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Chapter Text

1

When the Potters moved next door, Cedric hadn’t realised his life was about to change forever.

It all began on a fine day in April when a commotion erupted outside. The clunking of metal and the thudding of heavy furniture disrupted the quiet morning. What followed was the sound of cheerful laughter carried on the spring breeze.

Cedric’s dad groaned in annoyance as he peeked out from behind the curtain to see what was happening.

“Of all the wizards and witches, I can’t believe the Potters are going to be our neighbours,” he grumbled loudly to Cedric’s mum, shaking his head. “Those people are reckless troublemakers. I’ll never have peace with nutheads.”

“They’re not that bad. And don’t swear in front of Cedric, Amos,” his mum chastised.

But Cedric didn’t mind. At eleven years old, he’d already heard plenty of adults, including his dad’s friends from the Ministry, use bad language.

Curiosity got the better of him, Cedric set down his book and slipped quietly toward the door.

Across the Moon Hill, which marked the edge of the Diggory family property, was a large abandoned cottage that had once belonged to the Bagshot family. It was now occupied by the new neighbours. 

A man in glasses, wand in hand, was motioning for a large, shabby sofa to hover inside the house. He looked younger than Cedric’s dad, but Cedric couldn’t pin point an adult’s age. The man’s wild, dark hair bounced as he laughed at something a red-headed woman inside the cottage had said. Cedric only caught a glimpse of her, and saw that her smile was the most beautiful he had ever seen. Piles of numerous boxes and old furniture were scattered in front of the wild shrubs and unkempt grass.

Before he knew it, Cedric found himself stepping out of his house and moving closer to theirs. He had never had a neighbour before. The closest people lived miles away, like the Lovegoods, who were five miles up on the most desolate land Cedric could imagine. Even though his dad was friendly with the Weasleys, he’d never invited them over. But now the Potters were going to be his first walking-distance neighbours, and Cedric was beyond excited.

As he stood there, daydreaming about the new people he was going to be friends with, he was suddenly jolted by a hard shove to his back.

“Ouch!”

Cedric spun around and came face-to-face with a boy who had the wildest hair he’d ever seen.

The boy was smaller than him, with fierce green eyes that reminded Cedric of a wild Manticore from his book of Magical Creatures. Even though he was clearly younger, Cedric instinctively recoiled from the boy’s intensity.

Then he heard the man in glasses shout.

“Hey, Harry! What did you do to him?”

The boy–Harry–didn’t flinch. He continued to glare at Cedric with unblinking intensity before answering, “He’s snooping around.”

“No, he isn’t. That’s our neighbour,” the man said, waving at Cedric with a wide grin. “Hi! I’m so sorry about Harry. He’s a bit... territorial, for some unknown reason. I’m James. You must be Cedric, right?”

Cedric nodded, his heart pounding. He half expected his dad to come storming out, catching him in the act of ‘spying’ on the new neighbours. But his house remained quiet.

The woman with the red hair appeared at the door, smiling warmly. As she walked toward them, Cedric could see her features more clearly. Her hair shone like the brightest sunset.

“Hello, Cedric. I’m Lily. And that’s Harry,” she said, gesturing to the boy who still glared at Cedric. “Harry, apologise to Cedric. We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

Harry pouted and mumbled, “‘Orry.”

“That’s not good enough,” James said to Harry.

With a huff, Harry straightened up. “Fine. I’m sorry,” he said, adding with a pointed finger, “But next time, don’t snoop. You can knock on our door. We have a door, you know.”

Lily chuckled and ruffled Harry’s already unruly hair, making it even wilder. Cedric’s eyes widened. His parents would never do something like that. His dad always insisted he look well-dressed, with his hair neatly combed.

“I hope you don’t mind Harry. He’s actually a nice boy. Just a bit... protective.” Lily said, offering her hand to Cedric. “It’s nice to meet you, Cedric. I’m glad we’re neighboirs.”

Unsure of what else to do, Cedric shook her hand and smiled.

2

It didn’t take long after the Potters moved in for Cedric to get to know more about them, especially Harry.

A week after their arrival, Cedric’s mum invited the Potters over for tea one afternoon while his dad was at work. Lily and his mum, who were close in age, hugged and greeted each other like old friends. Cedric’s mum later explained that she was a year older than Lily and that they had often seen each other in the Hogwarts library. His mum baked cookies, and Lily brought an apple pie, which she said was her first attempt at baking. But when Cedric tried it, he found it very delicious.

While the adults talked in the living room, Cedric and Harry were left on the porch. Harry still eyed Cedric suspiciously, his hair just as shaggy and wild as before.

Cedric, always praised for his politeness, found it easy to break the ice.

“Your mum’s pie is delicious,” he said earnestly.

Harry hesitated before replying, “That’s her third attempt.”

Cedric raised his eyebrows. “What happened to the first and second?”

“Thrown in the bin. She kept trying until she got the recipe right. The kitchen’s still covered in flour, but she didn’t have time to clean it. Typical Lily,” Harry said, shrugging.

Cedric was taken aback. He’d never heard a child refer to their parents by their first name before. As he searched for something appropriate to say, Harry spoke again.

“You’re an only child,” he stated, rather than asked. Cedric nodded.

“How old are you?” Harry asked.

“Eleven. I’m going to Hogwarts this year,” Cedric said proudly. “What about you?”

Ignoring his question completely, Harry lowered his voice and spoke with a hint of mischief. “How do you know you’re going to get your letter? My godfather Sirius said some people never get theirs. Ever.”

Cedric’s heart skipped a beat. He had never doubted he’d go to Hogwarts, but Harry’s words made him nervous. “Well, I can do magic without meaning to, and I can fly…”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “You can fly?”

“Yeah, I’ve been flying since I was four,” Cedric said modestly, aware that his parents didn’t like him to brag.

Harry scoffed. “I’ve been flying since I was a toddler. I fell once. Almost collided with our cat, Turnips.” He lifted his trousers to show a faint scar on his knee. “It definitely hurt, but I don’t remember much.”

Cedric blinked. “That’s... insane.”

Harry shrugged, feigning a nonchalance, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “I used my dad’s Cleansweep, but when I get to school, he promised to buy me a new broom. Sirius says Nimbus is DEE best broom in the market right now, but James thinks tactics win games and brooms only go so far. I agree with Sirius, though.”

It was clear Harry was passionate about Quidditch. Cedric, who liked flying but wasn’t much of a sports fan, was amused by how passionate Harry became just talking about it.

“I’m sure you’ll be on the school team,” Cedric said.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he looked at Cedric with a mixture of excitement and awe. “You really think so?”

“Of course! If I’m not on the team, I’ll cheer for you,” Cedric replied.

Harry’s smile grew even wider, so bright and brilliant. The younger boy’s green eyes transfixed on him. 

After tea, as the Potters were leaving, Harry begged his parents to visit again the next day so he could spend more time with Cedric.

James shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you got him started on Quidditch. This kid’s unstoppable once he starts.”

Lily sighed. “It’s too late for that.”

Cedric’s mum laughed. “Cedric probably doesn’t mind. He loves flying too.”

“Splendid,” James said, grinning. “Get ready, Cedric. He’ll talk your ear off and never let you go.”

Cedric couldn’t help but wonder what that meant and what he’d gotten himself into.

3

Cedric didn’t have to wonder for too long, because the next day, Harry scampered across the hill from his cottage just a hundred yards away to Cedric’s house and rang the bell. He did it like a proper adult, asking for Cedric, much to the shock of his dad, who blinked at the boy, too confused to speak. Without waiting for a response, Harry invited himself in and dragged Cedric outside to play.

Being friends with Harry was something Cedric never imagined. At first, he thought it would be like being friends with Luna, who slightly spooked him with her whimsical tales of magical creatures. But while Luna was reserved, Harry was wild and impulsive. He challenged Cedric to race up the hill, often leaving him out of breath and sweating. Despite Harry’s small, thin frame, he was bursting with energy, which reminded Cedric of Fred and George Weasley. However, unlike the twins, Harry didn’t have strict parents constantly scolding him. He was left to run wild, like a free-spirited cub.

Though Harry boasted about flying on his dad’s broom, he was never allowed to bring it outside the house, so they took turns on Cedric’s Cleansweep, which was designed for a child. It was modified to fly no more than four hundred yards with a speed control. Harry wasn’t thrilled about that, but Lily reminded him he couldn’t complain while flying on someone else’s broom.

Another thing they loved to do was role-playing. Cedric usually came up with the roles: two powerful wizards using sticks they found in the bushes as wands. They named their wands and imagined grand stories behind them, like “mighty beastly thorn” or “pulsing heart of a fire dragon.” They also made up spells. Harry once created a spell that made Cedric somersault nonstop, while Cedric retaliated with one that made Harry laugh uncontrollably for five minutes. Harry, who was unable to fake laugh for that long, eventually had to yield.

Cedric had to admit, playing with Harry was much more fun than playing alone. Harry didn’t follow the rules; he made everything more exciting. Besides his energy, Harry had an incredible physical strength and endless creativity that Cedric admired.

Spring flew by as they played outside almost every day and became inseparable, much to Cedric’s dad’s dismay. His dad didn’t approve but was too exhausted to stop them, only frowning at Cedric’s dirty shirts and muddy shoes.

Lily and James were happy to have Cedric over at their house, which allowed him to get to know them better. Lily was a healer, and James worked as a travel writer, though he often tinkered with magical gadgets alongside Sirius. James's inventions, like a sugar-calculating box or a glove that found your itch, always fascinated Cedric. Their house was cluttered with magical tools, with a large orange cat ‘Turnips’ roamed around, hunting for cream and bread crumbs adding to the chaos.

Being naturally inquisitive, Harry always asked Cedric an endless string of questions:‘What types of dragons do you like?’ ‘What is the first spell you’d in the duel?’ ‘What pet would you like to have at Hogwarts?’ What’s the most disgusting flavour you could think of for Bertie Bott’s?’ 

Often, Harry didn’t even wait for Cedric’s answers before asking something else. Cedric concluded this must be what it felt like to have a little brother–someone younger, eternally curious, and incredibly stubborn.

“What house do you think you’ll be sorted into?” Harry asked one hot afternoon as they played by the stream.

Cedric hadn’t thought much about it. “I dunno. My dad was in Hufflepuff, and my mum was a Ravenclaw. But I don’t think houses are inherited by blood, so I might end up in either or something else.”

Harry frowned. “What does ‘inherented’ mean?”

“It means naturally.”

“Well, then I will definitely in-hair-en-ted be a Gryffindor.” Harry straightened up, looking determined. “My parents were Gryffindors. Sirius and Remus are Gryffindors, too. No doubt, I’m going to be one.”

Cedric refrained from pointing out that Harry’s reasoning contradicted his own. There was no harm in letting Harry believe what he wanted.

Harry suddenly looked almost shy. “But I want you to be a Gryffindor too, so we can be in the same house.”

“Cheer for you in the Quidditch matches and win the House Cup?” Cedric teased.

Harry nodded eagerly. “Definitely. But even better if we play together on the same team.”

There was no trace of playfulness in Harry’s voice, just sincerity and determination. At that moment, Cedric knew he could count on Harry and finally saw him as a dear friend.

4

For Harry’s ninth birthday, Cedric was invited to their small party, where he met the famous Sirius Black for the first time.

Harry mentioned Sirius constantly, clearly looking up to his godfather, and Cedric quickly understood why. 

Sirius was the coolest person he’d ever met. With his leather jacket, jeans, black sunglasses, and long, tousled hair, Sirius had an effortless charm. Arriving on a big motorcycle only added to his star-like presence.

Cedric was starstruck when Sirius smiled at him.

“You must be Cedric. Harry can’t stop talking about his new neighbour,” Sirius said, offering his hand. “I’m Sirius Black, James and Lily’s friend. Has Harry told you about me?”

“All the time,” Cedric replied, still in awe.

Cedric had given Harry a Magic Creature book, which featured an illustration of a cartoon-style Manticore that reminded Harry of the first time Cedric saw his face. Lily gifted Harry a smart quill that could write exactly how he pronounced each word. James, aiming for a laugh, gave Harry an alarm clock that would squirt toothpaste into his mouth if he woke up late. But Sirius outdid them all—he gave Harry a real golden snitch.

Harry’s eyes grew wide with amazement as he held the snitch, and for the first time, Cedric saw Harry flustered and speechless.         

“To our seeker!” Sirius toasted, and everyone joined in.

Cedric left the party feeling so happy, as if it had been his own birthday. That night, as he recounted the day to his parents, his father made a disapproving noise.

“Black’s an attention seeker,” his dad muttered. “He’s always doing things for praise and women. Never takes anything seriously, neither he nor James Potter.”

His mum quickly glanced at Cedric before saying, “Careful, Amos.”

But his dad seemed unaware that Cedric was listening. “It’s true! You don’t need to be smart to see how they waste their potential on ridiculous adventures. Instead of finding a real job, they’ve fallen short.”

“Lily’s a great healer,” his mum pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, but I’m talking about James and Sirius. They were very popular in school, but right now… they’re just a bunch of overgrown children running around, not wanting to grow up. Look at their shabby house.”

“They have a very nice house full of magical inventions. It’s brilliant,” Cedric countered.

Amos snorted but said nothing more. He was clearly drunk, judging by how tightly his grip on the wine bottle seemed to be.

That night, Cedric lay awake, staring at his ceiling and thinking about the most lively and cheerful birthday party he had ever attended. Despite his dad’s dislike, Cedric really liked their neighbours.

5

The next two days, Harry practically dragged Cedric to meet his other uncle, Remus Lupin.

Unlike Sirius, who wore a sleek leather outfit, Remus dressed plainly in a simple suit. Cedric was a little disappointed to find that Lupin looked just like his dad’s colleagues from the Ministry. The one thing that set him apart were the faint long scars across his face. They must have been from some gruesome accident. Cedric shuddered.

Harry didn’t talk about Remus as often as he did about Sirius, but it was clear he had a deep fondness for him, as he went straight to hug him.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you a present sooner. I can’t choose the day I get sick,” Remus told Harry, who just shook his head and closed his eyes, clearly melting into Remus’s embrace.

Cedric felt a bit out of place, unsure of what to say in front of a stranger. But then Remus’s attention shifted to him, and he smiled. It was that smile that made him look much younger.

“Cedric, right?” Remus said, shaking Cedric’s hand. “I’m Remus. I found something for you. Just ran across it while rearranging my bookshelves the other day. It might come in handy for your first year.”

He handed Cedric a thin, worn notebook. Seeing his confusion, Remus explained, “It’s a list of spells Sirius, James and I came up with to ward off Peeves, the poltergeist at Hogwarts. He loves to terrorize first years. Nothing dangerous, just harmless tricks.”

Before Cedric could thank him, Harry clung onto Remus’s neck and protested. “But I need that too! What if Peeves targets me and I don’t have it?”

Remus chuckled. “I’m sure Cedric can pass down the book when you get to Hogwarts, or teach you a spell or two next year. He seems like a reliable friend.”

Cedric blushed at the compliment and almost forgot to thank Remus. He had changed his opinion of him and found Remus kind and thoughtful. He always wore an easy smile and, miraculously, turned Harry into a well-behaved kid, even if only for a short while. Harry didn’t even protest or whine when Remus told him he needed time to talk to James.

Later, when they went outside for their usual afternoon play, Harry led Cedric to their sycamore tree and effortlessly climbed up. It seemed like climbing trees was second nature to him. In just a minute or two, Harry was sitting on the biggest branch at the top, which looked dizzyingly tall from below. 

Cedric hesitated. He had never climbed a tree in his life.

“Come on!” Harry urged.

“Okay, okay. But you have to wait for me,” Cedric said bashfully, placing his right foot on the root.

Surprisingly, Harry was helpful. He guided Cedric, telling him where to put his feet and hands, and shouting instructions so loudly that Cedric couldn’t miss a word. By the time he reached the branch where Harry was sitting, he was panting.

“You did great!” Harry grinned, punching Cedric lightly on the shoulder. 

"Now I just don’t know how I’m going to get down."

“We’ll worry about that later,” Harry easily dismissed. He then moved closer to Cedric, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His green eyes suddenly turned serious. “I wanted you up here because I need to tell you a secret.”

Cedric’s breath slowed as he nodded.

“Can I trust you not to tell anyone? Not even your parents?”

It seemed like Harry was dying to share. Cedric quickly nodded again.

“No. I need your word. Can you swear to it?”

“Alright. I swear I won’t tell anyone,” Cedric said, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. He’d often seen wizards use this gesture when making an Unbreakable Vow, though he didn’t know the spell or the full ritual beyond the handshake.

Harry looked at Cedric’s outstretched hand and decided it was good enough. He shook it. His hand felt clammy and smaller in Cedric’s palm.

“It’s about Remus,” Harry said, his voice low. “He’s a werewolf.”

Cedric was stunned. From books, he knew werewolves were dangerous, but picturing kind Remus as one seemed impossible.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. James told me.” Harry frowned. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, no. I do.” Cedric hurriedly said. He didn’t want to argue with Harry or doubt his words, but he wasn’t sure how to react to such a secret. It confused him to picture a werewolf as a person.

“Well, that’s not all.” Harry straightened up. It was his favorite thing to do—acting like he knew everything. He was proud of holding onto the universe’s secrets or doing something reckless and dangerous just so he could brag about it later. Surprisingly, Cedric found this side of Harry quite endearing.

Cedric knew his role well and urged Harry to continue.

“James won’t let me tell you this, but I think you should know,” Harry said, suddenly leaning closer to Cedric. “Sirius and Remus, they’re together.”

This confused Cedric even more. “What do you mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Together. Together. Like James and Lily, or your parents. Dumbass.”

Cedric blinked. He didn’t know how to react, or even what to say about it. The weight of Harry’s words barely registered with him, but to Harry, it seemed like one of the world’s biggest secrets and he expected Cedric to respond somehow.

“Alright. Thanks for telling me, Harry,” Cedric said carefully. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Harry leaned his head against the tree trunk, his eyes never leaving Cedric as he smiled. “You’d better. This is our secret place now.”

Cedric thought Harry meant this tree was their ‘sacred’ place, but he didn’t correct the younger boy.

6

Luna Lovegood came to visit in the middle of August, the day after Cedric got his letter from Hogwarts. She was a girl of seven, a year younger than Harry. Her big pale blue eyes made it look like she was staring right into your soul. Her dirty pale blond hair didn’t help much either, as it made her seem less like a person and more like a nymph in the bright sunlight. 

Cedric used to be intimidated by her years ago, but after seeing her more often during playdates, when her mother brought Luna over, he found she was a bit strange, but also gentle and sweet.

Luna’s visit surprised Harry, who was usually very territorial. At first, he was wary of her, but when he saw Luna running around the field behind the Diggorys’ house, barefoot as usual, Harry reluctantly came over to greet her.

“Why don’t you wear shoes?” Harry asked.

“The Nargles can bite your shoes, and sometimes I’ve lost them because of those little thieves,” Luna said matter-of-factly. Her voice sounded like a lullaby.

Harry’s curiosity promptly piqued. “What’s a Nargle?” 

Their friendship started that day. Harry followed Luna and ran around with her, while Cedric, assigned by Luna’s mum to keep an eye on them, tried to keep up. Luna was a magnificent runner; she ran like the wind, and even though Harry was a good runner himself, he was breathing hard, struggling to catch up. Luna was also the fastest climber, and by the end of the day, the three of them ended up having a picnic in a tree. 

They learned about magical creatures they had never heard of from her, like Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Moon Frogs, and a fire spirit called Heliopaths.

“She’s alright,” Harry said after they’d said goodbye to Luna and her mum, Pandora, on top of the hill. Cedric could tell from his tone that Harry liked her.

Then Harry sighed. “Too bad she doesn’t like Quidditch or flying.”

“Not everyone loves Quidditch,” Cedric pointed out gently.

“You like it,” Harry argued half-heartedly. “But I don’t mind. My friend Neville who lives far away hates flying so much that he cries when I try to make him ride a broom.”

“Don’t force anyone to do something they don’t like, Harry,” Cedric said before he could stop himself. 

Harry scrunched up his nose and huffed.

“Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do,” he said loudly, then turned on his heel and left, leaving Cedric standing there in utter bewilderment.

7

Cedric hadn’t seen Harry for three days, the longest stretch since they’d become friends. 

Lily once apologised to Cedric, explaining that Harry was going through a phase of ‘sulking’ and was feeling a bit insecure about ‘losing’ Cedric since he would be going to Hogwarts soon.

Cedric’s dad, however, was glad to see his son reading or playing in his room instead of going out with ‘the Potter boy.’ 

“It’s a relief to see you finally making better choices in friends,” his dad had said, clearly disapproving of the Potters. “You’ll find more suitable friends at Hogwarts, far better than the Potter family and their kind.”

Cedric wanted to argue that it was Harry who had ditched him.

Although it was a bit sad not seeing Harry for a few days, some good things had come to Cedric’s and distracted him. His parents had taken him to visit his grandparents for an early birthday party, since his twelfth birthday would fall during his first term at Hogwarts. 

His grandparents adored him and loved to tell him about myths and legends they’d learned as historians. Cedric fell asleep listening to them talk about the Wizard-Goblin War of 1345, the Giant Wars, and the Witch Hunts of the 14th century. They gave him books as presents, along with the most elegant quills he’d ever seen.

The next day, Cedric’s parents took him to Diagon Alley to buy textbooks and supplies. Most excitingly, they bought him his wand–12 inches, Ash wood, Unicorn hair, incredibly smooth and agile. They also bought him an actual broom, a Comet 280, the latest model that had come out that summer. Cedric couldn’t wait to show it to Harry and let him try it out over the field behind their house before he brought it to Hogwarts.

By the time they returned home, it was dark. Cedric was still buzzing with excitement after having the best couple of days of his life. Too exhausted and exhilarated about his upcoming first year at Hogwarts, he almost didn’t notice the soft knock at his bedroom window.

The small figure outside gave it away. Cedric rushed to open the window.

“Blimey, Harry! It’s the second floor!” Cedric exclaimed, quickly letting Harry in from the balcony, afraid he might slip and fall.

Harry just shrugged, feigning his usual nonchalance. “It’s nothing,” he said, with a hint of smugness in his voice. 

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something, handing it to Cedric.

“I’ve been waiting to give you this.”

It was a piece of paper, but Cedric quickly realised it was a handmade card. Inside was a doodle of two boys holding hands, drawn like stick figures. One had green eyes, the other grey, and they were both riding brooms with small golden scribbles that read ‘Nimbus 1997’ on each. In the background, there was a big tree with a light blue stream nearby, where they used to play. 

Beneath the drawing were big red letters: HARRY BIRTHDAY CEDRIC. Have a good year at Hogwash.

Cedric stared at the picture for a long time as Harry grew visibly uncomfortable, scratching his head and avoiding eye contact.

“It’s nothing, really,” Harry mumbled. “James offered to give you one of his new inventions, but I wanted to make you something myself.”

“Harry,” Cedric looked up, “thank you so much. I absolutely love it.”

Harry blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah, no one’s ever made me a birthday card before,” Cedric said earnestly. “I’m going to take it with me to Hogwarts and stick it in my dorm.”

Harry’s face turned bright red. He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to do that. It’s embarrassing. Just... keep it safe, okay?”

“Of course,” Cedric said, nodding eagerly.

Then Harry suddenly remembered something, his eyes lighting up. “Oh! I wanted to give you another present before you go to Hogwarts!” He patted Cedric’s shoulder, excitement radiating from his green eyes. 

“Tomorrow night, at 10. Meet me at the tree.”

“What?”

“Uh-uh, no more questions,” Harry said, putting a finger to his lips before scampering halfway down from Cedric’s balcony.

Cedric rushed to the window as Harry glanced up, winking. 

“Try not to be a good boy for your dad one day and meet me there!” Harry called out before jumping down and running off, his small figure disappearing into the moonlit night like an elf.

8

It wasn’t difficult to sneak out of the house since no one suspected Cedric would be out of bed. He had never done this before, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. And not showing up would mean disappointing Harry. So, Cedric had no choice but to slip on his sneakers and climb down from his balcony, just like Harry had done to sneak into his bedroom earlier.

The full moon was so bright that he didn’t need a lantern to find his way to the sycamore tree. The summer wind was brisk, brushing against his skin and leaving Cedric trembling slightly. It had better be a good reason to break his parents' strict rules and sneak out of bed.

Harry was already waiting under the tree, fully dressed in jeans and sneakers, just like him. But unlike Cedric’s trepidation, Harry’s face was etched with a mischievous smile.

“You made it,” Harry greeted.

“What is this about?” Cedric asked, frowning.

Harry snickered. “Relax. I’m going to show you something. Come on.”

Harry led the way through a rough path, where roots and bushes jutted from the ground. Cedric had to watch his step and be careful not to trip, but Harry moved effortlessly, like he barely noticed the uneven terrain. From behind, Cedric watched Harry’s back and saw a sprite-like figure, deft and quick even in the dark. His unruly hair and lithe form seemed almost otherworldly, exuding a sense of thrilling adventure that urged Cedric to follow him without question.

They walked for about fifteen minutes before reaching the bottom of the hill. Harry abruptly changed direction, veering left onto an even less-traveled path. Cedric vaguely recognised it as the route to his old family’s farmhouse that had been abandoned for decades. His family had once used the land for crops and livestock, but now it was nothing more than a relic.

They continued in silence until the farmhouse came into view. But Harry didn’t head toward it. Instead, he gestured for Cedric to stop and led him to hide behind the only large tree standing nearby.

The tree’s trunk was big enough to conceal them almost entirely. Cedric could feel the warmth of Harry’s breath as they stood close together, hidden, as if waiting for something or someone.

“So,” Harry whispered, glancing up at Cedric with a lopsided grin. “Now you’re going to see a real werewolf.”

“What?!” Cedric gasped.

Harry quickly clapped a hand over his mouth. “Bloody hell, Cedric! Be quiet!”

Cedric looked toward the farmhouse, understanding immediately what Harry meant. Remus Lupin was in there, transforming into the most dangerous creature imaginable, just a hundred yards away. Cedric’s heart pounded in his chest, louder and faster with each passing second.

“We should head back,” Cedric urged while trying to sound calm.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then you won’t see anything, and you’ll go to Hogwarts thinking I made it all up.”

“Harry, I believed you from the start. You don’t have to prove anything.”

But Harry shook his head stubbornly. “No, you didn’t. I saw the doubt in your eyes when I told you about Remus. I brought you here so you could see for yourself.”

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a long, agonizing howl from the farmhouse.

Cedric’s skin crawled. The sound was terrifying. An echo of pure pain sent chills down his spine and would forever haunt his memory. Beside him, Harry stood frozen, wide-eyed and rooted to the spot. It was clear this was the first time Harry had heard a werewolf’s howl, too.

The howl was followed by the sound of violent commotion inside the farmhouse--clashing, tearing, and the guttural barking of a massive creature. Cedric whimpered, fighting to stay focused despite his growing fear. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. He needed to stay strong for Harry, who was transfixed, unable to move.

More growling and hissing came from the farmhouse. Harry took a step back, his body trembling slightly.

“Harry, please. We have to go now,” Cedric urged, grabbing Harry’s hand and preparing to run.

Harry blinked, snapping out of his stupor, and nodded silently. It was one of the rare times Harry actually listened to him.

As they turned to run, just a few steps from the tree, the farmhouse door burst open.

Cedric’s heart nearly stopped. A fully transformed werewolf emerged from the darkness. From the distance, Cedric could make out its sharp fangs, scarred body, and bloodshot eyes.

The creature's glowing red eyes locked onto them.

“Run!” Cedric shouted, pulling Harry as they sprinted away.

His shout seemed to alert the werewolf, which gave chase with heavy thudding steps. Cedric ran as fast as he could. Lungs burning, breath ragged and shallow. The rough path tore at his feet, but he couldn’t stop and afford to stumble on the gnarled roots. 

He could hear the werewolf closing in, but there was also the sound of another fight behind them. The werewolf snarled as it clashed with something big and black, but Cedric didn’t dare look back.

They ran until Cedric’s legs felt like they were going to give out. Harry, who was a little ahead, pointed toward something in the distance.

“The tree!” Harry shouted, racing toward it. Cedric followed, still hearing faint growls behind them.

Harry climbed the tree, moving like a spider. His small limbs gripped the branches quickly and Cedric tried to follow, but between the fear of the werewolf and his trembling hands, he kept slipping. His feet wouldn’t find purchase on the branches and his hands couldn’t grip on higher branches. 

“I’ve got you!” he heard Harry shout from above. He saw the young boy’s small hand reaching out to him.

At that moment, a dark blur, barely visible in the dark, moved toward them at a fast speed. Cedric’s heart raced as he planted his feet on the tree and pushed himself upward. But just as Cedric was about to grab Harry’s hand, his left foot missed its hold. Before he knew it, his hands gripped nothing, and his body was falling.

The last thing Cedric heard before losing consciousness was Harry’s scream.

9

The first light that pierced Cedric’s eyes came from the day.

He woke with a painful groan. His body felt heavy, as if he had run a thousand miles. Then, suddenly, all the memories from the night came crashing in like a tidal wave. He had run quite a long way from that farmhouse and the terrifying sight of the werewolf would become one of his worst nightmares and haunt him forever.

A sharp pain gripped his leg and he cried out.

“Easy, Ced,” came a voice Cedric recognised as Lily’s. A soft hand touched his bare foot. 

She handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted. His throat was parched and dry.

“Are you alright?” Lily’s voice was gentle.

Cedric hesitated. He remembered what had happened, and his body ached terribly. Besides that, everything seemed fine. He was still intact without any bleeding wounds. 

So, he nodded.

“Good,” Lily said, her hand still resting on his foot as she patted it gently. “You had a broken leg, but I mended it while you were unconscious. The physical pain is gone, but you might feel some phantom aches for a few days. Other than that, you’re just exhausted and sleep-deprived. I’d recommend getting some rest to fully recover.”

“Where’s Harry?” Cedric asked.

Lily’s smile tightened. “Grounded, obviously. He’s not allowed to leave his room until James says so.”

“It wasn’t his fault. I went with him willingly. I should’ve stopped him,” Cedric argued, though he knew his reasons sounded weak.

Lily simply shook her head, smiled sadly, and changed the subject. “I’ll let your mum know you’re awake.”

She got up and left the room, leaving Cedric with a heavy heart.

Moments later, his mum rushed in to hug him tightly.

“Oh, Cedric,” she whispered, kissing his forehead and cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore, but I’m alright,” he replied, his voice muffled in her arms. “Thanks, Mum.”

“We were so worried about you… your dad and I,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice trembling. “You were carried here in the middle of the night by Sirius. I was terrified something terrible had happened. I called Lily, and she came immediately to check on you. James came later and explained everything from what Harry told him.”

Her face was full of concern, but her voice was stern, harsher than Cedric had ever heard before. “What you did last night was reckless, Cedric. You could have died or–”

She sounded so broken and couldn’t finish the sentence. Cedric knew what she was thinking about—he could have been bitten. 

“I know, Mum. I’m sorry,” Cedric whispered, hugging her tightly. He knew he deserved her worry. His thoughtless actions had caused her to suffer.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she whispered, kissing his head.

Their moment was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming and loud voices shouting. Cedric recognised his dad’s voice and another, probably James’s, arguing at the front door. Cedric immediately got up from bed, but his mum tried to hold him back.

“No, Ced. Don’t move,” she urged.

“I’m okay, Mum,” he said, brushing her off as he wobbled to the window. His mum trailed behind, ready to catch him if he stumbled.

Opening the window, Cedric could clearly hear his father and James arguing below. Their heated conversation lashed out with clarity:

“—utterly irresponsible. I can’t believe I let my son near yours. He only brings danger to Cedric. And you…how can you allow that creature to roam near our kids?” His dad’s voice was furious, more angry than Cedric had ever heard.

James’s tone was calm, attempting to placate the situation. “Harry’s just a kid, Amos. He didn’t know any better. He’ll face proper punishment, I promise. But I’m here on Remus’s behalf. He feels terrible about what happened. I’m begging you, please forgive him.”

His dad’s irate voice roared back. “How can I forgive that monster? He nearly killed my son!”

“He didn’t! Sirius stopped his wolf form. Cedric just fell from the tree. I understand you’re angry. I’m angry too. But Cedric is safe now, and Remus’s secret can’t get out. It would destroy his career, his entire life... Please, for the love of Merlin, I’m begging you, don’t tell anyone.”

Cedric’s heart pounded in his chest, waiting for his dad’s response. He could sense the desperation in James’s voice, and he knew that his father could feel it too. A man’s life was now in his father’s hands.

His dad finally spoke, his voice cold and unforgiving: “I won’t tell anyone about that monster. But I forbid him from coming near this neighbourhood again, full moon or not. He’s not welcome here.”

There was a tense silence before James quietly replied, “Alright. I’ll tell him. You won’t see Remus again.”

Cedric didn’t realise he was holding his breath until his dad’s next words sank him into despair.

“And I won’t let my son be friends with yours.”

Beside him, Cedric heard his mum gasp.

“That’s not fair,” James’s voice raised, his calm slipping away.

“My son nearly lost his life following yours around. I won’t let that happen again,” Amos retorted.

“But Harry didn’t know any better. He’s just a kid. He’ll learn and change,” James argued, his voice full of frustration. “And they’re close friends. You can’t separate them.”

“I can, and I will. Cedric’s going to Hogwarts in two weeks. He’ll forget all of this nonsense,” Amos said ominously, though there was a slight tremble in his voice. “Or the deal is off.”

Cedric felt hot tears burn in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. His mother squeezed his hand tightly.

He heard a loud thud, followed by James’s voice, laced with anger.

“Deal,” James eventually said, his voice cold and hardened. Cedric had never heard Harry’s father sound like that before. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Diggory.”

10

Despite knowing he should rest, Cedric couldn’t sleep. His eyes were puffy and swollen from crying. He lay in his room, thinking about Harry and the events of the previous night. By now, the pain in his leg had faded, leaving him numb and hollow. The excitement of boarding the train to Hogwarts for the first time in two weeks had already evaporated.

He hated what had happened. How could he be forced to sacrifice his friendship with Harry over one incident? Cedric couldn’t believe that everything had unraveled because of a glimpse of a werewolf under the bright moonlight.

Bitter thoughts about the loss of his friendship filled his mind. As he tried to fall asleep, he heard a faint, barely audible sound outside his room.

"Pssst!"

Cedric’s heart leaped with joy. He jumped out of bed and rushed to the window.

As he expected, when he opened the window, Harry Potter was standing below, looking up at him. Harry’s green eyes twinkled in the darkness, and he gave Cedric a small, shy smile–so unlike him.

Cedric lowered his voice, not wanting his parents to hear. “I thought you were supposed to be grounded.”

“I am,” Harry said, raising his hand to show a flat silver circle with buttons and keychains. “I stole James’s Ultimate Key. It can lock and unlock any door. Had to sneak out to see you, but I can’t stay long. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Not hurt anymore,” Cedric reassured him with a smile.

Relief washed over Harry’s face, visible even in the dim light. “Good… That’s great. Glad to hear that.”

“But we can’t be seen together. You probably heard from James what my dad said earlier…”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t care. In a few years, I’ll be at Hogwarts, and he won’t be able to bother me.”

The joy Cedric had felt at seeing his friend suddenly deflated, plunged by a sharp pang of regret. That moment hit him that Harry was still just a kid, even years younger than him.

“You can’t think like that,” Cedric said. “Your dad traded our friendship for Remus’s future, Harry. You can’t treat it like it’s nothing. We can’t see or play with each other anymore. It’s too risky.”

Harry scrunched his nose. “You’re making it sound bigger than it is. You’re safe now! There’s nothing—”

“It’s everything!” Cedric cut him off, something he’d never done before: interrupting Harry. The younger boy looked startled, speechless. 

Cedric’s voice trembled, barely holding back his tears. “Our friendship ended because of what happened. We went to see something dangerous.”

Harry’s body stiffened. His eyes, which had been bright moments before, turned hardened. “What do you mean? ‘Something dangerous’?”

“The werewolf, Harry. It could have killed you.”

“Remus is not a thing !” Harry almost shouted. “He’s a good man, and he’s always blamed just for being a werewolf.”

“But he is dangerous,” Cedric retorted. How could he explain it when Harry refused to listen? “We ran from him, remember? You could’ve been killed if you stayed behind that tree. And all of this happened because you wanted to see the werewolf up close.”

“I only wanted you to see it!” Harry shot back.

“And that was stupid. You should feel bad and at least say sorry. But you haven’t said sorry, Harry, not even once,” Cedric said, his frustration spilling out. “You’re only thinking about yourself. My dad’s right, you’ve been spoiled by everyone around you until you forgot to think about others.”

A small whimper escaped Harry. It was short, but it seared into Cedric’s memory. It was the first time he’d seen Harry cry. Tears welled in his green eyes, his nose running, and moments later, the first teardrop slid down his cheek. His thin lips trembled violently, and his small shoulders shook.

Seeing Harry cry tore at Cedric’s heart. He realised, too late, how hurtful his words had been to a nine-year-old boy. Cedric stepped closer, wanting to comfort him, but Harry flinched and recoiled, as if Cedric were contagious.

“Harry, I’m—” Cedric began.

“You’re an inherent coward!” Harry sobbed, his words choked by tears. “Just like your dad.”

It stung. Harry even used the exact word Cedric had taught him, delivering it perfectly. It was such a venomous insult from someone so young, yet so painfully accurate. And Cedric, who had always known that deep down, couldn’t bear to face the truth fully.

Cedric’s heart ached, and he wanted to scream. “Don’t talk about my dad like that.”

Harry lifted his chin, his tears drying on his face, though the tracks shimmered in the moonlight. His green eyes stared back at Cedric, cold and full of a malice Cedric had never seen before.

“Why? Isn’t it true? He’s afraid of Remus because he’s a bigot. He hates our friendship because he’s a coward with no life.”

“There’s no friendship left to hate anymore,” Cedric muttered.

It was like watching glass fall, right before it shattered on the floor. Cedric saw the devastation on Harry’s face, saw the moment everything broke. Harry’s expression changed into one of absolute coldness, his eyes no longer betraying any emotion.

Without saying a word, Harry climbed back down from Cedric’s balcony. He didn’t look back, and Cedric stood there, his heart so heavy he could barely move as he watched his friend walk away.

That was the end of Cedric and Harry’s friendship–-half of spring and the whole summer gone. The next two weeks were torturous for Cedric, and he couldn’t wait to leave. He wanted to get far away from Harry’s silence and his dad’s anger.

On September 1st, Cedric was ready to leave everything behind as he boarded the Hogwarts Express. His last moments were spent with his mum, holding his hand. Her hugs were filled with unspoken emotions, like she always understood him better than anyone else.

That night, the Sorting Hat placed him in Hufflepuff, and Cedric couldn’t have been happier. A small part of him felt relieved.

The next morning, he received a letter from his dad, telling him how proud he was, and how Cedric would achieve great things.

Cedric smiled. He chose to believe those words and looked forward to the bright future ahead.

Chapter Text

1

Harry had been crying all night after seeing Cedric fall from the tree. 

Lily didn’t even need to ground him in his room because Harry didn’t have the strength to move from his bed.

It was the first time he’d ever been so terrified. It had happened right in front of him, like slow motion. Cedric’s body bounced and then hit the ground with a heavy thud. The image of Cedric’s closed eyes haunted him, making Harry sob into his pillow, blaming himself for being so sloppy. He should have been faster, quicker. His hand should have been longer, so he could have reached his friend just in time.

Harry prayed over and over, to anyone who would listen, that Cedric would be alright. He would trade anything in the world to keep him alive. He knew about ghosts, but he didn’t want Cedric to become one.

Please, keep him in flesh and blood, Harry prayed. I want him alive. Please, please, please. I will do anything. Even flying. I’d give up flying and Quidditch for Cedric’s life.

In the early morning, Lily came to tell him that Cedric was fine and would recover soon.

Harry jumped out of bed, raising his hands and shouting. He was crying too, who wouldn’t be? He was so relieved, and those were tears of joy.

But hours later, reality set in when Harry realised he was still grounded and had to eat breakfast in his room. It wasn’t that bad, until James walked in with a grim expression.

James told Harry what he’d said to Amos. Harry couldn’t believe the nonsense he was hearing. He thought it was the most ridiculous, stupid idea ever, and he told James just that.

Harry had never seen James look at him with such a serious face before. It was so unsettling. James insisted that Harry shouldn’t play with Cedric anymore. Harry nodded, crossing his fingers behind his back, with no intention of keeping that promise.

Of course, Harry and Cedric would stay friends–- forever . No adults were going to stop that, because it was completely ridiculous.

Sirius would agree with him on that.

With that resolve, Harry waited for the perfect moment to sneak out of his room and steal James’s Ultimate Keys.

2

There were no tantrums. No weeping. No crying.

Harry simply went completely quiet for the whole week, which worried both of his parents. His face displayed no emotions. When asked about what happened, he only shook his head and went outside to climb the tree.

The view from up there was always beautiful. It allowed Harry to see the vast fields of dry wheat, and the wind playfully brushed past him like a greeting from an old friend. To be held above the earth and be brushed by the wind… it helped him see things differently. By the end of the week, Harry finally concluded that Cedric was just a selfish git, and he would never talk to or be friends with him again.

With this new perspective, Harry asked his parents if he could visit the Longbottoms and Lovegoods. James readily agreed.

All his life, Harry had been surrounded by older wizards and witches. When Lily was busy with work, James was the one who took care of Harry, cooking and cleaning for them. But when James was preoccupied with his articles or traveling to remote places with Sirius, Remus was always there to keep Harry company, telling him stories and reading to him. However, if Remus was busy being a werewolf, Harry would stay with Alice, Lily’s best friend, along with Neville.

Neville wasn’t bad, but the only thing they shared was the same birthday. What Harry considered “fun” didn’t align with Neville’s liking. Just as Harry loved flying, Neville adored gardening. The boy loved spending time indoors, helping his grandmother cook and tending the garden like an old retiree trapped in the body of a nine-year-old. When they went outside, Neville was clumsy, unable to climb anything higher than his garden fence. He often tripped, fell, and cried after the slightest injury, leaving Harry dumbfounded and exasperated. 

This time was no different. 

"I... I don’t know, Harry," Neville stammered, eyeing a long line of ivy after Harry suggested they swing across the riverbank. He retreated and watched as Harry did it alone. 

Still, it was better than nothing. Plus, Harry loved Grandma Longbottom’s biscuits. They were to die for, so he didn’t mind enduring a dull indoor afternoon if it meant stocking up on more desserts.

Noticing that Harry wasn’t particularly happy after the playdate, James suggested bringing Luna along. That was a great idea. He liked Luna as she shared his sense of adventure and imagination. They could spend hours tracking whimsical creatures and playing make-believe. It was Harry’s favorite game, aside from flying with Cedric. Though with Luna, the make-believe was all they could do.

Harry knew he needed to stop comparing his other friends to Cedric.

Spending time with Luna brightened Harry’s days. The hill where she lived was eerie but full of wonders. The wind howled like the voices of old ghosts, and the cliffside overlooked a grey-blue ocean. In summer, they roamed freely across the wide land near her house, unfazed by the wild creatures they encountered. They came across multicolored mushrooms, Occamy, Cuppas, Pygmy Krakens, and even Mooncalves on occasion.

It was a bit sad that Luna wasn’t interested in flying. No one was, except Cedric. But Harry wasn’t going to admit that.

He spent a year exploring with Luna until her mother, Pandora, had an accident and was ‘gone’. From what James said, Luna’s father was too inconsolable to function, so he refused to let her go outside anymore in fear of her safety.

With Luna no longer available for adventures, James was the first to suggest they return to Godric’s Hollow.

“There are more like-minded wizards there,” he said during dinner. “At least Harry would have more friends to play with.”

Lily set down her fork. “James, we’ve talked about this. Bathilda traded her cottage for peace and quiet. We can’t just go back and disturb her.”

“I swear I won’t blow anything up in the house again.”

Lily just looked at him with one raised eyebrow. She was used to James’s empty promises. Knowing that it would lead his father to trouble, Harry felt the need to step in whenever this conversation happened.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “I only have one more year before Hogwarts. I can focus on learning how to read and write properly. Stay still. Be bored to death. For now.”

James looked at him. “Since when do you use the word ‘properly’ like that?” 

His question was left unanswered, though, as Lily picked up on Harry’s comment and began a mild lecture.

“That’s right. You need to work on your spelling anyway. I can also teach you some basic potions without magic before school starts. There are so many books in the house you haven’t read yet. You still haven’t touched the Magical Creatures book Cedric gave you.”

Harry’s expression became hardened. “I’m never reading anything Cedric gave me.”

Lily looked taken aback, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Since when have you been so against him?”

“Since now,” Harry muttered as he hopped off his chair. He didn’t want to talk about Cedric any further, not anymore.

3

Far more time than he would’ve liked, Harry spent the next six months at home reading the books Lily assigned him. She organized little tutoring sessions for him, checking his grammar and punctuation each night after dinner. 

“No one will teach you this at Hogwarts,” she said. “You’re expected to write a full essay in Professor McGonagall’s class, and she won’t hesitate to point out how embarrassingly stupid you are.” 

So, begrudgingly, Harry agreed to the lessons because he didn’t want to be the only one who was illiterate (James’s word) at Hogwarts.

By June, just before Harry’s eleventh birthday, his Hogwarts letter arrived. 

Even though he had been prepared for it, the moment he opened the letter, the feeling was unprecedented (Lily’s word). His heart pounded as he saw his name: Harry James Potter , accepted to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His parents were overjoyed. Lily took a day off work to take him to Diagon Alley. Harry had been there many times before, but this trip was special. It was not every time he was getting his own wand.

Harry was excited as he tested wand after wand, flicking them through the air and accidentally shattering glass and tilting shelves in Ollivanders until he found the one . It was 11 inches, made of holly wood, with a phoenix feather core. The moment Harry touched it, he knew it was his.

James picked out an owl for him. Harry’s first pet, not just a family’s pet like Turnips. It was a beautiful snowy-white one that Harry named Hedwig.

“She’s more than just a pet,” James told him as he handed over the cage. “She’ll be your loyal companion if you learn to trust her.”

The day passed in a blur—the best kind. It was one of the best of Harry’s life. He didn’t mind carrying all his new books and supplies, despite James’s offer to help, and he ran through the streets with Hedwig’s cage perched on top of his suitcase.

“Don’t run on the cobblestones!” Lily warned, though, as usual, her warning came too late.

Later that afternoon, with the shopping done and a large sherbet ice cream in hand, Harry stood gawking at the newest broomstick: the Nimbus 2000. He pressed up against the shop window, staring in awe at its sleek, refined beauty. He could hardly breathe, imagining himself flying across the country on that broom.

James crouched beside him. “You’ll have it if you behave.”

Harry turned to him so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. His mouth hung open, his stomach swirling with excitement.

“Yeah? You promise?”

James laughed at Harry’s wide-eyed expression. “Yep. But don’t tell Lily just yet, okay? I’ll talk to her later. But I promise, you’ll have it by the end of your first year, if you behave.”

Harry gave his dad a bone-crushing hug, making James laugh and hug him back.

4

On Harry’s eleventh birthday, Sirius finally let him ride on the motorcycle with him. Finally.

It was so different from riding a broomstick, but no less exciting. Harry screamed his lungs out when Sirius picked up speed, accelerating to the point where everything around him became a blur, and the wind roared past furiously. The ride was swift. They passed a few cars and pedestrians, gliding along the winding countryside roads. Harry loved every second of it.

“Can I steer the wheel?” Harry asked, excitedly turning to his godfather, who chuckled in response.

“Of course! If you’d like,” Sirius patted his shoulder, “and when you’re old enough.”

“I’m eleven!” Harry pointed out.

Sirius pretended to consider. “Give or take a couple more years, smartass. Your arms are smaller than a bowtruckle's.”

Harry lightly punched him. “See? Still not strong enough.”

“Nope. I’m talking about this kind of ‘strong.’”

With that, Sirius lifted Harry from the ground, hoisting him over his head and spinning him around in the air, making Harry squeal in delight. Sirius carried him all the way back to the cottage, both of them laughing.

Later that evening, just before bed, Harry’s parents had one more surprise for him. 

Harry’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “What? You’re not joking, right?”

“Of course not!” James laughed at Harry’s stunned expression. “What made you think Remus has been disappearing so often this year? He’s got a job! He’ll be teaching at Hogwarts, starting this year–-with you!”

Harry couldn’t believe it. Remus getting a job was one thing, but the idea that he’d be his teacher? It was almost too good to be true.

“But you’ll have to address him as ‘Professor Lupin,’” Lily quickly added. “He’s earned that. Plus, I’ll know if you behave or not, because he’ll report it to me.”

“I’ll bribe him,” Harry said with a grin. “He won’t tell you.”

“And what are you going to bribe him with? Your cuteness?” Lily teased.

She then attacked Harry with tickles, making him laugh uncontrollably, his body turning to jelly as he squirmed on the floor. Tears streamed from his eyes, and his stomach ached from laughing so hard.

5

That night, however, as Harry lay tucked into bed, a sudden realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. Maybe Remus becoming a teacher wasn’t such a great thing after all.

Being a teacher meant that no one at school, aside from the staff, could know about his secret about being a werewolf. If the students found out, he’d lose his job, just like before. Harry suddenly remembered how foolish he’d been to tell Cedric about it.

Fear coursed through him. What if Cedric told someone? What if Remus’s secret got out because of Harry? He couldn’t let that happen.

Harry sighed, knowing he’d have to talk to Cedric again, not as a friend, of course. He might have to threaten him, if necessary, to keep Remus’s secret safe. Harry wouldn’t let Remus face the consequences for his mistake. He’d do whatever it took to ensure it never came to that.

That, Harry decided, would be his first task at school.

On the day Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express, he was surprised to see James tear up. His dad was always the emotional one, but it was still unexpected. Lily insisted that Harry wrote to her on his first night, sending the letter with Hedwig. Sirius gave him a big hug before he left.

“You’d better take care of Remus for me, will you?” Sirius asked, half-joking but Harry could tell there was a seriousness in his eyes.

Harry nodded. “I promise. You can trust me.”

As the final whistle blew, Harry jumped onto the train with his two big suitcases and Hedwig’s cage in tow. He waved frantically at his parents until they disappeared from sight. 

Everything was going to be alright. Harry just knew it.

6

What Harry didn’t expect, and it was such a pleasant surprise, was meeting Ron Weasley.

They ended up sitting in the same compartment, and within two minutes, they were practically vibrating with excitement, talking about Quidditch. Harry didn’t even mind that Ron supported the Chudley Cannons; he was confident he could change Ron’s opinion and get him to cheer for the Tornados in no time. It was such a joy to talk to someone who shared his love for Quidditch that it almost made him want to jump for joy.

As they shared snacks (and intentionally forgot Ron’s beef sandwich), he asked Ron, “Where have you been all my life? Why don’t my parents know about your family?”

Ron’s face turned slightly red and his freckles stood out on his cheeks. He fidgeted with the Chocolate Frog cards in his hand. 

“We’ve got seven kids in our family—five older brothers. Your parents probably didn’t know I’m your age,” he shrugged. “I’m not exactly the standout.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the most interesting friend I’ve had, besides Luna Lovegood,” Harry declared, which earned him a nervous chuckle from Ron, though he seemed more at ease. “You’re definitely better than Diggory.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “You’re friends with Cedric?”

Harry’s excitement dimmed at the mention of Cedric. “Totally not. I just know of him.” 

Ron didn’t notice Harry’s sour mood, as he continued. “His dad and mine work at the Ministry. He’s in the same year as my brothers, Fred and George. Seems like a cool bloke.”

Harry snorted. “I doubt that.”

“He plays Seeker for Hufflepuff. My brothers play Beaters for Gryffindor, and from the way Fred talks about smashing him in the games, I think Cedric’s pretty good.”

The news hit Harry hard. He’d never bothered to find out anything about Cedric after he went to Hogwarts, and he hadn’t wanted to. But now he knew Cedric had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and on top of that, played the coveted Seeker position, the very one Harry had dreamed of playing his whole life. 

His blood boiled.

“You alright?” Ron asked, noticing Harry’s clenched fist.

“Yep, perfectly fine.” Harry looked down at the crumpled snack box in his hand, not knowing he’d been squeezing it so tightly. “I think I’ll get along with your brothers quite well.”

7

“Gryffindor!”

Harry jumped up, clapping and stomping his feet as loudly as he could when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor. He grinned widely as the twins, Fred and George, hugged Ron and ruffled his hair affectionately. Harry knew Ron would be in the same house, and was thrilled they’d be together for the next seven years at Hogwarts.

Albus Dumbledore stood up and gave his start-of-term speech. He talked about the rules for first-years: the Forbidden Forest, the cursed books in the restricted section of the library, and the haunted corridor they were not allowed to enter. Harry only listened half-heartedly, though, because his eyes were fixed on Remus Lupin, who sat behind Dumbledore. Remus looked so sharp in his clean suit and dark blue tie, and Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself.

When Dumbledore finished his speech, he gestured to the row of teachers. “And this year, we are pleased to welcome Professor Remus Lupin as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!”

Remus stood and bowed politely as the hall erupted in applause, but Harry made sure he clapped the loudest. Remus noticed and winked at him.

As the applause died down, Harry’s gaze shifted unintentionally to the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric sat. The older boy was looking at Remus with a shocked expression. 

Then, as though drawn by some invisible force, Cedric’s eyes met Harry’s for the first time in two years.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He quickly looked away, focusing on the feast that had magically appeared on the table in front of him. Ron elbowed him, pointing to his favorite dish, chicken nuggets, and Harry gratefully dove in. Soon, he had forgotten about Cedric, laughing and enjoying the meal with his new friends and housemates.

The first week of school flew by like a galloping horse. The classes were easier than Harry expected, but Professor McGonagall was every bit as strict as Lily had warned. She quickly figured out that Harry was the son of James and Lily, and as Gryffindor’s head of house, she didn’t hesitate to issue him a stern warning about house points.

“Your father lost about hundred points every year, Mr. Potter. Gryffindor never won the House Cup while he was here, so don’t follow in his footsteps,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Other classes were more relaxed. Harry and Ron spent most of their History of Magic lessons asleep, since Lily had made Harry read the entire textbook before the term started. Apparently, only Harry and a girl named Hermione Granger had bothered to do that.

Harry found Charms class more fun, and his wand seemed to work brilliantly, almost as if it could sense what he was thinking. Professor Flitwick praised Harry for picking up basic wand movements so quickly, though he looked less impressed when Harry couldn’t explain the incantation for the Levitation Charm.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Harry grumbled to Ron after class. “James and Lily cast wordless spells all the time at home, so I never got the chance to hear the words.”

His voice must have been louder than he realised because Hermione Granger, who had earned points for answering that very question, chimed in.

“That happens with wizard-born families,” she explained matter-of-factly. “You know magic by instinct, but you lack theoretical knowledge.”

Harry shot her a glare. “Are you calling me stupid?” He wasn’t even sure what ‘theoretical’ meant, but he was certain Hermione was insulting him.

“No, I’m saying you need to read more,” she said simply, walking away.

Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Can’t believe we’re stuck with her in Gryffindor all year. Let’s go get some lunch. Hope they’ll have steak or roast beef.”

Harry’s mood brightened by the mention of food, and he hurried alongside Ron to the Great Hall.

8

It was hard for Harry to find a chance to speak with Cedric during the first week. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say to the older boy many times before going to sleep, but there never seemed to be an opportunity. Cedric was always surrounded by large groups of friends. They ate breakfast together and walked to classes like a flock of Fwoopers, which Harry found pretty annoying.

An opportunity finally presented itself on Tuesday second week when Harry noticed Cedric being the first to stand up from the Hufflepuff table. He slung his bag over his shoulder and gathered up his books, which seemed like a much larger pile than what others were carrying. Harry took a gulp of orange juice and quickly told Ron to go to class without him.

He followed Cedric down a passageway that led to classrooms in another wing of the castle, one Harry had never been to before. The area was mostly empty, with only a few ghosts floating by and some older students passing. 

From behind, Harry noticed Cedric was taller than he had thought, even a bit too tall for a Seeker, which was unusual for someone in that position. Harry had always been skeptical of Cedric being a Seeker since he'd never once mentioned wanting to play the position in Quidditch.

While Harry was lost in thought, Cedric turned left into another corridor, and Harry sprinted to catch up. Luckily, the arched corridor was empty.

“Hey!” Harry called. His voice must have startled Cedric, who stopped and spun around, looking surprised to see Harry approaching.

Up close, Harry could see how much Cedric had changed over the past two years. His face was no longer round; there was a faint definition in his jawline, and his shoulders had broadened. Cedric had shot up several inches, making Harry have to look up at him.

“Hello, Harry.” Cedric’s voice was deeper, no longer the squeaky tone it used to be. It was frustrating.

He even gave Harry a small smile. “Congrats on being in Gryffindor.”

Harry ignored the other boy’s politeness. He didn’t have to be nice after all these years. 

He stepped closer, lowering his voice and trying to sound as intimidating as possible. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about Remus. I mean, Professor Lupin.”

Cedric raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

It took a lot of self-control for Harry not to shove him. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before saying, “Don’t make me spell it out. You know exactly what I mean.”

Cedric was about to speak, but Harry cut him off. It was time to deliver the threat he had practiced in his head like a mantra before bed. Harry tried to make himself look imposing, but it was difficult when he had to look up at the person he was threatening.

“If the secret gets out, I’ll make sure you suffer. I know a lot of curses and jinxes that will make your life miserable, Diggory.”

Cedric blinked. He took a step back, clutching his pile of books tightly as though they might fall. Harry counted that as a small victory.

The grey eyes remained fixed on Harry. “Okay,” the older boy finally said. “But I already promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Then stick your arse to that!” Harry spat, fists clenched as he stormed off, leaving Cedric alone in the empty arched corridor.

On Friday afternoon, they had Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, both classes Harry had been eagerly anticipating, especially the latter. His giddiness must have been so obvious on his face, since Harry found himself to be the only student under constant fire from Professor Snape in Potions.

Snape asked him a barrage of questions Harry had no idea how to answer: What happens when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? Where can you find a bezoar? What’s the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? He was completely stumped.

Snape seemed to relish his struggle. “Let this be a lesson, class. Having a great potions master for a mother doesn’t guarantee her knowledge will pass on to her son,” he sneered.

It was a moment of impulse—Harry suddenly realised he had less patience and self-control than he thought. 

“Aren’t you supposed to teach us all this, Professor?” Harry retorted.

Snape looked stunned, his dark eyes narrowing with fury. 

Harry smirked. “Or you don’t know jackshit what you’re going to teach us.” 

The whole class held their breath. Neville, who was sitting behind Harry, dropped the quill on the floor and whimpered. 

“Detention, Mr. Potter,” Snape said icily, then swished to his projector and barked orders for everyone to take notes. The class exhaled in relief.

“That was insane!” Ron whispered as they hurried out of the dungeon the minute Snape dismissed. “You could’ve gotten in real trouble.”

Still feeling his veins buzzing and his head pulsing with adrenaline, Harry shrugged. He didn’t care about the detention. It felt good having fought back Snape and his insult at Lily.

Defense Against the Dark Arts class, however, lived up to all of Harry’s expectations. 

It was a challenging adjustment for Harry, as he had to control himself and not rush to hug Remus out of habit. Remus, Professor Lupin, Harry reminded himself, had transformed the classroom into an open space without desks or chairs. He instructed the class to use their first defensive spell: Expelliarmus . It was an extremely useful spell for disarming another’s wand for beginners. 

The students took turns swishing their wands and trying again and again to counter the spells cast by their partners. Harry partnered with Ron.

Ron’s aim was a bit off, often higher than he’d aimed, and he kept missing Harry’s wand. Harry, on the other hand, was more accurate, though he was growing bored. The temptation to sneakily cast another spell in class was hard to resist.

Not far from them, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two Slytherins who had laughed loudly at Harry during Potions class, were practicing with exaggerated flair. Harry smirked to himself. Perhaps it was better to test out a new spell on someone who truly deserved it.

Just as he raised his wand, though, Remus appeared out of nowhere and cast Expelliarmus, snatching Harry’s wand from his hand.

“Uh-uh,” Remus said with a smile, shaking his head. “No unnecessary spells. Five points from Gryffindor.”

“What? You can’t do that!” Harry protested, picking up his wand. “Sir,” he added, grudgingly.

Remus chuckled. “Yes, I can. I’m your teacher now, Harry.” There was a hint of seriousness in his tone, enough to keep Harry from sulking.

Despite losing the points, Harry thoroughly enjoyed the lesson, as did everyone else. Even Neville, who normally struggled with magic, managed to disarm Dean Thomas once. Best of all, Remus didn’t assign any homework, much to Hermione’s dismay.

“All I want is for you to find some useful offensive spells and share them with the class next time,” Remus said cheerfully. “We’ll practice with dummies next week. Have a great weekend!”

9

Harry received a letter from Lily the next morning. Her handwriting was always neat, but knowing her all his life, Harry could tell she was more than a little pissed.

Well, "pissed" might be an understatement.

Harry,

I’m not going to ask you whether you’re doing fine or not, because clearly, you’re doing a lot better than I expected, young man.

Professor Snape kindly informed me yesterday of what you did in Potions class. That was outright inappropriate. James and I were both appalled by your behavior. James also mentioned that he’s seriously doubting your ability to take care of your Nimbus 2000 (he underlined this himself, not me) when you can’t even handle the responsibility of being a good listener. As for me, I wouldn’t say I’m surprised, just disappointed.

Anyway, I’ve heard you’ve become friends with Ron Weasley. I’m sure he’s a good kid. Perhaps I should visit the Weasleys and learn a thing or two from Mrs. Weasley about how to discipline my son. I’m sure she has some excellent strategies to share.

Love, as always,
Lily

P.S. Hedwig is with us. I’ll send her with some fruitcake I’ve learned to bake recently.

Harry shuddered with a primal fear. Lily had never been truly mad at him before. She scolded and shook her head plenty of times, but now she was stepping up to the next level: turning into one of those strict mothers. She’d never used the word ‘discipline’ before.

“Hey,” Harry asked Ron, who was enthusiastically munching on a marmalade toast, “is your mum scary?”

Ron almost choked. “What? Why do you ask?”

“Because I think Lily, my mum, she’s going to become just like yours.”

Harry could tell from Ron’s expression, as he tried to muster a look of sympathy with his mouth full, that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Then you’re a dead man,” Ron concluded, spilling some bread crumbs onto the table.

Harry grimaced.

The rumors about him being "rude" to teachers spread like wildfire. His reputation soared, especially among Gryffindor students who shared a mutual dislike for Snape. He also became the subject of gossip among other students. The Slytherins, in particular, were the most displeased, as Snape was their Head of House. 

Harry had prepared himself for whatever gruesome punishment Snape might devise for the whole week. Yet, detention wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was almost refreshing. Harry suspected that Lily had intervened to make it less painful that it was supposed to be. All he had to do was help Hagrid, the school’s keeper, tend to the vegetable gardens for the afternoon.

Hagrid turned out to be one of the kindest and most generous people Harry had ever met. Not only did the task of watering the giant-sized pumpkins and weeding take only two hours, but Hagrid also invited Harry over for rock cakes afterward. The cakes were horrendous, but the jasmine tea was pleasant. Hagrid told Harry stories about his job, Hogwarts’ ghosts, and wild tales from past students. By the end of the day, Harry had even befriended Hagrid's dog, Fang, who happily devoured most of Harry's uneaten cake.

“See you later, Harry,” Hagrid said with a wave, his large hand like the size of a small whale. Fang barked enthusiastically, wagging his tail.

By the time Harry left, with the evening light fading, he felt lighthearted. It had been a nice break, and even worth sacrificing the time he could have spent working on writing Charm's essay. Visiting Hagrid would definitely become a frequent activity for him in the future.

As he made his way back to the castle, crossing the bridge and entering the big courtyard where students often hung out, Harry encountered Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Ugh! What’s that awful smell, Potter?” Malfoy sneered, covering his nose. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging out with that oaf Hagrid. Such a downgrade, even if you’re friends with that Weasley.”

Harry wanted to give himself a reward for not jumping at Malfoy’s taunts. He was the one who started stirring up spiteful comments about Harry and he wasn’t worth a knut.

But what really caught Harry’s attention wasn’t Malfoy. It was Cedric Diggory, sitting on a nearby bench, talking with a group of girls from Hufflepuff. His tall figure stood out like a sore thumb.

Harry kept his voice calm. “I can clean off the dirt just fine, but you, a piece of scum no one can wash off. You can’t help what you’re born with, right?”

Malfoy’s face turned from pale to red in livid. “Careful, Potter. You’re going to get yourself into more trouble. One detention wasn’t enough for you to learn your lesson.”

“I’m aware.” Harry's tone was clipped, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation and get out of there. Behind them, Cedric had stopped talking to the girls, his attention now fixed on them. His eyes flicked between Harry and Malfoy, clearly watching for any sign of trouble.

“Have a good day, smelling yourself tonight,” Harry said, laughing unkindly as he walked past Malfoy’s gang, trying to avoid looking at Cedric.

10

Since then, Malfoy had gone from being an annoying pest to Harry’s biggest enemy.

It started during their flying lesson at the end of the first month. Harry had been looking forward to this lesson as the only chance in his first year to get on a broom, but Gryffindor had to share the class with Slytherin and he had to deal with Malfoy’s gang. It was such a killer mood. 

The lesson began with basic broom commands, meant to familiarise everyone with flying. Harry had no trouble getting his broom to respond with a firm “Up!” He chuckled as Ron’s broom smacked him in the face along with others, and snorted when Hermione struggled to control hers.

But just as Madam Hooch was giving instructions, a terrified cry pierced the air. Neville, who had been dreading this lesson for days, was rising uncontrollably into the sky. 

Higher and higher he floated, his broom wobbling dangerously in the air. Despite Madam Hooch’s commands to come down, Neville flew farther and farther away. Then, without warning, he lost his grip and fell, crashing to the ground with a scream.

Everyone gasped and rushed toward him, but Madam Hooch reached him first, cradling the injured boy. Fortunately, Neville hadn’t lost consciousness, but he was crying in pain.

“Don’t move!” Madam Hooch ordered the class. “Stay where you are and don’t get on your brooms, or you’ll be expelled before you even say Quidditch.” She then hurried off to the hospital wing, carrying Neville with surprising speed.

“Will he be okay?” Hermione asked, her eyes filling with tears.

“Of course he will!” Ron replied quickly, though he couldn’t hide his own worry. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil looked as though they might faint.

A snicker broke through the tense silence, and all heads turned to see Malfoy grinning, holding up something in his hand. It was Neville’s Remembrall, which must have fallen during his tumble.

“Look what that idiot dropped,” Malfoy said, tossing the ball lightly in the air. “Imagine his face when he realises it’s gone.” Then he made a fake sob, gaining some laughs from other Slytherins.

Harry stepped forward. “Give it back.”

Malfoy had clearly been waiting for this. He mounted his broom and kicked off the ground. “Come and get it, if you’re not scared, Potter.”

As his anger rose, Harry mounted his broom without a second thought.

Hermione grabbed his sleeve. “Harry, don’t! You’ll get in trouble! He’s just trying to provoke you.”

Harry shook her off and kicked into the air.

Flying came naturally to Harry, and as he zoomed toward Malfoy, he saw the shock on his rival’s face. Malfoy clearly hadn’t expected Harry to take the challenge seriously. Without wasting any time, Harry flew at him and gave Malfoy’s broom a sharp push, nearly knocking him off.

Malfoy yelped, barely managing to cling to his broom with one hand. Below, someone screamed.

As Malfoy’s broom wobbled and began to descend, Harry saw his opportunity. But just as he was about to dive for the Remembrall, Malfoy swung his arm and hurled it high into the air.

“If you want it, go fetch it like a dog, Potter!” Malfoy shouted.

Harry didn’t hesitate. His eyes followed the ball as it soared upward. Time seemed to slow as the Remembrall glinted in the morning light.

Come on, faster! Harry urged his broom, which shot forward like an arrow. Just as the ball began to fall, Harry reached out, his hand closing around it in midair.

The courtyard erupted into applause. Harry barely had time to register Ron’s cheers as he landed, surrounded by his housemates.

“You did it!” Ron exclaimed, grinning wildly. Dean clapped Harry on the back, and Seamus nearly jumped on him in excitement.

“Mister Potter!” a sharp voice cut through the cheers, freezing everyone in their tracks. Professor McGonagall was striding toward them, her emerald robes sweeping across the grass. 

“Come with me at once.”

As Harry trudged after her, he heard Malfoy’s laughter echoing behind him, and Hermione’s exasperated voice shrieking, “I told you so!”

This wasn’t going to end well. Harry braced himself for the worst.

11

It was, actually, the best news. Ever.

Harry couldn’t contain his excitement as he blurted out what McGonagall had told him at the Dinner Hall to Ron. Soon after, most of the Gryffindors burst into uncontrollable excitement. Even the older students, whom Harry had never known by name, came to congratulate him. The fourth and fifth years made the loudest claps and shouted with joy. Harry got to know his other teammates besides Wood and the Twins. The three Chasers were: Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, both in third year, and Katie Bell, who was one year older than Harry, would have her first debut as well. They were surprised and happy to have the new Seeker on their team.

“We’re going to practice first thing in the morning!” Wood interrupted the uproar. “Can’t wait to see you on the team, Harry.”

Across the tables, Harry caught a glimpse of Malfoy at the Slytherin table, glaring at him with animosity, but he couldn’t care less. McGonagall had said she would write to James about Harry’s new position. Harry’s body vibrated with elation, still riding the adrenaline rush from the day.

After dinner, Harry was ready to go to bed, already daydreaming about the Nimbus 2000 he’d likely get in a day or two. As he headed to his dormitory, a hand gently touched his shoulder. It was Remus.

“Hello, Harry,” Remus greeted him with his usual easy smile. “Do you have time for a catch-up talk?”

Of course, Harry thought. He nodded eagerly and said goodnight to Ron, who still seemed in awe of Remus. Harry then followed Remus down a set of moving stairs that led to a corridor with the staff rooms. His heart was singing with happiness.

Remus’s staff room was stacked with books on high shelves, and Harry noticed a variety of magical creatures around. There was an empty large bowl nearby, which Remus explained was Grindylow’s cage. A rattling sound coming from an old, ragged suitcase was a Boggart for his third-year class, as Remus explained to reassure Harry who had tensed at the noise.

“So, how are you finding your first month?” Remus asked, pouring Harry a cup of milk tea. Then he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Lily and James’s son. You’ve made quite the impression.”

Remus’s compliments always flustered Harry, so he simply shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

“Congrats on being the youngest Seeker in a century,” Remus grinned. “Minerva—Professor McGonagall told me. She’s very impressed by your flying. James and Lily will be so proud of you.”

“I still can’t believe it’s real,” Harry muttered. He hadn’t admitted this to anyone, not even Ron. “I thought I was going to be punished for what I did. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting a little too lucky.”

Remus hummed as he sipped his tea. “There are many reasons why luck might be on your side, but remember, it can abandon you in a heartbeat.”

“No kidding. Lily sent me quite a threat the other day. I think my luck will side with her, not me,” Harry quipped.

Remus shook his head. “She’s just worried about you, that’s all.” He raised his cup. “Tell me about Draco Malfoy. I heard there was trouble with him today.”

Harry scrunched his nose, knowing there was no point hiding anything from Remus. He recounted the argument with Malfoy and explained what a foul git the boy was.

Remus nodded. “As a teacher, I shouldn’t say this, but Draco Malfoy is a jerk. Still, I think you should be careful. It’s not just Draco. His father, Lucius Malfoy, is a powerful man. He’s on the school’s board and can visit Hogwarts whenever he pleases.”

“It’s not like I started the fight with Malfoy. He’s the one who keeps bothering me,” Harry retorted.

Remus sighed. “I know. Sometimes, we can’t avoid bad luck. Having Malfoy as your nemesis can make life difficult. That’s all I’m saying.”

It was a fair warning, and Harry had anticipated this conversation. Growing up, Remus had always been the most calm and reasonable of the four adults who raised him, more so even than Lily, who had her temper and nerves at times. Remus was always looking out for signs of trouble, something he once said might be his werewolf instincts, making him look out for danger, both for himself and others.

It was sad, Harry thought, that Remus had to be so cautious his whole life.

“Okay, I’ll be careful. I’ll stay under Malfoy’s radar. Be a Demiguise,” Harry grunted, half-joking, though he meant it.

Remus smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then Remus opened a locker and pulled out something familiar. A thin notebook Harry had seen before.

“By the way, Cedric dropped by and returned this. He hoped I’d lend it to you, but I think you can handle it on your own now.”

It was the same notebook Remus had given Cedric two years ago: a list of spells to repel Peeves. Harry should’ve said thanks, but all he could think about was Cedric visiting Remus before he did.

Harry crossed his arms. “What does he want? Did he come to threaten you with your secret?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Harry’s reaction. “What? Oh, no. He just came to say hello and chat. He’s visited a few times, actually.”

Harry was confused. “Why did he do that?” 

Memories of his last conversation with Cedric were bubbling up. He hadn’t told anyone about that night, but now it was all coming out.

“He said... he said you were dangerous.”

Remus’s face softened, a flicker of understanding in his expression. “Ah, I see,” he said with a nod.

“Don’t talk to him. He’s not as good as he pretends to be.”

Remus chuckled. “I can’t exactly avoid talking to him. I’m a teacher, after all.” 

There was amusement in his tone, which exasperated Harry. Remus didn’t seem to take the accusation against Cedric seriously and it was a little frustrating. Harry had been angry with Cedric on his behalf for two and a half years.

“Are you not angry with him, even after knowing what he called you?” Harry pressed.

Remus looked at Harry thoughtfully, as if weighing the question, before replying slowly. “There are countless times we say things we don’t really mean. I’ve done it myself more times than I can count.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll forgive him.” 

Remus raised his hands to signal peace.

“I’m not asking you to forgive him, but one’s life is full of choices. It can be confusing to find the right path even when we think we’re heading in the right direction. Cedric’s always so polite and well-liked by his friends. He’s even asked about you.”

Harry huffed, glaring at his teacup. “I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

Remus’s eyes crinkled. “A little discomfort in the beginning can save a whole lot of pain down the road.”

“I’ve always liked how wise you are until now,” Harry said, deadpan, finally meeting Remus’s eyes.

Remus laughed softly. “And you’re always too smart for your own good, Harry. I trust you’ll figure things out.”

That night, the joy of being Gryffindor’s Seeker seemed to shrink to almost nothing. Remus’s words echoed in Harry’s mind, stirring up memories he’d long tried to bury. The ones Harry tried so hard to shake them off and forgot.

He’d never told anyone about his fight with Cedric, too ashamed of what Cedric had accused him of: being a spoiled, selfish child who only thought of himself. It was too painful to revisit. Whenever Harry had a flashback of Cedric’s face that night looking at him with an expression of someone who knew better, someone who regretted being his friend, it tore him all over again.

With a groan, Harry buried his face in his pillow. He couldn’t believe Remus had called this unbearable pain ‘a little discomfort’ when Cedric’s words that night had nearly broken him.

Chapter Text

1

From the moment Harry arrived at Hogwarts in his first year, Cedric had known that the boy would take the school by storm.

It was barely a month later when news spread that Gryffindor had found a new Seeker, and that the rules about first-years playing on the school’s team had been lifted — just for Harry Potter.

Not only that, Cedric’s friends mentioned Harry’s notoriety: how he had openly insulted none other than Severus Snape, the most intimidating teacher at Hogwarts, and had been unfazed when given detention in his very first week. There were even rumors that Harry’s parents had been powerful figures in the Ministry, and that was why he acted like he owned the school. But Cedric knew that wasn’t true.

He tried to stay out of the gossip as much as possible. There were far more important things on his mind in his third year: more selective subjects to take, and an overwhelming number of assignments to go with them. Being top of his class for three years meant he could take more subjects than others, and he was happy with that. Learning and studying was what he did best; it was predictable and made sense. The more you read, the better you performed, and you stayed at the top of the class. It was also the perfect excuse for not getting involved in some tittle tattles.

The downside was that his housemates sometimes teased him, calling him ‘noble,’ ‘a goody-goody,’ ‘teacher’s pet,’ or even ‘the reincarnation of Helga Hufflepuff’ But Cedric was used to it. It was a small price to pay for thriving academically, so he laughed along with them and took it lightly.

But Harry never ceased to surprise him. Far from staying under the radar, he followed Cedric to Arithmancy one day and confronted him about Remus being a werewolf, even threatening him not to tell anyone. 

Cedric, who had already sworn on that day by the sycamore tree to keep it secret, was taken aback by Harry’s fierceness. The intensity in those green eyes was the same as when they had first met. They were full of wary suspicion. But this time, what made Cedric's stomach drop wasn’t unfamiliarity, but the mistrust Harry projected toward him.

He wanted to reassure Harry that he had nothing to worry about. Professor Lupin’s class was a favorite among students; he was competent and well-liked. But Cedric stopped himself as he didn’t want to come across as condescending. So, he said nothing. 

Harry didn’t trust him. The boy also added some final words before storming off, leaving Cedric feeling uneasy and heavy-hearted.

2

Weeks passed, and Cedric tried not to dwell much on their encounter. He focused on his studies and tried to spend as much time alone as possible, often evading some classmates asking for long tutoring sessions. He also frequented the library or Hufflepuff dormitory to avoid unwanted attention.

Then, Defense Against the Dark Arts took him by surprise.

It was the third lesson where third years were to deal with a Boggart, and Cedric knew what his would be.

“This should have been one of the first creatures you tackled, but I had to reschedule it after the Hinkypunks,” Remus told the class, his usual easy smile lighting his face. “Took me a while to find it. Filch found one hiding in his old suitcase, and now we’ve got it ready for today.”

The class continued normally. Hufflepuff shared Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor, and the two houses got along well, though the occasional tease and harmless prank often courtesy of the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan to keep things lively. Murmurs of excitement ran through the students as Remus explained what Boggarts were and how to deal with them using the incantation "Riddikulus!"

Since there were no desks or chairs in the classroom, Remus told them to line up and face the creature in the old worn suitcase sitting in front of the class. The first to go was Cedric’s housemate, Anthony Otterburn.

Everyone watched intently as the Boggart burst from the suitcase and took the form of a blood-soaked vampire. A few startled screams escaped, but before it could step out of the suitcase, Anthony raised his wand and shouted, “Riddikulus!”

The vampire melted into gooey green jelly, its tiny mouth making bubbling, gurgling noises. Grinning at his success, Anthony clapped hands with Angelina Johnson. The Boggart then shifted into an enormous tarantula, but Angelina confidently flicked her wand, transforming the spider into a giant, inflated balloon. The class erupted in laughter.

One by one, the students faced the Boggart, each turning it into something comical. But Cedric hesitated. For the first time in class, he didn’t want to step forward. He lingered in the back, fearing what his Boggart would turn into. The howling sound from that night – a werewolf – haunted him, and the thought of seeing it now terrified him. He was scared it might turn into Remus Lupin in wolf form. Worse, he dreaded how Remus would react.

But as he watched his friends face their fears, Cedric realised something deeper was troubling him. His fear wasn’t just of werewolves… it was more psychological, more personal. 

He thought of those teary green eyes and how Harry had cried because of him. How Harry had walked away, trembling, without looking back or acknowledging Cedric as a friend for the last time.

Cedric’s fear was of Harry telling him he wasn’t worth being friends with. And that thought made his heart ache and his hands turn cold. He was rooted to the spot, unwilling to let the entire class see a Boggart take the form of a nine-year-old Harry rejecting him.

So, he stayed at the back, quietly observing until the class was over. The last Boggart, which had taken the form of a Chimera, was turned into a small kitten by Karl Limpley, prompting an "aww" from the students. Remus swiftly ushered the kitten into the suitcase before it vanished.

“Sorry, I have to save it for the Ravenclaw and Slytherin classes tomorrow,” Remus told them. “Your homework is to write a short essay, no more than two pages, about how to deal with a Boggart and where they are found. Due next week. Class dismissed.”

As the students buzzed with excitement, talking loudly about their Boggarts, Cedric lingered behind, unsure whether to approach Remus. But it was their last class before lunch, so he had time to finally work up the courage.

“Professor Lupin, may I speak with you for a moment?” he asked hesitantly.

Remus, in the process of picking up the suitcase, turned and smiled warmly. “Cedric! Call me Remus. Of course, what’s on your mind?”

Cedric hesitated, his voice quiet in the now-empty classroom. “I—I’m sorry I didn’t participate much in class.”

Remus’s smile grew. “That’s perfectly understandable. Not all fears take a physical form. That’s why I ask for volunteers. But in your case, I understand. Were you afraid your Boggart might turn into me in my wolf form?”

Cedric was stunned. “Yeah... that’s what I thought too. But there’s something else... I’m sorry.”

Remus shook his head gently. “You don’t need to apologise, Cedric. I should be the one apologising for causing you nightmares. I’m so sorry.”

It was strange for Cedric to hear a teacher, an adult, apologise to him. He felt unsure how to respond.

Remus looked tired but kind, the lines around his eyes deepening as he smiled. Cedric also felt guilty for making him feel like he had to apologise.

“Listen,” Remus continued, “you’re welcome to drop by my office anytime. I don’t know what happened between you and Harry, but I won’t pry unless you want to talk. You can share anything with me. Consider me your friend.”

It was impossible to reconcile this kind, understanding man with the terrifying figure that had haunted Cedric’s nightmares. Despite feeling shaken, Cedric nodded.

“Thank you, Remus.”

As Cedric walked toward the Great Hall, he felt a weight lift from his chest, a burden he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying for so long.

3

Quidditch season arrived earlier than Cedric had expected. He’d been busy catching up with schoolwork until Herbert started dragging him to Quidditch practice three times a week. According to Herbert’s plan, they wouldn’t focus on strict strategies until they knew whether they’d face Gryffindor or Slytherin in next week’s match. For now, they practiced defensive tactics, which mostly meant Cedric flew above his teammates, searching for the golden snitch and ensuring the other team didn’t catch it before they scored enough points.

The weather in early November was dull and cold, and by the end of each practice, they were soaked through. Cedric winced, thinking about their first match and the likelihood of terrible weather. His thoughts drifted to Harry, picturing his lithe figure battling against thunderstorms on his broom.

To his relief, the weather on the Saturday of the first match was cloudy, with gusts of wind but no signs of rain. At least with this weather, he could imagine how brilliantly Harry would fly.

After breakfast, Cedric followed his housemates to the Hufflepuff stands. It was obvious that many Hufflepuffs were cheering for Gryffindor, not just because of their aligned nature, but because no one wanted to face Slytherin's dirty tactics. It would be better for Gryffindor to win. As they crossed the field, Cedric spotted Remus Lupin heading toward the staff stand, accompanied by two familiar figures: James and Sirius.

Remus noticed Cedric, likely due to his height, and elbowed James and Sirius, who eagerly waved at him with wide smiles.

"Hiya, Cedric!" James called, almost shouting as he waved with both hands. His grin was almost childlike. "Wow, Merlin—you’re so tall!"

Cedric, flustered by the loud compliment, smiled back shyly and nodded.

"We’re here to see Harry’s first match!" James said excitedly. "Can’t wait to see Slytherin get crushed again!"

Sirius rolled his eyes at James's enthusiasm. He wore a leather jacket, dark jeans, and had a pair of black sunglasses tucked into his band t-shirt. A few girls walking behind Cedric stopped to stare at Sirius, giggling and pointing at him, clearly smitten by his looks. Sirius, however, seemed unfazed by the attention, standing out even more in the dull weather.

Sensing more eyes turning their way, Remus spoke politely, "We’d better go. See you after the match, Cedric." He then guided James and Sirius to the other side of the stands.

Half an hour later, Cedric found himself squeezed between his friends, Miles and Lawrence, as the crowd roared. The teams emerged onto the field. The Slytherin players, all tall and muscular, looked like they had been built in the same factory. By contrast, Gryffindor had a more diverse team in terms of size and shape. At the end of Gryffindor's line stood Harry, small compared to Marcus Flint, who seemed big enough to crush Harry with one hand. In Harry’s hand was his Nimbus 2000, gleaming beautifully in the dim light.

Madam Hooch briefly explained the rules, her stern gaze lingering on the Slytherin team, notorious for playing dirty. A minute later, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the game.

Gryffindor started with the quaffle. Cedric heard Lee Jordan’s familiar voice narrating the game. One of Gryffindor’s Chasers, probably Angelina, raced past a Slytherin player and hurled the quaffle just inches from Flint’s face, scoring the first ten points for Gryffindor.

Lawrence let out a cheer. "Gosh, Angelina’s amazing! How am I ever going to ask her out after this?"

Cedric chuckled, thinking about how often Lawrence had tried, and failed, to ask Angelina to Hogsmeade.

The game continued. Adrian Pucey scored for Slytherin, and Cedric's eyes instinctively searched the skies for the golden snitch. He mistook the glint of a wristwatch for it once. 

Another Gryffindor goal earned applause from Cedric and his friends, but Harry was still nowhere to be seen.

Then, a bludger whizzed past their stand, causing a burst of screams. Cedric ducked just in time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry flying near the Hufflepuff stands, suddenly diving toward the field. Cedric’s heart raced. Slytherin’s Seeker, Higgs, was hot on Harry’s tail. Cedric spotted a glint of gold hovering just feet above the ground.

Harry had seen it too. He flew at it with remarkable speed and precision, his small frame allowing him to change direction faster than Higgs. Harry was mere seconds from catching the snitch when a bludger shot toward him, forcing him to swerve out of the way. The crowd groaned as the snitch disappeared.

Harry veered back up into the sky, and Higgs lost control, crashing into the ground with his broom landing several feet away. The Hufflepuffs laughed at the sight.

Cedric, however, was distracted by something unusual –- Harry seemed to be struggling to stay on his broom, which was shaking violently, as if trying to throw him off. No one else seemed to have noticed, their attention fixed on the Chasers. Cedric quickly turned to Miles.

"Can I borrow your binoculars?" he asked urgently, but Miles was too engrossed in the game to respond. Cedric took the binoculars and zoomed in on Harry.

His suspicion was confirmed. Harry’s broom was bucking wildly, far too high off the ground to be natural. A chill ran through Cedric as he realised something was terribly wrong. Dark magic, perhaps?

He quickly scanned the crowd through the binoculars and spotted James, his face pale with fear as he watched his son dangling from his broom. Sirius and Remus were both reaching for their wands, ready to intervene. But something else caught Cedric's attention – a small, shadowy figure sitting behind Lucius Malfoy, partially hidden under a blanket.

Heart pounding, Cedric shoved the binoculars back to Miles and rushed down the stairs, stumbling over feet and apologising as he went. The crowd was just beginning to notice Harry’s plight.

Sprinting toward the staff tent, Cedric collided with a girl, almost knocking her over. He grabbed her arms to steady her and recognised her instantly – the Gryffindor girl with frizzy brown hair who practically lived in the library.

The girl mumbled an apology and tried to rush toward the staff tent. Cedric, panting beside her, asked, "Are you going to stop Lucius Malfoy from cursing Harry’s broom?"

She froze. "It’s Snape," she whispered.

"No, Snape’s trying to stop the curse. There’s someone else..." Cedric motioned for her to follow him. She hesitated but then changed direction, following him to a corner of the stands.

There, they saw Lucius Malfoy’s robes, long enough to cover a small creature hiding beneath them, except for its large, tennis-ball-sized eyes. Cedric glanced at the girl, who nodded and raised her wand in ready.

As she reached for the creature, Cedric cast "Silencio!" before it could make a sound. He shoved the creature down behind the tent. Just then, the crowd erupted in cheers. Harry must have regained control of his broom. From the tent, Cedric faintly heard James shouting something that would have shocked any adult.

