Thanks for keeping up with this, guys! Remember, positive reviews of any level of eloquence give me life. I apologize in advance for any slip ups. It seems I'm forever expanding this already complete fic. (Part 1 anyway. Part 2 is still under construction.) Just this past week I divided and expanded 4 chapters bringing us to a total of 98 for Part 1 (with more dividing and expanding to come).
Over dinner, Hermione learned several things about the Diggorys that rather matched up with what Cedric told her. Belphoebe Diggory managed their home and their farm. They hired somebody to tend the animals while Cedric was at school, but over the summers it was his job. They work hard to care for their animals and have the best so that Ottery St. Catchpole can have the best milk, eggs, and wool. Mrs. Diggory was intelligent and hardworking and worked hard to maintain her family's farm.
Amos Diggory worked for the Ministry of Magic under the Department of the Care and Regulation of Magical Beings. He was a rather proud man, and it was evident that he loved his family, but he seemed rather stubborn and set in how he believed things should be. He was a strong-minded man and Belphoebe was a strong-minded woman, yet they worked well together even with their differences of opinion.
After dinner, Cedric had to go and herd the animals into the barn for the night as well as feed them and make sure they had water. Hermione went out there for a while with Pongo and offered to help, but he claimed he didn't need any so she went back inside.
In the hours it took him to do that, Hermione sat with Belphoebe and had some more of her many questions answered.
"I feel it is important to mention that when it comes to the traits of the Houses it can be a little… biased," said Belphoebe. "Though blind might be a more apt description."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"It's not just about Brave, Smart, Ambitious, Miscellaneous," she explained. "It's about how you view and use magic. Gryffindors typically use magic as a defensive or offensive, Ravenclaws view magic as a tool for learning, Slytherin sees it as something that is meant to be treasured and kept close, and Hufflepuff believes magic should be shared with everyone. Please, try to keep it in mind."
"Okay. Why can't I practice magic in the safety of my own home?" Hermione asked.
Belphoebe sighed and shook her head.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is mostly for Muggle-borns," she said. "In a wizard home, it is harder to determine the trace. Not to mention, if things go wrong, there is a full-grown wizard there to fix things."
"Then how am I supposed to practice?" Hermione asked. "I've been practicing some, mostly working on the inflections and mimicking wand motions with a plastic wand I kept from Halloween a few years ago."
"Have you really?" asked Cedric, entering the house looking rather tired now.
"Yes," she said, nodding. "Speaking of practice… Buenas noches, ¿cómo estás?"
"Uh… así-así, estoy cansado, ¿y tu?"
"Estoy bien, gracias." she replied. "Muy bien. You've been practicing."
"I said I wanted to learn. Alright, what have you been practicing with magic?"
"Well… I suppose it can't hurt," said Belphoebe, drawing her wand from her sleeve. "Here, use my wand, it's more open to different owners."
"Bel, you're not really going to let her practice, are you?" said Mr. Diggory, entering the room. "At least wait until she has formal schooling."
"It's okay, I don't need a wand for this," said Hermione. "Just a candle."
With bemusement, Belphoebe gave her a candle off of the mantle. Hermione concentrated on the wick and blew on it lightly. Lacarnum Inflamari. A blue flame burst into existence.
"Ta-da!" said Hermione. "I know it isn't much but—"
"Isn't much?" said Mr. Diggory incredulously. "I've never known anyone who can do wandless and nonverbal magic at such a young age."
"It's not that hard…" said Hermione, furrowing her brow. "You just have to feel for the magic. It's that tingling thing, you know?"
Cedric shook his head.
Huh? It was so obvious. She felt it every day of her life. Maybe they just needed something to compare it to.
"Um… here!" She pulled a polaroid out of her pocket and grabbed a photo off the end table, then held them both flat in her palms. One of them was definitely vibrating with energy and she could feel it reacting with her own. Since it was weak magic, it felt like when you held your hand just on the surface of water, where it's just barely breaking the surface tension.
"Okay, hold one palm over each picture."
Belphoebe was closest and did as she asked.
"Feel the difference?"
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but no."
"Oh…"
"Maybe it's because you're young," she said quickly. "Cedric, dear, why don't you try?"
Cedric came over and placed his hands over the photos a look of intense concentration. After a few moments, he shook his head.
"Sorry, Mimi. I don't feel it."
Perhaps it was due to her hypersensitivity. Did autism even work that way? Who knows…
"I see," said Hermione, returning the pictures to their places. "No matter. How about a game?"
"Ah-ah, bath first," said Belphoebe before her son could agree. "You smell like a barn."
"I always smell like a barn," Cedric muttered and trudged upstairs. Belphoebe muttered something about Erumpent herds. Hermione was amused by how much they were alike.
