Dark

Chapter 49

Draco
I wasn’t sure what to make of things. At the end of last term, Eleanor had shut herself down. She wasn’t speaking to any of us, not even me. She was just silent. I had thought that over the break, something would change. That doesn’t seem to be what happened though. At least not a change for the better.
Eleanor still wasn’t speaking to me. She was silent on the platform, hardly acknowledging that I was trying to get her attention before walking away from me. I tried to catch up to her after the welcoming feast, but again, she just walked away.
What struck me as truly odd though was that she wasn’t silent with everyone. She was speaking to Greengrass, and she was speaking to that Harper kid. She just wasn’t speaking to me.
Why though? I had tried to be there. After everything that happened in the maze, after Eleanor almost died, I was there. So what had I done to earn the silent treatment from her now?
I tried to find her at breakfast, but as she had done so often before, she wasn’t in the Great Hall to eat. It wasn’t until our first lesson of the term that I was anywhere near her again. By the time I arrived to Transfiguration, she was already seated at a full table, settled in next to Tracey Davis.
I took one of the open seats a couple of rows back from her. I tried to focus on my work, but it didn’t turn out well. Rather than turning a squirrel into a coffee press, I had managed to transfigure it into a flamingo. How? I’m still unsure.
A couple of hours later, I was settling into my usual seat in Potions. Eleanor wasn’t here yet, though I was sure that when she arrived she would simply avoid me yet again. Somehow though, luck was on my side.
“Settle down,” Snape said coldly, shutting the door behind him as he entered the classroom.
Where was Eleanor? She still hadn’t shown up, and the only avaible seat left was the one between myself and Zabini.
“Before we begin today’s lesson I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which –“
The door of the classroom opened and Eleanor stepped in. She was hardly ever late to lessons. What could she have been so busy with on the first day back that she ran late for Potions?
“Excuse me Professor, I appear to have been running a bit late.” Eleanor said flatly.
“That will be a point from Slytherin for your tardiness Miss Potter, take a seat.”
Eleanor’s eyes scanned the room quickly, and I could see the desperation in her expression to sit anywhere other than the open seat beside me. What had I done?
“As I was saying before Miss Potter’s interruption,” Snape continued, “You will be sitting an important examination in June, in which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are,” Snape’s eyes drifted in Potter’s direction, and as Eleanor finally took the seat beside me, I noticed the glare that she was sending Snape, “I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in your O.W.L., or suffer my…displeasure.
“After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,” Snape went on. “I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye.
“But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.
I tried to catch Eleanor’s attention, but she simply stared determinedly ahead, listening to Snape’s lecture.
“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavey handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.” Snape gave a flick of his wand toward the front of the room as he continued on, “The ingredients are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half…Start.”
I reached into my bag for my textbook and began to sift through the pages, looking for the Draught of Peace. As Eleanor did the same beside me, Snape approached our table.
“The potion I had you work on recently was of an excellent standard, Miss Potter.” Snape said.
My head snapped up. What in the world was he talking about? He couldn’t have seen her since last term, could he? Had Eleanor actually been the wizarding world during the holidays? I had only assumed that she had been forced to return to the orphanage, but maybe I was mistaken.
“Thank you sir.” Eleanor said.
“I would like for you to work on something different today. Rather than the Draught of Peace, I would like for you to work on something a little more challenging. Grab one of the Advanced Potion Making books from the cabinet and brew the Elixir to Induce Euphoria.” Snape instructed, watching Eleanor closely.
“Of course, sir.”
With that, Eleanor fetched a spare textbook and got to work on her potion. We were nearly half way through the lesson before she finally looked my way.
“Don’t do that.” She said quietly.
“Don’t do what?” I asked, nearly dropping the container in my hand.
“Your potion has simmered long enough, it’s the proper shade of pink,” Eleanor said expasperatedly, turning back to her own potion, “but the next step is not to add powdered porcupine quills, you need to add the syrup of hellebore first.”
