Dark

Chapter 56

Draco
               “You’re sure?” I asked for what was likely the third time already.
               “Yes, I’m sure.” Zabini sighed. “Greengrass said Eleanor wasn’t in her dorm.”
               “She wasn’t at breakfast either though, so where has she been?”
               “I don’t know, Malfoy. But at least she left her room.”
               I nodded in agreement, thankful that at the very least Eleanor wasn’t shut off in her dorm. I had thought that she seemed happy on our walk back to the castle from Hogsmeade on Saturday. Everything seemed fine, and I caught Eleanor running her hands over the fur lining of the coat I had given her. Each time she had done it there was the smallest trace of a smile at her lips. Once we had reached the Entrance Hall though, she mentioned something about needing a book from the library and had gone off on her own. She returned to the Slytherin common room some thirty minutes later, but she looked furious. Before I could even ask her why, she had rushed off to the girls’ dorms. And that’s where she stayed for the rest of the night. When I couldn’t find her the next day, I enlisted Greengrass to check her dorm for me, and sure enough, she was still there. I waited in the common room all day but she never came out. So I had been left wondering what had happened between the time we parted in the Entrance Hall and the time she returned to the common room.
               “There, I told you she would be here.”
I was pulled out of my thoughts as Zabini and I entered the potions classroom. Sure enough, he was right. Eleanor was in her usual seat. A strange sense of relief washed over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I had been so worried in the first place. Surely it shouldn’t matter that much to me, right?
Before I could fully ponder the reasonings behind this though, my attention was pulled to the right of the room. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were all watching Eleanor and whispering to one another. The guilty look on Potter’s face made it perfectly obvious that he had something to do with Eleanor avoiding everyone.
“What has Potter done this time,” I asked as I slid into the seat beside Eleanor and dug into my bag for my potions book.
There was no answer, and as I extracted my book I looked up to find Eleanor glaring toward the front of the room. My first thought was that Potter had really set her off again, but as my eyes trailed in the direction of Eleanor’s stare, it became obvious that something else had grabbed her attention all together.
               Sitting there straight backed, clipboard at the ready with her ridiculous hairbow in place, was Professor Umbridge.
               This wasn’t good.
               “You will notice,” Snape said, bringing the class to a start, “that we have a guest with us today.”
               I could practically feel the anger radiating off of Eleanor as she continued to stare daggers at Umbridge.
               “We are continuing with our Strengthening Soltions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions” – Snape waved his wand – “on the board. Carry on.”
               For the first half of the lesson, Umbridge simply made notes on her clipboard, staying in her seat at the front of the room. Any hope that I had that she would remain in that location and spend the lesson only quietly observing was shattered however when she suddenly stood and approached Snape.
               “Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level,” she said briskly. “Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus.”
               Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.
               “Now…how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” Umbridge asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.
               To my relief, Eleanor was still working on her potion and not seemingly paying Umbridge any attention, unlike the rest of the class who had tore their eyes away from their cauldrons to watch the interaction.
               “Fourteen years,” Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable.
               “You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” Professor Umbridge asked.
               “Yes,” Snape answered slowly.
               “But you were unsuccessful?”
               Snape’s lip visibly curled at this.
               “Obviously.”
               Umbridge scribbled something on her clipboard before carrying on.
               “And you have applied regularly for the Defense Againsted the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?”
               “Yes,” Snape said, looking particularly angry.
               “Do you have any idea why Dumbeldroe has consistently refused to appoint you?” Umbridge asked.
               “I suggest you ask him,” Snape said jerkily.
               “Oh I shall,” Umbridge said with a smile.
               I nearly jumped as a loud scoff rang out through the near silent room. Eleanor had clearly been paying attention after all.
               “Is there something that you’re wanting to say, Miss Potter?” Umbridge asked, turning from Snape to Eleanor now.
               Eleanor’s piercing stare was focused on Umbridge, but the Professor didn’t seem to mind one bit. As Umbridge approached Eleanor, Snape narrowed his eyes, looking between the two.
               “I just find it pathetic that you’re critizing Professor Snape for not having achieved the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, when he at the very least, much unlike yourself, is still an actual teacher with literal years of experience. You, on the other hand, are nothing more than a glorified secretary to the Minister of Magic. Competancy and qualifications in this case just don’t seem to compare, do they?”
               Other than the small sound of people shifting uncomfortably in their places and potions bubbling, the room was completely silent at this point. Umbridge seemed to revel in that silence as she leaned in closer to Eleanor.
               “I’m wondering, Miss Potter, if you could tell me the word that I am thinking of right now. I know that you are quite familiar with it.” Umbridge laid her hand over Eleanor’s where it was resting on the work table.
               It was so small that I barely caught it, but Eleanor winced as she quickly pulled her hand out of Umbridge’s reach. Not once though did Eleanor’s gaze shift from Umbridge. The two stared at each other for a moment, seeming to dare each other into speaking before Umbridge finally straightened up and announced, “That will do for your inspection, Professor Snape.”
               Nearly all eyes followed Umbridge as she happily walked out of the dungeon, humming quietly to herself. But I couldn’t help but watch Eleanor. With Umbridge gone, she was just staring ahead now. She was so angry that I could see tears forming in her eyes as she refused to go back to her potion. Her only movement was the action of rubbing the back of the hand that Umbridge had touched.
               I looked up to find Snape watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. Turning to look across the room I found that Weasley and Grnager were watching Eleanor too with looks of utter confusion. Potter though…he seemed furious. As everyone slowly returned to their potions, he kept glaring toward the door that Umbridge had just left through.
               As I returned to my potion, I found that I couldn’t focus properly. What did Umbridge mean by a word that she was thinking of? And how as Eleanor supposed to know what she meant?
               If Eleanor was so upset by it though, then she must have understood Umbridge’s cryptic words. Did Potter understand too then? Was that why he seemed so mad? None of it made sense and it only added to the list of things I needed to talk to Eleanor about.

