Success in one arena carried Hufflepuff through their last Quidditch match of the year on Saturday. They didn't simply beat Slytherin, they crushed them by 160 points. Hufflepuff's Golden Trio of Chasers proved to be unstoppable, and Summerby caught the Snitch for the first time all season, right in front of Malfoy's broom-end. Umbridge didn't even try to intervene, still lying low after the Prophet articles. She might have retained her position, but it remained precarious. When she moved against the students again (and Hermione had no doubt that she would), it would be on something incontrovertible.

The celebrations that followed involved the whole castle, except for Slytherin, and Cedric's failure to unite the Houses was never more visible. Instead of four standing together, it was three against one. But that Saturday, Hermione wasn't really worrying about it, and neither was Cedric. They used the chaos of parties to steal an hour together, and were back in their common rooms before anybody much missed them. Hermione knew they were playing with fire, but Cedric was happy, and the curse wasn't flaring up despite approaching exams. (That she enjoyed their sex too wasn't something she dwelt on; it was easier to justify by pointing to his health.)

Monday turned out to be no less exciting than Saturday for Hufflepuff. At breakfast, Ed Carpenter received an owl post from none other than Philbert Deverill, manager of Puddlemere United in York, where Ed was from -- and where Oliver Wood had been hired right out of Hogwarts for the reserve team.

It was a contract offer. Reserve Chaser. Apparently Deverill had been at the game in disguise on Saturday, and a former Badger himself, he'd also heard who'd called the Extraordinary Assembly and issued the motion against Umbridge. Perhaps the original idea had been Scott's, but Ed's name was formally attached and the letter from Deverill said: "We could use fresh blood who knows how to work with a team to get things done."

And so Ed, whose prospects after school had looked the most bleak, was the first seventh year to get a job offer. Cedric appeared delighted when Hermione saw him at morning break. "It's about time somebody recognized what he can do," he told her.

"You're not jealous?" she asked.

His expression was genuinely shocked. "Why would I be jealous? He's worth his weight in gold. This has been a fantastic year for Ed. He didn't even think he could be Captain at the beginning, and now? People are finally taking him seriously, you know?"

She wasn't sure why she felt so defensive on Cedric's behalf, but it seemed as if Ed were reaping the rewards for something Cedric had originally set up. "You were supposed to be Captain this year, and the composition of the team was your work."

"Well it's a good thing I wasn't Captain then, isn't it?" He frowned at her, somewhere between puzzled and irritated. "Granger, Ed's been on the Hufflepuff team longer than me. And yeah, so I put a team together two years ago, but it's not the same team we've got this year. Ed ran try-outs, and Ed's the one who coached them all year. It's his success, not mine." His frown deepened and his voice grew quiet. "Ed doesn't have a lot of options, career-wise, but he's truly a great Chaser, a great athlete. He deserves this. We're happy for him. I'm happy for him."

And that, she thought, was the difference between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. When Wood had been signed by the same team two years prior, Gryffindor had cheered, but there had been a bit of jealous muttering too. Yet when Ed's contract had been held aloft by Zacharias Smith, the whole table had erupted, and no one had said a bad word about it even behind Ed's back. The success of one was the success of all.

By Monday night, however, Cedric's mood had changed. When Hermione met him in the library after dinner, the first thing he said was, "You didn't accidentally pick up my journal with your books, did you?"

Surprised, she shook her head, but pulled her books out of her bag anyway, just to check. There as no little black journal. "When did you see it last?"

"Er, Saturday? I don't write in it all the time, you know."

She did know. Sometimes he seemed to write in it frequently, and at other times, he ignored it for weeks. "I thought you were carrying it with you?"

"I have been, but in the Sett, it's not so critical."

She looked up at him. "Cedric -- you haven't left it in your room, have you?"

"Once or twice." He sounded defensive. "It's not as if just anybody can wander in there. If Umbridge were to, somebody would've seen her."

"Not if she went while we were all in classes! Or at the game on Saturday! You said you haven't seen it since Saturday and I'm sure every Hufflepuff was in the stadium that day."

He was frowning. "I'm pretty sure I had it with me. Well, I think I did."

Pulling at her hair, she sank down in a seat at their usual table and stared at the tabletop. "What's in that journal?"

He motioned out a seat and sat down across from her. "Nothing about the Order," he said softly. "I told you that before. Or about the D.A., except allusions. It's, er, personal stuff."

He was turning red, and when he said 'personal,' she wondered just what he meant by that. "How 'personal'?"

He glanced up at her. "It's a journal. What do you think? It's about me. But Remus put that spell on it. It's Sealed. I just need to find out what happened to it so I can get it back."

Breathing out, Hermione felt a bit better for the reminder. Remus Lupin was no slouch as a wizard, and he'd said he was especially good at sealing spells. Even if it should turn out that Umbridge had taken the journal, it wouldn't do her any good if she couldn't open it. And even if by some chance she did manage to get it open, it didn't sound as if it had much incriminating. Umbridge assumed it contained secrets about Dumbledore, but a journal full of Cedric's personal musings wouldn't be any political use to her, even if it might embarrass him to know somebody had read them. "I'm sure we'll find it. We just need to backtrack. Maybe if you go to the last place you remember for certain that you had it, you'll remember what you did with it after that."

He nodded. "That's a good idea. I was in my room." He picked up the book bag he hadn't even opened and slung it over his shoulder, getting back to his feet on the crutches. "I'll go try to sort it out. You stay here and study, right?"

