CHAPTER 8: THE BADGER'S SHRINE
O'Bannon had mixed feelings on leaving the Lovegoods. On the one hand, he doubted they had very many visitors and probably would have appreciated some company. On the other, he could only take so much of their theories on Chupacabra. Especially Luna. Really, how sinister can you get with a Chupacabra? Yeah, if Voldemort had enough of them and released them in the right areas he could ruin Britain's livestock industry. That's what the Guild of the Light believed.
But why not use a potion or a curse to do that?
He flew over the rolling hills around Ottery St. Catchpole, wondering if there could be some other reason for Voldemort's crew bringing Chupacabra to this country. Or maybe this was just one operation of however many being carried out by the bad guys. A history buff, both wizarding and Muggle, O'Bannon knew most wars weren't simply one big battle, then another, then another. Both sides carried out numerous operations constantly. Some with major implications, others more psychological in nature. He remembered reading about a couple incidents during World War Two where Japanese submarines shelled the West Coast. Their attacks didn't inflict much damage, but it scared the crap out of a lot Americans and had them believing the Japanese would invade the U.S. He remembered one DADA class with the fake Moody, who told them, "Fear itself can be as powerful a weapon as any spell or curse."
That had to be it. Have the Chupacabra kill a bunch of cows and sheep and goats just to scare everyone more. Make them think twice about opposing Voldemort. Just one little cog in the evil bastard's grand scheme to rule the world.
That made more sense than Luna's "sinister" conspiracy.
"So what's your secret, man?"
The voice broke through O'Bannon's thoughts. He looked right and saw Jared flying next to Bill.
"C'mon, man," he urged the oldest Weasley son. "You gotta share."
"Share what? What secret?"
Jared rolled his head. "You're marrying a half-veela woman. That's, like, every guy's dream. You gotta give some advice to your fellow man on how to get a woman like that."
Bill groaned. "Fine. The best I can tell you is you just have to be yourself."
"Hey, Bill." O'Bannon chuckled. "I hate to tell you this, but being himself is the reason Jared is currently single."
"Get bent, man." Jared scowled at him, then turned back to Bill. "So that's it? C'mon, there's gotta be more to it. When you land a half-veela, you gotta know what you're doing when it comes to women."
"Dude, I swear to God," O'Bannon said. "If you start saying, 'wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more,' I'm gonna knock you off your friggin' broom."
Jared ignored him, looking expectantly at Bill.
"Look, you just don't want to put on any false airs. Women like honesty, and they can spot a fake like that." Bill snapped his fingers.
"No false airs. Be honest. Yeah, I can do that."
"Or at least fake it." O'Bannon grinned at his friend.
"Dude, screw you!"
O'Bannon laughed in response.
"Right, we're here." Bill sounded relieved as they approached another home.
O'Bannon noticed this house looked more normal than the Lovegoods' . . . at least normal by wizarding standards. It looked like someone had taken five typical English cottages, enlarged them and slapped them together. Behind the house, several sheep and goats grazed peacefully. This place definitely needed a bunch of anti-Chupacabra wards more so than the Lovegoods. He had seen just a few chickens and a goat around their property. This one, however, could be a Chupacabra buffet.
They landed on a dirt path leading up to the house.
"Let me go first," Bill stated. "The owners know my family, so I won't trigger any of the wards."
"Be my guest." O'Bannon had no desire to repeat his experience when he first arrived at the Burrow.
Bill walked up the path and to the front door. A few seconds after he knocked, it opened to reveal a tall thin man with a beard. The two shook hands, talked for a bit, then headed over to them.
As they approached, O'Bannon's brow crinkled. A spark of recognition ignited in his brain. The man looked much thinner and had more gray than brown covering his beard. His ruddy features had become a lot paler since the last time he saw him.
"Oh my God."
"What?" Jared turned to him.
"That guy's Cedric Diggory's dad."
"Cedric Diggory?" Jared's eyes widened. "The guy You-Know-Who killed at the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"
O'Bannon just nodded as Bill and Mr. Diggory walked up to them.
"Mister Diggory, these are some family friends of ours from America. Jimmy O'Bannon and Jared Diaz."
