"Remember, if the time should come, when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory!" ~ Albus Dumbledore
This is the first of three parts to this story.
Usual disclaimers apply, i.e. all rights belong to J.K. Rowling and none to me=)
Hope you enjoy this part and please let me know what you think!
How I first met him (Part 1 of 3)
In the wizarding world there is many a creature unknown to almost everyone, so it is hardly a surprise that Hermione had never heard of spirits before she met one.
Those people who believe in these kind of supernatural appearances usually tell you that in order to see a person's spirit you have to be closely connected to him or her, some even going as far as saying that only soulmates can ever achieve to see one another's spirit.
So it came completely unexpected that Hermione should see the spirit of a person she had hardly known, someone who had definitely been much closer to other people than her.
And yet, of all people, she was the only one who could see him, talk to him, help him.
The first time she had noticed that something was wrong was at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, when Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's lifeless body. There had been an uproar when he arrived in the manner he did, and it took Hermione a while to understand why. "Is he dead?", she had heard other people shout fearfully and the girl hadn't understood why. For clearly, both of them were there, alive and healthy.
And then the impression faded and she had realized that the body Harry was holding was indeed that – a lifeless body void of any emotion.
The shock had washed over her, like it had done to anyone else, but instead of crying, like most of the other girls were doing, Hermione had just stood there, her face expressionless and her eyes had taken on a distant glint, as if she was looking for something – or someone.
Everything after that passed in a swirl, and considering the aftermath of the event – Harry getting nearly killed by the impersonation of Alastor Moody – it is hardly a surprise that Hermione forgot all about the strange experience, or maybe pushed it aside as irrelevant.
It was in the second week of Fifth Year that Hermione first saw him. She was walking down a seldom used corridor on her way to the library, when she saw him leaning against a doorframe, a tall, blonde boy clad in Hufflepuff robes and a sad look in his eyes.
If things had been any different, she probably wouldn't even have taken notice of him, would have just nodded at him and brushed past him without ever looking at him too closely.
But something captured her, the sadness of his look maybe, the eyes which revealed that he did expected her to do just that, brush right past him without sparing him a second glance.
So Hermione slowed down and walked towards him, as a look of surprise crossed his features.
"Who are you?", she asked him, although, in all honesty, she already knew.
He did not reply her, but instead held up his hand, as if to tell her to stop walking. But with knowledge she didn't know she had, she recognized that he wasn't telling her to go away, but that he was rather trying whether it was possible for him to touch her - touch anybody, really.
His eyes seemed to be pleading with her and ever so slowly, she brought up her own hand and moved it toward his. And with a sense of clarity she knew that she couldn't touch him, not in the way she used to think of touch, that her hand would go right through his if she "pushed" ever so slightly against his.
So with great care she moved her hand until it was just in front of his, her hand looking smaller than it actually was in contrast to his. And a feeling overcame her, for even though she didn't feel the warmth of his hand on hers, didn't physically feel anything, she felt its presence and Hermione learnt that there was more to a touch than the physical aspect of it, because this touch was real, more so than the handshake she would exchange with an acquaintance.
The look of surprise on his face deepened, but it wasn't able to wash away the sadness in his eyes. "You know that I am here", he said, in a voice of utter disbelief. And with that, he had disappeared.
She did not see him again for three weeks, three weeks in which she wondered, mediated, pondered. Three weeks in which she researched, investigated, consulted. Three weeks in which she doubted her own sanity.
For the library, which had never failed Hermione before in her entire life, refused to give her any answers to the questions she had. For the only thing she could find about hours of fruitless search about spirits – which she had decided to label the phenomena she had witnessed – was that in order to see one, you had to be important to the person who had died, very important really, since it could only ever be seen by one person. Those two people, the dead and the 'recipient' often were soulmates, though they didn't have to be. But how could she be important to him, who had known nothing about her, but the fact that she was a Hogwarts student, too.
Hermione had always been one to treat books with care, but at that moment, she fought hard to suppress the urge of throwing that book against the wall and trampling on it.
So Hermione decided to do something she had never done in her life before: to give up. The library didn't hold any answers for her, and she was too busy trying to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble with Umbridge and trying to find a way to learn something in Defence Against the Dark Arts despite Umbridge's teaching methods. When had life become so frustratingly difficult?
No sooner when she had decided to give up on her research, she saw him again. He was sitting in the same corridor, leaning against the same door and by the looks of it, he had been waiting for her, for when she got close to him, he got up to his feet.
"I'm sorry I ran away", he said.
"It's ok", she replied, for there was hardly anything else to say.
A pregnant pause ensued, until Hermione decided to take the initiative.
"I think we should talk", she said. "Do you have time?" The question was out of her mouth before she realized its ineptness.
She was about to apologize when he smiled at her ever so slightly and answered: "Now seems to be as good a time as any" and pointed to the room behind him.
"I'm Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger", when she walked past him to open the door and let herself in.
He walked, well more like glided in behind her and she closed the door. "I'm Cedric Diggory", he said and Hermione was about to answer with 'I know', but decided against it. He gave her another one of his half-smiles, seemingly aware of what she had just been about to say.
"At least that's who I used to be", he added as a belated afterthought.
'Used to be, if that isn't the right choice of wording, I don't know what is', Hermione thought to herself as she walked up to the front of the abandoned classroom, pulled out the chair at the teacher's desk and sat down.
"This is weird, isn't it?", she said, laughing in a high-pitched voice.
"It is", Cedric simply said and took to stand a few feet away from her.
"I never would have guessed that you would be the only one able to see me", he added.
The way he took in her appearance made her uneasy, and yet he understood why he was scrutinizing her with his eyes the way he did. If she had been in his place, she would have wanted to find out why the hell the girl opposite to him was the only one who realized that he – or at least a part of him – was still there.
"What are you?", she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but he understood her just as well.
"If only I knew", he answered sadly. "I only have some theories and yet, how can I be sure?"
He looked at her questioningly. "You probably think I'm crazy!"
Hermione tried to reassure him. "Well, I'm the one sitting on this chair, talking to you. So if you are crazy, that would probably make me crazy, too."
He smiled at her, the first genuine smile since they had met, and yet, even at that moment, the sadness did not leave his eyes.
"You know, at first I thought I was a ghost". Hermione nodded, she had been thinking as much herself, but had, probably as fast as he had, dismissed that idea.
"So I tried to talk to them. But they didn't even realize that I was there." He sounded bitter, but he had probably every reason to.
"And something else wasn't right. I don't know how much you know about ghosts, but they decide to stay here willingly. And I – I was never asked, never given the choice." His voice broke at the last statement.
"So I thought, maybe I had to stay here, because there are things I yet have to do, things I left unfinished."
"Are there?", Hermione asked gently.
"Yes", he said.
Cedric didn't need to say it, for Hermione understood without him saying explicitly so. He was not ready to share what he yet had to do, not yet.
"I have to go", she said, as she took a look at her watch. "It's nearly curfew."
"Right", he said and then added hesitantly. "Meet me again?"
"Yes", Hermione answered. "Same place, same time tomorrow?"
He nodded and Hermione made to leave, but turned one last time when she was at the door. "It was nice talking to you." With that she left and left behind a confused Cedric Diggory.
