Keogh

~***~

Hermione stirred a bit of honey into her tea as she waited. This far back in the little café she could barely make out the noise of the traffic outside over the humming chatter of other patrons. Spoons clinked against cups and forks scraped against plates amidst muted laughter and hushed conversations. She had not planned on having another ‘unsanctioned’ off-campus trip just yet, but Mr. Turner had asked nicely.

"Hermione?” She turned towards the voice to find Michael standing nearby. The older man gave her a gentle smile and a nod of greeting. A mature, stately woman with graying hair and shrewd, piercing eyes was standing to his left. “I’m glad you could accept my invitation. This is Dr. Evangeline Stroud, the head of our organization.”

Hermione accepted Dr. Stroud’s proffered hand with a gentle shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Doctor.” The woman gave her a half-smile and Hermione got the feeling that she knew it was just a nicety. Something you said to be polite. The pair of them moved to join her at her table as she moved the plastic bag containing the Headmaster’s new socks and candies to the other side of her chair and out of the way. “So… Mr. Turner said that you wanted to meet with me?”

Dr. Stroud nodded as she draped her jacket over the back of her chair. “I did.” Those eyes came back to her, as if trying to read her. “Am I just meeting you?”

Hermione nodded. “She’s not here. Actually, I haven’t heard from her in a few days. Not since the dance we had at the school. And she’s taken to vanishing for days or weeks at a time.”

Michael ordered more tea, the conversation halted while their waitress was in earshot and resuming once she had left. “That’s likely a good sign. Knowing Kathryn as I did, it most likely means that she’s confident you are getting to where you can take care of yourself.”

Dr. Stroud nodded in apparent agreement. “Didn’t get the chance to interact with Kathryn one-on-one while she was with us, but from reading her file she comes across at the type of personality that believes in self-reliance. Not just in herself, but in those around her. The records show that she didn’t like to ask for help unless she absolutely had no other option.”

Hermione nodded. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your field of study, Dr. Stroud?”

“Psychiatry and Sociology.” The woman gave a single shouldered shrug. “Though I did not spend much time in practice before I found myself with E-Branch. I was brought in with the promise of having a safe haven during a stressful point in my life. Now I run the department, though I spend most of my time preventing the repeat of past mistakes.”

They paused again as their tea was brought out. Dr. Stroud thanked the waitress politely before nodding to Michael. Mr. Turner’s eyes went out of focus for a brief moment, followed by a sort of static buzz that Hermione felt at the base of her skull. She tensed, her hand drifting downward automatically towards where her wand was tucked into her boot. Just a precaution.

Then the buzzing lessened and everything seemed normal, though Michael looked a little paler than before. Dr. Stroud’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “That’s better. Now we can speak without danger of being overheard.”

“What did he just do?”

Michael added a bit of lemon to his tea. “I made everyone forget that we’re here. Difficult to do for a larger crowd, but it’s just a basic, general idea rather than rewriting an entire memory.”

Hermione blinked, a cold feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. “You can do that? Rewrite memories, I mean? Without magic?”

Turner nodded, but it was Stroud who spoke. “He can, and with fewer of the side affects we’ve seen in targets of magical tampering. However, Michael, like most espers, only has one or two talents. Mainly he can affect memory and perception, and to a minor degree he has some precognition, though for him it only comes in dreams and is rarely very quick or clear. My gift lies in Empathy, and I have it in abundance. That was why I had trouble being a psychiatrist in practice. The emotional trauma of some of my patients was too great for me to bear, and it took a lot of concentration and training before I could be comfortable in a crowd such as this one.”

She swallowed hard and wondered if perhaps she might have been foolish in coming here alone. At the very least she should have sent out feelers to find Kathryn, or perhaps even have asked Professor Dumbledore if he wanted to accompany her. She did not fancy the idea of having her mind wiped clean of all that she had learned since Kathryn’s letter advising her of where she had come from. Dr. Stroud seemed to read her mind, or at the very least, sensed her trepidation.

“We are no threat to you, Hermione. Although, I can’t deny that there is some concern. To our knowledge there has never been a blending of strong magical and psychic bloodlines. Those of us strong enough to know what we are tend to avoid your father’s sort. And from what we can tell the governing body over the magical race would prefer to continue to ignore that people like us exist. It isn’t a perfect set up by any means, and it leaves both sides vulnerable, but I think both sides fear what would happen if it actually came to violence.”

“But if the average esper only has one or two talents… I mean… wizards can do a variety of different things.”

“But how many can do a variety of tasks better than anyone else? Michael is likely better at rearranging memories better than most any wizard you could compare him to. There are telepaths who can pluck a thought from your mind so quickly that they know what you want to do before you know yourself. And then there are those who would fall under the category of ‘shock troops’. Pyrokenetics. Telekenetics. Your mother would have been classified amongst them. She was likely the most impressive member of the department before Trout finally pushed her too far.”

