Chapter 22 : Georgiana
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Chapter 22: Georgiana
I’m in the Great Hall and a blue light illuminates everything. A petite girl (she looks like she must be in fourth) enters quietly and walks over to the Goblet of Fire. She is wearing some very old pyjamas and her hair is dripping wet. Obviously she just took a shower. Even in the blue light I see how absolutely pale she is. I look around and see what else I can spot and I see myself sitting in the shadows of the Hufflepuff table. This is last year, I know that now, which is pretty obvious by the neat state of my face.
“Cedric!” I yell as if expecting him to turn back and look at me. He obviously doesn’t.
Given the state of my face these days I am surprised I could once look so calm. I walk over to myself and stare him intently in the face. He is looking at the girl with a bit of confusion but I notice, even more longing. Like he is longing to know who she is, or longing for her to turn around and see him. He is trying to decide whether to stand up or not; whether to break the spell this girl has on him or not. He doesn’t, but just stares intently at her hair, her face and body.
“Stupid Goblet of Fire,” she suddenly says.
“I don’t see what’s so wrong about it,” he says.
I feel movement in my throat. Like it is remembering saying those words.
Suddenly I notice that the girl is very aware of wearing the old pyjamas and I can’t help but smile. My earlier self notices this too, but says nothing.
“Cedric Diggory,” he says, extending towards her our hand.
The girl hesitates before taking our hand.
“I’m pretty sure my name starts with a ‘G’,” she says.
We both smile sadly at her answer. We have enough of this everyday. We don’t need it coming from a girl we, or at least he, is so obviously into.
“That’s what people call me, actually,” she says and we both lighten up, “Gee.”
“Gee?” he asks. A smile has drawn itself ever so slightly in his eyes.
“Cedric,” she answers him right back, hardly noticing that they haven’t let go of the other one’s hand. When they finally do I feel the air turn unbearably cold around my fingers. And now they stand side by side staring at the Goblet.
“What is so wrong about it, anyway?” he asks suddenly.
“I- I don’t know,” she says, “I guess I’m worried about what it might do to people.”
Ha! Tell me about it.
“I take it that you aren’t going to put your name in, then,” he says.
I smile at the faint sound of worry in our question. I was actually wondering the same thing right now, wishing she wouldn’t.
“I’m in fourth,” she says.
“Oh, good,” we both say.
“Good?” she asks.
“Yes, well,” he stammers, “I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Our honesty surprises me and I feel a pang in my chest when I realize that every word he is saying is exactly what I think. I would hate to see this girl get hurt.
“I-I,” he says clumsily all of a sudden, “are you going to be here much longer?”
“Just going to bed, actually,” she says.
“Come on,” he says, “I’ll get you on your way.”
I wait a little for them to leave and then I start walking behind them. If I had any doubt about who this girl was, it is gone now. There’s no mistaking those curls.
“I’ll see you around, Gee,” he says when they part at the top of the stairs, “hopefully.”
I follow him. He turns a corner quickly and then leans back on the wall. He smiles widely and sighs, then lets out a little laugh.
“I’ll be damned,” he says with the smile still plastered in his face.
The world around me starts to evaporate and in a second I am standing next to Snape, looking down at the Pensieve.
“What the hell was that?” I ask him suddenly.
“That, Mr. Diggory,” he says slowly, “was Georgiana Elizabeth Quested.”
I frown at the name, trying to remember it.
Am I being too honest saying that I am scared? Because honestly, I am terrified. I’ve lived another man’s life in the last couple of weeks. Snape has limited my viewing of memories to one per day fearing that they might make me queasy or, in his own words, stupider than I already am. I think that what that means is that he doesn’t want me to just burst into Dumbledore’s office and kill him or out to the Forbidden Forest to apparate in this girl’s house.
And now I’m terrified. I have seen us making out many, many times in the last couple of weeks but I know this is serious. I think I even sort of remember the feeling of her naked skin under mine. Calm down, Ced. For the love of Merlin, calm down. There are parts of these memories that I actually do remember. Those where I am alone. Like sitting alone in front of the lake at the Yule Ball or what I was looking at a couple of minutes ago: me sitting on the Gryffindor table, clutching my head in my hands, shaking my knees compulsively. It’s what comes after that I don’t remember. From the minute that the tiny pale hand places itself on my shoulder.
I am telling Georgiana, or Georgie as the other Cedric calls her, about this dream I actually remember having. About the cemetery, actually.
