Dark

Chapter 55

Harry
               I had been looking forward to a trip into Hogsmeade since the term started. But my last conversation with Sirius had left a sour taste at the idea. He had maintained a stony silence since he had been the Gryffindor fireplace. That didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want him to risk getting caught to come and see us though.
               The morning of the Hogsmeade visit was bright but windy. After breakfast, everyone from third year and above was queud up in front of Filch, who was matching our names to his long list. I felt a small pang of guilt as I remembered that if it hadn’t been for Sirius, I wouldn’t have even been allowed to visit Hogsmeade in the first place.
               As we eventually made our way through the Hogwarts gates I finally thought to ask Hermione, “Where are we going anyway? The Three Broomsticks?”
               “Oh –no,” Hermione said, “no, it’s always packed and really noisy. I’ve told the others to meet us in the Hog’s Head, that other pub, you know the one, it’s not on the main road. I think it’s a bit…you know…dodgy…but students don’t normally go in there, so I don’t think we’ll be overheard.”
               We walked through the main street, past Zonko’s Joke Shop, the post office, and the Three Broomsticks. After turning up a side street, we were faced with a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door with a picture of a wild boar’s severed head. We all hesitated before Hermione finally stepped forward.
               “Well, come on,” she said nervously.
               The Hog’s Head was nothing like the Three Broomsticks. The bar was dusty, the floors were worn out, and everything was dirty and smelled strongly of goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could break through.
               There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty gray bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows and a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes was sat beside a fireplace.
               “I don’t know about this, Hermione,” I muttered. “Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?”
               Hermione looked intently at the veiled figure.
               “Umbridge is shorter that that woman,” she said quietly. “And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there’s nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I’ve double- and triple-checked the school rules. We’re not out-of-bounds.”
               Giving up hope that Hermione might let us turn around and leave before we even got started, I bought the three of us some dusty butter beers from the grumpy-looking man behind the bar.
               “So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?” I asked, wrenching open my drink and taking a swig.
               “Just a couple of people,” Hermione said, checking her watch. “I told them to be here about now and I’m sure they all know where it is – oh look, this might be them now –“
               The door of the pub had opened and students began filing in. First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho Chang. I could feel my stomach back flip at this. I hadn’t been expecting her. Cho was accompanied by another Ravenclaw, and following them were Ginny and Luna. The entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team seemed to have shown up, followed by Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back. There were three Ravenclaw boys I didn’t know the names of for sure, and behind them were Fred, George, Lee Jordan, and Eleanor.
               “A couple of people?” I said hoarsely, taking in the sight of the crowd. “A couple of people?”
               “Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,” Hermione said happily.
               Once everyone had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out and every eye seemed to fall upon me.
               “Er,” Hermione said in a higher than usual voice. “Well – er – hi.”
               The group’s attention turned to her and she slowly continued.
               “Well…erm…well, you know why you’re here. Erm…well, Harry here had the idea – I mean” Hermione changed pace as I threw her a sharp look – “I had the idea – that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts – and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts –“
               “Hear hear!” Someone called out.
               “Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.”
               Hermione paused and looked towards me before continuing.
               “And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells –“
               “You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?” someone asked.
               “Of course I do,” Hermione said at once. “But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because…because…” she took a great breath and finished quickly. “Because Lord Voldemort’s back.”
               The reaction was immediate and predictable. There was a shriek from Cho’s friend, Padma shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp. And then everyone’s attention turned toward me again.
               “Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” asked a blonde Hufflepuff player I recognized from the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.
               “Well, Dumbledore believes it –“ Hermione began.
               “You mean, Dumbledore believes him,” the boy said, nodding in my direction.
               “Who are you?” Ron asked rudely.
               “Zacharias Smith,” the boy answered, “and I think we’ve got the right to know what makes him say You-Know-Who’s back.”
               I caught Eleanor glaring at Smith as Hermione tried to regain control of the meeting.
               “Look,” she said, “that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about –“
               “It’s okay, Hermione.” I said, realizing something that Hermione should have seen coming long before now. Some of these people – maybe even most of them – had turned up in the hope of hearing my story firsthand.
               “What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back?” I asked, looking Smith straight in the face. “I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.”
               “All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered or how your sister was attacked, and I think we’d all like to know –“
               “If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, I can’t help you.” I said defiantly. “ I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”
               “Is it true,” a girl interrupted, “that you can produce a Patronus?”
               There was a murmur of interest around the group.
               “Yeah.” I answered more defensively than I had intended.
               “Blimey, Harry!” said Lee, looking deeply impressed. “I never knew that!”
