Cedric's first intravenous immunoglobulin therapy occurred the week before Hermione was to return to Hogwarts, so she could go with him and hold his hand through the foreign-to-him Muggle procedure. Nobody put it that way, but that was the reason. She knew he was very nervous about the whole thing. His mother insisted on coming as well, although Cedric didn't want her to. Once he'd learned the outcome of his medical tests, he and Hermione had sat down with his parents to explain what he'd be doing. Neither of the Diggorys had seemed enthused, but they also hadn't refused, and Lucy Diggory had arranged a private appointment with Aunt Brenda at her surgery. "Tough broad," Aunt Brenda had said of her later, according to Hermione's mother.
That was, Hermione supposed, putting it politely.
Hermione didn't know what the paperwork logistics had been (or what mountains moved), but Aunt Brenda had Cedric come to her surgery on the last Monday morning in August. He'd be coming in every day that week, in fact. Apparently, the Ministry had been reluctant to give him such a lot of time out of the office, but the fact he could take his work with him helped. So he showed up with his usual collection of newspapers, tabloids, and laptop. The procedure would take a total of five hours, providing he had no adverse reactions, so things could get rather dull without distraction. Hermione had her new textbooks, and Mrs. Diggory her sketchbook. Whatever Cedric's protests, at least on this first day, neither of them planned to be anywhere else.
Aunt Brenda led them into the room where the IV would be administered. More sophisticated than the usual exam room, it contained a longer examination table and some other equipment. She and Hermione helped him up onto the bed, then she took his vitals and had him lie down as a nurse arrived with the IV bags and pole. He eyed it all dubiously, and swallowed. Hermione came over to hold his hand whilst his mother just watched from a corner. His legs were too long even for a longer table and dangled.
"Most patients tolerate IVIg very well," Aunt Brenda said, "and we're starting you on a slow dose until we determine your tolerance. We'll raise it gradually as the week progresses. In someone of your size and general health, I'm not anticipating any trouble, but surprises happen, so if you experience fever, chills, rigors, flushing, sweating, hives, or shortness of breath, give a shout immediately. It's usually not serious and all we'll need to do is slow down the infusion." She patted his leg and grinned. "Mostly, you'll just be bored to tears and stuck here where my staff can be all atwitter over you. They drew straws for who got to assist me today."
Cedric blushed - as did the young nurse readying the IV - and Hermione felt a swell of pride she recognized as shallow but couldn't help. Cedric was eying the IV the nurse had handed Aunt Brenda. "Relax, Cedric," Aunt Brenda said. "You'll scarcely feel it. We'll put it in your left arm today - so it's not your mouse hand." She winked at him and nodded to the laptop he'd left on a seat, as she tied a rubber tourniquet just below his elbow, then turned his arm over and tapped veins above his wrist, looking for a good one. He watched half in fascination, half in fear.
"Ooo, such nice big veins you have, Mr. Diggory. I like you." Chuckling, she angled the needle - "Hold very still" - and slid it in smoothly. Cedric winced, but made no noise. "See? Not bad at all. Now let's be sure we've got out all the air . . . and we're good to go!" She curled the tube and taped it down neatly, then released the tourniquet whilst her nurse raised the bag to hang on the pole loop, adjusting the drip speed after consulting something written on a clipboard. "Tomorrow, I'll set you up again, but after that, Kirsten can manage." To the nurse, she said, "Thanks, love, you can go."
When the nurse had left, Aunt Brenda propped herself on the bed edge. "I'm being extra-cautious today since this is all so unfamiliar to you," she said. "But after a while, it'll seem routine, and once we're past these initial three months, we'll cut it back to one week every eight weeks. We want to do a more concentrated therapy here at the beginning, to maximize the effects, then it'll just be a matter of maintaining it.
"I want you to stay put for half an hour - complications tend to surface in that time if they're going to - then you're free to sit up and move around if you like, even go to the loo if you need to, although use your chair to get there because you'll need to roll the IV pole too and that'd be difficult with crutches." She pointed to a red button attached to a cord. "There's the emergency buzzer if you need help." As she'd been speaking, she'd been watching Cedric's face carefully, but seemed reassured when nothing untoward happened in the first few minutes. Rising again, she said, "I'll check in on you again in half an hour," before heading for the door. "Until then, doze a bit."
And that was all there was to it. The three of them spent the next four hours going about their separate business, and when the IV had run out, Aunt Brenda removed the needle . . . and that was that. A bit anti-climactic, Hermione thought, even whilst being relieved it had been. As Cedric moved himself from the bed into his chair, he asked, "You said I might see results - ?"
"You could" - Aunt Brenda stressed it - "see results in the first 24 to 48 hours. Some patients do. Some take a week or more . . . and anything in between. It's just impossible to say. Give yourself plenty of time."
They were all on tenterhooks that night, but again, nothing happened - for good or ill. Cedric had gone back to the Grangers, both because it was in London and because they were more likely to know what to do if Cedric suffered side effects. His mother stayed the night, and the next day went the same, all three of them at Brenda's surgery. He talked his mother out of going with him on Wednesday but Hermione persisted. "This is our last week together."