“I just can’t get the voice out of my head,” the other Cedric says.
“What voice?” Georgiana asks him, also sitting atop the table and facing him.
“It just –” he stammers, “It kept saying ‘This is the last time she’ll be in your arms’, ‘This is the last time she’ll be here with you’, ‘You won’t see her after tomorrow’, ‘You won’t kiss her after tomorrow’, ‘This is it’.”
“That’s not true,” she says. I don’t know whether she is trying to convince him or herself, “That’s not true, Ced. You – you’ll come back tomorrow and you will graduate, and then so will I, and we will get married, in October, like you wanted, and we’ll get a house, and children – ” Her voice breaks
He grabs her by the neck and pulled her closer to him, kissing her on the forehead.
“I just don’t know,” he says into her head.
“You have to,” she whispers into his chest, “You can’t let me live without you.”
Suddenly the feeling of dread comes back to me, as she lifts her face a little and they start kissing like maniacs. They are kissing harder than I have ever seen them kiss before, with desperation on both sides. He, I know, is sure that this is the last time. She sure looks like she’s thinking the same thing. She begins to gasp for breath and as I see the other Cedric get aroused I begin to feel excitement crawl up my back. She wraps her legs and arms around his body and his hands travel down her shirt and stop on top of her breasts. I feel the warmth of her skin on my own hands. They are becoming more vivid, the memories. At first, like in the one of the day we met, I could only see. As time passed I began to feel. Feel a tingle on my lips whenever I see them kiss. This one, however, is the clearest one yet. Snape tells me that I gave him one about all that happened in the clearing the night of the Third Task. Even he is afraid of letting me see that one.
“Please,” he whispers, “Please let me be with you.”
She seems to hesitate a little bit and he takes the silence as an acceptance.
“We can’t,” she blurts out and Cedric’s eyes close in disappointment. Even I feel his disappointment.
“No,” she says quickly, “I mean, not here. People eat here. Don’t you think it’s gross?”
His lips part into a wide smile and he removes his body from hers. I smile at his happiness. So this is it. I am about to see myself lose my virginity to this girl that I supposedly love. Or, rather, I already lost my virginity to a girl that I supposedly love and I have no recollection of it. I must remember to write a note to Professor Dumbledore and thank him for ruining what must have been the highlight of my teenage years.
He leads her to the Room of Requirement and steps before the door three times. He lets her in and I walk in behind them. I see her examine the bed and then turn to him. I am terrified, considering that I am feeling both my fear and Cedric’s.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks her from the door.
“I am determined.”
For a second I consider how sick this must be. Looking at myself having sex with this girl. I need to go. I need to get out of here and give them some privacy, but I know that his memory will only allow me to go so far. Instead, I decide to sit on one of the chairs in the room and just not watch. I sit facing the fire and close my eyes. What happens then startles me. I am looking through his eyes.
I walk insecurely to where she is and untie the pink ribbon that keeps her green pyjama shorts from falling. She is standing in just her shirt and some pink lace boyshorts I find myself really liking. She slides my shirt off my body and I feel her cold fingers on my skin. She looks at my chest and swallows hard. I smile so widely that the corners of my lips hurt a little bit. I move my hands to her neck and kiss her slowly. It is the first time that I have actually felt her this close – this real. It is almost like I am the one living and not the other Cedric.
I take a step to her right and sit down on the bed. She caresses my cheek with her hand and I close my eyes. She is here. She is real and so am I. I slide back a little and she sits on my lap. I finally get to kiss her again with more force than before. I massage her thighs and she slides her hands down my chest until she reaches the lowest part of my stomach. I gasp into her lips and she smiles.
Though I feel a little embarrassed by my evident display of pleasure, I take her in my arms and make her lie down on the bed. I slide my hands inside her shirt and cup her breasts. She gasps as I caress them softly and I relish the feeling of the soft skin under my fingers. Suddenly she decides to stand and she positions on top of me again and I watch as she takes off her shirt. Merlin. I bite my lips and she smirks. I pull her close and trace her back with my fingertips. When I make her lie down again and I trace my tongue down her abdomen she whispers.
“Wait,” I say standing up, “I just need to get a – you know. Just wait.”
