The Illustrious Diary of Mr. Cedric Diggory
5 October 1994
Dear Diary,
I suppose today isn't a good day to be cliché. This entry was meant to be nothing more than a summary of classwork. I considered relating another one of my daydreams about Cho, but after what happened at dinner, I can't bring myself to write about something so trivial as classes or unrequited love. How can N.E.W.T.s matter when a man who has been subjected to hell appears in front of me? How can good-natured but hurtful teasing matter when a man who may be falsely accused of a horrendous crime collapses in front of the entire school? How can my schoolboy infatuation matter when a man's only surviving friend is hunted like an animal and his fourteen-year-old godson is imprisoned without cause? I've looked back on previous entries I've written about Sirius Black. They make me sick to read again. They condemn a man I'd never met, a man I'd never seen. I want to curse myself with the same curses I ignorantly laid on him. I'm ashamed that I was once a part of such a group of people. I'm ashamed that I can't find a voice to speak up as my peers discuss Black all around me. They're mocking him, pretending to faint, begging to be believed. I know I should speak up and silence them. Black walked into Hogwarts knowing it could be his last act as a free man. He walked into Hogwarts and stared down the wand of the most powerful wizard alive to warn us of You-Know-Who's return. His bravery deserves an Order of Merlin.
I hope they treat him well and give him a fair trial. I hear one of the fourth years, Ernie Macmillan, shouting about someone should have struck Black down before he could say a word. I hope one of the other prefects would tell him off, but I know they won't. The other prefects agree. I feel like I'm the only one who actually saw the real Sirius Black tonight. He was reasonably dressed—nothing like what I would expect of a convict on the run. His robes were too short on the hems, but the clothes were in reasonable condition, even though there was mud, blood, and other debris soiling the knees, one of his sleeves, and his back. He had been attacked. A goose egg on his temple looked as though it was throbbing, but Black considered it one of the least of his worries. His lips were bleeding and it looked like he had a piece of cloth stuck between his teeth. Someone had gagged him. His feet were bare and there were rope burns around his ankles and shins. Someone had tied him up. His left sleeve had been torn and I caught a glimpse of his forearm. There was no Dark Mark.
Father told me once that a Dark Mark cannot be hidden by any spell or potion. It still appears, even with the Polyjuice Potion. Sirius Black was not a Death Eater. He was certainly not one of You-Know-Who's inner circle. Instead of a Dark Mark, his arm and what remained of his sleeve were soaked with blood. The blood was staining his wand as well, as it dangled from his left hand, allowing his right the clutch at the wound in the crook of his elbow.
I don't know where Black got his wand, but I could feel the wand's power. It was like a tickle at the back of my mind, making me want to take it from him. I shoved the thought away. That wand belonged to Black. I had no idea how, but it was his. I took a step forward to support Black's weight, but before I could grab him, he lurched forward towards the professors' table. He had to know the wands of all the professors and most of the school were pointed at him, ready to curse him with the worst curses they knew, but he didn't even flinch. He walked right up to Dumbledore, swaying precariously. He should be in St. Mungo's surrounded and comforted by the people who cared for him, not desperately trying to protect a bunch of worthless, thankless people by warning them of a threat looming on the horizon.
He didn't beg for pardon, forgiveness, freedom, or protection. He begged us to believe him that You-Know-Who has returned. He swore he wasn't guilty of the crimes everyone accused him of because he was desperate for us to believe him. I believe him. A traitor would never have warned anyone of You-Know-Who's return from the dead. I'm ashamed that I condemned Sirius Black for so long. I may not be brave enough to stand up to my classmates, but I'm humble enough to apologize for thinking such disgusting thoughts about what he deserved. I will find him in the morning and apologize. They'll lock him in either the Hospital Wing or one of the towers.
Black is the bravest man I've ever seen—except perhaps Potter when he faced fear and hatred and ridicule from the entire school every day for weeks during his second year. How can I even think of approaching him if I'm not brave enough to tell off my own classmates for speaking so cruelly about such a brave man?
I stood up on my chair and spoke. My entire house listened. I told them about Black's bravery and his loyalty to the people of this school. I told them we don't even deserve to be in the presence of such a brave and loyal man. They listened. I only said a few sentences, but they listened. They believed me. The entire house hung their heads in shame as the murmured apologies and recanted their cruel words. The entire house shamefully shuffled off to bed.
I've always been popular, but I never considered that they would actually listen to me. Me! I'm only a sixth year! Only a prefect!
I'm talking about myself again, aren't I? I should be concerned about what is going on around me. I'm going to talk to Potter's friends tomorrow and get the real story. The whole story.