"And I have to spend it in hospital. Well, not exactly hospital but - "
"I don't care," she said, leaning over to grip his hand with the IV - back in the left today. They were alternating. "If this helps you - "
"I'm not seeing any change yet."
"Today is just 48 hours, Cedric."
That evening, Mrs. Diggory decided to go back to Ottery-St.-Catchpole as Cedric was tolerating the medication well, but she remained through dinner. They spent it discussing the impending collapse of the Conservative party under John Major. Unfortunately, Major's tenure in office had been beset by everything from the Gulf War to Black Wednesday to IRA struggles to such gaffes as not checking to see if a microphone was live during the European Union discussions, thus broadcasting an unflattering comment. "Honest John," Hermione's father said, "but that won't hold his party together. They'll be lucky to make it to the end of the year."
Cedric shared a glance with his mother, who said, "Disarray in the Muggle government will benefit He Who Must Not Be Named."
"I'll see if I can get a list of new offices being filled," Cedric said.
"He won't be interested in just any position," his mother warned.
"No, probably not."
Hermione's parents were exchanging worried looks. "You think he might try to infiltrate our government?" her father asked. "But I thought he didn't like Muggles?"
"He doesn't," Mrs. Diggory replied. "In fact, he regards you as dangerous, which is precisely why he wants to control your government - covertly, of course, for now."
"Control it?" Hermione's father said. "Lucy, I don't think he could - "
"Do not underestimate him. Be glad that, at the moment, his chief interest lies with our world. Also, I understand the Ministry has made some arrangements to protect the highest levels of your government, but our resources are limited and there is lesser mischief he could make. Perhaps the best you could do is keep an eye on your minor public officials. You know them better than we do. If one begins to act out of sorts, alert Cedric, who in turn can alert the Minister."
Hermione's parents looked from Mrs. Diggory to Cedric, and Hermione tried not to panic at their obvious alarm. "What, er - what sorts of things might this Voldemort want to control?" her mother asked.
"Anything that would permit him to operate unopposed, so I would expect your law enforcement to be his chief interest, although the Ministry knows that as well and is keeping an eye on it. But something as minor as controlling your transportation could aid him. If your police can't get to a crime scene, they can't stop it."
Hermione's father raised his eyebrows and speared some of the new potatoes and goat cheese. "He's no fool, is he?"
"No. Arrogant, yes. A fool, hardly." She pushed back the sleeve of her robe so she could reach her water glass, and Hermione was struck by how very peculiar this was. Cedric and his mother sat in their wizarding robes at her parents' very Muggle dinner table, eating a vegetarian meal and discussing Voldemort's possible plans after Cedric had returned from a Muggle medical treatment for a wizarding curse. And if it were all on a small and personal scale, it was, she realized, what could be - and what Voldemort feared most: his idea of miscegenation.
"By the way, Cedric," her father was saying. "Bill rang us up today to see how the treatments were going. You need to tell him he doesn't need to shout into the mouthpiece. It's not two tins on a string." Her father was smirking, and Cedric grinned as he buttered a roll. "Anyway, apparently they're having some trouble with the television, so I told him we'd stop by tomorrow and check the connections. I expect they've just upset the aerial, but I'm not certain."
"I'm afraid we're going to be a bit of an albatross for you, learning everything," Cedric warned.
Hermione's father waved a fork and swallowed before replying, "No trouble at all." His smile turned wicked. "At least this way, Arthur can pester Bill with his questions about drills instead of me."
Everybody laughed at that, even Mrs. Diggory, and perhaps thinking the meal was breaking up, Chilli, her parents' beagle, trotted over to the table and propped her front feet on the edge of Cedric's seat. He was usually the most soft-hearted and inclined to let her lick his plate clean even before the time came to load the dishwasher. Startled by the cold nose suddenly nudging his arm, Cedric dropped his fork, which immediately clattered to the floor. Still laughing, he bent without thinking to retrieve it before Chilli got it -
And everyone at the table froze.
He didn't fall out of his chair. In fact, he was able to lift himself up with only a hand on the table edge to steady him. The fork was forgotten. In the silence, everyone could hear Chilli licking it. "Cedric," his mother said, and her voice cracked. Hermione had never heard her sound like that.
Cedric let go of the table and leaned just a little sideways - and didn't fall. "Merlin's beard!" he breathed.
Then they were all talking at once, Hermione and her father both out of their seats at his side, his mother gripping his arm and Hermione's mother half standing to lean over the table. "I didn't fall!" Cedric was saying, over and over. He might have reached for the fork without thinking but just a few days ago, in a chair without arms, such a mistake would have toppled him onto the floor, being unable to fully control his hip and thigh muscles.
The rest of dinner and pudding were forgotten. Everyone retired to the living room where Hermione's father ran a brief series of tests to determine what changes they were seeing, everyone else looking on anxiously. It didn't amount to much, but any improvement was nothing short of miraculous. Hermione had never seen Lucy Diggory so much as mist up until that evening. Her own mother had slipped an arm around Mrs. Diggory's shoulders, squeezing. Smile a bit watery, Mrs. Diggory glanced over at her and nodded.