Hermione frowned. “Kathryn? I’ll admit that she would have made a good spy, but I thought her combative abilities were physical.”

Michael gave a sad sort of smile. “Kathryn enjoyed getting her hands dirty, that much was true, but that wasn’t her only ability. It went beyond whispers from dead people in the back of her mind. There was a physical aspect of it as well.” He pushed his tea aside, leaning forward. “Have you asked a corpse to move for you, yet? To do something for you?”

Stroud gave a little shiver, and then promptly looked embarrassed about it. Hermione frowned and shook her head even as her mind drifted back to the bodies under the lawns at Hogwarts. They were moving on their own and claimed to have been asked to do so. Turner pressed on, his voice soft even though they were not overheard. “Kathryn did, on more than one occasion. I had to go on field assignments with her from time to time, to sort of ‘mop up’ behind the team if there were any witnesses. I saw your mother in action. It was like something out of a Romero film; those zombie flicks he used to make. If there was a cemetery nearby, she would call the bodies to her. Dead people would claw their way out of the ground and break out of their mausoleums to fight by her side. And it wasn’t just those who were already dead, but even those who fell while fighting, and from both sides. Imagine pressing on when the fallen comrade who just took a hit and died next to you gets up again and is now trying to stop you. Kathryn could get them to do that. They would rise up against their own brothers and loved ones if she asked it of them, though she did admit that they didn’t like doing so.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to shiver. The ghosts at school were one thing. They had faces and personalities. They smiled and joked and played pranks if the mood struck them. But they were just ectoplasm and cold space, something you could walk through. The idea of calling forth an army of rotting, shambling corpses seemed too horrific to bear, and completely, utterly wrong. “But why would they? I mean, why would they fight against their own loved ones just because Kathryn wanted them to? How could she make them do it without being just as bad as a necromancer?”

Stroud reached into the briefcase she had carried with her as she responded. “According to her file, it was because they wanted to do it for her. She described the affection of the dead towards her and those of your family with the gift as sycophantic, almost worshipful.” She continued to search her bag.

“Yeah, she didn’t like it too much at times. “ Mr. Turner gave a sad smile. “I think it made her uncomfortable.”

Evangeline apparently found what she was looking for and pulled out a couple of paper binders such as those someone might use to bind a report. The reinforced card-stock that made up the covers was a deep red in color, the color of old blood. “I copied these for you the other night. I shouldn’t let them out of the office, but I can think of no one who has more right to see them than you.” She offered the folders to Hermione who took them with a puzzled frown.

“What are they?”

“Summary files on both Kathryn and on Harry Keogh, Sr. I couldn’t bring you the full files, of course, because there is simply too much data to carry. However, if you want to know more after reading through those I can likely manage to have them scanned and burned to disk for you.”

She looked at the folders with a newfound curiosity. “Does… does it say how Kathy died? Have you found out what happened, yet?”

Turner and Stroud exchanged an inscrutable look. Michael shook his head and answered, “We don’t know either, Hermione. We have our suspicions, but we can’t say anything for certain just yet. I’m guessing she still won’t talk about it?”

“No. She either changes the subject or tells me to drop it. I’ve given up asking.” She took a breath and ran a hand over the cover of the file with her great-grandfather’s name. “She says that I’m like him. Well, actually she says that they say I’m like him. Supposedly I’m… warmer. More likeable.”

“Yeah, well, Kathy did sometimes say that it made her feel a bit inadequate when they started comparing her to her grandfather. But to tell the truth even our files indicate that he was a nicer person. Not sure how that happened, but there you go.”

Hermione managed a shrug before tucking the folders away inside her shopping bag. “Was there anything else you wanted to see me about, Dr. Stroud? Only, I need to be getting back before they miss me at the school. I’m not really supposed to be here.”

Evangeline shook her head. “No, nothing more other than to let you know that you will always have a place with us should you need it. If you can’t find your niche in your father’s world, that is. “ Dr. Stroud gave her a faint smile that appeared quite genuine. “I won’t lie to you, Hermione. Part of it is selfishness on our part. To our knowledge the gift doesn’t show up in other bloodlines, and your family isn’t very prolific. As far as we know you are the only one of your kind living.”

Hermione tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that impression myself.”

~***~

Cho sat on the bench next to him, but not looking at him. Cedric ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a complete and utter heel. “I’m sorry, Cho, I really am, but this just doesn’t feel right.” She made a sound that was suspiciously like a sniffle. He was quite certain that she was crying and it was almost enough to make him want to take it all back. But that would not have been fair to either of them. “You’re a great girl, one of the best in the school, but I don’t feel anything other than friendship towards you. I’ve tried, honest I have, but I…” He faltered, not sure how to continue.

