Keogh

~***~

Hermione blinked up at Albert who was positively beaming. “Really?” The ghost nodded in affirmation. “But she’s not allowed. She’s definitely not allowed.”

“I know. Not on the registry at all, which is why no one has suspected.”

A grin threatened to split her face in two. “Thank you, Albert. That is truly excellent detective work.” The ghost preened under the praise before sailing off, leaving an excited, and someone vengeful, Hermione behind him. Oh that witch was going to pay! Especially after that vicious story she had printed in today’s paper. The sheer, unadulterated nerve!

She dropped her books off in the dorms and lingered behind until Lavender and Parvati had gone down before turning to her trunk. Tonight was the night of the Third Task and, if their hunch about someone making a play for Harry was correct, the culprit would likely make his move this evening. That being the case she thought it best to travel prepared. She chose her clothing carefully with a loose t-shirt that would disguise her clever holster she had made for her dueling wands. It was leather lined with soft cotton to rest against her skin and would hold them at an angle against her back with the ends easily reachable in a pinch. A light jacket over the top would hide the bulges so that no one would see them. As long as she did not attempt any acrobatics while wearing them she should move relatively freely.

Soon, dressed and armed, she hurried down to join Harry and Ron in the Great Hall, only to find Bill and Mrs. Weasley already there. She slowed a bit, recalling the rather small Easter egg she had received from the usually warm and motherly person. From Molly’s tepid response to her greeting she was guessing that things still were not ideal. Thankfully Harry cottoned on quickly enough and assured Mrs. Weasley that Hermione was not his girlfriend and that those horrible lies in the Prophet were not to be believed.

“Besides,” Harry added with a laugh, “I’m not foolish enough to take on Cedric.” She looked over at him with a frown and found her best friend smirking at her. She was about to say something when the twins and Ginny started making kissing noises in her direction.

“I hate all of you.” There was no heat behind the words, but her saying them seemed to make Bill laugh. A flash of pale silver from the Ravenclaw table caught her eye and she glanced over to see that Fleur Delacour had turned to look at Bill at the sound of his laughter, her expression one of strong interest. How… cute.

Lunch was almost like being back at the Burrow with all the Weasleys there. All that was missing was the interior of Molly’s delightfully chaotic and cozy kitchen. And, away from her husband and surrounded by the nostalgia of school, Molly was admitting to acts of mischief that she would have never thought the woman capable of. Suddenly how Fred and George could be her children made so much more sense.

Eventually the happy bubble had to pop as the time to go down to the pitch loomed over them. Harry had been cheered by their time together, but Hermione could see the nervousness in his eyes. She offered him a reassuring smile, resisting the urge to slip her hand under her shirt and run her fingers over the wood of one of her wands. Harry and Ron did not know about them. No one living did save her, Dumbledore, Mr. Ollivander and Cedric. She rose from the table and went with the others to go claim a seat in the stands so they could watch.

As she walked she met Cedric’s eyes across the room and gave him a smile as well. He had been the consummate Hufflepuff since construction on the maze had begun. He had come through with the books and had even joined them for practice sessions so that Harry would have a more advanced opponent with whom to train. It was against the rules, of course, but if anyone knew what they were doing no one saw fit to scold them for it. She saw Cedric talk to a handsome woman who had his eyes, most likely his mother, and tilt his head in her direction. Mrs. Diggory looked over and gave her an appraising once over, a slight smile touching her lips.

For some reason, Hermione blushed and felt the urge to look away. Unfortunately, she turned around and looked right at Viktor and his parents. The Bulgarian champion was apparently also discussing her with his mother. Now she was getting the urge to hurry out of the castle. She walked with Ginny and Molly down to the pitch, the rest of the Weasleys chatting excitedly behind them.

The stands were wild, the chanting and cheers of the crowd deafening. Hermione took up a seat between Ginny and Ron, all three of them finding it difficult to sit still. Amos Diggory was down on the pitch with Cedric, looking so proud he might split his robes from how far his chest was puffed out. She tried to suppress a grin at the embarrassed flush to Ced’s cheeks. He always felt awkward when his father was on one of his ‘see-how-great-my-son-is’ jaunts. She watched as Harry scooted over towards Cedric a few feet and got his attention. The taller boy leaned over to hear whatever it was her friend wanted to say to him. She could not read Harry’s lips from here, but whatever it was caused Cedric to take a playful swipe at his head. The laughing smiles on both their faces assured her that it was not anything too terrible, though Ced’s blush had deepened.