The next morning, Aunt Brenda confirmed what Hermione's father had determined the night before. There had been some improvement to the nerves above the second lumbar vertebra, those that had suffered only collateral damage from the curse, not been the focus of it. "We may see some gradual change now from your upper thighs down," she told him, "but it'll depend on the degree to which your regeneration potion can heal what's already been damaged. At least it seems the treatments have halted damage so the potion can work better."
That evening after dinner in the Granger's car on the way to Bill, Fleur and Cedric's flat, Cedric said to her father, "I'm sorry I was so doubtful of these treatments earlier."
Not taking his eyes from the London traffic, her father replied, "Perfectly understandable, Cedric. When you think you've tried everything and someone offers the unlikely, you don't expect it to work."
Her father had met Bill before, but not Fleur - and his reaction was pretty much the same as any other male Hermione had ever seen: mildly stunned and slightly uncomfortable. Sighing, she was glad her mother wasn't there. "What is she?" her father asked her softly as he fixed the aerial (which had, indeed, been knocked awry). "I mean is that girl giving off pheromones?"
"She's a quarter Veela," Hermione replied equally softly. "Veela are non-human sentient beings, like house-elves or the goblins in Gringotts." Her parents had been rather taken aback by the goblins at first. "And yes, I think it's pheromones that she emits. I suppose" - she wrinkled her nose, not really liking to say something nice about Fleur - "I suppose it's a defence mechanism. I've noticed it seems to strike boys around her strongest when they first meet her, or when she's, er, trying to make people like her, or when she's worried or grateful. I think she's grateful you came over to help. Cedric insists that, well, you get used to it."
"So female Veela affect men and male Veela affect women?"
Hermione blushed. "I'm not sure there are any male Veela, dad."
He turned his head to look at her in shock. "What? They reproduce like polyps by budding?"
Hermione burst out laughing and the other three - who were in the kitchen - glanced over at her. "Nothing!" she called and waited until they'd gone back to unpacking, Cedric seated and digging through the boxes, handing things to Bill and Fleur who put them away. "I have no idea how they reproduce," she said. She'd never looked it up. "All I know is that Fleur's grandmother is a Veela who married a human. I don't think . . . I'm not certain they're mortal, so maybe they don't need to reproduce normally. I don't really know Fleur well enough to ask."
"If we could isolate whatever it is she's giving off, we could bottle it and kill no more tigers in the Far East. Instant aphrodisiac."
Face on fire, Hermione made a little shocked sound. "Dad!" She didn't want to think about her father that way . . . but she was smiling too. Odd, how it was her mother to whom she talked about sex - awkwardly - but her father with whom she laughed about it. Negotiating the shift from parent and child to parent and adult child wasn't easy. She wondered if her father was as uncomfortable knowing she slept with Cedric as she was hearing him joke about aphrodisiacs.
When he headed home for the night half an hour later, she remained behind, her trunk and all her school things in Cedric's bedroom. She'd be staying here until Sunday when she'd board the Hogwarts Express to return to school - just three more nights. Tomorrow, she'd show Cedric how to reach Aunt Brenda's surgery by Muggle means instead of by Apparition should he need to do so, but mostly, they'd wanted to hoard these last days together like misers for time. She'd see her parents once more on Saturday evening for dinner, but they'd be returning here again and Cedric would take her to the train station the next morning.
The time passed too quickly, although little of actual import happened beyond a letter for Cedric that arrived on Friday. It was the long-awaited notification from the Transfiguration College:
Dear Mr. Diggory,
Although I greatly enjoyed our afternoon together at Hogwarts last spring, it is with some regret that I must inform you that the college has selected its four entry students for the coming year and all four have accepted. That said, I would note that your name is on the short waiting list, should one of those four change his or her mind between now and 1st October. And if they do not, I hope you will consider reapplying to the college at some point in the future when you have had further real-world experience; you showed remarkable promise for such a young man. I might also point out that, if you have any inclination for travel (as Professor McGonagall might have hinted at in our conversations about you), there are specialist colleges on the continent where the population of wizardkind is greater, and if language is an issue, the countries of Australia, Canada and the United States all have large enough pools of young wizards to create fully-fledged colleges and institutions much like our Muggle counterparts, all able to admit far more students than we. I have little doubt that your application there would be welcomed. In fact, in the current, dark atmosphere, it might be in the best interests of a young wizard's safety to consider such options.
With sincere best wishes,
Paolo S. Sweeney, Tutorial Fellow
Praefectus, College of Transfiguration
West Wing, Holywell Under
Manor Road, Oxford
Hermione read it over Cedric's shoulder and when finished, they both sighed. That letter wasn't unexpected. The further into August time had slipped before hearing anything from the college, the less likely it had become that Cedric would be offered a place. "Still," Hermione pointed out, trying for the silver lining, "you must be fairly high on their list of reserves. They obviously waited to get acceptances back from the people they did admit before writing to you."
Cedric shrugged and refolded the parchment, slipping it back into the envelope. "This wasn't the career path I wanted ultimately anyway, so I shouldn't let it bother me. Those openings should go to applicants who really hoped for them."