She nodded, as she couldn't go into the Sett with him anyway.

But the journal didn't turn up, and Hermione feared that breakfast on Tuesday might bring a repeat of that awful morning Umbridge had taunted Cedric with Esiban. But nothing untoward occurred, no accusations were made against Cedric, and no gloating glances came from the head table. Umbridge barely even looked at him.

Hermione debated whether to say anything to Harry and Ron about the missing journal. It didn't seem that significant, and they couldn't do much about it anyway, but in the end, she told them. "So what's in it?" Ron wanted to know.

"Just personal things, he said -- about being on the crutches and such."

"Nothing about the Order?" Ron whispered.

"Or Snuffles?" Harry added.

"I didn't ask about Snuffles in particular, but no, I don't think so. And nothing about the Order, or the D.A."

"We'll keep an eye out for it," Harry said, "but you know, if Umbridge does have it, it's probably in her office. Maybe I could sneak in -- "

"Harry, no," Hermione said, grabbing his arm. "If she finds you in there -- "

"I've got the cloak."

"Even so. It's not worth the risk. Not for this. Umbridge is looking for something she can use for political purposes -- prove that Cedric, or you, are in league with Dumbledore against Minister Fudge. His diary isn't going to provide that even if she does have it and gets it open -- which I doubt if Remus Lupin Sealed it shut."

But Ron was frowning. "Just because it's Sealed doesn't mean it's not breakable," he said.

"Not by Umbridge," Hermione sniffed.

"Well, no, probably not," Ron agreed. "It's pretty high level magic, but that's what curse breakers do. It's not just curses; it's a lot of things. They specialize in opening what can't be opened."

Hermione frowned. "Still, it's just a journal. He'll be embarrassed if it happens, but it's not the end of the world."

"If I could just get into Umbridge's office," Cedric said, running a hand into his hair where he sat in his wheelchair in the Hufflepuff common room. He'd told his denmates about the missing journal. "If I could get in there, I could get it back. She could hardly accuse anybody of stealing it back if she stole it in the first place."

"What if she doesn't have it, though?" Peter asked.

"I can't figure out where else it went. I kept it with me all the time -- or it was in our room. And I trust none of you lot took it."

The other three shook their heads. "Even if we had," Scott said, "the joke'd be over by now, mate."

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket?" Ed suggested. "Somebody picked it up? If they can't open it, they wouldn't know it's yours. You should ask Sprout. Not Umbridge, obviously, but Sprout could ask around in case it got turned in. That's a lot less risky than breaking into Umbridge's office."

Cedric nodded even as he felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced around. It was Rose Zeller; the girl was so small her head barely topped his even when he was sitting down. "I might be able to get into her office," she said.

Cedric turned his chair to look at her and his denmates had all leaned forward. "How could you get into her office?" Peter asked, unconsciously arrogant. "You're just a first year."

"It's an old Jewish magic -- thought travel. Some of the Prophets had it -- Isaiah, Ezekiel. Not everybody can do it, but I can. It's a bit risky -- "

Cedric was shaking his head. "You shouldn't do something that might hurt you, Rose."

Her small hand squeezed his shoulder. "It's not that dangerous. And you once took a risk for me." She gave a decisive nod. "I'd like to do this for you."

"Could Umbridge spot you?" Scott asked, "Doing this 'thought' travel?"

Rose shook her head. "I could stand right beside her and she wouldn't see me unless she knew how to look."

Cedric glanced at his denmates, then back to Rose. "To do it, what would you need?"

Twenty minutes later, Rose was stretched out on a couch in the common room, a thorough description of the journal in her mind. In her right hand, she clutched a Star of David, and in the left a pentagram -- the Seal of Solomon -- to protect her on her journey. She wore a number of other amulets that she called Qemeot about her neck and brow.

She gave Cedric a special knife made of silver that had Hebrew writing on it. "If I'm not back in an hour, cut my left hand with this and put the Seal in the blood. It'll call me back. I shouldn't need more than an hour." He nodded, although the idea of blood magic troubled him.

There was nothing to do then but wait. Rose prayed briefly in Hebrew, then fell silent as if she'd fallen asleep. "I think she's gone," Peter muttered and Cedric pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time.

Minutes ticked by as the common room slowly filled with students come to watch while one of their own walked outside her body for the sake of another. And maybe they were all goyim, but they'd bring Rose back if they needed to.

According to Cedric's watch, twenty-three minutes passed before the little body on the couch gasped and her back arched, then blue eyes opened. She looked up at Cedric. "She might have something. There's a file on her desk -- left-hand side, at the top of the middle pile -- that has your name on it. It's a bit, well, bulky. But I've no idea what's in it. Thought travel only lets me observe, not move things around."

Cedric glanced up at Scott, Peter and Ed. "I've got to get that file." They just nodded.

Getting into Umbridge's office physically, however, proved more tricky. Cedric talked to Harry. "You need my cloak?" Harry asked.

"I need it to sneak into Umbridge's office, yeah. She has my journal in a file on her desk. Well, we think she does."

Harry frowned. "Look, I hate to point this out, Ced, but you can't sneak anywhere -- you sound like a rusty tractor. I'll do it. Just tell me where the file is."

"I can't let you do that! It's not your problem -- "

"You're my friend," Harry said, cutting him off. "And it's my cloak. How long could it take? Five minutes?"