I leave the bed to get ready. Once I am, I take a second to breathe deeply. I turn back to the bed and see her lying with her eyes closed, only in her panties. And I stare. It is very impolite and I know that, but I can’t help but stare. I can’t say that I feel the same love for her that the other Cedric does, because I hardly know her. But every one of my emotions right now sure feels like love. When I know I am completely ready I get back on the bed and position myself on top of her. She opens her eyes, I kiss her, and she nods her approval.
Then I make love to her.
A little later I finally get to see that back I dreamt of a month and a half ago. I am panting, lying on my back, when she incorporates, pulls her knees to her chest and reaches up to undo her ponytail. There it is.
She lies back down and I pull her closer. She kisses me. After I tell her that I need a little time to catch my breath she lies straight to my face.
“We have time.”
I open my eyes again and watch the scene from afar, sitting on my chair. I sigh heavily and try to tear myself away from myself. If only to try and decide whether I love this girl I just made love to.
Why did I give Snape this memory? I don’t need to be reminded of this. Not now, nor ever. I need to get out.
“I want to get out!” I roar at the skies, though I know it is useless.
The range of the memory, however, is pretty limited, and after a while I have to follow him. I’ve been through hell already and we only just got into the maze. She lied to me. Georgiana lied to me. The bitch knew all along. She knew what would happen – what will happen to me in the maze and she didn’t try to stop me. Sure, she made me train and about half an hour ago she told me that she tried really hard to stop me, but she didn’t. She allowed me to go on – or, rather, she tried to stop me without really telling me what was waiting for me. She lied, if anything, by bloody omission.
And she is the reason that Cedric is fighting so hard. She is the reason we ran. Though Cedric runs, I only walk. I can see the blue glow in the distance and Harry is running beside us. In a second I will fall. Yep, there it is. And now Harry will help me. Again, there it is.
“We’ll both take it!” Harry yells at me as the maze closes around us. I close my eyes to see inside Cedric’s mind. He now knows what will happen in the cemetery and wont let it happen to Harry alone.
“On count of three,” my voice says. And on three we are gone.
We fall hard on the cemetery. Though I know it by now, through my own memories, like the back of my hand, I still look around. Harry tells Cedric that he has been there before, in a dream. I smirk. Suddenly Harry starts screaming and turning to my right I see a small, fat man walking over to us carrying a lump that looks like a baby.
“Kill the spare,” the baby says. I close my eyes to get into Cedric’s mind.
This is the moment Georgiana warned me about. As Peter Pettigrew raises his wand I break into a mad run and hide behind a tombstone. I hear the lump, which now I know is Voldemort, laugh feebly and say ‘coward’. Which is what I am.
“Shall I chase him, my Lord?” asks Pettigrew.
“He will come back on his own accord, Wormtail,” answers Voldemort.
Then I stand up and run, leaving Harry behind to dwell on his fate. I run until my legs hurt and I find myself in the garden of a large house, a mansion, actually. Once there I take refuge behind a thick tree and break into sobs. I try to walk away from Cedric, but he is practically screaming his thoughts and I can perceive them all.
“I’m a coward,” he is thinking, “I left him to die. I left him to die. I left him to die.”
He sobs in silence for perhaps five minutes during which he is reviving everything Georgiana told him. Right now he remembers her more fondly than I ever could. I hate her right now. When he manages to control his sobs he cleans his tears and looks up at the stars. He wonders if she is doing the same thing. He closes his eyes in pain and sighs.
“I’m sorry, Georgie,” he says to the skies and stands up, starting a mild run back to the cemetery. I follow.
“My Lord,” one of the Death Eaters says when he sees Cedric coming towards them. By now they have all arrived, Harry is pressed against a tall statue and is bleeding; Voldemort, his impressive form, is standing to his full height. We both start to shiver with horror. “He is back.”
“Kill him,” Voldemort says calmly and turns back to Harry.
“NEVER KILL THE MESSENGER!” Cedric roars suddenly and the many wands that had been aimed at his chest lower themselves.
“What was that?” asks Voldemort turning back to face him. Cedric shoots Harry a quick reassuring look. I remember shooting him that look.
“Who will tell them all that Potter is dead?” Cedric asks almost with disgust, “Who will be the evidence?”
Voldemort smiles and claps his hands.
“He is smart, this one,” he says, “Let us have a look.”
I feel a terrible pressure on my head and I know that he is reading Cedric’s thoughts. I remember trying to think of cruel things – of playing the victim once at Hogwarts, crying and telling all the story of how Harry died. The pressure comes to a sudden halt and Voldemort claps again. He takes a step towards Cedric and I remember fighting hard not to take a step backward.