Cedric
C | D
7 October 1994
Dear Diary,
The professors told us no one was allowed to leave our dormitories. We've been locked up in here for more than forty-eight hours. For the first day, it was like a vacation. Only the most studious Hufflepuffs actually did their homework. Everyone played games, relaxed, and just enjoyed themselves. Today, it was horrible. There are more than a hundred of us in this enclosed space and fights are starting to break out. Everyone is tense because we haven't heard from any of the professors. We've periodically tried to open the door and leave, but someone locked it from the outside. We can't even climb out the windows to get someone. Everyone is scared and no one can sleep. Things are getting worse and the prefects aren't sure how long we can maintain order. We've had to conjure barriers in some of the dorms to split up some of the fights.
I have a short speech written for when things get out of hand. I'm going to remind them of Harry and what he's going through and remind them that Black is almost certainly innocent. If we can't keep it together for a few days, how can we expect to work together against You-Know-Who when he comes to take Hogwarts? If we can't even get along with each other for a little while, are we even worth the risk Black too to warn us about You-Know-Who?
They listened to me the first time. I hope they'll listen to me this time. Will they?
Cedric
C | D
9 October 1994
Dear Diary,
We were locked in our dormitories for seventy hours. The first years and some of the second years started to break down crying on the third day. They were terrified and confused and didn't know what was going on. I think I spent most of the third day reassuring one after another. The other prefects were noticeably absent whenever one of them started to cry. I comforted eight first and second years. Two of them, I had to sit with twice. Luckily, I can bypass the enchantment on the girl's dormitories so the entire house didn't have to see their meltdowns. I was so exhausted by the end of the day. I think three of the third years broke down as well, but they hid from everyone else. I should have sought them out to make sure they were okay, but I was too tired. I'm still too tired. Two of the professors and five aurors escorted us to the Great Hall. We were the first house to arrive. They told us to sit down silently. The other three houses came in right after us.
At the front of the Great Hall, in front of the professor's table, Black was sitting in a chair. He stared directly in front of him. Two aurors stood on either side. Their wands weren't drawn. Granger cried Black's name when she saw him. He glanced at her, gave her a weak smile, and looked away. The Weasley twins had grabbed their brother and Granger, preventing them from running up to Black and made them sit down between them.
There was no one to stop me.
I stood up sharply from my seat between two second years and marched up. The students watched me warily. The aurors didn't move, but I saw their hands tighten around their wands. I stopped in front of Black and studied him carefully. He looked up at me, his expression guarded.
He had a disgusting bruise on one side of his head which almost made it look like he had a black eye. He had torn off his sleeve and used it as a bandage for his arm, which also revealed is wrist and half-healed ligature marks. I was still surprised to see his arm unmarred by the Dark Mark.
"You're Diggory's son, aren't you? Cedric, right?" Black asked me quietly, so the rest of the hall couldn't hear. I nodded even though the situation seemed surreal. Of all the things he could have said, he asked me such a normal question as if he wasn't surrounded by aurors, as if we had just met on the street. "The last time I saw you, you were just learning to walk. I supposed that makes me sound incredibly old doesn't it?" He joked. My stomach twisted as I realized what he was doing. He knew he was a dead man, but he wanted to distract me, like I was some child to be protected. "You've grown into a fine young man. You should sit down before you get yourself in trouble. Go on, I'm not worth it." The aurors looked incredibly uncomfortable with his familiarity and consideration. I suspected several of them had known Black before Azkaban.
The first of the two questions that had been burning through Hufflepuff rudely spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Did you betray Harry and his parents to You-Know-Who?"
"Never!" He replied vehemently. He spoke directly to me as if I was the person he had to convince even though I already believed him. There was desperation in his voice, but it wasn't repulsive. He was desperate to be believed, but somehow resigned to the likelihood that no one would listen. Pity and sympathy churned in my gut.
I looked into his eyes and I could see that he was telling the truth. He wasn't insane like everyone insisted. He was certainly hurting in every way a man could hurt, but he wasn't cruel or angry or crazy. Well, he wasn't completely insane. Anyone could tell that he wasn't quite in touch with reality. His eyes kept shifting towards the shadows as if he thought someone was about to attack him. He wasn't wrong. The aurors looked like they wanted nothing more than to curse us both into oblivion.
"Go sit down, son. You're a good kid; don't blow it on me."
I didn't ask the second question that everyone wanted to know because his answer to the first kept ringing through my head, even though it was only a single word. The shame and guilt that he was persecuted for so long without anyone stopping to take a second look suffocated me. I had contributed to that baseless hatred and the results of my actions sat in front of me. My sins against him were out of ignorance, but it didn't change anything. I barely heard him tell me again to sit down, that everything would be okay. He called me 'son.' Even after everything, even though he had to know that I was one among the masses who had condemned him, he still had a kind word of reassurance. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness.
