Chapter 4: Hung Jury
Cedric and Viktor forge an alliance, but can they truly overlook the animosity they felt for each other?
The kitchen was bathed in the dim light of dusk when Cedric stepped in. I didn't want to do this until later. Much, much later. Questions, he had. But the last thing in Cedric's mind right now was a lengthy, heated argument. He had offered Viktor rest as an excuse to postpone the conversation, yet in truth, it was him who needed it more. Weariness weighed heavy on his entire body. He had spent the entire night brewing potions and cleaning up after Viktor and him.
Making the salve had been easy enough: dittany leaves and a sprinkling of nettle mashed together with a cup of honey. He used the same ingredients, with the addition of knotgrass and the substitution of simple water for honey, to make a warm solution in which he had soaked his wounded hand for hours. The necessary ingredients to fully regrow his missing fingers were lacking, so he had settled with just closing the wounds. The pain had kept him up the entire night, which had been helpful, in hindsight. It had been the Blood-Replenishing Potion that proved tricky to make. The ingredients were abundant enough in the pouch he carried, but the turning and stirring and cooling needed to be precise and well-timed. A wink of sleep could have transformed the potion's purpose to the exact opposite.
Afterwards, he had applied the salve generously all over Viktor's and his wounds. Viktor had groaned and twitched at the sting the paste brought. He had been gentle enough, but if I had known how sharp his tongue is, I would have jabbed the paste inside the wounds themselves. Sighing, he closed his eyes; he couldn't blame Viktor entirely for being so scathing: being labeled as a Death Eater wasn't something to be taken lightly.
Viktor had said a lot to process, and he wished he had really insisted on postponing the conversation. He wasn't exactly at his sharpest. Even now, with nothing but the soothing silence of the kitchen and the lulling crackling of the fire in the hearth in the next room, he found it difficult to think. The Ministry and the Dark Lord…
His father's voice rang fleeting in his head.
"I have worked long in the Ministry, and the people around me were my friends as much as they were my colleagues. But the War...war transforms people, Ced." His father began, finally responding to Cedric after years and years of asking for stories about the First Wizarding War. He was only a boy of eleven, then, back from Hogwarts for the Holidays.
"The Ministry was filled with strangers, then. Ghosts with familiar faces. You couldn't trust anyone. Manipulation was at the heart of the Dark Lord's reign, and you never know if the one seated beside you was plotting your murder because he was imperiused, or because he's bargaining for the lives of his children, or because he just wants a slice of what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was offering."
In truth, he wanted to know about the story not for the war itself, but for what it did to his mother. He had asked relentlessly, whimsically, only to learn that there's nothing fanciful about the tale. He realized then the gravity of his wish: for his father to look back. 'She was a kind woman, Cedric, and you took a lot from her…'
I'm not like her, dad. Mom believed in the kindness of strangers. I can't even believe the guy who saved me. He shook from his head the remainder of the memory, not wanting to relive it now. The War is done, and my mother has gone with it. But we may all have to face the same circumstances in the future.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and the Wizarding World must be warned, or else more people will die. Defenseless.
Dreadful as it was, he forced himself to the idea: if Harry is gone, then the task falls on Viktor and me. And if I am right about Viktor, then-
"The truth will die with me," he whispered, his breath frosting in the chilly air.
If I'm wrong, then I'm a stubborn knucklehead and Viktor can scorn me forever. But if I'm right? The lives of hundreds.
It was an exchange he was more than willing to make.
He did not trust Viktor, and the animosity the other felt for him was palpable enough. But no matter how much he hated to admit it, he needed Viktor.
I should have taken the Apparition Class.
He needed Viktor on his side if he wanted to get back to Hogwarts to warn everybody. Steeling his resolve, he grabbed a pan from inside the cupboards and set about to cooking. "Potato stew sounds like a good enough peace-offering."
