The Birds Still Sing

2 November 1999

It has been roughly four and a half years. That's 52.25 months; a little more than 227 weeks; 1,592 days; 38,209 hours; 2,292,540 minutes; 137,552,400 seconds, since everything changed. Not that Cedric Diggory was counting. Okay, maybe he was counting a little. But what else was there to do? The Wizarding World as everyone knew it, changed for the worse all that time ago. 

If someone had asked him all those years ago what he considered would have happened during the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, he would have shrugged and wished for the best. "May the best champion win," and all that fluffy shite. 

Cedric most definitely didn't plan for You-Know-Who to rise from the dead, using Harry Potter's body as a sick sort of meat puppet that night on the Quidditch pitch for the entire school and visitors to see. 

Nobody knew what to expect – Harry Potter could only be dead and You-Know-Who was back, there was no denying the dark wizard had been resurrected. Everyone in attendance was around to see the young Gryffindor come back to the Quidditch Pitch with vile red eyes, hissing in a language that only the giant snake at his feet seemed to understand. 

The Boy Who Lived had chuckled maniacally, shooting curses blindly before the man everyone thought was Mad-Eye Moody had apparated them away.

If one thing from that night truly haunted him, Cedric would say it was the echoing laughter. The Hufflepuff wizard had always seen Harry as down to earth, as if he never wanted the titles the Wizarding World granted him. When Harry had emerged from the labyrinth's hedges, the laughter had filled the pitch. Low and grating, the noxious euphoria coming from the boy felt suffocating. The noise didn't fit how Harry was as a person, physically and mentally. 

The Quidditch pitch had fallen silent in the wake of Harry's departure. The Hufflepuff wizard remembered his dad clutching at him while Molly and Arthur Weasley crowded around their brood. Hermione Granger openly wept while struggling with her hold on Ron Weasley as he attempted to scramble for the spot his friend once stood. 

Moody's classroom was searched and the real Auror was found, incapacitated. Dumbledore scrambled to assemble The Order of The Phoenix and hope felt hard to come by. 

In the days following the Final Task, there was a mass breakout at Azkaban and the Dark Lord began to build his army once more. Attacks began in earnest, starting with known blood traitors and muggleborn families.

Cedric had signed up for the fight, deciding to drop out before his NEWT year. His father begged him not to, but he couldn't find it in himself to not fight. Having a strong moral compass and sense of justice is what got him sorted into Hufflepuff to begin with. 

 The Hufflepuff wizard wasn't the only one who decided to enlist either. Many fellow members of the Circle of Khanna, joined the ranks of The Order as well. Cedric was most surprised by his fellow Triwizard champions agreeing to fight a war they could have easily ignored. 

Fleur had stayed to be near her significant other, a Hufflepuff four years older than him, named Nymphadora Tonks. Viktor had mentioned honoring his grandfather in the fight against blood supremacy one night when they passed a flask of firewhisky between each other after a mission. But Cedric had a feeling that Viktor needed to know Hermione Granger was going to be safe. A fat lot, that did him. 

Dumbledore fled his post as Headmaster to take on a bigger role in the war. He hid the Book of Admittance before those in The Dark Lord's ranks had poisoned their way into the school, You-Know-Who claimed the hallowed halls of Britain's only Wizarding school as his headquarters. 

Soon after, magical children flocked to any remotely safe location, and The Order was taking in children who had no business fighting. 

"Dumbledore was the Leader of the Light, he would protect them," everyone had thought. 

However, the old Headmaster wasn't as generous as everyone perceived him to be. Dumbledore held asylum over the heads of the Slytherin students whose parents had sought him out. Blaise Zabini was expected to gather information from his mother's unsavory husband du jour. Pansy Parkinson and her siblings were only allowed sanctuary because their father could provide medical support due to his role as a Floor Head at Saint Mungo's. Theodore Nott worked on breaking curses, and the sisters Greengrass were expected to offer monetary donations to the cause. 

It was exposed rather quickly that Dumbledore saw the children he failed as no more than pawns. He sent fifteen year olds out on scouting missions, only for them to come back bleeding and crying out for their parents. The loss of Harry had already led people to doubt the great wizard's motives. But the side of the Light hadn't known any other leader. And so, while Cedric's trust wavered in his old Headmaster, he still stayed with the Order. 

The following months were the toughest. They still were. There were more funerals for students younger than him, then there were weddings of his classmates. And he attended every single one of them, even if he had lost count after Colin Creevey's closed casket service. 