What followed was a slow process. Cedric cast "Wingardium Leviosa!" and the small creature, clearly a house-elf, floated into the air. House-elves had their own magic and could vanish in an instant, so Cedric had to make sure his spell kept the elf from moving freely. The elf struggled and cried pitifully as they carried it down behind the stands.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" the girl demanded.

The elf, tears streaming from its enormous eyes, slammed its head against the ground in distress.

"Dobby can’t tell!" it wailed. "Master made Dobby swear… swore Dobby had to hurt the boy today! Master said Dobby must stay out of sight, behind the seats!"

The girl rushed to stop Dobby from hurting himself, looking both shocked and sympathetic. Cedric loosened his grip on his wand. Dobby’s answer had told him enough.

"Go back to your master, Dobby," Cedric said gently. "I’m sorry we brought you here. And… thank you."

Dobby’s eyes welled up with tears. "No one has ever said thank you to Dobby before!"

Cedric touched the elf’s arm. "I wish I could help you more. Go, before he notices you’re gone."

With a tearful nod, Dobby disappeared.

The girl gasped at the sight.

"Who… who was that?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"That was a house-elf," Cedric explained. "Some pureblood families still keep them as slaves. His master, Lucius Malfoy, made him curse Harry’s broom."

"But why?" the girl asked, horrified. "Harry’s just a boy!"

"I don’t know," Cedric said grimly. "Probably some twisted form of payback."

Cedric turned to the girl, reaching out his hand. “I’m Cedric Diggory. Wish we could have met under more normal circumstances.”

The girl gave him a small smile as she took his hand. “I know your name. Hermione Granger.”

“Look, Hermione,” he said. “I need to ask you something: promise me you won’t tell anyone about me helping you here, okay? Especially Harry.”

Hermione paused. “May I ask why?”

Something about Hermione made Cedric feel he could trust her, but revealing Remus’s secret was too risky.

“No. Sorry,” he decided.

Hermione nodded briefly. “Alright. I promise. See you later, Cedric.”

She sprinted back to the Gryffindor tent just as Cedric heard Lee announce that Gryffindor had won against Slytherin, 220-80, which meant Harry had caught the Golden Snitch at last.

What a game, Cedric thought. He suddenly felt too tired to head back to the stand and cheer with everyone else.

4

Weeks after that had been quite hectic. Not only did Cedric have to juggle all the subjects that required at least twenty-four inches of essay length and practice spells, but he also had to attend Quidditch practice five days a week. The incident with Harry’s broom going rogue had raised concerns among the teachers, especially after James and Sirius demanded an investigation. As a result, Flitwick decided to examine Harry’s broomstick for traces of Dark magic, which took time. Meanwhile, Hufflepuff would face Ravenclaw in the next match, while Gryffindor was scheduled to play after Christmas.

When Herbert, the captain, delivered the news to the team with a grim face, Cedric was surprised that Lucius Malfoy had gone scot-free. Apparently, no one else knew what had really happened that day, except him, Hermione, and possibly Harry and Ron. It felt strange not to address such an urgent concern with the adults, but Cedric realised it was probably 'intended' to stay hidden.

After the incident, he had seen Hermione in the library many times, but rarely alone. She was often with Ron and Harry, and Cedric was glad to see she had made friends and no longer sat reading a mountain of books all weekend. The trio was usually found in a quiet corner, whispering in low voices, or frantically doing homework at the last minute with their faces buried in thick textbooks.

One bright, sunny day, when everyone else was outside by the lake or in the garden enjoying the rare sunlight, Cedric was inside, scribbling notes for his Ancient Runes homework. He muttered words and memorised long sentences for tomorrow’s quiz, which Professor Babbling had warned would be difficult to pass. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione, sitting not far from him without Harry or Ron.

He put down his pen and smiled. “Hello, Hermione. Not a fan of sunlight?”

Hermione returned a brief smile. In front of her was one of the largest books Cedric had ever seen. It looked like a record book. “I’ve been doing some light reading. Thanks to you, I’ve learned so much about House-Elves and the outdated Wizarding laws that keep them enslaved.”

It was strange hearing an eleven-year-old speak so seriously. Even Cedric’s classmates weren’t as eloquent as Hermione. “Well, if you put it that way…”

“Harry and Ron agree with me too,” she quickly added, trying to prove her point. “Dobby’s being forced to take the blame for Malfoy’s dirty acts, and he doesn’t want to.”

Cedric began to understand. “That’s why you three haven’t reported it to the teachers. You want to protect Dobby.”

Hermione nodded solemnly. “If Lucius Malfoy gets caught, he’ll certainly harm Dobby. We don’t know how far he’d go to hurt someone he considers beneath him. But we won’t let him get away with it.”

Cedric frowned. “What are you going to do?”

Realising she had said too much, Hermione blinked and looked flustered. She avoided Cedric’s questioning gaze. “We’re working on it,” was all she said.

Cedric had no doubt about that. Even though he had only met her a couple of times, Hermione had proven to be one of the smartest people around his age. Her dedication to a cause could be terrifying, especially when combined with Harry’s stubbornness. Cedric didn’t know much about Ron, but growing up with the Twins, he was sure it was only a matter of time before the three of them did something that would make everyone either cheer or frown.

Then Hermione asked, “What are you reading?”

Noticing her attempt to change the subject, Cedric shook his head but went along with it. There was no use pressing the matter if they didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s my Ancient Runes studies. It’s an elective subject. You get to choose more than one in your third year.”

Hermione’s curiosity was piqued as she kept asking for more details. It was actually refreshing to have someone interested in the subjects Cedric’s peers considered ‘boring’ or ‘impractical.’ His father, for example, had strongly disapproved of him taking Ancient Runes and Healing Arts.

“That’s fascinating,” Hermione concluded after Cedric had briefly explained the use of Runes in ancient history. “It’s not just about magic and wizardry, but about the world’s history.”

Cedric nodded. “Exactly. Learning history shows that the wizarding world and the Muggle world aren’t as separate as we think. We’ve shared a lot in common, and we’re not all that different. Magic aside.”

Hermione glanced at Cedric briefly. He noticed she wasn’t fond of eye contact. “Can I ask you something?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

“Sure.”

“What happened between you and Harry?”

The question caught Cedric off guard, but as he got to know Hermione better, he wasn’t really surprised. She was driven by curiosity rather than social cues. It reminded him of Harry from two years ago, who had asked him lots of questions and never stopped questioning everything.

For a moment, Cedric considered brushing it off casually, but Hermione’s seriousness made him think twice. She would probably see through any white lies.

“We used to be friends two years ago,” he said. “But our friendship… sort of fell apart. My dad doesn’t want me to be friends with him anymore, and Harry… he’s hurt by what I said to him. Neither of us wants to fix it. The feelings are mutual.”

It wasn’t a lie, but Cedric intentionally left out the part about Remus, of course. Hermione looked surprised.

“But you helped him during the Quidditch match,” she pointed out.

Cedric deflated. “It was all I could do at the time.”

Hermione looked confused, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle in her mind. “That explains why Harry reacted so strongly when I mentioned your name once.”

“What?”

“I wanted to see if he’d say anything about you, so I brought up your name during a random conversation, and he glared at me and refused to talk about it. Ron noticed too that Harry really doesn’t like you.”

Cedric couldn’t believe kids younger than him were learning how to do things like that. Hermione, after all, was turning out to be quite the strategist.

To his surprise, Hermione giggled. “It’s like Pride and Prejudice . You and Harry were Mr. Darcy and Lizzie.”

“What’s Pride and Prejudice?”

He saw a playful gleam in Hermione’s eyes. “A very famous Muggle novel. I can lend you the book after Christmas, if you’d like.”

5

It was nice having Hermione as a friend, talking to her from time to time when Harry wasn’t around. Cedric even met Ron, who seemed a bit bewildered by how friendly Cedric was. Clearly, Ron’s image of him had been influenced by Harry’s anger.

However, Cedric’s free time in the library didn’t last long. By the end of November, Hufflepuff had to face Ravenclaw, who had been the Quidditch champions for two years running. While Hufflepuff was strong in defense and Gryffindor was known for their relentless attacks, Ravenclaw excelled in both areas. Only Slytherin, with their brute strength and impromptu strategies, had managed to beat Ravenclaw’s well-planned tactics.

It was no surprise that the Hufflepuff team entered the field with resigned expressions, expecting to lose despite practicing almost every day. Half of the Hufflepuff students also prepared themselves for defeat, only cheering for the team half-heartedly. They were more hopeful for their matches against Gryffindor and Slytherin after Christmas. Better to aim for second place and more House points, according to Herbert’s strategy.

After the first whistle, Cedric kicked off and flew ahead, just as Ravenclaw’s new Seeker, Cho Chang, followed him closely.

“Hello,” Cho smiled, her ponytail brushing her pretty face. It wasn’t unusual to chat with other teams during a match, but Cedric was still surprised. He nodded at her but didn’t smile back.

What Cedric didn’t expect was for Cho to keep following him around. Then he realised what she was doing: the weather was chilly, with strong winds, and she was using him as a buffer, letting his tall body block the cold gusts. It was an old tactic, and quite annoying, as Cedric found it hard to shake her off.

But he didn’t have to worry about that for long. Fifteen minutes into the game, Cedric spotted the Golden Snitch. 

It was pure luck – he caught a glimpse of it hovering a few feet ahead of him. Without changing direction or speeding up to alert Cho, he straightened his body to block her view. A second later, his fingers brushed the cold, fluttering wings of the tiny ball.

There was an uproar from the Hufflepuff tent as Lee Jordan announced that Hufflepuff had won, just fifteen minutes after the match had started, with a score of 170-40. 

Cedric could hardly believe his luck, even after he landed and was swarmed by his teammates, who crashed into him in excitement. His housemates rushed across the field to greet him.

“That was amazing,” Cedric turned to see Cho Chang smiling brightly at him. “It was my first match. Seems like I have a lot to learn from you.”

Cedric extended his hand toward her, and they smiled as they shook hands.

6

“Impressive skills out there, Cedric.”

It was after dinner, when the Hufflepuff cheers had finally subsided. Cedric was about to head to bed when Remus’s voice emerged from behind him. He turned around to see Remus Lupin, almost limping toward him. 

Remus looked thinner, his gray hair more visible, and his robes seemed to hang loosely on his frail frame. He looked sickly and worn.

“Thank you. But it was more of a fluke,” Cedric said sheepishly, then considered his words. “You don’t look so well.”

Remus, of course, caught on to Cedric’s observation and simply replied, “One of those times of the month.” He chuckled humorlessly. “But I could see you play from the staff room. You know how to use your strengths against others, Cedric. Not many players recognise that.”

Cedric thanked him. He wanted to say something more about Remus’s condition, maybe offer some words of comfort to show he was concerned. But all the comforting words seemed hollow and empty. Instead, he asked, “Are you spending Christmas at Hogwarts?”

Remus looked surprised. “No, no. Actually, I’d like to rest for a while, probably at Sirius’s place.”

At that moment, a thought struck Cedric. He remembered what Harry had told him about Remus and Sirius being together. It hadn’t fully registered before, but now it made sense.

Seeing Cedric at a loss for words, Remus nodded kindly. “See you around after Christmas. Hopefully, I’ll have more strength then.”

That night, Cedric lay awake, thinking about what he had just learned. He hadn’t paid attention to those kinds of things before, as they seemed distant and unrelated to him. But now, he was noticing things. He had always thought there was only one way to like someone romantically – as a boy, the only romantic relationship he could have was with a girl. But now, he realised there was another possibility. 

Cedric clutched his pillow, swallowing as the thought crossed his mind – being with someone, whether a boy or a girl. 

He knew some girls were interested in him. He noticed how they tried to talk to him or ask him to Hogsmeade, but he had never considered that a boy could do the same. Or that he might want to ask a boy.

Another unsettling thought crept into his mind. Harry. 

Harry had been the one to tell him about this sort of thing… Harry had known all along. Cedric remembered Harry’s frustration when he’d tried to explain what ‘together’ meant for him. How did Harry know so much about these things at such a young age? Where had he learned what wasn’t taught at school? Cedric was left feeling dumbfounded, as if the idea was both incomprehensible and a little terrifying. 

His stomach dropped with a sudden shiver. 

7

The Christmas holiday was heartwarming. Back at home, Cedric spent time with his family at his grandparents’ house, where they kindly let him explore their study. The library, though much smaller than Hogwarts’, contained many fascinating books on history that would have been restricted for fourth years and below. They even lent him some more advanced books, like Extraordinary Trials in History , European Wizardry Negotiations with Muggles , Magic in North America , and Magical People’s Genocide . Cedric happily took them back to Hogwarts.

By the end of the holiday, Cedric had learned much about the Magical Congress in North America. He also discovered the political intrigue that had covered up the collateral damage of the Wizards’ war with Native Americans, forcing them into hiding from both Muggles and magical people for decades.

“Don’t you think you’re reading a little too much?” 

His dad remarked as they waited to board the Hogwarts Express. Cedric’s eyes were still glued to the biography of Ahanu, one of the most powerful Native American wizards.

He glanced up from the book. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not that reading’s bad, mind you. But history, Ced.” His dad tapped the book cover. “It’s not everyone’s favorite subject.”

Before Cedric could respond, the piercing whistle of the train interrupted his thoughts. He tucked the book into his backpack, said goodbye to his dad, and boarded the train back to school.

The new term started off well. The first Quidditch match of the term was between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw could have easily beaten Gryffindor using the same strategy they had employed against Hufflepuff, but Gryffindor had managed to pull off some good tactics and beat Ravenclaw with a score of 160-90. That left Hufflepuff and Gryffindor to face off in the final championship match next month.

Excitement buzzed through the students of both houses. They had never faced each other in the final round before as one of them always ended up third or fourth place. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s captain, was practically vibrating with excitement. From across the table, Cedric could hear him urging his team to practice before class every morning.

“They’re pulling out all the stops this year,” Heidi, one of Hufflepuff’s Chasers, remarked warily as she watched the Gryffindor team, shuddering.

Maxine gave her a playful punch on the shoulder. “Don’t let Gryffindor’s hotheaded energy scare you. They just want to show off in practice. We’ve got this.”

Cedric wasn’t so sure. He knew he was a fair player, but despite the combined efforts of the team, their best strategy would be to play it safe and aim for second place. Cedric would be happy with that. He couldn’t fly as well as Harry, but at least he could try to keep him from catching the Golden Snitch too quickly. 

There were two things he was really good at: taking responsibility and compartmentalising. He loved how everything fell into place when things went according to plan, and he could easily push aside uneasy feelings. Snape assigned a Potions essay? Perfect. Cedric would complete it on Saturday morning and wouldn’t think about Quidditch until Sunday. Another Charms spell to practice? No problem. He’d find someone in the common room to practice with twice a week. Quidditch practice? Cedric would stay up to finish schoolwork beforehand so he could focus on practice every evening leading up to the match with Gryffindor. He preferred having a full plate instead of emptying his mind with nervousness over upcoming events. 

Still, the idea of playing against Harry made Cedric feel uneasy.

One lazy Friday evening in the Hufflepuff common room, third-year students were forcing themselves to finish their essays for the week.

“Seriously, I don’t see how you handle all that,” Lawrence groaned, staring at his half-finished Astronomy essay, which had been due the day before. Cedric had been helping him fact-check the list of star positions in the Andromeda galaxy. “Quidditch, tests, assignments… girls.”

“I don’t have girl issues,” Cedric quipped, still scanning Lawrence’s sloppy handwriting, crossing out mistakes with red ink.

“Don’t give me that. You’ve got it bad for that Seeker, haven’t you? I’ve seen it!”

Cedric’s heart seemed to stop. His face paled. “What?”

Lawrence grinned. “See your face? You’re caught, mate. She came to you after the match. You’re smitten with Cho Chang.”

A flood of emotions swept through Cedric: relief, confusion, and a bit of fluster. But he settled on exasperation, rolling his eyes as he refocused on Lawrence’s last-minute essay.

“I’m not,” Cedric argued, though he knew Lawrence wouldn’t listen.

“Another lie,” Lawrence snickered. “You’re a terrible liar, Ced.”

Cedric handed the essay back and shook his head. “There. Finished. I’m done with you, Lawrence Jones. Feel free to tackle your Transfiguration essay by yourself.”

“What? No! I was just kidding,” his friend pleaded, trying to catch Cedric as he got up. “Please help me. McGonagall will kill me if I don’t finish it by Monday.”

“It’s Friday. You’ve got the whole weekend,” Cedric reasoned, already leaving his friend to wrestle with his torturous essay on the Incarcerous spell.

It was only half-past six, so Cedric had time to head to the library. He sighed, thinking of the Divination books he needed for his reference. Divination was his least favorite subject and he couldn’t wait to drop it after this year.

The Hufflepuff common room was located in the basement, not far from the Great Hall, but it was quite a distance to the library. Cedric had to walk up several great staircases, pass through long corridors, and cross the quad courtyard to reach the library, which was on the north side of the castle. During winter, however, the cool night breeze made the walk refreshing, and Cedric didn’t mind taking the time to enjoy the crisp air.

As he mentally listed the books he needed to borrow, Cedric was about to turn around an empty corner when he saw someone running. The frizzy, wild hair was unmistakable. It was Hermione.

He hadn’t seen her for quite a while, and she immediately spotted him too, quickening her pace. As she neared, Cedric saw the look of panic on her face, which made him stop in his tracks, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand.

“Cedric! Thank God!” she gasped, panting heavily, her eyes brimming with tears. Her face was pale, and her voice trembled. “Harry and Ron... they—they’ve gotten into a fight with Malfoy and his gang in the quad. Come quick!”

There was no need for further explanation. Cedric took off in a sprint, heading for the quad courtyard. It was already dark, but as he approached, he could make out the chaos ahead.

There were six people tangled in the brawl, difficult to discern who was where. As Cedric ran closer, he saw Ron being held by two large boys—one had him in a chokehold, causing Ron’s face to turn purple as he struggled to breathe and get to his feet. Meanwhile, Harry was on top of Draco Malfoy, gripping his collar and punching him hard in the face. Malfoy let out a cry as he tried to kick Harry, who was crouched over him, trapping Malfoy’s knees under his robes. Not far from the fight, Neville Longbottom sat on the grass, sniffling uncontrollably.

Cedric’s presence seemed to have an immediate effect. The two boys holding Ron released him, causing Ron to collapse to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Cedric rushed to help him up. Harry and Malfoy, however, were still locked in their scuffle, so Cedric moved quickly, grabbing Harry by the arms. It took all of his strength to pull Harry away from Malfoy before the younger boy could land another punch.

“Stop! Harry!” Cedric shouted, dragging him back as Malfoy lay groaning on the ground. “Bloody hell, stop!”

Harry struggled violently in Cedric’s grip, his wild eyes blazing with fury.

“Get away from me!” Harry snarled, his voice feral.

Cedric winced at the sight of Harry’s face. It was bruised and bloody. There was a dark red mark on his cheek, scratches on his chin, and blood dripping from his nose. His hair was a tangled mess, and he looked at Cedric with rage still simmering in his green eyes.

“Professor McGonagall!” Neville’s cry broke through the chaos, and Cedric turned just in time to hear McGonagall’s thunderous voice echo across the courtyard.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?!” she bellowed, her sharp blue eyes scanning the scene as if piercing through their souls. “Explain yourselves, or I’ll have you all expelled!”

The group fell into stunned silence, except for Neville’s quiet sobs. 

Finally, Hermione spoke up, her voice trembling.

“Please, Professor. It was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They cursed Neville with the Jelly-Legs Jinx and laughed at him, calling him weak and unworthy of being in Gryffindor. When Harry, Ron, and I tried to intervene, Malfoy—” Hermione choked on her words, tears spilling down her face, “he–he called me a Mudblood. So Ron and Harry... they lost it, and—”

McGonagall raised her hand, silencing Hermione. “That’s enough, Miss Granger. And is this true, Mr. Malfoy? Did you use that wretched word?”

Malfoy said nothing, his nose still bleeding, his face just as battered as Harry’s. His uniform was smeared with dirt.

“Is it true?” McGonagall pressed, her voice icy.

Malfoy gave a reluctant nod, unable to deny it.

McGonagall inhaled sharply, clearly restraining her temper. “And what about you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley? Do you have any excuse for resorting to such barbaric behavior instead of reporting this to a teacher?”

“No, ma’am,” Harry muttered, his eyes still glaring daggers at Malfoy. “But he deserved it.”

McGonagall’s gaze hardened. “I won’t lecture you about personal vendettas, Mr. Potter, but I will be writing to your parents about this.” Her eyes shifted to Ron, who looked down at the ground. “The same goes for you, Mr. Weasley.”

She then turned to Cedric, who suddenly realised he still had a firm grip on Harry’s shoulder. He quickly released him.

“I trust Mr. Diggory had no part in this pitiful brawl,” McGonagall said, her stern eyes narrowing at Cedric.

“No, ma’am,” Hermione cut in quickly. “I found him in the corridor and asked him for help.”

“Very well,” McGonagall said. “Two hundred points from Slytherin for Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Goyle. You three will serve detention every day with Filch for a month, cleaning the trophy room and the hospital wing toilets.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened in horror. “But that's the servant's work!”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Did I suggest you had a choice, Mr. Malfoy?”

Turning to Harry and Ron, she added, “And two hundred points from Gryffindor for reckless behavior. You, Mr. Weasley, will serve detention in the dungeons for the rest of the month.”

Ron gasped. “But we didn’t do anything wrong!”

McGonagall’s icy glare silenced him. “You’ll have ample time to reflect on how your actions affect your housemates.”

Finally, her gaze fell on Harry. “As for you, Mr. Potter, I regret to inform you that you are banned from playing in this Sunday’s Quidditch match.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do that! It’s the final!”

McGonagall’s expression remained cold. “If that’s your only concern, then good day, Mr. Potter.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode out of the courtyard.

Cedric suddenly became aware of the other students who had gathered, whispering excitedly about the fight. He glanced at Harry, whose face was flushed with humiliation, his lips trembling as though the world had collapsed around him. Nearby, Crabbe and Goyle were helping Malfoy to his feet. Malfoy shot Harry a smug, bloodied smirk before limping away.

“Come on,” Cedric said quietly. “You and Ron should go to the hospital wing.”

Harry turned to him, his eyes glaring. “It’s none of your business.”

Hermione stepped in, her voice soft and pleading. “Harry, please... you need to see Madam Pomfrey.”

Without responding, Harry stormed past Cedric, while Ron leaned heavily on Neville, who helped him limp toward the hospital wing.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered to Cedric. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if—”

“Don’t mention it,” Cedric reassured her.

Hermione gave him a small nod before hurrying after her friends. Cedric watched them go, his heart still pounding.

8

The Quidditch final turned into an insipid anticlimax. With no Seeker just two days before the match, Gryffindor was crushed in less than half an hour. Cedric stared at the Golden Snitch, trying to wriggle free from his grip, but felt only hollow victory.

Harry’s reputation had gone up in flames after the courtyard incident. Not only had he been banned, but he also didn’t show up when Gryffindor received the silver medal and was nowhere to be found. He rarely appeared in the Great Hall, and as Hermione later told Cedric, he was having his meals in the common room. According to her, Harry hated Malfoy so much that he needed time to lick his wounds and his bruised ego.

Cedric didn’t have much time to worry about Harry. After a week of celebrating the Quidditch House Cup, he found himself overwhelmed with end-of-year exams. Every subject piled on last-minute assignments, even Herbology, which rarely had homework, now required a twenty-page essay before the term ended.

On the last day before the exams, Cedric stifled a yawn while packing his textbooks into his heavy bag after Defense Against the Dark Arts, the final class for the third-year Hufflepuffs before exams began. The classroom, which had been rearranged for practical lessons all year, now had the desks and chairs set back in their usual place. 

Just as he was about to leave, Remus approached him.

“Cedric, may I have a word?”

Cedric’s drowsiness vanished at the sight of the concern on Remus’s face. Nodding, he followed the professor to his desk while the other students slowly filed out of the classroom.

“Nothing serious,” Remus said. “I just wanted to thank you for looking after Harry. It was really generous of you to help him. And it’s not just me who thinks so. James and Sirius are grateful as well. They appreciate how you’ve dealt with his... well, his sheer stubbornness.”

Cedric shrugged. “I didn’t really do much, honestly.”

Lupin smiled. “You’ve cared for him, though, haven’t you?”

Cedric didn’t respond immediately, but Lupin seemed to sense his uncertainty.

“I can tell,” the professor continued. “You two were quite close back then, and Harry really admired you even though he’d never admit it. He wanted to impress you that night by bringing you to see me at the farmhouse.”

Cedric felt a flush creep up his neck; Remus’s words striking him like lightning. 

He had never considered how Harry might have felt back then. He had always assumed that Harry acted recklessly by nature, taking risks out of a desire for excitement without thinking of the reasons behind his actions. 

But suddenly, everything made more sense. 

Harry had cared so much for Remus, even threatening Cedric in the first term because of it. He had jumped into the fight with Malfoy without hesitation because he cared for Neville and Hermione. And he hadn’t regretted punching Malfoy.

Now Cedric understood: Harry’s actions had always been motivated by care for others, even if they seemed impulsive. Even the night Cedric had fallen from the tree, Harry was simply trying to make an impression before Cedric went to Hogwarts, though it had gone wrong. And that night on the balcony, when Harry was so insistent on continuing their friendship, it wasn’t selfishness. Harry truly wanted Cedric in his life and valued their bond above all else.

Cedric suddenly felt ashamed of himself.

“I—I don’t…”

Remus smiled again, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “That’s alright. I’m not saying Harry’s behavior should be excused or that he doesn’t deserve his punishment, but sometimes he’s too hard on himself. He takes it upon himself to fix everything, even when it’s too big for him to handle alone. But he’s too stubborn to admit it or ask for help.”

Remus didn’t wait for Cedric’s response. Gathering the students’ essays from the desk, he patted Cedric’s shoulder. “I may not be able to keep an eye on Harry after this, so please, consider what I’ve said.”

Before Cedric could ask him more, Remus had already left the room.

9

“I swear I saw my whole life flash before my eyes,” Lawrence whined as all the third-year Hufflepuffs shuffled out of their last exam of the year: History of Magic. “I’m ready to sleep through the entire weekend.”

Miles elbowed him. “We haven’t even taken our O.W.L.s yet, and you’ve complained enough for all of us combined, Lawrence.”

Lawrence stretched his arms over his head. “O.W.L.s be damned. My mum runs a bakery. If I don’t get a degree, I’ll just take over her shop and live without a care in the world.”

Phoebe Tucklewoods sighed in exasperation. “Seriously, how can someone as lazy as you be friends with Mr. Perfect Cedric Diggory? I just don’t get it.”

“We complement each other so well, right, Ced?” Lawrence grinned.

Cedric forced a smile. He didn’t mind the teasing, though he wanted to argue that he was far from perfect. Lately, he’d misjudged someone who cared a lot for him, and now he couldn’t face Harry without feeling a pang of guilt.

They headed to the lake to enjoy the sun after a long week cooped up in exam halls, but before that, Cedric rummaged through his bag, looking for the books he had borrowed and needed to return to the library before the term ended.

“Have any of you seen the book about nocturnal beasts I borrowed?” he asked, still digging through his cluttered pile of textbooks.

Lawrence cursed under his breath. “Ah, crap. I probably left it in the Defense classroom before rushing to the Charms exam.” He quickly slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll go get it.”

“It’s okay,” Cedric reassured him. “You guys go on ahead. I need to stop by the washroom anyway.” He waved them off and headed back toward the classrooms.

The castle halls were eerily quiet now that the exams were over, a stark contrast to the chaos of just this morning when Cedric had nearly tripped over a Cuppa during their Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, only saving himself with a quick Levitation Charm. Now, only silence greeted him.

As Cedric reached the Defense classroom, the door flew open and someone barged out. It was Harry Potter.

But something was off. Harry’s shoulders were trembling, and there were unmistakably tears streaked down his face. When he noticed Cedric, he froze, quickly pulling down his glasses and rubbing his face with his sleeve. Then he looked at Cedric, eyes blazing with fury, before marching straight toward him.

Cedric felt a jolt of déjà vu. It was the second time Harry had looked at him with such intensity and pain, just like that night on the balcony.

There was nowhere to hide, so Cedric planted his feet, bracing himself for the storm.

“You! What did you do?” Harry’s voice trembled as he shouted. Cedric staggered back as the younger boy grabbed him by the front of his robe, clutching it with surprising strength. 

“Remus is gone! He’s been forced to resign!”

A cold dread pooled in Cedric’s stomach. “What?”

Harry pulled harder on his robe, forcing Cedric to look him in the eye. Tears still glistened in the younger boy’s eyes and his face was flushed with anger.

“Don’t lie to me! Did you tell anyone about him?”

Panicking, Cedric raised his voice to match Harry’s. “No! I didn’t tell anyone!”

One of Harry’s fists was clutching a crumpled note, probably something Remus had left for him in his office.

“There’s nothing in his office. He’s gone. He’s—”

Harry was clearly not himself. He couldn’t stop crying or even finish his muddled sentences. Before Cedric knew it, Harry slumped against him, burying his face in Cedric’s shirt and sobbing uncontrollably.

Cedric froze, not daring to move or even breathe, afraid of startling Harry or making him feel worse. So he stood still, waiting for Harry’s outburst to subside.

He heard Harry mumble against his chest, almost too quietly to catch, “—It’s my fault.”

Cedric knew exactly what Harry was thinking. Very slowly, he placed a hand on Harry’s shaking shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

The moment he spoke, it was as if a spell had been broken. Harry jerked back, blinking at Cedric with wide eyes, as though he had just snapped out of a trance. His green eyes hardened again.

“Harry—”

“I gotta go.” Harry’s voice was rushed and urgent, almost incomprehensible, as he dashed past Cedric and out of the tower, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Cedric stood there, trying to gather his wits in the empty corridor.

10

Cedric hadn’t seen Harry again after the exams until the school officially closed. The news of Remus Lupin’s resignation shocked many students, who complained they would never find another teacher as good as him. Cedric hoped that the widespread disappointment over losing Professor Lupin would somehow console Harry, knowing it was a wrong decision made by those who forced him to resign.

The last day at Hogwarts was peaceful yet bittersweet. Hufflepuff won the House Cup, as expected, and Cedric was surrounded by friends congratulating him on both the victory and earning top marks for the year. It was a bit flattering when Professor Flitwick personally complimented Cedric, saying he couldn’t find any fault in his Charms performance.

Cedric tried to catch a glimpse of Harry at the Gryffindor table, but as usual, Harry was nowhere to be seen. Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, was making a scene, bragging about his upcoming summer abroad, clearly hoping to stir up envy and curiosity. It was typical of Malfoy, but this time, it bothered Cedric more than usual. He knew Malfoy had something to do with Professor Lupin’s resignation, and the thought repulsed him. No one should have used another person as a pawn.

As the day came to an end and students packed up to leave for the summer, Cedric received a letter from his grandparents, inviting him to spend the summer with them in Florence, Italy. They would be giving lectures about the Arcistrega, the inquisitorial prosecution of witches, and Cedric would have the chance to explore ancient sites and read records of European wizards. He eagerly accepted the invitation before even informing his parents.

With his summer plans set, Cedric boarded the train with Lawrence, Miles, and Phoebe, feeling a bit lighter. He wanted to put his worries behind him, at least for a while.

The first two hours of the journey flew by as they played Exploding Snap and Snitch Snatcher. Despite Miles’ fear for flying, he was surprisingly good at strategizing for Quidditch, teaming up with Lawrence to win multiple rounds. Cedric, on the other hand, was terrible at board games, much to Phoebe’s frustration.

“Well, at least we know he’s not perfect at everything,” Lawrence teased.

Cedric shook his head. “I’ll never beat Miles. He’s too good.”

Miles, adjusting his thick glasses, grinned smugly. “Call me the king of the board.”

Phoebe was about to make a snarky comment when the door to their compartment slid open.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway was Harry Potter. His green eyes darted around the room before settling on Cedric.

“Can I talk to you?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the sudden silence of the compartment, it was clear.

Cedric, blinking in surprise, nodded and stood up. He shot a warning look at Lawrence, signaling him to keep quiet, then followed Harry out into the aisle. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the coach, where no one was around.

Harry leaned against the window frame, staring down at his worn-out sneakers.

“I’m sorry.”

Cedric was caught off guard. He stood there, speechless. 

His surprise must have caused an awkward pause. Harry, who had never been good with silence, grew impatient and began to explain.

“The way I accused you about Remus that day,” Harry muttered. “And the day before, when I first threatened you. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Cedric finally found his voice. “Oh. Well, it’s alright.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not. You know it.”

Seeing Harry stricken with guilt was unsettling. Cedric wasn’t used to it and struggled to find the right words. But Harry continued.

“It was Lucius Malfoy. Sirius told me… Malfoy’s on the school board and he found out about Remus’ secret. That shithead blackmailed him, saying he’d have to resign or have his secret exposed. He used ‘student safety’ as an excuse to pressure Dumbledore into talking to Remus before the exams.”

Cedric was taken aback by how calm Harry sounded. There was no anger, just a bitter acceptance. 

“I’m sorry,” Cedric said softly. “A lot of students will miss his classes. He was one of the best teachers we had.”

Harry smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “It doesn’t matter. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not. It’s Malfoy’s fault.” Cedric tried to sound firm.

Harry finally looked up, meeting Cedric’s gaze. “Don’t worry.” His lips curled into a tight smile. “I’ll make them pay.”

The seriousness in Harry’s voice, combined with his calm expression, unnerved Cedric. He wasn’t sure what frightened him more –- the thought of Harry seeking vengeance or the idea that this experience could change him forever. Harry was only eleven, far too young to be feeling this way. Cedric had always admired Harry’s fierce sense of justice, but now it worried him.

“Harry, maybe we could—”

Cedric’s words were interrupted as the compartment door slid open, revealing Cho Chang. She looked surprised to see them.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sheepishly, glancing between Harry and Cedric. “I heard voices outside...” Then she smiled at Cedric. “Hello, Cedric.”

There was no point in continuing the conversation out in the open. Cedric wanted to reach out to Harry, to make him stay a little longer, but Harry gave him one last look before turning and walking away.

There was one thing he was certain of. Cedric wanted to be friends with Harry again.

Chapter Text

1

Harry got back to his compartment with a lightened heart. It felt like the weight of Cedric’s situation had been lifted off his shoulders. Usually it was James or Lily who had to urge him to say sorry for his misbehavior and he had never been the first to apologise in his life

There’s a first time for everything, right? Apologising to Cedric seemed like the right thing to do, after everything the other boy had done for him. Harry’s stomach clenched at the thought. Talking to Cedric had been surprisingly easy, and once Harry had talked to him, he felt like he could move on. 

Cedric’s hurtful words in the past about Harry being selfish seemed to hold no power now. Harry could see them for what they were — the words of a child. Cedric had been eleven when he said that, and now Harry realised that at that age, people make a lot of mistakes.

His expression must have given something away because Hermione perked up from her book and Ron quickly straightened his back.

“Well?” Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. “I apologised to him.”

“And?” she prompted.

“He didn’t seem to have any problem with it,” Harry said diplomatically, avoiding her gaze.

Hermione sighed in relief. “Good. I’m glad you two are friends again. Cedric’s a good friend, and he really cares about you.”

“I don’t know if he wants to be friends with me, though. We didn’t talk about that.”

“What?!”

Harry slumped his shoulders. “A girl showed up to talk to him, so our conversation got cut short,” he explained simply, still avoiding Hermione’s incredulous look and Ron’s stifled chuckles. “But it doesn’t matter! At least I can talk to him without getting angry now. Satisfied?”

Ron looked at Harry like he was the most ridiculous person in the world. “One step at a time, mate.” He said, whereas Hermione huffed but said nothing.

Harry opened the letter from Sirius, the last one he had received in his first year. He had read it over ten times and could almost recite it by heart. It talked about Malfoy’s influence at Hogwarts, his ties with the Ministry, and how Sirius had tried to help Remus after leaving Hogwarts, but Remus had refused.

He shared what Sirius had written to him with Ron and Hermione. Only this time he added, “I’m going to make Malfoy pay for this. And it’s going to involve breaking a lot of school rules and violating every code of conduct.” He remembered how seriously Lily had used that phrase before, and judging by Hermione’s look, he figured he’d used it correctly. “I don’t want you two to get involved. That’s why I’m giving you a heads-up.”

Ron clapped his shoulder. “To be honest, I hate Malfoy as much as you. He’s always insulting my dad and my family. Now’s the perfect time to make him pay for what he did to Remus too.”

Hermione also gave him reassurance, saying simply, “I won’t rest until Dobby is free. He deserves to be treated well and fairly.”

A surge of affection for his friends overwhelmed Harry. Ron and Hermione already knew Remus’s secret and had promised not to tell anyone, and now they were willing to help him get back at Malfoy. His face must have said everything, that he couldn’t have asked for better friends.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say.

When the train stopped at Platform 9 ¾, it wasn’t hard to find his parents waiting for him. Harry spotted the large black dog immediately, his feet sprinting toward it like his life depended on it. Because next to the dog, waiting for Harry’s return, was Remus Lupin.

Harry threw himself into Remus’s arms and hugged him fiercely, pouring all the love he could into the embrace. He didn’t care if other students saw; he missed Remus and could no longer restrain himself.

Remus chuckled, ruffling Harry’s wild hair affectionately. “At least we can hug each other now.”

“I missed you already,” Harry said, his voice muffled against Remus’s shoulder. Beside them, the black dog – Sirius – barked and wagged his tail vigorously.

“Hey, what about me?” James chimed in, pushing a trolley with all of Harry’s trunks and Hedwig’s cage on it. Harry released Remus and hugged James next.

“What a year, huh?” James kissed Harry’s hair, his blue eyes twinkling with affection. “I’m glad you’re back, Harry.”

“We should get going now,” Remus reminded them. His pale face showed more laugh lines, and deep scars were visible on his cheeks. It was probably nearing that time of the month, Harry winced. 

He knew Remus had plans of his own and refused to rely on Sirius’s support, but he was always closed off about the money situation – James’s words. Harry wanted to ask more about how Remus was doing, but he had to be patient.

There was a whole summer ahead to figure it out.

2

That night at Grimmauld Place was nothing but joyful. It seemed like nothing had changed, and they treated Remus losing his job like it was just another mild frustration. Harry soaked in the warmth around him, laughing at Sirius’s jokes about his brother and the ‘dearest’ Black family. Lily finally succeeded in making delicious pies and apple strudel on her first try and basked in compliments. Harry knew she wanted to ground him for what had happened at Hogwarts, but she didn’t have the heart after what he had endured: getting suspended from the last Quidditch match and dealing with Remus’s forced departure.

“He’s got good grades too!” James pointed out. “Much better than we expected.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Did you two bet on my academic performance?”

“Big words.” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Not just them, I also bet you’d get at least one bad grade in Potions.” Then he shot a meaningful look at Lily, which Harry found odd. When he turned to his mother, she coughed into her tea.

“But you passed every subject!” James shouted happily, oblivious to the exchange between Lily and Sirius.

Remus interrupted good-naturedly. “What they mean is, they’ve missed you so much, Harry. Life’s been boring without you.”

Harry pointed his spoon at Remus. “That. Well said.”

Lily shook her head, amused. “Sometimes I don’t know who’s the child or the adult. James doesn’t act like one.”

“Hey!”

The conversation continued with jokes and teases, like nothing had happened. Harry offered to do the dishes, which surprised both James and Lily since he’d always complained about doing chores without magic. James feigned a dramatic cry, wailing that his son had grown up, which earned him a light punch from Harry and made Lily roll her eyes.

As Harry stood at the sink, rinsing dishes and wiping up plates, he didn’t notice Remus coming up to him, a cup of tea in hand.

“Don’t.”

Harry turned to him. “Don’t what?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Remus said calmly. “I left you a short note without saying goodbye, and you were clearly upset. But not once during dinner did you lash out about Malfoy or what happened at school. That’s unlike the Harry I got to know better during my year of teaching. So, I’m going to ask you not to do whatever you’re planning.”

“Is it possible I’ve changed?” Harry tried, flashing his brightest smile. “I can be a good boy, you know.”

Remus burst out laughing. “Oh, Harry. Leave that to Cedric. I’m sure he’s noticed something about you too.”

The memory of clutching Cedric’s shirt and sobbing into it came back, and Harry wished he could wipe it out from his mind. He was sure Cedric would agree to pretend it never happened, too.

“But I can be good!” Harry pouted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be watching,” Remus said casually, though Harry could hear the sharp hint of suspicion in his tone.

“You’re paranoid,” Harry grumbled. Remus just shook his head and left him to finish the dishes.

3

That summer, Harry spent two weeks at the Burrow with Ron, and it was the time of his life.

Mrs. Weasley, despite being strict and fussy with her children, was incredibly generous. Her meals were the best, and she was flattered by Harry’s endless compliments. Mr. Weasley was the nicest man, albeit a little obsessed with the Muggle world, and he owned the coolest flying car Harry had ever seen. Percy, as Ron had warned, was a pain in the arse, but Harry rarely saw him due to his ‘crucial’ studies and prefect’s duties. 

Most of the time, Harry was with Ron and the twins, taking turns on his Nimbus 2000 and playing Quidditch outside. Ron was a competent Keeper and wanted to try out as a backup for Wood next year. Fred let Harry take the Beater’s bat, which was surprisingly satisfying to throw the ball (not the real Bludger) as hard as he could, but catching the Snitch was still his favorite thing and he wouldn’t trade anything for being a Seeker. 

“We’re going to crush Hufflepuff next year!” George shouted across the field, and they all cheered in unison.

When they came back in the late afternoon, soaked in mud, Mrs. Weasley greeted them with a scolding glare, though it didn’t take long for her to soften. It was Harry’s first time having more than one friend to play with, and Ron and the twins were always up for anything. They made up games, pranked each other (with Fred and George leading the charge), and got themselves into all sorts of trouble that Harry would have never imagined without them.

Ron also had another sibling. Ginny, his younger sister, was going to Hogwarts this year. She rarely ate breakfast with them during the whole two weeks of Harry's stay.

Fred and George burst into laughter when Harry asked about Ginny’s peculiar absence.

“Oh, don’t tell her. She’ll kill me,” Fred's eyes gleamed with mischief. “But she has a big crush on you!”

Harry's eyes widened. “Bullshit. I don’t even talk to her.”

George rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to talk to someone for them to have a bit of gooey eyes on you. Merlin, you’re more naive than I thought, Potter.”

Harry threw a stuffed animal, probably Ron’s, at him.

Fred got up from the table and rumpled Harry’s hair a little too affectionately. “But seriously, what’s to like? He looks like a little bear cub to me. A wild, deranged one.”

“It’s probably the emerald eyes,” George said, making a kissing sound.

Harry rolled his eyes and jumped up from the table, leaving the sound of cackling laughter behind.

Aside from the twins' endless teasing and their outdoor Quidditch games, this summer was the first time Harry was introduced to chess.

He had known about the game for many years, having seen James and Lily play it, but he never had the attention span to sit still in front of a chessboard. The outside world always seemed more exciting than the black and white squares.

One day, when it was raining outside and there was little else to do, Ron, who was bored out of his mind, brought the game to Harry and taught him how to play. Ron was brilliant at chess; he had beaten everyone in the family, including Bill, the oldest sibling, and even his parents. 

When it came to chess, Ron was patient, explaining each piece and how they moved. At first, it was a little confusing, but after five or six rounds of playing against the thunderstorms outside, Harry started to get the hang of it. 

By the end of the day, when Mrs. Weasley called them to dinner, Harry had become obsessed.

He still couldn’t beat Ron, but he couldn’t get enough of the strategic thinking involved, planning his moves, deciding when to strike. Despite being utterly crushed by Ron’s queen, the moment he took Ron’s bishop with his knight felt refreshing. It made Harry pause and admire the result of his carefully executed plan, as if it were his masterpiece.

This revelation made him thrilled, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“What’s the matter?” Ron’s voice pierced through Harry’s trance during dinner. He looked at Harry with mild confusion. “You seem unusually quiet today.”

“Nothing,” Harry replied absentmindedly. “I think I just love chess. It’s fascinating.”

Fred and George let out a loud chortle.

“Look at your face! You look like you’re really in love!” Fred wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh boy, you’re hilarious.”

George called across the table, “Ginny! You should be envious of Ron’s chessboard!”

Ginny looked like she was going to explode with embarrassment as her brothers teased her in front of Harry. Her face flushed red as she stormed out of the room.

After dinner, Fred and George were put on dish duty afterward, per Mrs. Weasley’s stern orders.

That night, as he lay awake, Ron’s snores echoed in their small shared room. Harry was thinking about how to think, his mind occupied with chess pieces moving around a board, and how one move could lead to many significant victories.

Chess was exactly what he needed. A well-executed plan to get back at Malfoy, one that was carefully orchestrated (Ron’s word), something his enemy wouldn’t expect. Most importantly, Harry needed patience. He was thrilled to discover that he could wait, just as he waited for Ron to make his next move. He could be patient if the reward was the key to victory.

A gurgling sound came from the wall. Ron had warned him about the ghoul, and somehow, knowing that another presence was awake in the night made Harry’s mind feel more at ease.

***

July passed like a Ramora shooting out of the water. From the Burrow, Harry spent a few days with the Longbottom family, who had just returned from a vacation in Greece. Harry felt more sympathy for Neville, who had endured so much torment from other students laughing at his clumsiness for the whole, so he indulged in Neville's recount on his travels and listened to his tales about Greek mythology.  

This time, Harry didn’t have to push Neville to go outside. Instead, he brought James’s chessboard, and the two of them spent entire days playing. Neville wasn’t a bad player, but over time, Harry could read his moves and started to win more frequently. Similar to Ron, Neville was patient, good at defense, but he lacked foresight and didn’t always think through the ultimate outcome of his moves.

“That’s what makes you lose,” Harry explained as Neville’s pieces dragged themselves off the board. A red king looked at Harry accusingly while trudging off with only one leg.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been good at chess,” Neville muttered, looking dismayed. “I’m not smart enough.”

“That has nothing to do with intelligence. You can get better if you put your mind to it,” Harry said firmly, clearing the board and gesturing for another round.

After chess, Neville brightened up. He had a more cheerful time by showing Harry his garden. It was one of his best works, Harry admitted, and it was quite impressive and not as boring as he had expected. Neville’s greenhouse was small, but he eagerly explained each plant he’d been working on. The Venomous Tentacula looked dangerous, the Shrivelfig fruits were rare, and the Fluxweed grew only an inch a year. The Dittany plant, though, was particularly challenging to cultivate from seed.

“I’m really excited to learn about Mandrakes this year,” Neville chirped, his round face full of giddy excitement. “Are you excited to play Quidditch as well, Harry?”

Oh, that. Harry realised he hadn’t thought about Quidditch all week. For the first time in his life, something else had entirely occupied his mind.

“Yeah, sure,” he said distractedly, following Neville out of the greenhouse.

On Harry’s eleventh birthday, he received a gift from James that was completely unexpected. Usually, James would give Harry some toy he had made and laugh at Harry’s exasperation, but this time was different.

Harry stared at the velvet cloak in his hands, the soft fabric smooth like running his fingers through cool water.

“It’s the Invisibility Cloak,” James said, watching Harry’s wide-eyed expression. “It’s a family thing. My dad gave it to me when I started at Hogwarts, and now it’s my turn to give it to you. It’s been passed down through generations.”

Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare try it on, not yet. Instead, he looked at Lily. “Do you approve of this?”

To his surprise, Lily smiled. “It doesn’t matter what tools or spells you have. Even if James didn’t give it to you, you’d find your own way to do things on your own.”

Then she squeezed Harry’s hand, her green eyes mirroring his. “I may not approve of everything, but this cloak is yours. Use it well.”

“I will,” Harry promised, glancing between his parents with a smile.

4

August passed with drizzles and isolated thunderstorms. Harry didn’t spend much time playing around the house or climbing trees as he had when he was younger anymore. But often, he thought about the sycamore tree, wishing the roots could hold its ground as long as possible, despite having been through so much for many decades. 

Thinking about the tree also made him think of Cedric and their time together. 

He knew from Lily that Cedric had spent the summer in Florence with his relatives. It seemed as though their conversation on the train hadn’t happened, and Harry was met with silence from the other side of the hill. 

Remus reassured Harry multiple times that Cedric would gladly be friends with him, and that nothing, not even Amos Diggory’s opinions, could stop them from being friends. All Harry had to do was be a decent human being and start talking to him.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to; he had just been preoccupied with something else: getting back at Lucius Malfoy, making him pay for what he did to Remus, and freeing Dobby.

The first step of his plan presented itself in the form of his parents’ reference books. Harry had been forced by Lily to pick up some books and read, as there were many left unread after all these years. Lily, an avid reader and book collector, had small piles of books lying on the ground that often collapsed whenever Turnips knocked into them while chasing James’s toy mouse.

It was by coincidence that Harry found exactly what he was looking for when flipping through one of James’s notebooks out of boredom.

***

“Did you read the list I sent you?”

Hermione’s startled expression quickly calmed; she was getting used to Harry’s outbursts by now. “Well, hello to you too.”

“It’s the spells that can be useful for our plan!” Then Harry quickly lowered his voice, steering Hermione and Ron out of their parents' earshot. The bustling crowd and passerby flocking in the alley helped make them look inconspicuous enough.

Diagon Alley was their first meetup after the summer had nearly ended. It was the last three days before school started, and the cobbled streets were flooded with parents haggling over prices and doe-eyed children. James had traveled with Sirius to Vancouver and wouldn’t be back until the day after, while Remus was away during the time of the month looking for a job overseas. This left only Harry and Lily shopping in Diagon Alley.

Hermione had gone home to stay with her Muggle parents, but they promised to meet before school started to shop for textbooks and supplies together. Additionally, it was also the time when their parents were finally meeting each other and exchanging their children’s stories.

Lily was particularly impressed by Hermione’s excellence in all subjects and excitedly shared her good old days at Hogwarts as a Muggle-born herself. It was almost impossible for Harry to get a word in edgewise before pulling Hermione away from Lily’s shower of praise.

“Your mum’s really nice,” Hermione said, her cheeks still flushed from Lily’s adoration.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But can we get back to the spells for now? If we figure out how to get Lucius Malfoy to the school, we’ll have time to free Dobby. We don’t have any idea how to do that yet.”

James’s sketchbook had been quite impressive so far; it contained made-up spells he had written down in one of the notebooks Harry had found. Some of these spells were used for specific inventions and couldn’t be found in the second-year Charms textbook. The list included tracking spells, countdown spells, spells for changing forms, explosion spells, and complex transfiguration spells—like the one that could turn your body into a plant for an hour. Harry had copied the list and sent it to Hermione during the summer.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione sounded reluctant. “Those spells are interesting, but I haven’t seen most of them before. And we still don’t have a clear idea of how to use them for the plan.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he said firmly.

Their conversation was cut short by Lily calling them from Madam Malkin’s. She told Harry she was going to a tea shop with Hermione’s parents to chat about the Muggle world (Harry rolled his eyes, mentally preparing to tease her later). Ron had gone off separately to shop for his pet, leaving Hermione and Harry to finish their textbook shopping.

Purchasing books at Flourish and Blotts turned out to be chaotic. The shop itself was always cluttered with little to no space to pass through each section. But today, there were long lines of people waiting to get their books signed by some flamboyant bloke. He was the most ridiculous-looking wizard Harry had ever seen. Wearing a glittering yellow suit, the man smiled with all his teeth showing like he was modeling for an old toothpaste advertisement. His blond curls didn’t help reduce the clownish effect. His signing table took up most of the space in the already-crammed shop, where books were stacked to the ceiling, making the crowd even harder to manage. Most of the onlookers were witches giggling and whispering. 

Harry felt so much relieved once he escaped the shop after the cashier line. But just as he was about to sprint out, Hermione tugged at his sleeve. Her cheeks flushed red. “You go ahead. I’ll stay and get the books signed.”

Harry looked at her in disbelief. “Are you kidding? That fake-smiling moron?”

Hermione quickly hushed him, gently pushing him away from the line. A few girls behind her glared daggers at Harry.

Grumbling, Harry trudged out of the shop, lugging six heavy books in his bag. He thought about heading to the Magical Menagerie to meet Ron and the Weasleys when he heard someone call his name.

He spun around to see Cedric Diggory.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. At first, he almost didn’t recognise the other boy. Cedric was even taller than last year, his skin slightly tanned, and his brown hair longer. He clearly looked older than just a boy, except for the familiar sheepish smile Harry remembered from their last encounter.

“Shopping at the last minute, huh?” Cedric waved at Harry with a small smile. It was strange seeing him greet Harry so casually, reminding Harry of their last conversation on the train. They had talked and seemed to put their old rivalry behind them. No need to be frigid about that, Harry tried to calm himself.

“Don’t go into Flourish and Blotts right now,” he said quickly. “It’s a nightmare.”

Cedric nodded. “Not planning to. My grandma already got me a set of textbooks.” He gestured to the books in his tote bag. “How was your summer? How’s Remus?”

Before Harry could answer, a middle-aged witch in her sixties approached, carrying more bags. She looked at Harry and then brightened up.

“Hello, dear,” she said, reaching out a hand and smiling warmly at him. “You must be Harry Potter. Cedric talked so much about you this summer. I’m Enid, Cedric’s grandmother.”

“Grandma—”

“Shush,” Enid hushed her grandson. “I’m talking to him, Ced.”

As Harry shook her hand, Cedric averted his eyes, looking over Harry’s shoulder, his face turning slightly red.

Enid glanced toward Flourish and Blotts, her tone growing crisp. “It’s a bit sad that of all the people they could’ve chosen for the teaching position, they picked that man.”

A realisation hit Harry. “Wait… that was Lockhart?” He glanced down at his textbooks and saw the name Gilderoy Lockhart printed in large gold letters.

Cedric blinked. “You just left the shop. You must’ve seen him.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Harry retorted, then quickly regretted how his sharp tone sounded. But Cedric didn’t seem bothered. He just chuckled.

Enid shook her head. “His books on Banshees and vampires contradict all the historical texts going back to ancient times. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made it all up.”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, he already seems like a moron to me.”

Enid burst out laughing. She turned to his grandson and said, “I like this young man!”

Cedric seemed flustered, glancing between his grandmother and Harry helplessly. Sensing the other boy’s discomfort, Harry found an opportunity to excuse himself, saying goodbye and heading off toward the Menagerie. Cedric’s blushing face lingered in his mind.

5

The summer had been invigorating, though a bit too short for Harry’s liking. He hadn’t spent as much time with Sirius and Remus as he would’ve liked; Sirius had been abroad on some family business, and Remus was still traveling across the country. Harry tried not to dwell on it and instead focused on suppressing the rage that had been building inside him, the same rage that would likely drive him to punch Draco Malfoy the moment he set foot in Hogwarts. He needed to be in control.

But Harry’s self-control was about to be tested sooner than he had anticipated. While sitting in the train coach with Ron and Hermione, Harry had also invited Luna to join them. He had found her wandering the aisle, looking a little lost and alone with her large trunks.

They were having a pleasant time, trading Chocolate Frog cards and listening to Luna’s whimsical stories about her summer in Fiji, when the door suddenly burst open. There stood Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who were even bigger and dumber than Harry remembered from their last encounter in the courtyard.

Harry could feel Hermione’s warning gaze from behind as he rose to his feet. 

“Get out,” he said coldly.

Malfoy wasn’t fazed. Instead, he laughed.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Already planning your next detention?” Malfoy sneered. “You’d think after last year, you’d learn to keep your head down. Maybe you’ll dip your toe into trouble even sooner this year.”

Harry stood face-to-face with Malfoy but remained silent.

Malfoy, sensing his usual taunts weren’t having the desired effect, glanced around the compartment and sneered.

“Collecting trash now, are you?” Malfoy drawled, looking at Ron and Hermione. “First Weasley and Granger, now Loony Lovegood. No wonder you’re pals with that homeless werewolf, Lupin.”

“Harry, don’t!” Hermione pleaded from behind.

It took every ounce of control Harry had not to lash out. His hands clenched into fists, and his body trembled with suppressed fury. He took a deep breath, determined not to lose control.

“Get. Out,” he said again, his voice shaking.

Malfoy, oblivious to how close he was to being hexed, pressed on. “No sympathy for your filthy werewolf friend? My father’s just concerned for the students’ safety. After all, having a werewolf at Hogwarts is a bit much, don’t you think? That’s why he proposed Lockhart—”

“Nargles!” Luna suddenly exclaimed, pointing up toward the luggage rack above Ron’s head. “There are Nargles nesting under the suitcases.”

Malfoy stopped, his eyes flicking nervously to the luggage rack. Crabbe and Goyle followed suit, looking equally uneasy.

Harry’s anger subsided just enough for him to smirk at his enemy’s discomfort. “Nargles might be invisible, but they can bite your head off, Malfoy.”

Malfoy visibly recoiled, his face paling. “Get those filthy creatures away from me! You and your disgusting friends!” With one last scowl, he stormed out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle hot on his heels.

“That was brilliant!” Ron said, looking at Luna with newfound admiration.

“It’s true,” Luna said matter-of-factly, still staring at the luggage rack. “You should check for Nargles, Ron.”

The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts was peaceful. Harry was relieved he hadn’t lost his temper with Malfoy, especially since he’d learned something valuable from the encounter. Malfoy’s arrogant boasting had given him a glimpse into his overconfidence, thinking his father’s influence could bend Hogwarts to his will. It was something Harry could use to his advantage.

“You okay?” Hermione asked after Harry had been quiet for a while. She was reading Lockhart’s latest book in preparation for the new term.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied.

Hermione gave him a small smile. “It’s good you didn’t take Malfoy’s bait. Getting into trouble before school even starts would’ve been a mess.”

“I’m not letting that git get to me again,” Harry said with a scorn.

6

It was a little disappointing to see Luna sorted into Ravenclaw, but Harry was happy for her. She looked pleased as she joined her housemates. As Dumbledore gave his usual start-of-term speech, Harry’s eyes wandered to the teachers’ table, and a pang of sadness hit him. It should’ve been Remus sitting there, not the blond, self-entitled clown laughing at nothing.

Later, in the Gryffindor common room, Oliver Wood approached Harry. Wood’s shock last year when Harry had been banned from playing in the final match against Hufflepuff still stung.

“We’re starting practice early this term. First week, Friday,” Wood said without preamble. “Slytherin’s got a new Seeker. I overheard them talking on the train.”

“Let me guess: Malfoy,” Harry said, and Wood looked surprised. “He probably bought his way onto the team with his father’s influence.” 

Fred, who had been nearby, chimed in. “And new brooms. Nimbus 2001 for the whole team. Flint was bragging about it.”

Wood’s face darkened, but he shook his head. “No matter. We’ll beat them fair and square.”

“There’s no talent to beat in Slytherin,” Harry said confidently.

Fred grinned. “Flint’s just a troll with a fancy broom.”

Wood tried to smile, but his worry was still visible. “We’ll show them who the real winners are,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

***

The first week back at Hogwarts was rough. Snape docked Gryffindor five points after accusing Harry of carelessly throwing bat spleens into his cauldron during Potions. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to snap back at Snape, but he managed to hold his tongue and stormed out of the classroom with Snape’s sneer burning into his back.

“No wonder Lily never dated him at school,” Harry muttered angrily during lunch. Ron choked on his food, and Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Your mum knows Snape?” she asked.

Harry wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. “Sirius mentioned it once or twice.”

Ron shuddered. “That explains why Snape’s always been a prick to you.”

“Pathetic,” Harry snorted, biting on his butter toast. 

But if Snape was bad, Lockhart was worse to the degree that Harry had run out of insults to call him. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was an utter garbage. In their first class, Lockhart spent half the time boasting about his accomplishments and book sales before releasing a cage full of Cornish pixies without any instructions on how to handle them.

Chaos ensued. Neville, who was always insecure about anything to do with wand, was reduced to tears. Dean’s notebook was shredded, and Seamus ended up in the hospital wing after being bitten. The Hufflepuffs hid under their desks, swatting at the pixies with Lockhart’s book as their only weapon. Those little monsters that had been fighting with teeth and claws were squashed down like mosquitos. Meanwhile, Lockhart disappeared after losing his wand to the mischievous creatures.

“I’m—” Ron yanked a pixie away from his hand, “going to kill Dumbledore for hiring that idiot!”

He managed to knock one of the pixies unconscious with his book, leaving it dazed on the floor.

“It’s Lucius Malfoy,” Harry growled as he hurled his own book at another pixie. “He had a hand in getting Lockhart hired.”

By some miracle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione escaped the classroom relatively unscathed, thanks to Hermione’s quick-thinking Immobulus spell. Herbology was canceled afterward because half the class had been sent to the hospital wing for pixie bites. Professor Sprout frowned deeply but was too kind to voice any complaints about her colleague in front of students who came to her class half an hour late with tattered bags and torn robes.

“Let’s change the plan and get Lockhart sacked,” Ron grumbled later that evening as they rested by the Gryffindor common room fireplace.

“We can if we play it smart,” Harry reassured him.

Hermione, uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. “But how are we going to do it?”

Harry said carefully, “First, we need to find out when Malfoy’s father is visiting. And more importantly, make sure he brings Dobby.”

Ron snapped his fingers. “How about Malfoy’s first Quidditch match against Gryffindor? His father will definitely want to see that.”

“Maybe, but he might not bring Dobby,” Hermione pointed out.

Harry narrowed his eyes. His eyes turned to the crackling fire in the common room. A thought had been bothering him since the whole cursed broom thing last year. Something didn’t feel right and he couldn’t put a place for it. 

“Why did Malfoy get Dobby to curse me instead of doing it himself? We concluded that last year he just didn’t want to get his hands dirty… but it was strange to me that he went out of his way to risk using a house-elf.”

“Maybe because curses are harder than they look, and Malfoy’s just not that good?” Ron suggested.

“Unlikely,” Harry muttered. “Sirius said Malfoy’s a skilled wizard, probably well-versed in the Dark Arts. We need something high stakes to lure him in.”

Ron leaned forward. “You, Harry. Remember last year when you fought Malfoy? His father was quick to retaliate by firing Professor Lupin.”

“I could try knocking Malfoy off his broom during the match,” Harry offered.

“Even if you did that, it wouldn’t guarantee Dobby would be there during the match. We still won’t have a chance to free Dobby” Hermione pointed out.

“Bloody hell,” Ron groaned, smacking his head on the sofa. “All we keep hitting are dead ends.”

It was so difficult working toward their goal when they didn’t have enough information to think things through. Harry gritted his teeth, realising he had been planning for a long game in a dangerous minefield.

***

The opportunity presented itself on a rainy Saturday after Quidditch practice. Harry returned to the common room, soaked from head to toe. He found Ron playing with Pigwidgeon and Hedwig, letting them nibble food from his hands before snatching it back. 

He was thinking about going for a shower before heading to dinner when Hermione appeared at the threshold, a large book in her arms. She called his name, and Ron, looking alert. Her brightened eyes showed a sign that she had discovered something new.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, scurrying back to the sofa near the fireplace that became their usual spot. She pulled Harry to sit by the fire to help dry his clothes and hair. After quickly glancing around to check for people loitering nearby, she lowered her voice and told them excitedly, “I know why Lucius Malfoy can’t hurt you at the Quidditch match. It’s about the Wizard’s Wand Law!”

She opened the book, her fingers sliding over the yellow, crisp pages, before looking up at them. “Wizards and witches underage, like us, have traces on us that detect whenever we use magic outside of Hogwarts. But adults don’t have that. Only wands can tell whether a wizard has committed a crime. There have been many cases of wand theft, and that’s considered a serious crime, almost like stealing someone’s identity. That’s why wands are the most important thing for magical people. They’re presented in many criminal investigations and can be tracked by the spells they’ve used – not all spells, but enough to act as a wizard’s alibi.”

Hermione explained all of this without pausing for breath. “That confirms it. The curse on your broom, Harry, was a complicated one. Lucius Malfoy isn’t as skilled as Snape, who can try to undo curses with wandless magic. That much is clear.”

Harry’s breath caught. “That’s why he used Dobby—not just to get away with the crime, but because he really can get away with it if his house-elf does it for him. Dobby can be ordered not to tell anyone or reveal his master.”

“Exactly. It’s a loophole for purebloods to exploit slavery,” Hermione said, shuddering. “If they’re not caught in the act, imagine how many illegal things they’ve gotten away with over the centuries.”

She shut the book and gasped. “And that’s why house-elves are considered so valuable. They know so many secrets and have done so many illegal things for their masters.” Her voice trembled. “They’ll never be free.”

“That slimy bastard,” Ron cursed.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said earnestly.

Hermione gave them a sheepish smile. “Actually, it was Cedric who helped me. He found some books about wizarding trials and how wizards with house-elves could escape justice. It’s all so bizarre.”

“Oh,” Harry responded intelligently. “But you haven’t told him about our plan, right?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, of course not. He just asked about you, that’s all.” She glanced meaningfully at Harry.

Ron looked briefly between them but said nothing. There was still some owl food left in his palm, and Pigwidgeon swooped down happily to nibble on it.

Harry stared at Ron and his pet in his hand.

A bait... The word popped into Harry’s mind.

Suddenly, an idea clicked in his head. It felt like a light bulb, one of James’s words, referring to a Muggle switch when a good idea struck.

Before his friends could react, Harry sprinted back to the dormitory and rummaged through his trunk until he found the list of spells from James. It was ten pages long, with some spells Harry had already memorized. He rushed back to Ron and Hermione, who watched his hurried movements in awe.

“There’s—there’s something here,” Harry panted, waving the paper frantically. “There’s a tracking spell we can use during the Quidditch match to show Malfoy he’s in danger. His father will have to intervene. We need to raise the stakes by setting a bait. Something big enough to lure Malfoy into cursing something or using Dobby to do it.”

Hermione took the list from Harry’s hand and scanned it. Her face frowned. “This spell looks complicated. It’s more like a transfiguration curse than an ordinary charm, isn’t it?”

“And what are you planning to do with it?” Ron asked. “Conjure a Rottweiler to chase Malfoy during the match?”

“Something like that,” Harry grinned. “I’m going to put a spell on a Bludger and have it follow Malfoy during the game.”

Hermione gasped, and Ron’s eyes widened.

“You could get expelled for that, Harry!”

“That’s not a problem right now,” Harry dismissed her warning. “Imagine it—Draco Malfoy, afraid of me before the match. We’ll make him think I’m up to something, so he’ll need his father’s protection. Then, during the match, a cursed Bludger chases him across the field. Lucius Malfoy would be so livid, he’d want to curse me himself.”

“Are you sure you want to be the bait?” Ron whispered. “Lucius Malfoy’s an adult. He could... kill you, or worse, send you to Azkaban.”

Harry laughed. “I’m not going to Azkaban, Ron!” 

Then he shifted on his feet, looking between them. “But the problem is, the match against Slytherin has to get postponed. We need time to practice this spell, and I need time to provoke Malfoy, make him feel threatened.”

They fell silent again, lost in thought and possibilities. At least now they had something to work with. It was time to sacrifice a few pawns or knights to move their plan forward.

Hermione sighed, twisting her fingers nervously. “I think I have an idea… but I don’t like it.”

7

Harry couldn’t believe he had something to occupy his mind besides Quidditch for once. Even Sirius’s gift of a brand-new broomstick servicing kit didn’t excite him as much as expected. All he wanted to do was practice James’s tracking spell. But he didn’t realise how complicated it was.

He started by practicing with the Snitch from his birthday gift. But despite his concentration, the Snitch barely jolted in his hand before flying away, as if Harry hadn’t tried hard enough to focus on his target. Hermione pointed out that it wasn’t a second-year-level spell. She suggested Harry write to James for advice.

“No,” Harry refused. “He’d get suspicious and start questioning things.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”

Harry ignored him. He would keep practicing until he could get the hang of the spell.

He even gave more than half his money to Ron to order a fake Bludger from the Daily Prophet , forging Filch’s signature to claim it. They retrieved the package from Filch’s office before he noticed anything amiss.

Nearly two months passed, and the first match was upon them. On the day before the game, Harry took a deep breath and followed through with Hermione’s plan.

It was almost too easy. Using the Invisibility Cloak, Harry sneaked out of Professor Binns’s class, crossed the courtyard, and headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, where the fourth-year Gryffindors had class with Lockhart on Thursdays. He lingered outside, listening to Lockhart brag about his adventures. Then, he made his way up to the third floor, to the teacher’s office. He knew the way well after visiting Remus there so many times last year.

There, at the back of the room, were two large cages of Cornish pixies, covered with dark cloths. Lockhart hadn’t bothered to release them after their disastrous first lesson. Now, those creatures were ravenous after two months in captivity.

This time, though, Harry gripped his wand and whispered, “Alohomora.”

The result was immediate. The pixies burst from the cages, their blue claws slashing through the air as Harry leapt out of the way just in time. They shot down toward the classroom.

As Harry dashed out of the room, he could hear blood-curdling screams—Lockhart’s voice, the loudest of all.

***

"We can’t compete this Saturday!”

Wood ran towards Harry at dinner, face pale and shocked. Harry felt sorry for him.

“Angelina and Alicia were bitten by a swarm of pixies out of nowhere! Alicia's fingers are swollen red from pixie saliva. Fred didn’t get bitten, but he’s got detention for capturing a pixie for one of his ridiculous experiments! I can’t believe it!”

Nearby, Harry saw Hermione wince guiltily, her book nearly sliding into her soup. This had been her plan, after all.

“Sorry,” Harry tried to feign shock, but his charade wasn’t much convincing. It was never his strong suit.

Wood, however, didn’t seem to notice Harry’s unconvincing act. The captain was lost in thought. “I talked to McGonagall. Slytherin will play Hufflepuff this Saturday. Diggory’s fine with it. Luckily, he avoided the pixie chaos. Good for him.”

Harry blinked, suddenly remembering that it wasn’t just Gryffindors in the fourth year, but Hufflepuffs in Lockhart’s class too.

“Wait,” Harry put down his spoon. “Why’d you need to ask Cedric about it?”

Wood just blinked. “He’s Hufflepuff’s captain this year.”

“What? But he’s only in his fourth year!”

Wood shrugged. “Hufflepuff doesn’t have any older players. Most of their team is made up of fourth and third years. Diggory did great last year with the Quidditch Cup and all.” A hint of envy slipped into Wood’s voice.

Harry finished his soup, and though he didn’t fully understand Wood’s bitterness before, he did now. He looked at Wood, determination filling him. “We’ll win this year, Wood. I promise.”

The plan was in motion. Harry and Ron didn’t attend the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff but went straight to Madam Hooch’s office in the castle’s south wing. The entire school was at the Quidditch field, eyes glued to the match. This was their only chance. Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, they slipped away from Gryffindor Tower, making sure no one noticed their absence.

Ron stood watch by Madam Hooch’s door, looking out for Mrs. Norris or any ghosts, while Harry sneaked inside to find the spare Bludger.

There were more than a few spare boxes of Bludgers lined up in the office, much to Harry's surprise. He scanned the room, searching for one that was separate from the rest and easy to carry.

There it was – a black ball locked in straps, trembling like a wild animal. It gleamed in the dim light, rattling under his touch. This Bludger was clearly set apart from the others, making it easy to swap out for the dummy Bludger.

Quickly, Harry replaced the real Bludger with the fake one and dashed out of the office. His heart raced. 

Ron’s face turned pale when he saw Harry carrying the writhing Bludger under his cloak. They hurried through the castle as fast as possible, avoiding the attention of ghosts or anyone else. Their destination was the second-floor girls’ lavatory, abandoned for years, just as Hermione had said.

Harry’s heart pounded as the Bludger thrashed in his arms. Beside him, Ron cursed under his breath as they slipped past Nearly Headless Nick, undetected.

They did it. The hardest part was done.

Now, all they had to do was wait and hope the plan worked.

8

Harry hid the Bludger in one of his trunks. Even with the straps securing it, the ball rattled incessantly. Hermione made sure both Harry and Ron practiced undoing spells in case things got out of hand in the bathroom. She was relentless as she kept reminding them multiple times a day.

“This is bloody insane,” Ron muttered as they hurried to the Great Hall, still cloaked.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Harry said. “Remember the excuse?”

Ron nodded. “Of course. You’ve been sleepwalking and punched me. Then we fought in our sleep and woke up late.”

Harry grinned.

A minute later, a long whistle pierced the air, signaling the end of the game.

It was as if luck had chosen Harry once again. Hufflepuff defeated Slytherin with a score of 230 to 80. Harry smiled to himself. James had been right — a solid strategy and competent players could win against even the best brooms.

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers at lunch. Harry didn’t mind the noise, especially when he caught a glimpse of Malfoy’s furious expression. The other boy lashed out at anyone who approached him.

Hermione and Ginny joined Harry and Ron at lunch. Harry gave Hermione a thumbs-up, signaling that the plan had gone smoothly. Her face visibly relaxed as she sat down two seats away.

Harry, who began to eat his stew before everyone else, was about to excuse himself. He was too excited about the Bludger heist and rarely got any sleep the night before.

As he sipped his apple juice, Cedric Diggory approached, still in his yellow and black Quidditch robes, the captain's badge gleaming on his chest.

“Hey, Hermione said you were sick. You alright?”

Harry nearly choked on his drink. He coughed, trying to regain his breath, while Cedric watched him expectantly.

“Uh, yeah. Well, sort of,” Harry managed. He shot a glare at Ron, who was stifling laughter. “I was sleepwalking… really tired. Mostly tired, I mean. Now. I’m tired.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but eventually said, “Alright, well, feel better soon.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. What on earth had he just said? Beside him, Ron couldn’t hold back and choked on his tea.

Once Cedric was out of earshot, Harry smacked Ron.

“Ouch! What?” Ron protested, still grinning.

Harry just sulked and quickly retreated to the common room.

***

The next week sailed smoothly, much to Harry’s surprise. He was eager to practice the spell on the Bludger, but it was anything but easy. The ball wrecked the toilet stall, plunged into the water closet, and almost mistook Harry’s head for a melon. Hermione taught him to use Silencio as they struggled to control the ball.

Progress was slow, but at least Harry had time on his side.

He enjoyed spending more time with Luna, entertaining her with his tales about teachers and lessons she was about to face, also walking with her across parts of the castle and outside the fortress. One day, he invited her to go with him, Ron and Hermione and the four of them visited Hagrid’s garden with Fang in tow. Although the garden was bare in the upcoming winter, it was a nice change of pace, with Ron trying to train Pigwidgeon to deliver letters properly while Luna observed with her soulful blue eyes.

“There’s a Thestral over there,” Luna said, pointing toward an empty hummock in the Forbidden Forest. Harry, Ron, and Hermione squinted but saw nothing.

“I don’t think they’re real, Luna,” Hermione said cautiously.

But Hagrid, who was setting down a tray of tea cups, chimed in. “Luna’s right. Thestrals can only be seen by those who’ve witnessed death.”

Harry looked at Luna with new respect. For the first time, he realised she had experienced more than she let on.

“Wicked,” Ron muttered, clearly impressed.

Luna only smiled, gently petting Fang but didn’t say anything else. The pain of losing her mother could still feel so painful to her.

They left Hagrid’s hut with more rock cakes than they could stomach, but they were happy. Hermione commented on Hagrid’s deep knowledge of magical creatures, adding that, despite his enthusiasm for dangerous animals, he could make a good teacher.

“Anyone can teach at this point. Look at Lockhart.” Ron snorted. 

Harry noticed Luna seemed lost in thought, so he turned to Ron and Hermione, lowering his voice. “Lockhart’ll be gone after Christmas if we get Malfoy off the school board.”

As they crossed the courtyard, they spotted Malfoy taunting a group of first-year Hufflepuffs at the Three Gargoyles Fountain. 

It was time for Step Two.

Harry raised his voice, ensuring Malfoy heard every word. “Taking your anger out on first years won’t help you win at Quidditch, Malfoy. You lost because of your own sorry arse.”

Malfoy’s face flushed red with fury. “Shut up, Potter! Stay out of things that don’t concern you.” His eyes flicked to Hermione and Luna with disdain. “Be grateful I don’t dirty my hands dealing with freaks like you.”

Harry didn’t even miss a beat. “Guess your father never taught you manners. All his sponsorship money, and you still manage to disappoint him just by existing.”

It was fascinating to see Malfoy’s face twisted in rage. He raised his wand, but Harry was also prepared for this and quickly raised his own. He knew more spells than Malfoy, thanks to James. A knockback jinx would send Malfoy tumbling, but a Cornflake Skin Curse also sounded tempting.

But before they could duel, Lockhart appeared, followed by a gaggle of his admirers. His fake smile and boisterous laugh ruined the moment. Malfoy retreated, while Harry stood there, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Hermione sighed in relief. “I still don’t like this plan.” She muttered under her breath just for the three of them to hear.

Ron let out a sigh. “You never like any plan, but you came up with the worst one, Hermione. Remember the pi—”

Harry cut him off before Ron could reveal too much in front of Luna. “We should head back. Come on, I’m starving for anything but rock cakes!”

***

There was a strategy in chess, Harry remembered what Ron had taught him. You could bluff your opponent into thinking you had more left in your stack than you did, and it was called positional aggression. You hammered down all your pawns to take down the seventh-rank rook. With an aggressive position, your opponent would slip up, make mistakes, and fall into your trap easily. That was exactly what Harry was doing with Malfoy.

It was during Potions class, the only class Gryffindor second-years shared with Slytherin. They were brewing a Swelling Solution, following Snape’s instructions on the board. It had been uneventful so far, with bubbling sounds from cauldrons and scratches of quills on students’ notes. 

Harry waited until Snape turned his back on the class and headed to check on the ingredients. He motioned for Ron to hand him the frog-spawn soap. It was from Zonko’s shop, and Harry had bribed the twins to buy it for him without telling anyone. Fred and George didn’t need an explanation and gladly provided any prankster gear.

Malfoy’s cauldron was on the left side, not far from Harry's. He just needed a good aim and the right moment to drop the soap into Malfoy’s bubbling potion.

The opportunity presented itself when Malfoy turned to sneer at Neville’s cauldron, laughing cruelly at the grey, gooey liquid sticking to the sides of the boy’s sooted cauldron. In that split second, Harry swished his wand, muttering " Wingardium Leviosa " and quickly steered the soap to drop right into Malfoy’s potion.

It only took a few seconds for Malfoy’s cauldron to begin making terrible popping noises. What followed was even more hilarious. 

One tadpole emerged from the boiling cauldron, trying to escape the hot liquid, but because it was a Swelling Solution, the tadpole was gigantic — almost the size of a Quaffle.

Malfoy let out a shriek loud enough to startle the entire class. Neville’s cauldron tipped over, spilling its contents on the floor, but no one paid any attention or laughed at him. More tadpoles began pouring out of Malfoy’s cauldron, and he was frozen in horror. Two of them crawled onto his legs, leaving trails of mucus, and he collapsed onto the floor, wide-eyed and pale.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It was a sight to behold. Crabbe and Goyle screamed and ran away, while several Slytherins scattered in fright. Dean and Seamus joined Harry in laughing.

Before Harry could see a tadpole wriggle its way to Malfoy’s face, Snape arrived at the scene. With a quick swish of his wand, all of the enlarged tadpoles vanished.

Malfoy was a mess. Tears and snot streaked down his face as he shakily pointed a trembling finger at Harry. “He… he did this!”

Harry feigned shock. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t lie! You laughed!” Malfoy’s voice was filled with rage, his disheveled blond hair and uniform covered in mucus trails.

“Everyone’s laughing, Malfoy,” Ron said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Beside him, Seamus snickered, not even bothering to hide it.

“Enough!” Snape snapped, turning to Harry with narrowed eyes. “Twenty points from Gryffindor.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Harry protested.

Snape scowled. “Don’t give me a reason to give you detention, Potter.” His voice was icy as he swished his robes and instructed the class to finish their potions before time ran out.

Still covered in mucus, Malfoy shot Harry a venomous look and spat, “My father will hear about this. You’ll pay.”

“Gladly,” Harry muttered, grinning at Malfoy’s astonished expression.

The twenty points were worth it, Harry thought menacingly. Since then, Malfoy and his ‘little tadpoles’ became a running joke throughout the school. Even students who were too scared to laugh when Malfoy walked by often giggled behind his back. Fred and George, upon hearing the story, diagnosed Malfoy with a case of ‘Loser’s Lurgy,’ a term they used for sore losers who brought bad luck upon themselves.

It was the first time Malfoy became the subject of ridicule. Ron told Harry that even Colin Creevey, who had been constantly bullied by Malfoy, could now laugh without fear. Colin even managed to snap a picture of Malfoy’s twisted, angry face with his camera.

Only two people didn’t seem to agree with Harry’s prank: Hermione, predictably, and Cedric, according to Hermione. Cedric, she said, wasn’t happy about what Harry had done to Malfoy.

“But you didn’t have to tell Cedric everything about our plan!” Harry argued in a low voice while they were in the library, pretending to work on their Transfiguration essays.

“I didn’t,” Hermione exhaled sharply. “But he figured out it was you. And I thought you two were friends now.”

“I talk to him, but that doesn’t make us friends,” Harry quipped.

She rolled her eyes and returned to her reading.

Ron yawned and stretched. “I haven’t seen Cedric in the library this term. Last year, it was like he was your bunkmate, Hermione.”

The girl miffed. “I haven’t spoken to him much either. He’s been busy… and when he does come here, some girls just happen to run into him. We can barely have a conversation before Madam Pince shooes them away.”

“Must be hard, being a popular, good-looking bloke,” Ron chuckled.

Harry snorted. “I don’t think he’s good-looking,” he said before he could stop himself.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Harry quickly adopted his usual strategy of feigned nonchalance. He shrugged, “I don’t see the appeal.”

“So, who do you think is fine-looking, then?” Hermione pressed.

“Sirius,” Harry answered immediately. “He was super popular back when he was at Hogwarts.”

Ron nodded. “Fair point.”

He was relieved that Hermione finally relented and let the topic drop. After that, they fell into discussing which bird species could be transformed from candlesticks using the Avifors spell.

9

Luck seemed to have perched her wings on Harry’s shoulder and still stayed there. Despite his mind being occupied with plotting against Lucius Malfoy and trying to control the enchanted Bludger in the girl’s second-floor bathroom – an effort that had nearly resulted in Bludger crashing into him once or twice – he still managed to win the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.

The way it happened was almost comical. Wood had warned them countless times about Ravenclaw’s cautious tactics, even repeating his words right before they entered the field. Fred had mockingly echoed his warnings, but Harry took them to heart. He was well aware of Ravenclaw's defensive strategies and the prowess of their chasers.

So, it was no surprise when Ravenclaw steadily pulled ahead, with the score standing at 100-40 in their favor. It had been a long game, having lasted over an hour, and the Ravenclaw chasers were confidently scoring again and again, bypassing Wood’s defenses.

What Harry didn’t expect was that when it came time to find the Golden Snitch, his instincts would kick in so strongly. Everything became a blur. It was just him and the tiny, golden ball. Blocking out the noise of the match, the crowd, and even the score, he dived after the Snitch purely on reflex. Before he knew it, he had caught the Snitch right in front of Ravenclaw’s Seeker, Cho Chang.

After a landing, Harry waved the Snitch triumphantly in the air, and the Gryffindor team rushed toward him, knocking him over in their excitement. Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid also hurried over with wide grins. Not far away, Harry caught a glimpse of Cho, her ponytail whipping violently as she walked away, barely holding back tears.

“Bloody hell, that was a deadly move, Potter!” Wood shouted happily, clapping Harry on the shoulder hard enough to nearly send him face-first into the grass. “I wouldn’t have held out much longer against those Ravenclaw chasers. They were a menace!”

“And did you see Cho Chang’s face when you caught the Snitch right in front of her?” George mimed blowing a kiss. “You just made her cry!”

“She’ll be fine,” Angelina said, still tousling Harry’s hair fondly. “Now let’s get back to the Great Hall and celebrate!”

The elation from the victory lasted well into the weeks leading up to Christmas. Meanwhile, the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin grew worse. Both sides were becoming increasingly bitter and vengeful.

Wood found himself locked in the boys’ bathroom one afternoon after a prank by Marcus Flint. Katie Bell’s hand was wrapped in bandages after she touched a cursed doorknob in the Astronomy classroom. Gryffindor retaliated, of course. Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, ended up covered in green jelly at dinner, and Marcus Flint emerged from the Shrieking Shack looking like he’d just seen a ghost during the Hogsmeade visit.

Harry managed to avoid the pranks targeting him, thanks to his Invisibility Cloak. However, despite the fun of getting back at Slytherin, he wasn’t satisfied with his progress on the tracking spell he’d been practicing with the Bludger. Hermione tried to comfort him, reminding him for many times that it was an advanced spell for N.E.W.T. level Charms and that he needed time to perfect it. The last thing they wanted was for the Bludger to hit someone else by mistake.

“I wouldn’t mind if it hit Flint or Higgs on their brooms,” Ron said irritably. “They could use a lesson in being decent human beings.”

“Agreed,” Harry said quickly, looking down at his wand. “I can cast the tracking spell for maybe a minute or two, but that’s not long enough to find the Snitch while Malfoy is dodging the Bludger. We need to make sure Slytherin loses.”

Just then, a letter arrived for Ron. His face lit up when Pigwidgeon managed to deliver it without knocking over a milk jug. The little owl tripped on an omelet plate, though, much to Ron’s amusement.

Ron scooped Pigwidgeon up, nudging the owl’s wings playfully before turning to Harry. 

“Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. You’re relentless.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said with a smirk.

Hermione interrupted. “There’s a letter for you too, Harry.”

Harry turned to see Hedwig landing gracefully on the table, her large white wings barely disturbing the plates or glasses. She shot Pigwidgeon a mindful look, as if to say, This is how it’s done.

But the letter from Lily wasn’t as cheerful as Hedwig’s entrance.

Dear Harry,

Congrats on your win against Ravenclaw! How did I know without you telling me? You might ask. Madam Pomfrey, who was at St. Mungo’s restocking Wiggenweld Potion, kindly mentioned how my son caught the Snitch with such great speed. James was overjoyed, though he was a little sad that he couldn’t go to see you in the match due to his deadlines.

That brings me to something I need to discuss with you. What are you up to, young man? You didn’t gush about Quidditch or tell me yourself. I had to hear it from others! Sirius mentioned that you barely thanked him for the broom care kit he sent you last month – that your thank you note was ‘brief and distant’ (his words). He didn’t say anything else but I can tell he’s still sulking. Poor Padfoot. He thinks he’s lost his place as Harry Potter’s most favorite person.

James chalked it up to ‘teenage hormones,’ but Remus and I are concerned. I’ve known James and Sirius for decades and those experiences grant me a gift. I can sense danger from miles away, and something feels off about you. You have been hiding something and it shows.

By the way, Remus is applying for a teaching position at Beauxbatons, so we’ve decided to spend Christmas in Provence to escape the cold. Sirius isn’t thrilled about Remus’s choice, but a hug from you might cheer him up. I’ll meet you at King’s Cross on the 23rd. 

Don’t cause trouble until the end of term.

Love, as always,
Lily

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered after reading Lily’s letter. “She’ll kill me if she finds out I’m staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.”

“There’s still time to perfect the tracking spell. The Bludger’s not going anywhere. We can move it to our dorm so Filch won’t find it,” said Ron. 

Harry sighed. “The match against Slytherin is in the second week of January. Malfoy will definitely tell his father what happened. It’s better if I stay and make sure everything goes according to plan.” He looked at the letter again. “But I’ll need to write an apology to Sirius.”

“I can stay with you during the break,” Ron offered.