The next thing I knew, Professor Sprout took my elbow and guided me back to the Hufflepuff table. I sat down in the first seat I reached. There was almost ten meters between me and my closest classmate. I couldn't look away from Black and I knew that I was just as much the center of attention as he is. My cheeks were cold, and when I reached up to touch them, they were wet with tears. Humiliation almost wiped out everything else I was feeling, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I deserved the humiliation of crying in front of the entire school. I deserved it for the suffering I had helped put Black through. I probably deserved worse.
Dumbledore stepped in front of Black, forcing the school to turn its attention onto him. He apologized that we were forced to spend so long in our dormitories and explained that it was to keep us safe and out of the way while the school wards were being fixed and the situation with Sirius Black was being sorted out. There might as well have been a dementor in the room because it was so cold. He said that since the school had suffered the most from his escape, his trial would be conducted in front of us. The prefects, head girl, head boy, and Quidditch captains would be his jury, if they agreed to it, as well as any other student leaders the school would like to nominate. An auror would read out his crimes for us and provide the Ministry's evidence. Black would be given an opportunity to address the school. The student body would be able to submit questions to be posed to him, which would be asked by the head boy on behalf of the school.
The 'trial' is scheduled take place the following morning. Anyone can attend. Anyone who doesn't want to participate won't be compelled to attend. Only fourth year and above would be allowed to participate. Dumbledore dismissed the school and said there would be food in our dormitories. He also stated that there would not be a curfew that night and students were free to wander around the castle, but not the grounds. The only place students would not be allowed was the Astronomy tower, which would be guarded by aurors.
Dumbledore dismissed everyone and stepped aside. I immediately looked at Black. He knew this was coming and he was scared. I stayed in my seat as the rest of the school filed out. Harry's friends tried to go talk to Black, but the Weasley twins held them back and persuaded them against the idea. They made eye contact with me.
I've never been close friends with the twins. They're in my year and we have class together, but they labeled me 'pretty boy Diggory' on our first day together in first year and the name stuck. It wasn't until now that I realized why they kept up the nickname. It was to make sure that I didn't get too big of a head over my popularity. I knew I was the Hufflepuff golden boy, but if it wasn't for recent events, they probably would have made sure I never truly realized what that meant. I gained a new appreciation for the twins and nodded back to them. I would find them and relay whatever I found out after the rest of the school left.
The Great Hall emptied rapidly after Harry's friends were hustled out. None of the students paid any attention to me. It wasn't until the doors of the Great Hall closed that the teachers started to argue among themselves. McGonagall wanted Black out of the school to be dealt with at the Ministry so that classes could resume, but Flitwick argued that it was good for the students to have a taste of what life was really like. Dumbledore inserted that although the school had prejudice against Black, the students were more inclined to give him a fairer trial than Wizengamot. Before their argument, could unfold, Sprout cleared her throat and gestured at me.
I had been slapped in the face with my cowardice many times over the past few days. I may be a coward, but I know how to be humble. I glanced around the Great Hall and recognized Rufus Scrimgeour, Amelia Bones, Cornelius Fudge, Barty Crouch, and even my father was there, presumably because Black was known to traffic with werewolves.
I ignored them. I ignored the professors. I ignored the aurors. My father started to step forward as I approached Black, but Amelia Bones held him back. I crouched and put one knee on the ground in front of Black. I told him I was sorry for thinking, saying, and writing about him being a horrible person and guilty of horrible things. I told him I was sorry for letting people get mad at and helping them silence the people that tried to speak in his defense. I told him I was sorry that I was scared of his friend and even of Harry for being werewolves before I understood what being a werewolf actually was. I told him I was sorry for being a coward and not sticking up for him when I knew I should have. I kept apologizing until he knelt in front of me, drawing the wands of almost everyone present. He put a hand on my shoulder. I'm never going to forget what he said.
"I forgive you, Cedric. I forgive you and you don't have to apologize anymore. You've learned from a mistake and you've grown. That's more than most people can claim. I forgive you, Cedric."
He let go of my shoulder. I didn't care if it made me look girly, I reached forward to hug him. Before I could touch him, two people grabbed my arms and pulled me backwards.
Black called after me and asked me to tell Harry's friends that they had done more than enough for him and Lupin and Harry.
I did just that. One of the twins found me as soon as one of the aurors firmly escorted me out of the Great Hall. I think it was Fred, but not even the teachers can tell them apart. I passed on Black's message and left, not even waiting for their response.