"You have to get in the door first," Peter pointed out. "It might take longer to get in the door than to find the file."

Harry shook his head. "Let me take care of that. I have something that'll open the door."

"You do?" Cedric asked.

"I -- just trust me, all right? Let me talk to that first year, find out where the file is, then get somebody to stage a diversion. I'll be in and out before you know it."

Cedric shifted weight onto one crutch and gripped Harry's shoulder with his free hand. "I owe you for this."

The boy just shrugged. "I'm not keeping a tally, all right? Just . . . keep an eye out, yeah?"

"We will."

And so it was arranged. Zacharias Smith and Lee Jordan let off some of Fred and George's leftover fireworks in a far tower, and it had been so long since there'd been trouble, a startled Umbridge hurried off to see what had happened. Meanwhile, Ed, Scott and Peter together with Ron and Hermione kept an eye out while an invisible Harry broke into Umbridge's office. Unable to move in a hurry, Cedric had to wait downstairs in Flitwick's classroom, and he hated that his friends were taking risks for his sake while he sat around and did nothing.

Harry required more than five minutes, and the expression his face wore when he arrived in the classroom after told the story. "It's not there. I searched the whole desktop and every drawer. I found a file with your name on it, but no journal in it."

Cedric put his head in his hands. "Bloody hell."

"I just need more time to look -- "

"No," Cedric told him, lifting his face again. "People have risked enough for my sake. Thank you, but no. I just hope this means she hasn't got it."

Hermione knew Cedric well enough to know there was more to his diary than he was admitting. As the likelihood had increased that the journal had been taken, not merely lost, his panic had risen proportionally, so on Wednesday evening after the unsuccessful attempt to recover it that afternoon, she confronted him in the library. Casting a Muffling spell around 'their' table, she drew him down beneath the Butterfly Woman behind it. "What's in the journal, Ced?" she asked. "And don't brush me off. You're worried."

"It's private," he insisted.

"It was private," she pointed out. "If it's about to become public, I'd like to know what 'it' is."

Heavy brows drawn together, he didn't answer for several long moments, just stared down at his hands. "Poetry," he said at last -- almost too softly for her to hear.

She resisted laughing. "Poetry?" He was worried they were going to read his poetry?

He nodded. "Mostly, yes. Some normal entries, but a lot of it is poetry."

"That's not exactly damning. Umbridge wants things she can use to accuse you of collaborating with Dumbledore."

"I know," he said, looking up. "She won't find that."

Hermione was curious. "You write poetry? I didn't know that."

He shrugged a shoulder. "It's not very good. It's just . . . easier, I guess. To express myself that way. Writing normally -- it feels flat, or corny, or stupid. It's never quite what I want to say. Poetry, though -- I say it better in fewer words. If that makes any sense."

"What do you write about? Me?" she asked a bit shyly.

"Sometimes, yeah. You. Me. Us. Sometimes other things entirely. The chair, the curse -- flying. It's just how I express myself."

She blushed. "Would you ever, um, let me read some of it?" She glanced up at his face, saw it glowed as red as she imagined hers must, and amended, "Never mind, I -- "

"It's really not any good, poppet. Just me waffling. And well, the journal was my only copy."

"Oh."

His blush deepened to something hot like rage, or maybe mortification. "I just don't want some stranger reading it, and definitely not her. How I feel . . . it's none of her business."

Hermione took his hands in hers, squeezing. "I know it's not. Maybe they won't be able to open it, and she'll have to give it back."

"She's not going to give it back, Granger. That'd as good as admit she took it in the first place -- stole it. The best we can hope is that we never hear about it again."

And so the days passed tensely. Cedric had a terrible time trying to concentrate, Hermione knew, but when a week brought no word about the journal, he began to relax. They were approaching the end of May, and the final Quidditch match of the season -- Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor -- to decide the House Cup. It was just Hufflepuff's luck, Hermione thought, that the year they had a truly outstanding team was the one year they had no chance to win officially despite the fact everyone knew they were the real victors. Yet would anybody remember that in ten years? Or twenty, or fifty?

"Do you ever wonder about all the school stories we never hear?" she asked Cedric as they sat in the stands together watching the game. He'd flown there and she'd met him, agreeing to sit with him only if he promised not to sit at the top of the stands. "I mean, I read Hogwarts, a History, but that's just the official story. I doubt it's the true one."

He shot her a grin and elbowed her playfully. "Is there a 'true' story, Granger?"

"What do you mean by that? Of course there's a true story! How things really happened."

"You don't think it depends on who's telling what happened?"

She frowned at him. "You either tell the story correctly or you lie to cover things up."

"Sometimes. Sometimes you just tell things the way you see it -- but nobody sees or knows everything, yeah?"

She frowned deeper because he had a point, but Scott leaned in from Cedric's other side to say, "He's messing with your head again, isn't he? He's good at that, the bastard."

"Bugger off," Cedric replied cheerfully.

"Language," Peter scolded from behind them.

"It's just Hermione," Scott replied, and winked at her. It was, she thought, his version of a compliment.

Before she could reply, however, someone gripped her ankle from below, and surprised, she looked down between the seats. A rather ragged-looking Hagrid looked up, sporting two black eyes and new bruises. He had Harry with him. "Listen, can yeh come with me? Now?" He glanced nervously towards Cedric who'd bent to look down too. "Er, hopin' yeh don' mind if'n I borrow her fer a bit, Diggory?"

