Chapter Text
Sunday 7th August 1988
Eleanor wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do.
But then again when did she ever do the right thing?
With William being coddled by Nanny and her parents visiting the Notts, she found herself in need of entertainment. More namely, books. At the young age of six she’d discovered books. They’d been a wonderful time passer ever since as they had approximately four libraries here at Bradstone Manor. One for each of her parents, one for William and a..spare as they called it.
Like her, Eleanor supposed.
However, it wasn’t like they ever used them and so no one noticed when she spent hours on end pouring over texts such as Gadding with Ghouls or A History of Magic. But two years had passed since that discovery and Eleanor was ready for something new. Something exciting.
So here she was.
It had been almost too easy to escape the nursery, her brother was throwing another tantrum and per usual Nanny didn’t know how to deal with it. She shut the door behind her with a click. Slowly, she began to tiptoe along the carpeted hallway, avoiding spots where she knew the floorboards had became loose underneath. Each step unrested dust, which blew in front of her face, threatening a sneeze. William’s muffled complains echoed down the landing only slightly quieting her own treacherous footsteps. And while Eleanor wanted this, she was rather regretting it now.
What if her parents returned early?
What would they say to their favourite insignificance?
Would they scream, cry and scold her?
Or would they even notice?
Still, she continued down the corridor pressing her back against the ivy-coloured wallpaper in the hopes of covering her tracks. She turned around corner and let out a breath. One down. Merlin knows how many to go.
She passed Father’s grand bedroom. She was getting closer by each carefully placed foot.
The portraits glowered down at her, past Bradstones watching her every move from their ornate frames. They wouldn’t have approved of this, she thought. Luckily enough for her though, most of them had either passed on or were bothering the South West.
She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts by this point, that she hardly noticed when she arrived at the mahogany doors of her father’s office.
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Her hand rose to the doorknob.
She hesitated for second before twisting it and stepping in.
The cold air rushing through the open windows was the first thing that hit her. Loose paper was flying out the windows, getting trapped among the curtains, floating down to the gardens below. Her eyes widened. No no no no no. Father would murder her if all these pages got lost. She raced towards the large desk occupying the front of the room, by the windows, scrambling to grab as many papers as possible.
Letters among letters, documents, newspapers furiously caught before they sailed into the perfectly trimmed bushes waiting below. Dear Mr Bradstone.. one began. Another was a Daily Prophet titling Gilderoy Lockhart’s Valentines visit to Hogwarts in February. But none of these mattered, not when Eleanor spotted two tomes about to tip over the edge of the windowsill. They were bound in black leather engraved in dark green. Books. Just what she’d been searching for, her reason for coming here in the first place.
There was no hesitation this time.
She scrambled to lift herself onto the desk and practically slid forwards to the edge of the sizeable window now looming over her.
She snatched the books not a second too late. There had been various journals wobbling precariously and as another gust of wind shook the office, they fell.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Into the extravagant mess that was the gardens surrounding Bradstone Manor. Where a sleek, black car was currently pulling up, back from an outing at the Notts own residence.
But Eleanor barely registered it, not when she was currently grasping what felt like to her to be the holy grail of books. She felt this indescribable pull towards it like the book wanted her to open it.
Her eyes lit up as she studied the engraving on the first one. A triangle split in half with a circle in the centre. As she ran her hand over it, it lit up glowing an eerie neon green. What in merlin’s- what was this? The second one had a similar engraving except for a message underneath: ‘Für Das Größere Wohl’. At the young age of eight, she was already learning French, Italian and bits and pieces from a few others but this certainly wasn’t a language she knew.
People were staring to get out of the car.
She turned them over in her hands, searching for a blurb, another message, anything. Anything to suggest what they were, where they came from. They definitely weren’t what you would expect to find in Cornelius Bradstone’s private office. Everything in it was neat, tidy, marked. Normal.
Footsteps started up the winding path to the manor.
She froze, peering out the window. She needed to get back to her bedroom now. She tucked the books under her arm, already running towards her ajar door in West Wing of the manor. Shoes pounded the carpeted hallway, no longer worrying about where the creaking floorboards were.
And as the footsteps stopped at the front door and a sharp knock echoed through the house…
Eleanor opened the books.