A/N: So... forever, eh? Yeah, thought so. Anyways... some thank yous are in order. Many gracious amounts of appreciation to the following: ChamberlinofMusic, Twilight-in-Texas, Idle Writer of Crack, Winter's Empire, Vera-Sabe, Dolphin4442, Rin1507, pottersgirl91, justareader7883, Dramione-Fan 17, CT1994, and Risottonocheese. With that now said, I have one more thing that I want to add: The character introduced at the end of the chapter named Chau Chang is modeled after a dear friend of mine. His name really is Chau (CT1994), and he has been a major encouragement while I've been in the writing process. Kudos to him and be sure to stop by his page and tell him how much you love his character. (wink)
Chapter 10 – Reclaiming Home
Cedric rolled over and glanced groggily around from under his covers.
The bed across the room was empty, which meant that his new roommate, Hermione Granger, was already awake.
He sat up slowly, his movements almost catlike as he hunched his back, willing the muscles there to stretch and warm themselves from their stiffened state. His arms reached wide, flexing more muscles and making the covers fall away from his body. His legs swung over the edge of the bed and his feet tingled as they brushed the carpeted floor. He stood and rolled his head from one side to the other, resulting in a series of small pops and cracks.
Cedric shuffled towards the trunk at the foot of his bed as he ruffled his thick, matted locks of honey-colored hair. He glanced to the clock on the wall as he dug in his trunk for something suitable for the first day of classes. He had but fifteen minutes to make his way down to Mr. Leaks class for Auror defensive counter-curse and charm training. Today would, of course, be a refresher of previous material so that the professor could be sure they were ready to move on, but nonetheless, it would not do to be late.
He pulled on fresh clothes and combed his fingers through his hair, wincing as he picked through the knots. He grabbed his wand and books before strolling out into the corridor.
As he made his way to his first training lesson of the new year, he thought about his new roommate. It was odd to share a room with a girl, but Cedric had not expected things to be quite so awkward. He had, of course, anticipated the initial shock of the situation, but he had hoped that it would wear off sooner than it seemed it was going to.
Last night she had returned to the room before he had. When he arrived, she was sprawled on her bed, nibbling on a Licorice Wand, and intently reading the book before her. She had only glanced up at him for a second as he closed the door before turning the page and continuing to devour the open volume. Hermione did not utter one word of greeting nor did she even nod to acknowledge him. She simply kept quiet as he took a seat at his desk and began scribbling down a letter to his mother.
As he continued to jot down assurances that he had returned to school in one solid piece—his mother had worried ever since the Triwizard Tournament about Portkey travel—Hermione scanned another chapter of her book without much more noise than the occasional rattle of candy paper or a stifled yawn. Her silence had begun to make him wonder how she had ever made friends at Hogwarts. Had the girls in her dorm at the wizarding school suffered the same treatment he had undergone? And had she always retired so early to the pillows and covers of her small twin bed?
She had remained awake only an hour after his return. He had felt uneasy, sitting at his desk with his lamp glowing bright in the somewhat humble space they shared, while she had tried to escape from their strained silence to a world of soft slumber. Was every night to be like that? Or would they eventually grow out of the abnormal feelings and difficulty of sharing a room?
He huffed out a breath, which appeared as smoke in the morning chill. Cedric had no more time to ponder this as he peeked at his watch. He had five minutes left to get to class, and if he was late, he would not only hear it from his teacher, but from his father as well.
Gray-blue eyes surveyed the damage that the Muggles had done to his home. They had called it 'remodeling', but he called it an abomination. His childhood bedroom had been painted a soft, subtle pastel pink and adorned with stuffed toys for the little girl who lay silent in the living room downstairs. Other rooms had been desecrated with their Muggle filth and changes as well.
Fine marble fireplaces had been deemed unsafe for the bratty children and altered so that their warm, crackling fires could no longer be lit and bask the high-ceilinged rooms in their warm glow. Wallpaper had been ripped from the walls where it had been for generations, and disgusting modern paint styles and newer wallpaper replaced it. The house no longer resembled his childhood home. The home of his uncle. The childhood home of his mother. How his uncle would explode in a fit of rage at the very sight of it.
