Missing Pieces ~ Part 2

[gfeather]

May 2, 1998.

Cedric’s eyes snapped open and he stared up at the canopy of trees towering over him. They grey light of early dawn crept into the forest, and he blinked several times trying to clear his vision. Cedric felt drained and muzzy headed as he lay flat on his back trying to make sense of his surroundings. It wasn’t normal for him to be waking up on the lumpy ground beneath dense, looming trees, and a part of his brain informed him that should not move before he had reasoned out what was happening. However, trying to remember was like trying to run through knee deep water, slow and tiring.

Something about the trees was odd. He knew that. As confused as he was, Cedric kept coming back to the image in his direct line of sight. There shouldn’t be trees. He was someplace open, wasn’t he? No, that wasn’t right. There had been obstacles, and walls and headstones. Headstones. He was in a graveyard. It was dark and he was in an old graveyard. Except that, clearly, he wasn’t. Desperately searching his memory, Cedric found everything around the edges was fuzzy and confusing. Something had happened between there and here, wherever here was.

Turning his head slightly, Cedric listened and looked around as best he could without moving too much, but something on his face was impeding his vision. There seemed to be no sign of anyone or anything else close by, so he hazarded moving from his position to have a better look around. Movement, however, was more uncomfortable than he could have imagined. His muscles ached like he had spent a full afternoon quidditch training and his head was spinning. He grunted quietly as he curled onto his side and attempted to pull himself to a kneeling position.

If there hadn’t already been several clues that something was very wrong, the shooting pain suddenly lancing through his left arm as he pushed himself up was more than sufficient to confirm the wrongness of the situation. He screamed and tore at the sleeve, ripping the fabric back to reveal the smouldering black outline of You-Know-Who’s mark. The Dark Mark. Burning black on his arm. His arm. How on earth had You-Know-Who’s mark gotten branded on his arm?

The painful burning dissipated slowly and Cedric raised his hands towards his face. His fingertips trembled as they slid across smooth, cold metal. Panic began to bubble up from inside. He clawed frantically at the metal, finally catching an edge and wrenching it from his face. When his eyes registered what it was, he dropped it as if burnt.

A Death Eater’s mask. He had seen them that terrible night at the World Cup, but never so closely. He had been wearing a Death Eater’s mask. The Dark Mark was branded on his arm. Staring in shock at the sight before him, he noted the black robes he was wearing did not in any way resemble his school robes. Dawning horror combined with his rising panic and he retched violently on the ground in front of him. It was too much.

Staggering to his feet, Cedric ignored the painful protests of his body and fled. Lacking coordination, he stumbled and fell many times, but fear and panic had taken over any of his higher brain functions and he was driven to move. He had to get away from that place. He had to get away from that thing. He had to get away. Something very terrible had happened and he had to get away.

The twining roots and dim light of the deep forest gave way to smaller, more thinly spaced trees with thicker, pathless underbrush. Still frantic, Cedric pressed on, robes tearing on branches and vicious thorns. His eyes burned with sweat and tears as he struggled to the edge of the trees.

Breaking through the undergrowth, he found himself at the edge of a quiet stream, face, hands and arms scratched and bloody. The stifling air of the dense forest was gone and a gentle breeze drifted up the water’s path. Unable to physically maintain his flight, Cedric collapsed on the pebbled shore, sobbing in pain and anguish.

***

It was a long time before Cedric moved again.

Kneeling at the stream’s edge, he scooped up several handfuls of water and rinsed the blood away from the many cuts and scrapes on his arms and face. It was very cold, but the icy chill felt good on his abused skin. Feeling parched, he drank several more handfuls from the stream. The sun was blazing high above him and he carefully stood, taking notice of his surroundings.

The small stream, which he had barely noticed upon his collapse, looked somehow familiar to him now. Still sore and lacking somewhat in coordination, he walked unsteadily along the gravel bank downstream. Looking around at the vegetation, the sense of wrongness pressed in on him again, but his earlier shock had faded somewhat and he was able to consider his situation more rationally. Though his mind was still foggy, he knew that it should be summer. It was warm enough in the brilliant sunlight, but the underlying chill of spring coupled with the stage of growth on the plants that lined the water’s edge indicated that it was a good deal earlier than that.

The speed of the flowing water increased as smaller rivulets fed into the stream, widening its path. On impulse, he crossed it here where it was shallow and reasonably narrow, despite having no notion of precisely where he was going. He walked another half hour along the stream which widened to a small river swirling and bubbling along its course. Ahead there was a wide bend and the trees lining the banks appeared to end. Nervous and unsure, Cedric left the easy path at the water’s edge, and returned to the trees. He hadn’t seen another person, or animal, since the moment he had awoken, and given what little he knew about his circumstances, he figured it would be prudent to remain unseen until he understood a bit more.

Peering out from the low-growing foliage, Cedric’s eyes grew wide. Before him the river flowed into a large, black lake and at the lake’s edge stood Hogwarts. Or at least he was certain it must be Hogwarts. A number of high turrets lay crumbled on the ground beside stone walls with large holes in them. There were portions of the roof missing in many places and signs of damage everywhere on the grounds. One of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses had collapsed entirely, broken glass glinting in the sunlight.

Distressed by the sight, he returned to a more sheltered place upriver to collect his thoughts. Sitting on a large flat rock jutting out into the river, Cedric was struck suddenly by a memory of this place. He had been here last weekend, before the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. All his housemates had been badgering him, as it were, and he needed to get away from the nervous anticipation in the school. He had found this very rock while wandering the grounds. But that couldn’t be right. The trees then had been in full leaf, not the sparse, pale spring leaves that surrounded him now. The river had also been shallower and slower, not bursting with the runoff from spring rains. It had been a warm, clear summer night in the maze, and it was not any warmer now, even with the benefit of the sun. Though it was difficult for his mind to accept, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that it was not the same time as it had been the last he remembered.