The cannon sounded and Harry and Cedric entered the maze. Suddenly all the jesting and joking was over, or at least it was for her and the Weasleys. Their eyes focused on the walls of the maze, waiting and hoping that Harry would come out all right. As for her, she was hoping that Harry got through this in one piece and that Cedric won. A little treacherous of her, she supposed, but she simply could not make herself feel any different.

~***~

It was not because of Hermione. Krum had not attacked him over Hermione. At least, Harry kept insisting that was the case. Cedric still had his doubts, because he knew that the Bulgarian would have quite cheerfully killed him if he thought he could get away with it. But that was no longer a concern as Harry had stunned Krum and they had left him to be retrieved. Now the problem was that Harry was down with an injured leg and the cup was only a few feet away.

How he wanted that cup! He wanted to be the winner, but that part of him that his teachers praised, that part of him that made him prefect and gave him a good shot at Head Boy next year would not let him reach out and take it. Not even with Harry telling him to do so. As young as he was, Harry was the better wizard. True, he might be more advanced, but that was just because he had been born a couple of years earlier. By the time Harry reached seventeen, Cedric was certain he would be every bit as gifted if not more so.

“Together, then.”

“What?”

Harry was looking at him. “We take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts victory.”

He almost said ‘no’, but they were at a stalemate. It was just the two of them left, now that Delacour and Krum were out. But Harry felt that he should win because he was able bodied and Cedric felt Harry should win because he was the better champion.

“C’mon, Ced. You know I would not have gotten this far without Hermione. Even you helped this last bit! You could have made it this far on your own but even if I take the cup we still both won it.”

He swallowed and nodded his agreement, helping Harry to his feet and over to the pedestal. “On three, then. One. Two.” They grabbed the handles of the cup at the same time and Cedric felt the pull behind his navel of a port key. The scene swirled about them as they were hurled through space before being unceremoniously dumped onto cold, hard earth. It took them both a moment to catch their breath and a bit longer for Harry to get over the sudden jolt of pain in his leg from the landing. Cedric looked around them, confused. No stands. No crowds. Just… headstones? They had landed in a cemetery somewhere, but not anywhere that he recognized.

“Harry, you okay?” He heard a grunt from the younger boy and took it to mean that he was at least functional. “Did anyone tell you that the cup was a port key?”

“No idea.”

“Is this still part of the task, then?” He did not think so, but he could hope. Harry shook his head in the negative. “So, wands out, then.” They both palmed their wands and looked about cautiously. He was really starting to doubt his stance that Harry’s inclusion in the tournament had been a Slytherin House prank as Hermione’s worry that someone was targeting the boy gained credence. Could this have all been a plot to kidnap Harry Potter?

His eyes scanned the area, taking note of the large cauldron that had been set up inside the graveyard. Just then Harry gave a hiss of pain and clutched at his forehead. It distracted Cedric for the briefest moment, but he managed not to miss the addition of a new person into the general area. Someone was approaching them. He raised his wand and kept his voice steady. “Who goes there? What do you want?” He heard Harry yell at him to get back to the cup just before a high, unnaturally cold voice rang out, “Kill the spare!”

He really could not be blamed for freezing as he did, though Cedric did curse himself for his slowness. He was a student, after all, and like most young people had been protected by his parents and teachers most of his life. Unlike Harry, he had never been forced to face a world where people tried to do you harm and would attack young strangers who were just barely adults. It truly had not seemed real to him that someone would send something as vile as the killing curse his way, and yet that was what had happened. A weak voice speaking the incantation. A flash of sickly-green light and a rush of wind. He was vaguely aware that his body had been lifted from the ground, but he did not feel it as his body hit the ground.

Suddenly everything was very dark and very cold. Cedric knew he had been murdered, but he could not quite wrap his mind around the concept of it. The first thought that came to him was that he had never plucked up the courage to kiss Hermione, which he found to be very badly done of him. The next thought was that all of this, the tournament, truly had been an elaborate plot to get to Harry Potter, and now the fourth year was left to deal with his unknown killer on his own. That troubled Cedric, because he really did wonder how a boy of fourteen was supposed to hold his own against a man capable of killing another person in cold blood.

He became aware of the whispers all about him in the darkness. Voices were speaking together in hushed, stressed tones. They were aware that there were people in the graveyard, could feel the weight of their steps on the soil, and they were aware of the cauldron. That seemed to upset them the most, the presence of that cauldron, as if they knew that it meant magic was to be done there this night.

