CEDRIC

Chaos erupted around me where I stood with Ophilia and Fred, cracking jokes just moments before. But the arrival of the silvery Patronus, Kingsley's words of warning, and the screaming guests had brought the party to a screeching halt. I drew my wand, bracing myself in place as people shoved at each other around me. I could see Lupin and Mr. Weasley pushing their way to the tent entrance against the flow of people, and started moving that way as well. Ophilia locked her arms around myself and Fred, keeping our heads low as several spells shot into the tent. Silhouetted against the fading sunlight, figures cast curses at the tent and its patrons, skillfully dodging and parrying spells, pressing their attack. Lupin ducked out of the way of a jet of light, and it ignited the tent behind him. Finally, enough people had Disapperated that we could move easier, and I joined the line of Order members near the entrance. Behind me, I could feel the heat of the fire and sprays of water as people tried to douse it. Acrid smoke crept into my nose as I blocked spell after spell with shield charms. One hit me so hard I was forced back a few steps. The never-ending barrage of spells was making my arm start to go numb, my mind blank as I reacted on pure instinct.

"CEASE!" screamed a voice, amplified beyond anything normal, and I clapped my hands over my ears in surprise. In shock, the others around me paused for a moment, but long enough that hexes hit true. I felt my body cease up, arms and legs snapped straight in line as one by one we all fell over, unable to move. I could only stare up at the sky, dappled with clouds and orange light, eyes watering. "Search for the boy!" said the same voice, though a more normal volume now. The figures stepped over us, shooting more spells into the tent. Though they were not wearing Death Eater masks or even dressed in that manner, I couldn't recognize anyone who stepped through my vision. All I could do was panic and prey, hoping that we had given Harry and Jennifer enough time to escape to… somewhere. Who knows where they would be by now. Could they be tracked? What if they hadn't gotten out? I strained to hear over the crashing as attackers searched the tent, no doubt tossing chairs and overturning tables.

"He's not here, sir."

"Then start searching the garden and the house. The Minister doesn't want us leaving empty-handed."

I couldn't place the voice no matter how hard I tried. Was it familiar? Or just the tone that I was used to, cold and biting, malice dripping off of every word? We all continued to lay on the ground, much quieter now that the attackers had fanned out, rustling through the garden bushes and the kitchen door to the house opening and banging shut. A slight breeze picked up the scent of burnt fabric, nearby flowers, and the earth I laid on. I tried to estimate how long we were there, but the sky didn't change colors. It seemed to be considerable time before anything happened.

"Rowle! Dolohov!" snapped the voice of the leader. "Respond to that tip-off, it could be him."

A few minutes later, several people returned with negative reports. "Fine, then we'll begin the interrogations," the voice growled. "Start with one of the Weasley children, I don't care which. Maybe their screams will loosen their parent's tongues." Next to me, two people hoisted Fred off of the ground and drug his paralyzed body away from us. I glanced a glint of a pin in the fading light on one of figure's robes - it seemed to be the emblem of the Ministry. How had Death Eaters infiltrated so quickly? And how had I never noticed? I knew that there had been some spies, but this was another level I was not expecting.

Some ways away, they released the hex and though I couldn't make out the words, the tones were very rushed and snide. Fred must have said something cheeky, as he was soon screaming in a way that I knew could only be from a Cruciatus curse. This carried on several more times before the leader became irritated with Fred and they drug away someone else. I was burning with helplessness, angry at the blatant brutality and anxious at what would happen to any of us. Would we be executed in the vegetable patch? Surely they wouldn't let us go. Killing us and spreading the word would be a sure way to draw Harry and Jennifer out of hiding. My wand had been knocked from my hand when I was hit. I tried to think of something, anything, but my mind was flooded with a panicked repetition of, 'This is it, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to—'

I was grabbed fourth, fists balled into my dress robes, my heels dragging on the ground as I was pulled away from the tent and out into the fields. One of my shoes popped off as I hit a rock, and I could do nothing but register the pain in my heel as the skin was slowly scraped off by the rough ground and sharp, dry grass. Some smoke was still curling off of the half-destroyed tent. The kitchen door hung from one hinge, creaking in the breeze. I could see that Fred, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley had all been re-paralyzed and propped up against the house, frozen faces watching the interrogations play out. They seemed unharmed, though disheveled. Other bodies lay at the tent, though only Ophilia was identifiable to me. No one looked dead, and I tried to hold on to that small hope as I was thrown to the ground and the hex lifted.

