ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

19〝nineteen〞

ELLIS RAISED HER BROWS IN an approving sort of way, as though nifflers ought to be everyone's favorite. Cedric moved to rap the door, but it had been shut so loosely that it creaked open simply at his touch.

A cramped, dingy room was revealed, alight by a single stream of dusty winter sun pouring from a shattered window. Its furnishings were just as shabby, with a suspiciously-rickety chair and a decrepit desk to match, at the foot of which was a weatherbeaten suitcase lying flat, unlatched and ajar. There was no other furniture (and no space for them either).

Peeling walls were taped with similar sketches of an assortment of other magical creatures: a pair of erumpents were charging towards each other, blowing up, and then—because it was bewitched to be so, Ellis supposed—the explosion undid itself, the hefty beings stomped backwards to their starting point, and the action repeated on a loop; what looked unmistakably like a Hungarian Horntail was breathing rather life-like flames, for the parchment on which it was drawn bore the effect that it was smoking slightly; very venerable-looking, an ape with immensely long silver fur was slinking on all fours, though vanishing for a moment or so every other second as it made its little journey...

"Professor Kettleburn?" said Cedric, and Ellis, who found it strange, as there was no one else in their company, turned to see him kneeling by the suitcase, now wide open, his head sticking over it.

Curious, she bent over it too. There was no base like it should; everything was pitch-black and impossible to make out.

"Who's there?" a hoarse voice called from inside the case, sounding abnormally distant.

"It's Cedric Diggory. I think my—" Cedric stopped abruptly; Ellis thought he might have forgotten what he was about to say, though that was unlikely. In reality, it was more like he had caught himself for something he should not be saying, and was now searching for a suitable substitute. Rallying, he said, "I think we've got one of your bowtruckles."

"My—?" said the hoarse voice, followed by commotion that was very much like pails crashing to the floor. "No, Bonnie, paws off what—!" More crashing ensued, mingled with a rhythmic clunking.

"Silvanus," bellowed a different voice, vaguely familiar, from within, "could do with a hand or two, don't ya think?"

"Aye, aye," said the first voice. "Down you lot come, then!"

"Do you want to go first, or should I?" Cedric asked Ellis, calm as though it was perfectly normal to be entering a suitcase.

Having never been down a one before, however, Ellis stared at him quite incredulously. Surely, this had to be one of his taunts too?

"I'm not kidding," he assured her, apparently realizing how preposterous everything must look, but Ellis was impassive still. "Listen, you don't have to come, but that little guy"—Cedric pointed at the bowtruckle, head poking from Ellis' cloak pocket—"seems to have some serious attachment issues."

Indeed, it had yet to be persuaded to leave the comforts of said pocket.

"Have you ever...?"

"Only every lesson," replied Cedric and Ellis nodded slowly. "I'll go ahead. Just follow me. I'll light the way." He pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos!"

His wand tip glowing, Cedric clenched the thin strip between his teeth and clambered into the case. Ellis watched as his legs vanished, then his torso, and finally his head. One of his arms popped back out, gesturing beckoningly. Ellis took the signal.

Carefully, she descended a ladder, whose rungs were initially lit only by Cedric's wand. At the bottom, however, she found herself inside a shack-like area, not nearly as dark as seen from above, though reeking strongly of zoo, and house to an odd array of items.

Dwelling on open shelves was a juxtaposition of lively potted plants and glass jars preserving dead animals—or parts of them. Adjacent stood a fully-equipped medicine cabinet filled with bottles of tablets, vials of liquid bearing minuscule labels, syringes, and needles. This must be what an office would look like if shared by Professors Snape and Sprout and Madam Pomfrey.

In a corner was stashed a table; to describe it as untidy was being nice—it would have been unrecognizable if not for the accompanying swivel stool. Hanging off hooks on the wall were various dragon-hide gear, a threadbare overcoat, and a corresponding moleskin one so large its hem was kissing the ragged floorboards. Next to it was a pile of overturned cleaning supplies (pails included) looking to have been left in a hurry.

Clunks approached steadily. Ellis gazed towards whence they came: a swing door, which Cedric went to hold open.

Through it emerged a man, or part of one anyway. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his forearms were exposed, one made of flesh, albeit highly disfigured, the other of wood and ending in a claw. Beneath his turquoise and brown tartan kilt was a human leg, socked and booted, and a wooden one, whose extremity was carved into a shoe—that explained all the clunking.

Like the rest of his clothing, his vest was tattered, patched in some places and burnt in others: a telltale sign of a Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

The only true hint of his age was his disheveled grey hair and mustache, for a section of his face was masked by a diagonal bandage for one of his eyes. And although the visible portions seemed so badly scarred that even wrinkles were beyond them, he sported a warm smile Ellis imagined would be worthy of a doting grandfather.

"Oho, Mr. Diggory," he said in a genial manner. "Not in Athens enjoying chimaeras and manticores with Mr. Lannister?"

"I think they might be enjoying him by now," said Cedric conversationally and the older man gave a chuckle.

"Tell him to bring one back, won't you?"

At this, Ellis saw, Cedric did not react but for looking handsomely nonplussed—just nonplussed, she corrected her brain irritably.

"Only joking!" said Professor Kettleburn, chortling. He leaned into Cedric, who was smiling in relief, and with a more severe air continued, "Tell him to bring two: one male, one female. Then I can finally start my own little clan."

He allowed for a moment's suspense, as if for dramatic effect. Then, his guffaws thundered exuberantly throughout the small shed as he thumped Cedric on the back. The Hufflepuff, who coughed upon impact, was blushing with sheer embarrassment, the sight of which amused Ellis so much she had to bite her lower lip to fight down a laugh. Recovering from his own jest, Kettleburn plucked his wand from his sporran and waved it at the fallen brooms and buckets; they flew into neat stacks.

"Sorry for the mess," he said, stowing his wand, "wasn't expecting students this time of the year. Now—" He had faced around, and his seeing eye, settling upon Ellis still by the ladder, noticing her for the first time, dilated with realization. "Ah... Miss Grindelwald," he said in typical Hogwarts-teacher fashion—kind and outwardly unfazed. "Pleasure, pleasure... Silvanus Kettleburn."

Greeting the professor, Ellis shook his outstretched hand politely, taking in completely the hardened skin it bore.

"I didn't know you and Diggory were acquainted."

Cedric and Ellis exchanged quick glances but neither answered. Kettleburn wasn't too concerned; it appeared to be just one of his passing remarks.

"You lot've got one of my bowtruckles, you say?"

"Yes, sir," said Ellis, showing him her pocket.

Kettleburn stooped to get a better look, for the bowtruckle had dived yet deeper inside, and sighed, wearing an expression of patient resignation.

"That's Pickett the Third," he said, "sensitive guy, always thinks the others are out to bully him. Behavior like that runs in the family. No matter, I've got some fairy eggs. They should do... This way..."

They headed through the swing door after Kettleburn onto a deck, but it wasn't its towers of crates and gunnies that had Ellis positively astonished.

AN: Happy Easter to all who celebrate 🐰 Thoughts on Secrets of Dumbledore? Comment below!