By the end of the Easter break, the mood of the seventh years had changed -- or rather, had shifted horizons. A few still clung to school topics in conversation, but Cedric heard far more discussing job opportunities and life beyond Hogwarts. Two couples announced engagements, five formally broke up or looked as though they were headed there, and if the fifth years were getting career advice, seventh years were signing up for job interviews to be held the Sunday before break ended.

Hogwarts was, of course, the chief source of a young, trained labor pool, but the Wizarding economy was in no better shape than the larger British economy. And if the Ministry and other businesses with job openings came to Hogwarts for interviews, there were still more potential employees than there were positions for them. Inter-House rivalry soared and real-world tension mounted, and Cedric noticed that their new Head -- unlike the old one -- had no qualms about playing favorites, helping to secure interviews for her favored students. The result was that other teachers stepped forward to aid their own respective Houses or favored students. It made, Cedric thought, for a rather nasty atmosphere all around.

"It wouldn't be like this," he said to Peter, Ed and Scott at dinner that Sunday night, "if Dumbledore was still here."

"Well he's not," Ed replied. "He went and got himself on the Most Wanted list." Ed had been especially tense and short-tempered as his post-school prospects were bleak. He'd never been a good student, and didn't come from a very well-to-do family. Neither did Scott, but unlike Ed, Scott had good marks and was able to secure several interviews, including one with the Auror college. It was Scott, in fact, who related to the rest of them one of the juiciest titbits of gossip from Interview Day.

"You should have heard Rufus Scrimgeour lay into Umbridge," he told them all at dinner. "I think I was the last interviewee, and he was positively frothing at the mouth by the time he was done with me. As I was going out of Umbridge's office, which he was using for the interviews, she was there waiting to get back in, and he just -- " Scott's eyes grew momentarily large and he shook his head. "Took her head right off, practically. Right in front of me too, so he obviously didn't care if it got out to the students. Called her an incompetent old cow and said he'd interviewed only two candidates of seven who might -- he said might -- be qualified to go on for Auror training right when Aurors are most needed. He said barely a single seventh year would pass his NEWTs in Dark Arts. We're not ready for the test, can't do the spells -- "

"What'd she say?" Peter asked. The four of them were leaning tightly together over the table.

"She told him he'd better watch himself, his position wasn't unassailable. Funny thing is, he sort of sneered at her and said hers wasn't either and she was riding on Fudge's coattails. It started getting really nasty when Umbridge remembered I was standing there and made me leave."

"Didn't you hang around out of earshot?" Cedric asked.

Scott shook his head. "I didn't think I'd better, not in this case. If they'd caught me . . . " Scott trailed off. "Well, I want to be one of those two, me." Aurors might have a dangerous job, but it paid accordingly. "I'd be the first in my family ever to go on for more training after Hogwarts, you know." He shrugged.

Cedric couldn't blame him for looking after his own interests. Scott was the youngest of four boys and Cedric thought his parents had been plain exhausted by the time he'd come along. He'd got away with murder as a child, but he'd also survived benign neglect and lived with hand-me-downs all his life. Almost from the day they'd walked through the Hogwarts doors, Scott had been on his own. It had made him a bit wild, but also the most canny and driven of the four of them. Cedric often thought that, if Scott had been of age, it would have been his name, not Cedric's, that came out of the Goblet. He'd certainly tried to get his name in it, age line or no.

"How'd the test for the Transfiguration College go?" Peter asked Cedric now.

"Haven't had it yet. It got rescheduled for after dinner. Apparently, the fellow didn't get here till late." And that was why his plate was still more full than empty. He was having trouble with his appetite.

"You'll be brilliant," Peter told him.

"Dunno about that. I'm just hoping I don't look like a total incompetent, in case I want to try again later."

"You're the best in our year by miles."

"Most people who apply for these openings have been out working for a couple years first. They're not taking a class a few times a week. They're doing transfigurations all day, every day. They've got ten times my experience."

"But not necessarily ten times your talent," Scott pointed out. "You Transfigure things most of us can't begin to manage, mate -- and it stays Transfigured."

And that was why Cedric was taking the exam in the first place -- he could perform permanent and living-creature Transfigurations and would be testing for his Advanced Transfiguration license along with his Transfiguration NEWT.

Professor McGonagall passed behind him at his table and leaned over his shoulder to say, "We'll be ready for you after dinner, Mr. Diggory. Please come directly to my office when you're ready, but don't keep Mr. Sweeney waiting too long."

"I won't, professor."

"Good boy." She patted his shoulder and offered a tight smile. He thought she might be almost as nervous as he was. Even if she were friends with the head of the college, she'd stuck out her neck on this to claim she had a student ready to go on directly from school.

He didn't finish much more of his meal before giving up and rising from the table, getting pats and well-wishes from his friends and other Hufflepuffs, and even a few Gryffindors, as he made his way out of the hall on his crutches.

Seeing him rise to leave, Hermione rose as well and met him at the rear doors. Most students who'd departed for the holidays had come back on the train that afternoon, so when Hermione pulled down his head to kiss him soundly -- in front of everyone -- they had quite an audience. It earned laughter and claps and even a few cheers. "For luck," she told him. "You'll be brilliant." And she scurried back to her table.

He was bright red as he exited, but also encouraged. It was funny how much difference one small gesture could make.

McGonagall's office door was open by the time he reached it and inside, she was laughing with a middle-aged man. Cedric didn't think he'd heard her laugh since Dumbledore had left (not that she ever laughed much). Hearing the thud-scrape of his approach -- his gait was rather distinctive -- she appeared in the doorway and smiled at him, rather more fully than she had at dinner. "Come in, Mr. Diggory." And she gestured. He preceded her into the room.

