Fic: Missing Pages, 1/?
Title: Missing Pages, Chapter 1/?
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Rating: PG for now, possibly R in the future
Warning: AU in which Cedric replaces the epilogue
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts Report has been released and social tensions are on the rise, but Cedric is faced with more personal tensions when he is enlisted to find a missing friend.
A/N: This story has been a long time coming! Thanks so much to my beta b00kaddict who went above and beyond, and really managed to get this fic off the ground. Thanks also to sprawling_song for her excellent Brit-picking. Chapter updates may be a bit sporadic, but I promise that they're coming. :)
Missing Pages
Chapter 1
The way Cedric Diggory saw it, Harry Potter had a responsibility.
Not that Potter hadn’t done enough already. Cedric wasn’t trying to trivialize his accomplishments, as though such a thing were even possible. And he knew that Potter had never asked for fame, never asked to symbolize hope for millions of witches and wizards across Europe, and he had certainly never asked for that scar on his forehead. From the moment Potter had been placed on a pedestal, he wanted off-Cedric understood and respected that.
But the fact remained that after the war, Harry Potter was the one person with enough political sway to step forward and affect some real change in the world. And although he had refused that responsibility in the past, Cedric was certain this would be the perfect opportunity to reconsider.
“He’s not going to do it,” Hermione said.
Cedric put his fork down. “How do you know until you ask?”
Hermione sighed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. The Ministry cafeteria in which they sat was nearly empty this late in the day, the only other sounds coming from the house elves in the kitchen as they cleaned. Hermione had chosen this time specifically for the lack of distraction, and now she attempted to steer Cedric back to the matter at hand.
“I don’t have to ask him,” she said. “And I don’t see why I should. You’re far better at public relations anyway.”
She was trying to dissuade him with flattery, but Cedric wouldn’t be put off quite so easily. Frankly, he’d always found Hermione a bit overprotective of her famous friend, and he was convinced Potter should be given the opportunity to decide for himself. “I just can’t see why he’d turn us down. All we’re trying to do is protect people.”
The war may have ended four years ago, but people still needed protection. Cedric saw it all around him these days. Anti-muggle sentiment ran as high as ever in certain quarters, the magical beings Hermione worked with had to struggle for the most basic rights, and people were being locked out of jobs just because of their family name. Then, to make matters worse, just last week the Ministry had finally released their official report of what had transpired at the Battle of Hogwarts. Whatever tensions had eased in the intervening years were quickly returning to the surface. Protection was now more important than ever.
That was why Cedric and Hermione had taken it upon themselves to draft an antidiscrimination bill for the Wizengamot. And that was why they needed Harry Potter’s public support if they ever wanted it to pass.
It seemed like infallible logic to Cedric, but Hermione shook her head. “It’s a moot point. Trust me. You don’t know Harry like I do.”
That, at least, was something Cedric couldn’t argue with. Hermione’s friendship with Harry had famously predated their sorting, and outlasted her relationship with Ron.
“Right then,” she said, leaning over to rummage through her bag. “I managed to stop by the Allocation Department this morning, and I’ve reserved the Ketteridge Auditorium for two weeks from now.”
“Ketteridge?” Cedric interrupted with a grimace. The only press conferences held there were the ones covered exclusively by the Quibbler. “You couldn’t get anything larger?”
“I know it’s not ideal, but it will have to do. We’re not exactly supporting a popular cause, you know. The employee at the Allocation Department refused to believe we’d draw any crowd, let alone the hundred we predicted.” She extracted one of her notebooks and a quill-Cedric had never known her to be without either-and wrote something down. “How are we doing on numbers, by the way?”
“I’m working on it,” said Cedric hesitantly. “I do have confirmation from at least one person at the Prophet.”
“Oh that’s wonderful news!” Hermione said, brightening. Cedric noted the surprise in her voice. Ever since they had become friends, he had watched her learn the hard way that being the genius best friend of Harry Potter earned you no more respect than being a Triwizard Champion. People might ask for your autograph, but unless you had been at the Ministry for at least twenty years and with all the right connections, they wouldn’t ask for your opinion.
Hermione suddenly looked up with narrowed, perceptive eyes. “Hold on. When you say ‘person,’ you do mean ‘reporter,’ correct?”
“Well…not precisely. But she told me-”
“Of course,” Hermione interrupted with a huff. “I should have known it would be a ‘she.’”
Cedric scowled at her, placing both hands on the table. “I’ll have you know, Miss Granger, that I don’t appreciate your implications. I am perfectly capable of drawing a male audience to this function.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t doubt that you can-assuming they’re all homosexual.”
