July 24, 1995

IN MEMORIAM: CEDRIC DIGGORY

While the Daily Prophet may be silent, I refuse. My name is Susan Diggory.

My son should be sitting across from me at the kitchen table right now, telling me excitedly about the transfigurations he will learn come September when he returns for his seventh year of Hogwarts. He should have spent the morning outside flying with his sister, Lucy, training for the upcoming Quidditch season. He should be welcoming his father home from work in an hour or two. But he is not here. I am alone at the table. Lucy spent the morning in her room journaling in an attempt to understand this horrific grief at only fifteen. His father will return from work and immediately go up to our bedroom. We have been eating every meal in our bedrooms; the sight of his empty chair at the proper dining table is too much to take.

One month ago, on the evening of June 24, I hugged my son for what I did not realize — could not have known — was the last time. Seventeen years old, with bright eyes and a smile for everyone he met, Cedric, a Triwizard Tournament competitor, was a light to this world, and our home will forever be darkened by his absence.

His light should still be here.

His light was extinguished by Voldemort.

I know you do not believe me. I know you do not want to believe me. But the longer you doubt me, the stronger he will become.

I was an Auror for many years, retiring only to raise my family. I am re-joining the forces once Lucy returns to Hogwarts. Cedric was taken from us, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that nobody else suffers the way we have at the hands of Voldemort.

Not again.

In this matter, silence is cowardice with no guarantee of safety. The longer the Ministry is silent, the longer the wizarding population as a whole is silent, the stronger he will grow in secret. Your silence will not spare you in matters of life and death.

Lives are on the line. Yours. Mine. Your spouse's. My spouse's. Your daughter's. My daughter's. Your son's.

My son's.

Silence and denial will only make Voldemort stronger.

You may have noticed that I am no longer afraid to say his name.

I would rather face my fears with boldness than hesitance if it claims my life just the same.

I hope you make the same choice.

🩵💛❤️

LUCY:

I was downstairs buttering a slice of toast for dinner when someone knocked on the door.

I froze. Nobody had come to the door since Cedric's funeral. I set the knife down and hurried upstairs to where Mum was staring at a picture on the wall. I made a point of looking only at her — I knew the picture was of Cedric teaching me to fly.

"Er, Mum," I stammered. "Someone's at the door."

She didn't look as alarmed as I expected she'd be. She didn't even look away from the picture. "I told her how to bypass the protective enchantments. You can answer it. She's here to talk to you, after all."

I blinked. "Who?"

Mum turned to me for the first time. "When I went to the Ministry to demand my piece about your brother be published, I bumped into an old friend. She asked specifically how you were doing, and I would trust her with my life, so I said she could talk to you herself. She lost a brother in the war, and I'm sure she'll be able to help you process your emotions. You can wander in the forest as long as you don't wander too far, if you'd rather not have your parents overhearing."

"Alright," I said, my cheeks already flushing at the thought. I rubbed the back of my neck. "Do you want to talk to her now, or — "

"You can talk to her first," Mum insisted. "Do you have your wand with you, just in case?"

I nodded. I had gotten in the habit of carrying it with me everywhere I went, tucked into my bra like it had been for Quidditch matches.

"Now go ahead, I'll see you in a bit. This will be good for you."

I nodded and hurried down the stairs.

"Coming!" I called, skidding to a stop in front of the door. I took a deep breath before opening it. "Sorry I took so long," I said apologetically. "We haven't had company since the beginning of the month. I needed to make sure you weren't — well — you know."

The woman, smiling, nodded. "I completely understand. I'm not the Dark Lord." She extended a hand. "Rose. And you must be Lucy?"

I shook her hand and nodded back. "I am. My mum explained — well, I know why you're here. I'm allowed to go to the forest as long as I don't wander too far."

"Let's go, then," Rose said, gesturing for me to follow her.

I shut the door behind me quietly, hesitating just a moment. Something felt off. But I couldn't place a finger on what exactly it was.

Was it the fact that I hadn't heard from a single soul since the funeral? No letters. No newspapers, save the one Mum brought hot off the presses. Not even diary messages from Harry.

Harry. Thinking of him hurt. I wrote to him every single day, yet I hadn't received one word in reply. I tried sending letters to Hermione and Ron, asking if Harry was okay, but I never heard back from them, either.

Was it the nightmares? I'd been having the worst dreams imaginable, trying to wrap my head around what had happened in the graveyard. On the night of the 24th, I had the recurring nightmare again. Drowning. Alone at the bottom of the Black Lake. No Cedric coming to save me.

The nightmare that had come true in nearly every way.

Or maybe it was all of these combined. The uneasiness of the month was putting me on high alert.

Stop overreacting, I told myself. If Mum trusts her, that should be good enough for you.

You thought the same about Professor Moody, and look how that turned out, a voice in the back of my mind reminded me.

That was different, my more sensible side snapped back.

