The looming Third Task and the never-ending string of exams had left Eleanor feeling like her brain had been wrung out like a dishrag. So when Emil Rosier suggested a quiet afternoon in Hogsmeade, she didn't think twice.
"You've got to let yourself unwind now and then," Emil had said, taking her hand with that disarming calm of his. "Otherwise, you'll land yourself in the Hospital Wing from sheer stress."
"Don't I know it," Eleanor murmured, allowing herself to lean into his arm just slightly. But she wasn't naive. Emil Rosier never did anything without purpose. He was circling something, and she could feel it in the way he moved—too carefully, like a Niffler around gold.
He led her through the cobbled streets to Madam Puddifoot's, the quaintest(and most garishly decorated teashop in Hogsmeade. They found a quiet corner, tucked away from the pink-curtained windows. A pot of steaming lavender tea arrived, accompanied by two thick slices of lemon cake dusted with sugar.
Once they'd settled in, Emil sipped delicately and tilted his head.
"Still managing to stay afloat, are you?" he asked lightly, though his eyes were sharp.
"Just about," said Eleanor, tearing a bit of cake with her fork. "I've got Adrian in most of my classes, and he's a brilliant study partner. Wants to be Head Healer at the Janus Thickey Ward in St Mungo's."
Emil raised a brow. "Ambitious of Pucey. And what about you? Any grand designs for the future?"
Eleanor gave a small shrug. "Not yet. My summer plans mostly involve avoiding my mum."
"Astraea Fawley?" Emil leaned in, interest piqued. "Why ever for?"
Eleanor sighed, stirring her tea absently. "She's rather... delighted about your courtship," she said, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. "Sends me owls every week with tips on how to 'hold your attention.'"
Emil chuckled lowly. "Trust me, Eleanor—you don't need advice on that."
His voice dropped into something softer, something that made her stomach clench.
"But what about keeping apure-blood'sattention?" Eleanor said under her breath, barely more than a whisper. This was it—the moment she knew had been coming.
That morning, just as the girls were leaving the dormitory, Berenice had grabbed her by the arm, her eyes wide and unblinking.
"Your outing with Emil Rosier," Berenice had whispered urgently. "He's going to ask something. Or confess. Be honest. As honest as you can."
Eleanor had hushed her gently and steered her to a chair.
"Easy, Bunny. I'm here," she said, rubbing small circles on her back. These flashes—theseSightings—always left Berenice shaken. It had grown more frequent recently.
"He will come forward. Be honest." And with those words, Berenice had collapsed into the armchair, eyes fluttering shut.
Now, Eleanor met Emil's gaze across the table.
"We Rosiers don't heed gossip, Eleanor," he said softly. "We look for truth."
He reached out and tilted her chin up with a single finger.
"In our circles, truth is the most powerful thing. It can build legacies... destroy dynasties. It's stronger than gold. Stronger even than love."
And then he kissed her—fiercely, assuredly. Somewhere nearby, an elderly witch cleared her throat loudly. From another table came a muffled snort of laughter.
Still, a cold shiver crept down Eleanor's spine.
June rushed in like a gust of wind, warm and frantic, swept up in exams and countdowns to summer. On the final morning of exams, Eleanor sat at the Gryffindor table revising Arithmancy when Adrian gave a loud cough, almost choking on his pumpkin juice.
TheDaily Prophetlay in his hands, and gasps were erupting across the Great Hall.
"What now?" Eleanor asked, turning toward the commotion.
"That Skeeter woman," said Lucy Vane, peering over someone's shoulder. "She's written absolute filth about Potter."
Berenice took the paper from Adrian and scanned it quickly. "What a load of tripe. As if Lucius Malfoy would ever let his son be caught within a hundred feet of Rita Skeeter. I bet he's choking on his breakfast right now."
"Come on," Eleanor said, stuffing her notes into her bag. "Professor Vector isn't going to wait for Potter's latest scandal to blow over."