It was supposed to be a routine supply stock up for the Order's safehouses. Because of the nature of the assignment, a team of three was sent out. Claire Chang, Colin and Dennis Creevey volunteered for the task. 

By the fourth safehouse, something wasn't right. The trio agreed to send word at every safehouse. The Order went two hours and thirty seven minutes without news, until a bloodied up Claire had apparated the Creevey brothers back to headquarters. 

Dennis got away with a shattered arm and some scrapes. Claire stopped speaking, completely withdrawing into herself. Nobody knew how the trio lasted for so long. Neither could debrief without falling silent. But no matter how they survived, Colin was still dead, some of their safehouses were compromised and it was the first time Cedric had seen what the body looks like with boiled blood. 

Colin's funeral took place on a mild afternoon in early May, three years and a half prior. The sun was mocking the mourners, with its sudden appearance. The young Gryffindor would have loved the day, the lack of cloud cover would have been perfect to photograph. 

Members of the Order circled around a quaint graveyard down the hill from the deserted Wizarding village of Slievemore. 

Colin's father kneeled in front of the plot, clutching at his son's prized camera. Sobs had raked the Muggle man's body. Dennis sat beside him, his shoulders shaking awkwardly with one arm resting on his father's shoulder, and the other in a sling. 

Cedric stood over the grave long after the service. The Hufflepuff hung back as the sun had started to set, and even after the Creeveys left for the wake. Cedric didn't understand why he stayed behind, and he still couldn't. Perhaps it was because if he turned away, Colin's small body would be forgotten to time, like the old Wizarding village up the hill. Or perhaps it was the size of the coffin itself that had frozen him to the spot. Maybe it was the fact that he was laid to rest on what should have been his fifteenth birthday. 

Luna Lovegood was the one to find him hours later. 

"Isn't it ironic?" The Ravenclaw witch pondered as she looked across the horizon. 

Cedric had turned his head from the plot. He remembered not being able to bring himself to speak. 

"They still find time to sing." The girl hummed. Cedric had cocked an eyebrow. "Even with everything going on, the birds still sing. And they'll do it with or without you, Cedric. It's for the best if you sing with them." 

Luna's cryptic words sat with Cedric. They pushed him to attend every funeral no matter how desensitized he became to the constant mourning. 

It was after Lavender Brown's brutal mauling by the hands of one Fenrir Greyback, that many decided Dumbledore didn't care how he won the war. Many of his followers deserted the Order, choosing to stick out the war, and partake in a more passive form of warfare. Augusta and Neville Longbottom opened their doors to anyone who sought safety. The Longbottoms erected impenetrable wards around their manor and granted refuge to anyone, willing to fight or not. Their ancestral home had filled up quickly, rooms were spelled to accommodate more guests and still allow for privacy.

 The exodus The Order faced caused a fissure in its entire support system. Like in the first War, it was a sinking ship. The inhabitants of Longbottom Hall couldn't sit back while The Dark Lord claimed more power and Dumbledore tried to maintain absolute control. Those sequestered inside the Manor formed their own faction. Fleur aptly named them La Coalition des Magiciens, but they usually just called themselves The Coalition.

A few older wizards and witches banded together to form the Muggleborn Alliance. Dirk Cresswell, and his sister, Wren had spearheaded the formation shortly after the breakout at Azkaban. The MBA worked closely with the Groshk Autonomous Zone in Gringotts. The Goblin Nation residing in the Autonomous Zone was secretive and perfect for concealment. Those residing in the Groshk Autonomous Zone were underestimated by Magical folk, they worked to move Magical and Mundane families to safer parts of the world through the various bank locations. The Dark Lord would have never entertained the idea. 

 Cedric knew Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dean Thomas decided to work with the MBA, because it meant more protection for their muggle families. He remembered the broken hearts they left behind with Susan Bones and Seamus Finnegan. Not that the older Hufflepuff wizard blamed them for it. Duty to one's family always came before love in the face of war, that's how Cedric always saw it. 

The Coalition mainly worked to protect and house younger magical children from the horrors of a war not meant for them, shielding those who didn't wish to fight, and finding escape routes out of the country. Other members assisted the MBA and the more trustworthy members of The Order with scouting missions and supply runs. Those who were willing to leave their sanctuary learned to fight and protect, while others made sure the Manor was well equipped. It wasn't the best system, but Cedric found that it beat the secrets and disregard for human life that came with being one of Dumbledore's men.

