ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

55〝fifty-five〞

AFTER A FORTNIGHT OF WHAT many students christened "the lockdown" passed and Ellis still had not answered any of his letters, Cedric had to admit that his worst fears had dawned. He had tried to make excuses for her down manner he observed whenever he caught sight of her: Easter was approaching. Even with all her resilience, it couldn't have been easy to be faced with Elliot's death anniversary; not when she was still convinced she was the cause of it—and most certainly not without the distractions of Quidditch and magical beasts.

There was, however, no other explanation for her resuming her back-facing in the Great Hall, for her skirting him in the corridors... It was as if he had somehow traveled backward in time to before Christmas... The only redemptions were that he had no lack of work to occupy him (the teachers seemed to be piling them with more homework than ever knowing they had plenty of time on their hands), and that he shared a common room with Rolf Scamander, perhaps the only other person alive who cared about Ellis as he did.

Crowded as the Hufflepuff basement went these days, for it was the only place to be beyond six o'clock, it was difficult to have any sort of conversation without being overheard, whether it was discussing warlock conventions, or Slytherin's heir. So, with one thing and another, Cedric very much preferred when the clique managed to get seats near Rolf, or vice versa. At least, then, in addition to enduring everyone exchanging the latest pieces of tidbits about her as though their lives depended upon it, he could obtain a glimpse of how Ellis was actually doing.

He had such luck today. Cedric, Jaime, Podrick, and Jon were at varying stages of their respective essays pertaining to planetary divination; Samwell and Margaery, who didn't take the elective, were each reading Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles (which Cedric was due to do later as well). At the adjacent table, copies of Magical Drafts and Potions laid neglected as Rolf and a couple of first-years were talking.

"Seriously, mate, cheer up," said a thick Scottish accent belonging to Nathaniel Archibald, "she's not worth it."

"Yeah, you deserve better," echoed the voice of April Kepner.

"No, I deserve to be blamed, that's what I deserve," said Rolf stubbornly. "She wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for me. I should never have said anything about the library. How could I have been so stupid? It's my fault the whole school thinks she's Slytherin's heir again..."

There was a brief quiet, and Cedric could guess precisely why. This wasn't the first time their chat had taken such a turn; Nathaniel and April had probably run out of ways to console Rolf. After all, they (and occasionally, the clique) were the only ones doing it.

Rolf wasn't exactly shy; in fact, his bubbly nature ought to have made him rather likable. Public misconception about Ellis, however, had jeopardized his popularity. Although Nathaniel and April appeared quite as disapproving as the others of Rolf's continued association with Ellis—they never gave up a chance to discourage it—they were, if nothing else, willing to overlook it and befriend and comfort him in his time of need, for which Cedric was gladdened. At least Hufflepuff's spirit of forbearance was still present somewhere...

"Don't worry, it'll die down," piped up April, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. "It did the last time."

"I wish she'd just blame me," said Rolf dully. "I can't stand her not speaking to me."

"She's not speaking to anyone," Nathaniel pointed out.

"That's just it, isn't it?" said Rolf in exasperation. "She never speaks up for herself, and whenever I try to help, I just make things worse—I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot—" But April might as well have not said anything for all the acknowledgement she received.

Ignoring her completely, Rolf rambled on.

"I know she doesn't like to draw attention to herself, but how can she just let everyone go on and on about her while she suffers in silence? She always acts like she doesn't care but I know she's upset. I can tell she's been crying—" (Cedric felt a distinct tug in his chest; this information was fresh to him, his own assumptions notwithstanding.) "—her eyes are all puffy. Her eye bags are coming back too; I don't think she's been getting much sleep with all these rumors going—"

"Or maybe she's been up all night plotting her next attack," interjected Donna Paulsen's dulcet tones from the next table over.

"She is not the Heir of Slytherin," snapped Rolf.

"Oh, told you that too, has she?" challenged Donna.

"No, but—"

"You see," said Donna gloatingly, "she doesn't even bother to deny it. If it isn't her, why won't she say something?"

"I've just said: she doesn't want any trouble."

"Now that's a likely story," chimed in Zacharias Smith, who had drifted over, no doubt attracted by the scent of juicy gossip as a dog would be by that of a succulent banger, "when she's the source of trouble."

"I'm telling you: it's not her!" snarled Rolf. "Think about it: Dumbledore's been gone for more than two weeks now. If anyone in school's Slytherin's heir, why hasn't there been another attack?"

For a moment, everyone seemed stumped by Rolf, which made Cedric, hiding behind his star chart, very delighted, but then Ernie Macmillan joined the argument.

"Can't have, can they? With all these new measures McGonagall's put up—"

Flushed with indignation, Rolf sprang to his feet.

"You believed Harry Potter was Slytherin's heir until his friend was attacked. What'll it take to stop believing it's Ellis? Do I have to get attacked too? Because I wouldn't mind, you know, if that'll prove to you—to all of you—"

"Don't flatter yourself, Scamander," said Donna snidely, albeit looking somewhat awed by Rolf's readiness to be Petrified, "she hardly considers you a friend. Those Valentine's Day chocolates you gave her—I saw her feeding them to her bird. I bet she'd have attacked you already if you weren't pure-blood."

Looking hurt, Rolf didn't counter immediately. Cedric reckoned he mustn't have known that Glynnis the owl was a fan of chocolates as well...

"She's not Slytherin's heir!" repeated Rolf eventually, gazing desperately around the crowd that had abandoned their homework to watch, but they stared dubiously back. "I know she isn't..."

"You just don't want to believe it because you like her," said Donna.

Rolf's face went from pink to vermillion. Cedric thought he might be robbed of speech again—as he often was whenever people mentioned his crush on Ellis—but Rolf puffed out his chest and, glaring straight at Donna, said firmly, "She's my friend and I trust her."

"You can't always be so trusting," said April meekly, her face screwed up as if in pain for contradicting him, "especially with people from their House. They can be very—"

"It's just a House!" fumed Rolf. "It's where she sleeps and who she goes to class with. Why does it matter so much?"

"How does the Sorting Hat decide which House we get into?" said April patiently. "Based on our traits, values, and ideals."

"If you think she doesn't have any of those Slytherin qualities, then you're just lying to yourself," added Donna.

Throwing down his quill mid-sentence, Cedric stood up so abruptly he nearly upended the table, words tumbling freely from his mouth.

"If the Sorting Hat's any good, then all of you"—Cedric glanced around at all the stunned listeners—"ought to reflect on how come you're here—in Hufflepuff House.

"Helga Hufflepuff viewed students of all backgrounds just the same. She taught them regardless of their blood status, whether they were rich or poor, where they came from, or what their name was. She accepted everyone—everyone. She may have favoured the loyal, the fair, and the hardworking, but that doesn't mean she didn't give a chance to the rest, who, in her eyes, were just as worthy.

"But look where we are now: chosen Hufflepuffs—suspecting someone because of what House they're in, judging someone based on their appearance and ancestry. Rolf's got the right idea. The rest of you—you should be ashamed of yourselves."