I looked up to the front of the room, and sure enough, she was right. I had forgotten the last instruction of line three. Replacing the powdered porcupine quills I had been holding with the syrup of hellebore, I got back to work, trying to not let myself become distracted by the fact that Eleanor had finally said something to me. I was sure that by the time we were leaving class, she would go straight back to ignoring me.
“That’s enough, Malfoy. You can add the quills now.”
How she had known, I wasn’t sure. Eleanor’s head hadn’t turned away from her potion but I took her word for it.
“Thanks.”
That was it. Even when Snape scolded Potter for making the mistake that I would have also made if it had not been for Eleanor, she didn’t say a word. As we all cleaned up our stations and put our things away, she didn’t anything. When the bell rang and everyone made for the door, she threw the book she had been using into her bag and was the first one out of it.
Though I had hoped she would turn up, I wasn’t surprised to find that she had skipped out on lunch as well. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen at the Slytherin table.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Zabini asked, drawing me out of my search for Eleanor among the other students. “You’ve been distracted.”
“Nothing, just off day.” I answered causually.
“I doubt that. Is it Eleanor?”
“Why would she have anything to do with me being distracted?” I asked.
“Maybe because you keep looking for her, can’t stop watching and waiting for her to finally speak to you. It’s been rather obvious, actually.” He said, giving me a knowing look from across the table.
“Fine, it’s Eleanor. She won’t speak to me, and I’m not sure why.”
“Strange…” Zabini seemed to be thinking something over for a minute before he finally spoke up again, “Do you think Potter could have said something? You mentioned that he was trying to get you to stay away from her. Maybe he said something to make her upset with you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he would.”

Harry
“That was really unfair,” Hermione said consolingly, sitting down next to me and helping herself to shepherd’s pie. “Your potion wasn’t nearly as bad as Goyle’s, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire.”
“Yeah, well, since when has Snape ever been fair to me?” I asked.
I had missed the last part in line three of the instructions. Snape took notice, and as usual used the moment to embarrass me in front of the rest of the class. By the time he was done with that, he vanished the contents of my cauldron and declared that I had earned nothing for the day.
“I did think he might be a bit better this year,” Hermione said, disappointed. “I mean…you know…Now he’s in the Order and everything.”
“Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots,” Ron said sagely. “Anyway, I’ve always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape, where’s the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?”
“I think Dumbledore’s probably got plenty of evidence, even if he dosen’t share it with you, Ron,” Hermione snapped.
“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” I said, struggling to keep my voice down. “Can’t you give it a rest? You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.”
“And what exactly is it that you and Eleanor are always doing then? You can’t seem to stop arguing with her either.” Ron nearly hissed in frustration.
Without another word I abandoned my lunch and swung my schoolbag over my shoulder, leaving Ron and Hermione in silence. It was frustrating enough to know that I had messed up with Eleanor once again, but to have to be reminded of it over and over by the two of them was simply infuriating.
I made my way to the divination room, hoping to find a reprieve from the obnoxious start of term I was having. To my dismay, luck wasn’t on my side today. Our newest adventure in divination was dream interpretation. In a hope to avoid speaking about my ever present dreams of running down corridors and finding nothing but a locked door, I gave Ron a dream of mine that had only happened a couple of nights ago. Though it was strange, it wasn’t anything I was worried about. That didn’t serve for Trelawney though.
“My dear boy…you must be very careful…very careful indeed…the dagger, it represents danger…the snake, an enemy…and you’ve said they were surrounded by shadows…the color black could very well mean death…”
Just as every other lesson with Trelawney, she predicted my imminent demise.
As the end of the lesson approached, I was happy to remove myself from the stuffy, overly perfumed room.
“What’s next?” I asked Ron.
Pulling out his timetable he scanned the page and his face fell. “Defense, with that Umbridge woman. And it’s with the Slytherins.”
“Great, just what a needed.” I said, sarcasim dripping with every word.
Hermione had caught up with us just outside of the Defense classroom. When the door of the room opened, we stepped inside to find Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher’s desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan from the night before and a black velvet bow on top of her head. I couldn’t help but think of a large juicy fly being perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.
