Dark

Chapter 44

Harry
“Haven’t the letters usually been delivered by now?” Hermione asked, looking up from the foot of my bed.
“I think so.” Ginny said.
It was the four us – me, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny – just sitting around, doing nothing. We were thankful that the decontamination of the house was now complete. However, with no housework to do we didn’t have much else left to keep us busy either. Hermione seemed to be content to sit around and read, but the rest of us were bored, waiting for the end of the summer holidays and our return to Hogwarts.
“Do you think Mum will let us go to Diagon Alley when the letters arrive?” Ron asked.
“Probably not.” Someone said from the door way.
I turned to see Fred and George standing just inside the room.
“Have you lot seen Eleanor?” Fred asked.
“No, why?” I said. A sick feeling erupted in my stomach and I couldn’t help but wonder if something else had happened to her. She wouldn’t have run off, would she?
“Sirius said he hasn’t seen her all day and she wasn’t in her room. He asked us, but we haven’t seen her either.” George said. “We told him we’d ask you guys though.”
“I haven’t seen her anywhere today, no.” Hermione answered.
“Well if none of you have seen here, come help us look.”
“There’s only about thirty rooms in this old place.”
We all set out on different floors, searching each room for Eleanor. Try as I might, I couldn’t rid myself of that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, or the slight lightheadedness that had crept over me as my heart rate seemed to pick up. If Eleanor wasn’t here, then that was bad. If she did run off, anything could have happened to her, anyone could have gotten to her.
“It’ll be all right, Harry.” Hermione said, laying a hand on my shoulder as we searched a sitting room. “I’m sure she’s here somewhere, we just haven’t looked in the right room yet.”
“You don’t think she could have…” I started, but I couldn’t finish.
“No, I don’t think she ran off, Harry.”
“She’s probably just reading upstairs with Buckbeak or something.” Ron added.
We were just about to head up to the next floor when Fred’s head appeared over the banister of the stairwell.
“We found her.” He said, a strained expression on his face. “She’s…well, it’s just weird.”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Ron asked.
“Just get up here.”
We followed Fred into an unused spare bedroom. As we rounded the bed, we could see George kneeling down in front of a dresser. It wasn’t the dresser he was looking at though. It wasn’t until we were right behind him that I could see Eleanor tucked away in the small two foot space between the dresser and the adjacent wall. She was curled up, her knees tucked into her chest.
“What in the world is she doing?” Ron muttered.
“I told you…weird.” Fred said.
“Should we wake her?” I asked, unsure how she had even managed to squeeze herself into that space to begin with.
“I don’t know, Harry.” Hermione answered.
At that same moment, George reached out and nudged Eleanor’s shoulder. At first nothing happened, then he reached out again. It was so sudden that it didn’t even seem real. One moment, Eleanor was squeezed into the space between the dressed and the wall, the next she had whipped around to shove George to the floor. She was on top him in a split second, one hand pinning down his right shoulder, the other holding a small knife to his throat.
We had all jumped back, unsure of what was going on or what to do. The moment seemed to last for only a second, but at the same time it felt as though it had been stretched into hours. Eleanor was glaring down at George in one moment and the next she seemed to realize what she was doing.
As that realization washed over her, I could see her face fall from anger into an expression of confusion and fear. Her eyes widened and she started shaking her head. She raised the knife away from George and dropped it on the floor beside him before jumping to her feet. She back away from us all, still shaking her head and staring with wide eyes at George. Then she rushed forward, pushing past us.
“I’m so sorry,” she muttered as she fled the room.
“What in the bloody hell?!” Ron said loudly.
I raced toward the door, wanting to follow her. Something was wrong, I could feel it. The moment she realized that the person who woke her was George, she seemed to come back to reality. But who did she think it was before that realization hit?
“Eleanor, what’s wrong?” I could hear Sirius saying.
I stepped out of the room and could see them. He had a hand on each of her arms, trying to get her to face him, but she just pushed him away and continued down the corridor, her head down.
“Eleanor?!” He shouted after her.
“Sirius, I think something’s wrong.” I said as I approached him. “Something’s really wrong.”
He looked back at me, and I knew that I couldn’t keep what had just happened to myself. None of us could. Something was deeply wrong with Eleanor, and someone needed to know.

Eleanor
Fear. It’s not an emotion I like to admit to, but it happens to us all. Whether you’re from brave Gryffindor or cunning Slytherin, clever Ravenclaw or tolerant Hufflepuff, it makes no difference. Fear affects us all. Some, like myself, more than others.
Sometimes our fears come from a lack of experience. We fear the unknown, that which we cannot predict. Other times, it’s our experiences that shape our fears. These…well they can be the most damaging fears of all.
My fears can be crippling. They chase me away from sleep because I can’t face the nightmares that remind me of my experiences. They keep me from trusting others, even those who should be worthy of trust, because I’ve learned to place my trust in no one. They make me feel weak, they make me feel angry, they make me feel…too much.
