(PoA) CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Explanations and Endings
"Slow down. You told him everything? Like, everything everything?"
She had glowed Fred on her way from the hospital wing to the Forbidden Forest, telling him to meet her there. She didn't care that it wasn't quite nightfall yet. The storm would protect her from the sight of the Dementors, and if it didn't, well, let them get her. She didn't care anymore.
"I didn't have a choice," she told Fred as she power-walked to Sirius' pit. "He figured it out, Fred. He knows he's an Animagus. He knows he's the reason the Dementors were there. He was going to tell Dumbledore."
"But—"
They had reached the pit. Ellie yanked it open and exhaled with immense relief when she saw Sirius inside. Then, firmly, she said, "You need to go."
"Go?" Sirius repeated. "Why?"
She glanced carefully around, then dived into the pit to join him. Fred followed behind her. "Harry knows you're an Animagus. He knows you were at the game. He was going to tell Dumbledore."
"Was, or is?"
"Maybe still is—I don't know. I tried to tell him you're innocent—tried to explain—but he was furious. Wouldn't even hear me out."
"Maybe he was just mad you lied to him," said Fred. "That doesn't necessarily mean—"
"It's too risky," she interrupted. "Dad, you have to get out of here. At least for a little while—until we know for sure he won't tell."
Sirius nodded. "You're right."
"I'll send word to you with Woodstock when it's safe again." She felt the tears building up again, but she forced them back; she'd cried enough for a lifetime already this year. "Do you know where you'll go?"
"I'll figure something out."
"Do you need food? Clothes?"
"I'll be fine, Ellie." His grey eyes were sad. "I'm just sorry to be leaving you."
"It won't be for long," said Fred. "Harry will come around, right, El? Lupin can help reason with him. We'll convince him, and then Sirius can come back."
Ellie hoped he was right, but she wasn't sure. And judging from Sirius' expression, he wasn't, either.
"Come on," Sirius said softly to his daughter, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. "It's going to be fine, Ellie. I just need you to stay safe. Can you do that for me?"
She squeezed him as tight as she could, burying her face into his chest. Only there did she let a few, stray tears fall. "Only if you do the same for me."
They went to the bench, of course—the bench by Hagrid's hut that Sirius used to go to with Serena.
The rain had finally let up, though both Ellie and Fred were still drenched from head to toe. It was freezing cold, the sun had mostly set, and they would probably be chastised by Hagrid, Filch, or even the Dementors before long, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Fred didn't seem to care, either.
"What did he say to you?" Fred asked her. Until then, they'd been sitting in silence for several minutes. "Harry, I mean. After you told him."
"He asked me how long I'd been talking to Sirius."
"And you told him?"
She nodded.
"And then?"
"And then, he told me to leave. What did you expect him to say? What should I have expected him to say? I'm lucky he was as nice as he was."
"That's not fair. You had a right to keep this to yourself, Ellie. This wasn't a matter of school drama—it was a matter of life and death. It was about your father."
She shook her head, fighting back tears yet again. She forced herself to look at him and ask the most important question of all out loud—the question that Harry would undoubtedly ask as soon as he found out that Fred had known all along: "Then why did I tell you?"
She had stumped him with that one, she could tell. He parted his lips to answer her, but nothing came out.
"He's right to hate me," she muttered, rising to her feet. "I've never been fair to him—not since day one."
And with that, she walked away from him.
The Gryffindor common room was party central that night. Oliver, Ginny, George, Dean Seamus, Ron, and Hermione all cheered when she entered, and everyone ran over to her to congratulate her on a game well played. She tried to smile back at them, but she couldn't even begin to fake it. She just slinked up to her room, crawled into her bed, and pretended to sleep.
The next morning at breakfast, she sat with Fred and George, but none of them spoke. Fred wasn't upset with her, she could tell; he was just lost deeply in his own thoughts.
Harry was released from the hospital wing during breakfast, but he didn't sit with Ellie. He took a seat on the far side of Hermione from her and didn't so much as look at her. She could tell that everyone noticed, but no one said it out loud; they all seemed to sense the tension in the air.
She hoped he might approach her after breakfast, but he didn't—nor did he approach her at dinner or any other time that day.
The next week went by in the same vein. She didn't hear any stirrings about him going to Dumbledore, but she couldn't be sure. How long before he talked to her again? He might not ever take her back as his girlfriend, but surely eventually they could find a way to be friends, right?
