(PoA) CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Trelawney's Prediction
The twins never showed up at the hospital wing.
Ellie was checked in for an indefinite amount of time. Madam Pomfrey informed her that she had not only dislocated her shoulder, but also nearly shattered her humorous bone. Oliver, as promised, came into the wing shortly after she did, and barely left her side. She didn't tell him about her decision yet—not when she was in so much physical pain. She could only handle one kind at a time, after all.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione came by, too, as did Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati. Even Cedric Diggory made an appearance, congratulating her on some of the most fearless Quidditch playing he'd ever witnessed.
But not Fred.
On the third day, George showed up. For a brief moment, when the lanky, red-haired twin stepped in, she almost thought it was Fred. So, she could tell from his expression, did Oliver. But with only a few more steps, Ellie realized that it was George. As soon as she greeted him by name, Oliver relaxed.
"Wotcher, Oliver," greeted George to her boyfriend. "Could we have a moment?"
Oliver nodded easily, giving Ellie a kiss on the cheek and George a pat on the shoulder before stepping out.
"Hiya, stranger," said George to Ellie as he took a seat on the stool Oliver had just vacated. "How're you holding up?"
"With my arm?" she asked with a weak smile. "Or with my heart?"
In another world, George likely would have made fun of her for being overly dramatic or overly poetic. In this moment, though, he didn't dare.
"It's not possible, is it?" she asked him. "For me to have Fred as a friend and still be with Oliver?"
He shook his head sadly. "I don't think so."
"It's not fair, you know. He said he didn't want me. He shouldn't get to have a say."
"I know." He looked pained. "I know."
"What about you, then? Can't I at least have you, even if I don't have him?"
"You do have me, Ellie. You always have and always will. But you know it won't be like it was—not without him. He's my brother. He's my twin."
She knew.
"Oliver's been good to me," she said quietly. "He's been kind. I think he loves me."
"I think so, too."
This conversation hurt. Everything about it hurt. She wished George would fight her, argue with her. Better yet, she wished he would somehow fix it for her.
"So what are you going to do?" he asked her instead.
But all she could say was, "I don't know."
One by one, finals came. Ellie made it out of the hospital wing just in time to start taking them. The first was Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid was barely a shell of his former self, giving them an amusingly easy exam. Then came Lupin's—one of the first times Ellie had felt fully prepared for a Defense Against the Dark Arts final. She left the trial with full marks.
She didn't talk to Fred again, and she only talked to George in passing. She spent most of her time with Oliver, trying to work up the courage to say to him what she knew she had to.
He had finished his NEWT's and was awaiting their results, already finished with his classes for the year. They strolled to the Quidditch pitch often together, despite the season being over, and played one-on-one games. That day in particular, there was something sweet about their game—about the way he tackled her into hugs instead of attacks when trying to snake the Quaffle from her; about the way he grabbed her and pulled her in for kisses instead of blocking her. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Finally, when they touched back down, she forced herself to be brave.
"Ollie," she said. "I think it's time we had the talk."
His happy expression shifted to a sadder one, and he nodded. "I s'pose you're right."
"I used to think you were a joke, you know," she told him with a sad smile. "Too old—too hot—too confident. Even when we started things up this year, I was sure you couldn't be right to me. But here we are, half a year later, and… you're anything but a joke. You're all that's kept me sane since Christmas. You're important to me—far more important than I think you realize. The thought of you leaving—of us ending things—it's… terrifying."
He stared at her in utter amazement. She'd never said anything like this to him before. They'd pretended to only be skin-deep for so long, but the truth was, she cared more for him than that. And judging by the way he was looking back at her, he felt the same way.
"But I'm still in love with him," she said, feeling the tears prick at her eyes yet again. "Maybe nothing will ever come of it, but I can't bear the thought of hurting you any more than I already am if it ever does."
There was pain and disappointment in his eyes, but there was also tenderness. He wasn't surprised, and he understood.
"I've never been great at timing," he said with a reluctant grin, "but I can't help feeling this strange need to tell you that I love you."
She couldn't help but laugh at that, despite the fact that it was exactly what she had feared. "I wish I could say I loved you, too—at least, in the same way that you do."
"I know you do." He reached a tender hand out to cup her cheek. "Thanks for being honest with me, love. I probably would have followed you around forever."