Fear can stop you from doing a lot, but it can also make you do things you normally wouldn’t. Fear can pierce you so deeply that you never fully sleep again. You’re always only half asleep at night. You’re always ready and waiting for that familiar noise, or scent, or touch, that means danger. You’re always ready to jump into action in a split second because you know that doing so could mean life instead of death.
Fear.
If you can’t control it, it controls you.
And control is everything.
I’m not certain how many days I’ve been in my room, but I would estimate it to be three. Three days. The only contact I’ve had with anyone else has been Kreacher. He’s apparated into the room twice upon my call. From what I’ve observed since I arrived at Grimmauld Place, he only seems to ‘like’ my company. I’m not sure that like is the correct word though. Tolerate may be a better way to put it. He finds my company the easiest to tolerate. He says it’s because I’m a Slytherin. It makes me different from the others. As much as I wish it didn’t, it does. It was noticeable from my first day at Hogwarts that being a Slytherin set me apart. It separated me from so many other people, simply because of the reputation of Slytherin House. A reputation built on misguided and ignorant assumptions.
Kreacher was the only one I had spoken to in these three days, but that didn’t mean that no one else had tried. Black had sat outside the door to my room for hours the first night, pleading with me to come out, to tell him what was going on. I’m sure Harry told him exactly what had happened. That was just another reason why I couldn’t face him. Why I couldn’t face any of them.
I had attacked George. I held a knife to his neck and was ready to make him bleed out the way I had in the maze.
I hadn’t meant to. If I had known that it was George I never would have. If I had known it was any of them…I wouldn’t have reacted that way. But I thought it was someone else. I thought I had been somewhere else.
It was fear. Fear of an experience repeating itself that drove me to attack George.
Now I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It was like a movie set to replay. It repeated itself time and again, every horrible detail. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
I could see the alley, I could smell the mildewed scent in the air, I could feel the pain all over again. It was like a living a nightmare, inescapable and everlasting.
My eyes were closed tight, my hands clenched into fists and placed against my ears. I tried to get away from it all, but I just couldn’t. It was everywhere.
I rushed across the room and picked up a small vase. Before I truly thought about what I was doing, I had already flung it against the wall. The sound of the glass shattering was loud. It felt as though that single sound was reverberating inside my head. It was like finally finding peace. But I knew it would only last a few moments before everything else came rushing back in.
I slid down to the floor. I was so tired, but I couldn’t let myself sleep. I couldn’t face the nightmares, because I’m weak. Because I’m afraid.

George
Mum had sent us up to bed nearly two hours ago. Other than the creaking sounds of the old building, there was only silence. I couldn’t help but think back to the night before. Eleanor still hasn’t come out of her room. She hasn’t spoken to anyone besides Kreacher, but he won’t even tell us how she’s doing. The only sign of her existence was the sound of something shattering in her room the previous night.
What it was, or why it shattered we have no idea. The only thing it signified for us all was that Eleanor was indeed still in there and alive. After the sound erupted down the hall, Sirius had spent the night outside her door, hoping that she would come out. She never did.
We were all fairly certain that she had pushed the dresser up against the door. The first attempts to open the door were met with a locked handle. Even after a simple alohamorah charm, the door couldn’t be easily pushed open.
Harry had grown distant from the rest of us as well. It was similar to before his trial. He was angry, and probably confused.
I couldn’t help but to feel guilty over the entire situation. If I hadn’t tried to wake Eleanor, none of this would have happened. Fred’s reminded me enough times that I couldn’t have known she would react in that way, but still…I wish I could go back and just leave her be.
We all knew Eleanor hadn’t slept in days, I should have known better than to wake her. What really bothered me though, was the reason behind her reaction. She didn’t simply react that way because I had woken her. That’s not a normal thing to do. She had to have already been on guard. She had been holding a knife in her sleep, she was positioned in a way that made it difficult to get to her, but easy enough for her to get out and surprise someone who dared to get too near. I just didn’t like to think of what must have happened to set her on such a high alert.
The worst thing though, was how terrified she looked when she realized what she was doing. When she realized it was me. She looked completely scared, and utterly confused. The thing was, she wasn’t scared any longer of whatever it was she thought had woken her up. In that moment, I could see what it was that was truly bothering her. She was scared of herself.
“Georgie.” Fred whispered from across the room.
“Yeah?”
“I’m hungry.”
I hadn’t noticed it until he said something, but I was hungry as well.
“Think we can sneak into the kitchen for a snack?” I asked.
“I bet we can.” Fred said. “Just no apparating, or Mum’s sure to wake up.”
The hall was dark when we stepped out of our room.
“Lumos.” We both whispered, igniting the ends of our wands.
“Think we can sneak up some of that cake from last night?” Fred whispered.
“You know what, I think we –“
I stopped as we drew closer to the kitchen door. There was an odd clinking noise. We waited a second and then it happened again.
