A/N: This is the shortest chapter yet, and the least funny. The rating may go up, depending on how I feel about Harry's beast. This is where the plot starts going places, slowly.
Chapter Three
Being dead hadn't diminished the beauty of Cedric Diggory, of this Harry was absolutely sure. He was just as handsome as he had been, those three years ago that were small in number and far in distance, and this both shocked and bothered those around our resident tragic hero – surely, Cedric ought to have a hole eaten away by who-knows-what in the side of his cheek? Or maggots, crawling beneath his eyelids like a twitch that just won't go the hell away? When he speaks, his jaw should be making dreadful popping sounds and his teeth fall out at odd times, right?
Well, er, no, actually, Harry would tell them, awkward as you please. It'd be mighty uncomfortable for Cedric, actually.
And that, according to Dumbledore, was explanation enough for everyone -- even though the rest of almost-sane humanity hadn't a clue how.
Harry was left with the difficult task of figuring out how to make Cedric's heart start beating again. But that was okay, too, because Cedric was patient to a fault…and if either of them wanted to get romantic about it, they just had to think they were the heroes of a vampire romance (angry smut, not included).
It was frustrating and strange, and although he could somehow raise the fucking dead…he couldn't make them live again. Whenever Harry brooded on this, Hermione tended to wave a finger at him and smirk in that 'I knew it' way of hers. According to the bushy-haired young woman, Cedric was dead and that was all there was to it. Technically, Harry couldn't revive him.
This usually made Harry feel quite guilty, and although Cedric had made it quite clear that he was happy to be up and walking about, Harry felt that he was just better off dead.
Magic had its limits.
For Cedric, time hadn't really passed. When you're dead, you're dead – time doesn't mean anything, other than a measurement of the space between your departure and your reunion with someone you miss. In death, Cedric hadn't been around long enough to get to know his great-grandfather or his insane Aunt – again or at all.
From the moment he first opened his eyes in his new life, Cedric knew everything had changed and far too much time had passed – after all, the difference between fourteen and seventeen was a gap he had mused on before.
Harry was older, and he was going to keep going, and just like always Cedric had to catch up.
It hissed, then sniffed the air experimentally. A tremble shook its wasted body and the hound lowered its snout to gaze ahead with milky eyes. Fear hung heavy in the air, fuelling its intense, constant hunger. It stumbled forward.
There was meat nearby, and the longer it pursued its prey the better it would taste. It was learning, and times were changing. Its toes spread and curved, black talons dug into the moist soil of the forest. Far off, a bird cawed, but it ignored the sound.
Dirty ears twitched.
They called themselves Death Eaters, even though everyone knew that no-one could fight death – except, as Raymond had found out, Harry Potter. Apparently, not only did the righteous teenager stupidly fight against Voldemort, he also raised the dead. It was disturbing and dangerous, and now Raymond and Jesse saw further reason to dispose of the disruptive boy as soon as possible: he was a freak of nature, a dark creature.
And Potter knew that they knew and had sent his demon after them.
It was a rare clearing, its novelty enriched by its location in the midst of heavy deciduous forest. A dead, thick trunk of a tree lay sideways across it, its center chewed away by other vegetation and vermin. It looked almost like a bleached bone, picked clean of its life by some starving scavenger.
Jesse gulped and pulled his dark coat tighter around him. It was cool, this deep into the trees. Just enough sunlight scattered itself about to light the way. Raymond was muttering to himself next to his colleague, looking at a dirty map with a frustrated frown on his face.
"We need to get going," he whispered, folding his arms across his chest. Raymond's grey eyes flickered towards him, blank and frightening as always. Jesse shivered again, unconsciously drawing away from his temporary partner.
"We have time." The other responded. His voice was flat and uncaring, but he kept his tone just as low as Jesse had.
"It's still following us."
"We lost it."
"You don't know that."
Jesse ran a hand through his hair, looking around them. The trees looked threatening, even during the day thanks to the past day's events. Truthfully, he was glad they had stopped. Always running had tired him out, and he wasn't sure if he actually could keep going.
Raymond didn't respond, he just turned back to the worn map with deeper creases on his brow.
A demon scratched at a tree.
