April 12

From the Diary of CJ Diggory:

Note to my brother Cedric, whose voice I have heard trying to tell me not to kill myself. I wish you hadn't. If I had ended it earlier, it would have been so much cleaner.

Not only am I still bound to my fate, my time has shrunk and it happened in such a way that I managed to piss off nearly everyone I care about, and get myself into as much trouble as humanly possible. Like cashing out isn't bad enough; I'm going to be cashing out with everyone angry at me. Okay, not angry, disappointed. Like that's better.

I was captured by Malfoy while walking back towards Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. He had some amendments to my unbreakable vow. Namely, instead of having until the exact date of my birthday, I have until the stroke of midnight on April 18th. Which is only week away from today. Oh, and of course there was a caveat that I couldn't tell anybody about that vow, either. Or why I was even there.

But Malfoy wasn't satisfied with just amending the vow…oh, no. He left me stupefied in a cave, on some kind of timed jinx, and proceeded to pour half a bottle of firewhiskey over me. For one horrible second I actually thought he was going to set me on fire. Foolish, of course, because clearly he needs me alive to fulfill my duties. He also sent some sort of spell over me that made me feel as if I'd had several drinks.

Well, you can imagine what happened. I passed out; when I came to and the spell had passed I felt hung over, stunk of alcohol, and was over five hours past curfew. I stumbled out of the cave and ran nearly in to the search party that had been sent out to find me.

Ugly doesn't begin to describe the scene that followed. Miss Shell was there…they'd gotten her and not George when they'd firecalled the house, and she was so angry she couldn't speak. And there were lectures from McGonagall and Professor Malfoy, who was actually white-lipped. It was Healer Morgainne who pointed out that in my condition the lectures were pretty useless, and I was whisked off to the infirmary.

Of course, what it looked like to them was that I had celebrated my success on the Quidditch field a little too hard, gotten shit-faced drunk and wandered off in to a cave causing massive alarm when I didn't return after curfew. To make matters worse, I felt like total crap just from what Malfoy had done to me, not to mention the whole curse problem, and I proceeded to throw up over half of the people yelling at me.

Which really set the mood the next day when George showed up, absolutely stunned and looking at me utterly disappointed. I swear I really wished I was dead in that moment. He set in on a long lecture, and he was trying to be fair, and kept asking me if I didn't have anything to say to explain my behavior?

Well, what could I say? I mean, I could hardly explain what had happened. And that whole throat constricting thing started happening, that I usually get when I am even thinking about speaking about the vow. And the less I said, the angrier he got.

But that wasn't the worst. He was getting all het up, and waving his arms, and he got a little close, and I flinched backwards. It was instinct…that and the result of being recently attacked by Malfoy. But the look on his face…the shock and the hurt at my reaction. And he said to me in the saddest voice I'd ever heard:

CJ, after all this time do you really believe that I'd hit you?

Well, that was pretty much that. I cost the house five hundred points, and effectively the house cup. I have detention for the rest of the year and my Hogsmeade privileges are revoked. Oh, and Miki dumped me, of course, because I had left her with a promise to get her sweater and instead had ended up getting drunk and abandoning her in the café.

Naturally, Alf and Teddy and Eileen have tried to get me to talk to them, and I finally blurted out that I wanted them all to go away and leave me alone, because I didn't need anybody.

Not true; I need them desperately, but I cannot give them the answers they want and I just can't keep listening to them try and help me. So they're pissed at me too. Tomorrow we go home, and I already know I'm grounded. I'm not even going to be allowed to go in to the store to help with the fireworks, which in fact is probably the smartest thing Dad ever did but he doesn't even understand why.

To say that my outlook is pretty damned bleak right now is an understatement.

I just hope I can patch things up a little before it all ends.

WWWWWWW

CJ looked up from the bench that he'd isolated himself on. He knew Alf and Teddy were inside joking around; he knew after the nasty blow up he had with them yesterday he probably was not welcome. They would be heading home on the train shortly, and he wasn't looking forward to the trip, or to his reception. Everyone would have had a right to be mad at him, of course, if he actually had been such a dip shit as it looked like he had been. And the fact that he couldn't explain that he HADN'T been a moron wasn't making anything better.

"Is this seat taken?" Eileen didn't wait for him to answer but plunked herself down. "I assume it's not reserved for another silent faced recluse."

"Shut up."