When he returned, smelling slightly less like eau de barnyard, he pulled a deck of cards out of a drawer on a writing desk and sat down at the coffee table. Hermione sat across from him and watched him shuffle the deck.
"Okay, so remember when we played War?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Exploding Snap is like that," he said dividing the deck into two separate piles and handing her one. "One… two… three… draw!"
Hermione flipped the top card over. She drew a bowtruckle and Cedric had a mountain troll. Her card exploded, causing her to drop her pile in surprise and clap her hands over her ears. She willed herself to not cry, but that always happened when she was startled by loud sounds.
"Merlin, I'm a duffer," said Cedric, shoving the cards back into the packet and quickly tossed it into the fireplace where it promptly blew up on impact, sounding like a much too close fireworks show. "I'm sorry. Hypersensitivity means you have sensitive ears too, right?"
She nodded, removing her hands from over her ears and wiping her eyes.
"The crying is an automatic response," she said, feeling a bit embarrassed now.
"No problem, we'll uh… we'll play Sorry! instead. Maybe tomorrow we'll play wizard's chess."
"You don't have to—"
"I know, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable," he said. "You'd do the same for me."
True, she would.
"Alright. Prepare to get your butt kicked."
"Dream on."
"Mr. Diggory, Mrs. Diggory would you like to play too?" Hermione asked politely. "It'll be fun and it's really easy to learn."
"Sure, why not," said Belphoebe. "And please, call me Belphoebe."
"I think I'll join as well," said Mr. Diggory.
Hermione set up the game on their kitchen table. "I call blue! I'm always blue."
"I'd say you're more brown," said Cedric teasingly.
"Hardy-har," Hermione replied with an eye roll. "You know what I meant."
"I know," he looked at the game pieces and pulled out the four yellow tokens. "I guess I'll be Hufflepuff."
Hermione looked at the pieces and laughed. He was right, they were Hogwarts House colors! Mr. Diggory took the red pieces and Mrs. D— Belphoebe took the green.
"So, how do we play?" she asked.
The four of them had fun playing the game and ended up playing it so whoever won three games was the Sorry! Champion. It ended up being Hermione, which she was happy about. Who didn't love winning games fair and square?
After that, they all bid each other goodnight. Hermione got ready for bed, did her nightly ritual like always, then set out her clothes on the dresser.
"I don't even know where to begin with that awful mane of yours," a raspy voice said.
Hermione looked up and glared, but saw no one in her mirror. "What?"
"Ugh and those teeth. They're a lovely white, but those size and that gap I don't know whether to look at you or kick a field goal through you."
It couldn't… the mirror?
"Honestly, sweetheart, sheep pajamas? What are you going to do, count yourself to sleep?"
Pongo growled at the mirror and barked.
"Cedric…" Hermione called, slowly backing out of the room. "Cedric? Mrs. Diggory?! Cedric?!"
"Mimi, what's wrong?" Cedric asked, hastily emerging from the bathroom, toothbrush still in hand.
Belphoebe exited her room, gripping her wand.
"Your mirror is possessed and is spying on me," squeaked Hermione, thoroughly creeped out.
"Oh, that mirror," Belphoebe laughed, but Hermione couldn't see what was so funny. "Wizards enchant their mirrors to give them advice on their appearance."
Who in their right mind would want that?
"Let's cover it with a sheet," Cedric suggested, "if it'll make you feel better."
Hermione nodded. It would make her feel better. Cedric stuck his toothbrush in his mouth for safekeeping and opened up a nearby closet. He pulled down a large sheet and held it out. Belphoebe flicked her wand, murmuring a word. As if pulled by invisible strings, the sheet draped itself over the mirror. The comments ceased.
"Thank you," said Hermione. "I apologize—"
"Don't," Cedric interrupted pulling the toothbrush from his mouth. "It's okay. Seriously. I don't like the mirror much either."
They both went to bed. Hermione, however, sat up and brushed Pongo finding the repetitive motion soothing; tossing the hair from his undercoat into the rubbish bin, which ate it up with big slurping noises. Weird. Pongo wasn't bothered by it, so Hermione wasn't bothered. She kissed her pup on the head and switched off the bedside lamp.
For the next two hours, she stared up at the ceiling until she was certain everyone was asleep. Then, she quietly pushed back the covers, grabbed her books and crept into the small library. It was away from Mr. and Mrs. Diggory's bedroom so she wouldn't disturb them. Switching on the beaded lamp, she settled in the reading chair, with her blanket wrapped around her in a near cocoon, and began to read.
The Tales of Beedle the Bard was no longer than The Little Prince so she finished it within the hour, her mind already crammed with the new information. She then opened up Sites of Historical Sorcery and prepared to fill her mind with even more information.
Hermione had a photographic memory, but she still studied because the human mind was unreliable and could misinterpret information. Even so, it sent her way ahead in school. Three years to go. Fourteen, almost fifteen, wasn't too bad an age to graduate Secondary School. After that, she could focus on magic guilt-free.