The man's heart wrenched and tears flowed mercilessly from his eyes as he let out an anguished cry. The one place that had connected him with his mother, regardless of her death, had been this home; the home where they had both grown up. She had walked these halls, sat before the bright, cordial fireplaces, and danced with his father at grand parties his grandparents have given in the large rooms downstairs. Now the home no longer corresponded with those ghosts, those forged memories he had of her and her beauty.
Rage shook him and his tears dried up as he clenched his jaw. A feral snarl ripped from his lips, and he began throwing everything in sight. Toys, trinkets, a child's table and chairs. With each loud crash and break came another explosion of fury and psychotic disbelief. How could they have felt justified to move into this home and destroy it as they had?
When he had exhausted himself, he dropped to his knees amid the carnage and shook despite the heat flowing under his skin. In that silent moment, he heard a cry. A small whimper, like that of a child, and a nauseating gleam came to his eye as his lips folded back from his teeth in a ferocious, malicious grin. One of his victims had awoken. And from the sounds of it, the small boy was trying to wake his already dead parents so that his twin sister and they could escape the crazed man's wrath.
Well, there would be no escape tonight. And there would certainly be no mercy.
The gray-blue eyed man rose and stumbled his way into the hallway, where the cries grew louder and more frantic. The floorboards creaked and shifted under the man's weight as he walked slowly and deliberately down the corridor to the stairs. The whimpering of the boy stopped and the shadow his body cast on the wall froze. Gray-blue eyes locked on the shadow of the boy as steps groaned with the descent of the man.
The child shook his mother's limp body again, choking on panicked tears as the squeaking of the stairs grew louder and closer.
"M-M-Mum!" he hiccuped, his heart skipping a beat when the noise from the hallway stopped. Where was the man that had intruded upon their dinner?
The child did not dare to look over his shoulder out of fear of seeing the man towering in the doorway to the room. Instead, the boy scrambled across the floor, half crawling as he stumbled with numb legs. He reached his sister's tiny, lax figure and grabbed one of her arms and one of her legs. Pulling, he tugged her inch by inch across the floor to an end table draped in burgundy fabric.
Pushing her comatose body now, he tried to conceal her under the table's cover. Then he scampered behind the couch, hoping the stranger would not look between it and the wall and discover him hiding there. With trembling fingers, the boy reached under the heavy material of the tablecloth and grabbed his sister's cold, unmoving fingers. He squeezed them when he heard the floorboards across the room let out a slow, deep moan.
The stranger stood in the doorway of the newly transformed living room. His eyes laid intently, unblinkingly upon a child-sized, black Mary Jane shoe sticking out from under the end table. Those gray-blue orbs shifted slightly to the dark space between the back of the hideous couch and the wall. He knew that the boy cowered there.
He had been readying himself to step over the parents and rip the child from his hiding place when a plan most devious and awful came to his mind.
His head turned slowly, his gaze landing on the lifeless body of the mother. Her auburn curls were flayed out about her head like rays protruding from the sun. The light played in her locks as he turned and crouched next to her. The intruder reached out a calloused hand and ran his rough, unclean fingertips down her smooth, cool cheek. Death had claimed her hours ago, and she already had the pallor of a peaceful corpse.
He pulled out his wand, and with one last glance at the shoe sticking out from under the burgundy fabric and the unseen little boy, he cast a spell that would bring only the sick and twisted enjoyment.
The corpse that had been a loving, laughing mother earlier that day twitched and sat up, hazy eyes doing a ghostly intake of the room. Stumbling with ill-coordination, she got to her feet and staggered to the end table.
A whimper issued from behind the couch and a shuffling was heard as the boy tried to scoot further into the shadows to hide from what he thought was the strange man who had wrecked his home in mere minutes. He then felt the tug of his twin's frigid digits being pulled from his own. He clenched them hard, thinking that the man was taking his sister, yet he made no move to reveal himself.