Which brought him back to his memory. It was still difficult to recall anything specific from his last few days. He knew he had been here and that there had been the last task of the tournament, but beyond that he couldn’t seem to bring any details to the front of his mind. Like who had won, or how he had gotten out of the maze or even what he had encountered inside. He could close his eyes and see himself walking into the maze with Harry Potter, going different ways at the first fork, then ... nothing.

How had he come to be in the Forbidden Forest nearly a year later? Given how restricted methods of time travel were, it was unlikely he had gone back in time, unless the maze had contained some obstacle that pushed him back, but given the other horrifying details of his awakening it looked even less likely. Why had he been wearing a Death Eater’s mask when he had woken and why was there a Dark Mark burned into his forearm?

Glancing down, he pushed away the torn edges of his sleeves and stared at his left arm. Though it was not the same burning black it had been when he first awoke, the smoky grey outline was still unmistakable against the pale skin of his inner arm. Even as he looked at it, he was sure it faded further, but the sight of it still confounded him. Even if You-Know-Who hadn’t been defeated when he was a small child, Cedric would never have joined the Death Eaters, nor agreed to such a marking. What had happened to him?

Feeling horrified by the prospect of being found if he stayed there any longer, Cedric took another big drink of water and returned to the trees. Looking out from his sheltered spot at the battered castle, he decided against going up to see what had happened. It would be impossible not to be seen approaching from any point around the castle and he didn’t think walking into the Great Hall wearing Death Eater robes was a good idea, more so if You-Know-Who was alive and had taken control of the school, however improbable the notion seemed to him. He knew if he followed the forest edge he would eventually be off school grounds where he could apparate. It would be an exhausting journey of many short distance apparations over several days to get to Ottery St. Catchpole, but the only place could imagine going was home, especially now that he had ruled Hogwarts out as an option. Cedric hoped his dad could sort this whole mess out for him, but most of all, he wanted his mum to hold him and tell him everything would be alright.

***

Cedric arrived, dirty, hungry and exhausted, at Stoatshead Hill nearly three days after leaving Hogwarts. It had felt like the longest three days of his life. His family was not particularly well off, but he had never gone without food, even as a punishment and the hunger pains were particularly trying. Without exposing himself to others, he had no way of acquiring food and the forested areas he did his best to keep to, yielded little during his attempts at foraging. Weak and light-headed, he wandered down the hill towards the outskirts of town where he could follow the road towards home. Though apparating would be faster, he had enough sense left to realize how close he had come to splinching during the last few jumps and knew walking was a safer choice.

The narrow path gradually widened until it met with a muddy, winding road. The fence line here was overgrown with shrubbery and it was too difficult for him walk and remain concealed. Exhaused, he tried to walk quietly, but his feet dragged, stirring up small stones that skipped across the road in front of him, making an inordinate amount of noise. Cedric wondered if anyone had been looking for him. He had accepted the fact that a lot of time had passed, for which he had no memory, but he had no idea what to expect when he got home. Did his mother think he had run off? Would his dad be angry he had been gone so long? What would they know? What would they think of him?

Cedric stopped dead in the middle of the road and looked down at himself. He was filthy, wild-haired and had a Dark Mark branded on his arm. Though the mark had faded so much it had nearly disappeared, he looked like a Death Eater coming home from a raid. His desire to go home was all that had kept him moving the past three days, but now he wasn’t so sure of his plan. He had no place else to go, which frightened him and meant he had no choice but to keep going.

Upon reaching the main road that circled the village, the fencerow was clearer and he was able to walk inside the fields where he could duck out of sight if necessary. Near the small side road that led towards his house, he stopped to look down at the quiet town of Ottery St. Catchpole. It wasn’t much to look at, but it remained exactly as he remembered it, which was the kind of comfort he needed right now. Just past his turnoff, further down the circle road, he could see the small churchyard filled with a crowd of redheads. Startled by seeing such large crowd of people he recognized gathered for what looked like a funeral, he passed the road to his house and crept along in the shelter of the fence for a better look.

Though his mind had automatically guessed a large crowd of redheads to be the Weasleys, it was still upsetting to see he was correct. Careful to remain unseen, he looked around and took count of who was there. Mrs Weasley was weeping loudly, clinging to her husband as she stared at a fresh plot of raw soil. Who had died? He could see the oldest, Bill, if he remembered correctly, standing nearby with several wide scars marring what Cedric could see of his face, and a beautiful woman resting her head on his shoulder. She turned slightly and Cedric gasped when he recognized Fleur Delacour. How did she know the Weasleys?

Shaking his head, he looked past the couple to see Harry Potter and the girl... Hermione Granger standing next to the youngest boy, Ron was his name, in silent support. Even from a distance, they looked older and careworn, not the children he remembered seeing what to him was only a few days ago. Kneeling in front of the trio, at the newly raised stone marker was one of the twins. The girl, Ginny, was standing behind him, holding his shoulders. But where was the other twin? Scanning the rest of the group assembled, the terrible truth hit him. One of the twins was dead. He had never gotten along with them very well at school, but it was startling to realize that someone he knew, someone his age, was dead.

Shocked, he turned away and sat on the ground, leaning heavily on the fence. The sense of wrongness nearly overwhelmed him again and he forced himself to breathe deeply for several minutes before he lost control. When he was calm enough to look back again, Mr and Mrs Weasley were at the gate of the churchyard, turning towards home. A few of the others were making motions towards leaving, but Fred, or George, hadn’t moved. Ginny had left his side to cry on Harry’s shoulder and taking her place with the single twin was a tall, dark girl he recognized.