I could finally look up at the face of the leader - a tall man, with blunted facial features, graying dark hair, wearing fine robes. I had vague memories of places I had seen him - around the Ministry, mostly. Perhaps at Hogwarts in June. He sneered down at me, wand pointed at my chest, daring me to try and stand.

"You're Diggory, correct? You work at the Ministry." It was not a question. "And you're close with the Potter girl. So surely you'll be able to tell me where she and her brother are?"

I trembled on the ground, finally able to react to the pain and anxiety in my body. My jaw clenched shut, my hands trembled terribly, and I just stared at him. I kept my mind focused on the sharp pains in my ankle, the back of my head, and my chest. After a moment, he uttered, "Crucio," and a shock of pain ran through my body. My spine arched, I let out an involuntary scream, and for just a second I was transported back to the night in the graveyard, facing similar torture under the hand of Voldemort. The curse lifted a second later, and I collapsed down, heavily breathing.

"Let's try it again. Where are they?"

"I… I don't know," I muttered.

"Where are they hiding?"

"I don't know!"

"Crucio!"

It lasted a few seconds longer this time. My eyes watered, every single muscle in my body pulled taunt, my bones ready to snap. My heart was beating so heavily, surely they could hear it.

"What are their plans?"

"I… don't… know…" I croaked out, throat raw.

"Tell me the truth," he hissed, waving his wand again. I braced for more pain, but my head instead grew hazy. I felt as if I was just waking from a very involved dream. "Where. Did. They. Go." The feeling was almost pleasant, dulling all of my senses for a moment.

'Tell him,' a small voice in my head said. 'It'll be so much easier just to tell the truth. They'll let us go if I do.'

"I… I don't…" I was struggling to speak. My tongue seemed to work on it's own, forcing words out of me that I didn't want to speak.

'Do it!' it urged. I couldn't fight against the heavy feeling overtaking my brain.

"I don't know," I mumbled, head hanging. "Somewhere else. I don't know where."

After a moment, the fog lifted from me. "Very well," he snapped. "Line him up with the others."

My limbs snapped back to rigid and straight, and I was dragged back over to the house and propped up next to Ginny. I could see clearly now that five of them stood around in the field, no doubt discussing what, if anything, they had learned. Two were delegated to body draggers, and they went into the tent this time and came out with Mrs. Weasley, dragging her carelessly over Ophilia as they went. Her interrogation seemed to last forever, the leader towering over her and she kneeled before him, both shaking with emotion.

The sun was casting long shadows by the time they were done torturing everyone. Ophilia had been last, drug over as almost an afterthought. By now, the leader's temper had grown very thin, and he cursed Ophilia for so long her voice began to give out. Eventually, she was drug over to the house to, though not under the Body-Bind hex. The leader had her by the hair and she stumbled along next to him, hands trying to pry him off of her.

"Let it be known that if you have any contact with or information about the undesirable Harry Potter or his associates, you must share it with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Failure to do so will be strictly punished. We will be watching." He was sure to look at everyone he could in the eye before dropping his hold of Ophilia. "Leave these blood traitors to their filth." He turned on the spot, and the others followed suit.

Shaking horribly, Ophilia ran to the tent to find her wand and began lifting the hex from everyone present. Eventually, everyone was released, and she threw herself into Fred's arms. Mrs. Weasley stood with her arms around both Ginny and Mr. Weasley, sobbing into her husband's shoulder. Bill and Fleur had each other. I longed for someone to comfort my shaking body, too. George was redistributing wands. Sarlanda Disapperated without a word.