Hunching into the shadows, he bit his lip and swallowed back tears as he hugged his empty arms around his torso. Then he shivered, more out of fright than loneliness or cold. A silhouette was shrinking on the wall, which meant it was getting closer to his haven. However, this silhouette was the wrong shape for the man who had terrorized both him and his doting family.
Relief came in a swift, cleansing, and joyous flood and had the boy almost bubbling with laughter. His mother's hand was reaching into the shadows for him. He should have recognized her shadow on the wall from all the nights he remembered watching it cross his bedroom to comfort him from countless nightmares.
Crawling forward with haste, he placed his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him from the darkness behind the couch. Even as he felt more alleviation tingle in his body to be going from one lonely shelter to his mother's caressing arms, he sensed something was wrong.
His father was still lying immobile on the floor and his sister was laid oddly on the couch, as though her body was disjointed.
He looked up to his mother to ask her if they were going to wake his father and sister and if they were going to call the cops on the man who had broke into their home, but he stopped. Something was wrong. In fact, something was terribly wrong. The look on his mother's face showed no expression. Why was she not scooping him up into her arms and cuddling him out of sheer relief to see him alive? Why did she have that distant, glazed look in her eyes?
His mother's head snapped in the direction of his sister, whose body was now twitching on the couch. She sat up slowly and turned to look at them.
"Jenny!" the boy squealed excitedly. He tried to pull his hand away from his mother so that he could run over to his sister, but her grip became crushing. He cried out in protest as his twin rose from the couch and approached him. "Jenny," he grunted, still trying to wrench his hand away from his mother's now painful grasp. "Mum! It hurts!"
His mother released him and the boy's hand tingled as blood rushed to his numb fingertips. He turned to his twin and began rubbing away the blood that was trailing down her cheek from her left temple. He wiped his bloodstained hand on his shirt, leaving a large red streak down the front of him.
"Let's wake Dad," the boy suggested, his eyes darting from his sister's downcast face to his mother's uncaring, distant gaze.
As the child turned to approach his father, his mother lashed out and snatched up his arm in her grasp.
"Ouch!" came his cry, and he turned to begin clawing at his mother's hand. She was hurting him again, and it was so unlike her. She had never done anything like this before. "Let go!" he demanded, tears spilling over onto his round, splotched cheeks.
His mother's other hand reached up, and she curled her fingers in his hair, pulling his scalp taut. A squeal of complain issued from his lips as his mother dragged him across the room. Jenny followed, her hands folding curtly in front of her as though she were doing nothing more than following a butterfly through a beautiful garden. Jenny's twin screamed again as hair tore from his scalp when his mother shoved him into a chair.
"Stop!" he cried, sniffling loudly and squirming as his mother moved her iron-like grip to his shoulder.
Jenny stood before him for a moment, surveying her brother with mock innocence. She smiled a shifty grin that he had never seen before as she turned and grabbed a candle from the shelf.
Wax dripped down the sides as she carried it back to her brother. Grabbing the candlestick and squishing wax between her fingers, she shoved the lit end of the candle to his damp cheek.
An earsplitting howl leaped from his throat as the candlewick sizzled out against his delicate skin. A blister formed almost immediately and the pain made his head reel. Nausea heaved inside his small stomach as a giggle trickled out from behind Jenny's lips. Salt from his tears stung his wound as his twin reached up a dainty hand, her fingers outstretched towards the mark she had just made.
He tried to turn away, but he only succeeded in bringing himself more pain as he brushed his cheek against the back of the chair. His breath hitched, and he tried to turn the other way, but Jenny's hand swung back. In a split second, there was a garish slap of flesh-on-flesh, and he screamed again. His beloved sibling had struck his maimed cheek.
"Jenny, no," he whimpered pitifully. His eyes welled with tears again, and through the watery blur, he saw the intruder standing in the doorway. "Mama!" As the scream shakily left the boy's lips, he squirmed in the chair.
"It'll do you no good," the stranger cautioned with a malicious gleam in his eye.