“But you fancy someone else.” Her Irish lilt sounded heartbreaking through her tears. “I know, or at least I suspected. I saw you at the ball, watching her. Hermione.”

His cheeks burned. He had not realized he had been so obvious. “You did?”

Cho sniffed again and nodded. “Not surprising, I suppose. I mean, everyone knows that you sit at her table in the library if she’s in there by herself.” She reached up and wiped her cheeks dry. “Why didn’t you ask her?”

“Uhm… Krum got to her first. I walked in just as he was asking her.”

The Ravenclaw gave a nod. “Same thing with me and Harry. He asked me, but I’d already said ‘yes’ to you.”

Somehow this did not surprise him. “So, bungled up all around.” He rubbed the back of his neck, stealing a look at the girl. “Cho, I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes shining. “It’s better to get it out now rather than later. This way you might still get to take her to Hogsmede on Valentines Day, though I don’t think he’ll let you near her.”

He frowned. “Who? Krum?”

Cho shook her head. “Professor Snape. He’s a bit over protective. Both Terry and Tony wanted to ask her but he found out about it and threw them both in detention. He said it was because they disrupted class, but everyone knew better. They had to help Filch clean out blocked drains in the dungeon toilets for three nights straight.”

Oh, right. How had he forgotten about Snape? Well, that was obvious. Hermione was a completely different person from her birth father. It was easy to forget the connection between them. “It’ll be interesting, if nothing else.” He gave her a searching look. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I will be.” She mustered up a weak smile. “Maybe you could put in a good word with Harry for me. Let him know I’ll need a date on Valentines.” He tried to give her a supportive smile in response. It was better to end it now than to drag it out and hurt them both. Cedric watched as Cho rose from the bench and shouldered her satchel. She gave him one last, barely there smile before walking off and leaving him to his thoughts.

Now he was without a girl and Krum had the girl he wanted. Or did he? Hermione had seemed oblivious to the concept that someone might actually be attracted to her in a romantic sense, though he could not understand why. By now everyone had heard what an idiot Weasley had been when he realized who had escorted her to the ball. Cedric was pretty certain that the stories about her involvement with Potter were full of dead air, but he had not enjoyed reading about it. He did not have any right to be jealous, of course, but that did not stop him from feeling a bit put out by all the times she was being linked with Harry.

He got up and shouldered his satchel as he walked back into the school. He was just going to have to pluck up the courage to tell Hermione how he felt about her. And if she chose to stick with Krum over him, then he would bow out gracefully. It would serve him right for dragging his feet and letting his fear get the better of him. He had already known that she was the cleverest witch in school, and with that came power. He knew full well she would likely always outclass him in magic, but that did not stop her from being a good and wonderful person inside. And besides, Krum would have to go home some day. Long distance relationships rarely ever worked out.

He turned a corner when he saw the object of his musings parting company with Professor Dumbledore. The aged wizard had a shiny, white plastic sack like those used by muggle shops and was peering inside it with apparent glee. Hermione was hugging something to her chest with one arm as she waved a farewell back at the headmaster with her free hand. She picked up the pace of her steps as she turned her face forward to head in his direction, tripping to a stop as she spotted him. “Cedric.”

He swallowed and gave her a nod. “Not getting into trouble are you?”

She blushed and shook her head. “Not me. I’m too dull for that.”

He could not keep the grin from his face. “You’re not dull at all.” He nodded his chin to the items she had in her arm. “More class work?”

“Oh, no.” She looked down at them and gave a shrug. “More like… genealogy. I’m doing some reading on my birth mother and her family.”

That made sense. She could ask Snape anything she wanted to know about his side, but her mother was out of reach. “You’re not overloading yourself again, are you? I thought you had given the time turner back.”

“How did you know about the time turner?”

“Do you remember how you were acting towards the end of last year? You were too frazzled and ready to snap at everyone.” He winced. Criticizing her probably was not the best way to start off. “Sorry.”

She sighed. “No, you’re right. I was a witch, and not in a good way.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Do you have anything else for today? Classes or champion business or such?”

He blinked. “No, I’m done until Monday. Why?”

She shrugged. “I thought I might take advantage of the afternoon and get in some practice, if you’d like to join in.”

His heart gave a little leap. “Yeah, I could use the break, too.” And he could. He had found that the training gave him something different to think about. It was not Quidditch or classes or the tournament, but something else all together. “I’ll dash back to the dorm and get changed, shall I? Meet you in the room?”

She nodded and grinned before heading off to Gryffindor Tower. Cedric knew he must have made a sight, a prefect running through the halls. Well, not really running, but walking very, very quickly. He made it to the Hufflepuff dorms, pausing only long enough to give McMillan a playful frog to the upper arm before heading up the steps to his room. His fellow sixth year Huffs were there, looking up from a game of chess as he came in and practically attacked his trunk.