"Not at all," Cedric replied. Since Hagrid had helped save Esiban, Cedric had . . . not changed his mind about Hagrid as a teacher, but he'd been less vehement about his disapproval. "I'll save your seat," he told her.

Nodding, Hermione made her way out and down beneath the bleachers. "How long will this take?" she asked Hagrid as they wove among the iron struts below.

"Er, uh, I'm not sure." He glanced around furtively. "I jus' hope she doesn' notice us . . . "

"Umbridge?" Harry asked and Hagrid nodded. "She won't. She's sitting on the other side with her pets all around her. I think she must be expecting trouble at the match -- or she's planning to cause it."

"Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt," Hagrid admitted. "Give us more time . . . "

"What is it, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, taking more interest in his disheveled appearance -- not that Hagrid was ever precisely neat, but he looked bad today even for Hagrid.

"Yeh -- yeh'll see in a mo'," Hagrid replied, and led them off.

And they did see. It made Hermione fervently wish she could've remained ignorant.

"A giant," she told Cedric later in the Room of Requirement.

He was busy brushing the brambles from her hair after her trek through the woods, and she felt his fingers still. "A -- what?" He turned her to face him. "You can't be serious. Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was."

"Merlin's beard," he muttered. "He's hiding a giant in the forest? That is . . . incredibly, incredibly dangerous. I can't believe Dumbledore would let him get away with that."

"I don't think Dumbledore knew." And Hermione told Cedric everything that had happened from 'meeting' Grawp to Hagrid's request that she and Harry go visit him if Hagrid were sacked, to their frightening encounter with the centaurs on the way out.

He listened without interrupting, but when she was done, said, "I'd be the worst boyfriend in the world if I let you go talk to giants, Hermione. I don't care what you promised Hagrid, there's no fucking way -- "

"Cedric, I have to -- "

"No, you don't!" He gripped her upper arms. "There are rational risks, and there are plain stupid ones. I don't care if that giant is related to Hagrid or not. He's a giant. He could kill you with a single blow of his hand. I can't . . . I can't believe Hagrid even asked such a thing of you and Harry. He should know better."

"Hagrid doesn't believes he's that dangerous."

"Hagrid, quite frankly, is an idiot. He may be a kind-hearted idiot, but he's an idiot."

"Cedric! And it may not come to that anyway. He only asked us to do it if he gets sacked, and after what Hufflepuff did, Umbridge may be afraid to sack him. There's only a month of classes left."

Cedric nodded. "We can hope. But I'm not the least convinced we shouldn't tell McGonagall, at least. Let her talk sense into Hagrid."

"We promised, Harry and I -- "

"Hermione, listen to me. There is a giant in the Forbidden Forest. It's late spring and students are out on the grounds. If that giant got free, he could go on a rampage and kill a lot of people before anybody could stop him."

"Well, there are acromantulae in the forest, too -- "

"They won't come out. They wait for you to come to them. But that giant doesn't want to be there and he's going to escape at the first opportunity -- and 'escape' could take him right through school grounds. We have to tell somebody about this. It's the responsible thing to do."

Hermione knew, deep down, that Cedric was right, but -- "We promised him, Ced. Harry and I. We promised we'd keep the secret. Please, can we wait a little?"

"Hermione -- "

"Please?"

"Ah!" He tossed her brush onto the bedside table where candles burned, narrowly avoiding knocking them over. "You and Harry -- and Ron, too. This is how the three of you get into trouble. And now you've got me agreeing to your mad ideas."

"Thank you!" She hugged him tightly. "Thank you. I can't betray him. Hagrid's always stood by us -- by Harry. I just can't turn him in. It'd be all Umbridge would need to sack him."

Cedric sighed, running fingers through her hair almost as if against his will. "You drive me crazy sometimes, poppet."

The shoe dropped on Wednesday of the week before exams, while teachers reviewed. If Cedric hadn't forgotten about his missing journal, he'd relaxed as first one week, then two had slipped past. He just couldn't maintain high alert all the time. In fact, he was laughing with Ed and Peter as they were headed for dinner when he spotted Bill Weasley standing outside the Great Hall. "Cedric," Bill said, face serious, "would you please come with me?"

And Cedric -- who'd feared this even as he'd hoped he might escape it -- reached into his robes, pulling out a letter to hand to Peter. "Give this to Hermione." He'd been carrying it ever since he'd realized Umbridge most likely had his journal. Then he took a deep breath, ignoring the worried expressions on his friends' faces, and made his way over to Bill.

"I should confiscate that letter," Bill said.

"Please don't," was all Cedric could ask.

Bill shook his head. "I never saw it. Follow me." He led Cedric back to the lift, saying nothing till they were inside, then he tapped the panel with his wand. "Pause." He turned to Cedric. "We have three minutes before the alarm goes off, alerting Filch that the lift halted. You know Umbridge has your journal?"

"Yes. She stole it."

"I suspected as much. She told Fudge a student 'found' it and turned it in. I doubted you were so careless as to leave it lying about. Not to mention she never explained how she knew it was yours without being able to open it. Anyway, it was sent to the ministry a few weeks ago and I heard about it from Shacklebolt -- so I volunteered to crack it." Cedric felt his face go white. He couldn't believe Bill had betrayed him. "Someone was going to, Diggory. I wanted to be the one, in case there was anything in there about the Order -- "

"There wasn't. I'm not stupid."