"Jimmy O'Bannon." The briefest of smiles flickered across Amos Diggory's face. "Yes, I remember your name. You put together that Muggle game at Hogwarts. Um, hoe-key, was it? Read about it in the Prophet."
"Um, yeah. That was me. Nice to meet you." He shook hands with Mr. Diggory, wondering if he should express some condolences for Cedric. It had been two years since his murder, and he feared bringing up his dead son's name might upset him.
Mr. Diggory invited them inside, where they met his wife Brianna, a thin witch with long fair hair and a rather sullen face. O'Bannon's eyes darted between the couple. From their appearance, he wondered if they had ever gotten over the death of their son.
Can anyone ever get over something like that?
His chest tightened as the image of Harry kneeling over Cedric's lifeless body formed in his mind's eye. Other memories from that night bombarded him. Mr. Diggory wailing and clutching his dead son. Cedric's girlfriend, Cho Chang, crying. Fred and George looking on, mouths agape. And O'Bannon himself, staring at the scene in utter disbelief. Cedric Diggory couldn't be dead. He'd just gone into the maze barely an hour before. There were safeguards for this Tri-Wizard Tournament to ensure no one would die. How could Cedric be dead?
"Jimmy."
"Huh?" He snapped his head in Bill's direction.
"I asked if you could tell the Diggorys more about the Chupacabra since they're native to your country."
"Oh. Um, yeah. Sure."
He ran down the main points regarding the pest, including the best wards against them. When he finished his lecture, he, Jared, Bill and Mr. Diggory went outside to cast the new wards.
"You okay, man?" Jared whispered to O'Bannon.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You just looked, I don't know, zoomed out back there."
"You mean 'zoned out.' And no, I was just . . . thinking. I'm fine."
Jared didn't look convinced, but said nothing.
It took about fifteen minutes to set up the new wards. When they went back inside, Mrs. Diggory was waiting for them in the living room.
"Would you care for a spot of tea?" she asked in a flat voice.
"Yes. Thank you very much, Mrs. Diggory."
O'Bannon gave Bill a surprised look. They had a lot of work ahead of them today and he didn't think they had time for a tea break. But after all his time in Britain, he sort of got the feeling that refusing an offer of tea in someone's home was tantamount to dropping your drawers and taking a dump in the middle of their living room.
He nodded and thanked Mrs. Diggory. Jared looked at both him and Bill and just shrugged. "Um, okay. Sure. Thanks."
As Mrs. Diggory disappeared into the kitchen, Jared leaned over to O'Bannon and whispered, "You were right. The British really are into this whole tea thing."
The mention of a liquid refreshment made O'Bannon realize something.
"Um, Mister Diggory? Could I use your bathroom?"
"Of course. Up the stairs, third door to your left."
"Thanks."
He headed up the winding staircase, not for the first time wondering why wizards and witches preferred these twisty, curvy staircases to more conventional ones. The one at Jared's house twisted around so much O'Bannon sometimes feared it would give him vertigo.
He found the bathroom without any problem. After taking a whiz and washing up, he headed back into the hallway.
That's when something flickered in the corner of his eye.
He turned to the right, looking past the landing and into a small room. A circular stand containing numerous candles sat against wall. He must have missed it somehow when he came up the stairs.
Then he noticed a very familiar banner hanging above it. Yellow and black with a badger.
The banner of Hufflepuff House.
O'Bannon went into the room, his eyes on the stand. In the middle of the circle of candles sat a framed photo of a handsome, smiling boy with brown hair and gray eyes.
Cedric Diggory.
More photos adorned the wall around the Hufflepuff banner. All of Cedric. O'Bannon's gaze shifted from one photo to the next. Cedric in his Quidditch robes clutching his broom. Cedric holding up his golden egg after completing the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Cedric and Cho Chang together at the Yule Ball.
It's like a shrine to him.
He lowered his head, staring at the photo surrounded by the candles. His shoulders sagged. Dark tendrils of shame coiled around his insides. He recalled how Headmaster Dumbledore described Cedric at the Leaving Feast. "A good and loyal friend . . . he valued fair play . . . a boy who was good and kind and brave."
