Getting Answers

1. Getting Answers

"Cedric Amos Diggory!" cried Madam Pomfrey as Cedric walked determinedly to the doors of the hospital wing. She clutched her wand in one hand and a cup of Blood Replenishing Potion in the other. "Get back here this instant before you bleed to death!"

Not bloody likely, Cedric thought ironically as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The potion had always made him dizzy, and now was no exception. He wasn't sure how much blood he'd lost since Snape slashed open his wrist. The white gauze bandage wrapped around his right forearm bore a crimson stain over his wound, but the salve the matron had covered it with had begun to staunch the blood flow. He wasn't going to bleed to death. He'd just be really lightheaded for a while.

"Really, Mr. Diggory. Don't behave like such a child. Come back here and take your medicine like a good young man," the matron pleaded. She'd stopped trying to catch him. Every step of Cedric's cost her three.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Cedric said over his shoulder. His voice was calm, but his insides boiled with hatred. He'd made it back into the castle in enough time to see Snape disappearing into the dungeons, McGonagal at his heels. Harry and Ron had grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him away from the Potions master. They refused to let him go until he had visited the hospital wing.

He stopped at the door and turned, giving the flushed matron a grateful smile. "Really, I feel much better now. I promise to come back if it gives me any trouble." He jerked his head at Harry, who was sitting on the end of a nearby bed. "Help me to my room, Harry?"

Crimson suffused Harry's pale cheeks as he nodded, purposely diverting his gaze from the older witch. "Sure, Ced. Ron's waiting outside to see how you're doing."

Cedric made a show of leaning against Harry's shoulder for support. They began shuffling the rest of the way out the door. "I think Luna's out there, too," Harry whispered, leaning his head close to the older boy's. "She must've thought Ron got hurt as well."

Brown hair fell over his blue eyes as Cedric nodded, his lips set in a grim line. "I won't explain anything in front of her, but I want to see Dumbledore as soon as possible. Before something happens to Hermione out there. No doubt he's already set the Ministry's trackers after her. I could Floo Dad and see if he knows."

"Trackers?" Harry whispered. He'd learned a lot about the Ministry of Magic since he had joined the Wizarding World, but he had never heard about trackers. "What do they do exactly?"

"They're a special brand of Aurors. You know how most Aurors are specifically dark wizard catchers? Well, trackers chase down unmanaged part-human creatures," Cedric replied, leaning against the wall for support. The potion he'd been given was starting to take effect and the lightheadedness was wearing off. "They're not the best of the lot. Half the time they don't bring back their catches alive, and the Ministry doesn't do anything about it."

"Part-human creatures?" Harry mumbled, the color draining from his face. "Why would the Ministry send these trackers after Hermione?"

Cedric looked at the younger wizard with incredulous eyes. "Think about it, Harry. I told you that something was different about Hermione now. What did you see that bastard Snape do when she fainted today? What did he give her?" A painful throb shot through his right arm, and he sank to the floor. He clutched his wrist against his chest tighter, fighting back embarrassing tears.

His tears were not only for the pain that threatened to make his right arm numb, but also for the girl he had lost. He could see Hermione in his thoughts as clearly as if she were standing directly in front of him. I hope you are okay, he thought desperately. Wherever you are, Hermione. I hope you are okay.

Harry sank onto the floor beside Cedric and stared at the flagged stones between his feet. Someone at Hogwarts had told the Ministry what had happened with Hermione. And now, the Ministry had set loose its trackers...those Aurors who hunted part-humans. Aurors who hunted centaurs, werewolves, warlocks, and vampires. Vampires? The word made something in Harry jump in recognition. She couldn't be!

Emerald eyes met blue ones as the two stared at each other in recognition. "Hermione...our Hermione...a...a vampire? How?"

For a moment, Cedric wondered whether or not he should answer. What good would come of making the truth known now? When there was nothing to be done about it. He wondered how Harry would react. Would he go charging down to the dungeons once he knew? Would he cry for Dumbledore's head?

"I'll tell you, Harry, but you have to promise that you won't do anything until we've seen Dumbledore. No excuses, no accidents, and no mistakes. Do you swear?"