It was mid-November by the time she worked up the courage to talk to him. She wanted to give him his space, but she also wanted her father back. It was freezing cold out there, and she didn't like to think about the conditions he was being forced to live in.
She caught him alone in the Charms courtyard after Flitwick's class, flipping through a textbook. She didn't sit beside him, but came carefully over to him and cleared her throat.
"I'll go," he said when he saw her. "All yours."
"Wait." To her relief, he did wait—though he looked no less angry than he had the day of the game. "Harry, please. Can't you let me explain?"
"Explain which part? The lying to me or the harbouring a fugitive?"
She sighed. "You have every right to be mad about the lying part. I won't try and convince you otherwise. But I do want to explain the other part. I mean… don't you want to know?"
"Do I? Or will it only make me more of an accomplice than I already am?"
She tried not to exhale too obviously with relief. He hadn't told anyone, then. He'd been keeping Sirius' secret.
"It's up to you," she finally said. "But if you want to know, I'll tell you."
He considered for several seconds, then, finally, nodded. "I want to know."
She took him to Lupin's office.
"Ellie," greeted Lupin when he saw her. His eyes flicked back to Harry, and he said with a bit of surprise, "Harry."
It was common knowledge at this point that Ellie and Harry had broken up, though no one had had the nerve to ask her about it yet—not even Oliver.
Ellie ushered Harry into Lupin's office, closed the door behind them, and said, "He knows."
Lupin gave a bit of a start at that, then asked, "How much?"
"Hang on," said Harry to Lupin, temporarily losing the icy tone in favor of a baffled one. "You know?"
"Not much," Ellie told Lupin, ignoring Harry's question. "He knows he's an Animagus, and that we've been talking. I tried to tell him Sirius is innocent, but I haven't given him details."
Lupin nodded. "Right. Well, we could try the Pensieve again, though with the way things have been going, I'd reckon Albus will be more cautious than he was back in September."
"Maybe we could start by just… telling him," said Ellie.
Lupin nodded again, then smiled gently at Harry. "I'm sure this must all seem very confusing to you, Harry."
Harry gave a weak shrug. "Certainly no less confusing now that I know you're involved."
"I mentioned to you already that I knew your father," Lupin explained to Harry. "Well, I knew Sirius, too. The three of us were best friends—us, plus a fourth person. Peter Pettigrew."
Ellie watched Harry with rapt attention as Lupin went into the entire saga of his friendship with Sirius, Sirius' relationship with Serena, Ellie's conception, the secret-keeper switch, and then, finally, the truth about Peter Pettigrew. Harry got particularly misty-eyed at the part where Lupin told him that Sirius was his godfather, but he never said a word.
When Lupin was finally finished, Harry asked one simple question: "You believe him?"
Lupin nodded. "I do, Harry. In fact, I'm ashamed I ever doubted him."
"Right." Harry's jaw tightened. "One little problem: according to Ron, Scabbers is already dead. He says Crookshanks ate him. Left a little blood stain on his sheets and everything."
Ellie could hardly believe her ears. Harry believed them? It had been that easy?
And what was this about Peter being dead?
"I'm sure that isn't true," said Lupin. "He's something of an expert at faking his death; in all likelihood, he's still wandering about the castle somewhere."
"Then I suppose we should try and find him, shouldn't we?" asked Harry.
Was he serious? He really intended to help them? "You… believe us?" she stammered. "Even without the Pensieve? Just like that?"
He turned his cold, green gaze on her at that. "Wasn't so hard, was it? Almost like you could have told me all along."
Lupin cleared his throat, seeming to sense the palpable tension in the room. "I've got a meeting with Albus. I'll leave you two the room."
Ellie half-expected Harry to follow him out, but, to her surprise, he didn't. Instead, he looked up at her and asked her the question she'd been dreading the most: "Did Fred know?"
She had no choice but to nod.
To her surprise, he held her gaze—didn't even bat an eyelash. He wasn't surprised, she realized. Not even a little.
"Did you ever really love me, Ellie?" he asked her, shaking his head. "Or was I just… the next-best thing to him?"
"It wasn't like that, Harry. Everything I felt for you was real. I did love you. I do."
"Right." He swallowed. "Just not as much as you love him."
And with that, the pain began.
Well, Harry took the news remarkably well... Ellie probably feels like a bit of a fool right about now. But the relationship had hit its expiration date, anyway, don't you think? Review to show that support, and see you soon!