Angelina Johnson was one of the few Gryffindors who had congratulated him on becoming school champion in the early days of the tournament. He had seen her enter her own name in the Goblet of Fire and wished her luck at the time. She was on the Gryffindor quidditch team and an excellent flyer, as well as being a fierce competitor. Cedric wondered what she was doing here, particularly as none of the rest of the team, save Harry was there. Furrowing his brow, he desperately tried to remember details that were trapped in his foggy mind. She usually sat at with the twins at meals. She shared most of their classes, obviously. She laughed at their jokes. She... she went to the Yule ball with one of the twins! That was it. It was frustrating to wade through his memories to find important details, but at the same time, Cedric was relieved to find the memory at all.

For a while longer, he sat and watched the group drift towards the gate and up the road towards the Burrow. When Angelina approached the gate, the only one remaining was the lone twin. Abandoning, for now, the idea of going home, Cedric followed Angelina up the road, keeping himself out of sight. Where the road narrowed and turned up to the Burrow, there were more trees and it was difficult to keep her in sight. Unsure as to what made him do it; he drew his wand and sent a flock of birds twittering around her head. She stopped, waving her hands in front of her face to scare them away and squeaked as each one she touched disappeared leaving a small cloud of mist.

Suddenly on edge, she pulled her wand and scanned the empty road. “Who’s there?”

The terror in her eyes was painful to see, and Cedric regretted trying to catch her attention. He didn’t know why he had followed her instead of turning around and going to his own home, but it was too late now. Cautiously stepping out from behind a tree, Cedric said softly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, Angelina.”

Before he could even raise his wand to cast a shield, he was lashed to a tree with magical ropes. A look of ruthless anger had settled firmly on what was normally a kind and pretty face, as Angelina strode purposefully towards him and pressed her wandtip to his throat.

“Who are you?” she spat viciously.

“You know me, I’m Cedric. Cedric Diggory. We’ve played against each other often enough in quidditch for you to know that,” he said shakily.

The wand pressed into him more firmly and she scowled at him. “Nice try. Cedric Diggory’s been dead three years. Who are you, imposter? Or shall I just empty the contents of your stomach to see who you are without the Polyjuice Potion?”

“Three years?” he breathed, eyes bulging and jaw dropping in astonishment. “I know I’m missing some memories, but three years? What happened?”

The angry expression on Angelina’s face softened somewhat and she tilted her head, looking at him curiously. Her brow furrowed and she gripped his chin, turning it back and forth. Finally she said, “Tell me something only Cedric Diggory would know.”

“You were the only Gryffindor to congratulate me on becoming school champion before the first task of the tournament. You told me that in Ancient Ruins a week after my name came out of the Goblet of Fire,” he said, hoping it would be good enough since his fuzzy mind could think of little else that might satisfy her.

“What did Fred and George do to you in Defence class later that day?” she asked sharply.

Cedric winced. “They set my underwear on fire. I was applying burn creams on my bits for a week after that.”

Angelina let out a small snort of mirth at the memory, and then shook her head in disbelief. “Three years. Where have you been for the past three years?”

“I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean, three days ago I woke up in a forest with no memory of how I got there. When I found my way out of it, I was near Hogwarts, but not the Hogwarts I remember. There were holes in the walls and fallen turrets and broken greenhouses and I have no idea what’s happened. I thought it wouldn’t be the brightest idea walking up to a castle that’s obviously been attacked for some reason, not knowing who was inside, so I figured I’d try to get home. I’ve been apparating across the country for days without much rest and less food. I saw you at the churchyard and now I know something even worse has happened and I need to know. I don’t remember anything and want to know what’s happened to me!” Cedric explained becoming increasingly more desperate.

Raising her wand, Angelina released the ropes that bound him to the tree and helped ease him to the ground. She paced a few times in front of him, muttering to herself before kneeling down on the side of the road facing him. “I don’t know what’s happened to you. Harry might have a better idea, since he was the last to see you... before. Everyone thinks you’re dead. Your parents think you’re dead. Showing up at your house... it probably isn’t a good idea in the state you’re in. At least without knowing a bit of what’s happened since you... went missing. I’ll talk to Harry. I was going to ask to stay at his place until I get my life sorted out again. He’ll be at the Burrow for a while, but there’s a good place you to wait close to the house until I can get Harry alone and explain things.”

“Which one died? I couldn’t tell,” he said softly.

Her eyes shut in pain. “Fred. He was killed at Hogwarts the day you woke up in the forest.”

“How?” he asked in disbelief.

“A lot has happened. If you really don’t know anything that has gone on since you disappeared, it will take a long time to explain. I... I can’t right now. Later. I’ll explain it to you later. Right now we need to get moving. I don’t think George will stay much longer and you shouldn’t be seen until we’ve had a chance to figure things out and let people know. It’s not that common for dead people to go around shooting canaries at passersby,” Angelina said with shaky humour, rising to her feet.

“I couldn’t think of anything else to get your attention,” Cedric said honestly.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and she offered a hand and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, she rapped her wand sharply on his head and he felt the cold ooze of a disillusionment spell slide down his body. Turning away from him, she began to walk down the road.

For several minutes they didn’t speak. The short answers she had given him served only to present more questions. He was astonished to learn he had been missing and presumed dead for three years. It was clear she knew more about it, but like everything since he had woken up in the forest, it was complicated and confusing. Angelina kept up a brisk pace that was difficult to keep up with in his exhausted state, but she stopped suddenly at a large oak tree and turned off the road. Once off the road and concealed by the tree, he removed the disillusionment spell and leaned on the tree for support, breathing heavily.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned.