Paolo Sweeney had an Italian's olive complexion and black hair that was now mostly gray. He was, Cedric judged, about Professor McGonagall's age. "Buona sera, signor Diggory. Mi chiamo Paolo Sweeney. Avanti, si accomodi. Lo sai l'italiano, no?"

Taken aback, Cedric blinked. "Lo conosco un poco. Piacere di fare la Sua conoscenza."

Sweeney grinned and held out a beefy hand. "Not bad, Mr. Diggory." His English was accentless. "My mother's Neapolitan. I was told you were born in Florence."

"I was, but only lived there till I was four. Most of my Italian I've picked up on holiday or from my mother."

"Quite a talent, she has. And from what Minerva tells me, you inherited some of it."

"Not for drawing, sir."

"It's not your artwork I'm interested in," Sweeney said, grinning. "Please, have a seat." And he gestured to one of three chairs. Sweeney took a brief history from him, asking him about his classes while looking over a copy of his mark sheet that McGonagall had supplied. Despite three chairs, she stood by her door, watching silently, hands clasped in front of her. "These marks are outstanding," Sweeney said at one point, "in virtually everything but Defense Against the Dark Arts. Those are just a little above abysmal this year -- but everything in that class before matches the rest. Can you explain the discrepancy?"

Cedric glanced up at Professor McGonagall, but she said nothing. He was on his own, which he supposed was fair. He wouldn't have teachers coming to his rescue in two months. "The current professor and I, er, have a bit of a disagreement, sir." Sweeney watched him with an expression that was neither encouraging nor discouraging. "Professor Umbridge believes that students can study theory without practical application. We haven't cast a single spell all year."

Both Sweeney's eyebrows climbed. "So what's Professor Umbridge testing you on?"

"Essays, sir."

Sweeney turned to another stack of parchment that Cedric recognized to have his handwriting -- apparently essays he'd turned in at one point or another. Sweeney read through a few paragraphs of one, then a second, then a third. "Minerva, do we have one of those essays? I'm not seeing anything in here from Dark Arts."

"Professor Umbridge refused to supply one, Paolo."

Sweeney snapped down the parchment he was examining to look at Minerva. "I see." He took a quill from the desk, dipped it, and drew a heavy black line through the marks for Defense Against the Dark Arts on Cedric's mark sheet. "Useless then. Mr. Diggory, let's begin there. While the college focuses on Transfigurations and Charms, there may be instances when it's imperative for you to know basic shielding or similar. Nothing much above OWL level, nonetheless . . . "

He stood and pulled his wand. "If you would?" Cedric rose as well and drew his own wand, balancing on one crutch. Almost before he was ready, Sweeney aimed and said, "Expelliarm--"

"PROTEGO!"

Maybe it was nerves, but his Shield Charm came out so strong it reverberated on Sweeney and nearly knocked the man over. "Well!" Sweeney said, almost laughing. "And she's giving you Ps in Dark Arts?"

"Mr. Diggory needed to learn the Shield Charm for the Triwizard Tournament last year," McGonagall explained, lips curved just slightly.

"No doubt. I'm almost afraid to ask him to try disarming me. My wand might end up in the wall."

Embarrassed and still very nervous, Cedric blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Let's see what else you can do, Mr. Diggory." Sweeney picked up a raw chunk of copper from among the items laid out on McGonagall's desk. "A goodly portion of our graduates go on to work in permanent transfigurations for various companies, so this is an easy place to start with just a form change, not substance. Let's see you turn this into a cauldron, mid-sized please, curved lip, and make it permanent."

Nodding, Cedric took a breath and aimed his wand, concentrating with a frown. The copper ore bubbled, curved and formed itself into the requested cauldron. "Excellent," Sweeney said, moving the new cauldron off the desk and replacing it with a bunch of crudely sketched parchment flowers set in a soup can. "Now let's do a substance change, inanimate to animate, please. Give me some nice red tulips."

Cedric Transfigured the parchment into bright, double tulips in a blue glass vase. "Lovely." Sweeney picked them up and handed them to McGonagall. "A lady always deserves flowers on her desk, don't you think, Mr. Diggory?"

McGonagall actually blushed but accepted the tulips.

And so it went. Sweeney had quite an array of practical tests, and if Cedric wasn't successful at all of them, he also wasn't completely useless at anything. Sweeney gave no indication as to whether that was a good show, or merely average. At the very end, he brought forward a broom that he'd leaned against the wall and handed Cedric a bit of parchment with a somewhat complicated, multi-part spell inscribed on it. "The charms for a flying broom. Let's see if you can do it. Five minutes to study it."

Cedric had never seen these spells before and raised his eyebrows. It wasn't the first new spell Sweeney had asked him to sight-read in the past hour, but it was the most complicated. Cedric read over the spells several times, struggling to get the accents and hand motion. When his five minutes were up, Sweeney clapped once and pointed to the broom.

It began well. The basic Levitation Charm was almost insultingly easy, but it was combined with a Clasping Spell similar to the one on his braces, designed to keep a rider in place. After that, he had to add directional charms, a warming spell to offset the cold temperatures at higher altitudes, an air-bubble Charm similar to the one he'd mastered for the Lake Task to allow a rider to breathe easily, and a Shield Charm to protect the rider from higher speeds. Last was the Velocity Spell. He must have done something wrong there, however, as the broom performed a strange convulsion, then shot around the room, pinging off walls and bookshelves like a ball while he, McGonagall and Sweeney all dove for cover. Then it crashed out of McGonagall's window with a loud splinter of glass. "Shit," Cedric muttered under his breath as he lay on the carpet. He couldn't have failed his entrance exam more spectacularly if he'd tried.