Eleanor
               I was so furious I was shaking. I felt as though I could have exploded then and there. How dare she? In from of an entire class?
               I couldn’t stop thinking about that word again now, and for the rest of the class I simply gave up on my potion. That stupid word filled my head and wouldn’t leave. It was nagging at me, reminding me every second of where I belong.
               Suddenly the bell rang out and before I could even gather my things, Snape had called out, “Miss Potter, a word for a moment.”
               I clenched my jaw in annoyance as I stuffed my belongings into my bag.
               “I’ll see you in the Great Hall then?”
               I turned to see Malfoy watching me, a questioning expression on his face. I knew he would want to ask now what Umbridge had been talking about. But I couldn’t share that with him, or anyone else.
               I didn’t know what to say so I simply nodded.
               As the room emptied out I approached Snape’s desk.
               “You realize that I am a teacher here, Miss Potter, and a grown adult who doesn’t need you to speak up on their behalf?” Snape said as he eyed me strangely.
               “Yes, sir.”
               “So why did you do so?”
               “Because I wanted to, sir.” I answered unemotionally.
               “I’m sure you understand that Dolores Umbridge is a threat, Miss Potter.” Snape continued, his expression beginning to soften a small bit. “You are far from being as simple headed as your brother, so why do you insist on continuing to create trouble for yourself?”
               “Because she’s a tyrant, sir.” I said simply. “And tyrants deserve to be challenged and dethroned.”
               Snape stared at me for a moment. In a way, he seemed torn between pride and annoyance.
               “You need to be careful with her, Miss Potter.” Snape said after some consideration.
               It was true, I likely should be careful with her. If I want to save myself from pain and trouble that is. But I’ve never shied away from it before, so why start now?
               “Maybe she needs to be careful with me, Professor.”
               Once again, my audacity seemed to leave Snape unsure of what to say, so rather than wait for an answer, I simply turned and left.
               My conversation with Snape ran over again in my mind as I travelled down the corridor. Umbridge may have shaken me up for a moment in that classroom, but it didn’t matter if she was right or wrong about me. She was still a tyrant, and she was still willing to abuse other students for her own pleasure. I couldn’t stand for that.
               My thoughts seemed to fill me with confidence again. I wouldn’t let Umbridge get under my skin. She wasn’t worth my worry. But she was worth putting in her place.
               It was then that the thought suddenly entered my mind, too appealing to ignore. I had been practicing the necessary magic since I woke in Grimmauld Place over the summer. I was confident enough in my abilities to get the information I needed.
               So why not just go for it?

Harry
               “No Quidditch practice,” Angelina said as she reached our section of the Gryffindor table.
               “Really?” George said to my left.
               “But I kept my temper!” I argued. “I didn’t say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I –“
               “I know, I know,” Angelina said miserably.
               “That Educational Decree is utter shit.” Ginny intoned.
               “I still can’t believe she cancelled all clubs and groups, and she had the gall to throw Quidditch into that,” Ron fumed. “It’s basically the most important thing around here.”
               “I know,” Angelina said again, “and to give the Slytherins immediate permission to play but not us is completely unfair. I’ll keep you guys updated if I hear anything new, though.”
               As Angelina made her way further down the table, Dean Thomas suddenly leaned in from a few seats down and asked quietly, “You don’t think Eleanor could have told Umbridge, do you? And that’s why she put a stop to all the clubs?”
               “Of course not,” Fred and George said in unison.
               “She wouldn’t do that,” I agreed.
               Even if she were furious with me, I don’t think she would have really sold us out. Not to Umbridge at least.
               “Speaking of Eleanor though, here she comes,” Ron said, pointing toward the doors of the hall.
               “Great, she’s going to tell me off again, isn’t she?” I said, knowing she was probably still upset about the weekend.
               “Hey Eleanor.” George said cheerily as she reached us.
               Withtout even a glance in George’s direction, though, Eleanor raised her wand at me.
               “Chamber of Secrets.”
               Before I could even respond to her words my mind seemed to pull in a million different directions. Memories of second year seemed to be flying through my head at warp speed. I could see Tom Riddle’s diary on the wet bathroom floor; a statuesque Hermione laying in the hospital wing; giant spiders chasing after me, Ron, and Fang, as the Weasley’s Ford Anglia trundled through the forest; then I was watching the sink in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom slide away; I was speaking Parseltongue at the door to the Chamber of Secrets; Ginny was laying unconscious on the cold stone floor; Riddle was commanding the basilisk; I was plunging a sword through the roof of the monster’s mouth; Fauxes was sitting on my arm, crying; Ginny was waking up…
               Suddenly my mind was pulled back to the present. It was as though no time had passed at all. Eleanor was still standing across from me, wand raised. Everyone else near us was watching on, confused looks plastered to their faces.
               I was panting, feeling as if I had just run a mile in a split second as I tried to gather my thoughts.
               “Hmm,” Eleanor hummed, finally lowering her wand. “Interesting.”
               I didn’t know what she had done to me. She hadn’t even uttered a spell and yet something had happened. Without another word, Eleanor turned on her heel and made her way out of the Great Hall. I watched on, just as confused as everyone else about what had just happened.
               “Does anyone ever know what she’s up to?” Neville asked.
               “No, not really,” Ron, Hermione, and I all answered as we shared a questioning look.