The younger wizard put out his left hand and waited until Cedric clasped it with his own. Not releasing his hold, Cedric released his breath and closed his eyes. "Yes, Harry. Our Hermione is a vampire. And do you know how she came to be so? That bastard, that wretch of a demon, Severus Snape took her and changed her. He took her life and bound her to him as his undying whore. She had no choice, no ability to break that link until today."

"How did she break free? How do you know all this, Ced?" The blackened pupils of Harry's emerald eyes were dilated in fear. The boy before him did not seem the same as he had this morning. The smile, the joy had disappeared. In its place was a grimace of pain and hatred. Harry doubted if the old Cedric Diggory would ever come back.

"How do I know?" Something like a sadistic chuckle escaped from his throat. "The bastard told me himself that he changed her. The rest didn't take too much to figure out. As for breaking free? I suppose you have me to blame...thank?...for that. Something about my blood."

Cedric rubbed absently at the bandage around his wrist and forearm. He still couldn't figure out what it was that enraged Hermione so much when she awoke to find herself feeding on his blood. He pushed himself up from the floor and started down the hallway to the Headmaster's office. "And I'll be damned if Dumbledore doesn't tell me the whole fucking truth. I'll have his head if he doesn't."

The stone gargoyle that blocked the entrance to the Headmaster's study was standing off to the side. Something like liquid silver flowed like fog down the spiraling staircase. Frigid air wafted from the top of the stairs, making their breath appear in tiny clouds before their faces. Cedric stood perfectly still, staring up into the winding blackness, Harry and Ron on either side of him. His wand was clutched uncomfortably in his left hand, and his pulse pounded uncontrollably in his ears.

"What do you think?" Ron said from his right. His wand was pointed towards the gaping entrance. The color had drained from his face, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead. "Are we going up or not?"

Ron cast a look behind Cedric's back at Harry. They exchanged a quick, nervous glance. No matter what adventures they'd been on, Ron had always followed Harry. It felt strange to follow someone else into the relative unknown. It looked as if Harry was nervous as well. Whether that was due to being out of command or worry about what they would find, Ron didn't know.

Cedric squared his shoulders and placed a determined foot on the bottom step. His trainer slipped through the silvery substance that coated the stone. He pressed his left hand against the wall, feeling the handle of his wand bite into his palm. "We go, but be careful. Whatever this is on the stairs is slick."

Ron followed behind him, steadying himself with his empty hand against the wall. It was difficult, trying to keep his balance, look where he was stepping, and keep his wand trained on the opening above him. He could hear Harry bringing up the rear, his trainers squeaking through the substance on the floor.

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed from the end of the line. Turning, Ron saw that Harry had dropped to all fours on the stairs. He was staring with intense interest at the wisps of silvery substance beneath his fingers. His green eyes grew wide as he looked back up at his friend. "They're memories! Dumbledore's memories by the looks of them. See. This one here," he prodded a silver rivulet with the tip of his wand, "is from when he saw Voldemort coming out of Professor Dippet's office after Moaning Myrtle was attacked. Dumbledore kept these in a Pensieve. Why are they on the floor?"

Cedric felt as if a slab of cold iron had settled in his stomach. Something was most definitely not right.

Dumbledore lay sprawled on the floor of his office, his head and shoulders propped against his cabinet. His Pensieve lay smashed and empty by his left hand. Silver threads streaked his hair, and blood stained ribbons down his beard. It trickled from the corners of his mouth, and oozed from his nose and ears. His chest rose and fell with a gurgling sound as the life slowly seeped out of him. Once keen eyes were fixed on the looming figure that towered over him.

"I am sorry, my friend," the old man managed, his breathing a labored gurgle.

The figure moved closer, placing one foot on either side of the body and squatted so that his face was level with his victim's. "I warned you, you pitiful fool. I told you to leave us alone. She hurt no one! Our deal goes unbroken, you bastard. For our part at least."

Dumbledore breathed heavily and forced his dry throat to swallow. "You exposed her, Severus. The entire school saw..." He coughed heavily, clots of bright red blood staining his lips. "I...had no...no other choice. The trackers...trackers will...find her."