Later that evening, with the sun casting golden shadows across the common room, Eleanor, Berenice, and Adrian huddled in their usual corner. The place was nearly deserted—everyone else had dashed out to soak up the summer sun before the Third Task began.
Eleanor gave Poppy a gentle nudge. "Go fetch us some biscuits, will you? And maybe a pot of Earl Grey?"
"Do you think we'll actually be allowed toseethe maze this time?" Adrian asked, stretching.
"They've got to come up with something," said Eleanor. "Surely they can't expect us to stare at a hedge for an hour."
Berenice opened her mouth to reply—then gasped, dropping her teacup. Porcelain shattered on the floor as her eyes rolled back. Her spine stiffened, her breath caught in her throat.
And then, in a voice ancient and echoing, not quite her own, she spoke:
"He shall rise again, cloaked not in faith, but in flesh.
The lost shall return, bearing the Mark once more.
One by one, they shall kneel at his side, and the Dark shall swell.
Yet beware the serpent crowned in silver.
For the duchess of Slytherin shall turn her face from the shadow,
And her hand, though noble, shall betray the Dark Lord.
The Heir of Black shall awaken.
Silent no more, his name shall stir the storm.
And in his steps lies the fracture, the turning, the key to the end that begins."
The air turned suddenly cold. Eleanor stared in horror.
Then—Berenice collapsed. Adrian caught her just in time.
"She's unconscious," he murmured, checking her pulse.
"Was that... aprophecy?" Eleanor whispered.
"I think so," said Adrian grimly. "Thank Merlin no one else was here. I can't take her up to the girls' dorm. Check if mine's clear?"
Eleanor ran ahead and peeked in. "Coast is clear!"
Adrian followed with Berenice in his arms, gently laying her on the four-poster. With a few flicks of his wand, he cast diagnostic spells.
"Merlin's beard," he breathed, brushing Berenice's silver hair from her face.
"How long until she wakes?"
"Hard to say. First prophecies are unpredictable. It might be hours." He hesitated. "There's not much written on it."
Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself. The words haunted her.
"Do you think she'llremember?"
"Grindelwald could," Adrian said darkly. "Let's hope she can, too."
They didn't go to the Third Task. Jennings and Clark hadn't returned, so they had the dormitory to themselves. Poppy brought sandwiches and cool cloths, fussing over Berenice with quiet urgency.
At ten o'clock, she stirred.
"Bunny!" Adrian rushed to her side. "Talk to me—what hurts? Where are you?"
She blinked around, then flung her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.
"ISawit. ISaweverything. Oh, Merlin, please help us."
Eleanor exchanged a glance with Adrian. "We've got to get her to the Hospital Wing."
Adrian nodded and scooped her up once more. Berenice clung to him, trembling.
Madam Pomfrey looked up as they entered, brows furrowed. "Why aren't you three at the Tournament?"
"Apologies, Madam," Adrian said quickly. "Berenice made a—well—a prediction. We think it was a real one. She went into shock and only just came around."
"Oh, heavens," Pomfrey exclaimed. "Set her down—yes, there. Gently! Merlin's name, I thought this Tournament would kill achampion, not half the school!"
As she bustled about, ordering Adrian to fetch her calming draughts, Eleanor perched at the edge of the bed, quietly holding Berenice's feet.
Then, the doors burst open.
Snape stormed in, looking more dishevelled than Eleanor had ever seen him.
"What happened to Miss Yaxley?" he barked, storming over. "Why aren't you in the stands?"
"Severus!" Pomfrey snapped. "Don't shout. These children did the right thing. Miss Yaxley had a turn—she's under my care now."
Snape's face twitched. He turned to Eleanor and Adrian, expression unreadable.
"Dumbledore has summoned you, Poppy. Now." His eyes didn't leave Berenice.
"You two—stay. Do not move. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Professor," they chorused, subdued.
With a final glance, Snape turned and swept out, Pomfrey hurrying behind him, the door swinging shut in their wake.
The Hospital Wing fell silent again.
And Eleanor, for the first time in days, was truly afraid.