He managed to glare at her for a good ten seconds while she stared back defiantly. Then they burst out in simultaneous laughter.
“This press conference is going to be a disaster,” Cedric half-jokingly lamented. If only he could find a way to convince Potter to make an appearance.
“Don’t worry,” Hermione assured him. “We’ll find something other than your irresistible charm to attract people.” She looked to her watch, then began gathering her things. “I must be getting back, I’m afraid. Same time tomorrow? We can start working on your speech if you like.”
“Absolutely,” said Cedric. He leaned back and let out another chuckle. “And make sure to keep an eye out for any single gay wizards with influence.”
Hermione gave him an oddly polite smile, then turned and left.
***
The next day at noon, Cedric stopped by the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, only to discover that Hermione hadn’t come in to work.
Cedric didn’t think much of it. There was something he’d been putting off for a week now, and this seemed as good a time as any to get it over with. Lunch in hand, he returned to his desk in the Department of International Cooperation and, after a moment’s hesitation, cast a locking charm on the door. He removed a thin book from one of his drawers and placed it on the desk.
It sat there for a minute, ominously staring up at him. The book had a plain black jacket, pristine and new, with small silver writing along the spine. Amazing that something so innocuous could cause so much unrest. He figured he had until the press conference to read it so he’d know what kind of reactions to expect, but that didn’t make the task any easier. Cedric tapped his fingers against it in agitation, then tried to stall for a few moments by starting on his lunch only to find that he was no longer hungry. With a deep breath, he opened to the title page while the binding creaked in protest.
The Official Ministry of Magic Battle of Hogwarts Report
As Commissioned by the Wizengamot and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt
Following this were a list of names of those who had conducted the research, some Cedric recognized and some he didn’t. He flipped to the preface.
We hereby present the official account of the events that transpired from six o’clock in the evening on May 12, 1998, to three o’clock in the morning on May 13. The information provided in this book was compiled from first hand accounts, extensive magical diagnostics of the Hogwarts castle, and countless hours of Death Eater interrogation. We believe it to be an accurate summary of the Battle that ended the Second War, both a tragic and triumphant event that will forever shape the Wizarding Community.
Before examining these facts, we at the Ministry of Magic wish to start by offering our sincerest gratitude, and the gratitude of all Wizards and Witches everywhere, to the brave men and women whose names appear in the following pages. We would also like to take this opportunity to commemorate those who lost their lives in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The price they paid will not be forgotten.
Cedric shut the book.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. His heart was pounding as though he were facing a boggart instead of a book. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that these were nothing more than printed words on parchment, and that he of all people shouldn’t be affected by it. Regardless, he knew he wouldn’t bring himself to read it, not today.
What a coward he’d become.
Carefully picking up the Report once again, Cedric flipped instead to the index in the back, scanning the names for the ones he would recognize. He didn’t bother to look for his own.
Scott Levine, Auror, 82, 84, 98-99, 101-102, 158-162, 170
He read through the page numbers methodically, wondering which of his friend’s accomplishments had been worthy of inclusion, and which had been left out of history. Was there mention of the curse that nearly took Scott’s arm? Did the pages at the end describe his painful month long recovery in a too-crowded, understaffed hospital room?
He ventured ahead to the following page, which read:
Matthew Moore, Auror, 82, 90-92, 189
Cedric traced Matt’s name with his fingers. He knew what these numbers represented: the final moments of his friend’s life. There they were, clutched between his hands, accessible to anyone who wished to read them. Matt’s sacrifice distilled to five pages.
And what made it all the more jarring was that on the page opposite Matt’s sat the entry for Potter, Harry. The numbers that followed this name seemed to go on forever, probably extending far past the end of the page, escaping death over and over again, accomplishing the impossible, and then stopping abruptly at the back cover.
Cedric closed the book again gently. He still had two weeks before he absolutely needed to read it. Putting it off for another day wouldn’t hurt.
***
Cedric continued to look for Hermione over the next two days, but she remained conspicuously absent from the office, unusual considering her aversion to sick days. In fact, the more he asked around, the more worried he became. No one in her department seemed to know exactly where she was, or else they wouldn’t tell him. Even her friends hadn’t heard from her in some time. Worst of all, a solemn atmosphere seemed to have fallen over the Aurors, which was never a good sign.
Cedric didn’t want to seem paranoid or intrusive, but he had finally decided to owl her when Scott stopped him in the hall and pulled him off to the side. “Hey, I heard you were looking for Hermione. Has anyone told you what happened yet?” Panic washed over him, but Scott noticed and quickly reassured him. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. It’s not her. It’s…well, it’s Ron Weasley.”