“Handsome, isn’t he?” he asks placing a stone-cold finger on Cedric’s cheek.
“Very well, my boy,” he says, “I will not kill my messenger.”
“But I can’t let him leave intact,” Voldemort adds with a quick smile.
In a second the finger in Cedric’s face is replaced by the wand, which travels down his cheek as fast as a knife and cuts him deeply. That’s how I got my scar.
“Lucius,” Voldemort says as Cedric and I scream, “Take care of that, won’t you?”
“Yes, my Lord,” a blond man agrees. I know him. He works in the Ministry.
“Take as many as you want,” Voldemort concludes and turns back to Harry.
I begin to shake madly with dread, even if I am not the one who is about to be tortured. As soon as Voldemort’s back is fully turned exactly eleven wands turn on us. Cedric and I both fall to the ground screaming, crying and panting as the many Crucios hit us. The pain is as terrible as the time I actually was tortured. Suddenly they all stop and the blond man walks over to him to evaluate the damages.
“One to the side,” he says nonchalantly, “And I think that we can break the ribs.”
A second Death Eater points his wand at my side and hits me with a silent curse. I feel my ribs break and scream until I feel my throat is breaking apart. The Death Eaters laugh at our pain. Though I know that I won’t literally be hurt by their curses, the memory of it all is enough to make me scream all over again. The same thing that they did to my ribs they do again to my knees and my foot. After the curses come to a sudden stop I try to crawl in order to stand up. By now I have a plan.
Harry is now standing in front of Voldemort, expecting the killing curse meant to finish him off. As Voldemort raises his wand, Harry raises his.
“Avada Kedabra!” Voldemort yells.
“Expelliarmus!” Harry yells.
Honestly, Harry, ‘Expelliarmus’? They’re trying to kill you here!
The sense of wonder that I experienced the first time overwhelms me as I see their curses hit each other and fixing them to their spots. For several seconds they are locked in each other’s spells. Suddenly, from Voldemort’s wand emerge several ghostly figures, two of which I recognise from pictures in Hogwarts: Harry’s parents, who tell him to run.
I take the opportunity of the distraction to try and get up. My foot hurts like mad, and it doesn’t help that the second I manage to incorporate one of the Death Eaters throws himself at me and claws my legs. I feel the nails digging deep into my skin and making it bleed. Somehow I shake the Death Eater off, and run towards Harry as he breaks the connection. As soon as I feel Harry’s hand on my arm I summon the portkey.
“Sectumsempra!” is the last thing I hear before the curse hits me and we vanish.
The last couple minutes of the memory go by in complete agony. Though my chest is not the one torn open, I can feel it. In the darkness I remember voices moving around me; Georgiana asking me what they did to me between sobs. And then, in the last clear moment of all the pain, I try to say out loud the reason I allowed all this to happen.
“I came back to you,”
Instead, only a trembling “I –” comes out of my throat.
“She left me!” I scream at Snape a week later, after seeing the last memory I have of her. I was lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing and she promised to be there when I woke up. He asked me not to jump to any conclusions before watching this last one memory. Well, I have, “She lied to me and she left me!”
“Mr. Diggory, she didn’t leave you,” Snape offers.
I open my arms wide and look all around me.
“I’m sorry,” I say ironically, “Do you see her anywhere?”
“Mr. Diggory, there’s still one more thing,” Snape practically begs me.
“You know what, I don’t fucking care,” I yell.
“The bitch left me!” I scream.
Snape, for once, remains silent. I pick up my bag and am about to leave when I remember something. I turn back to Snape and outstretch my right hand.
“Give me November 21st,” I say.
“Mr. Diggory,” Snape warns me.
“They are my memories!” I yell, “Now give me November 21st!”
Snape reaches into the cabinet and takes out a bottle marked with the date I instructed him. I grasp it safely in my hand and leave the dungeon.
November 21st is my favourite memory. I don’t know what the bitch feels about the rest of the memories, but I can’t live without November 21st. I hate her. I hate her to the death. I don’t know if that other Cedric loves her still and is asleep inside of me, but I hate her. She left me. Oh no, wait. She lied to me for almost a year, she let me put my name in that stupid Goblet, she made that other Cedric fall in love with her and then she left me. She didn’t leave that other Cedric with the unbroken face and the stupid dreams of marrying her. Oh no, she left the broken Cedric: the fucking Cedric that needed her so badly. Plus, what’s the deal? Couldn’t she have just, like, left a note or something? ‘Hi Cedric, Georgiana here. Look, I was just passing by your common room and I decided to drop this note to tell you that if you try to get into the TriWizard Tournament you will die. Okay, bye now. See you at dinner. By the way, might I borrow your Divination book?’ Was that so fucking hard? Bitch.