“Nox.”
Our wands were extinguished and we could see a faint light extending out from under the kitchen door. The clinking noise happened again. We turned around to leave, but were pulled up short by a new sound.
“Ouch!”
“Was that Eleanor?” I asked.
Taking a risk, we opened the kitchen door. At first I couldn’t see anything unusual. Then I took a couple steps in and Eleanor came into view. She was sitting on the floor, her back against a set of cabinets. There was a large glass bottle in her hand.
“What are you doing?!” I said, rushing forward and taking the bottle out of her grasp.
“Give that back!” Eleanor said, propping her head up against her hand.
“Are you crazy, no way?!” I told her.
I looked to Fred for some help but when I met his gaze he nodded toward the floor. I looked down to find that an already empty firewhisky bottle was lying next to Eleanor. Why would she do this? Why would she feel the need to resort to this?
“Eleanor…” Fred said, “What in the world were you thinking?”
“It’s a drinking game.” She answered. “You see…you just drink…until you forget things…Ta-da!”
“You can’t do this to yourself.” I said quietly, sitting on the floor beside her.
She looked exhausted again, worn down completely. She was just fourteen. Drinking – and drinking firewhisky, no less – shouldn’t be a coping strategy for any fourteen year old.
“What difference does it make to you?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Eleanor, you’re our friend.” Fred answered before I could say anything. “We care about you.”
“My own brother doesn’t care about me…so how could you?”
“That’s not true…” I said.
I leaned up against the cabinet, sitting right beside Eleanor. Fred joined us on her other side. A set of odd misfits.
“Harry cares about you Eleanor. He’s been really worried about you. He was worried when you were missing too.” Fred said, taking one of her hands in his.
“Well maybe he should hate me…”
“Why would you say that?” I asked.
“If I…If I hadn’t…” Eleanor said, choking on her words, “I didn’t want to win the tournament…All three of us made it to the cup, and Harry and Cedric…they argued about who deserved it more, and then they agreed that we should all take it together.”
Eleanor took in a shaky breath, her eyes trained on the floor in front of her.
“I didn’t want it though…I didn’t want to win, I didn’t want any of it…money…glory…I just didn’t want it…But they deserved it…They deserved to win. They were counting to three, but I pushed them toward the cup early. If I hadn’t then…then Harry wouldn’t have gotten hurt…Cedric wouldn’t be dead…I killed him…It’s all my fault…”
“It’s not, Eleanor. It’s not your fault.” I told her.
“You couldn’t have known.” Fred said.
“I should have known. I should have known the whole time. I knew something was wrong with Moody, but no one believe me…I should have known…”
“If it helps…I’m pretty sure that Harry feels the same way.” Fred said. “I think he feels guilty about Cedric dying, and guilty about you almost dying. We were all so worried Eleanor. Especially Harry.”
Eleanor didn’t say anything else about the tournament. She didn’t say anything else about Harry. She just sat there, staring at the floor, slowly regaining control of her breathing. Within a few minutes of the three of us just sitting there on the kitchen floor, her head dropped down against my shoulder.
I was certain that it mostly had to do with the alcohol, but she eventually let her eyes close and she looked at peace.
This whole time, she had felt as though Cedric’s death was on her shoulders. She was putting the blame on herself for what happened to Harry, for what happened to her. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her during those weeks she was missing, to be alone and so emotionally vulnerable…I just couldn’t imagine it. It must have been horrible.
“I’m sorry George…” Eleanor whispered, bringing me out of my thoughts, “for attacking you…it’s just, that I was asleep, and I…I just…I thought…”
“It’s all right, Eleanor. I understand.”
After a few minutes of silence I could hear Eleanor’s breaths begin to even out and become slower. She was falling asleep, right here against the kitchen cabinets.
“We should get her to bed.” I whispered to Fred.
“I don’t we should leave her alone though…that doesn’t seem safe.” Fred nodded again toward the liquor bottles on the floor.
He was right, we couldn’t leave her alone like this. She could just wake up again and come back down for more.
“Let’s put her in our room. She can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” I said.
Fred nodded in agreement. He slipped his hand out of hers and as I picked her up off the floor, he emptied what little firewhiksy was left before throwing out the bottles. As we made our way up the stairs, I couldn’t help but notice how light Eleanor was. The image of her, alone and scared, without food and shelter while living on the streets flooded my mind. It wasn’t fair, none of it was right. She shouldn’t have had to live like that.
Once the door to our room was closed again, I laid Eleanor in my bed and pulled the covers over her. Fred handed me an extra pillow and blanket from his own bed as he climbed in. With Eleanor sound asleep on one side of the room, Fred and I settled in for the night on our own side. The floor wasn’t comfortable, but I imagine it was better than anything Eleanor had to sleep on during those weeks she had been missing.
“Goodnight George.” Fred said.
“Goodnight Fred.”