Title: The Artifice
Author: join_the_conga
Rating: teen friendly (adult language and themes, but no nastiness)
Characters: Cedric Diggory*, Tom Riddle Jr., Hermione Granger
(* denotes main character; story revolves mostly around him)
Summary: Cedric Diggory wants nothing other than to survive through the tournament that he can take lightly no more. Unexpected second parties agree with his goal and begin to help him in his plight. However… just who is it that can really help him? The faceless benefactor who has taught him the importance of a ruse… or the girl whose hair is as unmanageable as her worry? Who can Cedric depend on when he doesn't think he can depend on himself? Throw in a bit of romance, drama, and a mysterious diary and you've got the makings for an exceptional sixth year at Hogwarts for this Hufflepuff.
Why is it that curses frighten you, Cedric?
Well… take a look at the things we eat. Think of… lobster. It's an ugly, ugly creature, and certainly an ugly, ugly dish. Note how it lives: it is a bottom-feeder, it pinches when distressed, its hard shell is quite difficult to break through—not to mention that it's extremely ugly! But someone, somewhere, fished it up one day and thought, "You know, I could eat this…"
...
…While I must admit that that was amusing, I also must say that I am lost…
The point is… It's all well and good to have knowledge of curses, know what they do and… know why we should avoid using them against others. But a Killing Curse? A curse specifically used for torturing people? Ones where you can take all the fight and free will out of a person? And it's not just the Unforgivables! I've read of curses designed to make the victims' appendages freeze slowly until they break. I've heard of magic that makes its targets relive their worst fears for the rest of their lives. I've heard of one spell that gives me nightmares still!... It replicates the water in your body until you drown, from the inside… They're all so horrible… And I'm sure that there are others that I don't wish to know of, that I, hopefully, never will… But the effects aren't the things that scare me most… No, I'm most frightened of whatever witch or wizard it was that picked up their wand and thought, "You know, I could make this…"
Cedric clamped his eyes shut, trying to stop the chilling stir that riffled up his spine. His stomach twisted and his arms and legs trembled. How was it that the wizarding world never thought of these things? How was it that these curses were still being used?
…Are the names of those who created these curses written somewhere? In some dark tome, do the names of those who haunt him list themselves on endless sheets of parchment?
How could people just forget? How could this history of curses be so blasé that even those around him didn't question it? He was taught what they were, what using them meant, why he shouldn't use them…
Why wasn't he taught how important it was to not create more?
Cedric… Riddle's response was careful, cautious. Cedric, I've never thought of that before. It is quite something to think over. Cedric scoffed half-heartedly, still trying to shake off his tremors from before.
Tell me… and do not be offended…
Are you upset… because you have made such a curse? Or that, if you study further with the dark arts… you believe that you will?
Cedric gripped his quill firmly. His arm did not quake this time, and his answer was certain.
No. Never have I created such a spell, nor will I ever. Humanity means something to me, and I never want to have a hand in damaging it.
The diary seemed warmer to the touch as he drifted his fingers over his response. He was quite pleased with it and had a feeling that he would always be just a bit proud of this statement. He had every intention of maintaining that honesty and that commitment for as far ahead as he could even imagine his future. He liked to think that it was his calling, of sorts.
I am curious, then… how is it that you became so preoccupied with your musings?
Cedric actually managed to chuckle at the irony. How else? I studied shields.
Cedric Diggory: humanitarian protector, activist for wizarding peace and for the safety of all.
He quite liked that thought.
If he were honest with himself, the title was just a bit inspired by the modern-day muggles. Just a bit.
Tom went on without his attention.
Now that is intriguing, Cedric. Tell me, have you read Sheeld Magick? It's a very poorly translated text from Bosnia, of all places, but that region happens to be a leader in recent endeavors into sustained shielding—it maintained that shortly after the assassination, you must understand. The region holds the title of aggressor for the conflict, that much is true, but it is astonishing how many preemptive attempts at shielding were made before the Serbs—
Hold! What are you referring to, Tom? It was quite astonishing to Cedric how quickly the diary could get away with him.
The Archduke, of course. The Serbian magical community led an underground foray into shield experiments before the onset of the Great War. Texts like Sheeld Magick and other lesser titles such as Finite Defenses and Art of Sheeld: Making Safe (horrible translations, I know) aroused from these efforts. I imagine that they—the wizards, of course—knew of the consequences of the first real European war since Napoleon, what with the new weaponry and political tensions, and had begun to prepare themselves...
Cedric shook his head in a vague sense of disbelief.
By Tom's next response, Cedric wondered, as he had at times, whether or not the diary could, in fact, see him... or at least read into his thoughts...
