Curiosity doomed Eleanor into inserting herself into the throng of servants surrounding the cause of that bone chilling scream earlier, and she only found a splatter of reds around a tiny human body. A boy, she saw, whose patched old clothes nearly reminded her of memories from the previous night before the smell of fresh blood and gore as a breeze picked up tempted her to empty the contents of her stomach.
Before she retched, however, sisterly duties delayed her disgust at the crushed corpse: before Sirius could even reach the crowd, his sister took hold of him, dragging him away from the scene.
“A horrible accident…” “What a careless lad…” “Must have fell from the balcony…”
Among the chaos that the Crisiotas observed from the edge of the door, Eleanor noted Mr. LaLauren arriving upon the scene, a profound frown upon his face as he disbanded the servants from their collateral panic to rid the house of such a horrendous spectacle.
Then, perhaps it was the confusion of seeing such a violence that made her imaginative, but she thought she saw a slight upward turn upon the corner of his mouth as he took his outer coat to cover the body. Still, her more immediate need forced her to run away and drag Sirius until the bloodied hand could not reach out to her.