He shook his head. “A bit dizzy. I’m not used to so much walking on an empty stomach.”

“Oh Cedric, I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking of that. I forgot you haven’t eaten in days,” she said apologetically.

Cedric held up a hand in dismissal. “S’alright. I’ll be fine.”

“Rest here. It’s just a couple minutes walk to the Burrow, and I’ll find Harry right away and explain as best I can. If it looks like we’ll be staying a long time before leaving, I’ll bring you something to eat. Don’t worry. We’ll figure out what’s happened to you,” she reassured him.

“Thanks, Angelina. I’m still really confused, but I appreciate your help,” he told her sincerely.

Angelina smiled weakly at him and turned to leave. “I’ll be back as soon as I can manage.”

***

When Angelina reached the Burrow, she didn’t go inside right away, but collapsed heavily into a chair on the porch. Her mind was spinning with her encounter on the road, still not able to completely believe what she had seen. Dead classmates didn’t just pop out of fencerows on a regular basis and so much of her life was still topsy-turvy that it only added to the complications.

There was nothing easy about life in hiding and even the months before that had been unsettled and worry filled. In the few short days since the Battle of Hogwarts, the world was in shock and it would take some time for everything to return to normal. At the moment, she didn’t know if she could go back to her father’s home, or even her own abandoned flat. It had been difficult to leave behind her childhood home when her father disappeared in November, even knowing it wasn’t a safe place to be if her father was on someone’s wanted list or worse, detained.

The flat she had lived in until the end of February hadn’t felt like much of a home, but for a while it had been safe and secure enough. At least until she noticed a recognisable member or two of the Investigation and Registration Committee on the street near her building. Though she had been careful to keep her nose clean since leaving Hogwarts, she had known well enough that her associations could make her a ‘person of interest’, and in less than a week, she had dumped what personal effects she could in her Gringotts vault and had gone into hiding with Katie Bell, who had seen the same Committee members near her own home.

Now that Voldemort was gone, Angelina wasn’t sure what to do. It would take time for those in hiding to hear the news and find their way home again. It would also be a while before all of the people the Ministry had wrongfully detained since the previous August were sorted out and released. The chances of her father being found or returning home so long after he had gone missing were slim, but if he returned anywhere, wouldn’t it be home? She didn’t know what had happened to it in the meantime, however. Death Eaters, Ministry officials or bounty hunters could have ransacked her home and destroyed the building, or something as simple as the landlord reclaiming the premises might prevent her from returning, since it had been abandoned with no real provisions for its upkeep. She rather doubted it would be easy or even possible to go home. Her cramped flat in Shrewsbury would certainly have a new tenant by now, not that she had any desire to return there. She had doubts about whether she could return to her job anyway, given the suddenness of her departure.

The sound of someone stumbling and a plate clattering to the floor inside the Burrow interrupted her spiralling thoughts and brought her back to the here and now. She needed to find Harry and figure out what to do about the person she had left by the road, who, for all her doubts, seemed to be Cedric Diggory.

Inside the house, the gathering had broken off into small clusters of people talking in gentle voices, though there was the odd chuckle here and there as stories about Fred were exchanged over finger sandwiches and hot tea. She suspected a few of those cups of tea were heavily fortified with liquid courage, but the mood overall was far lighter than it had been at the churchyard. Mrs Weasley’s eyes still looked very puffy and red, like she would start crying again at any moment, which was very probable. Her usual fortitude had failed once the adrenaline of the battle had left her and she had spent much of the intervening three days on the verge of tears.

There were assorted relatives throughout the house Angelina hadn’t met, and at that moment she felt very out of place. She had accepted the offer to stay at the Burrow gratefully, given her lack of options otherwise. It had been such a madhouse since their arrival that it wasn’t until now that she felt rather out of place. She had only been to visit the Burrow on a couple occasions during her friendship with Fred and George and had scarcely seen the brothers over the past year. She wasn’t close family, and she knew she stuck out in this crowd rather obviously.

The other person who looked about as uncomfortable as she felt in this crowd was standing near the stairs at the far end of the living room. Harry looked ready to bolt as yet another unknown Weasley relative clapped him on the shoulder and pumped his arm vigorously. The expression on his face said very clearly, ‘I can’t stand this. Let me out.’

Seizing the opportunity, she shuffled through the crowd to Harry’s side. Leaning in, she spoke softly, “I have something rather important to discuss with you. Could we find someplace to speak privately?”

Harry’s features sagged in relief, “Absolutely. Upstairs?”

She nodded and followed Harry up several flights of narrow, creaky stairs. At the top, he opened a door that led into the most orange room she had ever seen. Looking around, she saw the walls were covered with quidditch posters, clippings and memorabilia for the Chudley Cannons. She couldn’t help a small grin, “Cannon’s fan?”

“Ron is hopelessly devoted,” Harry told her with a long suffering shake of his head, then asked, “What did you need to talk about? Unless that was just a brilliant excuse to get me out of there. I’d be in your debt if it was.”

She gave him a half smile, “No, it wasn’t just an excuse, though you looked about as uncomfortable down there as I felt.”

“I’m sick of people slapping me on the back and crushing my hand. This is a funeral, not a celebration party,” he said, rubbing at the spot on his upper arm that had received several good natured punches.

She nodded. “At least you weren’t called ‘the girlfriend’ behind your back. You go on a couple dates and still manage to stay friends afterwards and everyone assumes. Anyway, I do actually have something talk with you about. A few things actually, I just don’t know where to start.”

Harry sat down on the camp bed and gestured towards the vivid orange bedspread of the other bed. “Have a seat. Ron won’t mind. Begin with whatever is easiest.”

