When will I be good enough?
Self-assured, outgoing and gregarious on the outside, Estella Lena Granger is the last person one would expect to be hiding a personal dilemma. But underneath her confident exterior, Estella struggles under the self-impos...
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For the next few days, the school talked of little but the attack on Mrs Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attached, as though he thought the attacker might come back.
Estella sought out the trio after lunch, and they meandered into an empty section of the courtyard during break.
"So," said Estella finally, breaking the silence, "Tell me what happened! Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Is the cat dead?"
"We're okay," Harry said quietly, looking around them as if to check for invisible spies. "And the cat's not dead, only petrified."
That didn't do much to clear her conscience, but Estella nodded anyways. "Will she be okay?"
"Yes," Hermione revealed. "As soon as the Mandrakes grow, she'll be back to normal."
"And even if she's not," Ron added, "It's not a big loss, is it?"
Hermione nudged him rather harshly in the side and gave him a look.
"Okay fine," Ron rolled his eyes. "But-"
"Are you guys okay?" Estella said quickly before Hermione could hit Ron again. "Why were you in that corridor anyways? You didn't get in trouble, did you?"
Harry shook his head and the sides of his mouth tilted upwards. "Clear of all charges."
"But why were you in that corridor in the first place?" Estella pressed.
All three of them stared at each other
Estella frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"
They stared at each other like silent movie actors, conveying entire storylines with their movements.
Hermione blinked. Ron shook his head. Harry sighed.
He glanced at Estella, looked back at Hermione and Ron and returned his eyes back to Estella's.
"I've been... hearing things."
Whatever Estella was expecting, this hadn't been it. Heck, she'd half expected them to mumble something along the lines of, "Heading back to the Common Room."
"What... what do you mean, hearing things?"
Harry sighed again, sweeping his hair out of his eyes in a way that looked entirely too effortlessly graceful.
"On the night of the feast," he said, like an old narrator that had seen too much and yet knew too little. "I heard a voice. It was talking about killing and eating and blood."
Estella suppressed a shudder. The courtyard suddenly seemed chilly and desolate. Crinkled, browning leaves swept in wide arcs across the dirt-ridden pavement and their voices were carried away with the wind.
"The thing is," said Hermione timidly, "Neither Ron nor I heard the voices. It was just... just Harry."
"That's..." Estella trailed off, unsure of what to say."