"I know," she said, squeezing his shoulder, but suspected being rejected still hurt, even if he hadn't expected to make the cut, nor really wanted the slot in the first place. Cedric wasn't used to failing any more than she was. He was trying to be graceful about it but not quite succeeding, his face glum.
"I wonder," he said after a moment, "if Sweeney's been adding that last bit to all the letters - about going overseas because it's safer - or just to mine? It sounded like it was aimed at me."
She filled Crookshank's food bowl and set it atop the refrigerator as the cat came bounding into the kitchen, up to the counter, then onto the refrigerator after it. He'd learned that if he didn't eat quickly, Esiban would finish it for him. Mostly, the racoon stayed off the counters, but had no trouble getting up there if food were involved. To keep him from harassing Crookshanks - and to give herself time to think - Hermione filled Esiban's food bowl as well, one on the floor. She did think Sweeney had aimed his remarks at Cedric, but knew Cedric was inclined to take it as a slight concerning his ability to protect himself, not as a general suggestion quite apart from his handicap. Cedric could be touchy. After their quarrel at his house earlier that summer, she'd been more careful about how she put things. "I think he thinks you exceptionally capable - which is more or less what he said. He just doesn't have room for you, so he's suggesting you look elsewhere."
"What about that last bit - 'in the best interests of a young wizard's safety'?"
"Well, it would be, you have to admit." She raised up, watching him from the corner of her eye. His face was set. "I suspect he'd say as much to anybody, Cedric. Most of the adults worry about students and younger wizards getting involved in this war. You've heard how Mrs. Weasley goes on about Ron, Harry, me, Ginny, and the twins having anything to do with Order business - even Bill, for that matter. And he was a Curse Breaker in Egypt!"
Cedric brows lifted and he tilted his head in a gesture she recognized as conceding the point. She breathed out softly; potential crisis averted, but she wondered if he were going to start looking for snubs where none had been intended? Then again, and in his shoes, she wasn't certain she'd be any different.
On their last night together, their love making was a bit frantic. She didn't normally think of them as so hung up on the physical, but even after she was gone, they could write, or talk by Floo. Touching they'd miss, and they barely slept that last night. Sleep wasted time. "I'll sleep on the train," she said, and he'd have the whole rest of the day to catch up after dropping her off. So they made love, talked, ate a midnight snack, talked, made love again, and finally dozed until the alarm buzzed for her to take a shower and get ready to leave for King's Cross. She told herself that she was going to be dignified about it all, not cry.
The station was packed with people, even on a Sunday, although not being a work day, people were less in a rush and nicer to Cedric as he manoeuvred through in his chair, Crookshanks in a carrier on his lap. Hermione tugged a trolley behind with her trunk. On the other side of the barrier on platform 9¾, students hurried to and fro under dimmer gas lights. A few, especially from Hufflepuff, grinned at Cedric as they passed, or patted his shoulder. Ernie MacMillan - already on the train - disembarked to come and say hello. Hermione smiled politely, but was glad when he turned his attention to Cedric; she'd always found him a bit overbearing. "Come to see off Hermione, I reckon?" he asked, shaking Cedric's hand.
"That's right."
"Do you know who's Head Boy this year?" Ernie asked.
"Haven't got a clue," Cedric replied. "At a guess, I'd say it'll be Eddie Carmichael."
"Not Cormac McLaggen? His mum's dad knows Dumbledore pretty well, doesn't he? Tiberius Ogden?"
"Merlin witness, it won't be McLaggen unless somebody Confounded Dumbledore!"
Hermione had mostly tuned them out, waiting for Ernie to go away so she could have Cedric to herself again, but Ernie's next comment got her attention. "Well, it may not be Carmichael because I heard who's Head Girl, and she's from Ravenclaw." Hermione glanced around in time to catch Ernie waggle his eyebrows - which just looked ridiculous. "Cho Chang."
"What?" Hermione nearly screeched. He had to be kidding. He had to be.
"Yep," Ernie replied. "It's Cho. I saw her wearing the badge earlier."
"But she . . . she supported Marietta! Who betrayed Dumbledore!"
"Granger," Cedric began, "Cho supported her friend - which some would count a virtue, you know - and she didn't betray Dumbledore. Marietta made a mistake - "
"Don't start that again," Hermione snapped. Ernie was watching them with interest and Hermione closed her mouth, refusing to give him gossip fodder. "I was just . . . surprised. Cho would be capable enough, I suppose, and she is popular." She tried not to be too snide about it.
Smirking, Cedric just shook his head. "Ernie, tell Cho I said congratulations, will you? And now go away so I can tell my girlfriend good-bye, eh?"
Laughing, Ernie clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Ced." He headed back onto the train. There were Hufflepuffs hanging out the windows to shout to Cedric, waving. Hannah was among them. She blew him a kiss, then ducked back into her compartment.
Hermione resisted rolling her eyes, but it warmed her to see. "You're still their darling, darling."
He chuckled as she removed Crookshanks' carrier. The cat hated the thing, but it was necessary in the station. He patted his lap, and she settled into it, although a bit reluctantly. "Isn't this a bit of a show?"