Sweeney's laughter made him look up. The man was climbing to his feet, shaking with mirth as he casually repaired McGonagall's office with a few flicks of his wand -- almost as impressive as Dumbledore. McGonagall's expression was white. "Well," she said, then again, "Well."

"If he ever masters that last part, he might be able to turn out racing brooms," Sweeney replied, almost off-hand.

McGonagall was frowning severely, but not at Cedric. She had one hand fisted on her hip and the other was straightening her hat. "You did that on purpose, Paolo."

Sweeney didn't reply, just winked at her, and McGonagall's lips twitched, her stern face breaking for just a moment. Cedric thought he might have caught an echo of McGonagall as a girl, serious and straight-laced like Hermione, but not above being teased out of it by a man she fancied. Had she fancied Sweeney once upon a time? Cedric wondered what she'd looked like back then, if she'd been pretty with her high cheekbones, hair still auburn, and blue eyes that hadn't faded yet.

And that was a very strange thought indeed to have about Professor McGonagall, but it made him wonder what Hermione would look like at that age. And would he still be able to tease a smile out of her?

Sweeney turned his attention back to Cedric. "That was a bit unfair," he admitted, "but I wanted to see how you did. The last thing I'd like to test, however, I think we'll have to go outside for -- your Animagus Transformation."

Cedric had more or less anticipated that, and nodded. "Actually, we don't have to go outside. If the professor can open the window, I can show you here." He'd been practicing this all week.

Sweeney's dark eyebrows had gone up and he turned to McGonagall, who appeared equally surprised but perhaps just a little pleased. "If you feel able to do it here," she said. He nodded, and she went to the window -- the one he'd just broken (and Sweeney had repaired) and threw it wide. Turning to him, she gestured.

Now that it was upon him, he hoped he didn't make a complete fool of himself and moved towards the window, Sweeney and McGonagall following. Unlike Dumbledore's office, this room was too small for him to transfigure inside it -- his extended wings would hit the walls covered in books -- so he seated himself on the ledge and looked out and down. He had about five stories -- plenty of space. Rolling out backwards, his body shifted even as he twisted and the pull of the wind on his robes turned to the slide of it over his feathers. He dipped close to the ground, then soared straight up into the twilight, turned and came back by the window to dip a wing at the figures of Sweeney and McGonagall looking out over the ledge. Spiraling down, he settled on the ground below them, back in his usual form, and waved.

They met him as he entered the front doors, and Sweeney shook his hand, thanking him for the interview, then nodded to McGonagall. "We'll be in touch," he told Cedric, tossing his cloak around his shoulders as he headed out the doors.

Well, that had been singularly uninformative. Cedric had no idea how he'd done, but McGonagall didn't look disappointed. "Do you think I'll get in?" he asked her.

"I can't say. Although I believe you have a chance. Remember, the college is highly competitive. I'm not sure how many students Paolo will take this next year, but I don't believe they've ever taken more than five."

"Do you know how many have applied?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." She patted his arm. "But even if you don't make it this year, I think you did well enough to be granted another interview in a year or two. It's not at all uncommon for applicants to be turned away the first time, and sometimes even a second." She smiled up at him, and it was -- for McGonagall -- rather friendly. "The fact he agreed to interview you at all, and didn't walk out halfway through, is an achievement on its own -- and not as a consolation prize."

Cedric nodded and headed for the lift that would take him to the library where Hermione would be waiting to hear how he'd done.

Hermione's career advice appointment with McGonagall was scheduled first thing on Monday morning. The professor offered her coffee and crumpets, then they got right down to business. "So what do you think you might like to do after school, Miss Granger? Given your marks, there's very little for which you couldn't reasonably apply."

Shifting a bit nervously, Hermione looked down at her hands which held a steaming cup. Although she hadn't said anything to Harry or Ron -- or even to Cedric -- Hermione knew precisely what she wanted to do after school. She just wasn't sure she was prepared to announce it yet. "Well, professor, I've not quite made up my mind. I mean, things could change in the next two years, couldn't they? They did for Cedric."

McGonagall frowned. "Miss Granger, you mustn't pick a future career based on what you think Mr. Diggory might choose to do. A clever girl like you . . . you shouldn't settle for following around a boy, however kind or handsome he may be."

Hermione couldn't help grinning. McGonagall sounded like her own mother -- who had, in the end, let her career take a backseat to her husband's, and perhaps that's why she'd been so insistent about the matter with Hermione. "I didn't mean that, professor. I just meant that until this year, Cedric wanted to work for the Ministry. Now . . . well, that's not really an option for him at the moment. I'd like to keep my options open."

As if relieved, McGonagall nodded. "A wise decision, Miss Granger. Nonetheless, you won't be able to continue at NEWT level with all the classes you've taken for OWLs. You'll need to drop a few, but which depends on the type of career that might interest you."

"Actually, I've some thoughts on that. Care of Magical Creatures probably isn't something I need to continue, and quite honestly, neither is Herbology. I've already dropped Muggle Studies and Divination, so that leaves only eight."

"Eight is still too many, Miss Granger." McGonagall looked over the top of her square spectacles. "You're an extremely bright girl -- but I'm being honest here. If you overload your schedule, you won't be adequately prepared to do well on your NEWTs. May I suggest removing History of Magic?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, please, professor -- I'm aware Professor Binns isn't the best of teachers, but, well, I'd like to continue with it so I can take the NEWT. I can do additional reading on the side. That's what Cedric does. Dropping Astronomy might be better."