It was in a tone of voice, hushed and grave, that Cedric hadn’t heard since the war. He thought of the book still locked in his desk drawer and felt suddenly nauseous. ”What happened?”
Scott sighed, and it wasn’t until then that Cedric noticed how exhausted he looked. “We don’t actually know. He’s been missing since Monday. Went on a routine disturbance call and never came back. The Aurors are trying to keep it quiet, but…I don’t know how long that’s going to last. This is bad news for our department, not to mention the entire Ministry. I mean, we haven’t lost anyone so prominent since…”
Cedric nodded. He didn’t need Scott to finish that sentence-it had become habit between them to avoid mentioning the war.
“Anyway, that’s why Hermione hasn’t been in,” Scott continued. “We’re keeping her and Harry at arm’s length for now, at least until we make some headway. She’s pretty shaken up from what I heard. I’m sure she could use some support.”
Cedric was still reeling from the news, and it took a moment before he noticed the knowing look Scott was giving him. He stepped back and ran a hand over his face. “I told you, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
Scott raised his hands in defense. “Hey, sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply anything. Listen, mate, I have to run. I’ll keep you posted, all right?”
Cedric watched him disappear around the corner, and sank back against the wall. There was nothing he hated more than feeling helpless.
***
After work, Cedric apparated straight to Hermione’s flat, and then stood nervously at her doorstep. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate for him to be there; he was hardly her closest friend, and what could he possibly say? But he had to say something. Feeling like an intruder, he knocked quietly on the door, a knock that seemed to echo through the empty landing.
After a brief moment and the sound of shuffling feet, the door opened slowly, just a crack, and then flew wide as Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
“Cedric,” she said into his shoulder before stepping back. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.”
Cedric followed her through the doorway, taking in the details of her small, tidy flat. A well-worn sofa sat against one wall, and a coffee table stood before it, topped with a decorative tissue box and a small mound of used tissues. A kitchenette opened up on one side of the room, a bedroom through the door on the other. A blazing fireplace was nestled in the corner. The photos that sat on the mantelpiece above remained mostly still-muggle-although there were a few that eagerly waved at him; Cedric could pick out the red headed figures even from a distance.
And there, seated in a chair that faced the fireplace, so still that at first Cedric mistook him for furniture, was Harry Potter. Harry was eyeing him carefully, a calculating gaze that wasn’t exactly friendly, and certainly didn’t make Cedric feel any more welcome. Cedric offered a small nod, which Harry didn’t return. He simply went back to staring into the fire.
“Can I get you some tea?” Hermione called from the stove. She looked unsteady as she set the water boiling. Cedric wanted to help, but Hermione probably needed something to do with her hands. Instead he stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, wondering once again why he had come, and whether he should give his condolences and quickly leave. It was clear, at least, that Potter didn’t want him there.
Hermione reentered the room, holding her own mug and levitating the other before her. Cedric caught his with a muttered, “Thanks.”
“Sit down, please.” She motioned to the sofa, and Cedric took the offered seat, Hermione sinking down next to him. “So then.” She eyed her tea, spinning the mug in her hand. Her voice was tense and strained. “So I suppose you heard about-about what-”
Hermione suddenly burst into tears, and before Cedric could say or do anything, Harry was there next to her. He pried the mug from Hermione’s fingers, and Hermione immediately clung to his waist. With her head buried in his chest, she made no attempt to stifle her sobs, while Potter mutely rubbed her back. He looked up at Cedric, and the question was unmistakable: Why are you here?
Cedric was asking himself the same thing, and didn’t need any more of a hint. He placed down his tea and moved to stand, but Hermione spun around and caught his wrist.
“No. Don’t go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Cedric sat back down and placed his hand over hers. “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in here like this…”
“Don’t be stupid.” Hermione let out a sigh, reaching for a new tissue and adding it to the pile when she was done with it. “Of course I appreciate that you came. I just wish I weren’t such a mess.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look gorgeous to me.”
Hermione choked out a wet laugh. “Always the flatterer.”
Cedric smiled briefly and then looked down at his lap. Their usual banter sounded horribly inappropriate in front of Harry, who remained sitting protectively close on Hermione’s other side. It would probably be best if he just said what he came to say, then quickly left. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I’m sure that … well, I just wanted to let you know that if there’s anything at all I can do to help …”
He was angry with himself the moment he said those words. What an awful, empty thing to say, and it only served to remind himself of his own uselessness.
But to his surprise, Hermione gave him a serious look, and then turned to face Harry, whose expression darkened. He shook his head once, sharply. Hermione gave him a pointed expression, and his eyebrows came together in frustration. Then he spoke.