"So I saw." He frowned down at his feet, braid falling over his shoulder. "Remus' wards were good, but designed to keep out nosey students, not professional curse breakers." He looked up at Cedric again. "What was in there, though -- I'm sorry, I couldn't do much about it. It would've been too suspicious if I'd destroyed it. They're going to expel you. You're hardly the first Head Boy to have sex with his girlfriend, but the journal has all the evidence they need to dismiss you for it. They wanted to get you for assisting Dumbledore, but Fudge doesn't care as long as he's rid of you. You've become the symbol of Hufflepuff, and he wants revenge."

Cedric felt cold seep into all his extremities. "Hermione?"

"Listen closely and I'll tell you how to save her. It's splitting legal hairs, but I think it'll work. She's never named in the entries in question. You talk about her in other entries, but they don't reference sex. If you refuse to name Hermione and don't let them trick you into it, they have no conclusive evidence against her. It's you they're after, not her. Same as with Dumbledore, earlier. They got him and let Harry be. If they can get you, they'll probably let her be."

Reaching out, Bill tapped the panel with his wand. "Second floor," he said.

Sick to his stomach, Cedric bent a little at the waist. "I didn't say where any of it occurred, either. They can't prove it was here."

"You dated it. That's good enough for them. There's only so far you can push this, Cedric." Bill looked at him. "You can save Hermione." The corollary went unspoken. He couldn't save himself.

He nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Bill said as the lift doors opened and they exited into the hall. Cedric's limbs felt like water and his stomach roiled. For months, he'd expected Umbridge to find some way to get rid of him, and was amazed only that it had taken her so long. Yet expecting it didn't change the fact he was scared -- and somehow, he hadn't thought it would be for this. He'd assumed it would be something trumped up, something he could act indignant about -- not something he'd actually done wrong. He didn't want to be expelled, but his sense of justice made it hard to argue his innocence when he wasn't innocent.

Bill led him to Umbridge's office and paused at the door. "One last thing." He looked Cedric in the eye. "You're one hell of a poet, Diggory. I may not have been meant to read what you wrote, but I'm honored I got to. It was beautiful."

That wasn't what Cedric had expected him to say, and embarrassed he muttered, "Thanks," as Bill opened the door.

"Here he is," Bill said, stepping inside and taking up a position at the back of the room.

Cornelius Fudge sat behind Umbridge's desk, looking incongruous amid her frilly decor and ugly cat plates. Umbridge stood at his right shoulder, a triumphant grin in place as she regarded him. There were a pair of Aurors there, as well, but not anybody Cedric recognized, and he wondered why Fudge had brought Aurors. They couldn't arrest him for having sex with his girlfriend, could they? Expel him, yes, arrest him, no. Hermione was past the age of consent.

Bent over the desk, shoulders hunched and expression somewhere between angry and disgusted, Fudge held up the little black book Cedric hadn't seen in over two weeks. "Mr. Diggory, we need to talk about what we found in this."

Cedric swallowed, his first instinct to stay silent, but he didn't think silence would serve him. "Yes, we do," he answered instead. "We need to discuss the fact it was stolen right out of my dormitory. I may be a student, but I'm of age, Minister Fudge. I have rights."

Surprised, Fudge sat up. He must not have expected Cedric to go on the offensive. Umbridge appeared annoyed, but the Aurors looked troubled. "I was told it was found by another student and turned in to Madam Umbridge," Fudge said.

"No, it wasn't," Cedric replied. "I don't know what you were told, Minister, but it was stolen."

"You didn't report it stolen!"

"Would you report your diary was missing in a school full of nosey students? My friends knew. Ask them."

Fudge sniffed. "You're making excuses now that you've been caught, is what you're doing. It's your word against that of the student who found it -- and Headmistress Umbridge's. Why would either of them lie? You, however, have good reason to lie, given what this journal contains. It's lewd, disgusting, and pornographic! No wonder you kept it a secret. And we all know your penchant for lying and cheating, Mr. Diggory."

Fudge shook the book. "And to think you were appointed Head Boy at one point -- a position you clearly took advantage of in order to arrange trysts with your girlfriend, Hermione Granger."

And there it was, what Bill had warned him of. But to Cedric's surprise, one of the Aurors interrupted. "Minister? If that journal really is stolen property, then it's inadmissible -- "

"It's his word against theirs!" Fudge snarled. "And this isn't a court; it's a school. Diggory broke the rules and used his special position to do so. This . . . disgusting collection of writings in Mr. Diggory's own hand clearly admits to carnal activity with Hermione Granger."

"You seem to assume it's Hermione," Cedric said.

That got everyone's attention.

"She's not named, is she?" Cedric went on, keeping in mind what Bill had said.

Fudge was frowning. "Who else would it be?"

Cedric just shrugged.

Fudge came to his feet. "I demand that you give the name of the girl!"

"Why? So you can expel her too? Why would I be stupid enough to do that?"

Fudge's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. "You," Fudge spat, "were found in the prefects' bath with Hermione Granger after hours, and you name her in several entries -- "

"But not in any you're using to convict me. And as for the prefects' bath, Hermoine and I weren't found together. She wasn't there when Professor Umbridge barged in on -- "

"Because the two of you were forewarned!" Umbridge broke in. "I know you were in there with her!"

