(GoF) CHAPTER SEVEN: 24 Hours
That night, the Weasleys, Harry, Ellie, Hermione, and the Diggorys dined, drank, and chatted together until darkness fell and Molly announced that it was time for all of them to get some sleep.
Ellie and Fred, of course, exchanged amused glances at that. Neither of them had ever been particularly big on sleep.
But when she crept out of her bed an hour later, it wasn't Fred she found waiting outside; it was Cedric.
"Oh," she said, trying to push back the nerves that threatened to overtake her for multiple reasons. Sure, Cedric made her nervous, but it also made her nervous that Fred would likely come out to join her at any moment and find them here together. "Hi."
He gave a bit of a chuckle at that. "You sound as if you were hoping I'd be someone else. Sorry to disappoint."
That, of course, made her blush. "Sorry—no. Well… sort of. But not a disappointment."
"Let me guess—you thought I'd be a certain red-haired, prank-pulling twin?"
Apparently her father's identity wasn't the only thing going around the rumour mill. "We just tend to hang out at night, is all."
Cedric nodded thoughtfully. He seemed to debate his next question, but, ultimately, asked it anyway: "Are you two… together? If you don't mind me asking."
How was she supposed to answer that? She and Fred weren't together—but, if he was listening right now, she didn't want to break his heart with something as dismissive as a simple no. "It's a bit complicated," she admitted. "We're sort of… still figuring it out, I suppose."
"Right." He held her gaze for a moment, then said, in a softer voice, "Well, I suppose it's no business of mine, but I can offer you a bit of unsolicited advice if you'd like."
She couldn't help feeling a little intrigued by that. "Okay."
"It's no secret that he hurt you last year—which, if I'm a betting man, is exactly why you're still 'figuring things out.' Thing is, Ellie—I don't get the feeling it's stopped. The way you look when you're around him, it's like… you're still in pain."
Shockingly perceptive, she marveled grimly. She was surprised he'd been looking that closely. "That wasn't advice," she pointed out.
He grinned. "I was getting to it. It's the same advice my mum always gives me—pick the person who makes you happy. If that's not him, keep looking."
It was selfish advice, of course. Ellie wasn't sure how deep Cedric's feelings for her went just yet, but he clearly had some degree of them. And yet… he wasn't wrong, was he? It had been unbelievably painful to kiss Fred, and much less so to kiss Oliver.
The most painful thought of all, though, was how much Fred would hurt if he saw her with someone else.
To her relief, she was saved the pressure of a response by the sudden, startling sound of a witch's scream.
Okay—not entirely to her relief.
"What was that?" she asked, whirling toward the noise. Cedric pulled out his wand, instantly on red alert, but before he could answer her, they heard another scream—this time from a wizard.
"El?" shouted a voice from the tent. Fred was emerging, looking panicked as he always did when he thought she might be in trouble. And suspiciously quickly, she mused as she looked up at him; she had been right to be careful with Cedric.
"What's going on?" he asked them. Arthur and Molly emerged from behind them, looking just as confused.
"I don't know," Ellie told them. "Some sort of commotion coming from the other side of the moor."
A flash of recognition shone in Arthur's eyes, and he quickly disappeared back into the tent, shouting at everyone to wake up.
"All together, now," he said when he re-emerged with the rest of their lot. "Come along—quickly."
Ellie felt Fred's hand grab hers as Molly, Arthur, and Amos moved to the front of their group to lead the children back toward the entrance of the moor. All around them, people were running, scattering toward the wood. Ahead of them, though, was a different type of commotion—loud and almost drunken, lit by the occasional flash of magical light and the sound of what almost seemed like gunshots.
It was a pack of wizards—hooded and masked—marching up the field. High above them were four figures, floating and struggling in midair—being contorted into ways that almost didn't look human.
They were being puppeteered, Ellie realized with a pang of dread. As she got closer, the feeling only grew worse. Two of them were children. One of them was Mr. Roberts, the manager of the campsite.
They were a Muggle family, being tortured by a group of truly cruel witches and wizards.
Around the group of Dark witches and wizards were Ministry officials, struggling to get to them and stop them. But they were acting hesitantly—afraid, no doubt, that any rash movements would send the Muggle family plummeting to their deaths.
