"EXCUSE ME?"
"YOU DON'T WANT to be overheard, right?" said Cedric. "I'll explain inside. Come on."
Charily, Ellis poked her head around the entryway and was greeted with the oddest-looking room she had ever seen.
It was decorated in yellow and black, like a gigantic bumble bee had been skinned and its coat now draped all across the brick walls. A pair of plush mustard armchairs—each furnished with a round velvet cushion bearing a button detail, came with a pouf to match, and was partially covered under a patchwork throw—were situated in front of a roaring fireplace, sandwiching a glossy honey oak coffee table topped with a small potted cactus. The floor was made of similar wooden boards, which gave the windowless chamber an earthy and, surprisingly, airy feel.
She wandered around, surveying the queer decor: neither was bees her preferred species of insect nor did yellow agree with her. But, admittedly, if one was prepared to overlook the offensive color scheme, it was pretty cozy. And the armchair, it was neither too hard nor too soft: this must be what Baby Bear's bed felt like, she thought as she sank into it.
A loud click interrupted her little reverie. The French doors were shut, and Cedric was lowering a heavy crossbar behind them. A great wave of apprehension washed over Ellis.
What was she thinking getting herself locked up with a boy?
Quite suddenly, she felt very hot. Her cheeks were definitely flushing, though thank Merlin for the flames she could blame. She tugged off her scarf and rolled it up, setting it atop her dragon books, as Cedric settled himself into the other chair.
"How do you like it?"
"What is this place?" asked Ellis, pretending she hadn't heard him.
"It's called the Room of Requirement," repeated Cedric. "Helga Hufflepuff was said to have created it during her time as a founder. She sought to make it a tool that could continue to help all students once she inevitably left Hogwarts. It will open to anyone who has a real need, regardless of the seeker's House or heritage, and is always equipped accordingly."
Assimilating this knowledge, Ellis couldn't help but think of something else. A secret chamber...concealed within the castle...forged by a school founder...designed to carry on tasks he or she could not...and if the stark ornamentation could count as "the horror within"...
"So this is Hufflepuff's 'Chamber of Secrets,' " said Ellis.
This remark considerably disconcerted Cedric. It certainly wasn't the response he had envisioned. He blanched, looking at a loss for words. Deciding it would be cruel not to ease the tension, and one she had started no less, Ellis broke the silence.
"What do you mean, it's 'always equipped accordingly'?"
"Well," said Cedric, dramatically relieved by the shift of subject, "it changes to suit whatever the requestor demands. For example, if you need somewhere to sleep, there'll be a bed; if you're looking to hide something, it becomes a massive storeroom. I asked for a place we can't be overheard while talking, and it gave me this."
He gestured around with obvious pride. Ellis tried not to grimace too conspicuously.
"Did you have to imagine this setup, specifically?"
"Somewhat," replied Cedric. "I was told it helps—if you have something in mind, the Room will know and it can shape itself into something that accommodates you best."
"So you could have asked for anything," said Ellis slowly, "anything at all, and you asked for yellow?"
"What've you got against yellow?" said Cedric, wide-eyed and amused.
"Nothing...and everything," teased Ellis.
"Fine"—Cedric held up his arms in surrender—"next time you can be the one who asks, then maybe I'll get to see what your common room looks like."
"This is what your common room looks like?"
But now, as she verbalized it, it struck Ellis that this room indeed befitted where a Hufflepuff would dwell. Cedric went on to describe how a portrait of Helga Hufflepuff herself hung above the mantelpiece in the actual common room, which flew with banners of badgers and was embellished with all sorts of magical plants. By the time he finished, Cedric had his hands behind his head, kicked up his feet onto his pouf, and was visibly relaxed. Ellis was curled up in her chair as she hugged her velvet cushion, wondering what he would make of the contrastingly depressing sitting area in the dungeons.
"What are you thinking?" piped up Cedric.
"Nothing..."
"And everything?"
Ellis chuckled.
"Smiling really is a good look on you," he added softly.
She caught his eye, and for a while, nothing happened besides them staring at each other. That was apart from Ellis realizing they were as mismatched as their Houses' common rooms: he was all bright and sunshine, and she was cold and gloomy. With enormous effort, Ellis dragged her gaze to the fire and forced herself to watch it dance, the inside of her chest aching like it would never stop.
"Is it really that bad, for us to be friends?"
"If you want anything more," mumbled Ellis.
Cedric did not deny, but merely said, in a tone marked by concern, "Why?"
"Because I'm not who you think I am."
"And who do I think you are?"
"Someone I'm not."
For reasons unbeknownst to Ellis, Cedric erupted into laughter. She peeped at him.
"This is not going anywhere," he said, shaking his head. "Listen, how about we get to know each other better before deciding anything?"
"What, so you can spread my story to all your nosy Housemates?" The retort had shot off the tip of her tongue before she even knew it was there; her brain was long accustomed to having those at the ready. Embarrassed, Ellis squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, "Sorry; reflex."
"It's okay," reassured Cedric. "What will it take to make you believe I won't tell anyone? Do you want me to swear it? Do you need me to make an Unbreakable Vow?"
Her eyes burst open.
"Are you crazy?!"
"I just want you to—"
"I believe you," she said quickly, "I believe you, okay? Just don't get crazy ideas again."
Cedric beamed in a satisfied sort of way.
"Well, how's this: I'll go first; I'll tell you something about myself, then you can say whatever's equivalent for you. Like if I say I'm from Hufflepuff, then you can say you're from Slytherin"—Ellis struggled not to cringe. "If I say I'm a fourth-year, you'll say you're a first; and—"
"—if you say you're a wizard, then I'll say I'm a witch."
"Exactly," said Cedric, though blushing a little. "Okay... Well, my Quidditch team is Puddlemere United."
"Harpies."
"Of course." Cedric nodded. "My favorite colour is navy blue."
"Not yellow?" taunted Ellis; Cedric pulled a face. Ellis pondered awhile, then said, "White."
"My ideal pet's a dog."
"What kind?"
"Maybe a crup, or a golden retriever."
"My ideal pet is..."
"Try not to say 'dragon,' " said Cedric; it was Ellis' turn to pull a face.
"I wasn't. I was going to say 'niffler,' but I heard they wreck houses. And it won't be fair to my owl—so, owl."
"My birthday's the thirtieth of October."
Breath hitched in Ellis's throat as she hesitated, her fingers clenching onto velvet hem. She swallowed, but when she spoke, still her voice was tiny, almost ashamed to reveal the information.
"Ninth of January."
"Really?"
"Why would I lie?!" barked Ellis.
"I didn't mean it that way," said Cedric hastily, appalled by her abrupt aggression. "It's just, you have the same birthday as Snape."
"Professor Snape?" Ellis sounded incredulous; she was incredulous. "How do you even know Professor Snape's birthday?"
"My friend, Jaime: He got detention with Filch once, had to organize and rewrite old documents containing ex-students' profiles. He came across the class of '78 and saw Snape's."
"And he's interested in Professor Snape's birthday because...?"
"We just wondered if Snape acted differently on that day. So far, the answer's yes: he's more menacing than usual. It's like he hates being born."
"Don't we all."