...It's World War I, Cedric, really! Children should be well informed of their history, for it explains far too many thingsto be ignored so heinously.
Cedric cooled a bit at being referred to as a child, though he could somewhat understand Tom's frustration in constantly having to explain himself. He did seem quite the scholar, making Cedric feel foolish in ignorance as often as he felt proud during the conversations in which he could actually keep up. Cedric briefly wondered how much schooling Tom had completed after Hogwarts...
I'm sorry, Tom. I'm just imagining all of the discussions I'll be able to have with you in the future. It's like you're your own reference source. It's incredible!
Be that as it may, Tom wrote, slightly mollified, you must keep on top of your learning. How else do you expect to live as a good and helpful citizen?
Ah! Cedric grinned and wrote back. Just making sure I'm serving as a constructive member of society, are you? I didn't know you cared so much, Tom...
Ha ha, came Tom's reply, you are just the comedian today, aren't you Cedric?
I didn't know I was entertaining you so well, Tom.
Well, it's not as if I have many other stimulating conversationalists with which to pass the time, Mr. Diggory...
Cedric frowned. Now who's the comedian? The response was ambiguous enough, but Cedric did come away from Tom's peculiarly nasty jibe feeling just a bit—
Oh, to hell with it, Cedric. I've just realized how horribly that last comment could've come across. Do forgive a diary lacking in proper inflection, will you?
Cedric reluctantly chuckled. It was decided: Tom could read his thoughts.
Are you flattering yourself into thinking that I could have been hurt by your careless ramblings, Mr. Riddle? Cedric joked.
Hmm... Fine. I'm not sorry. Go fuck yourself.
Cedric's eyes widened in shock before he burst into surprised, loud laughter.
I'm so appalled! Delicate ears present!
Delicate eyes, you mean...
Cedric laughed again ruefully, but still with just the right amount of mirth. These delicate eyes have to retire themselves for now, Mr. Riddle. After having been so grossly offended, they need a bit of a break before afternoon classes begin.
You've managed to have a thirty minute conversation with me during your lunch hour? Cedric liked to think that Tom was vaguely impressed.
I eat fast.
Well, don't choke... You are in your dormitory, correct?
Cedric sighed, becoming used to—but not quite happy—with Tom's perpetual suspicion. Yes, of course, Tom. I wouldn't betray your trust like that. I know that you don't want anyone to know of us...
And I know that is difficult to trust someone you can't see. For that, I admire your generosity. You have far more warmth than anyone I have met.
Cedric blushed at the compliment. First you tell me to piss off, next you admire me. Ah, the Mercurial Mr. Riddle is at it again...
Oh, quit dodging, you ninny. And, for the record, I told you to go fuck yourself. Just accept my accolades like a good boy and get to class. If you have Charms today, I hope you'll ask Flitwick about those books. He'll probably know better than Moody of Bosnian history as he lived through much of it...
Well, the shields are more of a side-project endeavor. I've not actually done coursework with them, per se... And Moody does seem to be helpful—
But not in history, Cedric. From what you've told me, he seems a brilliant loon.
Well— Cedric defended. Then he stopped and wondered why he was bothering. —Well, yes, I suppose... But I'm sure he's misunderstood on some level...
Aren't the lunatics always written off as misunderstood?
Well, yes...
Cedric glanced at the clock at his bedside and gave a start.
Damn! I'm going to be late for DADA! I'll have to finish this conversation later, Tom.
We'll finish later, he corrected. And try to hurry back. Free time is something I don't need more of, I'm afraid.
Yes, will do. Cedric wrote his farewell messily, one hand darting over the page, the other pushing himself off the bed and packing up his bag. We'll talk later tonight, promise.
...At this rate, you'll have to leg it. Go—NOW!
As Cedric tapped his wand on a slat of the bed, creating an opening just big enough for a small picture frame—or perhaps a book—Tom's last words faded from the page.
Ta for now, Mr. Diggory.
Cedric slid the diary home before tapping once again and letting his bedsheet fall over the side of the wooden frame. He hurried out of the sixth-year dormitories, flitting down the stairs and even taking a few of them at a time. Following this, there were many long, quick strides toward the classroom.
Tom was right: he did have to leg it.
And he was just in time, too, to run into a Miss Hermione Granger muttering darkly under her breath as she ripped down poster after poster of his figure with a flaming head. They were all pasted on the wall in a corner, nothing spanning the brick for any great length, but the details of a fire-enveloped Cedric Diggory were quite apparent.
"Well, they certainly got my features well captured, don't you think?"
It was a joke, but, as what was becoming the usual in the past few days, he felt vulnerable, perhaps hurt. He thought that maybe he shouldn't have spoken at all as Hermione whipped around, first panicked and then shamefaced. Then some combination of pitying and embarrassed took over.
