Keogh

~***~



Michael frowned. “Why me?”



“Dunno, but he asked for you by name. Twitchy fellow. Bad trait in one like him.” David gave a shudder and rubbed his temple. “Pyro.”



Michael could not keep himself from wincing. He hated pyros. If they did not have a good grip on themselves they could set random things blazing, which was never much fun. “Where did you put him?”



“One of the interview rooms. Third one on the right.” He handed him a slim file folder. “Yank by the sound of him, but we don’t any much on him but his name.”



He took the file and opened it, perusing the scant details of name, date of birth and hometown as he walked down the hall towards the third interview room on the right. The lock disengaged under his badge and he stepped in, looking up to study the name seated at the plain, white table. “Eric Schultz?”



He was too thin; almost starvation thin, and he had a greasy, unkempt look about him. His black hair was pulled back form his face and was caught at the nape by an elastic band, a few shorter lengths hanging limply about his face. When he lifted his head it was apparent that he had not shaven in several days, the growth of his beard short but thick. There was something altogether unsettling about this man. "You Turner?”



“I am.” Michael set the file on the table surface before claiming the chair directly across from him. Schultz gave him a cursory once over before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He put it to his lips and the tip flared to life with a spark. Turner supposed it was meant to impress him, or perhaps the man was so confident in his control that he was casual in the use of his abilities.



“You’re younger than I expected you to be. I figured you’d be older.”



“They tell me you wanted to see me specifically. Care to tell me why?”



The man looked at him in silence for a few seconds, pulling on his cigarette, before answering. “Someone told me that you’re the best at rearranging memories. He said you could probably make a man forget everything he’d ever done, from his first steps on, if you really wanted to.”



Michael raised a brow in his direction. “I didn’t know I’d ever made such an impression on anyone. Care to tell me who this person was?”



Schultz gave a look that was half-smirk, half-sneer. “Geoffrey Trout.”



He stilled. “You know Geoffrey Trout?”



“Unfortunately. Worked for the bastard for a time. Paid well, but he was a bit unhinged.”



That sounded like Trout. Michael tried to keep his expression calm. “And where is he now?”



The man gave a short, bitter laugh. “Don’t know, and I don’t give a damn, either.” He took another drag. “Are you as good as he said?”



“I’ve been known to rearrange history a time or two. Why? Does Trout have someone he wants me to see?”



Schultz shook his head. “I don’t care what Trout wants. If I never see the bastard again it’ll be too soon. I’m here because I need your services. I need you to make me forget.”



“I see.” A sinking feeling entered Michael’s stomach. He was taken back to the weeks and months after Trout had been sacked. There had been so much damage to repair. So many of their kind who had been damaged psychologically because of Trout’s heavy handed tactics and despotic regime. Was Schultz another casualty of Geoffrey’s thirst for power and control? Another broken weapon? “Sometimes it’s better to deal with painful memories, Eric. It can make us stronger.”



Schultz snarled. The cigarette in his hand caught blaze for a moment, the flame visible before it died down again. “I’ve tried coping. Tried it for over two years. It doesn’t work. I can’t sleep. Can barely eat enough to keep alive. I’m jumping at shadows everywhere I turn. It’s not getting better and I’m sure as hell not getting stronger.”



He might not be an empath, but even Michael could feel the anger and bitterness pouring from the man on the other side of the table. “I see.” He looked down at the file on the table, his fingers giving it a little turn so that it was perfectly straight. It was just an empty movement to give him time to think. “Before I can decide if I can help you or not, I need to know what it is that you’re wanting to forget? What’s hurt you like this?”



Schultz gave a shudder. It wracked his whole body. A wave of revulsion and fear that shook the grown man and suddenly made him seem much smaller. Michael swallowed. He had an idea that he did not want to hear what was coming.



~***~



“I’ve told Moony to come up whenever he feels he needs to escape Molly and her quest to renovate the house.” Sirius looked over the scroll on his desk. “He’s been a big help. Gave me all sorts of advice on lesson plans and told me which students he remembers were real troublemakers. And which students I could depend on to participate in class.” He looked up and gave Hermione a grin. “Of course, he says if I lose my book I can just ask you what the next page says. Claims you’re likely to have it memorized by heart.”