He pulled out a strange instrument; it was a long, wooden, knotted rod. The man flicked it carelessly at Jenny, causing her to freeze for a split second and drop to the floor.
Jenny's twin brother whimpered, watching his sister die a second time without knowing that she had really only been an Inferius. He writhed in the chair, trying to wriggle out of his mother's grasp so that he could run away from the approaching demonic intruder, who flicked the stick in his mother's direction.
She, too, dropped to the ground as her grip on her petrified son slackened. The boy glanced back and saw his mother's lifeless body splayed on the floor behind his chair. Another Inferius who had run her useful course.
"Don't worry," the man growled with a low, threatening tone, "you'll join them soon enough."
Shivers raced up the boy's spine, and he turned back around to stare at the man who destroyed his home. Goosebumps erupted up and down his arms and legs. Bile rose in his throat as the man aimed the wand at him. Death was staring him in the face.
"Before you join them, however, I think I'll make you feel the pain and punishment I have felt these many years." He flicked his wand and the boy screamed, his body jerking and twitching oddly in his seat until he toppled to the floor. "That was only a taste of the hurt I felt at losing my mother."
The child panted and the pain made his head reel as though it were a precious glass ornament placed precariously on the edge of a wobbly table. Bile rose again, and this time, he could not hold it back. Sick landed on the floor in a putrid puddle, splattering him and the shoes of the man standing over him.
"And this is a fraction of the torture I felt when I lost my grandparents," he hissed, casting his awful, muscle-burning spell on the boy's small body again. "This is partly how I felt when I lost my uncle."
With his body riving in a fiery anguish, the child lost control of himself as he flopped about the floor like a fish out of water. He rolled about in his own vomit and felt heat and wetness seep down his legs as he soiled himself.
"Had enough yet?"
When his question was met with only aching cries, he smirked in a delirious fashion while glaring down his nose at the boy's shaking body.
"You should know before I kill you that you and your family will rot in the deepest, darkest part of the basement I can find to shove your bodies in," he taunted, poking his wand in the child's back as he lay in the fetal position.
The man stood then, holding his head high whilst he extended his arm and pointed his wand at his victim.
"Avada Kedavra!"
In a flash of blinding green light, the child's life was finally taken. However, the man felt no alleviation of remorse or regret or guilt for what the filthy Muggles had done to his uncle's home. His rage with the invasive, inferior beings was not satisfied. And as he looked around, he felt anger reclaim his chest and constrict his lungs so that his breath came in heavy, feral pants through gritted teeth.
Hermione Granger would have to wait. For now, he needed to restore his uncle's home to its former glory. He needed to pay homage and show respect by fixing what the Muggles had desecrated. His uncle's memory would live on, even if it meant putting off his revenge to do so.
Cedric leaned in the doorway of his room and smiled. His girlfriend was perched in a carefree style on his desk. Her face and golden hair lit warmly from the sun that filtered into the window on her left.
She did not take notice of him as he studied her slender, petite figure. He noted the way her long neck curved as she gazed out the window at the students in the courtyard. Her eyes were fringed in sun-bleached lashes that reflected the light nicely. She was a summer beauty, that much he was sure of.
She crossed her legs lazily and flicked a finger over a picture frame that held a photo of Cedric and his childhood friends from their Hogwarts days. She was about to pick up Diggory's quill when a voice from the hallway caught both their attentions.
"Cedric!"
Diggory turned and caught sight of a short, fair-skinned boy headed his way. Cedric would have known the voice without seeing the Asian face, which he had not truthfully seen since Christmas break of his sixth year at Hogwarts.
"Chau," Cedric greeted as the eager-eyed boy walked up to him. "What are you doing here?"
"I always said that I would become an Auror," Chau replied.
Cedric smiled at him.
Chau Chang was Cho's cousin. Her uncle had been a field professor, and his area of study had been dangerous magical beings. On one particular case, Cho's uncle had been on a trip to Romania to study vampires in one of their most natural habitats. While there, he unintentionally found himself falling for one of his case studies, a female vampire. Before long, the two were married and expecting Chau.