“You are new,” came a voice, and Cedric knew it was directed at him. “Who is here? What are they doing?” The questions were frantic. Frightened.

“I don’t know who it is, but he means harm. He killed me, and he has Harry, the boy I was with! I got caught up in his plot to grab him. I think he means to kill him, too!”

The whispers became more agitated. Cedric could almost feel the anxiety, which struck him as odd because he did not think that dead people were supposed to feel. But he felt their terror, and he felt the icy cold of another… person? He was cold. This place was cold. But the new arrival was colder and very, very angry. He could hear the snarl in her voice as she spoke.

“Shit-Fire-Mother-Fucking-Damn! Diggory!”

He frowned, or at least he would have had he still been living. “Who’s there? Do I know you?” He did not recognize the woman’s voice.

“I know you. Fuck! This is going to distract her.”

The voices around them grew more frantic now that the new voice had arrived, but they seemed to be beseeching her. “There are wizards in our home! Necromancers! Make them leave!”

“They’ll maim us!”

“They’ll hurt us!”

“Get rid of them!”

“They have a boy! The new one says they have a boy and intend to kill him, too!”

“QUIET!” The unknown woman seemed to be thinking. “They’ll leave, and in pieces if we’re very lucky. Hold tight. I know where she is. I’ll go get her.” And just like that, the angry presence was gone.

Cedric listened to the buzzing whispers around him, still not quite certain what was going on or what dead people thought they could do to stop the wizard who had killed him. “I’m sorry, but who is she going to get?”

The voices seemed to huddle towards him, as though they thought they would be safe if they stuck together. Though they were all cold with death, their icy presence made him uncomfortable.

“The Keogh. She’s gone to bring us the Keogh.”

“She will make them leave.”

“She will kill them.”

“The Keogh will make everything right.”

~***~

Something twisted in the back of her mind. She felt pain, but it was not in her mind. It was in her chest. She felt as though a strong hand had reached in and gripped her heart before crushing it. Tears sprang to her eyes and she could not for the life of her figure out why.

“Hermione? Are you all right?” Ginny peered at her with undisguised worry. Thinking quickly, she rubbed the back of her head.

“Just a headache, Gin, sudden like.” She winced as she massaged the base of her skull. “I just need to get out of the noise for a bit. Maybe visit the lav.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” She mustered a smile for her friend before getting to her feet. Ron looked up in askance, but moved his legs so that she could slip out of the stands. Still holding her head, though that was not the part of her that was hurting, she hurried up three steps to the opening that allowed her to slip back out of the stands.

She made her way under the bleachers until she could lean against the support structures underneath. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel like this? She felt as though her heart had been torn from her chest and desperately wanted to go somewhere where she could cry for days without people seeing her. Why did she suddenly feel so sad?

She covered her face with her hands and forced herself to take deep lungfuls of air. Faintly, as though from far away, she heard a familiar voice. As it drew closer it grew in strength and clarity until she knew it was Kathryn. “Hermione! Hermione you must come with me! We need you!”

She blinked through the tears. “Come with you? Kathryn, they’re in the middle of the Third Task. Harry and Cedric could be back any minute. Fleur was attacked and Viktor was brought out unconscious. They’ve got aurors on him! I can’t just leave.”

“The boys aren’t in there anymore! They’ve been taken! Harry needs you!”

She froze, her pain shoved back to make room for the shock. “Moved?” It was an audible whisper as she momentarily forgot that the conversation was only heard by her. “What about Cedric?”

Kathryn said nothing at first, as though weighing her words. Then, finally, “Harry needs you, Hermione. You have to hurry!”

Her stomach clenched in dread, but she pushed herself away from the support pole. Her mind called up the equations and she saw the portal of dark light open to her right. She was reaching under her shirt and pulling out her wands even as she threw herself into it. The familiar scene of endless space with its countless threads of light welcomed her and she paused only a moment to get her bearings before following Kathryn’s presence away from the school. Speeding through all points in space and time at once, she stopped at a strangely tight gathering of threads so pale they could only belong to those already passed. Knowing she was at the right place, she called open another door and stepped out, crouching low the second her feet touched earth.

She was in a cemetery, but given the size of the knot inside the Continuum, this was hardly surprising. She kept low as she slunk behind the headstones, moving towards a pale spot of light from where she heard voices. A cold, high voice was waxing on about something. She drew close enough to hear and realized that he was narrating a different point of view as to what had happened after the attack on Harry’s family so long ago. A little closer and she could make out a circle of robed wizards surrounding a gaunt, pale, snakelike visage.

