Consequences of Time Loops...
[and don't worry, as you might gather this occurs when Cedric dies. When he dies next who knows]
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For the first day, Cedric hugs darkness like an old friend. Dreams floating in and out of his subconscious. Undisturbed. Peaceful. He knew he was in a bed, safe and free from outside horrors that had tormented him for the past four days.
So he sank into the absent state of mind. Content.
Sadly, Cedric knew he had to wake up.
On the second day, he is shaken awake by a violent nightmare. Hot and damp from sweat, he lifts himself up in lassitude. Limbs heavy and mouth dry. All over his body ached as though he had been beaten.
Moving his head too-and-fro, scrubbing oily flops of brown hair, Cedric catches glimpse of afternoon sunlight shining through Hogwarts' mosaic windows built into the walls. Casting soft pinks, blues and yellows on his bed sheets and stone floors.
It didn't feel like reality - which Cedric damned well hoped it was.
Waking in the infirmary was something of an anticlimax after the all the hectic day(s) he's been through. The surrounding beds along with Madam Pomfrey's desk were unattended, and Cedric tried not to worry that Harry might have died when he wasn't looking.
Merlin.
Beginning a rough self-examination, Cedric lightly pats his chest. Sore but not as painful as he remembered. Breathing no longer felt like he was a muggle compressed air balloon. Checking his arm he finds his entire right bicep bandaged to the Niles. With prodding fingers, the dull sting of magically knitted skin prickles angrily. He keeps prodding – then digs his nails in.
Hissing, Cedric closed his eyes against the prickling of tears.
This was it. This really was reality. Despite a mere minute or so ago he had hoped – but –
Time had continued.
"Bugger me," Cedric collapses back, "finally."
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When Madam Pomfrey returns she rushes at him with horrible tasting potions that make him quiver in disgust.
"How's Harry?"
"Perfectly healthy," Pomfrey answers sweetly. "I imagine he's currently spending time elsewhere with Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Hiding from the Ministry I hope." At his query gaze she sighs and seats herself down on the bedside chair. Cedric straightens in alarm.
After Cedric had buggered off with Harry back to Hogwarts, everybody had simply assumed he they been wounded in the maze. This barking mad notion was solely carried by the deeply obnoxious Bagman himself, who wanted nothing more that to celebrate Cedric's win and drink butterbeer with underage students.
Dumbledore emerging with dead Aurors and half-mauled professors persuaded that mentality exceptionally well. Taking everyone's considerable silence to promptly explain that they had just fought off a slew of Death Eaters working for the still-kicking Voldemort.
Minister Fudge had kittens and practically levitated with anger when he heard of this and sent Aurors down to investigate at once. Despite Dumbledore's strong heed of Voldemort's involvement, the men and women under Fudge's thumb dutifully kept it out of reports and told Dumbledore that if he carried on like this they were required by law (Fudge) to happily tell him to fuck off.
In the politest way possible, of course. It was still Dumbledore they were talking to.
"After hearing you're awake," Pomfrey warns, ruffled. "Those ignorant little pests will take down your witness report."
"Witness report?" he repeats, sweating slightly.
"Yes."
Cedric looks nervously up at the ceiling, unable to think of any possible outcomes where his retelling of the magical time loop won't end with him in St Mungo's.
"Witness report?"
"Don't worry dear," she pats his hand. "Just tell them what you saw. Very straight forward Aurors are."
"That's nice. Could I speak to the Headmaster, please?"
.
"Don't mention it," Dumbledore cheerily advises. "Minister Fudge has an incredibly violent aversion to things he does not understand. I fear the truth will only bring you harm."
Gritting his teeth, Cedric rubs his forehead. Irritated at once again being rendered helpless by the situation.
"What should I say, then?"
Seated on the edge of Cedric's bed, Dumbledore mimics Pomfrey by patting his leg in assurance. "Simply spin them the tale of a teenager getting caught up in Barty Crouch Jr.'s schemes with spiriting Harry away."
That was another shocker for Cedric. 'Moody's impersonator being revealed as Crouch's thought to be dead son - now dead son after getting Kissed by a Dementor just yesterday.
There's a long, contemplating pause. "So," he wets his lips, "I'm the knight in shining armour in all this? Spotting Crouch Jr. kidnapping Harry and rescuing him."
Dumbledore nods, smiling with an intensity. "After sending an SOS spark into the sky that Professor Snape catches, yes."
Cedric isn't surprised Dumbledore had already plotted a cover story, or was forcing it onto him with no alternative.
"But I…" Shame had found him again and was gripping his heart. "I let Crouch hurt Harry," he confesses, enunciating each word like a judge at a trial. "I let your friends walk to their deaths knowing beforehand that they were going to die and did nothing. I just watched it happen. Used your friend's tortured screams as a cue to get to safety." He didn't deserve the praise that will come from telling a convenient lie. "I don't think I can do it, Headmaster."