McGonagall inclined her head. "All right then. That leaves you with seven classes for your sixth year schedule. I fear you may still find that too many, but we can discuss it again at the end of sixth year." She looked at Hermione over the top of her glasses once more. "While I understand that, as a Muggle-born, you might feel the need to continue with History of Magic, I'm really not certain that's the case. As you noted yourself, information can be found in a book." McGonagall's lips quirked up. "And we both know you have no aversion to reading."

"I know, professor," Hermione said quietly, "but I really would like to take the NEWT in that subject."

McGonagall frowned slightly. "There are few careers that require a NEWT in History of Magic, Miss Granger, and almost all of them involve work at the Ministry, teaching, law, or archiving. Are you quite certain you don't have a particular career in mind?"

Unable to quite meet McGonagall's eyes, Hermione twisted her fingers together in her lap and wondered if she dared admit what she wanted to do? So far, all the Wizarding-born who she'd talked to -- except Dumbledore -- had scoffed at her ideas. "Well, I was, er, thinking about the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures -- Being Division." McGonagall didn't reply, but she also didn't laugh. "I'd like to work with house-elves, and I believe that office does require a NEWT of A or above in History of Magic, as it, well, pertains. It doesn't require one in Care of Magical Creatures unless you're interested in the Beast Division -- and I'm not."

McGonagall still wasn't laughing. She just nodded, as if somehow unsurprised. "Then yes, by all means, you should continue with the class. If you need to drop one, I suggest perhaps Arithmancy as its difficulty level is high while its pertinence to your career path is rather low."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, professor. I enjoy it, however."

Scribbling a few notes on the parchment in front of her, McGonagall replied. "Very well, then, I've entered your class requests for next year. You may go, Miss Granger."

Later at lunch, Cedric asked, "So how was the meeting?" as he passed her the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"It went well."

"What classes are you taking next year?"

"Seven. Transfigurations, Charms --"

Cedric nearly sprayed juice out of his nose. "Seven! Are you trying to kill yourself?"

She glared. "You're taking six, plus that extra Potions class with Professor Snape."

"And you've seen how insane I've been as NEWTs approach, but I'm not taking a NEWT in Potions. Snape said we're done, in fact. He doesn't need to see me at all for summer term."

Hermione frowned. First, Harry, now Cedric. She didn't approve of how Snape appeared to be throwing off responsibilities without Dumbledore there to watch him. "But he's supposed to --"

"I can make my own Abdoleo, Granger," Cedric interrupted. "And he said I'm as close as I'll ever get to the Restituo. I reckon he thinks it just beyond me."

Still frowning, Hermione shook her head. "Maybe. But still. Dumbledore told him to teach you. He dropped Harry too, now that Dumbledore is gone."

Cedric did a double-take, then spoke softly, "He stopped Harry's lessons? But Harry's can't be anywhere near that proficient yet. Occlumency is hard, and he only started after Christmas."

Lips pursed, Hermione replied equally softly, "Well, that's what Harry told me. He's not seeing Snape any more."

"I'll talk to him and see what I can find out."

"Maybe you should talk to him about what he's planning for this afternoon too, while you're at it."

Cedric leaned even closer. "What's he planning?"

"He wants to talk to Snuffles but can only get away with it in Umbridge's fireplace -- it's the only one on the floo network not being guarded -- so Fred and George have something up their sleeves to distract Umbridge for a bit. I spent most of last night trying to talk him out of it."

"Why does he want to talk to Snuffles?"

"I have no idea!" She threw up her hands. "He won't say." She turned and looked at him. "Talk some sense into him, Ced. He respects you."

Cedric caught Harry on his way out of the Great Hall after lunch. "Can I have a word?"

Harry eyed him with suspicion but followed Cedric through the prefects' lounge into his office. "I've got Potions, and Snape -- "

"I'll give you a note if you're late." Cedric sat down in the rolling chair behind his desk and waved the door shut. "What's so bloody important that you're risking everything to talk to Sirius for ten minutes? Are the dreams back? Hermione told me you dropped Occlumency."

Harry's mouth fell open. "I didn't tell her I dropped! I said Snape told me not -- well, that I didn't have to come back. And I just need to talk to him -- Sirius." The boy's expression was sullen.

"Harry, I know enough about Occlumency to know you couldn't master it in two months."

"It was more than two months -- "

"Not by much. And you sidestepped what I just said; if Dumbledore thought it important enough -- "

"If Dumbledore thought it important enough he could bloody well tell me HIMSELF!" Harry shouted, crossing his arms and turning his head to the side. "But all I am to him is this damn scar on my forehead."

"Look, you can pout and throw a tantrum if it makes you feel better, but I want some answers. Why did you stop the Occlumency, and why do you have to talk to Sirius?"

Harry continued to glare but Cedric didn't back down. The rest were too sympathetic to Harry at times, feeling guilty for not having suffered what he had. Normally, Cedric avoided confrontation, but all his instincts were screaming at him to keep pushing this time, and the staring contest lasted a full minute before Harry finally looked away -- but didn't drop his eyes. "I can't tell you. But I can promise it doesn't have to do with Voldemort. It's . . . personal."

"You're risking expulsion for a personal issue at a time like this?"

"Well you did to prance around in the prefects' bath with Hermione!"

Jaw hard, Cedric said, "Yes -- and it was stupid. We haven't done anything like it since. Not to mention if you'd said something to Dumbledore last year about Moaning Myrtle spying on prefects, we wouldn't have been caught at all."

"So you're going to blame me for it? Maybe you shouldn't be doing something like that in the first place! Taking advantage of her because she dotes on you -- "

Cedric slapped his hands down on the desktop to push himself to his feet, using the desk for leverage. "Do not accuse me of taking advantage of Hermione. I'd cut my own throat before I let any harm come to her. It's one thing for you to speak for her like a brother. It's another to insult me when I gave you my word that I'd treat her well."

