry and told him something. Then she left the room, her book tucked under her arm.
“What was that?” I asked Harry.
“She just told me congratulations,” Harry said, a small smile on his face, “for not getting expelled.”

Lupin
“I know that you’d love for Harry to stay here with you, Padfoot. But he belongs at Hogwarts.” I whispered.
“I know he does. I know.” Sirius said quietly.
The stairwell was silent except for our whispers and footsteps. The rest of the house was asleep, but as often happened, Sirius and I were still awake. Even the lateness of three in the morning couldn’t lull us to bed.
“I can tell you’re upset though.” I said.
“I’m not upset, I’m just –“
Sirius stopped abruptly as he opened the kitchen door. I looked over his shoulder to find Eleanor was sitting at the table, a bowl in front of her. None of us had seen her eat anything since we brought her here.
She looked up at us, looking utterly displeased by our presence. Sirius and I finally stepped into the room and took seats across the table from Eleanor. Her skin was still covered in bruises, her face still scraped up around her right eye. I could see the red elongated scars trailing up her left arm and the side of her face. Marks a Hungarian Horntail had left her with. I was thankful that she was eating, because she looked altogether too thin. If she had been truthful, she hadn’t eaten for a number of days before I found her. I had thought she wasn’t eating here either, but maybe she had been coming down here all this time, late in the night, for food.
“Have you slept yet?” Sirius asked.
“No.” Eleanor said, dropping her fork into the bowl in front of her.
I wanted her to get sleep, but at the same time, I was sure that pushing the subject would be the same as pushing her farther away from us. She was guarded, unwilling to let anyone in. If only we could get through to her.
“Why are you eating at the three in the morning?” I asked.
Eleanor turned her gaze away from Sirius to narrow her eyes in my direction. She just looked at me for a moment, seeming to consider whether or not I was worth responding to.
“In the orphanage…they didn’t feed us a lot.” Eleanor said, quieter than I had expected. “The younger kids, they always complained about the hunger pains. So a few years ago I started giving my meals away to different kids each day. I didn’t like knowing that they…that they were hungry, like I had always been.”
Eleanor looked down at her food, a strange expression seeming to come over her for a moment. I shared a look with Sirius. As if he hadn’t been broken up enough over everything what’s happened to Harry and Eleanor, this just seemed to break him even more.
“I would wait until late at night when all the staff would be asleep, and then I’d sneak into the kitchens to find food for myself.” Eleanor explained. “I guess I’m just used to eating late at night. And I don’t really enjoy eating around other people…most of the time.”
We were quiet, unsure what to say. What could ever make the things she’s lived through any better? What could anyone say or do? It was a mystery, lost upon us in that moment. No child should have to live hungry, scared, abused.
“Are you liking it here?” Sirius asked, his face downcast.
“It’s warmer than the streets.” Eleanor said simply. “I like that there’s books to read.”
“How did you get those?”
I turned to Sirius, confused. He was eyeing Eleanor’s hands.
“How did you get the cuts and bruises on your knuckles?” He asked again. “They’re older than your other injuries, which means you were fighting someone at some point before you were attacked.”
It was like a switch had been flicked. Eleanor’s face was so suddenly emotionless that it was disturbing to have experienced. She was shutting down again, cutting us off, walling herself in.
“They’re from when I was attacked.” She said.
“I don’t believe that for a second.” Sirius responded.
“It doesn’t matter.” Eleanor whispered, getting up from the table and making her way toward the door.
“Try to get some sleep, Eleanor,” I said, “please?”
She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even acknowledge that I had spoken again.
“Sirius,” I said, turning away from the door, “have you noticed the two missing bottles of firewhiskey?” I nodded toward the cabinet, but he didn’t need any indication of what I was talking about.
He looked up at me, suddenly seeming more tired than ever.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” He said. “I’m worried about her, Remus. I don’t know what to do.”
“I know, Sirius. I don’t know what to do either.”