Pick Your Poison | Tom Riddle |

Chapter Twelve: Everyone's Turning

Monday morning came like a slap in the face because, in fact, Eleanor was still at Hogwarts and still the Champion for the TriWizard Tournament. If given the chance, she'd stay asleep and live in the dream she was just waken from by Percy.

Following her morning routine, Eleanor entered the Great Hall with an early start to her day and as she filled her plate with breakfast, she felt the whispers in the others minds that reminded her she had stole the spotlight from Julius and sighed to herself. The weekend was spent practicing Quidditch, however, had Eleanor not been able to read his mind she would have felt less awkward with him. She knew he was mad he wasn't chosen and that guilt consumed her even if she wasn't near him.

Eleanor was suddenly distracted by her thoughts when an owl swooped down just above her head and dropped three letters, different lengths and widths and handwriting.

"I think you get more mail than every one of us combined." Marcella greeted as she took a seat across from Eleanor who looked at the first letter from her sister.

Then, she felt the gravity of tension from Julius as he took his seat beside her, followed by the rest of their friends. She ignored them however and just focused on her letter, not wanting to hear any more commentary on what had happened.

"Dear Eleanor,
Congratulations on becoming the Champion! . . ."

Her eyes skimmed over that part which she expected.

". . . bridesmaid dresses will be chosen and mother was quite irate to know she wasn't the Maid of Honor so. . ."

A deep frown settled on Eleanor's lips, reading the following line that states she'd been demoted to the flower girl. With that, she closed the letter and moved onto the next after taking a bite of her toast.
This one was from her father.
Eleanor opened the later, realizing it was much shorter. He had only bid her a congratulations and spoke of the stress at the Ministry. But he had a specific request for her.

"Please do tell the Headmaster of Durmstrang I say hello. I'm sure I will be seeing him soon but nonetheless, he will recognize you anyway."

The last paper was not in an envelope but merely a rectangular paper the size of her hand and she saw that the note was signed by Dumbledore. Reading over the short note, he merely requested a meeting with her this evening. Secretly, she hoped he would say that Julius can take her spot in the Tournament but knew it was unlikely.

"How are you?" Marcella asked, a hint of caution in her voice that Eleanor picked up on. She wasn't automatically fragile in the spotlight now. A deep seated anger took place when her friend didn't even bother hiding her a sympathetic look.

"I'm fine, actually. Any reason I shouldn't be?" Eleanor asked cockily, her eyes averting from her shocked friend to her eggs and bacon.

"Well sorry, Eleanor, I'm trying to be nice considering not many people here want to be." Marcella shyly said.

Eleanor knew there wasn't a mean bone in her body she was just,well for lack of a better term, oblivious. It was hard to stay mad at her because of that. But regardless, she hated how this situation was affecting her.

Glancing around at Julius, Cormac, and Lillian who awkwardly looked away she took a deep breath.

"As if being cold towards me will change my situation. As if I haven't begged Dumbledore all weekend to change what had happened. As if I'm not scared for my life for what these challenges will bring!" Eleanor snapped, her voice struggling to remain calm.

But they gave her blank stares and avoided responding because Eleanor knew that if she was good at one thing, it was being able to shut everyone up. But she was observant and she hated it. It frustrated her that she could not put anything into words after that.