"I have work to do," Lupin said, hands unsteady as he adjusted his robes around him. "I need to find my children." He turned and vanished, too. I wandered for a few moments, mind numb, trying to figure out how everything had happened so fast. Thankfully, no one seemed terribly injured. But how had Voldemort taken such a sudden grip? How had we survived this? It had felt certain we would have been killed. Perhaps later…?

"I'm going to make tea," George said, voice rough. "Come on mum, let's get inside…"

The Weasleys began walking inside, Fred's arm around Ophilia's shoulders, Mr. Weasley fixing his broken glasses, Charlie looking particularly rumpled. Ginny was still in her mother's arms as they walked in together. Fleur gave me a look of concern.

"Cedric? Are you coming inside?"

I realized I hadn't moved. "Um… I… I need to go home, too." I didn't want to go home. "I need to check the defensive charms."

"Of course," Bill said, his hand gripping Fleur's. "Do you want anyone to go with you?"

"No, I… I should be ok. I'll be careful, send word if I need any help."

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks. "Yeah mate, send word that you're alright, too."

I nodded, and they went inside. I turned on the spot to Apparate away to my parent's house. The house looked untouched, but I kept my wand at the ready just in case. It seemed as empty as Jennifer and I had left it. In my room, my bag was still half-open, my clothes from yesterday still littering the floor… but Jennifer's things were gone. I checked the kitchen, the living room, bathroom, my room again… absolutely nothing. If nothing else was disturbed in the house… I remembered that she did have a rucksack with her when we left this morning. It must have had everything in it.

She was really gone.

I let out a sob, drawing breath sharply as I felt tears begin to fall down my face. I knew it was coming, but the harsh reality of it was too much. The fear I had just felt, a death sentence hanging over me, inches from being executed, came crushing down on me. I sobbed in my bedroom, laying down on my untidy bed, grabbing for a pillow to hold to my chest. It still smelled like her, and it was both torture and comfort to be inhaling her scent as I laid there, wishing I was holding her instead. I would trade anything to have her back here with me. We could have run away together. We should have. Crossed the ocean, changed identities. Anything. My chest and head there throbbing but I couldn't stop crying. I was terrified. Anything, anything could happen. We could die today, or tomorrow, or any time. Or my parents could. Or anyone else I knew.

I found myself thinking about that night in the graveyard, and how stupid I was for not being this scared since that night. I had almost died then, too. I would have died, if Jennifer hadn't been there. If she hadn't protected me. Voldemort no doubt would have killed me instantly if torturing me hadn't caused her so much anguish. I had been a play thing to him. And honestly, his hubris was the only reason I was alive. The only reason I hadn't dwelled on it was… Jennifer. She had been there. I felt safe with her. She had saved me countless times, since the night of the Quidditch World Cup. I never had feared death when she was around. Had I just assumed this whole time she would save me, time after time? My stomach twisted. I was so ignorant. She was gone, and I felt more vulnerable than I had my entire life. Was this how she felt all this time? How did she deal with this?

I eventually flipped the pillow over to the dry side. I felt so awful, so many conflicting reasons swirling in my mind. I felt like I had treated Jennifer so poorly, never understanding the burden she felt every day. No wonder she constantly felt ill, unable to sleep, weakened by stress. I had never really connected any of it together. I had just taken for granted that she would be there for me, working to help keep me safe, thinking I was pulling my weight in that. I certainly hadn't just done nothing, but it felt minuscule compared to what she did. How much did I not know about? I knew she didn't talk to me about everything, that she protected me from things. How many of these horrible feelings that were crashing over me now had she held back?

At some point, I felt like if I continued crying, my head might burst open. The pillow and my face were both very wet. It was fully dark as I continued laying there, wondering if I had the strength to stand up and try to go to the flat. I felt like a kid again. I wished I was a kid again, completely ignorant of the horrors of war and growing up. I wouldn't have even recognized my grown self. So much had changed, was changing. I had never thought my life would be this way.

