It had taken months of planning, searching, hoping, and waiting, but the moment Cedric had dreamed of for ages had finally arrived. The archway between the world beyond and life on Earth had opened, the impossible was somehow possible, and Cedric had taken a risk and entered. He'd been on a wild journey across the stars and to the ends of the universe in the past eternity of a year, but no glittering supernova or vast expanse of light could ever hope to compare to the warm, humble glow of his home. A year after his death at the hand of Lord Voldemort's servant (a fact Cedric had learned from the newspaper given to him by the kind Londoner in the terminal), Cedric Diggory had returned to walk the earth as a living being once more.
Unfortunately, Cedric's restored life had come at a heavy price. Nothing so rare and powerful could ever be freely given. With every step he took, the knowledge that he'd given up a core part of himself weighed on his mind. He was unquestionably changed now, no longer the same Cedric Diggory that had lost his life one year before.
How strange, that it was only a year-where Cedric had been, he felt as if he'd lived an entire lifetime. New experiences and new opportunities had been around every corner, just waiting for him to dive in and learn. He could have had almost everything he wanted, but he chose to trade it all for the one gift he had now.
Here he was, back in the tiny village that had raised him. He spared a glance over his shoulder at the small home on the hill. That was the Burrow, wasn't it? Where the Weasleys lived. He hoped they were all right. Whatever had happened after his death couldn't have been pleasant if He Who Must Not Be Named was involved. Especially for Ron Weasley's friend and Cedric's fellow champion, Harry-what had happened to him? Cedric resolved to ask his parents once this first major issue was resolved.
The first major issue? Cedric's home and family waited just down this road. If they hadn't moved in the interim, they should still be there. They were the entire reason he'd fought so hard to return to life. He could just about see the smile in his mind: if he could make Dad happy once more, all the pain and sacrifice would be worthwhile.
If not, however…the price to pay was higher still. Cedric would honestly rather die once more than be turned away. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his fists in the denim fabric. He wouldn't be rejected for this, would he?
Finally, Cedric could dawdle no more. He'd reached the small fence that surrounded the Diggory home, still painted in that bright and cheery shade of yellow they loved. When he was tossing tulips in the garden, Amos always had a serene smile on his face. Would Cedric see it again?
He hoped so. Swallowing hard. he gently closed the fence behind him. The winding path seemed shorter than he remembered-was it really shorter, or had his memory stretched in his absence? Cedric couldn't recall. Finally, he was standing in front of the simple wooden door. With any luck, his father would be behind it.
Cedric wrung his hands in front of him for several minutes, leaning to the side and peering into the windows for fleeting seconds. Was anyone home? How would they react? Would it be all right? He worried, biting his lip for several seconds until it threatened to bleed.
No, he'd stop this. There was no need to bleed to prove that he was alive. He felt it-it was hard to explain, but a living body felt warm and vibrant. It was the sort of subtle sensation he hadn't missed until its absence in death.
There would be time to ponder on that later. For now, it was time to knock. He knocked twice-tentative at first, then strong and sharp.
There was a shuffling behind the door paired with a grumbling about those Muggle salespeople. Remarkably inefficient, traveling from door to door, when Apparition was so much simpler. Cedric felt his stomach clench. No-no. He forced his imagination back on track. He was Cedric, not a salesperson. There was nothing to fear.
Cedric stepped back, knowing the door would open any second. I'm home, Dad.
Finally, it opened. Cedric wasn't sure what he was expecting: shocked silence? Hello? A hug? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't the angry snarl and wand point jabbed at his throat that he received after just a moment of silence. Despite his short stature, Amos Diggory in that moment was the most intimidating man Cedric had ever laid eyes on.
"Leave this place at once! Whatever trick you're trying to pull isn't welcome here!" The man's angry speech seemed remarkably well-composed. Cedric guessed that his father must have suspected that an impostor of his son would appear at the front door someday. But why…
"Dad, wait! It's-"
"Expelliarmus!" Cedric flew back without resistance, slamming into the gravel path some feet away. Amos was crouched over him in an instant, wand still fixed on the face that mimicked his deceased son's. Cedric swallowed and tried again.