               “And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office? That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last there…” someone else said.
               “Er – yeah, I did, yeah.”
               “And in our first year, Neville said, “he saved the Sorcerer’s Stone.”
               “And that’s not to mention,” Cho said, her eyes locked on me, “all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year – getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantuals and things…”
               There was a murmur of impressed agreement in the room. But I could feel my insides squirming. Cho’s praise was a part of that, but the other part was the fact that I hadn’t done any of those things on my own.
               “Look,” I said quickly, “I…I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but…I had a lot of help with all that stuff…”
               I looked to Eleanor, but she was staring intently at the ground.
               “No one helped you with that cool bit of flying in the first task.”
               “That’s not true, I would’ve been burnt to a crisp if Eleanor hadn’t been there.”
               “And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer.”
               “Well, no, I did that on my own. I’ve done bits on my own, but that’s not the point.”
               “Are you trying to get out of showing us any of this stuff?” Smith asked.
               “Why don’t you just shut it,” Ron said.
               “Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him, and now he’s telling us he can’t really do any of it,” Smith said.
               “That’s not what he said,” Fred cut in.
               “Alright, moving on,” Hermione said loudly. “If we can all agree that we want to learn from Harry, then the next question is how often we do it. I really don’t think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week –“
               “Hang on,” Angelina said, “we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with our Quidditch practice.”
               “No,” Cho said, “nor with ours.”
               “Or ours,” Smith added.
               “I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone,” Hermione said, slightly impatient now. “Look, we can settle which night to meet later, and we’ll have to find a place big enough for all of us, but for now, I…I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think,” Hermione took a deep breath, “that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we’re doing. So if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell Umbridge – or anybody else – what we’re up to.”
               There was a nervous look around the room.
               “I’m not going to be leaving this list out and about, it’s just to keep us accountable. An agreement to not tell anyone else about the group.” Hermione said.
               Fred was the first to take the list, and once he had signed he had handed it off to George. There wasn’t another problem until George had handed the parchment to Eleanor.
               “Wait a minute,” Smith said, his eyes narrowed at Eleanor. “Who invited the Slytherin?”
               “We did,” Hermione said quietly. “We thought it was important that all of the houses come together in this. We shouldn’t be leaving anyone out just because of what house they’re in.”
               “I’m not going to associate myself with a group, that I could potentially get in trouble for, if she’s joining as well. You do realize Umbridge loves the Slytherins right?”
               “And what does that have to do with me, Smith?” Eleanor retorted. “Umbridge may love the Slytherins but she especially hates me.”
               “Whether she hates you or not, you’re practically best friends with Malfoy. Everyone’s been talking about it since last year.” Smith said, turning back to me. “You really think she won’t go blabbing about this group to him?”
               I turned to Eleanor to find her watching me carefully.
               “She wouldn’t do that,” I answered.
               “There’s no way,” one of the Ravenclaw boys had stood up. “If we let her join, then we’re doomed. Malfoy will find out and then Umbridge will find out and then she’ll find a way to expel us all.”
               There was a panic whispering at this idea.
               “I would never tell Malfoy something like this. He has no ability to keep his damn mouth shut.” Eleanor snapped.
               “I don’t really care what you say, because I can’t trust you to begin with,” the boy retorted.

Eleanor
               I looked to Harry, hoping that he would say something, anything else, to put them in their place. But he just stared back at me, his mouth open and his eyes unsure of what to do.
               “Fine, forget it.” I said, standing so quickly from my chair that it noisly moved back a few inches. “I’m not going to sit here and argue with you all and ruin this for everyone. If you don’t want me to be in the group, then I won’t be.”
               Again, I felt the sting at the back of my eyes. Just another time I thought I could be a part of something, but it was ripped out of my grasp. I tried to warn Hermione. I had known all along that this was a terrible idea. I knew that these people would never accept me.
               I heard the door of the pub close sharply behind me and I could feel the bitter bite of the cold wind on my face. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, trying to shield them as I rushed back up the main street. Of all days, this had to happen today.
               I was nearly out of Hogsmeade altogether when I caught sight of the last person I wanted to see.
               “Eleanor,” Malfoy said, waving me toward him.
               For whatever reason, I ignored my usual desire to steer clear. I got within a few steps of him before I came to a stop.
               “I was looking for you in the common room this morning, but Zabini said he saw you head out early.” Malfoy said. “What were you doing?”
               “Nothing, Malfoy.” I answered. “Can I go now, I have an appointment with the Slytherin fireplace.”
               Malfoy’s eyes wandered down to where my hands were shoved deep into my pockets.
