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30. Cedric Diggory
People were beginning to enter the great hall as Dumbledore sat pensively in his chair at the front of the room, and watched them file in slowly. Some of them had to be steadied by a friend because the grief was overwhelming.
He watched as the handful of students from Durmstrang followed Krum in – their natural leader now that the whereabouts of Karkaroff were unknown. Except for Viktor they seemed in shock as much from his disappearance as from the events at the end of the tournament.
Krum himself was ashen, and mechanically seated himself at the end of a row of seats halfway back. The four tri-wizard champions had been becoming fast friends, and he was suffering from the loss, as well as the psychological aftermath of having been ensnared by the Imperius curse.
The headmaster's eyes swept beyond the Durmstrang group, past the huddled gathering of Beauxbatons students whispering together sadly in hushed French, to the door where Harry Potter now walked into the room. His face was pale, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more.
He made it to a spot near the front of the room, flanked closely on either side by a grim Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and followed closely by Fred and George. While it was obvious that Hermione had been crying, she, like the rest of Potter's self-appointed honor guard, walked along the aisle staring down the crowd on either side of Harry – almost daring them to say something to him, to blame him.
No one did.
Dumbledore gave Harry a small nod of encouragement, which the boy acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod of his own, and then sank blankly into a chair between his friends.
A small sigh escaped from the old wizard as he watched them escort the Diggorys in. They both looked like they had aged twenty years in the past twenty-four hours, and from the expression on Amos's face, ten dementors couldn't have made him feel any worse than he did a the moment. Of course, there would actually be moments of happiness for him again somewhere in his future, but no one could ever convince him of that at the present.
The number of people still pouring through the door was substantial, and it struck Dumbledore at that moment how devoid the Great Hall was of sound, despite the large gathering within the room. Only an occasional sob or sniffle carried across the chamber, rather than the riot of laughter and shouts that normally accompanied mealtimes here.
The hall was lacking not only sound, but color today Dumbledore noted, as he sat and pondered just exactly what he would say. The gray light that filtered in the windows and filled the clouded sky overhead created a washed –out effect, like an old painting that hadn't been cleaned for decades. The color was still there, underneath, but a stain of death lessened it today.
Of course it wouldn't have mattered if the day had been bright, color would have been just as absent in that sea of black. Yes, black was the color of mourning….. and of murder.
The old white-bearded wizard firmed his resolve. He would tell them. They must know. Even if many of them were not ready to believe….they must be told.
They must be told that a boy, still in the lush, verdant spring of his youth, had been cut down carelessly. Cedric had been torn from life and from his friends without thought, and without mercy.
Dumbledore turned slightly in his chair to look at those friends – the large group of tearful Hufflepuffs, clothed in their black Hogwarts robes that were today the color of loss. He noticed that many of them wore yellow flowers pinned on those robes, and reflected on that for a moment. Yellow was their house color, yes. It was the color of friendship and laughter…ah, especially of laughter. It saddened him that Cedric had lost that laughter too.
Youth and laughter; green and yellow – erased.
The hall was nearly full, and Filch would be signaling him from the back when the last of the mourners was seated. Dumbledore's ears caught a heart- wrenching sob, and he turned to where Cho Chang, no longer able to contain her grief, was being comforted by her classmates.
She'd been Cedric's girlfriend since before the Yule Ball, if he had heard correctly.
Dumbledore's heart went out to the young distraught witch, who had had her handsome young beau taken from her in such an awful way. It was young love, torn asunder, and Cedric Diggory would never know its full bloom. Be it the red, passionate love for a woman, or the warm, bright love of a father for his children, Cedric would never experience more of love on this earth.
No love, no passion, no red.
How awful it all was. He must remember to say what a good and loyal friend, what an honorable competitor Cedric had been. Always there for his friends, his family –always a steady arm to lean upon, or a helping hand to be offered. He'd been a true-blue friend.
Cool, calm, steady, azure, unwavering…no longer.
Dumbledore saw Filch nod at him after the doors to the Great Hall had been closed, and he hesitated for a moment longer while he decided on what he would finally say.
Cedric had possessed so many of the qualities that exemplified what was good, and honest and true, and brave…right until the very end.
The headmaster stood slowly, looking out over the faces that watched him with sorrow and expectation. So much had been taken from them with Cedric's death as well.
In his passing he had taken his love, his laughter, his youthful energy, his loyalty, and his bravery away from those he had known. Red, yellow, green, blue and violet –some of the color had indeed drained away from their world with him.
He glanced at Cedric's parents, seated off to one side of the room. Two people had never appeared more joyless, more tired, or more gray. Dumbledore wondered if they ever would see the world as brightly again. He heaved a final sigh and began to speak.
"The end," he said, looking around at them all, "of another year."
Dumbledore went on then to speak of Cedric, of the murder, and of how Harry had fought Voldemort and escaped to bring back Cedric's lifeless body to his parents. As he reminded all those present that they would be welcome at Hogwarts at any time, he let his gaze shift from the Durmstrang students to Harry to make sure he was okay.
The boy still looked shaken, but there was a resolve in those green eyes that told Dumbledore that he'd be all right. He then risked a glance at the Diggorys, hoping that they were holding up as he spoke of the dark and difficult times they were facing.
Mrs. Diggory merely sat weeping silently, staring at her hands folded in her lap as he spoke again of her son, until that is, her husband touched her arm, and gave her a small, tearful smile, and nodded at the window they were sitting next to.
Dumbledore let his gaze sweep the room again as he spoke of the choice between doing what was right and what was easy, and then once more turned where the grieving parents were looking out the window together. He followed their line of sight as he concluded with remarks about what had happened to a wonderful boy just because he had strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort, and there he saw it, off in the distance.
There was a small break in the heavy gray cloud cover, and a bright rainbow shown through, arcing down onto the lake. His eyes met those of Amos Diggory, who had turned back to look at him, and he nodded once with a small smile. It was there for all to see – the gift from Cedric, trying to give back a little color to the world from which it had been stolen.
Dumbledore turned again to the Great Hall, and said once more, "Remember, Cedric Diggory." (1)
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(1) This line comes directly out of Goblet of Fire, ch.37, and in no way does Nytd or the Reviews Lounge claim any credit for it.
A/N from Nytd: Thought I'd go out on a limb and write something a little different by doing a character from another's perspective. Cedric was the perfect candidate for this.
A note from the RL: Just a reminder that each individual chapter is imagined and written by a different author. Please remember to review!