Without really realizing how I got here, I suddenly find myself in front of the Room of Requirement.
“I need a place with a Pensieve,” I think deeply and then step three times before the door. Sure enough, when I enter, there it is, an old, broken Pensieve.
I drop the memory in almost angrily and quickly put my head in the water. In a second I’m gone.
She looks beautiful. It must have been a Saturday or a Sunday, for she is wearing her normal clothes: a striped, strapped blue shirt with tulle flowers on the cleavage and a dark blue sweater. She doesn’t know either of us is here. We’re in the library. The other Cedric is looking at her from a far away table. I have changed that and am sitting in the same table as she is, staring deeply at her face. This is how I discovered that she is a muggle. She has one of those muggle devices that plays music and, though they are hidden by her hair, I manage to see the white headphones.
As far as I am concerned, I only like her in this memory. Because she doesn’t know that she is being watched, Georgiana is herself in this one. Every move she makes, like changing songs, writing in a piece of parchment, biting her lip, everything, she does because of herself. In the other memories she moves around Cedric just as Cedric moves around her. They arrange their bodies to fit each other and they measure their words. This Georgiana, however, is just that. Georgiana. She’s not Georgiana and Cedric. She’s just Georgiana. I love her in this memory for who she is, even if back then she was already being a liar.
What I mean is that she is not really lying in this one. I know I sound like a completely ungrateful, bitter bastard, but that is the truth. This is probably the only one of the memories in which I know that she is not lying to anyone. Does that make any sense? She is a fantastic liar, this one. I wish at least I could know the way I reacted following the revelation of the lie, but I was stupid enough not to give Snape the memory of my reacting to her leaving. For all I care I decided that I was better off without her. At least in these few minutes of November 21st she isn’t lying.
If I could, I would love her. If I could see into her mind or her soul – into the soul of the girl that he came to love, I think I could love her. But she is not here, and I don’t know where she is. And maybe all this rambling and hating her have to do with me being afraid of loving her. The Georgiana I have come to know, since I cannot feel things anymore in the way that Cedric once did (blame it on her or blame it on that night in the cemetery), is only a liar. Perhaps he could forgive her for lying and leaving. But I? My heart, I think, is much too hard these days to forget.
I have come up with a plan. Stupid little plan. If I could somehow get to know Georgiana not like I perceived her, and not as that other Cedric perceived her (you know, completely blinded by her love and in complete ignorance of reality), I might actually get to like her a little better. Which is how my stupid little plan came to be.
“Tom,” I ask him as we walk to the Quidditch pitch.
“What?” he asks.
“What did you… how did you… did you…” I stammer like an idiot.
“What did you think of Georgiana?” I finally blurt out.
“What Georgiana?” he asks, “your Georgiana?”
I hesitate for a second.
“Yeah,” I answer reluctantly, “my Georgiana.”
Tom makes a tiny pause.
“She was cool,” he finally says.
“Cool how?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says slowly furrowing his eyebrows, “just cool.”
We walk in silence perhaps a quarter of the way until he finally speaks.
“You should have seen the way you looked at her,” he says.
I smile. I mean, I have seen the way I looked at her.
“I can imagine,” I say.
“No, dude, you can’t,” he says simply.
“Look, Tom, I was there, okay?” I say a little angrily, “I think I know the way I looked at her.”
“Oh yeah?” asks Tom stopping suddenly and looking defiantly at me, “Describe it.”
“What?” I ask, “I can’t bloody describe it. I mean… It was just puppy love. I looked at her like you look at someone you want to kiss or you think you love.”
“No you didn’t,” he says.
“Oh, then how did I look at her, Tom?” I say angrily, “Illustrate me.”
Tom shakes his head a little bit with obvious disapproval and starts to walk again. I follow him. We can already see the hoops in the field when he suddenly answers my question.
“You looked at her… like you knew that she was it.”
I stop suddenly.
“Well, I mean, I think I thought she was the one, Tom,” I tell him, “I bloody proposed to her.”