The room was quiet as the students filed in. None of us knew what to expect from her. But if my very brief experience of her at my hearing was enough to go off of, I could assume that this class would be less than pleasant.
“Well, good afternoon!” Umbridge said, as the ringing bell that indicated the beginning of the lesson began to quiet down.
A few people mumbled “Good afternoon,” in reply.
“Tut, tut,” Professor Umbridge said. “That won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”
“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” we chanted back at her dully.
“There, now,” she said sweetly, “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks at this. As I turned a questioning look toward Ron, I caught sight of Eleanor. She was sitting as usual beside Malfoy, though she didn’t look all too pleased by the situation. I couldn’t tell though if it was actually Malfoy or Umbridge she appeared to be angered by. Her eyes were trained on the professor, the slightest bit of narrowing making it clear to me that she got a very similar feeling from the woman as I did.
Umbridge tapped the blackboard next to her desk with her wand, and words immediately began to appear:
Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles
“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” Umbridge stated, turning to face the class again, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.
“You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structed, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”
Umbridge rapped the blackboard again:
Course aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
For a couple of moments, the only sounds in the room were those of quills scratching out the words from the board.
“Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”
There was a dull mumur of assent from the class.
“I think we’ll try that again. When I aske you a question, I should like you to reply ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge.’ So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”
“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” rang through the room.
“Good,” she said. “I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, ‘Basics for Beginners.’ There will be no need to talk.”
Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher’s desk, observing us all with her pouchy toad’s eyes.
I turned to page five and attempted to read. It was desperately dull, as bad as listening to Professor Binns. My concentration waned quickly and I resorted to looking around the room to keep myself from falling asleep. Ron was absentmindedly turning his quill in his hand, barely paying attention to the pages of his book. Hermione, however, had not even opened hers. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air, and a strangely Eleanor-ish glint in her eye.
I couldn’t remember a time in which Hermione had neglected to read. If I had to guess, I would say that resisting the temptation to read was likely one of Hermione’s greatest struggles. I watched, wondering what in the world she was trying to accomplish. As she continued to stare ahead, Professor Umbridge seemed to be looking in the other direction with just as much effort.
After several more minutes had passed, however, I wasn’t the only watching Hermione. A number of the students had ceased reading to watch her silent struggle. Even Eleanor was watching, her eyes flicking from Hermione, to Umbridge, and back again.
When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than their books, Umbridge finally broke her silence.
“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” She asked Hermione in her falsely sweet voice.
“Not about the chapter, no.” Hermione answered.
“Well, we’re reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”
“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” Hermione said defiantly.
Umbridge raised her eyebrows. “And your name is –?”
“Hermione Granger.”
“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully.”
“Well I don’t,” Hermione retorted bluntly. “There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”
Most of the class, including myself turned back to the blackboard. She was right, there was nothing in the course aims about using magic.
“Using defensive spells?” Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?”
“We’re not going to use magic?” Ron said loudly.
“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. –?”
“Weasley,” Ron said, thrusting his hand into the air.
Umbridge smiled widely, turned away, and ignored him. “Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?”
“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?”
“No, but –“
“Well then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –“
“What use is that?” I blurted out loudly. This was maddening. How could we be expected to sit here and not use any spells when the entire point of the class was to learn to defend ourselves. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a –“
“Hand, Mr. Potter!” Umbridge sang.
I thrust my hand into the air, but just as she had done with Ron, she turned away and ignored me. Instead, she took several steps away and addressed another student.
“And your name is?” She said, stopping before Dean.
“Dean Thomas.”
“Well, Mr. Thomas?”
“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” Dean asked. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free –“
“I repeat,” Umbridge said in an irritated tone, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”
“No, but –“
“I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,” Umbridge spoke over Dean, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”
“If you mean Professor Lupin,” Dean piped up angrily, “he was the best we ever –“
“Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying – you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –“
“No we haven’t,” Hermione said, “we just –“
“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!” Umbridge said sharply. “It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you –“
My eyes immediately darted toward Eleanor. I expected to see anger in her features, but instead she seemed blank, simply staring ahead to the front of the room, not even watching Umbridge any longer. Malfoy wasn’t watching Umbridge either, he was staring at Eleanor, his brows knitted in confusion, maybe even worry.