"They—they're not—" she stuttered—as he guessed she normally did when trying to story-tell.
"They're of me with my head on fire. There's not a whole lot to misinterpret, Hermione."
"I—well I didn't draw them! I'm trying to take them down—"
"What? To protect Potter?" He pointed to the figure that was roasting marshmallows over Cedric's hair in the picture, lightning-bolt scar quite easily seen.
"No! He doesn't like them either. He better not be encouraging this—"
"Is this you being a team player again or something?" Even he thought he sounded cruel. "Making sure everyone is fair and fighting cleanly, are you?"
Hermione drew back. "No," she said quietly enough that he began to feel worse than he already did, guilt adding to the anger and mortification. She bucked up then. "No. Believe it or not, Diggory, I was doing it because I didn't want you to see them."
"So I wouldn't send my friends after him?" As if he would ever!
Her eyes narrowed, and, no longer cowering at his poor attitude, she began to rebuke him instead. "So you wouldn't see them, that's why! Because, whether or not you care, Harry was indeed hurt by the buttons. He acted like he wasn't, he ignored them when he could, but they bothered him. Not because they made him angry, but because they were hurtful. These—" she gestured to the now mostly down posters, "—were retaliation and arrogance talking. Harry didn't make them, I'll admit that another Gryffindor did, and the twins already didn't like you very much from last year, but this is just mean, and..." She paused to look at him, seemingly losing some of her own fire. "And I knew that they could—would be hurtful to you if you saw them..."
Cedric sighed and forced himself to look at her. "Like the buttons were to Harry?"
She nodded. "Like the buttons were to Harry."
He took a breath, steeling himself before breaking down a little. "I'm—I'm sorry." He shrugged a little helplessly. "I know that I was just in the wrong here. I know that you wouldn't do that, that you aren't spreading these. And..." He gulped. "And I believe that Harry isn't either. I'm sorry."
Hermione wasn't able to skirt around the awkwardness very gracefully. She chewed her pink lip thoughtfully before trying to smile at him. It didn't really work. "It's okay, I think. Maybe help me take them down?"
So they worked together to get rid of the Cedric-effacing posters, Banishing the "joking" papers in tandem until the wall was again clean.
He was beyond late for class, had gathered that she was too, and he thought to stay behind for some conversation to relax the tension between acquaintances. "So, the Gryffindors have it out for me, huh?"
Hermione blew out a gust of air. "Not all of them," she murmured rather waspishly, her brow clearing as she continued. "Not all the Gryffindors, Cedric. Like I said, retaliation and arrogance talking, not any real dislike."
"You think?" he asked, turning straight on to her.
Hermione may have hesitated before nodding, but he let it go.
"Damn those buttons," he tried conversationally, but all she did was nod again. "You know, I never encouraged them, Hermione."
Her big brown eyes met his. "Did you tell them to stop wearing them, then?"
And how could he lie to a face as open as that?
"..."
Cedric scratched the area between his shoulder and his neck and looked away.
She made a quiet "Hmm," of disapproval. Cedric blushed.
Building up his confidence, he turned to look at her. She seemed to wait for him to lean forward and to widen his eyes in sincerity before he announced that he would, indeed, start dissuading people of his house—and those out of his house, too—to stop targeting Harry with pro-Cedric propaganda.
"So the Gryffindors don't make anti-Cedric propaganda?" she asked with just a hint of disappointment.
"No. No, I..." He looked at some of the posters Hermione had already tossed to the ground that they had yet to get rid of. "I kind of deserve this, I think."
Hermione looked up at him, perplexed, that pink lip between her teeth again.
Cedric tried to convey honesty as best he could, knowing how much he wanted to win her trust... though he didn't know why he wanted to win her trust...
He leaned in further, back concave and head dipped low. "Just between us... I've been a right git about this so far."
She swallowed and blinked a lot again, reminding him of the library. He wondered about the responses she was thinking of that wouldn't escape her head—and by the time it took her to speak again, there must have been a few she'd had to choose from. He just knew, somehow, that she blinked unconsciously when her mind was turning.
"Um... how?"
Well... that was less... tactful than what he had expected.
Her lack of grace was followed by his just-as-bumbling stutters: "Well, a-about... everything? I suppose?..." She blinked up at him again, this time slowly and skeptically. Her right eyebrow raised, and she waited for him to elaborate. Again.
"What I mean is... I've been... so blind. To everything in this tournament. And facing a dragon... I don't know if I could have received a more effective wake-up call than that."
Her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you okay, Cedric? You don't have to worry—you have to focus." She smiled, brighter than Cedric expected. "The friends do the worrying. Well, sometimes they do the focusing too, but that's mainly your job."