"Witty, CJ." She tossed her hair behind her. "And I'll tell you what I told Teddy when he was having issues, you can't get rid of me…any of us, really…no matter how much you try." She looked him over carefully. "Does this have something to do with that thing you had us all researching for you that you couldn't talk about, that you swore to us was over?"

The constricting started in his throat, and CJ felt his pulse racing; he just looked at Eileen in horror.

"Right. I thought so. I said as much to Alf, too, but he wasn't sure. Deny it all you will, but I know." She looked over the fields, and kept speaking slowly. "I miss the group, you know. The days when it was just the four of us against everyone. I know I'm as guilty of it as anyone, since we've kind of paired off. Although now it's ONLY me who's paired off." She glanced at him sideways. "Do you still remember that dream you told me about once?"

Did he? He wished he could forget it, stupid mirage that strung him along for far too long. "Yeah, right piece of shite that was. Teddy is still mooning over Taylor, not Victoire, and you and Alf aren't exactly heading for wedding bells." He snorted. "It was a stupid, cruel dream."

"Cruel?" She asked, drawing the world out slowly, savoring it almost. "You know, I don't believe you ever did tell me who you were there with, CJ." He didn't take the bait…at the time he'd had the dream he had yet to meet Liv. "But no reason to think you couldn't work for George someday…I know that was part of it. He might be mad at you right now, CJ, but surely you know he loves you?"

CJ just let out a long exhale, almost too feeble to be a sigh. "Yeah, I know. It's what makes it so bloody awful."

Eileen just nodded, thinking she understood him. "I know it seems impossible right now, but it will pass, you know. George will trust you again, though you'll have to earn that. It's not like it would have been with your father, at least. He'd have killed you."

A better option right now. But he managed a wry smile at her. "Thanks for trying, Ei." He spotted Teddy and Alf heading towards them; to his shock they were also levitating his trunk towards the bench.

"What?" Alf said, with raised eyebrows. "Did you think we'd make you go back in to get it?"

Teddy crossed his arms. "Try as you might, CJ, you will never be rid of us."

Tears stung his eyes. They didn't know, and wouldn't know until it was too late, what they meant to him. "I don't deserve you lot."

"Quite probably. But you have us anyway." Alf nudged him. "C'mon, let's head over to the train."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

April 17th

My last days with my family, still being punished for something I did, but didn't really do, and just wishing to find some way to make it better. Because it's coming to a head tonight.

George is being very serious and stern…I can see right now how bloody freaky it must have been when Gramps would get mad. He's not unkind, but he's not been relenting, either, until I can explain myself. Which of course is never. Miss Shell is being VERY kind to me, which makes me feel even more of a heel. I've been very quietly helping with Freddo and the girls (at least they're not mad at me) and she more subtly tries to get me to talk about this whole thing. And of course I can't.

In any event, thinking about what I have to do and the best way to do it, I realized I need to leave tonight; or more accurately early tomorrow morning. I don't want to die here. I can't bear the thought of them finding my body; of them living in this house tainted with my memory. Besides, something… stupid vows…something is pulling me towards the store. Yes, it will happen there, but before it can happen there I need to make sure there is no suspicion. They will have to think I have run away, but not to London, not to Diagon Alley.

I have laid plans, I think. I believe they will work. And in the end, they will forgive me. I know they love me…I know that's the only reason they are so angry about my apparent stupidity. They care about me. And it all makes it so much worse. But I am just so tired of all of this.

I wished for one good day before I died. And I got it, that day on the Quidditch field. But at what price?

WWWWWWW

"It's stuffy as heck in here." Ricky observed, carefully packing away fireworks in the specially spelled boxes.

George forced a smile from where he was sorting products in the appropriate order. "Indeed. Quite unseasonably warm for April. Must be nearly eighty five degrees outside."

"And humid." Alf added, huffing out his breath so his bangs rose up. He looked sideways at his father. "Another pair of hands would be nice…we could definitely finish up tomorrow then." He timidly suggested.

Their eyes met, Alf's slightly pleading and George's not unkind but firm. "Not until he can come up with some plausible explanation for what happened, Alf, or just bloody well talk to me. You know I'm not unreasonable."

Alf understood of course. He knew his father wanted nothing more than to relent with CJ, but hell, CJ was making it damn near impossible. It was like he wanted this anger being generated around him. CJ had done a good job of pissing Alf off as it was; couldn't he see that Alf just wanted to help? Even if he didn't think he could tell Dad, you could always tell your brother, couldn't you?