Harry shook his head. “No, you should be with your family in Romania. You only get to see Bill and Charlie once a year. Besides, it’s better if Malfoy sees you and Hermione on the train. He won’t suspect you two and will focus on me.”

“A perfect bait,” Hermione concluded, though there was a clear concern in her voice.

“Exactly.” Harry nodded. 

If his plan failed and he was forced to leave the school, at least Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be dragged into it. He would make sure no one else suffered because of him. Not this time.

10

After saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione as they boarded the train, Harry spent all day before Christmas Eve practicing the spell. He had gotten a grip on it – the Bludger now moved on his command and actively followed the poor golden snitch he used for target practice. All he needed to do next was practice without a wand. He couldn’t afford to be seen casting the tracking spell on the Bludger. It needed to be subtle enough not to draw any suspicion, except for Malfoy.

The idea excited him and made him nervous. He knew it was quite advanced for his level. Something only someone as skilled as Dumbledore could pull off. But there wasn’t a limit to what he could achieve. Over the holidays, he planned to slip on the Invisibility Cloak and sneak into the restricted section of the library to learn how to practice it properly.

For two days, the Bludger had occupied Harry’s mind so much that he often skipped meals in the Great Hall, surviving mostly on cold sandwiches in the Gryffindor common room. With only a few seventh-year students left in the dorm, Harry was the only second-year still at Hogwarts. The quietness in the common room was unusual, but it gave him the peace he needed to concentrate on perfecting the spell.

Lily had responded to his letter with a short note, teasing that he’d regret not joining them for a fun holiday in France. Harry could sense that she knew he was up to something. But he pushed the letter to the back of his mind; he’d worry about it later.

On Christmas Day, Harry made a plan to go to the library in the morning, practice the spell in the afternoon, and then visit Hagrid and Hedwig at the Owlery to send Christmas cards to Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville. It was a perfect plan for a productive day.

The Gryffindor common room was decorated for Christmas, and under the singing fir tree, Harry found his presents. Lily had sent him her gingerbread cake. James's gift was surprisingly practical: a Sneakoscope to keep an eye on the ongoing pranks between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Remus gave him a notebook that rearranged to-do lists by deadline, and Sirius sent premium owl food for Hedwig, which made Harry wince. Clearly, his godfather was still grouchy about him not spending Christmas with the family, just as Lily had predicted.

With Lily’s cake in hand, Harry left through the Fat Lady’s portrait, considering whether to drop by the Great Hall for breakfast since he had been skipping proper meals for the past two days.

Inside the Great Hall, there wasn’t the usual arrangement of four house tables. Instead, a smaller, communal table was set up for the remaining students, surrounded by twelve tall Christmas trees adorned with crystal balls and twinkling lights. Snowflakes drifted gently from the enchanted ceiling.

Harry spotted Dumbledore and McGonagall at the far end of the table, sipping wine and encouraging a young Ravenclaw named Tony to pull a Christmas cracker. As soon as Tony did, blue smoke puffed out with a loud cannon sound, covering him in blue from head to toe. Laughter erupted from the nearby Slytherins, and McGonagall quickly flicked her wand to clear the smoke, leaving Tony looking sheepish.

"Happy Christmas!" Dumbledore cheered, raising his glass toward Harry just as Hagrid, seated nearby and looking tipsy, let out a booming laugh and nearly knocked Flitwick off the table with a hearty clap on the back.

Harry chuckled and made his way to an empty seat, but then he realised who was sitting across from it.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” Cedric said with a small smile. In front of him was a platter of chipotle, buttered peas, a glass of milk, and a book.

Too late to change seats, Harry gingerly placed his cake on the table and sat down. 

“Why didn’t you go home for the holidays?” he frowned. 

Cedric shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Didn't want to. Why didn’t you?”

Caught off guard by the other boy’s answer, Harry stumbled over his words. “Uh… Lily and James went to France with Sirius and Remus. I didn’t want to spend the holiday stuck in a cabin, watching old people dance to lovesick vinyl music. I’d feel like a third wheel.”

Cedric laughed and shook his head. “I can imagine that.”

“Besides,” Harry continued, straightening his posture, “Remus is applying for a job at Beauxbatons.”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing! I’m a little jealous. he’ll be at Beauxbatons while we’re stuck with Lockhart.”

“Don’t even get me started on him,” Harry grumbled, helping himself to some marmalade jam and toast.

They ate in comfortable silence after that, Cedric returning to his book. But from time to time, Harry could feel Cedric glance his way.

“What’s that?” Cedric asked, gesturing at the box.

“Lily’s gingerbread cake. It’s my lunch, actually.”

“Cake for lunch?” Cedric raised an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve got stuff to do in the library and then I’ll visit Hagrid, so I won’t be back in the common room for a while.”

“Hagrid’s probably busy at Hogsmeade,” Cedric said. “I heard him tell Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout that they’ll be at the Three Broomsticks.”

Harry slumped. “Oh, that’s a bummer.”

Cedric closed his book and finally met Harry’s eyes. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said quickly, trying to avoid the question by shoving two pieces of baked potato into his mouth.

But the older boy pressed on. “You’ve seemed… busy. And quiet this term.”

Harry felt like he was being interrogated. “You’re not my mum,” he snapped.

Cedric blinked, looking taken aback. “Sorry, you’re right.” His gaze returned to his closed book and he was staring awkwardly at the book cover without opening it.

The uneasy air hung between them, and Harry could still feel the weight of the things they’d said and didn’t say to each other. Yes, they could talk to each other just fine and yes, Harry already forgave Cedric about Remus and stopped holding a grudge against him. 

Yet, there was something permanently changed between them. It wasn’t about Remus anymore, but maybe those hurtful words they had said to each other that night on the balcony. 

Feeling the tension, Harry gulped down his apple juice and got up. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Wait,” Cedric called out. “Can I talk to you? On the way to the library, maybe?”

Harry froze. Great, there was a long way from the Great Hall to the library. He could brush Cedric off like he had before, but something in the other boy’s awkwardness made him pause.

“Okay,” Harry said gruffly.

Cedric’s face lit up, “Thanks.” He said earnestly, then got up from the table and followed Harry. Hagrid, face red with Brandy, blurted out ‘Happy Christmas’ behind with a loud booming voice.

Together they left the Great Hall, walking in awkward silence up the stairs past. Harry clutched his cake box tightly. He didn’t attempt to make small talk, nor did Cedric. He could feel the other boy tense, just like him. Cedric kept his hands in his robe pockets all the way past the singing suits of armor that were trying to get their attention by singing Christmas carols in their grating metal voices. 

Finally, just as they reached the central hall, at the mural of the sleeping dragon, Cedric touched Harry’s arm.

“Sorry, I… I don’t know where to begin,” Cedric muttered. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Once he opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on Harry.

“I owe you an overdue apology for that night. I’m sorry for calling you selfish and spoiled. It was terrible, and I didn’t mean it.”

Harry’s heart pounded. He wanted to look away and temper his beating heart, but he couldn’t.

“That’s okay,” Harry replied, his voice steadier than he felt. “I said worse things to you, and I’m sorry too.”

Cedric shook his head. “I know you were just lashing out, but I was wrong. It’s true though, I’m a coward. I’ve said bad things to you and Remus because I was scared. And I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Harry’s chest tightened. Cedric was trying to be sincere, and there was no reason for Harry to be nervous about it. He could do this.

“It’s in the past. And you’ve already shown how much you care about Remus. I forgave you ages ago.”

Cedric blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Harry huffed. “‘Course.”

Cedric looked visibly relieved. He let out a small laugh. “That’s… that’s good to hear. I’ve been wanting to talk to you all term but couldn’t seem to find you.”

Harry remembered the time Cedric had tried to approach him after the Hufflepuff-Slytherin match in November. He gave it a smile, trying to make it look as cheerful as possible. 

“Alright. It’s all good now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I wanted to ask.” Cedric continued, then he pulled out one of his hands from his pockets and extended it towards Harry. 

“I’d like us to be friends again. Not just acquaintances. If you’d have me.”

Bloody hell. 

Harry felt a sudden rush of heat in his face and he almost dropped the cake box. His other hand scratched his neck as he stared down at his worn-out sneakers. He searched for the right words, but nothing came. 

He'd never been asked to be friends with someone before. Friendship had always just sort of… happened with Ron, Hermione, and even Luna. He’d never had to think about it. Growing up, he’d never had to ask for something as simple as friendship — or been asked for it. It left him completely flustered. 

Cedric’s grey eyes never left him, and Harry, for the first time, could feel the intensity from them.

Damn it. Harry muttered under his breath, “Right. Sure.”

Cedric’s face lit up with a bright smile, and for the first time in a while, Harry remembered what Cedric’s smile was like, just as he had seen it every day in that summer they spent together.

The older boy was still waiting for a handshake.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it weird, Diggory,” he said, but reached out to shake Cedric’s hand.

Cedric laughed, joyful and unrestrained. Oh, now Harry remembered his laugh, too. 

“Thanks,” Cedric said sheepishly as they continued walking toward the library corridor, passing the fountain adorned with the statue of a unicorn. 

The urge to head to the library and practice the spell for the day had evaporated, as if it had never crossed his mind. The stakes, his plan… all the tension was gone. Yet Harry’s heart still raced and he was very aware of Cedric walking beside him.

When they reached the library, Harry paused and turned to Cedric. “How about we skip the library and just share the cake instead?”

Cedric agreed easily. 

“You can't bring cake into the library anyway. Madam Pince would kill you.”

It felt strange, but Harry found it wasn’t so bad to have spent the rest of the morning with Cedric in one of the greenhouses. It had been Cedric’s idea, and Harry had been doubtful at first. Of all places, why hang out there? But the discovery of a set of tea cups on the shelves at the back of the room made it more appealing.

“Professor Sprout is really into her tea collections. She keeps spare cups and tea bags in the back room for when students come for consultations,” Cedric said, pulling two tea bags from a wooden box. With a flick of his wand, the cups were suddenly filled with hot water. 

Apparently, some Hufflepuffs would drop by the greenhouse just to relax and have tea. It had become a sort of tradition for them. There was also a small table and chairs, which Cedric explained, was where Hufflepuff students would meet with their head of house, just to vent or have a cup of tea. They had a close bond with their teacher, and Harry could imagine it. Cedric also mentioned that Neville often spent time here. The place was secluded and quiet, tucked away on the north side of the castle, far from the noise of the main hall.

The Earl Grey was perfect with the gingerbread cake Harry had brought. He happily took a bite, savoring the hint of ginger spice. The cake was a bit misshapen, but the soft, spongy texture and molasses flavor were heavenly. He reminded himself to write to Lily and thank her for the cake.

Cedric seemed to agree. “This cake is amazing. Be sure to thank your mum when you see her, okay?”

Harry snorted. “You don’t have to be polite all the time.”

“But I want to!” Cedric shrugged, grabbing another piece of cake.

They quickly fell into one of their favorite topics: Quidditch. Harry didn’t hesitate to point out the flaws in Hufflepuff’s defensive strategy. To his surprise, Cedric agreed, admitting that he should have focused more on expanding the Chasers’ tactics instead of making everyone responsible for defense and striking only when absolutely necessary. In return, Harry grudgingly acknowledged that broomsticks weren’t everything, as he once thought. It was the skill and adaptability of the players that mattered most.

“You’re a natural on the broom,” Cedric remarked. “I saw you in the match against Ravenclaw. You’re getting even better at spotting the Snitch.”

Harry brushed off the compliment. “I was just lucky.”

“I used to think that, too, but luck doesn’t win Quidditch games,” said Cedric wisely. 

The conversation turned to Cedric’s recent travels to Florence with his grandparents, where he had learned some Italian and explored witchcraft rituals. He had also advanced his studies in ancient runes while attending a wizarding assembly that discussed the comparative history of witchcraft around the world up to the current events in historical worldviews. Cedric attended lectures and visited famous Muggle cathedrals, mausoleums, and the tombs of renowned witches across the country.

Cedric’s face lit up as he talked about it all, and Harry felt a pang in his stomach.

“You really seem to like history,” Harry pointed out, sipping his tea.

The other boy looked sheepish. “Sorry if I’m boring you. I remember you hated that stuff.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like Binns’s class. It’s boring. But I don’t mind listening to you talk about it.”

Cedric raised his eyebrows. “Really? Thanks.”

Harry shoved him lightly on the shoulder. “Stop saying thank you! It’s weird.”

Cedric laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re not bored out of your mind. Most people are.”

“I’ve found sitting activities more interesting lately,” Harry smirked. “Like chess.”

“You play chess?”

“I love it,” Harry admitted coyly. “But I’m not very good. Ron’s the real chess master – he beats everyone.”

Cedric nodded eagerly. “We should play sometime. There’s a chessboard in the Hufflepuff common room. I can bring it to you.”

Harry was surprised to learn that Hufflepuff’s common room was in the basement, and instead of a portrait asking for a password, there were barrels that students tapped in rhythm to enter. Even more surprising was that the common room was connected to the school’s kitchen.

“We’ve got food all the time—chocolate, pumpkin juice, pudding, scones, you name it.”

Harry thought about the cold sandwiches he’d been having for the past two days and grimaced. He’d always thought Gryffindor was the best house, because everybody he knew was from the same house, but he’d never realised he didn’t give other houses much credit. Hufflepuffs, for one thing, should be praised for their resourcefulness. 

He jokingly told Cedric about his Invisibility Cloak and how he might sneak into Hufflepuff’s common room one day to grab some warm pumpkin juice when he got hungry.

Cedric was shocked at first, then shook his head, smiling. “That explains why I haven’t seen you around.”

“Hey, I don’t go everywhere with my cloak. Just a couple of times to check out the Restricted Section in the library, that’s all.”

“What are you looking for?” he asked. “I’ve seen Hermione lurking around there too. Are you both after the same thing?”

There was a hint of suspicion in Cedric’s voice, but Harry chose to ignore it. He wasn’t ready to tell him about the plan with the Bludger yet. 

But maybe, Harry thought, he could share a little.

“Wandless spells,” he said simply.

To his surprise, Cedric didn’t push further. His grey eyes remained fixed on Harry. “I can look for some books on it for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said quickly.

Cedric rolled his eyes. “Nonsense. I’ll borrow some books and lend them to you. Tomorrow at 1 pm in the Great Hall?”

Harry was taken aback by Cedric’s offer to help. “Okay. Thanks.”

The cake quickly disappeared. The awkwardness from the morning had melted away, and by the time he noticed the fading sunlight shining through the glass, he realised how long they had been sitting there, just talking. It was weird, as he had never just talked to anyone for that long before.

Thinking grimly about the Bludger waiting for him in the bathroom, Harry stood up. “I’d better get going.”

Cedric nodded, saying he’d stay a while longer to read. He pulled a book from his robe pocket, the one Harry had seen before: Historical Sites of Sorcery.

They said goodbye, but just as Harry reached the glass door, he turned back, feeling a bit flustered.

“Merry Christmas.”

Harry waited until he saw Cedric’s bright smile before stepping out and closing the door.

That night, back in his dormitory, Harry absent-mindedly petted Hedwig, as he was thinking about today. His conversations with Cedric felt much the same as before, but he also realised they both changed. 

He, especially, had changed. One thing he no longer felt was the heavy weight of guilt or pain when he thought about that night on the balcony. It had hurt, yes, but he wasn’t clinging to it anymore.

Lily would be proud of him, Harry thought, smiling to himself before drifting off to sleep, feeling more at peace than ever.

The next day, Harry spent time practicing with the Bludger, which had transformed from a wild horse into a tame, obedient creature. He could feel that James’s spell had fully accepted him as its master. The practice was no longer stiff but familiar, like using his dominant hand.

Cedric arrived later in the Great Hall, bringing books he had borrowed from the library that covered the practice of wandless spells. The techniques seemed complicated, but Harry was determined. He had come this far and wasn’t afraid of the challenge ahead.

The older boy didn’t ask questions or pry into Harry’s plans, but Harry sensed that Cedric knew about his intentions regarding Malfoy after their conversation on the train.

“Just be careful,” Cedric said.

After practicing wandless spells using a golden snitch for exercises, Harry joined Cedric for dinner at the Great Hall. They ended up playing chess after finishing the flaming Christmas pudding and hot chocolate. A wizard chess set had magically appeared from beneath one of the fir trees, much to Cedric’s delight.

They played three games. Harry noticed that Cedric’s style was similar to Neville’s — he took his time, thinking carefully before moving even a pawn. But unlike Neville, Cedric was strategic. He waited for Harry to make mistakes, like misplacing his rook or misjudging his queen’s move, and then he would strike decisively.

By the third game, Harry had caught on to Cedric’s tricks and his deliberate delay of the game. He began using his knights to force Cedric into tight spots, and eventually cornered him and took his king.

“Check,” Harry said, watching Cedric’s queen crumble to the board, her scepter dropping from her hand.

Cedric stared at the board in surprise. “You’re really good at this,” he remarked, as the pieces shuffled back into place. A knight on Cedric’s side, whose arm was broken from the battle, swung it back into place with a crack.

Harry scoffed. “You should see Ron play. He’s much better than I am.”

“I’m sure he is,” Cedric muttered, eyes still looking at the pieces. “But just take the compliment, Harry.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush, though he swore he’d never blushed in his entire life. But after Cedric’s words, he could feel his face slightly, just slightly hot. Only briefly.

He hoped Cedric hadn’t noticed that.

They spent a few more days together after that. It didn’t feel so strange, considering how long they had known each other. This time, though, there were a few differences. Harry found himself taking on more of a listener role, as Cedric talked about history, his friends, and books he had read. Harry didn’t just lead them around the castle aimlessly; instead, he invited Cedric for afternoon tea with Hagrid, where they had the chance to try his infamous rock cakes.

On their second visit, they played catch with Fang, who tripped and fell in the snow multiple times but was always eager to chase the stick Cedric had enlarged with a spell and threw it away for him to play catch.

One morning, the older boy disappeared, but he returned in the afternoon carrying an armful of sweets, which he poured onto the table in front of Harry, who was engrossed in Advanced Charms, Spells, and Formulas in the Great Hall.

“Hogsmeade visit,” Cedric said cheerfully, peeling the wrapper off one of the candies. “I bought some things from Honeydukes that I thought you’d like.”

Harry glanced at the colorful assortment of sweets, dazed and impressed by Cedric’s effort to bring them all back to the castle. There were treats he’d never seen before: a licorice wand, jelly slugs, pumpkin pasties, something called Bad Blood Soup, several exploding bonbons, chocolate cauldrons, mouse pops, and fizzing whizbees. He picked up a box of what looked like icing snowflakes.

“Thanks,” Harry said as he opened the box. “Now I get why the older students always rave about their Hogsmeade trips.”

Cedric grinned. “Wait till next year. There’s more to it. I didn’t get you any butterbeer because it’s best when you have it at the Three Broomsticks. There’s also another pub called the Hog’s Head. A bit scary, but I think you might be fond of it.”

After eating sweets until their mouths were numb from sugar, they headed to the library and browsed the restricted section just for fun. Under the invisibility cloak, Harry peeked over Cedric’s shoulder to read the books the boy had picked at random. One book screamed in their faces, while others were too heavy to lift, stuck to their shelves with invisible strength, refusing to be picked up. They also ventured into dustier sections, finding ancient parchments that Harry knew would make Hermione envious.

Cedric, holding some centuries-old scrolls, was absorbed in examining gruesome illustrations and sepia-toned, blood-spattered photos of grim-looking wizards. He whispered excitedly about the stories behind them.

“He was probably like Lockhart,” Harry muttered under the cloak, looking at the wizard with the sourest frown Harry had ever seen. “Just some cranky old git born with a scowl, so everyone assumed he was a big deal.”

Cedric snickered. “Or maybe he just had a bad lunch and regretted his life choices.”

Harry burst out laughing but quickly stifled it to avoid alerting Madam Pince.

In the last hour, when no one was around and a few stressed seventh-year students were hurrying back to their dorms with heavy textbooks in hand, Cedric came up with an idea. They could play hide and seek. Cedric would try to find Harry while he was under the cloak, but the twist? Harry had to close his eyes, so he wouldn’t know if Cedric had caught him.

Harry was both shocked and delighted by Cedric’s rule-breaking idea.

The game turned out to be quite chaotic. Harry, unable to contain his giggles, kept crashing into bookshelves, sending volumes flying. Cedric was no better, as the boy was in a rush to catch Harry and tripped over the scattered books, face down, bringing even more tumbling down. Harry doubled over in laughter as Cedric ended up buried beneath a pile of thick leather-bound tomes.

The game lasted barely ten minutes before a red-faced Madam Pince kicked them out, her hoarse shouting trailing Cedric alone while Harry escaped under the cloak, clutching his sides and almost dying with laughter.

On New Year’s Eve, for the first time in days, a sliver of sunlight peeked through the thick winter clouds. It felt like the perfect time to go outside and fly.

In the early morning, Harry, with his Nimbus in hand, urged a still-sleepy Cedric, who had to fetch his broom after a quick breakfast.

“Come on!” Harry grinned at the older boy’s yawn. “I promised to let you ride my Nimbus, didn’t I?”

That perked Cedric up. “Really?”

“And I can take turns on your Comet, too.”

The other boy’s face fell slightly. “It’s obviously not as good as your Nimbus.”

“Probably not,” Harry pretended to think. “But I can test it. I’ve seen how you fly in Quidditch, so maybe I can use it to beat you to the Snitch.”

Cedric chuckled and tossed his broom to Harry, who caught it with a grin. “Cheeky.”

They kicked off from the ground, letting the freezing air whip around them. Cedric soared high, letting out a yell of surprise as Harry laughed. Flying on the Comet 280 was better than Harry had expected. It was heavier than the Nimbus, but solid, with sharp turns, though it tilted slightly to the left at higher altitudes. Harry made a mental note to aim for the right side if they ever raced.

Cedric, meanwhile, was grinning widely, loving the speed and lightness of the Nimbus. He even pulled off a few barrel rolls and circles. But when Harry attempted a ridiculous trick, like hanging upside down from his broom, Cedric’s laughter quickly turned to panic.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You nearly gave me a heart attack. Don’t do that again!”

Laughing, Harry sped up, flying past Cedric and calling over his shoulder, “Catch me and I’ll stop!”

After a second lap around the field, Cedric finally caught up, steering his broom close to Harry’s and looking smug at his win.

Harry groaned but forced the broom downwards, flying close to the snowy ground. He waited until they were close to the ground before using the broom’s bristles to fling snow at Cedric with force. 

A lump of white snow hit Cedric square in the face, and he let out a surprised cry before slipping off his broom and tumbling into the snow.

Harry, who landed a few feet away, quickly rushed over to check on him — only to be met with a giant snowball to the head. The impact sent him flying through the air before he crashed into the snow, back-first.

He heard Cedric laughing and realised it had been a trick all along.

And so began an all-out snow war. They hurled snow at each other relentlessly, laughing their heads off. Cedric was devious, as he even conjured a massive, albeit shabby, snowman to chase Harry around. In the end, Harry found himself buried under a mountain of snow as the snowman collapsed on top of him like a toppled building.

Panting from exhaustion, Harry heard footsteps crunching through the snow. He looked up to see Cedric offering a hand, which Harry begrudgingly accepted.

“Wow, you’re so light. I could carry you all the way back to the castle.” Cedric teased.

Harry crossed his arms. “I’ll be taller than you next year, just wait.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “Doubt it. Your parents weren’t that tall. I’ll still have at least three inches on—”

Before he could finish, Harry jumped onto Cedric’s back, trying to wrestle him to the ground. Cedric yelped in surprise and tripped over. They both tumbled into the snow, wriggling to free themselves from each other, and laughing uncontrollably.

By the time they returned to the castle, the sun shone more brightly over the fields, making the snow glitter like white pearls. Their sneakers were soaked, and they trudged through the snow, carrying their brooms toward the castle entrance, exhausted but happy. They were still in a playful mood, lightly shoving each other as they made their way to the main courtyard, heading off for lunch. The castle felt even more peaceful and refreshing without the usual chatter and crowds.

Harry felt his heart soar with joy, like he could walk on clouds or fly over the mountain ridges to the north. It was so carefree, and nothing could bring them down.

As they approached the arched corridor leading to the Great Hall, Cedric turned to Harry, his expression no longer playful.

“You know, I’d never wanted to be a Seeker before. With my height, I always thought I'd be better suited as a Keeper.”

Harry looked at him closely. 

Cedric went on. “But that day, on your ninth birthday, remember? Sirius gave you a Golden Snitch. I was really, really fascinated by it.” Suddenly, he sounded a little shy. “I think I finally got what you meant about the appeal of being a Seeker. How exciting it feels to catch that tiny golden ball and end the game. Being part of the team, but also fighting your own battle.”

There was something about Cedric’s demeanor that seemed uncertain, even a little nervous.

“There’s a reason I stayed for Christmas,” he said quietly. “I had a fight with my dad.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. 

The boy let out a bitter laugh. “It’s funny, really. A Golden Snitch, and it led to so many great things… things that I realised were my calling. Things I wanted to do or try despite, even with my shortcomings. Like History.” He paused. His expression was tightening. “I told him I didn’t want to work in the Ministry. I want to study history. And… he didn’t take it well.” 

Cedric shook his head, scoffing. “Dad’s always been so fixated on what he thinks is right for me. He always expected me to make him proud. This is the first time we’ve had a serious fight.”

Harry held back the urge to blurt something rude about Amos Diggory. He wanted to say ‘screw him’ or something worse, but he kept quiet, simply staring at Cedric.

Cedric’s hands trembled slightly. “I also… told him about you.”

“What?” Harry blinked.

The older boy rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I told him I wanted to be your friend. That I would, no matter what he said. He made an excuse about Remus’s secret, of course, but it hardly matters now, does it? But I told him that it’s going to make him look like a boor for exposing someone like that. People might believe him and also think of him as a stuck up. He really cares about what others think, so I just use it against him.”

Cedric gave him a small smile. A warmth spread through Harry, like sunlight breaking through a cloudy day.

“That’s… cool,” Harry stammered, feeling awkward. “No – not just cool. I’m really glad you did that. I mean…”

He trailed off, abashed, but Cedric’s face told him he understood.

“I’m glad too,” Cedric replied softly.

As they walked into the Great Hall, Harry tried to keep his heart from racing, shoving down the strange, new feelings that had begun to stir inside him.

11

A couple of days passed with Harry spending most of his time with Cedric. They played chess, visited Hagrid countless times, explored the astronomy tower, boat house, bell tower, athenaeum, and made plenty of trips to the greenhouses, all while squeezing in a few hours to practice wandless spells.

What surprised Harry about learning wandless techniques was how intrinsic they felt. It was the type of magic young children learned before school, driven by the innate magic inside them. All Harry needed to do was resist the instinct to reach for his wand, which had become like an extension of his hand after using it for two years. Sometimes he’d leave his wand behind on his bed when going out to join Cedric in the library. Even then, Harry found himself thinking about the wand, fiddling with it in his mind out of habit.

Cedric didn’t comment on Harry going wandless as they walked around the castle, but he did raise an eyebrow, quietly watching as Harry’s fingers instinctively reached for the wand that wasn’t there.

They were on their way to the Quidditch field when Cedric reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand.

“Come on,” Cedric said gently, pulling Harry’s clammy hand.

Harry’s brain froze. He forgot all about his wand, and every spell vanished from his mind completely. They walked toward the west exit, and Cedric didn’t let go of his hand.

Harry couldn’t remember a single thing after that. Even Cedric’s words didn’t register. All he could feel was the warmth of Cedric’s hand in the biting cold of winter.

***

Ron and Hermione returned, bringing the usual clamor back to the echoing halls and the Gryffindor common room. Ron also brought a belated Christmas gift from his mum for Harry—a green sweater with a large letter H, which she’d knitted herself.

As Harry tried on the sweater, which fit perfectly, Hermione asked, “How’s your practice going?”

Harry shrugged. He had made progress, but not as much as he’d hoped, mostly because he got distracted a lot. 

“It’s going well. Just a bit of practice with wandless spells, and I’ll be ready to kick Lucius Malfoy out of the school in ten days.”

“About that,” Ron said, glancing at Hermione. “Lucius Malfoy is definitely going to be at the school for the match. With Dobby.”

Hermione nodded vigorously. “I heard Millicent Bulstrode asking Malfoy about his father on the train. She practically applauded when he said his father would go to Dumbledore to get you disqualified as Seeker, Harry. Malfoy knows about the prank. He’s been bragging about what his father is going to do to the whole Gryffindor team.”

Harry snorted. “Dumbledore wouldn’t.”

She lowered her voice. “He could find a reason to. Maybe even expel you. You’re planning to curse a Bludger to hurt another student.”

“He’ll never know.” Harry smiled tightly. “You think Malfoy’s really going to bring Dobby? Or should we raise the stakes and taunt him some more?”

Ron tilted his head. “With all the pranks going on between us and Slytherin, Malfoy will definitely have Dobby keeping an eye on the Slytherin team during the match. He won’t risk humiliating himself after sponsoring the team with the most expensive brooms only to lose. It’s too much for his lordship. He’ll do whatever he can to make sure Slytherin wins.”

“Good,” Harry smirked. “Because here’s the plan.”

He told them what he intended to do. The tracking curse would last for two minutes. Meanwhile, with the wandless spell, Malfoy wouldn’t find any trace of evidence, even if he confiscated Harry’s wand, because the spell would leave no trace. No one would expect a second-year student to know about wandless magic. But Malfoy would suspect him. He would inevitably come after Harry, ready to rage or get him expelled, he might even threaten to curse Harry by ordering Dobby to hurt him.

In that encounter, during Malfoy’s fury, Harry would make sure Dobby was present. Harry would pretend to be terrified if Dobby tried to curse him, and he’d offer Malfoy a written confession of his ‘crime’—a note in exchange for safety from Malfoy’s wrath. He would think Harry was bluffing and might check the note for evidence to give to Dumbledore. 

The envelope, though, would contain a handkerchief inside, and when Malfoy opened the note, he would simply hand the envelope to Dobby, then the elf would be freed.

“There are a lot of loose threads in this plan,” Ron said after mulling it over. “It requires a lot of things to fall perfectly into place. What happens after Dobby is freed? Malfoy will definitely kill you.”

“That’s where I need you two,” Harry explained. “Actually, anyone there to witness Malfoy trying to hurt me. Hermione, you can ask McGonagall to check on me after the match. We could have our housemates or a crowd nearby—maybe near the Great Hall.” He smiled. “I’m the bait, after all.”

Hermione’s face was full of worry. “I don’t know, Harry. Malfoy seems dangerous…”

“And we need the whole school to see that!” Harry raised his voice. “He should be really mad at me, and I don’t mind getting thrown around or knocked out—”

“Don’t say that,” Hermione frowned. “What about the letter? Malfoy could use it against you.”

“I’m not going to confess anything,” Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s just a bluff. The note will be written in temporary ink—only readable once, and then it’ll disappear.”

Ron shook his head. “Now I understand why you’ve been so into chess lately. It’s turned you into a monster. All this effort… Merlin’s beard.”

Harry just grinned innocently.

***

His excitement grew as he threw himself into practicing both Quidditch and wandless spells. It allowed him to free his mind from everything else, including the two weeks he’d spent with Cedric.

Hermione was pleased to hear Harry had become friends with Cedric again. She even mentioned inviting Cedric and Luna to visit Hagrid on the weekend. But Cedric seemed busy with studying or avoiding the girls who kept asking him for tutoring, so they rarely saw him after the break.

Harry didn’t mind. It gave him the space to focus on all the things he needed to do, especially since Cedric’s presence had started to distract him.

As the week before the match loomed, tensions between Slytherin and Gryffindor escalated. Fred got detention from Snape for releasing a swooping Evil Kite in the hall, letting it fly around screaming, “Slytherin Stinks!” The victims weren’t just the Gryffindor players, but also innocents. Lavender Brown had her fingers stuck together during a dueling practice in Charms by Tracey Davis. Neville nearly ate an inflatable tongue, if not for Harry and Seamus spotting it in his mushroom soup at breakfast.

It felt like they were on the brink of civil war, and there was no way out. Harry suspected Draco Malfoy was behind all of it. Malfoy targeted the Gryffindors in Harry’s year, showing off to him, clearly gaining confidence after Christmas. He either believed he would win the match for Slytherin or his father would intervene in some way. Harry clenched his jaw and tried to keep his anger in check, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Two days before the match, Harry used his Invisibility Cloak to return the Bludger to Madam Hooch’s office. With Ron’s help to make an excuse to borrow a broom for practice, asking for the Shooting Star brand during breakfast.

As Harry returned the Bludger and swapped it for a dummy, a pang of sentiment hit him. It felt as though all his plans were finally coming to a head—wild, reckless, and risky. But it was the only way to strike back at the Malfoys, and Harry was ready.

The time had come.

12

On Saturday, Harry barely touched his marmalade toast, chewing each bite slowly as if it were made of sand, despite Hermione’s encouragement and Ron’s watchful gaze. His mind was entirely focused on the incantation, finding the right moment to curse the badger, and, of course, catching the Golden Snitch before Malfoy. There was so much to do in the match.

He got up, already dressed in his Quidditch uniform with the Nimbus in hand. He was still lost in thought until a tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He turned and saw Cedric.

"Good luck," the older boy said, offering a small smile. "Try not to knock Malfoy off his broom, yeah?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah, of course. Thanks."

Cedric nodded, his eyes lingering on Harry for a moment longer before he walked back to the Hufflepuff table. Harry’s stomach twisted with uneasiness.

The sky above the Quidditch pitch was a brilliant blue that early January morning, and the whole school buzzed with excitement as Gryffindor and Slytherin took to the air. The Gryffindor stands were a sea of scarlet and gold, roaring their support, while Slytherin’s green and silver banners fluttered in the cold wind.

Hovering high above the ground, Harry tried to steady his breath. He caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy sitting in the VIP box, accompanied by Snape and other board members. There was no sign of Dobby, which wasn’t surprising.

"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch’s whistle had barely sounded before Slytherin’s captain, Marcus Flint, ordered his Chasers to press hard against Gryffindor’s defenses. It didn’t take long for the dirty play to begin.

The first foul came just five minutes into the match. Flint elbowed Katie hard in the ribs as she passed the Quaffle, sending her spinning dangerously close to the stands. The crowd booed, but Madam Hooch let play continue. Harry scowled. This was no ordinary match.

"Watch it, Flint!" George shouted as he flew up to check on Katie, who was trying to regain her balance.

"Play the game, Weasley!" Flint sneered, already zooming off after the Quaffle again. The game moved fast, with the Slytherin Chasers—Flint, Montague, and Warrington—playing aggressively, ramming into Gryffindor players whenever they could.

As Harry circled above the chaos, he saw it happen again: another foul. Warrington, one of Slytherin’s brawniest Chasers, swerved violently in front of Alicia, nearly knocking her off her broom. This time, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, but the damage was done. Alicia lost control of the Quaffle, and Slytherin sped toward Gryffindor’s goalposts.

The Gryffindor supporters echoed their frustration from the stands, but Slytherin cheered louder, reveling in their brutal tactics.

Fred wasn’t about to let the Slytherins get away with it. Spotting a Bludger streaking toward Angelina, he swung his bat with all his strength, sending the Bludger hurtling toward Flint, who was about to score.

The Bludger slammed into Flint’s side with a resounding thud, knocking him off course and sending the Quaffle spinning out of his hands. Angelina, quick to react, darted forward and snatched it, racing back toward Slytherin’s goalposts.

But no sooner had Gryffindor gained the upper hand than Montague swerved in front of her, grabbing her broomstick and nearly pulling her out of the air.

"FOUL!" the Gryffindors shouted, and this time Madam Hooch called it. Montague was awarded a penalty, and Angelina lined up for the shot. She narrowed her eyes at Slytherin’s Keeper, Bletchley, and with a powerful throw, sent the Quaffle soaring through the left hoop.

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" screamed Lee Jordan from the commentator’s box, his voice barely audible over the boos from the Slytherins. "And that’s about the tenth foul from Slytherin—are they even playing Quidditch or just rugby on brooms?"

"Jordan, watch your commentary!" Professor McGonagall snapped from the staff stand, though even she couldn’t hide her displeasure at Slytherin’s tactics.

Harry kept scanning the skies, his eyes darting around for the Snitch. He knew he had to stay focused. Gryffindor needed him to end the match before Slytherin’s dirty plays took them down. As the game was spiraling into chaos, Harry knew he had to end it—fast. He took a deep breath and refocused, pushing all distractions from his mind.

Then he saw his chance.

A Bludger was darting around the field, knocking players off balance. Harry kept his eyes on it, tracking its rapid movements while silently chanting the spell. His heart pounded in his chest as the Bludger abruptly changed direction, honing in on its new target — Malfoy.

Harry veered his broom away, pretending to spot the Snitch and dove toward an empty space, ensuring no one noticed his actions. Malfoy, thinking Harry had seen the Snitch, immediately gave chase.

But Harry was ready. As Malfoy closed in, Harry performed his signature move—pulling up sharply just before the ground. Malfoy’s Nimbus 2001 was fast, but not fast enough. He swerved violently, nearly losing control.

That’s when Malfoy noticed the cursed badger tailing him. It was weaving through the air, its ominous whooshing sound growing louder as it closed in. Malfoy’s pale face turned even whiter as panic set in.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Malfoy shouted, his voice cracking as he desperately tried to evade the relentless Bludger. Slytherin’s Beaters rushed to his aid, attempting to steer the badger away, but it kept coming, always returning to Malfoy.

"Oh no," Lee Jordan’s voice echoed through the stands. "It looks like Slytherin’s Seeker has a little problem—the Bludger seems to have taken a liking to him!"

The Slytherin supporters fell into stunned silence as Malfoy’s erratic flying became more frantic. Harry briefly glanced at the VIP box and saw Lucius Malfoy, his face red with fury, pushing past others to get to the field.

The spell would wear off soon, but Harry was too focused on finding the Snitch. He spotted it just above the ground, and in a heartbeat, he shot downward, reaching out and snatching the golden ball from the air.

A loud cheer erupted from the Gryffindor stands as Harry raised his hand in triumph. His other teammates flew towards him, clapping their hands and the twins made a cheering whistle. 

But Harry’s eyes flickered back to Malfoy, who was still being chased by the cursed ball. The spell should have ended by now, he thought, but the Bludger was still relentless.

Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air as she flew toward Malfoy, aiming her wand at the black ball. But the rogue Bludger was too fast, dodging her attempts to stop it.

Lucius Malfoy’s voice rang out from the stands. "Do something! This is outrageous!" He barked orders at Dobby, who stood beside him, his long fingers twitching nervously.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. Malfoy’s panic had gone beyond what Harry intended, and now the situation was spiraling out of control. Without thinking, Harry tucked the Snitch into his pocket and sped toward Malfoy.

"Come on," Harry muttered through gritted teeth, pushing his broom faster.

Just as the cursed Bludger made one final lunge toward Malfoy, Harry threw himself in its path.

The ball collided with him midair, its magic fizzling out on impact, but the force of the collision knocked Harry off balance. His Nimbus shook violently beneath him, and pain shot through his right arm as it twisted awkwardly under the strain.

For a split second, Harry’s vision blurred, the wind roaring in his ears as he spiraled downward. The world tilted, and then everything went black.

13

Harry jolted awake, staring at the dark ceiling. The first glimpse of light pierced through his eyes like needles.

His groan must have caused a commotion nearby, as he heard shuffling, and someone came into his blurry view. His squinting eyes made out the shapes of his best friends. Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears, and Ron’s face was pale.

“You fell off the broom, mate,” Ron, who was sitting closest to Harry, said before Harry could even ask. “Dumbledore saved you just in time, unless you’d be dead.”

Harry blinked. Images of the last moment before he lost consciousness flooded his memory. Malfoy—the Bludger—the screams—then the agonizing pain after the crash.

Hermione rushed closer. “But you’d already fainted, and your arm was broken. We were so worried. Just when we got to you, Lockhart... he got there first. He cast a spell on your arm, thinking it would reduce the pain... and then...”

Harry glanced down at his arm and felt his chest tighten. The pain was gone, but he felt nothing. No sensation at all. It was as if he were looking at someone else’s arm. His right arm, suspended in a sling, hung lifelessly like an empty shell of skin.

His head spun.

Seeing Harry’s internal panic, Hermione hurriedly explained, “Madam Pomfrey says it’s nothing she can’t fix. It’s just that your bones are gone. It’ll take a couple of days for them to grow back. She’s gone to the Owlery to write to your mum now.”

Harry’s stomach sank, and his mouth felt dry, as if he had swallowed lead. “That’s good...” he forced out a laugh. “At least I didn’t lose my arm just for saving Draco Malfoy.”

Ron chipped in. “Lockhart’s career is over now. Everyone hates him, at least all the Gryffindors do. I’ve never seen McGonagall so furious. She scolded him in front of the whole school for showing off his incompetence. I think he’s been hiding in his office since. The team wanted to be here, but Madam Pomfrey strictly told them off, saying you need to rest.”

“Harry, what happened?” Hermione blurted out. “Why didn’t the Bludger stop? And why did you rush in like that? You could’ve been killed!”

“Dunno.” Harry shook his head. I just knew I had to stop it before the plan went too far.

The plan... Harry swallowed hard, suddenly remembering what he needed.

He realised he was in an infirmary gown, with a plain shirt and trousers. The letter he had planned to give Malfoy was tucked in his Quidditch uniform. 

None of this had been part of his plan, and now, Harry’s fingers trembled. He wouldn’t let the plan fail. It couldn’t fail.

His voice shaky, he turned to Ron. “There’s a letter in my Quidditch shirt—in my uniform. It must be in the dorm.”

Hermione shook her head, her eyes glossy. She spluttered, “it’s too late, Harry. We used your Invisibility Cloak to follow Lucius after the match. He stormed into Dumbledore’s office, probably trying to get you expelled. But that’s impossible! There’s no proof you cursed the Bludger, and everyone saw you save Malfoy’s life!”

Harry tried to sit up, ignoring the eerie numbness in his arm, and forced his mind to focus. There was something predictable about the Malfoys. If they had power, they would use it ruthlessly. Bullies like Lucius didn’t hesitate to show how far he could trample someone down.

“No, I’m sure he’ll come. He’s waiting for you two to leave so he can threaten me. He knows I cursed the Bludger,” Harry said firmly. “Please, Hermione, go find McGonagall or another teacher. Ron, get the letter.”

Ron nodded, his face determined. “Got it.” He quickly got up and hurried back to the Gryffindor dorm. Hermione, still hesitant, bit her lip before leaving the room.

Harry exhaled sharply, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling into despair. The clock struck six in the evening. Dinner time. Every student must be in the Great Hall, including the teachers. The Owlery was far, on the other side of the castle.

The plan was a mess—all of it. But there was still time.

His eyes fell on his wand, resting on the table beside a medical potion and Madam Pomfrey’s note telling him to take the potion after waking up. Harry could worry about that later.

Still praying Ron would return with the letter, Harry’s heart sank as he heard footsteps approaching, accompanied by the sound of a cane on the wooden floor. His heart pounded. Malfoy had been waiting for Harry to be alone, probably had Dobby watching for the right moment. 

Now, Lucius Malfoy stood at the foot of his bed, his shadow looming over Harry. But what made Harry’s heart lurch was the sight of Dobby crouching next to Lucius. For the first time, Harry saw Dobby’s large, fearful eyes up close.

“You,” Lucius Malfoy spat, his tone venomous. “You little shit.”

Harry swallowed, gathering his courage and wits. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, and he had a few tricks left to play.

“Good evening, sir,” Harry tried to smile mockingly.

Suddenly, the cold tip of Malfoy’s cane pressed against Harry’s throat, pushing him back into the headboard with nowhere to move.

“Don’t mock me, you filthy rat!” Malfoy roared. “I know what you did. My son told me all about your dirty little pranks. You’re abominable.”

Trying to control his breathing, Harry scoffed, despite the trembling in his voice. “Considering who’s threatening a twelve-year-old, I think you’re the one who’s mistaken.”

Malfoy pressed the cane harder against Harry’s neck, his head slamming into the headboard, as he spoke through gritted teeth, his smile cold. “You may have fooled everyone else, even Dumbledore, but I’ve seen through your lies. I could have you expelled right now.”

Then, the pressure on Harry’s throat suddenly lifted. Malfoy turned to Dobby.

“Grab his wand. I’ll take it to prove to everyone that you’re a liar. Take it!”

Dobby hesitated, but Lucius struck him with the cane. Reluctantly, the house-elf reached for Harry’s wand, but Harry clutched it tightly to his chest.

“Use your magic, you stupid animal!” Malfoy screamed.

Harry’s heart raced. Dobby’s eyes were filled with terror.

But before the house-elf could act, a voice echoed from the doorway. “What’s going on?”

At the door, Harry caught sight of Cedric rushing toward them, his eyes wide. Dobby flinched and stepped back.

“You stupid elf!” Malfoy bellowed. 

Seeing his master fuming with rage, the house-elf's fingers shook as he snapped them, and then Harry felt himself violently yanked out of the bed and thrown to the floor with a thud.

He let out a painful groan. He must have sprained his leg, and his glasses' lenses were cracked. But he quickly scrambled up, relieved that his wand was still clutched tightly to his chest. The sling had loosened from his right arm, leaving it dangling numbly at his side.

“Stop!” Cedric’s voice called out, and then hands reached out to Harry, helping him up. Harry looked up to see Cedric still in his uniform, with his robe and yellow-black scarf loosely swaying around his neck.

A thought struck Harry. There was no time to waste. He couldn’t wait.

He yanked the scarf from Cedric with his left hand, causing the older boy to gasp, before charging at Malfoy and quickly wrapping the scarf around the man's neck.

“The colors suit you,” Harry smirked through the pain in his wobbling leg.

Still uncontrollably furious, Malfoy yanked the scarf from his neck with an angry roar. For a proud Slytherin, to be seen wearing another House's colors, especially Hufflepuff’s, could be utterly disgraceful.

As Malfoy threw the scarf away in a fit, the end of the fabric was so long it became almost comical. The more he tried to get rid of it, the more tangled it became. Eventually, the scarf’s other end fell into Dobby’s hands, and as Malfoy continued to struggle, more and more of the scarf found its way into the elf’s tiny grip.

Harry turned to Dobby and winked.

The large eyes of the elf widened as he realised what had happened.

“Master… Master gives Dobby a scarf,” Dobby's voice shook. “Dobby’s been given a piece of clothing. Dobby is free!”

Malfoy froze. He seemed to have just realised what he had done. His face paled as he looked down at Dobby.

“No! I didn’t!” the man screamed.

But it was too late. Dobby hopped down from the bed and stood firmly between Malfoy and Harry. “You mustn’t hurt them! Dobby won’t let you do bad things anymore!”

And just to prove his point, Dobby snapped his fingers, and Malfoy’s body was flung across the room, crashing into a bed on the other side, knocking a vase off a table, which shattered on the floor.

Cedric let out a surprised gasp, and Harry smiled widely.

Malfoy hurriedly got up, his face reddened, his perfectly tied hair now a tousled mess. “You dare...”

He strode toward Dobby, who stood firm despite his small frame, and pulled his wand from the cane like a sword from its scabbard.

But Cedric shouted, “Expelliarmus! ”

Malfoy’s wand was snatched out of his grasp and tossed onto the floor. The moment was also interrupted by a commotion at the door, and more figures hurriedly entered the room.

“What’s going on here?!” Madam Pomfrey’s sharp voice pierced the air. Beside her were Professor McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore. 

Their eyes landed on Lucius Malfoy’s disheveled appearance, and then on Dobby, Harry, and Cedric. Harry’s heart leapt with joy when he saw Ron and Hermione standing behind the teachers.

Cedric was the first to speak. “Mr. Malfoy was trying to harm a student, sir, so I disarmed him.” He gestured to Malfoy’s wand, which lay out of reach.

Dobby nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir! The Headmaster can torture me all he wants, sir, but Dobby doesn’t lie! He knows that Malfoy threatened Harry Potter and tried to take his wand from him, sir!” The elf pointed accusingly at Malfoy. “He made Dobby do it!”

In the background, Harry saw Hermione gasping and covering her mouth, while Ron's jaw dropped as he tried not to smile.

“Those little shits,” Malfoy gritted his teeth, seemingly unaware of his own undoing. “They’re liars! Don’t listen to them. Bloody scum—”

“Stop!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed, and Malfoy stopped mid-sentence. The man blinked rapidly, suddenly realising what he was doing in front of the Headmaster.

“I need you to leave immediately, Lucius,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Until I have discussed this with the teachers and the school board tonight, your presence is no longer needed here.”

Dumbledore’s calm tone made his words even more intimidating, and Lucius Malfoy recognised the threat when he was on the receiving end. Realising he was outmatched, he picked up his wand, shot one last hateful glance at Dobby and Harry, then turned on his heel and left the room, his cane clanking loudly against the floor.

Dobby turned to look at Harry and Cedric. “Thank you. Dobby will never forget it.”

“My pleasure. And you don’t owe me anything,” Harry said softly.

“I’m happy for you, Dobby,” Cedric added with a smile.

Tears streamed down the elf’s face as he tried to wipe them away with his dirty pillowcase clothes. “Goodbye, Harry Potter. Goodbye, Cedric Diggory.”

Then, with a pop, the free elf disappeared.

Dumbledore nodded at Harry and smiled, a glint of mischief twinkling in his bright blue eyes behind those half-moon glasses. Suddenly, Harry felt as if the Headmaster had known all along.

“Come, Minerva. Thanks to Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, we’ve seen enough,” Dumbledore said slowly. “I’ll have to inform the school board and teachers immediately. We have an urgent meeting ahead of us.”

He raised his hand and waved at Harry before leaving.

Madam Pomfrey rushed over, fussing as she gently helped Harry lie back on the bed with Cedric's assistance. She mended his leg and fixed his glasses in seconds, much to Harry’s relief. There were still a few aches and bruises from when he had been thrown out of bed, but they would fade in time.

When Harry reached to grab the bottle of potion she had left, with the white scary skull on the cap, the matron shook her head.

“Get some rest. You can take the potion after a full sleep,” she said. “The process of growing bones is quite painful. You’ve been through enough today, Potter. Save your pain for another day.” Then she hurried back to her cabinet, pulling out more potions onto a tray.

“But I want to get better soon,” Harry grumbled.

Cedric cut in. “Listen to her, Harry.” His voice was crisp and stern.

As soon as Ron and Hermione were by his side, they hugged him tightly, as if he had just caught the snitch and won the Quidditch House Cup.

“Merlin’s beard! You idiot!” Ron mumbled into the embrace, ruffling Harry’s hair. Hermione’s eyes were red and her nose was flushed—she had been crying. “You did it! You freed Dobby!”

Harry laughed and patted Hermione’s shoulder.

He glanced at Cedric, who was still looking at him with an unreadable expression. Cedric was clutching the Hufflepuff scarf in his hand.

Harry gestured weakly with his left hand. “Sorry for taking your scarf.” He suddenly felt sheepish, imagining how strange the situation must seem to Cedric.

Cedric blinked, as if pulled out of his thoughts, and shook his head. “That’s alright.”

“Thank you for helping me. And I’d like to tell you… about all this,” Harry offered, attempting a shrug with one shoulder.

He was relieved when the older boy nodded. “I’d like to hear it. But get some rest first, Harry.”

Madam Pomfrey returned with a small silver tray. On it was a tiny bottle with green, swirling smoke rising from the lid.

“Sleeping draught,” she said before Harry could speak. “You need a good night’s sleep after all that distress, and then we’ll begin the bone-growing process.”

“I’m not distressed,” Harry mumbled, but no one seemed to hear him.

After being awkwardly tucked into bed, Harry gulped down the potion in one go. It was flavorless but smelled like burnt splinters and faint vinegar. He wrinkled his nose as it went down his throat, a small price to pay after everything.

“Skele-Gro will taste much worse,” Madam Pomfrey remarked primly at Harry’s grimace.

“Rest well, Harry,” Hermione said, briefly holding his hand. Ron mumbled a goodnight, and Cedric smiled at him.

It felt as good as a dream, Harry thought, as his eyes grew heavier with each passing second.

His last thought before slipping into deep slumber was a wish that all that had happened wasn’t just a dream.

14

He woke up to a small, gentle warmth on his hand. His groggy brain slowly registered that it was Lily’s hand.

“Hey,” he mumbled, reaching for his glasses. As he put them on, he also noticed James sitting nearby.

“Hey yourself,” Lily answered, handing him a glass of water. “How are you feeling?”

“Well-rested,” Harry replied after sipping the water. His throat had been so dry, but seeing Lily and James here in the Hospital Wing made him fully awake. “Am I in trouble?”

Lily sighed, though her voice remained firm. “Depends. I’ll be the judge of that.” She shuffled in her chair, scooting closer to Harry.

“It’s early in the morning. Poppy’s out at a meeting with the school staff. Now, tell me what happened, Harry.”

It was so rare to hear her say his name like that, and it made Harry’s skin prickle with dread. He was definitely in trouble. His eyes darted to James, whose blue eyes twinkled at him behind round glasses, just like Harry’s. James smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his lips, a sign that maybe, just maybe, Lily might forgive Harry eventually.

“Alright.” Harry adjusted his glasses and gripped the glass of water. There was no other option but to tell the truth. They both deserved to know.

So he did. He told them everything: the spell in James’s notebook, the rogue Bludger, his plan to prank Malfoy and taunt him, Ron and Hermione’s involvement, his practice with the wandless spell, and the moment he decided to crash in to save Malfoy—much to his own dismay. He recounted the incident with Lucius Malfoy and Dobby in the Hospital Wing, how Cedric’s scarf had saved the day, and his quick thinking in disarming Malfoy.

James let out a heavy sigh, then grinned widely. “Merlin’s beard! I didn’t know a tracking spell could do that to moving objects! I can’t wait to tell Sirius about this.”

But Lily shot James a glare that deflated his excitement like a popped balloon. He gave her an apologetic look.

Lily turned back to Harry, speaking carefully. “I’m glad you and Cedric are friends again.”

Harry’s eyes nearly bulged. “Seriously? Of all the things I just told you… that’s what stands out?”

“Of course not,” Lily quipped. “But it’s one of the two good things you did. Freeing an elf and making amends with Cedric.”

“I got rid of Malfoy from the school board,” Harry countered. “He’s gone now.”

“At what cost? Risking your life and putting Ron and Hermione in danger? Breaking all the rules for personal vengeance?” Lily frowned. But when she saw Harry’s startled expression, she softened with a small smile.

“Look, what you did was admirable, truly remarkable for coming up with all those plans on your own. It shows how much you care. But I’m certain Remus wouldn’t have wanted you to waste your entire year just to get back at someone for his sake. Revenge won’t get you anywhere, and by the time you realise it, it’s often too late.”

She reached out and gently took Harry’s trembling hand, her words clearly having an impact.

“I’ve known you your whole life, and seeing you obsessed with something that could eat you up inside… it’s not you. Was there any point in these past months when you weren’t thinking about revenge? Did you even enjoy your second year at Hogwarts?”

Her simple questions struck Harry like a blow. He looked at her, her green eyes filled with concern and love. The only time he hadn’t been consumed by hatred was Christmas with Cedric, that he had been carefree and happy then.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to hold back the lump forming in his throat.

“Oh, Harry.”

Lily stood and hugged him tightly. Harry didn’t hesitate to wrap his good arm around her, clinging to the warmth and love radiating from her touch. She kissed his forehead gently.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Harry always teased Lily for calling him that, but this time he cherished it because he knew she meant it.

When Lily released him, James smiled.

“Off the record,” he raised a finger, “what you did was brilliant. Reckless, but brilliant. Though it reminds me why chess should stay on the board and not in real life, kid.”

Harry snorted, his humor easing the tension and preventing him from tearing up again.

“And you’re grounded,” Lily said, adopting her stern tone, which Harry noticed she had been using more frequently. “I’ll be taking you to St. Mungo’s with me during the next summer, and you’ll be running errands to help me and my colleagues for the whole month.”

Harry grimaced but nodded. “Okay. I guess I deserve that.”

Lily shot James a glance, as though communicating something unspoken. James seemed to get the hint and straightened up.

“Oh, yeah. And no flying on your Nimbus for the entire summer.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

James cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah… I talked with Lily. Her punishment is about living in the present, and mine’s about learning self-control, so…”

He shrugged, clearly struggling to elaborate. Discipline wasn’t exactly James’s strong suit, and Harry could sense the irony in his words.

Lily took the reins. “It’s for your own good. You might even discover other things you enjoy.”

Harry sighed, knowing he had no choice. At least they hadn’t banned him from visiting the Weasleys this summer. Maybe he could sneak in a flight using their brooms.

As if reading his thoughts, Lily shot him a stern look. “I’ll know if you break the rules.”

Damn it. Harry scowled.

But, despite the punishments, Harry realised one good thing: he didn’t have to hide his plans from his parents anymore. That thought lifted a weight off his shoulders, one he hadn’t even known was there.

Lily held his hand as Harry warily eyed the growing bone potion. Reluctantly, he drank it. The taste was beyond horrible, burning his mouth and throat as it went down. Without a word, Lily squeezed his hand gently.

As the agonizing pain pierced his arm, Harry tried to hold back his sobs, gritting his teeth. James, sensing his struggle, started talking about his latest inventions and their holiday plans. He mentioned that Remus had gotten a job at Beauxbatons, and Sirius, though thrilled, had come back crying to Lily and James because he’d miss Remus so much.

Harry laughed weakly at the idea of Sirius being a softie, though James was a big crier himself. But his dad’s voice was soothing, helping distract Harry from the constant throbbing in his arm.

“You’ll be okay, honey,” Lily whispered, stroking his hair.

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes as the pain overwhelmed him, but he nodded at her words. He glanced at his parents, mustering his remaining strength.

“I love you two,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

James smiled cheekily. “We know.”

15

It took Harry three days before Madam Pomfrey declared him fully recovered and discharged him from the hospital wing. During his stay, Ron and Hermione took turns visiting him in the early morning and before dinner. Hermione brought him class assignments and briefed him on the lessons, so he could keep up with his studies. Ron, on the other hand, brought chess, and they played together while nibbling on pumpkin pie.

He received many other visitors as well. Neville came by with sweets and bread from breakfast, as well as a book, Poisonous Herbology, that he found fascinating. Luna drifted into the Hospital Wing, reassuring Harry that he could sleep peacefully for a few days without being disturbed by the Wrackspurts that usually infested the beds. Hagrid paid him a visit, giving him a bone-crushing hug and a set of wooden mugs he had crafted himself. Ginny visited once, blushing and avoiding his eyes as she handed him a singing "get well soon" card that let out a shrill voice when opened.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team paraded into the hospital wing one evening after practice, much to Madam Pomfrey's disapproval. Wood cheered Harry up, hoping he would recover in time for the Quidditch Championship, whether they faced Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

"Don’t worry, Wood. I won’t get suspended again," Harry reassured his captain, referring to last year when he was banned from Quidditch after his fight with Malfoy.

Speaking of Malfoy, Ron and Hermione gleefully informed Harry on the last day of his stay that Lucius Malfoy had been kicked out of the school's board, and that Lockhart had literally fled the school after hearing the news.

"Can you believe that coward?" Ron said, his voice rising until he was shushed by Madam Pomfrey. "He ran off with his tail between his legs as soon as he realised he didn’t have Malfoy to protect him anymore."

"But that also means we won’t have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the next four months!" Hermione lamented.

Ron shrugged, chewing his bubblegum. "With or without Lockhart, it’s the same. We didn’t learn anything from him anyway."

Harry wholeheartedly agreed.

By the time Harry was fully recovered, he was eager to stretch his legs and return to Quidditch practice every evening. The mere mention of "Quidditch" made him feel a rush of excitement. He had taken Lily's words to heart and started living more in the present, rather than obsessing over plans and schemes. He even lent his broom to Ron for his Keeper tryouts instead of letting him use the school's outdated Shooting Star. Ron’s tryout was a success.

Malfoy, according to Hermione, had become quieter than usual after the news about his father threatening an injured second-year student spread. People whispered constantly about it, and many pointed fingers at him. Whenever someone tried to bring it up, Malfoy would lash out, but it was clear he was affected. The Slytherins, despite having the best brooms, were ranked last in Quidditch, which added to the amusement for others who loved taunting them.

Two weeks went by, and Harry rarely saw Cedric. The older boy had visited him briefly, but was busy with his own Quidditch practices and schoolwork. Harry often spotted Cedric among the Hufflepuffs in passing, but their interactions were brief. It wasn’t as though Harry was disappointed, though.

One day, after finishing an essay for McGonagall on the comparison between the Shrinking and Engorgement Spells, Harry was on his way back to the Gryffindor common room when he noticed a group of students with brooms slung over their shoulders walking toward the entrance. His heart skipped a beat when he recognised a familiar tall figure at the end of the line, chatting with a small blonde girl, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers. It was the Hufflepuff Quidditch team returning from practice before their match with Ravenclaw the following day.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried down to the field.

Cedric was still talking to the Chaser when Harry approached. “—seriously, Maxine, I don’t see any problems. I can play against her just fine—”

The girl, Maxine, stopped when she noticed Harry approaching, which made Cedric turn around to see him.

Harry tried not to cough, but his voice still came out higher than usual. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

Cedric blinked slowly, looking slightly flustered. “Sure, yeah. Hi, Harry.” He turned to Maxine, saying, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up with you later.”

The Chaser glanced between Cedric and Harry before shrugging and walking away. Harry assumed she knew he was Gryffindor's Seeker, which explained her wariness.

There was a nearby bench, used for storing Quidditch equipment, and Harry led Cedric there to sit.

“Busy, huh?” Harry asked when they were seated.

Cedric smiled and sighed lightly. “Yeah, sorry. I wanted to talk to you earlier, but one thing after another kept me tied up. How are you?”

“Good,” Harry shrugged. “I’m catching up with the classes I missed. Nothing too bad.”

They both sat quietly for a moment, their breaths visible in the chilly air. Harry only had his robes and gloves on, and he could feel the cold creeping in.

“So,” he started, “I promised to tell you everything, right?”

Cedric nodded, his gray eyes focused on Harry. “Yeah. You did. But are you sure you want to stay out here? It’s freezing and you’re shivering.”

“I’m fine,” Harry insisted. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t something I want overheard.”

“Okay,” Cedric said quietly, turning his full attention to Harry.

Then Harry began recounting everything—just like he had told his parents. Cedric listened without interruption, and even when Harry finished, he remained quiet.

“So?” Harry raised his chin, bracing himself. “Are you going to lecture me about safety and all that?”

“What? No, not at all.”

To Harry’s surprise, Cedric looked impressed.

“I mean… wow, Harry. You planned this for months. Your encounter with Malfoy in the Hospital Wing wasn’t a coincidence; you anticipated it.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. “Yeah, but the plan went sideways. The Bludger could’ve killed me, and now I think I’m on Dumbledore’s watchlist. He probably knows I did it to get back at Malfoy.”

“But you improvised,” Cedric pointed out. He paused, biting his lip in thought, his eyes still lingering on Harry. “It was reckless, sure. You, Ron, and Hermione did all that on your own, and you put yourself in danger. But you didn’t hesitate to intervene with the Bludger, even though it could’ve killed you. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as brave as you.”

Heat rushed to Harry’s face, and he quickly looked away. “Well, if you put it that way, but trust me, it was stupid. All of it came from my obsessive mind. As Lily said, I let it consume me.”

Cedric nodded. “She’s right. But that doesn’t make you any less brilliant.”

Harry punched him lightly. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” Cedric smiled. “I mean, I don’t know anyone else who would go this far for others. You’ve been amazing since I met you, and the fact that you pulled off a wandless spell in your second year? That’s incredible. I admire you, Harry.”

Harry felt like melting on the spot as Cedric’s smile widened.

He couldn’t believe someone would say something so honest, so straightforward, and still keep a straight face. Harry didn’t know how to respond to those compliments—he wasn’t even sure he deserved them.

“You can’t say stuff like that with a face like that,” Harry muttered before he could stop himself.

“Like what?”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. He couldn’t. How was he supposed to explain Cedric’s intense, sincere gaze?

Cedric didn’t press, instead asking, “Can you promise me something?”

“What?”

His smile turned shy. “Next time you’re up to something, can you let me know? I’d love to help.”

Harry scoffed. “You don’t mean that. I come up with the wildest ideas, and we’d probably break like what – fifty school rules. You wouldn’t like it.”

But Cedric seemed undeterred, leaning slightly toward Harry, his gray eyes unwavering. The warmth spreading in Harry’s stomach made him feel uneasy.

“Please? I won’t tell anyone,” Cedric promised.

Harry swallowed, trying to fight off a blush. “Fine, Diggory. You’ll be joining the ride next time.”

Cedric’s grin widened even more, if that were possible. Harry found it ridiculous that breaking school rules and risking expulsion brought Cedric such joy.

“I’d like that,” Cedric said earnestly.

Harry crossed his arms, trying to huddle for warmth without making it obvious. But his teeth were already chattering, and the older boy must have noticed.

“We should head back to the castle,” Cedric said, pulling off his yellow-and-black Hufflepuff scarf and wrapping it carefully around Harry’s neck before he could protest.

“Here. You could use some warmth.”

Harry froze, not from the cold, but from Cedric’s hands that were close to his face as they fixed the scarf around him.

He quickly averted his eyes as he felt a rush of heat bloom on his face. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell was wrong with him? He should say no, right? But he didn’t want Cedric to think he didn’t appreciate his kindness, and the scarf was awfully warm. He could snuggle his chin into the wool fabric and warm his breath there.

Seeing Harry didn’t say anything, Cedric only smiled and stood up. He picked up his broom and casually led Harry, who was still too stunned to speak, afraid he might embarrass himself even more.

Together, they walked back to the arched corridor, where the Hufflepuff team had passed by just half an hour ago.

Even feeling more comfortable in the warmth, Harry pointed at the scarf around his neck. “Don’t you need it?”

Cedric shrugged. “Nah. I’ve got a spare one. Besides,” he turned to look at Harry, giving him that easy smile, bright as always, making Harry’s stupid stomach do flips. “It’s the same scarf you put on Malfoy to free Dobby, so consider it a gift from me. For your foolhardiness but courage.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Cedric laughed, and when they reached the point where they had to go separate ways, Cedric waved at Harry while jogging down the stairs to the Hufflepuff common room. The smile never left his face.

“Wear it to Saturday's match, will you?” Cedric’s voice, a little shaky, echoed down the hallway.

Harry, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face, shouted back, “Who said I’m cheering for you, Diggory?”

When Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room with a Hufflepuff scarf snugly wrapped around his neck, Ron didn’t say anything, but his friend still earned a pillow thrown at him for the playful, shit-eating grin etched on his face.

16

Something was seriously happening to him. Harry just knew it.

He knew he was in trouble because he couldn’t stop looking for Cedric in the hallways, during every meal at school. He wanted Cedric to notice him, to give him one of those easy, small smiles Harry liked so much. And when it did happen, Harry’s heart fluttered, and he felt a slight blush spread across his face.

Once, he caught a glimpse of Cedric across the house tables, and the older boy waved at him. Harry immediately looked down, nearly dipping his nose into his bowl of parsnip soup.

Hermione had casually pointed out his unusual blushing, which Harry brushed off, blaming the cold. She didn’t seem very convinced.

Going to watch Hufflepuff play Ravenclaw on Saturday didn’t help either. Though Harry didn’t wear a Hufflepuff scarf as he didn’t want to be the target of Ron and Hermione’s merciless teasing, he still cheered for Cedric’s team.

To Harry’s surprise, Hufflepuff seemed to have the upper hand. Ravenclaw, as usual, came out strong and strategic, with some of the best Chasers in all four houses. But this time, Hufflepuff was more active and on the offensive. Harry recognised it immediately — Cedric had taken his advice to heart and improved their game strategy. The Hufflepuff Chasers spread out in two wings, leaving one Chaser and two Beaters in the middle. Even their Keeper played farther from the goalposts than usual. Meanwhile, Cedric hovered above them, overseeing his team.

George, sitting a row below Harry and Ron, looked back at them. “I think Hufflepuff’s going to win. Wanna bet?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got no money,” Ron grumbled. Harry just shrugged and patted him sympathetically.

Hermione, exasperated, leaned toward them. “Not everything is about Quidditch, you know.”

“Everything is about Quidditch, Hermione,” George said, pointing at her with mock seriousness.

As the game continued, Harry kept an eye on the field, scanning for the Snitch. One of Hufflepuff’s Chasers, Maxine, was particularly fast and agile, often flanked by two Beaters who protected her from both the Bludger and Ravenclaw’s Chasers.

“Hope we don’t see a rogue Bludger this time,” Neville, seated next to Harry, muttered nervously, causing Harry to wince.

“Don’t worry,” Harry reassured him, though the memory of that close call was hard to shake.

Hufflepuff scored two quick goals, surprising everyone. Their teamwork was impressive as they were playing like a finely tuned machine. Most of their players were third and fourth years, but they were hardworking and focused. This was pretty much the same team that had won the Quidditch Cup the previous year. In contrast, Ravenclaw relied heavily on their Chasers and wasn’t making much use of their Keeper or Beaters.

Half an hour into the match, Hufflepuff was leading 80-50, with their Beaters still playing relentlessly. When one of their Chasers switched out for a substitute, Harry saw the nervous second-year, Zacharias Smith, from Herbology. But instead of subbing for the right-wing player, Heidi, Zacharias moved to the center, supported by two Beaters.

Harry’s breath hitched. Wood would’ve noticed this too. The Hufflepuffs were experimenting, compensating for their weaker Chaser by rotating players and having Cedric direct from above.

Harry was so caught up in his analysis that he almost missed a tiny shimmer in the rare sunlight.

“There!” He jumped in his seat, pointing at the Golden Snitch, hovering not far from the Gryffindor stands, just ten feet away from where Harry sat.

And then, a tall figure dived from above.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat as Cedric flew closer, leaning forward with his arms outstretched. It felt like slow motion. Cedric’s eyes locked on the Snitch, unblinking. His brown hair was slicked back, his jawline striking, and his easy smile highlighted by the sheen of sweat on his skin. Cedric was like a living portrait, moving swiftly and gracefully. Harry forgot to breathe as he watched Cedric soar upwards, the Snitch fluttering weakly in his hand.

Cedric’s wide, bright smile under the winter sun was just further proof that Harry’s mind wasn’t in the right place. He was seriously in trouble.

He was slow to join the applause. Even Wood’s loud “Bloody hell, they’re too good!” didn’t quite register. Harry was too busy watching Cedric, who had dismounted from his broom and was being mobbed by his jubilant teammates. His tall frame stood out, as three of them leaped at him, and the Keeper ruffled his hair, which still looked soft and gleaming under the light. Harry’s stomach flipped when he heard Cedric laugh and realised, with a pang, that he’d never hugged Cedric, not even once.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked as they made their way out of the stands.

Harry realised he’d been completely quiet since the game ended. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If you’re worried about playing against Cedric, don’t be,” Ron added, giving Harry’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Hufflepuff’s got good teamwork, but you’re more talented. You’ve got this, mate.”

Harry nodded, even though deep down, he knew he didn’t have any of this figured out.

All he knew was that he was really, truly doomed.

***

“We’re doomed.”

Wood echoed the exact thought Harry had the next two days as they trudged back from evening practice on a chilly Tuesday in February. “We have decent teamwork, but we’ve never rotated the Chasers between positions before. Fred and George are great, but they can’t stay in the middle like clockwork the way the Hufflepuff Beaters do. And we can’t rely solely on Harry catching the Snitch if we want enough points to win the House Cup.”

Fred elbowed him. “Come on, Wood. Look on the bright side. We’ve got Harry this year instead of dragging in Mallary Midgen to play a Seeker at the last minute. We have a real chance to win!”

“And copying their strategy won’t work. That’s nonsense,” Angelina chimed in. “We should focus on playing our own style as best as we can.”

Wood rubbed his temples. “Yeah, you’re right, Angelina. I’ve just let them get under my skin.”

“It happens to all of us, Wood. Don’t worry!” George said with a grin. “Especially now that all the girls are swooning over the Hufflepuff captain.”

Fred let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s not fair that Diggory’s getting all the attention. We need to swing the votes on that, right, Harry?”

Harry barely managed to avoid tripping over his Nimbus as they walked back to the castle. He mumbled something along with the twins but didn’t join in with his usual sarcastic remarks.

It started right after the match. Cedric was becoming much more popular. People were comparing him to Charlie Weasley, whose captaincy had led Gryffindor to five consecutive wins, though that was clearly an exaggeration. Harry rarely saw Cedric alone anymore. He was always surrounded by his usual group of friends, but now a few girls had joined in, constantly asking him questions about the Ravenclaw match.

Harry wasn’t eager for Cedric’s attention anymore. In fact, he couldn’t even make eye contact with him and often dodged Cedric altogether whenever he showed up near the Gryffindor table. It was getting ridiculous… and embarrassing.

“If you really want to talk to him, you should just owl him and set up a date,” Hermione suggested casually one morning, as if she were discussing the weather while reading the Daily Prophet.

Harry spluttered, nearly choking on his chocolate milk and spilling it over his cornflakes. Ron burst out laughing.

“What the hell, Hermione?!”

“I’m only trying to help,” Hermione replied with a calm expression, though there was a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“I would never do that,” Harry said, horrified.

Hermione shrugged as she folded the newspaper. “Just don’t wait until I say ‘I told you so.’”

A month passed, and the situation only became more ludicrous. Harry couldn’t even string together a simple sentence like “I’m fine, how about you?” when Cedric greeted him in the hallway. He took extra time putting on his uniform and rearranging his books in his bag just to avoid seeing Cedric at breakfast, much to Hermione’s exasperation. Even during the short-term break in late February, Harry blatantly refused when Cedric asked if they could visit Hagrid again, making up a flimsy excuse about Hagrid having too many Flobberworms in his room and there being no room for five people.

Ron just shook his head as they watched Cedric leave, looking a little downcast.

Harry had no idea what to do anymore. He felt like he wasn’t himself around Cedric and didn’t know what to think about anything.

Harry spent most of his time in the library, on the Quidditch field, or in the Gryffindor common room, places where he knew Cedric wouldn’t be. But even then, thoughts of their Christmas time together gnawed at him, making him miss talking to Cedric more and more, like an ache tightening in his chest.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Cedric, and yet he desperately wanted to stop thinking about him.

Two days before their match, just as Harry was on the brink of a full-blown meltdown, he received a note written in neat handwriting during lunch.

Hi neighbour,

I haven’t seen you in a while, and it seems like we’ve both been busy. It sucks that I either have to shout across the table to talk to you or hope we run into each other.

I just wanted to say good luck! It’s the first time we’ll be playing against each other, and I’m feeling both nervous and excited about it. Remember when we talked by the sycamore tree, and you said you wanted to join the team so we could play together? Well, it didn’t quite happen that way, but at least we’ll be in the same match now. But don’t expect me to let you win easily.

Can’t wait to see you play. Looking forward to it,

Cedric

P.S. I heard from the Twins that Ron is subbing for Wood. Congrats! Seems like the Weasleys have a natural talent for Quidditch. It’s amazing…and terrifying, honestly.

Before Harry could bury his face in his hands, his heart racing uncontrollably, he caught sight of Cedric across the room. And as if on cue, when Harry glanced up from the note, Cedric gave him a thumbs-up, his usual bright smile visible even from afar.

Harry exhaled slowly. This was driving him insane, making him more frustrated than ever. And he hated himself for it.

17

“Hey, why don’t you write to Sirius?” Ron offered.

They had arrived at the Quidditch changing room early for the match, as Ron was too excited to try on his Quidditch uniform for the first time, and Harry had happily indulged him. But Harry regretted his decision after Ron’s words. There were only two teammates in the room.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Harry said flatly. “And your shoelaces are untied.”

Ron bent down to tuck them in. “It might be helpful, yeah? If you don’t know what to do, you have Remus or Sirius to give you some insights—”

His words were cut short when Wood barged in with a broom in hand. He appraised Ron’s fully dressed uniform and said he would fit right in with the team.

“And Ron’s a decent Chaser,” Harry added. Ron’s ears turned slightly pink at the encouragement. 

Wood nodded approvingly. “Good, because he can be our wild card. The Hufflepuffs haven’t seen him play before.”

Alicia, Angelina, and Katie emerged from the room, already in uniform with their hair tied back, chatting excitedly. Fred and George were the last to arrive, looking unusually quiet and on edge as they put on their gear.

“The bet’s not helping,” Fred muttered to Ron and Harry. “The whole school thinks Hufflepuff is going to win, so we can’t place many Galleons on it.”

“How much did you both bet on us?” Ron asked, slightly terrified.

George shrugged. “Not as much as I’d like.”

“And you’re not mum, so stop worrying,” Fred said, ruffling Ron’s hair, making him look even more sour.

The air was crisp and cold, with a biting February wind sweeping over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Harry stood on the field, broom in hand, scanning the stands as students packed in, excited for the final match of the year. He spotted his housemates holding a big sign that read, “Gryffindor to Victory!” with a lion’s head drawn by Dean that could actually roar and make Neville jump.

Harry’s stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with excitement. He tried to distract himself by thinking of the most boring potion ingredients he had studied last week, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Cedric’s smile and the fact that he would soon see him. The feelings that had been gnawing at him for months resurfaced.

Harry had tried to dismiss it, tried to focus on the game like he always did. But this time it was different. Seeing Cedric in his usual Hufflepuff yellow uniform, calm and collected, made him uneasy. When Cedric noticed Harry watching him and smiled broadly, it definitely didn’t help.

Taking a shaky breath, Harry heard Wood shout to the team, “Everyone. We’ve got this!” and then the Gryffindors mounted their brooms.

Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air, and with a loud whoosh, the players kicked off the ground, rocketing into the sky. The game began, fast and furious as always. But for once, Harry’s mind wasn’t on the golden blur of the Snitch. It wasn’t even on Gryffindor’s usual strategy. His eyes kept drifting to Cedric, who was weaving effortlessly through the air.

Harry forced himself to look away, determined to shake off the thoughts clouding his mind.

“Harry!” Wood’s voice broke through his haze. “What’re you doing? You missed the Snitch!”

“What? No, I didn’t!” Harry snapped back defensively, but when he looked around, he realised he had drifted too far from the action.

“Keep it together!” Wood shouted as he zoomed past, eyes still on the Chasers. “We need you sharp!”

Harry nodded, but his head was spinning. Why am I even thinking about him? Harry berated himself, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him stubbornly, throwing him off balance. 

He could do this. This is the match he’d been looking for. Don’t fuck it up!

Gryffindor scored first through Angelina, followed shortly by a second from Katie. They were leading nicely.

Harry gripped his broom harder, trying to force his attention back to the game. Below him, the Chasers were battling fiercely for the Quaffle. He didn’t have the usual spectator’s view of the game, but he figured Hufflepuff would stick to their usual positions and tactics, just as Wood had predicted. The roar of the crowd was background noise. The score was 60-30. Gryffindor’s Chasers were performing great as usual.

At one point, he and Cedric passed each other mid-air, both searching for the Snitch, and Cedric flashed him a grin. It was casual, just a friendly gesture, but it made Harry’s heart skip a beat.

Bloody hell.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a tiny glimmer of gold hovering near the Hufflepuff stands. The Snitch. His instincts kicked in, and for a brief moment, the world snapped into focus. He leaned forward, urging his broom faster. This was it—the moment to block out everything and do what he did best.

But just as he closed in, Cedric appeared out of nowhere, zooming toward the Snitch with the same determination. His focus was unshakable, his eyes locked on the Snitch. Harry’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. He felt the pressure of the moment, the rush of competition, but his thoughts betrayed him again. His mind slipped back to that smile, Cedric’s laugh and everything he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge.

No—focus!

Harry pushed forward, but it was too late. Cedric’s hand shot out, and before Harry could reach it, Cedric’s fingers closed around the Snitch.

The roar from the Hufflepuff stands was deafening.

Cedric landed gracefully, the Snitch glowing in his hand. His teammates swarmed him, cheering, while Gryffindor’s stands fell silent. 

Harry hovered in the air for a moment, disbelief and frustration crashing over him. He’d never lost focus like this, never let a game slip away like that.

As he landed, his teammates approached, disappointment etched on their faces.

“Harry, what happened?” Angelina asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You always catch the Snitch!”

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, staring at the ground. His face burned with shame. “I—I just lost track of it for a second.”

“Lost track of it?” George repeated, incredulous. “You’ve never lost track of the Snitch before, not once.”

Harry didn’t reply. Nearby, he saw Ron, still in his Quidditch uniform, running toward them on the pitch, and felt a sharp pang of guilt. They were about to go to the award podium, with Harry feeling like he had let everyone down. He couldn’t look any of them in the eye. He could still see Cedric across the pitch, celebrating with his team, his bright smile lighting up his face. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Harry realised why.

He hadn’t just lost the Snitch. He’d lost himself.

He had feelings for Cedric, and he could no longer deny it.

18

Lily, ever wise, used to say that Harry must have been experiencing what she called ‘growing pains.’ It was when his body ached and cramped, with his muscles refusing to cooperate or act normally. Sometimes, at random, Harry would feel restless and unable to sleep, while other mornings he could barely get up due to the throbbing pain in his calves. That’s how he knew he was becoming a teenager.

But she never mentioned how to deal with the other kind of growing pain, one that muddled his emotions and messed with his head.

A week after the Quidditch final match, his teammates eventually forgave him for his first failure in a game. Angelina even apologised for lashing out at him, and Wood, though still devastated, started to smile again and joined everyone for breakfast. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, assuring him that he wasn’t blaming him. The twins dragged Harry into playing Gobstones and swapping trading cards, including Exploding Snap (which was later confiscated by Snape for being too loud in the watchtower). Harry figured that it was their way of showing they didn’t hold his mistake against him.

Hermione, the least affected by Gryffindor’s loss, patiently helped Harry prepare for the upcoming Potions exam and even went as far as to plan a study schedule for both him and Ron for the end-of-year exams. Months in advance.

“Wow, Hermione,” Ron gaped, staring at her meticulous notes. “How would we survive this year without you?”

Looking pleased, Hermione blushed. “Maybe you can, if you start practicing the Skurge Charm now. It needs work.”

“Why do I have two hours of Potions revision three days a week?” Harry frowned at his schedule and glanced at Ron’s.

“Because you can barely read your own handwriting in your Potions notebook, and you rarely copy the notes Snape writes on the board,” Hermione said calmly.

“He writes too fast! I can’t keep up with my beautiful cursive,” Harry exaggerated.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but then chuckled at his complaint. “That’s why I’m lending you my notes for a week. Just copy them properly and memorize the ingredients before the exams.”

“Wow, Hermione,” Harry repeated Ron’s praise for her. He grabbed her hand. “You’re my savior.”

Hermione laughed, brushing off his compliment, though a satisfied smile lingered on her face.

With new lessons and homework to focus on, Harry found it easier to push aside the devastation of their Quidditch loss. 

Without practice, however, he found himself wide awake at night, often wandering around the castle under his Invisibility Cloak. He explored the hidden nooks and crannies, trapdoors, and baileys. He loved these solitary night-time excursions, easily avoiding ghosts and Filch, and eavesdropping on their complaints about Peeves’ latest pranks. He took the opportunity to map out secret passages, in case they vanished or became hidden. He even discovered spiral staircases in Astronomy tower and the West Wing that led to nowhere or to unexpected places. One night, he stumbled upon a mysterious well beneath the clock tower that made eerie, spine-chilling sounds, like a ghoul, or worse.

Exploring the castle brought Harry a sense of normalcy again. It reminded him of the promise he had made to Cedric back in January — to include him in any adventures, even if it meant breaking school rules. Cedric’s downcast face when Harry had refused Hagrid’s invitation still haunted him.

Harry was sure Cedric would love wandering the dark spiral staircases and discovering secret passages, even if it meant they’d have to share the Cloak and stand close together to avoid being seen. The thought of being so near Cedric, with their arms brushing, sent a rush of heat to Harry’s face.

But Harry was determined. He had to talk to Cedric eventually. Avoiding him wasn’t helping, and he couldn’t deny his feelings anymore. He had lost the match because he tried to push those feelings away. Maybe, once summer arrived, they could spend more time together, like the time before Hogwarts. The thought made Harry’s stomach sommersault… that would be nice.

With his mind made up, Harry chose a Saturday in the first week of March. The sun was shining, and the day was warm—a sign of early spring. Students poured out of the castle to bask in the sunlight, lounging around the lake, in the courtyards, or anywhere they could soak up the warmth.

Harry briefly considered Hermione’s suggestion of sending Cedric a letter to arrange a meeting, but he wasn’t great at writing. Even Professor Sprout, one of the kindest teachers, had complained about his penmanship, so he quickly dismissed the idea. Finding Cedric among the students shouldn’t be difficult, right?

True to his prediction, it wasn’t hard to find Cedric reading under an ash tree in the Transfiguration Courtyard. But to Harry’s dismay, Cedric was surrounded by his friends—the usual group Harry had seen him with before: a boy with sandy-colored hair, a dark-skinned boy with glasses, and a short-haired girl with a lip piercing and eyeshadow.

There was no better time than now, Harry thought frantically. There was no harm in walking up to Cedric and inviting him to Hagrid’s visit tomorrow. It was just a friendly gesture. Nothing strange about it. Harry wasn’t inviting him to sneak out at night to explore the castle. Not yet, anyway.

As Harry approached, the short-haired girl was the first to notice him. She glanced at him briefly before elbowing her friend not-so-gently.

Cedric looked up from his book, his legs crossed, not wearing his robe but only his school shirt with his tie loosely hanging around his neck.

“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Cedric smiled easily when he saw Harry.

Harry nodded quickly, his hands feeling awkward without anything to hold. He suddenly became hyper-aware of his pounding heart and the fact that four pairs of eyes were now on him, waiting for him to speak.

He wanted to ask Cedric for a minute alone, but that would make it seem like a bigger deal than it really was. It was just a friendly hangout. No need to make it weird.

So instead, Harry coughed and jumped straight to the point. “We’re going to visit Hagrid tomorrow. Wish it was today, but he’s out buying flesh-eating slug repellent for his Flobberworms’ cabbages. Do you want to come?”

He blurted everything out, even the bit about the slug repellent, as if it were the most crucial information Cedric needed to know.

The older boy raised his eyebrows, blinking at Harry’s rapid speech. Before he could respond, the sandy-haired boy snickered.

“I don’t think he can come feed Flobberworms with you. He’s got a Hogsmeade date with Cho Chang,” the boy said, clapping Cedric on the shoulder. “It’s your second date, right, Ced?”

Cedric shot him a glare, and the girl next to him muttered, “Lawrence…” as if chiding him. 

Lawrence looked confused by his friends’ reactions. “What? I don’t see why Ced can’t brag about his girlfriend for the whole school. Cho’s gorgeous.”  

Harry had heard enough. “Oh. Okay.”

“Maybe some other time next week?” Cedric offered softly, though he sounded unsure.

Harry waved weakly, his fingers trembling. “No, it’s fine. Totally fine. I’ll let you know.” He was ready to bolt. “See you later.”

He sprinted back to the corridor, running as fast as he could. He sped past the Fat Friar, who was floating in the corner, mumbling “Sorry!” but didn’t slow down. He just wanted to get as far away from Cedric as possible.

19

He was the biggest idiot.

Harry cursed himself, heart still pounding, feet hammering on the ground as he panted heavily. He wanted to run forever, away from the utter embarrassment of making a fool of himself.

Of course Cedric wouldn’t like him. What in the world had he allowed himself to daydream about the chance that Cedric might like him back?

Harry hadn’t even considered the obvious: Cedric would definitely fancy a girl. He would never, ever like a boy. Merlin, it was so stupid to even think about what he just did—asking Cedric to spend an afternoon eating rock cakes and playing with a bunch of twelve-year-olds, when the other boy literally had a date with one of the prettiest girls.