Ron and Harry sniggered as they pretended to be helping Sirius put his office in order. “Ha. Ha. Ha. But really, Professor Black…”



“None of that! I’m still Sirius when it’s just the three of us. Or Padfoot, if you’d rather.”



“All right, S…Sirius,” she did not like it. It felt disrespectful to call a teacher by his name. Severus was all right, of course, but she was not related to Sirius that she knew of. “But why did you agree to teach? I’m sorry, but you never struck me as the teaching type.”



“Special favor to Dumbledore.” He gave a shrug. “It was getting close to the wire, and there is apparently a clause in the school charter that says if the headmaster cannot find a teacher for a subject, then the Ministry can assign one of their own. Fudge already had a person in mind. A woman named Delores Umbridge. My mum liked her, which means she’s the wrong sort to expose you kids, too. Not to mention she’s one of Fudge’s most devoted lackeys. I’d think she was his little something on the side if she wasn’t so homely. Even Cornelius has standards. And that voice of hers.” He gave a shudder as though someone had scraped their nails down a chalkboard right next to his ear.



Ron made a face. “Better you than one of Fudge’s lap dogs any day, Padfoot.” He grinned and turned a curious looking device over and over in his hands. “So what are you going to teach us first?”



“We’ll be running over the basics for the first two weeks. I want to get a feel for where you are. The first years will be easier since I won’t have any bad habits to break but my own.” They all laughed at that. “But you older kids, you’ve been bounced around so much I’ll likely have to re-teach you some things. And who knows what that fake Moody did to you.”



“Actually, for an imposter he wasn’t half bad.” Harry sat down in a chair and propped his feet up on Sirius’ desk. “He was no Remus, of course, but we learned a lot.”



“That’s something, at least.” Sirius pushed a plate of biscuits Dobby had brought up to them towards Ron and Harry so they could help themselves. “Now, there was something that I wanted to talk to you three about. I’ve been thinking how we can give you an advantage and I think it’s for the best if you took a leaf from the Marauders’ book.”



Harry and Ron leaned forward eagerly, eyes glinting with mischief. Hermione was intrigued herself. “What did you have in mind?”



“I think the three of you should try and master the animagus transformation. On the sly, of course. If no one else knows that you can or what animal you turn into, then you can use it to either give an enemy the slip or sneak into places you need to poke around in.” They all blinked at him. “You’re all three quite clever. Granted, Hermione’s got more brains, but you boys can do anything you want to if you put your mind to it. I’m certain you could pull it off.”



Harry and Ron looked at one another with excitement. It would figure that after all the effort she had put into trying to get them interested in learning, it would be something that required bending or breaking a few rules to stir their interests. Still, she would not mind the challenge herself. “When would we start?”



“My Mondays are full, but I believe Tuesdays are good for all three of you?” The boys nodded, but Hermione frowned.



“I can’t on Tuesdays. That’s the night I have tea with Severus.” They all looked at her. “What?”



“You have tea with Snape?” Ron looked a bit green.



“Every Tuesday. Oh, give over, Ron! We’re trying very hard to keep things civil. And I really need to keep this up, especially after putting my foot down about changing schools.”



Harry frowned. “Who said anything about changing schools?”



“He did. He came to my house right after the end of last term and spoke to Dad about it. He was trying to convince them to move me to Beauxbaton. Felt it would be safer for me there.”



“You never said anything about this!”



“I told him I wouldn’t go, Harry. I was a bit rude about it, actually. He was worried that, now that You-Know-Who is back, he might be expected to bring me in line, so to speak. I told him that I didn’t… well…” she blushed, suddenly thinking that she did not need to tell the others just how cross she had been. “At any rate, I refused to go.”