“You proposed to her?” Tom asks. Oh, that’s right, I hadn’t told anyone.
“Blimey,” is what Tom says. I snicker a little, laughing more at myself and my stupidity than at Tom’s confused look.
“That’s not what I meant, though,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
He starts walking again.
“I mean – well, it probably looks different from the outside, you know?”
“That’s why I want to know, Tom!” I practically beg him.
He seems to consider it a little longer and finally stops in front of our hoops and looks straight at me.
“You know that song ‘Bittersweet Symphony’?” he asks.
Uh, what the hell does that song have to do with anything?
“Yeah,” I say, “Why –”
“You remember that line ‘and I’m a million different people from one day to the next’?” he asks.
“Well, yeah,” I say.
“Well, that was it,” Tom says throwing his arms up in the air like he just said the most obvious thing under the sun.
“What’s it?” I ask.
“Well, dude, like…” he starts, sighs, and resumes, “Like, when you were with her you were not a million different people from one day to the next. You were just you.”
I consider this for a minute.
“And she was just her,” he concludes before mounting his broom and flying to the hoops.
Just her? She was just her? Oh God, she was. She was just her. All those times she kissed me and everything were not just about her kissing Cedric Diggory. It was all about her kissing me. Just me. And just her. Oh God. Oh God.
“Tom?” I call up.
“What?” he calls down.
“I have to go!” I yell.
“Sure, dude,” he says. Though he is very far from where I’m standing I can tell that he is looking at me as though he knows.
I smile up at him. Bloody Tom. Then I break into a frantic run back to the castle.
“Professor Snape!” I roar banging on his door, “Professor Snape!”
“WHAT, Mr. Diggory?” he finally answers the door.
“You said there was one more thing,” I pant.
Snape rolls his eyes at me and leaves the door open so that I might go in.
“Bloody teenagers with their bloody mood swings,” he mumbles.
I agree, let me tell you.
“Sit,” he says harshly.
“She wrote you a letter,” he says.
“A letter?” I ask, “To me?”
He rolls his eyes again.
“No, Mr. Diggory. To the Minister,” he says.
“Sorry,” I answer.
He takes out a crumpled piece of parchment and offers it to me. When my fingers are about to close around the letter he withdraws it.
“Fifty points,” he says with a genuine smile, “will be taken from Hufflepuff.”
“Are you charging me for my letter?” I ask.
“No, Mr. Diggory,” he says, “But for your language last week and for wasting my time.”
Oh. Sounds fair. I nod and he hands me the letter.
Ced, the letter starts.
I haven’t much time.
“She loves me,” I say shutting my eyes after I finish reading it. When I open them again Snape is looking at me with a face that just says, ‘No kidding, you idiot’.
“So Dumbledore made her leave?” I ask.
“He did,” Snape says shuffling through a stack of papers.
I consider this in silence for a while.
“She loves me,” I say again.
Snape just rolls his eyes. I look all around the room and my feet begin to shuffle. I need to go.
“I need to find her,” I say standing up.
Snape shoots in my direction a bit of a panicked look.
“Mr. Diggory, sit down,” he says.
“No, Professor,” I say, “I need to find her.”
In a second I run to the door and bang it open. In another second I’m gone. I need to find her. I need to see Georgie in the eye and decide for myself. I need to see her. But where to go? Oh shit. Where to go?
“Professor Dumbledore!” I find myself roaring all of a sudden.
A group of second-years look at me as though I’m crazy, which I actually might be. What am I thinking roaring Dumbledore’s name in the middle of a crowded hallway? I give them an apologetic look and sprint towards Dumbledore’s office, roaring his name all the time.
“Professor Dumbledore!” I roar as I get to the spiral staircase. Too late have I realized that I do not know the password, “Professor Dumbledore!”
The spiral staircase starts moving and I move upwards.
“Professor Dumbledore!” I bang on the door.
“Mr. Diggory!” a tiny woman clad in pink opens the door for me, “What is the meaning of this?”
“I need the Headmaster, Professor Umbridge,” I tell her.
“Well, you can’t –”
“Professor Dumbledore!” I roar again.
“Let him in, please, Dolores,” Dumbledore’s voice comes from somewhere inside. Umbridge reluctantly moves aside and I walk in.
“Professor Dumbledore,” I pant.
“What is the meaning of this, Cedric?” Dumbledore asks.
“Mr. Diggory!” an angry voice suddenly comes from the door. I turn and see Snape.