"Dad, it's me, Cedric. Look, I've-"
"Silence!" Amos roared, the corners of his cloak shaking with rage that Cedric had never seen before. "You have no right to assume that form! You're the worst, lowest, most vile scum of the Earth!"
Oh. That explained it. With Voldemort back, of course his father would be worried about attacks. from Death Eaters. Knowing his dad…he'd probably been preparing to take on Voldemort himself if he ever had the opportunity. When Amos Diggory had been slighted (and the murder of his only son was far more than a mere slight), revenge was always at the forefront.
Cedric caught a glimpse of another light from the end of his father's wand, and then he knew no more.
Amos had been certain it was Polyjuice Potion, the hairs secretly taken from the body a year ago and kept alive through some dark magic he knew nothing about. It was like a dark wizard to keep the hairs of his victims and cause further torment to their families, wasn't it? Amos had nightmares about it several times a month-he'd see Cedric's smiling face, be lulled into warmth, safety, and happiness, and then it morphed. The body became cold and bony. The eyes were red and locked on his. Another murder was just about to happen.
When this person had appeared on his doorstep, therefore, he had months of imagined encounters to fall back on. Quick as a Nimbus, he knocked the doppelganger of his son unconscious and waited for the effect to inevitably wear off.
Three hours later, the unconscious young man on the couch still looked entirely like Cedric. If it had been Polyjuice Potion, wouldn't the effects have worn off within an hour?
Maybe it was another type of magic. Amos whirled his wand, waving it over the body in several complex patterns. Toiling for at least an hour, perhaps two, he exhausted every possible cause of the phenomenon that he could think of.
None of his tests had found a trace of magic in the body on the couch, a most unusual outcome. Every wizard had at least a baseline level of magic, detectable even if the wizard had no active spells and was in the deepest of sleeps. There should have been at least a thread, even if the power was suppressed.
By all accounts, the young man that bore Cedric Diggory's face was an entirely ordinary Muggle. And that just couldn't be right. Their son was one of the best wizards Hogwarts had ever seen, if not the very best-in Amos's opinion, which was clearly entirely objective and not at all biased by a father's love in any way.
The truth was undeniable, though: every spell he cast identified the boy as Cedric Diggory. His son, resurrected. It wasn't possible, and yet he was close enough to touch. Was it really true? Could he believe it?
They'd have so much to discuss, Amos thought, cupping the boy's cheek as though it might vanish at any moment. It probably would-there was no record of something like this ever happening. It had to be impossible. But he could afford to pretend for now.
When he rose to consciousness, Cedric let out a low moan. Dad's spells had given him a massive headache—it was almost as bad as the pain of his initial resurrection. Wow.
Before he could even think of sitting up, a familiar hand settled on his shoulder. The weight was comfortable but firm, leaving no room for argument. And was it just a little tense?
"Easy. You were stunned twice. And I'm sorry about that, by the way-just taking precautions, you know."
Amos knelt beside the couch, taking his son's hand. It was so warm. How could it be that his dear boy was alive? No magic could resurrect the dead. It was law, clear as day, known by all of wizardkind. Yet Cedric had defied one of their deepest laws. As always, Cedric proved how extraordinary he was...if it really was him. He still didn't entirely believe it. But he wanted to believe it so badly.
"...Dad? You're sure it's me this time?" Cedric asked groggily. His body still ached in the aftermath of his father's spells. The magic felt foreign now, something powerful that would never be in his grasp again. It was something as incomprehensible as the size of the universe, even after all the time he'd spent dead. He hung his head. All his father's dreams for him, dead.
"It shouldn't be. It can't be. I thought it was Polyjuice, another transfiguration, a trick, anything!" Amos rushed through the words. He shuddered, feeling the fear he'd felt for his remaining family every day since he'd lost his son. "But I've tried every spell I know. There's no magic hiding you. Somehow…I really think it's you, Cedric. But it can't be."
Amos lifted Cedric's chin, urging the boy to look at him. He needed to see the life in Cedric's grey eyes, the eyes that were so cold and empty when he'd last seen them. Cedric shifted uneasily under his father's stare.
