ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

23〝twenty-three〞

THE FIRST DAY OF THE holidays had not gone as Cedric had anticipated. Snape had docked twenty points from Hufflepuff for his conduct and nearly given him his first ever detention, but Professor Sprout refused pointblank to act without primary testimony—and there was no one to give it. He obviously did not see Ellis at lunch, but neither did he see her at dinner, nor the next day. In fact, it was almost Christmas by the time he saw her again.

Christmas Eve afternoon had arrived; Cedric had just gone to dispatch his presents at the Owlery. If he had known he would spot her acrobatic flying just seconds later as he descended the tower, he would have withheld hers. He considered Summoning the owl back, but couldn't quite tell which one was carrying hers anymore as they soared deeper into the distance. Thus, he bolted down the stairs, plowing through a foot of snow (a blizzard had raged since the night before, waning just before midday) all the way to the Quidditch field.

In the past few days, he had half wondered, more times than he could count, if she had left—changed her mind, gone home...for it seemed impossible to stay yet miss every meal. Then again, she always seemed to be doing the impossible: she was whizzing through four crazy Bludgers whose sole goal in life looked to be to unseat her, or kill her trying, apparently fearlessly and tirelessly. Either that, or she had a death wish.

Cedric straightened up suddenly.

For a moment, he could not believe his eyes... He'd noticed something...but, no, it couldn't be...could it? He stared some more, just to make sure... Then his stomach gave an irrational lurch—she had taken his advice.

Her dodges were now swifter and sharper, and, if conceivable, seemed to make her go even faster. He was ecstatic, though hoped dearly that Sansa would never find out, else she would most certainly feed him to a chimaera.

Two hours Cedric watched from the stands before Ellis hit the ground, the Snitch and Bludgers having been pinned back into their crates, which floated in her wake towards the locker rooms. Cedric headed down but decided against going in. Instead, he lingered under the overcast skies by the exit, attempting to formulate what he might say.

She emerged twenty minutes later shouldering her Nimbus Two Thousand and One and out of her Quidditch things. When she caught sight of him, he was, however, not met with her usual antagonistic glare nor its more recent rendition—a blank expression of surprise. Indeed, she hardly looked taken aback; she had probably espied him spectating.

As though resigned to the worst, she sighed heavily, sending a fresh surge of guilt through Cedric for planning to badger her anew. It appeared to have obstructed his throat, and for some time he struggled to speak. Then, clearly without the aid of his brain, his mouth worked of its own accord.

"Hey, you," it said.

Her eyes widened and she blinked as though she could not believe her ears. Frankly, neither could Cedric—though he realized, with unqualified dread, where it had obtained its inspiration and reckoned that that, too, was a terrible mistake—so much so that he thought such pathetic behavior ought to deserve a boot between the legs. Imagining it had the precise effect of jolting sense back into him, and he sought to make his case before it could abandon him again.

"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot," he said quickly, "and I'm sorry about whatever happened down in the magizoo— No, wait"—Ellis had turned away impatiently—"listen—"

"No, you listen to me," said Ellis, not unkindly, though severely and sounding exhausted. Cedric obliged, observing her eyes to be bloodshot and somewhat puffy as she continued, "It may not have occurred to you..." She gazed at him like it pained her to do so; like she hated every shred of his being but at the same time hated herself for it... "Not everything is about you," she went on. "If you haven't realized, I've got my own problems. And whatever's been happening: it's my problem, not yours. You've not done anything wrong, so just—please—stop apologizing for every little thing."

Roused to the fact that he did say sorry aplenty, Cedric felt slightly stung. Her emphasis on the last three words had made it quite plain she was downright sick and tired of it. Nonetheless, Cedric couldn't empathize with her. After all, it had hitherto annoyed no one—but neither had his smile, and she had somehow made that out to be abominable as well.

"Try as you may, you can't fix everything. Deal with it," she finished and trudged off, rather bitterly.

By and by Cedric copied, treading carefully so that the imprints of her chucks remained unblemished, leaving a set of his own like they had walked side by side. Twilight was approaching steadily. He drew level with her somewhere up the sloping lawns, determined.

"I want to be your friend," he confessed.

Immediately, a part of him became relieved—he'd done it, finally—the other preferred if he hadn't. Truly, it sounded silly aloud.

Ellis halted abruptly in her tracks. Cedric almost skidded on the icy grass in imitating her.

"I beg your pardon?" said Ellis in a tone (and with a glower) as if daring him to repeat himself.

Be that as it might, he did.

"You asked me what I wanted: I want to be your friend."

It wasn't much better (but third time's the charm, right?). Ellis felt similarly. Contempt unfurling rapidly across her face, she snorted.

"A friend you don't want your other friends to know about?"

His heart skipped a beat. He gawped at her, mortified and horrorstruck. How—?

"I saw you," said Ellis sourly, and Cedric knew it would be foolish to deny.

"I'm sor—" Punctuated by a threatening look courtesy of the Slytherin, he got to the point, albeit quietly. "They'd take the mickey out of me if they knew what this was."

"What is this?"

Exasperation was boiling over her voice.

Shaking his head vaguely, Cedric replied, still softer, "You'd take the mickey out of me if you knew..."

"I'd take the mickey out of you right now," riposted Ellis, evidently having heard.

"I don't doubt it," he admitted, chuckling.

But she didn't find it very funny at all. She stared at him, unmistakably expecting an explanation. And it was that which set him further on edge.

Unlike the main school population, Cedric was never fazed by her mismatched eyes. But, for other reasons—and definitively unrelated to the rumors—he had become increasingly nervous around her. The intensity of her gaze thoroughly unhelpful, he weighed his options...he had nothing to lose. He searched for the confidence that had carried him to her table in the library, the suave manner in which he'd caught Jaime's origami bird—

"You know what?" said Ellis tersely, breaking the silence. "I don't care. It's not happening anyway."

"Wait, what?" said Cedric in confusion, marching after her. "Why?"

"Why?" Her voice shrill, she stopped again, glaring at him like the answer to his question was manifest; Cedric's face demonstrated it wasn't. Furious, she swung her broomstick off the shoulder, with a stunt-like twirl jammed it bristles-down into the snowy turf, and demanded, "Why do you even want to be my friend?"

Still mystified and caught unawares, Cedric couldn't produce any appreciable response, but she wasn't banking on it.

"Because I'm so very interesting?" Ellis suggested scathingly.

"Isn't everybody?" said Cedric, honestly sanguine.

"Tell me one thing interesting about you, then."

Foraging for something—anything—Cedric relapsed into a state of anxiety. So far, he was legitimately under the impression that he bore several fascinating traits. Now, conversely, he found all of those things trivial and lackluster: He was a single child, awesome. His father worked for the Ministry, spectacular. He played Quidditch...he supposed that was okay...but it wasn't like he was a professional or on an international team...he was hardly even the best in Hogwarts...

In the end, he said the last thing that came to his mind and should have been the last thing to have slipped from his tongue.

"I'm...a wizard."