Sirius rubbed his jaw, listening to the exchange closely. “Well, then, Tuesday is out. Thursdays, then?” Hermione thought a moment before nodding. “Good. We’ll work around Quidditch practice when we can and, if we can’t, I’ll work with Mione here and she can help the two of you when she’s able. I figure she’ll be the quickest to pick it up anyway.” She blushed under the subtle praise.



~***~



Cedric was grateful that he did not make a fool out of himself. Not just because it would have galled him to lose to Adrian Pucey, but also because he really did want to make a good impression on Professor Black. The man already had proven he was not above lightly teasing him over Hermione and, although he had never said so, something told Cedric that this was yet another wizard who would have no qualms making his displeasure known if he showed the slightest hint that he might not be good enough for her.



He briefly wondered what it would be like to have a girl who just had a father to worry about. Pretty boring, likely.



“Mr. Diggory!” Sirius paced up and down between the students. He had paired them off to test out their dueling abilities at the beginning of class. “Since you seem to be the best at it so far, care to explain why it’s useful to master non-verbal spell casting?”



Pucey was scowling at him, rubbing his arm where his stinging hex had struck his wrist. Cedric had offered to cast the healing charm to relieve it, but the Slytherin had refused him. “Because it’s a bit faster than verbal and because it keeps your opponent in the dark about what you’re about to do.”



“Correct. So you can do something other than stand there and look pretty.” It was delivered with such good-natured humor that no one mistook it for anything else. Even Cedric laughed. “Five points to Hufflepuff. Now, for next class I want everyone to read the first three chapters in your textbooks. No essays just yet. As I recall both Professor McGonagall and Professor Binns love to assign massive essays the first week of seventh year. Somehow I doubt they’ve changed much since I was your age.” Everyone laughed again, mostly because he was spot on. “Now get out of here! All of you! Not you, Mr. Diggory. Stay behind, if you would.”



He lingered after class, fastening his satchel over his books. Black waited until the last of the other students were gone before he spoke. “How are you holding up, Cedric? Any problems hanging on from last year?”



He blinked, looking back at his professor. “No, Sir, nothing at all. Even the twinges have mostly stopped.” He frowned. “Why?”



Black looked concerned. “That was a nasty curse you got hit with, even if Peter failed to cast it properly. And, well, if you recall I was on the grounds when you and Harry got back. I know you were in bad shape.”



He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m fine, Sir. Truly.” He had hoped to put the events of last year behind him for the most part. “Are… are all the teachers worried about it?”



“Can you blame us? Not many people can say that they survived the Killing Curse. Just two people, actually. And I suppose there is some concern that you might find it hard being back here after all that happened at the tournament.”



He sighed. “It is… strange. Sometimes I feel like I’ve… outgrown it. School, I mean. If it weren’t for my NEWTS and Herm… well…” he blushed, not sure he should admit that a good part of why he had come back was because he wanted to be close to Hermione. Sirius, however, seemed to understand perfectly.



“Nothing wrong with following a girl if the girl’s worth following. But there’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. Now, I know I’m probably the last person who should be preaching self-control, but sometimes when a man faces death and lives he can get a bit cocky. I know things are going to get progressively worse now that we’re on the verge of another possible war, but you need to keep yourself aware that you are not indestructible. We’re all going to have to make sacrifices as time moves on, but that doesn’t mean we should risk ourselves foolishly.”



But he had not just ‘faced’ death. Cedric had fallen to it. Had fallen down into that cold blackness that was filled only with whispers until Hermione had come and filled it with warmth and light. Did it make him feel a bit indestructible? Not really, because he did not want to be there again if he could avoid it. “I won’t lose my head, Sir. I promise.” He shouldered his pack. “Is… is that all? Only I’m supposed to meet Hermione to study before lunch.”



Sirius’ concerned expression gradually gave way to an oddly pleased smirk. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” Cedric felt his cheeks flame. “I’m only teasing. That’s a good girl you’ve managed to catch, there, Diggory. Brightest witch of her age, if not the brightest in the past century. Be sure you treat her right.”