I hope that I get a chance to speak in Black's defense tomorrow. I don't know if he'll thank me for what I want to say, but I know that no one will listen to the Gryffindors. People will listen to me. I'm going to use that.
I'm going to do something right.
Cedric
C | D
10 October 1994
Dear Diary,
All of Hufflepuff showed up to the 'trial'. Most of Gryffindor as well. About half of each Ravenclaw and Slytherin were there. I noticed that all the children of suspected Death Eaters were present.
I won't go into detail on the trial. The Ministry was not kind to Black. They blamed him for the murders of the muggles and Pettigrew he had originally been imprisoned for, they blamed almost everything that has gone wrong in the world on him since he broke out of Azkaban. They even accused him of several misdemeanors from before his life was turned on his head. He looked physically ill when they accused him of working with Lupin to infect Harry with lycanthropy. Harry's name came up often in the accusations.
He admitted to enchanting a muggle motorcycle to fly, however, he said he didn't know where the motorcycle was and insisted that such enchantments weren't illegal until after he was imprisoned.
It was a tedious trial, but by dinnertime, all of the evidence had been presented and Black had received his only chance to speak and answer questions. The group of students tasked with being the jury withdrew to one of the empty classrooms. There was an auror in the corner of the room, but no other adults were present.
When we voted, eighteen out of twenty-one people considered Black guilty. I didn't understand how everyone was so easily convinced of the lies about Black. Did they only listen? Did they not see the man sitting in front of them?
I watched Black as he listened to the verdict and then listened as Amelia Bones read out the penalty. Execution. Public execution on Hogwarts grounds. I started to stand up and protest, but before I could, my father was standing behind me, both hands on my shoulders, keeping me in my seat.
"Don't say a word, Cedric," he said in my ear. "Even if it was me up in that seat, you are going to stay in your seat and keep your mouth closed."
I wasn't right. It was a gross injustice. I tried to ignore my father's orders, but his wand sharply flicked my back. I couldn't move from my seat and I couldn't speak.
I tried to catch Black's eye, but he didn't look in my direction. I looked toward the knot of Weasleys and Harry's other friend, Granger, but Black didn't look at them either. One of the twins met my eye but looked away quickly. Three aurors, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, were keeping them in their seats. Four more aurors were standing around the Gryffindor table, their wands out and preventing students from protesting the verdict.
Dumbledore was equally displeased, but he remained silent without prompting. It must have been accidental magic that threw off the spells my father put on me. I stood up on the bench, shoving my father backward, not caring if he hurt himself falling.
They couldn't execute Black in front of the school. Not in front of minors! I stood up on my seat and shouted at Amelia Bones for making students responsible for the life and death of an adult. I shouted at Rufus Scrimgeour for not speaking up because I knew that he believed Black's innocence. He was as furious about the verdict as I was. I shouted at the aurors who had their wands pointed at students who had nothing to do with Black; aurors who were subduing minors for protesting an injustice. My father grabbed my robes and tried to pull me down, but I kept shouting even after he cast a silencing spell on me. It was a weak one that I managed to break with a silent spell from my own wand, but I was enough of a distraction to give one of the Gryffindors, I think it was one of the Quidditch chasers, a chance to stand up and continue for me. One of the aurors grabbed her, but we had broken the floodgate. It started with the Quidditch players in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor—except the Weasleys and Granger, they were too tightly guarded. A few of the Ravenclaws stood up as well. Before I could see the result of what I started, my father managed to wrestle me to the ground and pin me on my stomach.
I didn't see exactly what happened, but Black had disappeared in the chaos the students caused and there were injuries on most of the protestors when the spellfire got out of hand. Those injured were hustled to the Hospital Wing, except myself, the Gryffindor chaser, the Weasleys, Granger, the Hufflepuff keeper, a Ravenclaw prefect, and Ernie Macmillan. It wasn't one of the Ministry officials who scolded us. It was McGonagall. For the first time in my life, I outright defied a teacher and shouted right back at her about the injustice done.
She stood there until I shouted myself hoarse, informed us that each of us would lose our respective houses fifty points. I almost laughed when Granger spoke up and said that Gryffindor didn't have three hundred points to lose—none of the houses had more than a hundred points to lose. Ernie Macmillan added that the Weasleys and Granger hadn't even said a word.
Instead of becoming even more furious like I expected, McGonagall ignored them and turned to me.