“Hermione, no.”
Hermione let out a ragged sigh. “Why are you being so difficult about this? I don’t see-”
“Because this isn’t about him.” Harry’s eyes darted in his direction, and Cedric suddenly realized that he was the subject of their silent discussion. He found himself even more uncomfortable than before, not to mention a bit annoyed at Harry’s rudeness.
“This isn’t about you either! This is about Ron!” Hermione choked out the name, and turned to face Cedric again. Harry grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, looking determined. “Actually, Cedric, we could use your help.”
“Hermione, I’m not getting him involved!” Harry insisted.
Hermione ignored him. “First of all, you should know that Harry and I aren’t waiting for the Aurors to find Ron. It’s not that we don’t trust them, it’s just-” Hermione paused, and gave another small laugh. “All right, no, we don’t trust them. So we’ve been trying to track Ron down ourselves. I’m only telling you this because I trust you to keep quiet about it.”
Cedric nodded, although he wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “Of course.”
“The problem is that we don’t really know anything,” said Hermione with a sad shrug. “We already talked to the last person Ron spoke with. Just some witch up north who thought the cat going through her rubbish might have been a Death Eater.” Cedric wasn’t so surprised to hear this; everyone had been a bit on edge since the release of the Report last week. “And after that, he just-Apparated off. We don’t know where.”
Cedric listened carefully as Hermione spoke, waiting to see why she was sharing this information, while his eyes and thoughts kept wandering to Harry. This was the first time they had really interacted since the Tournament, and the first time Cedric had seen him up close, aside from press photos of a scowling man trying to cover his face.
In some ways, Harry bore little resemblance to the frightened kid who’d once out flown a dragon. The Harry Potter he used to know had been on the brink of adolescence: features caught somewhere between cute and handsome without achieving either, some added inches that only accentuated his skinny build, and a terrible posture to boot. The man sitting on the couch, however, was clearly an adult. He still had a small frame, but it had filled out considerably. He had a hard jaw line and confident eyes. He wasn’t handsome, not in the way Cedric knew himself to be handsome, but there was still something unconventionally attractive about him. Maybe it had more to do with the way he carried himself than his looks alone.
On the other hand, there were so many ways in which he hadn’t changed. His hair was still a scruffy mess that may have looked intentional five years ago. He still wore those unflattering frames, although Cedric was certain he could afford better. And he still had a terrible posture. Although now it didn’t seem to be a result of teenage awkwardness so much as a desire not to be seen.
Harry caught him staring, and Cedric immediately looked away.
“To be honest, I’m not sure where we go from here,” Hermione was saying. “And the Aurors are being frustratingly tight-lipped. They keep telling us Harry’s ‘too close to the case’ or some rubbish.”
“It’s because they know you too well,” Cedric suddenly interrupted, thinking of what Scott had told him earlier. “They know you’ll want to try and find him on your own, and they don’t want you getting underfoot. Or worse, making them look bad.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Harry. “We could be helping! We know Ron better than anyone.”
“I’m not saying I agree with it,” Cedric quickly added. Although, considering Harry’s record of bending the rules, he understood why the Aurors would want to distance themselves. He looked to Hermione expectantly. “So…what exactly do you need me to do?”
Hermione looked a little uncertain. “You don’t-you don’t have to, you know. It’s just that no one will tell us anything, and well, I thought…”
She trailed off, but understanding coalesced in Cedric’s mind. “You thought I could get you information.”
She looked back at Harry, before turning to Cedric and nodding. “I understand if it’s asking too much.”
Cedric was silent as he gave it some consideration. Hermione knew what she was asking, and she knew it wouldn’t sit well with him. He could get the information easily enough; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the Aurors had their reasons for withholding intelligence, whether he agreed with them or not, and she was essentially asking him to go against a Ministry department. That just wasn’t the way he did things. And then there was Harry. Should he really be taking risks for someone who didn’t even want him to?
Cedric quickly glanced over at him, and found Harry boldly staring back. Yet, to his surprise, it wasn’t hostility that he saw in Harry’s eyes anymore. It was a challenge-as though he didn’t think Cedric had it in him to say yes. As though this were some sort of test of character. There was an intense determination that lit up Harry’s face, a refusal to sit back and do nothing, a willingness to do whatever it took, and he was just daring Cedric to do the same.
Despite his misgivings, the clear challenge sparked something in Cedric’s chest, something exhilarating. He remembered standing in front of a goblet, one hand hovering over the rim clutching a tiny piece of parchment with his name.
Cedric looked Hermione in the eye and nodded. “Of course I’ll help.”