O'Bannon sighed. He never considered Cedric Diggory being any of those things until Dumbledore mentioned them. Mostly he viewed Diggory as Harry's adversary in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. From the get-go, Diggory just seemed like one of those characters from some teenage comedy/drama, the spoiled rich boy with Hollywood looks, an exceptionally hot girlfriend and a cool car, and who treated everyone not in his social circle as pondscum. It was an image reinforced by comments from his fellow Gryffindors.
He closed his eyes and scowled, thinking back to the party in the Gryffindor Common Room after Harry completed the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Dean Thomas had drawn several banners for the occasion, including one that showed Cedric running around with his hair on fire. O'Bannon had stood under it and spoke in a very tacky British accent. "Oh no. My hair. I'm not pretty any more."
The Gryffindors burst out laughing.
Another incident came to mind. It occurred shortly after the Yule Ball. Though Harry was unaware, most of the Gryffindors knew he had the hots for Cho Chang. The fact Cedric, his rival, wound up taking her to the ball didn't sit well with the majority of the house. One night he, the twins and Lee Jordan sat around ripping on Diggory's manhood.
"Cho's bound to break up with him soon," said Lee. "There's no way she'll want a bloke who looks more feminine than her."
"Diggory probably knows more styling charms than most of the girls in Hufflepuff," Fred laughed.
"Makes me wonder if he wears perfume instead of cologne," George commented.
Then O'Bannon chimed in. "He probably pretties himself up to compensate for his shortcomings in the wand department, if you know what I mean."
The guys hooted. He went further, trying to mimic Cho's voice. "I'd love to polish your wand, Cedric, my darling. But first I'll need a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass."
They all howled and rolled on the floor.
Standing in front of Cedric's shrine, none of it seemed very funny.
Sighing and hanging his head, he began to turn away . . .
And saw Mr. Diggory standing in the doorway.
"Oh. Um, Mr. Diggory. Um, sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."
"No, no." He held up a hand and walked toward him. "Quite all right. That's why we have this. So Ced . . . Cedric won't be forgotten."
O'Bannon stepped aside as Mr. Diggory approached the stand. His eyes locked on the photo. O'Bannon studied the man's face, noting the aura of sorrow, of longing.
"Did you know him?" Mr. Diggory turned to him. "When you were at Hogwarts?"
"No. I never got the chance to meet him."
Mr. Diggory frowned, his eyes falling to the floor. "He was a good boy. A wonderful boy. He would have been a success at anything he wanted to do. Working at the Ministry, opening his own business. Quidditch. The owner of the Tutshill Tornados actually contacted me about arranging a tryout for Cedric a month before he . . ." The wizard bit his lower lip.
The silence last nearly half-a-minute. After a deep breath, Mr. Diggory continued. "He was always helpful with Muggle-borns like yourself at Hogwarts. It didn't matter what house they were in. If he saw one of them have problems with assignments or finding their way around school, or anything else, he'd help them. I even remember him talking about the hoe-key game you put on. He told me he hoped it showed a lot of witches and wizards that Muggles could come up with exciting games that didn't involve magic."
A lump formed in O'Bannon's throat. I didn't know he thought that about the game. He clenched his teeth and shifted his gaze away from Mr. Diggory. How could he have been so wrong about this man's son?
"I take it you don't have children yet," asked Mr. Diggory.
"No."
"If you don't mind my asking, are you involved with anyone?"
"Yeah." O'Bannon nodded. "A girl I work with back in The States." A dark, heavy weight pressed down on his insides. Talia's face hovered in his mind's eye. God, but he missed her.
"Is it serious?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Mr. Diggory responded with a barely perceptible nod. "Well, if you two ever have children, pray something like this doesn't happen. You . . . you never get over it."
O'Bannon had no idea what to say. He simply nodded. Again he looked at Mr. Diggory's face, the pain evident. It made him think of his own parents. Would they fall apart like the Diggorys if anything happened to him? He never told them about fighting Death Eaters in Ovenderburg or his mission to England earlier in the year. He could have been killed any number of times. Hell, just being in the Guild of the Light was dangerous enough. He'd seen the mortality rate of members of both the Guild and the Order of the Phoenix from the first war. It was not an occupation conducive to longevity.
How would Mom and Dad handle it if he died in a war they knew nothing about? Would they be standing at a similar shrine in their house years after the fact, unable to move on?
Could anyone move on after something like this?