Stars were nowhere to be found in the dark expanse of the night sky. The moon had hidden as well tonight, and outside the window the world was a blanket of black and grey. Snow was rolling from between the gap underneath the front door, only to melt into a puddle as the warmth of the fire greeted it.
Cedric laid the bowls with a soft clink against the table. The aroma of the herbs made his mouth water and filled the air with the sweet calming scent of dittany, nettle, garlic and ginger. The soft-boiled potatoes bobbing playfully in the warm broth teased him, but he knew he had to wait before he can wolf everything down. Viktor was staring at the steaming bowls in front of him as well. He slowly raised an unbandaged eye to Cedric as the younger boy plumped down on the couch opposite. It's his turn to be suspicious of me now, I guess, Cedric thought.
"I have a proposition for you."
Viktor raised a thick eyebrow. "Is this a bribe, then?" He pointed at the broth.
He ignored the jest and continued. "I don't trust you," he said bluntly. "And so far you've given me no cause to do so."
"I saved yo-"
"Would you let me finish?"
Viktor bit down his tongue, his mouth tight as a line. A vein near his jaw was twitching as he worked his temper down.
"I've told you enough of my thoughts to show you why I am suspicious of you, why I still doubt the sincerity of your actions. Whether you are innocent or not remains to be seen. Until then I would keep my guard up."
"Vot is your proposition, then?" Viktor asked impatiently.
"Take us to Hogsmeade. And in exchange I'll help you prove your innocence-if you're telling the truth."
"I don't need your help to prove anything because I am innocent. I don't even need you as a token or as redemption. I could just leave you here and be done vid it. Dunvledore probably has more sense than you do, and I won't hesitate to show him my memories or chugging down a Veritaserum if I need to. So forgive me if I don't see how this is a fair deal."
He sighed. He did not know why, but somehow he half-expected Viktor would be more relenting. I guess the food does not smell appetizing enough.
Shrugging, he took a wand out from of his pocket and laid it neatly on his knees. It was thick, quite heavy, and rigid to the touch. It extended almost a foot, but a bit shorter than Cedric's own. Shiny with wood polish, it was obviously well taken care of.
Recognition lit Viktor's face, but it soon darkened. I feel so deplorable for doing this, but I have no choice. "You can't apparate out of this place without your wand."
"So this is blackmail, then." Viktor picked a spoon and dropped it ceremoniously into the bowl, sending hot broth splashing all over the table. "Why won't you believe me?"
I want to, Viktor. Desperately. I want you to be right so I can finally get some sleep without fearing for my life. But if I'm wrong, and I let my guard down… "The truth will die with me," he murmured to himself. Aloud, he said, "If you're telling the truth, then you will agree and you should not have any qualms with taking us to Hogsmeade."
Massaging his neck, Viktor slumped deeper into the soft couch, wincing slightly as he did so. The blanket draped around his shoulders parted slightly, exposing a pale violet bruise underneath that spread across his chest like a splotch of ink. It reminded Cedric how strong Viktor was, both magically and physically. He couldn't hurt me with just his bare hands, given how injured he is. Clutching the wand tighter in his hands, he thought, this, however, he cannot have.
The anger was gone in Viktor's eye when he opened it. A curious twinkle was in it instead, and it made Cedric uncomfortable. He could not put a finger on it, but something about Viktor changed. And it made him warier.
Grabbing the bowl from the table, Viktor filled a spoonful, blew on the steaming soup, and sipped. He nibbled at a potato before saying, "Is it really an agreement if I don't have a choice?"
Cedric took that as consent enough. Breathing a sigh of relief, he said, "We'll disapparate from here as soon as you're well enough. Until then, I'll tend to you as best as I could." As I have already done, you ungrateful bastard.
"I have one request, although I fear you vill not find it satisfactory."
"What is it?" Cedric's stomach had been growling madly in the last few minutes, and he was eager to start on his meal already. He was reaching for his bowl when Viktor got to it with a sudden swipe.
"These are both mine."