“Always.” He made his way out of the classroom and down the sparsely populated halls. With the last class of the day over with most students wasted no time either getting the library or anywhere else as long as it was not inside of a classroom. Of course, Cedric was not going to a classroom. He made his way up to the Room of Requirement and found Hermione already there. “Sorry. Professor Black wanted to speak with me.” He unshouldered his pack and set it by the wall.



They were not practicing or sparring today. Hermione wanted to speak to him today. She had been holding this in until they could get back to the castle and be guaranteed some measure of privacy. There were no combat dummies or weapons, just a large number of fluffy pillows and cushions crowding the floor so that they would be comfortable. She looked up at him from where she was sitting, her knees hugged to her chest and looking very small and afraid.



“What is it?” He came over to join her, sinking down into the pillows close enough that he could reach out and put his hands onto her shoulders without having to make an effort to reach for her.



“I’m afraid you won’t like me very much once you know everything.”



He shook his head. “There is nothing you can tell me that will make me stop liking you, Hermione. I promise, and I always keep my promises.”



She gave a little half-smile. “Always?”



Cedric reached out and brushed a stray curl out of her face. “Always.” His hand slid down and cupped her cheek. “Just start at the beginning and go from there. I’m not going anywhere.”



He watched her as she took a deep breath, bracing herself, and then listened as she started to speak. Cedric was quiet, paying attention to every work as his mind linked together events and thoughts from the past two years. The knowledge that she was adopted brought about by the death of her birth mother and soon followed by the headaches that had plagued her the beginning of her third year. The physical training and how she seemed so advanced for her years, even more surprising now that he knew she had only been at it for less than a year by the time he had come along to watch. How she had been so fluent in Bulgarian, of all things. She told him things he would never have thought possible and explained the existence of muggles with unusual abilities rivaling those of wizards. And all of it stemmed from a rare gift that, as far as she knew, only showed up in her late mother’s bloodline.



She faltered off when she had run out of steam, her expression watchful as she studied his face. Cedric had shifted into more of a reclining position, resting on one elbow a few inches from her hip with his legs stretched out behind her. He mulled everything over in his mind, linking facts together in order to get the entire picture. “So… she wasn’t a muggle after all, your mum. Not an ordinary one at any rate.”



“Apparently not.”



He nodded. “Does Professor Snape know?”



She shook her head. “He suspects, of course, but I think he believes she was either a witch who did not care to advertise that fact or that she was some other type of magical creature. I do think he understands that she was using him to get close to the necromancer, but I don’t think he really feels any loss at that. I… get the impression that they didn’t think much of one another as people. It appears to have been mostly physical on his part and a means to an end on hers.” She shrugged. “Kathryn admitted that I came along because she got ‘sloppy’.”



He frowned. “That’s a horrible thing to say to your daughter!”



“She would be the first to admit that she’s a horrible person. Sometimes I think she takes pride in it.” She wriggled her toes against the cushions.



“So that’s how you did it. How you got me back in my body and fixed it so I overcame the curse.”



“Not really. I didn’t put you back in, I just accepted it when they told me that you could be.” Her eyes flicked back to his. “I couldn’t bear it, seeing you lying there.” Her eyes were shining but the tears did not fall. “I let it distract me, too. I could have lost us all.”



“We’ve been over this, Hermione. You got us out of the graveyard, you didn’t get us killed.” He rolled onto his back, looking up at her. “And now I understand how you did it. I wish I could have been there for that part of your training. Does this Continuum really work through the anti-apparition wards?” He frowned. “Well, it must or you wouldn’t have been able to get there so fast. Harry says who ever was in the graveyard was moving so quickly he was certain that it had to be more than one, though he didn’t understand why they weren’t all attacking at once.” He frowned. “Just how fast can you work math? I might need you to help with my arithmancy work.”



“Pretty fast.” She looked back at her toes.



“And now you’ve got Salazar Slytherin rattling around inside your head and he’s nothing close to being the bigoted bastard everyone thinks he is.” He paused. “Uhm… Hermione… just how much do they see? When they’re inside your head, I mean.”