It wasn't intentional, but I was the ringleader. When the others tried to come to my defense, McGonagall forced them to admit that they wouldn't have said a word unless someone else spoke first. I had spoken first and it was ultimately my fault that Black escaped. My punishment didn't come from McGonagall. It came from Dumbledore. He told me I was suspended for two weeks and informed me that the Ministry had its own punishment for me in the meantime.
I'm sitting in a Ministry holding cell while writing this. My parents refused to speak to me—they glared at me as one of the aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt, escorted me out of the school. Since I had my diary with me at the time, I was allowed to keep it, but I wasn't allowed to take anything from my dorm. My fellow inmate lent me his quill.
On the bunk below me is Harry Potter. When they threw me into the cell with him, he glanced up from the book he was reading, then proceeded to ignore me, turning his head so I couldn't see the scars I knew marred one side of his face. I tried to introduce myself, but he only pointed at a roll of parchment and a quill that was recording everything I said. It hovered on the other side of the auror guarding us. He told me he didn't care why I was there or for how long. They only locked me up with him to try to get him to share something about Black or Lupin that he wouldn't share with anyone else.
I barely recognized Harry Potter. I didn't know him at all from before, but I had sat next to him in the library a few times and his entire demeanor was different.
Then he asked if I needed help with my shoulder. I didn't realize it, but at some point, I earned a deep gash on the outside of my shoulder. It had cut through the meat of my arm and I hadn't even felt it before Harry said something. As soon as I realized it was there, it started to throb. Aches and pain started to appear all over my body from when I had been tossed and dragged around.
Harry was careful to hide the scarred side of his face from me as he dragged the desk chair over to the sink and guided me over to it. It hurt as he cleaned the wound and even though he mentioned it only looked worse than it was. It was only a shallow cut from a severing charm.
I don't know how he stayed so calm or detached. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he only wanted to curl up and block everything out. He produced bandages from somewhere and I asked him how he knew what to do. He told me that he had to fix himself up a few times when the healers refused to look at him. I asked why they refused to treat him and he just turned his head so I could see the scars on his face.
Harry seemed surprised but didn't say anything when I didn't look at the scars. I didn't trust myself not to stare, so I didn't look. I waited patiently, staring at his collarbone while he bandaged my shoulder. It was clumsily done, but better than I could have done myself. I'd never gotten a serious injury before and the longer I felt the pain, the harder it was to keep my composure.
When he finished, he didn't acknowledge my word of thanks, he just returned to his bunk and reopened his book. I'm going to try and sleep. Everything will be clearer in the morning.
Cedric
C | D
11 October 1994
Dear Diary,
Harry woke me up early in the morning, screaming in terror. As a prefect, I'd helped the younger students through nightmares before. By the time I was fully awake, I was already out of my bunk and shaking him awake. Harry was crying from it. My gut told me it wasn't a normal nightmare. He woke up gasping about killing someone.
He didn't want comfort, but I gave it anyway. I sat on his bunk beside his pillow, patiently waiting for him to calm down.
After the first half of the morning passed, I realized exactly why the Ministry put me in a cell with Potter. It wasn't exactly to punish me, although I knew being cramped in the cell would become extremely taxing on me as time passed. I suspected that while my suspension was legitimate, the expression on Dumbledore's face told me I had been at serious risk of expulsion for starting what could only be considered a riot. The Ministry had jumped on the opportunity to 'punish' me further. My parents either knew what was going on or didn't have the power to stop it.
Harry was a mess in the way that prison guards and aurors couldn't help. While I suspected that Auror Shacklebolt had been trying—I had seen him appear at the end of the hall and observe us—he didn't have any success because Harry wouldn't let him close enough to help. What Harry really needed was Black or Lupin, someone Harry trusted, who would understand how it felt to kill someone. My father had mentioned that both men had killed during the first war, insisting that it was a sign of their future tendencies towards the Dark Arts.
Instead, the Ministry snatched the next best thing that fell into their lap.
As soon as Harry had somewhat calmed down, the way Shacklebolt dragged me out of the cell for questioning told me that they were genuinely angry with me. I was glad that I didn't know anything about Black or Lupin that the aurors didn't already know.
Shacklebolt intimidated and tried to force me to share more information than I had, but he couldn't force me to say things I didn't know.
My patience was thin from being woken up far earlier than I intended. I told myself that I wouldn't get short with him. I did my best, but he kept pushing and pushing and pushing. We were in that room for hours. We were in that room until my hands began to tremble with hunger and my stomach was twisted in a painful knot.
For most of the time, the interrogation was about Black. I told Shacklebolt everything I knew; I didn't try to hide any of it. I told him everything my father had told me. I told him what I observed in the Great Hall. I told him about what happened in the jury room. I told him all the realizations I had come to afterwards.