"My friends don't do the worrying. Or the focusing. They do the basking."
"Basking. In what? Your glory?"
He was a bit miffed at her disgust.
"Basking in something, at least. Hufflepuff pride, maybe?"
She "Hmm"-ed again.
"Well..." he began, "now you know that I've been a git. A lot. I'm sorry."
He was surprised at her surprise. "What are you apologizing for?"
"Uh... I don't really know, I guess. I just kinda feel guilty all around. Feel like I should wear a sign that says 'This Git Is Humbled And Sorry' or something."
"Humbled... so you're sorry for being... too confident?"
"Arrogant, you mean? Vainly, stupidly arrogant? Yes, I—"
"Cedric, you weren't arrogant! You were never mean to Harry, you never asserted yourself as the Hogwarts Champion... In all, I thought you handled Harry's... insertion quite... gracefully."
He pondered and blushed and pondered some more. After the pink cheeks and self-reflection, he ended up shaking his head in response. "No, I feel as if I was wrong for... acting like I was... I did ignore the badges, I did enjoy the attention, I liked feeling... elite and chosen... I was a prick—Sorry!" She had flinched at his crass remark. "But, really, I was—you know—a... that..."
She looked up at him and wetted her pink mouth in contemplation. "Cedric, you can't feel guilty for being proud—"
"Arrogant."
"—Proud... And you should still be proud of yourself. What you've done is incredible, and you'll do more incredible things to come. Maybe just don't let it get to your head this time?..." She trailed off uncertainly as if she realized that her statement could have offended him.
He shook his head and smiled, albeit sadly and ironically. "Remember what I've said, Hermione? The only thing in my head now goes something along the lines of, 'Cedric! You LOON! THERE'S NO WAY YOU CAN DO THIS!'"
The Gryffindor settled her hands on her hips and announced quite bossily: "Stop being so negative. You have people who will support and help you, make you see what potential you have, make you see that you can be the TriWizard Champion!"
His hopeless rebuttal was quick after hers: "No, you don't understand! My friends... they don't get it. They don't see that I struggled—am struggling. They don't see that I'm... kind of lost."
Cedric heard her mumble something, something that he was honestly convinced could not be the exclamation of "Boys!"
"Well..." she continued, "are you sure that you maybe haven't told... them... that you're having doubts and maybe need help?..."
He shook his head resolutely. "No, they just wouldn't get it."
"I believe that friends 'get' more than the people who have them give credit for," she said quite haughtily.
"Not—not these friends. They... they just wouldn't."
"Hmm." He was getting quite irritated with that. "I think you should try to be more... open with your friends. I do think that... at least one of them will understand."
Cedric sampled a tiny bit of the mortification he would feel once all his bravado-ized walls were collapsed. They knew him since he was young, but... this year, it felt like nobody really knew him... Tom would probably be his closest confidant right now... What a realization...
"I'll think about telling them."
She "Hmm"-ed, this time happily, and smiled again. "See? Not so hard to even consider it, is it?"
"But I still have no idea what to do to prepare now." Apparently, he insisted on being a downer in their conversation. "And I know none of them will help me research outside of class."
There was a brief silence. He realized that he had maybe just hinted to Hermione that—
"I can. I can help you... research."
"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to..." He witnessed a bit guiltily that she started to deflate at his refusal for her help. "I mean, Hermione, that I wasn't trying to... con you into anything... If you don't want to, you don't have to. I'm not going to guilt you into anything, I promise."
She huffed and said, "Well, I'm going to be doing my own research to help Harry, so I'll be in the library anyway, doing the same thing..."
Cedric was admittedly baffled. "You... you want to help?"
She looked insulted at his skepticism, but, really, he'd never thought that she would...
"Cedric," she said, just a bit condescendingly. The she brightened and became the cutest little shy Gryffindor with frizzy hair that he had ever seen. "I always want to help."
Hermione Granger was really something. Cedric blushed, quite happily.
A.N. So... it's been a bit... But, I've got an update and (supposedly) an outline. Summer's running out, I'm still without a beta, but... I'd love to trek on, if I can. Any help on this front would be awesome. Also, I've started an experiment of sorts called "Ten Seconds With Tom." Go to my LiveJournal account and take a lookie, if you want. I think I'll be posting those "promos" up the week before an update just to maybe get some juices flowing. Tell me if it sucks or not, okay? Anyway, I know I've been kinda crappy with the whole actually-finishing-the-story thing, but I'd like to try... And I'd love even more to get some support. I haven't abandoned this baby yet (contrary to what some might believe), and it's got potential (to me at least), so I'm gonna keep it rolling in for us. Show some love with some lovely reviews. Thanks much!