Darla, it my death anniversary, can you make me one of my favorite cakes?

It had been 18 years since Cedric Diggory’s spirit left this earth. On June 24, the Diggorys and the Quirkes all gathered at his parents’ house to celebrate his life and to share all the good times they had together. The first few years were the worst. It was a surprise how many people attended who were not family but who paid their respects. Darla was sure that tears that were shed would wash the house away.

The anniversary soon became a date for a family reunion. Quidditch was played, cakes were baked, and food consumed. At the end of the night, they all gathered around the fire, swapping stories about their beloved Cedric, all which brought tears to their eyes and smiles on their faces. It was a bittersweet occasion, but Cedric’s mother firmly believed that it was what her son would’ve wanted.

As the years went by, the number of people dwindled. Life went on, as it should have. After ten years, it was a small gathering of Quirkes and Diggorys. Quidditch brooms were now inhabited by kids who knew the story about Cedric Diggory and the rise and fall of Voldemort. It was a wicked story but they were just in it for the free food and Darla’s cake. The stories around the campfire became repetitive. Soon, Cedric’s name was said a few times before discussions about the Ministry and work took precedence. The cries of tired children marked the end of the celebration.

As time went on, the celebration was nothing more than a mother, aunt, step uncle, and cousin sipping tea quietly as they flipped through photo albums. Now, it was just Darla who celebrated.

As her husband and children slept, Darla sat outside in the yard. An album rested in her lap. Each picture held smiling faces and frantic waving. Darla could have sworn she heard her cousin laugh. There was no way that a symphony of crickets and frogs could make that laugh. She couldn’t help but smile herself as she set the book down on the picnic table.

“Mummy,” Darla’s daze was broken by a small hand tugging on her apron. Her youngest child had woken up, possibly needing a glass of water. As she picked him up, his little arms wrapped around her neck tightly, his lips giving her little kisses on her cheek before he rested his head on her shoulder.

“Did you have a bad dream, love?” Darla asked as she held him tightly.

“He told me to give you a hug.” The four year old’s voice was muffled in her shoulder.

“Next time daddy tells you to give me a hug, wait until the morning.”  Darla sat the boy on her lap and smoothed his hair. Though her scolding was gentle, she was grateful to receive the hug. It was just what she needed.

“Daddy didn’t tell me. It was Uncle Cedric. He said that mummy needed a hug and–and that you had cake–” Darla cocked her head to the side. Her son knew about Cedric. He was named after him, and Darla wanted him to be proud of his namesake. He also knew that Darla baked a cake for her late cousin that night. It was something she always did on June 24.

“You can have cake tomorrow, Cedric. The faster you go back to bed, the faster tomorrow comes. Off you scoot, love. I’ll be there to tuck you in in a moment.” The young boy slid off of his mother’s lap and started to head inside the house. Before he opened the door, he turned to face his mother.

“I forgot to tell you! Uncle Cedric said…he said…” He looked up at the sky as though he was listening intently, his nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed in deep thought. “He said that he wanted me to tell you that…that he’s okay. He promises!”

Darla felt her heart catch in her throat. There was absolutely no way her son would’ve known that. She took the photo album and turned it to the page of Cedric at the Yule Ball. There he was, grinning in his dress robes. The picture had him laughing before giving a thumbs up. It was something she never saw that picture do. She quickly closed the album and hugged it to that chest.

“Cedric, darling. How about we have that piece of cake now.” Her eyes sparkled with tears.

“Let’s have a bit of a party. Just you and me.” She escorted her child, holding his hand as they went into the house for a slice of Cedric’s favorite cake.

Darla is one who trusts people without them having to earn it. Though sometimes she is wary about their intentions, she likes to think that they have her best interest at heart. This often times have her putting faith and trust in people who just want to use her. It takes a couple doses of chances with side of benefit of a doubt before her trust is completely severed. It’s usually more times than the average person usually gives.

There is someone that she always puts her trust in, and that is her cousin Cedric. Throughout his short life, he had never led her astray, never fully disappointed her, or didn’t apologize when he was to blame. Of course, like every relationship, they had bouts of silent treatments, arguments, and slamming of doors.

“But mum,” Darla whined as she desperately tried to explain her side of the story. “Cedric told Oliver Wood that I fancied him and now everyone is going to laugh at me and I can never show my face again!”

“Don’t be too mad at Cedric. He was probably trying to get you two together.” Darla’s mother said as she got ready for quidditch practice. Darla merely collapsed dramatically on her mother’s bed, her arm flung over her head.

“He told him, mum! Now he looks at me all funny! Oh, I’d rather be dead!”

“I can see it now: Local Witch Dies from Embarrassment. In lieu of flowers, please donate to Overdramatic Teens Foundation; together, we can find a cure for raging hormones. Really, Darla. It’s not the end of the world.” Her mother put on her practice robe and gave her daughter a kiss on her forehead.

Later that night, Cedric had come to apologize to Darla. There was no harmful intention, just as her mother predicted. In fact, Cedric was hoping that by telling Oliver, he would give his cousin a bit of attention. He never expected that his actions would hurt her. His apologies were heartfelt and sincere and he even offered to polish her broom if it needed to be done.

Since that day, Cedric had sworn never to tell any secret and to keep it to himself. Darla swore that she would never put Aethonan dung in his bed again (she only did it to get back at him). They kept their word.

Their promises were always sacred and only said if one or the other could keep them.

There was only one promise that was broken.

“You’re worrying too much, Darla. The Triwizard Tournament isn’t going to kill anyone. They’ve changed it since then. I’ll be okay.”

Darla wasn’t convinced. She watched as he, surrounded by a group of students cheering him on, put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

“I’ll be okay, Darla. I promise.”