A New Year Begins

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Anything you recognise is taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Everything else is mine. Thanks to my Nishles for the endless discussions about our boys!

================

Cedric arose early after a troubled and sleepless night. Visions of the Dark Mark in the sky and dreams of him being trapped in a sea of screaming people haunted his few sleeping moments. His head was aching, and he clambered out of bed, rubbing his scratchy eyes as he made his way downstairs.

'Morning, Mum, Dad,' he managed in between expansive yawns.

'Good morning my boy,' his father said, trying to sound jovial as he too yawned.

'Good lord, Cedric, sit yourself down and have some breakfast before you faint,' his mother admonished with a twinkle in her eyes that belied her tone.

He took his seat at the table and poured himself a cup of orange juice as his mother placed two large plates in front of the men, filled with scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, tomatoes, and toast.

'Well, Ced I have to be at the Ministry early this morning to meet with Arthur Weasley and the rest of that lot. Merlin knows there'll be lots of questions that'll need answering after that fiasco.' Amos sighed.

Cedric's mind slowly began working again. The Weasleys. What about Harry? His father hadn't mentioned anything about Harry.

'So, the Weasleys all made it through okay? Everyone?' he enquired carefully, trying to sound nonchalant as he chewed on a strip of bacon.

Amos barely looked up at his son as he ate his meal hurriedly.

'Yes, yes, they're all fine. Bit of a mess with that Potter boy though.'

Cedric felt a chill go down his spine, and suddenly the bacon in his mouth lost its taste. He looked at his father anxiously, even though he tried to appear only moderately interested.

'What mess is that, Dad?' he asked conversationally.

'Well, there was a bit of bother over his wand. Seems it was used to conjure the Dark Mark, yet he swears he didn't conjure it. Don't suppose he could have really; he's just a young boy. Most odd,' Amos muttered, drifting off into thought as he sipped his tea.

'Harry's wand conjured the Dark Mark?' Cedric asked incredulously. 'But, Dad, surely that's ... '

Amos finished the last mouthful of his tea, wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood, shrugging into his travelling robes.

'Can't get into it with you right now, Ced, I must be off,' he said gently, clapping his son on the back and kissing Sheila on the cheek.

'Be back later,' he said cheerfully as he threw Floo powder into the fireplace and disappeared in a blaze of green flames.

Cedric stared absentmindedly into the flames long after his father had disappeared, mulling over the happenings of the past twenty-four hours.

He noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on the kitchen table with a blaring headline that proclaimed: 'Scenes of Terror at Quidditch World Cup'. Cedric began reading the article and was angered by the reporter's insinuations that the Ministry had somehow been at fault. From what little Cedric knew of the dark forces, he doubted whether they ever gave much warning of their evil intentions. The article seemed to be more about sensationalist journalism than a quest for the truth.

'Prats,' he muttered under his breath as he crushed the paper angrily between his hands and tossed it aside. The photograph of the Dark Mark as it hung in the air was still partly visible, even though the paper was mangled by the force of Cedric's anger. He shivered involuntarily as his own images of the Dark Mark flashed through his mind, all the clearer because of his dreams the night before.

'Cedric! Careful, son, you nearly knocked over the teapot,' his mother's voice admonished, and her unusually sharp tone made him look up in surprise. In his bleary-eyed descent to the table earlier and his intense conversation with his father, Cedric had failed to realize that his mother was terribly worried. Her grey eyes met his searchingly, even darker than his own now as they clouded with worry. Deeply alarmed at his thoughtlessness, he hung his head in shame and moved to where she stood by the sink.

'Oh, Mum, I'm so sorry,' he began. 'I, I'm stupid. I didn't think...' he finished lamely. He held his mother's hands in his own, noting for the first time how much smaller she appeared. He had always known her to be a strong woman, and it unnerved him now to see her so uncharacteristically close to tears.

'Come, sit down here, and I'll get you something.' He helped her into a chair and looked around for the blanket he'd had around his shoulders last night, but it was nowhere to be found.

'Oh, Cedric, after your father told me what happened I was so worried,' she moaned and dropped her head into her hands. 'Please, tell me what happened, what you saw.'

Cedric wasn't sure he wanted to go over it again; he'd been haunted by the scenes in his dreams. He knew that he couldn't refuse her and made her a cup of tea while he tried to organize his memories. He managed to delay his reply until he sat in front of her at the table and placed the cup in her hands, but as she looked up at him expectantly, he sighed and began.