Cedric turned on her, pouring every ounce of hate he felt into his glare. "But you found no evidence of it, did you? You just barged in on me as if my privacy didn't matter. I was nude -- "

Thunderstruck, Fudge turned to stare at Umbridge, who flushed and snapped, "Well, it was the bath. Filius was with me. I was there to catch him in flagrante delicto, not to oogle him!"

"So you say," Cedric muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" Fudge demanded, spinning.

"I said that's what she says. But she stood there staring at me for a full minute. And she's spent the whole year watching me. If you want to find perversion, Minister Fudge, maybe you ought to look to your own cabinet."

"Are you accusing my under-secretary of voyeurism?" Fudge demanded, face past red well into purple. But before Cedric could gather wits to reply, Fudge spoke to Bill Weasley. "Bring Miss Granger to this office, and Professor Flitwick as well. We're going to clear this up."

Cedric heard feet scrape and Bill's voice. "I'll fetch them." Cedric didn't turn to look, but heard the door close quietly behind.

Fudge returned his attention to Cedric. "Let me see if I can get this straight before our additional witnesses arrive. You claim that Miss Granger was not with you in the bath. You furthermore claim that the obscene material in your diary was not written about Miss Granger, and you claim that Madam Umbridge -- a well-respected and long-term member of my Ministry staff -- abused her position in order to leer at you in the bath, rather than -- as it would seem -- you abusing yours in order to cavort with your girlfriend?" Fudge threw up his hands. "I'm not sure if that's more cheeky or more absurd, Diggory." Fudge frowned. "But I suppose a tendency to sexual misconduct runs in your family doesn't it? Like father like son."

Cedric blinked. What? He had no idea what Fudge was talking about, but he also had no time to worry about it. He needed to get his head together before Hermione and Flitwick arrived. Despite the front he'd struggled to maintain and his defiance of Umbridge, he'd never been in serious trouble in his life, and had no experience at resisting authority. He suspected his face showed his uncertainty and fear. "May I sit down, sir? My legs hurt."

Fudge glared harder. "No, you may not."

So they waited, Fudge behind the desk, Umbridge with him, conferring too softly for Cedric to hear. The Aurors faced forward, expressions unreadable. After a little while, Bill Weasley returned, a white-faced Hermione with him and Flitwick following, looking uncharacteristically annoyed. Hermione glanced at Cedric as she took the spot one of the Aurors indicated for her about five feet away -- too far for them to converse. Cedric hoped to hell she'd read his letter.

Flitwick, however, stepped right up to the desk. "What's so frantic I couldn't be allowed to finish my dinner, Cornelius?"

Fudge nodded to him. "I'm truly sorry for the interruption, but we need a few matters settled regarding the events you witnessed in the prefects' bathroom on the night of 19th March. I understand Professor Umbridge woke you to investigate a report that Cedric Diggory was in the prefects' bath with his girlfriend Hermione Granger?"

Frowning in earnest now, Flitwick stroked his beard. "You came all this way to investigate something that was cleared up over two months ago?"

Lips pursed, Fudge replied, "Just answer the question, please."

"Very well -- yes, she came and got me, but when we arrived, we found Mr. Diggory alone. Mr. Diggory's rooms were immediately searched, and Professor Umbridge had Mr. Filch guarding the bath exit as well as the exit to Mr. Diggory's rooms. Miss Granger wasn't found there, nor seen escaping. Furthermore, when Professor Umbridge checked Gryffindor Tower immediately after, Miss Granger was asleep in her bed."

"With wet hair!" Umbridge exclaimed.

"I understood she took a shower before bed. And both her roommates vouched for her presence all evening. Nothing was proven, and all the evidence pointed to their innocence."

Cedric noticed that Flitwick never once said that he believed them innocent, even while he let Fudge assume it. Fudge sighed. "Very well then, it can't be proven. Mr. Diggory has made a counterclaim. He says Professor Umbridge showed an . . . inappropriate interest in him while he was naked in the bath."

Expression shrewd, Flitwick glanced around at Cedric. "Well, she did stare at him rather a long time, yes. I thought it a bit odd, and had to recall her attention to the matter at hand."

"How dare you!" Umbridge practically shrieked, "I did no such thing!" even as both Aurors and Fudge turned to gape at her. "That is . . . clear exaggeration. I did not stare at Mr. Diggory in the bath. That boy is in trouble and he'll say anything to get out of it. And Professor Flitwick is obviously on their side."

Taking a deep breath, Fudge said, "Dolores, I think this would be a good time to be quiet."

Turning back, Fudge breathed out. "Very well, Professor Flitwick, thank you for your testimony. You're free to go."

"Actually," Flitwick said, "I'd like to stay." Fudge opened his mouth to object, but Flitwick beat him to it. "If you're asking for my testimony, I'd like to know for what matter I've given it."

"This is a closed investigation," Fudge replied, tone fussy. "We'll release our charges when we've decided on them."

"What on earth are you investigating Diggory for?" Flitwick asked. "You think the poor lad tripped somebody with his crutch?"

"Please, professor. We're not prepared to release information yet. You're free to go."

One of the Auror's exited from behind the desk to open the office door and hold it open until Flitwick departed, casting a glance over his shoulder. When he was gone, Fudge turned his attention on Hermione. "Let me cut right to the heart of the matter, Miss Granger. Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with Mr. Diggory?"

