ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

40〝forty〞

WHEN THE BELL RANG THIRTY minutes later, it was welcomed with great relief, for it prevented Professor McGonagall from dishing out anymore homework than was the already long list she had assigned. People filed out of the class, grumbling. Many seemed to be under the impression that the Transfiguration teacher had taken her displeasure at the lesson's disruption out on them. None, however, gave so much as a glance at Rolf's empty seat, which was still strewn with his belongings—he hadn't returned since skedaddling.

Ellis knew neither how she decided to gather his things, nor what she would do with them once she was done, but she did it anyway. She even slid a small slip of parchment upon which she had jotted down their homework for him into his copy of A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration.

"You may leave them over there," said Professor McGonagall, nodding curtly to a chest tucked in the corner. "I'm sure he'll be back for them."

For whatever reason, Ellis thought this rather unlikely.

"It's okay, Professor," she said. "I'll get them to him."

"By all means."

It was one of those afternoons that she would run into Cedric somewhere near the Charms corridor. She supposed she could ask him to bring Rolf his possessions; Rolf did "introduce" them after all.

Braving massive tides of students going hither and thither, Ellis had just reached the top of stairs on the third floor when the traffic came abruptly to a standstill. The passage was so insanely congested there was no chance she could pass without force. As gently as she could, she squeezed—more like, jostled—herself through the unmoving throng. Somewhere to her left was a "cupid" yelling over the crowd.

"Musical valentine—"

"Oh all right, get on with it," said a girl, rather near, and seemingly impatient.

There was something familiar about her voice.

"—for Cedric Diggory!"

Ellis stopped dead.

"Oh!" The girl now sounded delighted. Ellis then recognized that it was Cedric's friend, Marge. "This should be interesting."

Without further ado, the dwarf burst into song:

"Oh, the thrill of the chase as I soar through the air,
With the Snitch up ahead and the wind in my hair.
As I draw ever closer, the crowd gives a shout,
But then comes your smile and I am knocked out.
Cedric Diggory's the boy of my dreams,
But I wonder: 'Will he go out with me?' "

What Ellis wondered, on the other hand, was why she felt surprised. She was stung, of course—that was only natural. But there was no doubt she would be kidding the world if she assumed he wasn't going to receive valentines from anybody else? It wasn't like she was unaccustomed with the fact that he was fanciable, that he was, in fact, dreamy. Obviously he would get them. It should have only been astonishing if this was the first one he had been presented with all day.

" 'With love from Cho Chang,' " recited the dwarf. "Here's your card."

As the morose-looking messenger departed, some people wolf-whistled while others had proceeded on. Ellis, however, remained mute and rooted to the spot. The stream of black robes separating Cedric from her thinned such that she suddenly had a full view of him and his clique: He was smiling and blushing, radiating a kind of shy contentment that just a few minutes ago would endear him to her but now pierced many sharp things through her insides. The rest of them were inspecting a frilly heart-shaped sheet of what Ellis thought was the ugliest shade of coral, amused and excited in equal measure.

Quite as suddenly as he had emerged, Cedric's eyes landed on Ellis. His expression was instantly ousted by one of consternation and the sight of her proved to have the same paralyzing effect on him as his did her, for he failed to budge when his clique turned to leave. Although, not a soul noticed this because they (still appraising the card) were bickering incessantly over the confession of one Cho Chang.

His gaze, however, did track Ellis as she, shaking off the feeling of being incapacitated, stalked toward him—and it grew with disquiet. But because she was determined not to look at him, she did not see it fill with puzzlement as she brushed briskly past his elbow, calling out, "Sam!"

Sam wheeled around, the others imitating. Their faces became startled upon seeing her. She strode up to them nonetheless.

"Hi, er, Sam," said Ellis, somewhat awkwardly. "Er, I was wondering if you could get these"—she held up Rolf's bag and a file she couldn't fit inside—"to Rolf, please? He left them in Transfiguration."

"Oh," said Sam, looking perplexed. "Where did—?"

Noise of fabric tearing and glass smashing to the floor interrupted him. The other four glanced back curiously but Sam disregarded it, raising his voice over the brewing commotion.

"Where did he go?"

"He...he's not feeling well," Ellis invented.

A powerful crash issued from the same direction as the din before. This time, they all gave it their attention and saw that Harry Potter himself had been pinned to the ground by yet another one of Professor Lockhart's "cupids," who had flumped himself down on the boy's ankles.

The reaction upon listening to this musical valentine couldn't be more contrasting to that of Cedric's. Nobody cheered, but laughed instead—and some rather harshly. The ginger Gryffindor prefect who had summoned Ellis to Snape's office was bossing the highly entertained assembly into breaking up. Ellis faced to Sam, only to find Cedric next to him, now looking as hurt as she felt. Ignoring these to her best efforts, she plowed on.

"Please see that these get to him, if you will?" she said to Sam imploringly.

"Okay," he replied upon a moment's hesitation.

"Thanks!"

As Ellis handed over Rolf's items, someone bellowed the Disarming Charm—something that heavily resembled a book flew a few feet into the air some distance away. Rousing from the distraction, Ellis gave Sam a little bow, thanked him again, then strutted past Cedric, still adamant not to meet his eye, toward Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Down the hall, not far from her classroom, the ginger prefect was chiding Potter; apparently, he was responsible for the spell. At close quarters was Draco Malfoy, looking ready to punch something—or someone.

"I don't think Potter liked your valentine very much!" he spat at Ginny Weasley out of the blue.

Not two seconds later, Ellis was knocked off her feet as she tried to enter the class. In a whirl of vile images she fell flat on her face and heard a distinct crack—her nose had broken. Sickened and terrified, Ellis couldn't summon the strength to push herself up. Someone helped her into a sitting position against the doorway; it was Professor Lockhart. She had to look away from his fuchsia clothing lest she throw up all over them—though, perhaps, she ought to do everyone a favor.

Gasps emanated from all around: blood had spewed (and was still spewing) from her nose. She could feel it, warm and wet. With the sleeve of her uniform Ellis wiped at her face inconsequentially, wincing every so often as her fracture was disturbed.

"Oooh," said Lockhart with a grimace. "Don't worry, Miss Grindelwald. I can fix this—"

"No!" Ellis choked out. It was difficult to breathe; the blood seemed to be plugging up her airway. She scrambled away from him and back into the corridor, clutching the wall for support. The last thing she needed to add to her deteriorating day was a boneless nose. "I'll just go to Madam Pomfrey..."

Lockhart was protesting that she would require company, and nobody should have to miss the sensational lesson he had specially prepared; he could just mend it and they could get on.

Paying no heed to this, albeit watching out for any activity of his wand, Ellis glanced around desperately. A trembling Ginny was behind Lockhart, peeking at Ellis through fingers that covered her face, tears dribbling from her chin... Cedric was still there, looking worried and pained and very pale... His clique appeared as horrorstruck as anyone, presumably due to her wrecked mug... Draco Malfoy...Ron Weasley...Harry Potter...Mr. Bossy...

"The prefect can take me!"