Eventually, I remembered that Bill and Fleur had asked me to send word when I was safe. I hadn't done that. I didn't want to be here, or the flat, or anywhere, really. But I had to see if the flat had been compromised. And I felt too vulnerable, too open in the empty house. Too many ways in or out. I forced myself up, still holding the pillow. I gave it a tight squeeze, then slowly began gathering my strewn belongings. I dragged it out as long as possible, but I was done within a few minutes. Shouldering my bag, I locked the front door on the way out, and turned on the spot once outside of the enchantments, appearing in the alleyway by the flat.

I triple-checked my surroundings every few feet, making my way through the front door of the building and then up to the floor where we had hidden our flat. The door looked fine, and was still locked. Silently, I unlocked it and listened at the door for movement. Nothing. Heart pounding, I inched it open. Everything looked the same. I cast a few detection charms, but still, nothing. Fully inside the flat, I investigated every single possible hiding spot before I allowed myself to begin to feel safe. In the living room, I stood taking deep breaths. "Expecto Patronum," I said, waving my wand and trying to muster a cheerful memory. A silvery mist sputtered from my wand, then blew away from a non-existent wind. Shaking, I tried again, attempting to focus on a simpler, happier time. Again, I failed. My heart wasn't in it. I sat on the couch, and looking up at the half-empty bookshelf, I felt my heart aching again. I couldn't help another wave of tears, of sobbing until my throat was raw, of burying my face into the couch. I just wanted these feelings to end, begging that I not be trapped in them forever. Curled on the couch, I don't remember at what point I fell asleep, only that eventually, I did.

I was jarred awake as I fell in a dream, my heart racing and my eyes snapping open. I breathed heavy, still caught up in the dream. I had felt pain shooting through me, the ground swallowing me up, Jennifer nearby but never looking at me… I realized my nose was very crusty. I wiped at it and came away with bits of dried blood. Looking down, the pillow had a small pool of dried blood in it, too. Confused, I checked my watch - I was up an hour earlier than normal. Sitting up, my neck had an uncomfortable kink in it. My entire body felt disgusting and sweaty, muscles aching, hair oily. I managed to heave myself up and start for the bathroom, turning on the shower to heat up as I stripped. Glancing around, I noticed her toothbrush was missing. I shut my eyes and took a shuddering breath. My head hurt so badly. I didn't know if there were even tears left in me.

I ran the shower hotter than usual. It was a mechanical ten minutes, a few of them spent just standing there, hoping the water would soothe my neck muscles. Eventually, I gave up and got out, drying off and looking myself over in the mirror. I looked as terrible as I felt; dark circles, bruises really, under my bloodshot eyes; rough stubble on my jaw I didn't feel like getting rid of; gaunt, pale complexion; fresh bruises on my arms, cheek, and chest; hopeless expression. I didn't recognize myself.

Getting dressed was another gut punch, seeing the half empty closet and dresser. The only things she hadn't taken were her two other formal dresses and set of school robes. I had to sit down on the bed in my damp towel, a drawer half-open, so I could breathe. Everywhere, I was reminded she was gone. And it was so much worse than last time. I spent too long sitting there, elbows on my knees, fingers tight in my hair, doing my best to not start crying again. Still, a few slipped out before I had gained a bit more control over myself. It wasn't going to accomplish anything. She had trusted me to keep fighting on this front while she and Harry went to fight on another. Without one, the other couldn't succeed. I dressed in my Ministry robes, and went to make a quick breakfast. I didn't dare try to make anything hot, opting instead for some yogurt and fruit left in the fridge. Though my cooking skills had marginally improved, I didn't feel like burning the building down.