"Everything alright, Lucy?" Rose called.

I turned around and nodded. "Sorry. Just lost in thought."

"I understand, too well," she replied with a sad nod.

I fell into step with her, and we headed toward the forest. "To ease my mind, and I'm sorry if this seems rude, you're not a Death Eater disguised as a well-known Auror, are you?"

Rose's laugh was sudden and loud. I hadn't heard laughter in so long. "I am not." She showed me her right forearm. "See? No Dark Mark here."

I turned bright red and managed a small smile. "Thanks. Sorry to be so paranoid, I just — "

"You're Susan's girl through and through," Rose said, patting my shoulder. "I understand. Being the daughter of an Auror teaches you caution. Teaches you to protect yourself. Being the sister of one taught me the same, perhaps even more so when he died than I understood when he was alive."

I bit my lip, unable to find a reply. To say I was sorry wouldn't feel right. At the very least, it never felt right to receive it. So I merely nodded and continued walking in silence.

"That being said," she continued after a moment, "perhaps vulnerability isn't the worst crime. How are you feeling, Lucy? Really feeling?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Oh, of course you don't. I'm sorry. It's so hard to sift through all of the emotions. Let me see if I can help. Sad?"

"That much I know to be true," I replied with a weak laugh.

"Perfect! That's one. How about lonely?"

My chest hurt at the thought. Lonely without Cedric. Lonely without my friends. "That too."

"To take that one a step further, isolated?"

"Yes."

"Forgotten?"

I bit my lip. That was oddly specific.

My hand instinctively went for my bracelet from Harry. Was it even possible for him to forget me?

The feeling roared back, the unsettling pinch in the bottom of my stomach that suggested danger.

I undid the clasp and let the bracelet fall to the forest floor as we walked, and I was careful to step on it.

It pained me to do it. It wasn't because of how I felt toward Harry. I still loved him, fiercely. Even if he hadn't written me like we had promised. Even if he had forgotten me, somehow.

It was just a precaution. Because he surely knew I still loved him, since he had seen everything I had written. If I stopped writing, maybe he'd come to my rescue, somehow.

If something happened and someone went looking for me, I hoped they'd find the bracelet. If my gut feelings telling me to run weren't justified and nothing ended up happening, I could always grab the bracelet later.

"I hope I haven't been forgotten," I said finally. "Sometimes I feel that way, I guess."

She laughed again. "Sorry, that probably came out of nowhere. Let's move more generally. Are you angry?"

I crossed my arms over my midsection. "I try not to be. Anger never gets you anywhere in life."

Rose hesitated for a second. "Are you sure?"

I hesitated too. This conversation was not going at all how I expected. But what had I expected?

You're just being unfair to someone trying to help, I scolded myself. Get a grip.

"I try not to be," I said again. "But I suppose I feel angry sometimes."

"With whom? Anger is a very general emotion. Who receives the most of it?"

I blinked. "Er — I'm not sure. Again, I try not to — "

"Are you angry with the Ministry for allowing such a dangerous event to take place, maybe?"

My feet suddenly stuck to the forest floor. I looked up just as Rose turned around.

"Are you?"

I looked down at my shoes. "I..."

"You're allowed to say yes, Lucy," she said softly, coming closer to me. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. Barty Crouch pushed for it, remember? Cornelius Fudge allowed it, Dumbledore agreed to it. You're allowed to be angry with them, because their decisions took your brother away."

I couldn't find words to say in response before she spoke again.

"Are you angry with your father, maybe, for giving Cedric the idea in the first place?"

My head shot up, and I merely stared at her. She smiled.

"Is that also true?"

"How do you know — "

"I've known your family for years, Lucy. I was your mother's best friend in school, though I was in Hufflepuff and she was in Gryffindor. I was your father's friend, too. I know how he is. From what I've heard about Cedric, he doesn't seem the type to enter the tournament of his own volition."

"It was me," I choked out, too far beyond grief for tears. "My dad pressured him, sure, but I was the one who gave him the idea of doing it for himself and not for Dad and — and — "

"Ah..." she said thoughtfully. "Are you angry with yourself, Lucy?"

"Yes," I spat out, tightening my arms around my waist. "I blame myself for not talking him out of it. If anyone could have, it would be me. But I — I'm most angry with Voldemort. He's ultimately the one who — who killed — "

I suddenly felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Then, the world around us was bathed in a sickly green glow.

I whirled around. I looked up, through the trees.

The Dark Mark hung over our house.

I felt as if freezing water had been dumped over my head. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I couldn't move, either, at first.

But my werewolf senses were heightened. So I could hear the several twigs snapping in every direction, surrounding me completely.

I was trapped.

They wanted me too.

I knew I didn't have time to grab my wand out from its hiding place.

"I'm sorry, Harry," I whispered as I reached for it anyway.

The world around me went black before I could move my hands an inch further.