Cedric stared out the window in his tiny bedroom at Longbottom Hall. It was more like a shoebox than a bedroom, gone was the four poster bed and instead was replaced by a metal framed daybed that he'd have to curl into to avoid hanging over the edge. A small dresser and wardrobe sat opposite of his bed, while a small desk was stationed next to the door. A lone Hufflepuff pennant hung next to the window that was settled between his bed and wardrobe.  

 There was something ominous about the thick gray clouds that hung over the horizon. His bedroom was bathed in a similar gray light despite it being early afternoon. It made the hair on the back of his neck rise. 

His fingers fumbled along the groves of the coin Hermione Granger had once charmed for everyone in the house. A nervous habit he picked up over the years since their creation. Cedric remembered how impressed he was in her work at the time, she had been sixteen and able to perform a successful Protean charm enmasse. It was because of the coin that he and the residents of Longbottom Hall had discovered the lifeless remains of her and her parents.

Two and one quarter years had passed since her murder and Cedric still couldn't forget the smell of ozone and the sight of purple flames that licked at anything they hadn't fully destroyed. The Dark Mark hung in the air taunting the scene below. Hermione's parents were mutilated, torn to shreds. The Gryffindor witch wasn't in a much better state, her wand was found snapped inches from her corpse. Her blood status was carved into her left forearm and the slur fought for dominance against the purple flames that rippled underneath her brown skin. 

When the war broke out in earnest, Dumbledore had refused to hide Hermione's parents. Cedric remembered the meeting where she stormed out in tears before diving into books about mind magic. She erased herself from their lives before casting protective spells around her childhood home.   

Her visit wasn't meant to be more than a quick inspection of the enchantments. She wasn't supposed to be gone for more than thirty minutes, promising that she could handle it alone. But when she hadn't updated the coins after six hours, Viktor had led the rescue party. The Bulgarian wizard appeared not even five minutes later covered in ash with haunted eyes. 

Cedric and Bill Weasley had followed him back to the Granger residence and from there, they buried Hermione and her parents with their other fallen comrades, under the verdant lawns of Longbottom Hall's sprawling property. If he squinted hard enough, Cedric could make out their tombstones. 

While Colin Creevey's death had caused desensitization, Hermione Granger's had caused rage in Cedric. The Gryffindor witch's death was entirely preventable. Hermione Granger was the type of witch the Light side was supposedly fighting for, One might have thought that her and her family's safety should have been guaranteed for being such a high profile muggle-born. The Dark side had dubbed her Potter's Mudblood, after all. And that's how they continued to refer to her even when she took a stand against him when The Dark Lord stole Potter's body. She could have easily cowered under the hatred Cedric's fellow purebloods had towards Muggleborns, but she stood tall in the face of adversity. Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor through and through. 

That was probably why her death was probably one of the hardest Cedric had experienced. She may not have been the last part of the Golden Trio to fall; Ron Weasley had tried to avenge her and Harry, only to die from Vincent Crabbe's wand, but Cedric was most affected by her demise. He felt nothing but rage towards the negligence that caused her death. And he wasn't the only one. It was her death that caused the largest splinter between the Order and the residents of Longbottom Hall.

As rain began to beat against the windows, Cedric twirled the coin in between his fingers. He absent-mindedly wondered how things could have been different. What would have happened if Harry lived past the Triwizard Tournament? Would the War have continued to have dragged on? How much longer would it have lasted? Was there even an end to the war? 

Cedric thought he'd seen everything by that point as he gazed across the now dead lawns of Longbottom Hall; the effects of blood freezing curses, torture in the streets of Diagon Alley, the fall of The Boy Who Lived. But nothing had prepared him for the phantom heat of the fake galleon charmed to relay messages. 

A sharp burst of heat spread between his middle and forefinger, startling him from the mindless fiddling. Nobody in the house had planned to leave the grounds that afternoon, all missions were finished and everyone inside was accounted for. 

The coin continued to burn as Cedric hurried over to his desk to place the heated metal down. He flicked his left wrist and his wand was in his hand to quickly tap the coin for its message. 

MoM is under attack. – HJG 

Cedric Diggory was thoroughly confused by two things the message relayed on the coin. 