Tentatively, she perched on the edge of Ron Weasley’s bed, leaning forward with her elbows balanced on her knees. She sighed deeply and began, “I suppose I should start with what I’ve been meaning to ask you since we came here from Hogwarts. I’ve heard you have a house in London, quite a big one, and I was wondering if you’d have a place for me to stay for a bit. I abandoned my flat in Shrewsbury a few months ago, and before that, I had to leave my dad’s, so I’m a bit stuck for a place to live for the time being. It wouldn’t be for long, just until I can get myself sorted.”

“Of course, Ange. Not that the house in London is a particularly nice place to stay, but you’re welcome to a room as long as you need. Hermione and I already talked about people who might not have places to go, and there should be at least a few rooms habitable by now. What happened to your dad’s place?” Harry asked with concern.

“He went missing back in November, disappeared without a word, though I never did see him on the wanted lists. I figured it wasn’t safe to stay there, and I don’t know what’s happened to him. I don’t even know if the building is still standing. It’s something I’ll need to take care of soon. I can do that better if I’m in London,” she said softly.

Harry nodded. “Whatever you need, I’ll help you with. It’s my fault that-”

“It is not! It’s not your fault the Ministry was taken over, or that terrible things happened, or that people weren’t safe in their homes. You’ve done more than your part and if anyone says otherwise, they can go hang. I’m asking for help because you’re a friend, not because I think you owe me in some way,” she told him forcefully.

“Alright, alright. I just feel bad, is all.”

“We all do, but it’s not your job to right all the wrongs. Anyway, there’s something else you need to know about.”

“What is it?”

Angelina took a deep breath, “I met someone on the road back from town today, Harry. Someone I really didn’t expect to see.”

“Who?” Harry asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

Angelina hesitated. “Cedric Diggory.”

“That’s impossible!” Harry said. He stood and began pacing in the narrow space between the two beds and running his hands through his messy hair. “I mean, he’s dead... I heard the killing curse, and I saw it hit him... and he fell over backwards and... no. You don’t forget seeing a person die. I can remember every moment of that night, Angelina,” his voice trailed off and he said softly, “People who are dead go on, or stay as ghosts. They can’t just... come back.”

Harry had collapsed back down on the bed, his hands shaking slightly. Moving to sit beside him, she put a hand on his shoulder. “You know I never doubted you about what happened that night and I don’t now. But the person I lashed to a tree and interrogated looked like, acted like and was able to answer my questions just like he was Cedric. I can’t explain it either, but I believe him. Or at least I believe he believes he’s Cedric. This guy... he looked terrible, Harry. Half starved, torn cloths, and scared out of his mind because he can’t remember what’s happened to him. I want to help him, or at the very least figure out who he is and what’s happened to him.”

Harry’s eyes were haunted when he looked at her and asked, “How certain are you?”

“I’m certain enough to tell you about it. I’m not saying I don’t have doubts. If it is him, it creates more questions than it answers, but I want to find out,” she told him honestly.

“Where is he?”

“I left him at that big oak just before the road turns. We walked less than a half a mile and he barely managed that. Said he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. When I left, he looked like he was falling asleep against the tree.”

Harry closed his eyes and thought for a long moment. He gave a brief nod, and then looked at her. “I suppose we can go and see if he is still there. I don’t know what to think, Ange. I know what I saw that night, but part of me wants this to be true. I just don’t see how it’s possible... Regardless, it’s worth investigating.”

She nodded. “I’m just as baffled by it as you are. Anyway, I promised him I would bring some food when I could. I should go do that.”

Getting up to leave the room, Harry opened the door for her. They stood there and listened to the hum of the crowd downstairs carrying up the stairwell. After a moment, he said, “I’ll need to make my goodbyes and I’m going to tell Hermione about it. I’m not sure if she’s staying here tonight, or coming back to London, but she’ll have my hide if I don’t tell her. I’ll leave to her to explain it to Ron. He doesn’t need something like this today. If I can’t get away quickly, don’t make him wait for something to eat. But be careful... you know, just in case.”

Angelina gave him a weak smile. “I know.”

***

The sun was low on the horizon when Angelina managed to get away from the house with her small bag of possessions and a bundle of food. The two bottles of pumpkin juice she had managed to find clinked together as she shifted the bundle to get a better grip on her wand. Harry, as anticipated, had gotten caught up in his goodbyes at the house, but she knew he wouldn’t be far behind. She had been so startled by Cedric appearance and the apparent proof of his identity earlier, she hadn’t thought too much about ways an imposter could have gotten that information. Harry’s gentle caution made her shiver in the long shadows cast by the trees in the growing twilight, but she shook herself from those thoughts. It was well and good to be cautious, but if she had been the objective of a trap, ‘Cedric,’ authentic or otherwise, would have taken her by surprise. Given his obvious poor state, well beyond what could easily be faked, she felt reasonably assured that he would be where she had left him.

He was so still and grubby, that she almost tripped over him in the shadow of the oak tree’s thick roots. He was curled up against the trunk and Angelina highly doubted he had moved at all since she had left. She carefully set down her bundle and quickly scanned the immediate vicinity before trying to wake him. There was no sign of anyone nearby, so she placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, while keeping a firm grip on her wand.

“Wake up.”

He startled and awoke almost instantly, eyes wide and fearful and hand groping for his wand. It took a moment for him to register who it was, but when he did, his frantic actions stopped. He closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. “Sorry. You just startled me. I-”

She smiled softly and handed him the bundle of food. “Don’t worry about it. Here. I’ve brought you some food. It’s only ham sandwiches and pumpkin juice, but we’ll get you something more soon.”

Cedric devoured the first sandwich hungrily and gulped down a bottle of pumpkin juice. He picked up the second sandwich and caught Angelina’s eyes for a long moment, before staring down at his knees in embarrassment. Taking a more civilized bite of sandwich, he chewed slowly and swallowed before asking, “Did you manage to talk to Harry? What did he say?”

