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MARTHEO STORMED INTO GRIMMAULD PLACE, HIS HEART POUNDING WITH FEAR AND DETERMINATION. The dark, foreboding atmosphere of the house seemed even more oppressive as he frantically searched for any sign of Eleanor. Dust hung in the air, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old floorboards under his hurried steps. He could almost hear the house whispering its secrets, but none of them revealed where Eleanor had gone.
He moved through the house, noticing traces that someone had been there recently. A chair was slightly out of place, a door ajar that had been closed before. His breath hitched when he saw Eleanor's dressing gown draped over the bed in one of the rooms. He picked it up, clutching the soft fabric, his mind racing with possibilities. She had been here, but where had she gone?
He sank onto the edge of the bed, the dressing gown still in his hands. Running a hand through his dark curls, he whispered, "Where are you, Eleanor?" The words were barely audible, but they carried the weight of his worry and desperation. He was lost, not knowing where she could have gone, feeling an ache in his chest that he couldn't shake.
Meanwhile, Eleanor, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were amidst chaos at the Ministry. They had successfully retrieved the locket, but it had come at a cost. Ron was hurt, clutching his side as they made their escape. Hermione, ever resourceful, shuffled through her beaded bag, searching for a potion to heal him.
With a loud crack, they apparated away from the Ministry, landing in the depths of a dense forest. The trees loomed high above them, their branches creating a natural canopy that barely allowed any light through. The air was cool and damp, filled with the scent of earth and leaves.
"Ron, hold on," Hermione said, her voice steady but urgent as she found a vial of healing potion. Harry and Eleanor helped Ron sit up against a tree, his face pale and sweaty from the pain.
Eleanor watched anxiously as Hermione administered the potion. Slowly, Ron's color began to return, and his breathing steadied. Eleanor felt a rush of relief, but it was fleeting as she looked around, realizing the gravity of their situation. They were deep in a forest, far from any safe haven.
"Here, Eleanor," Hermione said, handing her the locket. "Hold this while I set up a protective barrier around us."
Eleanor took the locket, its cold, heavy weight almost symbolic of the burden she now carried. Hermione began casting spells around them, creating an invisible wall to shield them from any prying eyes.
As Eleanor held the locket, a million thoughts ran through her mind. She could feel the dark mark on her forearm, a constant reminder of her connection to Voldemort. She could activate it now, summon him, and give him what he wanted. She could secure her place with Mattheo, be with him forever.