Whatever there was to tell, of course, which they still had no clue about. All Alf knew was that one moment CJ was fine, stone cold sober and getting a jacket for his girlfriend, and five hours later there was hell to pay when CJ didn't show up for the walk back to the school. Man, he didn't think he'd ever seen Miki so pissed!

Not that he'd thought anything about it at the time. Not really. He'd just assumed that CJ had gotten held up at the castle for some reason when he'd gone back there. Maybe something was up with one of the younger kids? Or maybe he'd run afoul of old Filch and gotten detention? Or, one of the hippogriffs was ready to give birth; he knew that Hagrid would have been able to lure CJ away from all other thoughts with that. It never occurred to him that CJ would have broken the rules in any way.

None of it made sense. Didn't then, didn't now. "It's just not logical, Dad." He said, and not for the first time. "Something else is up."

"I know that." George admitted. "This just isn't CJ at all, but he's not giving us anything to go on to help him with."

Ricky had been watching their banter back and forth, his brow creased in worry. "I know the way he was talking the day of the match, it almost seemed like he didn't expect to be around us much longer. Like he was leaving."

George chewed that over. "Hm. I wonder…" George sighed. "Perhaps he got wind of some threats that Kingsley Shacklebolt has made recently. But surely he wouldn't believe that?"

Alf had other ideas. "He's been talking about Cedric. A lot, Dad. Said he was hoping to go visit his grave at some point, said that he needed to."

"I'd be happy enough to take him if he'd just ask." George said quietly. "Even if he is still grounded."

Ricky looked up from the last box he'd just set aside. "D'you think this has something to do with that framed photo his father gave him? Maybe it's messing with his head in some way?"

THAT got both Alf and George's attention; George's eyes widened, and he rubbed his chin. "That…is not badly thought out, Ricky. Though your father thought he'd spelled it pretty carefully to send off alarms if it generated any sort of magic."

"Yeah, but Diggory's been in Eastern Europe, right, Dad?" Alf pointed out. "It's possible it might be some sort of rare, exotic curse that he would have missed."

"Hm." George sat back. "Well, it's worth looking in to, anyway. CJ's not going to say anything to us, it's clear, so do you think you can manage to spirit away that frame? We might have Bill run some more tests."

Alf felt relieved just knowing that they had something, anything, to go on. "I'll find a way." He promised. Then he looked around. "Dad, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were ready to ship these things tonight."

George winked at him. "Not quite tonight." He looked from Alf to Ricky. "You lot keep it quiet, but I'm shipping day after tomorrow. Top secret."

"Way to go, Dad." Alf said with great awe. "A whole month under schedule."

"Wicked." Ricky agreed. "Even Dad'd be impressed, I bet."

"But you're not to tell him." George reminded him. "All the better to impress him later, kiddo."

WWWWWWW

Dinner was not an entirely somber affair. Well, it never could be, really; not with Freddo chattering away, and the twins engaging in their own form of baby food terrorism. CJ was subdued, and Alf kept trying to act as normal as possible. George sighed mentally; he just wanted things to really be normally. Why, oh why, wouldn't' CJ talk to him?

He headed into his downstairs workroom shortly after dinner; CJ quietly agreeing to do the dishes. That was Alf's cue, George knew, to slip in to CJ's room and snatch that frame. He hoped that however unlikely it sounded, that Ricky had been on to something there.

He was surprised and hopeful when CJ looked in on him. "I've finished the dishes." He said, almost shyly.

George managed a smile. "Thank you." And on instinct, he reached out towards the clearly troubled young man.

CJ hesitated, clearly surprised, and then came forward, tentatively leaning towards George; George immediately wrapped him in as tight a hug as he could manage. He felt fear, then, though he didn't know why. Just that in some way CJ was standing on the side of a cliff, and George wasn't at all sure he could reach him before he went over. He rubbed the boy's back, trying to convey that he still loved him, that he just wanted to know what was going on, even as he found himself grappling for speech.

He found it, finally. "CJ, won't you please tell me what's wrong?" He pleaded, not letting go.