Chapter 2
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Rating: PG for now, possibly R in the future
Warning: AU in which Cedric replaces the epilogue
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts Report has been released and social tensions are on the rise, but Cedric is faced with more personal tensions when he is enlisted to find a missing friend.
A/N: This story has been a long time coming! Thanks so much to my beta b00kaddict who went above and beyond, and really managed to get this fic off the ground. Thanks also to sprawling_song for her excellent Brit-picking. Chapter updates may be a bit sporadic, but I promise that they're coming. :)
Missing Pages
Chapter 1
The way Cedric Diggory saw it, Harry Potter had a responsibility.
Not that Potter hadn’t done enough already. Cedric wasn’t trying to trivialize his accomplishments, as though such a thing were even possible. And he knew that Potter had never asked for fame, never asked to symbolize hope for millions of witches and wizards across Europe, and he had certainly never asked for that scar on his forehead. From the moment Potter had been placed on a pedestal, he wanted off-Cedric understood and respected that.
But the fact remained that after the war, Harry Potter was the one person with enough political sway to step forward and affect some real change in the world. And although he had refused that responsibility in the past, Cedric was certain this would be the perfect opportunity to reconsider.
“He’s not going to do it,” Hermione said.
Cedric put his fork down. “How do you know until you ask?”
Hermione sighed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. The Ministry cafeteria in which they sat was nearly empty this late in the day, the only other sounds coming from the house elves in the kitchen as they cleaned. Hermione had chosen this time specifically for the lack of distraction, and now she attempted to steer Cedric back to the matter at hand.
“I don’t have to ask him,” she said. “And I don’t see why I should. You’re far better at public relations anyway.”
She was trying to dissuade him with flattery, but Cedric wouldn’t be put off quite so easily. Frankly, he’d always found Hermione a bit overprotective of her famous friend, and he was convinced Potter should be given the opportunity to decide for himself. “I just can’t see why he’d turn us down. All we’re trying to do is protect people.”
The war may have ended four years ago, but people still needed protection. Cedric saw it all around him these days. Anti-muggle sentiment ran as high as ever in certain quarters, the magical beings Hermione worked with had to struggle for the most basic rights, and people were being locked out of jobs just because of their family name. Then, to make matters worse, just last week the Ministry had finally released their official report of what had transpired at the Battle of Hogwarts. Whatever tensions had eased in the intervening years were quickly returning to the surface. Protection was now more important than ever.
That was why Cedric and Hermione had taken it upon themselves to draft an antidiscrimination bill for the Wizengamot. And that was why they needed Harry Potter’s public support if they ever wanted it to pass.
It seemed like infallible logic to Cedric, but Hermione shook her head. “It’s a moot point. Trust me. You don’t know Harry like I do.”
That, at least, was something Cedric couldn’t argue with. Hermione’s friendship with Harry had famously predated their sorting, and outlasted her relationship with Ron.
“Right then,” she said, leaning over to rummage through her bag. “I managed to stop by the Allocation Department this morning, and I’ve reserved the Ketteridge Auditorium for two weeks from now.”
“Ketteridge?” Cedric interrupted with a grimace. The only press conferences held there were the ones covered exclusively by the Quibbler. “You couldn’t get anything larger?”
“I know it’s not ideal, but it will have to do. We’re not exactly supporting a popular cause, you know. The employee at the Allocation Department refused to believe we’d draw any crowd, let alone the hundred we predicted.” She extracted one of her notebooks and a quill-Cedric had never known her to be without either-and wrote something down. “How are we doing on numbers, by the way?”
“I’m working on it,” said Cedric hesitantly. “I do have confirmation from at least one person at the Prophet.”
“Oh that’s wonderful news!” Hermione said, brightening. Cedric noted the surprise in her voice. Ever since they had become friends, he had watched her learn the hard way that being the genius best friend of Harry Potter earned you no more respect than being a Triwizard Champion. People might ask for your autograph, but unless you had been at the Ministry for at least twenty years and with all the right connections, they wouldn’t ask for your opinion.
Hermione suddenly looked up with narrowed, perceptive eyes. “Hold on. When you say ‘person,’ you do mean ‘reporter,’ correct?”
“Well…not precisely. But she told me-”
“Of course,” Hermione interrupted with a huff. “I should have known it would be a ‘she.’”
Cedric scowled at her, placing both hands on the table. “I’ll have you know, Miss Granger, that I don’t appreciate your implications. I am perfectly capable of drawing a male audience to this function.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t doubt that you can-assuming they’re all homosexual.”