"That was before you were sneaking off to take a bath with her and do God knows what else!"

"So what? I'm not good enough for her? You don't want her stuck with a cripple?"

Harry appeared genuinely taken aback. "I didn't say that -- didn't even think it. But, well, she's never had a boyfriend besides Krum. And he didn't do those things. He was a gentleman!"

Cedric dropped back into his chair. "Krum wasn't in love with her. I'm not taking advantage of her, Harry. She has me wrapped around her little finger." He paused. "Now tell me why you need to talk to Sirius?"

Harry appeared somewhat mollified, but shook his head. "I can't. I mean, well . . . it's not that I'm hiding anything. It's just not mine to tell. I promised." He paused and looked off. "But I need to talk to somebody, and I can talk to Sirius because he was there, so I'm not breaking any promises."

Puzzled, Cedric sat back a little in his chair and chewed the knuckle of his forefinger. "Can you tell me . . . sideways? Not the details? I'm not trying to be nosey, I just . . . this is a great risk. I suppose I need to know why you're making it."

Harry's smile was wry. "It's funny -- Ginny, the twins, even Ron . . . none of them pressed. They just agreed to help me. And Hermione just argued I shouldn't do it. You want to know why."

"I'm annoying that way."

"Have you ever found out something about your parents that, well, made you wonder if you could respect them?"

Cedric's eyebrows went up. "My father embarrasses me on a regular basis. Remember before the World Cup last year? Does that count?"

"Um, this is a bit more serious, but . . . sort of the same. How do you deal with that?" Harry leaned forward slightly. "Do you ever . . . I mean, are you ever sorry to be his son?"

Cedric tilted his head. "No, not sorry. I apologize a lot, but I'm not sorry. He means well, and he loves me. He gave up his job to support me." That brought a frown. "I asked him about it over break -- said I was angry at him. He told me he wouldn't even discuss it. If the Ministry attacked me, he couldn't -- in good conscience -- continue working for them." Cedric decided to take a bit of a shot in the dark. "Sometimes he drives me insane, but, well, he's human. That's the hard part, with your parents. When you're little, you think they know everything, can do everything -- then you find out they don't and they can't. It's quite a let-down. It took me a while to forgive him for being so bombastic. When I was about 14 or 15, I really was embarrassed to be his son. I didn't like him much."

His wild shot must have hit something, as Harry sighed and said, "I used to think I knew what my dad was like, but, er, I can't say how, but well, I found out something he did in his fifth year -- something really mean. He was a bully, like my cousin. I hate my cousin. How could I . . . how could he . . . how could he have been mean like that?"

Cedric didn't reply immediately. "People change when they get older. I'm definitely not the same person I was when I was in my fifth year, Harry."

Harry smiled. "You're not so different."

"Yes, I am. And not just for being older. Events change you. Whatever your father did, maybe he . . . came to regret it? I've done things I'm not proud of. Haven't you?"

Slowly, Harry nodded, then added, "That's why I need to talk to Sirius. He was there. And he knew him later. I have to know, Cedric. I have to know why he did it. And if he did regret it."

Cedric met his eyes, then nodded. Some things sons needed to know about fathers. "All right. I won't stop you."

Cedric was, in fact, nowhere near either the heart of Fred and George's disturbance or Umbridge's office later that afternoon. But he was present in the Entrance Hall to witness the twins' spectacular departure on their brooms. It was, Cedric thought, the stuff of school legend, and as much as they annoyed him at times, he found himself grinning as he watched them soar off on their Cleansweeps through the open front doors.

The days that followed were an insane chaos of high jinks, rebelling students, and an increasingly furious Umbridge. "They're going to drive her to do something desperate," Cedric muttered to Hermione at one point. But amazingly, no students were expelled because Umbridge couldn't seem to catch anyone red-handed. On Wednesday night after Report, she confronted Cedric and Violet, demanding names, only to be told neither of them had any idea who'd let the niffler into her office, left dungbombs in the west tower, or filled her supper pie with flobberworms.

"I can't believe neither of you knows anything!" she practically screeched, eying especially Cedric. "You're as much a part of this conspiracy as the other teachers!"

"We aren't," Cedric replied quietly as Violet nodded agreement.

"I don't believe it!" She swung on Cedric. "You're behind this. I know you are."

"I'm not -- !"

"Don't bother denying it! The degree of coordination behind these attacks shows a single, vicious mind!"

And that was, Cedric supposed, a backhanded compliment, but if there was a single mind behind them (vicious or otherwise), it wasn't his. Huffing out, eyes a little wild, Umbridge finished, "This defiance has gone on long enough. I'll be putting a halt to it. The students do not run this school."

On Thursday, as Cedric headed back to his rooms after dinner, he paused before he reached the door. "Someone's been in here," he said to Peter and Hermione, who were with him.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"The wards are disturbed."

"You put wards on your door, mate?"

Cedric just shared a glance with Hermione. "Yeah, I, er, sort of suspected that someone might have reason to break in."

Peter appeared confused by this. "Why?"

Still holding Hermione's gaze, Cedric said, "Well, the night of the bath thing . . . Umbridge was nosing around my room like she was looking for something -- I doubt it was anything in particular, just something to use against me. So I started setting wards."

Hermione had hurried into his room, looking about to see if anything had been disturbed, and Peter followed. When Peter had gone through into his bedroom, Cedric pulled his black journal out of his robes and made a "Psst!" sound to Hermione, holding it up so she could see. She breathed out in relief. "I said I'd keep -- "

"Cedric!"

He and Hermione both looked towards his bedroom even as Peter emerged, carrying Esiban's cage.

It was open. And empty.