'Well, it happened quite long after the match, I was with Dad in the tent. We were making lots of noise, and there was a great deal of noise inside coming through from outside too, you know, with the celebrations and all that. Suddenly there was a very different set of screaming and shouting.' Cedric shuddered as the images flashed through his mind, almost like they were being seared into him once again.

'Dad ran outside almost immediately and I could see through the open flap of the tent that people were running outside, frantically running in all directions. The tent was almost empty by the time I'd managed to get outside, and I was almost knocked over by the surge of people.' Cedric could see his mother's eyes grow wider and wondered at the wisdom of telling her everything.

'I could see Dad in the distance; he was helping some of the foreign dignitaries get organized so that they could find safety, or Port back to their homes, I don't know which. I felt a horrible chill inside me, colder than the air around, but this chill, it seemed to ... I don't know really, it seemed to almost ... crawl inside me.' He shuddered at the memory, and he saw that his mother had done the same.

Sheila reached out and grasped her son's hands in her own, stroking them soothingly as she'd done when he was a young boy. Cedric breathed deeply and then continued.

'I saw them then, the Death Eaters. They were in a tight group, casting spells and destroying tents. They had a Muggle family too, Mum, with children, all suspended above their heads, and the Muggles were screaming. There were people running everywhere, falling over themselves to get out of the way, but they just kept marching through the campsite. Not long after that, I saw it. The Dark Mark just hanging in the sky, and that's when I knew, but I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do.'

He bent his head as he acknowledged both his fear and his shame, and his mother placed her hands on the back of his head. She smoothed his hair and patted his back, rocking him gently as she had done all his life when things had been too hard to handle. It didn't occur to him to mind.

He brushed the back of his hand across his eyes and raised his head again.

'Then Dad found me, and before I could say anything, he'd Ported me here.' A flash of something akin to anger crossed Cedric's face briefly, but it was enough for his mother to notice.

'Now, Cedric, you mustn't be too harsh on your father. He did what he thought was best, and even though you might have wanted to stay behind and fight, you don't know the enemy enough to properly appreciate what you would have been up against.' Cedric started to protest, but she quietened him with her hand, a sense of urgency evident in her eyes.

'No, son, believe me, the Death Eaters are a considerable force and your father was absolutely right in doing what he did. Bravery is a wonderful thing, but it's no good to you if you're ... dead.' Her voice faltered at the end, and her grey eyes filled with tears as her hands rushed to her mouth. As her muffled cries turned to wracking sobs, Cedric could do nothing. Helplessly, he wrapped his arms around his mother and held her until her weeping subsided.

~~

The morning that Cedric was due to return to Hogwarts, he descended the stairs to find his father fully dressed. Amos Diggory shook his son's hand firmly and clapped him on the shoulder with a regretful smile.

'Sorry I can't come with you and your mother, m'boy, but I have to get to the Ministry to send off some urgent owls. I'll expect to hear from you by the end of the week, alright?'

Cedric smiled ruefully and nodded his understanding, as he knew that his father was still trying to settle things at the office since the World Cup fracas. Amos kissed his wife and, with a nod to Cedric, Disapparated.

~*~

Sheila Diggory hugged her son tightly and bade him farewell at King's Cross station. He smiled and stepped through the wall to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where he felt an immediate sense of security at the sight of the Hogwarts Express, gleaming red as it waited for its passengers. He'd always thought of the train as an extension of Hogwarts itself, a tunnel that joined the school to the rest of the world. He noticed Ernie McMillan standing with several other fourth and fifth years from Hufflepuff and they smiled as he approached the small group. They found their seats on the train and proceeded to chat about their summer adventures. Cedric was happy to delegate his Prefect duties to the fifth year Prefects, so he relaxed, half-listening to the conversations around him. Even though everyone had their version of the goings on at the Quidditch World Cup, the basic information seemed to be the same. He sighed and leaned back into his seat as he closed his eyes and thought about the World Cup and all that had transpired since.

~*~*~

In the week following the Death March at the World Cup, his father had worked long hours every day at the Ministry as he and the other members of his team attempted to recreate the events that had transpired. It appeared as though Harry had been exonerated of any wrong doing, but the question of how his wand fell into another's hands had still been a matter of much debate.

His father had also taken him aside one night after dinner and had mentioned the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric had vague recollections of such a thing but remembered it mainly from stories told when he was a boy. His father had informed him that the Tournament was to be reinstated at Hogwarts during the upcoming year. He had listened as his father extolled the competition, and Amos' eyes had glowed as he described the glory and honour that awaited a Triwizard Champion.