“Hot date with Chang, Ced?” Dylan was trying not to laugh as he watched him strip out of his school uniform and into something better suited to physical exertion. Sebastian was too busy studying the board.

“No. With Granger.” He could not keep the smile from his face as Sebastian nearly fell off the bed in shock. Dylan gaped at him.

“Granger?! Are you mental?”

“Not the last time I checked. Why?”

Sebastian shook his head at him. “Should we start with the Bulgarian Bruiser or the Bat in the Dungeons?”

Cedric laced up his trainers. “Nothing worth having is without a little risk.”

“There’s nothing ‘little’ about the risk that comes with that one, Ced.” Dylan looked at him in awe. “I think being picked as a champion has gone to your head. You’re starting to think you’re invincible.”

He shut the lid of his trunk and gave them both a grin. “She’s worth it.” Without further ado he headed back out, running his fingers through his hair out of a habit borne from years of hearing his mother scold him about mussing up his curls. He knew it would not matter as he would soon be overheated and sweaty, but from a benign and non-scandalous activity. This was sparring, after all, not snogging.

She was already there when he arrived. He wished he knew how she did that, seeing how Gryffindor Tower was further from the Room of Requirement than the Hufflepuff dorms and he knew most girls took longer to dress. She was finishing up her braid and securing it with an elastic band as he arrived, her over wear already discarded and folded neatly on a bench along one wall. “Always the quick one, Granger.”

“Always. I’m thinking about suggesting to the Headmaster that Hogwarts have a Track and Field team. I could do cross country.”

“Huh?”

She grinned at him. “Muggle sports, Cedric, built around a lot of endurance training and running.” Her hair done, she started to stretch out. “How are you settling back into classes?”

He stripped the heavy sweater off and folded it up to place it beside her sweats before joining her in the warm up. “A bit hard to concentrate at first after the break, but I’m doing all right. Still keeping at the top of all your classes?”

“All except DADA. Harry’s always tops in that class as long as we have a decent teacher. It’s scary how much of a natural he is at it.”

“Yeah, well, he likely feels he has added incentive.” Cedric frowned, something else pricking at his mind. “Hermione, how’s Harry coming along with that egg clue?”

She paused, looking up at him from a deep toe-touch. “The egg? Well, he tells me he has it figured out…” She drifted off, frowning. Cedric though he knew why.

“You think he might not be telling you the whole truth?”

She sighed and straightened up, still frowning. “I hate that he has to go through all of this. He’s far too young.”

“Yeah, he is. I still don’t think it’s right that they made him stay in even when he didn’t put his name in the goblet. Doesn’t seem right that they can hold him to a contract he didn’t enter in to. It would be different if a parent or guardian put him up for it, but we all know he doesn’t have anyone like that to speak for him.” He stopped, his frown matching hers. “Look, I know you and Ron have been helping Harry,” he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to defend her actions, “and I agree with it. You learn a lot of magic in the next three two to three years. He’s not prepared for this in the slightest.”

Hermione nodded, her hands worrying a bit. “But what is there to do about it? I mean, they’ve railroaded him into this competition and I have to wonder if Professor Moody doesn’t have a point. I know he’s supposed to be paranoid and all, but there are a lot of people out there who still think You-Know-Who had the right of it. They’re really angry that Harry survived that night.”

Cedric did not want to dwell on the thought that someone might have put Potter’s name in the cup as part of an elaborate scheme to kill him. “Yeah, well, my money is on a really sick prank on the part of an older student or students. Slytherin house would be the most likely candidates, though we’ve no proof. At any rate, tell Harry to take that egg of his into the bath with him. He can use the prefects’ bath on the fifth floor. The password is ‘Pine Fresh’”

She blinked at him. “Take a bath with it?”

Cedric took a breath and nodded. “That’s what I said. He should take the egg in with him and mull things over in the water.” Said out loud, it did sound a bit lame. “Sorry, but I shouldn’t tell you more than that. It’s as much as I dare under the circumstances. But he leveled things up with me for the first task, so it’s only fair I try and help him the same way. Besides, he’s sharper than people give him credit for. I know everyone says you do his thinking for him, but they’re selling him short…” He stopped. She was beaming at him with the most radiant smile he thought he’d ever seen. She looked… happy? “I… what?”

“You are one of the most honorable, fair-minded people I’ve ever met, Cedric Diggory, and I’m proud to be your friend.”

He felt his neck heat up and knew he must be blushing. “Ah… well… I’m a Hufflepuff. We’re sort of known for those qualities. That and working ourselves into an early grave.” He tried to brush it off, but the simple compliment from her made him feel about ten feet tall for some reason. “So… practice?”

Hermione nodded and walked over to a bin that held several different sizes of fighting sticks. It was not his best skill, but he was learning. Besides, he really did not trust himself to do any hand-to-hand with her at the moment. The sticks would keep him a gentleman.

~***~