"Esiban!" Cedric called automatically, on instinct. But he knew the raccoon couldn't have got out. Cedric always spelled the cage closed. "Esiban!"

There was no answer. Hermione appeared confused although Peter looked seriously worried. "Ced, mate, you -- "

"It was Locked!" Cedric snapped, turning to exit into the hallway. "Esiban!" It was almost too much to hope the raccoon was still within shouting distance.

Hermione followed him along with Peter, who said, "I'll alert the Sett."

Cedric just nodded, watching him dash off. "This has happened before?" Hermione asked.

"When I first brought him, yes -- my second year, and sometimes in the third, until I perfected that Locking spell."

"But Cedric, he's been out around the castle with you before -- and not on a lead."

"You've got a dog, Granger; think about it. Chilli's well-behaved if you're watching her, but what if she gets out on her own with a beagle's nose? Esiban's the same. There's a reason I Lock his cage during the day. He's a raccoon."

"So did you forget -- ?"

"No! Somebody broke into my room. I told you -- the wards were disturbed." He bowed his head. "What do they want with him?"

She slipped arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "We'll find him. I'll go rouse Gryffindor."

Despite two Houses searching and a few from Ravenclaw besides, Esiban didn't turn up on Thursday evening. By bedtime, Cedric was distraught and trying to hide it. Hermione hugged him tightly, stroking his back. "We'll find him," she promised.

"He's never been lost this long. Somebody must have him."

"Cedric, he probably stole into the kitchen, gorged himself and curled up for a nap. Harry even has Dobby looking for him."

But Hermione's words were meant to comfort rather than to express what she really thought. She was very worried. She'd talked to various members of Hufflepuff during the search, and they all confirmed what Cedric had said -- Esiban had never been missing more than a few hours. The raccoon usually made the most of his freedom to steal food, then skittered back to Cedric before long. "He must be lost," Susan Bones whispered to Hermione as they slunk through a hall in the dungeon. "He adores Ced. He'd never run away from him."

Hermione didn't reply, keeping her fears to herself. There were too many dangers in the castle for small creatures, and if raccoons, like cats, seemed to have nine lives -- and Esiban was more than a bit magic after spending six years with Cedric -- he could still be caught unaware.

The next morning, Neville came hurrying back into the Gryffindor common room all out of breath. "Esiban's been found," he blurted, and Hermione knew from the expression on his face that it wasn't good news. "They have him in the Great Hall."

Hermione grabbed for Harry and Ron, who hurried with her downstairs. The hall was in an uproar by the time they got there. Students talked in clumps at breakfast tables while half of Hufflepuff stood ranged behind Cedric and Ed stood in front of him, hands on his shoulders, trying to hold him back from Argus Filch. On crutches or not, Cedric looked ready to physically accost the caretaker. In a cage sitting on the head table, Esiban skittered about wildly while Hagrid peered at him with a worried frown. Other teachers sat or stood behind the table, appearing troubled or dubious. Cedric was shouting, "He does not have rabies! He couldn't possibly have rabies!"

"He attacked Mrs. Norris!" Filch was saying, fist raised -- whip gripped in it. "I demand that the animal be disposed of!"

"If he attacked your stupid cat, it's because your cat attacked him!"

"That wild beast hates cats!"

"Esiban gets along fine with Hermione's cat!"

That was, Hermione thought, a bit of an exaggeration. Esiban and Crookshanks tolerated each other at the best of times -- but it was true that she'd never seen Esiban attack Crookshanks unprovoked. She hurried over to his side. "He couldn't have rabies if he had vaccinations, Ced. Tell them that."

Cedric barely glanced at her. "Vaccinations?" Then he shook his head and turned his attention back to his Head of House, Professor Sprout. "Esiban didn't escape from my room -- someone let him out. This was deliberate!" Sprout appeared deeply distressed while Umbridge just looked triumphant.

"A wild animal -- of a species well-known for carrying rabies, I understand -- has attacked a teacher's well-loved and domestic pet," Umbridge crowed. "There's a reason only certain animals are approved for students by the Ministry and raccoons most certainly aren't on the list! I must agree with Mr. Filch. The animal should be disposed of immediately." And she pulled her wand.

Cedric pulled his own before anybody could stop him and aimed it directly at Umbridge. Hermione dove for Cedric's wand hand even as Professor McGonagall snatched Umbridge's wand right out of hers. "There will be no disposing of pets until it's been verified that the animal in question is, in fact, ill." And the authority in her voice brooked no argument even from the Headmistress. She turned to Hagrid. "Professor Hagrid, I believe this is your area of expertise?"

Hagrid nodded from where he'd been watching Esiban. "He does look a mite wild, but I can' tell if that's 'cos he's got the water disease or 'cos he's locked up. If he ain' been outside, then rabies ain' likely." Hagrid glanced over at Filch, eyes narrow. "Animals'll bite if cornered, yeh? I reckon all we gotta do is isolate an' watch him. An' Argus, that means Mrs. Norris, too."

Filch looked positively offended, and threw a glance at Umbridge. "Surely that won't be necessary," Umbridge said in her sweetest little-girl voice.

"'Fraid it is," Hagrid replied mildly. "Can' go havin' a possibly rabid animal wanderin' the halls o' Hogwarts. I mean, if y'are that convinced the 'coon's rabid that yeh want ter put him down w'out testin' him first, then we gotta assume the cat is now, too. But -- " he shrugged -- "maybe we oughta jus' isolate 'em both fer 10 days?" He waved a beefy hand at Cedric. "Come on up here, Diggory. 'Coon's scared, stuck in tha' cage. Let's see how he acts when he smells and sees yeh -- if tha' calms him down a bit."