Sites of Historical Sorcery was a rather heavy tome, so it occupied her for most of the night. She never could sleep in a new place on the first night. Always has been that way. Well… except for hotel rooms, but she wasn't sure why they were comfortable for her.
Around five in the morning, a rooster crowed and the bell of an alarm clock went off for about five seconds then went silent with a clack!
Heavy footsteps thudded overhead and then down the stairs. The door at the end of the hallway opened and Cedric shuffled sleepily past her on his way to the bathroom. He noticed her on his way back and leaned heavily against the door frame, still trying to rub sleep from his eyes and teetering as if he could easily fall right back to a deep slumber as soon as he hit the carpet.
"Sorry, did I wake you?" he asked peering at her through the one eye that wasn't glued shut.
She shook her head and said, "No, I couldn't sleep."
"Well, since you're up you can help me in the barn if you want."
"Sure," she said, closing her book.
Hermione went back to her room and dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Pongo lifted his head sleepily and groaned as he wiggled onto his stomach, before stretching out again.
"Up, up, lazybones," she said, patting him on the rump.
After brushing her hair and teeth, she went downstairs to the kitchen and found an odd sort of creature standing on a high stool scrambling eggs and bacon in a cast iron skillet with just a wave of their hand. A sharp snap and a coffee pot began to warm. Pongo seemed to already be acquainted with the creature and ignored it in favor of what was inside of his food bowl. The creature was about two feet high with smooth, grayish skin, large bat-like ears, eyes as big as Christmas baubles, and wore a clean and prettily patterned pillowcase.
"Hello," said Hermione. "Who are you?"
"Good morning, miss," said the creature in a high, squeaky Irish brogue. "I am Tavi, the Mistress Diggory's house-elf. I was only expecting Master Cedric to be awake."
"What's a house-elf?" Hermione asked, interestedly as she sat down at the kitchen table.
"We house-elves serve and protect wizard-kind," she said importantly, leaping down from the stool and pulling out a tray of muffins from the oven.
"Why do you wear a pillowcase?"
"It is a sign of our employment," Tavi answered. "Only free elves wear clothes."
Free?
"Is…" Hermione dropped her voice to a horrified whisper. "Is this slavery?"
"Certainly not, Miss!" said Tavi, looking offended. "We house-elves are proudly descended from Brownies. In return for work and protection, we are given a warm place to sleep and food. A house-elf desires nothing except for praise and a good family. There are elves who are not as lucky as I."
"I see… Do they pay you?"
"Unthinkable!" Tavi exclaimed. "Do you know nothing of Brownies, Miss?"
Hermione shook her head.
Tavi calmed down considerably and served her breakfast.
"Brownies were elves who assisted wizards with household chores in exchange for a place to sleep and gifts, preferably of milk and honey. Many elves are treated quite horribly, but I am entirely satisfied with the Diggorys. I have a warm place to sleep, a secure job, and a loving family."
"Okay…" said Hermione unconvinced.
"Do not fret, Miss," said Tavi patting her hand. "Mistress Belphoebe and Master Cedric asked the same questions when they were younger than you. If you do not believe my claims, simply ask the Hogwarts house-elves."
"Good morning, Tavi," said Cedric, yawning broadly as he entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, Master Cedric," said Tavi. "Eat up, eat up."
The interaction between Cedric and Tavi was a lot like a kid and his Nanny. Even so, she was still mildly unsettled by the fact that these creatures served wizards and didn't seem to have a problem with no monetary payment. Were they treated more like service dogs?
"You're thirteen," Hermione commented, losing her train of thought. "Why are you drinking coffee?"
"Because it is five-thirty in the morning and tea doesn't have enough caffeine," he replied, matter-of-factly.
"Fair enough."
They ate their breakfast and Cedric led the way out to the barn. He switched on the lights causing all the animals to stir and blink sleepily. One of the cows lowed and stomped her hoof. Cedric shook out a pair of work gloves to check for spiders then pulled them on and shook out a smaller pair for Hermione as well as some work boots.
"See that towel lined basket? Fill it with eggs, trying to break as few as possible, and transfer them to the egg crate over there by the work table."
"You do this all by yourself?" Hermione asked, pulling on the gloves.
"Well, yeah," he said. "Saves up money so Mum can hire someone to do it while I'm away at school. You remember I would always meet up with you in the afternoons."
"Oh." Hermione carefully followed his instructions. "I kind of assumed…"
"Old family doesn't necessarily mean money," said Cedric switching to a voice that sounded like he was reciting a frequently heard story. "Grandpa liked to keep up appearances but when your market condenses down to just the nearby town there isn't much profit. Plus, taking care of wheat fields is expensive but it's important to maintain the family history."