               “Oh…yeah…” he said dejectedly.
               I had no idea what had been up with him lately. Nothing he did seemed to make any sense anymore. I turned to leave, but stopped mid step when Malfoy spoke again.
               “Wait, no. I wanted to give you something.”
               I turned back around, confused, to find him pulling a box out of his bag.
               “I just – well, I thought – you might like this…” he stammered, holding the box out to me.
               I took the box in my hands, examining the white paper it had been wrapped in. There was no way that he could know what day it was, right?
               “What is this,” I asked, feeling that stinging sensation yet again. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
               “What are you talking about?” Malfoy asked.
               “I’m not in the mood to be made fun of, Malfoy, so just drop it,” I said harshly, trying to hand the box back to him.
               He wouldn’t take it. Instead he was studying my face. I tried to look away from him, but I found that I couldn’t, as though his gaze was daring me to look away and I had to defy the impulse to do so.
               “It’s not a joke, Eleanor.” He said quietly. “It’s a gift.”
               “For what?” I asked, still in denial that he could possible know.
               “For your birthday.” He stated simply.
               I felt at a loss for words for a moment. I looked from him to the box, and back again.
               “How did you know?” I asked quietly.
               “I guess I just have my ways,” Malfoy smirked slightly. “Just open it, Potter. I promise it won’t bite.”
               I hesitated, but against my better judgement my fingers began to clasp the lip and pull it back.
               I couldn’t speak as I realized what was inside the box.
               “Is it okay?” Malfoy asked. “I mean, I didn’t know what you would prefer, but I figured that anything was better than nothing, right?”
               I looked up to Malfoy, unsure of what to say. Thank you was the polite response but instead I simply whispered, “I’ve never been given a birthday gift before…”
               Malfoy’s mouth opened and then closed a moment later as he second guessed whatever he had been about to say.
               “Well you said last year that you didn’t have a winter coat, so I thought…” Malfoy started, before leaving his sentencing hanging.
               “Thank you,” I said quietly.
               My fingers gripped the soft fabric of the coat and I handed the box back to Malfoy before slipping my arms into the sleeves. A sudden warmth overtook me as the piercing wind was finally blocked out.
               “You remembered me saying that I didn’t have a coat?” I asked as I examined the one I was now wearing.
               “Yeah, I guess.” Malfoy muttered.
               I couldn’t resist the small smile that played at my lips. Never before had I been gifted something. It was a strange feeling, but for the first time in my life I finally felt as though I understood why people celebrated their birthdays and Christmas. It felt nice to feel good for once.
               “Can I ask you something?” Malfoy said suddenly.
               “I suppose.” I said.
               “That night, last week, when you...” Malfoy’s eyes seemed to be glued to the ground now, “when we kissed…did you really mean to do that?”
               When he looked back up to me, I felt as though my head was spinning. Why did he have to bring this up again? And why did I feel as though I had to answer him truthfully?
               “Yeah, meant to.” I answered quietly. “I wanted to.”
               Malfoy didn’t say anything for a minute. He just kept watching me, as if he was waiting for me to say that I was joking, that it had all been some lie to confuse him. Then he cleared his throat and looked back up the road toward Hogwarts.
               “Are you headed back to the castle?” he asked.
               “Yeah,” I said, “until now it’s been a pretty terrible trip to Hogsmeade.”
               “Can I walk you back?” he offered.
               I considered him for a moment, wondering what was happening. It felt as though there had been some sort of shift between us. As though the odd feelings had melted away like ice in the summer. The overwhelming feeling to avoid Malfoy had disappeared and instead it felt normal again to be near him.
               “Sure, Draco.” I smiled.

George
               “But what in the world was he giving her a gift for?” I asked Fred.
               After Eleanor had left the Hog’s Head, I quickly dragged Fred out with me to find her. We had spotted her ahead of us as we passed Scrivenshaft’s. I was trying to catch up to her when Fred stopped me suddenly, pointing out who she was with.
               We watched from afar as Malfoy and Eleanor seemed to argue for a minute before Eleanor opened a box that Malfoy had given her. It was a strange interaction and I couldn’t stop the knot that seemed to be growing in my stomach as I watched.
               “I don’t know, George.” Fred said.
               “Who got a gift?”
               Fred and I turned around to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione approaching us.
               “No one.” I said at the same moment that Fred answered with, “Eleanor.”
               “From who?” Harry asked.
               “No one,” I said again.
               “Malfoy. They seemed to be getting on pretty well actually.” Fred answered.