She blinked. “I… well… everything if they’re up front at the time, but most of the time they just sort of… hover in the back of my head. I can usually call someone up if I need something, but it’s not as though they’re spying on me all the time.” He let his relief show. “So… just how big of a freak do you think I am now?”



Cedric blinked. “What?” She still had that nervous, little-girl-lost expression in her eyes. “Hey, come here.” He reached up and took hold of her wrist, gently pulling her lower until she had no choice but to stretch out next to him. He lay on his side, facing her and slipped one hand about her waist. “You are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. And if anyone calls you a freak, they’ll have to answer to me.” He gave her a gentle hug, pulling her against him briefly. “Provided they aren’t stupid enough to say it in front of the twins, in which case there may not be much left of them.” It may have been corny, but it got the desired result of her letting out a brief laugh. A weak laugh, but a laugh all the same.



“I expected you to run screaming.”



He trailed his fingers lightly up and down a three-inch section of her spine. “Not likely to happen. I already suspected something was up. I can remember everything that happened that night, Hermione. What I was capable of noticing at any rate. Towards the end there was too much pain to see through. I remember trying to tell Harry that we needed to help you, but he didn’t realize I meant you were there as well. I couldn’t see the fight other than flashes of light. I clearly remembered being dead and I definitely remembered your voice talking to me. And to the others, for that matter.” He smiled at her. “I’m not Head Boy for nothing, you know. I’m clever enough to put things together.”



She rolled her eyes. “I know you are. Still, I guess I’ve had Kathryn and Professor Dumbledore telling me to keep things quiet for so long I’m afraid to let anyone know. I’m afraid of what they’ll think of me.”



“They have a point.” He frowned a bit. “Dad works for the Ministry and they can be idiots when the mood strikes them. Even more so than what they’re doing now with Harry and Dumbledore. They don’t like to listen, and I doubt they’d stop long enough for you to explain the difference between you and a necromancer before they had you hauled off to Azkaban for safe keeping. And if they did, they’d likely shut you up in the Department of Mysteries for study. The main trouble with the Ministry is that it’s run by the purebloods, and the purebloods fear change. All the silly talk of pureblood versus mudblood aside, the thing muggleborns have that scares them the most is the desires to change. They’re willing to leave the world they’ve always known to come into ours, and when they do they bring fresh ideas.”



Hermione frowned a bit, looking into his eyes. “You’re very wise, Cedric.”



He gave her a crooked smile. “Don’t sound so surprised, Hermione. You’ll bruise my ego.”



“You don’t have an ego.”



“Of course I do. Everyone does.” He nuzzled her nose with his own, giving her another gentle squeeze. It would be wonderful to stay where they were, lying on the soft pillows and just holding one another for the rest of the night. However, he did not think that would be wise given that he and Professor Snape were still circling one another as he continued his attempts to firmly establish himself as an important part of Hermione’s life. “We’d better be going. Harry and Ron will wonder where you’ve got off to, and I’d never forgive myself if I let you faint from hunger.”



She grumbled a bit, not wanting to ruin the sweetness of the moment any more than he. Still, she allowed him to coax her to her feet before smoothing over her hair. They claimed their satchels and made their way out of the Room of Requirement to join the others for dinner. Sure enough, Ron and Harry had saved her a seat at Gryffindor table, and they were not the only ones who noticed the Head Boy and Know-It-All Granger entering the Great Hall together. Whispers abounded as he walked her escorted her over to join her friends, and more than a few giggles could be heard.



Cedric made his way over to join his own table, Dylan and Sebastian exchanging knowing smirks as he did so. “What?”



“Just wondering how much to put down, Ced.” Dylan claimed a bit more roast for his plate.



“Put down for what?”



Sebastian snorted. “Fred and George Weasley have opened a betting pool as to how long before Professor Snape tries to kill you. They say the pot’s gotten pretty big.”



He shook his head. “Professor Snape is not going to try and kill me.” Dylan nodded in agreement.



“I’m going to see if they let me put down a galleon for emasculation, instead. Granted, death might be preferable.”



“Don’t make me give the both of you detention.” They laughed, knowing he would never give them detention for something so trivial.





~***~