(CoS) CHAPTER 20: Who to Trust
"Don't worry, Harry," Ellie told him that night in the common room. Everyone else had gone to bed, but she had stayed, sensing that he wasn't quite calm enough to sleep yet. "The holidays almost here, and most of them will go home and talk to their families about you instead of their friends. That's better, right?"
"Yeah, thanks, Ellie," he groaned. "That's really helping."
She grinned. "Sorry—just kidding. I really don't see the big deal, though. So you speak snake language—doesn't mean you're inherently evil. You were obviously just trying to help Justin."
"Which I tried to explain to him, but I was interrupted by Ernie and his friends suggesting that I'm the Heir of Slytherin."
She rolled her eyes. "Ernie's an idiot. No one seriously believes you're the Heir."
"I hope not." He sighed, leaning back in the armchair he was seated in. He seemed to be starting to relax. "How'd it go with dueling Dean?"
"If I was smart, I'd have let him win. Not all bad, though. I think, eventually, he'll forgive me."
"Forgive you?" he repeated, sounding a bit surprised. "You didn't exactly ask Oliver to kiss you on the field, did you?"
It was strange, talking to Harry about this sort of thing. She barely even talked to Ginny or Hermione like this; she always felt awkward and embarrassed to gossip about boys. It felt different with Harry, though; he seemed to take these problems of hers every bit as seriously as the ones involving their more dangerous exploits.
"It's not really about that," she told him. "He feels like I used him, I think—like I never really liked him to begin with."
"And? Is that true?"
She bit her lip. "I think I knew, on some level, that it wouldn't work. But I did like him. Was that so wrong?"
He looked amused. "You're thirteen, Ellie. No one's expecting you to settle down with your future husband. Frankly, I'm amazed you and Dean were even at the maturity level required to 'date' in the first place. I can barely get to class on time, let alone impress a girl."
She laughed out loud at that. "I don't think it has much to do with emotional maturity, but thanks." She rose to her feet, sensing that she'd talked him down enough for them both to get some sleep, then added with a small smile, "And I think you've impressed more girls than you realize."
Ellie tried to juggle her time where it was needed most during the last few weeks leading to the holidays. Ginny still seemed to be acting suspicious, but continued insisting that she was fine. Harry seemed down in the dumps over the rumors and allegations that he was the Heir of Slytherin, but spending time with Ellie seemed to cheer him up. And the twins were the ones who cheered her up whenever the reminder that her father was even more evil than she'd feared snuck back in.
The Polyjuice Potion was going well. Hermione seemed confident that it would be ready by Christmas, which worked out, since Draco had been grumbling all month about having to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because of his father's high-profile work trip with the Ministry.
"What if it isn't him?" Harry asked Ellie one evening after dinner as they aimlessly strolled the halls together. Fred and George had skipped dinner to work on some exciting, new prank concoction they had come up with, and Ron and Hermione were in the library cramming for a Herbology test they had the next day, so it was just the two of them. "What if we did this whole Polyjuice thing for nothing?"
"It won't have been for nothing," Ellie assured him. "We'll have narrowed it down, at least—"
But she stopped short when she saw the unmistakable figure of a body lying frozen on the ground—and, frozen in the air beside it, a ghost.
"Oh, God," breathed Harry, following her gaze. It was Justin Finch-Fletchley, the one the snake had gone after in the Dueling Club—and Nearly-Headless Nick.
"Not again," Ellie whispered. "How is this—"
But a shriek from behind them interrupted her. It was Peeves, the infamous, prankster ghost of the castle. "Potty and the rock star!" he cackled gleefully. "Potty and the rock star! Caught red-handed!"
By the time he was finished screeching accusations down the hall, they had been joined by five professors and at least thirty students—many of whom were staring at Ellie and Harry like there might just be two Heirs of Slytherin.
"Potter!" McGonagall shouted in a tone Ellie didn't much care for. "Prince! Come with me at once."
And with that, she led them to Dumbledore's office.
Ten minutes later, Ellie and Harry sat in Dumbledore's office, waiting impatiently for the headmaster to arrive. McGonagall was already gone.
"Are we going to be expelled?" Harry asked Ellie shakily.