“Well he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?” Dean said hotly. “Mind you, we still learned loads –“
“Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas! Now it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?” Umbridge asked, turning toward someone else.
“Parvati Patil, and isn’t there a practical bit in our Defense O.W.L.? Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?”
“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,” Umbridge said dismissively.
“Without ever practicing them before?” Parvati cried out. “Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam?”
“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –“
“And what good’s theory going to be in the real world?” I nearly shouted, throwing my fist into the air again.
“This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world.”
“So we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting out there?”
“There is nothing waiting out there Mr. Potter.”
“Oh yeah?” I could feel my anger practically bubbling in the pit of my stomach.
“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?”
“Hmm, let’s think…” I said, mocking a thoughtful voice, “maybe Lord Voldemort?”
There was a collective gasp around the room. Lavender Brown uttered a little scream and Neville actually slipped sideways out of his chair. Umbridge, however, didn’t even flinch.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”
The classroom was silent, completely still. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead. This is a lie.”
“It is NOT a lie!” I yelled, standing from my seat. “I saw him, I fought him!”
“Detention, Mr. Potter!” Umbridge cried triumphantly. “Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’”
“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” I asked, my voice shaking with rage.
Apart from Ron, Hermione, and Eleanor, no in the class knew what exactly had happened in the graveyard, they didn’t know the details of Voldemort’s return or the exact way in which Cedric died. The room had become so completely still in a split second that it was as if time itself had stopped for the briefest of moments.
“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident.”
There was a loud clattering from farther back in the room. Everyone’s head turned immediately, to find Eleanor racing forward. It had all happened so quickly that Umbridge didn’t even have the chance to react. Eleanor stood before her, wand raised to her throat. There was a terrifying look in her eyes. The emptiness of her expression just minutes before was gone, now she was filled to the brim with anger. It practically radiated off of her as she stood there, glaring at Umbridge, just a mere foot from her face.
For a moment, everything was silent. All eyes were on Eleanor and Umbridge. I wanted to jump up and pull Eleanor back, but I also wanted to see just what would happen. Before I could make a decision, Eleanor finally spoke.
“Tell me, Professor,” she said with a sickly tone, “do you wish to use defensive magic in your classroom now?”
Umbridge stared at Eleanor with wide eyes, a true fear evident upon her face. She moved her mouth, trying to speak for a moment, but nothing more than a spluttering sound came out.
“That’s what I thought.” Eleanor hissed.
Lowering her wand, Eleanor turned away from Umbridge and marched back toward her desk.
“I can have you expelled for such behavior!” Umbridge cried, her voice cracking.
Eleanor reached down for her bag and threw her textbook into it before turning back to Umbridge. With her arms held out wide she simply laughed as she said, “Do it. Make my wildest dreams come true. I can’t wait!”
Then she was gone, the classroom door slamming shut behind her.
For nearly an entire minute, nothing happened. Umbridge stood where Eleanor had left her, staring blankly at the door. The other students were either watching the door, or watching Umbridge. No one knew what to make of what had just happened.
Eventually, Umbridge turned back toward her desk. Taking out a small roll of parchment, she scribbling something upon it and flicked it with her wand, sealing it seamlessly.
“Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.”
I approached the desk hesitantly.
“Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear.” Umbridge said, holding the note out to me.
I took it and grabbed the rest of my things on my way out of the room.
As the door closed behind me, I raced down one end of the corridor, looking for Eleanor. No luck. I raced back down to the other end. No sign of her there either. I debated setting off to find her, but in the end simply made my way toward Professor McGonagall’s office.
I didn’t want to face Professor McGonagall, but even more worrying than having to do that was what would happen to Eleanor. Would she really be expelled?