He managed to glare at her for a good ten seconds while she stared back defiantly. Then they burst out in simultaneous laughter.
“This press conference is going to be a disaster,” Cedric half-jokingly lamented. If only he could find a way to convince Potter to make an appearance.
“Don’t worry,” Hermione assured him. “We’ll find something other than your irresistible charm to attract people.” She looked to her watch, then began gathering her things. “I must be getting back, I’m afraid. Same time tomorrow? We can start working on your speech if you like.”
“Absolutely,” said Cedric. He leaned back and let out another chuckle. “And make sure to keep an eye out for any single gay wizards with influence.”
Hermione gave him an oddly polite smile, then turned and left.
***
The next day at noon, Cedric stopped by the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, only to discover that Hermione hadn’t come in to work.
Cedric didn’t think much of it. There was something he’d been putting off for a week now, and this seemed as good a time as any to get it over with. Lunch in hand, he returned to his desk in the Department of International Cooperation and, after a moment’s hesitation, cast a locking charm on the door. He removed a thin book from one of his drawers and placed it on the desk.
It sat there for a minute, ominously staring up at him. The book had a plain black jacket, pristine and new, with small silver writing along the spine. Amazing that something so innocuous could cause so much unrest. He figured he had until the press conference to read it so he’d know what kind of reactions to expect, but that didn’t make the task any easier. Cedric tapped his fingers against it in agitation, then tried to stall for a few moments by starting on his lunch only to find that he was no longer hungry. With a deep breath, he opened to the title page while the binding creaked in protest.
The Official Ministry of Magic Battle of Hogwarts Report
As Commissioned by the Wizengamot and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt
Following this were a list of names of those who had conducted the research, some Cedric recognized and some he didn’t. He flipped to the preface.
We hereby present the official account of the events that transpired from six o’clock in the evening on May 12, 1998, to three o’clock in the morning on May 13. The information provided in this book was compiled from first hand accounts, extensive magical diagnostics of the Hogwarts castle, and countless hours of Death Eater interrogation. We believe it to be an accurate summary of the Battle that ended the Second War, both a tragic and triumphant event that will forever shape the Wizarding Community.
Before examining these facts, we at the Ministry of Magic wish to start by offering our sincerest gratitude, and the gratitude of all Wizards and Witches everywhere, to the brave men and women whose names appear in the following pages. We would also like to take this opportunity to commemorate those who lost their lives in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The price they paid will not be forgotten.
Cedric shut the book.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. His heart was pounding as though he were facing a boggart instead of a book. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that these were nothing more than printed words on parchment, and that he of all people shouldn’t be affected by it. Regardless, he knew he wouldn’t bring himself to read it, not today.
What a coward he’d become.
Carefully picking up the Report once again, Cedric flipped instead to the index in the back, scanning the names for the ones he would recognize. He didn’t bother to look for his own.
Scott Levine, Auror, 82, 84, 98-99, 101-102, 158-162, 170
He read through the page numbers methodically, wondering which of his friend’s accomplishments had been worthy of inclusion, and which had been left out of history. Was there mention of the curse that nearly took Scott’s arm? Did the pages at the end describe his painful month long recovery in a too-crowded, understaffed hospital room?
He ventured ahead to the following page, which read:
Matthew Moore, Auror, 82, 90-92, 189
Cedric traced Matt’s name with his fingers. He knew what these numbers represented: the final moments of his friend’s life. There they were, clutched between his hands, accessible to anyone who wished to read them. Matt’s sacrifice distilled to five pages.
And what made it all the more jarring was that on the page opposite Matt’s sat the entry for Potter, Harry. The numbers that followed this name seemed to go on forever, probably extending far past the end of the page, escaping death over and over again, accomplishing the impossible, and then stopping abruptly at the back cover.
Cedric closed the book again gently. He still had two weeks before he absolutely needed to read it. Putting it off for another day wouldn’t hurt.
***
Cedric continued to look for Hermione over the next two days, but she remained conspicuously absent from the office, unusual considering her aversion to sick days. In fact, the more he asked around, the more worried he became. No one in her department seemed to know exactly where she was, or else they wouldn’t tell him. Even her friends hadn’t heard from her in some time. Worst of all, a solemn atmosphere seemed to have fallen over the Aurors, which was never a good sign.
Cedric didn’t want to seem paranoid or intrusive, but he had finally decided to owl her when Scott stopped him in the hall and pulled him off to the side. “Hey, I heard you were looking for Hermione. Has anyone told you what happened yet?” Panic washed over him, but Scott noticed and quickly reassured him. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. It’s not her. It’s…well, it’s Ron Weasley.”