Face still white with anger and fear, Cedric glanced at Hermione, but she nodded and so did Harry, both trying to convey that Hagrid was on his side, however much they might have disagreed in the past. Hermione couldn't imagine Hagrid ever condoning the killing of an animal unless absolutely necessary. So Cedric crossed the floor towards the cage, Hermione following in his wake. "It's me," he said softly to the raccoon. "I'm here now and I won't let them hurt you." Esiban's wild dashing slowed and he cowered against the cage side closest to Cedric, reaching through the bars with his little black hands. Before Hagrid or anyone else could stop him, Cedric had shifted balance onto one crush and put out his own hand where the raccoon could grip it -- or scratch it.

But Esiban did nothing violent at all, just pawed at Cedric almost helplessly. "Please let him out," Cedric pleaded. "He's not rabid."

Hermione could see that Hagrid's eyes were sad and his hand came down on Cedric's shoulder. "I can' do that, not in here. But ten days ain' so long, an' you can come see him ev'ryday. I'll take real good care o' him fer yeh, and then you can have 'im back wi' a clean bill o' health -- "

"That beast will not be permitted back inside the castle," Umbridge declared. "I've had enough of students doing whatever they want around here. There are rules, and those rules will be obeyed."

"Now, Professor Umbridge," Hagrid began. "He ain' been a danger to nobody in six years -- "

"I do not consider the halfbreed to be sufficiently educated in animal healing -- "

"Professor Hagrid," McGonagall growled, "is our Care of Magical Creatures instructor."

Umbridge spun, lips drawn back in something closer to a growl than a grin. "And he is also, may I remind you, on probation for that position. Nor to my knowledge does he possess a license in veteranary mediwizardry. I'll call a Ministry-appointed animal healer who can examine the animal and dispose of it safely when it's shown -- as I'm sure it will be -- to have rabies."

Cedric had continued to stroke Esiban through the cage bars while the quarrel raged around him. Now, he interrupted to say, "My father's equipped to isolate him, and has a licensed animal healer who works with him. I'll have him come and fetch Esiban."

"I really think a Ministry-appointed -- "

"I really don't!" Cedric snapped, turning his head to glare. Hermione could see that he was perilously close to tears and he'd just die of shame if he broke down in the Great Hall in front of the student body. "Esiban doesn't have rabies. Somebody let him out of his cage and my room, then provoked him until he attacked Mr. Filch's cat. But if he should turn out to be sick, no responsible animal healer would declare him healthy -- even one who works with my father."

"That sounds perfectly reasonable, Headmistress," Professor McGonagall intervened. "I'll send Amos Diggory an owl myself."

But Hermione thought Umbridge too conscious of the students watching and she wasn't finished making an example of Cedric. "So am I to understand that Mr. Diggory is refusing to comply with a direct order from the Headmistress?"

McGonagall, who'd risen to leave, glanced around. "This concerns the disposition of his pet -- "

"A non-regulation pet that has attacked another -- regulation -- animal, and which he is now protecting from the consequences in direct defiance of the Headmistress." Her eyes nearly glittered and Hermione gripped Cedric's elbow. "Hardly an example of either obedience or responsibility at a time when such an example is most sorely needed." She smiled widely. "Mr. Diggory therefore has a choice -- he may turn over the wild beast to me for consignment to the proper authorities, or he may relinquish his badge as Head Boy."

The entire hall went dead silent, the only sound an initial squeak from someone in Hufflepuff.

Cedric, however, barely paused before turning to Hermione, presenting his left breast with the badge. "Take it off," he told her.

She looked up at him, but did as he asked. She knew this wasn't even a choice for him -- his badge or Esiban's life. Her hands stayed remarkably steady as she removed his mark of office, reducing him to just another seventh year, and handed it to him so he could grip it between the fingers of his right hand on his crutch. He crossed to Umbridge with a dethroned king's dignity, and held it out. He might have dropped it at her feet or flung it at her, but even here at the end, he showed more class than she ever would. Hermione wiped one eye and felt Hagrid put a hand on her shoulder.

"Head Boy," Cedric said quietly, "is an empty honor when compared to the trust and devotion of a living creature for whom I've been parent, friend, and companion since he was barely a month old. That's not something you'll ever understand, professor. And I pity you for it."

Turning his back on Umbridge, who appeared torn between delight in her victory and affront at his words, he came back to where Hagrid still stood by the cage that held Esiban. "Will you help me carry him up to my room where we can put him back in his own cage? Then you can take him to your cabin until my father comes for him."

"'Course I will," Hagrid said, patting Cedric on the shoulder again. "Yer a good lad, Diggory."

Then with Hagrid carrying the cage containing Esiban, Cedric, Hermione, his mates, and Harry and Ron made their way out of the still silent Great Hall.

Later that same day after classes, Hermione went with Cedric down to Hagrid's hut where Cedric was to meet his father. His friends had offered to come, and Harry, but he'd turned them down. Too clever to ask permission first, Hermione had just followed. She didn't want him doing this alone. His face was stony and his robes looked very blank without his Head Boy badge. He didn't speak to her. Then again, according to Scott, he hadn't spoken all day unless he absolutely had to -- and in a quiet gesture, none of his professors had asked him to answer anything in classes. Hermione had spent her own day miserable and fractious, and the rest of the student body had been subdued, other students with non-regulation pets wearing pinched, worried faces.

When they arrived, Mr. Diggory wasn't there yet and Hagrid nodded to them both. "I got summat ter do in the forest. You two make yerselves at home." And he headed out the door carrying what looked to be a rather large rucksack. Hermione might have asked him what he was up to, but her attention was on Cedric, who'd gone over to let Esiban out of the cage.