Even though I had woken up early, my dawdling around the flat nearly set me running late. I reenforced the enchantments before I left, and Disapparated to the usual alley I aimed for near the loo entrances for the Ministry. It was an unfairly cheery day, a little warmer than I had expected, and I walked briskly to flush myself down into the atrium. People were reporting to work as usual, and I felt a sense of dread taking over my stomach as I waited in line. I hadn't seen a paper that day, but surely a new Minister would have been reported? No one was reading a copy of the Prophet that I had a good enough angle on to read, so I'd have to wait to get in to my office. There was no panic in people's faces, just the same tedium or stress. I finally flushed myself down, and was met with a much more bustling atmosphere than expected. Pushing through the crowd of people was a much more chaotic endeavor than anticipated, and I had to wait several turns to squeeze into a lift. I could barely think.

Finally, I came to my section of the Beings division. I turned the corner to my office, and saw my door open, office nearly empty. "What?" I muttered, pulling out my wand. All my papers had been removed, and my name plate pulled off the door. Everything was scrubbed clean, filing cabinets and desk drawers open, save for a single piece of light pink parchment square in the center of the desk. My stomach churned as I picked up up. In tiny, loopy cursive, the note read:

Mr. Cedric Diggory,

You have been reassigned within the Ministry. Please report to my office at ten after 8 in the morning, sharp.

Dolores Jane Umbridge

Head of the Muggleborn Registration Commission

The Commission of the… what? I was shaking, reading the parchment over and over. This couldn't be real. I backtracked down the corridors to Desdemona's office, still reading the parchment over. It was her parchment, of course. I had seen it before, notes Jennifer had showed me our final year at Hogwarts. She had been reinstated…?

"Mr. Diggory."

Not Cedric today, then. Desdemona was smoking her usual cigarette, but looked hollow, taut. Her robes today were a demure color and her hair was pulled back tight. "Desdemona, I just came in and saw my office—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Diggory." I couldn't detect an emotion behind the words, other than exhaustion. "As the note says, you've been transferred." She paused, thinking. "It was… beyond my control. Lots of changes happened yesterday."

"My office—"

"Your division has been eliminated. Lots of changes happened."

"My… okay," I responded just as numbly, and I turned around to walk out. I couldn't think of anything further to say to her, even though I had so many questions forming as I walked back to the elevator. Eliminated over night? Umbridge working at the Ministry again? Muggleborn Registration?

It sounded like a Magical Law Enforcement issue, and I only had a few minutes to find the office. As I wandered the corridors of the vast department, I ran into Arthur Weasley as he was coming in for the day.

"Cedric!" he said, relief plain on his face, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Thank Merlin you're alright, we didn't hear from you last night…"

"I…" I looked down, my entire body heating from the shame. "I had… trouble making the Patronus. I'm sorry."

"Oh. Oh, that's alright. I'll pass on that you're alright then, if that's…?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Appreciate it, Arthur." I cleared my throat. "Do you know about this um… new division Umbridge is working on?"

"Umbridge?" Arthur's face shifted to a deep frown as he read the note I had been given. "Muggleborn Regist…? What the bloody hell is this?" He gave it back, face turning red. "I have no idea, Cedric, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"Arthur, maybe…" Maybe what? He had worked here far longer than I had. "I dunno. I have a feeling we should keep our heads down. We're probably being watched."

"Of course we are," he said brusquely. "Be careful with her. I'm sure she'll be waiting for the slightest hint of non-compliance from you."

"I… yeah. You're right. Do you—do you know where her office is?"

"She's likely been moved up a level, I haven't smelled her on this floor yet," Arthur replied.

"Alright, thanks," I said, and hustled back to the lifts, hoping to make it to her office in time.