               I gave my twin a pointed look at this. It was only then that he seemed to realize that telling Harry about Eleanor and Malfoy was a bad idea.
               “I told him to stay away from her!” Harry hissed. “Where are they?”
               “Harry, mate, just drop it.” I warned, knowing that Harry’s anger was about to get the better of him once again.
               “No. Where are they?” he demanded.
               “It’s not a big deal, Harry –“ Hermione started to say.
               “Not a big deal, Hermione?” Harry said. “His father is a Death Eater! He probably convinced his own son to try to get information out her or something.”
               “Harry, that’s ridiculous,” Hermione said. “They’ve clearly been friends since last year, he was probably just –“
               “Just what?” Harry nearly shouted.
               “Just being nice or something.” Hermione said quietly.
               “I mean,” Ron said, “Harry does have a point. When is Malfoy ever nice?”
               “It doesn’t matter, they’ve already left Hogsmeade, so let’s just go to Zonko’s or something,” Fred suggested.
               Without hesitation though, Harry pushed past us. He was fuming. Hermione glanced at Fred, Ron, and I worriedly. There was no chance that this would end well.
               We followed Harry all the way back to the castle, trying to reason with him, but nothing seemed to get through to him. I understood Harry’s irritation, I hated to see Eleanor hanging around with Malfoy. But there wasn’t anything we could do about it. Eleanor would do as she always does, no matter what other people thought.
               “Harper, you are seriously so thick sometimes,” we heard as we crossed the Entrance Hall, finally leaving the cold behind.
               “Hey,” Harry called out, causing the girl who had been speaking to turn around. “You’re the Greengrass girl, right? You’re friends with Eleanor?”
               “Yes, Potter, I am.” She answered, not very pleased. “But I don’t know what that has to do with you.”
               “Do you know where she is?” He asked.
               “Library, I think.” She answered. “She definitely said something about books before she headed up the stairs.”
               “Thanks,” Harry muttered.
               “Harry, really,” Hermione said as we all followed Harry up the marble staircase. “What are you going to say to her?”
               “Whatever I need to to keep her away from Malfoy.” Harry huffed.
               “This isn’t a good idea,” I said, nearly out of breath.
               “I don’t really care,” Harry said.
               As we turned the corner into the library corridor, Harry nearly ran right into Eleanor.
               “Watch it.” Eleanor said, gripping the book in her hands more tightly.
               “Eleanor, there you are.” Harry said.
               “Yes, here I am.” She said. “And here I go, see you later.”
               “No, wait.” Harry said quickly. “What did Malfoy give you earlier?”
               “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Eleanor asked, her eyes narrowed dangerously at Harry.
               “Malfoy gave you something in Hogsmeade, what was it?”
               “How did you know that?” She asked. “Were you watching me?”
               “Fred and George saw the two of you together.” Harry said.
               “Oh, so you just had the twins spying on me, then?” Eleanor’s sharp eyes turned toward Fred and I.
               “No. Look,” Harry said quickly, “that doesn’t matter. What did Malfoy give you?”
               “Nothing.” Eleanor answered, evasive as always.
               “It wasn’t nothing.” Harry said harshly. “Why the bloody hell is he giving you anything?”
               “Really, Harry?” Eleanor questioned. “Am I just not allowed to receive gifts now?”
               “Not from Malfoy!” Harry shouted. “What did he want in return?”
               “Wow…” Eleanor said, turning to leave.
               “What did he want?” Harry shouted again.
               “He didn’t want anything!” Eleanor shouted back.
“It’s Malfoy, he has no reason to give you anything without expecting something in return!”
“It was a present, Harry. A gift! For my birthday!”
               There was a strong silence that followed Eleanor’s words. I looked to Fred, only just now realizing that we all knew so little about Eleanor that none of us even knew when her birthday was.
               “It’s my birthday, Harry.” Eleanor said coldly. “And not that you would care, but that gift was the first birthday present I’ve ever been given. So thank you, just so much, for ruining it.”
               No one spoke this time when Eleanor finally walked away, her head downcast and her eyes full of anger. I couldn’t stop the frustration that was building up inside of me as the silence continued.
               “Way to go,” I said.
               “I didn’t –“ Harry started.
               “You didn’t what?” I asked. “Didn’t know your own sister’s birthday? Didn’t think before you confronted her? Didn’t listen to any of us?”
               “Come on, George,” Fred said, trying to pull me away.
               “No,” I said, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. “You have no idea how much everything you say affects her.”
               “Really, George, let’s just go.” Fred said, urging me away again.
               “Just leave her alone for a while,” I suggested to Harry. “You’ve done enough.”