Elinor was left with nothing after the Second Wizarding War.
She was just another fighter, another witch, some alumni who battled darkness and won but lost to the glorious shadow of Harry Potter. Not a worthy acknowledgement was left to paint her du...
25/03/2001 Hogsmeade Village, Highlands, Scotland ¬
[ h i s t o r y ]
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"THANK YOU! I'M SUCH A BIG FAN —THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH!"
There was a theory that once, out of rage, crossed her mind. She thought that the decorated and worshipped heroes of the Second Wizarding War were crowned through nepotism.
Sure, most of them died or cursed or psychologically scarred for life, but for those who survived, it brought real great prizes, too.
Take George, for example.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' business prospect skyrocketed astronomically, especially bearing the name 'Weasley'. He was way above the 'loaded' and 'filthy rich' level.
He had a Chocolate Frog card with his name and earless lopsided grin smothered over it.
There were books written about him. Students in the future would have their mind blown with the amount of history they had to memorize: A History of Magic and A History of Magic II.
Every time he talked about the good old days, Elinor would understand, because his bunch were also well-known. If the position was switched, however, he wouldn't understand at all, because her bunch was just another faceless figures in the crowd.
He became a walking legend, and it all started with the Weasleys' appropriate arrival timing at the King's Cross, on the first day of Harry Potter's first year.
At first, Elinor brushed it off. It was a selfish thought, after all. She was well aware of that. She tried to respect his popularity, which he deserved since he had suffered so much.
But it became less and less bearable when a small crowd began to gather around their table, begging for an autograph from the Great George Weasley. She edged away until her side was completely pressed against the window and tried her best to eat, letting George handle all the sudden attention by himself.
No one spared a glance her way, anyway.
Finally, she put her cutleries down.
"Excuse me."
George stopped laughing along to some young wizard's joke and looked at her, "Where are you going?"
"Toilet."
"Alright."
Elinor squished her way out of the crowd and made her way towards the door instead.