The conversation turned to Lupin. I didn't know much about him, but I shared the little I knew. I got some satisfaction as Shacklebolt's frustration rose. I was only giving him information he already knew.
He turned the conversation on to Harry. I dodged his questions and talked in circles, refusing to share even the most basic information. He asked too many questions and I lost my temper. I shouted at him for imprisoning Harry and preventing him from going to school. I shouted at Shacklebolt all the crimes the Ministry committed against Harry and Lupin and Black. Even though I knew I shouldn't have, I kept shouting and shouting. Shacklebolt let me scream at him, watching me with patience and composure.
It unnerved me how he could switch between furious and intimidating and patient and calm.
When I was retuned to the cell, Harry was gone. I took the opportunity to flip through the collection of books Harry had accumulated. Most of them were Hogwarts fourth-year texts, but there were a number of defense textbooks and fiction novels. Aside from a deck of self-shuffling playing cards, there was nothing else to occupy oneself with.
I paced the room until Harry returned. He was stumbling with exhaustion. As soon as the auror, who I didn't recognize, opened the cell door, I ducked under Harry's arm and guided him to the bed.
Harry insisted he was fine, but when I rolled my eyes, he fell quiet. Even so, he refused to rest. Instead, we spent the afternoon playing cards. Eventually, he grew bored with the game, grabbed one of his books, picked up a rolled-up piece of paper from the desk, and sat down on his bed. I played one of the solo card games I knew, subtly observing him as he practiced the movements of the Summoning charm.
"You're doing it wrong," I told him, then sat down on the bed next to him.
He scowled but didn't stop me from taking the makeshift wand from his hand. I demonstrated it and guided him through the wand movements and explained the theory. I was sitting on his left side. The scars on his face made it difficult to judge his expression. He didn't pull away when I took his hand and guided him through the motions, but I didn't try to see how long he would let me help. After explaining it and watching him do it right a handful of times, I climbed up onto my bed and laid down.
When I looked out the cell door, I saw Shacklebolt and a healer subtly observing.
Several hours later, which I spent lying on my back and thinking about everything, Harry's head appeared over the edge of my bed.
"Cedric? Can you teach me the Banishing charm too?"
At first, I couldn't help but stare at him blankly. I never expected Harry to ask for help, much less from me. After a moment, I snapped out of my surprise and agreed. Before I could move, Harry put the charms book on my bed, then the fake wand, then climbed up beside me.
At some point, he had stopped hiding his scars. He had taken off his robes and was plain, grey, muggle clothes underneath with the insignia of the Ministry on the hems. While his attention was elsewhere, I let myself look at the scars. His sleeves were short and the skin of his right forearm was mangled beyond recognition. I didn't want to touch those scars, but I had to in order to reposition his arm so he could do the wand movement properly. After I taught him the incantation and wand movements, then told him all he had to do was practice, I expected him to climb down, but he didn't move. He just sat beside me while I wrote today's entry. Only when the auror announced lights were going out did Harry climb off my bed.
I almost dismissed the way he stuck close to me as unimportant. After he climbed off my bed, he popped his head back up and asked how long I would be staying.
"I don't know, Harry," I told him quietly. "I don't know how long I'm staying, but I'll stay with you as long as I can." To my surprise, I meant it.
Cedric
C | D
19 October 1994
Dear Diary,
Since my last entry, the days have been rather monotonous. Harry and I have only left the cell to shower—which was a tedious experience. Every morning, except for this one, Harry woke me early while in the throes of a nightmare. I sat with him until he calmed down, then after eating the breakfast levitated into the room, we played games with the deck of cards. Harry enjoys trying to build towers with the cards. Sometime before lunch Harry would ask me to teach him something from one of his textbooks—at least, I would teach him as much as I could without a wand to practice with.
It is only a few hours until the moon rises and Harry is pacing anxiously. Occasionally, he shouts at the auror guarding us to get him away from me. At first, I tried to calm him down, but he refused to listen. His anxiety is contagious. I'm not afraid of Harry. I used to be, but after actually seeing him, it would be silly to fear a skinny, knobby-kneed kid. Well, I think I would still fear him if I had to compete against him in Quidditch, but I'm not scared of him for being a werewolf. I'm not scared of Harry. I am scared of the wolf. I'm terrified of the wolf.
I'm more scared of surviving the wolf's attack than I am of dying from it. If I become a werewolf, I don't know what I'll do. My parents will disown me. I won't be able to finish Hogwarts. I might even be trapped in Harry's situation—locked in the Ministry.
But here I am concerned about myself when Harry is the one who is truly suffering. If he turned me, he would hate himself and that would crush him.