Now, Harry just wanted to disappear from the whole world and let the ground swallow him down.

The thought of going back to the Gryffindor common room after what he’d just done filled him with dread. Ron would gape, while Hermione might be more sympathetic, but Harry could already see the unspoken ‘I told you so’ written on her face. He didn’t want to look like he was heartbroken over a stupid crush.

Right, it was a totally stupid crush. Harry stopped running and bent over, clutching his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Maybe Ron was right. He should talk to Sirius and ask about this later. His godfather always had answers for this kind of thing.

He didn’t even realise where he’d been running until the cool air and crunch of green leaves underfoot told him he was somewhere outside the castle, near the northwest, close to Hagrid’s hut and the border of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry was toying with the idea of getting back to the castle, though he felt like a heavy weight just thinking about walking past a courtyard when he might run into Cedric again. As he turned around, he spotted a familiar small figure, looking almost like a translucent fairy in the faint sunlight, wandering near the edges of the forest. Her long pale hair hung loosely down her back.

“Luna!” Harry called, jogging toward her, still panting.

She stopped and gave him her usual lopsided smile. “Hi, Harry. Good weather today, isn’t it?”

Harry glanced down at her bare feet that were smeared with mud. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Luna said airily. “The Nargles took them. I underestimated them. After I told everyone who would listen that there are Nargles lurking around the castle, my belongings started disappearing. It’s their usual mischievous way of getting back at me.”

He looked at her unblinking eyes and his heart sank. It probably wasn’t Nargles that took her shoes, but the mean and nasty people who thought it was funny to steal them, forcing her to walk barefoot all term.

He wanted to find out who did it, probably one of her Ravenclaw housemates, but he had no proof. He gritted his teeth. And Luna, of course, believed it was the Nargles.

A sharp pang of regret hit Harry. He hadn’t spent much time with Luna recently, despite their time together before Hogwarts. He’d sworn to himself he would look after her more.

Starting with finding out who stole her shoes. Tonight. Luna didn’t need to know why the Nargles suddenly decided to return them before the term ended.

He began untying his sneakers. “Here, take my shoes.”

“That’s okay. I’m used to it,” Luna shrugged.

“No, here…” Harry crouched down, quickly pulling off his sneakers. “They might be a bit big and damp, but at least they’ll keep your feet from getting cut on the rocks.”

Luna hesitated, but Harry smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry. I’ve still got my socks. Where are you headed?”

Reluctantly, Luna took his shoes and put them on. “To feed the Thestrals. They usually hang around the edge of the forest this time of day, waiting for treats.” She shook her tote bag, revealing pieces of fresh meat inside.

“Can I come with you?” Harry asked.

Luna smiled gently. “Of course. You’ll probably want your shoes back anyway.”

“Keep them. Until the Nargles return yours,” Harry insisted.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll get them back by the end of term. I can feel it.” 

They walked further into the forest, where only faint glimpses of sunlight remained and the cool air greeted them, filling the blue-hued shadows cast by the deeply rooted trees.

Without his shoes, the cold, moist soil seeped through Harry’s socks. The cold prickling sensation surprisingly calmed him, bringing a sense of peace as he walked along the forest's edge. A short while later, they stood on a small mound covered in wet leaves, with a stream of fog twirling around them. Luna grabbed a piece of meat from her bag and quietly reached out into the empty space. The smell of raw meat left a coppery taste lingering in the air.

The faint sound of crunching leaves echoed, growing louder until Harry watched as the lump of meat in Luna’s hand vanished into thin air.

Harry gasped. “Whoa.”

Judging by the angle of Luna’s hand, the Thestral must have been quite tall. “They seem to like you,” Harry remarked.

“They’re shy creatures, but they’re like puppies sometimes. Playful and always hungry,”  Luna explained, offering another piece of meat to another invisible Thestral.

Harry watched in awe as Luna fed them, listening to the faint noises of chewing that confirmed the creatures' presence. It felt like he was witnessing something otherworldly, something that reminded him how vast and mysterious the world really was. And Luna, in her serene way, seemed to be on the verge of uncovering its secrets. Her calm confidence in approaching these creatures alone in the forest, barefoot, earned Harry’s deep admiration.

Fifteen minutes ago, his mind had still been spinning, his emotions in turmoil. Not just recently that he’d been in constant fighting mode for several months. Fighting with Malfoy and also his own feelings.

But here, in the forest, before the invisible creatures, Harry realised that all his cunning schemes and his confusing feelings seemed distant. There was so much more for him to explore, to learn, and it was okay to not have everything go his way all the time, because there was always more to see. 

There was a move in chess where, despite achieving victory, you could lose your queen in the process. Maybe that had happened to Harry. He had checkmated Lucius Malfoy, gotten rid of Lockhart, and taught Draco Malfoy a lesson or two, but he still felt a pang of loss, of emptiness.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Harry said as they walked back to the castle. The sky had dimmed, the sun hidden behind overcast clouds, ready to set in early evening.

“You’re welcome anytime,” Luna smiled. “Though I hope you won’t have to see them too soon.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Your mum was an amazing woman,” he said, gently squeezing her hand. Then a thought occurred to him. “Would you like to visit Hagrid tomorrow with me, Ron, and Hermione?”

Luna nodded, smiling. “I’d like that.”

That evening, after parting ways with Luna, Harry returned to the common room feeling lighter, as though all his pent-up frustrations had melted away, at least for the time being.

He had a crush on Cedric, and that was fine. Cedric was kind and nice, and that was nothing strange about having a crush. One day, Harry would laugh about it, or maybe even tell Cedric one day with a shrug that ‘you know what, I used to have a crush on you.’ They’d both laugh, shaking their heads in disbelief. Cedric might even tease him about it. It would be hilarious for them both. 

Sooner or later, he’d get over it. He’d put his feelings for Cedric behind him and move on with his life.

“What are you smiling about, dear boy?” the Fat Lady asked after he distractedly gave her the password, still smiling.

Harry straightened up. “I just figured something out – that everything’s going to be alright.”

The Fat Lady looked surprised, then she gave him a kind smile. “That’s wonderful to hear, young man.”

Harry smiled to himself as he crossed the threshold into Gryffindor Tower. 

Chapter Text

Part I : Flight

1

Cedric couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend. 

He didn’t even realise it when Cho asked him to hold her hand after they left the Three Broomsticks. 

His mind froze. What could he say? He couldn’t exactly refuse, especially with other students flooding into the pub, and they were standing right in the doorway. So, Cedric did it. He held her hand, and they walked out together to Honeydukes.

Cho was undeniably pretty, with a warm smile that showed her charming dimples, and hair that looked as soft as velvet. Cedric admired how jaunty and sweet she was, especially when she talked about her family—her mother, a Muggle-born witch, and her father, who worked as a banker at Gringotts. She had a knack for filling silences effortlessly, pointing out sweets she liked or toys she found amusing. They shared similar interests, too. As fellow Seekers, they could always talk about their love for Quidditch. And like Cedric, Cho had a passion for Charms and Transfiguration, though she aspired to work at the Ministry, as no one in her family had ever held an official position. Her lively, cheerful nature made Cedric feel incredibly lucky that she was interested in him. 

On Valentine’s Day, Cedric had a feeling something was about to happen. Cho met him outside the Charms classroom, handed him a Valentine’s card, and quickly kissed his cheek before dashing off to join her giggling friends. 

That’s when Cedric realised that he officially had himself a date.

His Hufflepuff classmates witnessed the whole thing and wasted no time teasing him mercilessly about it. Lawrence wouldn’t stop talking about Cho until Phoebe, in her usual blunt manner, suggested that perhaps he was the one with a crush on Cho. That finally shut him up.

Spending time with Cho came with its own perks, like how other girls, who might have approached him in the library or the Great Hall, now kept their distance because he was dating someone. But Cedric couldn’t help feeling a bit out of his depth, as if everyone around him knew the unwritten rules of dating, while he hadn’t quite caught on.

However, dating Cho also meant less time for other things. Cedric remembered the disappointed look on Harry’s face when he had to turn down Hagrid’s invitation to join them for a visit. Harry had looked so crestfallen, and before Cedric could even think of calling out to him, Harry had already bolted and vanished around the corner.

“What’s up with him?” Lawrence asked, confused by Harry’s sudden exit.

Phoebe glanced at Cedric but said nothing. She jabbed Lawrence in the head instead.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Lawrence rubbed his head, bewildered.

Phoebe just sighed in exasperation and returned to painting her black nails.

Cedric sighed too, hoping Harry didn’t take it personally. He really wished they could still be friends. After all, Harry had promised to show him whatever he was up to.

To Cedric’s relief, when he ran into Harry three days later, the boy wasn’t even sulking. In fact, he waved and smiled at Cedric like nothing had happened before heading into class. 

Cedric waved back, grinning, his heart lifted with joy.

He still saw Harry occasionally, though not as often as he would have liked, given their upcoming exams and busy schedules. More often than not, Cedric began to notice Luna spending time with the trio. She hovered around the Gryffindor table, sometimes playing chess with Ron or Harry, or simply hanging out with them.

It was nice to see Harry getting along so well with Luna, almost like an older brother looking out for his sister. But Cedric also felt a tiny pang of jealousy prodding in his chest. He wished he could be there, spending time with them. Instead, he had Ancient Runes in five minutes and an essay on Calming Draughts due tomorrow.

With a sigh, Cedric trudged up the marble staircase to the sixth floor, trying to swallow the lump of regret in his throat.

***

The last term passed quickly like melting snow in spring. There was a new buzz of excitement among Cedric's Hufflepuff housemates about how they planned to spend their summer. Cedric was excited for them though he tried not to dwell on his own, which promised much less enjoyment. He would have to face and talk to his dad eventually. But the upside was that, for the first time in three years, he would get to spend time with Harry and he couldn’t wait for it.

The train ride home was peaceful and smooth enough; Cedric sat with Cho and her friends in their coach. He was hesitant at first, but Cho insisted, saying her friends wanted to get to know him, and Cedric wasn’t hard to convince. He often indulged his girlfriend and let her drag him along when she wanted company.

Cho’s friends were all girls. He was introduced to Marietta Edgecombe, Eliza Pitwig, and Sue Li. They welcomed him warmly and engaged him in conversation. They asked him which member of the Spellbound band he liked most or what his favorite songs were, but when Cedric looked dumbfounded, unsure of what to say because he’d never listened to them, they just giggled. As a Muggle-born, Eliza brought up a fashion magazine her mum subscribed to for Hogwarts. She skimmed through the pages, pointing out male models and asking which ‘fashion style’ he liked.

Judging by his confusion, they laughed even more and looked at him with, if Cedric wasn’t mistaken, a glint of condescension.

“Don’t be so hard on him! He’s not interested in that kind of nonsense,” Cho chided her friends. She was sitting beside him and holding his hand the entire time.

“But he should be!” Marietta teased with a smirk. “Imagine how he’d look if he knew how to dress up a bit!” She quickly glanced at Cedric. “No offense, Cedric. You’re handsome, but you’ve got to step up your game, like those Slytherin boys. They know how to dress hot.”

Cedric’s cheeks burned. Cho noticed his blush and squeezed his arm tightly. “Don’t listen to her. You’re already so handsome to me,” she whispered.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, because Cho leaned her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and settled in comfortably. Her friends just rolled their eyes and continued flipping through fashion magazines.

Time rolled by like that. Cedric managed to tuck out a book and get some reading done, despite feeling awkward with the girls. He considered it lucky to have found a moment of peace until they reached King’s Cross, where most students began gathering their luggage and trunks. Marietta was the first to hop off, followed by Eliza who waved goodbye before stepping out of the coach.

As Sue was the last to leave, Cho held Cedric’s hand, signaling him to stay behind with her. She leaned in, looking a bit sheepish.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I’m not going to play Quidditch next year,” she said. “Terry Boot will take another tryout.”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “What?”

Cho shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve withdrawn. It feels like the right decision, especially after all the losses over the past two years. Maybe I’m just not good enough.”

“We both know that’s not true. You’re amazing,” Cedric said firmly.

His girlfriend smiled, though her eyes still held a hint of sadness. “Thanks, but I’m not as good as you or Potter. Besides, it’s a little harder to compete with you when we’re dating.” She tangled her fingers in his palm and then leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s easier this way, don’t you think?”

He wanted to argue. It was just Quidditch. Surely, they could talk it out or find a way not to let it interfere with their relationship. Cho had so much potential, and she had wanted to be a Seeker for Ravenclaw long before she even got her Hogwarts letter. She was as passionate about Quidditch as he was. Now, it felt like she was passing up an opportunity to shine. But Cedric could see she had already made up her mind and respected her decision. 

So, he simply nodded and smiled.

They parted ways at the platform. Cedric promised to write to her during the summer, and as he looked back one last time to see her smile, he joined his mum.

2

Dad was sitting in the living room on the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet when Cedric arrived home. He gave a gruff nod when Cedric greeted him but didn’t bother to look up. Mum sighed, her eyes filled with worry as she leaned closer and lowered her voice.

“Don’t mind him. He’ll come around.” She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Cedric smiled back, though he wasn’t sure she believed her own words.

But Cedric didn’t mind. In fact, he had already expected the cold treatment. The argument about the letter had been rough—dad had even threatened to ‘disown’ him and expressed how deeply disappointed he was. Cedric knew it had been his dad’s last-ditch effort to stop him, but Cedric was determined. He was going to study History and be friends with Harry Potter, no matter what his dad thought.

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Cedric acted normally, even asking his dad about work and his job at the Ministry. He only received a few curt, one-word answers, not asking anything back. His mum, on the other hand, hugged him tightly and said she was proud of him, regardless of the decisions he made.

Her words were enough to lift Cedric’s spirits.

The next morning, the first thing Cedric did was go to the Potters’ cottage and knock on the door, his heart thumping with excitement. He couldn’t stop smiling to himself.

But it was James Potter who answered, cradling his sleeping cat, Turnips, in his arms. James’ hair was as messy and wild as Harry’s.

“Cedric! Hello! Long time no see!” he greeted, before letting out a huge yawn. “Sorry, long night.” He smiled and rubbed Turnips’s back, the orange cat purring contentedly.

Cedric greeted him with a shy smile and asked, “Is Harry home?”

James’ face fell slightly. “Ah, sorry, no. He and Lily left last night. Lily’s mum—uh, Harry’s grandmother—passed away yesterday. They went to the funeral in Surrey and won’t be back for two days.” He scratched his cheek, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Lily took Harry with her since it’s the only time they’ll get to see her sister and Harry’s cousin... uh, can’t remember his name exactly. Lily’s family is Muggle, so we don’t visit them much.”

Cedric’s face sunken. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said politely. He hadn’t known that Lily was Muggle-born, and the awkwardness in James’ voice hinted at their complicated relationship. He didn’t know much about how half-blood families navigated the divide between wizards and Muggles, but he had read enough to sense that it could be tricky.

Trying to brighten the mood, Cedric smiled. “At least Harry will make a new friend.”

“Ha! More like target practice.” James scoffed.

After leaving Potters’ cottage, Cedric tried to shake off the disappointment that now weighed on him like lead.

Over the next two days, Cedric tried to keep his mind occupied by reading a book about Elfric the Eager’s uprising, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. The distraction became so intense that he decided he needed to do something more active. Grabbing his Comet broom, he went outside to fly, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind.

The broom, however, reminded him of his father. It had been a gift before he started school, back when things were simpler between them. As he soared through the clear sky, looking out at the countryside, Cedric made up his mind to talk to his dad at some point this summer, though when exactly, he wasn’t sure.

The following day, Cedric went back to the Potters’ and knocked again. This time, Sirius Black answered the door, dressed in his usual black shirt and ripped jeans.

Cedric felt a little awestruck but tried to compose himself. “Hi... I’m looking for Harry,” he said.

Sirius gave him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, James said you’d probably be by today. Harry came back last night, but he’s gone to St. Mungo’s this morning to help Lily with errands and stuff. It’s his punishment for the summer.”

Cedric blinked in surprise. “Punishment?”

Sirius chuckled lightly. “Yeah, he kept pulling reckless stunts throughout the whole year, didn’t he? He needs to learn his lesson.”

“When will he be back?” Cedric asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Sirius tilted his head, studying him for a moment before responding. “Hard to say. Lily’s shifts are all over the place – some days, some nights. She might keep him there for a while, working his arse off.”

“I see...” Cedric slumped. “Could you let me know when he’s back?”

“Sure thing,” Sirius replied, still giving Cedric that curious look. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, to Cedric’s surprise, Sirius reached out and clapped him firmly on the shoulder. 

“I’ll let you know. Goodbye, Cedric.”

It was just Cedric’s bad luck that an entire month passed, and he still hadn’t seen Harry. Sensing the tension between Cedric and his dad, his mum suggested he stay with his grandparents for a few days and Cedric agreed to it. 

During this visit, he met Sage Bergman, the Head Curator in the Department of Magical Artifacts, who happened to be visiting his grandparents as well. 

“You must be Cedric,” Bergman said with a warm smile, shaking Cedric’s slightly sweaty hand. His red-grey beard made him look like a Scottish Santa Claus. “Enid and Charles speak very highly of their grandson. They tell me you want to be a magical historian, is that right?”

Cedric, still too stunned to speak, could only nod vigorously. His grandma laughed.

“Cedric! Now’s not the time to be shy! Impress him so he can take you on as an apprentice.”

Bergman chuckled at her comment. “That would be splendid, Enid, but he’s still in school. However,” his brown eyes twinkled, “I can invite you to the Department to see our work up close. How does that sound?”

“Yes!” Cedric almost shouted, probably looking like a delirious man because Bergman let out a hearty laugh. He gave Cedric a strong pat on the back.

“Don’t get your hopes too high, young man,” he warned. “Our work can be as dull as a pixie’s bogey.”

And so, Cedric spent the month interning at the Department of Magical Artifacts.

As Bergman had warned, some tasks could be tedious, but Cedric found the work fascinating. He shadowed the curators as they received a variety of magical objects, meticulously analysing each one. They conducted magical tests and, most thrillingly for Cedric, researched historical contexts, cross-checking the items with the department’s archives. Every artifact was carefully tracked; its origin, history, and magical properties were all studied to ensure there were no curses or dangerous side effects.

Despite his busy schedule, Bergman was kind enough to guide Cedric through different areas of the work. He even let Cedric into the isolation room, where the more dangerous magical objects were classified and cataloged. Located on the far side of the west wing, this room was shielded with powerful enchantments and guarded around the clock to prevent cursed objects from wreaking havoc.

“It’s like finding the right angle to tackle things,” Bergman explained as he carefully examined a dark green amulet in the room. They were both dressed head to toe in black robes, gloves, goggles, and masks designed to neutralize dark magic. “We experiment with them, breaking down the curse piece by piece.”

“What happens with these cursed objects?” Cedric asked under his mask.

“If we confirm a curse remains, we send it to the Ministry of Mysteries or call in the Curse Breakers,” Bergman explained.

Although the Curse Breaker job sounded adventurous, Cedric found himself more interested in the department’s archives and the Ministry Museum displays open to the public. Objects like the Mirror of Erised, Nicolas Flamel’s stone, and Angua the Anguished’s first Horcrux were highly secured. But the museum also displayed a great number of enchanted Muggle items and other magical objects for scholars and visitors to learn more about the wizarding world. Cedric visited the museum daily, each day, he learned something new.

The internship granted him a more hands-on approach to history than his previous trip to Italy. Here, history was applied practically, not just debated at conferences like his grandparents preferred. His grandma had mentioned that Bergman, as a historian, had earned his renowned reputation through practical contributions to the wizarding world, not merely through academic debates.

Cedric was so excited that he wrote to Cho about his internship and the fascinating magical artifact procedures he’d learned. He wasn’t expecting a quick reply since Cho was visiting relatives in Taipei, but they’d exchanged letters throughout the summer, so he didn’t mind.

Bergman also gave Cedric self-study advice on cross-referencing archives and detecting curses in common objects like enchanted Muggle sports balls and quills. By the time Cedric returned home, it was already the first week of August, and he had a stack of books borrowed from his grandparents to keep him busy.

To Cedric’s surprise, his dad seemed more warm and relaxed when he returned home. Whether his mum had spoken to him or the internship impressed him, Cedric didn’t know. But his dad even smiled and asked what he was reading over breakfast on the porch. It was a small but significant step in breaking the cold wall between them. Cedric hoped his dad would eventually come around when he mentioned that Bergman might offer him an apprenticeship in two years after graduation, which could also mean working at the Ministry — something dad had always wanted for him.

With that thought in the back of his mind, Cedric sprinted from his house, across the hill, to the Potters’ cottage with Harry’s birthday present in hand. It was a replica model of the first broom ever invented, displayed in the Broomsticks and Flying Inventions section of the Ministry Museum. Cedric bought it instantly, imagining Harry’s excitement. Maybe next summer, he could take the younger boy to see the real thing.

Clutching the present, Cedric knocked on the Potters’ door. Lily opened it with a bright smile but then groaned.

“Oh, Merlin!” she said, smacking her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Cedric. You just missed Harry again. We tried to reach you, but your mum said you were with your grandparents and doing an internship.”

Cedric’s excitement deflated like a popped balloon. “He’s not here?” he asked, even already knowing the answer.

“No, James and Sirius took him to visit Remus in France, and they’re doing a bit of traveling for James’s work. They’ll probably be back in a couple of weeks.” Lily said glumly. “I’m really sorry. It seems you two keep missing each other.”

Cedric tried to smile when handed her the present. “I brought a birthday gift for Harry.”

Lily’s eyes lit up. “That’s so sweet of you! Come in for some tea. I just baked a blueberry pie. You might like to have some.”

There was no way Cedric could refuse Lily’s pie. It was the first time he'd stepped into the Potter house in years, after losing touch with them for a while. The familiar clutter of notebooks, hardback books, toys, and James’s gadgets scattered about greeted him as he entered. Cedric smiled to himself, still thinking it was one of the coolest houses he’d ever visited. 

Lily gestured for Cedric to take a seat on the sofa, and with a quick swish of her wand, all of James’s gadgets scattered across the cushions were roughly shoved into drawers along the wall. 

"Sorry about the mess. I haven't had a chance to clean up yet. I just finished donating Harry's old clothes to the orphanage." She winced as a small tricycle collided midair with the rubber wheels of another toy. "Oh, not that one."

With a tired sigh, Lily sank into the chair opposite Cedric, a cup of tea in hand after her quick attempt to tidy up. 

"So, how’ve you been? Harry tells me you’ve won the Quidditch Cup two years in a row."

He smiled shyly. “I had a lot of help from my teammates, and some ideas from Harry. I may have stolen a few of his to improve team tactics.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, sipping her tea. “Oh, I’m not surprised! Harry’s always full of schemes. I can’t lecture him enough about it.”

She paused, then her expression became softened. “Harry told me you helped him in the Hospital Wing that day. I don’t know what we’d have done without you looking out for him. Thank you.”

There was a hint of both worry and exasperation in Lily's voice, as if this was a topic that came up frequently in the Potter household. It seemed like, between James and Harry, Lily was often on the losing side of the conversation, and she might be hoping Cedric would back her up.

But Cedric thought otherwise. “Harry’s brilliant. If I were him, I couldn’t have done what he had. He’s the bravest person I know.”

Lily looked at him in genuine surprise. “You think so?” 

He nodded. “I’ve told him that, too.”

Lily looked taken aback. “Well, thank you. I thought you wouldn’t be too fond of his wild ideas. He seems to get into trouble more times than I can count. Just like James and Sirius in their old days, but Harry's even ten times more stubborn. He never tells me much in his letters, and I’m afraid that—”

“I’ll look out for him,” Cedric interrupted with a reassuring smile. “He promised to tell me whenever he’s planning something, so I can make sure nothing happens to him.”

Lily stared at him for a moment, then straightened in her seat, taking a sip of her tea. She looked thoughtful.

“Sometimes I forget how long you’ve been friends with Harry. You’re always so protective of him. Thank you, Cedric.”

A faint blush crept across Cedric’s face. He wanted to say that Harry felt like a little brother to him, but it didn’t feel quite right. Instead, he took another bite of the blueberry pie.

The conversation shifted. Lily was surprised to learn that Cedric had taken the Art of Healing as one of his electives and promised to find him a copy of Practical Antidotes Potions for Healing Studies. (“It’s somewhere in these cluttered piles,” she muttered apologetically while searching, before promising to send him the book once she found it.)

He also asked her about the funeral that had taken place a month ago. Lily’s expression softened as she shared stories about her Muggle background and her parents.

When it was time for Cedric to leave, Lily hugged him warmly. “I’ll tell Harry to see you when he’s back. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Cedric smiled widely. “I won’t.”

*** 

Two weeks had passed since Cedric visited Lily, and despite usually enjoying solitary peace, he was now going out of his mind with boredom. The hot, dry air swirled around like a wave of nausea, and there had been no sign of rain for weeks. He couldn’t stay in his room for long without drenching in sweat or feeling cramps and itches.

Cedric thought about his friends. Lawrence had gone back to his Muggle family to help out with the family’s bakery shop during the summer. Miles wrote to say that his grandfather had fallen ill, and his family needed to take care of him and the Apothecary trade. Phoebe hadn’t told him anything and seemed to be doing Merlin-knows-what, strictly forbidding any visitors. The idea of visiting Luna was tempting, but she’d mentioned she was leaving the country with her dad to map out sightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks for The Quibbler’s special column.

So when Cedric received a letter from Cho saying she would be in Diagon Alley and wanted to visit him afterward, his heart leapt with joy. It seemed silly since they would see each other again in just a couple of weeks when the term started, but Cedric was beyond bored, and seeing Cho would undoubtedly brighten his days.

Talking to his parents wasn’t hard. Mum already knew about Cho and was more than happy to invite her for dinner, and, to Cedric’s surprise, even dad seemed pleased.

Cho arrived with her father that Saturday late afternoon, bringing a thoughtful bottle of wine, much to his dad’s satisfaction. Dad seemed back to his usual self, even asking Cho about school and her friends. She was cheerful and got along so well with his parents as he just watched her chat with his mum, laughing whenever his dad tried to crack a joke. Her light jacket and sky-blue skirt brought out her delicate features, and her hair, neatly tied into a side braid, made Cedric’s stomach flip.

They had some time before dinner to take a walk. The weather was cooler than usual, with a gentle breeze brushing past them. Cho told him about her trip to Taipei and her family gatherings, while Cedric recounted his internship and his interest in museum curation.

“That sounds perfect! You could work at the Ministry, and your dad would love that,” Cho remarked eagerly.

Cedric shrugged. He enjoyed the work, but the idea of doing it for his entire life wasn’t something he was ready to commit to.

They strolled over to the sycamore tree, seeking refuge from the summer heat under its familiar shade. Cedric had climbed this tree countless times and even fallen from it once. The big tree seemed smaller now, though its dark leaves and thick branches were the same. He was sure he could climb it easily but wasn’t so sure even thickest branches would hold his weight. 

He shared a light version of the story when he fell down from the tree with Cho, who responded with an “aww” and put a hand on his arm. “Poor Ced.”

“I was just lucky it didn’t hurt much,” Cedric said, sitting down and letting the breeze cool him, sweeping the sweat from his face and hair. It was refreshing, at least as much as summer could be.

Cho sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. She suddenly seemed quiet, her cheeks flushing pink. 

“I’ve missed you.” Her voice was soft as she said.

Cedric was about to reply with an ‘I’ve missed you too’ when Cho gently cupped his face and kissed him.

His mind frizzled to overheat as his eyes widened. He hadn’t even closed his eyes and could see Cho’s long lashes up close, feel the warmth of her lips, and catch the faint scent of her lip gloss. 

Cho’s hands rested on his face as Cedric slowly reached out, brushing her braided hair lightly and carefully holding her hand. His heart was beating so fast he couldn’t tell if it was his heartbeat or hers.

The kiss didn’t last long. As they pulled away, Cedric could still taste the peach or apricot from her lips, his heart still pounding. Cho smiled shyly, her flushed cheeks visible even in the summer air. Cedric’s face flushed with the thought that he’d just had his first kiss. 

“Well,” Cho breathed, still holding his arm, not quite meeting his eyes. “We could kiss some more if you’d like, before we head back.”

So Cedric leaned in and kissed her again. It felt much the same as the first – his heart racing, cheeks burning – but before they broke apart, their noses brushed softly together, and Cho giggled. 

They stayed under the sycamore tree for a few minutes to compose themselves. Cedric tried to stop himself from grinning too widely. By the time they decided to head back for dinner, it was already five in the evening. 

On the way back, they walked past the hill near his house and the Potters’ cottage close by. But it was the first time in summer that Cedric saw a familiar figure in the yard. 

He hadn’t seen Harry in almost two months, and the first impression almost deceived him. The younger boy had grown so much, maybe a foot taller. Harry’s hair was as wild as ever, but something about Harry’s demeanor was different from the boy Cedric had always seen, though he couldn't pin point what had changed. 

His green eyes, still bright even from afar, weren’t focused on Cedric but on the golden snitch flitting around him as he tried to catch it.

Cedric turned to Cho, “Give me a minute.” His girlfriend quickly caught a glance of Harry and nodded. 

He jogged over to the younger boy, smiling as he couldn’t help it. “Harry! Finally, how have you been? How was your trip?” 

Harry turned, his green eyes briefly meeting Cedric’s. Up close, he noticed subtle changes in Harry's appearance. He was still lanky and thin, but his shoulders were no longer slouched, and he’d switched to a different pair of glasses. The boyish roundness in his face had given way to the beginnings of a defined jawline.

Harry shrugged, still not meeting Cedric’s gaze, his eyes fixed on the snitch struggling weakly to break free from his grip. His other hand remained tucked in his jeans pocket. 

“Good, I think,” he shrugged.

Before Cedric could ask more, the younger boy spoke. “That’s our tree.”

“What?” Cedric blinked.

“The sycamore tree. You kissed her there,” Harry said, his gaze shifting to Cho, who was waiting on the other side of the hill. 

“Oh.” 

A surge of heat rushed to Cedric’s face. Of course, Harry had seen them kissing under the tree. He didn’t know what to say. It felt like when a close friend catches you with your girlfriend for the first time.

While Cedric stammered, Harry sighed, finally looking at him. He flicked his wrist, and the golden snitch zipped back into his hand before he shoved it into his pocket. 

“That… never mind. Doesn’t matter. It’s just a tree.”

Cedric, still flustered, realised Harry wasn’t just talking about the kiss but the tree they used to spend a lot of time around as kids. Then he remembered what Lily had once told him… Harry could be territorial at times. That explained Harry’s frustration and the hint of indignation in his voice. Despite the changes in his appearance, those green eyes still held the same intensity, the kind that both fascinated and unnerved Cedric all at once.

Cedric was about to apologise when Cho called his name from behind.

“You should go,” Harry said, nodding toward Cho.

“Yeah, okay,” Cedric mumbled, walking backward toward Cho but still looking at Harry. “Talk to you later.”

He gave Harry a small wave and an apologetic smile.

After a moment, Harry’s shoulders relaxed. The younger boy raised his hand from his pocket and waved back.

***

Cedric went to the Potters' cottage first thing in the morning, unable to contain his excitement to see Harry after he had returned. 

However, this time, he found out from Lily, who was about to leave for work dressed in her lime-green uniform, that Harry was staying at the Leaky Cauldron. He would remain there until the term started, accompanied by the Grangers and the Weasleys, who had just returned from their trip to Egypt.

Cedric attempted a weak smile, but Lily could clearly see the disappointment on his face. She apologised again before casting green powder into the fireplace.

“You can see him on the platform or the train,” she tried to console him. “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to talk to you, too.”

The green flames roared to life. Lily looked at Cedric with an apologetic expression and he knew it was his cue to leave. 

He nodded at her before walking home with a heavy heart.

3

And so the summer passed – filled with new discoveries, ups and downs, and also some disgruntlement. Cedric sighed as he packed his luggage, carefully placing his neatly folded uniform on top of his clothes.

The letter from Hogwarts had arrived late this year, only eleven days before the start of term, and Cedric suspected the delay was due to the search for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Lockhart’s sudden disappearance had caused quite a scandal and led to a reshuffling of many board members, not just Lucius Malfoy.

But it wasn’t just the list of textbooks that Cedric received; inside the letter was also a Prefect badge with a gold ‘P’ attached. Its gleaming reflection stared back at him.

Mum was delighted when she knew that he had been selected as a Prefect. Dad, on the other hand, was beyond ecstatic. It seemed as if the grudges he had held against Cedric over the summer had evaporated in an instant.

When Cedric arrived in the living room, dad rushed forward and hugged him. “The Quidditch, the House Cup, and now this!” He kissed his cheek, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m so proud of you, my son!”

They decided to go out for a special dinner that evening. Cedric tried not to feel too jubilant, but he couldn’t help it. It was rare to see both his parents so happy, and knowing he was the one who had brought them so much joy made it impossible for him not to smile as well.

Obertelli’s Eating House had a wonderful atmosphere, and the food was superb. They enjoyed the time together, and though Cedric occasionally wanted to bring up their past arguments and have a real conversation with his dad, the topic was subtly avoided. Dad would clap his shoulder warmly instead.

“Enjoy your time at school, won’t you?” He said gently, cheeks flushed with brandy, his brown eyes filled with love. 

“You’ll always make me proud, Ced. I’m sure everything will come your way. You still have time to figure out your path, yeah?”

That was how Cedric knew his dad would never truly give up on his ambition for the Diggory name to be prominent in the Ministry of Magic. The fact that there had once been a Minister named Eldritch Diggory centuries ago had given dad a ridiculous hope that made him still hold onto that dream. 

Now, all the expectations had been placed back onto Cedric’s shoulders once again.

***

After that day, whenever Cedric saw him in the living room, his dad would ask more and more about school and Cedric’s O.W.L.s preparation, mentioning how he would tell Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, about his son’s accomplishments. The thought made Cedric even more nervous, and living under the same roof gave him little escape from the pressure dad kept placing on him.

So imagine his relief when the time came to board the train, offering him a break from his dad’s fierce and strange encouragement. Cedric felt a sense of peace as he waved goodbye to his parents, though he felt a small twinge of guilt. He quickly promised himself that he would write to them when he arrived.

Being a Prefect came with its own set of responsibilities, starting with his first duty on the very first day. He had to change into his school uniform and join the coach along with the Head Boy and Head Girl for a briefing, which could take up to two hours. Cedric pushed his luggage through the train aisle, noticing Rosaline Bones, another Hufflepuff who had also been made a Prefect, walking closely behind him. She smiled at him in greeting.

The Prefects’ compartment was at the other end of the train, and to no one’s surprise, Percy Weasley was this year’s Head Boy, alongside Penelope Clearwater, his girlfriend from Ravenclaw. Percy sat proudly at the center of the compartment, clearly basking in his new position and looking pleased with himself. Cedric realised with a sense of dread that the 'orientation' was going to be a long one.

By the time it was over and all the Prefects were dismissed, it was already past two in the afternoon. They all looked slightly dazed, as if waking up from a long nap. Angelina Johnson didn’t even try to hide her big yawn.

“That’s the most boring meeting I’ve ever had and that includes the times I’ve been to my mum’s courts,” Rosaline whispered to Cedric as they filed out of the compartment. Cedric remembered her mum was a member of the Wizengamot, and laughed, wholeheartedly agreeing with her.

Luckily, Miles had already told Cedric where they were sitting when they briefly met before the Prefects' meeting. But the walk to their coach felt excruciatingly long, especially since Cedric hadn’t eaten anything all day. He groaned as he carried his luggage, passing by Rosaline and her friend’s coach. This was going to be a long journey.

After passing three compartments, Cedric debated whether to just give up and find an empty seat to eat something. That’s when he noticed a group of three people blocking the aisle ahead. 

He frowned as he recognised Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and immediately sensed they were up to no good. Cedric instinctively stepped in.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

Draco Malfoy turned toward him, narrowing his eyes. Cedric braced himself for a few insults, but Malfoy’s gaze fell on the Prefect badge gleaming on Cedric’s chest, and there was a noticeable hesitation in his expression.

“It’s none of your business, Diggory,” Malfoy sneered, but to Cedric’s surprise, he gestured for Crabbe and Goyle. After muttering a curse under his breath, Malfoy retreated, striding back toward the previous compartments.

Just as Cedric suspected, the compartment Malfoy had been harassing was where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna were sitting. They all looked relieved.

“Thank you,” Hermione said with a grateful smile. She looked more tanned than Cedric remembered, and her frizzy hair was now trimmed to shoulder length. “Not that Malfoy’s scary or anything,” She continued, “but you just saved Harry from getting detention and costing Gryffindor points before school even starts. He was about to hex him.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Harry protested, though he was seen tucking his wand back into his jeans pocket.

Ron had grown taller since Cedric last saw him, and his freckles stood out more against his tanned skin. He was grinning. “And you’re a Prefect now? No surprise there.” 

Cedric smiled sheepishly in response. But as much as he wanted to stay and chat, his stomach growled. His thoughts returned to finding his friends and lunch food when Luna spoke up.

“You look hungry, Cedric,” she said, picking up a pumpkin pastry from the seat next to her and handing it to him. “Here, have something to eat before you head back.”

Cedric gratefully accepted the pastry, and Luna scooted over to make room for him. “Thanks,” he said before taking a seat. “I’ve just come from the Prefect briefing.”

Ron groaned. “Let me guess. Percy bored you to death. He’s been a pain all summer. We tried to trap him in one of the pyramids in Egypt, but Mum found out and was absolutely livid. Fred tried to steal the Head Boy badge and jinx it to shut Percy up, but he’s too self-absorbed and too well-guarded.”

Cedric chuckled while taking a large bite of the delicious pastry. The others resumed their conversations, picking up where they left off before Malfoy interrupted. Luna regaled Cedric with tales of her adventures hunting for evidence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack and witnessing their mating ritual. She offered him a copy of The Quibbler with the full story, but Cedric insisted on buying his own.

As he moved on to a Cauldron Cake, cajoled by Ron, Hermione excitedly told him about her new classes: Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies.

“Don’t worry, you’ll do great,” Cedric reassured her after she expressed her concerns about keeping up with all the new subjects. “Professor Vector can be a bit uptight and a harsh grader, but he’s incredibly smart and helpful. Just make sure your annotations are thorough, and you’ll be fine.”

Hermione nodded, taking his advice and smiled tightly. “Professor McGonagall offered me a Time-Turner so I could attend all my classes, but I turned it down.”

“What?!” Harry and Ron exclaimed in unison, both looking shocked.

“You turned down a Time-Turner? A life-time opportunity?” Ron asked, incredulous. “Think of all the things you could do with one!”

“Exactly,” Hermione said, raising her chin. “That’s why I refused. Too much trouble. Besides, I want to manage my classes on my own without any magical shortcuts. What’s the fun in having help?”

Harry snorted, shaking his head, while Ron continued to stare at her in disbelief.

Luna’s quiet question shifted the conversation. “I wonder who’s teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year? After what happened with Lockhart…”

“Anyone’s better than Lockhart,” Ron scoffed, waving his caramel wand dismissively.

Cedric glanced over at Harry, who was fiddling with a golden snitch, just like he had the last time Cedric saw him. Harry shrugged in response, meeting Cedric’s gaze briefly with an expression that was hard to read.

There were still more things Cedric wanted to ask, but he had already finished his orange juice and realised how long he had lingered. Deciding it was time to say goodbye, he excused himself. He should get back to his friends before they started wondering where he'd gone.

As Cedric opened the compartment door to leave, Harry got up and followed him out. He quickly shut the door behind, leaving them alone in the aisle.

“Hey,” Harry gave Cedric a small smile. “I just wanted to thank you for the birthday present. The model’s amazing. And… sorry for being a bit rude last time.”

Cedric was taken aback, staring at Harry in dumbfounded surprise. Not only had he received a thank-you, but also an apology, all in the same breath.

It wasn’t just Harry’s features that had changed, but something in his demeanor that now demanded attention in a way Cedric hadn’t recognised before. And he didn’t seem to bring up the time he saw Cedric with Cho again, much to his relief.

“Uh–yeah, no problem,” Cedric stammered, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a souvenir from the Ministry Museum. You should check out the real brooms sometime. They’re incredible.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll definitely check it out, maybe during the Christmas break.”

Harry’s voice was steadier now, a calm and confident tone that Cedric didn’t expect. They stood in silence for a moment, as if both had more to say but neither was sure how to begin. Cedric noticed Ron and Hermione glancing curiously through the compartment window.

Harry must have noticed too. He ruffled his hair and fiddled absentmindedly with his fringe, again, a gesture Cedric had never seen before but couldn’t help noticing.

“Look,” Harry lowered his voice, “I want to give you a birthday present too. It’s next week, right? But… it’s a bit against school rules. And since you’re a Prefect, I’m not sure if you’d be up for it.”

Cedric instantly recognised the challenge in Harry’s tone. “Sure, I’d love to,” he said, his heart lifting.

Harry raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely,” Cedric said. “You promised to let me join the ride, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Harry’s smile was widening. “I’ll owl you the details.”

“Okay,” Cedric nodded eagerly.

With that, Harry raised his hand in a quick wave. “See you at school,” he said before slipping back into the compartment.

Cedric couldn’t help feeling a rush of excitement that stayed with him all the way back to his friends’ compartment. As he settled into his seat, still grinning, Phoebe looked at him curiously.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Cedric replied cheerfully, grabbing a half-eaten Shrieking Sherbet from the seat beside him. “Everything’s great.”

His friends exchanged bewildered glances, but Cedric was too happy to care.

***

Hogwarts’s feast was as magnificent as ever for the fifth year. After McGonagall retrieved the Sorting Hat from the stand, Dumbledore stepped in and gave his usual beginning-of-term speech. His twinkling eyes glanced around the room, and a kind smile spread widely as he began to introduce the new teachers for the term.

To everyone’s great surprise, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Alastor Moody. The former Auror had been, according to Cedric's dad, a legend among Aurors for many years until he retired five years ago. Several of Cedric’s housemates gasped in genuine surprise. Having “Mad-Eye Moody” as their teacher definitely shook things up, especially after last year’s disaster. It would definitely help keep the students focused on real lessons.

Dumbledore seemed to have made big changes this year, as he also introduced Rubeus Hagrid as the new professor of Care of Magical Creatures.

Suddenly, Cedric regretted his decision to drop the subject at the end of third year for Latin. Learning from Hagrid would have brightened his days.

“Isn’t he the school’s gamekeeper?” Cedric heard Zacharias ask Susan Bones, who was sitting next to him.

“He’s great with creatures and animals,” he couldn’t help but point out. Zacharias looked startled and didn’t comment further. On the other hand, at the Gryffindor table, many students stood up and clapped the loudest. Cedric noticed Harry whistling and cheering loudly, and he laughed.

This year will be great, Cedric thought to himself.

4

The first week turned out to be the wildest and most exhilarating Cedric had ever experienced at Hogwarts. The fifth-year Hufflepuffs had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson on Monday morning. 

Living up to his legend, Professor Moody commanded the room, making the entire class fall into focused silence when his cane struck the ground with a loud, intimidating thud. Even Fred and George, who often whispered jokes to each other, were watching Moody with rapt attention.

“You’re far, far behind where you need to be,” Moody barked. His electric blue eye swiveled around the room, and Cedric felt its gaze sear into his back.

“I don’t know what fool taught you last year, but you’ll all need to put in a lot of effort if you want to pass your O.W.L.s. I expect only E or above to continue at the N.E.W.T. level. That means you’ll have to work hard. This year, you’re supposed to learn all about curses and dark magic.”

With that, Professor Moody kept everyone on the edge of their seats throughout the lesson. He split the class into groups and handed out pictures, using a projector to show case studies of cursed victims. The photos seemed eerily like ones from Moody’s old cases. Like Professor Lupin, Moody didn’t teach from a textbook, though he allowed students to use them as references. Cedric found himself staring at gruesome images, looking for clues to identify the dark magic involved. One photo showed a body with intestines replaced by skin; another showed someone with their eyes scooped out and their tongue stuck out, their limbs twisted like string on a spinning wheel. Some pictures only showed a lump of dark flesh on a satin sheet, barely recognisable as human.

Moody then called on students from each group to explain what kind of curse could have caused the grotesque injuries and how they identified it. The class was far from cheerful, but it was educational, more like Auror training than a regular lesson.

“I’m not going to cast these curses on you,” Professor Moody said after Lee Jordan, the last student he called, looked visibly relieved to sit down. “But I’ll make sure you know all about the Unforgivable Curses. Read the whole chapter before next week. Today’s homework is to pick one of the cases we discussed and write an essay on the curse’s effects. Class dismissed.”

As Cedric was climbing the staircase to Transfiguration Tower, he still felt a shudder from the images of the cursed victims, their lifeless faces — or, in some cases, no faces at all — lingering in his mind.

Beside him, Lawrence let out a whimper. “Did you see that one with the guts spilling into the sewer? Gosh, I want to puke.”

“Stop saying that,” Phoebe chastised, despite her typically unflappable demeanor, she looked paler than usual.

Cedric lost his appetite entirely. Even after their Transfiguration class ended, and Professor McGonagall assigned a long essay due by next Monday, the class barely reacted. They were all still lost in nightmarish daydreams about Dark Arts.

Cho must have noticed that Cedric was quieter than usual when he met up with her at lunchtime.

“Not having a good day?” she asked.

Cedric shook his head, trying to shake off the awful images from Moody’s class. “No. Just Dark Arts class. It’s a lot, but in a good way.” 

Seeing her frown in confusion, he added, “You’ll see,” before leading her into the Great Hall.

By Wednesday, word had spread throughout the school that Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn’t for the faint-hearted. As Cedric heard from his housemates, there had even been a few students in the first and second year classes who fainted. Some students, however, openly expressed their love for Moody’s class, especially Fred and George, who often reenacted what they’d learned to scare the younger Gryffindors.

Cedric didn’t see much point in reliving the tragic deaths and horrific curses, so he kept his opinions to himself. He was determined to stay focused and alert in the next class. All those gruesome details were just distractions, the real lesson, as he saw it, was understanding how dark magic could lead to horrible fates – even for those who cast them.

The fifth-year students were buried in homework and assignments, not to mention Cedric’s Prefect duties on Thursday night. The workload brought Cedric back to his usual spot in the library, where he could focus. It was a relief not to be swarmed by girls asking for tutoring, now that everyone knew he was dating Cho.

Another perk of dating Cho was the freedom to hold hands or kiss her on the cheek between classes. It was new and invigorating for Cedric, who liked how nice it felt. Cho’s hand was soft and smooth, unlike Cedric’s, which were rough from gripping his broom during Quidditch. They even kissed sometimes when no one was around, though Cho didn’t seem to mind being seen.

“You look like a lovesick puppy,” Lawrence teased Cedric one evening after Cho gave him a quick kiss before heading back to her table. 

Miles gave Cedric a playful shove. “Outta you, boy.”

Cedric laughed, “What’s that slang?”

Before Miles could answer, a gasp and a cry came from the Slytherin table nearby. Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Millicent Bulstrode were gathered around Draco Malfoy, who was clutching his arm in a splint, acting like a war veteran.

“Does it hurt?” Parkinson whispered.

Malfoy nodded, looking as pained as possible.

“He’ll be fired!” Zabini shrieked. “How dare Dumbledore let that oaf become a teacher. This is degrading.”

Malfoy whimpered. “My dad can’t kick him out, but he’ll do his utmost to get rid of that half-giant. He’ll pay.”

Cedric’s heart sank. They were definitely talking about Hagrid. He glanced at his friends, but no one seemed to know what had happened. His eyes darted to the Gryffindor table, searching for familiar faces, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.

The brewing questions in Cedric’s mind weren’t ignored for long. There was a loud clashing sound, followed by the coarse voice of Professor Moody that left everyone in stunned silence.

“Utter disgrace to your house, Warrington! Attacking a third-year student from behind!” 

All eyes turned to the entrance of the Great Hall, where Cassius Warrington stood, pale and horrified. Not far behind him were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry was still in a defensive stance, gripping his wand tightly, face closed off, his green eyes blazing at Warrington.

Moody continued his tirade, both eyes fixed on Warrington as if burning him alive. “Fifty points from Slytherin and detention! I don’t care if you’ve barely made fifty points this first week. I’ll make sure Professor Snape knows how you’ve disgraced your house!”

Students began whispering openly, trading rumors and speculation. Based on what Moody said, it seemed Warrington had tried to attack Harry but was caught red-handed by the most terrifying teacher at Hogwarts. It wasn’t hard to fill in the rest of the story, considering the long-standing rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

But Cedric’s attention was on Harry’s unreadable face – no anger, no fear. If anything, Harry almost looked amused.

“A troublemaker, he is,” Lawrence muttered, nodding toward Harry as he resumed eating. “Glad you’re not hanging out with him, Ced.”

Cedric frowned, irritation flaring in his chest. “What do you mean? He’s my friend, Lawrence.”

Lawrence looked up, surprised by Cedric’s sharp tone. “I… I didn’t mean—”

But it was Phoebe who saved him, as she quickly asked Cedric, “Why don’t you go check on Potter? It might have something to do with Malfoy’s whining earlier.”

Cedric nodded briefly. “Yeah, after dinner.” 

He wanted to give Harry some time to process all the attention he had just caused. Going after him right away might overwhelm or even irritate the younger boy. Cedric thought this over as he quickly picked up his spoon, eager to finish his beef tomato stew as soon as possible. Lawrence kept glancing at him guiltily but didn’t say anything.

As Cedric walked toward the Gryffindor table, which was still buzzing with excitement from the earlier commotion, he saw that Harry wasn’t there. Neither were Ron or Hermione. He debated whether to ask the Weasley twins about Harry’s whereabouts but decided against it. It was better to talk to Harry in person, and Cedric hoped it would be soon.

He didn’t have to wait long. On Saturday morning, Cedric was awakened early by the sound of thunder and heavy rain. September wasn’t ideal for Quidditch training due to the risk of getting soaked or having poor visibility, so he had decided to push the first practice to the first Saturday of October. There was still time before their first match in November.

Determined to finish his Transfiguration essay and do some more research about dark curses, Cedric planned to go to the library after his breakfast. 

As he munched on his buttered toast, a beautiful snowy owl swooped in, delivering a letter with some of the most illegible handwriting Cedric had ever seen. He had to squint to read it, but he recognised the messy scrawl from a birthday card he’d received years ago.

Hi,

As for your birthday present, I have something to show you. Meet me at the clock tower in the south wing tomorrow night at 10. Avoid the staircase route. Mrs. Norris usually patrols there. Just go down to the ground floor and walk past the Hospital Wing.

Don’t worry. There’s no werewolves or anything ‘dangerous’ by my definition.

H.P.

The last scribbled line made Cedric chuckle, and he was glad Harry could joke about the past. Whatever Harry was up to clearly required no audience. Cedric wondered whether it had something to do with the Invisibility Cloak.

His train of thought was interrupted by Madam Hooch calling his name.

“Ah, Diggory,” she said as she approached the Hufflepuff table, then she placed a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that seemed to signal bad news.

She sighed, which confirmed Cedric’s uneasy feeling. “Slytherin can’t compete due to their Seeker’s injury.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I’m moving up the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match to be the first one.”

It seemed like something always happened to the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. Cedric knew Harry had been involved last year, but this time, it seemed like Malfoy was trying to retaliate.

“Of course,” Cedric nodded.

“Thank you,” Madam Hooch said, clapping his shoulder before walking away, leaving Cedric with a heavy heart. He would have to adjust Quidditch practice for the next week, despite the dreary weather.

Cedric spent the entire Saturday in the library, and the good news was that he managed to finish his essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell. If he wasn’t too hard on himself, he’d say it was one of his best works, as it was complete with thorough citations, particularly on the historical context, which he took pride in. He even managed to borrow some books on curses and counter-spells, which would be useful for Professor Moody’s class.

But after long hours of study, he lost track of time and returned to the Hufflepuff common room quite late, having skipped both lunch and dinner. The first thing he did was grab some snacks from a small cabinet in the corner.

Miles looked up from his potions notes. “Where have you been?”

“Library,” Cedric answered between bites of cucumber and salad as he sat down on a bean bag next to his friend.

“I thought you were with Cho!” Lawrence chimed in, wearing something that looked like a set of headphones with wires, listening to his ‘music box.’

Oh. Cedric paused mid-bite. He had completely forgotten to meet up with Cho. He racked his brain, trying to remember if they had arranged a date, but he couldn’t recall anything.

“I’ve been busy. Just finished my Transfiguration essay,” he said instead.

“Bummer,” Lawrence rolled his eyes.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just a chronic social parasite,” Phoebe added quickly, without looking up from her ‘video game.’

“What does that even mean? I know it’s an insult, though,” Lawrence grumbled, pointing at her. Phoebe merely shrugged, her eyes still glued on the screen.

Cedric chuckled. He wanted to ask more about Phoebe’s strange terms too, as he always found her both perceptive and scarily observant, but decided to save that conversation for another time. He was too exhausted from spending the entire day in the library, with his eyes scanning lines of text for hours.

Stifling a yawn, he stood up. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, waving goodbye to his friends.

***

Cedric still woke up to the sound of rain on his sixteenth birthday, the steady rhythm ready to lull him back to sleep if he let it. 

Despite the gloomy weather, he was overjoyed by the thoughtful gifts from his friends. Phoebe, practical as ever, gave him a new set of Quidditch gloves made from dragon scales. Miles presented him with an Omniocular, with a note explaining it was second-hand that once belonged to his older brother, so Cedric didn’t need to worry about the steep price. And Lawrence had given him a rare gold Dumbledore card for his Chocolate Frog collection.

Cedric was speechless. Phoebe looked smug, and Lawrence scratched his chin, pretending not to look overly pleased.

“You’ve done so much for us, with all the tutoring and winning the House Cup. Twice,” Miles said simply.

Cedric grinned widely. “Come here.” With that, all his friends came in for a shy but warm group hug. “Thanks,” Cedric said through his muffled voice.

Later that afternoon, Cho gave him her hand-knitted hat in blue.

“It suits your eyes. And you look good in blue,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling before leaning in to kiss him.

They were in an empty corridor near the Ravenclaw Tower, and their kiss lingered. Cedric gently placed his hand at Cho’s waist while she wrapped her arms around his back.

Their moment was broken by Peeves’ shriek. “STUDENTS KISSING IN THE CORRIDOR! OOOO WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF PEEVES DIDN’T STOP THEM?”

His voice was loud enough to alert passing students, who stopped to giggle. Cho blushed furiously, staring at her shoes, while Cedric couldn’t help but laugh. His face must have been as red as hers.

They spent the rest of the day wandering around the castle, eventually stopping at the library to study. While Cho worked on an essay, Cedric skimmed a book about curses and their countermeasures. It wasn’t exactly date-friendly reading, but he enjoyed it. By now, he’d learned enough about curses to feel less squeamish about the gruesome photos.

“You’re going to ace Dark Arts this term,” Cho said with a smile.

Cedric shook his head. “Not quite. I’m not that good at casting complicated hexes or jinxes. It takes more willpower than skill.”

Cho hummed in acknowledgment, though she seemed unconvinced by his modesty.

Cho and him parted ways after the library closed at eight, and the rain had stopped, thankfully. While waiting for the time, he had been scribbling down some notes for a Quidditch strategy in the common room, though his excitement about seeing Harry later made it hard to get anything done.

Cedric arrived at the clock tower ten minutes early. The tower was steep, with spiraling staircases and cold stone walls. He could feel the damp chill that had seeped into his shoes and regretted not bringing a jacket, as clearly his sweater and baggy jeans were not enough.

As he sat on a small wooden bench facing the view of the Forbidden Forest and Black Lake, a voice broke the silence.

“Too eager for an adventure, Diggory?”

Cedric turned to see Harry. The boy, grinning mischievously at him, wore a grey hoodie and joggers, his hair as messy as ever. In his arm was the Invisibility Cloak.

Cedric smiled back. “Something like that. What do you have up your sleeve to surprise me?”

Harry pretended to look serious. “A magician never reveals his secrets before the show.”

Cedric chuckled. Harry joined him on the wooden bench, then pulled out an old piece of parchment that looked ragged and brown. He motioned for Cedric to watch as he unfolded the seemingly blank sheet of paper.

“Prepare to be amazed,” Harry said, pulling out his wand and placing it on the parchment.

“I already am,” Cedric replied honestly.

Harry paused, looking unexpectedly shy, which was an unusual sight for him, before tapping the parchment with his wand and whispering, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Inky lines appeared on the sheet, followed by the title: Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder’s Map.

Cedric gasped. It was a detailed map of Hogwarts, complete with names. Harry moved his wand over to the South Wing, where their names appeared at the clock tower: ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Cedric Diggory’.

Sensing Cedric’s awe, Harry smiled smugly. “It’s called the Marauder’s Map. It belonged to James, Sirius, and Remus when they were students. They passed it down to me. It shows everyone in the school in real-time. I even helped finish a few bits this summer. Lily doesn’t exactly approve of it, but it’s mine now.”

Harry said the last part with pride. 

“That’s ingenious! And with the Invisibility Cloak… now you’re invincible,” Cedric remarked breathlessly. 

Harry snorted, “I’m not invincible, but well, close enough.”

“Who are Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs?”

“Remus, Sirius, and James. Their nicknames. Remus… well, you know. James was a stag, and Sirius was a big fluffy dog. He’s a dork.”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “They were Animagi!”

“Yep. Illegal, of course. So, you can’t tell anyone.”

The seriousness in Harry’s tone made Cedric feel honored by the trust. But then a mortifying thought struck him: if Harry could see everything, he could have seen Cedric and Cho — 

Harry seemed to catch his blush, as he narrowed his eyes and smirked. “Yeah, I’ve seen you in the corridors smooching your girlfriend…”

“I wasn’t smooching!” Cedric quickly interrupted, embarrassed.

Harry grinned and shrugged. “Nevermind. I don’t pay attention to names. Mostly, I use the map to find secret passages or avoid inquisitive eyes.” He pointed to a part of the map. “Like here—Dumbledore’s usually pacing in his office. Filch is patrolling the West Wing until ten. Peeves? Unpredictable, but he’s usually around the Great Hall or dungeons. Mrs. Norris, though, will be at the suspension bridge in about thirty minutes. She likes hunting mice up there.”

“How long have you been using this map to know all that?”

“Just the past week. But I’ve been exploring the school at night since Christmas, watching their routines. The ghosts, you’d be surprised, are actually quite predictable. It’s like their old habits trigger memories. Sad, when you think of it.”

“And creepy,” Cedric added, then asked, “What’s the plan for tonight?”

Harry handed him the map. “It’s my birthday present to you! One night with the Marauder’s Map. You can go anywhere.”

Cedric was floored. He looked at Harry, who grinned back, clearly waiting for him to decide. He wanted to come up with something unique but didn’t know where to start. Harry had probably already seen every corner of the castle. 

Then he looked up at the sky. The rain had cleared, leaving behind a rare, starry night. There might be more clouds in the next few hours, but now, an only place came up in his mind.

“The Astronomy Tower,” Cedric said carefully. “It’s ridiculous that we only study Astronomy during the day when we should be doing it at night.”

To his surprise, Harry seemed intrigued. “You know, I’ve never thought of that. Probably because I don’t like star calculations. But sure — sounds fun.”

He scanned the map. “We’ll have to pass the Gryffindor common room and the suspension bridge. Filch might be on watch, so we’ll have to be quick. Come on!”

Harry stood, and Cedric followed in exhilaration. They descended the spiraling steps of the clock tower, taking an empty moving staircase up another floor. Darkness engulfed them, with only the faint light from Harry’s wand to guide the way.

They walked briskly in silence, their footsteps echoing faintly in the empty corridors. The portraits had ‘gone to sleep’, leaving blank frames hanging on the walls. Once in a while, Cedric heard the haunting creak of wood or the wind howling through cracks in the old stone walls. It was eerie and thrilling.

Suddenly, Harry stopped, causing Cedric to almost bump into him.

“Filch. He’s coming,” Harry whispered, quickly swishing his Invisibility Cloak and gesturing for Cedric to get under it.

The cloak’s fabric felt soft like liquid velvet. But it wasn’t large enough to fully cover them, and Cedric’s feet were still visible. Thinking quickly, he cast Occultatio, a spell to camouflage their feet.

“Good thinking,” Harry whispered. Cedric became acutely aware of how close they were. The younger boy’s breath was warm and quick beside him.

They moved slowly. Cedric could see the wobbling silhouette of Filch, lantern in hand, approaching them on the bridge. The caretaker’s eyes scanned the surroundings but passed right over them. They stood completely still until the old man’s footsteps faded into the distance.

Cedric couldn’t help grinning. They had gotten away with it.

“We’re clear,” Harry breathed, lifting the cloak.

The cold night air greeted them again as they crossed the suspension bridge. Soon, they reached the Astronomy Tower, the tallest and oldest tower at Hogwarts. After winding up more staircases, Harry muttered “Alohomora”, and the lock sprang open.

They stepped into the circular observatory, where telescopes stood facing the wide-open sky. In the center of the room hung a grand, moving model of Saturn. During daytime classes, Professor Sinistra would conjure a transparent dark dome, projecting images of stars and constellations from various positions for students to map and calculate their paths. Now, however, the tower was bathed in serenity with an uninterrupted view of the night sky. 

A clear expanse of deep, velvety black of the sky was dotted with countless stars shimmering like tiny diamonds. Cedric felt like he couldn’t breathe as his eyes traced the dazzling lights of the Capricornus constellation stretched across the sky, visible even to the naked eye. Harry, on the other hand, stepped forward and looked down at the view below. Cedric complied and saw the ragged mountains and valleys of the Highlands blending with the dark horizon. The many turrets and spires of the castle itself stood silent, with the occasional light flickering in one of the windows far below.

Cedric exhaled in amazement.

“Not bad, right?” Harry said.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Cedric listened to the gentle rustling of the wind and perhaps the distant calls of creatures from the Forbidden Forest when Harry turned to him.

“Happy birthday,” Harry’s voice was soft, almost inaudible, but with just the two of them up there, Cedric could hear it clearly.

“Thanks,” Cedric replied shyly, still looking a little dazed by the breathtaking view.

After taking in the view for a while, they left the platform and sat with their backs reclining on the arched door, not far from the terrace. Time seemed to slow down, and the world outside the night sky faded, leaving only the stars, the moon, and the infinite cosmos above.

Harry began to tell Cedric about his summer. It started with errands at St. Mungo’s, where he barely had time to stand still as he rushed around, collecting blood samples, unidentifiable liquids, and helping change old patients' diapers. Then came his time in France. James and Sirius had come up with the brilliant plan to rent a Muggle car, modify it, and drive across the country on what the Muggles called a ‘road trip’. They stayed in motels, ate the cheapest food, and slept in the car most nights. Twice, they ran into the Muggle ‘police’ whenever Sirius took the wheel and hit the speed limit. Explaining themselves had been tricky, as they only knew a few French words. Sirius, with a broken French accent, eventually got impatient and used a Confundus charm to escape. They came back, relieved that there was no warrant for them and they hadn't been arrested for breaking international wizard laws.

Harry snickered at Cedric’s slightly horrified expression, then added, “And Remus is fine. He’s adjusting but happy to teach. Being a teacher is his calling, though Sirius isn’t too happy about the long distance. He sulks every time he and Remus are separated, even if only for a few days.”

Cedric couldn't quite imagine Sirius sulking. He always seemed so collected and undeterred by everything. Perhaps it was just part of his persona.

“What about you?” Harry asked once he finished his story.

“Nothing as adventurous as yours,” Cedric chuckled softly, but he told him about his internship at the Ministry, meeting Sage Bergman, the museums, and the job of the curator. He also mentioned reconciling with his dad.

“What’s on your mind?” Harry interrupted.

Cedric paused. He had been telling Harry about how happy his dad was when he became a Prefect.

“What do you mean?”

Harry shrugged. “You seem... reluctant, somehow.” He vaguely gestured at Cedric. “Everything seems to be going your way, but you don’t look that happy.”

Cedric couldn’t look away from Harry’s fierce gaze. There was always something about Harry that demanded honesty, and Cedric felt compelled to be truthful, even when he was unsure of his own thoughts. 

“I’m not sure what I want to do,” Cedric said slowly, finally articulating thoughts he hadn’t expressed out loud before. “I know I’m going to study History, but now there’s an option for me to work in the Ministry, which is something I’m also interested in. My dad’s going to be so happy... but it’s like I’m giving him false hope. He thinks I’ll climb the ladder, get promotions, but I’m not sure if that’s what I want.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “That sounds complicated.”

“I know,” Cedric sighed. “I like the curator job. I’d love to do it one day, but my dad keeps bringing up the Ministry. It gets exhausting.”

That was it. The word Cedric had been looking for— exhausting. The pressure and expectations felt like a crushing weight on his shoulders.

“Well, your dad’s right about one thing,” Harry said. “You still have time to figure it out. You’ve got two years left at school, and you could take the apprenticeship and see how it goes. Or you could take a break after school doing nothing. There’s no harm in that.”

“I can’t just do nothing,” Cedric protested. “I need to land somewhere.”

Harry raised his chin. “Who says? No one rules your life but you. Your dad can talk your ear off, but in the end, it’s your life.”

Cedric blinked, letting Harry’s words sink in. “You might be right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on not letting him down. He’s so happy we’re talking again, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

Harry smiled. “I’ll never understand people-pleasers.”

“I’m not,” Cedric huffed, pretending to be offended.

“Big liar.”

Cedric snorted. “Since when did you start giving advice like that? You turned thirteen and figured everything out?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Course not. I just spent too much time with Remus this summer. I’ve inherited his wisdom.”

Cedric couldn’t help but smile. Harry was always so sharp. Last year’s scheme had proven that, and maybe wisdom was just another trait the boy had all along.

“What does that make us, then? A people-pleaser and a smart-arse?”

“Two idiots, that’s what.”

They both laughed, and the conversation drifted to more lighthearted topics. Harry told Cedric about Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, who was wreaking havoc in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was convinced the cat was an Animagus in disguise and kept poking his wand at it. Cedric mentioned that they would be competing in the first Quidditch match in early November, which made Harry groan.

“I’m going to eat slugs if I lose to you this time.”

“I won’t go easy on you,” Cedric teased.

“I’ll kill you if you do.”

By the time Cedric yawned for the third time, he glanced at his watch and was shocked to see it was nearly two in the morning. They had been up there for over two hours.

“We’d better go. I have Dark Arts first thing in the morning, and I don’t want to be late in front of Professor Moody.”

Harry chuckled as he stood up, collecting the Marauder's Map and his wand. As they made their way down the spiral staircase, Cedric remembered what he had been meaning to ask Harry.

“What happened with you and Warrington that day?”

Harry stopped. “Oh, nothing much. He talked rubbish about Hagrid, and I called him a gormless toerag. When I turned around, he tried to jinx me, but Moody showed up just in time. Lucky me.”

“Is that why Malfoy has a broken arm?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Malfoy’s a prat. He insulted a Hippogriff in Hagrid’s class, and it attacked him. He’s faking the injury, though. It’s not serious.”

“Will it cause trouble for Hagrid?”

“Yeah, we’re worried about that. Hagrid’s taking it hard. We tried cheering him up, but he’s not confident about his teaching now.”

“Let me know when you visit him. I’d like to tag along.”

Harry’s eyes brightened. “Sure! As long as you’re not too busy snogging Cho.”

“I’m not! We’re just kissing!” Cedric stammered.

“Uh-uh, age-appropriate. I don’t need to hear the details.”

Cedric just shook his head, trying his best not to let Harry see him blush. They parted ways a little while later, and Cedric still had a smile on his face.

5

Life seemed to get a little bit lighter and easier after that. Cedric wondered why — it was like a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying had lifted after that night at the Astronomy Tower. Maybe it was because he hadn’t realised he was lost before. After everything that had happened, he still didn’t know how to talk to his dad properly, nor how to handle the pressure waiting for him at home. 

But for now, he had this moment, the present. And that was enough. He would deal with the guilt about his parents later.

September went by, and slowly, new things began to occupy his mind. There were Quidditch practices to schedule. He agreed with Wood to share the field, with Hufflepuff practicing on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and Gryffindor taking the field on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Cedric was happy with that arrangement until he realised some days they would have to practice in terrible weather.

This year, the weather seemed relentlessly harsh. He warned his teammates to cast warming and water-proofing spells before kicking off, but the strong winds were the biggest challenge. Heidi, who often played on the left side, couldn’t stay steady on her Cleansweep and had to stop practicing in frustration until Cedric moved her to the center, where the Beaters, Anthony and Michael, could keep an eye on her. Maxine, one of the more skilled players, nearly slipped off her broom, but Cedric lent her his new gloves for a better grip. Worse, Zacharias, who was new to the team, couldn’t stop complaining about the wind and how soaked he was, just like everyone else.

Their practices weren’t making much progress. Teamwork was the key to their victory, and Cedric knew they needed more time if they were going to face Gryffindor. While Hufflepuff relied on their steady, determined tactics, Gryffindor had the advantage of versatility and agility. Cedric was sure the Gryffindors could adapt to the bad weather better than his team, or at least with fewer complaints.

He sighed for the fifth time when they had to stop practicing after just 40 minutes. The wind kept lashing out, and the cold rain hit them like bullets. He dismissed the team and gathered them up for the next practice on Friday.

There was only one strategy left—Cedric would need to catch the Snitch as quickly as possible in this weather, but he wouldn’t bet against Harry. Cedric had won last time, but only because Harry had been distracted for a second. He was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen again.

Besides Quidditch, everything else was going as well as he had hoped. He’d finally found a refuge in the library whenever he got the chance, finishing essays and reviewing lessons. He often ran into Hermione, but they only exchanged a few words. She always seemed overwhelmed by her subjects, her face buried in textbooks like in her first year, but now, any noise would earn an irritated glare, or she’d hush the other students. Once, she apologised to Cedric, saying she had to read 200 pages about Muggles and their use of electricity before tomorrow’s class, then immediately returned to her book. Cedric nodded in sympathy.

Professor Moody’s class was as intimidating as ever. After covering the gruesome dark curses, Cedric started to get the hang of it. Following the unforgivable curses, which had left everyone shuddering, Moody moved on to more practical hexes and jinxes for daily use by pairing them up for practice. He barked orders, shouted at anyone who didn’t assume the proper dueling stance and even deducted points from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for slacking off.

“But it’s not fair! He can’t deduct points for a student’s incompetence. That’s too harsh,” Lawrence grumbled after losing five points for being ‘too slow’.

Cedric, who had been briefed by Percy on the first day about the house points system, replied, “Actually, he can. There aren’t any specific rules about how teachers can deduct points. It’s up to their judgment.”

Lawrence’s face soured even more. “He’s just a paranoid old man.”

“He didn’t get the name ‘Mad-Eye’ for nothing,” pointed out Miles.

But Cedric liked Moody’s class. He learned something useful every time and had to stay on alert to keep up with the fast pace. It was completely different from last year with Lockhart, and he was grateful for the change. It didn’t make him want to pursue a career as an Auror or a Curse Breaker, but it helped him learn how to defend himself when the time came.

His enthusiasm seemed to align with Moody’s, as a new poster appeared on the school board near the Entrance Hall on Halloween, among other club and activity posters.

DUELLING CLUB.
Monthly meet-up
For students in second year and above.
First meeting at the school grounds, next Tuesday at 6 sharp.

Alastor Moody’s name was signed at the bottom. Cedric smiled as he overheard a first-year Gryffindor complaining to his friend, “Why can’t first years join? First Quidditch, now this! I want to hex someone too.”

He turned to Cho, who was still looking at the poster thoughtfully and squeezed her hand. “Are you joining?”

She seemed reluctant. “I don’t know,” she said with a half-smile. “I don’t really get on with Moody’s teaching. Are you?”

“Yeah,” Cedric replied shortly. He’d read about dueling in history books and knew it could be dangerous, but he was sure it wouldn’t go that far. If the poster was up, it must have been approved by Dumbledore or McGonagall.

Excitement buzzed through the school, and many students misunderstood the purpose of the club, thinking it was a chance to hex or jinx people they didn’t like. 

The excitement continued into the following week until the day of the first meeting. Cedric arrived at the grounds ten minutes early, with Miles and, to his surprise, Phoebe, who had decided to join at the last minute.

He was surprised to see so many students were already gathering around. Cedric recognised a few from his house—Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Rosaline and her cousin Susan Bones, and his Quidditch teammates Maxine, Heidi, and Zacharias. There were older students he’d seen in passing but had never spoken to, also Fred and George Weasley, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan.

Fred noticed Cedric’s surprise as they walked over. “We had to cancel Quidditch practice for this. Wood’s not happy, though.”

“But with Moody teaching us cool curses, there’s no way we’d miss it,” George added.

More students arrived: Terry Boot and Davis Jones from Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater, and then a flood of second- to seventh-years, most of them from Gryffindor. A handful of Slytherins trailed in, including Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the Slytherin Quidditch team, looking both bored and ready for a challenge.

Then Moody arrived with his heavy cane, his magical eye darting around in all directions. He gestured for everyone to gather in a semicircle, and after a minute, Cedric noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushing to join, flushed and panting.

Moody waited for everyone to catch their breath, then began. 

“This dueling club is not for those who want to misuse their magic and make fools of themselves. So if anyone came here with that childish idea, leave.”

He emphasised the last word, startling some of the second years who hurriedly looked down at their feet. More than thirty students were present, which seemed to surprise Moody as well.

But no one left. Moody exhaled. “Very well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He took out his wand. “You’re all far behind what I expect from students your age, and with the pace you’re going, I want to speed things up. Your stance, your spells—everything. This dueling club will keep you in shape and give you a chance to see how you stack up against your peers, so you’ll realise for yourselves how much you need to improve.”

Miles leaned in and whispered to Cedric, “That’s exactly what Lawrence needs to hear.” Cedric quietly agreed.

“There are rules in real wizard duels. It’s a formal ritual, not a brawl or a back-alley fight, and it should be deemed honourable rather than like some catfight between foul gits.” His magical eye swiveled toward the Slytherins, who were snickering, and they fell silent instantly.

“The best dueller in history, Roderick Montgomery, never used fancy, complicated spells. He selected a few spells he was proficient with and practiced them in the hundreds of duels he’d fought. Strategy is required to choose the right spells, and sharp senses to evade and find an opening to attack. This club is to hone your skills and get you used to using your wands properly, not just for waving around to make wine or conjure flowers.” Some students gave a weak laugh while exchanging nervous glances.

Moody continued. “In a real duel, ten spells are selected and given to a neutral third party, who acts as a middle grounder and has sworn an oath not to interfere. For today’s demonstration, five spells will be pre-selected. If you can’t use the spells chosen, you’ll lose. The use of Unforgivable Curses is strictly forbidden. Everything else is allowed. Any questions?”

To Cedric’s right, a seventh-year student raised their hand. “Has anyone ever died in a duel, even without using Unforgivable Curses?”

“Yes,” Moody replied gravely. “Nasty people will always find ways to destroy each other, no matter the rules.” A shiver ran through the crowd. Some of the younger students, especially the second and third years, looked uneasy, while others seemed more excited than ever.

“But don’t worry,” Moody added, his tone turning darkly humorous. “No spells today will be lethal. I’ll know if they are, and if anyone tries, you’ll be kicked out and sent straight to Azkaban.” He grinned, but with his scarred face, it only made him look more menacing.

“I’m going to need a demonstration,” Moody said, scanning the group. “Two students.” 

Cedric saw Fred and George step forward, but Moody shook his head.

“No, as much as I appreciate the two of you, I need a pair of students who wouldn’t hesitate to curse each other. How about—” His magical eye was spinning, then lingered for a moment before settling on two figures. “Warrington and Potter.”

Cedric’s breath caught, and he wasn’t the only one. Murmurs broke out, and worried glances were exchanged. Warrington was a hulking sixth-year Slytherin, and Harry was three years younger. Worse still, they had a history just a month ago. It was clear that Warrington held a grudge against both Moody and Harry.

Professor Moody was well aware of this; he smiled grimly as Warrington lumbered forward. His large, imposing figure, combined with his dark features, made him a threatening presence. Harry stepped up, much smaller in comparison, but he held his ground, meeting Warrington’s gaze with steady determination. Cedric tightened his grip on his wand, better prepared for anything.

Moody conjured two pieces of parchment and quills from his wand and floated them over to the two duelers. “You have one minute to write down the spells you’ll use. When the time’s up, the parchment will return to me.”

Warrington immediately began scribbling furiously, and Cedric’s stomach tightened. It was clear the older student had no shortage of spells in mind, likely ones that would make things as difficult as possible for Harry. On the other hand, the younger boy frowned slightly at his parchment and still maintained a placid expression.

“Thirty seconds,” Moody called out.

Cedric caught sight of Ron and Hermione among the crowd, their faces mirroring his own worry as they kept glancing at Harry. But then, a different thought surfaced in his mind: this was Harry Potter, after all. Brave, clever, and resourceful. He’d taken on Lucius Malfoy and handled that cursed Bludger just a year ago. Cedric smiled to himself, as he knew there was nothing Harry couldn't do. 

Harry finally finished writing his spells in the last few seconds before his parchment was whisked away to Moody. Behind Warrington, a group of Slytherins smirked and made crude gestures, including throat-slashing motions toward him. On the other side, Gryffindors looked on, grim faced, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

Harry and Warrington both stood in the fighting position, with wands in hand. 

"On my count!" Professor Moody roared, as he already stepped to the sidelines, leaving more room for the duel. His eyes were fixed on them. “One, two, three—begin!”

It was Warrington who launched his first spell.

“Stupefy!” Warrington bellowed, sending a bolt of red light streaking toward Harry.

Harry reacted instinctively. "Protego!” he cried, conjuring a shimmering shield just in time. The stunning spell ricocheted off the barrier, causing a group of nearby students to jump as the bolt narrowly missed them.

Warrington grinned, clearly confident in his more advanced skill set. He quickly fired off another spell. "Petrificus Totalus!"

But Harry was ready. With a flick of his wand, he shouted, "Finite!" The Full Body-Bind Curse fizzled out mid-air and dissolved harmlessly.

"Not bad, Potter," Moody said loudly. 

Warrington sneered, taking a step forward. “Reducto!”

Harry leapt to the side as Warrington's spell struck the ground behind him, exploding it into a shower of rubble and a small hole. Dust filled the air. 

“Expelliarmus!” Harry aimed his wand directly at Warrington’s hand. The spell missed by an inch, and Warrington managed to hold onto his wand, though it sent him stumbling backward, his balance precarious.

Warrington growled in frustration. His face flushed red with anger as he decided to up the ante. He swirled his wand and, with a deep dangerous tone, shouted, “Fiendfyre! ”

A roaring serpent of enchanted fire erupted from Warrington’s wand, its orange and blue flames twisting and writhing with a life of their own. Cedric’s breath hitched. Many students gasped as the inferno surged toward Harry. 

But Harry didn’t seem to even falter. 

“Protego!” Harry shouted once more, but this time his shield was weaker against the cursed fire. The blazing serpent forced him to retreat, its heat licking dangerously close. 

In a sudden burst of exploding fire, Harry spun on his heel, dodging the flames. As Warrington advanced, controlling the fire with his wand, Harry took a deep breath with a flick of second, his shield vanished. The fire surged up towards him, but he shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The red beam hit Warrington again, this time with more force. Warrington’s wand shot out of his hand, his control over the Fiendfyre vanishing. The fiery serpent disintegrated into embers before it could reach Harry. Warrington stumbled backward, falling onto the floor with a loud thud, groaning in frustration and bruised from the impact.

The ground was silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in cheers. Warrington sat up, disheveled and defeated. Harry stood tall, panting slightly but didn’t show much emotion on his face. He returned to his friends and all Gryffindors clapped his shoulders and back. Some of them jumped up and down, chortling in joy of beating a Slytherine. 

Professor Moody stepped forward, clapping his cane on the heavy ground, silencing the cheers and taunts from both sides. 

“Excellent work, both of you! As you can see, Warrington stuck to five aggressive spells, the same ones he uses in all his duels, but he still fell for a simple Expelliarmus.” Moody gestured toward Harry with a smirk. “Potter, on the other hand, used just three spells and made sure to keep control of the duel. ‘Finite’ was a clever move. In a duel, it’s not about the variety of spells but the confidence you have in using them. Find your opponent’s weak points, slow them down, and trust your intuition rather than relying on extravagant or flashy magic.”

Moody’s magical eye scanned the room, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear. “Now, split into groups of three. Make sure to pair with students from different houses. Spread out and take turns being the middle-grounder. Each duel should use only three spells. We’ve got twenty minutes left. Go!”

The students murmured excitedly and scattered across the Hogwarts ground. Cedric quickly made his way toward the Gryffindor group where Harry stood.

He tapped Harry on the shoulder. “That was amazing! How did you do all that?”

Harry looked startled by the touch, but then his shoulders relaxed. He smiled. “Thanks. Probably Warrington and I were ready to beat each other’s arse and made it look like we were having a real fight. I was thinking about using more vicious spells, but I decided against it.”

“That was a smart move,” Cedric nodded approvingly, just as he heard someone call his name, probably Phoebe. “Gotta go. Talk to you later.”

Harry waved at him before moving to join another group.

Cedric paired up with Dean Thomas and Terry Boot. He took the first turn as the middle-grounder. Dean was quick-thinking but struggled with his aim, while Terry was agile but hesitant to cast his spells directly at his opponent. When it was Cedric’s turn to duel, Terry kept losing track of the spells and often interrupted to ask what they were using.

Still, it was good practice. Cedric thought with cautious optimism as the club session ended and he walked back to the common room with Phoebe and Miles. He realised he had a tendency to leave his left side open, which Dean nearly exploited, though his spell missed. He also learned that Expelliarmus was far more efficient than basic spells; it was easy to cast and didn’t require the same intense focus as offensive magic, relying more on instinct.

Moody had scheduled the next meeting for the following month, and they would be focusing on defensive techniques. Cedric smiled, finding himself wishing it could be sooner.

6

News of Harry's victory over the sixth-year Slytherin spread quickly, making him the talk of the school, especially among students who hadn’t joined the Duelling Club. Cedric noticed more students from different houses approaching Harry at the table during lunch and dinner, eager to hear the story firsthand. Whenever Harry got up after meals, it wasn’t just Ron and Hermione who accompanied him – other Gryffindor students now trailed after him, cheering him on or teasing him. It was a refreshing sight to see, Cedric thought. With the younger boy’s brilliance, he deserved no less than the amount of admiration given to him now.

The Quidditch season was approaching faster than Cedric would have liked. Every time he looked at the sky, his heart sank — the overcast skies in the evening and heavy rain in the mornings over the past week were not encouraging. Even Tamsin, usually the quietest and shyest member of the team, expressed concern, telling Cedric she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to hit the Bludger in a downpour. Malcolm, the other Beater, shared her sentiment, gloomily shaking his head at the rain as they landed after practice.

“I don’t expect us to win this game,” Cedric said as they returned to the castle. “I’m not holding out hope in this storm, but you should still give it your all, because that’s what I’m going to do. Revise the strategy and get enough sleep so you’ll have the strength to throw the Quaffle or hit the Bludger. That’s all I’m concerned about.”

“But it’s going to be tough if we lose, isn’t it?” Maxine argued. “Gryffindor’s been the best since last year, and they’re only getting stronger.”

Cedric nodded and sighed. “I agree. But that doesn’t mean I want you risking your limbs in this weather. Look,” he said, turning to Tamsin and Malcolm, “if you’re unsure where to send the Bludgers, try wide throws. Make them hit the ground or aim beyond both goalposts. Maxine, on your left wing, your job is to look for chances to grab the Quaffle, nothing more. Don’t move to the center if you can’t see farther than three feet—you’ll risk colliding with other players. The same goes for you, Anthony, on the right. Heidi, focus on aiming for the goal and nothing else. Don’t blame yourself if you can’t score or miss the ball. There’s a chance we can win, but don’t sacrifice your safety for it. It’s not worth it.”

Their faces seemed to ease. Heidi was the first to crack a smile, and Maxine sighed in agreement. Anthony clapped Cedric on the shoulder before carrying his broom to the boys' dormitory. Malcolm and Tamsin exchanged glances before Malcolm spoke in a low voice, “Thanks, Captain. You too. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Cedric smiled. “I won’t, but thanks. See you tomorrow at 8.”

***

The sound of rain pelting against the tall dorm windows, accompanied by a crack of thunder, woke Cedric early the next morning. He flinched, as if his nightmare had materialised in the form of the storm outside. It was only 6 a.m., too early to wake his teammates just because he couldn’t fall back asleep.

As he changed into his Quidditch uniform, he tried to shake off a nagging feeling. Something about being startled awake by the storm didn’t sit right with him. Cedric shook his head and tiptoed quietly to the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping to distract himself from the unease.

He was one of the first students there, so early that the hall was still mostly empty. He busied himself by carefully selecting jam, spreading it on toast, and chewing slowly. He avoided looking out the window or at the enchanted ceiling, which flickered with the reflection of lightning. The castle felt like the only warm, bright place amidst the growing darkness outside.

Despite his efforts, Cedric couldn’t muster the energy to finish his breakfast. He left the toast half-eaten.

Phoebe sat down next to him about twenty minutes later, concern etched on her face.

“They should cancel the Quidditch match. You can’t possibly fly in this awful weather,” she said.

Cedric shrugged helplessly, as if to say he couldn’t agree more. But in real Quidditch matches, as some sports fanatics would argue, the game would continue no matter the circumstances. He assumed that applied here as well.

Students gradually began arriving, including the Gryffindor team. They wore the same tight expressions as Cedric's own team. Cedric spotted Harry’s untamable black hair among the Gryffindors in their red and gold uniforms. Harry gave him a thumbs-up, and Cedric nodded back.

His teammates weren’t thrilled about the weather, but they weren’t disheartened either, except for Zacharias, who complained loudly about playing in such conditions. Cedric considered that normal.

After breakfast, he ensured his teammates cast waterproof and warming spells before they headed out into the pouring rain. The sooner the match started, the sooner it would end. Cedric clung desperately to that thought as they marched toward the storm.

The rain was hammering down on the pitch like a torrent. Cedric hovered midair, scanning the drenched landscape for any sign of the Snitch, but it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack during a storm. His broom shuddered beneath him as he fought against the gusting winds. 

He could barely see his teammates, their dark figures weaving through the storm. They had to stay together, had to stay safe, especially in this mess.

A distant voice broke through the roar of the storm, carried over by a burst of wind. 

“Come on, Gryffindor!” It was Wood, the Gryffindor Keeper, his voice booming with confidence despite the downpour. Cedric could see him shouting commands to his Chasers as they darted past in a blur of red and gold. “Keep pressing! Alicia, on your left!”

Cedric’s jaw clenched. Hufflepuff was holding its own, but Gryffindor was playing with reckless determination. He caught a flash of red as Angelina Johnson surged forward with the Quaffle, passing it to Alicia Spinnet. Heidi zoomed in to intercept, but she was struggling to keep control of her broom in the gusts.

Then a loud crack echoed through the air.

Cedric barely had time to react as a Bludger whizzed past his ear, so close he could feel the rush of wind as it tore through the storm. It spun wildly, sent careening by one of the Weasley twins. A split second slower, and it would have knocked him clean off his broom.

He caught a glimpse of Fred Weasley grinning through the rain, shouting across to his brother. “Nice shot, George! Nearly had Diggory there!”

“Too bad, I’ll get him next time!” George yelled back, his voice full of wicked glee as he tracked the Bludger, ready to send it flying again.

Cedric scowled, gripping his broom tighter. He couldn’t let the Gryffindors throw him off. But the game was becoming more dangerous by the second, and his team was doing everything they could just to stay upright.

