ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

45〝forty-five〞

FOR ALL THE CREASES OF confusion wedging themselves between Cedric's eyes, Ellis might as well have explained herself in French. Although, admittedly, her attempt had been rather choppy, what with anxiety and tears intruding intermittently.

"So," said Cedric, after Ellis had most recently calmed down, "you're saying that you...saw them...getting attacked?"

"Not 'getting attacked,' per se, it's more like..." Ellis groped for an accurate description of what she had seen. "It's just...the end result, I guess..."

"Okay..." He looked deep in thought. "But what about Ginny Weasley?"

"That's just it," said Ellis helplessly, "I don't know."

"But you've seen something like this before?"

"Yes, but I didn't really know it then."

Indeed, Ellis had had a similar experience—back at Weirfield.

She had been nine; it was a couple of weeks into the new school year. Ellis was in her seat, extracting her science textbook and getting ready for class. Mr. Clarke was illustrating a mosquito's life-cycle on the blackboard. Ellis briefly saw her seat-partner, Darcy Lewis, approaching as she arranged her stationery. Next second, Darcy was toppled in her lap  ("Whoops, sorry," said Caroline Channing, in the most un-sorry voice possible. Simpering, she was the resident class bully, and had obviously just shoved Darcy for sport—Darcy was clumsy, but not that clumsy).

That was when Ellis received her first "vision": Darcy tumbling down a flight of steps.

At the time, Ellis simply thought she was imagining things; the scene was a mere flash in her head at any rate. What she had truly cared about was her most prized mechanical pencil (it belonged to Elliot), which had been sent flying amidst the chaos and broken as it landed two aisles away. Also, Darcy wasn't one to fend for herself, which was what had made her such an easy target in the first place.

Not two seconds later, Channing, who was aiming to escape the scene before Mr. Clarke noticed anything amiss, tripped and—ironically—fell face flat on the floor. Apparently, her shoelaces had tied themselves together somehow. Her gal pals had to help her to the nurse's office. More than a month on, when Channing's nose had been healed for ages and everyone had put the incident out of their minds amidst the highly dreaded end-of-term tests, was when it actually happened.

Ellis witnessed it exactly as she did in her mind's eye: from the bottom of the stairs. But this time, she could glance to the top, where she caught the honey-colored pigtail of Caroline Channing whisking around the bend and out of sight. Darcy Lewis didn't return for the rest of the school year, nor any year after that. Rumor had it that she suffered a head trauma and a serious spinal cord injury that confined her to a wheelchair, and her parents had to transfer her to a special needs institution.

When Ellis reported what she had seen, both in her head and with her eyes, Principal Weatherby brushed it off as what Muggles termed déjà vu. Her mother looked aghast at the news, and Ellis had assumed it was because she ratted out the daughter of a school governor. She, herself, was too occupied with pangs of conscience: Channing wouldn't have sought revenge on Darcy if it wasn't for her.

All this, she had told Cedric.

Thinking back now, Ellis reckoned her mother ought to have looked furious instead.

She knew.

"So, you know what's going to happen," said Cedric slowly, "or at least to whom it's going to happen, but you don't know when?"

Ellis sighed, shook her head, and closed eyes. Tears were brimming again.

"Hey, hey, shhh," said Cedric, stroking her back, "it's not your fault they got attacked—"