"Pray, for their sake, that they do not," Snape sneered, his voice coming out as a low growl. He placed his hands gently on either side of the old man's head. "I'm sorry to say that prayers will no longer help you, Dumbledore. My wrath has been wrought." With that, he jerked his arms in opposite directions. The pale blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore went wide before their light died with the sickening crunch and pop of blood shredding muscle and nerve.

Severus stood, wiping the blood and silver substance from his hands. He walked away from the body of Albus Dumbledore, staring out into the watery light of afternoon from the window. "You cannot say I didn't warn you, Albus. It is your own fault that you have died. Now I suppose I must leave as well." He glanced around the destroyed office, taking in the shocked faces of those Headmasters and Headmistresses who still lingered in their portraits. "One of you spying harpies will have run off to the Ministry, already, hmm? It doesn't matter. I will be long gone before they begin their search."

He searched the horizon, looking for Hermione without truly expecting to see her. She was young, and her strength had not yet waned. She would already be far away from Hogwarts. He only hoped that she would be careful, that she would take care of herself. He would be joining her as a fugitive soon. The Ministry would not take kindly to the murder of a hero of the Wizarding World.

It would have eased his worries if he could communicate with her. But she had been true to her word. Whether it was on purpose or just a byproduct of her anger, Hermione had successfully closed her mind to him. He could not talk with her. He could not project his thoughts or desires into her brain. She was now completely alone, and it troubled him more than he would have admitted because it was by her own choice.

The Headmaster's door was hanging in the frame by a single hinge. The great doorknocker had been pulled cleanly out of the wood. It lay in a mangled heap off to the side of the threshold. Cedric stared into the quiet room with a feeling of dread in his chest. The wet fog rolled over their feet and the silver substance of memory slid beneath them. He pointed his wand out ahead of him, trying desperately to keep his hand from shaking.

Ron gasped behind him when he saw the state of the door. "What the bloody hell happened?" he whispered, smart enough to understand the need for quiet. "Looks like Fluffy got loose in Dumbledore's office!"

Harry cast his eyes over Cedric, who was standing rigidly in the doorframe. "It was him, wasn't it, Ced? Snape did this."

There was no answer, just a sharp tensing of the muscles across Cedric's back. His grip on his wand tightened, and he took that first firm step into the ruins of the office. It was as he had suspected. Perhaps it was less so. Dumbledore was not torn into pieces or covered with the puncture wounds of an attacking vampire. No. He lay crookedly on the floor. His head turned at an odd angle, indicating that his neck had been broken. Blood and memory were spilling out his mouth, nose, and ears. The desk had been upended and smashed. Fawkes sat on his perch in the corner, gazing at his master's body with melancholy eyes.

Harry and Ron peered over Cedric's broad shoulders. They gasped at the chaos before their eyes. Dumbledore, the great Albus Dumbledore, lay dead and broken on the floor. There was no mercy in the death, only the actions of a vengeful thing devoid of compassion.

The window stood open, the afternoon light pouring over the grizzly sight. The window banged lightly against the stone wall as the wind blew the curtains. Snape could not have been gone long. He must have heard them coming up the stairs and jumped from the window. Cedric repressed the disappointed thought that the fall would not have killed the bastard.

Harry stepped around him and went to Dumbledore's side. He pressed his fingers against the horribly snapped neck and wrists of the body. There was no pulse to be found. He was fighting back tears. Here was the only real father figure...apart from Sirius...he'd ever known. Now he was dead, and Harry was alone at Hogwarts once more.

"Go get McGonagal, Ron. Tell her to call the Ministry and that something's happened to the Headmaster," Cedric said over his shoulder, keeping his blue eyes trained on Harry. He could hear the redhead bounding down the stairs, his trainers squeaking on the slippery floor.

Cedric turned to the cabinets and kicked them with all his might. "FUCK! SHIT! DAMN IT!" he yelled, punctuating each curse with a violent kick. He dropped with a violent thud to his knees. "The bastard's done away with the only person who could tell us the truth. Damn him!"