“Cedric!” Maxine’s voice came through the rain as she zipped past, barely avoiding another wild swing from Fred. “We can’t keep this up much longer!”

“I know!” Cedric called back, the wind snatching his words away as soon as he said them. He had to end this match before someone got hurt. He glanced around, his eyes desperately scanning the pitch. But no matter how hard he squinted through the rain, there was no sign of the Snitch.

Below him, Gryffindor was pushing hard, Alicia and Angelina weaving through Hufflepuff’s defense. “Come on, Katie!” Alicia shouted, urging her teammate forward. “Let’s break through!”

Another Bludger zipped by, closer this time, barely missing his broom tail. Cedric dodged it in a swift roll, adrenaline pumping through him. 

But before Cedric could refocus, another crackle of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. He glanced over and saw Harry, who was hovering a few feet away, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. Cedric’s stomach tightened with unease. If Harry spotted the Snitch first in this weather, there would be no chance to change the game.

This is insane, he thought. We can’t keep playing like this.

He barely had time to check for the scoreboard. Lee Jordan’s voice couldn’t get past the whistling wind, so he couldn’t hear what was happening. 

They needed to end the game, and fast. 

He pushed his broom higher, ignoring the gusts of wind that shoved him from side to side, his tall build giving him an advantage in the howling gale. He just needed to find the Snitch, catch it, and get his team off the field. 

Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierced the storm. Gryffindor had called for a timeout. Cedric breathed a sigh of relief. He had the time to check for the scoreboard before signaling his team to regroup. They were hovering in the rain, their expressions grim but determined. 

"We’re even 50-50. The scores are slow during this weather, but stay sharp, everyone," Cedric shouted, his voice barely carrying over the storm. "Keep an eye out for each other. Don’t take any risks."

Five minutes later, the game resumed. Cedric noticed Katie Bell was subbed by Ron who soared up high in the sky, pushing his broom forward. Ron’s tall build would have more chances to score the goal. Clutching his handler, Cedric shot up to the dark clouds to his usual position in the field. 

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made his stomach drop — Tamsin. 

She was struggling, her broom lurching dangerously in the wind. Before he could shout out to her, a powerful gust knocked her sideways. He watched in horror as she lost her grip and crashed onto the side of a stand before falling from the broom six feet off the ground.

No one else had seen it. His heart pounded as he shouted for Madam Hooch, but his voice was drowned out by the wind and the thunder. Desperate, Cedric yanked out his wand, aiming to fire a bright red flare into the sky. But before he could even do that, something else caught his eye.

The Snitch.

It fluttered not far from him, glinting gold in the rain. Instinct took over. Cedric shot after it, his broom slicing through the storm. He was close, so close, but then a flash of red blurred past him.

Harry’s broom rocketed forward, and before Cedric could react, Harry lunged, crashing into the Snitch. He raised his hand, clutching the golden ball, wrapping his hand around it.

It was over. Cedric thought with a palpable relief rang into his ears. He was glad that this horrible match ended, regardless of his team’s defeat. He needed to dive fast to check up on Tamsin. 

But a heartbeat later, a bolt of lightning cracked through the sky. 

Cedric’s breath caught in his throat as the flash illuminated Harry’s Nimbus, now splintering beneath him as the thunderclap seemed to strike the broomstick itself. 

In an instant, Harry was falling.

Cedric didn’t think. He dove after Harry.

Faster! 

He cried to his broom as his broom. It was jerking in the wind as he pushed it to its limit. The ground rushed up toward them, but Cedric stretched out both of his arms, his body leaned forward and felt the weight of the younger boy tumble against his.  

But his broom couldn’t steer balance and with two people on it, it swayed and dove downward at a rapid speed, leading them to crash into the mud below.

The impact knocked the breath out of him. His vision went dark for a moment, the rain and wind spinning away as he fell unconscious for a brief second. 

When he came to, Madam Hooch was there, her voice urgent but steady.

“Diggory! Diggory, are you alright?”

Cedric groaned, blinking against the rain. "Harry?" he croaked.

“He’s being taken to the hospital wing,” Madam Hooch said, leaning over him. "You saved him, Diggory."

Cedric let out a shaky breath, his body aching from the fall. His head was groggily drowned in all the flashes moments happened all together. The image of Tamsin falling, Harry plummeting toward the ground, and the Snitch slipping out of reach all swirling together in the chaos of the storm.

“Is Tamsin alright?”

“Miss Amplebee’s fine. The crash against the stand subdued the blow of falling. She’s now with her teammates in the tent.” Madam Hooch gestured to the shelter where the subs and his other teammates were used for the time-out. 

She half-dragged him to get up, but Cedric shook his head. 

“I need to see Harry,” he said. 

“Wait, Diggory! You can’t—” 

But before Madam Hooch could stop him, he forced himself to run towards the Hospital Wing, despite Madam Hooch’s calling his name after. 

Fortunately, the distance from the pitch to the Hospital Wing wasn’t far, so Cedric didn’t have to endure much rain as the waterproof spell began to wear off during his rush.

The entire Gryffindor team, still dressed in red and gold, stood around one hospital bed. Cedric's heart raced as he hurried toward them. Alicia was the first to notice him and quickly made room for him to see. The other Gryffindors, including Wood and the twins, looked surprised when they saw him.

Harry lay unconscious on the bed. His usually wild hair was damp and limp. He had bruises on his cheek and a few cuts on his neck.

“He’s fine,” Angelina reassured him. “Madam Pomfrey gave him a sleeping draught so he can get some rest.”

But Cedric also noticed the dark expression on Ron's face as he stood on the opposite side of the bed, clutching something heartbreakingly familiar… the broken handle, splintered wood, and remnants of Harry’s shattered Nimbus.

Hermione, standing next to Ron, swallowed and said quietly, “It crashed into the Whomping Willow.”

Cedric let out a horrified groan, his eyes turning back to Harry, hoping the younger boy could rest as much as possible before waking to face the reality.

“At least he caught the Snitch,” Fred tried to cheer everyone up, but Alicia quickly hushed him, casting a glance at Cedric.

“It’s okay,” Cedric said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind. I wanted this match to end as quickly as possible, and you all deserved to win.” He meant it.

More footsteps approached the Hospital Wing, and Cedric turned to see Lawrence, Miles, and Phoebe arriving with his own teammates and Cho.

He left Harry's bedside to walk over to them. Cho rushed up to him, and pulled him into a hug. “You’re okay.”

“I am. Thanks,” Cedric reassured her. After letting go, he turned to his teammates, seeing his own startled, relieved expression mirrored in their faces.

“Are you alright?”

Tamsin smiled weakly, rubbing her wrist carefully. “I sprained my wrist, but Madam Hooch already fixed it. I’m okay now.”

“Good,” Cedric nodded, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry we lost.”

“Don’t say that,” Maxine gave him a light punch. “I’m just glad we survived.”

Anthony nodded eagerly. “It was one hell of a storm.”

“You should have those wounds looked at,” Miles pointed to Cedric’s left side, and it was then that Cedric noticed a few cuts and bleeding there. He grimaced at his torn uniform.

As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey hurried over and pulled him to sit on one of the hospital beds so she could examine his injuries, muttering all the while about how extreme Quidditch was and how often she had to patch up injured students. Cedric absentmindedly let her apply dittany to his bleeding wounds.

“When will Harry wake up?” he asked the matron.

“In a couple of hours,” she answered vaguely, continuing to apply ointment to his bruises. “He’ll be staying here tonight, but you can go now.”

“You should get some rest,” Cho reminded him, gently holding his hand.

Cedric glanced back at the bed on the other side of the room. Now the Gryffindors had already left, and there was only silence hidden behind a drawn curtain. 

It dawned on him that just an hour ago, they had survived the storm. His body was heavy with exhaustion, and Cedric began to feel numb on his left side. He nodded at Cho slowly, while letting Madam Pomfrey finish treating his wounds.

Cedric returned to his common room, where his friends insisted he head to the dorm and get some rest. He grabbed a sandwich from the table in the common room and went up to the dormitory. Someone had retrieved his Comet and placed it by his bedside. It remained intact, with only a few scratches on the handle and some frayed bristles.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, he tried to get some sleep but only managed a few brief naps before jolting awake, as the memories of thunderous clouds and rain crashed down on him. He decided to read to take his mind off things, but after just ten pages of Medieval Assembly in Central Europe, he gave up. The storm, the weight of Harry’s body in his arms, and the whole terrifying ordeal were still too fresh in his mind to focus.

He knew Harry would have been saved either way, probably by Dumbledore, just like when the rogue Bludger had knocked him off his broom last year. But that knowledge didn’t ease Cedric’s mind. Despite Harry's undeniable talent, this was the third time his life had been in danger during a Quidditch match, and Cedric considered this a close call. This time, he hadn’t just watched from the stands; he’d seen Harry fall right in front of him.

The thought made him want to curl up in bed and shudder. Was this what Harry had felt years ago when Cedric fell from the sycamore tree? The same haunting image of someone midair, struck down and falling like a dead weight into the dark storm?

Cedric couldn’t shake it, so he decided not to try. It was already dark, probably around nine. He glanced at the clock ticking in the dormitory. Soft snores came from Lawrence’s bed on his right. Cedric quietly lifted the curtain around his bed, slipped out, and pulled on a sweater over his sleepwear. A second thought occurred to him, and he grabbed his Prefect badge as well. It would be a good excuse for being out after hours.

Luckily, he didn’t encounter anyone on his way to the Hospital Wing. Cedric cast a quick Illusionment Charm to blend into the darkness, just to be safe.

Among the rows of empty beds, there was only one with the curtain drawn. Cedric held his breath. If Harry was still asleep, he could just check on him—see if he was alright, still breathing—and then return to his dorm with his nerves somewhat calmer. Just a quick check.

He moved quietly to the curtain and carefully peeked through.

Harry wasn’t asleep. He was staring at something in his hands and almost jumped when he saw Cedric’s movement. It seemed he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Cedric approach. 

Cedric quickly made a calming gesture before whispering, “Silencio”, surrounding them in a bubble of silence.

Harry’s posture visibly relaxed. He quickly set something down on his bedside table — part of the handle of his broken broom. The golden letters spelling “Nimbus 2000” still gleamed faintly in the light.

Cedric’s heart ached, and for a moment, he almost forgot why he had come.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said sheepishly. “I just wanted to check if you were alright.”

Harry shook his head, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

He looked at Cedric with his usual green eyes, though this time they were clouded with heavy emotions. Harry blinked rapidly and swallowed, avoiding Cedric’s gaze.

“How are you holding up?” Cedric asked gently.

Harry tilted his head, grimacing. “A few broken ribs and cuts. They’re healed now, but Madam Pomfrey insisted I stay here for the night.”

Cedric nodded, noticing how Harry still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Harry exhaled. “Honestly? Terrible.” His voice carried unmistakable devastation.

The younger boy glanced at the remnants of his broom on the table and began, “It’s just—my...” but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

Cedric slumped into the chair nearby, suddenly feeling more tired than before. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry looked at him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, though he tried to smile.

“Yeah, it’s just a broom. I’m sure...”

“No, don’t say that,” Cedric interrupted. The tension in his tone surprised him, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“It’s not just a broom. It’s one of the greatest brooms and your loyal companion. You shouldn’t feel ashamed for being heartbroken over it. I know you don’t want anyone to see you upset, but...” Cedric paused, searching for the right words. “But you’re allowed to feel something about it, aren’t you?”

Harry looked at him in shock, his lips slightly parted, tears lingering in his red-rimmed eyes.

Cedric pressed on, unable to stop the thoughts that had been haunting him since Harry's fall. His voice wavered, but he didn’t care.

“I couldn’t sleep. That storm...flying in such horrible weather...it’s still fresh in my mind. And when I saw you fall off your broom this morning, Harry, I was scared out of my mind. You’ve had so many accidents in the past two years, and...I just... I didn’t have time to process it at first, but now that I have, and I feel helpless.”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I just wanted to make sure you were alive, and that I wasn’t dreaming.”

Harry’s face twisted as he clenched his fists. Cedric thought Harry was about to say something, but instead, the boy exhaled deeply, and a minute passed in silence.

“Thank you,” Harry finally whispered. “I would’ve done the same if it were you. I couldn’t let you fall off your broom either.”

Maybe it was the tension Cedric had been holding onto all week, but he suddenly stood from the chair, moved to sit on the bed, and pulled Harry into a hug.

Harry gasped, his body stiff in Cedric’s arms.

“You know I’ve got you, right?” Cedric said, his hands gripping Harry’s shoulders and the back of his neck. “I’ve always got your back.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, and then Cedric felt the boy begin to sob, his shoulders trembling in Cedric’s embrace.

It was just like that day — when Harry had stormed out of Professor Lupin’s office, crying and clinging to Cedric’s shirt. This time, though, Harry clutched Cedric’s back and leaned into the hug, his soft cries muffled against Cedric’s chest. Cedric felt the dampness of Harry’s tears on his sweater, but he didn’t care. He reached up and carefully touched the younger boy’s hair in a comforting gesture, unsure if it would be well-received, but Harry didn’t seem to mind.

They stayed like that until Harry slowly pulled away, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his palms.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, still looking down at his own hands.

“You’re welcome,” Cedric replied with a smile, then glanced at the clock. “I should go. Get well soon, alright?”

Harry nodded, his face more relaxed now, his eyes rekindling their usual brightness.

He gave Cedric a shy smile that made Cedric’s stomach twist for a moment.

“See you, Cedric.”

7

A few days passed after the fateful match, and things seemed to return to their normal pace. There were no signs of the terrible thunder and pelting rain, though dark clouds still loomed over the castle most of the day. That was enough to help drive the awful memories from Cedric's mind, allowing him to resume his routine and get back to his usual self. Still, from time to time, he thought about Harry and that night in the Hospital Wing. The memory of seeing the younger boy cry in his arms remained vivid and unsettling, as if it had been a lucid dream.

Cedric tried to shake off the discomfort in his stomach and focused on his duties. It was easy to fall back into his usual routine, especially since his Prefect responsibilities required him to stay in the common room more often, making him accessible to his housemates. That also gave him time to do homework with his friends.

Despite being hard-working by nature, Cedric found the first three months of his fifth year really tough. Many subjects were more challenging and covered more advanced materials. Professor Vector had made it clear that only students with Excellent results would be allowed to continue to N.E.W.T. level. Cedric had to reread the new Numerology theory multiple times before managing to write just two pages of his essay. Other subjects were equally demanding, with constant revisions and assessments. One dim Tuesday afternoon, Professor Snape surprised the class with a pop quiz, earning groans from everyone. Miles had a theory that the Potions teacher was more sour than usual because of the popularity of the Duelling Club, as Snape had always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Three weeks later, Slytherin unexpectedly defeated Ravenclaw, securing second place. Malfoy was beyond gleeful; he was bragging about the victory and basking in his housemates' adoration, loud enough for the Hufflepuffs to hear for nearly a week afterward. As a result, Hufflepuff was set to face Ravenclaw in the next match after Christmas. If they were lucky, they wouldn’t have to face Slytherin and their dirty tricks again.

With Quidditch practice less frequent, the Duelling Club became the most exciting part of Cedric's schedule. The second meeting was even more thrilling than the first. Moody taught them more than just Protego . They learned Repello Inimicum and the Imperturbable Charm . Younger students who couldn’t keep up were encouraged to practice Expelliarmus and Protego . Toward the end of class, Moody split the students into two teams, marked by blue and red sleeves: defense and offense. The attack team was allowed to bombard the defense team with any offensive spells they could think of, while the defense team had to block using what they had learned in the previous thirty minutes.

Surprisingly, by the end of the class, the defense team still had almost ten students standing, while the offense team had only five. Cedric noticed Harry was among the last standing on the offense side, grinning back at him from across the room, his red sleeve tattered.

"Remember," Moody told them, "in a duel, the most important thing that keeps you on your feet is defensive spells." He paused, surveying the group. "We’ll practice them again before Christmas, and after that, Professor Flitwick will join us. He was the dueling champion here for years, and I don’t want you embarrassing me." Moody’s eyes didn’t settle on anyone in particular, but a second-year named Colin Creevey flinched and quickly looked away.

On a weekend afternoon, Cedric finished revising his Transfiguration notes early and decided he needed a break. He wandered down to Hagrid’s hut, hoping to find him there. But the place was empty, except for Fang, who was napping under an ash tree. The big boarhound dog ran up to greet him with a wagging tail, but the hut was locked and eerily silent.

Cedric meant to ask the trio or Luna about Hagrid’s absence the next day, but the thought slipped off his mind as days flew by like the Knight Bus at full speed. He became preoccupied with schoolwork again until Cho found him in the library on Thursday while he was working on his second draft of his History essay.

"You missed our usual hangout at the lake," Cho said after giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Cedric grimaced, realising he’d completely forgotten. "Sorry, I’m—"

"Busy. I know," Cho interrupted with a sigh, though a frown still lingered on her face.

He reached for her hand, offering an apologetic smile. "How can I make it up to you? We could go to Hogsmeade this weekend. We can stop by the Three Broomsticks, and you can order that frozen—"

"Actually, there’s somewhere else I’d like to go," Cho cut in with a sweet smile, placing her other hand on his. "And I think you’ll like it, too."

"Sure," Cedric agreed easily, glancing at his table cluttered with notes and books on the Goblin Rebellion. He gestured to the seat next to him. "Want to join me? I’ve got a couple of hours before my Prefect patrol."

But Cho shook her head. "Marietta’s waiting for me outside. I just came by to check on you."

Cedric deflated a little. "Alright. See you Sunday, then."

Cho hesitated, biting her lips as if she wanted to say something more, but then she simply nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving to meet her friend.

***

The first week of Hogsmeade also brought with it the first chilly air of winter, which Cedric welcomed gladly. Winter had become his favorite season, especially with the holidays approaching and a break from school on the horizon. There was no rain or thunder, no dry leaves swirling in autumn’s dust, and no sweaty, damp hair from summer’s heat. He gladly put on his warm hoodie over his jumper to stay cozy, longing for warm drinks and perhaps a Rotisserie Smoked Chicken Platter if the place Cho had in mind served it.

A large group of students streamed into Hogsmeade’s gates, bustling with cheerful excitement. There were plenty of newcomers from the third year this term as well. Miles and Lawrence, as always, were eager to take a break from lessons, hoping to visit Gladrags for silly knitted socks and mittens. Cedric waved goodbye to them before following Cho in the opposite direction.

He trailed behind as Cho stopped by Honeydukes and then Scrivenshaft’s to buy more quill supplies and ink. If Cedric hadn’t thought much of it, he might have missed that she lingered at each stop longer than usual – spending a full ten minutes comparing two quills and asking him which one he preferred.

They shopped for nearly an hour before Cho led him down a quieter alley on the west side of the village, toward the place she wanted to show him.

That’s when Cedric found himself standing in front of a tea shop called Madam Puddifoot’s, painted the brightest shade of pink he’d ever seen. He had never noticed this place before, until now.

“Come on,” Cho said, wrapping her arms around his and pulling him inside. Her face brightened, more cheerful than she had been in the library.

A bell tinkled above the door, announcing their arrival with a sweet, tuneful chime that startled him slightly. Inside, the tea shop was small and decorated with bows and frills. There were six small round tables, each with just enough space for two. But what caught Cedric off guard wasn’t the décor… it was the customers. All of them were students, and all of them were couples. They were sitting closely, whispering softly, blushing, and holding hands.

A sudden wave of discomfort washed over Cedric as he glanced around, noticing Davis Jones, a sixth-year Ravenclaw, smirking when he spotted Cedric and Cho sitting next to him and his girlfriend. Cedric suddenly felt out of place, unsure where to look, besides at Cho, or the frilly pink walls.

Madam Puddifoot approached their table. She dressed like a doll with pink lipstick and thick eyelashes. “What would two lovebirds like to order?” she cooed.

Cho, still glancing shyly at Cedric, ordered strawberry rose tea and a slice of cheesecake. Cedric settled for a cup of Earl Grey and politely declined when Madam Puddifoot asked if he wanted anything else.

He coughed lightly, noticing a few tables over, a couple of Slytherins were eyeing him and Cho with amused smirks, just like Davis Jones had done.

Cho's voice brought him back. “Do you like this place?” she asked gently.

“Um,” Cedric hesitated. “It has... some uniqueness.”

He didn’t like how he sounded—like he was just going along with it to be polite. He felt embarrassed and foolish.

Cho reached across the table to hold his hand. Cedric looked down and felt a little better at her sweet smile. She seemed happy, and that was good.

“How have you been? I feel like we haven’t caught up in the past week,” she asked.

Cedric exhaled in relief, grateful for the casual conversation. He was mid-sentence, telling her about the second Duelling Club session, when Madam Puddifoot returned with their tea and dessert.

Cho sipped her tea and smiled. “I love the sweetness here.”

Cedric hummed noncommittally, his Earl Grey tasting as usual. “And what about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, not as busy as you, at least,” Cho smiled again. She smiled a lot today. “Without Quidditch, I’ve been trying out a few clubs. Eliza dragged me to the Witch’s Music Club. We just hang out and listen to music. A few people try to compose songs, but sometimes we have to endure their off-key singing and terrible lyrics. But overall, it’s alright.”

Cedric chuckled. “That sounds fun.”

“Most of the songs are silly love songs,” Cho said, glancing at him quickly before resuming her hold on his hand. “But it’s not as thrilling as Moody’s Duelling Club.”

Cedric frowned slightly. He didn’t think those could be compared. “That’s... different, isn’t it? But I get it. Sometimes I need a bit of time to relax, too. Lawrence listens to music all the time when he studies, says it helps him focus.”

“You think you need time to relax?” Cho asked, skipping over the last part.

“Yeah... I guess so. With all the work piling up,” Cedric shrugged lightly, feeling like he missed something in her tone.

Before he could ask, a gasp came from a nearby table. He instinctively turned and saw Davis Jones kissing his girlfriend so passionately that it was hard to look away. They were clinging to each other, touching each other’s faces and hair, completely unaware of Cedric’s shocked stare. But no one else seemed to notice or care.

Over another table, a Slytherin couple was getting cozy too. The boy had moved to sit next to his girlfriend, leaning in to kiss the crook of her neck while she giggled, her face flushed bright red.

Cedric felt a sudden grip on his wrist and turned to see Cho pulling him closer. Her cheeks were slightly pink, probably mirroring his secondhand embarrassment.

But her words caught him off guard.

“Don’t you want to kiss me, Cedric?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

A rush of heat flooded his face, his throat tight. He felt his mouth hang open.

Cho rolled her eyes, still looking at him fondly. “We’ve kissed plenty of times at school. What’s different now?”

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Of course, they had kissed before, but never like this — not in a place meant for public displays of affection, surrounded by giggling, smirking students, and certainly not in a place where it felt like kissing was the entire point of being there.

“I’m sorry… I don’t think I want to kiss you right now,” he said, his voice low and nervous.

Cho blinked at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Cedric repeated. “I don’t feel comfortable kissing you like this… here.” He gestured vaguely to the pink walls and cupid statues, as if they helped explain everything.

Cho’s smile completely vanished, replaced by disappointment. She looked hurt, and Cedric hated that he was the one who caused it.

He wanted to apologise again, but it felt repetitive and insincere. Cho probably didn’t want to hear it either.

Their tense silence seemed to draw attention. Davis Jones stopped kissing his girlfriend, turning to watch them with open curiosity. Madam Puddifoot, tray in hand, paused in her approach, eyes widening. Cedric could no longer bear it.

He placed two galleons on the table, hoping it would cover their bill. “I’m leaving,” he said carefully, standing up.

“Cedric! Wait!”

As he reached the door, he felt Cho grab his hand. He turned to face her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her lips trembled.

Her voice was a painful whisper. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

“No! Of course not!” Cedric let out a sigh. “But I don’t want to put on a display. I don’t want to kiss you just because everyone else is doing it,” he answered, surprised by how easily the words came to him.

Cho scoffed, sniffling. “No, that’s not it. It’s Potter, isn’t it?”

“What?” Cedric gaped.

She raised her voice, trying to stifle her tears. “You care more about him than me. You went to see him the day we first kissed. Every time, in the Quidditch match, it’s him before me.”

Cedric tried to keep his frustration at bay. “That’s ridiculous. Of course, I care about Harry. He’s my friend.”

But Cho shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. Cedric’s heart ached. He told her the truth, but it was a mystery to him why she didn’t take it well.

“I’m sorry, Cho. I don’t know how I can—”

His words were cut off by someone calling Cho’s name. Marietta and Eliza rushed toward her, their faces full of concern. When Cho saw her friends, she burst into tears, hugging Marietta tightly. Cedric stood there awkwardly. Some of the tea shop’s patrons peeked out the window, curious about the commotion outside.

Eliza turned to him with a glare. “You should leave.”

Cedric nodded and walked away, feeling terrible and confused. 

His first thought was the guilt of making Cho cry — of hurting her like that, but another part of him wanted to be defensive. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He hadn’t enjoyed the experience and shouldn’t have been pressured to do something he wasn’t comfortable with.

Cho’s words also made Cedric’s heart heavy as he was now stomping on the footpath, trying to clear his head. Why did she bring Harry into this? He had told her that he and Harry were good friends back in childhood, and he thought she would understand. She must have been upset and trying to find a reason for Cedric’s actions, but it was absurd. A sharp pang of hurt swelled up in his chest, thinking that she wasn’t willing to believe him.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realise where he was headed until someone called his name. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione waving. They were standing in front of the Three Broomsticks.

“Cedric!” Hermione greeted him with a big smile as he approached, then her expression changed when she noticed his grim face. “What’s the matter?”

Cedric sighed deeply. “Nothing, really.” He tried to shake off the bad feelings and focus on the two of them. “How’s your first Hogsmeade visit? Where’s Harry?”

“Harry and Luna are visiting Hagrid. They’re helping him with the Hippogriff case,” answered Ron.

Cedric frowned. Hermione quickly glanced around, “Would you like to join us inside the Three Broomsticks? It’ll be better to talk there.”

Cedric agreed readily, and as they headed inside, the warmth of familiarity hit him like freshly baked bread. He almost sighed in relief as he took in the pub’s friendly ambience, so different from Madam Puddifoot’s frilly tea shop. Ron and Hermione, both entering the pub for the first time, also looked delighted by the cozy, lively atmosphere. Ron’s face turned a little redder when Madam Rosmerta greeted them with a radiant smile and handed them menus.

Once they got their drinks, Hermione wasted no time diving into the subject. “You remember Malfoy’s injury, don’t you? Well, now his father—” Her words made Ron roll his eyes as he took a sip of his drink. “He’s trying to raise this case against Hagrid, trying to get him fired by the Wizengamot.”

“What?!” Cedric’s voice nearly rose in disbelief.

“Dumbledore won’t listen to him and he has no power left at Hogwarts, so he’s trying to pull strings outside the school,” Ron explained.

Hermione quickly added, “But he can’t, of course. I’ve looked through several law amendments. There’s no way to fire a teacher just because something happened in class. Malfoy wasn’t killed or anything severe. Just a limp broken.”

“I wish,” Ron muttered darkly.

“But it’s still enough to get Hagrid into trouble,” Cedric concluded.

Hermione sighed. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced in the dim lighting of the bar, and Cedric winced in sympathy. The third year was rough.

“Lucius Malfoy has filed a case with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He claims that Buckbeak is too dangerous and untamed. Hagrid just returned from a hearing on those accusations yesterday. The worst-case scenario is that Buckbeak might be sentenced to death.”

“Hagrid’s devastated,” Ron said gloomily. “And it’s all because of that little shit. It’s his first year teaching.”

Cedric’s stomach clenched in horror. That explained why Hagrid had been away the day before.

Hermione continued, “Harry came up with the idea of swaying public opinion by publishing an article in the Quibbler . He and Luna are working on it to show how intelligent Hippogriffs are and that Buckbeak only acted in self-defense.”

“What can I do to help?” Cedric blurted out. “Surely you need someone to go through old cases to gather evidence. When’s Hagrid’s next hearing?”

Hermione looked visibly relieved. “Yes, actually, we could really use help forming a solid testimony for Hagrid. He’s not the most eloquent, and he’s losing confidence.”

“I’d love to help,” Cedric said firmly.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron said with a smile.

Their conversation, gladly, turned to lighter topics. Ron complained about how horrible Divination was and how he and Harry made up absurd ways to die but still received high marks on their essays. Hermione, in contrast, praised Arithmancy and Professor Vector’s competency. They also discussed Quidditch and the upcoming match against Slytherin after Christmas.

“That reminds me,” Hermione suddenly pulled out her thick notebook and quill as if it were her second nature, even during a Hogsmeade visit. “When are you free, Cedric? We should schedule a time to research old cases together. It’ll be faster if we work as a team.”

Cedric told her about his schedule, and Hermione wrote it all down. He was grateful for how competent and reliable she was.

They left the pub half an hour later, just as it was nearly time to return to school. Surprisingly, Cedric felt much more at ease. The guilt and frustration from his date with Cho were pushed to the back of his mind.

8

Cho still didn’t talk to him for two weeks after Hogsmeade, and she would look past him or change her route whenever she noticed he was coming to talk to her. It was rather tiresome. By the first week of December, Cedric gave up trying to approach her.

Somehow, their disastrous date had gotten out, thanks to a handful of witnesses in the tea shop, and news of their fight spread through the usual gossip channels. When Cedric heard what people were saying, that he had refused to kiss Cho, it sent him into a rude shock.

“I don’t see why I can’t tell her no,” Cedric argued, mildly annoyed by Lawrence’s exaggerated astonishment.

“That’s Cho Chang, mate. One of the prettiest girls!” his friend exclaimed. “Everyone wants to kiss her.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t have anything to do with looks.”

Miles turned to Lawrence. “It’s about boundaries—something you’ll never understand.”

Lawrence gasped and immediately started arguing back. Cedric was relieved as the conversation shifted to teasing Lawrence and away from his own dating life.

He wasn’t even sure if this counted as a ‘breakup’—after all, he and Cho hadn’t talked about it.

“You’ll have to do something about this,” Phoebe sat him down one evening, her tone serious. “She needs you to try a little harder. Make an effort to win her back.”

Cedric rubbed his temples, looking up from the Substantive Charms essay he had just finished writing half an hour before. “Should I? Considering I didn’t even want to go to that place in the first place.”

Phoebe was silent for a long moment.

“Maybe it’s her way of testing you.”

He thought he probably misheard it. “What?”

“Think about it. She led you there and deliberately asked you to kiss her. It’s something a girl might do—to see how you’d make a move.”

Cedric was puzzled. “What for?”

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “There could be many reasons. Maybe she wants more declarations of love? You’ve both been busy, so she might want proof that you still care. Or maybe it’s out of jealousy?”

Cedric squinted. Phoebe must have noticed his expression change, because she carefully narrowed her eyes.

“What else did she say to you?”

It was nearly impossible to hide anything from Phoebe Tacklewood. Cedric used to be scared of how observant she was. During their first two years of friendship, he had even wondered if she was a Legilimens. It was intimidating.

Cedric fidgeted with his quill, which was drying up and nearly out of ink. He scratched a few random lines on the empty parchment. “She just mentioned Harry.”

Phoebe blinked. “Oh? What did she say, if I may ask?”

“She said I cared about Harry but not her,” he said, shaking his head. “And I told her it was ridiculous. Of course I care about Harry—he’s my friend.”

“The same way you care about Miles, Lawrence, or me?”

Cedric paused in his doodling and looked up at her. Phoebe’s face was calm and unreadable. Her blue eyes seemed to be searching for something in him.

“Yeah, yes. Of course,” he replied.

Phoebe hummed, shrugged, and didn’t say anything more.

She suggested he wait it out, and that Cho would probably come around. Cedric took her advice to heart, although he knew that Phoebe’s advice conveniently fit his own selfish reasons. He didn’t want to confront Cho—not yet, though he knew it would come back to bite him in the end.

Not wanting to face the music just yet, Cedric threw himself into helping with Hagrid’s case with full dedication. Whenever he started thinking about talking to Cho, he would head to the library, pull out casebooks on magical creatures, and let himself be consumed by the task at hand. 

He joined the trio, sometimes along with Luna, twice a week in the library and occasionally visited Hagrid to update him on their findings. However, their schedules rarely aligned, so Cedric didn’t get to meet everyone at once. Harry, despite not having Quidditch practice due to his broken broom, only joined them once. After that, he got detention from Snape and disappeared from their evening meetings for the next two weeks. Most of the time, Cedric worked with Hermione, sometimes Ron and Luna. 

It was a long and difficult process, far more grueling than Cedric had anticipated. The results weren’t as promising as he’d hoped. The wizarding world, it turned out, didn’t treat magical creatures with much fairness. Many cases ended with creatures being executed or neutralized without much consideration for justice. It was disheartening to read how so many court trials were one-sided, usually favoring the wizardkind accuser.

As Hermione pointed out, magical creatures couldn’t defend themselves in court, and their rights were often ignored. Luna agreed, adding that this was why most intelligent creatures stayed as far away from wizards as possible.

“More of a reason why we need to help Buckbeak,” Cedric commented. “The Hippogriffs trust Hagrid enough to be present in the classroom.”

“We could try using that as a reason,” Ron suggested. “Executing a smart animal might break the bond between us and magical creatures.”

“Great idea,” commented Cedric.

But that was the only promising thought they had come up with in the last three weeks. Cases where magical creatures were spared were rare, usually because the creature was too dangerous to contain, like Hungarian Horntail dragons or Manticores. Cedric tried to keep their spirits up, saying he’d spend Christmas looking through his grandparents’ old books or asking them for advice.

“Or we could just hex the executioner and make a run for it with Buckbeak,” Harry said one day, while sneaking a bite of a ham sandwich in the library.

Hermione gasped in horror while Ron and Cedric burst out laughing.

“We can’t do that!” she said. “That would get us expelled, not just for breaking school rules but also for violating Ministry laws. Dumbledore wouldn’t even be able to stop it.”

“I know, I know,” Harry rolled his eyes. “But what if I do it discreetly?”

Cedric shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter. If Buckbeak escapes, they’ll blame Hagrid for letting him loose. He’d be in even more trouble.”

“Damn it,” Harry muttered.

“We’ll figure it out,” Cedric reassured him, though he was really reassuring himself.

As they left the library, the air was cold, and the sky had already turned dark. Just before heading their separate ways, Harry turned back to ask Cedric, “Are you spending Christmas at home?”

“Yeah, I’ll be at home. And then at my grandma’s after Christmas. You?”

Harry smirked. “At Sirius’s place. Remus just got back.”

“Really? That’s great,” Cedric said earnestly.

Harry shrugged, but Cedric could tell he was happy. “Yeah, he said he’d like to see you too.”

“Maybe I can ask my mum if I can visit for a day or two while I’m at my grandparents’ place,” Cedric offered. Harry considered it, then nodded.

“Sounds good. Owl me when you’re coming.”

They went their separate ways, but before disappearing, Harry waved at Cedric. Cedric waved back, feeling a familiar warmth spread through his heart.

***

The last week before the holidays, however, didn’t go the way Cedric had hoped. 

He’d planned to start packing his clothes on Sunday. He’d finished his homework, planned the Quidditch practices, and even spoken with the other house captains, including Flint, to coordinate field sharing. Feeling accomplished, Cedric was in a good mood, ready to tackle some reading on his own and head to the library to work on Buckbeak’s case.

Outside, snow floated down like soft, white cotton. It was a typical Sunday – so uneventfully normal – when he received a letter from his mum.

Dear Cedric,

How are you doing, sweetheart? I’m sorry it took me so long to write this letter. So much has happened over the past week, and every time I sat down to tell you, I found it difficult to start. So, I suppose I’ll just say it plainly.

Your dad and I have decided to separate. I moved in with your grandparents just last week. It’s one of the hardest decisions we’ve made, but we both realised that living together doesn’t bring us the happiness it once did. We’ve tried, Merlin knows, but we’ve had more and more fights in recent months, and I can’t see eye-to-eye with him on anything anymore. 

Cedric, I know this will come as a shock. You deserve to know the reasons behind it all, and I want to reassure you that none of this is your fault. Please don’t ever think that. The reasons we split are complicated, and this has been building for a while. It’s not about either your dad or me individually, but something between us. That’s one thing we do agree on. I’ll explain everything to you when the time is right.

I’m so sorry, honey. I know this will be hard for you, and it’s selfish of us to delay telling you until now. We were both afraid of how this news would hurt you. But remember, we will never love you any less. You’re welcome to stay with your dad, with me and your grandparents, or remain at school. Whatever feels most comfortable for you.

Please write to me before you come home, alright?

I love you, sweetheart. We both do, no matter what.

Love,

Mum

“Ced, are you alright?”

Miles’s voice pierced through the stunned silence, snapping Cedric out of his stupor.

His fingers trembled as he quickly folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his heart race as if it might burst out of him.

“You look pale, mate.” Lawrence muttered.

“I’m fine. Just… a letter from Mum.” Cedric tried to smile, but it felt forced. He stood up from the table and found it difficult to summon the strength. His head felt light, almost dizzy. “I have something I need to take care of. Family stuff.”

His friends nodded, unconvinced but unwilling to press him further. Cedric left his unfinished toast and sprinted past the Entrance Hall and out of the castle. The cold air hit his face, but he didn’t stop, not even when Percy Weasley asked him why he was in such a hurry.

When he reached the stairs out of the castle, all he felt was a numbing coldness that seemed to seep into his bones. 

Cedric couldn’t figure out what he wanted to write or even whom he wanted to write to. Words wouldn’t be enough. He needed to talk to his parents, to look them in the eyes and ask what they really meant.

The last happy memory of them together replayed in his mind—a celebration at a restaurant when Cedric had been made Prefect. They’d seemed so happy, talking animatedly, his dad squeezing his shoulder, and his mum hugging him and kissing his cheek. They’d told him they were proud of him, that they loved him, no matter what.

He made it into the Owlery, just the time the tears finally came crashing down all at once. He broke down, sitting on the dirty floor, sobbing uncontrollably with his face buried in his hands, under the curious eyes of more than twenty owls watching him from their perches.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there – probably long enough to feel the cold settle in. His jacket provided no more warmth, and the chill had crept through his body. After a heartbeat, he stood up, knowing he couldn’t stay there any longer. 

Cedric left the Owlery without sending any letter.

***

The days after was a blur. He functioned as usual: went to class, ate with his friends, even cracked a few smiles when Lawrence joked around, but there was a fog over everything. His mind wandered constantly, slipping away to thoughts of home, to his mum’s letter, to the uneasy feeling gnawing at him. The laughter around him felt distant, like it came from another world.

Lawrence tried to help. He joked and tossed compliments Cedric’s way — about his Quidditch moves, about how he’d seen Cho looking at him — but Cedric’s responses were hollow, not his usual lighthearted banter. He knew Lawrence was worried, but he couldn’t find the energy to be his usual self.

He postponed the Quidditch strategy meeting, much to his teammates’ confusion. Then he skipped Moody’s dueling club, even though he had been looking forward to learning from Professor Flitwick. And the last two days before holiday, he didn’t join Hermione and Ron to work on Buckbeak’s case. It was easier to withdraw, to avoid everything, even if it meant disappointing people.

One evening at dinner, Hermione approached him at the Hufflepuff table, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Cedric,” she said gently, “You didn’t come to help with Buckbeak’s case. Is everything okay?”

Cedric looked up from his plate, the forced smile already in place. “Yeah,” he replied, a little too quickly. “I just haven’t been feeling well.”

Hermione nodded, but the concern still lingered in her eyes. He offered a small smile, “Thanks, Hermione. I’ll be fine.” 

She didn’t push further, but as she left, Cedric noticed her still glancing back at him.

Cedric hadn’t told his friends about his parents, but he knew they weren’t oblivious. He couldn’t explain why he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Maybe it was the shame, the fear that admitting it out loud would make it real. His friends knew his dad; they knew how much Cedric loved his parents. Telling them would mean confronting the truth, and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Phoebe, though, wasn’t one to be easily deterred. She waited until Cedric came back from the library late at night. As the common room emptied, she sat down beside him, her voice soft but insistent.

“Cedric,” she began, “What’s going on?”

Cedric glanced at her, then back at his books at hand. “It’s nothing important,” he said. “I’ll deal with it when I get home for Christmas.”

Phoebe didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem—”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted, more sharply than intended. “Really, Phoebe. Thank you for asking, but I’ll handle it. It’ll be fine.”

His friend sighed. “Alright. But if you change your mind, I’m here. Write to me during the holiday, okay?”

It was an unexpected offer. Usually Phoebe didn’t want to be involved during her time off from school, as she was always so secretive about her family and whereabouts. His strange behaviours from the past week must have been so worrisome. The words hung in the air between them, but Cedric said nothing more, so she left him to his own thoughts.

The night before the train ride home, Cedric packed his trunk in silence. He tossed in his books, his homework, and a few personal belongings. His heart felt heavier with each item he packed. He still hadn’t written back to his parents, hadn’t decided where he wanted to spend Christmas, whether with his dad or at his grandparents’ house. It felt like an impossible choice.

Later that night, Cedric couldn’t sleep. His mind was consumed by what he might face. He had longed to talk to his parents, to ask them what had happened, but all he felt now was a deep, unsettling fear that tightened his chest and made him want to cry. Exhausted from thinking and feeling too much, he finally let out a quiet sob, filling the stillness of the sleepless night.

The next day, on the Hogwarts Express, he put on a smile, trying to match the energy of his friends as they played Exploding Snap and argued over Quidditch teams in Quidditch Times . He didn’t want them to worry too much, and he also got tired of their concerned looks. But every so often, the smile would slip. His stomach twisted with dread, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to collapse.

When Lawrence and Miles’s debate grew louder, Cedric excused himself, muttering something about needing the washroom. 

As he walked down the aisle of the train, he almost collided with Harry.

Harry’s face brightened for a moment. “Hey, I was just about to go see you.”

Cedric forced a smile, hoping it would be enough to deflect the question. 

The younger boy’s face shifted to concern. “What’s going on? Hermione said you seemed off… and you weren’t at the Duelling club the other day.” 

“Nothing. Just busy, that’s all.”

But Harry’s expression hardened at once. “You’re lying.”

Cedric blinked, taken aback by Harry’s bluntness.

“I can see it,” Harry pressed, his green eyes blazing. “You’re putting on a face. What’s really going on?”

For a moment, Cedric stood there, feeling his pulse quicken. He glanced out the window and saw the platform approaching, just twenty minutes until the train reached King’s Cross. The station. Home.

And suddenly, he felt completely lost, overwhelmed by everything he hadn’t said, everything he didn’t know how to deal with. The thought of going home, of facing the truth, of choosing between his parents—it was too much.

“I…” Cedric swallowed hard. “I don’t want to go home.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. His voice was quiet, but the weight behind them was heavy with the fear and pain he’d been trying to keep it buried.

The younger boy didn’t react with surprise. Instead, he nodded.

“Then don’t,” Harry said simply. “Come with me. To Sirius’s place.”

Cedric stared at him. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely heard. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Harry smiled, and clapped Cedric on the shoulder. “Good. I’ll let Sirius know.”

Chapter Text

Part II : Fall

1

Sirius’s house was a grand old manor, nestled in the middle of a moor, surrounded by rolling hills. It took nearly half a day by taxi from King’s Cross to Canterbury since Lily and James didn’t want to Apparate with both Harry and Cedric. The ride had been smooth, aside from James occasionally asking the taxi driver strange questions, while Lily tried to steer the conversation toward more 'normal' Muggle topics.

By the time they arrived and walked up from the field to see the house, evening had already fallen. Sirius and Remus came out to greet them. Sirius looked much the same, dressed in his signature black leather jacket and ripped jeans. Remus, on the other hand, appeared much better than the last time Cedric had seen him. There were no dark circles under his eyes and now he was wearing neatly tailored clothes, and looked genuinely happy.

“Good to see you, Cedric,” Remus said, reaching out to shake Cedric’s hand.

“Likewise,” Cedric replied shyly.

“Cedric’s going to stay with us for a few days,” Lily patted his shoulder.

“Splendid! The more, the merrier,” Sirius chirped cheerfully.

He led them inside the house, which was even more magnificent than it had appeared from the outside. Cedric glanced around at the interior; though it had faded somewhat with age, it still retained a sense of grandeur and elegance. The living room bore traces of once-displayed portraits, and glass shelves filled with unused but intact furniture. 

They walked up to a smaller sitting room, and Cedric was surprised by the contrast. The room was lively with colorful posters, motorbike models on shelves, Quidditch team posters on the walls, Quidditch shirts, bookshelves, and three guitars hanging neatly on the wall. On the big brown cushion lay James’s cat, Turnips, who looked at the newcomers with mild interest. 

“Welcome to my house!” Sirius exclaimed, looking giddy with excitement. The broad smile on his face made him appear younger than his age. Remus rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“He’s just begun to modify the house,” James pointed out, gesturing to the room. “It takes a lot of effort and creative decisions. He only hung up those guitars a few weeks ago.”

“Don’t spoil the fun, James. Let the kids admire my treasures a bit,” Sirius grumbled.

Harry smirked. “Remus convinced you to add the bookshelves, didn’t he?”

“It’s the odd one out,” Sirius sighed.

“It’s the only thing in the room that shows you have taste,” Remus added mildly, causing Sirius to gasp and James to laugh.

Cedric realised this was the first time he had actually seen Sirius and Remus together like this. They had come to watch Harry's first Quidditch match before, but they hadn’t interacted so closely. Now, they teased each other so casually, and as Harry had mentioned, Sirius could act like a boy around Remus, much like he did with James. It felt a little surreal to see them as a couple for the first time.

A blush crept up Cedric’s face. He felt embarrassed at his own curiosity, and quickly glanced down at his shoes.

“You must be tired from the journey. The rooms are upstairs, in the east wing. Here, let me show you,” Remus said, pulling out his wand. Harry and Cedric’s luggage floated off the ground and followed them to the staircase.

“I didn’t bring my usual clothes,” Cedric said sheepishly. “I was thinking I’d be staying with my pa–uh, my grandparents.”

“That’s fine. I’ll bring you some of Sirius's clothes—if you don’t mind wearing dark colors.” Remus smiled.

“Thanks,” Cedric nodded gratefully.

The room he was shown had the same faded grandeur as the rest of the house, reminiscent of its former glory. It was similar to the four-poster beds from the dorm at Hogwarts, but with the added luxury of a plush carpet, a large oak closet, a small fireplace with a warm, flickering flame, and soft bed linens.

Remus waved his wand, and a swirl of dust disappeared from the lamp by the bedside. 

“Dinner will be in an hour. Harry can show you around the house. He’s been here a few times. I need to go check if Sirius has set anything on fire in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Remus,” Cedric said, setting his luggage near the bed.

The man smiled softly and headed downstairs. Harry, however, lingered for a moment.

“Want me to show you around?” he asked.

Cedric hesitated. The journey had been overwhelming, and the sleepless night before began weighing heavily on him. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and the mere thought of moving felt like too much.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he said apologetically. 

Harry nodded. “Sure. My room’s next door. Knock when you’re ready to head down for dinner.”

“Okay. Thanks, Harry. For everything.”

Harry scoffed and waved it off. “See you later.” He tottered out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Cedric sagged onto the bed, the soft white linens inviting him to rest. He kicked off his shoes and reclined slowly, not bothering to even pull back the blankets or remove his jacket.

The exhaustion caught up with him as his body sank into the mattress. Maybe just a quick nap, he thought. As his eyes fluttered shut, and soon enough, the warmth of the room and the silence pulled him into sleep.

Cedric didn’t know how long he had been asleep until a soft knock on the door jolted him awake. The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the darkness. The room was pitch black.

His senses slowly returned. He scrambled to get up from the bed and reached for his wand on the bedside table, but then he remembered he couldn’t use magic outside of school. Clumsily, he groped around to feel his way toward the door.

When he opened it, he was met by Harry’s concerned face.

“Hey, sorry to wake you,” Harry said.

Cedric noticed the younger boy’s throat move, as though he was about to say something but still reluctant.

“It’s alright. I should be the one apologising. I overslept,” Cedric said, scratching his head and realising how dishevelled he must look, with his bedhead and droopy eyes. 

“What time is it?”

“It’s ten at night,” Harry replied.

Cedric groaned. “Oh, bugger. I missed dinner with everyone.”

“That’s okay,” Harry shrugged, offering a small smile. “But you haven’t eaten anything all day, right? Since lunch on the train?”

As if on cue, Cedric’s stomach growled. He sighed. “Yeah, I guess I’ll head down to the kitchen and make some toast or something.”

Harry straightened up. “I’ll bring you something to eat. Wait here.”

Before Cedric could protest, Harry sprinted down the stairs. Cedric watched him disappear downstairs, and chuckled to himself. He went back to his room to light the fire.

About fifteen minutes later, Harry returned, carrying a large woven basket. Inside the basket were clothes, toiletries, and on top, a coleslaw sandwich, a bunch of grapes, a pack of biscuits, butter cake, a cup of rice pudding, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of orange juice.

“I’ve thrown a bit of everything into this. Hope this will be enough. Lily said you should eat light food late at night,” Harry grinned.

“It’s perfect. Thanks,” Cedric said sincerely.

Harry laid the food on the floor before handing Cedric the basket. “You go get changed.”

Cedric pulled out the bundle of clothes and quickly went to the bathroom. He winced at his reflection. Tired eyes, bedraggled hair, but soon changed into clean clothes. He picked a long-sleeved sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the room was filled with warmth. He had expected Harry to be gone, but was glad to see him still there, crouching in front of the fireplace and poking the ashes until the flames rekindled. The heat spread through the room.

“There you go,” Harry said with a smile, swinging the fire poker playfully like a sword. He then noticed Cedric’s sweater and snickered.

“I remember this band. Sirius was obsessed with them. I think I was five when he started dressing like a goth. Eyeliner and everything.”

Cedric looked down at the sweater. The screen print was of a man with wild hair, holding a guitar, with the words ‘The Cure – Boys Don’t Cry’. He hadn’t noticed before, and now he felt awkward wearing it. He certainly didn’t feel as cool as Sirius.

Harry must have noticed Cedric’s blushing because he kept laughing. 

“Stop that,” Cedric muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment as he moved toward the food.

Harry stood up, about to leave, but Cedric called out, “Wait, I don’t think I can eat all this. How about we share it?”

Harry paused, glancing between Cedric and the food, then nodded. They both sat down on the small, slightly worn but clean sofa under the window. Cedric unwrapped the sandwich while Harry popped a grape into his mouth.

It was rather nice, albeit strange, to be eating so late at night. The realisation that he was spending time with Harry in the same house began to sink in, filling Cedric with excitement and gratitude. The news of his parents’ separation had been clouding his mind, but now, he could appreciate the fact that he’d be spending the next few days with Harry – something he’d been looking forward to all summer.

After finishing the sandwich, Cedric picked up the cup of rice pudding. Harry got up to fetch a blanket from Cedric’s bedroom for extra warmth.

“So this place belongs to Sirius?” Cedric asked, gesturing around. “It’s quite something… It’s old, but I didn’t see any family portraits or crests.”

Harry took a bite of a biscuit before answering. “Yeah, he comes from a really old noble family, but they’re all thick-headed old farts if you ask me, except maybe Regulus. Sirius got rid of most of the ancient magical artifacts. It used to belong to Phineas Black, his great-grandfather. He was disowned too, after he died though. He was a Muggle rights advocate, or the biggest disgrace in the Black family, according to Sirius.”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “Sirius was disowned?” He quickly added, “Sorry, that’s personal. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s fine. Sirius isn’t ashamed of it. He was sorted into Gryffindor and became friends with my dad. Basically, everything he did went against his family, who were big pureblood supporters. So they kicked him out.”

Cedric winced, “That’s terrible.”

“Nah, Sirius said he was relieved he didn’t have to go back to live with his parents anymore. It was for the best. Now he can be with Remus without anyone making stupid judgment. That’s the real perk.” Harry smirked.

Cedric was chewing on a slice of butter cake. There were so many things he wanted to ask, but one question sat on the tip of his tongue. 

He blurted it out before he could stop himself. “Does that—uh, is it hard to be with a man?”

Harry glanced at Cedric briefly before putting down the slice of cake in his hand. “You’d probably have to ask him.”

Cedric chuckled awkwardly. “I don’t think I can just bring that up randomly with him. Believe it or not, I rarely talk to Sirius.”

“Why? He thinks you’re cool,” Harry frowned, then gave Cedric a small smile. “He’s like a big dog. His Animagus form, you know. A bit intimidating at first glance, but he’s pretty laid-back. And honestly, I think he could use some new friends. Uh, how do I put it?” Harry scratched his messy hair, thinking. “I think he needs someone new to talk to.”

Noticing his slightly amused look, Harry grinned and continued, “Well, James and I have already seen his goofy side. I think he wants someone he can be ‘cool’ around again.”

Cedric laughed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a thirteen-year-old. It’s kind of terrifying.”

“Not my words. Remus’s,” Harry grinned shyly. “As I said, I owe him for turning me into a ‘wise old sage.’”

“Yeah, you definitely sound like one,” Cedric murmured.

Harry pointed a bunch of grapes at Cedric. “By the way, you can talk to Sirius. You both could use some company. Starting with not getting starstruck every time you see him,” he teased.

“What? I don’t!” Cedric protested.

“You do!” Harry burst out laughing. “You think no one notices, but everyone sees how red your face gets, like a Pygmy Puff!”

Cedric threw a pillow at him, which only made Harry laugh harder.

It was the first genuine laugh Cedric had in a week, ever since receiving his mum’s letter. He took a deep breath, feeling a little clearer and more like himself. Their conversation gradually drifted toward lighter, catch-up topics. Harry filled him in on what had happened at the duelling club last week, the one before Christmas that Cedric had missed. They shared a few chuckles over the mishaps, and Cedric asked about Harry’s new broom.

The younger boy’s shoulders slumped. “Still looking for the right one,” he muttered.

Silence settled between them again, comfortable but heavy. Cedric hugged one knee to his chest, absentmindedly nibbling at the last bite of butter cake. The room seemed quieter than before, and the fire crackled softly in the background. 

He stared into the flames for a moment, words on the tip of his tongue, the ones he’d been carrying for days now, but they resisted with the weight of his thoughts.

His throat felt tight. He swallowed.

“My parents are getting separated.”

Saying it out loud was terrifying, but he knew he had to start from the beginning.

“I got the letter from my mum a week before the holidays. She’s staying with my grandparents now, but she didn’t say why they… why they did it. She said she’d explain later, saying it was because of some disagreement. They don’t see eye to eye anymore.”

Harry, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, listened quietly, his wide green eyes fixed on Cedric. He didn’t interrupt, and didn’t try to comfort him either. He just listened, and Cedric appreciated that.

He felt the weight of his words. “I don’t know how to handle it. It just…happened so suddenly. I keep trying to think back, to figure out when it all started. When they stopped loving each other. But it hurts too much to go back to those memories, so I just don’t.”

He buried his face in his hands, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’m ashamed, too. I can’t admit it to myself, let alone my friends. They’ve tried to ask me, but I just…shut them out. And they don’t deserve that.”

Cedric swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “And now I’m stuck. My mum said she’d be okay with whatever choice I make, whether I stay with her or Dad. But I can’t even think about it. I don’t know what to do. I can’t pretend everything’s normal.”

He pressed his face into the gap between his knees, taking a shaky breath. He had finally said it all, the thoughts that had weighed on him for the past week.

Without looking up, Cedric felt the sofa shift as Harry moved closer. A warm hand gently rested on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, his voice soft and a little shaky.

Cedric slowly lifted his tear-streaked face, gazing at the ceiling. Harry didn’t say anything more, but his hand remained steady and comforting on Cedric’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

After a while, Harry spoke again. “You said it’s too painful to think about when it all started, right? Maybe that’s because those memories are all good ones. It’s hard to revisit them because you feel like you’re tainting something beautiful.”

Cedric turned to him. “That’s…pretty insightful.”

Harry looked away, scooting back to his usual spot at the end of the sofa. “It’s just from personal experience. You know, when we… when we weren’t talking. I hated thinking about the times we had fun that summer. It hurt too much because those were such good times. That’s why I tried so hard to forget about you.”

Cedric’s heart clenched. “Merlin, I’m so—”

“I know, I know. Don’t apologise again.” Harry sighed. “The point is, it hurts so much because your parents mean so much to you. All those memories are precious.”

Cedric nodded, sucking in a deep breath.

Harry continued, “But the past, present, and future aren’t the same thing, are they? The good memories are from the past. It’s okay if you feel awful now, in the present. But who knows? In the future, things might feel better. They’re all different stages of your life.”

Cedric smiled weakly. “It sounds simple enough, but it’ll take time for me to actually feel like the future’s going to be better.”

“Then take that time,” Harry said quickly. “It’s your moment. Right now, in the present. What are you doing right now, Cedric? How do you feel?”

Tears welled up in Cedric’s eyes again, and this time, he didn’t try to stop them. He let himself cry in silence.

By the time he had calmed down, it was probably past midnight. Cedric wiped his face with the handkerchief Harry handed him.

“I can’t believe it feels this good to cry,” he said.

“Yep,” Harry smiled. “You helped me when I lost my Nimbus. I remember how good it felt to let it all out instead of bottling it up.”

“Thanks,” Cedric sniffled. “For this. And for letting me stay here.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said softly.

Cedric’s stomach flipped, a wave of warmth spreading through his chest as he looked at Harry. 

He couldn’t believe he deserved all this kindness, but if it were Harry, Cedric would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

“I’m glad I have you,” Cedric said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry looked a little stunned, then he coughed. “Yeah, me too. I think I should head to bed. Big day tomorrow—Christmas Eve!”

“What’s your plan to do?” Cedric asked.

Harry shrugged. “Lily won’t let me tell you. Just make sure you’re up before ten. Goodnight, Cedric. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” Cedric replied, watching him sneak out of the room.

As the door closed, that warm feeling in Cedric’s chest only grew.

2

Despite having slept late, Cedric woke up early the next morning, feeling more like himself again. After blinking up at the old, elegant high ceiling for a while, the next thing he did was retrieve his quills and parchment from his suitcase and write letters to his friends.

He told them everything: how he had been feeling terrible and closed off, how he was sorry for his strange behavior, and explained what had happened between his parents that had caused it. Phoebe, Lawrence, and Miles deserved to know the truth, and Cedric owed them that much for being the reason behind their worries. He considered sending a letter to Cho as well, but decided against it. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, and he thought it would be better to tell her in person rather than through a letter.

By the time he finished writing, it was already past eight in the morning. He tucked the letters into his suitcase, planning to send them after Christmas, and went downstairs. 

The house was large, but he was able to find the kitchen by following the wafting smell of food and the sound of light chatter. 

The kitchen and dining room were spacious, just like the rest of the house, though less elegant than the bedrooms. Sirius was sitting on the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in hand, while Remus was at the stove, flipping pancakes. 

“Ah, Cedric!” Sirius grinned widely when he saw him enter the kitchen. “Good morning. Remus is fixing breakfast. Join us.”

“Thanks,” Cedric said, as he sat down at the kitchen table. “Sorry for not joining you for dinner last night.”

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You must be hungry, though.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I would be if it weren’t for Harry. He brought me something to eat last night.”

Remus turned from the pan, raising his eyebrows with a smile. “Really? Good for him. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Harry’s still sleeping?” Cedric asked.

“Most likely,” Sirius replied, taking a sip of his coffee before getting off the counter and joining Cedric at the table. “James left early to visit his parents. I’ll be joining him. Remus also has to visit his mum.”

Remus smiled briefly but didn’t add anything.

Cedric decided to change the topic. He’d promised to make friends with Sirius anyway, “You’re really close with James.” 

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, we’re brothers. I’m closer to Fleamont and Euphemia, James’s parents, than I am to my own. They practically adopted me when I turned sixteen.”

Remus chimed in, “Time flies, and you haven’t changed a bit.”

Sirius turned to his partner, “Speaking for yourself, old man,” before quickly kissing Remus on the cheek. Cedric blushed at the sight. They looked comfortable with each other, very much like a happy couple.

Remus handed Cedric a plate of pancakes topped with maple syrup, cranberries, and sliced bananas. After a few contented bites, Cedric heard the sound of footsteps shuffling into the room. Lily and Harry joined them, with the latter still looking groggy and his wild bedhead even messier than usual. He mumbled a sleepy “murning” to everyone before slumping into the chair next to Cedric with a huge yawn.

Lily, already dressed and in good spirits, smiled. “Hello, Cedric. Ready to go on an adventure today?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shopping during Christmas isn’t that exciting.”

Lily ruffled his hair, making it even more unkempt. “That’s why I’m bringing Cedric along. He’ll be excited.”

“I’d love to go shopping,” Cedric said eagerly. “I sometimes go with my mum to Muggle stores.”

Lily clapped her hands, delighted. “I knew you’d be a great addition to the group! Unlike my son, who’s forgotten to appreciate simple things.”

Harry huffed in mock offense but didn’t argue and went back to his pancakes. Cedric noticed how Harry’s demeanor shifted slightly when he was around Lily. He turned into the small boy Cedric remembered from past years. It was amusing to see how Harry could be both intimidating and energetic, yet so childlike with his mother.

Cedric smiled at himself. As he enjoyed the pancakes, a sense of warmth was spreading in his chest.

***

Shopping with Lily turned out to be more fun than he had expected. They traveled with Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, and from there, she took them on a stroll around town. It was worth the sightseeing, as the city during the Christmas holiday was full of life and color. The streets of Covent Garden were bustling with festive energy. Shoppers hurried between stores, their arms laden with bags filled with last-minute gifts and holiday treats. The streets were crowded, with people haggling at market stalls and buskers performing on the roadside, revigorating the air with carols and songs. Cedric could feel the thrum of excitement and festivity in the lively streets they walked past, with the scent of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts wafting through the air.

Luckily, Cedric had some Muggle currency with him, so he was able to insist on paying his share when Lily took them to a few shops. She bought Harry a new pair of sneakers to replace his old, tattered ones, while Cedric got himself a new pair of gloves and a sweater.

They also visited a shopping mall, where Cedric experienced an arcade for the first time. 

He watched in awe as Harry played a game called Mortal Kombat on a large machine with levers and plastic buttons. Harry even managed to win a few matches. Cedric tried a game called Space Invaders X but failed spectacularly. It was too difficult to focus on the buttons and the screen at the same time, especially with the distracting noise of shouting children and excited squeals from nearby players.

At one point, a small boy who had been watching Cedric lose repeatedly snickered, but he quickly stopped when Harry shot him a glare, prompting the boy to scuttle back to his dad.

“Don’t harass him. I totally deserve that,” muttered Cedric, embarrassed, as they made their way back to the clothes store where Lily was still browsing.

“No, you just need to find the right game for you,” Harry tried to cheer him up. “You’d probably enjoy the football games.”

Cedric scoffed and shook his head. “How did you get so good at playing games like that anyway?”

“I’ve spent plenty of time waiting for Lily to finish shopping. That’s when I hang out here, honing my skills,” Harry smirked.

It was easy to imagine Harry as the same age as the boy who had laughed at Cedric’s defeats, and even easier to see how Harry had gotten better over time. With his focus and resolve, Harry must have been so determined to win. Cedric couldn’t help but admire his friend's skill and dedication.

After grabbing a delicious burrito at a Mexican cafeteria, Lily took them to see a movie at the theater.

Cedric was extremely nervous. He had heard of ‘movies’ and ‘films’ before, but he had never experienced one in a theater. The idea of watching moving pictures on a huge screen in a dark room with all his senses focused on the story made his heart pound with excitement.

The movie they saw was called The Nightmare Before Christmas , a Christmas film with animated characters. They sat near the back row, and while Harry bought a box of popcorn, Cedric was too excited to eat. He had always been fascinated by Muggle technology, but seeing a movie was something else entirely.

His eyes were glued to the screen as the animation began. The characters began singing spooky songs on Halloween. The booming sound from invisible speakers and the special effects made him jump a few times. Cedric was completely enraptured by the details in the characters and vivid storytelling, and he sat on the edge of his seat as he figured out that Jack Skellington was planning to take over Christmas by kidnapping Santa Claws. He laughed along with the audience when Jack dressed up in a fake white beard and a ridiculous red hat.

By the time the real Santa Claus and Sally were rescued with the help of Jack, Cedric let out a sigh of relief. Then he flinched in horror when the Oogie Boogie fell apart and turned into hundreds of creepy-crawling insects.

When the movie ended, and the lights came back on, Cedric couldn’t stop smiling. He still felt a rush of giddy happiness from the film’s happy ending, where Jack and Sally kissed under the glow of a full Christmas moon.

They stopped for hot chocolate at the Leaky Cauldron before heading back to Sirius's place for dinner.

“What did you think of the film?” Lily asked them both.

“I liked it a lot. It was my first time seeing a movie, and I’m really impressed by how they made it,” Cedric said earnestly. Lily nodded in agreement.

“It was funny,” Harry said simply. “But I didn’t really get Jack. I couldn’t stand him.”

Surprised, Cedric raised his eyebrows. “Really? I thought you’d like him. He’s kind of like you.”

Lily laughed. “I agree with Cedric on that.”

Harry gasped. “No, I’m not! He’s nothing like me. He’s stubborn as a Sphinx, and he doesn’t care about others. He neglects his duties and changes everything for his own desires. It’s annoying to see everyone just go along with his plans.”

“He’s the Pumpkin King, after all,” Lily pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he gets to do whatever he wants,” Harry argued.

Lily smiled into her cup of hot chocolate. “Clearly, someone’s learned a lesson from the film.”

Harry just huffed and rolled his eyes. At that moment, Cedric wanted to say that Harry was a lot like Jack Skellington. It wasn’t just because of his knack for planning, but his strong determination and natural charisma that made people follow him and listen to him. Something Cedric had noticed in the younger boy since the beginning of this term but hadn’t been able to name until now. Jack commanded respect and admiration, though he wasn’t the traditional leader type. He stood out, and Harry was very much the same.

But for some reason, Cedric kept his thoughts to himself. The conversation shifted to Sally and how her red hair was the same shade as Lily’s. They agreed she was the most sensible and kind-hearted character.

They arrived at Sirius’s place, where Sirius and Remus, who had returned a few hours earlier, were already preparing dinner. The group pitched in to help, and James was the last to show up. He kissed Lily before sitting down at the table, placing a large fruitcake from his parents’ house beside him, and complaining about how hungry he was.

Dinner was a joyful affair. Remus shared some stories about his teaching at Beauxbatons and his plans for the next term. He also seemed genuinely interested when Cedric and Harry gushed about the Duelling Club with Moody, then asked a few questions about the spells they had learned. James chimed in with talk of his new ideas for his toy business and mentioned his parents nagging him about bringing their grandson for a visit. Lily remarked that she planned to visit her own parents on Christmas morning and would bring Harry along, which made the boy groan.

"Can I not? I don’t want to meet Dudley and his stupid uncle ever again," Harry pleaded.

“No,” Lily replied firmly, without even glancing up as she scooped shepherd's pie onto her plate. She left no room for further argument.

James patted Harry’s back. “Don’t worry. It’s just a couple of hours. Just think about what spells you could put on your good old cousin. Just don’t actually do it, for your mum’s sake.”

Harry snorted, but Lily glared at James. “Don’t encourage him. He already scared that poor boy to death with his threats to hex him.”

“He deserves it,” Harry argued, raising his fork in defense. “He’s definitely a bully at his school.”

“Try faking Parselmouth on him, so he’ll think all the snakes are your allies.” Sirius suggested eagerly, grinning as he imitated the sound of a hissing snake in an uncannily accurate impression. The whole table erupted in laughter, except Lily, who muttered, “Not helping,” but eventually joined in with the laughter too.

After finishing the last bite of Yorkshire pudding, James stood up to retrieve a bottle of wine from the cabinet. Cedric offered to wash the dishes, but the group protested loudly.

“I’d like to help,” Cedric insisted, already gathering the plates.

“Let Harry help you,” Remus gestured to Harry.

The boy grumbled, but still stood up and followed Cedric to the sink with a huge stack of empty plates in hand.

They washed the dishes in comfortable silence. Cedric listened as Harry hummed the Halloween song from the film, his head bobbing slightly in time with the rhythm. As Harry handed the clean plates to Cedric to stack on the rack.

Once they finished, they returned to the dining room where the adults were laughing at something Remus had said. James and Sirius had flushed red cheeks.

Harry sighed dramatically. “They won’t stop talking once they’ve had a few drinks,” he muttered. Then, turning to Cedric, he said, “Hey, I promised you a detour, didn’t I? We can do it now if you’re not too tired.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Cedric smiled.

Harry nodded eagerly. They grabbed their coats and scarves before heading out, the cold air biting as they left the warm dining room. The winter night was crisp, and snow blanketed the ground outside. The whole manor was softly illuminated by the flickering glow of oil lamps and candles, casting dancing shadows along the aged walls.

Walking through the Black family manor on a winter night felt like stepping into a lost world where time stood still, and the past whispered from every corner. As they walked down long, carpeted corridors, their footsteps were muffled by thick rugs worn thin in places from decades of use. They passed a large room that had once been a library, but Harry explained that all the books had been burned after Phineas died. The Black family hadn't wanted his records on Muggle rights and his drafts for equal rights bills to survive, so they destroyed everything. No one had ever found where he'd hidden them, so they burned it all. The room had also once displayed the heads of old house-elves, but Sirius had removed them, calling it “tasteless and barbaric.”

As they passed another room filled with dusty armchairs covered in ragged blankets, Harry paused to glance at an abandoned tea service on a side table. It was the south end of the manor, near the exit, where Cedric caught the echo of wind gusting against tall windows.

“There’s a small hill nearby that I like to walk to and fly around sometimes,” Harry pointed out, gesturing toward a dark silhouette outside. “It’s smaller than Moonhill, but since we’re at such a high elevation, the view’s amazing.”

“We can’t fly at night. It’s already dark,” Cedric said, slightly disappointed that he hadn’t brought his broom home with him.

“Yeah, but we can still walk there. James gave me one of his new inventions, and I want to test it outside.” Harry added, his tone laced with a challenge. “If you’re up for it, of course.”

Cedric grinned. “You know I’ll be up for anything if you ask me.”

Harry scoffed, giving him a light punch on the shoulder before darting up the stairs. 

“Wait here. I’ll grab it from my room,” Harry called as he disappeared up the staircase.

It didn’t take long for Harry to return, slightly panting as he held a small silver ball in his hand. It was a little bigger than a Golden Snitch and looked as if it were made of glass.

Seeing Cedric’s questioning look, Harry smiled. “I’ll show you outside. Let’s go.”

They stepped into the dark, where Cedric was greeted by a slow breeze and the crunch of his feet on patches of soft snow. Shivering in the cold, Cedric noticed that Harry seemed unfazed as he continued marching toward the hill. Cedric wondered how Harry would find the way in the dark without stumbling over tree roots or tripping. They couldn’t use magic outside of school, after all.

Cedric’s question was soon answered. In the darkness, the silver ball in Harry’s hand began to glow with a bright blue light. Harry pressed the top of the ball, and suddenly, more glowing blue lights shot out in every direction. The tiny lights drifted lazily around them, and before Cedric knew it, they were surrounded by these glowing blue orbs illuminating the path ahead.

Harry raised the silver ball in the air, and it hovered, guiding them forward.

Cedric breathed in amazement as his eyes darted around the glowing lights around them. “What is this?”

“James hasn’t come up with a name yet, but it’s something like a Deluminator. Except it’s more practical. The lights guide you to where you want to go, at least for short distances. It’s useful when you don’t want to hold your wand like a flashlight the whole time.”

“Good thinking,” Cedric complimented. “It’d be great for traveling in the dark.”

“A few people are interested in producing it,” Harry said. “He might sell them the rights one day – if he can figure out how to keep it from attracting bugs at night.”

“Your dad’s a genius. He’ll find a way.”

Harry shrugged, but in the glowing light, Cedric could see the proud smile on his face.

They walked quietly along the path until they reached the top of the hill.

The landscape stretched out before them, but what took Cedric’s breath away were the thousands of stars scattered across the night sky. It reminded him of the view from the Astronomy Tower, but this time, the cold air and the hill made the stars feel closer to the horizon, as if they could walk to the edge and touch them. Cedric thought about the stars like he did when reaching for the Snitch. The feeling of holding something so precious and imagining its weight in his hand.

Harry grabbed the hovering ball, and the blue lights vanished, leaving only the soft glow of the moon and stars.

“Just like the ending scene in the movie,” Cedric whispered, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

“What?” Harry tilted his head.

“That scene when Jack and Sally kiss on the hill at the end of the movie,” Cedric said sheepishly.

Harry grinned. “I didn’t peg you as a romantic.”

Cedric stammered, cheeks flushed. “I’m not. It’s just… the scene is beautiful. That’s all.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, then turned his gaze back to the stars.

“You know, there was a belief in the early twelfth century that wizards existed because of the magic in the stars. They thought magical folk were descendants of the stars that fell to Earth as meteors. And that’s how magic came to the world.” Cedric recounted it from what he’d read.

Harry scrunched up his nose, rumpling his tousled fringe absentmindedly. “That sounds far-fetched.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many folktales are based on nothing but rumors,” Cedric said with a smile. “Wizards have always been superstitious, especially about the stars and their positions. For example, there’s a theory that the first Muggle-born wizards came about because Polaris aligned with Alioth.”

Harry let out an incredulous laugh. “Remus says Muggle-born wizards usually appear because of genetics. There were probably witches or wizards in their family tree.”

Cedric nodded. “And it’s unlikely that what we call ‘purebloods’ now are truly pure anymore.”

“No one cares about that except those thick-headed sods like Malfoy,” Harry said contemptuously.

“Judging by how few Slytherin students there are compared to the other three houses, it won’t be long before the house shrinks even more.”

“Good. I don’t want to deal with another Malfoy or Warrington.”

They fell silent, gazing up at the stars and taking in the view before them. A sense of absolute peace settled over them. At that moment, there was nothing to worry about. Even the thoughts of his parents seemed to fade further from his mind.

Cedric didn’t know how much time had passed before Harry spoke again.

“You know, I’ve been learning about star-hopping in Professor Sinistra’s class last month. Winter’s the best time to see the brightest stars, isn’t it?” Harry stretched out his arm and closed one eye, raising his thumb at a 90-degree angle toward the night sky. “I think I can find Orion’s Belt…” He squinted, adjusting his stance to find the right angle. “You can spot the reddish star, Betelgeuse…”

It was just Harry’s clumsy attempt to map the stars and his confusing gestures that made Cedric smile. When Harry said he didn’t like studying Astronomy, there was clearly some truth to it.

“Here, let me help.” Cedric stepped behind Harry and placed his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders, gently turning him to the right angle to find the brightest stars. Then, he adjusted Harry’s hand, moving his thumb to the correct angle and raising his wrist slightly higher.

What Cedric didn’t notice at first was how tense Harry’s shoulders had become under his touch. He heard the faint hitch of breath, and it seemed like Harry had frozen. He couldn’t see Harry’s face, only the warmth of his back pressed against Cedric’s chest.

Suddenly, Cedric felt his own heart skip a beat. It wasn’t until they stood so close together, with Cedric’s hand on Harry’s shoulder and his other holding Harry’s wrist awkwardly in the air, that he realised how intimate the moment felt. From his vantage point, Harry’s messy hair brushed against his chin, dark strands wild and untamed. Cedric’s stomach tightened in a knot, and a sense of vertigo hit him, like the sensation of free-falling off a broom.

He quickly pulled away, his face heating up. The hands that had touched Harry’s skin a second ago now felt like they were burning.

“Um, sorry,” Cedric mumbled hastily.

Harry didn’t look back at him. Instead, he took a few steps away, rubbing his hands together and pacing back and forth, a forced smile plastered on his face.

“It’s getting cold, huh?” Harry said, hurriedly putting on his hoodie.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Cedric replied, exhaling a puff of white breath. He walked up to Harry, who had stopped pacing when he saw him approach.

Cedric tried not to focus too intently on Harry’s face, but his gaze was drawn to the strands of hair that stood up on Harry’s forehead. He felt an urge to smooth them down or just touch them.

“We… we should head back,” Cedric swallowed hard.

Harry nodded quickly, his jaw clenched. “Great idea. My teeth are chattering.”

He ordered the silver ball to produce the tiny blue lights again, and together they headed back to the manor. Neither of them said a word. Harry crossed his arms the entire way back, and all Cedric could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat and the unsettling warmth in his stomach.

They arrived at the south door, and Harry visibly relaxed. He no longer seemed to be trembling. He shot a grin at Cedric, a bright and familiar one that made him look more like his usual self.

“Well, that proves something… I’m definitely going to fail Astronomy,” Harry joked.

Cedric tried to suppress a nervous laugh. The wave of dizziness from earlier still lingered in his head.

“Just don’t mix up the hand gestures for measuring degrees, and you’ll be fine.”

“I just hate memorising all the details,” Harry whined. “But it’s fun, though.”

Cedric smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

They stood there for a second, looking at each other. ‘We should do this again’ was on the tip of Cedric’s tongue, but he didn’t dare say it.

Harry clapped Cedric on the shoulder. “Well, let’s call it a day. I should check on my parents. They’re probably too drunk to move by now.”

“Alright,” Cedric nodded stiffly. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Harry. And Merry Christmas.”

He saw Harry’s Adam’s apple bob, and for the first time, Cedric noticed it and couldn’t look away. 

Harry’s green eyes, always bright and full of life, met his.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

3

Thanks to all the walking and sightseeing during the day and the excitement of watching the movie, Cedric managed to sleep so soundly. Yet the first thing that came to mind when he woke up was the memory of Harry’s warm back against his chest and the cool touch of the boy’s hand on his own.

Cedric buried his face in his pillow, and let out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t know what had come over him.

Pull yourself together, he scolded himself, trying to shake off the memories from last night. 

It must have been the cold air, the stars, seeing the film, and those glowing blue lights that had made him more sensitive. That sense of closeness with Harry had carved itself into his mind, and now he couldn’t let it go.

After taking a bath and getting dressed, Cedric rushed out of his bedroom, book in hand. There was no better time to read than in the quiet of the early morning.

The Potters had gone out early, just as they'd mentioned during dinner. James was attending a Christmas gathering in his parents’ stead, while Lily and Harry had left early to visit Lily’s father.

It was almost nine when Cedric wandered into the kitchen, only to find it empty, except only Turnips sleeping soundly under the window frame. He made himself some toast, poured a glass of apple juice, and pulled out a butterscotch pudding from the cooling box or a ‘fridge’, as Harry had once explained.

The house was silent. He found a cozy, warm spot in the sitting room, which looked like it was used daily, as the sofa and tables were dust-free. He began to read The Decline of Pagan Magic , but it wasn’t very productive. Cedric read the same paragraph four times, his mind wandering back to the hill and the previous night with Harry. He just couldn’t focus on the reasons why Matilda Bagshot had added an index about hieroglyphic history when discussing a group of Latvian alchemists. The words blurred into meaningless ink, and Cedric sighed. Reading wasn’t going to happen this morning.

Maybe a walk would help clear his mind. The weather wasn’t too cold today, at least it wasn’t snowing, so a short stroll to the hill might help him sort out his thoughts.

As Cedric walked through the hallway, he heard the faint sound of an engine revving, followed by clanking tools and the occasional splutter. It was Sirius, tinkering with a large motorbike.

“Cedric! Merry Christmas!” Sirius waved, prompting Cedric to return the greeting with a shy smile.

“I thought you’d be sleeping in today,” Sirius remarked, his eyes still focused on the back wheel of his bike. “Remus went to the post office.”

“I’ve been up for a while,” Cedric replied, walking up to him. “Your bike looks amazing.”

And it did – the motorbike looked like it belonged to Sirius. The sleek black design seemed to suit him perfectly. Cedric didn’t know much about Muggle vehicles, but even he couldn’t imagine anyone more suited to it than Sirius.

Sirius grinned, clearly pleased with the compliment. He pointed at something behind the back wheel that looked like a metallic pipe.

“This bike needs petrol and regular maintenance, just like any Muggle vehicle,” Sirius explained. “But see that? It’s called an exhaust pipe. And I may have put a little spell on it.”

“What kind of magic?” Cedric asked, intrigued.

Sirius’s grin widened. For a moment, Cedric felt a sense of déjà vu, as if he were looking into the past at a younger version of Harry. 

“Well, now it can fly!”

Cedric’s jaw dropped, and Sirius laughed, clearly delighted.

“It’s not like flying on a broom, of course. But it can definitely fly over towns, using the same engine and everything. It uses up a lot of petrol, mind you, but that’s just how it is,” Sirius said with a shrug. “It’s slower than a regular 600cc bike… about 80 mph, but, you know, it flies, so that makes up for it.”

“That’s incredible,” Cedric said, trying to imagine flying on a bike as cool as this one.

“Don’t tell Harry yet,” Sirius added. “He doesn’t know I made the modification, and I want it to be a surprise. He’ll definitely want to ride it with me.”

Cedric nodded. “Of course.”

Sirius then told him about how he bought the bike from a top-notch shop in Munich and had it shipped here, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Cedric couldn’t help but admire how naturally Sirius seemed to move through life. And he found himself both awed and envious.

As Sirius went on about his plans to buy a ‘chopper’ and one day enter a motor race, Cedric couldn’t help but ask, “Doesn’t that put a lot of strain on your finances? I mean, buying all this stuff?”

Then he immediately felt awkward. That it might seem rude to ask an adult about their money. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

But Sirius just shrugged. “Not at all. I’ve sold a lot of those precious artifacts from this house for a good deal of money. Plus, I’ve got a large sum from my great-grandparent, Phineas. We’re lucky—he and I are the only sane ones in this crackpot family. You’re from a pure-blood family, right?”

The question caught Cedric off guard. He had never really thought about his family line before. The Diggorys were one of the oldest pure-blood families in the country, just as old as the Blacks. But because they weren’t wealthy, Cedric had never considered himself rich or influential.

Sirius must have sensed Cedric’s discomfort, because he softened, putting down his screwdriver and rag. “It’s not as complicated as it sounds. If you trace the lineage back, my mum always tried to brainwash me about pure-blood superiority. The name ‘Diggory’ actually came up in one of her rants.”

Cedric nodded, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t want to be identified as a pure-blood. I’ve never associated myself with that.”

The man smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me, I know exactly what you mean.”

Cedric hesitated. “But isn’t it ignorant to pretend I don’t have any privilege? I’ve seen Muggle-born students in Hufflepuff struggle in their first year from lots of insults. I’m lucky that my background has shielded me from that.”

Sirius looked thoughtful. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you should let yourself get swallowed up by guilt or let your pure-blood status define you. Take Phineus for example. He was a self-proclaimed Muggle sympathizer and worked himself to the bone trying to pass a bill giving Muggles the right to know about the wizarding world. It was an honorable cause, but when the bill failed, he thought he was a failure and ended up taking his own life.”

Sirius led Cedric to the porch chairs and continued. “I’m not saying you should ignore it all, either. I’m no saint, but I’ve learned to live life the way I see fit. Help those who need it, but don’t live like you owe anyone anything. And don’t let anyone change that.”

Cedric took in Sirius’s words. It struck him how different Sirius’s views were as an adult who actually had lived through it. He had never imagined living without the expectations placed on him, whether from his parents or from himself. The idea of living as freely as Sirius both terrified and intrigued him.

His parents would never have discussed something like this with him. His dad, a hard-working man, often reminisced about the family’s glory days, especially Eldritch Diggory, the former Prime Minister. Cedric had always thought his father believed that success came solely from hard work, though he now wondered how much privilege had played a role.

After a brief silence, Cedric finally said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything,” Sirius replied with a smile.

Cedric hesitated, trying to put his thoughts into words. “How do you… Is it hard? To live without caring what people think?”

He wasn’t sure if Sirius understood the deeper meaning behind his question, but the man blinked, lips parting slightly. His grey eyes, darker than Cedric’s, seemed to catch on.

“It wasn’t hard for me, at first,” Sirius said carefully. “I’ve never been the type to worry too much, probably because of my upbringing. But it was different for Remus. He was terrified of being judged, of being seen with me. And I care about him… a lot.”

Cedric swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Then things got better, though. Because we couldn't help it. It’s not easy to live a carefree life like you choose, I’ve gotta admit, but it’s a lot harder to not live the life we both know could be bloody great. So yeah, I think I got lucky that Remus’s with me.” Sirius gave him a lopsided smile.

Cedric smiled too.

They continued talking about various things. Surprisingly, Sirius was very talkative and friendly, and clearly his suave persona was just a facade. He spoke about everything from school Quidditch matches, which he was just as passionate about as Harry, to politics, criticising Fudge’s incompetency and the useless pamphlets they'd seen circulating about the Ministry funding, which he found superficial. 

It was an enjoyable, invigorating conversation, and Cedric was grateful to have gotten to know the man better.

As they headed back inside, Sirius patted Cedric on the back. “You can write to me, you know—anytime. You’re a good kid, Cedric. I love Harry, but sometimes he lives in his head and ignores my letters entirely.”

“And his handwriting doesn’t help either,” Cedric added, making Sirius burst into laughter.

They returned to the house just moments after Remus had Apparated back from his errand, and the three of them sat down to lunch. Later in the afternoon, Harry and Lily joined them, with Harry looking particularly smug. He had successfully pulled off what he called a ‘masterful’ prank on Dudley, scaring him when he tried to sneak some chewing gum into their grandfather’s mouthwash. Harry couldn’t wait to regale everyone with the tale of his victory, much to Lily’s dismay.

Christmas continued like that. Talking to Sirius helped put Cedric’s mind at ease, and allowed him to shift his thoughts away from the previous night on the hill. He returned to his reading, finishing two chapters of his book, and also began planning for his studies in the upcoming term. Cedric consulted Remus and Lily about his Prefect duties, after having heard that James teasingly referred to Prefects as ‘teacher’s pets.’ Lily, however, gave him incredibly useful advice on how to handle bullies and theft, which he appreciated.

Cedric stayed at Sirius’s manor for two more days, and felt like time had frozen. They went back to London once more, this time with Lily and James. They walked across the Millennium Bridge and even visited Buckingham Palace up close (“Hogwarts looks much better,” Harry remarked). Cedric wanted to take Harry to the Ministry Museum, but a thought crossed his mind: the longer he stayed, the more he was postponing what he needed to sort out. Being surrounded by such a loving family made him miss his own deeply.

When Cedric finally told them he was going back to his grandparents’ house, Harry groaned in protest.

“But I thought you were staying the whole holiday!” Sirius whined. Over the past few days, Cedric had gotten used to Sirius’s playful, childlike side, and no longer felt shy around him.

“You can stay with us until next term. You haven’t even gotten to fly on your broom yet,” said James.

“I’d love to,” Cedric said sincerely, offering a soft smile, “but I think there’s something I’ve put off for too long.”

“Sometimes I forget how responsible this kid is,” Sirius said, shaking his head.

“That’s because you’ve been spending too much time with Harry,” James teased.

“Hey, I’m responsible!” Harry protested.

Remus smiled, “You are, at the bare minimum. But it’s a big improvement from last year.”

“At this rate, I’ll be Head Boy by seventh year,” Harry declared confidently. His determined expression made Sirius laugh, and soon everyone else joined in. Harry tried to maintain his serious look, but he couldn’t hold it for long and ended up laughing with the others.

On Cedric’s departure, they led him to a room with a Floo Network set up in the fireplace. Everyone came to see him off, and Remus helped carry his suitcase. Lily had already informed Cedric’s mum that he’d be arriving that morning, but Cedric still felt a bit nervous about seeing her after the last letter.

As Lily poured the Floo powder into the fireplace, Harry came over and hugged Cedric. It was brief but warm, and Cedric didn’t hesitate to hug him back.