"That's the point," he said, kissing her nose - which brought hoots and whistles from the train. "I don't want anybody thinking we're not still together and giving me competition, you know."
Lifting her chin and slipping arms around his neck, she said with mock seriousness that wasn't mocking at its core, "You have no competition and you know it, Mr. Diggory."
His grin turned sly. "Good to hear, Miss Granger. Now, you'd best go. This isn't going to get any easier, I fear."
"No," she whispered, and her earlier resolve broke. She could feel her eyes grow wet. "Just - " She tried to smile but feared it was watery. "God, we're terribly clichéd. And everybody on the train is watching us. Well, not everybody but - "
He kissed her lips this time instead of her nose, if briefly. "Let them watch and envy me."
She laid her head on his shoulder, just for a moment. She could hear Crookshanks scratching inside his carrier and meowing, the calls of parents and children, and the five-minute warning whistle of the train. And if they did still have five minutes, dragging this out wouldn't make it any easier, as he'd said. So she let him go and climbed off his lap, bending to kiss him one last time, a real kiss. "I love you," she said, collecting Crookshanks' carrier and grabbing her trunk handle to drag it after her. She didn't look back until she was on the train steps, then turned to wave to him sitting there - and pretended she could see despite the fact she was crying like a silly girl at a sad movie.
"I'm such a sop," she muttered, turning and wiping her eyes. But this wasn't just a sad movie. She was leaving her best friend for months apart, and if she still had Harry and Ron, they were best mates to each other first. With Cedric, she came first. So what if it was a cliché? She'd miss him horribly, and that was just the plain truth.
Without Hermione, Cedric's life stuttered to a crawl. He hadn't realized how much he'd built his daily routine around her until she wasn't there.
The first week he spent moping around the flat with the excuse of unpacking things. But little remained for him to unpack, and he discovered there was only so much time he could spend watching Muggle comedies trying to understand their culture enough to unravel the humour. He wrote long letters at night, which he sent by Ministry owl like clockwork every morning until two weeks into September when he was 'informed' by memo that Ministry owls weren't for personal mail delivery. He hadn't meant to take advantage; he just hadn't thought about it. He, Bill and Fleur didn't have an owl. It'd be conspicuous, and Esiban didn't get on well with owls. So Cedric had to visit the Diagon Alley Owl Post every day at lunchtime.
Apparently, Hermione was having similar difficulty with the school owls. "I try to rotate which one I use," she wrote, "but it seems when I get up there anymore, they all fly to the other side of the Owlery to get away from me."
They agreed to slow down the letter exchange to every other day, but he still felt as if he lived owl-to-owl, anxiously awaiting Hermione's account of the goings-on at Hogwarts. Snape was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, so naturally, Harry had already earned a detention. In Snape's old job was a new Potions professor, or rather an old professor back again - Slughorn, who'd taught Cedric's mum. Harry had an illicit Potions textbook, too - "It really worries me, Cedric, how he just accepts whatever it tells him!" - and the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts had been swamped by Harry fans. At least Ron was back as Keeper. She also mentioned Harry's special lessons with Dumbledore, and that Hagrid's friend, the giant spider Aragog was dying. Worried, Cedric wrote back, "Stay out of the forest then. Without the old one there, his offspring may get out of hand; Hagrid will have to eradicate that nest, whether he likes it or not." He could still scarcely believe Dumbledore had allowed Hagrid to leave a nest of Acromantulae in the forest in the first place, "forbidden" or not. He may as well have let a dragon live in there.
Occasionally, he got letters from Harry, including an indignant one that began, "What idiot at the Ministry decided Stan Shunpike is a Death Eater? I don't care what he said when pissed in a pub, he's no more a Death Eater than I am. He was just boasting, probably trying to pull a girl. Hermione says the Ministry wants to look like they're doing something, but going around arresting innocent people isn't fair - and it's not doing anything, either, except wasting time."
Cedric sighed, and wrote back, "No, it's not fair, but this isn't a good time to be making jokes or claiming dangerous allegiances even if you're on the pull. There are other ways of looking at it, Harry. First, if he was claiming to be a Death Eater to impress somebody, would he join them if invited, or otherwise help them? His claims imply he thinks they're 'cool'. Second, he may be safer in Azkaban, at the moment. V. doesn't take well to being used for empty posturing. I don't approve of what happened, no, but it's not as clear-cut as you're suggesting."
By contrast, Cedric's own life was a dull routine of work, reading, and news watching (often futilely), dinner once a week with the Grangers, and once or twice a week with his own parents. Nothing seemed to change. Even improvement from his treatments had stalled after that first brief advance. Dr. Guest had said he shouldn't expect too much too soon, but it seemed axiomatic of his life now. He lived on permanent hold.
"You are love sick," Fleur said to him one evening as they worked on dinner together. (Bill never cooked.) "All pale and sad. You need to go out, Cederic."
"Someday, you're going to learn to say my name right," he muttered to change the subject.
"Oh, I can. But Saed-ric is not so pretty as Sae-der-ric. That has music in it."
"Fine, Flay-er."