“Voldemort!” It had to be him. Her eyes darted over to where Harry was held to a gravestone, looking in pale and in pain. “It has to be Voldemort, but how?”

A voice filtered towards her. “He stole my bone! They stole my bone and blood from that boy and used them to give him a new body? Is he really my son? They said I was his father, but my son’s name was Tom Riddle, not Voldemort.”

Hermione felt sick. “Yes, Mr. Riddle, I’m afraid that is your son.”

“Hermione?” Her breath froze. “Hermione? Is that you?”

Her eyes scanned over the dimly light area where the wizards stood until they found a figure in yellow and black lying motionless on the ground. She gasped, her hand flying up so that she could bite down on her wrist rather than scream and be heard. “CEDRIC!” Cedric was dead! Funny, clever, beautiful Cedric. She heard Kathryn hiss like an angry cat inside her head.

“FOCUS! It’s too late to do anything about him! Keep your head on straight!”

“Hermione, listen to me. You have to get out of here! These people will kill you if they can. Grab Harry if you’re able, but you must get to safety!”

She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. This was why the sudden wave of sorrow had crashed over her. Kathryn had told her that you felt death more strongly the more feelings you had for a person. She had felt Cedric Diggory die and she had mourned the loss even though she had been unable to name it. Now the pain was on her again, strong and fresh and paralyzing even with Kathryn screeching at her. “Get a hold of yourself! Now is not the time to have a breakdown! He’s dead! That’s just how it is!”

Inside her head she heard the other minds in the graveyard start to buzz fiercely. They pressed in on her like a blanket made of ice, wrapping about her. She made out snippets here and there, fleeting and transitory. “Her heart is breaking.”

“She knew him, the new one.”

“She loves him.”

“They are both breaking.”

“How long has it been? Too long?”

“Still seconds, perhaps, but not many. It might be done.”

“It’s been done before.”

Kathryn’s voice cut through the din like a knife. “It will not be done! It is not your place!”

Hermione’s knees were shaking, her legs wanting to collapse on her. She had to fight through this! She had to keep focused if she was going to get Harry out of here alive. She would take Cedric back, too, of course. His parents deserved to be able to give their son a proper burial, and she did not want to run the risk that Voldemort might have a wizard who would use the dead for ill purposes. The thought of Cedric being defiled in such a way twisted her gut.

“Hermione? What’s happening? What are they going on about?”

She shook her head, still trying to get control of herself when the voices spoke again. “We can do it, Keogh. It was done before, for your grandfather. His mother failed when bringing him into the world, but a child needs his mother. There’s not much time. The body is cooling.”

”What do you mean? Do what?”

Kathryn was firm and unyielding. “Hermione, no! It is not your place to interfere. He is gone. I know it hurts, but Cedric is dead. Let him go.”

“We can put him back.”

Hermione froze, her fingers convulsing on the centerpieces of her wands. All sound seemed to have fled the area save for that inside her mind. “Put him back?”

“Yes! YES! But it must be now! His body is cooling. Much longer and it will not work!”

“Hermione, do not do this!”

“Hermione?” Cedric’s voice was filled with confusion and disorientation. He was very much like Mr. Crouch just now, aware that he was dead but not having fully wrapped his mind about the concept just yet. And still Cedric. Still worried about her safety and that of Harry’s rather than bemoaning his deceased state.

Her eyes were still pinned to his body, his beautiful face looking up at the stars in the night sky. He looked perfect and unmarred, his gray eyes glassy and blank. She licked her lips and uttered a soft whisper. “Do it.”

The cold blanket surrounding her seemed to whip away as if torn free by unseen hands. She could almost see and hear the maelstrom as the members of the Great Majority here in this little graveyard gathered up their numbers, sweeping Cedric’s memory with them. It was like being caught in a tunnel with a freight train, deafening to the point that her ears might bleed, but she could not bring herself to cover them with her hands. It would likely do little good were she to do so anyway.

She felt the rush of minds and thoughts swirl back down, rushing towards Cedric’s motionless form. Then, as though kicked, his body gave a violent jerk. Hermione’s body flinched in reaction, her eyes wide. She watched him closely, afraid to breathe as she waited. Then his chest expanded with such force that his back bowed from the effort, his hands flexing and eyes widening enough that she could see the whites of them illuminated by the light from the cauldron fire. He was breathing again, something that dead people no longer needed to do.

And then Cedric Diggory screamed.

~***~