“Thank you, Harry,” he said, looking down at the younger boy’s face. If it hadn’t been for him, Cedric wouldn’t have felt as much peace about his situation. Now, despite his lingering anxiety, he felt more prepared to face reality.

Harry smiled and stepped back to let him grab his bag. Cedric took a handful of Floo powder, thanked everyone, and even gave Turnips a pat before stepping into the fireplace. The warm green flames surrounded him as he called out his grandparents’ address. As the fire’s sparks blurred his vision, he caught one last glimpse of Harry’s dark hair before he was whisked away by the swirling green flames.

***

The first thing Cedric saw after the Floo brought him to his destination was the faces of his parents. Both his mum and dad were waiting for him on the other side.

Without a second thought, still covered in ash, he rushed from the fireplace, and hugged them both tightly.

“I’ve missed you both,” he said, clinging to their embrace. He could feel his mum’s warm hand resting on his back and his dad ruffling his hair, just like when he was younger. Cedric took a deep breath, basking in their warmth.

A tiny spark of hope ignited in his chest. He wished his parents could reconcile, hoping that their separation was just a minor quarrel that could be resolved. But after he released his hug, he knew he was being overly optimistic.

Dad gave him a small smile. “I just wanted to be here to talk to you, son.”

Mum squeezed his hand affectionately. “We owe you an explanation,” she said softly, glancing at his dad. “So we thought it would be best if we talked to you together.”

He nodded. Mum led them to the sofa. She sat on one cushion while Cedric and his dad sat on the other. Then, she began to tell him.

Cedric could tell how hard this was for her. Though her voice remained calm, she kept looking down at her hands, rubbing them nervously. She explained that, although they still respected each other, they had been constantly disagreeing about almost everything for a long time. She reassured Cedric that neither of them would love him any less, but admitted that everything between them had quietly fallen apart. The tension wasn’t just about Cedric — it was present in their daily lives. She also mentioned, for the first time, how unhappy she was with Amos’s outburst toward Cedric last year, but that was just the tip of the iceberg.

When his mum finished, Cedric slowly turned to his dad.

“It’s true, what Ellie said…” Dad swallowed hard. He looked thinner, older than the last time Cedric had seen him when he was sent off to school. Cedric’s heart ached, realising how much his dad must have been through.

His voice was also tired. “I didn’t think it would end like this, but after so many fights, I’ve started to understand what she means. We can’t keep going like this… it’s going to drive us both against the wall. We’ve run out of options to hold on to this relationship. I’m sorry, Ced.”

A hot tear welled up in Cedric’s eyes as a lump formed in his throat hearing his dad’s words. “I think I understand what you both mean now.”

His mum reached out to hold his hand. “Honey, it’s alright. I know you’re upset. We’re so sorry it turned out this way.”

“I was,” Cedric admitted. “But now I’m just sad that it’s happening. Weirdly, though, I also feel relieved. I spent so much time before Christmas thinking about when it all started, and now I think I get it. If this is meant to happen, it’s inevitable, no matter what you try to do to stop it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” his mum asked gently.

Cedric nodded slowly. “Yeah, I will be. Eventually.” He wiped the tears from his cheeks and smiled. “What about you two? If this is going to happen, how will I see you both?”

“I’ve been staying with my parents for now,” mum muttered. “But I’ll be going back to work. I know it might be too late for me to get a Ministry job, but I’m working as a freelance research assistant now. Mostly overseas jobs.”

It was hard for Cedric to imagine his mum in the field, as he’d only ever known her as a stay-at-home parent. Ever since he was born, she’d been dedicated to raising him full-time. Returning to work seemed like the bravest and most admirable thing she could do after all these years.

“Actually, we wanted to ask you about this,” dad said softly. “Now that we’re not… together, it’s up to you to decide whom you want to stay with.”

His dad’s voice trembled, and Cedric could tell how much his dad wanted him to stay. At the same time, dad must have felt guilty for the tension and fights over the past year that might make Cedric want to distance himself.

Cedric smiled. “How about I stay with mum during this holiday, and in the summer, I can come stay with you, dad? That way, mum can focus on her new job.”

After he said that, a tearful smile appeared on dad’s face, while mum took a deep breath and then burst into tears.

She rushed to hug him tightly. “Oh, honey. You always think of others before yourself. Sometimes, I think we don’t deserve you, Cedric.”

Cedric hugged her back. “Don’t say that. I love you, Mum.” He glanced over at his dad, seeing the same tear-filled grey eyes looking back at him. “And you too, Dad.”

“I know, Ced,” his dad said, his voice breaking. “Thank you.”

The rest of the holiday passed quite peacefully. His grandparents became even more doting on him. They took Cedric and his mum on a short trip to Glasgow for a nice change, and Cedric was glad for that. There was a renowned wizardry library there, famous for its research in specific fields, and he could look up Buckbeak’s cases and browse some interesting books.

Cedric spent the last few days there. On New Year's, they also had tickets to see Creaothceann, a sport that had once been banned but was now played again, this time just for history enthusiasts and those who wanted to experience medieval games for entertainment. Instead of rocks, they gave a colored lightweight ball to each spectator. The game began with bagpipes and lasted for thirty minutes. Ten players in the game had woven baskets strapped to their backs as they flew all over the field, trying to catch balls thrown by the spectators, who could toss them at any time during the game. The players couldn't use their hands to catch the balls; they had to maneuver and aim for the right angle so the ball could fall into their basket.

The players, who weren’t sports professionals, had a great time with their bodies painted in all colors imaginable. Most of them failed to catch the ball, often colliding with each other or crashing their brooms. The winner was a middle-aged librarian, who managed to get seventeen balls in her basket while the others had only a few. Her body was covered in red and purple paint, and her teeth were the only white thing visible against her colorful skin.

It was a very fun time. Cedric couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard that his stomach hurt. He was especially happy to see his mum jump and clap so loudly when her ball landed in one of the player’s baskets. She looked much younger and happier.

By the time they left Glasgow, Cedric felt like he hadn’t missed anything. He still had his family, and he could feel a bright future ahead of him. Harry was right; the future wasn’t set in stone. 

In that moment, Cedric knew he was ready again to face the world with a more assured heart.

4

The first thing his friends did when they saw him at King’s Cross was crashing into him. They gave Cedric a bone-crushing hug, and all of them embraced tightly, not caring about the curious eyes watching them. 

Lawrence ruffled his hair, “Don’t you ever make me worry again! Stressing me out is the least likely thing on Earth, and you managed to do it last term.”

Cedric grinned. “I won’t. Thanks, and sorry for treating you like that.”

Phoebe gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Don’t act weird again.”

“We’ll just pretend it never happened—the whole emo thing,” Miles added, adjusting his glasses after pulling himself out of the group hug.

“No, no. I’m good now,” Cedric chuckled. “I just had to come to terms with it. My parents live in different places, but they’re still my parents. I’m okay with how things turned out.” He told his friends firmly.

Miles patted his back, and together, they all stepped into the Hogwarts Express.

The journey back to Hogwarts was as cheerful as Cedric could have hoped. He was genuinely happy and able to pay attention to his friends’ stories about their holidays. They exchanged belated Christmas presents and talked about their usual things, avoiding any mention of O.W.L.s and the mountain of assignments and revisions waiting for them. Miles brought homemade cookies, his mum’s best delicacies, to share, while Lawrence was in charge of the music. He played some good songs from his CD player, and Cedric found himself bobbing along to the upbeat music.

As they started playing Miles’s Quidditch board game, the compartment door slid open, and Cho stood there, looking slightly shy. Her hair was tucked into a side braid, and she was already dressed in her school uniform. Her eyes landed on Cedric.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked softly, her voice uncertain.

Cedric knew he had to talk to Cho eventually, after what had happened between them, so he nodded and followed her out of the compartment, aware of his friends’ curious eyes trailing after him.

She led them to an empty aisle between two cars before asking, “How was your holiday?”

Cedric smiled. “It was good. Better than I expected. How about you?”

Cho gave him a small smile. “It was nice. My brothers came back, so we had a few good days together.” She paused, fidgeting with her fingers before looking up at him. “Why didn’t you write to me?”

Cedric felt a twist of guilt in his stomach. He had intended to talk to her, but everything that had happened over the past weeks had been hard to put into words. “I had a bit of a rough time… actually. I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you sooner.”

He wanted to mention that Cho had also been avoiding him for some time, but he knew that would only make things worse. 

As Cedric spoke, she frowned slightly. “Oh. I thought we were—well, dating. And that you’d tell me what was going on.”

“I want to,” Cedric reassured her quickly. He considered reaching out to hold her hand, but something about Cho’s expression held him back. She seemed upset. “Maybe we can talk later, after dinner?”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “Is this because of what I said to you in Hogsmeade? Is that why you’re leaving me out of your life now?”

He gaped. It had been Cho after all who didn’t want to talk to him. “No, of course not! I just didn’t have the time to explain everything. A lot has happened over the past few weeks.”

“I was going to talk to you after we got off the train before Christmas,” Cho said, her voice trembling, and she looked like she was about to cry. “Then I saw you leave with Harry.”

Her tone carried a hint of accusation, and Cedric couldn’t figure out why, so he answered truthfully. “Yeah, I spent a few days with Harry and his family. My parents—”

“Oh, and you didn’t tell me about that?” Her voice rose, and she looked hurt.

A wave of annoyance washed over Cedric. She hadn’t even let him finish his sentence, and now she was angry about something he couldn’t quite grasp. He felt like he was walking in circles, and every word was a potential trap. 

Sighing, he decided to get to the point of whatever was going on between them.

“I don’t see why you should be angry about it.”

It was as if his words had triggered an explosion. Cho’s face closed off, her lips thinning as she crossed her arms and glared at him angrily.

“You didn’t even try to make things right with me during the last weeks of school. Not a single letter or Christmas card during the holiday. You just sit there with your friends and let me come to you. You’re treating me like I’m not even your girlfriend,” her voice cracked, growing louder and more emotional, and Cedric was horrified. 

She scoffed, letting the first tears spill down her cheeks. “And to make it worse, you ask what’s wrong with me for getting angry when I find out you spent time with someone else!”

“It’s not someone else,” Cedric tried to explain. “Harry’s my friend. I don’t see why I can’t spend time with him.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Cho snapped. “Or you’re a big liar.”

A door slid open, and a few students poked their heads out, curious. They glanced nervously at Cho, who was crying, and then at Cedric, slightly embarrassed, before quickly retreating behind their doors. This was awful. Cedric wished they could continue this conversation somewhere private, but Cho was still staring at him with tearful eyes and trembling lips.

Cedric took a deep breath and braced himself. He needed to defend himself against whatever accusations she  had, and if there were going to be rumors afterward, so be it.

“Cho, please. I’ve told you many times, there’s nothing between me and Harry. We’re just friends, and I… I don’t think of him like that.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it felt like they came from someone else. His stomach dropped, and his ears thumped with the loud beating of his own heart. 

Cho remained silent, staring at him, but what he said next would definitely have an impact.

“But I think we should take a break from this,” he paused. “I don’t think it’s working anymore.”

Cho gasped, her eyes wide. “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

It was painful… he knew it would hurt her, but it was like ripping off a bandage. Quick, clean, final. He clenched his jaw, then nodded.

“I’m sorry. It’s… hard for me. I don’t know what I can do to make you happy, and I feel like anything I say will make you angry. I’m really sorry, Cho.”

Watching Cho let out a sob was heartbreaking. She openly cried, her face flushed red and her shoulders shaking. Suddenly, she turned and ran back to her compartment, leaving Cedric alone in the empty aisle.

Cedric buried his face in his hands and groaned. He knew he had chosen the worst place to have this conversation. He didn’t want to do it like this, but based on everything that had happened, he could tell Cho’s mind had already been made up.

He returned to his compartment, feeling utterly deflated and exhausted.

His friends could see it in his face as soon as he slumped into his seat, looking like he had just come from a battlefield.

Lawrence’s eyes widened, his game card still clutched in his hand. “Cedric, don’t tell me…”

Cedric’s nod confirmed it. Lawrence let out a shocked gasp, while Miles’s jaw dropped. Only Phoebe remained expressionless.

“It’s for the best. For both of us.” That was all Cedric could say.

“You’re the one who called it off?” Lawrence’s voice nearly shouted.

Cedric sighed. “Yeah, and as much as I appreciate your sympathy, I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“Wait—”

But Lawrence’s words were cut off by Phoebe smacking the back of his head, not lightly, and Lawrence yelped in pain. “Ouch! What in the bloody hell…”

“Give him space, you idiot,” she scolded. “Either go back to your game or shut up.”

It wasn’t unusual for the group to be on the receiving end of Phoebe’s sternness, but this time, her sharp tone was a bit more frightening. Lawrence, who was always most intimidated by her, quickly complied. Cedric, for once, was grateful for her fierceness.

The breakup with Cho left a jarring effect on him, casting a foul mood over the first couple of days of the new term. Fortunately, the mountain of homework they had been given in every subject helped distract him from the bitterness and the unsettling thoughts in his mind. 

It confirmed what he had feared, that he had been completely out of his depth in the relationship, though he kept searching for what he might have done wrong. In the end, all he ever did was tell Cho the truth, or at least what he felt was the truth. The experience left him scared of ever having a relationship again, fearing he might hurt someone or create another mess.

Phoebe sighed sympathetically when Cedric mentioned the breakup one day. Out of all his friends, Lawrence wouldn’t be able to offer solid advice, and Miles would either overthink it or not think about it at all. But Phoebe always knew the right thing to say, and this time was no different.

"I’ve never been in a relationship, but as far as I know, it doesn’t really matter," she said wisely. "You’ll never be right in the other person’s eyes when you break up with them."

Cedric grimaced. "Why do people even want relationships when it all comes down to this?"

She looked at him with amusement. "Because for the time they love each other, it’s worth it, I guess. Wasn’t it worth it with Cho?"

Her question caught him by surprise. The easy answer was yes. Cho had been his first girlfriend and his first kiss. Being with her had made him happy, and seeing her smile always left him feeling giddy and flushed. But now, after it was over, those memories felt precious and sweet, yet they didn’t leave him craving more. In fact, he felt relieved that he no longer had to apologise to Cho or try to talk to her whenever she was angry with him.

"I don’t know," Cedric admitted honestly.

Phoebe went back to her Potions notes, and without looking at him, she said, "You’ve got plenty of time to find a relationship that makes you feel more loved, and when it ends, it’ll be worth the pain."

Her words, delivered in her usual monotonous tone, sank into Cedric. It was like she had casually revealed a truth that everyone understood but never fully grasped, and she said it with intellectual calmness.

Curiosity sparked in Cedric’s mind. "How are you so wise? You know so much, more than most people our age. It’s like I’m talking to an adult."

Phoebe looked up from her notes, her expression unreadable. "My dad’s a clinical therapist, and my mum’s a psychology professor."

Seeing his blank look, his friend chuckled. "They deal with mental wellness and the mind. I’ve watched them talk to patients or discuss cases with each other all the time."

"That’s amazing!" Cedric said, surprised. She rarely talked about her parents, and this was the first time she’d mentioned them. He felt grateful for the trust she was showing. "No wonder you’re so smart and articulate."

Phoebe just shrugged again and returned to her notes, and eventually, Cedric left her to it.

Things went better after that; at least Cedric was able to shelve the awful feelings about his love life for later reflection. He rarely had time to catch up with Harry, Ron, or Hermione about Buckbeak. However, by the time the next Monday arrived, he managed to catch sight of Hermione on the way to Arithmancy during a break.

He called out to her when he saw her on the staircase in front of the classroom after he had just exited. Her large bag was unmistakable from afar.

“Hello! Hermione. Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

She smiled brightly at him. “Hi! I was just thinking about seeing you too. How have you been?”

“I’m good. Sorry for what happened last term, you know, when you came to ask me about my absence.”

She shook her head. “No, I get it. I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

Cedric looked a bit self-conscious, thinking Harry must have told Hermione about his parents as well, but he didn’t mind. Hermione had proven to be one of the most reliable friends.

“Hey, I found something that might help with Buckbeak's case. I came across it in a library in Glasgow during the holiday. I took some notes from the books and their cross-references.”

Her eyes brightened, and she hoisted her heavy bag more securely onto her shoulders. “That’s fantastic! Hagrid’s second hearing is the fourth week of February. We still have some time to help him draft his plea for the court. How about this Wednesday? My last class finishes at 3. Meet me at the library?”

“I can do that,” Cedric nodded.

“It might just be the two of us this week. Ron and Harry have detention with Snape all week,” Hermione sighed.

“Again?” Cedric couldn't believe anyone could get detention as often as Harry. By now, he’d be more surprised if Harry didn’t.

“Yeah, Malfoy riled them up, talking about Harry’s broken Nimbus, and Ron couldn’t resist tackling Malfoy and knocking him out right in front of Snape,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Cedric raised his eyebrows. “Harry mentioned he was looking for a new broom, but hasn’t he already? It’s only two weeks until Gryffindor’s first match against Ravenclaw this term.”

She shrugged. “Ron’s been trying to convince him to get a Nimbus 2001, but Harry refuses to use the same broom as Malfoy. I don’t think he’s ever going to get over his old one. He’s like that.” 

Cedric nodded understandingly. When the bell rang for the next class, he excused himself, ready to head downstairs to the greenhouse for Herbology, but Hermione called after him.

He turned back, and she looked a little sheepish. “I overheard some girls talking in the bathroom… that you broke up with Cho?”

Ah, that. Cedric felt a bit awkward. He wasn’t surprised that rumors had spread, so he nodded stiffly.

“Yeah, you heard right.”

Hermione winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Cedric.”

“That’s okay,” he said, waving her off with a smile. “See you later, Hermione.”

She smiled back and hurried into her class, while Cedric headed down the staircase.

Hermione was undoubtedly the most competent and hard-working student Cedric knew. With her thorough research and excellent writing skills, they managed to craft the first draft of their argument for Buckbeak, outlining why Hippogriffs shouldn’t be categorised as ‘dangerous’ animals due to their rare sightings. Cedric's evidence strengthened their case, arguing that terminating the life of an endangered species should raise serious concerns and face scrutiny from the Magical Animal Control Department.

They presented the draft to Hagrid on Friday, and after waiting for him to read it, Cedric was surprised to see a look of concern instead of relief.

“Dunno ‘bout this, to be honest,” the professor sighed. “I ain’t the best with words—uh, what’s this word? Never mind.” He sighed again. “This sure is a proper brilliant draft, you two’ve done so well, but I don’t reckon I can read all these fancy words without stumbling or understanding 'em. It looks too good to be my own handwriting.”

“We’ll tone it down,” Cedric offered.

“Or keep the key points in bullet form,” Hermione suggested quickly. “The point is for you to read it in court, Hagrid. We can rehearse the speech a few days before the hearing.”

Hagrid still looked uneasy. “Ah, I always fumble ‘n mess things up when I gotta talk proper like that. I ain’t good at speakin’ in front of crowds.”

“If that’s the case, we can go with you to the court and present the case as witnesses. I was in the class that day,” Hermione reassured him.

“Nah, yeh can’t do that.” Hagrid’s shoulders slumped. “Ain’t no place for students ter be gettin’ mixed up in this mess, Hermione.”

Cedric sighed. He knew if they went with Hagrid, he could be punished for letting students help him. “But at least try to look it over, Hagrid. We’ll write a second draft next week and see which one’s better. I’ll change up some of the wording to make it easier to follow.”

Hagrid still looked unsure, but he nodded slightly, giving them a grateful smile. Despite his large frame, he somehow managed to seem smaller than both of them.

“Weren’t a great holiday for me, ye know,” he sniffed. “Spent most of my time with Fang and Buckbeak, cause deep down, I wanted to give him a proper Christmas. Let him enjoy the snow, chase critters in the forest. But... I reckon Buckbeak might not be here much longer.” Hagrid’s voice quivered.

“Don’t say that!” Hermione exclaimed, alarmed. “We’re going to figure this out, and Buckbeak will be safe, Hagrid. We promise.”

With less confidence than Hermione, Cedric also tried to reassure Hagrid, though he wasn’t sure he could make the same promise. To change the subject, they asked Hagrid about his lesson plans and the other creatures he cared for. Cedric, who didn’t take Care of Magical Creatures, asked about the animals in his class, which seemed to make him a little happier. He showed them the Fire Salamanders in the fireplace, dark purple creatures that looked small when not fed with fire. Cedric could feel their warm, smooth skin and see the visible veins running through their bodies. They narrowly avoided the rock cakes Hagrid offered them as they left.

“This is much harder than I thought,” Hermione expressed her concern as they walked back to the castle.

Cedric sighed in agreement. “He doesn’t seem to have much confidence in himself.”

“Not at all. His classes over the last few months have been... not great,” Hermione added in a worried tone. “I’ve told Harry and Ron, but they refuse to acknowledge it.” She gave Cedric a tight smile.

Hermione explained that Hagrid had only been teaching about animals that didn’t require much care, in case something dangerous happened again. And as much as she loved Hagrid, his head wasn’t in the right place, and they barely got any proper instruction from him. Things hadn’t improved much since then.

“He’ll need to be grounded and credible in front of the Wizengamot,” Cedric thought out loud. “Maybe I could look for a suit in Hogsmeade, or bring him there to try one on. At least make him look presentable.”

“That’s a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that,” Hermione acquiesced.

As they walked back to the castle, the Great Hall was already lit, and several students were having dinner. The sound of chatter echoed through the room after the long week. Fridays were always the most crowded.

Cedric said goodbye to Hermione and went to join his fellow Hufflepuffs at their table, still thinking about how to make Hagrid’s plea sound natural. He noticed Lawrence giving him an odd look.

“Wow, just a week after Cho, and now you’re going out with Granger?” Lawrence grinned. “Way to go, playboy.”

Too exasperated to correct him, Cedric just rolled his eyes.

5

Cedric spent his Saturday catching up on homework and scheduled a briefing with his Quidditch team on Sunday morning in the Hufflepuff common room. His teammates looked visibly relieved to see him back to his usual self. It was another tough match coming up against Slytherin. Despite beating them last year, Cedric didn’t want the team to grow complacent so he scheduled the practice quite early this time.

“We’re only 90 points behind Slytherin, so if we win against them, we still have a chance at second place if we win against Ravenclaw the next match,” Cedric told his team.

“But we could hope for first place, in case Gryffindor loses to Ravenclaw next week. Potter doesn’t have his new broom yet. He might have to use the Shooting Star for the match,” Maxine pointed out.

The rest of the team laughed goodnaturedly, but Cedric just gave her a brief smile. Despite Harry riding an old, second-hand broom, Cedric was sure he could still manage to catch the Snitch before Terry Boot.

He continued, “I think we’ll have to change our tactics against Slytherin. Tamsin and Malcolm, I need you two to stay close to their Chasers. I don’t trust their tricks. Use the Bludgers whenever you can. For the rest of us, we’re going more defensive this time…”

By the time he finished conferred the tactics with others, they headed up for lunch in the Great Hall. On the way, they ran into Miles, who looked more excited than usual.

“Cedric! You won’t believe Potter’s new broom!” Miles said, breathlessly. “It’s a Firebolt!”

The reactions were immediate. Heidi and Tamsin gasped, Anthony cursed, and Maxine muttered, “No fucking way.”

Cedric couldn’t stop smiling. Of course, Harry would get the best broom in the world. The Firebolt had been advertised in the Daily Prophet for over a year, but the actual brooms had only been released after the New Year. No one had dreamed of seeing one, let alone riding it.

Except, of course, Harry Potter.

The excitement in the Great Hall was palpable. Every student present at lunch had their eyes fixed on the Gryffindor table. Harry was surrounded by students praising the broom and expressing their excitement. Cedric could barely spot Harry’s messy black hair amidst the crowd, but he could hear the enthusiastic chatter, the loudest coming from the Weasley twins. 

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, a chilling silence had fallen. Murderous glares were directed at Harry from across the hall, making Cedric feel a little concerned for the younger boy.

He waited until the crowd had dispersed after lunch before catching up with Harry.

“A decent broom you’ve got there,” he teased.

Harry turned, grinning smugly. “Well, it’ll do for a match or two.”

Cedric laughed. “I guess that’s from Sirius?”

Harry looked surprised. “How did you know? I thought James would send me his old broom. I wrote to my parents about getting detention from Snape after a fight with Malfoy, and this—” he raised the broom in his hand, “came with a note saying it was from ‘Padfoot.’”

“That’s so Sirius,” Cedric said, deadpan. Harry snickered at the pun.

“He can’t stand Snape, and winning the Quidditch Cup is his way of getting back at him. It’s childish, really, but I’m glad for it. Want to try it? Ron’s got dibs after me, but you can come with us now.”

Cedric really wanted to ride the Firebolt, but he’d already scheduled practice with his team. He shook his head, regrettably. “Maybe some other time. I can hog it for the whole summer.”

“You bet!” Harry grinned widely. “But sure! I’m not going anywhere. Just knock on my door anytime.”

A warmth spread through Cedric’s chest as he met Harry’s green eyes, and his simple, honest smile. It was a feeling Cedric couldn’t quite name, but it made his heart beat a little faster.

He quickly glanced down at his feet, gathering himself before looking back up at Harry with a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The news of Harry’s Firebolt spread like wildfire all week. Even at the Duelling Club, students from different houses came to ask Harry about his broom. The buzz got so loud that Moody had to scold them. Harry was already a talented player, and now with the Firebolt, he was practically unbeatable. He’d earned the nickname ‘Quidditch Prodigy’ (Cedric was sure one of the Weasley twins had started it), which fit him perfectly.

And on the day of the match, just as everyone had predicted, Gryffindor easily crushed Ravenclaw in such a quick game.

As the game started, it became clear that Ravenclaw, despite their strong Chasers and solid tactics, were struggling to keep up. The Firebolt was unbelievably fast. 

Cedric leaned forward in his seat in the Hufflepuff stands, hands gripping the wooden rail, eyes fixed on the pitch below. He could hear Lee Jordan’s excited commentary booming through the stands.

“And there he is! Potter, riding the Firebolt! This broom is the fastest model on the market, capable of reaching speeds up to—”

“ Jordan! ” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut in. “This is not an advertisement for racing brooms!”

“Right, right – sorry, Professor!” Lee said cheerfully, but there was still a mischievous edge to his tone as he continued. “But seriously folks, look at the way Potter moves on it! Unbelievable control!”

Cedric chuckled softly, but even from the Hufflepuff stands, he couldn’t help but agree. To see Firebolt in action was something else entirely, and clearly a talented Seeker made it look like a show. Harry took to the air with a natural grace, as if he and the Firebolt were one. Every motion was smooth and fluid, every turn precise and sharp.

“Merlin, that's a deadly move.” Miles clapped along with the others and leaned in to say it to him. Cedric nodded agreeably. 

“I’m glad I didn’t play against Harry. Save me from humiliating myself.” Cedric murmured.

He watched, almost in awe, as Harry dodged bludgers with ease and zoomed past the Ravenclaw Seeker, Terry Boot, who seemed helpless in comparison.

“Gryffindor’s got a real edge with Potter on that broom!” Lee Jordan’s voice boomed. “And Terry Boot’s struggling to—wait, Potter’s seen the Snitch!”

Cedric’s heart skipped a beat as Harry shot forward, his focus razor-sharp, the Firebolt responding instantly to his every move. Cedric’s breath caught as Harry streaked across the pitch, barely a blur. Boot tried to keep up, but there was no chance. In what felt like only a heartbeat, Harry reached out and closed his fingers around the Snitch.

The stands erupted into cheers. Gryffindor had crushed Ravenclaw, and Harry had done it with such skill that even Cedric couldn’t tear his eyes away.

As Harry soared through the air in victory, Cedric felt something strange in his chest. That feeling again. Warm and fluttering. Something deeper that made his heart race. His gaze lingered on the younger boy, and at that moment, he found it impossible to look away.

6

He tried, again, not to dwell on the warm feelings simmering in his stomach whenever he saw Harry or greeted him in the hallway. It was the same smile and those intense green eyes, but something about the boy had changed the way Cedric perceived him. That vague, terrifying feeling grew stronger each time they crossed paths.

Gryffindor's win against Ravenclaw had abruptly changed the dynamics of the competition, and if Cedric could say, even the relationships between the houses. 

Slytherin had gone unusually quiet throughout the match, and they somehow behaved during meals, since there weren’t many taunts or jeers coming from their table. Cedric had expected Gryffindor's victory to escalate tensions, but instead, it was eerily calm.

However, some of the eyes from the Slytherin table had shifted toward Hufflepuff, and Cedric wasn't the only one with this premonition.

After they finished practice and were heading back to the castle, Maxine voiced her concerns.

"I don't like this," Maxine declared. "With all those Slytherins staring at us whenever we carry our brooms outside, it's like snakes waiting to strike. I feel like someone’s going to stab me in the back at any moment." She shuddered at the thought.

Cedric was glad he had made her vice-captain. Maxine’s instincts were sharp. 

He looked at his other teammates, who hadn’t sensed what Maxine and he had, but now wear worried expressions. “Stay alert. It’s twelve days until the match against Slytherin, but keep an eye out for anything suspicious, alright?”

“Is it really that bad?” Zacharias groaned.

“It can be,” Malcolm warned. “Remember all the dirty tricks they pulled against Gryffindor last year?”

“But we’re not Gryffindor! Hufflepuff’s always been nice to everyone, and we’re pacifists,” Zacharias tried to argue. His last words earned a scoff from Maxine, Anthony, and Heidi.

“I don’t think it matters who we are,” Cedric said carefully. “Just keep your guard up.”

Slytherin's vicious scheme revealed itself a week later.

It started with an article in The Quibbler about Hippogriffs, which Luna had helped research and write. And the reception wasn’t kind. That morning, Cedric overheard Malfoy loudly ridiculed the article, calling it absurd and saying only lunatics would write or believe it. Malfoy even announced at his table that anyone who subscribed to The Quibbler could come to him for two Galleons to cancel their ‘trash magazine’ membership.

Cedric had to leave the Great Hall even before finishing his meal. If he stayed any longer, he would have confronted Malfoy and demanded an apology to Luna, and that would have made things much worse.

Because it wasn’t just that incident. The Slytherins weren’t openly bullying or going on rampages like they had against the Gryffindors last year. This time, they were more cunning, more secretive, and worse.

It happened when Cedric was translating Rune verses in the library one evening after lessons, when Malcolm rushed in, his face pale and slightly shaken.

“Heidi’s locked herself in the bathroom since this afternoon,” his teammate blurted out breathlessly. “Pucey insulted her parents in front of the class. He said during Dark Arts that her parents could be the next targets of the cursed van’s serial killer because they’re hippie junkies, and all the Slytherins laughed at her. Pucey got detention from Moody, obviously, but Heidi burst out crying in the middle of class.”

Cedric's heart sank, quickly replaced by deep concern. Heidi had always been a bit self-conscious about being the only Muggle-born to make the Quidditch team since her second year, but she was one of the kindest, sweetest housemates Cedric knew. He hadn’t known much about her parents or what they did for a living until now. How did the Slytherins know about that?

Quickly gathering up his books and quills, Cedric followed Malcolm out of the library.

“What should we do?” he asked, looking a little lost.

“Go back to the dorm. Find Heidi’s friends, Melinda and Alice. They're probably consoling her by now. I’m going to talk to Professor Sprout.” That was all Cedric could think of at the moment.

Before dinner, Cedric went to see Professor Sprout and explained what had happened. The Hufflepuff house head looked furious, her eyes gleaming with undeniable anger.

“This is serious misbehavior,” she said sternly. “I will inform Professor Snape. Mr. Pucey could get a month’s detention for this.”

But Cedric couldn’t help sharing his suspicions. “I think this could be more than just an isolated incident, Professor. This might be part of a plan to demoralize our team before the match.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Mr. Diggory,” Professor Sprout said thoughtfully. “But I understand what you mean.” She placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do my utmost to address this.”

Cedric nodded, though her reassurance didn’t fully settle his unease. Even if Pucey got what he deserved, maybe even being banned from playing as Chaser. Slytherin had plenty of substitutes. Their team was made up of players with strong, large frames, and Pucey’s absence wouldn’t leave a noticeable gap.

Besides, there was no way Pucey had come up with that insult about Heidi’s parents without deliberate planning. The thought that this verbal assault might be just the beginning sent a shudder through Cedric, but he knew he had to be prepared for whatever came next.

The next day, things got worse.

As a Prefect, Cedric often dealt with students bringing him their problems, but over the past few weeks, he had noticed an unsettling trend. Taunts and jeers had become more frequent, with the insults targeting students' blood status. For the first time, Cedric realised that more than half of his housemates were Muggle-born. And now they were constantly receiving condescending remarks from the Slytherins, who managed to toe the line, keeping their insults from being considered outright bullying:

"Oh, sorry, I forgot you're new to all of this. Need me to explain magic to you?"

"It's funny, isn't it? You don’t exactly fit in here."

"Ah, another first-generation wizard. That must be difficult, no magical relatives to help guide you."

"So, what do your Muggle parents think about real magic?"

Lawrence had even confided in Cedric that two sixth-year Slytherins had cornered him, casually remarking that he looked like a Muggle orphan they used to beat up in the summer.

“It’s fine. They didn’t actually threaten me or anything,” Lawrence quickly added after seeing the way Cedric’s expression hardened.

“How cowardly of them,” Cedric said angrily, slamming his History book shut more forcefully than necessary. “I bet they think they can keep doing that and get away scot-free because their words don’t sound like real threats.”

Lawrence looked startled by his reaction. “It’s okay, Ced. I’ve been warned. You warned me things could turn out like this.”

“I wish I could do more,” Cedric said bitterly.

Phoebe, who had been silently listening the whole time, spoke up. “Maybe you shouldn’t. Clearly, it’s their plan to rile you up or distract you. They can’t get to you directly, so they’re going after others. You’re the face of our house, and as a Prefect, you’ll have to deal with this.”

“And all of this just for Quidditch!” Cedric snapped. “Lawrence, Heidi, and the others shouldn’t be targets just because certain people want to ensure they win the game. I’d forfeit if it would stop them from being insulted over this petty scam.”

“No! Don’t surrender!” Lawrence cried.

“You’d be playing right into their hands if you called off the match,” Miles reasoned.

Cedric clenched his teeth, wanting desperately to argue that this wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a vicious, underhanded attack on students from different backgrounds. His heart ached. After his parents’ separation, he understood the deep desire for belonging. He knew what it was like to yearn for a place where you could feel like yourself. These verbal, careless taunts just made his housemates feel small and out of place in what was supposed to be their second home. 

The last three days before the game, all jeers and heckles escalated. The fifth-year Hufflepuff shared Potions class with Slytherin, but Cedric rarely noticed the tension between their houses, not until recently. 

The Potions classroom was chilly as always, the dim light casting shadows across the rows of worktables. Cedric stirred his cauldron carefully, the familiar soft bubbling of his Draught of Peace filling the air around him. It was the last lesson of the day, and everyone was tired. The sharp scent of various ingredients hung heavy in the room, making it feel even more oppressive. Professor Snape had just left to retrieve more ingredients from the storage room, leaving the class in an uneasy silence.

Cedric tried to focus on his potion, but the tension between the two houses was palpable. He could feel the eyes of Montague, the Slytherin Chaser, on him. 

“Nice job, Diggory,” Montague’s voice rang out. His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Your potion looks almost as perfect as your precious Hufflepuff friends. Tell me, does it feel good playing the hero all the time?”

Cedric didn’t look up, keeping his focus on his cauldron. Montague wasn’t worth it.

When Cedric didn’t respond, Montague’s grin widened, but he wasn’t finished. “Oh, silent treatment? Classic Diggory. Always the noble one, never one to get his hands dirty. Figures, though. Hufflepuffs are all the same… good for nothing but hard work and staying out of the way.”

Cedric clenched his jaw but kept silent, refusing to give Montague the reaction he wanted.

The Slytherin Chaser, seeing that Cedric wasn’t taking the bait, turned his attention elsewhere. His gaze landed on Phoebe, who was quietly finishing her own potion a few tables away. 

“Well, well, well,” Montague said loudly, loud enough for the entire class to hear. “If it isn’t Tacklewood. How’s the potion coming? Must be easy when you’ve got all that Muggle-born knowledge to help you.” He paused dramatically, his voice lowering to a venomous drawl. “Oh wait, that’s right… your parents are Squibs, aren’t they? Guess they didn’t get much help from Hogwarts, did they?”

The room fell silent. Phoebe’s hand froze mid-stir. The calm and unshakable exterior she usually wore faltered and her face went pale. The glass bottle she had been holding slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor. The Draught of Peace she had so carefully brewed spread across the floor in a shimmering puddle.

Cedric’s heart dropped. He could see the shock and pain in his friend’s eyes, the way her usually composed demeanor had crumbled. 

A surge of anger rose in his chest, more intense than anything he had felt in a long time.

“Montague, that’s enough,” Cedric said, his voice low and quiet. The class turned to look at him in surprise.

Montague chuckled, unbothered. “What? It’s the truth. I’m just stating a fact.”

Cedric stood up, his eyes locked onto Montague’s. “It wasn’t your truth to share. And you had no right to humiliate her in front of everyone like that.”

The room was deathly silent. No one had ever seen him this angry, and it made the moment even more intense. Even Montague looked taken aback for a brief moment, before he quickly recovered with a sneer.

Before either of them could say more, the door to the storage room creaked open, and Professor Snape swept back into the room. His sharp gaze immediately fell on the broken glass and spilled potion near Phoebe’s table.

“What is going on here?” Snape’s voice was icy as his eyes narrowed at the scene.

Cedric didn’t hesitate. “Montague insulted Phoebe, sir,” he said, his voice still simmering with anger. “He brought up her parents in front of everyone.”

“I just said that her parents are Squibs, sir.” Montague responded. 

Snape’s expression didn’t change, but there was a brief flicker of something in his eyes as he glanced at Montague, who was standing there with an air of smugness.

“Insulted, Diggory?” Snape drawled, his voice smooth and emotionless. “Or did Montague simply state a fact?”

Cedric’s fists clenched at his sides, as he repeated what he’d said to the Slytherin. “He humiliated her, Professor. He had no right.”

Snape’s gaze swept over the room before settling back on Montague. “I see. While Montague’s comment was, perhaps, unnecessary, stating that someone’s parents are Squibs is not an insult. It is a fact. There will be no points deducted.”

The Slytherins exchanged victorious glances, smug satisfaction evident on their faces. Cedric’s stomach twisted in frustration, but there was nothing more he could do.

The lesson ended and they headed back to the Hufflepuff common room. Cedric walked beside Phoebe, who had been quiet the entire time. Miles and Lawrence were with them, and the four of them slipped into the familiar comfort of their warm common room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Phoebe spoke.

“It’s true,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “What Montague said… it’s true. My parents aren’t Muggles. They’re Squibs.”

Cedric, Miles, and Lawrence all turned to look at her, surprise flickering across their faces.

Phoebe continued, her usual flat voice trembling slightly. “I told you they were Muggles, but they’re actually from old pureblood families, Selwyn and Carrow. But they couldn’t go to Hogwarts. They couldn’t do magic, and because they didn’t fit in, they decided to live with Muggles. They started new lives… changed their last names, and got married.”

There was a heavy pause before she added, with a self-deprecating smile, “I was afraid to tell you. I didn’t want to change how you saw me. My parents were so surprised when I got my Hogwarts letter. They even hesitated to send me here. In the eyes of purists, Squibs are considered blood traitors. A disgrace to their family. The lowest class, even worse than the Muggle-born.”

She laughed quietly, but there was no real humor in it. “I’ve tried to be inconspicuous for so long. In fact, the reason I decided to befriend you in our first year, Cedric, was because I figured you’d outshine me. It was easier to live under your shadow.”

Cedric’s heart ached at her words. He hadn’t realised the weight Phoebe had been carrying all these years, and that was explained why she had been so secretive about her parents. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I could never be ashamed of you, Phoebe,” Cedric said firmly, his voice warm and sincere. “And I’m glad you told us. You’re our friend, and that won’t ever change.”

Lawrence, who had been quietly listening, suddenly stepped forward and pulled Phoebe into a tight hug. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Miles followed, wrapping his arms around both of them. Cedric joined in, the four of them standing wrapped themselves in a tight hug. 

When the day of the match arrived, his teammates were already exhausted and worn out. Everyone wanted nothing more than for the match to end, so the taunts from Slytherin would finally stop. Cedric couldn’t blame them one bit for their lack of energy at breakfast. But he was grateful for the other Hufflepuffs, who were always so eager to cheer them on. He even received some claps and cheers from the Gryffindors. To his surprise, the Weasley twins patted him on the back. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet also wished him good luck.

As Cedric tried to eat a few slices of bacon, Harry approached his table. His fierce green eyes were fixed on Cedric, who couldn’t help but admire how Harry ignored the few attempts from Slytherin to jeer at him as he walked past their table.

“Hey, good luck out there. I’ll be in the front row, ready to jump in if any Slytherin tries to hex you or your team,” Harry said with a grin.

His words made Cedric smile a little. “Alright. Thanks, Harry.”

Harry nodded briskly and returned to his table. Cedric didn’t realise he was still watching Harry walk away until Maxine’s voice snapped him out of his trance. She announced she was going to get some fresh air to calm her nerves, and Cedric’s attention shifted back to his teammates.

Before they headed out to the pitch, Cedric reminded them, “Focus on the game. Don’t let the jeers or the words get to you.”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Zacharias mumbled. His words didn’t do much to boost morale. Fifteen minutes later, they dragged their feet to the field with heavy hearts.

***

Cedric gripped his broom tightly. His eyes narrowed as he hovered near the Hufflepuff goalposts. The sky was a clear, crisp blue, but the atmosphere down on the ground was far from calm. 

From his position high above, Cedric could see Flint barking orders at Pucey and Montague, who zipped around like hornets trying to break through Hufflepuff’s defense. They were playing dirty, as usual, elbows jutting out as they dove for the Quaffle and shouting taunts at his teammates whenever they flew past. 

“Blood traitors!” Flint had sneered earlier when Zacharius had streaked past him. “You think you belong up here with us?”

Cedric’s jaw tightened. He’d told his teammates to ignore it and just focus on the game. But even now, he could see Maxine glaring at Derrick after another near collision, her grip tightening on her broomstick. He couldn’t blame her. The taunts had gotten uglier with every passing minute.

Down below, the Hufflepuff Chasers were still moving like a well-oiled machine. Heidi darted between Pucey and Montague, passing the Quaffle to Zacharius with a fluid motion. Zacharius, in turn, rocketed forward, ducking under Bole’s outstretched arm and sending the Quaffle soaring toward the Slytherin goalposts. Warrington barely had time to react before the ball sailed past him.

“Another ten points to Hufflepuff!” shouted Jordan, his voice echoing across the pitch.

Cedric pumped his fist, a grin spreading across his face. 90-30. We’ve got this. If they could keep it up, they might have a real shot at winning this.

But even as he celebrated, a flash of green and silver caught his eye. Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin Seeker was darting through the air, his sharp eyes scanning the pitch for the Snitch. Cedric’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t seen any sign of it yet, but Malfoy’s sudden movement set him on edge.

He spurred his broom forward. He had to stay one step ahead of Malfoy. If Slytherin caught the Snitch, the 90-30 lead wouldn’t matter.

The crowd below erupted into a mix of boos and cheers as Tamsin sent a Bludger hurtling toward Pucey, narrowly missing his head. Pucey let out an angry shout, but Tamsin didn’t flinch, her face set in grim determination as she looped back around to find another target. Cedric couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. 

But then, without warning, Flint dove low, crashing into Tamsin as she tried to swing her bat. Cedric’s heart leaped into his throat as Tamsin spiraled off course, barely managing to right herself before hitting the ground. The Slytherins let out a roar of approval, but no foul was called.

“Come on!” Cedric muttered under his breath. Madam Hooch rushed to the scene but only called for a foul. Flint, looking satisfied, got back to the team just short minutes of getting scolded. 

He cast a quick glance at Tamsin, who was also back in the air, determination etched across her face. He had faith in her, in all of them. But the pressure was mounting, and Slytherin wasn’t going to make this easy.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy again, speeding toward the stands. Cedric’s instincts kicked in, and he dove after him. Malfoy had seen something.

His heart pounded in his chest as the wind rushed through his hair, the adrenaline surging through him. This was it. Cedric leaned into his broom, gaining speed, the roar of the crowd fading into the background. It was just him, the broom, and Malfoy now.

As he closed the gap between them, Cedric’s eyes scanned the air ahead. There, just above the Ravenclaw stand, a glimmer of gold flying nearby.

Cedric shot forward, his hand outstretched, fingers grazing the air as the Snitch darted ahead of him. Malfoy was right beside him, his pale face scrunched in concentration, their brooms neck and neck. The wind howled in Cedric's ears as he pushed his broom to the limit, his heart pounding.

“And here they go, Diggory and Malfoy in a dead heat! Who’s going to grab the Snitch?!” Lee Jordan’s voice excitedly boomed out.

Just a little closer. Cedric could feel the Snitch's wings fluttering, a blur of gold just ahead.

But then, a scream.

His focus shattered. Cedric’s eyes darted toward the sound. Maxine was swinging dangerously in mid-air, her broom spinning uncontrollably. Flint and Derrick hovered nearby, laughing, clearly proud of whatever trick they had pulled.

Cedric's stomach clenched as he saw Maxine’s hands slipping, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on. She was too high up. If she fell...

In a heartbeat, Cedric made his decision. He jerked his broom away from the race, abandoning the Snitch and diving toward Maxine. He moved on instinct, and reached her just in time, grabbing hold of her arm as her broom twirled beneath her, steadying her as best he could.

"I've got you!" he shouted over the wind, holding tight as he guided her back into a safer position.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy, his smirk wide as he extended his hand and grabbed the Snitch. The stands erupted with cheers and jeers. 

Slytherin had won.

The match was over, but Cedric didn’t care. They no longer had to suffer through Slytherin’s malice they had been put through for the whole past week. That’s what mattered.

As he steered Maxine down, the roars of the Slytherin supporters still filled the air. Malfoy was basking in the glory, the Snitch held high in his hand as Flint and Derrick whooped in triumph. 

Just as his feet touched the ground, Cedric turned to check his teammates, but something caught his eye.

Flint, dismounting from his broom and, in one swift motion, he smacked Heidi across the face with the bristles of his broomstick. Heidi’s small frame reeled back. She clutched her cheek in shock. Even from afar, Cedric could read his lips clearly, as Flint mounted the word "Mudblood" and sneered at her.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze around Cedric. His blood boiled, and without thinking, he crossed the pitch toward Flint. Every muscle in his body was tight with anger.

“You’ve already won,” Cedric said, his voice low but cutting as he stopped inches from Flint, towering over him. “So stop harassing my friends.”

The entire school seemed to hold its breath. The Slytherins went silent, watching as Cedric glared at Flint. Even the Hufflepuff stands, usually filled with hum of chatter, were still.

Flint tried to wave him off, scoffing. "What? It was an accident." His voice dripped with false innocence. “I just... landed wrong.”

Cedric tried to keep his voice steady. “That wasn’t an accident, and you know it,” he said. “You used a slur. You hit her on purpose.”

The rest of the school seemed to come alive at Cedric’s words. Hufflepuff students shouted their outrage, and even Gryffindors and Ravenclaws joined in. The stands were buzzing, but Cedric didn’t take his eyes off Flint.

In the chaos, Madam Hooch swooped down onto the field, her whistle shrill and sharp. Professor Sprout rushed forward as well, looking anxious and worried. Behind her was Professor Snape, stalking toward the scene, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on here?” Madam Hooch demanded, looking between Cedric and Flint.

Cedric was the first to speak. “Flint used a slur against one of my teammates and struck her with his broom,” he said, his voice carrying through the air. “Slytherin’s been taunting us all week, but this has gone too far. If this kind of behavior is allowed to continue, I won’t lead Hufflepuff in another match next year.”

Flint looked like he wanted to argue, but the outrage from the rest of the school drowned him out. Even Snape’s scowl deepened as the protests from hundred students echoed around them.

Heidi, still holding her face, was crying softly. Tamsin wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close for comfort. 

Dumbledore arrived then his presence quieted the crowd, though the tension still lingered like a storm cloud.

After a moment of consideration, Dumbledore raised his voice. “While Slytherin may have won the game, the behavior exhibited today is unacceptable.” His blue eyes settled on Flint. “Mr. Flint, you are banned from the next match, and Slytherin will lose 100 points for your actions.”

A collective gasp went up from the Slytherin stands. Their cheers from earlier now turned to angry mutters and disgruntled silence.

The scoreboard changed instantly. The proud 180-90 score shifted to a shocking 80-90, and Hufflepuff’s name glowed brighter. Despite their chance in the final match with Gryffindor, Slytherin had no chance of winning the House Cup now.

But Cedric wasn’t thinking about points at all. As he glanced at his team, the exhaustion on their faces mirrored his. Tamsin was still comforting Heidi, while Maxine and the others stood by, quietly catching their breath.

Lawrence, Miles, and Phoebe approached him quietly after he got out of the changing room. 

“You did the right thing,” Lawrence said, clapping him on the back. Miles nodded in agreement, and Phoebe offered him a small smile.

Cedric wanted to feel relieved. He wanted to feel like justice had been served, but as he thought of his team, all he could feel was the crushing weight of everything that had happened in the past week.

7

The Hufflepuff team was met with loud applause the moment they entered the Great Hall. Cheers erupted from their housemates and from many Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Cedric caught a glimpse of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna in the crowd, clapping along with the rest. 

The entire Hufflepuff team was welcomed warmly. Maxine broke into tears, while Heidi was surrounded by hugs and pats on the back. Cedric was stopped repeatedly by people praising him, saying what he did had given them goosebumps and calling it noble and a great sportsmanship, or even heroic. But Cedric knew better. He hadn’t done it for the praise. He hadn’t even thought when he moved to confront Flint. It was simply the right thing to do. 

It took two weeks for the excitement and tension from the Quidditch match to subside. Cedric found himself agreeing with Hermione during their library session, where they were working on the second draft of Hagrid’s speech, that the whole school needed something better to focus on – Quidditch wasn’t everything.

After what had happened, despite his love for flying, he found himself enjoying Quidditch less. He still loved the game, but he hated the tension and high-pressure stakes that built up between the teams. It revealed the ugly, unpleasant side of people, and the cruelty they could show just to win. Cedric had always known he wasn’t cut out for a professional Quidditch career, and he didn’t regret that choice.

As the weeks went by, life gradually returned to normal, heading into February with a sense of restored peace. 

Every subject still assigned long essays for homework, along with more frequent small tests and quizzes. Professor McGonagall ignored any complaints and went ahead with a half-term assessment to test their knowledge in the second term. Professor Flitwick also gave them lists of new spells to revise after class, noting that they would help ‘save their lives’ when it came to the real exams. Cedric enjoyed the challenges Professor Moody presented in each class and looked forward to learning new defensive spells in the Duelling Club. The club had progressed to the point where students could confidently choose their own spells, rather than relying on Moody’s list of offensive and defensive ones.

“Diggory,” Professor Moody called out to him after the club ended one evening. The sky was darkening into shades of purple.

Cedric glanced at the professor nervously before walking over to him. Moody’s magical eye remained fixed on him.

“What you did in that nasty match was admirable. I’m glad to see a student with the spine to stand up for what’s right,” Moody said.

Cedric felt a little flustered by the compliment, as he had known approval from Moody was rare.

“Thank you, sir.”

Moody gave a thoughtful hum. “Have you ever thought about becoming an Auror? You have the right mind for it. You have righteousness and leadership. Few Aurors possess that, shockingly. Too often they let the position get to their heads. The field needs Aurors with the right mindset like you.”

His words took Cedric by surprise. It wasn’t now just a compliment, but Moody’s personal assessment of him, and it moved Cedric. Becoming an Auror was a prestigious career path, with limited openings each year. Candidates had to endure rigorous training and pass difficult tests before they could enter the field. Hearing one of the most respected Aurors suggested that Cedric could become one was high praise indeed.

“It’s an interesting idea, sir. But I’ve already made up my mind,” Cedric said apologetically.

Moody nodded. “I’ve heard from Professor Sprout that you want to become a historian. That’s a fine choice, but give it some thought, will you? With your grades, you’ll have the freedom to pick any subject in your sixth year. Just don’t drop Defense Against the Dark Arts next year. That’s all I ask. It’ll come in handy no matter what career you pursue.”

Cedric nodded. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

Moody grunted and slowly turned to walk away, his wooden leg thudding against the ground, the sound echoing through the empty schoolyard.

“Hey, Ced. Rowanna McClare from Ravenclaw asked me to see if you’re free for Valentine’s Day in Hogsmeade this week. And let me tell you, she’s gorgeous.”

Cedric didn’t look up from reading his letters before sending them to his parents. “I’m not. I’m going to help Hagrid to pick up his suit for the court hearing next week.”

He heard Lawrence groan. “Seriously, mate. You’ve done so much for others. It’s time to live life a little. Last week, you even turned down that nice-looking girl. What's her name? Freya? Frica?”

“I’m perfectly fine with where I am right now, but thanks anyway.”

“Why don’t you ask those pretty girls out yourself?” Miles asked Lawrence.

“I’ll never have a chance with them,” Lawrence grumbled.

“You’ll never know until you ask. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

Lawrence huffed and buried his head in the pillows. “Why do I have to be friends with these nerds? They’ll never understand anything about women.”

Miles laughed. “And you, Lawrence Anderson, understand the least of all.” That earned laughter from Cedric and Phoebe.

But one thing from Lawrence’s words stuck with Cedric. He just realised that the Hogsmeade visit fell on Valentine’s Day, and how quickly time had flown. It seemed like just last year that he had started dating Cho Chang, and now it felt like ages ago. He tried to smile at Cho whenever he saw her in the corridors, but Cho completely ignored him. From what Lawrence had said, she was now dating Terry Boot and seemed to have forgotten Cedric’s existence entirely. 

Cedric sighed. There was nothing he could do about it.

On Valentine’s Day, most of the shops in Hogsmeade were decorated with droopy hearts in shades of pink and red. Students seemed excited, strolling through the shops and trying out new sweets and treats for the occasion. Cedric made a mental note to stop by Honeydukes for their special chocolate fondue, which had been advertised half-priced at the front door.

Madam Campbell’s Seamstress was the only tailor shop in Hogsmeade, located far east toward the Faerie Statue. Being the only shop in the neighbourhood, it was guaranteed to have a long queue and a backlog of orders.

Cedric didn’t have to wait long before he heard the footsteps of a group approaching. To his surprise, he was greeted not only by Hermione and Hagrid but also by Ron and Harry. Hagrid trailed behind them, looking like he had been dragged there against his will. His large feet trudged heavily on the ground as a clear sign of his nerves.

“It took some convincing to get him to buy a new suit,” Hermione whispered as they squeezed into the shop, which felt even smaller with the five of them packed inside.

Madam Campbell, who appeared to be in her fifties, stood tall behind the counter in a bright yellow dress robe. She greeted them with an apologetic smile.

“Good morning, darling, but I’m afraid today’s orders are already full. A lot of people want new dresses and suits for this lovely Valentine’s Day.”

Her words confirmed Cedric’s earlier worries, much to his dismay. 

But Harry calmly stepped in front of the counter and pulled a small card from his jeans pocket. “I hope this helps. Sirius always admired your handiwork, Madam Campbell, and he personally recommended your shop.” He flashed a smile, one Cedric didn’t recognise in Harry before.

Madam Campbell’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked at the card. “Oh, well—Mr. Black is always one of our great patrons, and I appreciate his generosity.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, gesturing toward Hagrid, who looked startled at being mentioned. “We’d like a simple formal suit for my friend here. Nothing too fancy. I’m sure it won’t take long, right?”

Madam Campbell glanced nervously at Hagrid’s size, then nodded slowly. “If it’s just a formal suit, it shouldn’t take long. Less than two hours, perhaps.”

Harry grinned. “Perfect.”

Madam Campbell motioned for Hagrid to step forward and follow her to the back of the shop for measurements.

“You’ll be fine, Hagrid,” Hermione encouraged gently, just as Hagrid knocked into a vase on the counter. Ron quickly caught it before it hit the floor.

With no other choice, Hagrid sighed and begrudgingly followed the seamstress to the back. The group let out a collective sigh of relief.

“How did you do that?” Cedric asked Harry after they left the shop, finally able to breathe freely on the cobblestone street.

Harry just laughed. “Sirius warned me about the shop’s endless queues. Madam Campbell is a bit particular about her customers, so it helps to have good connections.”

“No, I mean… the way you talked. It was impressive.” Cedric shook his head, still unsure how to put it into words.

“Oh,” Harry seemed caught off guard. “It’s nothing, really. I just pretended I was doing actual business.”

“He’s a natural, isn’t he?” Ron teased, and Cedric was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought Harry’s charade was spot on. It was a completely different side of Harry than the blunt and stubborn boy Cedric knew.

Hermione’s voice brought Cedric out of his thoughts. “We have a few more things to get while Hagrid’s being fitted. A nice perfume, and I’m thinking about potions to help ease his nerves before the hearing.”

“I’m not going to a perfume shop,” Ron said, looking horrified.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine. Harry and Cedric can go to the perfume shop, and Ron and I will head to Pippin’s Potions. The shops are in opposite directions, so we should split up.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest but quickly glanced at Cedric and nodded. “Alright. Yeah, that sounds good.”

There was a scowl on Harry’s face. “And you trust me to pick out a cologne, Hermione? I appreciate your unearned confidence in me.”

“I don’t, that’s why Cedric’s going with you. I’m sure he knows how to pick a decent one.” Hermione smiled sweetly. There was something in her manner that Cedric couldn’t quite figure out. Harry just glared at her without saying a word.

They agreed to split up and meet again in an hour. The Scentsory (Harry scoffed at the name) was at the far end of the north, and they walked there in silence. If Cedric thought too much about it, he’d guess the younger boy seemed a bit jumpy. Harry’s back was hunched, as if trying to make himself smaller, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He barely glanced at Cedric or made eye contact. It was a little amusing to watch, especially since his deflated expression was so different from the confident demeanor he’d shown in the shop just minutes ago.

They received some curious glances from students as they passed by, but Cedric was used to it by now. It definitely had an effect on Harry, though.

“I should’ve brought the invisibility cloak,” Harry grumbled. Cedric raised his eyebrows, but before he could respond, they arrived at the shop.

The door swung open, and they were immediately greeted by the lingering scents in the air. The perfume shop was designed like a pub, but instead of shelves full of bottles, there were rows of small, neatly arranged cologne bottles filled with transparent liquid. Scented candles and aroma diffusers filled the air, overwhelming Cedric’s senses. The shop had no seating, except for stools by the counter.

The shop was already occupied by customers – all of them girls. As soon as they entered, a squeal escaped from one of the girls sitting at the end of the counter. She looked like she was Harry’s age, wearing make up and a fur jacket. The girl looked so bubbly and cheerful.

“Harry! Oh my god, are you going out with Cedric Diggory?” Her voice was excited, and Cedric felt a blush rise to his face.

“No, Lavender. We’re just running an errand,” Harry replied quickly, as if the response had been prepared. He hopped onto a stool, and Cedric followed. The shop owner appeared moments later with a bright smile, greeting them warmly.

“Hello! How are you? What can I do for you today?”

“We’re looking for a cologne for, uh—a man. For a formal occasion,” Harry told him.

“What kind of occasion? It makes all the difference, you know. A wedding, a funeral, a promotion at the Ministry. Each one sets a different mood and tone,” the owner replied.

Harry coughed, looking a little uneasy. “Uh… the occasion is when you have to go to court to find out whether your magical creature is going to be executed or not.”

Cedric laughed. The shop owner looked startled, but being a professional, he quickly composed himself and mumbled, “Wait just a sec,” before hurrying to browse the shelves for perfume testers.

That’s when Cedric heard Lavender’s voice again. 

“Cedric, do you have a date for Valentine’s Day yet?” she asked.

He tried to smile. “Uh... no.”

She gasped. “Really?! I’m sure a lot of people have already asked you. What happened? Did you have someone in mind and they turned you down?” She and her friend giggled.

Beside Cedric, Harry rolled his eyes and whispered, “Just ignore her.”

“Who would you like to go out with?” Lavender continued. “I know a lot of girls—and boys—”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than hang out here?” Harry interrupted, clearly annoyed.

Lavender seemed unfazed. “Why? Joshua’s the nicest, and we can just sit here enjoying the perfumes.”

Harry sighed, glaring at her. “You and Parvati are just here for gossip.”

Lavender’s friend, Parvati, waved at Cedric. A look of amusement was clear on her face.

Their awkward interaction was saved by the shop owner, Joshua, who returned with a selection of perfumes. Harry and Cedric took turns smelling different scents, inhaling the aromas of various herbs and magical flowers until Cedric started to feel a bit dizzy. After trying several, Joshua asked Harry which one he’d like to buy, but Harry’s expression went blank.

Finally, Cedric spoke up. “Can we get the mildest one?”

Joshua smiled. “Absolutely.” He went back to pack up the one he claimed was made from something ‘mildly aromatic’ though Cedric couldn’t remember the exact name.

They left the shop to the sound of Lavender’s loud goodbye. As soon as they stepped outside, Harry let out a sigh of relief.

“Of all people, we just had to run into Lavender Brown,” he said exasperatedly, as they walked back along the same route.

“She has quite a character,” Cedric agreed.

“She can be less annoying if she wants, but she chooses not to. Ever since Trelawney brainwashed her, she's been trying to match up everyone she knows according to star signs, testing out her theories and all that rubbish,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Cedric laughed. “She’d get along swimmingly with my friend, Lawrence. He’s been trying to play matchmaker for me.”

“Really? Do you need a matchmaker?” Harry scrunched up his nose. “You could ask any girl on the street right now to go out with you, and they’d say yes.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“Come on, everyone loves Cedric Diggory,” Harry replied, though his words had a hint of sarcasm, his tone was matter-of-fact. “You became a big deal in Gryffindor after standing up for Slytherin in that match. You’re practically a hero. Everyone adores you.”

Cedric winced. “Yeah, but I don’t see it as something so heroic.”

Harry stopped walking and turned to look at him. “I know. And that makes you a thousand times more admirable than that wart Marcus Flint.”

Cedric chuckled. “And what about you?”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You keep saying what other people think about me. What do you think?”

Cedric didn’t expect Harry to freeze, his unblinking eyes staring at Cedric, lips slightly parted. Cedric waited expectantly.

After a moment, Harry quickly recovered, stepping back and shuffling his feet. “I think you’re great, just like everyone says. You know what?” He glanced at his watch and abruptly said, “We’ve got about thirty minutes left. I’m hungry. Let’s grab some snacks before heading back to Hagrid’s.”

Without waiting for a response, Harry turned on his heel and headed toward the town square. 

Still trying to process Harry's reaction, Cedric followed, but didn’t get the chance to ask more as the boy walked briskly ahead without looking back. 

By the time they reached the pub, Harry was slightly out of breath.

Madam Rosmerta greeted them with a warm smile. “What can I get you two on Valentine’s? We’ve got a discount for couples—”

“I’ll have a sandwich. The normal one,” Harry cut in hurriedly. “For takeaway, please.”

Cedric nodded, still unsure of what had just happened. “Same for me.”

While waiting for their order, Harry looked visibly upset, his foot tapping the ground unconsciously as he avoided eye contact with Cedric.

Cedric turned over the conversation in his mind, wondering what he might have said to upset him. When they got their fresh bacon sandwiches and began walking back to Madam Campbell’s shop, the town square had grown more crowded. Some students waved hello, and a few greeted Cedric by name while casting curious glances at Harry, who continued walking briskly without looking back.

As they neared the faerie statue, Cedric gently touched Harry’s elbow. “What did I say that upset you?”

Harry jumped at the touch, blinking as if snapped out of a trance. “What? No! You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“Then why are you acting so strange?”

Harry sighed deeply and cursed under his breath. It wasn’t unusual for him to curse, but this time he looked morose. “I’m sorry. It’s me. My fault.” He raised a hand to rub his temple.

Relieved, Cedric managed to crack a joke. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you wouldn't like being seen with me when we walk together.”

But his attempt at humor didn’t land. Harry’s shoulders slumped, and he looked genuinely guilty.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way,” he mumbled.

Cedric would never get used to Harry apologising, and he knew he could forgive Harry instantly, no matter what he did. Perhaps it was because he had a soft spot for him.

“It’s alright,” Cedric said, smiling. “How about we find a place to sit and eat?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agreed.

They found an old wooden bench near Madam Campbell’s shop. There was no sign of Ron and Hermione. Cedric figured they had probably gone off for lunch, and they still had time before they needed to return to the shop.

As Cedric took his first bite, he realised just how hungry he was. The aroma of bacon, fresh tomatoes, and cheese quickly overpowered the lingering mix of perfumes from earlier, bringing clarity to his mind and senses.

Harry seemed to feel the same. After a few more bites in comfortable silence, he asked, “How are things with your parents?”

Cedric smiled. “Good, actually. We’ve settled some issues, and I feel much better, thanks to you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Harry mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“That night, when you told me not to dwell on a future that hasn’t come or a past that’s already gone… It really helped.”

Harry huffed. “You make it sound deeper than what I actually said.”

“No, I’m just repeating what I heard,” Cedric said simply. “You should learn to give yourself credit for being great too.”

A blush crept up Harry’s cheeks and nose, and for the first time, Cedric noticed how adorable Harry looked just like that.

“Um, thanks,” Harry mumbled, clearly flustered.

Cedric quickly glanced back at his sandwich, trying to clear his throat and tamp down his racing heart.

They talked about the usual stuff – classrooms and Quidditch. Cedric asked if Harry was worried about facing Slytherin in the final match next month, but Harry just shrugged, saying he knew Gryffindor’s team was way better than Slytherin’s. Still, Wood had warned all of them, especially Harry and the twins, to behave in class. Snape had been trying to get Harry in detention, and delay his practice or find any excuse to ground him.

“To be fair, Snape doesn’t make it easy to be the kindest man with Gryffindor,” Harry said grumpily. “He watches me like a hawk and deducts points every chance he gets. He even ignores Hermione when she’s the only one who answers correctly. He’s insufferable.”

“How many detentions has he given you this year?” Cedric asked.

Harry paused. “Uh… four, I think.”

Cedric looked at him, appalled.

The younger boy chuckled. “McGonagall’s already lost faith in me. The first thing she said to me in my first year was not to be like my father. But of course, I’ve inherited Prongs and Padfoot's way of living. I bet you’ve never gotten detention before, have you?”

Cedric shook his head. “Or had points deducted.”

Harry gasped. “Piss off, Diggory! Even Hermione’s broken the rules once or twice and gotten warned. What are you, a saint?”

Cedric laughed. “Believe me, most students are like me. Teachers don’t just randomly reprimand students. Maybe it’s just the Gryffindors with the rule-breaking mindset who are always under scrutiny. Or someone like you who ends up on their list.”

“That’s stereotypical bullshit,” Harry rolled his eyes. “So you’re saying with your handsome, good Hufflepuff-boy look, you can get away with anything?”

“Did you just call me handsome?” Cedric teased.

Harry blinked. It was quite a sight – watching another wave of blush slowly creep onto his cheeks as he looked flabbergasted. It was funny to see someone, who was usually so articulate and wise beyond their years, suddenly turn into a frozen statue for more than just one time a day. 

That warm, fluttering feeling Cedric used to get when he watched Harry on his Firebolt returned.

“No, I didn’t,” Harry said quickly.

Cedric rolled his eyes fondly. “You did. I heard you.”

“You must’ve heard it so many times you’re hallucinating now,” Harry argued.

Cedric grinned, not able to resist teasing. “That’s not what hallucination is, but I’m pretty sure I heard you clearly.”

He could almost see Harry’s mind working, trying to find a way out of this.

“You’re getting cocky, Diggory,” Harry muttered, swallowing hard.

Cedric shrugged, smiling. “I might be.”

Harry cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe it.” 

A red flush still lingered on his face, and Cedric couldn’t help but stare at him.

They finished their sandwiches just as they entered Madam Campbell’s shop. Shortly after, Ron and Hermione appeared from one of the alleyways on the east side, slightly out of breath. Ron had a sheepish look on his face, while Hermione glanced between Harry and Cedric, as if waiting for them to speak.

“Well?” Hermione asked cheerfully.

“Well what?” Harry quipped, sounding far from joyful.

“Did you two have a good time?” she asked airily, a puff of white smoke escaping her lips from the cold.

“If you mean we got the cologne, then yes,” Harry replied monotonously, pulling the small bottle out of his jacket.

She looked slightly disappointed. “Oh, that’s great.”

Ron, who had been trying to hold back laughter, let out a breathy chuckle, but stopped when Hermione shot him a glare. There was an unspoken exchange between them, a running joke that Cedric didn’t quite grasp.

“What are you talking about?” Cedric asked.

“Nothing,” Harry replied quickly, not waiting for anyone before rushing into the shop.

Hagrid’s suit wasn’t ready when they arrived, but they helped him pick out colors and styles for a sharp-cut suit. Cedric contributed ideas based on the Ministry suits he’d seen before. Hagrid looked more relaxed as time passed, and by the end of the forty minutes, when Madam Campbell wrapped up the clothes, he tucked them under his arm, looking relieved and grateful.

“You’ll look sharp when you face those foul gits at the Wizengamot, Hagrid,” Ron patted his arm.

“We’ve got your speech ready too. I’m sure everything will go fine,” Hermione added encouragingly. Hagrid responded with a slight hum, but beneath his thick beard, they could see him smiling.

“Thank yeh, everyone. I couldn’ have done it without you all.” Hagrid said, his voice thick with emotion as he clumsily pulled a towel from his coat to wipe his eyes.

By the time they returned to the castle, it was already five in the evening. Cedric wasn’t hungry, even though all he’d had was the sandwich with Harry and the butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Harry didn’t act strangely anymore. He’d even teased Ron mercilessly about his crush on Madam Rosmerta, much to everyone’s amusement. They all watched as Ron fumbled, the tips of his ears turning red like ripe tomatoes whenever Madam Rosmerta winked at them.

Cedric said goodbye to the trio and headed back to the common room to get changed, regretting a little that he’d forgotten to try the chocolate fondue at Honeydukes.

He was pulling on the new jumper when Lawrence barged into the dorm room.

“Is it true? A bunch of people have seen you going out with Harry Potter!”

Cedric sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “No—well, yes. But we were just buying cologne for Hagrid. It’s not like we’re dating.”

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. “You’re really close to him, huh? You’ve spent a lot of time with him lately… and Christmas too.”

He narrowed his eyes, as though scrutinizing Cedric, who felt he didn’t deserve to be put under interrogation about his dating life ever again.

“Yeah, but I’m not dating him,” Cedric replied slowly, trying to emphasize his point. “He’s like… a younger brother to me.”

It felt like a last-minute excuse to stop Lawrence from asking more questions, but his friend still seemed unconvinced. 

“Right…” Lawrence still looked unconvinced. “Just so you know, if you fancy Potter—”

“I don’t,” Cedric cut in quickly, eager for a way out of the conversation. He scrambled to find his shoes under the bed. “I’m heading to dinner. See you at the Great Hall.”

He dashed past Lawrence, who was left flummoxed. For now, Cedric wanted to avoid any more prying questions.

***

That night, though, as silence and darkness enveloped the dorm, Cedric couldn’t escape his own thoughts.

Staring up at the starry enchanted ceiling and listening to Lawrence’s soft snores, his mind refused to settle. He knew there was affection, something warm and very much alive, whenever he spent time with Harry. The night they spent watching the stars at Sirius’s manor had only confirmed it. But he couldn’t tell if this affection came from their long-standing closeness since childhood or if it was something else entirely. 

Deep down, he had cared for Harry for a long time, and it wasn’t something he had ever tried to hide or deny.

Still, Cedric felt restless. The image of Harry blushing made his stomach flip and filled him with a warm sensation in his chest, something he hadn’t experienced before, not even with Cho. It was a feeling he never thought he’d have for another boy, and that realisation both unnerved and excited him. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump into the unknown, free-falling without a broom.

What if he did feel something more for Harry? What would happen next? Would he want to be with him? Would he ask Harry out?

Cedric’s heart pounded in his ears. What would Harry think if he did ask him? Harry wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a bloke asking him out – after all, he’d been raised by Sirius and Remus. But Cedric wasn’t sure if Harry was interested in him that way. The idea of Harry not reciprocating, or worse, being terrified and trying to find a way to politely turn him down, was beyond terrifying. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing their friendship over such a vague, uncertain feeling. His friendship with Harry was too precious to risk over something he wasn’t even sure about himself.

The bitter memories of his last relationship with Cho still lingered. Cho had been right – he probably had feelings for Harry even back then. She might be right when she hinted that he wasn’t a good boyfriend. Cedric clenched his hands around his pillow. Even if Harry did feel the same, he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle a relationship. It would be a huge leap from their friendship, and the last thing Cedric wanted was to hurt Harry.

Lawrence’s snores grew louder, and somewhere in the dark Cedric heard someone groan in annoyance, probably Royle. Cedric sighed, grabbing another pillow to cover his ears. He shifted to his side, trying to force himself to sleep, though his heart was still pounding. 

The image of Harry’s blushing face stayed with him, lingering in his mind until the last moments before sleep finally took over.

8

A week after Valentine's Day went by rather uneventfully. Three highlights were helping Hagrid prepare for his second hearing, and another was dealing with an argument between some fourth-years in the common room over the last seat in Gobstone Club, and escorting a first year to Hospital Wing due to Peeve’s prankster. 

Dark clouds loomed over the castle for most of the week, and after Hufflepuff's Quidditch defeat this year, they didn’t have to compete with Ravenclaw, so Cedric spent most of his time indoors, working through massive amounts of homework either in the library or the common room.

On Wednesday, when Hagrid went to London for his second hearing, Cedric spent his time after classes in the library. Snape had just assigned a lengthy essay on the Befuddlement Draught, and there was an upcoming test that could cover any potion the fifth-years had brewed so far this year – both were due tomorrow.

The atmosphere in the library was grim and intense. Rain drizzled against the grey windows, and the air was cold and heavy like a tomb that trapped all the fifth-years in a trance of study. His friends were deep in their work, faces buried in their notebooks. Miles had his eyes closed, trying to memorize the ingredients for the Wit-Sharpening Potion, while Phoebe was furiously scribbling in her notebook, her earphones in, completely lost in her studies.

Lawrence, who got easily distracted, was the one who noticed the hurried footsteps approaching them.

“Hey, mate,” his friend shook Cedric’s shoulder.

Still focused on his notes, Cedric looked up a few seconds later, only to see Harry standing in front of him, drenched from the rain and still in his Quidditch uniform, as if he had just come right after the practice.

Right on cue, Cedric heard Madam Pince scolding someone for leaving wet footprints on the floor, and it seemed like Harry might be thrown out of the library any minute.

But the boy didn’t seem to care. He quickly tucked a piece of brown parchment, which Cedric recognised as the Marauder’s Map, into his robes. Something in Harry’s expression made Cedric forget all about the test and essay looming over him.

“Cedric, can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry asked breathlessly, glancing around the table at his friends, who all wore confused expressions. The younger boy’s tone was serious, with no hint of his usual playful grin or smile.

Cedric quickly nodded and stood up from the table. He turned to Lawrence, “Don’t wait for me,” before hurrying after Harry out of the library.

The cold drizzle in the courtyard cut through Cedric’s skin, but it wasn’t as chilling as the news Harry brought.

“Hagrid’s lost. Buckbeak is going to be executed in two weeks.” Harry’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Horror clutched at Cedric's heart. He couldn’t even form the questions that swirled in his mind. He didn’t want to imagine how Hagrid must be feeling right now.

“Those idiots didn’t even let him finish his speech – after all the effort he’d put in,” Harry spat, his green eyes hardening. “They wrapped up the case in less than an hour.”

“How’s he doing?” Cedric asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Bawling his eyes out. He might have to cancel class tomorrow. Luna’s with him now. Hermione’s crying in the common room. She was the first to hear the news and Ron’s with her.”

“Where are you going? To Hagrid’s?”

Harry nodded tightly. “But I’m going to write a letter to Sirius first. He might be able to help, even at the last minute. We’ve only got two weeks if we’re going to do something.”

“Let me come with you,” Cedric said.

Harry hesitated, but he didn’t say anything else. Together, they headed to the Owlery. 

On the way, Cedric had time to process what had happened. The unfair treatment Hagrid was facing, simply because Buckbeak had injured Draco Malfoy, was disgusting and cruel. He couldn’t believe that people like Lucius Malfoy or those old wizarding families could manipulate the system over something so petty. A small incident had led to the persecution of innocent lives: Hagrid, Buckbeak, and even people like Remus Lupin, just because these people couldn’t stand having their egos bruised.

When they reached the Owlery, the rain still hadn’t let up. Cedric waited while Harry wrote his letter in the corner. The younger boy’s face was almost emotionless with his lips pressed thin, except his green eyes revealed how deeply he felt.

Harry gently stroked his large white owl, Hedwig. He softly told her that he needed her to fly in the cold rain because the life of an innocent creature depended on it. Hedwig seemed to understand, as she blinked at him before lightly pecking his ink-smudged finger. 

Then, she spread her wings and took off into the chilly grey sky, and they watched her soar until she disappeared from view.

Stepping closer to Harry, Cedric quietly asked, “You alright?”

Harry turned to him. “I’m angry.”

Though the words were clipped and harsh, Cedric understood. He reached out and gently squeezed Harry’s shoulder, feeling the tension gradually ease from the younger boy. The effect was immediate – Harry leaned into the touch, slowly resting his head on Cedric’s shoulder and staying there, his face pressed against Cedric’s chest. Cedric could feel the warmth of Harry’s skin beneath his palm as he offered silent comfort.

Harry exhaled a long sigh, before pulling back, looking slightly sheepish. “We should get to Hagrid’s before it gets dark.”

Visiting Hagrid was devastating. They found the large man crying into his towel, while Luna sat beside him, gently touching his arm in comfort as he blew his stuffy nose.

With the rain still pouring outside, Hagrid had let Buckbeak and Fang inside. And it was hard to look at Buckbeak’s sharp eyes, knowing what fate awaited him. From everything Cedric had read about Hippogriffs' intelligence, he could tell Buckbeak understood his fate, too. The creature sat with his legs folded beneath him, a posture that seemed like acceptance.

“Th–thank you, Cedric, for the speech… You an’ Hermione were a great help. But… but I kept messing it up. I’m sorry… I couldn’ even finish the last paragraph before they told me to stop—so they could decide Beaky’s fate.” Tears ran down Hagrid’s beard as he broke down again. Luna murmured gentle reassurances.

“It’s not your fault, Hagrid. Don’t blame yourself,” Cedric said firmly. “Is there anything we can do to stop this? Can Professor Dumbledore step in? I’m sure he sees how unfair this case is too.”

“Dumbledore’s done more than enough for me already. He gave me this teachin' job, even without my certificates. I can’t bother him with this mess.” Hagrid’s voice was heavy with guilt.

He wiped his nose with a towel. “It… it’s always my fault. I’m not good enough… I got expelled in sixth year ‘cause o’ Aragog—my pet Acromantula. It was against the rules, but I couldn’t help it. They’re like my own babies. I’m not fit to take care o’ them…”

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Believe me,” Harry said, gripping Hagrid’s arm. “This isn’t over. We still have two weeks, and I’ll do everything I can.”

Cedric recognised that fiery conviction. He’d seen it many times before… those blazing green eyes that were full of intensity and determination. When Harry made a promise, Cedric knew he would hold onto it with all his might.

“Harry’s right,” Cedric said.

Luna nodded in agreement. She turned to Hagrid. “Don’t worry, Hagrid. Harry always finds a way. He’s good at executing plans. You can trust him.”

Harry smiled tightly.

It took a long while for Hagrid to calm down and when he finally did, Cedric, Harry, and Luna headed back to the castle with their heavy hearts. It was already dark outside, only the lights from the castle turrets and windows piercing the gloom.

Staring ahead into the darkness, Harry spoke up. “I’m going to win this Quidditch match and make Malfoy cry from the humiliation. He deserves every bit of it for what he’s done.”

Cedric didn’t say anything, but he reached out and patted Harry’s back. A silent sign of unwavering support.

***

It was a miracle that Cedric managed to finish his Potions essay before class the next day, and he considered himself lucky when the potion he was assigned to brew was the Aging Potion, one whose ingredients and steps he had memorized like the back of his hand. By the end of class, he handed the dark, shimmering green liquid in a tiny bottle to Snape, who regarded him silently. Cedric took that as a good sign.

Strangely, with the final Quidditch match approaching, there were no signs of squabbles between Gryffindors and Slytherins, particularly from the latter, who had plotted unscrupulous tactics in the previous game. Cedric suspected this sudden calm might be due to Dumbledore’s words after the previous match. Still, he could feel the heavy tension building between both sides.

Malfoy, as always, was loud and smug, his reaction similar to when Remus resigned. Cedric grimaced every time he saw the pale-faced boy jeering at Hagrid, calling him a janitor or a big ugly oaf, with other Slytherins obediently laughing along. Harry, on the other hand, kept to himself. Cedric only caught glimpses of Harry in his red and gold Quidditch uniform during early morning practices. The boy had mentioned that he was trying to avoid reckless actions to ensure he wouldn’t be banned from playing in the match. So Cedric rarely saw him in public places like the Great Hall or the library, as Harry’s presence could provoke a fight or bait from a Slytherin. 

Cedric was relieved to run into Hermione in Arithmancy class the next day, which had become their usual time to catch up. He winced in sympathy when he saw how exhausted she looked, with puffy red eyes and dark circles under them. They tried to comfort each other briefly before returning to their classes. There had still been no word from Sirius over the past week, which didn’t do much to lift their spirits.

As the fifth year approached Career Advice Week at the end of February, Cedric’s mood wasn’t as enthusiastic as his friends. 

Students were told they had to meet with their House Heads to discuss their future careers. Brochures and pamphlets about various career paths and how to plan for them based on O.W.L. scores were distributed.

Cedric already knew which subjects he wanted to pursue in the last two years. However, his recent experiences weighed heavily on his mind. The struggles his friends faced just for being Muggle-born, Hagrid’s efforts to defend Buckbeak in vain, and the injustice of Buckbeak’s fate, all orchestrated by powerful people like Lucius Malfoy. Then there was what happened to Remus three years ago. He felt he needed to do something about these injustices, but he wasn’t sure how his love of history could help him make a difference.

His name was called up after Miles. Lawrence gave him a pat on his back. The door to Professor Sprout’s office creaked open, and Cedric stepped inside. 

The familiar scent of fresh soil and the sweet scent of flowers and fresh herbs greeted him. He came to sit on the table, the exact same one he used to sit with Harry on Christmas last year. This time with a full set of tea and a plate of matcha biscuits in front of him. 

In front of him was Professor Sprout, who encouraged him to take a bite of biscuit and choose one of the tea before they could get started. 

“Well, Mr. Diggory, it’s time for your Careers Advice,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a sheet of parchment. “I think I already have an idea of what you’re aiming for, but let’s make it official, shall we?”

Cedric smiled back, settling into the chair across from her. “Yeah, Professor. I think you know I’ve always wanted to study History”

“I do,” she nodded approvingly. “You've mentioned it quite a few times, and I must say, it's not a common path, but it’s a noble one.” She glanced at the parchment and then up at Cedric. “For that, you’ll need an Outstanding in History of Magic and at least Exceeds Expectations in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, yes?”

Cedric nodded. Professor Sprout leaned back in her chair, a pleased expression on her face. 

“Have you given any thought to what you might do with your history studies? There are plenty of fields: teaching, becoming a professor, or perhaps working as a researcher or scholar abroad?”

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “I’m not sure yet, to be honest. I did an internship at the Department of Magical Artefacts last summer, and it was great, but I’m still figuring out the specifics.”

Sprout raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Not many students your age take that kind of initiative. You always show a lot of potential, and I can see you’re already making strides towards your goal.”

Her praise made Cedric feel a surge of pride, but he shifted in his seat, uncertain if he should bring it up. 

After taking a sip of jasmine tea, he spoke up hesitantly.

“Actually, there’s… something else I’ve been thinking about.” He glanced at her, but Sprout’s expression remained encouraging. 

“I’ve been wondering if I should be doing something more, something beyond just history. With everything I’ve seen recently… well, the things happening in our society. It made me think about how much needs to change, especially in the way laws are enforced and how certain groups are treated.” He hesitated again before continuing. “I was thinking… Maybe I could do something in the justice system. But I’m not sure where to even start, or what career that would lead to.”

For a moment, Professor Sprout looked surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Cedric to bring up such a topic. But then, her expression softened, and a proud smile spread across her face.

“Well, Cedric,” she said thoughtfully, “that’s quite an admirable goal. And you’re right… there are some areas where change is needed. You know, it’s entirely possible to follow your passion for history and also contribute to something like that.”

Cedric furrowed his brow, “How do you mean?”

Sprout leaned forward slightly. “Have you ever thought about the Wizengamot? The court is made up of Ministry officials, but there are also prestigious members from other fields. With  your knowledge of history, you can bring such a valuable viewpoint, Mr. Diggory. You’d be great at helping them understand past precedents and contribute to fairer judgments.”

She paused, looking at him kindly.

“Of course,” she continued, “It would take years of dedication, perhaps decades, and you’d need to establish yourself in your field first—build a reputation as a scholar, show leadership, and demonstrate humility. It’s a long path, but it’s not impossible.” She smiled warmly. “And I must say, Mr. Diggory, I believe you have what it takes. I would love to see you serving on the Wizengamot one day. You’d do a great deal of good.”

Cedric sat back in his chair, momentarily speechless. The idea of combining his passion for history with a role in shaping justice had never occurred to him before. It felt like a revelation, a new sense of direction he hadn’t expected. And hearing Professor Sprout’s confidence in him filled him with hope.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. “I didn’t think that was even an option.”

Sprout said with a firm nod. “It absolutely is. You’ve always been a hard worker, Mr. Diggory, and I think you’ll go far. Just remember, whatever path you take, you don’t have to choose just one way to make a difference.”

Cedric felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the uncertainty he had been carrying fading away. 

“Thank you, Professor,” he said sincerely. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sprout beamed at him. “You’re very welcome, Cedric.”

His heart swelled the way she decided to call him by his first name. Cedric stood up, still feeling the warmth of her encouragement as he left the greenhouse. For the first time, he felt like his future was beginning to take shape. 

***

Things started to get a little brighter from then on. Cedric felt he was steering his life with more control and precision, now more confident about what he was doing. All the revisions, schoolwork, and exams weren’t just responsibilities but steps closer to his goal – to do something good and make a change.

Buckbeak’s execution day loomed only four days away, and the final match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was Sunday tomorrow. On Saturday, Cedric planned to clear all his homework so he could fully focus on cheering for Harry and his team to win and prepare himself for the worst on Wednesday regarding Hagrid and Buckbeak.

With that plan in mind, he woke up early for breakfast in the Great Hall. 

To his surprise, he received a letter from a very tiny owl, who looked like he was about to tumble over his omelet plate. The letter was written in unfamiliar, beautiful handwriting:

Cedric,

We’ve got news to help with Buckbeak’s case. Meet me at 12 PM at the stone bridge on the north side.

Hermione,

P.S. This is Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl. Hedwig’s been resting after some tiring journeys. I hope Pig doesn’t dip this letter in tomato sauce on the way.

Close enough, Cedric thought, noticing the page’s rim was soaking wet. He realised that Ron’s owl had already knocked over a glass of water. He slid his plate to the small owl as a small thank you. Pig chirped happily before nibbling on his half-eaten ham.

Cedric couldn’t contain his excitement the entire morning, thinking that there might finally be something they could work on to help Buckbeak. Though he wasn’t sure how.