Laughing, she smacked him with her wooden spoon.
At the end of the fourth week after Hermione's departure - a Friday - he found himself kidnapped on his way home from the Ministry. "Happy birthday!" Tonks said as she slammed a pillowcase down over his head.
"Hey!" he protested as he felt someone fetch his chair out of his pocket, then enlarge and guide him down into it. "What are you doing?"
"Taking you out for your birthday," said Scott's voice. "Or did you forget what today is?"
He hadn't exactly, but it hadn't registered and probably wouldn't have until an owl arrived from Hermione about it. Living owl-to-owl again.
Wherever they took him required Apparating, and even before they removed the pillowcase, the noise told him it was probably a pub. And indeed it was - the Leaky Cauldron with the usual lunch crowd, which meant the twins, Bill, Fleur, and Lee Jordan beside Scott and Tonks. Yet Ed and Peter had travelled long distance for the occasion, and Angelina and Alicia were there, too, along with Roger Davies and Violet Sykes, whom he hadn't realized lived in London. It felt like a school reunion, and for a little while, Cedric came unfrozen, remembering how to laugh at something outside a letter.
As they were leaving, Tonks, Cedric, and his former denmates ran into Dumbledore. Not expecting to meet the Headmaster of Hogwarts in Diagon Alley during termtime, they all gaped. He gave them a friendly smile. "I don't suppose I could have a word with all of you gentlemen? Perhaps at Cedric's place?"
"Er, certainly," Cedric said, glancing at the other three, who nodded dumbly. "It might be a bit, well, cramped - "
"Not a problem," Dumbledore said, smile still in place. "We shan't be terribly long, I suspect."
The six of them Apparated back to Cedric's flat. Life in a Muggle neighbourhood meant they couldn't appear suddenly on the pavement outside, so they used the back garden, and to hide the pop, Bill had Muffled a spot behind an old, white trellis. Now they all trooped through Bill's complex wards to the back door that opened straight into the kitchen. Even if Bill didn't cook, Cedric was more than willing to trade cooking duties in order to share a flat protected by a Curse Breaker.
Despite the late hour, Cedric put on a kettle, then led them down the hallway, through the foyer and into the living room. Bill and Fleur were already back home and both came out to see what the fuss was about. "Professor!" Bill said as Fleur began rushing around the living room with her wand, trying to pick up the non-existent mess.
Dumbledore reached out to stop her with a kindly smile. "Please, my dear, don't trouble yourself." Cedric sucked in breath when he caught sight of Dumbledore's hand. It was blackened and shrivelled, as if subjected to a terrible poison or strong curse.
"Professor!" he said.
Dumbledore covered the hand again with the sleeve of his robe, and shook his head. "It's nothing to worry about, Cedric."
He conjured an extra seat for himself, then one for Ed and Peter too as the furniture in the living room wasn't sufficient for the eight of them, even with Cedric in his own chair. Fleur and Bill sat together on the couch with Tonks, and Scott took the matching chair. Even so, it was cramped around the coffee table and Cedric could feel the temperature of the room rise simply from the number of people, never mind anxiety. Dumbledore had turned so that he faced Cedric's denmates. "Mr. Summers, Mr. Carpenter, Mr. Adamson - Scott, Ed and Peter, if I may?" All of them nodded. They weren't students anymore and it was polite to offer them the first-name equity of adulthood. "You have a very strong advocate in your former roommate" - he gestured to Cedric - "who has asked that I consider all three of you for a special group, the Order of the Phoenix. But be clear that I wish only for you to listen tonight, then sleep on it. I'll contact you individually tomorrow to hear your answers. While it may be advantageous to explain the Order to all of you at once, I recognize that can also create undue pressure. So at the outset, I'm telling you I don't want a yea or nay from anyone now. Are we clear?"
All three of them nodded, exchanging glances among themselves and shooting Cedric quizzical looks. Scott also glanced Tonks's way, but she didn't look back at him, just kept her attention on Dumbledore. Cedric suspected that she, like he, had lobbied for Scott's inclusion, even if she couldn't speak for Ed or Peter.
"Very well then," Dumbledore said. "The Order of the Phoenix was formed during the last war against Voldemort - a group dedicated to bringing about his downfall. While we were hardly unique in our desire, Voldemort is skilled at infiltration and the loyalties of those in organizations like the Aurors was uncertain. Neighbour doubted neighbour; brother doubted brother. The Order attempted to ensure that none of our members were double agents, but as you know, we weren't entirely successful. The Potters were murdered as a result of treachery. Yet Peter Pettigrew aside, our members were staunch in their opposition - sometimes to their own demise. Order membership wasn't just about declaring loyalties, you see. It also involved special missions designed to thwart Voldemort's plans."
"Like the French Underground," Scott said. As soon as Dumbledore had mentioned a secret order to fight Voldemort, Scott had been on the edge of his seat and Cedric knew how he'd answer tomorrow. They wouldn't be able to keep him out.
"Precisely," Dumbledore replied. "And to underscore what I mean by danger, let me point out that of the original Order, less than half survived the first war." That brought a moment of silence, even from Scott. In the kitchen, the kettle whistled and Fleur rose to go and make tea.