She believed him—and it only made her hurt worse.
"Can I ask for one thing?" he asked her softly. "Before we go our separate ways?"
"Anything."
"One, last kiss. Just to remember you by."
It should have been an easy thing for her to give him, but in truth, it wasn't. As she stood on her toes and gave Oliver Wood his goodbye kiss, it hurt her heart more than any of their other kisses ever had. It reminded her of what she could have had—how happy she could have been—if not for Fred.
But she had done the right thing. Of that, she was certain.
The word about her breakup with Oliver spread more slowly than she would have expected, but she didn't mind. She hadn't done it for Fred; she was under no delusions that he would magically flock back to her when he found out. She had done it because it was the right thing to do—for Oliver's sake, if no one else's.
Her final with Trelawney was rather boring, filled with made-up predictions and sightings from a crystal ball out of which she really only saw squiggly lines. When she came back down from the tower, though, she found Harry waiting for her, looking exceptionally pale.
"What is it?" she asked him.
"Something really weird happened during my final. She made a… prediction. A real one this time. It was like she didn't even know she was doing it. Her eyes glazed over and her voice got really deep and it was… just… really freaky."
Ellie had her doubts about any of Trelawney's predictions being true, but she went along with it for Harry's sake. "What did she predict?"
"She said that the Dark Lord's servant would rejoin him tonight—before midnight."
Ellie stiffened at that. If the prediction was true, who could it be referring to? There were any number of Death Eaters out there who could make their way to whatever bits of Voldemort remained in the world. And yet…
"I think she meant Peter," Harry told her softly. "I'm scared, Ellie. Scared of what it means for Sirius."
She was, too—but she wasn't sure what could be done about it. "We could search for him again, I s'pose. Maybe find Crookshanks and—"
"Harry! Ellie!"
Ellie stopped short when she saw Hermione running over to them, Ron shortly behind her, looking panicked.
"It's Buckbeak," Hermione explained when she reached them. "They're on their way here for the appeal—but they've brought the executioner with them."
"Hang on," said Ron. "That means they've already made up their mind, doesn't it? How can that be?"
"We knew the appeal was a long shot—but you're right—doesn't seem fair at all." Hermione looked pained. "We'd better go and see Hagrid. I can't even imagine the state he must be in."
Harry glanced hesitantly at Ellie. He seemed more inclined to focus on Peter Pettigrew than on Buckbeak, but Ellie wasn't sure she agreed. Trelawney's prediction could easily have been another bogus lie, but Buckbeak?
She wasn't going to let the Hippogriff die. She didn't care what it took.
"Let's go."
"I don't understand," said Harry as they made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower a few minutes later. "Why do I need the invisibility cloak? It's still light out."
"I told you—I'm not letting Buckbeak die. Now, if we're lucky, I can break him free in my dog form without ever having to use the cloak. But if things go awry…"
Harry nodded grimly and made his way up to his dormitory as Hermione and Ron hung back with Ellie, looking pained.
"I don't know, Ellie," Hermione said. "I applaud your bravery, as always, but this could be really serious. What if it gets Hagrid in trouble?"
"We'll just have to make sure it's set up properly that they know it's not him. The committee and the executioner will probably have to speak with him first, right? I mean, it's technically still an appeal. So when they go into Hagrid's hut, that's when I do it."
"Where will you take him, though?" pushed Ron. "Where they can't find him?"
Of that, Ellie was less certain. But she had faith that she'd figure it out.
"Okay," said Harry when he returned to them, hiding the cloak beneath his robes. "Let's go."
Hagrid was in tears when he opened the door for them, but was clearly relieved they had come. He rushed to put on a pot of tea for them, though his hands were so shaky, Hermione had to take over. Ellie tried to focus on calming Hagrid and asking him how long before the executioner and the committee arrived, taking care not to reveal any of her plan to him.
But she stopped short when she spotted it—hiding inside a small vase.
It was Scabbers—Ron's missing rat.
Also known as Peter Pettigrew.
Lots to digest in this chapter. A sad but necessary breakup between Ellie and Oliver... and a new time frame for the famed climactic night. How will Ellie's plan to release Buckbeak affect the night? Stay tuned to find out, and don't forget to review and follow!