Down the hall, I can see Professor Snape talking to our guard. He has something in his hand—a goblet of some kind. Harry doesn't see him. He is too busy pacing anxiously.
Snape walks this way. When Harry sees him, he backs away from the bars. Snape waves his wand and the goblet floats towards Harry. Snape says its Wolfsbane but Harry doesn't believe him. I don't blame him. The two didn't part on the best of terms.
Snape looked up at me sternly. I intervened and Harry reluctantly consumed the potion, grimacing at the taste. It wasn't until after Snape left that I realized that the Wolfbane meant Harry and I weren't going to be separated for the full moon.
Either Harry was no longer concerned or didn't realize that we wouldn't be separated.
(large smudge of ink)
Harry surprised me. He poked his head up beside me while I was thinking and I didn't notice him until he started talking. He realized that we weren't going to be separated and he wanted me to stay up on my bed for the night, insisting that he can't jump as a wolf. I don't think he's telling the truth, but I decide to believe him.
At some point over the past few days, I asked Harry if he could actually perform the Patronus charm. He explained that his boggart was a Dementor and it helped him learn the charm. Then he asked what my boggart was. I had no choice but to confess that it was a dog. I never told him why.
I think he remembered and decided to distance himself from me while transformed.
That's enough writing for tonight. I want to try and be asleep for the entire time Harry is transformed.
Cedric
C | D
31 October 1994
Dear Diary,
They took my journal the morning after Harry's transformation. Just before Harry transformed back into himself, they took my journal and dragged me out of the cell. I didn't sleep at all that night, but I pretended to so Harry wouldn't be hurt by how scared I was of him. They dragged me out of the cell and there were four aurors interrogating me. One was Shacklebolt and I recognized Rufus Scrimgeour, who didn't say much. He just stood in the corner and observed. He only spoke when the aurors started to get carried away. The other two aurors were Proudfoot, who guarded us most of the time, and Mad-Eye Moody, who scared me more than the other three combined and carried out most of the interrogation.
The only thing Scrimgeour said was to tell Mad-Eye how long it had been. After more than five hours, it was finally over. I wasn't entirely sure what information I had shared I don't know how Mad-Eye was even scarier that he was when I had first seen him.
The interrogation didn't end there. Scrimgeour stepped up and informed me that I was seventeen. It was October 20th. My birthday. The trace had been lifted. Scrimgeour informed me that I would no longer be given the careful treatment of a minor because my father had refused to sign off on the more invasive interrogation techniques.
By order of the Minister, all rights had been suspended for all adults involved in the Sirius Black case. My father had refused to allow them to 'take whatever measures necessary' to find out what I knew about Black, but my father's legal authority over me dissolved when I turned seventeen. Scrimgeour pointed his wand at me. I remember the spell he cast, legilimens, and pain, but nothing else. I woke up in my bed at home the next day.
My parents' expressions told me not to ask what happened. Three days later, I returned to school. Many people asked what happened while I was gone, but I refused to talk about it. Aside from the curiosity of the general student population, I was extremely unpopular. In the hallways, even the first years attempted to trip me. I barely managed to block several curses throughout the day. All of my friends refused to speak to me. It took two days for me to run into the Weasley twins in the entrance of the Great Hall. I was walking past them and as they greeted me, someone hit me with a weak Bludgeoning curse. It knocked me down and scattered everything I was holding on the ground in front of me. The twins immediately jumped to my defense, but it was their sister that cast the Bat-Bogey hex at the perpetrator and asked if anyone else wanted to try and have a go at me. The bullying in the halls eased, but in the common room, nothing changed. I quickly started locking all my possessions in my trunk and the only time I was in the Hufflepuff dorms was to sleep.
The teachers were aware of the problems I faced from my classmates, but didn't interfere, although they didn't encourage it either.
All of my professors expressed their disappointment with me in some way.
Dumbledore stated that I would have detention every Saturday, all day, until I graduated. He dismissed me from his office after telling me to report to his office at eight o'clock on Saturday.
McGonagall held me after class and gave me a stack of assignments that was definitely larger than it should have been. I had only missed two weeks and there was at least four weeks of work in the stack. She sternly told me that she would have excused me from the work if I was absent for almost any other reason, but in this instance, I had only a week to complete the work. I bit back the answer I wanted to give. Instead, I simply thanked her for collecting my work and left.
Flitwick similarly held me after class and lectured me about responsibility and the consequences for my actions, then assigned me a similar pile of work, although I saw that it was much more reasonable. Later, when I looked through the assignments, it included a list of all of the work and assignments completed by my classmates, and only about half of them were marked for me to complete. I had a week to complete the work.