"I see," said Hermione. She read books about people with those kinds of predicaments.
"Don't get me wrong, we're not poor," he continued. "I can get new books and new shoes and I do have an allowance."
"Property taxes are high," said Hermione. "Especially farmland. I just can't believe you worked in the mornings and then came and played with me."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I'm not exactly Miss Popularity," she said and looked at the eggs. "Dumb question, will these hatch into baby chicks?"
"No. They aren't germinated," he replied.
Cedric worked exceedingly hard every morning and didn't complain once, even when he seemed a bit in over his head. He was really good with the animals too and they all liked him. Hermione helped where she could, but she was amazed that he'd been doing this full time since her age and part time for even longer. They chatted a little bit, but it was mostly quiet. Not uncomfortable quiet though.
"Alright, here comes the fun part," he said, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Herding the sheep and cows to the fields."
He set her up with Treacle, the brown draft horse, hooking up the saddle with practiced ease, then did the same with Daffodil. He then opened up the barn doors wide, letting in a draft of cool morning air. The sheep, about two and a half dozen of them, trotted out of the barn in a group. Treacle and Daffodil ambled out on either side.
Cedric opened up the main gate and mounted his horse with practiced ease while Hermione struggled a little bit.
"Pongo, heel," she ordered once she was settled in the saddle.
Pongo obediently took his place beside the horse. Hermione had to wonder if her pet was so good because she was a witch.
"Try not to talk while we ride," Cedric advised. "Biting your tongue while riding a horse is not a pleasant experience and growing it back is even worse."
"Good to know," she said, taking up the reins.
Hermione let Cedric do most of the work, herding the sheep out to the fields. She didn't want to mess up anything by thinking she knew what to do. It happened a few times before and she was embarrassed to think of those times.
Once they reached the field and the sheep were happily grazing, Cedric slowed down and steered his horse over to her.
"So, how's farm life suiting you?" he asked teasingly.
"Oh, I'm taking to it really well," she joked back. "Yeehaw, spit."
"Come on, let's head back," he said. "The sheep will be fine on their own until the evening. Mum sets up charms that keep wolves at bay."
"Okay. Pongo, heel."
The sun was already growing high in the sky, promising a warm day. As soon as they made it back, Belphoebe was waiting in the garden wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a basket with gardening supplies.
"Gardening day," she sang. "Hermione, dear, I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not," she said. "My dad loves gardening."
Hermione and Cedric put on wide straw hats and got to work, picking the vegetables that were ready and pulling up weeds as well as digging for grubs.
At one point, something that looked like a deformed potato with a body grabbed onto Hermione's hand as she was pulling up a weed. With a shriek, she jumped to her feet and hurled it as far away from her as possible. It landed about forty feet away and walked off looking agitated.
"Nice arm," said Cedric.
"What was that?"
"A garden gnome," Belphoebe answered easily. "Nasty pests they are. Rather stupid too. You just have to throw them out."
The person who designed those little pointed hat, Santa beard, garden gnome decorations was seriously misguided. Then again, an ugly potato would not sell well as a decoration. She was glad that these things weren't in Dad's flower garden.
Pongo barked and chased one of the gnomes that popped out of the ground around the garden. When he caught it, Hermione snapped her fingers.
"Pongo. Bring it."
The pup brought it to her and presented the kicking and screaming creature proudly.
"You better not kiss me after this, barf breath," she said, taking the gnome and hurling it away though not as far as the first one that caught her by surprise.
"Smart dog," said Belphoebe.
"Yes, he is," said Hermione, proudly. "Mum and Dad got him for me when I was adopted. One of their friends said it would help me adjust. Right, Pongo?"
Pongo's butt wiggled excitedly.
"How old were you when you were adopted?" Belphoebe asked. "If you don't mind me asking."
"I don't mind. Um… the March after I turned four," said Hermione. "I'm just glad Mum spoke Spanish, since I barely knew any English. I also knew a bit of french, but I don't know where I picked it up from."
"What do you know about your birth parents?"
"Oh… nothing except…" There was something important, but she couldn't quite remember.
"Hermione?"
"Sí? Er— yes?"
"Are you alright?" Belphoebe looked concerned. "You zoned out for a moment."
"Oh, yes. I'm sure I'm just tired," said Hermione. "I didn't sleep last night."
"I see. Well, why don't you go inside and wash up, then rest?" Belphoebe suggested. "Cedric and I can knock out the rest of this."
"All right."
Belphoebe stood up to lead her back inside and closed her eyes, rocking back for a moment.
"Mum?" Cedric asked, concerned.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. Stood up too quickly."
Belphoebe led Hermione inside and asked Tavi to start preparing afternoon tea. Which the elf was happy to do.
Author's Note: A variation of S.P.E.W. will exist in the future.