"Of course not." But her tone didn't even convince herself, let alone him.
His eyes trailed up to one of the top shelves of Dumbledore's office, and he rose to his feet. "Look—it's the Sorting Hat."
She blinked, not sure what that had to do with anything, as he jumped up to grab it. "So?"
"So, a lot of what's happened this year has gotten me wondering if it made the right decision about me. Remember?"
"I remember that it thought about putting you in Slytherin, same as me. But that doesn't mean you don't belong in Gryffindor, Harry."
But he didn't look convinced. "Ellie, I'm a Parseltongue—same as Salazar Slytherin. Just… let me try this."
She nodded grimly as he placed the hat on his head. A few minutes later, he removed it, looking disappointed.
"Not good?" she asked him sympathetically.
He shook his head. "Still thinks I would have done well in Slytherin."
She watched him for a second, then asked him, "Remember last year when Draco stole Neville's Remembrall?"
He blinked, looking confused. "Yeah. So?"
"So, the rest of us told you to let it go—that he could get a new one. But you refused to let it go—insisted on chasing after Draco, even if it meant you might get expelled. 'It was a gift from your grandmother,' you said. 'It matters.'"
He still didn't quite seem to follow.
"You're braver than anyone I know, Harry," she said, "and not just when you dive past three-headed dogs to save the world from a teacher with Voldemort on the back of his head. You're a true Gryffindor—no matter what that hat says."
He looked overwhelmingly touched—so much that she thought she even caught a hint of a tear in his eye. "Thanks, Ellie," he said. He handed the hat to her. "Do you want to give it a go?"
She stared down at the hat, heart starting to pound. She did have one question for it, but it involved her father. Hadn't she sworn to herself to stop asking questions about him? Hadn't she been hurt enough already?
Apparently not, she mused as she accepted the hat and put it on her head.
Typically I'm used for Sorting, it told her snidely.
I know—I'm sorry. I just have one question. Why did you put my father in Gryffindor?
Your father, it repeated. Ah, I see it now—you have learned the truth about his identity since we last met.
Yeah, and I don't get it. How could he have betrayed his friends—killed all those people—if he was a Gryffindor?
Gryffindor wizards can go bad, just like Slytherin wizards can go good. Think of your mother—of your uncle. Do you consider them evil?
I haven't quite decided about my uncle yet, she replied grimly. But I see your point.
The hat fell silent at that for a moment. When it spoke to her again, it sounded a bit more sympathetic. There are few people you can trust in this world. The words in a book, the rumors of acquaintances, the advice of a hat… If you're smart, you'll take all of it with a grain of salt.
"Well, well," said a voice out loud from in front of her. "I see you've found where I keep the Sorting Hat."
Ellie jumped, yanking the hat off her head and blushing profusely. "I'm so sorry, Professor," she said to Dumbledore. "I just…"
"No need to apologize, Ellie," said Dumbledore—surprising her with his use of not only her first name, but also her nickname. He glanced at Harry, who looked panic-stricken from his spot next to some sort of bird cage, and added, "Nor you, Harry. Fawkes will be fine—he is a phoenix who will soon be reborn from his ashes."
The look of relief on Harry's face was evident; apparently Ellie had missed quite a bit during her conversation with the Sorting Hat.
"Please, Professor," Harry said, shaking his head. "Ellie and I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Nick and Justin. We were just walking along—"
"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "I know."
Ellie and Harry both blinked up at Dumbledore at that, surprised. "Really?" asked Ellie for both of them.
"Really," said Dumbledore calmly. "But I must ask you both whether there is anything you would like to tell me."
Ellie glanced at Harry, frowning. There was certainly plenty they could tell him, from Ellie's struggle with the truth about her father to Harry's struggle with hearing voices, speaking Parseltongue, and questioning his placement in Gryffindor. But she didn't want her knowledge about Sirius's identity to get back to her mother, and she had a feeling Harry was too ashamed to tell Dumbledore the truth about his doubts.
Sure enough, he shook his head right along with her. "No, sir—there's nothing."
Poor Dumbledore. He really tries, doesn't he? Also, anyone sensing some possible Ellie-Harry sparks, or too soon to tell? Curious what your thoughts are on that particular ship. Let me know in the reviews!