Even Hagrid scolded me for getting mixed up with the Sirius Black business and warned me not to follow in Granger or the Weasley's footsteps. Fortunately, he told me I only had to come by on Sunday and interact with the creatures I had missed in class to prove I was caught up. He gave me a list of the creatures I missed so I could read the relevant chapters in the textbook.
Binns only gave me copies of the work I missed and a disapproving glance, although I'm not sure he knew exactly why I had been absent for so long. I had two weeks to finish it.
Moody ignored me in class, but his blue eye was trained on me the entire time. He dropped my missed work on my desk before I stood up to leave. I was still terrified of him.
Snape spent the first ten minutes of class berating me in front of everyone, then singled me out in class with snide comments and harsh critiques of the potion I was attempting to brew. He delivered me my make-up work after class and gave me two weeks to complete it.
The punishment and condemnation of the professors is extremely unfair. The stress from the constant antagonism from the students and the effort it takes to refrain from retaliation is utterly exhausting.
Sprout was the last professor I had in class and her punishment was by far the worst. She assigned me detention for an hour before breakfast every morning doing menial chores in the greenhouses for her until I 'understood the gravity of my actions' and 'saw the error of my ways.'
When Sprout started to lecture me, I walked away before she finished. Before I left, I told her that the teachers and students could punish me as much as they wanted, but I still thought I did the right thing. I told her that I wasn't sure if what I did was worth it, but I didn't regret my actions. She was furious but didn't pursue me.
On my second day back, the day before my confrontation with Sprout, I found a study room on the seventh floor that appeared when I walked past it three times. There was a trunk in the room that had a large collection of books and whenever I opened it, the book I needed was sitting on top of the others. If it wasn't for that room, I would never have finished the unjust amount of homework I had been assigned. McGonagall was surprised when I returned to her the large stack of homework three days after she assigned it. She accepted it without a word and I left. Two days later, I delivered to Flitwick my make-up homework alongside the assignment due for the day. Today, I turned in Snape's work during breakfast.
I spent the arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons in the study room. I made it to the Great Hall about ten minutes before the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament was announced. After eating and listening to the announcements, I was the first to duck out of the Great Hall. Outside the Great Hall, Shacklebolt was waiting to return my journal. I took it and walked away.
While I was with Harry, I told him about the Triwizard Tournament and he agreed that because of recent events, I shouldn't enter. I had no intention of entering, but when I walked by the Great Hall before breakfast, there was no one there. I stopped to look at the Goblet of Fire. I was exhausted of the constant animosity from everyone, even the teachers. Before I could think about it, I scribbled my name and school onto a piece of scrap parchment, then put it in the Goblet.
During the feast, I sat at the back, just as curious as everyone else who would be picked as the champions. First, Victor Krum, the Quidditch player, was picked from Durmstrang. Next, was Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons. The name that came out of the Goblet for the Hogwarts champion, to everyone's surprise, was mine. Even Dumbledore was stunned. Numb, I managed to stand up and walk to Dumbledore before he had to call my name twice. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang applauded politely alongside the weak and uncertain applause from my house and the enthusiastic applause from the Weasleys and a few Gryffindors.
The Durmstrang Headmaster, Karkaroff, asked if there was something wrong with who the Goblet of Fire chose for the Hogwarts champion. Luckily, he waited until it was only the other champions, the Ministry representatives, and the other champions present.
The Ministry representatives and Dumbledore were at a loss on how to answer his question, so I told him that I was particularly unpopular in the Ministry and at school for the moment. No one contradicted me, but the other champions took a subtle step away.
"The higher the pedestal, the further the fall," Barty Crouch sneered at me.
Dumbledore smoothed everything over before an incident could arise and gave the instructions to the champions.
When I returned to the common room five minutes before curfew, most of the house was waiting. I didn't have anything to say to them, so I marched straight to my dorm. I could hear a debate erupt behind me, but I didn't bother listening.
By the time my yearmates came up to the room, I had showered and closed the curtains around my bed. One thing I loved about my bed at Hogwarts was that if I didn't want anyone to talk to me or get past my curtains, the things were as solid as rock and over the past week, my yearmates had experienced more than a few bruised knuckles. They tried to talk to me, but the curtains muffled all but the loudest of noises—at least, it muffled their voices until Sprout appeared to demand an explanation for the racket.
It didn't muffle Spout's voice as she berated the boys for disturbing the rest of the house. As an afterthought, she ordered them to leave me alone. They did.
Cedric
Author's note: Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!
UP NEXT: A continuation of the collected personal notes of Mister Cedric Diggory