It was in a tone of voice, hushed and grave, that Cedric hadn’t heard since the war. He thought of the book still locked in his desk drawer and felt suddenly nauseous. ”What happened?”
Scott sighed, and it wasn’t until then that Cedric noticed how exhausted he looked. “We don’t actually know. He’s been missing since Monday. Went on a routine disturbance call and never came back. The Aurors are trying to keep it quiet, but…I don’t know how long that’s going to last. This is bad news for our department, not to mention the entire Ministry. I mean, we haven’t lost anyone so prominent since…”
Cedric nodded. He didn’t need Scott to finish that sentence-it had become habit between them to avoid mentioning the war.
“Anyway, that’s why Hermione hasn’t been in,” Scott continued. “We’re keeping her and Harry at arm’s length for now, at least until we make some headway. She’s pretty shaken up from what I heard. I’m sure she could use some support.”
Cedric was still reeling from the news, and it took a moment before he noticed the knowing look Scott was giving him. He stepped back and ran a hand over his face. “I told you, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
Scott raised his hands in defense. “Hey, sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply anything. Listen, mate, I have to run. I’ll keep you posted, all right?”
Cedric watched him disappear around the corner, and sank back against the wall. There was nothing he hated more than feeling helpless.
***
After work, Cedric apparated straight to Hermione’s flat, and then stood nervously at her doorstep. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate for him to be there; he was hardly her closest friend, and what could he possibly say? But he had to say something. Feeling like an intruder, he knocked quietly on the door, a knock that seemed to echo through the empty landing.
After a brief moment and the sound of shuffling feet, the door opened slowly, just a crack, and then flew wide as Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
“Cedric,” she said into his shoulder before stepping back. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.”
Cedric followed her through the doorway, taking in the details of her small, tidy flat. A well-worn sofa sat against one wall, and a coffee table stood before it, topped with a decorative tissue box and a small mound of used tissues. A kitchenette opened up on one side of the room, a bedroom through the door on the other. A blazing fireplace was nestled in the corner. The photos that sat on the mantelpiece above remained mostly still-muggle-although there were a few that eagerly waved at him; Cedric could pick out the red headed figures even from a distance.
And there, seated in a chair that faced the fireplace, so still that at first Cedric mistook him for furniture, was Harry Potter. Harry was eyeing him carefully, a calculating gaze that wasn’t exactly friendly, and certainly didn’t make Cedric feel any more welcome. Cedric offered a small nod, which Harry didn’t return. He simply went back to staring into the fire.
“Can I get you some tea?” Hermione called from the stove. She looked unsteady as she set the water boiling. Cedric wanted to help, but Hermione probably needed something to do with her hands. Instead he stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, wondering once again why he had come, and whether he should give his condolences and quickly leave. It was clear, at least, that Potter didn’t want him there.
Hermione reentered the room, holding her own mug and levitating the other before her. Cedric caught his with a muttered, “Thanks.”
“Sit down, please.” She motioned to the sofa, and Cedric took the offered seat, Hermione sinking down next to him. “So then.” She eyed her tea, spinning the mug in her hand. Her voice was tense and strained. “So I suppose you heard about-about what-”
Hermione suddenly burst into tears, and before Cedric could say or do anything, Harry was there next to her. He pried the mug from Hermione’s fingers, and Hermione immediately clung to his waist. With her head buried in his chest, she made no attempt to stifle her sobs, while Potter mutely rubbed her back. He looked up at Cedric, and the question was unmistakable: Why are you here?
Cedric was asking himself the same thing, and didn’t need any more of a hint. He placed down his tea and moved to stand, but Hermione spun around and caught his wrist.
“No. Don’t go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Cedric sat back down and placed his hand over hers. “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in here like this…”
“Don’t be stupid.” Hermione let out a sigh, reaching for a new tissue and adding it to the pile when she was done with it. “Of course I appreciate that you came. I just wish I weren’t such a mess.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look gorgeous to me.”
Hermione choked out a wet laugh. “Always the flatterer.”
Cedric smiled briefly and then looked down at his lap. Their usual banter sounded horribly inappropriate in front of Harry, who remained sitting protectively close on Hermione’s other side. It would probably be best if he just said what he came to say, then quickly left. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I’m sure that … well, I just wanted to let you know that if there’s anything at all I can do to help …”
He was angry with himself the moment he said those words. What an awful, empty thing to say, and it only served to remind himself of his own uselessness.
But to his surprise, Hermione gave him a serious look, and then turned to face Harry, whose expression darkened. He shook his head once, sharply. Hermione gave him a pointed expression, and his eyebrows came together in frustration. Then he spoke.
