ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

20〝twenty〞

THERE WAS NO VISIBLE BOUNDARY to what Ellis was seeing. Professor Kettleburn led them past a savanna that seemed to go on for acres. Ellis briefly registered one of its residents: a lion-like beast covered in spikes, whose mane could inflate as if a balloon when it burst into roar. They crossed into a valley, where a distinct jet of red light shot out from behind a faraway mountain. A yowling screech reached Ellis's eardrums just as the luminescence dissolved, and the mystery of moving clumps of snow upon the distant pastures was resolved instantly.

"Was that a dragon?" asked Ellis.

Kettleburn glanced back in surprise, and was happier even when he noticed that the Slytherin was not all apprehensive, but eager in some measure too.

"You've got a keen eye," he said, surveying her with interest. "Any idea which one?"

"The Opaleye," answered Ellis. "It's the only one that inhabits valleys instead of mountains."

"Clever girl. I would award you ten points if you were in my class."

"Can we see it?" she blurted out.

"Not today, I'm afraid," said Kettleburn. "See, she's nesting. It's not a great time for visitors."

Crestfallen, Ellis took one last gander at the luscious lowland and its snow-imposters—sheep, the Opaleye's main diet—before traipsing on.

They entered another sanctuary, apparently built for small creatures of flight. Many perches were suspended in midair, occupied by a variety of birds. A particular strikingly yellow one, that strongly reminded Ellis of Hufflepuff's Quidditch robes, caught her attention. It was fluffy around its head with feathers tapering towards the legs, and moving its beak as though singing a silent song.

Just then, something shiny flitted past. Ellis did a double take, thinking she saw a Snitch. It scattered a band of pixies, then a cluster of doxies, as it zoomed through them.

"Snidget," said Cedric. "The original—"

"—Golden Snitch."

Fascinated, Ellis cracked a smile, and, without realizing, had faced towards Cedric. Quite as abruptly as it dawned on her that he was beaming all the way to his grey eyes, she yanked her gaze away, her heart thumping madly inside her chest, a heat nothing to do with the neighboring tropical beach stealing over her cheeks. She focused on a group of tubby, multicolored birds shuffling about a palm tree, soft pops accompanying each of their disappearances and reappearances—how Ellis longed to possess the innate gift of diricawls and evaporate from the spot.

"Fairy eggs, check," said Kettleburn, bringing her sharply back to the magical reserve.

Clasped in his claw hand was a wooden teaspoon, roughly half-filled with transparent spawn. Ellis peered around, perplexed: there were no fairies in sight. Where had he gotten them?

"We're going this way."

This time, they trudged further into the glade, around a large eyrie constructed out of bamboo that contained a thick bluish snake (though Ellis swore it sported wings and a beak) coiled around half a dozen silvery eggs, and stopped in front of a small sunlit tree—a beech bonsai.

"Elphaba? Kermit? Yoda, Oscar?" called Kettleburn, who was now clutching the teaspoon behind his back. "Lunch!"

Several bowtruckles emerged from the foliage. Kettleburn dispersed a handful of wood lice into their midst, causing them to clack excitedly. When they were distracted, he hid the fairy eggs separately amongst the twigs that would be branches on a full-size analogue.

"Treats, if they can find them," explained Kettleburn. "Can't make it too easy, and can't give them to one and not the others—they'll accuse me of favoritism." Chuckling, he nodded at Ellis, who promptly pulled agape the mouth of her pocket. To it, Kettleburn held the teaspoon with just two fairy eggs left on it and cooed, "Out you hop, now."