𝟏.| ✬ 𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁, ✬ {ℬ. 𝒲ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎}

\𝓉𝓌ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝒻ℴ𝓊𝓇\

~𝓈𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓰 - 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇~

For the first time in three years, Eleanora was excited for the end of term. The prospect of a whole summer at the Weasley's house with Fred and George made her smile every time she thought about it. She was worried, of course, about the situation at home, but she was too distracted to think about it much. Her mum had assured her that Daisy was safe, and there was nothing Eleanora could really do about it anyways. She felt like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders after it had been sitting there for so long she forgot it existed.

Eleanora drew random lines in her notebook as she listened to Professor Sprout talk about their final. Phillipa kept writing notes on little scraps of paper and flicking them over to Eleanora's side of the table.

Did you understand that?

No.

You free tonight?

Quidditch.

Saturday?

Free after dinner.

Library?

Eleanora nodded to Phillipa as Professor Sprout's eyes swept in their direction. After class, the girls walked back up to the castle together.

"Here, I made a few study schedules for finals. This one's a little longer, but it covers more... but this one takes into account your quidditch schedule... this one's my favorite, though." Phillipa pulled out paper after paper, going over every detail.

Beatrice snorted. "Sweet Merlin, Phil. You're so weird."

"Working hard doesn't make you weird," Phillipa protested with a frown.

"I never said it was a bad thing." Beatrice chuckled and linked her arm through Phillipa's.

Their last class of the day was divination. Eleanora didn't mind the stuffy tower classroom. She usually used the period as a break. She sat next to Beatrice and stared into a crystal ball, trying to see something meaningful. The white fog was hypnotizing, but not enlightening. She'd been faking her way through the class all year, increasingly losing hope in the subject. She'd been excited to learn the art of divination, but soon realized it was fruitless.

"You see anything?" Beatrice asked quietly.

Eleanora snorted. "Have I seen anything all year?" She stared harder, focusing and unfocusing her gaze on the fog. Her eyes grew heavy and her thoughts were clouded. Her vision blocked out everything except for the mist, her head aching from the sickly sweet smell that filled the classroom. Then, she saw it.

She was in a forest, sitting propped against a tree. There was no way to tell the time of day because the entire sky was an ominous gray color. There was a gash in her knee and blood was soaking through her jeans, already drenched from either blood or rain. Her hair was damp and hung in a limp mess and there were dark circles under her eyes. A man lay on the ground face down in front of her. Eleanora didn't know if he was dead or just knocked out. She looked around. There was somebody walking away from her. He was tall and thin and she could see the back of his white blond hair. She wanted to scream out, to ask him for help, but she didn't have a voice.