"When Voldemort returned last year," Dumbledore continued, "we immediately resurrected the Order - even before he publicly revealed his return. That gave us something of an advantage this time around, but there have still been losses."
"Sirius Black," Scott said, glancing over at Tonks as if he'd just put two-and-two together. "It wasn't just people who knew Harry who came to bail him out at the Ministry last June. You were all members of this Order." He was still eying Tonks, who looked back at him calmly.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "In fact, part of why I'm offering you a chance to join the Order now is because of your collective bravery that evening - yes, Ed, yours too, for although you weren't present in London, your actions were essential to alerting us about what was occurring. But if all three of you are no longer students, please be aware that this isn't a choice to make lightly. As I just pointed out, of the original Order, less than half survived, and should you choose not to become directly involved - simply continue to resist Voldemort as you have been - no one will think less of you. What we do is highly dangerous. In fact, if you decide not to join, I will ask that you permit me to Obliviate knowledge of the Order from your minds - as much for your own safety as for ours. Even knowing about the Order, regardless of whether you join it, could result in grave danger to you."
Peter and Ed nodded obediently, whilst Scott just grinned. "You won't be needing to Obliviate me."
Dumbledore held up his good hand. "Hold your decision, Mr. Summers."
"I'm an Auror - well, going to be." Scott blushed. "Danger sort of goes with the job. And I want to fight him."
"You just like an adventure," Tonks retorted.
"That too," Scott replied unashamed, then he sobered. "I was there in London, sir. I saw what they can do, and I saw Sirius Black die. I understand that's possible - well, as much as anybody can understand. But more people'll die if we don't take a stand, won't they? So yeah, I was committed to this Order, me, even before I knew it existed. You can come back and ask me tomorrow, but I won't have changed my mind. Ced's in, Tonks is in - I'm in." He glanced at Ed and Peter as if encouraging them to agree.
Ed was nodding, if not as enthusiastically, but Peter was clearly torn and Cedric was relieved to see at least one of them cautious about it. Scott was like Harry in that he didn't do things by halves, but it made him reckless to the point of folly at times, and Ed just followed his heart. Peter actually considered things.
Fleur had returned, floating a tray that contained a large teapot and cups, as well as sugar and milk. "You Know Who killed Susan's aunt," Ed was saying as he accepted the cup Fleur gave him. "I think I'd join for that reason alone. So would Susan."
"Susan Bones is still a student," Dumbledore replied gently, accepting his own cup as well as sugar, no milk. Others helped themselves.
"So's Harry Potter," Ed returned. "And Susan was in the D.A., plus she helped Harry get away from Umbridge there at the end along with the other Gryffindors and Luna. She'd have gone to London with them too, if she hadn't been needed to stay there and tell Cedric's mum. And, well, me too." His eyes lowered. Cedric knew he still felt stupid for being unable to Apparate the necessary distance from Hogwarts to Manchester on the way to the Ministry.
"As I said a moment ago," Dumbledore replied gently, "both you and Miss Bones performed an absolutely essential role because you stayed behind, Ed. When she is of age, I will certainly consider Susan for membership in the Order, but for now, none of our students are full members - no, not even Harry Potter. In fact, part of the mission of the Order is to protect Harry and see to it that he is able to complete his magical education."
"Harry's still got a lot to learn," Bill Weasley said, speaking up for the first time. "For that matter, all of you do too. Scott may be in the Auror academy, and I've been working a little with Cedric, but if you two join, I'll need to give you all a crash course in essential curse breaking, warding, and other things. Remember - Harry, Susan, Ron, Hermione . . . they're all two years behind you blokes. Let's not throw them to the lions yet, yeah?"
Ed nodded, looking a bit guilty for thinking to endanger Susan, although Cedric understood the impetus to include her. It had been frustrating for him last year being unable to tell his denmates anything, and he was grateful he didn't have to watch what he said with Hermione. "Could Susan at least know about it?" Cedric asked. "Like Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys? That way Ed wouldn't have to watch everything he said around her, sort of like how things are for me and Hermione. And, er" - he was blushing to advise Dumbledore - "maybe Neville Longbottom could be told too? His parents were in the original Order, and Neville fought in London; he deserves to know. If, well, if you think it wouldn't be too much of a danger to either of them?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses and Cedric was relieved that he didn't seem insulted. "I will take it under consideration, Cedric. But if I decide not to follow your suggestion, please understand it isn't from doubt about their bravery or loyalties; Miss Bones and Mr. Longbottom have aptly demonstrated both. It would be to protect them. As I explained earlier, even knowing about the Order is dangerous."
Cedric nodded, as did Ed again.
And that concluded the discussion more or less. There was a bit more talk as people finished their tea, then Dumbledore departed along with Scott and Tonks - and Ed, who was staying with Scott. Fleur and Bill took the teapot, cups and other things back to the kitchen whilst Cedric Summoned sheets for Peter to bunk down on the couch. Silent, Peter watched. "What sorts of things do you get asked to do?" he inquired finally, breaking the silence. "I mean, you're . . . well, uh, I'm not sure what sorts of things you could do, or that I could do . . . " he trailed off, blushing.