I have to move fast.
“What have you done to her?” I yell in Dumbledore’s way. I hear Snape stop suddenly beside me and out of the corner of my eye I see Umbridge give me a startled look.
“Pardon, Mr. Diggory?” he asks.
“Georgiana,” I sigh simply, “What have you done to her?”
Dumbledore looks from me to Snape and then lets out a little sigh and a smile.
“Just as well, Severus,” he says, “Sometimes things just have to happen.”
I wince a little at this, remembering the cemetery. Dumbledore seems to read my mind.
“And Mr. Diggory here is living proof that sometimes they can be changed,” he adds with a wider smile.
“What?” Umbridge asks.
“I think that both Miss Georgiana and Mr. Diggory have proved the lengths to which they will go, don’t you agree, Severus?”
Snape snorts. I can practically hear him thinking ‘bloody teenagers’ again.
“I sent her home to Lewisham, Cedric,” Dumbledore says, “And though I know that you desire to see Miss Quested, I do believe that it is better that you don’t.”
I gape at him.
“But you just said –” I interrupt myself, “What about the whole lengths thing?” I roar.
“Cedric, my boy,” Dumbledore starts, “Georgiana is in a compromised position anywhere in our world. She knows too much.”
I start to open and close my mouth looking for something to say. I must look like a fish.
“I have consented to this behaviour for long enough but for her sake and yours I think it best that you stop. For her safety, Cedric.”
He smiles benevolently at me. He wants me to let go? My shoulders relax in defeat and I look sadly at him.
“I’m sorry, Dumbledore,” Umbridge says in her squeaky voice, “Are we talking about Georgiana Quested?”
I am startled at Umbridge knowing who Georgiana is. I stare pointedly at her and see a little smile drawing itself on her face. She licks her lips with expectation, like a cat that is close to tasting the cream.
“Because if you are,” Umbridge goes on, “I do believe that the Ministry could use her.”
My face drops. God knows what this woman is thinking of. I turn to Dumbledore and see the faintest trace of panic in his expression. All I can think of all of a sudden is the torture I endured last summer in that cemetery. She always looks so frail…
“Lewisham, you said?” Umbridge asks taking her wand out.
I look back to her, then to Snape and finally to Dumbledore.
“Dolores, I –” starts Dumbledore.
“She is only safe with me,” I find myself blurting out. All three faces focus on me. I nod like a madman, “She is only safe with me.”
Umbridge makes an attempt to say something and I seize the opportunity of her distraction to turn around briskly. She is close enough to me that I get to knock the wand out of her hand and kick it away from her in a move that looks like a complete accident. Then I break into a run.
I practically fly downstairs and through all the halls that lead me to the main entrance. When I am reaching the door I hear the squeaky voice behind me.
“Do not let him go!” Umbridge squeals.
I look frantically from right to left and see her brute squad, led by that Malfoy boy, descending the staircase. It’s not like I would be defeated by them, but I just haven’t got the time. I push the door open and burst out. I can hear the spells flying everywhere around me, but somehow none of them hit me. As I run I take off my cloak so that I am only running in the somewhat more comfortable shirt, vest and pants of the uniform. I can feel the brute squad at my heels and I can see the Forest just a little ahead of me. I am just past Hagrid’s hut.
“Alohomora!” I roar when I am close enough to the gates. I swear, Dumbledore should take better care of the security of this castle. Well, Umbridge might have something to do with not everything being as secure as Dumbledore would like.
The gate bursts open and I run out into the forest. In a split second I turn around and see them all, the squad, Umbridge (running freakishly fast), and even Filch chasing after me.
“Lewisham,” I start saying under my breath, like some sort of mantra or protective spell, “Lewisham, Lewisham, Lewisham!”
With my last roar I burst into a clearing in the forest and then, in a second, I feel the dizzying sensation and I know that I’m going. I’m gone.
So hello! I hope you liked it? *makes corny heart with hands* I'm sorry if there was a lot of talking in this one, but I felt like Cedric needed to think things over and stuff... just like Georgiana did for the previous twenty chapters. Tee hee hee. And, because I can't afford to spend twenty chapters on Ced, it had to be a bit hurried here. I'm sorry about that. In any case, I hope you liked it. And hopefully I'll upload soon.
Please remember to leave a comment and rate - I always love reading your comments. See you next time!
(Oh, and all the non-original characters belong to J.K. Rowling, of course.)
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by Ariane Aure