He felt CJ's breath hitch, like he was fighting back tears so badly he couldn't breathe, and George just kept rubbing the boy's back in encouragement. Finally he spoke, almost choking out the words. "Tomorrow. Okay? Just...I can't tonight, Dad. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is fine." George almost wanted to weep with relief. He didn't quite understand why it had to wait until tomorrow, but clearly CJ was in quite a state and he deserved a chance to compose himself. He hugged him even more tightly, just glad to know that they would be getting through this. "You do know I love you?" He added.

"I love you too." That came out much easier, much more clearly than his choked words from earlier. Almost reluctantly, CJ pulled away, wiping at his face. "I'm sorry this happened like this." He added, looking at George wistfully.

"Me too. But we'll work it all out, tomorrow." George promised, watching with relief as CJ walked away to head on to bed. He still felt uneasy; he worried about what CJ would tell him. But at least he knew that they were close to getting answers, and that was what he would have to believe in.

WWWWWWW

Dad...I am so sorry about everything. I know that by the time you will be reading this you will think that I lied to you. But I didn't, really...I knew that you would find answers to everything that has been plaguing me "tomorrow" and once you find those answers, you will know why I couldn't talk to you today. I just really needed to tell you that I loved you before...before I did what I had to do. And I needed to feel that you still loved me as well. It makes everything so much easier now. Not your intent, of course, but then there wasn't anything that you could have said that would have steered me from this path. I was set upon it from birth really, though I didn't know it for a long time. But everything good that has happened to me, and what happiness I have had, has come from you.

Be watchful of Alf. This is going to bother the heck out of him; he'll blame himself for not knowing what was happening. But I thought for a long time I could beat it, and then when I realized I couldn't, all I wanted was to be as happy as I could, for as long as I could. That is what Alf saw, because it was what I wanted him to see.

Tell everyone how much their love meant to me. I am sorry it had to end this way, but I had a family for five years, and that's more than I ever hoped for.

Love, CJ

WWWWWWW

CJ woke up at four am. There was a hush in the entire place that spoke of the peaceful time just before dawn. The only sound CJ could detect was the steady beating of his own heart and the sound of his breath, each one of which cost him an effort.

He gave a wry smile as he pulled out his muggle flashlight, left over from camping, and was grateful to see it worked; thank heavens George had taken pains to make the house somewhat friendly to muggle electronics, for Miss Shell's sake.

Instead of the subtle blue aura of a magical cast, CJ found himself in the harsh whites of muggle illumination. His room, fancifully painted by Miss Shell just before Freddo had been born, seemed almost menacing in the dancing shadows. CJ sighed; he would miss this room, miss the expression of love it represented from a woman who had been as close to a mother as he'd ever had. And he then looked down at Tang, the furry pygmy puff that Dad had given him more than four years ago. One of the first real gifts he'd ever received, the first real kindness he'd ever known from a living human being.

CJ didn't wake Tang. Puffs rarely lived longer than four years, and he wondered quietly if Tang would pass away once he realized CJ was gone. And taking Tang seemed out of the question; CJ would not survive the next twenty four hours, but no reason to kill Tang in the process.

It had been hell living with knowing he had angered his family these past days, and knowing they would be angry at him still for another day didn't help. But what had to be done, had to be done, and he was not about to back out now. And unfortunately, for the next few hours they would again think he was foolish and insensitive, and reckless.

It had come as a harsh blow last summer when he'd come slap up against the fact that unbreakable vows really could not be broken. He remembered the numbing cold that went through his veins, the choking feeling in his throat and way his mouth went desert-dry at the knowledge. But not anymore. Now, he kept himself detached from his reality. That the deadline had moved up had thrown him, but really, he supposed it was better this way.

It was all very simple: by midnight tonight, he would either blow up Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or die.

And not, he understood, a simple death. As his grandfather had innocently described, a horrible, agonizing, painful death, tearing himself apart as he fought the curse. Not what he had in mind, thank you very much. He'd studied it thoroughly, and there were people who opted suicide over death by breaking an unbreakable. Successfully.

"I won't hurt this family." CJ whispered to nobody in particular.

Of course, he wasn't stupid. He knew he'd be hurting them no matter what; he did know that George and Miss Shell cared about him and would miss him when he was gone. He held his diary, which now also enclosed a sealed letter to George. It was important that they not realize his sacrifice too soon; it couldn't be stopped, and the last thing he wanted was for George to watch him die a terrible death. CJ managed a snicker at having been placed in Slytherin.