Hermione gave a small gasp, mouth dropping open, and if Cedric didn't know better, he'd believe she hadn't seen that question coming. She was quite the little actress. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

Fudge held up Cedric's black journal. "Do you recognize this?"

"Of course; it's Cedric's diary. It disappeared. We think somebody stole it."

"So he said. Other testimony, however, says it was found on a table in the library. But you insist you haven't had sexual relations with Mr. Diggory?"

"No, I have not!"

"What would you say if you discovered he'd claimed otherwise? In here?"

Cedric felt Hermione's glance but kept his face forward. This was the dangerous moment. His letter to her had instructed her to deny they'd had sex if she were asked and accuse him of groundless bragging. He didn't know if she'd do it or if her Gryffindor loyalty would make her -- foolishly -- stand with him, and be expelled with him. But either Bill had been able to say something to her on the way here, or she was quicker on the uptake than he was. "Does he name me?" she demanded.

Fudge frowned. "Just answer the question."

"I did. I did not have sexual relations with Cedric. And I asked you if he named me."

Annoyed, Fudge flicked the journal open to a previously marked page. Cedric's gut shook. Fudge wasn't going to --

"Miss Granger, if you please." He offered the open journal. "Read this and tell me that isn't you."

Cedric wanted to crawl into a hole and hide even as he wondered just what Fudge had given her to read. But with another glance at him, Hermione stepped forward to take the book and scan the page. Cedric watched the blush creep up her neck to her cheeks and ears.

"I think she should read it aloud, Minister," Umbridge said, eyes glittering with malice.

"Headmistress," Fudge admonished. "Material like that . . . It's not appropriate for a lady -- "

"Which Miss Granger manifestly is not."

"I was referring to you, Dolores," Fudge replied mildly.

And Umbridge's cheeks pinked. "Oh. Well, yes. But, it is evidence -- "

Hermione had shut the journal, but didn't return it to Fudge. "I've read it," she said, "and I see no point reading it aloud that's not voyeuristic." She glared pointedly at Umbridge, and however mortified Cedric felt, he was grateful she had the presence of mind to protect their privacy.

Hermione turned her attention then on Fudge. "Minister, while this is a lovely if somewhat graphic poem, I don't see what it proves. Not only am I not named, neither is the speaker, nor is it signed by the author. For all you know, Cedric could have copied it from another source. Your evidence is circumstantial. Cedric and I have not had sex -- certainly not on Hogwarts' grounds."

If he'd been less frightened for them both, Cedric might have been quite thoroughly impressed (or deeply disturbed) by her ability to tell such a bald-faced lie while looking Fudge straight in the face. She pocketed the journal.

"That's evidence!" Fudge protested.

"Evidence unlawfully obtained without a search warrant," Hermione replied. "This belongs to Cedric and you have no right to confiscate somebody's personal papers without demonstrating probable cause to a magistrate. I can't imagine what 'probable cause' you'd have to seize Cedric's diary."

"It shows he's guilty -- "

"Of what, Minister? Copying erotic poetry? And you can't use illegally seized evidence in order to prove probable cause to seize that very evidence!"

"You are not a solicitor, Miss Granger!"

"Ask your Aurors," Hermione said, voice just south of smug.

The Aurors were nodding, and Cedric remembered their earlier discomfort. He wanted to hug his brilliant, brilliant girl. She handled pressure far better than he did.

But if Fudge were nearly frothing in rage, he was far from finished. "Miss Granger, this is not a court of law and Mr. Diggory is not on trial for a crime. Both of you are, however, under investigation for breaking school rules and this diary does give such evidence in Mr. Diggory's own hand. I find your arguments that he just copied down erotic poetry a bit too precious; he didn't claim any such thing, and wouldn't he know?"

Cedric started to speak, but Fudge held up a hand. "You may not interrupt, Mr. Diggory; it's a bit late to corroborate Miss Granger's desperate invention. I also find it incredible that you, Miss Granger, would so vehemently defend your boyfriend if you weren't the girl in his poems -- if, in fact, he'd cheated on you with another, unnamed girl, as he implied. I'd expect you to be quite irate. Yet here you stand, thinking of new arguments as fast as you can. You spoke of my evidence being circumstantial -- your arguments are tenuous, at best."

Cedric could feel their momentum slipping, and remembered Bill's most important point earlier. Fudge was here to get rid of him, not necessarily Hermione. If he intervened now, if he offered Fudge a deal, he might jeopardize their position by showing weakness. But if he didn't . . . Fudge was right. Hermione's arguments might work in court to demonstrate reasonable doubt, but this wasn't a court. With sufficient evidence (however obtained), the Headmistress could expel them both for breaking school rules, and while they might appeal the decision, it would be too late for Hermione to take her exams.

Hermione had to take those exams.

"Minister Fudge," he said, and they turned to look at him. "You don't have solid proof against her. We could make this difficult for you. I could make this difficult for you. But I won't -- if you promise to leave her alone. I'll leave quietly and won't file an appeal, if you leave her alone."

"Cedric -- !"

"Shut up, Granger."

Fudge had leaned forward. "So you admit you are guilty of engaging in sexual relations with a girl here on school property?"

"Your word that you won't press charges against Hermione Granger? Made on your wand?"

Fudge reached for his wand and gripped the center of it. "Fine, fine. If you provide a signed affidavit, I won't press charges against Miss Granger."

