ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

24〝twenty-four〞

HE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE said he was a lizard. Admittedly, that ought to be more entertaining. If she would permit him the grace to keep it to herself, he would very much like to take this secret to the grave.

Mentally kicking himself, Cedric thought he'd dreamed up the corner of her lips twitch: Dusk was all but gone. Light was sparing. He could not see her face properly. But when Ellis spoke, the tinge of amusement that interspersed with her mocking was almost tangible.

"Well, at least now I see what you're getting at," she sneered.

Desperate to salvage the situation notwithstanding, Cedric reckoned—and correctly—that it would be wise to refrain from any further attempts for the time being: he absolutely could not be trusted to verbalize anything anymore just now.

Re-shouldering her broom with another agile twirl, Ellis hiked the remaining of the sloped lawn and strutted through the oak front doors of the castle, her head held high, a positive spring in her step, victory clearly hers. Cedric resisted the temptation to chase after her by rooting himself to the spot until even her shadow had disappeared totally before traipsing along, her words resonating disturbingly in his ears.

Try as you may, you can't fix everything... A friend you don't want your other friends to know about?

Dinner was a torturous affair. Ambushed by Roger Davies the moment he entered the Entrance Hall, Cedric was chivvied to the Ravenclaw table where they sat grouped together with basically all the prefects who had stayed behind for the holidays, including the Head Boy and Girl, and worse of all: Barnabas Stinson.

If enduring Margaery's complaints for hours on end regarding their last encounter was bad, sitting next to him was flat out dreadful. Cedric, having personally ascertained that Margaery was not at all exaggerating the Hufflepuff prefect's sense of self-importance simply to guilt-trip him, swore never to tease her about Stinson ever again.

It started last Valentine's Day, when the clique discovered Stinson to carry a torch for their "sweet sweet Margaery" (his note asking her out was found by none other than Jaime), much to her dismay, but much to Cedric's delight: because he and Cho Chang would finally be off the hook.

Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, was purported to have a crush on him after their first Quidditch match of the previous year—in which she had fumbled the Snitch when Cedric flashed her a smile, consequently losing the game for her side. Perhaps it wasn't altogether false, for she giggled and blushed, looking incredibly shy, whenever they passed each other in the corridors; their friends poking fun at them had apparently deterred any further action on her part, though.

Whilst the signs of her infatuation dwindled all through January, the taunting, howbeit, only ceased upon the emergence of a new, and juicier, chapter: Stinson and Margaery. The two had since taken over as subjects of good-natured jest whenever pleasantries were scarce—which, by Jaime's standards, was most of the time. This, too, was in spite of Margaery rejecting him, though Stinson didn't fully accept that either.

This was one of the reasons why Cedric was keen to bury any traces of his deeds. He didn't dare nor want to think about what he would have to stomach again if they recognized his doings, but he wasn't so much afraid that she would be scared off by their ridicules. On the contrary, and with fresh experience to substantiate, he was sure Ellis would give even Jaime a run for his money. It was more of their sheer numbers that was intimidating, especially when she hardly hung around anybody (hardly anybody hung around her, really).

For someone who was always alone, and weighed down by such terrible whispers, she got on rather well in Cedric's opinion, almost like she was used to it and had become immune. Based on his observations, she tended to avoid company if she could help it—with the exception of ghosts and animals, both of whom she seemed to fancy with an uncommon level of enthusiasm—which vaguely bolstered him: he wasn't the only one she was holding at arm's length. Perhaps if his friends all turned into dragons or winged horses (he would not wish them to become spirits) he might stand a better chance...

He had shelved telling them also because he was, until recently, undecided about his feelings: He hadn't been confronted with anything like it in his fifteen years. He never felt anything similar with Margaery, who was patently a friend; nor with Cho Chang, who was also very pretty. Indeed, he found Ellis pretty (albeit in her own respects that were vastly different from Chang's. He believed others might too, once they allowed themselves to look beyond her "evil" eyes; Rolf Scamander seemed living proof enough). But it was her quality of remoteness and confidence, an aberrant combination striking him as deliberate and, hence, giving rise to an aura of mystery that intrigued him most.

What began so mildly as innocent curiosity had developed like a photograph done right: slowly, and growing sharper all the time. It was a plausible explanation for some of the heretofore unaccountable incidents he had run into throughout the term: how he was even more prone to smiling in her presence, ostensibly because she made him want to and that he hoped it would make her day—granted, it was an agreeable one, though that had obviously not worked out in his favor; the way she would intrude into his head just randomly and he didn't mind it: even at the oddest hour, even if it meant he had to burn the midnight oil to finish his homework, even if it kept him from paying attention in classes...if truth be told, he enjoyed the distraction (and he had the handy excuse of Quidditch trainings to parry any suspicions); all the instances of late he was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to thump someone because they were fabricating increasingly far-fetched, not to mention baseless, theories about her (Zacharias Smith had triggered this nameless madness more often than anyone else)...

Matters were complicated by her reputation. Surely it would be misguided to inform his mates of any sort of liking towards someone who was generally regarded as wicked, bewitching others into her service, and purging the institution of unworthy pupils "for the greater good." It would have been all too easy for them to assume he was spellbound.

As befitted his discretion, Cedric championed for neutrality only within his circle of friends—with faith that it would somehow infiltrate the rest of the school. Just as the latter was unrealistic, the former was thankfully straightforward: The clique, amply sensible, and who normally took rumors with pinches of salt, could be readily persuaded by facts. Harry Potter's role in the scandal, opportune as it was, had contributed beneficially to his, Cedric's, cause. Meanwhile, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had no more energy to fret over Ellis' alleged attacks than her established Seeking skills, and those of the boy who lived's.

Even so, he was reluctant to reveal his intentions. At his very core, he just felt that this was private, something he knew he wanted to—and had to—face by himself...

On several occasions, he had gone sleepless contemplating how he would go about this, the nagging voice in the back of his head his only partner in crime. It warned him that an outright confession would be imprudent; considering her fondness for solidarity and reserved character, it was no doubt bulldozing and would only repel her. In his heart, Cedric knew it wasn't right in any case. Just as his feelings had unfolded, he needed to build their relationship gradually if he wanted any hope of winning her...

So, he took care to keep his display of affection in check. Gratefully, smiling was an inherent part of his life and nothing out of the ordinary. All in all, he had been cautious, erring just once—at the Dueling Club—which transpired to be detrimental in ways he never expected. He was just pondering how he might make amends and redress the circumstances when the evening was redeemed.

Ellis had strolled into the Great Hall.