"Because I'm crippled?" Cedric asked, trying to keep it level - wasn't sure he succeeded. "There are limits, obviously. I'm supposed to be helping Remus Lupin do research for Dumbledore, but Lupin's been sent off on a different assignment, so I'm just cooling my heels at the moment, doing my job at the Ministry and reporting anything suspicious. We're sure Voldemort has spies there. I've not been sent anywhere that involves fighting, no. Mostly, we're asked to do things we're able to do. Nobody's had his arm twisted, not even Snape."
"Snape?" Peter's jaw dropped. "Professor Snape is in this Order?"
"That was pretty much my reaction too, but yeah, he is." Cedric kept to himself what Snape did for the Order, but wanted to tell Peter some things, relieved he finally could. If Peter decided not to join, Dumbledore would erase it all anyway. The couch ready with sheets now, Cedric turned his attention to Peter. "Nobody will ask you to do something you don't want to do. For that matter, you don't even have to join. I just . . . wanted Dumbledore to give all of you a chance."
Peter nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate that. And I - " He swallowed. "I want to. I'm just not brave like you and Scott, or Ed for that matter."
"Rubbish," Cedric replied, genuinely surprised. "Peter, you stood up to Umbridge, you joined the DA, you fought at the Ministry - "
"But that was because all of you did. I didn't let myself stop to think about it. I want to join this too, then I think about what Dumbledore said - half the people in the old Order are dead . . . What if I'm not strong enough? What if . . . what if Death Eaters capture me and I give you away? I'm not sure I even have anything worth being made a member for. I'm not like you with your gift for inspiring people, or like Scott with his ability to fight, or even like Ed with his plain strength. The man's a bloody ox. I don't have any special gifts."
Cedric shook his head. "Stop it, Peter. You were my first friend at Hogwarts. Do you remember that? You were the first person to say something nice to me on the Hogwarts Express, and we stood together waiting to be Sorted by the Hat. I was so relieved when it sent you to Hufflepuff after putting me there."
"I, er," - he blushed - "I asked it to. You were the only one I knew in the entire castle. I didn't want to be in another house."
Smiling, Cedric just nodded. "It put you there because you were that loyal to somebody you'd just met. And you're tougher than you think. But it's getting dangerous out there - you heard about Fortescue and Olivander, didn't you? That's besides what happened to Wilhelm Wigworthy and Amelia Bones. It's not a time to draw attention to yourself so I won't blame you if you say 'no' to this."
"Like you're one to talk, Ced - convincing the Minister to create a new government position just for you?" Cedric blushed, but Peter's grin was fond. "That's just it. That's what I mean - you thumb your nose at You Know Who by getting the Minister to make you the Liaison for Muggle Affairs, or whatever the bloody hell it is they're calling you. Scott joins the Aurors at the most dangerous time possible. Ed - he's still being asked to talk about leading Hufflepuff to stand up to Umbridge last spring, and maybe she's no Death Eater but she was against Dumbledore."
"You fought in London, Peter."
"But I didn't go down there to fight. I went down there to help you stop Potter. I didn't expect we'd be facing Death Eaters, by Merlin! Then I had to fight or get killed. It's not something I chose to do. I'm not barking suicidal - unlike Scott."
That made Cedric laugh. "You sound like Harry, actually. If you talk to him, he says pretty much the same thing. He's fought Voldemort because he didn't have a choice."
"'There are no brave men, only fools who have no choice,'" Peter said, but it was clear from his tone that he was quoting something.
"Huh?"
"This old Gypsy man said that," Peter explained. "My family went to the Continent for a holiday when I was ten, the summer before Hogwarts, and in one of the cities we were in, there was a Wizard fair. People'd come from all over, including some gypsies. I'd never seen gypsies, just heard about them and their magic. They were selling potions and charms and fortunes - and telling stories too. We stopped to listen and the old man said that at the end of this story, like the moral: 'There are no brave men, only fools who have no choice'. I remembered it - probably because dad said a wise man would've run the other way." His grin was lopsided. "I suppose that makes me a fool."
Smiling back, Cedric said, "Well, you don't have to make up your mind until tomorrow. Sleep on it. Like I said, I certainly won't blame you if you decide to keep your opposition a little less obvious."
"I'd blame me," Peter replied, but he'd turned away to pull off his robes and shirt and get ready for bed. Cedric left him to his privacy.
Notes:In The Half-blood Prince, we're told only that McLaggen's uncle is named Tiberius. I decided to make that his mother's brother, named after his grandfather, Tiberius Ogden, to create a little stemma for him. But it's invented, not canon. On the saying Peter repeats, I was told that by a Romany man, who said it was an old traditional saying. I've never heard it since, however.
Yes, I placed the small Transfigurations "college" at Oxford, under Holywell Manor; with Holywell's post-graduate population, slightly older students (as many of these are) would be less likely to be noticed coming and going. Much like Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and Platform 9¾, "Holywell Under" exists alongside this near-oldest of Oxford's colleges. All this is mostly to amuse myself; it's not terribly important for the story.