'I don't want you to think of it as an easy thing, m'boy,' he had said, his eyes twinkling. 'The Tournament is a very serious, magically binding undertaking, and it is designed to test not only your skills as a wizard, but also your ability to cope with all kinds of danger.' He had given his son a meaningful look. 'But the glory, Cedric, the honour, the power afforded to the winner! The possibilities are endless!'

Cedric had pondered his father's words that night as he lay in bed wondering what the implications of the Tournament were. He had been caught up in his father's excitement and had envisioned himself holding the Cup above his head, victorious. He had felt rivers of exhilaration down his spine at the mere thought of winning, and he had known then that he would certainly enter the Tournament and pit his skill against the other competitors.

Cedric had been groomed for success most of his life to attain excellence, both in his academic life and in the sporting arena. Being chosen as both Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team in his fifth year had pleased his father to no end, and when he was chosen as Prefect, Amos Diggory had been almost beside himself with joy and pride. This upcoming competition was sure to be a natural continuation for him and a new opportunity to hone his skills and apply his talent.

~*~*~

The rocking movement of the train must have lulled him into sleep, but he was suddenly awakened by rough hands shaking him. Bleary eyed, he turned to see who his tormentor was, only to be greeted by the laughter of Markus Hughes and Jamie Bryers, two of his roommates and his best friends.

Markus was tall and appeared to have gotten even more muscular over the summer. He was dark haired, dark eyed, powerfully built in an almost Italian sort of way, and his deeply tanned skin enhanced the overall image of swarthiness. A definite lady-killer, Markus was loud, gregarious, funny and desperately good looking – a combination that virtually ensured that he could have anyone he wanted at any time. Cedric was slightly in awe of that kind of power.

Jamie was a lighter version of Markus in almost every way. He was shorter than both Cedric and Markus, but long and lean. His light brown hair had been lightened further by the summer sun and shone with the golden vigour of youth and health. His blue eyes were deep, gentle, and caring, and whereas Markus was the troublemaker, Jamie was the peacemaker. Jamie was less likely to offend people; certainly not the way that Markus could with his quick wit and sometimes sharp tongue. No, Jamie tended to be more like Cedric. He valued fair play and honesty above all else and was a gentle, quieting and comforting presence in the wake of Hurricane Hughes.

'Cedders, old mate, good to see you again!' Jamie exclaimed.

'Diggs! You old goat!' Markus' brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and Cedric knew that their attack was inevitable.

He braced himself as they flung themselves down on him and messed up his hair. They scrabbled and tugged on his robes, and he fought valiantly to stave off their assault. After a few minutes, they all collapsed in a laughing heap as they regaled each other with stories of their summer vacations.

'So out with it, Diggs, what was it like? The World Cup, I mean; the match and everything that happened afterwards?' Markus settled into his seat comfortably and put his feet up on Cedric's knees as he began to eat a Pumpkin Pasty.

'Gerroff there 'Kus, give the man some room.' Jamie came to Cedric's rescue as he swept Markus' feet onto the floor, but then he plonked himself down on Cedric's lap and posed like a young child about to be told a bedtime story.

Cedric laughed so hard he thought his sides would burst. These two idiots, his best friends in the entire world, hadn't changed one iota since their first weekend at Hogwarts.

~*~

They had all been sorted into Hufflepuff and had spent the first week together trying to learn the layout of the castle. By Friday of their first week, they had been physically and emotionally drained by Professor Snape's Potions classes and had all agreed that they had wanted nothing more than to fall into their beds and sleep. In fact, they had spent that entire Friday night telling each other the most outrageous stories they could think of and eating all of the large box of treats and biscuits that Jamie's mother had sent with him. They had been severely ill for most of the following day, but their time in the infirmary hadn't dampened their spirits. They had staggered out sometime on Sunday, stomachs empty and ears full of Madam Pomfrey's 'tut-tuts' and mutterings of 'silly first years'. Markus had pushed his way between them and draped his arms lazily around their shoulders, and they hadn't realized at the time that their bond had been forged that day, or that they would continue to be as close as brothers all the way through their school lives.

~*~

Markus and Jamie gave Cedric their full attention and he knew they were eager to learn about the confusion after the final match from his point of view. He told them almost everything in great detail but was careful with some of the information; he left out the part about Harry's wand being used to conjure the Dark Mark, as he didn't want the boy to suffer any further at the hands of Hogwarts students. Of course, he completely left out what he considered to be the most significant part of the entire experience, the fact that he and Harry had formed an unusual connection of uncertain implications. No, he'd be sure to keep that information all to himself. Although these two lads had known him for all of his Hogwarts life, he still considered Harry to be too much of a private thought and was still unsure of its significance. He just knew somehow that it was significant, and he didn't know how his friends would feel if he told him that little bit of information.