He placed a different letter on his pillow. They would spend the day looking in the wrong place, looking around Cedric's grave, George no doubt intending to chew his ass out once he got hold of him. He hoped George wouldn't be too hard on himself when he realized the truth of it. But it had to be easier than the alternative. It had to be now, though. If he hung around all day he was afraid he'd back out, or panic and do something foolish. Besides, it would take him most of the day to get to London in the muggle fashion, and he could hardly sneak to the store until after dark.

He shuddered. There it was again. That driving, deep seated desire to kill himself in the store. Not anywhere else. No, it had to be there, it had to be after closing, he had to push himself as close to his deadline as possible. And as long as they didn't discover the diary too soon...CJ frowned. That was a danger, even as carefully as he'd planned things out.

A thought came to him: Ricky. Ricky who had been so cool lately, who had grown up to be a decent kid, right enough. Ricky was so excited because his Dad was taking him to see Puddlemere United today. He knew Victoire was spending her break visiting Liv and that Aunt Fleur was working today. Yes, that was the perfect place to send the diary, so it would get to George, but not before it was too late.

He let the light out, and as quietly as he could he opened up the window. He'd transfigured an old robe into a rope earlier, wanting to make sure that there were no alarms placed on his room to indicate magical activity. He shinnied gracefully down the rope, and headed out to the back porch first.

Behind a screened closet, he could see his broom, shut in with the others. He was fairly certain that if he opened the door some kind of alarm would sound…George was certainly creative enough to have the valuables secured. Crossing his fingers, CJ took his wand and whispered a spell. Within seconds, his broom shrank, smaller, smaller, and smaller, until it was miniscule. With some effort he levitated it, not outside of the screened closet, but in to a flowerpot on a top shelf. He wasn't taking his broom, after all, but he wanted his family to think that he had.

Then he detoured over to Uncle Harry's back yard. Harry's owl was resting on his perch, and CJ called out in a whisper to it. The snow white bird regarded him thoughtfully, but if the earliness of the day surprised him you'd never know. He took the package, with the instructions to deliver it to Ricky Weasley, first checking for him at Hogwarts, and then dropping it off at Shell Cottage even if Ricky weren't there. That, he knew, would ensure the package wouldn't get there too early.

He watched as the bird took off into the barely-lifting darkness. Then, resolutely refusing to look behind, he sprinted across the countryside. He was an athlete, and it was an easy run across the fields, then through the woods that bordered them. He skirted a pond, and came out by the main road in Muggle Godric's hollow. It didn't take him long to get to the bus station, and CJ walked at a more leisurely pace to the ticket machine. There was a bus at 5:10 that would take him to the village of Barrow-in-Furness, where he could catch the first of three trains on his convoluted trip to London. He'd converted some galleons in to muggle money over Christmas, so he should be alright on that account.

The bus driver didn't look at him, and the ride took him through the countryside, just waking up for the day. George probably wouldn't be getting up for another hour or so; by that time CJ would be in another town, on another muggle conveyance, and far away from every clue he'd left behind that would all point north. He sighed, and settled in; he supposed one could look at it as an adventure, after all. Once, in fact, that is exactly what Albus Dumbledore did.

WWWWWWW

George felt chipper when he got up that morning. He'd forced his worries about CJ into the back of his mind...they would talk today, CJ had promised. And he was at the point where, to encourage that, he wanted to bring CJ in to the shop. After all, Bill was taking Ricky out to a game today, so he needed the help.

"You're happy." Michelle smiled, piling Katie in to the high chair beside her twin.

"And why not?" George kissed her, and tweaked each daughter's chin. Freddo grinned at him, laughing, and he planted a loud, wet kiss on his son's head.

"Gah! Dad messy!" Freddo giggled.

George looked over his shoulder to the stairs. "Alf? CJ? Breakfast is up."

Alf's door opened, and George heard him walk a cross the hall and knock.

He turned back to his chair and sat down, picking up the Prophet. He smirked a little at a rather supercilious picture of Kingsley pontificating about the situation in Eastern Europe. "Mindless blowhard." George muttered, but with a smile on his face; he certainly had the best of Kingsley this time.

"Dad?" Alf's voice was strained, calling from the upper level. "DAAAAAAAAAADD!" Thundering footsteps pounded down the stairs, and they all turned to look as Alf flew in to the kitchen, face pale, eyes wide, and hair flying. He was waving an envelope madly.

"CJ's GONE!"