I continued my search on the first level, and it wasn't long before I caught a scent of a perfume that slammed a memory of Umbridge's disastrously pink office at Hogwarts into my brain. Daring to follow it with only a minute left, I pushed past people going off into their offices until I made a turn and ended up in a larger general office space where dozens of desks were set up in the high ceilinged room. Directly across from me, I could see another office door, ajar, and continued to where the smell was getting stronger. It was something floral, but so overpowering that I could feel my head already starting to ache. There were already a few people working at desks, noses down and not speaking a word to each other. My echoing footsteps and the scratches of quills were out of time with my heart pounding in my throat. I just wanted to quit, run, find Jennifer. I didn't know how I would do that, but surely anything was better than what I was about to endure.

"Mr. Diggory, you are very nearly late."

I hadn't heard that sickly sweet voice in over a year, and my hand shook as I closed the door behind me. I was vaguely aware that I was crushing the note in my other hand.

"Sorry P—Ms. Umbridge, I had difficulty finding your office." I dared to look at her, and take in the new little nest she had made herself here. The office was still entirely pink; the only notable thing that wasn't was the absurdly shiny wooden desk covered in doilies and china and trinkets shaped like kittens. Umbridge herself was still sporting bright pink suits, with a large golden broach on her chest and a small, pink hat perched in her curled brown hair. Her expression was one of supreme satisfaction and smugness, thinly veiled under a wide smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"At any rate, you found it. The changes have been so sudden, all that could be done was leave a note for you."

"My division, it's been—"

"Eliminated." She could hardly contain her glee. "You see, Pius brought to my—oh, I'm sorry, the Minister—brought to my attention one teensy little mistake in the paperwork that had been filed for you. The only conclusion was of course that the division shouldn't exist, since not everything had been done correctly. The Minister wanted to simply terminate your position—the easier option, really—but I told him that with my commission being so new, I needed workers, so he put in the transfer early this morning." Her smile was genuine now, and she even swayed a little.

There was an unnatural pause. 'They are watching me.' "Erm, thank you. I'm glad I still have a job." I felt disgusting, like I should cut off my tongue for saying such things.

"Desdemona said you have a way with words, and I can't wait to put your talents to work, Mr. Diggory." What the hell did that mean? "I have some material I want you to work on, very important for the public." She handed me a new file folder, stuffed with more sheets of pale pink parchment. My head was spinning from the floral smell. "You have the pick of the desks. I expect more transfers to be arriving soon, so you are very lucky indeed. I would like you to review everything in this folder and begin brainstorming ideas on how to best condense the information for public distribution."

"Y-yes, Ms. Umbridge."

She gave me one final smile, and I turned, not daring to look at the folder's contents until I was seated. I chose a desk near the entrance to the corridor, along the center aisle. Only five other desks had so far been claimed, all of them as far away from Umbridge as they could manage. I collapsed down into the simple, uncomfortable wooden chair. There was nothing in the desk drawers besides spare parchment, quills, and ink. No one had anything decorative on their desks.

"Bloody hell," I muttered. I hadn't even thought about everything that had been on my desk, too concerned that the entire office was swept clean. I had nice quills in my top drawer, some top notch ink Jared had bought me on a whim one time, framed photos of Colin and Jared, my parents, Jennifer and I… and it was all gone. I didn't know where. I shook, angry, staring down at the folder and trying to figure out how exactly I could get out of this mess. So what if they were watching me. I could get away. I was clever.

It would have to wait until the end of the work day, though. And it might take time.

I started thumbing through the folder Umbridge had given me, wanting to get a grasp on exactly what was going on. It didn't take long to riddle it out. In numb horror, I read over notes taken in a minuscule handwriting, talking about Muggleborns being Muggles who stole magic… not even might be, were. The dangers they posed to a pureblood society. Page after page of rantings on how Muggleborns were the most vile, wicked, and evil thing the wizarding world has ever encountered. My mouth went completely dry, hands shaking and stomach hollow when I finally skimmed down page ten. It was clearly meeting notes, with Umbridge brainstorming her exact interrogation questions once trials had begun.

They were going to start rounding up Muggleborns and persecuting them in broad daylight.