While it was known that the Ministry of Magic was weakened by The Dark Lord's sycophants, it remained relatively neutral ground for most purebloods and the occasional half-blood. Well as neutral as one location can be as if it were a powder keg waiting to burst. If he remembered Granger's random Muggle history lessons, she would have said that The Ministry of Magic was similar to The Balkan Peninsula prior to World War I. 

The next thing that confused him were the initials following the message. Only one person who used the coins had those initials, and he had been there when they buried her.

It felt like some sort of sick joke. Cedric gripped the coin as he rushed out of his bedroom. He ran down the long hall of almost identical shoebox rooms where his comrades called home. Everyone on the floor was moving in a flurry of activity, their coins having a similar reaction to his. The Hufflepuff wizard collided with another body, causing him to stumble backwards. 

Neville Longbottom stood in front of him, grimacing from the impact of running into each other. 

"I reckon you got the message too?" The younger wizard asked as he subconsciously rubbed the spot Cedric's shoulder hit his sternum. 

"I did." Cedric confirmed before raising his voice for everyone around them to hear. "We should meet to discuss our next course of action. Will somebody send word to Gringotts? Tonks will want to be present for this." 

There was a chorus of assent and everyone in the hallway bustled about to tell the other inhabitants of the Manor. The coin burned in Cedric's hand and a collective hiss was heard around him. 

Does anyone copy? – HJG 

The new message seemed to send everyone into double time, and soon all of Longbottom Hall's inhabitants were squished into the formal dining room. 

Tonks stepped forward, their usual sunny disposition was missing. 

"I'm not sure what to make of these messages, I just received word from the Ministry and it was as it always was…" Tonks' brow furrowed, they clutched the chair in front of them tightly. 

"But what about the fact that the messages have Hermione Granger's initial code?" Badeea Ali spoke up, the Muslim witch had been the most excited when the charmed coins were created, always having a love for learning new magic. "You know as well as I do, her coin was buried with her." 

"And it's not like someone could plan an afternoon of grave robbery." Pansy Parkinson scoffed. "The Vulture would have been alerted to any breaches in the wards." 

Augusta Longbottom snorted at the nickname her grandson's former-tormentor-turned-girlfriend gave her, everyone knew how severe the formidable old witch was. But Pansy never seemed to cow when Augusta was involved. 

Pansy's younger brother reached over and smacked her shoulder for her lack of tact. The Slytherin witch crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her brother. 

"Right. So." Cedric cleared his throat as he eyed the Lady of the House. "We can cross any breaches off, correct?" The stern witch nodded solemnly. 

It was at that moment another message came through to the coins.

Prof. Croaker in danger. – HJG 

Cedric could feel pressure building behind his eyes. All the confusion was getting to him. He clutched the cooling coin in a fist as he massaged his temples to alleviate some of the stress. The coin burned his palm, causing an undignified yelp to escape. 

Helped me escape. – HJG 

Was followed by:

Unspeakable Cresswell ment – HJG 

The room was silent as its inhabitants waited for the next response. 

Mentioned Gringotts? – HJG 

Damn this character limit. – HJG 

Badeea nervously chuckled at that, Cedric knew how much she wanted to tweak the spell to allow for more to be said. 

Was followed by: 

Hiding in Mundane London. – HJG 

The final message was: 

Being tailed. Please advise. – HJG  

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices. Theodore Nott shouted about how whoever was parading around with Hermione Granger's initial code shouldn't be trusted. Terry Boot cried that they were better than that, better than turning their backs on someone who needed help. 

"Enough!" Fleur Delacour spoke for the first time since the meeting began, her thrall brought everyone's attention to her. "We are a democracy, non? We will vote for our next move." 

The room's occupants had the decency to look abashed. 

Fleur straightened at that before clearing her throat, her French accent became more pronounced the more stressed she was. "All in favor of reaching out to the mystery person, raise your hand." 

Fleur raised her hand as she finished speaking. It was quite interesting to have seen the blonde witch step into a leading position. Besides Tonks and the members of the Circle of Khanna, Cedric, Fleur and Viktor were the next oldest in the house. Of course Augusta ran the household and Professor Lupin and a few trusted Order members stopped in to check on them, but it still seemed they were all too young for everything they've gone through. 

Viktor raised his hand after Fleur, followed by Badeea, Neville, Susan Bones, Barnaby Lee, the remaining Weasleys, Atticus and Aster Parkinson, and surprisingly, Blaise Zabini. Cedric raised his hand with them, he never liked turning away someone in need, even if the whole situation is suspicious. 