"It really is, just let me explain. But first, I'm sorry." Cedric paused, reaching up to run a shaky hand through his hair. "I wanted to find you as soon as I could. But I couldn't. I had to find a way out, to bargain for it. I had to prove that I really wanted to go back, and that's not easy when the world after death is so…mind-blowing. But I made my trade," he finally admitted.
He couldn't say it yet.
Amos's eyes softened. His boy. It was all he could have possibly asked for to see his Cedric, to hear his voice and hold him once more. And what did it say about him that he loved his family so much that he'd trade an amazing world away for it?"Talk to me, Ced. Where were you?"
"I was…beyond. I can't remember much of it now, but it was nice. Peaceful. No one hurts you there, and you can see almost anything you want to, or anyone who's gone before. But I didn't belong there, even with all those people around. It was lonely. I had to come back, if there was any way. I don't remember how it happened, exactly, but I talked to someone about it. A…book-keeper, of sorts. They let me through, this once. I think they were in an unusually good mood for some reason. But I had to trade for it."
"What was the price, Cedric?" Amos believed he already knew, but he needed to hear it from the boy's mouth.
Cedric bit his lip. Every goal and aspiration up until now had been about magic. He was supposed to be a great wizard, a Hogwarts Champion, an eventual Quidditch star. Maybe after all of that was done, he'd work in the Ministry beside his father. But none of that was for Cedric now. He no longer belonged to that world. It would be a line between them-no more Hogwarts education, no more trips to Diagon Alley, no more Quidditch matches.
Life as he'd known it was over.
"Ced?" There was his father, sitting beside Cedric and tightening an arm around his shoulders. Amos rubbed his son's shoulders encouragingly, just the same as he'd done when Cedric was a distraught little boy. The man was convinced: how could anyone but his son look quite so confused when he was upset? A parent knows their child.
Unable to stop himself at the familiar gesture, Cedric answered.
"It was my magic. I didn't drop a wand when you disarmed me, didn't you see? It was with me when I returned, but I snapped it. It's completely useless to me now. I'm a Muggle," Cedric spat, pulling away from his father and curling into the end of the couch. "I won't be going back for seventh year. I won't be a Quidditch player. And I can't work at the Ministry."
Amos sighed, adjusting his glasses. So it was true. Cedric's aspirations in life would certainly change. He'd have to study at home and go to one of their universities, maybe play football or rugby. He'd be great at it, undoubtedly. But as far as Amos was concerned, his son was missing the larger picture. Amos pushed himself across the couch, coaxing Cedric to rejoin him with a hand on his side. Cedric followed, sporting a confused expression.
"I'm sorry, son," Amos whispered, ruffling Cedric's hair. "Those things meant a lot to you. And they meant a lot to me too. But they meant so much to me because you were doing so well. You were happy when you won the cup, or when you had good marks. You had the biggest smile in the class. Or did you think I only loved you for your magic?"
Cedric raised an eyebrow, waiting for his father to continue. "No, of course not.." Where was this going?
"That's right, because the entire idea is absurd! If I loved people for their magic, I'd be in an affair with the entire Ministry! And you know what your mother would have to say about that."
Cedric couldn't help himself. A tiny smile tugged at his lips.
That's my boy, Amos thought, his chest swelling with that familiar pride once more. It was a feeling he hadn't realised he'd missed.
"And I'll tell you something else. Don't you think for a second this means that you're not the best son in the world anymore," Amos continued, crushing Cedric in a rough embrace. The boy fell over his father's chest with a soft thud, face buried in Amos's shoulder. It was enough to make their eyes water.
"In fact, you're the greatest boy in the world twice over," Amos swore with his most sincere conviction, kissing his son's hair. "You've come back from the dead. That's my boy, beating the odds and rewriting the rules! I'd like to see Harry Potter try that!"
That earned a muffled and teary chuckle from Cedric, who was now clinging to his father without reservation. Fortunately, Amos couldn't see Cedric rolling his eyes. "You're not still on about that, are you?"
"Only because you're the best I've got, Ced. Nothing and no one's changed that, and they never will. You're my boy."
Cedric said nothing. There was no need. He was right where he belonged, curled up in his father's lap like a lost child home for the first time in an eternity. No peace in the life beyond could compare to the overwhelming joy and relief he felt at that moment.
After months of planning, searching, hoping, and waiting, Cedric Diggory was home again