I couldn't arouse suspicion. Taking small breaks every few pages, I combed through the entire file as slowly as possible, trying to stretch it out to a reasonable lunch time. At 12:30 exactly, the other people working around me suddenly stopped and got up, and I followed suit. One of the women said, "Half an hour," very quietly to me, and I just nodded. Hopefully half an hour would be enough. Everyone else locked their work in their desk - I did the same. Head spinning, I left the office behind my coworkers, trailing enough that they reached the lifts far before me. I pushed in with some other people going down, and jumped back out at the fourth floor. Most people here were crowded around the lifts going to the atrium, and I kept my head down as I pushed by, desperate to reach the central corridor and a very specific office.

"Cedric! I was just about to leave for lunch, what good timing—"

Thankfully, Dad's coworkers had all already left for lunch.

"No, Dad, we have to talk." I shut the door closed behind me, locking it with a tap of my wand. "Muffliato," I muttered, doing my best to ensure that no one could be listening in on us.

"Cedric, what are you—" But I cut him off again, this time by crossing the office in three strides and pulling him into a very tight hug which he returned. We stood there for several moments. I trembled, trying not to cry again. "Son, what's wrong?" His voice was gentle, as comforting as his hands on my back. Everything was wrong. "Did something happen? I thought you had the wedding yesterday."

"We… we did." I couldn't help the tears trickling out of my eyes now. "We were attacked, Dad. Everyone is alright now, but…I thought…I thought they were going to kill us."

I felt Dad squeeze me tighter, a slight choking sound coming from him. Finally, he said, "I'm so glad you're alive."

Eventually, he released me from the hug, and I wiped at my eyes with the sleeve of my robes. I caught Dad pushing his glasses up to do the same. "Dad, I… that's not all." I sniffed, trying to get myself under control. "I've been transferred departments. I'm working for Umbridge now."

He frowned. "Dolores Umbridge? She's back at the Ministry?"

"Yes. They've eliminated the Dementor Squad and… Dad, she's running a commission that's going to start rounding up Muggleborns." He blinked, seemingly unable to process what I had told him. "They think Muggleborns stole magic, and they're going to start putting them on trial. Dad, you… Mum has to go into hiding. You both do."

"Cedric, we… we already are," he said slowly, still thinking.

"Dad, you're still coming to work! How is that in hiding?"

"Son, you do as well, and you have a hidden flat—"

"It's not the same!"

"Cedric, stop talking over me." His voice raised. "Please," he added, slightly softer. "We haven't had any problems since we relocated."

"Dad," I said, exasperated. "Please. They are following you. We're all being watched. Just… assume they know. Assume they know where you are, and how to get to Mum—"

"No one will be getting to her, or I." His voice was incredibly firm, jaw set in a way I knew was irritation and stubbornness. "Just disappearing would raise more suspicion, Cedric, you must understand that. They would certainly come looking for us if I just left. I'm needed here, keeping a low profile, and doing what I can. You are too." He set his hands on my shoulders. "You can't fight a war the same way the Potters are, Ced. You have to be brave and be here, undermining what you can, slipping bits of information, not slinging spells or hiding away. Your role, and mine, are just as important." He pulled me in for another hug. "Now, I'm going to buy you lunch. You look… worse for wear."

I managed a weak laugh and allowed him to wheel me out of the office. I tried to take his words to heart, to allow him to inspire me with some sense of courage. As horrible as being under Umbridge would be, there was a chance for me to be a very valuable spy for the Order. Perhaps glean more of Umbridge's plan, disrupt it, save some lives. I had no idea how I would manage any of it. But I absolutely had to try.

I still had a chance to help win the war, to end all the terrible, unjust wrongs, to bring Jennifer home, to keep my friends and family safe.

It sparked a small flame of hope in me.

Do you ever just love a character so much that you have to write a 6k long chapter about their worst day ever?

Anyways, thanks for reading! I have a lot more chapters planned for different points of view to follow events in the war outside of the camping trip. Let me know which characters you would love to see more from!

Best,

Icamane