"Very well, I agree," Cedric said.

Hermione was gaping at him. "Cedric . . . "

"You may go, Miss Granger."

"Minister Fudge!"

"You may go."

"Go, poppet," Cedric added.

For a minute, he didn't think she would, and heard Bill's step in the background as well as saw one of the Aurors posed to escort her out if necessary. But she dropped her head finally and turned towards the door. "You idiot," she muttered.

Fudge was flipping through sheets of parchment on the desk, clearly looking for something previously prepared. Finding what he wanted, he read aloud, "On this 3rd day of June, 1996, I, Cedric Gwalchmai Cerne Diggory, admit before witnesses to severe infractions against Hogwarts' school rules, up to and including repeated violation of curfew and decency regulations in order to engage in forbidden sexual activity with . . . " -- he paused to erase something with his wand -- "in forbidden sexual activity. In response to the severity of the charges, I hereby accept expulsion from Hogwarts."

He turned it on the desk to face Cedric. "Mr. Diggory?"

Out of options and word given, Cedric was cornered in a thicket of his own making. He hobbled forward to pick up the quill, dip it and sign his name. Looking at Fudge, he said, "You made an oath on your wand. Remember it."

Fudge snatched the paper almost out from under his quill. "You have an hour to pack your things and remove yourself from Hogwarts." He glanced at the Aurors. "Please escort Mr. Diggory to his former dormitory and see to it that he complies. He's not permitted to talk to anyone. I want him gone before the sun sets."

The Aurors were still looking uncomfortable. "Er, Minister -- what about his handicap?" asked the Auror who'd been silent so far, a youngish man. "You expect us to just drop him off at the front gate with his trunk? How's he going to get home?"

"That's his problem, isn't it? He's no longer a student of Hogwarts. It's no longer the school's responsibility to cater to his special needs. And if that's inconvenient for him, maybe he should have thought about that before cavalierly breaking rules." When the Aurors still hesitated, Fudge clapped his hands. "That was an order, gentlemen. See to it!"

The march to Hufflepuff's cellar was excruciating, and inside, the whole House had gathered, faces shocked. When they saw him, his three denmates tried to come forward, "Cedric, mate! We heard -- !" but both Aurors stepped in front of him.

"You may not speak with Diggory. Minister's ruling."

Yet if his house couldn't talk to him, they could talk among themselves about him. And the news had taken virtually no time at all to spread. "He and Hermione -- ?" "They got caught, you know, doing it." "You're kidding!" "How come only he got expelled then?" "I don't know." "It's not about Cedric, it's about Hufflepuff. It's Umbridge's revenge." (That was Scott's voice, hard and unequivocal.) "But did he do it?" "So what if he did . . . ?" And so it went all around the Sett while he packed.

When he exited the tunnels into the common room cellar, he found Professor Sprout standing by the door, wringing her hands, tears in her eyes. Embarrassed to face her, he dropped his own eyes as she came towards him. The Aurors moved to intercept her, but she swatted the hand of one. "Paddy Williamson, you are not going to keep me from saying goodbye, are you! Or you, Bill Proudfoot?"

Cedric was a little surprised when both stepped aside to let Sprout wrap her plump arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, and not as if she were ashamed of him. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to disgrace the House."

"Shh," she whispered back, then let him go and made shooing motions to the Aurors before turning her back to hide her obvious sobbing. The rest of the Sett was quiet now, nobody spoke as the Auror Sprout had named Proudfoot, the elder of the two, opened the door.

Thus Cedric left the Sett and the castle for the final time -- Umbridge watching triumphantly. Twenty minutes later, the Aurors were opening the front gate to Hogwarts' grounds, and he stepped outside, too numb to feel much of anything beyond shock. It rang through him like the sound of iron clanging shut behind. The sun was still up, although squatting low on the horizon, and he glanced down at his trunk. He supposed it would be easiest to get a room in The Three Broomsticks tonight, and contact his parents from there.

"Need some help?"

He jerked his head around to find Bill Weasley slouching to one side of the gate, arms crossed, one shoulder braced against the stone wall. Pushing away, Bill came over and Levitated Cedric's trunk with a lazy swish of his wand. "Let's get you to Hogsmeade. Rosmerta's got a room waiting and we'll fill you in on your options."

"A room -- ? Madam Rosmerta has a room -- ?" He couldn't seem to get a complete sentence out of his mouth.

Bill just grinned. "We've anticipated this since I cracked your journal, and we've been planning." Cedric wondered who 'we' was -- his parents? The Order? Some combination? "Like I said, let's get to Hogsmeade and I'll fill you in. I understand you can still Apparate despite the crutches?"

In less than five minutes, they stood in The Three Broomsticks, Cedric being shown into the same room where he'd met his mother and Remus Lupin the previous Autumn. Remus was there again now, Esiban leaping from his arms to climb atop Cedric's shoulder. And there was another figure with them who he hadn't expected to see --

"Professor Dumbledore!"


Notes: I must, again, thank Itay Avtalyon for his research into Jewish magic that gave me the basic ideas for Rose's 'invisibility' spell. In the book, Hufflepuff did beat Slytherin in their Quidditch match, if not by quite the margin I gave them here. While we're not told everything, it seems Hufflepuff did have an outstanding year at Quidditch in '95-'96; I didn't make that up. We know they beat both Gryffindor and Slytherin. It gave me fodder to play with in this novel.