O'Bannon's jaw stiffened. Guilt surged through his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of causing his parents the sort of pain he saw in Mr. Diggory.
But I can't stop fighting. If You-Know-Who wins, he'll try to wipe out the Muggles. Every Muggle. Including Mom and Dad. I have to do this for them.
Mr. Diggory turned back to the shrine, gazing at the photos hanging from the wall. O'Bannon quietly slipped out of the room.
A quarter of the way down the winding staircase, he stopped and looked back upstairs, recalling Mr. Diggory's words about Cedric, coupling them with Dumbledore's eulogy at the Leaving Feast.
An entire year at Hogwarts, and not once did he even say "hello" to Cedric Diggory when passing him in the corridors. Or show an ounce of good sportsmanship by congratulating him on his performance in the first two tasks. And why? All because of a bunch of stupid, preconceived notions he had about the guy.
O'Bannon closed his eyes and clenched a fist. Cedric Diggory wasn't the only person he'd thought of in a similar fashion.
What about Ron Weasley? He believed the guy spent so much time feeling sorry for himself he'd be a liability in any serious situation.
Neville Longbottom. The boy was afraid of his own shadow. Not the sort of person O'Bannon would want with him even in a well light alley in Cheyenne, Wyoming in the middle of the afternoon.
Luna Lovegood. An absolute crackpot. How could he take seriously a single word that came out of her mouth?
Yet all three of them were with Harry Potter when he fought the Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic. None of them turned tail. They stood their ground and fought as well as any auror.
Even before then, they had risked everything to help him and his friends warn the Order of the Phoenix about Voldemort's plan to bring in reinforcements from the U.S.
Still he doubted them, dismissed them.
Misjudged them.
He wanted to crawl under a rock and drown in his shame. How could he think those things? He'd always despised stereotypes. He never thought himself prejudice. Yet he practically looked down at people like Ron and Luna and Neville.
Okay, but still I was never cruel to them or bullied them like Malfoy and his jagoffs.
That still didn't justify his attitude toward those three.
Or toward Cedric.
O'Bannon trudged down the stairs to find Mrs. Diggory, Jared and Bill sitting and drinking their tea. He accepted a cup and saucer from Mrs. Diggory, thanked her and sat in a cushioned chair next to Jared, remaining quiet while the rest of them chatted.
Mr. Diggory joined them a few minutes later. The conversation was subdued, mainly dealing with the Chupacabra and how much of a threat they posed. O'Bannon let Jared field most of the Diggorys' questions.
When the time came to leave, they shook hands with the Diggorys, who thanked them for setting up the new wards and wished them luck finding the Chupacabra. O'Bannon followed Bill and Jared toward the front door, but stopped before exiting. He stood still for a moment before whirling around.
"Mister Diggory."
"Yes?"
O'Bannon sucked on his lower lip for a moment. "I'm sorry I never got to know your son. He sounds like he would've been a good friend."
Slowly, a smile formed on Mr. Diggory's face. "Thank you, Jimmy. I appreciate that, really."
Mrs. Diggory moved alongside her husband and held his hand.
O'Bannon nodded and stepped through the door. He took a final look back at the Diggorys. He drew a long breath. Resolve flooded through him. He vowed, there and then, to do everything in his power to make sure as few families as possible experienced the same sort of suffering as the Diggorys.
NEXT: ALONE AT LAST
AUTHOR'S NOTE 1: Thanks to Ramzes, whose review sparked some ideas when it came to delving into some of Jimmy O'Bannon's attitude toward folks like Luna.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Jimmy's mention about Japanese submarines shelling the U.S. West Coast in WWII is based on real-life events. In fact, the Japanese had a couple other operations they carried out against the Continental United States. One involved using submarine-launched floatplanes to drop incendiary bombs to create large forest fires. Another involved floating "balloon bombs" from Japan to America. Those that did reach the U.S. came down in remote areas and only one actually killed anyone, the family of a minister having a picnic in the woods. All of these operations were more psychological in nature as none of them could have dealt any serious blow to the American war effort. On the flip side, the famed "Doolitte Raid" was also more psychological than strategic, having the dual role of boosting American moral at a time when the U.S. knew nothing but defeat in the Pacific Theater, and showing the Japanese that the home islands were not impervious to attack.