“He was shocked, and a bit sceptical, but he wants to see you. We’re going to find out what’s happened to you,” she assured him.

“Thanks. You know, I don’t remember a ham sandwich ever tasting this good. I think I could eat about a dozen,” he said before returning to his sandwich, making an obvious effort to consume it in a more polite manner than the first.

Angelina watched Cedric polish off all four sandwiches she had brought, and down the remaining bottle of pumpkin juice. She watched him closely, looking for little things that might positively identify him, or give him away as an imposter, but, in the end, it had been nearly three years and they hadn’t been particularly close. She probably would be able to notice some things if they were flying. Oliver Wood had made them study the flying patterns of each team exhaustively, but here, in the dim light, on the ground, she didn’t notice anything.

After finishing the last of the pumpkin juice, he gave her a funny look. “I know you told me I’ve been missing for three years, and I must look a fright, but why are you looking at me like I’m about to turn into a werewolf or something?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re supposed to be dead?”

“Yeah, aside from that.”

“There’s a lot that’s happened, and it’s hard to give you an easy answer, but the short of it is, up until a couple days ago, it wasn’t unreasonable to ask identity questions of your closest friends and family. You never know when it might be an imposter,” she said sadly.

He looked at her completely agog. “You’re serious? Can you give me a slightly longer ‘short of it,’ please. ”

Angelina struggled to explain things simply, “We’ve been at war, Cedric. The Ministry was taken over and dissenters were tried, or stripped of their wands or even made to disappear. It’s been hard to know who to trust, and everyone wants to make sure they’re talking to who they think they’re talking to. The damage you saw at the castle was from a battle with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, and for the past eight months things have been pretty terrible.”

“You-Know-Who?” Cedric asked nervously. “As in the You-Know-Who from before?”

“Yes.”

Cedric’s face paled, and he clutched his stomach. “Oooooh, I don’t feel so good...”

Scrambling frantically over the twisted roots of the large oak, Cedric emptied his stomach violently several times. When he finally stopped, Angelina could see the sweat beaded on his forehead and the shakiness of his limbs as he moved away from the mess and sat down heavily. A voice from behind her spoke, “I should have told you not to let him eat too much. If you haven’t eaten for several days, as much as you want is usually too much for you to handle.”

Angelina glanced back to see Harry silhouetted in the last light of sundown. His gaze was focussed on Cedric, who had also looked up at the sound of the voice.

“Harry? You look so much older.”

“And you look terrible, but still yourself. What was the last thing you said to me?”

Cedric sat there, staring at Harry for a long moment, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. Quietly he mumbled to himself, “See you... then... something in the maze and then we were... a graveyard... wands out? Wands out. In the graveyard we took our wands out.”

Harry’s carefully neutral expression crumbled and he stepped forward and held out his hand to help Cedric to his feet. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but it must really be you. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

Cedric soaked in the hot water of the deep tub and scrubbed at his skin and hair until it hurt. He felt overwhelmed by even the little bit of information Angelina had given him as well as unbelievably dirty and shame filled knowing that somehow he was caught up in the middle of this, even though he couldn’t remember how. He stared at the pale skin of his left arm where only a few days ago You-Know-Who’s mark had burned black, but there was no trace of it now. He thought, if he caught the light at the right angle, he could still see it, but that might be his mind playing tricks on him. Perhaps the whole thing was his mind playing tricks on him, but he didn’t think so.

Harry had managed to find him a clean set of robes and a dressing gown, and had then sent him to clean up. He felt better for being clean, but his stomach was still in knots, not only from his earlier nausea, but also from dread. More and more he was certain his missing three years had been filled with only bad things. Nevertheless, it would be better to know than to fret about what he didn’t know, so he pulled himself out of the water and prepared to face his host.

The house around him was oppressively dark, but from his casual inspection, well maintained. A brief disparaging comment from Harry when they had arrived indicated that it might not always have been so. Cedric, however, had been too wrapped up by the revelation that not only did Harry have a house, but it had also been Sirius Black’s house. There had to be a story there, since the last he had heard, Sirius Black was on a mission to kill Harry, but Cedric suspected that too would have to wait. He had never known too much about Harry, other than things that everyone knew about Harry. Leaving aside the events of the past three years, it would seem he didn’t know a lot.

The floorboards near the stairs creaked, and Angelina poked her head out one of the many doors that lined the hallway. She smiled at him. “Nice bath?”

“Yeah-,” he nodded, “-feels good to be clean.”

“Harry said you can take the room right across from the bath. Probably a good thing while you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’m so sorry about that.”

She waved it off. “I wasn’t thinking. If I had been, I would’ve told you to take it easy. Harry’s gone down to the kitchen to see about something easier on your stomach. We can head down there if you’re up for it.”

He nodded, and she led him down two flights of stairs into the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Harry was fussing with tea things while talking to a house-elf who was directing a ladle to dish out hot soup into three bowls.

“I’m happy enough with the first floor finished, Kreacher. If I end up needing more bedrooms than that, it probably won’t be for several days if not a few weeks. You’ll have time for the rest later. Perhaps you could look into the library and the parlour before tackling the second floor. Besides, I can do some of it now that I’m here.”

“Absolutely not, Master. You have been doing enough, Kreacher says. You need rest. Kreacher will take care of house and guests.”

Harry sighed. “If it makes you happy, Kreacher, but I insist you rest some, as well. You’ve worked hard.”

The elf’s ears drooped slightly, but he nodded. “If Master insists.”