He arrived at the stone bridge on the north side of the castle ten minutes early because he couldn’t sit still, and reading his Practical Runes Spells textbook had become impossible. Luckily, Hermione arrived five minutes early as well.

She smiled, and without a word, gestured for him to follow her up a narrow alley leading to the Divination Tower. Cedric hadn’t been here for a while since dropping the subject. The area was quiet on weekends, but Hermione didn’t lead him up the tower’s winding staircases. Instead, she quietly opened a hidden passage Cedric had never noticed before. They descended into a space that resembled an abandoned basement.

There, down two flights of stairs, Cedric found more people. Harry, Ron, and Luna were sitting in the small room, which was just big enough to fit the five of them.

Hermione cast Silencio after he entered, and Harry, still in his Quidditch uniform, motioned for Cedric to sit with them.

“Sorry for the secrecy. I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping,” Hermione muttered before sitting next to him.

“No problem. What’s the matter?” Cedric turned to Harry. “Have you found a way to help Hagrid?”

Harry grinned. “Not me, but Ron has.”

Ron looked slightly flustered at being mentioned. “It’s my brother, Charlie. I got a letter from him last night. He says he can help. He works with dragons in Romania, and there’s a huge magical creature sanctuary there. He could take Buckbeak.”

Cedric’s heart soared with joy, his smile matching Harry’s as the boy spoke. “I spoke to Sirius through the Floo this morning. He knows people who can make an illegal Portkey to Romania. Charlie and his friends could be there, but they’d have to fly back on their brooms or with Buckbeak. It can be arranged in time.”

“That’s incredible!” Cedric said, impressed.

He began to think through the details. There were still some challenges to overcome as well.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry added, “The execution is set for 4 PM on Wednesday. We’ll have to wait until the Ministry officials arrive, probably with Dumbledore too. We need them to see Buckbeak chained up so it won’t cause Hagrid’s troubles.”

“I can meet Charlie in the Forbidden Forest two hours before the execution,” Ron said, turning to Harry. “I’ll need to borrow your map to find him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Hermione said hurriedly. “The forest seems dangerous… better to have someone watch your back.”

Ron nodded, looking both grateful and nervous. Cedric understood the stakes. Time was of the essence, and the timing for this plan had to be precise.

“What about Buckbeak? Someone has to unchain him right after the Ministry officers and Dumbledore see the Hippogriff,” he asked.

Harry smirked. “That’ll be my job. I can hide under my cloak and bring Buckbeak into the forest.”

“You’ll need help, Harry,” Cedric said.

“And food,” Luna chimed in. “Some meat to lure him into following us. I can distract him, so you or Cedric can break the chain, and we’ll bring him to Ron and Hermione waiting in the forest.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said. “It should all take about fifteen minutes after they arrive at Hagrid’s.”

They fell into a tense silence, each undoubtedly running through the plan in their head. Cedric tried to visualize it step by step. The timing seemed right, but something still nagged at him… if the officers arrived and Buckbeak was already outside, waiting in the garden, someone would surely notice. From Hagrid’s window, which faced the garden, there would be a clear view of the commotion.

His thoughts were interrupted as Hermione voiced what he had been thinking. “Should someone be with Hagrid or keep a lookout when the officers arrive?”

The pieces falling into place in his mind, Cedric turned to Harry. “You think I can get away with everything, right?”

Harry looked at him, confused.

Cedric smiled and started explaining his part of the plan.

***

The thought of rescuing Buckbeak filled Cedric’s mind with hope, so much that he couldn’t sleep the night before the match. The sky on the day of the final match was clear and bright, an early sign of spring that Cedric took as a good omen.

Thankfully, he had cleared his homework on Saturday night before the match, knowing that after either Gryffindor’s victory or loss, he wouldn’t be able to focus. The whole school seemed to feel the same way. Even early in the morning, a number of students filled the Great Hall with excited chatter and anxious murmurs in the air.

Cedric caught a glimpse of Harry, but the boy was surrounded by his teammates and a large group of Gryffindors, all clapping him on the back and wishing him luck. Cedric sent him two thumb ups from afar, which Harry received with a wide smile. 

It was the first time in almost a decade, if Cedric remembered correctly, that the two rival houses were facing off in the final match. He spotted Professor McGonagall in her usual emerald robes, but today, she also wore a bright red-and-gold Gryffindor conned hat. And she wasn’t alone; several Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students sported Gryffindor hats or waved flags in support.

As Cedric walked up to the Quidditch field with his friends, he heard someone call his name. 

He turned around to see Hermione waving frantically at him, wearing her Gryffindor scarf and holding two red-and-gold flags. Beside her stood Luna, with a massive, realistically crafted lion paper-mâché head perched atop hers. The lion head roared loudly, startling a few passing Slytherins. Hagrid walked behind them, holding a huge sign that read: HARRY POTTER & RON WEASLEY – QUIDDITCH CHAMPIONS painted in big red letters on a gold background.

“Come join us!” Hermione called.

Miles and Lawrence looked startled and amused, but Phoebe nudged him. “Go on, I can’t stand hearing you cheer loudly in the Hufflepuff stands.”

Cedric rolled his eyes at her teasing, then hurried over to join Hermione and the others on their way to the Gryffindor stands.

They chose seats in the back row, given Luna’s roaring lion head and Hagrid’s large frame. As more students began arriving, Hermione pulled out a Gryffindor scarf from her bag.

“Here, so you can fit in,” Hermione gave him a scarf with a cheerful smile. “It’s Harry’s. He won’t mind. Don’t worry.”

If she noticed the slight blush that crept up Cedric’s face, she didn’t say anything.

On the pitch, Madam Hooch strode to the center, Quaffle in hand. Both teams walked up to the middle of the field to loud applause. Cedric felt the stands shake with stomping feet, cheers, and a sea of red-and-gold banners waving, drowning out the small section of green and silver.

He glanced over at the pitch where the players were mounting their brooms. Cedric’s gaze flickered to Harry, who hovered above the field with his teammates. His face was calm, unusually so, but the fierce determination burning in his green eyes was unmistakable. In stark contrast, Malfoy wore a smug, jeering smile, his pale face full of malicious confidence.

The crowd’s roar grew louder as Lee Jordan’s voice echoed through the field. "And here we go! It’s Gryffindor versus Slytherin – the final showdown!"

Madam Hooch blew her whistle. In an instant, the Quaffle soared into the air, signaling the start of the match. 

The chaos erupted immediately. 

Gryffindor’s Chasers, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell, shot forward, but they were immediately blocked by Slytherin’s trio, Pucey, Warrington, and Montague, who wasted no time in playing dirty. Cedric winced as Pucey crashed hard into Alicia, sending her spinning off balance.

“Foul!” Hermione screamed beside him. 

Just the first five minutes, the Slytherins seemed more interested in fouling than actually playing, as they hammered down on Gryffindor players mercilessly. Montague nearly shoved Angelina off her broom, and Warrington grabbed Katie’s arm, yanking her off course just as she was about to make a pass. The Gryffindor crowd roared with boos and shouts, but Madam Hooch’s whistle went almost unnoticed in the chaos. The Slytherins didn’t even flinch.

“Unbelievable! Another foul from Slytherin!” Lee Jordan exclaimed, his voice filled with outrage. “Are they playing Quidditch, or rugby?!”

Cedric’s eyes darted to Harry, who was circling the pitch with laser focus, scanning for the Snitch. He seemed unfazed by the chaos below, even as the Slytherin Beaters, Derrick and Bole, relentlessly aimed Bludgers in his direction. Harry was too quick for them, dodging every hit with incredible precision, his Firebolt streaking through the air like lightning.

“Go on, Harry!” Hagrid yelled, his booming voice almost drowned out by the crowd. He looked tense, gripping the edge of his seat as he watched Harry evade attack after attack. “Don’t let ‘em get to yeh!”

Despite Slytherin’s fouls, Gryffindor was fighting back hard. The score climbed to 50-40 in Gryffindor’s favor. Cedric could feel the pressure mounting with each pass, each failed goal attempt. Angelina made a break for the goalposts, but Montague deliberately veered into her path, knocking her broom sideways. Cedric gritted his teeth.

“They should be disqualified for this,” he muttered to Hermione, who nodded vehemently, a look of frustration etched on her face.

The game turned even nastier. Fred and George Weasley were swinging their bats furiously, deflecting Bludgers aimed at their teammates, but they couldn’t block everything. Slytherin’s Chasers played like thugs, barreling into Gryffindor players and using underhanded tricks to gain possession of the Quaffle by deliberately targeting each of Gryffindor players without care for fair play.

Cedric’s heart lurched when Derrick crashed into Wood mid-air. Wood spiraled out of control, clutching his ribs as he fell. Madam Hooch’s whistle screamed, but the damage was done.

“NO!” Hermione cried, her hands flying to her mouth.

Wood was out, and Ron, pale-faced and visibly shaking, flew up to take his place. Cedric saw the Slytherins grinning like they’d already won. Their strategy was clear: take out Gryffindor’s players, one by one, and the game would be theirs.

Cedric clenched his fists, Gryffindor’s slim lead of 80-50 felt fragile, and with Wood injured, Slytherin was looking to exploit Ron’s nerves.

“They’re gonna go after him,” Cedric said grimly, glancing at Hermione. She nodded, her face tight with worry.

“Come on, Ron…” she whispered. “You can do this.”

Slytherin’s attacks grew more vicious. The fouls mounted. Five on Slytherin, one on the Weasley twins, but it did little to deter them. Every hit, every Bludger aimed at Harry made Cedric’s heart race with fear. The game was turning ugly, and it seemed like a matter of time before someone got seriously hurt.

Hagrid was muttering angrily under his breath, his large hands gripping the railing in front of him. “This is bloody ridiculous… they oughtta stop the match if it keeps goin’ like this.”

But then, Cedric saw it. A glimmer of silver near the far end of the pitch. His breath caught in his throat. It was the Snitch.

“There!” he shouted. 

A second after, he saw Harry shot toward the Snitch, his Firebolt moving like a blur. Malfoy, realising what was happening, dove after him, but Harry was already ahead by several feet.

“Go, Harry, GO!” Hagrid bellowed, his massive frame shaking with excitement.

The Slytherin Beaters saw what was happening and immediately sent both Bludgers whizzing toward Harry. Cedric held his breath as Harry weaved between them, barely avoiding a hit that could’ve sent him spiraling off his broom. Even Bletchley, Slytherin’s Keeper, abandoned his post and charged forward, determined to block Harry at any cost. 

“They’re all ganging up on him. That’s not very nice.” Luna said in her dreamy voice, though even she sounded anxious. 

It wasn’t just not nice. It was brutal. Malfoy was gaining on Harry, his hand outstretched, trying to grab Harry’s broom tail. 

“That’s low, even for Malfoy!” Hagrid’s face red with fury. 

But Harry swerved hard to the left, shaking off Malfoy’s grip, sending him knocked over and shot forward. The Snitch was inches away, fluttering just above the ground. Cedric was on his feet, holding his breath.

Harry stretched out his hand, his body nearly flat against his broom — 

And then, in one fluid motion, Harry’s fingers closed around the Snitch. The whistle blew, and for a second, there was stunned silence.

Then the Gryffindor stand erupted.

Cedric leaped into the air, screaming with joy. Hermione was sobbing into his shoulder. Luna’s enchanted lion head let out an earth-shaking roar. Hagrid wiped tears from his eyes, saying over and over he would definitely recount this legendary match to Buckbeak. On the field, Harry half-crashed, half-landed, holding the Snitch high in his hand. His teammates swarmed him, lifting him into the air as the Gryffindor flags waved wildly around the pitch.

Wood, still wobbling a little on his injured leg, raised the cup above his head, tears streaming down his face. Cedric had known the Gryffindor captain for a long time, and he couldn’t be happier for him for finally earning this victory. The cup was passed down to each member of the team, with Harry being the last. The boy smiled radiantly at the crowd, who cheered the loudest for him. 

Cedric’s breath hitched as a surge of warmth flooded through him as he looked at Harry. With his dark hair still wild and messy, the boy looked completely at home on the field with his Firebolt.

They walked back to the Great Hall for lunch, and were vibrating with excitement and tireless energy of the match. Cedric listened to Hermione and Hagrid happily exchanging their favorite moments. Ron and Harry were still in the changing rooms at the pitch with their teammates and would join them later.

As they reached the Great Hall entrance, Hagrid headed up to the teachers' table and Luna excused herself to the washroom. That’s when a sneering voice pierced through the air.

“Enjoy the victory for now, Granger. It’s just a petty little game. But you won’t be so lucky in the real world. Someone like you… doesn’t get lucky.”

They stopped, turning to see Malfoy sitting in the corridor. He stood there with his usual disdainful expression, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like bodyguards. A few students passing by stopped to watch the interaction with curiosity. Hermione didn’t respond, though the happiness on her face quickly faded at the unpleasant interruption. 

When Malfoy didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he stepped closer, his face twisted in animosity.

“I’m sure if I called you ‘Mudblood’ again, Diggory would come to your rescue, wouldn’t he?” Malfoy sneered. “But isn’t it a bit of a downgrade, Diggory? Leaving Chang for Granger? She’s got nothing going for her, except for those big ugly teeth. Or wait,” he pretended to think, “maybe it’s her blood status. Gives you that savior complex, doesn’t it? Makes you feel like a big man when you protect her.”

Right on cue, Crabbe and Goyle grinned cruelly and stepped closer, ready to back Malfoy up in case Cedric lost his temper.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hermione warned Cedric, her voice calm but firm. She looked at Malfoy with contempt. “He’s just a big sore loser.”

Cedric agreed, though Malfoy’s insult left a sour feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t directly called Hermione a ‘Mudblood,’ but the taunt reminded him of Slytherin’s dirty tactics with Hufflepuff. But he knew Malfoy wasn’t worth the trouble, and it seemed Hermione thought the same. 

Their lack of response turned out to be humiliating to Malfoy. Snickers echoed from the students behind them, laughing at his failed attempt to provoke them. Malfoy’s pale face flushed slightly as he glanced around, clearly embarrassed.

As Cedric and Hermione started to walk past him, the Slytherin raised his voice, shouting one last jab.

“You won’t be so lucky with that oaf Hagrid! He’s a disgrace to the school. I even asked my father for that Hippogriff’s head to hang by our doorway! A trophy for—”

Malfoy didn’t get to finish.

Without warning, Hermione spun around and stormed back toward him. Cedric barely had time to react before Hermione’s fist connected with Malfoy’s face. Hard.

A loud cheer erupted from the onlookers, mixed with gasps of surprise. Malfoy tumbled backward, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Blood spilled from his nose, and he let out a shocked yell. Crabbe and Goyle, equally stunned, scrambled to help him up.

Hermione calmly walked back to Cedric, her expression controlled, though he noticed her shoulders trembling slightly from the force of her anger.

Malfoy swore and cursed at them, but neither Cedric nor Hermione paid him any mind. She swung her arm around Cedric’s and led him away toward the Great Hall, not even looking back. A clear satisfaction glowed on her face, despite her calm demeanor.

"Wow, Hermione. You've got quite the punch!" Cedric teased with a grin when they entered the Great Hall.

Hermione looked flustered at the compliment, but a hint of pride crept into her voice as she replied.

"Let’s show that fool just how wrong he is this Wednesday."

Cedric smiled back. "Absolutely."

9

Gryffindor's victory clearly had lasting effects, and most of the students were in high spirits after finally putting Slytherin to shame.

"It's a pity I didn't get to see Hermione punch Malfoy in the face!" Harry complained when he heard about it from Cedric during dinner.

Ron immediately suggested she should punch him again so they could relive the moment with admiration. Though exasperated, Hermione didn't scold them and just laughed.

The Gryffindor team became the center of attention for both their housemates and admirers from other houses. Ron received praise for his courage, especially after stepping in when Wood was taken down. Cedric was sure that Ron would take over as Keeper next year with more poise. Harry, however, gained the most popularity for his unmatched skill as Seeker, particularly for his precision in catching the Snitch. Two days after the match, Harry was constantly surrounded by people stopping by the Gryffindor table to greet or applaud him.

“Should you finish that cheese toast, Cedric?”

Phoebe’s voice broke Cedric from his thoughts as he realised he was staring at the Gryffindor table. Embarrassed, he quickly glanced down at his breakfast. Thankfully, it was Phoebe who noticed, not Lawrence, who could have teased him endlessly. But Phoebe merely gave him an amused look.

The next two days were a blur of confetti and celebration, but by Wednesday morning, overcast clouds filled the sky, reminding Cedric of the serious task ahead.

He tried to maintain his composure, even though his nerves were slightly on edge due to the plan. That morning, Cedric chose to wear the full school uniform, meticulously tucking in his robe and shirt, and double-checking his tie to make sure it wasn’t crooked. He combed his hair and, for the first time, checked his smile in the mirror, despite feeling a bit vain. Before heading down for breakfast, he pinned his Prefect badge, conspicuously on his left side, where it was visible for all to see.

Harry’s bold act at Madam Campbell’s shop had inspired the plan. Cedric wasn’t entirely sure the charade would last long, but it was worth a try. He hoped to tarry for at least five or ten minutes.

Luckily, the last class on Wednesday was Charms. Professor Flitwick usually allowed students to spend the final twenty minutes practicing the day’s charm. Cedric had been practicing the Disillusionment Charm for over a week in preparation. During the first five minutes of practice, he successfully blended his partner, Melinda Green, into the background of the bookshelves behind them.

After releasing the spell, Cedric gave Melinda an apologetic smile before walking over to Professor Flitwick, who stood at the front of the class. He had already rehearsed what he was going to say.

"Professor, can I leave class early today? I’m not feeling very well."

Flitwick didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss and nodded without suspicion. "Of course, Mr. Diggory. Get well soon."

Cedric quickly waved to his friends before leaving class fifteen minutes early, his heart still pounding. It was the first time he had lied to a teacher, and a small pang of guilt bubbled in the back of his mind. But he reasoned it was a white lie, as it was necessary for this emergency.

He reached the south exit without running into anyone, much to his relief. Harry had told him to wait behind the stone wall of the castle, on the path leading down the hill to Hagrid’s hut. From there, they could keep an eye on the Ministry staff’s arrival without being seen. From a distance, Cedric could already see the Hippogriff, likely chained in Hagrid’s vegetable garden.

His stomach tightened with anxiety. He knew Ron would be faking illness to skip Divination and head to Hogsmeade, while Hermione, with her Muggle Studies class, could easily make an excuse to join her friend. Based on the timing, Harry and Luna would arrive after Cedric, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, and wait for the Ministry to start their procedure.

Cedric didn’t have to wait long. Fifteen minutes later, he spotted figures emerging from the west exit near Hagrid’s hut. 

His heart sank when he recognised Cornelius Fudge. He hadn’t anticipated that the Hippogriff’s case would be significant enough to warrant the Minister of Magic’s presence. Accompanying Fudge was the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore, and trailing behind them was a man dressed entirely in black. There was no way of mistaking the executioner. His presence felt completely out of place in a school, especially with the long, ominous reaper he carried, its silver blade gleaming in the dim daylight.

While waiting for them to approach Buckbeak, Cedric felt cold sweat forming on his temples. He tried to steady himself by counting his pulse and closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he waited five more minutes before striding down the stone path, descending the hill to the school’s garden. He nodded at Buckbeak, who nodded back with a sombre expression, then trotted up to Hagrid’s door and knocked politely.

His knock would set the plan into motion. He assumed Harry and Luna were watching his movements from somewhere nearby. Cedric just needed to stall the time as much as he could.

Hagrid opened the door, looking genuinely surprised to see him. They had simply assured him they had a plan to save Buckbeak, but decided not to tell Hagrid the details of the plan, knowing that he wasn't the best at staying calm in such situations. 

“Cedric! What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here, lad,” Hagrid stammered, clearly alarmed.

Cedric, purposely ignoring the question, stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. The small hut felt even more cramped with four adults already inside. Smiling, Cedric glanced at Hagrid’s guests before walking directly up to Cornelius Fudge.

With a bright smile, Cedric extended his hand to the Minister. “Good afternoon, sir! I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet you. I’m Cedric Diggory. You may know my father, Amos Diggory. He works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Fudge looked slightly taken aback by Cedric’s enthusiastic greeting, but quickly regained his composure upon recognising Amos’ name. 

He shook Cedric’s hand. “Ah, of course. Amos often speaks of you. He says you’re quite a brilliant young man and hopes you’ll join the Ministry after you graduate.”

“That’s right, sir,” Cedric replied eagerly. “It’s always been my dream to follow in my dad’s footsteps, or maybe even go beyond. He often praises your work, and I’ve always admired you, sir.”

Cedric gestured toward Hagrid, who was standing awkwardly near the small kitchen. “When Professor Hagrid mentioned someone from the Ministry would be here today, I thought it might be you, the Minister. I can’t believe my luck to finally meet you in person! If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me more about your next election campaign? I’ve read about your ideas in the pamphlet for the funding organization—they’re quite progressive.”

Fudge appeared pleased by the compliment, a smile tugging at his lips. Cedric maintained eye contact, determined not to let the awkwardness of the situation affect his performance.

After a moment, the Minister spoke again. “Well, thank you, Mr. Diggory. It’s so nice to meet someone as enthusiastic as you, especially a young man with your potential. But I’m afraid we’re here under rather grim circumstances. Poor Rubeus Hagrid—”

“Nonsense, Cornelius!” Dumbledore interrupted, stepping forward and placing a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. “You don’t meet admirers like this every day. Cedric here is not only a bright student, but also a Prefect—a very smart young man. He aspires to follow in your footsteps, doesn’t he, Cedric?”

Cedric’s heart leaped with relief, realising Dumbledore had picked up on the plan. He nodded along, “Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I didn’t want to admit it at first… it’s a bit embarrassing, but I’d like to be like you one day, Minister Fudge.”

At that moment, Fudge seemed fully captivated. He looked genuinely pleased, and Cedric felt a twinge of guilt for giving the Minister false hope, even though it was harmless.

“That’s an ambitious dream, young man,” Fudge said, “and not an easy path, I must say.”

Dumbledore patted Cedric’s back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why don’t you tell him more about your work, Cornelius? It’s not often we have the Minister here to share his success stories with bright young minds. We could take a moment for tea before moving forward with our business, can’t we?”

Cedric quickly hopped to the seat, making sure to face the window. Fudge hesitated, but with Dumbledore’s coaxing, he eventually sat at the table. Dumbledore sat beside him, and after a moment, the executioner reluctantly took a seat as well, though he grunted in displeasure. Clearly, having tea before beheading a Hippogriff wasn’t part of his plan. Hagrid, recovering from his awkwardness, hurried to heat the kettle and serve the tea.

As Cedric listened to Fudge talk about his day’s work, his pulse quickened. He smiled and nodded, trying not to glance out the window toward the garden, where Buckbeak was supposed to be. He forced himself to laugh whenever Fudge made what seemed like an attempt at humor, but his smile began to feel strained as the minutes ticked by.

Then, a loud clatter broke the tension as a teacup fell to the floor, just as Cedric heard the faint sound of chains breaking outside.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Hagrid,” Dumbledore said with a regretful groan. “I believe that was your favorite cup.”

“That’s alright, Professor,” Hagrid muttered, quickly fetching a broom. “I’ve got some rock cakes, if anyone fancies dessert.”

“That would be lovely,” Dumbledore replied with a cheerful smile.

Fudge continued talking, now grumbling about his election campaign and the resentment he faced from rival candidates, particularly Rufus Scrimgeour. He complained that his tax policies were being twisted into bad rhetoric by those who sought to undermine him. Cedric found himself liking Fudge less and less, but he kept nodding along politely.

“You made the right decisions, sir,” Cedric said vaguely.

Fudge hummed in agreement, then checked his watch. “Merlin’s beard! We’ve been here thirty minutes! We’d better get back to business. Macnair?”

The executioner, looking utterly bored, grunted in response, still absently rubbing the handle of his reaper.

“Time does fly, doesn’t it?” Dumbledore said dreamily.

As they rose to leave, Fudge turned to Cedric, shaking his hand. “Very nice meeting you, young man. But I suggest you return to the castle now. What we’re about to do isn’t for someone your age to witness.”

Cedric smiled, nodding. “It was great talking to you, sir. I hope we’ll meet again at the Ministry.”

The adults bid him goodbye, and Cedric skipped out the door, his heart still pounding in his chest. Once outside, he slipped around the side of the cottage, where there were no windows. Glancing toward the garden, he saw no sign of Buckbeak. The chains were gone, and it looked as though the Hippogriff had never been there at all.

They had done it. Cedric almost wept with relief.

Then, he felt a tug on his right arm and turned to see Harry’s face appear from under the Invisibility Cloak.

“What took you so long?” Harry whispered, pulling him out of earshot of the hut. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

Cedric grinned. “Sorry, Fudge’s too cooperative at the tea party.”

Harry’s smile mirrored Cedric’s. Both of them were buzzing with excitement.

“Luna’s taking Buckbeak into the forest to meet Ron and Hermione. We can still catch them in time,” Harry said. “Wanna see it through to the end?”

Cedric nodded, determined. “Lead the way.”

They ran through the outskirts of the forest, plunging into the dense, misty cypress trees that surrounded them. Cedric's heart pounded in his chest, so hard it felt like it might burst. He hadn't run this fast since he was a child, with Harry during that summer, when they ran around without a care in the world. 

This time, Harry was still by his side — still determined, fierce, and amazing.

The thought made Cedric’s heart ache.

They reached a rise just in time, standing on flat land about six hundred feet below, panting heavily. Harry bent over, clutching his knees and trying to catch his breath. As Cedric glanced around, he noticed a group of five people below.

Ron, Hermione, and Luna were standing close to a young red-headed man, who could only be Charlie Weasley. Beside him was Buckbeak, and on his back sat a woman, presumably Charlie’s colleague. She reached out to pat the Hippogriff's side, either for reassurance or to signal the start of the long journey ahead, to Buckbeak’s new home in Romania.

There were no more chains around the creature’s ankles. Cedric watched as the Hippogriff spread his wings wide, his front legs, horse-like in their strength, heaved up, looking stronger and more alive than ever. 

Then, with a gallop and a sprint, Buckbeak circled the group once before letting out a loud cry of freedom. He roared up toward the gray sky, away from all the accusations, flying toward a brighter future.

Cedric’s eyes followed Buckbeak until he disappeared beyond the treetops. His body still trembled from the running and the tension of the charade they had played at Hagrid’s hut. Beside him, he heard Harry laugh softly and turned to look at him. 

Harry’s face was flushed from running, his hair wild and windswept, and his green eyes gleamed with unspoken joy.

When he noticed Cedric watching him, Harry curled his lips — a usual simple, yet bright and genuine smile appeared.

Before Cedric knew what he was doing, his hands reached out to touch Harry’s face. He closed his eyes and pressed their lips together.

He heard Harry gasp audibly. It was barely a kiss, just a rushed, heated moment, as Cedric’s lips crushed against Harry’s. That familiar warm, fluttering feeling, what he felt every time he looked at Harry, returned in full force. It made his legs wobble, almost melting beneath him. All he could feel was the softness of the boy’s lips. 

Harry still stood frozen, the cloak slipping from his grip and dropping to the ground, brushing lightly against Cedric’s shoes. 

That touch brought Cedric back to reality. He pulled away quickly, his eyes wide in shock, matching the same disbelief in Harry’s green eyes.

They both forgot how to breathe, and were staring at each other in stunned silence.

Voices came from below breaking the moment and startling them both. Harry jolted, his body tense, still not saying a word.

It was Cedric who found his voice first.

“Sorry. I… I have to go,” he blurted out, as Harry continued to stare at him.

Without waiting for a reply, Cedric took off running as fast as he could, before Harry could say anything, or anyone could see the mortified blush burning on his face.

10

Cedric skipped dinner that evening and went straight to bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. 

His body was coiled with mortification, yet flooded with a new, unfamiliar sensation. He touched his face, feeling it still warm like a furnace. He didn’t know what to think or feel. All he knew was that he needed to talk to Harry first thing in the morning.

Since he hadn’t slept, it wasn’t hard to be the first person awake in the common room. Cedric took a cold shower, despite the cool, dull weather of early spring, and paced back and forth in the empty common room. He dozed off lightly on the sofa, and waited until he heard the soft sounds of movement and chatter coming from the dorms. As the light from the windows grew stronger, he finally left for the Great Hall.

His mind was on fire as he nibbled on pieces of crumpet. Cedric kept glancing toward the north staircase, assuming it led to the Gryffindor common room, but each time he looked, there was no sign of the messy dark hair he was searching for.

He’d been sitting there for almost two hours, his textbook open beside him as a distraction, though he could barely focus. 

Around eight, Cedric finally spotted Hermione’s frizzy hair, followed by Ron’s red hair and tall frame, descending the staircase. He bolted from his table and walked over to them at the Gryffindor table.

“Cedric! Morning!” Ron greeted, yawning. “Sorry, long night. Charlie just flooed last night, saying they arrived at the sanctuary safe and sound! Where’ve you been, mate? Harry said something came up, and you ran back to the castle. What’s the matter?”

Cedric winced, a pang of guilt hitting him. He’d almost forgotten about their plan after what had happened. It had pushed everything else from his mind. And Harry not telling Ron or Hermione about it either unsettled Cedric even more. Clearly, the younger boy didn’t want to bring it up.

“How’s Hagrid? Is he okay?”

“He’s very happy now,” Hermione said, reaching for marmalade and butter to spread on her toast. “We’re visiting him after classes. Want to come?”

Cedric grimaced. “I’d love to, but I’ve got Prefect duty. Say hi to Hagrid for me, though.”

Ron laughed, still chewing baked beans with his mouth full. “He’d love to thank you! He said almost made him believe every word you said. He told us, ‘Cedric and Dumbledore could be a duo of actors.’ Seriously, mate, how’d you pull that off?”

Cedric smiled tightly. “Too much anxiety and improvising, if you ask me. Dumbledore helped a lot with distractions. He probably knew what was going on.”

Hermione nodded. “Harry said Dumbledore might have known about his Bludger plan last year, too.”

Cedric was glad Hermione brought up Harry, as it let him steer the conversation toward what he really wanted to know. “Speaking of Harry, where is he?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “He’s skipping breakfast. Said he doesn’t want to hear people praising him for Quidditch, but if you ask me, he’s just being dramatic.”

“Want me to tell him you’re looking for him?” Hermione asked.

“No, no. It’s okay,” Cedric said, attempting a smile. “I’ll talk to him later.”

Cedric hadn’t seen Harry all day, which shouldn’t have surprised him. For someone who owned a map that could show exactly where everyone was in the school, it was easy for Harry to avoid Cedric if he wanted to. 

What worried Cedric, though, was why Harry was avoiding him in the first place. 

Two days passed. Cedric had been so anxious that, for the first time, he couldn't focus in class, not even on what Snape was saying about Forgetfulness Potions, which might be on the O.W.L.s exam. He couldn't look at the stars in the enchanted dome without thinking of Harry and that night on the hill. Doubts and fears about what Harry might be thinking crowded his mind.

It was Friday evening after classes when Cedric finally ran into Harry by chance.

The last class of the day was History of Magic, and to get to the library or dinner, students had to pass through the Transfiguration Courtyard. Students from Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic classes, which were all adjacent, often gathered there to take a break or chat. As Cedric strolled past groups of Gryffindor students lingering in the courtyard, he spotted Harry in the crowd, talking to Professor McGonagall.

Cedric’s heart soared at his unexpected luck. He strode in their direction, afraid of missing Harry again, his heart hammering in his chest.

He caught a snippet of McGonagall’s words: “—nothing serious, Potter. But it’s improper of you to have done it in class with a wand in hand…”

Cedric hadn’t realised he was technically eavesdropping as he walked up to them, but he had forgotten himself. Both Harry and McGonagall noticed his presence almost immediately.

McGonagall looked surprised that Cedric had interrupted her reprimand. Harry, meanwhile, looked more startled at the sight of him.

“Ah, Mr. Diggory. Can I help you?” 

Sheepishly, Cedric said, “I’m sorry, Professor, for interrupting. I just wanted to talk to Harry—uh, Potter—for a bit.”

The professor sighed. “Well, if that’s the case, perhaps you can talk some sense into him about his odd behavior. He’s been so hungry all the time, and I caught him practicing the Hardening Charm with an apple! It’s not meant to be a snack!”

Cedric was taken aback by McGonagall’s complaints. Harry, for once, looked genuinely embarrassed, as he avoided both Cedric’s and McGonagall’s gazes.

He tried to suppress a laugh. “I’ll walk with him to the Great Hall, ma’am. I’ll make sure he eats properly.”

McGonagall nodded crisply. “Very well, then.” She turned to Harry, who still seemed out of sorts. “Go on, Mr. Potter. You need a proper meal in your stomach.”

As the professor walked away, Cedric couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.

Harry shot him a glare, and muttered, “It’s not that funny.”

“Oh, it is.”

Harry still didn’t meet Cedric’s gaze and started walking toward the staircase. He didn’t invite Cedric to join him, but he didn’t push him away either, so Cedric took that as a good sign.

“So, you’ve been avoiding me by skipping meals?” Cedric asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Harry said quickly, though he didn’t sound convinced by his own words.

They reached the stairs leading down to the corridor that connected to the Great Hall when Cedric lightly touched Harry’s arm.

“Can we talk?”

Cedric sensed Harry’s discomfort, a tension in his body language that reminded him of the time before Christmas two years ago, before Cedric had apologised and tried to repair their friendship. 

Harry nodded stiffly and led Cedric to a quiet passageway hidden between the corridor and a disused chapel. From the small window, Cedric could hear the clatter and chatter of students outside in the Great Hall nearby.

The younger boy seemed to be waiting, so Cedric decided to say what had been on his sleepless mind for the past two days.

“I’m sorry. For… for kissing you, and… for running away like that,” he blurted out.

Cedric could feel heat rushing to his face as he stammered and finally admitted it. He was afraid to say the word ‘kiss’ out loud, as if doing so would make it all too real, but he wanted to face it head-on. There was no way he could avoid it any longer.

Harry’s green eyes now held an unreadable expression.

Cedric held his breath, swallowed hard, and continued.

“It was stupid of me,” — for letting my feelings get ahead of me, he thought, but didn’t say— “and I owe you an apology. Please forgive me, I’m... I’m so sorry I did that.” He would have kept apologising endlessly if it meant Harry wouldn’t be angry with him.

He then noticed Harry taking a long, deep breath, his tense shoulders heaving up before slumping back down. He sagged against the wall.

“Well, I get it,” Harry finally said.

Cedric blinked. “You get what?”

Harry ruffled the back of his hair, and his demeanor shifted. It was almost as if he were becoming his usual self again.

“You know, it happens to me too. When I’m, like, really excited and happy, like… that time during the final match on the field.” Harry gestured vaguely with his hands. “When I was so happy Ron was keeping the goal, sometimes I just wanted to rush in and kiss him. It’s that feeling, right? I felt it too, so that’s why I said I get it. If it wasn’t me but Hermione, you would’ve done the same.”

Cedric just stared at Harry dumbfounded.

Harry met his eyes briefly, then sighed and continued, “I… I admit I was a bit shocked when you did it, but really, it’s no big deal.”

Maybe it was the slight tremor in Harry’s voice that betrayed his usual nonchalance, causing Cedric’s mind to whirl like he had whiplash.

“Are you… are you sure?” he asked carefully. “You’ve been avoiding me… and that’s… I mean, I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed, before giving him a brief smile. “Yes, I’m sure. There’s nothing to worry about. Like I said, I just panicked a little.” The boy stepped forward and punched Cedric lightly in the chest. “It was my first kiss, after all, you idiot.”

Cedric’s heart was still pounding. “Harry, if there’s something you—”

But Harry quickly interrupted. “I’m perfectly fine. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?”

But Cedric wasn’t so sure. His mind was still trying to work through a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, something he couldn’t fully grasp. But there was one thing he could say right now, and he needed Harry to know it. 

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.”

Harry’s green eyes met Cedric’s with a familiar intensity that often made Cedric’s stomach flutter with warmth.

He gave him a small smile. “It’s not going to change anything.”

***

But it did change everything.

They still talked, as often as when they ran into each other in the corridors or between meals. But Harry’s demeanor had shifted slightly. He smiled less often, teased Cedric even less – and worst of all, whenever Cedric saw the trio together, Harry wasn’t the first to greet him anymore.

It seemed so trivial, but it made Cedric’s mind race in circles. He thought it might be the awkwardness they had experienced for the first time making Harry feel uneasy around him. Cedric tried to put himself in Harry’s shoes: having a friend, someone you’ve known for so long, suddenly kiss you out of nowhere, in the wrong place and at the wrong time… it must have felt weird.

So, after some reflection, Harry’s distant behavior made sense. He likely just needed time for the uneasiness to fade, but that didn’t make Cedric feel any less sad. He tried not to dwell on it, except for those nights when it kept him from sleeping.

March passed in a blur, and with the arrival of April came the weight of exam preparations for OWLs in May. Even Fred and George, who had proudly claimed to never study, were seen reading books in the library. The anxiety in his housemates was palpable, even in those with typically calm natures. Miles, for instance, looked jumpy and tense whenever he had to recite potion ingredients in class, since he aimed to be an apothecary like his father, and even a small mistake could affect his grades. Phoebe, who was usually unfazed by exams and never complained, struggled with the practical aspects of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Moody had told her she needed to think on her feet, as she was ‘thinking too much’ during hands-on spell work.

With exams looming, the Duelling Club in April was the last one for the year. Moody had them practice both offensive and defensive spells, but this time he gave them a special task. He specifically instructed them to pair up with their closest friends.

“Learn to use spells against your friend. The closer the better. Be prepared for the day when you might have to defend yourself against an enemy – or worse, against a friend,” Moody explained, his cane clanking against the ground. “No need to decide on a spell beforehand this time. Read your opponent. Use whatever spells you think will defeat your friend. Practice the spells you’re least familiar with, because this is your last chance.”

There was a buzz of excitement over the new challenge, and the students stirred into action.

The first person Cedric thought of was Harry. Of course he wanted to duel him. Not just because they were close, but because Harry was also a great dueller.

He spotted Ron and Hermione getting ready together, rolling up their sleeves with enthusiasm. Cedric turned to Miles and Phoebe, saying, “You two pair up.” He scanned the crowd to search for that familiar wild dark hair.

His heart leapt when he caught a glimpse of Harry’s messy black hair in the crowd. He rushed over and tapped Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turned around to look at him. “Oh, hi.”

“Want to pair up?” Cedric offered with a smile.

Harry suddenly looked sheepish. “Uh… sorry. I just paired up with Neville.” He gestured to Neville, who was standing nearby, looking uncomfortable and nervous. “It’s his first time in the Duelling Club, so…”

Disappointment deflated Cedric, though he tried to conceal it. “Oh, yeah. No problem.”

Harry gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Of course, Harry would choose a fellow housemate. Besides, Neville was his old friend, too. Cedric had forgotten how close they were… closer, even, than Harry and himself. It made perfect sense that Harry would pick Neville as his partner.

Cedric swallowed the lump in his throat, bitterness prickling at him as he dragged himself to find someone else to practice with.

He ended up pairing with a third-year Slytherin named Theodore Nott, someone he had never talked to before. It wasn’t exactly the match Moody had in mind, but the session went surprisingly well. Despite his quiet demeanor, Nott was a skilled dueller – precise and creative. But Cedric’s mind wasn’t fully present, and by the end of the session, he found himself wishing it could end sooner, just so he wouldn’t have to confront the disappointment and the pang of jealousy nagging at him.

***

"Hey, Cedric. Who’s Isole Sayre? What did he do in 1620?" Lawrence asked, sounding frustrated.

Without looking up from his Herbology notes, Cedric slid the book Wizardkind in America: Settlement in the Seventeenth Century in Lawrence’s direction.

"Can you just tell me?" Lawrence sighed. "I don’t want to search through the whole book just to find out what this bloke did centuries ago."

"Then you’ll spend even more time struggling on the exam if you don’t find out about him now," Cedric said simply.

"Oh, I like this snappy version of Cedric," Miles teased with a grin.

Cedric grimaced, and glanced up at Lawrence. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to."

"No, that’s alright. My lazy arse deserves it. I really do need to read more anyway," Lawrence admitted with a sigh and took the book Cedric offered. He shot a glare at Miles, whose snickering was now joined by Phoebe’s chuckle.

It was during Easter week, when classes were dismissed, that most fifth and seventh years chose to dive into full revision mode for the upcoming exams. The Hufflepuff fifth-years had claimed large areas in the common room, the dining hall tables, and even empty classrooms to practice spells. The atmosphere was tense, and everywhere Cedric looked, students were cramming for their external exams.

It was stressful, but not unfamiliar to Cedric. In a way, it was a welcome distraction from what had been weighing on his mind for weeks.

He knew from Hermione that Harry was spending the holiday week at the Weasleys with Ron, but that didn’t bring him much peace.

It had been weeks since the night he kissed Harry, and their interactions remained awkward and distant. If anything, the strangeness between them had grown, and even Hermione had noticed.

“What’s going on between you and Harry?” she asked one day before Easter while they were in the library together. They had been working on Ancient Runes, helping each other with translations as their Runes dictionaries lay open in front of them.

Cedric didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to tell Hermione about what had happened that night, but it wasn’t just his secret to share. Harry had clearly been uncomfortable when Cedric tried to talk about it, and was adamant that it be forgotten.

He sighed, his voice tired. "Honestly, I don’t know."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. They continued working quietly, translating their texts.

After leaving the library and heading to their respective common rooms, Hermione suddenly spoke up as they were about to part ways.

"You know Ginny Weasley? Ron’s sister?"

Cedric nodded, vaguely remembering the red-headed girl from a few encounters.

Hermione smiled. "She’s had a crush on Harry for over two years now. Last week, she finally mustered the courage to talk to him."

"Oh," Cedric said, not knowing what else to say.

"I don’t think Harry likes Ginny that way, though. But they get along well. Ginny’s good at flying too. She might try out for the Quidditch team in the next year or two."

Cedric felt a tightness in his stomach as he tried to maintain his composure, though his heart was racing. "That’s... great. Why are you telling me this, Hermione?"

Hermione’s smile turned knowing, but she deliberately avoided answering his question. "Harry’s staying at the Burrow with Ron during Easter. Good night, Cedric."

Cedric watched as she ascended the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, leaving him standing there, more conflicted than ever.

It was the fourth day of Easter when Cedric decided he could no longer go on like this.

He woke up early at six, braving the gusts of wind and the soft April rain as he trudged up to the Owlery from the castle.

Sitting on a cold, wet bench, Cedric tightened his jacket around himself, pulled out his quill and parchment, and began to write:

Dear Sirius,

How have you been? I’m sorry to bother you with this letter, but since our conversation at Christmas, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and that’s the reason I’m writing to you now.

To be honest, I’m not sure where to start. This has been bothering me for a while now, and I didn’t really have the time to reflect on it until recently. Please forgive me if this letter seems a bit confusing since my mind has been all over the place, and so have my thoughts and feelings.

If you don’t mind me asking, what’s it like to like another man? What thoughts and feelings came to you when you first realised this about yourself? Something has happened to me recently that’s making me question how I feel. There’s this person – he’s a friend – and I care about him so much, but I can’t tell if I like him in that way or if it’s because I feel protective of him. I never gave it much thought until now. I had a girlfriend until we broke up at the start of the new term, so I know what it’s like to have feelings for her, but this... it feels completely different.

If I do have feelings for him, I don’t want to ruin our friendship by telling him. If you don’t mind sharing, I’d love to hear your thoughts, but only if it’s not too personal.

Sorry for bothering you during the holiday. I hope you and Remus are having a good time.

Cedric

The letter from Sirius arrived on the last day of Easter in the early morning. Cedric waited until he had finished breakfast before sprinting back to his dormitory, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Dear Cedric,

First of all, please stop apologising. Your letter didn’t bother me at all, and I’m happy to help. I’m glad you thought of me for this kind of advice.

I won’t pretend to be an expert on the matter – far from it. But I’ve always known that I love Remus. Whether that feeling comes from our friendship from day one at Hogwarts or whether it developed along the way. I just know I can’t love anyone else the way I love him.

It’s not always easy to figure these things out, I can tell you that. You mentioned you had a girlfriend, so I understand that confusion, but you can fancy a girl or a boy. It’s totally natural. A lot of people feel attraction to both. It’s not something everyone talks about, but it happens all over the world.

That brings me to your next question. You know I loved James to death. We were practically family. But how I feel about Remus? That’s different. Both started with friendship, and I cared deeply for both of them, but with James, I never had the urge to touch him when he was close. I never found myself staring at him for too long. With Remus, though, I started noticing the little things – his fresh scars, his hazel-brown eyes, when he’d wear a new uniform. You know, I was the first to figure out Remus’s secret and tell James. That’s because I’d been watching him for years. I remember one day in the library – he was reading some dull book, hair falling into his eyes, sitting hunched over with his fingers resting on his lips. That was the moment I fell in love. I’d never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as I did right then. That’s when I knew my feelings for Remus were more than friendship. Well, you’ll know what I’m talking about if you feel the same way about your friend.

I hope that answers your question. As for your friendship, I have less advice because, well, it took me five years to figure out what Remus felt for me. We were idiots, pining over each other for years because he’s so good at hiding his feelings. Remus was also afraid because of his werewolf condition, so he never made the first move. And I didn’t think he fancied men. I figured he was just kind and caring to everyone, so I kept it to myself since the third year when I started having feelings for him.

My thoughts? Take a leap of faith. You have two options: keep it to yourself, or tell him. You can wait for the right moment, just like I did. But speaking from experience, it will definitely change things between you. You know that already. Your friendship to trade, but you might gain something more.

But the most important thing I want to tell you is this: if that person doesn’t like you in the same way, or rejects you, there’s nothing wrong with you. The way you feel about him, or any other boy in the future, won’t just disappear. His rejection won’t diminish you or make you any less. It’s part of who you are, Cedric, and that’s the most important thing to remember, no matter the outcome.

I hope I’ve answered some of your questions. Don’t hesitate to ask me anything, anytime. And don’t you dare apologise again.

Sirius

Cedric had read Sirius’s letter over and over for an hour. He must have read it five times, wanting to make sure he fully understood what Sirius was trying to tell him. By the time he had memorised the letter word for word, the beautiful message within brought tears to Cedric’s eyes.

He wiped them away with his palm, pressed his face into his pillow, and took a deep, shaky breath.

Sirius had been right. Cedric had known all along. 

He was, without a doubt, in love with Harry Potter.

11

The first week of May arrived with the tension that hung in the air before exams. 

The Hufflepuff table was surrounded by the hum of chattering students, but the mood was far from casual. Fifth-years from every house were deep into their revision for OWLs, and the pressure was palpable. 

Miles sat across from Cedric, flicking through his Charms textbook for what felt like the hundredth time. He muttered incantations under his breath, his brow furrowed in concentration. To his right, Lawrence was scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment, revising notes on Defense Against the Dark Arts, his wand tucked behind his ear. Phoebe was attempting to master the Switching Spell for Transfiguration, turning a spoon into a fork and back again with varying degrees of success.

Beyond his group of friends, Cedric could see his other housemates, Karl, Rosaline, and Royle hunched over their notes. Karl was notoriously bad at Potions and had a book open on the subject, looking utterly miserable. On the other side of the hall, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were equally absorbed in their own preparation. Even across the room, Cedric could see Angelina was drilling Fred and George loudly about the Goblin Rebellion War.

Empty classrooms around the castle became rehearsal spaces, especially granted by the staff for spell practice. Cedric and his friends would gather in these rooms to practice their spells. The clash of spells echoed down the corridors as students tried to perfect their magic only added to the anticipation of what was to come.

Harry approached Cedric at the Hufflepuff table during lunch one week before the exam. The Great Hall was loud with the rustle of parchment and the hum of nervous conversations.

Cedric looked up from his stack of notes, momentarily caught off guard. They had been talking but less frequently for the whole month due to their both busy schedules and school work, still he was always happy to see him. Even more so, after he was certain how he felt about Harry, it made everything click into the right place. Every time his body instinctively reacted to the boy’s smile or when he looked at him. 

Like this time, when Harry decided to come up to him, his heart did a strange little twist in his chest.

“Hey,” the boy smiled, his voice loud enough to carry over the chatter. “Good luck with your OWLs next week, though you probably won’t need it.”

"Thanks, Harry," Cedric replied, his voice a little softer. "I appreciate it."

Harry smiled, waved stiffly, and turned to head back to the Gryffindor table. Cedric watched him as he walked away, as he was unable to stop himself.

The atmosphere a week later shifted from tense anticipation to a full-blown storm of anxiety. Cedric felt relatively confident as he walked into the large exam room for Astronomy and the Art of Healing on the first day, and his performance in Charms calmed his nerves. He performed the Levitation Charm with ease, watching as his feather floated smoothly into the air. The examiner, an older witch with sharp glasses, nodded approvingly. 

The written exams, particularly in Charms, Herbology, and Transfiguration, went even better. The exam essays flowed from his quill with ease. His knowledge of magical plants, transformation spells, and charm theory felt solid as he filled page after page of parchment. His History of Magic essay, of course, was one he took his utmost attention in. He wrote confidently about the Goblin Rebellions and the International Statute of Secrecy, knowing with relief that he’d nailed the details.

The Transfiguration exam was trickier. Cedric had tried three times to transform a hedgehog into a pincushion, but eventually managed it in due time. He hoped those attempts would be penalised in the overall score. The examiner, an ancient wizard who looked like he’d seen countless nervous students before him, gave Cedric a mild look but said nothing. Lawrence, who had been called after him, said his hedgehog still had tiny, twitching ears by the end of his attempt, and he was wondering if half a hedgehog counted as a pass.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went surprisingly well – his Shield Charm held firm against a barrage of hexes, and his confidence soared with the examiner’s nod of approval. And thanks to many hours of practice, his Draught of Living Death had a faint blue tinge just as he’d hoped. Cedric bit the inside of his cheek, trying to not smile when he handed it in to the examiner. 

Subjects like Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, however, left him less certain. He double-checked his calculations and rune translations, but as the minutes ticked by, he had to accept that some answers would remain a mystery until the results were out. 

As the week progressed, Cedric felt like he was holding his breath, waiting to see how each subject would go and count for the day when it was over just like everyone else.

***

The sun was shining brightly, and for the first time in weeks after the exams were over.

All fifth years Hufflepuff made their way to Hogsmeade after weeks of grueling study like soldiers coming back from war. They first stopped at Honeydukes, where Miles and Lawrence eagerly picked out armfuls of Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills, and Fizzing Whizzbees. Cedric smiled as Rosaline Bones snuck an extra bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into his basket, grinning at him when he caught her.

“Just in case you want to test your luck,” she teased.

Miles was muttering about how he deserved an entire shelf of Honeydukes’ sweets after surviving the Potions exam. Lydia examined the wall of candies, carefully selecting a few boxes of Sherbet Lemons for herself. Cedric heard his other housemates, Sebastian and Royle, were talking animatedly about the Quidditch World Cup they were looking forward to seeing starting in July.

Once their bags were filled with treats, they gathered at The Three Broomsticks. Two tables pushed together, and the laughter started almost immediately. Anthony had everyone in stitches when he shared a story about the time Karl accidentally hexed himself in Charms exam, leaving his hair a bright shade of purple as he came out. Royle, always quick with a joke, chimed in with his own hilarious impersonation of Professor Snape’s reaction to the incident. 

By the time they returned to the castle that evening, the celebratory mood had spilled over into the Hufflepuff common room. Lawrence took charge with the music, enchanting the speaker to play louder, sending a cheerful tune bouncing off the walls. Royle and Anthony were the first to start dancing. Rosaline twirled Phoebe around in the center of the room, while Lydia and Helena clapped along to the beat. Lawrence tried to show off with a ridiculous spinning move that had everyone laughing. Miles soon joined in, pulling even more ridiculous faces as he danced.

Never much of a dancer himself, Cedric found a comfortable spot in the corner to watch his friends. He sipped his butterbeer and soaked in the carefree energy of the room, letting himself relax for the first time in what felt like forever.

The party died down as the night grew late. His housemates began drifting off to bed, leaving the common room in a mild state of lingered adrenaline and drunken exhaustion. 

As a Prefect, Cedric felt obligated to tidy up. He waved his wand to collect empty butterbeer bottles and abandoned sweets wrappers into neat piles. It was quiet now, almost peaceful, and for the first time in weeks, Cedric allowed himself to sit back and let the calm wash over him.

He was still in the common room when Phoebe came down the stairs, already in her pajamas. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him.

“You’re still up?” Her voice sounded amused. 

Cedric looked up from his notes. He had been absentmindedly flipping through the pages, though he wasn’t really absorbing anything. “Just cleaning up.”

She flopped onto the couch beside him. “The nightmare’s over now. You can stop.”

Cedric chuckled, closing his book. "I know. Just... force of habit."

His friend yawned, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m going to sleep for twenty-four hours tomorrow, then I’m going to write to my parents and let them know I’ve survived. Do you have plans for the summer?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking about Bergman’s apprenticeship at the Ministry, but I’ll have to write to him first.”

A small, shy smile appeared on Phoebe’s face. “You know, I’ve been thinking about inviting you guys over for dinner with my parents. They — well, they often ask about my friends, and they’d like to hear about what’s going on in the wizarding world from, uh, someone more talkative than me.”

Cedric’s face brightened. “I’d love that! Miles and Lawrence would be excited to go, too. I’ve never been to a Muggle’s house before.”

Phoebe scoffed. “Nothing special, really. Just imagine a typical family minus the magic.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” Cedric said firmly. “Give me your address. I’ll ask my dad to take me, and I can go with Miles and Lawrence, too.”

“Lawrence already asked me to invite him,” Phoebe said, pretending to look offended, but Cedric laughed, knowing she wasn’t serious.

“You’re staying with your dad this summer, right?” she asked.

When Cedric nodded briefly, Phoebe leaned forward, looking at him more closely. She rested her chin in her palm, watching him with a gleam of amusement. “So, any plans to ask Potter out soon?”

Cedric felt heat rush to his face instantly. The casualness of her question concealed the punch in her curious tone, catching him off guard and leaving him flustered.

“What—wait, how did you…” His stammering made Phoebe smile wider.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked breathlessly.

“Not really. But for someone who’s observant, yes,” she replied quietly.

“Sometimes, you scare me,” Cedric shook his head.

“Don’t change the subject, Diggory. Are you going to ask him out or not?”

“Since when are you interested in my dating life?” Cedric tried to sound accusatory, but his blush betrayed him, and he knew Phoebe’s sharp eyes would catch it.

“Because it’s been going on for so long. Even before Cho, it was… how do I put it? obnoxiously adorable. And I’m getting tired of seeing you two hopelessly pining for each other.”

Cedric’s heart pounded loudly in his chest. He threw his arms over his head, trying to downplay his feelings. “You’re wrong this time, Phee. Harry doesn’t like me like that.”

Phoebe raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. So…” He coughed, his blush deepening. “I… uh… kissed him. A while ago.”

She let out a long sigh. “Ah, that explains why I’ve seen Potter with you less often.”

“Exactly. That should be proof enough, shouldn’t it? We talked about it afterward. I apologised, of course, and Harry suggested we just forget it happened. I agreed. But since then, things between us… I don’t know. It feels different. He seems distant, less engaged when we talk.”

His friend hummed thoughtfully. “So it wasn’t just the exams that had you on edge lately.”

“No, it wasn’t just exams,” Cedric admitted weakly.

Phoebe was silent for a moment, watching him with mild curiosity. Just as exhaustion began to set in and Cedric was about to excuse himself for bed, Phoebe spoke again.

“You apologised, but did you tell him how you feel?”

He slumped. “No. I wasn’t sure about my feelings at the time, and Harry clearly looked uncomfortable. I figured that was all the answer I needed.”

Phoebe cut in. “Maybe you should tell him.”

Cedric looked at her.

“Listen,” Phoebe reached out and touched his arm. She wasn’t usually very tactile, so this was almost like a hug from her. “You said your friendship has already changed, so why not tell him how you feel? The tide has already turned.”

“That’s pretty forward, coming from you,” Cedric said mildly.

Phoebe gave him a soft smile. “I used a therapeutic approach earlier. Now I’m talking to you as a friend, Cedric.”

A warm feeling spread through Cedric’s chest as he reached out to take her hand, a gesture of gratitude.

“Thanks, Phee. I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Cedric told himself, whenever he thought of Harry – his wild, disarrayed dark hair, his simple and honest smile, and those intense green eyes – that there was no rush. 

There was no need to hurry. 

He was content just to watch Harry, to be able to talk to him and laugh with him. He only wished they could keep their friendship so close to his heart, something to think of sweetly whenever they were apart. 

He told himself he could be happy just watching Harry grow into someone even more amazing.

Cedric's heart would swell with pride, knowing he had been the first to discover this about Harry Potter. The first to see how brilliant and bright the boy was, brighter even than the sun. 

There was no rush, not if one misstep could change the course of their friendship.

He could hold on to that. Something told him that their long bond would surpass any awkward moments. He cared for Harry enough to wait patiently, and he knew Harry cared for him enough to forget about any fleeting discomfort.

Still, Sirius’s letter and Phoebe’s words echoed in his mind.

The last day of school arrived with a soft breeze, like a gentle goodbye, guiding them toward the waiting train at the platform. Cedric spotted Hagrid at the station and went over to hug him and say goodbye. He met Luna, bought a few copies of The Quibbler from her, and asked if he could visit during the summer. Some classmates and friends greeted him with strange questions and casual farewells. He saw Cho briefly among her friends and gave her a smile, which, to his surprise, she returned. They didn’t talk, but Cedric considered this a great improvement over their last encounter. His teammates, Tamsin, Heidi, and Maxine, greeted him enthusiastically, and they all vowed to reclaim the Quidditch House Cup from Gryffindor next year.

While waiting to board the train, someone called his name. Cedric turned and saw Ron, Harry, and Hermione standing nearby, their heavy trunks and owl cages in tow.

He smiled at them. “Hi! What a year, huh?”

Hermione laughed joyfully. “It’s been a good one, though.” Ron shrugged amicably, while Harry stayed quiet, looking at Cedric silently.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Cedric asked.

Hermione mentioned returning to her parents, and Ron was excitedly discussing the Quidditch World Cup, hoping to get tickets for one of the matches since it was being hosted in England. Harry, however, said he was going to Belgium for a week, as James had made a deal with investors there.

Cedric’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean for his glowing ball light?”

Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, it’s getting sold, somehow. Still doesn’t have a name, though.”

“Wow… that’s amazing. I knew it would take off. It’s such a brilliant invention.”

Their conversation was cut short as the line moved forward, and Cedric had to board. He hefted his luggage and joined his friends to find a seat.

The train ride was peaceful. Cedric busied himself with a crossword puzzle in The Quibbler , half-listening to Miles and Lawrence’s argument about England’s chances in the World Cup.

Miles shook his head knowingly. “England will definitely lose in the semifinals. They can’t compete with Sweden. And Plumpton’s still injured.”

“Come on, have some faith,” Lawrence replied. “We’ve got another great Seeker like Parkin, and I’ve known our Beaters are top-notch too.”

“So what? Even if by some miracle they beat Sweden, they’ll have to face Bulgaria. And we both know Krum’s an unstoppable Seeker…”

Their conversation drifted off, but Cedric wasn’t paying full attention. Pen in hand, his mind began to wander.

It felt like every other time on the train – another year had passed. Yet something was nagging at him.

Another year had passed…

Cedric gazed out the window, replaying Harry’s words in his mind. The younger boy would be spending time abroad. That would mean another summer without Harry. 

He remembered last summer, how he kept checking the Potters’ cottage, hoping to see him. Every few weeks, he’d find himself knocking politely, asking for Harry, time after time.

His thoughts reeled back to the first time he saw Harry fly on his Nimbus 2000, looking so sure of himself, as if he already knew who he was and where he was headed. That sense of sharp self-assurance and determination.

Then there were the moments when he held Harry in his arms, feeling the boy’s soft sobs against his chest with the overwhelming urge to never let him go. 

It had been that way countless times. In this quiet moment, it had always been like this. 

Then he realised — those warm, fluttering feelings that became part of him whenever Cedric saw Harry actually had taken root long before he had even known their existence. 

It was so obvious from the start, so bright, yet so warm, so it blinded one’s eyes to see it clearly from the beginning. 

Cedric took a deep breath as the epiphany hit him.

“Hey, you alright?” Phoebe must have sensed something was off. Lawrence and Miles stopped their bickering and looked at him with concern.

Cedric swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah. I’m alright. Don’t worry.”

The train pulled into Platform 9 ¾ at 11 a.m. with a loud whistle. After hurriedly explaining to his friends that he had something to do, Cedric got off the train quickly, clutching his luggage with a sweaty hand. 

Streams of students poured off the train, followed by puffs of smoke from the engine, which blurred his peripheral vision. Excited chatter echoed in the platform, but all Cedric could hear was the loud beating of his heart, as though it might burst from his chest.

A wave of panic seized him. With the chaos and cacophony around him, surely he wouldn’t be able to find the familiar figure he was searching for in the crowd. Then his eyes landed on the waiting area, where parents often stood, looking for their children. His heart leaped with joy as he spotted James and Lily from afar, their eyes also scanning the crowd for Harry.

Cedric moved toward them, his eyes never leaving their figures …until he finally caught sight of a head of wild, messy hair. Without thinking, his hand reached out and grabbed Harry’s arm.

Harry stopped, visibly surprised. His hand, which had been holding onto his trunk, let it clatter to the ground, and Hedwig’s cage grated against the platform. The soft, startled squeak from the owl made them both flinch.

“Sorry,” Cedric said hurriedly, glancing briefly at James and Lily, who waved in greeting before turning back to Harry. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute? Before you go?”

Still surprised by the sudden stop, Harry didn’t say anything but nodded briskly.

Cedric grimaced as he led Harry to a corner near a fire extinguisher, away from the train doors. It wasn’t ideal, but Cedric would make do because he had so little time to talk to the boy.

“Sorry again,” Cedric said to Harry’s confused expression. “I just haven’t been able to find the right time to talk to you. I probably won’t get the chance again for weeks, so—” he gestured with his free hand, the other still clutching his luggage and broom. Both of them were holding their big trunks, their broom, plus an owl cage, and they looked almost ridiculous.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked incredulously.

Cedric took a deep breath. “I just want to say that I’m sorry for kissing you that time… again, I—”

Harry rolled his eyes, looking annoyed. “I thought we’d moved past that. Stop apologising already.”

But Cedric wasn’t going to back down this time. Not now.

“No, Harry. I can’t just let it pass between us. Yes, I feel sorry for doing that without warning. It probably seemed like it came out of nowhere, but I won’t apologise for how I feel… about you. Back then and even now.”

He could see Harry tense up. The boy’s eyes widened.

Cedric pressed on. “I think I’ve known for a long time, but I didn’t fully realise it until recently. Actually…” He shook his head. “Not recently. Just a few hours ago, on the train… which sounds absurd because it wasn’t that long ago…”

He took another deep breath. “Sorry, sorry. I’m a mess.” He glanced at Harry, who was still looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“The point is… I have feelings for you, Harry. How can I not? You’re the most amazing person I know. You’re special to me. You’ve been special to me since the day we met, when you hit me on the back and apologised for thinking I was invading your house. You’ve always been so kind, and the way you fly and smile… sorry, I’m rambling…”

Cedric let out a broken laugh, feeling his face flush red. This was going terribly. He was going insane.

“I was afraid that if you knew how I felt, it would ruin our friendship. But now I know I can’t hold it back anymore. I like you, and it’s not in a brotherly way. I think I’ve fallen for you, and I won’t regret telling you, even if you don’t feel the same.”

Cedric wanted to reach out and hold Harry’s hand or maybe even kiss him again if it were possible, but he knew he couldn’t.

He glanced over Harry’s shoulder and saw that the platform was nearly empty now, with most of the students gone. In the distance, James and Lily were watching them curiously.

Turning back to Harry, Cedric said, “You don’t have to feel the same way, of course. But…” He sighed, trying to smile. “I’d love it if you gave me a chance.”

He heard Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and for a moment, a blush bloomed across Harry’s cheeks.

“Cedric…”

Before Harry could say more, Hedwig gave another loud, piercing squeak, her cage tilting precariously off the top of Harry’s trunk. Just as someone called Cedric’s name, he looked up and saw his dad standing there with a trolley, ready to pick him up.

The world around him seemed to blur into a haze of smoke and the faint whistle of the departing train.

“You don’t have to say anything yet. Just… I just want to let you know.” Cedric told him.

Harry swallowed, then nodded briefly. Cedric gave him a small smile one last time before walking up to his dad.  

He glanced back at Harry, who was still standing there, watching him, and waved the boy goodbye.

Chapter Text

Summer

1

Harry was still quiet when he got into the waiting taxi James had hired to go to their grandparents’ house. His shocked expression was clearly etched on his face, even though Turnips had jumped from his loosened cage onto his lap and was now glaring at Harry accusingly for not petting him.

“You alright?” James turned over his shoulder from the seat beside the driver to look at him. The taxi slowly glided through the London traffic toward the southwestern suburbs.

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

Harry shook his head, beginning to stroke the purring Turnips on the ear, ignoring how Hedwig narrowed her eyes at the family cat. He could feel Lily’s eyes on him, but she didn’t say anything about Harry’s unusual silence. Her green eyes stared at him with mild amusement.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost after talking to Cedric,” James pointed out.

“Nothing to worry about,” Harry plastered on a smile and tried to sound cheerful, though his voice trembled slightly. “When will we be able to see Remus?” He asked James.

“The second week of July, after he and Sirius get back from France. What, do you want to see him all of a sudden?”

“Can Sirius take me there after our trip to Brussels?” Harry asked quickly, realising too late that his voice sounded more urgent than it should have.

It was Lily who responded. “What’s the rush to talk to Remus? You can talk to us, if you’d like. We happen to be your parents, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “As much as I appreciate your sarcasm, you wouldn’t understand. But thank you.”

His mum was about to say more, but James mumbled good-naturedly, “Teenager.” For that, Lily just sighed and didn’t press him further.

The ride to the Potters’ house was smooth enough, despite Harry’s pounding heart. He tried to calm it by distracting himself with feeding treats to Hedwig and Turnips. James chatted idly about new inventions and his plans to meet with an investor, while Lily asked Harry about school and his friends.

He finally began to feel like himself again when they arrived at his grandparents’ house in Richmond, where he was pulled into a bone-crushing, loving hug by Fleamont and Euphemia.

Harry tried not to grin too widely when Fleamont complimented his height and said he looked taller, though he knew it was just his grandpa doting on him as usual. Euphemia chided James for “starving” Harry since he still looked “too skinny” to her. They couldn’t wait another moment to pamper Harry with sweets, supplies, and scrumptious meals. Euphemia, who adored animals, was happy to look after Turnips and Hedwig for the week’s trip. They stayed the night before setting off the next day.

During his last-minute packing, Harry was rummaging through James’s old clothes and stuffing what fit into a smaller suitcase, since his own clothes at the grandparents’ house no longer did. He was glad to keep his body moving, sorting through closets and boxes. It kept him from thinking about what had just happened. Not yet, anyway.

He headed downstairs to grab some snacks and water in the kitchen, only to find Lily sitting on the couch with Euphemia. His grandma’s knitting was tucked in her lap as she sat in her cushioned chair. Their chatter was low, almost in whispers, but they both looked up when they noticed him approaching.

“We were just talking about you,” his grandma said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Harry knew her well enough to realise it was her diplomatic way of shifting the air from whatever serious topic she and Lily had just been discussing.

“Go ahead, I’m just grabbing some travel snacks,” Harry shrugged, quickly heading to the kitchen cabinet to get some chips and muffins, all the while feeling his grandma’s eyes tracking his movements.

As he poured himself a glass of water, he heard Euphemia speak again.

“I was just asking Lily whether our boy is seeing someone. Do you have a crush on a pretty girl at school yet, Harry dear?”

Harry spat out the water and choked, coughing hard. Euphemia continued dreamily, more to Lily than to Harry himself.

“I remember having a crush on my school friend Albert Blaydon. He was two years older. A Ravenclaw boy. Lovely blue eyes and such a handsome face. Everyone in school was crazy about him. I even dated him for a short while,” she said, her knitting lazily moving in her lap, guided by her hands and not a wand.

Lily giggled. “Where was Fleamont during this prime time of yours?”

Euphemia waved a hand, looking good-naturedly annoyed. “Oh, don’t bother. He was a lanky, four-eyed boy. So timid and always cooped up in the library. I couldn’t believe he was in Gryffindor.”

“But he was brave enough to ask you out, I suppose,” Lily suggested with a smile.

Euphemia let out an exasperated sigh. “Until our last year at Hogwarts. He’d probably have waited until I was retiring if I hadn’t dropped him hints.”

Lily nodded in ready agreement. “Yeah, James did that too. He came on so strong with his flirting, but he was so slow to actually make the first move.”

His grandma adjusted her glasses, placing her knitting dismissively on the small stool. 

“It’s something about Potter boys, certainly. They’re just… sort of—” she adjusted her reading glasses on her crooked nose, “ frozen , when it comes to these natural, easy things.”

Harry, the only Potter boy currently standing in the kitchen listening to all this reminiscing, felt he had to say something to defend both his grandpa and his dad.

“Asking someone out isn’t an easy thing.”

“I didn’t ask them to move a mountain with their bare hands!” Euphemia raised her voice, clearly enjoying herself. “Besides, how would you know it’s not easy, Harry? Unless you already asked your girl and got completely crushed afterward.”

His mum turned to look at him with her ‘non-judgmental’ look. One she clearly believed was subtle and masterfully crafted, though Harry could tell she was absolutely judging him.

Harry felt his face redden. He realised too late that he’d just walked right into their trap. This was a master plan. Very subtle, very deliberate. With Euphemia’s guileless smiles and Lily’s well-timed silence, he had been completely caught off guard and exposed.

“I… I didn’t,” he tried, though he knew from his mum’s expression that she already knew the truth. “I don’t. I just assumed it’d be difficult for everyone.”

Euphemia shook her head, feigning disappointment. “Potter boys will never out-stubborn themselves.”

Lily just smiled and cast Harry a knowing look.

Harry cursed under his breath, quickly grabbed the bag full of snacks, and sprinted out of the room, away from the curious eyes of the two terrifying women.

***

Thankfully, Lily didn’t bring up the topic again during the trip.

They arrived in Brussels via two portkeys on a bright, sunny day. James had already rented a flat for them and was excited to meet his benefactor.

Lucus Moreau was a stout, middle-aged wizard with a big beard and nearly bald head, who wore a permanent wide smile and laughed at even the faintest hint of humor. He seemed almost as eccentric as James when it came to inventions and whimsical, made-up spells. They eagerly traded lists of their invented spells and snickered like two boys caught in the act.

Moreau ran the country’s famous souvenir shop, Moreau and Loisel, renowned for handicrafts and decorative toys, some of which were even exported to well-known shops across Europe, including Zonko’s. He also showed genuine interest in James’s other toys and inventions, and even proposed making James a shareholder in his company. His dad politely declined, having no desire to run a business, especially in a foreign country. But he was happy to trade copyrights for duplicating the glowing blue light or Nova, as Moreau enthusiastically rebranded it, and some of his other inventions. The deal went smoothly for both parties.

Harry had thought the trip to Brussels would pass dully, but during a dinner with Moreau, the shop owner casually mentioned he had partially sponsored a Leuven Quidditch Youth Team. The team consisted of players no older than twenty-two, training before applying to professional clubs. Moreau generously offered to let Harry practice with the team, and James eagerly agreed to take him to play with them.

It was so exciting for Harry who’d never played with boys who were five or six years older. Even the girls on the team were all much taller and tougher than the players he was used to at Hogwarts. At first, they eyed Harry warily, and his much shorter height didn’t help to ease their suspicion. But their doubts quickly dissipated once they saw Harry soaring through the sky on his Firebolt.

Those were some of the most exhilarating days for him, his body flying fast across the Quidditch pitch, playing with people he’d only just met. He could hardly communicate with the other players except through hand gestures and short, simple phrases, but Harry understood perfectly what the captain was trying to do. After watching them during practice matches, he quickly picked up their tactics and adapted when it was his turn to fly. He got many chances to try different positions: Chaser, Keeper, rotating with other players and learning their strategies.

“You’ve impressed them, little James,” Mr. Moreau told Harry in his thick accent, continuing to call him by his dad’s name.

Despite the mix-up, Harry beamed.

For the other days, while James spent time pitching more of his ideas to the businessman, Lily took Harry shopping and sightseeing around the town.

Brussels was warmer and brighter in the summer. Harry got to try new food: vol-au-vent, filet américain (which tasted like a more delicious version of beef tartare) and a huge variety of chocolates. Lily took him to historic Muggle sites and exhibitions, and, of course, picked out some new clothes for him.

Their last stop on the short trip was the Jardin Massart botanical garden, under a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze, with melting ice cream in their hands.

Harry was watching beds of fuchsia dahlias dance in the wind when Lily turned to him, her usual smile curling on her lips.

“We should buy some chocolates, maybe cocoa butter and biscuits. Sirius has a sweet tooth. He’ll love that. You can bring them when you stay with him.”

Harry gawked at her. “You—you're letting me stay with them next week?”

“Of course,” Lily said simply. “James already told Sirius. He’s picking you up the day after tomorrow.”

“How did he contact Sirius that fast?”

“They have their ways,” Lily answered cryptically. 

Harry decided not to press the matter. It was probably better not to poke into whatever his dad was up to, sometimes James’s ingenuity defied all logic.

He suddenly felt a little sheepish about the way he’d blurted everything out in the car on the way back from King’s Cross. They had never brought up his awkward moment again, but Harry was grateful that Lily had taken his words to heart, even indulged him.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled. “And sorry for… not telling you. I swear I’ll tell you.”

Lily shook her head. “If it’s not something serious like that time you took it upon yourself to get revenge on Malfoy. I think it’s fine. I understand.” She reached out to squeeze Harry’s hand. Normally it might’ve felt overly affectionate, but this time, Harry welcomed the touch completely.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me and James, whenever you’re ready. You’re allowed to keep things to yourself, Harry. Whether it’s your feelings or… someone else’s secret. I’m just glad you have Remus to rely on this time.”

Harry swallowed. He was sure his mum knew, but she didn’t want to press or even assume.

“Uh—thanks.”

Lily gave his hand another reassuring squeeze, then her green eyes, identical to Harry’s, lit up with excitement.

“And speaking of secrets… I have a surprise for you. We’ve been keeping it since we met you at King’s Cross.”

She gently took Harry’s hand and pressed it to her stomach.

“What—” Harry started to ask. 

Then he felt it. A slight movement, like a soft flutter.

He looked at his mum, his astonished expression and gaping mouth clearly entertaining to her, because Lily burst out laughing.

“You’re going to have a sister!”

Harry gasped, glancing back down at Lily’s barely noticeable belly. “Wait, what—how… how do you know it’s a girl?!”

“Mother’s instinct,” Lily said simply. “Most witches know their baby’s gender early on. I knew you were a boy within the first month or two.” Her hand was still on his, guiding him gently. “This one’s almost three months now, so it’s obvious.”

“Can I help name her?” Harry asked breathlessly.

Lily laughed softly. “We’ll choose the name that suits her best when she arrives, but of course you can brainstorm.” She released his hand gently and turned to look at him fully. “How do you feel about being a brother?”

“Honestly? Weird as hell,” Harry admitted, scratching the back of his head. But the excitement bubbling inside him wasn’t going anywhere.

Then his eyes met Lily’s. “But it also sounds amazing. I can’t wait to meet her.”

His mum’s smile brightened. At that moment, she looked younger, her green eyes sparkling in the summer daylight. She reached out to hug him tightly, which earned a cry of surprise from Harry, but he hugged her back without hesitation.

That evening, after they got back to their rented flat, Lily decided to have a little feast to celebrate the news. James looked visibly relieved, which Harry guessed was because he’d been unsure how Harry would react. They had more traditional local food, thanks to Mrs. Moreau, including Flemish stew, moules-frites, signature meatballs, waffles, and more fries. James was the only one drinking wine, while Lily and Harry sipped tea and hot chocolate.

James tossed out a few name suggestions for his daughter. (‘Margaret’ earned a small frown from Lily, and ‘Rose’ was a bit too on the nose considering Lily’s name.) Harry found it strange, stranger than he expected, to accept the idea that someone new would be joining their small family. Someone he hadn’t even met yet, but already felt both eager and nervous about. What would she be like? Would she be more like Lily, just as Harry had started becoming more like James these days? What if she didn’t like him? What if she didn’t like Quidditch?

The last thought filled him with sudden worry. It would break his heart if she hated Quidditch.

Harry was busy imagining ways to introduce his sister to a toddler-sized broomstick he’d seen in a Daily Prophet ad when Lily asked whether he was alright.

“Yeah, of course.” Harry realised he’d been zoning out, absentmindedly nibbling at the meatballs on his plate. He straightened up and smirked. “Just thinking about how I can get my sister into Quidditch as soon as possible.”

James burst out laughing, and Lily looked exasperated but Harry could tell she wasn’t really offended.

“We should have one decent child,” she said. “Someone who’s genuinely not into sports.”

“Quidditch isn’t just a sport. It’s a way of life,” Harry replied matter-of-factly.

James laughed even harder, and Lily rolled her eyes fondly.

They finished dinner later than usual. Harry helped James gather the plates while Lily waved her wand to clean the table and sort the leftovers. 

Then, a question popped into his mind.

“How did you two decide to get married?”

Lily paused mid-spell, and James looked at him over the stack of plates. “What made you ask that?” his dad asked, voice a little higher than usual. 

Harry just shrugged. “Nothing. I wasn’t interested before, but now I am.”

He saw his parents exchange a not-so-subtle look before James cleared his throat.

“Lily just couldn’t resist my charm after years of avoiding me and throwing insults. She finally admitted it was all foreplay and agreed to go out with me one day in sixth year.”

Harry frowned. “What’s foreplay?”

Suddenly James looked startled, but Lily jumped in quickly and loudly. “What he means is that I found him less annoying over time. Underneath all the stupid pranks and attention-seeking, your dad is actually kind and thoughtful.”

“Wow, thanks for the honesty,” James said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “For me, there wasn’t any big reason. Your mum’s the greatest witch I’ve ever seen or laid eyes on.”

That earned a chuckle and a small blush from Lily, who beamed at him. “He had a crush on me since third year, I suppose.”

“No, it was love at first sight,” James insisted. Harry snorted at his dad’s serious expression until he realised James wasn’t joking. He meant it.

There was a pause before Lily’s eyes drifted away from James and landed on Harry. “We continued dating… hmm, after we graduated. We were together for almost three years. I finished my Healer training, James got his first writing job… and then we had you.”

“You got pregnant before you got married,” Harry blurted out, surprised.

James grinned. “Yeah, having you came a bit earlier than planned, though, to be fair, we didn’t really have a plan. The marriage just happened along the way. But we were thrilled. We’re so happy to have you.”

His dad put the places down and came to hug Harry, ruffling his already messy hair. James was usually so playful, so when he said something serious, it felt like sacred, irrefutable truth. Like something carved into stone.

Harry mumbled shyly in his arms. “Thanks. For telling me.”

Lily hummed softly as she resumed her cleaning spell, but her eyes lingered on Harry, as if asking some silent, unspoken question. Then she turned her gaze to James, and something passed between them. One of their usual quiet conversations without words.

Once again, Harry volunteered to do the dishwashing that night to avoid any more curious gazes from his parents.

2

Instead of his usual t-shirt and ripped jeans, Sirius looked sharp in his newly tailored suit, his dark sunglasses and long tousled hair pushed back. He said he had just finished dealing with trading businesses for his ‘priceless family artefacts’, took a Portkey from the border of the country, and rented a Muggle car to get here.

“Now you’re taller!” Sirius said happily, squeezing Harry into his embrace despite his protest.

“He’s only allowed to stay for a week. No more bothering poor Remus about that. I’ve heard he’s still busy with schoolwork despite the summer break,” Lily reminded them.

“Trust me, Lil. Remus is more than happy to have someone to speak English with. He’s in no condition to handle more than one French class,” Sirius reassured her.

They parted ways with his parents. Sirius promised Lily not to let Harry near his flying motorcycle just yet. It was a bit disappointing, but considering Lily was pregnant and had even allowed Harry to stay abroad a while longer, it was a fair deal.

The drive across the country took only a few hours and passed surprisingly quickly with their conversations and debates about Quidditch. While James’s love for Quidditch was still strong, thanks to his former Chaser position in school, his attention had shifted more towards his inventions. Only Sirius’s passion could match Harry’s when it came to discussing strategies and debating strengths and weaknesses. Harry gushed over the Firebolt, and Sirius beamed proudly. He also told his godfather about joining the practice games with the Lavern Youth team, which sparked more of Sirius’s questions. 

They also predicted the champion for the Quidditch World Cup, which was currently down to the last eight teams. Both of them agreed that England was really in top form this round, but would never get past Transylvania, their sworn enemy, if they continued using the already tired and injured Chasers.

“My galleon’s on Peru and Ireland, obviously,” Sirius said firmly. “It’s just so, so bad that they’ll have to face each other before the finale. That would’ve been such a great final.”

“Ron said Bulgaria’s a dark horse and has a high chance to win.”

His godfather scoffed. “That’s not what a dark horse means when you only have one good player like Krum. They can’t beat the great players from Peru or Ireland. Bulgaria just got lucky this year being in the weaker bracket and beating South Africa. They’re not that good.”

“Let my friend hear you say that. He’s a huge Viktor Krum fan,” Harry said, amused.

They reached the Portkey station on France’s border before Harry even got tired of the drive. Sirius parked his rental car outside what looked like an abandoned warehouse, but was actually the Ministry’s Portkey station. Sirius waited while Harry applied for his underage wizard’s form with the scowling old man in charge of customs at the gate. The man didn’t say a word; he simply gestured to an old, dusty book on the table for them to use as the Portkey.

The forceful pull that sucked the air out of his lungs whenever he used a Portkey was something Harry would never get used to. If he dared say it, he would admit that he hated every mode of travel except for broomsticks. Sirius tugged his arm and pulled him ‘out’ of the vacuum, and they landed at their destination just as Harry stumbled to the ground.

At the centre of the town lay the Great Grand Plaza. Unlike England, where magical folk were scattered all over the country, mostly living among Muggles, the magical community in France nestled within the rugged peaks and lush valleys of the Pyrenees. It was concealed from the world and visible only to witches and wizards, establishing itself as a huge, bustling town.

When Harry had come here for the first time, Sirius had told him that the magical folk here didn’t care about Remus being a werewolf because they had lived among all kinds of people. But the people here did mind Muggles. They didn’t want to associate with non-magical people in any way and preferred to live among themselves, barely interacting with the Muggle world.

Sirius and Harry walked through winding streets lined with enchanting shops offering rare potion ingredients and handcrafted magical items, from cheap prices to exorbitant ones. On the mountain, he could see the sharp spires of Beauxbatons looming in the vicinity. 

Usually, Sirius would take a shortcut to Remus's place through a small alley instead of crossing the hanging bridge in the crowded area at the far end of the street, but this time, he took a different route.

Harry was about to ask what it was about when he started to notice the strange posters on some shops’ fading walls. Actually, the posters were everywhere on the main features of the town. Harry paused to read one that showed a bored-looking man with a gaunt face, black beard, and ragged, unkempt hair, even dirtier than Harry’s after a Quidditch match. His eyes stared off into the distance, not at the camera, and looked almost lifeless.

“Who’s he? His name sounds English.”

Sirius’s face radiated a bit of discomfort. Something Harry rarely saw.

“Barty Crouch Jr. is English, but he’s been detained here for over a decade. Or at least, he was until last month, when he broke out and is still on the loose. The French Ministry launched a search for him but found nothing. I think he might have fled back to England by now.”

The bored-looking man now seemed far more intimidating than he looked on the poster, Harry pondered.

“What did he do to get imprisoned for so long and in a foreign country, out of all places?”

For a brief moment, his godfather’s face darkened. “Murders. That scum was a serial killer. A kind of maniac. The last person he killed was a Frenchman, so he was sentenced to life here.”

“And during the Quidditch World Cup weeks too. Won’t we see the news once we get back?”

“Probably not. The thing is, both the French and British Ministries have tried to keep it quiet. Their mistake. I think Fudge is trying to postpone any public announcement until the Cup is over because of his stupid obsession with popularity. He’d probably try to dismiss Crouch’s breakout as a ‘foreign affair.’” Sirius rolled his eyes annoyedly, the usual mischievous look gone from his face. “But I’m not taking any risks having you wander around town alone. I promised James, and though it’s unlikely Crouch would show up here again, just be careful.”

That explained why the plaza wasn’t as crowded as usual, and why Harry didn’t see children running about. 

“He’s been out there for a month. He must be a very skillful wizard.”

Sirius nodded grimly. “Yeah, he’s one of the smartest people I’ve known.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You know him?”

“No,” Sirius said, a little too quickly though he had just said he knew Barty Crouch Jr. a second ago. 

Harry narrowed his eyes but didn’t insist on pressing that kind of question. Clearly, talking about Barty Crouch made Sirius uneasy, especially for someone like him, who was rarely uncomfortable about anything.

About fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Remus's place. A small house with a steep, dark reddish-brown tiled roof and white exterior walls. Leafless trees, likely bare due to the season, lined the front yard, casting faint shadows beneath the summer sky. Since Beauxbatons wasn’t a fully boarding school and was close to town, Remus could stay in the house on weekends.

Sirius had just closed the wooden gate set into a brick wall when the door creaked open and Remus stepped out, smiling warmly at them. Harry jogged over and threw his arms around Remus. He couldn’t help it. He did it every time, just like when he was a little kid.

“Merlin, you’re getting taller now. It's only been a couple of months since Christmas,” Remus remarked fondly, releasing him. Then he turned to Sirius. “Smooth ride, I hope?”

Sirius nodded. “Harry was particularly curious about Barty Crouch Jr., though.”

Remus’s smile dimmed slightly. “Ah, that man. I’m sure he’ll be caught soon. The Ministry here is relentless — especially with foreign convicts.”

“I’m afraid he might have crossed the border into England by now, and I don’t trust Fudge’s hand to handle all this.”

Remus sighed as he ushered them inside the house. The smell of sweet caramel lingered in the air, probably from a freshly baked cake.

“You have to give Fudge the benefit of the doubt. He can be a capable leader when he puts his mind to it. And he’s got a lot of connections when it counts.”

“I’ll never trust the man who was stupid enough to let Umbridge’s werewolf legislature resurface in court just last year.”

“What’s the werewolf legislature?” Harry asked.

Sirius scowled, looking downright menacing before answering. “A shitty, discriminatory law that forced every werewolf to register their identity – a pathetic excuse for ‘safety’ to classify them like animals, so no one would hire them.”

“Sirius,” Remus gently touched his partner’s arm, but there was a warning in his voice. “It’s too early to get into politics now.”

But Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he was glad to know. A swirl of anger flared in his chest. How dare they make someone like Remus reveal his secret, like he owed them for something he couldn’t change.

“I shouldn’t have been surprised. Fudge is a clown,” he spat. “He even tried to have Buckbeak—uh, Hagrid’s Hippogriff—executed if we hadn’t helped him escape.”

A flash of surprise crossed Remus’s face as he led them into a small kitchen. “Tell me about your last term, Harry. I’m sure it was quite eventful.”

A sponge caramel cake floated up from the oven, hovering mid-air before slicing itself into three neat pieces. At the same time, the kettle poured hot tea into the cups without anyone having to ask. Harry recounted his last few months at Hogwarts over tea with the two of them. Sirius laughed joyfully when he heard about Harry and Ron’s plan to rescue Buckbeak, and was impressed by the teamwork they pulled off.