"You can," Dumbledore says. Smile unflickering. "And you shall."
How he loathes the man he once admired.
"Yes, Headmaster."
Dumbledore pats his leg again. "Put these days behind you, Mr Diggory. Forget it all. You will gain nothing to dwell on past misdeeds." He speaks as though Cedric had broken a school rule or something. Hands curling into fists, the screams of the dead echo behind him like a roar.
"And what of You-Know-Who?"
Silent for a second, Dumbledore says, "Gone. Pettigrew apparited out before Professor Snape or I could follow. We have merely delayed the inevitable. Still, something worth celebrating. Without your help, I shudder at what could have been."
"So he's still out there, then?" Cedric checks. "He'll come back?"
"Dear boy…"
"No, Headmaster," the tension in his eyes meet Dumbledore's. "If you want me to stay silent about the men and women I allowed die, then at least do me the courtesy of repenting."
"You wish to remember?" Dumbledore asks. Careful.
"I want to join your…" Cedric gestures lamely, "group thing to stop You-Know-Who."
To recompense for every way he had helped murder innocent people.
"Mr Diggory," Dumbledore says heavily. "You must know their deaths are not on your hands. You did not aim the wand that cursed them out."
"Sorry sir," he says evenly, "but it's pretty late to say that."
"On the contrary," Dumbledore pins him a look of profound solidarity. "It is never too late to help. And I know for a certainty that the brilliant men and women who were taken from us that night would not want a kind young man like yourself to feel responsible for it. They died knowing there was a chance they would not make it out alive, do not feel compelled to burden your conscience with unnecessary amounts of guilt that under no circumstance you should feel solely responsible for. Cast your mind back, Mr Diggory, to who it was that told you to allow Harry be kidnapped?"
At the sudden turn, Cedric stares in disbelief, "Sir? You…"
"Though I may smile benevolently, dear boy, I don't claim to be a saint," the old man makes to stand. Staring him down with a cheery smile, "After graduation, the Order of the Pheonix would love to have you. Until then," he pats his shoulder, "enjoy the life our comrades could not."
.
A handful of minutes after Dumbledore leaves (promising that given the way time has continued, Magic seemed satisfied with way things had turned out) two Auror's come to interview him.
He had completely forgotten about guardian supervision.
Whatever dignity Cedric wanted to show in front of Aurors fell apart at the sight of them. Concern, bewilderment and joy burn his parents as they dash over.
On a second look, Cedric notices there was also a gaunt light to them that wasn't there before. Underlying fear of their worst nightmare coming to life.
"Cedric," his mother swoops over in urgency. Landing gracelessly on his bed and pulling him in for a trembling hug that has him tensing for a second. Over her shoulder Cedric watches as his father's compressed look of worry turns into exhausted relief. "You're okay, aren't you dear?"
He shrugs, "Could be a lot worse, honestly."
"Let's not think about that right now Ced," his father places a hand on his shoulder, patting him with a shut down look of grief. "Let's just focus on you getting better. Hmm?"
Releasing, his mother holds him at arms length to get a better look. He must have appeared worse than he thought because her eyes brim with tears and she starts smoothing back his messy bangs. "My dear boy," she says, voice thick, "what did they do to you?"
At the foot of his bed a middle-aged woman coughs. Drawing attention to her and her scruffy-looking partner, she smiles. Drawling, "While this is all very nice, the Ministry wants full appraisal of Mr Diggory's witness statement. So if you could put off this little reunion of yours until this is over, I promise we'll be out of your hair in a jiffy."
Cedric catches a glimpse of his father's sneer before it slides back. His father wasn't one to openly disrespect people that had a higher standing than his. Especially when they're the sort who could hush his murder up.
With his mother's hand stubbornly holding his, Cedric tells them exactly what he was told to - and is not asked again.
He suspects they knew he was lying to an unrelenting degree, but as Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore had said – they were not allowed to consider Voldemort's involvement. So just as promised, the interview lasts barely a half hour with minimal questions other than the basics of what had 'happened'.
It was incredibly suspicious, but then Cedric was starting to wake up to the idea that people who he was told to trust at a young age are the very people he should always second-guess.
"Just one more thing, you will have to pay a fine for illegal side-along apparition."
Cedric stares. "You're having me on."
Admittedly, she herself couldn't help but wince. "Law's the Law, Mr. Diggory. Of course, taking into the hard-pressed circumstances..."
"Hard-pressed," his father mumbles. Thinking he was being quiet.
She rallies on as if she hadn't heard a thing, "The Ministry will reduce it by a fraction, but we cannot look the other way when a witch or wizard apparites without a licence. Can't have it look as if we were playing favorites just because he happened to save the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Would have been the Boy-Who-Lived-Then-Oops if it hadn't been for my boy," his father continues to mutter grumpily.
She smiles winningly at them, "Just head on over the Ministry within the next month to fill out the paperwork and all will be well. I wish you a speedy recovery, young man," over her shoulder she calls, "Come on, Hills."