Cedric sat down at the table as the bowls of hot soup popped quietly onto the table. Spoons floated out of a nearby drawer arranged themselves on the table. Harry brought over the teapot and sat down opposite him, while Angelina took the chair at the end of the table. The house elf, poured the tea and levitated a basket of warm bread to the middle of the table, before popping out of sight.

Cedric looked at Harry curiously. “A house-elf?”

Harry gave a small sigh. “I seem to acquire them by accident. He’s a hundred times more pleasant than before, but I still think all those years shut up in this house alone have had a permanent affect on his mind. You don’t need to worry about the soup, though. He’s more than capable of edible food, even if he is a few cards short.”

For a long moment, Cedric contemplated the soup in front of him. Though his stomach still felt dodgy, he was famished. The clear broth looked innocuous enough. He made no move to pick up his spoon, but breathed in the steam rising from the bowl until Angelina nudged his arm.

“It’ll do you more good if you eat it instead of breathing it. Go on. It’s good soup,” she encouraged.

“Without the noodles, it shouldn’t irritate your stomach. I’d skip the bread though, at least for tonight,” Harry added.

It was hot and salty and far more satisfying that simple chicken broth should be. What was more, the queasy feeling in Cedric’s stomach abated. Though he thought he would want more, his stomach felt uncomfortably full after less than two thirds of the bowl. It was no wonder that he had been sick earlier.

“I’m so full, and so hungry at the same time,” he whinged quietly.

“Give it a couple days, and eat often,” Harry advised, “You should feel better soon, but the first day is always the worst.”

Cedric gave Harry a curious look, but the younger man just shook his head. “It’s a long story, and there’s enough to tell you about without that.”

“I don’t doubt that. What’s happened since I’ve been missing? You’ve both said that people think I’m dead, and Ange said something about a war, but I don’t even know where to start asking questions. There’s just so much,” he said.

Harry pushed away his bowl of soup and picked up his teacup, apparently contemplating where to begin. Eventually, he said, “We should start with what you remember. That will probably give us a place to begin explaining.”

Cedric took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. Well, I’m fairly clear on details the few days leading up to the maze. Mum and Dad came up to the school the morning of the Third Task... I remember Dad making a fool out of himself too. I’m sorry about that, by the way. He’s so eager to boast, I don’t think he realises how rude he is.”

Harry waved it off. “Your father’s just proud, and besides, it’s not his fault. Keep going.”

“I remember being so anxious to get into the maze. Not just nervous, but eager to get it over with. Dad being there didn’t help, either. Bagman blew the whistle, and we went into the maze. We split up at the first fork... then... I don’t remember what the maze had in it. I think I remember running... no, I was chased by something, and I got hurt. I remember being really sore, and...” Cedric’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Harry, “I met up with you again in the maze, I think.”

Harry nodded, “You did, but keep going with what you can remember. I’ll explain the details after.”

“So I found you, and... we ended up somewhere. The maze was gone, and it looked like a graveyard. I checked to make sure I still had my wand...” there was a long pause, “then nothing. I woke up and it was morning and I was staring up at trees, but there were no trees in the graveyard, at least not that I can recall. I woke up and it was three days ago. I don’t remember anything else from before.”

Angelina asked, “What do you remember from when you woke up? You said you ended up at Hogwarts.”

Cedric felt a surge of panic run through his body. He didn’t want to give too many details about when he first woke. “But what about the gaps I have of that night? It’s so blurry. What happened in the maze? How did Harry and I end up in a graveyard?”

“Hold on, Cedric. I’ll tell you everything that happened, but I want to hear all that you can tell us from your perspective,” Harry stated. “I’m hoping some of it will give us clues about what happened to you.”

“I- I woke up in the forest,” he said, nervously. “It was early. I could tell because the sky was still quite grey through the leaves. I think the trees were the first thing that struck me as wrong... well aside from waking up alone, outside on the ground. Something about the leaves was wrong...”

Cedric trailed off, not wanting to say what happened next, but Harry pushed, “So the trees were the first thing you noticed were off. What did you notice next?”

He hesitated, swallowing heavily. Angelina patted his hand encouragingly and smiled at him. “Relax. We know you’re doing your best to remember.”

“I tried looking around before I got up... just in case someone else was there, but I couldn’t see without moving my head,” Cedric said shakily, not wanting to share his next revelation. “So I tried to get up, but my arm hurt...”

“Your arm?” Ange asked when he paused again, “anything else?”

He shook his head. “I felt stiff, but when I tried to get up my arm burned like it was on fire.”

There was a long, oppressive pause, and Harry stared intently at Cedric, as if the force of Harry’s stare would bring the truth from his lips. He felt heat rising in his face, and he looked away.

Harry’s next words made him shudder. “Your left arm burned.”

Cedric felt hot, shameful tears burning at edge of his eyes, but he fought them back and nodded. “And there was something on my face and I felt trapped. I don’t know how it happened. I couldn’t believe what I saw, but it burned like fire. It hurt so terribly that it had to have been real.”

Looking down at his hands on the worn wooden surface of the table, Cedric held back another wave of fear and panic. As terrifying as not knowing what had happened to him that he was unable to remember, even more terrifying was the prospect of what he had done that he didn’t remember. A cup of tea was nudged into his line of sight, and he cradled it in his hands, staring at the leaves settling at the bottom as if they really could reveal the secrets of the universe to him. He took a sip and was forced to look up and see Harry and Angelina watching him closely. Angelina was wide eyed, though the shock seemed to be fading, but Harry’s expression was not anger, but sympathy.

“I tore away my sleeve, and it was there. Just like the one at the World Cup,” Cedric whispered.

Harry nodded. “I think that’s enough in the way of clues to get us started. There’s probably a very good reason you don’t remember the past three years, and it’s not your fault. I suppose I should begin at the fork in the maze myself. That’s where everything started to go wrong in the first place.”