"So I take it that this is your first year here, then, hmm?" Diggory inquired as Chau followed him into his room, where Cedric's girlfriend stood curiously gazing at the pair.
"Yes," Chang answered, watching Cedric with adoring eyes.
Diggory dropped his books onto his desk, giving his girlfriend a peck on the cheek as he moved past her to sit down.
"Who might this be, Ced?" she asked as she glanced back at her boyfriend and gestured to Chau.
"This is Chau Chang. He's a student here now," Diggory replied. "Chau... this is Bethany Spencer, my girlfriend."
Chau looked her over and gave a curt smile. "I still say Cho was stupid for letting you go," he added as he looked back at the older boy.
"Cho?" Bethany repeated.
"My cousin," Chang answered. "She and Cedric used to date when they were in Hogwarts together. Cho left him, however... Rather stupid of her, if you ask me."
"Oh," Bethany muttered, not knowing whether she should feel irritated with the bit of news or not.
"Chau and I have remained friends, though," Cedric interrupted, trying to steer the conversation back toward more placid topics.
"Luckily enough," the younger boy replied, his large, dark eyes lighting up with appreciation for the fact that they were friends.
"How did you like the first day here at the academy?" Diggory quizzed, flipping open one of his books and appearing bored.
"It was a bit stiff and quiet," Chau frowned. His usual friendly nature preferred a more talkative, open atmosphere. He was often a center for attention—without intent, of course. His bright charm was the reason behind this. "I'm sure things will get better, though."
"That's the spirit," Cedric encouraged. "Once classes begin picking up, you'll feel more at ease."
The conversation was becoming dull, and Chau sighed at this. Then he perked. "I heard some rather intriguing news today..." When Cedric simply eyed him, he continued, "About a certain someone and their new roomy."
At this, Bethany convalesced from her uninterested state. She, too, had heard some rather disturbing chatter about her boyfriend and his new dorm partner.
"Oh?" Cedric chuckled, knowing where Chau was heading.
"So, is it true? Spill!" Chang demanded with a face-splitting grin.
"Well," Cedric began on an amused sigh, but stopped as he looked up at the open door.
As if to answer for him, Hermione walked in with Neville in tow.
"I'll let you borrow my book on tracking," Neville finished as they entered the room. He stopped talking as he and Hermione paused in the doorway to survey Cedric and his two companions.
"Confirmed," Chau snickered and rose to greet Hermione. "Hello! I'm Chau Chang, a friend of Cedric's."
"Hi," Hermione returned. She accepted his hand with some uncertainty. "Hermione Granger."
"Oh, I know. I've heard of you," he mentioned, waving off her self-introduction. "Well, that's not to say I have heard of you in a bad way. It's just there's rumors going around the school about a girl in the boys' dormitory."
"That would be me," Hermione sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"You are too lucky! I can't believe that you get to share a room with Cedric," Chau whispered to her, excitement filling his tone. "I'm jealous of you," he added on a laugh.
Hermione seemed taken aback by the comment as she gaped at the striking Asian before her. She peered around him after a second to glanced at Cedric, who was watching the exchange with calm gray eyes.
"Should I tell Harry and Ron that you will be up in a moment, Hermione?" Neville asked, breaking up the silence in the room.
"Yes, Neville. Please do," she nodded somewhat uncertainly. "I just need to put my books away."
Hermione looked back over her shoulder and watched Neville leave before turning back to look at Chau, who was now perked cheerfully at her desk. He was watching Cedric speak to his girlfriend about a tavern in town.
Hermione sighed and ignored the situation, figuring it best to just drop off her bag of books and slip out without much more notice. She snatched up her coin purse from her trunk and tried to quickly exited the room.
"You're leaving?" Chau called out, seeming disheartened. "I had hoped we could have a nice chat."
"I'm sorry," Hermione fumbled. "It's just that I promised my friends I would go into town with them. They promised to show me around."
"Another time, then, maybe?"
"Sure," Hermione smiled, feeling a fondness for Chau already.