~*~

Many hours later after the Sorting Hat had arranged the first years into their houses and the students and faculty feasted on the delicious meal, Professor Dumbledore went through his usual start-of-year notices. The students were most unhappy when he advised that the school's Quidditch Cup would not be held that year, and Cedric joined his teammates in groans and shouts of disapproval. Markus made a big show of banging his head on the table in mock-frustration as Professor Dumbledore raised his hand in an attempt to quiet the crowd, but just then the great oak doors at the end of the Hall were thrown open, and they boomed as they collided with the stone walls of the building.

The echoes surged through the Great Hall, and the enchanted ceiling above them flashed angrily as lightning streaked across it, which gave greater impact to the unexpected arrival. There was barely a sound as the man made his way towards the head table and every pair of eyes in the Hall followed his clumsy steps. Cedric could hear the ripple of whispers all around him.

'Moody, that's Mad-Eye Moody!'

'The Auror!'

Yes, that was Mad-Eye Moody all right. Cedric had seen him once in passing a few years ago when he'd spoken with Cedric's father inside the Ministry of Magic. Cedric remembered that his father had appeared to be persuasive, perhaps even cajoling, and although Cedric had been too far away to hear the words and too young to care much about the contents of that meeting, he could see the tension between them evidenced by their body language. Cedric had always been intuitive that way, able to get a very strong sense of people by their auras, their 'vibes,' for lack of a better term. His father's vibes had been urging and a little pleading that day; Mad-Eye's vibes had been very scattered and uneasy then and were certainly no different tonight.

After Moody had been introduced to the student body, Professor Dumbledore continued with his announcements, and Cedric shivered with excitement a moment later when Dumbledore proclaimed that the Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts later that year. His father had been right!

'You're JOKING!'

A loud exclamation came from the Gryffindor table; a voice that sounded suspiciously like Fred or George Weasley, and Cedric's laughter joined that of the rest of the students. He tried to stop himself as he glanced furtively in the direction of the sound, knowing that Harry wouldn't be far from the Weasleys, but even with his height, he was unable to lay eyes on the smaller boy. He wasn't sure whether or not he was disappointed.

He turned his thoughts back to the Tournament as Dumbledore explained its history, and he thought again about the importance of the Cup, of how winning the tournament brought with it untold fame and opportunities to the victor, and Cedric understood his father's motivation. The thousand Galleon prize money was one thing, but Amos Diggory wanted more for his son and his family name than to be merely a Ministry official. Cedric knew that his powers had grown significantly through puberty, and he enjoyed competitions that challenged those skills, but this Tournament was huge and would pit school against school. Still, the honour of being selected to represent both his house and Hogwarts was certainly worth a try.

More groans and shouts of disapproval echoed through the hall as Professor Dumbledore imposed an age limit on the competition. Cedric had turned seventeen earlier that year and was somewhat pleased to realize that most of the student population would be excluded by that rule alone. He felt that his chances were more than average that he would be well in the running for the position of Champion.

'Blast, well, that means we're out, Markers and I, but you, Cedders! YOU could enter the tourney though.' Jamie's eyes were on fire beside him as he considered the possibilities.

'Yes, that's true, Diggs! You're the oldest, seventeen already. And you're smart. And brave. And a vewwwy powerful wizard!' Markus chimed in, laughing.

'But most of all, you're SOOOOOO handsome!' the two boys chorused and then collapsed in laughter as Cedric bashed them playfully.

'Idiots,' he thought laughingly, but he knew that their sentiments were sincere under all the mocking. Markus and Jamie; they were his band of brothers and they often referred to themselves as the Gleesome Threesome.

They righted themselves and stood up as Dumbledore dismissed the students and Markus winked at the two of them as he took the opportunity to approach Hannah Abbott. Cedric watched his progress with interest; he knew that Markus had been interested in Hannah since the previous year, but with their OWLs as their foremost priority he had elected to wait until sixth year to see what would happen. Cedric's eyes followed Markus as he joined Hannah and her friends and marvelled once again at how easily his friend could insinuate himself into various groups. He watched as Markus threw one arm around Hannah and the other around a younger Hufflepuff, whose name Cedric didn't know, and swept them both from the hall, the sound of their laughter lingering behind as Cedric and Jamie gave each other knowing looks. Markus was on the hunt – no lives would be spared!

TBC

========================