ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

14〝fourteen〞

"IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND OKAY?" CEDRIC asked Rolf, trying to sound casual as they watched Ellis disappear swiftly up the stone stairs.

"Oh," said Rolf, going red, "she's not my girlfriend."

"Oh, sorry." Though Cedric didn't seem to feel sorry at all.

"It's okay. She's just not someone of many words." Rolf shrugged, looking slightly sad.

They heard the door to the Entrance Hall shut.

"Let's go this way, then," said Cedric, indicating back where they came.

"What?" said Rolf, flummoxed. "Why?"

"You'll see."

The fourth-year in the lead, they retraced their steps towards the kitchens. What Rolf, and most Hufflepuffs, didn't yet realize was that this section of the basement belonged to a closed circuit: if one walked long enough along the corridor, they would eventually end up at their original starting point.

Normally, the Hufflepuff common room—situated almost on the opposite side of the loop to the ingress from the stone stairs—would be accessed by the left fork of the T-junction, in which students would pass by Professor Sprout's quarters along the way. In actual fact, it was physically nearer when approached from the right, just as Cedric and Rolf were doing. This route, however, mandated crossing the face of the kitchens and—so as to reduce the likelihood of discovery and exposure of its location, its entrance concealed notwithstanding—was not prescribed in every Hufflepuff's welcome pack. Moreover, with the labyrinth-like nature of all passages within the castle of Hogwarts, it was unsurprising that the existence of this somewhat shortcut still remained foreign to many.

A few yards beyond the still life of the large fruit bowl, they turned into the stone alcove where several oversized barrels laid stacked atop each other. (Rolf was disorientated that it was recessed into the right wall instead of the usual left.) Withdrawing his wand again, Cedric aimed it at the middle one of the second row and began to knock lightly. Tap, tap, tap-tap-tap. Its circular lid swung open and they crawled through the brief gently-sloping path that ended in a cheerful, honey-hued sitting room.

It was fairly crowded, but everyone still seemed knee-deep in discussions about what had happened at the Dueling Club and hadn't notice them. Cedric's clique was found near the fire, and once Rolf had extended them ample thanks and headed for the boys' dormitories with his lemon Jell-O, Cedric was forcefully sat into the nearest armchair, the plate of treacle tart balancing on his hand snatched away. Next thing he knew, he was being bombarded.

"How did it go?"

"Get into her good books, yet?"

"Think she mightn't hex you at the match?"

"What does she like to eat?"

"Could you get her to share any tips?"

Torn between exasperation and amusement, Cedric stared at his friends who had, somehow, through the course of their rabid—not to mention, incredulous—interrogation, managed to help themselves to a slice of tart apiece and were now goggling him like he was the boy who lived.

"How about, thank you for so kindly bringing us supper, Cedric," he said saltily.

"Oh, don't try to steal Bishop's glory," said Margaery, slapping his elbow away and settling herself on the arm of his chair. She seemed in a bad mood. "But seriously, how did it go?"

"How did what go?" demanded Cedric. "Seriously, is nobody going to explain to me what in Merlin's name is going on? Why did I have to go, for instance?"