“Hermione, no.”
Hermione let out a ragged sigh. “Why are you being so difficult about this? I don’t see-”
“Because this isn’t about him.” Harry’s eyes darted in his direction, and Cedric suddenly realized that he was the subject of their silent discussion. He found himself even more uncomfortable than before, not to mention a bit annoyed at Harry’s rudeness.
“This isn’t about you either! This is about Ron!” Hermione choked out the name, and turned to face Cedric again. Harry grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, looking determined. “Actually, Cedric, we could use your help.”
“Hermione, I’m not getting him involved!” Harry insisted.
Hermione ignored him. “First of all, you should know that Harry and I aren’t waiting for the Aurors to find Ron. It’s not that we don’t trust them, it’s just-” Hermione paused, and gave another small laugh. “All right, no, we don’t trust them. So we’ve been trying to track Ron down ourselves. I’m only telling you this because I trust you to keep quiet about it.”
Cedric nodded, although he wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “Of course.”
“The problem is that we don’t really know anything,” said Hermione with a sad shrug. “We already talked to the last person Ron spoke with. Just some witch up north who thought the cat going through her rubbish might have been a Death Eater.” Cedric wasn’t so surprised to hear this; everyone had been a bit on edge since the release of the Report last week. “And after that, he just-Apparated off. We don’t know where.”
Cedric listened carefully as Hermione spoke, waiting to see why she was sharing this information, while his eyes and thoughts kept wandering to Harry. This was the first time they had really interacted since the Tournament, and the first time Cedric had seen him up close, aside from press photos of a scowling man trying to cover his face.
In some ways, Harry bore little resemblance to the frightened kid who’d once out flown a dragon. The Harry Potter he used to know had been on the brink of adolescence: features caught somewhere between cute and handsome without achieving either, some added inches that only accentuated his skinny build, and a terrible posture to boot. The man sitting on the couch, however, was clearly an adult. He still had a small frame, but it had filled out considerably. He had a hard jaw line and confident eyes. He wasn’t handsome, not in the way Cedric knew himself to be handsome, but there was still something unconventionally attractive about him. Maybe it had more to do with the way he carried himself than his looks alone.
On the other hand, there were so many ways in which he hadn’t changed. His hair was still a scruffy mess that may have looked intentional five years ago. He still wore those unflattering frames, although Cedric was certain he could afford better. And he still had a terrible posture. Although now it didn’t seem to be a result of teenage awkwardness so much as a desire not to be seen.
Harry caught him staring, and Cedric immediately looked away.
“To be honest, I’m not sure where we go from here,” Hermione was saying. “And the Aurors are being frustratingly tight-lipped. They keep telling us Harry’s ‘too close to the case’ or some rubbish.”
“It’s because they know you too well,” Cedric suddenly interrupted, thinking of what Scott had told him earlier. “They know you’ll want to try and find him on your own, and they don’t want you getting underfoot. Or worse, making them look bad.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Harry. “We could be helping! We know Ron better than anyone.”
“I’m not saying I agree with it,” Cedric quickly added. Although, considering Harry’s record of bending the rules, he understood why the Aurors would want to distance themselves. He looked to Hermione expectantly. “So…what exactly do you need me to do?”
Hermione looked a little uncertain. “You don’t-you don’t have to, you know. It’s just that no one will tell us anything, and well, I thought…”
She trailed off, but understanding coalesced in Cedric’s mind. “You thought I could get you information.”
She looked back at Harry, before turning to Cedric and nodding. “I understand if it’s asking too much.”
Cedric was silent as he gave it some consideration. Hermione knew what she was asking, and she knew it wouldn’t sit well with him. He could get the information easily enough; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the Aurors had their reasons for withholding intelligence, whether he agreed with them or not, and she was essentially asking him to go against a Ministry department. That just wasn’t the way he did things. And then there was Harry. Should he really be taking risks for someone who didn’t even want him to?
Cedric quickly glanced over at him, and found Harry boldly staring back. Yet, to his surprise, it wasn’t hostility that he saw in Harry’s eyes anymore. It was a challenge-as though he didn’t think Cedric had it in him to say yes. As though this were some sort of test of character. There was an intense determination that lit up Harry’s face, a refusal to sit back and do nothing, a willingness to do whatever it took, and he was just daring Cedric to do the same.
Despite his misgivings, the clear challenge sparked something in Cedric’s chest, something exhilarating. He remembered standing in front of a goblet, one hand hovering over the rim clutching a tiny piece of parchment with his name.
Cedric looked Hermione in the eye and nodded. “Of course I’ll help.”
Chapter 2