Just before disappearing behind the door, Hills glances back at him with a creased smile. "What you did was incredibly brave. Beyond anything us Aurors would expect from a student. Fighting off Death Eaters to save a friend. Heh," Cedric fights down a grimace, "The Auror's will be looking for your name on their applicants list in the near future. We need more people like you in our ranks."
At those words his mother's grip turns painful.
.
His parents were resolute with wanting Cedric to go home with them. Alone, Cedric couldn't dissuade them. It only came with Dumbledore's assurances that he would be well taken care of that he had managed to persuade them against it. Truthfully, he felt safer in Hogwarts than a muggle village. Ancient layers of wards melded with new ones making it easier to settle his racing heart.
Voldemort knew who he was now. The random Hufflepuff bloke that stopped him from returning to full power.
Morgana's saggy tits he's managed to piss off a Dark Lord along with his battalion.
What a mess
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On his way to Hufflepuff dormitory, he got a slight feeling that someone was following him. He was proven correct when halting suddenly in the hallway and feeling something heavy and solid collide against him.
Muffled cursing stops Cedric half-way in uttering a stunner. Wand still out, he watches in silent bemusement as Harry slips into thin air. Infamous invisibility cloak draping away.
"Hey," he greets, hand scratching the back of his neck at Cedric's intense stare. Last time he had seen him he was unconscious and covered in blood.
No thanks to me.
"You're hurt," he reaches to get a better look at the bandage behind Harry's bangs. Peering down to eye it disapprovingly. Harry gapes. "You alright? Any lasting soreness? No concussion or dizziness – what are you even doing here? It's past lunchtime you should still be resting. Honestly, Harry you were just kidnapped have a cuppa and lie down … "
"Cedric," Harry grips his wrist to stop him from physically ripping off his band aid to judge the healing himself. Looking up at him in slight wariness, eyebrows raised he says, "I'm fine. Are you though?" Tone adopting the suspicious sort his mother had just delivered a couple minutes ago.
He was, Cedric realises, balancing on a knife's edge between friendly and creepy. Pulling back and coughing, he twitches a smile.
"Dandy," he assures. Oh boy. "How has the last day been, then?"
Not looking very convinced, Harry humours him nevertheless. "Truthfully, it's been mad. Dumbledore told everyone at breakfast before I woke up yesterday to not go attacking us with questions but…" he shrugs. Despondent he begins toeing the floor with little kicks. "Not that I could answer them. All I remember is Profess–Crouch hitting me with a hex and bye bye Harry."
"Oh," Cedric says. "That's good."
Harry shoots him a look that says how much he appreciates his opinion on that matter before it changes into something destitute. "I hear you latched yourself onto Crouch before he could portkey back to Voldemort." Cedric flinches at the name and Harry pauses, grinning apologetically. "Sorry. I forget how people are about that."
"It's fine," he waves.
"In any case," Harry sighs, staring at him with absolute gratitude. "Thanks. You really saved me out there that day."
Cedric forces himself not to cringe. "No worries, mate."
"No, seriously."
"Seriously, you don't need to thank me," he grins with extraordinary tension. "Anyone would have done what…" "Don't worry. I'll do it, Headmaster" "What I did."
"Doubtful," Harry deadpans then eyes him persistently. "Are you sure you're okay, Cedric? You're looking a little," he swipes a hand over his face, "peaky."
"Overslept a day," he says in sorry excuse and finds himself fighting the urge to simultaneously retreat to Hufflepuff dormitory and fret over Harry. A section of his mind has appeared to develop strange thoughts about being responsible for the kid's health and wellbeing. Most likely a product from guilt after single-handedly dishing him out to a murderous Death Eater that hid an ex-Auror in a trunk for better half of a year.
"Uh huh," nods Harry. "By the way, Bill's still here. He asked me to ask you to meet him at the Astronomy Tower for a talk. Sounds pretty serious."
This takes Cedric by considerable surprise, "Bill?" he repeats. It suddenly occurs to him that he's been too caught up in lying to Aurors and in consequence the Minister of Britain. Then lying some more to his parents and digesting a whole swathe of information about Crouch Jr., Sirius Black, Pettigrew, Snape being ex-Death Eater and how Dumbledore Obliviated everyone who knew about his time loop to even think about the guy. "Oh," he glances away then back again, "Bill?"
Harry visibly winces, "Are you absolutely certain you're doing okay?"
"Oh yeah," he says hopelessly, "Yeah."
"I think we should get you back to bed," Harry comes up and nudges him forwards by the back. "Traumatic experiences really of take it out of you."
"They really do, don't they?" Cedric nods agreeably. "But what about Bill?"
"I'll tell him to talk to you tomorrow at breakfast, or maybe tonight at dinner if you've…" he seems to think over his word choice, "come back to your senses."
Harry was a nice kid.
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