***

Cedric's head hurt from all the information he had just taken in. Both Harry and Angelina had started fortifying their tea with whiskey nearly an hour ago, but Cedric didn't need Harry's slightly embarrassed advice not to add a tot to his own cup. Besides, the story being told to him was dizzying enough without adding alcohol on top of it.

The actions of You-Know-Who's supporters concerning the Triwizard Tournament were nothing short of shocking to him, and some details were apparently a surprise to Angelina as well. It wasn't too much of a stretch for him to believe that Harry had been helped along throughout the tournament, he had been only fourteen at the time, but that the one doing the helping was a supposedly imprisoned, not to mention deceased, Death Eater was startling. There were still a few missing bits of his experience in the maze, things Harry couldn't fill in as they had been separated, but those were few enough not to matter. What Cedric had learned, was that he had never been meant to touch that cup. His arrival in the cemetery in Little Hangleton had been purely an accident, despite Harry's protestations of guilt on that score.

What was the most puzzling, both to himself and to his companions, was the matter of his 'death.'

"Well, we can conclude that somehow you didn't die. And, given that, it's reasonable to assume that if you didn't, Voldemort likely discovered this in rather short order. Probably not long after I grabbed the portkey back to school. Voldemort was nothing if not resourceful. He's used supposedly dead people before, and you would be useful enough to him, particularly since over the next year he and his supporters kept a low profile. Also, without your body, Dumbledore and I had no proof of your 'death'. It served well to discredit me and Dumbledore," Harry noted.

"But why wouldn't they believe you and Dumbledore? I mean, it's Dumbledore!" Cedric asked, somewhat incredulously.

Harry and Angelina exchanged a sad look that held an entire conversation between them without a single word being exchanged.

Harry's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Because it was an unpopular idea and didn't serve Fudge's agenda. Life at the school was hell that next year. Be very glad you never encountered Umbridge. What a vile woman!"

"So the Ministry didn't believe you because there was no body. I suppose that makes a twisted sort of sense, but if I wasn't killed that night, why wouldn't You-Know-Who just have cursed me again and concealed my body for disposal? It's a disturbing thought, but I can't understand why he wouldn't have made sure I was actually dead and disappeared."

"If everyone thought you were dead, that served him well passively, but if you were actually alive, you could do stuff for him, right?" Angelina pointed out.

"That’s the part of this that disturbs me the most,” Cedric said, staring at the bottom of his teacup, not able to look either of them in the eye. “I know it's wishful thinking to hope I was kept in cursed sleep or something for three years, but know I wouldn't have agreed to his mark. I may not be the bravest person, but I do know I would have preferred death to that."

"Knowing what Imperio is like from Voldemort himself, I rather suspect you had little choice in the matter," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"But I don't remember any of it either!” Cedric said sharply, snapping his eyes up to meet Harry’s. Angelina put a hand on his, giving it a comforting squeeze, and he took a deep breath before continuing more calmly, “We studied the Imperius curse in our Defense class, too, and I know I remembered the silly things Moody, or Crouch, or whoever it was, made me do after the fact. It was impossible to resist, but I still have the memory of it."

"And that was Crouch, not Voldemort. It's a very different thing. It actually sounds a lot like when Ginny was finding herself in odd places without knowing how she got there, and that was a sixteen year-old version of him. He wouldn't have possessed you; he didn't need to at that point, but the Imperius curse is stronger the closer you are to the caster. If you were most often by his side, then the force of his commands could very well have overwhelmed your conscious thought completely. I'd need to do a bit of research on it, but I think it's not an unreasonable explanation," Harry put forward.

Angelina had looked pensive throughout Harry's explanation, and shook her head. "That might explain the matter of the missing memories, but it still doesn't explain how the Killing curse didn't actually kill Cedric. We all know there is no way to block it, except what your mother did, of course, but somehow it didn't work... unless this is a very impressive inferi," she said with a teasing smile.

Cedric shivered. "I'm going to try to forget you even mentioned those."

"I'm not an expert on magical theory, Ange. I only know basics about a lot of things and all the time I'm finding out stuff that wasn't taught because it's 'common knowledge' if you grew up around it. Hermione said she'd come tomorrow or the next day. She's the one to toss around theory with. All I know is that the person sitting at my kitchen table is someone I was certain I watched die three years ago. I can't explain it, but I'm also certain he's not an imposter."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Harry," Cedric said with a touch of bitterness.

Angelina grabbed his hand. "Hey, don't talk like that. It's still a lot for us to get our minds around, is all. I'd like a better explanation on the how, but it's not crucial. You are alive, and I'm glad of it."

"Exactly,” Harry nodded. “I wish everyone I've watched die would turn up on the road to the Burrow, but I know it's not going to happen. I know Hermione will probably come up with a dozen theories about how you survived by the time she gets here."

Cedric swished the last of his tea around the bottom of his cup and drained it. He held up his hand when Angelina gestured to the teapot, and pushed the cup away. "I know there is still so much to talk about. I have more questions now than I did an hour ago, but my head hurts. I don't think I can take any more in."

"You could probably use more sleep too," Harry observed.

Cedric smiled. "In a proper bed, instead of hidden under trees."

"Then let's get you upstairs before you drop off here and we have to levitate you to bed," Angelina teased, pushing away from the table. "I'm tired, too. It's been a long day."

***

Cedric lay down under the warm covers on the soft bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time before he fell asleep. There were just so many thoughts tumbling around in his head that, even though his body was telling him he was beyond exhausted, his brain was less than cooperative. Eventually, he managed to settle enough to doze, but his mind was still very active and did not let him rest.

***

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