"Get to the woods!" Arthur bellowed at the children. "Bill—Charlie—stick with them. We're going to help the Ministry!"
Ellie stood frozen still as Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all rushed into the woods with Bill and Charlie. The twins and Cedric, though, waited for her.
"El," said George. "We've got to get to safety. C'mon."
But she wasn't listening. She was staring at the Muggle family—at the brutes who were doing this to them—and at Molly, Arthur, and Amos, who had run fearlessly into the fray.
She wanted to be like them. She wanted to help.
"No," said Fred, seeming to sense her train of thought. "Don't even think about it, Ellie."
"Go on to the woods," she told him shortly. "I'll catch up with you."
And with that, she took off towards the commotion.
They followed her, of course—all three of them. It hadn't been her intention, but it didn't entirely surprise her, either.
She tried to avoid the eyeline of Molly, Arthur, and Amos as she sprinted over to the parade of people. The darkness worked in her favour, and before long, she was exactly where she needed to be.
She wished she had a broomstick. If she did, all she'd have to do was sing, fly up to the Muggles, and…
"That's it," she said suddenly, turning her gaze on the boys. "There've got to be a thousand broomsticks around here, right? I mean—it's the Quidditch World Cup."
They all turned to look at her as if certain she'd lost her mind. Finally, George said, "Well, sure. But you fly up there, you're guaranteed to get struck by a thousand—"
"The Summoning Charm," she interrupted. "We haven't learned it yet. Can one of you do it?"
Fred and George were still looking at her like she was insane, but Cedric, to her surprise, nodded, whipped out his wand, and said boldly, "Accio Broomsticks!"
In a matter of seconds, four professional-grade Firebolts zoomed over to them.
"Right—stick close to me until we reach them," she said as she stepped onto her broom. She offered the twins a small smile as she said, "This wasn't exactly how I planned on showcasing the new song I wrote this summer, but then, life never happens as planned, does it?"
And with that, she was off—singing, as loudly and proudly as she could, the lyrics to her latest song—24 Hours—the others following closely behind her.
She'd written the song exactly twenty-four hours after leaving Hogwarts with Sirius. It expressed all sorts of frustrations she'd been feeling, from its lines about Fred—I'm trying to shake you from my skin; clean up this mess I've been put in—to its chorus about her general frustrations with her age and inability to being taken seriously—I can't have anything I want; they say I'm just too young, but it's not my fault. I'll find my own way home if I gotta; I'll make it all alone if I gotta—and then back to Fred again—I'm sick of wishing you were near; you've got no will, you've made it clear. Why do I feel you everywhere?
As always, it did the trick. As the hooded figures tried to turn their spells toward them, she felt the familiar pang of pain deep inside her, but not the effects of the spells themselves. The pain was worse than usual, she noted—probably because she was now protecting three people with her shield, which was more than ever before—but it wasn't enough to slow her. She knew they had to be quick about rescuing the Muggles; one wrong move, and they'd plummet.
They were quick, though—all being experienced Quidditch players—and, more importantly, they were on Firebolts.
"Fred—the other kid!" she shouted when they reached the family and she grabbed one of the floating children to place him on her broomstick. Cedric and George grabbed the parents, and together, they landed the family safely onto the ground.
The hits were coming harder now. The hooded figures, rather than scattering when they saw that she had foiled their plans, seemed to have conglomerated around her, determined to break her shield.
But with the Muggles safely on land and protected by her, too, the Ministry was freed up to act. Once the hooded figures realized that, they finally started to scatter.
"Ellie?" she heard someone shout. "Good lord, is that—are you—?"
But she couldn't quite make out the face of the person speaking. She couldn't make out much of anything, as a matter of fact, other than the glittering, green skull that had appeared in the sky with a long, slithering snake coming out of its mouth.
And then she crumpled to the ground and saw nothing at all.
What's the consensus - was she brave, or was she stupid? And how's the public going to react? If you haven't heard it, be sure to check out "24 Hours" from the Instant Star soundtrack - it's one of my favourites. And be sure to leave a review if you're enjoying the story. See you soon for the next!