The raccoon seemed to know that something was up, although the mere fact he was in a strange place was probably a clue. As soon as Cedric opened the door, he was out of it and up on Cedric's shoulder, rubbing his cheek against Cedric's in welcome, or perhaps comfort. He always seemed to know when his master was upset.

Hermione let them be and went about making tea. She'd spent enough time in Hagrid's hut that she knew were everything was, and she wanted to give Cedric some privacy without leaving him completely alone. There was only so much stiff-upper lip a person could manage -- even a proper English boy. Especially when his beloved pet was about to be taken from him.

At least Umbridge hadn't succeeded in having Esiban killed. Then again, from Umbridge's point of view, this must be a win-win situation. If she'd been permitted to kill the raccoon, it would have torn all the fight right out of Cedric. But Hermione didn't think she'd really been aiming for that. If she had, she'd just have killed Esiban outright and justified it after by his attack on Mrs. Norris. No, she'd meant to force Cedric to give up his badge -- and do so in front of the whole school. She'd known perfectly well that Cedric wouldn't permit anything to happen to Esiban, so she'd been able to cast his protection as defiance, and must have been planning this for some time. She'd known raccoons were infamous for carrying rabies, and had also apparently known they couldn't be given vaccines to guard against it. Hermione herself hadn't known that until Peter had told her at lunch. Most Wizarding pets were spell protected, but a raccoon was an exotic animal in Britain. They had no protections for them, and there wasn't any available in Canada or the U.S., either.

Hermione pursed her lips, remembering the night Umbridge had first seen Esiban in Cedric's room -- the night of their near-disastrous bath. She wondered if Umbridge had begun to plot then or if she'd decided to go after Cedric only in the wake of the twins' successful flight as a way to short-circuit the return of student morale? They'd all been reminded that if Umbridge couldn't catch them in actual wrong-doing, she could find other means of imposing her authority.

First Dumbledore. Now Cedric. Hermione wondered who Umbridge would aim for next? Harry, no doubt, and her lips thinned as she set the kettle to boiling with a tap of her wand and stole a glance behind her. Cedric had lowered himself onto a chair, Esiban in his lap as he stroked the raccoon's fur. Still daytime, Esiban was sluggish and content to lie sprawled across Cedric's legs.

A knock on the door startled them both, and she went to answer. A solemn Amos Diggory stood on the other side. He nodded to her and then went over to his son, squatting down by Cedric's chair and speaking to him softly. Hermione returned to Hagrid's makeshift kitchen and tried not to listen in, although she picked out a word or two that carried due to anger: "rabies" and "set me up" and "wanted to kill him."

When the tea was ready, she brought a cup of it to Cedric -- who set it on a table beside his chair -- and another to his father, but Mr. Diggory waved it away. "There's no point in dragging this out," he said. "It's bad enough as it is. This animal is not sick. I've seen animals in the early stages of rabies and this one isn't, but I'll see that he's isolated as required for 10 days, then Rachel can write up the report for the Ministry. We'll take good care of him until you're home for the summer, Ced. It's just a little over two months now. What with your exams to prepare for, it'll speed right by."

Cedric nodded, doing his best to look resigned and stoic, but his eyes were damp as he put Esiban back in his cage. His father threw a blanket over it so the raccoon wouldn't see himself taken from Cedric, but Hermione could hear him scratching at the bars and chittering pathetically. Cedric had put a hand over his mouth. His father didn't look at him, just rested a hand on his shoulder, then exited the hut, shutting it quietly behind him.

Hermione heard Cedric's breath hitch behind her, then he was getting up, the sound of his rising awkward. She looked around. His face was terrible, all twisted as he struggled not to break down, and she felt her own eyes sting and burn. He turned away from her and got about three steps towards Hagrid's rear door before he simply lost control and started to sob, his back to her, his shoulders shaking.

She's seen him angry and ecstatic, she'd seen him in terrible pain and exquisite pleasure. She'd seem him laughing, mischievous, and delighted. She'd seen him worried, sad and stressed.

But she'd never, ever seen him cry, and didn't know if he'd want to be held or left alone. Despite her closeness to him -- or perhaps because of it -- she felt less easy about imposing comfort on him unasked than she had with Harry.

But the weeping was getting worse, not tapering off, and she crossed to take his arm, guiding him back into his seat and kneeling in front of him as he bent over, face in hands. "I'm so sorry," she said, arms going around his shoulders.

"He's never been away from me for more than a few nights," Cedric whispered, words almost impossible to make out amid the soul-tearing sobs. Hermione thought the tears came from more than just Esiban's loss, although she knew Cedric's attachment to the raccoon went well beyond anything she felt for Crookshanks, or even Harry for Hedwig. Even so, Hermione suspected this was a final straw sort of breakdown. He'd been under so much pressure but had borne it and borne it, and now, just couldn't anymore.

So she held and rocked him, crooning without quite realizing what she was doing as he clung to her, his fingers tangled in her hair. "I'm sorry," he said after a while. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I just . . . for this. I can't . . . I hate this! I hate being weak!"

"Shhh," she said and stroked his hair. "You're not weak. You've shouldered more than anybody had a right to ask of you." She bit her lip then blurted, "I am . . . incredibly proud of you, Cedric. You're stronger than most of us." He pulled away to stare at her from very red, puffy eyes, as if he couldn't quite fathom what she was saying. Smiling at him, she wiped her own eyes. "Never apologize to me for crying when you're at the end of your rope. You wouldn't be human if you didn't."


Notes: A raccoon rabies vaccine (administered through food) wasn't approved for use in the U.S. until late 1995 and as raccoons aren't native in England, it's unlikely it would be available there for Esiban. Yeah, perhaps magic could get around that, but British wizards wouldn't have any reason to concoct anti-rabies potions for American racoons.