"And those who oppose?" Fleur asked. 

Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, raised her hand, along with a majority of the other Slytherins. A few others joined in the dissent. But most actually refused to vote. 

"Those in favor have the vote." Augusta spoke from her place at the head of the table. Theodore scoffed. 

Neville quickly snatched his coin from where he dropped it during the spam of messages and tapped it with his wand before anyone could decide the next plan. 

"Please send coordinates." Neville spoke to the coin. 

The room was silent as the Gryffindor wizard's foolhardy actions stunned them. Normally Neville was the more level-headed among the pride of Lions, so nobody expected him to reach out before a plan could be formed. Cedric watched as Neville sent a glare at everyone in the room, daring them to call him out. 

A great ball of light burst from the ceiling before it dropped to the center of the table. A spectral otter unraveled itself from a ball before turning its head to look at Neville. 

"Thank Merlin, someone still carries their DA coins! Although, I'm not quite sure why it took you so long to reply. The coordinates are 51.5848° N, 0.0512° W. I am currently hiding near the Copper Mill. Snuffles is keeping me company…" The Patronus spoke in a voice Cedric hadn't heard in two and a quarter years. The little otter repeated its message twice more before diving into the table and disappearing. 

"Was that…" Anthony Goldstein's voice trailed off. 

"Hermione Granger's voice and Patronus?" Ginny Weasley supplied, "yes. It was." 

"Does anyone know where those coordinates are?" Neville huffed, ignoring the stunned faces surrounding him. 

The room erupted into an explosion of noise. It was hard for Cedric to catch everything being shouted across the formal dining table. 

Gabrielle Delacour's lilting French cadence broke through the commotion, her accent thicker than her older sister's. "How dare you choose our next move for us! You might have just signed all of our death certificates!" The part-veela shrieked at their host. 

"Gabrielle Yvonne Delacour!" Fleur hissed. 

"Tu prends vraiment le parti du Bâtard?" The younger witch demanded. 

"Hold on there, Gabby. Neville hasn't actually done anything to put us in any danger." Tonks held up their hands in a placating manner, as they tried calming their girlfriend's younger sister. The metamorphmagus' hair subconsciously turned to a vibrant orange with their stress. "While he did not allow for us to make a plan before reaching out, name calling will not change what has been done…" 

"You cannot be serious!" The thirteen year old cried out. 

Neville blinked before a sneer marred his usually friendly face. "You forget your place, Delacour. This is my home, the Longbottoms truly do have final say. Hermione was my first friend. So… If there is some chance she is alive… I'm going to take it." 

"Oh that is rich." Theodore scoffed. "Lording your family name over us, now are you? What happened to democracy? That way of thinking is no better than Dumbledore's, Longbottom. What's next? Are you going to send twelve year olds to fight your battles?" 

Pansy Parkinson, who sat next to Neville, stood abruptly before launching herself across the formal dining table at her cousin. 

"How dare you, Theodore!" The Slytherin witch wailed. Atticus and Neville pulled her back before she could sink her nails into his face. The petite girl's arms flailed as she screeched for freedom against Neville's hold on her middle. 

Cedric, who was standing three seats to the right of Neville, watched on with a furrowed brow. Pansy finally settled back down in her seat, her purple eyes glared at Theodore from her side of the table. 

A heavy sigh left the Slytherin wizard's mouth. "I'm sorry, Longbottom, I miss her too… But we can't risk our safety for something we don't fully understand." 

Cedric had never seen a Slytherin look so defeated. Even when Blaise appeared half dead three and a half years ago, there was still a look of defiance in his eyes. But perhaps the strangest turn of events was Theodore admitting to mourning Hermione Granger. 

A heavy silence settled over the occupants of the formal dining room. Nobody knew what to say next. Neville cleared his throat and ducked his head. 

For the second time that day, a burst of silvery light that preceded a Patronus filled the room. A familiar Lynx bounded towards Tonks and spoke in Kingsley Shacklebolt's bass-like timbre. 

"There's been an incident in a suburb of Muggle London. I need you to clear the scene before there's any more unwanted attention." 

Tonks pushed back from the table, nearly tripping on the chair leg in their haste to meet with their fellow Auror. The room was plunged into silence once more, this time charged with unspoken questions and comments. 

Viktor decided then to break the silence as he stood to leave, "looks like we will know more soon, da?"

Cedric could only watch the Bulgarian wizard retreat as the room erupted in noise all over again.