Harry skipped the part about Cedric, wanting to speak to Remus about it privately first. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sirius – he did – but that part was something Harry could only admit to Remus for now.

He also talked about his time in Brussels, just like he had in the car with Sirius.

Remus had been quietly listening the whole time. Then he sipped his tea and asked, “And how does it feel to be a brother, Harry?”

“You knew?” Harry said, astonished.

Sirius snickered. “James couldn’t keep it in. He blurted it out in the first sentence he said to me two months ago. He was nervous about telling you, but it went well, didn’t it?”

Harry rolled his eyes. Why would anyone be worried about him knowing that?

“Of course. I’m excited, and a bit nervous, honestly. What if she doesn’t like Quidditch?”

Like James, Sirius barked a laugh and clapped Harry’s shoulder so hard it nearly sent him face-first into the cake. “If that’s the biggest thing you’re worried about, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Lily asked me to be her godfather,” said Remus.

Harry gasped. It made perfect sense, and he couldn’t think of anyone more fitting, but he still felt a tiny pang of jealousy for his unborn sister.

Then Sirius nudged him. “Hey, if nothing else, at least you still get a chance to name her.” Harry gave him a sulky look but eventually relented.

Their conversation shifted to lighter topics, like Remus’s strange summer work schedule. He simply said it was for a student exchange program and didn’t elaborate much—only that he and a couple of other teachers were handling private group classes until early July. (“You’ll know more about it. Hogwarts is also part of this program,” Remus said furtively.) 

By the time they finished the delicious salted caramel cake, Sirius got up from his chair and begrudgingly announced that he had to return the suit to a bloke named Jules, who was also one of Remus’s colleagues. He promised to bring back dinner on the way.

“Don’t forget the rental car,” Remus called after.

Sirius slapped his forehead and cursed under his breath. “Bugger. I’ll have to owl that grumpy Monsieur Corbin to retrieve it for me.” He came back to kiss Remus on the cheek and left the house.

Remus resumed sipping his tea, a knowing smile tugging at his scarred lips as he looked at Harry.

“Now then, I’m sure this visit isn’t just because you missed me, is it?”

“You’re wrong. I do miss you,” Harry retorted, mimicking the way Remus sipped his tea.

Remus chuckled. He looked more worn than the last time Harry had seen him, probably from work and with the full moon drawing near.

“What’s the matter? You looked a bit urgent the moment I saw your face at the door.”

Harry winced. Remus was just as good as Lily at reading him, which was always a little terrifying. Heat bloomed on his cheeks as he started to speak. There was no way to shove the matter aside anymore. He had to talk to someone, or he’d explode like an old dying phoenix.

“It’s about Cedric… he, uh, he just said he liked me. Like that. That he fancies me.”

Remus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh?”

“See! You’re just as shocked as I was!” Harry sputtered, waving his arms as his shoulders tensed up. “He just said that… after… after he accidentally kissed me when we helped Buckbeak escape. Not that it was really a kiss, I guess. It just sort of happened—then I was just there and—”

“Hold on,” Remus gently took Harry’s arm, stopping his spiral. “It might be better if you tell me what happened from the start.”

So Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm his stupid pounding heart. With Remus’s encouraging smile, he began to explain everything. He told him about the rushed moment when Cedric kissed him, and then ran away, leaving Harry shocked and confused. How he had avoided Cedric for days just to calm himself down. Then Cedric had found him again, apologised for kissing him and said he assumed it had been a mistake. But months later, just before leaving the platform, Cedric had caught him and said — just like that — that he was in love with Harry. And again, left him flabbergasted, like a gaping pygmy puff.

Remus laughed softly at Harry’s comparison at the end, then his voice turned earnest, like a teacher addressing a bewildered student. “I’m surprised that he told you how he feels, but come to think of it, I’m not surprised that he’d feel the same way as you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “That’s mental. He’s one of the most popular kids in school. No way he likes me. He dated a really pretty girl last term, and most of the girls are crazy about him.” His shoulders slumped. “Sure, I’m good at Quidditch, better than him, if I’m being cocky, but that’s it. I don’t have a charming personality or good looks. Yeah, he used to be dense and stupid, but now he’s noble and just... perfect in every way.”

“I remember you said he called you brave. That’s a good and worthy quality in a person,” Remus said gently.

“There’s a very thin line between bravery and foolhardiness,” Harry countered.

The amused look on Remus’s face made Harry huff in annoyance.

“Forget about bravery, then. It’s not about popularity, Quidditch talent, or social status that makes someone fancy another, Harry. Attraction comes from something else… like the way just being you makes him like you. Think about it… what made you like him in the first place?”

A blush rushed to Harry’s face as he choked out a reply. “Uh, I don’t know! I just saw him looking at me… um, that look. With those eyes… and I thought I wanted to get close to him.”

Remus hummed and nodded. “That’s right. Cedric probably thinks the same way about you.”

Harry shook his head stubbornly, muttering under his breath, “Impossible.”

“What would make Cedric kiss you, if not because he’s been feeling something for you all along?”

“Dunno. Could’ve just been proximity and adrenaline. Like I said—he apologised afterwards.”

Remus smiled knowingly, as if he’d been expecting that answer. 

“Maybe that’s true. But if you accept what he said at the time as just adrenaline, then you also have to acknowledge what he said to you at King’s Cross. Cedric wouldn’t just blurt that out if he hadn’t had some kind of epiphany. Maybe when he kissed you, he didn’t understand what he was feeling yet. But when he told you how he felt, he knew. No one says something like that unless they feel it strongly.”

It was a lot to take in. Harry buried his face in his hands and exhaled. 

“I don’t know... It’s just too good to be true.”

He felt Remus’s hand rest gently on his shoulder in comfort. This is pathetic, Harry thought. He was being pathetic. He’d spent weeks trying to get over this crush, telling himself over and over that it would pass. He’d already accepted that his feelings for Cedric would never be returned. The fact that they were friends now… that was supposed to be enough. 

Remus had told him last year that he didn’t have to act on anything. Just let it happen naturally. A crush, like a chomping cabbage, would wither if left unfed. One day, he told himself, his feelings for Cedric would fade.

But now, this overwhelming sensation had come crashing down on him. He’d been running in circles each night, haunted by the image of Cedric’s grey eyes at the train station, and those words. Those words meant just for him. It was beyond anything Harry could understand, or feel .

Maybe his gran was right. Potter boys had a problem with self-reflection and a painfully slow grasp of romance.

Finally, Harry lowered his hands, letting them fall limply. “I can’t imagine myself in a relationship.”

“You don’t have to,” Remus said firmly. “No one can force you, not even Cedric. All you have to do is talk to him. Figure out what you both want. You said he didn’t ask you out, right? So there’s no rush.”

“I’m not good at talking when it comes to this kind of stuff,” Harry admitted sourly.

Remus smiled. “My advice: don’t overthink it. Don’t rehearse. Just find him and talk, like you’re talking to me now. You came to me because you knew I’d understand these complicated feelings, didn’t you? With that in mind, talk to Cedric the same way. If he likes you, he’ll be ready to listen to whatever you want to say.”

Harry let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

Still smiling, Remus reached out and lightly tapped Harry’s chest. “Sometimes, you just have to listen to your heart, not your head, Harry. No matter how smart you are about everything else. A lot of bright wizards stumble when it comes to this ‘kind of stuff’.”

A snort escaped Harry’s nose. “I bet that includes my dad and Sirius.”

Remus didn’t answer, but the faint smile lines on his face said it all.

***

The event that urged Harry to talk to Cedric soon came with Sirius’s news. Harry already suspected something was up. Sirius was so bad at containing his excitement, it was practically bubbling on the surface. Harry and Remus, after briefly glancing at each other, decided to wait patiently until Sirius was ready to surprise them.

And he did, while they were having dinner.

“I have very good news.” As excited as he was, Sirius didn’t even leave a pause for them to ask and hammered straight to the point he had been waiting for. 

“A bloke named Guillaume. He owed me some galleons in the past, but that didn’t matter. Anyway, I just got a letter from him, saying he’d like to compensate his debt by getting me tickets for the Quidditch World Cup next month!”

Harry dropped his fork. “Holy shit. That’s brilliant!”

Sirius raised a finger, looking as smug as he could possibly muster. “Not only that. He said I could name the number of people I want to bring along. How many do we need?”

His thoughts whirled rapidly. “Can you find tickets for the Weasleys? I think Ron’s siblings might want to go too.”

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Write to your friends during the week so I can talk to him.”

Harry rushed to hug his godfather. “This is amazing.” He still couldn't believe he’d get to see the World Cup, and with his friends too. His heart lurched with excitement.

He was so happy he almost missed Remus asking Sirius incredulously, “How much did this Guillaume owe you?”

Sirius just shrugged wordlessly. A mischievous grin spread across his face, and Harry laughed heartily.

Almost a week went by as fast as a Bludger that shot right at the England Seeker’s nose, Blythe Parkin, and made England lose to Transylvania with the embarrassingly shameful score of 390–10. Remus said he got relentlessly taunted by his fellow teachers at Beauxbatons, and Sirius, though loyal to Ireland's team, looked glum and shook his head dejectedly when he read the sports column in the paper.

The letters Harry wrote to his friends were responded to just as he had expected. He could practically hear Ron’s shout of excitement through his tiny, rushed handwriting, as he readily accepted Sirius’s offer along with six other tickets (for Bill and Charlie). Ron also wrote that Mrs. Weasley insisted on having Harry stay at the Burrow for a short time after the World Cup, which Harry gladly accepted. 

Hermione, despite not being a Quidditch fan, was also very excited to go, as she wanted to learn more about wizarding international affairs. Luna, on the other hand, said she couldn't go because she would be tracking Yetis with her dad in tropical regions at that time. Neville would have loved to go, but he said he was grounded because… Harry’s eyebrows had raised at his friend’s words in the letter – Neville had almost accidentally set his house on fire.

Harry didn’t get a letter back from Cedric because he hadn’t sent one in the first place. He was about to come back home in a few days, and wanted to tell the other boy in person with all the things they’d left unsaid last time.

The rest of the week passed peacefully quiet. Remus had Harry revise some spells and continue practicing the Patronus Charm, which they had been working on for two summers now. He reasoned it would come in handy, since the corporeal form not only repelled Dementors but could also be used to communicate short messages in no time. They didn’t practice with real Dementors, but Remus was planning to find a Boggart, if he could.

Harry could conjure it by thinking of a joyful, happy memory, but his Patronus was still as silent as a muted apparition hovering in the air.

“But what’s the use of it to the actual person?” Harry grumbled, eyeing the silver form that looked like a stag.

“It might come in useful, since we have a dangerous criminal on the loose, and no one knows what he’s up to,” Remus answered. “If they don’t find him before the term starts, the Ministry will eventually do something about it. In the worst case, they might have Dementors roam around public places.”

Harry shuddered. He hadn’t ever seen the actual Dementors yet, but he’d heard about them and how horrifying “the Kiss” might be. He almost felt sorry for Barty Crouch Jr. 

So he relented and listened to Remus’s instructions. He didn’t get to go out much during the week, but it wasn’t so bad after all. At least he’d learned some cool, practical spells, and was able to find his footing… about his own feelings, and what he wanted to talk to Cedric about. 

Harry smiled to himself. If it had been him a couple of years ago, he’d have been bored to death with nothing to do, but now, he didn’t find himself so bored indoors anymore.

By the time he was about to leave, Remus squeezed his shoulder, his brown eyes earnest and unwavering. He didn’t say anything, just gave Harry a small smile, but Harry knew what the man was trying to say.

“When will you come back?” Harry asked, after pulling away from the hug.

“Next month. I hope it’s soon,” said Remus. “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

Harry nodded, then walked with Sirius to the Portkey station and soon returned home.

3

Coming home during the summer break felt different this time.

According to Lily, Cedric had just got home as well, so Harry announced to his parents after arriving that he wanted to go see the other boy — to ask him about the Quidditch World Cup, obviously.

“Why don’t you invite him for dinner?” James suggested, his voice echoing from the kitchen. “We’ve been long overdue to invite him to have a meal with us. I’m making lasagna, and we have enough cottage pie left to feed more than three potions’ worth of people.”

Harry huffed. “Fine.”

It was far from his plan, Harry thought with dismay, but he indulged his parents before heading outside.

As he trotted across the four hundred yards to the house next door, he realised this hadn’t happened in a long time. Not since the rift between them, and with Harry being on and off during summers all the time. A small wave of nervousness bubbled up in his chest.

The Diggorys’ house still looked pretty much the same, with white walls and neatly trimmed bushes. Though for summer, there were more dry leaves scattered across the grass lawn in front. Harry rang the bell and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and prepare to see Cedric behind the door. 

But instead, he was faced with Amos Diggory’s surprised expression.

“Uh, hello,” Harry greeted, clearing his throat. He tried to muster a friendly smile – the kind Lily said made him look amicable. “Is Cedric home? I’d like to talk to him.”

Mr. Diggory continued to stare for a moment, then blinked and scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yes, he’s upstairs. I’ll go tell him.” He glanced at Harry hesitantly, then left the door open. “Why don’t you wait inside?”

Taken aback by the unusual kindness, Harry stepped over the doorstep awkwardly, murmuring a “thanks” as he entered.

He hadn’t set foot in Cedric’s house for years, but the house still looked much the same, with spotless floors, far too clean compared to his home. The kitchen table appeared to be the most used spot, with newspapers and a few books lying around. On the wall hung a neatly ironed suit and a pair of polished shoes, clearly for some event.

Mr. Diggory didn’t go upstairs right away. Instead, he turned around to face Harry.

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. “For helping Ced through all this… between his mum and me. He told me about you offering to let him stay during Christmas. That’s… that’s very kind of you.”

Harry blinked slowly, but before he could say anything, Mr. Diggory hurriedly continued.

“And I want to apologize for… not treating you kindly. You’re just a child, for Merlin’s sake. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you, or on my son. It didn’t turn out well, as you’ve seen. And also about Remus Lupin… I misjudged him quite harshly.” The embarrassment on his face was unmistakable.

“That’s alright,” Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his head just to have something to do. He wasn’t used to adults apologising to him, least of all Mr. Diggory.

“Can you tell Mr. Lupin that I’m sorry for what I said?” he asked, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure Harry would be quick to forgive.

Harry wanted to insist he should apologise to Remus in person, but he wasn’t the one who got to decide how these tensions got solved. He didn’t want to carry grudges into eternity, so he nodded briskly.

Mr. Diggory looked like he was about to say more when footsteps sounded from the stairs, and they both turned toward the newcomer.

Harry’s heart clutched tightly at the sight of Cedric for the first time since that painfully honest confession at King’s Cross.

Seeing the older boy now didn’t help at all. In a casual t-shirt and jeans, Cedric looked even more handsome than before. His skin was darker, like he’d spent a lot of time in the sun, and his longer brown hair was pushed back to the nape of his neck — none of it helped Harry’s state of mind.

Cedric looked surprised, then smiled warmly. “Hello, Harry.”

The damned scene at King’s Cross, when Cedric had said all those things, came crashing into his mind and short-circuited his thoughts.

Shit, Harry cursed internally. He cleared his throat, better to get on with the reason he came. “I– I’d like to talk to you. And my parents… they want to invite you for dinner,” Harry said, reciting the words he’d prepared in his head.

“Really? That’s very kind,” Cedric said, glancing at his dad, who gave a short nod.

“Also, um, Sirius has tickets for the World Cup final, and I thought you and your dad might want to join us, if you don’t already have tickets.”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “You’re joking! That’s amazing! I’d love to come!” 

He turned quickly to his dad again, who nodded, albeit a bit dazed. But then, as though remembering something, Cedric turned back to Harry with a hint of disappointment. “Ah, but my dad will be busy on the day of the final match. He has to be there monitoring the misuse of artefacts.”

Harry nodded stiffly. “I get it. Ron’s dad also has to patrol that day. He said lots of people will be trying to charm items and sell them cheap.”

Mr. Diggory’s eyebrows raised. “You mean Arthur Weasley? He’s in the same department as I am—different division, though.” He gave Harry a brief smile. “But thank you, truly, for thinking of inviting us.”

“When will we be going?” Cedric asked.

“Go where?” Harry looked at him dumbly.

“The dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, now… yeah.” Harry startled, looking embarrassed. “You can just come with me to my house.”

“Brillaint,” Cedric said easily. He waved at his dad and followed Harry out the door.

A bed of marigolds, the dry green leaves, the brown lawn, the chirping of hummingbirds—Harry looked at everything except Cedric, who walked a little behind him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the older boy’s face as they briskly crossed the small hill to the other side.

After a moment, Harry started to recall how to act normal, “Your dad’s nice.”

He heard a chuckle from the other boy. “We just got back from a week-long camping trip. Dad’s idea. We talked a lot. It was… a really nice trip. He’s finally come around, I guess.”

Harry’s shoulders relaxed. He forgot about his awkwardness and turned to Cedric with the surprisingly good news. “Hey, that’s good.”

Cedric beamed. “I know, right. How was your trip?”

He shrugged. “It went well.”

Their short conversation drifted along pleasantly and easily. Putting all the complicated feelings aside, Harry began to feel more at ease and was able to talk to Cedric like it was just a normal thing. All the while, Cedric hadn’t mentioned their last conversation at all.

Harry was telling Cedric about the Quidditch team he had played for and was about to begin explaining the tactics they used when they reached the door and stepped inside. The smell of lasagna and pie wafted through the air, making his stomach rumble.

“Cedric!” Lily came to greet him. “Wow, you look even more handsome. Here, come take a seat. We just finished making the dishes, and there’s still plenty of cottage pie left. Where’s your dad? He can join us for dinner.”

“My dad’s going to the Gobstones Club tonight. They’re having a new member welcoming party. He signed up for it,” Cedric said sheepishly, before going to greet James as well.

The dinner went surprisingly smoothly. Harry counted himself a winner every time he caught himself not staring at Cedric for longer than three seconds and didn’t choke on a mouthful of pie whenever Cedric addressed him at the table. They talked more about the trip to Brussels, and James, as always, entertained them with stories of his new invention ideas and progress on his latest business venture. Cedric also talked about his camping trip.

“I wouldn’t have known there were wild gnomes living in the mountains. We even saw a Jackalope from afar. One time, we nearly ran into a swarm of Grindylows in a green mossy lake—if it hadn’t been for Dad steering the boat away just in time, our dinghy might’ve flipped, and we’d have drowned,” he recounted. “I’m starting to see the appeal of going on foot like the Lovegoods do every summer. But obviously, it’s a bit more dangerous than I thought.”

James nodded eagerly, turning to Lily. “We should go camping sometime. It’s been ages since we trudged through the mountains or ran into a Dugbog. That would be fun!”

Lily looked at him sternly. “It might be a while.” She glanced down at her growing belly.

James grinned. “Oh yeah, right. I forgot. Lily’s pregnant!”

Cedric gasped. “Congrats!” 

“It’s going to be Harry’s sister, apparently,” Lily said cheerfully.

Cedric turned to Harry with a teasing grin. “So, big brother, huh?”

Harry felt himself blushing.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I think you know by now that when he says ‘it’s not a big deal,’ it clearly means it is a big deal for him,” James commented, smirking over the rim of his wine glass.

The older boy smiled. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”

“Shut it. It’s not about me,” Harry grumbled, picking up his fork and shoving a big chunk of pie into his mouth.

They talked a bit more about other things: Hogwarts next year, the news about Barty Crouch Jr. which had also reached Cedric through his dad’s work at the Ministry — and, of course, Quidditch. Harry was shocked to know that Cedric hadn’t been keeping up much with the matches and was quite out of the loop, so he and James happily filled him in over Lily’s strawberry trifle.

The kitchen clock groaned tiredly as it struck 7 p.m., just as all the dishes were stacked and dried neatly. An old leprechaun doll popped out from the clock’s face with empty confetti — it was one of James’s first inventions, which he still held a sentimental attachment to and refused to modify.

“Thank you for having me. It was such a lovely meal,” Cedric told James and Lily earnestly.

“You can come by any time,” Lily said warmly, patting his shoulder gently. “And next time, ask your dad if he’s free. We’d love to have him too.”

Cedric looked visibly relieved, his shoulders sagging as he smiled back.

When the older boy walked to the door, Harry hopped up to meet him at the doorstep, trying to tamp down the wild fluttering in his chest.

“Wanna take a walk?” Harry asked breathlessly.

Cedric’s grey eyes gazed at him, and though his face remained calm, he answered without missing a beat.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

The summer sky was always so bright, even after dinner. It was that cloudless, tangerine glow that made Harry itch to grab his broom and soar into the sky, as if he could reach the blazing sun. The faint sound of crickets murmured like soft crooning music.

Even without needing directions, they strolled quietly toward the Sycamore tree— their tree, Harry corrected stubbornly in his mind.

Cedric looked up at it, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His brown, flopping hair looked velvety and so touchable. Harry let his thoughts wander, wondering what it might feel like to run his fingers through it.

“Remember last year when you saw me kiss Cho here?” Cedric let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid of me that I didn’t really get why you looked a little upset. I remembered what you said, Harry. It’s supposed to be our sacred tree, after all.”

A rush of heat crawled up Harry’s neck. He took a deep breath, remembering what Remus had once said: 

No rehearsal. No thinking ahead. Face it and let fate unfold for you.

“No,” Harry said. “I was an idiot because I was jealous of Cho… getting to kiss you.”

There. He said it.

The feeling was like jumping off a cliff — the moment when your body hangs in the air, suspended for just a few milliseconds before the fall. His stomach flipped, gravity yanking him downward, hard and fast, like a bloody Bludger smashing into the earth.

Cedric’s expression changed beautifully. He looked at Harry with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, his grey pupils dilated. Then his cheeks and neck flushed red.

“You—”

“See! This is what you did to me with your bomb-drop at King’s Cross!” Harry interrupted, grinning maniacally, despite his heart thundering in his chest. He was almost shocked by how loud his voice was, how much it trembled. 

“Now you know what it felt like when you said all those things. Bloody hell, you have no idea how—”

His words were cut off by Cedric’s lips on his.

It was rushed again, frantic, but Harry could instantly feel the warmth spreading as their bodies pressed together. He gasped, eyes still wide open, catching the sight of Cedric’s lashes up close — and his breath, hot against Harry’s face —

Then Cedric pulled back quickly, looking sheepish, his face burning red.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m—”

“I’m not having it if you run away again,” Harry’s stern voice beat him to it.

Cedric let out a laugh. A joyful and carefree belly laugh that made Harry’s stupid heart leap at how light it sounded.

Still laughing, Cedric clutched his stomach, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “Sorry. I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but it’s just so funny. We’ve been such idiots … the whole time. I didn’t know.”

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned playfully. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

The older boy finally calmed, and straightened up. Though people often said Harry was taller, he would never be quite as tall as Cedric, who looked more and more like an adult now. His grey eyes held an unwavering gaze.

“I meant what I said,” Cedric continued. “I don’t need you to do anything about it. I won’t ask you to go out with me, not if you don’t want to. We can stay friends, just like always. I don’t want to ruin that for anything else.”

“Yeah, about that…” Harry scratched at his hair, slowly turning away from Cedric’s gaze to the open field and the little dry stream in front of them. Cedric stayed silent, waiting patiently until Harry spoke again.

“I kinda want to, you know... go out with you.” He gestured wildly at the air, as if his awkward hands could somehow express how terrified he felt. “But I have no idea how any of this works…”

He exhaled sharply. “It’s just… I’ve never thought about what comes after fancying someone. And somehow, that person, you , liking me back? That’s terrifying. And I hate being terrified. Not that I don’t like liking you!” he added hurriedly.

Then his voice dropped. He stared down at his untied shoelace dangling from his shoe.

“I hate not knowing what to do about things.”

Cedric didn’t speak right away. Slowly, he stepped closer and gently reached out to touch Harry’s hand. It was such a tender gesture, and it melted Harry on the spot.

“We can take things slow,” he said. “Keep this just between us for now, so it doesn’t get overwhelming. That way, you’ll have more time to figure it out. And if you decide it’s not right, or if you don’t like it, we’ll figure that out too. You can call it off anytime.”

Harry didn’t realise he was holding his breath. When he finally spoke, his voice came out in a soft squeak. “I can?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cedric said firmly, his palm warm against Harry’s. “To be honest, I’m scared too. My relationship with Cho didn’t work out, and I might not be as good at this as you are. But you’re different from Cho. You’re my best friend, and I want to make sure we’re okay, no matter what kind of relationship we have.”

“Shit, you’re so good at this,” Harry breathed, trying to sound lighthearted even though his voice and his heart betrayed how overwhelmed he was. 

The other boy smiled shyly, his eyes twinkling in the last light of dusk.

“So?” he asked softly.

Harry looked at their joined hands and nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The smile Cedric gave him was the brightest thing Harry had ever seen.

And that, Harry thought, made everything he’d been afraid of completely worth it.

***

Days and weeks after that went by pleasantly normal.

It was like the summer when they had first become friends — only this time, no one climbed the sycamore tree or played pretend as great wizards. Harry and Cedric still spent most of their time outdoors, flying and enjoying the fresh air. As promised, Harry let Cedric fly on his Firebolt and basked in the older boy’s endless compliments about how fast and smooth the broom was. He rolled his eyes fondly when Cedric kept insisting he could never beat Harry at catching the Snitch except when the golden ball was right in front of him. Still, Harry couldn’t help but smile at Cedric calling him ‘talented’ and a ‘Quidditch prodigy’. 

Call him a little vain, but he secretly loved it.

They talked about everything, just like they always did. Harry now remembered the names of Cedric’s friends, whom Cedric promised to introduce once they got back to school. Cedric also had a plan to join a short expedition with a team of Magical Historians from the Ministry to retrieve magical artefacts from various sites two weeks before school opened. Meanwhile, Harry told him about Fred and George’s dream of opening a joke shop, something that was apparently also James’s dream back in the day, and how he thought Ron and Hermione might fancy each other.

“Really?” Cedric’s brows raised in surprise, then he hummed thoughtfully. “Well, actually it’s not surprising when you think of it.”

“The worst thing is, they don’t even know they like each other yet,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“And what are you going to do? Play matchmaker?” Cedric asked, amusement glinting in his voice.

“Nah,” Harry waved it off. “Hermione already tried to do that with me and you at Hogsmead. But she failed, obviously. I’m not going to embarrass myself like that.”

When the air was too hot and sticky to fly, they’d sit on the porch, sometimes at Cedric’s house, to do what Cedric gently reminded him: homework. A boring task that Harry could no longer pretend didn't exist, so he begrudgingly sat still to skim a few pages about the Goblin Rebellion of 1621, usually followed by a few yawns and droopy eyelids before even starting the assigned essay.

“Remind me again why I have to know about Svish the Third and his glorious battle in Derbyshire.”

Cedric paused his own essay planning and smiled. “Because even now, Goblins still lack proper representation in the Wizengamot.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling a little guilty as he looked down at the illustration of the wrinkled, deeply frowning Goblin King in his book. “I don’t mean to be ignorant. It’s just… this chunky text doesn’t help. It looks like it was written by an old, cranky scholar who’s forgotten how to talk to humans. This can’t be English.”

He heard Cedric chuckle, then felt his hand placed on top of his, Cedric’s fingers brushing gently against his knuckles.

“How about after I finish taking notes on Transfiguration, I’ll summarise what happened in Derbyshire for you?”

Still glancing at their joined hands, Harry nodded shyly. 

Despite keeping everything very much the same, these easy, almost thoughtless touches from Cedric were all new to Harry. Whenever they walked side by side, drank tea with freshly baked scones, or even flew together, Cedric would always reach out — brushing the fringe off Harry’s forehead, fingers sliding past him with barely any weight, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, a tentative touch on his lower back, or the subtle hand-holding they were doing now.

It was invigorating. And it was driving Harry insane.

Beyond their tutoring sessions, Cedric also offered to help with his handwriting, which made Lily almost jump for joy, while Harry tried (and failed) to get out of it by suggesting James invent a handwriting-improving quill.

“There is a quill for that. My friend Lawrence bought it,” Cedric said, “but the charm wears off eventually.”

Very unhelpful, Harry glared at him.

With no backup, Harry grumbled and had to slow his writing just enough to make it legible by Cedric’s standards. Sometimes, they had afternoon tea at Cedric’s house, joined by Mr. Diggory, who, surprisingly, wasn’t so bad to talk to. Despite Harry’s long-held wariness, Mr. Diggory was more into Quidditch than even Cedric, and he took great interest when Harry mentioned playing with the Youth Team in Leuven during practice matches.

“If you’d like to pursue a professional sports career, you should look into the Youth Team in Birmingham. A lot of England’s players started there. Ludo Bagman, who’s head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, is an alumnus. It’d be a great step toward the national team.”

Harry blinked at Amos Diggory’s sudden enthusiasm. “Uh—thanks. I’ll… think about it,” he said politely, before biting into a macaron.

Later, Cedric explained that his dad was always involved when it came to what he thought was best. He loved planning ahead, ensuring everything fit into his vision for the future. 

“That’s why he’s so set on you working at the Ministry,” Harry said, beginning to understand the man’s mindset, and how connected Mr. Diggory was within the Ministry, with relationships and sources he had worked hard to build.

Cedric let out a tired sigh. “He’s not over it yet, just better at hiding how eager he is.”

Harry snorted. “Bet your dad’s not a fan of whoever’s coming after Fudge in the next election, if Fudge loses.”

The other boy smiled tightly. “No, he isn’t. He doesn’t like change. Anything that disrupts his routines or plans makes him nervous.”

So Harry considered Amos Diggory’s apology a pretty big deal . A milestone, even, after all this time. Their relationship had gone from eye-souring awkwardness to cordial acquaintanceship. That had to count as a win, right?

Talking to Cedric every day felt too good to be true. Harry had started to lose all sense of time, feeling like living in a fever dream. 

On one of the hottest days in the second week of July, Harry was sitting on the porch, writing a letter to Remus. Hedwig was dozing off on the table beside him. He knew it was a weekend because his mum hadn’t gone to work; she was nearby, doing something like knitting in a cushioned chair. Then he heard footsteps hurrying toward him.

Cedric ran up to them, smiling radiantly. His hair gleamed under the sun, catching golden highlights, and beads of sweat clung to his flushed face.

Harry wanted to kiss him the second he reached the porch but had to hold back the thought because of his mum’s presence.

“My O.W.L. results are out,” Cedric said, panting, still wearing that wide grin that made Harry’s heart swell with affection. He pulled a letter from school out of the pocket of his jeans. Harry and Lily scrambled up from their seats to get a look.

“All Outstandings! That’s insane!” Harry gawked, lightly punching Cedric on the shoulder, earning another round of that beautiful laugh.

Lily turned to Cedric with a bright smile, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Congratulations, Cedric! That’s a pretty big deal. Your parents must be so proud!”

Cedric nodded, beaming. “I didn’t think I’d get all O’s. I was sure I messed up the Ancient Runes exam. Surprised they didn’t dock my points.”

Lily hummed thoughtfully. “You might have a hard time choosing your N.E.W.T. subjects. I remember some professors could be very persuasive about continuing with their subjects. Like Charms. Professor Flitwick would never let you go.”

“I’m still taking Charms, DA, and Transfiguration,” Cedric told her confidently. “I might have to drop Herbology, Healing, and Astronomy, though, because of the tight schedule.”

“Wait, I promised to give you my books on Healing. You can still take a look, even if you don’t continue with the N.E.W.T.,” Lily chirped, then darted into the house with surprising speed.

Harry shook his head at his mum’s enthusiasm, then turned back to see Cedric still grinning and slightly out of breath.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a nerd.”

Cedric’s smile grew even brighter. “So now you’re saying you’re dating me?”

He said it airily, but there was unmistakable teasing in his voice. Harry wanted to curse himself for letting that slip.

He glanced toward the house, where Lily had just disappeared, then grabbed Cedric by the shirt and quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. His face immediately heated up, matching Cedric’s blush as the other boy looked at him, wide-eyed and smiling.

“Thanks,” Cedric was still smiling, his voice a little shaky.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry went back to his letter-writing, but he accidentally clutched the ink bottle too tightly, spilling it all over his paper. A few drops splattered onto Hedwig’s feathers, waking her with a shriek of outrage. She pecked Harry not lightly on the arm, many times.

Cedric’s laughter echoed over Harry’s yelp of pain as he tried to shield himself from his furious owl.

A week before the Quidditch World Cup, Cedric went to stay with his friends for a couple of days – the longest time they hadn’t seen each other since… Harry tried not to think about it… that time under the sycamore tree. Cedric came back three days after the World Cup, and they went flying together in the more bearable weather, the air light and breezy.

There was a small Muggle town about five miles from Moon Hill. James and Lily used to take Harry there now and then, for sightseeing and grocery shopping, but they never let him go alone. He’d never considered flying there either. He didn’t see the point in just wandering around, pretending to be a Muggle teenager, dodging awkward questions from shopkeepers like ‘What school do you go to?’ or ‘Where are your parents?’ Eventually, he’d run out of lies and risk exposing the wizarding world to the whole town.

But Cedric had the idea to fly there one afternoon and explore. There was an abandoned shed in a dry wheat field, and with the Ultimate Keys from James, Harry could use it to hide their brooms out of sight.

Cedric suggested strolling along the streets, trying ice cream, and picking up food for lunch. The town wasn’t crowded, but the streets were lively with small shops and vendors selling seasonal fruit, fresh brie cheese, and dried meats. It wasn’t so bad, Harry admitted. The quiet, peaceful atmosphere so different from the heavy, anxious one he’d felt during his stay in the wizarding town in France offered a strange sense of normalcy.

After exploring the town, they hiked up to a nearby hill. Cedric said it was a picnic spot his mum used to take him to for the view. The breeze was steady, and though it was summer, it wasn’t too hot. Harry could feel the sweat cooling on his face as they reached the top.

They shared a small lunch of cucumber sandwiches, roasted chicken wraps, hard-boiled eggs, and cheese they’d bought from the market. Harry had just finished a fruit yogurt when Cedric set down his brownie on the grass and pulled something from his small backpack. It was a silver, rectangular-shaped device Harry had seen some students carrying.

“My friend Lawrence made me get this while I was staying over. It’s a music device. Muggles call it a Walkman. It’s brilliant. He taught me how to use it,” Cedric said, smiling.

He pulled out a few more small flat boxes from his bag. “These are tapes. Like our records. You have to put one in here…” Cedric opened the Walkman, inserted a tape labeled In Utero Nirvana that Lawrence had insisted was a must-have, and closed the lid. Then he pulled out a string of wires.

“I’ve seen those before,” Harry said, gesturing at the wires.

“They’re called earphones. I’ve got a pair of headphones too, but I brought these so we can listen together.”

Harry was about to say he knew what headphones were. He’d seen Sirius and James use them before, but then Cedric scooted closer, their arms brushing lightly, his shoulder pressing against Harry’s and he’d lost for witty words to say. 

Cedric offered Harry one of the earpieces before pressing play. The first track started, the sound of heavy drums and a lingering guitar filling their ears.

They listened to song after song until the whole album was finished. Cedric was enthusiastic; he introduced Harry to more music he’d learned from his Muggle friends and taught him how to use the cassette player buttons: rewind, pause, skip. It was fun. When they finished the tape, Cedric let Harry choose the next one: Erasure, Radiohead, or The Beatles.

They nodded along to the beat, mouthing verses and choruses. Harry began to understand the appeal of music that Sirius used to rave about. They also talked about wizarding bands: The Wyrd Sisters, Spellbound, bands Cedric had started listening to during the previous term.

“I’ll let you know if I can find their records in Diagon Alley,” Cedric said. “Too bad they don’t sell them on tapes.”

A new song came on, a slower one. Harry took a deep breath, content with the instruments alone. A small, unconscious smile curled on his face. When he looked up, he caught Cedric watching him with those intense grey eyes that stole the air from his lungs.

They were sitting close, a shared earbud between them, an unfinished fruit pack beside them. Then Cedric’s hand gently found Harry’s, his thumb brushing over Harry’s knuckles. A familiar gesture Harry had grown used to over the past few weeks.

The other boy smiled shyly. “This is nice.”

Harry’s heart was stuck somewhere in his throat. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed him.

He braced himself for disappointment… the older boy pulling away or apologising like the last two times. But there was no retreat, no fumbling excuse. Their lips lingered, soft and trembling. Harry could feel Cedric’s breath against his skin. He didn’t dare speak, afraid it would break the spell. So, he leaned in, pressing the kiss deeper, just to make sure it was real.

And Cedric kissed him back.

It was slow, painfully slow for someone like Harry, who was rarely patient. But this slowness wasn’t bad. It was deliberate. Grounding. 

His thoughts short-circuited as Cedric gently nibbled his bottom lip, and when Cedric’s fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, Harry let out a soft whimper he didn’t know he could make.

Startled by his own sound, Harry pulled back instinctively. 

“Sorry, I… I won’t do that again,” Cedric stammered. There was a flicker of alarm in his eyes.

Harry caught his breath, his face burning with the same blush Cedric wore. But instead of answering, he reached up and placed a hand on Cedric’s jaw, pulling him close again. 

In their second closeness, Harry whispered, “Don’t you dare,” and closed the gap for another kiss.

This time, Cedric didn’t hesitate. His fingers roamed again through the back of Harry’s hair, pulling him closer. Harry gasped, but didn’t pull away. He kissed Cedric again, tasting the faint sweetness of brownie still lingering on the other boy’s lips.

4

That kiss was forever seared into Harry’s memory like a crust that he didn’t want to let go.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Harry had been thinking about their kiss on that hill, during that silly picnic, for a few days that followed. They didn’t talk about it after returning from the town and continued speaking to each other like usual, but Cedric was always smiling and looked like he was in a good mood whenever he dropped by to have tea with James and Lily. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, since Cedric was naturally cheerful most of the time. Harry wanted to curse him.

Harry, on the other hand, had been fighting for his life to remain calm and composed. Whenever Lily mentioned that he seemed particularly distracted, Harry would quickly say it was because he was looking forward to the Quidditch Final. That was somewhat true, but there was something else entirely that had him so distracted. 

Every time Cedric glanced at him or talked about mundane things, Harry’s mind would immediately return to that kiss and the soft touch of Cedric’s hand in his hair. 

So much for keeping their relationship a secret. He couldn’t even control his blushing when Cedric looked his way.

Is this what kissing feels like? All those references in songs, books, and whatever else, about how kissing someone could feel so good and exciting… Harry hated that they were right. Because that was exactly how it felt when they kissed. Like he was being weakened and strengthened at the same time, and he was losing his mind trying to relive that moment over and over.

With something wild occupying his thoughts, Harry didn’t even realise three days had passed. Now that the Quidditch World Cup was finally here, he was glad for the distraction. Bulgaria had turned out to be the dark horse, beating Peru to reach the final, which sent a rude shock to Sirius. Ireland, predictably, had made it through as this year’s favorite.

There was one downside to the trip: Lily announced she wouldn’t be going. His mum reasoned that she couldn’t stand the loud, rowdy crowd yelling and spilling beer and spit (Harry and James vehemently protested the stereotypical image she painted of Quidditch fans). After James failed to convince her, Remus kindly offered to stay behind with her.

“I’m not keeping up with the match anyway,” Remus told them via Floo the night before, despite Harry’s sulking.

Sirius had come to stay over the night before, and they were all up by three in the morning. Cedric was already waiting in front of their house, dressed in casual Muggle clothes and smiling brightly at the sight of Harry’s unceremoniously yawning, bedraggled head.

“My dad’s already gone ahead to the scout location, but he offered to lend us the tent and kitchen supplies. It’s the least we can do,” Cedric said, gesturing to the heavy backpack slung over his shoulder.

Sirius clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Splendid. We’re off just in time to meet the Weasleys at Stone’s Head Hill for the Portkey station at five”

“I didn’t know going to see a Quidditch match required so much hiking and waking up this early,” Harry grouched.

James laughed. “We could’ve just Apparated if it weren’t for the underage tagging along. Besides, isn’t it nice to breathe in the fresh morning air?”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes. It was his dad who had complained about the early morning the night before. But arguing felt like a bad idea in the pre-dawn darkness, so he grudgingly followed Sirius and James, who were walking briskly ahead. Cedric trailed beside him.

The older boy leaned in, his voice low. “Your hair looks adorable.”

Trying not to blush, Harry shot him a mock glare. “Shut up. It’s a mess. Lily dragged me out of bed and shoved my bag on my shoulder while I was still brushing my teeth.”

Cedric laughed. Harry felt a wave of affection bloom in his chest. He was envious that the other boy didn’t look the slightest bit tired. Unbelievable.

After an hour, they paused to quickly devour their packed breakfast: smashed avocado and poached egg sandwiches, courtesy of Lily. Sirius kept checking his watch, and more than once James suggested flying to the Portkey station. But the sky was too dark, and it might’ve taken longer to locate the station from above. So, after just five minutes, they continued their hike.

Harry could feel sweat dampening his hair and his breath growing heavier. At one point, he slipped — tripping over a rabbit hole or a slick patch of rake. Cedric helped him to his feet, and Harry muttered a quick “thanks,” scowling down at his now mud-stained jeans and throbbing knee. 

They were just behind James and Sirius, and by the time they reached the destination, Harry felt like the air had been completely knocked from his lungs. The sky had gone from dark purple to a glowing pink as the sun began to rise.

Sirius had lied. It was a seriously long walk.

But there was no one at the station, only them.

Sirius turned to Harry. “Are you sure you told your friend Ron the right location and time?”

Harry was still panting. “Positive. I’ll eat Pixie dung if I’m wrong.”

Sirius let out a small sigh and was about to respond when James elbowed him. They were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, followed by chatter and familiar voices that made Harry smile widely.

The first person to appear was someone Harry had never seen before, but with his red hair, he figured he must be one of the Weasleys. The man was tall and well-built, with strikingly sharp features and cool tattoos on his arms that Harry couldn’t stop staring at. The rest of the group, he recognised Charlie Weasley, whom he’d unofficially met during the Buckbeak rescue; Fred and George, who looked like they’d been running for miles and nearly collapsed to the ground; and Ginny, who was last to reach the slope, clutching her ribs as she caught her breath.

Ron, still breathing heavily, came over and hugged Harry. He was taller than Harry now, his red hair grown to his shoulders, and still had that same bad posture just like Harry.

“Hi, mate. Sorry we’re late. We took fumes from Mum. She found Fred and George’s prank toys in their pockets. Lost it, completely. They said it was a perfect chance to sell them to people at the match. Can you believe it? And to top it off, we’d have been properly lost if not for Charlie’s compass. Wouldn’t even be here on time.”

He said it all in one breath before turning to greet Cedric. Harry grinned and clapped Ron on the shoulder in sympathy.

The red-headed man stepped forward and shook Sirius’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for the tickets, for all of us. It must’ve cost a fortune. I’m Bill Weasley, Ron’s eldest brother. Dad and Percy are already at the camp, so I’m in charge of herding this wild pack. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Sirius said with a broad smile. “And please, call me Sirius. This is James. No need for all the formality.”

Bill quickly introduced his siblings to Sirius and James. Fred was looking at James with wide admiration.

“Is it true that you’re the genius inventor? Harry’s told us about you,” he asked.

Harry could see his dad’s eyes light up, mischief twinkling. The same kind Fred and George had.

“Not sure about the inventor part, but you got it right — I am a genius,” James said with a wink.

Sirius snorted and hurried to usher the group toward an old boot perched innocently atop a tree stump. “You can talk their ears off later, James. First, we’ve got to use the Portkey in fifty seconds. Everyone gather ‘round! Quickly!”

They clustered around the boot, still flushed from exhaustion but buzzing with excitement. Ron stood on Harry’s left, and Cedric on his right, his arm draped casually around Harry’s shoulders. It was a friendly gesture, nothing more, but Harry had to force himself to focus on the Portkey so he wouldn’t spiral into thoughts about Cedric’s touch.

Once everyone had a finger on the boot, Sirius glanced at his watch and began counting down. “So here we go in three… two… one—”

That was when Harry remembered how much he hated travelling by Portkey. He felt the familiar, sickening lurch as if the air was being sucked from his lungs. A dizzying, vacuum-like pull yanked him forward. 

Five seconds later, they landed in a heap on soft grass, some crying out in surprise, others groaning.

Harry felt someone steady him as he swayed on wobbly legs.

“All right?” Cedric asked.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Harry mumbled.

Before them stretched a vast, mist-shrouded field. Sirius, already recovered from the dizziness, was the first to approach a tired-looking middle-aged wizard with a massive gold watch hanging around his neck. He was attempting to dress like a Muggle, but to Harry’s eyes he looked utterly ridiculous in tall rubber boots and tweed.

Harry thought about the wizards stationed at the French-Belgian Portkey border and wondered if the Portkey officers had been chosen because they had the same sleep-deprived look on their faces.

“Hello, Basel. Busy as always, huh?” Sirius greeted him casually, a wry smile on his lips.

The wizard didn’t return the smile, just sighed. “Good morning, Mr. Black. You’d better move on. We’ve got a large group arriving at this spot in four minutes.”

He pointed to the enormous clock face strapped to his chest as if it wasn’t already obvious to everyone watching the hands tick forward.

“All right, all right,” Sirius answered cheerfully, just to annoy the officer a little more. “Where’s our tent location again?”

Basel sighed again, this time not even trying to hide his exasperation. “On the right side, over there—six hundred yards. Here’s the map.” He conjured two maps for them. “There’s a sign with your names on it. Two tents, I presume?”

“Actually, three. We have a small one for the girls too,” Bill added.

The old wizard frowned but said nothing more as he was clearly too exhausted to argue. His expression said enough, so they began heading to the right, toward their booked location.

Mr. Basel’s wrinkled, sour face didn’t dampen Harry’s excitement in the slightest. From the moment they walked down the hill, there were hundreds—no, thousands—of tents spread out across the forest fields, in every colour and with every kind of noise imaginable, stretching as far as the eye could see.

At the entrance to their camping pitch, while Sirius and James were paying a Muggle named Roberts for the tent station, Harry, Ron, and Cedric heard someone calling their names.

It was Hermione, who came rushing over to hug them.

She hadn’t changed much, except that her frizzy hair was longer and tied into a ponytail, and it looked neater than usual. Hermione beamed at them.

“How was your trip? That was quite a long walk up here, wasn’t it?”

Harry answered with a firm, “Deadly sure,” while Ron asked her about her first time riding the Knight Bus.

Hermione looked slightly sheepish. “Oh, it was good… a bit wilder than I expected. I couldn’t get much sleep on the way. We stopped multiple times and it was… uh, pretty cramped.”

Ron and Harry smiled knowingly. They were already familiar with the Knight Bus’s infamous jerky ride, but decided to hold their tongues after knowing Hermione’s enthusiasm, and her unwavering resolve to get there on her own for the first time.

They chatted more about their summers while weaving through row after row of tents. Despite being strictly forbidden from acting strangely or breaking the Statute of Secrecy, many witches and wizards had clearly taken creative liberties with their campsite decor. Harry saw tents transformed to resemble caves, others with stoves, fountains, and strings of repellent charms. There were unmistakable sounds of Sneakoscopes, bursts of fireworks, and hooting owls flying overhead, delivering letters.

“So much for reminding them to keep it to themselves,” Ron muttered incredulously. “Dad’s going to have his hands full tonight. He’ll be running around trying to warn people and fine them for using magical items on Muggle property. Doubt he’ll have much luck, though.”

Cedric chimed in, “Same with my dad. He was stationed in the nearby forest a couple nights ago.”

“Almost every Ministry officer has to work overtime to keep things in order,” Charlie, who was walking beside them, added. “Not that Ludo Bagman will be of any help. I worked with him once on an international Quidditch event, and he was awful at his job.”

“But he’s also the most enthusiastic we’ve got when it comes to sports,” Bill argued objectively. “I don’t like him either, but you won’t find anyone more passionate about Quidditch. He was an excellent former player too, for the Wimbourne Wasps.”

“If you ask Percy, he’d curse Bagman and praise Mr. Perfect-Crouch instead,” George snorted, then turned to Harry, Cedric, and Hermione. “He’s working for Crouch now, in the Department of Pale-Stinky-Emotionless International Affairs. I’ve always wondered why Percy got recruited, unless it’s because of his very pleasant personality.”

But something about what George said caught Harry’s attention, and he blurted out, “Crouch… you mean Barty Crouch Jr.? The same name as the missing convict?”

Ron hurried to shoo him. “Bloody hell, Harry. Don’t say that out loud. The news isn’t public yet.” He glanced around nervously. “But yeah, pretty much the same one. Dad told me something about it too, but only when Percy wasn’t around. He can’t stand anyone talking rubbish about his new worshipped boss. Perce’ll eat you alive if you say a bad word about him or even mention Barty Crouch Jr.”

“Who are you talking about?” Hermione asked, looking clueless, just as Harry asked curiously, “What happened between them?”

But Charlie cut in, clearly not wanting the conversation to continue out in the open. “Keep it to yourselves for a bit, you three. Ron, Hermione—help me set up the tents.”

Trotting off to help his older brother, Ron shot Harry a look that clearly said, ‘I’ll get back to you on that’ , and left Harry and Cedric to handle the tent.

Sirius and James were far from helpful when it came to setting up the tent without magic. The two were lightly bickering about how to use the hammers and measure the space by eye. James insisted they should just sneak in a flick of the wand and have it done in ten seconds, but Sirius was firmly against it. Eventually, they relented and followed Cedric’s calm, step-by-step instructions. Together, they managed to set up a decent tent with four beds, a clean bathroom, and a nicely decorated kitchen table.

“Nice tent, Cedric,” James complimented.

Cedric smiled, dropping his backpack onto one of the beds. “I’ve used this tent many times during summer camping. Glad it’s still holding up.” Then he turned to Harry. “Shall we walk over to the Weasleys’ tent?”

It turned out to be a good decision. Weasleys’ tents were nearby and still in the middle of a chaotic setup, with arguments and floating ideas everywhere. No one seemed to know what they were doing without magic. They were working on two raggedy old tents, which Bill said belonged to Mr. Perkins, who lent them out after retiring from his outdoor hobbies. Cedric’s presence was a huge help, as he started giving them direction on what to do.

While everyone was busy, Harry had a chance to speak with Ron again. He approached his friend, who was tying the strings of the tent in one corner. He noticed Hermione nearby too, her face full of curiosity barely hidden.

Ron briefly explained the news to her — that Barty Crouch Jr. had escaped, and was still roaming free. Hermione’s face turned to horror.

“And they’re trying to hide that during such a huge event? What is Fudge even thinking?” 

“What happened with Barty Crouch Jr.?” Harry pressed.

Ron shivered. “It was his father. According to Dad, Barty Crouch Sr. was the one who pushed the hardest for the harshest sentence on his own son. He even suggested executing him, but the court decided on a life sentence in a highly guarded prison in France instead. He was convicted for murders. Why are you so interested in him, anyway? The whole thing’s ghastly.”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. There’s just something I can’t stop thinking about—what he did, and why. I’ve tried asking Sirius, but he clearly avoids the topic. It’s just so strange, considering he tells me everything.”

Hermione suddenly made a connection. “From what we know, Barty Crouch must be around the same age as your dad and Sirius. They probably went to Hogwarts together.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re right, Hermione! I wonder why Sirius doesn’t want to talk about him.”

Ron said simply, “Well, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? When someone you knew turns out to be a bloody criminal, you’re not exactly going to go around bragging about it. Sirius must’ve known him well. He’s a pure-blood, just like the Crouches. They all knew each other.”

“Why haven’t I figured that out before?” Harry cursed when Hermione hurriedly asked, “How do we know we can trust Crouch Sr.? He might’ve helped his son escape.”

“He’s a highly respected wizard, and no one’s ever questioned his loyalty to the Ministry,” Ron replied. “At least that’s what my dad says. He’s even running for Minister of Magic.”

Hermione gasped. “A candidate for Minister, and his son’s been charged with murder?”

“It’s his one big flaw,” Ron agreed.

“Not that he could help how his son turned out,” Harry added reasonably. “If Crouch Sr. really is a good person, it’s not his fault he had a monster for a son.”

They were lost in thought for a moment, and Harry almost missed the moment when Sirius clapped his hands. Sweat was running down his temples, and he had already taken off his jacket, wearing only a T-shirt. His black hair was tied back into a small bun.

“We still have loads to do for lunch and dinner,” he announced, straightening up. “Let’s split up the work. Stove station’s ready. We’ve got some ingredients, thanks to Molly, but those vegetables won’t chop themselves. We’ll need water for cooking, too.”

“I can do the cooking,” James offered. Fred and George quickly jumped in to help as well, clearly eager to talk to him.

“Ginny and I can work on the fire and stove, if you trust me with the lighter and some wood,” Charlie said, slinging an arm around Ginny’s neck and ruffling her hair. She only protested weakly.

“Dad and Percy will be joining us for dinner,” Bill told his siblings while pulling out two enormous buckets from his magically expanded bag. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the cool tattoos on Bill’s arms, cursive runes and unfamiliar symbols. He remembered Ron had said Bill was a Cursebreaker in Egypt, which might explain his radical piercings and style in general.

Harry grabbed two buckets, still staring at his arms. “I can go fetch some water. Nice tattoos, by the way. Do they help with spell protection or something?”

Bill smirked at him. “Thanks. Some people think so, yeah. But really, they’re just for my own self-expression. Mum’s not a fan, though.”

“A mum never likes anything,” Harry said simply, which made Bill laugh heartily.

Cedric appeared beside Harry. “Harry and I can go get the water,” he said, taking one of the buckets from Harry’s hand.

“Cool. The nearest well’s here on the map,” Bill said, opening it and pointing to the location. Then he turned to the others. “Ron, Hermione—can you two grab some firewood near the edge of the forest? Be quick. We can get the stove going first.”

The walk to the well wasn’t far, but there was so much to see along the way. Most of the wizards were celebrating, oblivious to any legal restrictions and completely carefree in their excitement. The energy was contagious. Many had decorated their tents to show support for their favorite teams. Harry was nearly blinded by the sea of shamrock green in support of Ireland.

They were greeted enthusiastically by Seamus and his mum, who seemed thrilled to see them among their Ireland fellow fans. Then they ran into Oliver Wood, who waved eagerly at both Harry and Cedric and proudly announced he’d just signed a contract as a sub player for Puddlemere United. A few Hufflepuffs greeted Cedric warmly — Susan and Rosaline Bones, and Ernie Macmillan, who was in Harry’s year. There were also younger children playing with their parents’ wands, and some students from other schools, easily identified by their uniforms and tent crests, from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Overwhelmed by all the sights, Harry didn’t realise they’d reached the well until he saw the queue ahead of them.

As they waited, Harry glanced at Cedric, who had been unusually quiet during their walk. There was a thoughtful, unreadable expression on his face.

“What’re you thinking?” Harry asked.

Cedric’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh—um, nothing particular. Just… overwhelmed by everything that’s going on.”

“Same. I feel like by the time the game starts, I’ll be worn out already. We woke up so early, and all the hiking is draining.”

He noticed Cedric looking at him, and for a moment, the boy’s hand reached toward him then paused midair. Abruptly, Cedric let his hand fall limply to his side and smiled softly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall asleep while Krum catches the Snitch.”

“You think Krum’s going to catch the Snitch?” Harry asked incredulously, but before Cedric could reply, it was already their turn to fetch the water.

The way back to their tent was less pleasant with the heavy buckets of water, but Harry didn’t complain. He was still in awe of all the excitement and the increasing chatter around him. He couldn’t wait to see the match with his own eyes tonight.

Just as they reached their camp, someone called Cedric’s name loudly. A dark-skinned boy wearing glasses appeared from the crowd, waving at him. Now Harry recognised that his name was Miles.

“Hey, Ced! Can’t believe I ran into you here!” Miles greeted cheerfully. Harry noticed he had a slight American accent.

Cedric laughed, then he turned to Harry. “This is Miles. Miles, this is Harry.”

Miles extended his hand to shake, but then noticed Harry was still holding the bucket of water. He chuckled sheepishly. “Oh, sorry! Hey, would you two like to come check out our tent? It’s close to Bulgaria’s side. You guys should see some wicked brooms racing near the forest. Technically prohibited, but people are sneaking in for a thrill anyway.”

Cedric turned to Harry, but Harry just smiled and shook his head. “You go. I’ll help out with the cooking a bit.” He was hoping to get a moment to talk to Sirius about Crouch, though he didn’t say that in front of Miles.

He nudged Cedric’s shoulder with a grin when he saw the other boy looked reluctant. “Go. Don’t worry. Just be back for a late lunch or dinner in a couple hours.”

Cedric looked like he wanted to say something, but he glanced once at Miles, then nodded. He handed his bucket to Harry with an apologetic smile before heading off with his friend.

When Harry got back to the tent, he saw Hermione and Ron hanging around the stove. Hermione cast a worried glance toward James, who was reciting a recipe with an expression of deep concentration.

Harry chuckled. “Don’t worry about him. He always makes cooking sound more complicated than it really is.”

“Oh, thank you, son , for the vote of confidence,” James said dryly as he poured stock into a pan, and stirred it slowly. He only called Harry “son” when he was being sarcastic, which in this case reassured Harry that everything was still under control, and they’d probably have a decent meal sooner or later.

Still in the tent were the twins, chopping carrots, onions, and celery into large, edible chunks, and Ginny, who Hermione said had gone to take a nap. Sirius was nowhere to be found.

With nothing much to do while waiting for lunch, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took a stroll around the tents and visited some souvenir shops and wandering vendors. Harry reached into his pocket and bought omnioculars for Ron and Hermione so they could enjoy the game properly.

“Oh wow! You didn’t have to do that!” Ron said, completely stunned. His ears turned red as he looked down at the sleek pair Harry handed him.

“Don’t worry. This just means you won’t be getting a Christmas present from me for the next ten years.” Harry said with a grin, knowing full well he’d still get them birthday gifts regardless.

They passed by a group of small children playing with everlasting fireworks in Bulgaria’s colors, chattering excitedly in thick accents. They also stopped for some ice cream, not wanting to be too hungry by the time James and the twins finished their inevitably delayed lunch.

Nearby, an empty bench was spotted across from a group of eccentric witches who were gossiping loudly under a sign that read: Fortune-telling for one galleon. Let the future be heard by the real Salem witches.

Since the witches weren’t trying to shove pamphlets in their faces or sell them suspiciously scented perfumes, the trio figured it was safe to sit down and enjoy their ice cream.

That was when Harry told them about Lily’s pregnancy. Hermione clapped her hands in delight, and Ron blinked at him in surprise.

“Congrats, mate,” Ron said at last. “As a big brother to a little sister myself… she’ll be super clingy in the early years and start disagreeing with everything you say by the time she’s four.” He nodded wisely.

“Ginny’s really into Quidditch, and she’s cool—that’s what I hope for,” Harry said.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. “Not everything’s about Quidditch.”

“You just said exactly what my mum said,” Harry retorted.

Finishing her ice cream, Hermione set her purse in her lap and gave Harry a wicked smile. “But it’s not just about this news, I reckon. There’s more we should know about you. What’s up with you and Cedric?”

Harry froze but tried to act normal. “What do you mean?” 

Ron frowned slightly, glancing between Hermione and Harry, his mouth hanging open. “Wait—what—?” 

Hermione just rolled her eyes, clearly enjoying herself.

“Don’t act so innocent, Harry! I’ve seen the way he looks at you! And how you look at each other. Cedric’s basically glued to you since we got here, like he can’t take his eyes off you.”

“No, he isn’t!” Harry protested, but Hermione only grinned smugly, and Harry felt the flush rising in his cheeks.

Ignoring him, Ron turned to Hermione, eyes wide. “Merlin’s beard! How come you saw it and I didn’t?” He smacked his own forehead. “Blimey, Hermione. I can’t believe I lost the bet.”

“What’s going on here? What did you two bet on?” Harry demanded..

“We just bet on when Cedric would ask you out, or when you two would start dating. I won, apparently. Ron said it would happen by the end of the year. He lost,” she explained calmly.

“You’re violating my privacy here!”

At that, Hermione grinned like a maniac, and Harry hated the smug look on her face.

“It happened anyway! Finally! I’m so happy and relieved. Watching you two pine for each other every single interaction was exhausting.” She pointed at him. “Cedric’s been smitten with you for ages, and you with him too.”

“It was getting obnoxious, mate,” Ron added not very kindly.

Harry desperately wanted to fire back with a sarcastic ‘And you two!’ aimed at his best friends, but he swallowed it. They weren’t ready to admit anything yet. He’d just wait for karma to get them back for humiliating him like this. 

So instead, Harry groaned and gave a reluctant nod. His begrudging acceptance made Hermione squeal in delight, and Ron clapped him on the back, neither action helped his blush fade.

“Don’t tell anyone yet. We’re not… I don’t want to make it a big deal.” Harry told them, which Hermione and Ron promised firmly.

Their conversation soon drifted to general topics. Ron complained about the school supply list and the fact they had to buy Yule Ball robes for this term. Then they talked about Quidditch—Oliver Wood had graduated, and Ron needed a new broom since his old Cleansweep had only been good enough when he was subbing as Keeper. Harry wondered who would be the new captain, and his galleons were on Angelina Johnson as she was the oldest and now in her sixth year.

On the way back, they ended up spending a silly amount of money on unnecessary clothes for cheering on their teams. Harry bought a giant green Ireland hat with a huge shamrock on it. Hermione bought Ireland flags for the three of them. Ron, summoning all his courage, bought a Bulgaria hat despite Harry’s relentless teasing.

When they returned to the tent, the delicious scent of stew was wafting through the air, and everyone had gathered hungrily for lunch and were chatting animatedly. Mr. Weasley and Percy had joined them for a quick break from Ministry duties. Sirius was wearing a green T-shirt with Ireland for the win since day one glittering in silver on the back, while James had half of his face painted green. He was deep in conversation with the twins, talking about something suspiciously involving ‘puke’ and ‘skipping lunch boxes’ but in a very serious tone.

Cedric had returned too, now wearing a black-and-red Bulgaria flag draped like a robe, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Miles made me wear it,” he said sheepishly at Harry’s mock gasp. He high-fived Ron, who proudly wore his new Bulgarian hat.

“Traitor,” Sirius said dramatically, swishing his green robe and walking off like a runway model, which earned a burst of cheerful laughter from everyone.

The evening rolled in quickly, as days packed with excitement often do. Harry, who had planned to ask Sirius about Barty Crouch Jr. and maybe catch a nap, ended up too energized by the buzz around the tents, and completely forgot about the fugitive in question. Instead, he chatted animatedly with Sirius and Charlie, both hardcore Quidditch fans, about game strategies. They declared with absolute conviction that Ireland would win, or else they’d eat troll boogers.

Meanwhile, James and the twins, who Harry now strongly suspected were up to something, stated confidently that Ireland would win, but Krum would catch the Snitch.

“But how’s that possible?” Ginny asked, puzzled.

“We have the hive mind of a seer and a gambler combined in triplicate,” George said cryptically. James snickered, and Fred smirked.

Their debates carried on for a while until they had a quick supper of fried eggs, sausages, and barbecues. It was hearty enough to feed more than ten people. Amos Diggory stopped by to join them during his break and exchanged some updates with Mr. Weasley. Soon after, both men returned to their station posts, along with Percy, who adjusted his tie and loudly announced that he would be accompanying Mr. Crouch to greet the honorary guests from Bulgaria and Ireland. Fred and George responded by blowing raspberries behind him.

As the evening wore on, more and more witches and wizards Apparated into the area, chatting excitedly and selling additional merchandise and souvenirs. Harry couldn’t resist buying a huge shamrock-patterned bow tie that shouted “IRELAND FOR VICTORY” across his chest whenever he tapped it. He wore it proudly, if ridiculously, in a friendly competition with Ron’s flashy Bulgaria hat and Cedric’s flag robe. More reckless than him, Ron had spent his summer savings on a miniature model of Viktor Krum flying on a broomstick that hovered in his palm and looked at it with much intense awe. Fred and George were rolling on the ground laughing, chanting, “Little Ronnie’s in looooove,” loud enough for half the camp to hear.

Hermione, ever practical, bought a neatly tied program for each of them. The enchanted parchment read the schedule aloud so they wouldn’t even need to open it.

As people began breaking down their camps and heading toward the Quidditch pitch, the night greeted them with a warm, buzzing excitement. Sirius and James led the group, carrying lamps to light their way through the forest. The pitch for the final match was hidden deep in the woods, shielded by powerful Muggle-repelling and protective enchantments. According to Sirius, it would take them about half an hour to reach it.

The atmosphere felt almost sacred. Harry could sense the electric energy in the air, mirroring the thrill he felt in his own chest. Around them, the crowd was so alive with anticipation.

Then he felt a hand gently reach for his. In the dim light, he turned to see Cedric beside him, his grey eyes gleaming softly in the shadows.

“How’s your knee?” Cedric whispered.

“What?” Harry frowned in confusion.

“Your knees. You slipped and fell this morning. Are you sure you can walk this far without it hurting?”

“Oh,” Harry glanced down at his jeans, still faintly stained, but he was sure it had turned purple beneath the fabric. “I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt, honestly.” He paused, then leaned in to whisper teasingly, “And if I was hurt, what would you do—carry me?”

“Of course,” Cedric replied firmly, not taking it as a joke but as something he genuinely meant. The quiet certainty in his voice made Harry blush. Again. He blushed a lot these days, not that he could help it.

“I’m just kidding,” Harry said, nudging their shoulders together.

Cedric nodded, still holding his hand for the entire walk, and Harry didn’t complain one bit.

***

The Quidditch World Cup was simply beyond words.

The tickets Sirius had bought landed them seats in one of the first-class boxes, and Harry let out a loud gasp the moment he stepped into the stadium. The view was breathtaking. A massive arena that could hold over a hundred thousand people, all gathered in an intoxicating atmosphere.

The Omniculars he’d bought turned out to be incredibly useful. He could zoom in, zoom out, replay moments, and even analyse new tactics during the match. It was like seeing the game through the eyes of a professional. 

Sirius, seated two spots away, had leaned over at the start and said the game might end in thirty minutes or last for days. Harry hoped for the latter. This was too incredible to miss a single second.

The opening ceremony was nothing short of magical. The highlight for Ireland’s side was the troupe of Leprechauns dancing across the field and tossing what looked like a fortune in gold coins into the stands. Ron let out a delighted laugh, scooping up handfuls of them and stuffing some into Harry’s lap to help pay for the Omniculars, only for Cedric to point out that the coins were conjured and would vanish. Ron’s face fell in utter disappointment.

Then came Bulgaria’s turn, and their performance was unexpectedly dazzling. The Veela took to the field in a hypnotic, ethereal dance that was impossible to look away from. The entire stadium seemed enchanted by their movement, and the air was practically shimmering by their presence.

The magnified voice of Ludo Bagman rang out through the stadium, and the crowd exploded into cheers as the two teams began lining up. Harry’s chest felt like it might burst from the excitement, and the roaring sound all around made his ears thrum, nearly deafening him in the most exhilarating way possible.

The Irish National Team streaked into the sky, green robes blazing like comets. Golden sparks shot from their wands in formation as Troy, Mullet, and Moran spun in a tight circle, saluting the crowd. Opposite them, the Bulgarian team burst forth to an equally wild cheer. Vulchanov and Volkov flanked the Bulgarian chasers like stone walls.

Ron leaned forward, eyes alight. “There’s Krum!” he exclaimed, pointing to a young man who wore a frowning expression and his jaws line tight. The seeker dipped his broom low, twisting into a corkscrew before even the whistle had blown.

“Show-off,” Fred shouted, and earned some laughs from Sirius and James.

“He looks grumpy,” Hermione commented mildly. 

“Who cares! He’s the best seeker in the world,” Ron said before letting out more cheer which was followed shortly after by Fred and George’s teases and cackles. 

"He's just getting warmed up," he argued with the twins. "You're all going to see–Bulgaria’s gonna take this."

Sirius let out a chortle. “Not a chance. Ireland’s formation is tighter. Look at those chasers!”

The second he said, the old wizard, who took the role of the referee stepped into the middle of the stadium and blew the enchanted whistle and the game erupted into motion.

That moment, all of those things happened like a snapshot of a real electrifying match. Harry saw Troy zip forward, dodging a Bludger from Vulchanov with ease. "Pass to Mullet!" yelled George, standing and clapping as the Chasers zigzagged brilliantly.

“Brilliant,” Bill said. “Ireland’s got speed and strategy.”

“Watch Dimitrov,” Charlie said, pointing. “He’s ruthless on counters.”

And he was. Dimitrov slammed shoulder-first into Mullet midair, snatching the Quaffle. Ivanova shot forward to flank him. A Bludger flew just inches from Dimitrov’s head. Connolly had launched it with expert precision.

“Merlin, I love this game,” Sirius breathed, eyes wide as the Quaffle spun loose and was recovered by Moran.

Cheers erupted as Moran looped through two Bulgarian defenders and scored the first ten points for Ireland.

“YES!” Sirius bellowed at the same time, waving a tricolor flag above his head. James whistled with his fingers.

Ron groaned. “Too early. Krum hasn’t even tried yet.”

And as if summoned, Krum suddenly dived.

Harry rose from his seat. “Look! Look!”  Krum shot straight downward in a vertical plummet. The crowd gasped. Harry couldn’t believe he had ever seen someone flying on the broom like there was no gravity, and he was falling from the broom, free fall, and determined. His heart was racing, then he picked up the Omnicular to play the shot back in slow motion. 

“He’s doing the Wronski Feint!” Harry cried.

Even the players on the pitch flinched, thinking he’d spotted the Snitch. Lynch turned to follow his gaze and Krum pulled up just inches from the ground.

Levski skidded and crashed on the ground. The stadium roared.

“That was incredible,” Cedric breathed. “He had them completely fooled.”

The game continued to escalate, both in excitement and violence. So many fouls had been called from both sides, and almost an hour passed, Ireland was dominating at 170-11, weaving dazzling patterns across the pitch. Harry felt his throat was parched from shouting at the game for so long. As he turned to grab a bottle of water, the crowd roared in excitement. 

Suddenly, Krum tilted his broom and darted forward.

“No—no way—he sees it!” Fred exclaimed.

“Go, go!” Ron was jumping now, nearly knocking over Charlie.

Harry abandoned his drink, and leaned so far forward it felt like he might fall over the edge. There it was a glitter of gold, hovering near the Irish hoops. Krum pushed into a steep dive, this time for real.

“COME ON, KRUM!” Ron roared.

Krum streaked through the air like a thunderbolt, fast, sharp, unrelenting. The Snitch danced just ahead near the Irish hoops. Then—

CRACK!

A Bludger, launched at blistering speed by Connolly, struck Krum square on the nose. The crowd gasped as one. Blood spurted instantly, as Krum's head jerked, his broom wobbled, but he didn’t stop.

“He’s still going!” Hermione shrieked.

Harry stared, heart pounding. Krum’s face was set in grim focus, red streaking down to his chin, but his eyes never left the Snitch. Ryan swerved out of the way, too late to stop him.

And with a final burst of speed, Krum reached out and closed his fingers around the Snitch.

The sky lit up with a thousand sparks, green and gold spiraling, bursting like shooting stars.

Ireland had won 170 to 160. But Krum… bloodied, battered, still holding the Snitch aloft was the moment everyone would remember.

Ron sat back, dazed. “But… he caught the Snitch. And Bulgaria lost. Why did he do it? It’s just so stupid.”

“Krum ended it on his terms,” Hermione remarked, clapping along with the others. “That was… dignified.”

Harry clapped, truly clapped. “He’s incredible,” he said. “That was—there’s no one else like him.”

Cedric smiled at Harry. “You think you could pull that kind of dive off someday?”

“Maybe,” Harry said, a bit breathless, “if I practiced for a hundred years.”

James grinned, elbowing Harry. “Told you. He still catches it.”

Sirius was still cheering and throwing mock punches at James. “Told you Ireland had it! But Krum — blimey, what a seeker!”

Even Ron managed a grin. “He’s still the best. No one else would've caught it like that.”

As the Irish team did a victory lap and Krum flew past alone, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. And Harry, despite the big green Shamrock hat and ridiculously large Irish bow, was the first on his feet.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through him as he looked at Krum with fierce admiration mixed with envy. He’d wanted to be there, maybe one day, if he dared to dream of playing the match against the brilliant Seeker. He absolutely wanted more than anything to be in the same field with Krum, and in his deepest desire, to beat him in a game one day. 

They got back to their tent an hour and a half later, still talking non-stop about the match. Despite the long day, waking up early, and using all their energy, no one seemed tired. Their voices were loud and animated, the excitement still pulsing through every word. Fred and George had somehow learned Ireland’s national anthem and began singing it with gusto. No one had a clue how they’d memorized it, but James and Sirius joined in by blowing whistles to the rhythm as if they were part of an orchestra. Ginny clapped along, trying to mimic the sound of a soprano with dramatic flair.

Ron and Harry were still gushing about Krum as they reached the tent. Bill suggested a late-night barbecue, and everyone agreed without hesitation. James and Sirius went to fetch more whiskey and wine to share with Bill and Charlie, while the others had soda pop. Harry didn’t need any alcohol as he already felt drunk on the memory of the match, still floating somewhere on cloud nine.

There was no sign of Mr. Weasley, Percy, or Mr. Diggory joining them that evening. Harry assumed they were busy helping monitor the crowds and keeping things in order.

All around the campsite, nearby tents were alive with joy. Laughter and conversations buzzed through the night air. Fireworks burst overhead in dazzling colors, some spelling out IRELAND or the names of each Irish Quidditch player, hailed with cheers from every corner of the camp.

Dazzled by the lights in the sky, Harry took off his glasses and scrubbed his eyes. A yawn crept up on him, and the urge to use the bathroom nudged him into motion. He mumbled an excuse to Ron and headed to his own tent.

After using the bathroom and cleaning his glasses, he noticed James’s jacket folded neatly on the bed, and pulled it on. It was a bit too big, but perfect for the cold night. As he stepped outside, only to nearly collide with Cedric.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute before you head back?”

There was a slight tremble in Cedric’s voice that made Harry’s breath catch. Quidditch had been a welcome distraction, keeping his mind away from that —the kiss—but now it returned, crashing into him like a wave shattering a sandcastle.

“Sure,” Harry managed, his voice a little too abrupt.

Cedric led them to sit on his bed, his eyes still twinkling with leftover joy from the match. Clumsily, he pulled something out of his jeans pocket. A tiny box, and handed it to Harry.

“It’s my birthday present for you. I know it’s early, but I might not be around next week because of my internship, so… I’d like you to have it.”

Inside the box was a necklace with a delicate silver chain. The centerpiece was a small golden Snitch, its tiny wings fluttering gently.

“I saw it at a souvenir shop on the other side of the camp when I was out with Miles,” Cedric said, watching Harry closely. “It’s nothing expensive, but… I thought of you when I saw it.”

Harry wanted to say, You don’t have to do this, but the words vanished in his head. The necklace looked incredible and beautiful. Harry had never worn anything like it before. The only accessory he owned was a worn-out leather watch on his wrist. But this… this was different. He’d never imagined anyone would give him something like this.

“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice coming out squeaky and raspy. He looked straight into Cedric’s grey eyes, trying to hold his gaze and not let the blush creeping up his neck betray him. “It looks so beautiful. I’ll wear it.”

Cedric smiled, brilliant, and beautiful. Harry felt himself melting at the sight of it, again and again.

Then he unlocked the clasp and tried to fasten the necklace around his own neck. Cedric suddenly reached out, arms wrapping gently around Harry.

“Here, let me help.”

Harry shut his eyes as Cedric’s hands cupped his, leaning in to fasten the clasp. They were so close now, just like that moment on the hill, and Harry’s breath shortened, his heart thudding far too quickly in his chest.

The necklace settled lightly against Harry’s neck, so small and weightless he barely felt it. But Cedric’s hands were still on his and they were staring at each other. Harry could feel the warmth of Cedric’s breath on his fingers, on his skin.

Then Cedric leaned in, closing the distance between them—

A loud gasp echoed through the tent, and Harry jolted upright from the bed. They both turned to the sound.

James stood frozen at the entrance, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. Sirius was beside him, his eyes bulging, but he recovered faster than James and spoke with a wide grin. 

“Holy shit! That makes sense now! Why didn’t I think about what you said in the letter? Merlin’s beard, Cedric! ”

Cedric sprang up from the bed, his face flaming red. Harry was sure his own face matched it, but he still couldn’t manage to speak.

James turned to Harry, still looking completely floored. “And you thought you could keep this from me for how long?”

“I was going to tell you and Lily by the end of summer,” Harry said quickly, almost defensively.

“And what exactly were you two doing alone in here?” his dad pushed, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing!” Harry and Cedric said at once, which only made James narrow his eyes suspiciously, while Sirius doubled over, laughing so hard he clutched his stomach.

“Oh, help me. This is too good for tonight!” Sirius wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes, which only made everything feel even more mortifying.

Harry was blushing furiously. There was absolutely no way he was going to answer any more of James’s questions. He shot up from the bed, blurting, “I’ll go ask Ron about something!” before sprinting out of the tent as though his feet were on fire.

He found Ron two minutes later, still gazing adoringly at a miniature model of Viktor Krum on the table in the Weasleys’ tent. Hermione was there too, scribbling something in her journal. Ginny was asleep, letting out soft little snores from the bed, even though it wasn't her tent. It was already well past midnight, and the tent was quiet and warm.

Harry sat down beside them and spluttered, “James and Sirius found out about me and Cedric.”

Hermione gasped, her eyes widening, while Ron’s expression turned into one of dread.

“But how—?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry cut in. “It’s too embarrassing to go back there, so I might have to take refuge here tonight.”

Hermione laughed. “Harry, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not that bad. I’m sure James and Sirius are understanding.”

“They’re going to be too understanding, to the point of asking questions all the time,” Harry retorted, then quickly lowered his voice. “I can’t believe it.”

“Mate, you just left Cedric back there, getting grilled by your dad and your godfather,” Ron said. 

Shit. Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that.

Hermione and Ron couldn’t hold back anymore. They burst into giggles, making everything feel even more disastrous. Harry shot up and scrambled out of the tent, rushing back to his own in case Cedric needed an emergency rescue.

He got there just in time. Cedric’s face was still bright red, and James, who was actually slightly shorter than Cedric, was managing to loom over him with his arms crossed. As soon as Harry entered, James turned to face him. Sirius was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg swinging, wearing a mischievous grin that showed he was clearly enjoying the situation.

“Oh, perfect timing!” James said cheerfully. “I just finished asking your boyfriend about your little situation here.”

His words sent a rush of heat to Harry’s face. Sirius chuckled, and Cedric looked too defeated to even speak.

“Don’t bother him,” Harry said weakly.

“Oh, I’ll definitely bother him as long as you two are dating. And I’ll be telling Lily first thing when we get back tomorrow morning,” James replied with maddening nonchalance. “Uh-uh. And you two are sleeping on opposite sides of the tent. No cuddling now that I know.”

“This is ridiculous! Nothing’s happening!” Harry shot back, his face burning at the implication.

“Nope. My word is final,” James said smugly. “Your boyfriend agrees with me too, right, Ced?”

Cedric, still looking a little dazed but managing a smile, nodded.

“Stop calling him that,” Harry muttered.

James put on a faux-confused expression. “Is he not? Or is this just... what? A casual thing?”

Harry hurled a pillow at him. James dodged it masterfully, and the pillow landed squarely on Cedric’s face instead. Sirius burst into full-blown laughter and couldn’t sit still anymore. Moments later, they were in the middle of a full-on pillow fight. Two grown men and two teenagers, one of whom had nearly been caught making out not ten minutes earlier.

Eventually, sometime after one in the morning, they all collapsed into bed. After such an eventful day, sleep came quickly like puppets with their strings suddenly cut.

5

Harry slept for twelve hours straight once he arrived home, not even stirring at the chirping of Hedwig or Turnip’s purring as the cat curled up next to him. The clock read eight o’clock in the evening when he woke feeling fully rested and appropriately hungry.

Yawning lazily, Harry grabbed a sandwich with marmalade from the table. He was munching a few bites when he heard someone step into the kitchen. It was Lily.

She raised her eyebrows. “You slept like a gnome.”

“I was tired. And now I’m hungry,” Harry said between bites. He reached out for the jug of milk and poured some into the empty glass on the counter.

“Uh-huh. James told me. About you and Cedric.”

Harry groaned. He wasn’t ready for this conversation, and truthfully, he doubted he ever would be.

Lily chuckled. She moved to sit at the table, her growing belly now more visible. 

“Come on, I’m not going to lecture you or anything. I’m just surprised by how much my son has grown up. This is what you’ve been talking to Remus about all the time, isn’t it?”

Her soft voice made Harry meet her gaze, seeing the same shade of green reflected back at him meaningfully. He forced himself to stop gobbling down his food. Leaning on the counter, he felt a bit self-conscious under her piercing look.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you and James… it’s just…” Harry searched for the right words. “I don’t know. I was afraid of your judgment and James’s teasing, maybe. And Remus’s always great at this kind of thing. I was also still figuring it out myself—you know, liking another boy and stuff.”

His mum looked a little surprised. For a brief moment, there was a flash of hurt on her face.

Then she got up and, unexpectedly, hugged him. “I’m sorry James and I made you feel that way.”

Harry’s heart sank. He felt like a bad child. 

“It’s not your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Lily slowly released him and looked him in the eyes. They were nearly the same height now, with Harry just slightly taller.

“I’m glad you’ve talked to Remus about this. At least you have someone you can confide in,” she whispered. “And it’s not a silly little thing when it comes to matters of the heart. Believe me, heartbreak can be pretty painful too.”

Then she pointed a finger at his chest and smiled.

“The thing is, no matter what happens between you and Cedric after this whether you stay friends or become something more, I want you to know you’re always in charge of your own choices. I know Cedric’s always polite and respectful, but no matter how nice someone is, you never owe them anything. You always have the right to say no.”

A rush of heat flooded Harry’s face about what she meant as he stuttered, “I’m not—this isn’t going to—”

But Lily just kissed his cheek. “I know, I know. I’m talking about the future, maybe years ahead. And not just about Cedric, but anyone you might fancy. You should treat them the way you want to be treated, and ‘no’ is a complete sentence. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone when you say it.”

Harry sucked in a breath, his head spinning a little. Despite how awkward the conversation felt, her mum’s tone stopped him from making a snarky comment.

“Promise me?”

He sighed. “Alright. I promise.”

She ruffled his hair, making it even messier, and smiled.

“Good. Now, tell me about the final match.”

The last week of July went by like that. Harry still saw Cedric for a couple of days after the Quidditch World Cup, but then the other boy left for his internship and stayed with his grandparents. 

But Harry didn’t have to face loneliness for long, because he got to spend a week with the Weasleys. It was still as fun as ever. Harry got to have a little birthday celebration at the Burrow, with his parents there. Lily took the opportunity to learn more recipes from Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley was kind enough to take Harry, Ron, and Hermione on a flying car ride across the countryside. Ron gifted him a chess set, while Hermione shyly gave him a pair of socks she had knitted herself. They looked more like a pair of kidneys, but at least they were wearable and fit Harry’s size, so he promised to wear them during the winter.

What excited him the most was lending his Firebolt to the Weasley siblings, who took turns flying it and highly complimented his broom, even Ginny asked for a short ride, against her mum’s strict orders. They also tried to imitate Krum’s Wronski Feint and his diving to the ground, which turned out to be extremely difficult. They needed an adult, usually Bill or Charlie, standing by in case someone fell off their broom.

Harry received a book called Modern Quidditch Tactics and Strategies from Sirius as his birthday present and had been glued to it for the rest of his stay. He also suggested that Ron and the twins practice some of the moves from the book and discussed how they might apply them in the games next term.

When it rained, they would scoop inside to play chess, or Harry would spend the time writing a letter to Cedric, telling him how his days had been passing.

From what he heard from Mr. Diggory, it was a bit disappointing to learn that Cedric wouldn’t have time to visit Diagon Alley this year, and that his dad might have to handle it for him.

Harry tried not to let himself feel too down about it.

On the day they were about to go shopping for school supplies, Mrs. Weasley offered to take Harry and Hermione to Diagon Alley, so they were sitting at the table eating breakfast, ready to Floo there. But then Mr. Weasley came into the room, looking pale and alarmed.

“The Ministry just made an announcement about Barty Crouch Jr. in the Daily Prophet,” he announced in a grim tone.

Everyone got up from their seats and gathered around to read the newspaper.

ESCAPED CONVICT SUSPECTED IN DOUBLE MURDER

The Ministry of Magic has confirmed this morning that Barty Crouch Jr., the fugitive who escaped French custody earlier this summer, is now the prime suspect in the murders of two individuals following the Quidditch World Cup: Frank Basel, a Ministry official, and Robert M., a Muggle gatekeeper.

Mr. Basel, who was responsible for overseeing the deployment of protective portkey stations at the Quidditch World Cup, had taken a well-earned week's leave after the tournament. His disappearance went unnoticed until over ten days later, when he failed to return to his post. Ministry investigations have now linked his death to that of Robert M., who was last seen manning the campground entrance last week before being found dead in his own cabin.

Sources within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement confirm that evidence points to Barty Crouch Jr. Pamphlets bearing Crouch’s description and known aliases are being prepared for immediate public distribution. Aurors have been instructed to intensify patrols. Though the Minister did not specify, insiders whisper he refers to the much-anticipated, and now highly endangered event at Hogwarts School.

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge addressed reporters this afternoon outside the Ministry entrance.

"We will leave no stone unturned," Fudge stated firmly. "New, stringent measures will be enforced to ensure the safety of all witches and wizards, especially at upcoming gatherings. Public spaces will be closely monitored, and I urge everyone to report any suspicious activity immediately."

As the search intensifies, whispers have begun to circulate regarding Barty Crouch Sr., the once-powerful Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Mr. Crouch, who has not appeared publicly for weeks, faces growing scrutiny over his ability to manage not only his department but his own family. With his son’s heinous crimes now fully exposed, his once-bright prospects for Ministerial office must have dimmed considerably. Can the wizarding public trust a man who failed so gravely in his own household? Only time will tell.

(continued on page 8 about Barty Crouch Jr’s trial report in May 1981) 

Many questions exploded in Harry’s head, but his thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley’s cry of dismay. “Merlin’s witnessed!”

“I couldn’t think of worse timing, not with the big event coming after school starts,” Mr. Weasley sounded horrified.

“What are you talking about, Dad?” Fred asked.

Mr. Weasley shushed him. “You’ll find out. Dumbledore will announce it on the first day. It’s supposed to be an exciting event, just like Quidditch.”

“Crouch might be captured before school even starts,” Charlie said optimistically.

“Why did he have to kill those innocent people? They hadn’t done anything to him,” Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley sighed. “He’s a madman who can’t be reasoned with. Come on, we need to go to Diagon Alley early. People will be clogging the entryways and panicking at the news.”

He flipped the newspaper closed and shoved it into his suitcase before Harry had a chance to ask for it. They were coaxed into finishing their breakfast before it was time to Floo to Diagon Alley.

Just as Mr. Weasley had feared, the news about Barty Crouch Jr. caused a frenzy among the crowds, and Diagon Alley couldn’t have been more hectic during the final week before term started. It took them an hour and a half to finally gather all their fourth-year books, with many Hogwarts students crammed inside the small, sticky, and humid Flourish and Blotts.

Unfortunately, Ron’s cauldron had been leaking since the end of last term, so he was far from joyful as he lined up at Potage’s Cauldron Shop with most of the first-years and their parents, while Harry and Hermione went to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions to buy their Yule Ball clothes. Harry couldn’t have cared less about his robe, so he left the decision entirely to Madam Malkin after his measurements were taken. Within twenty minutes, his new robe was wrapped in a bundle and shoved into his backpack.

Hermione looked at him in disbelief and promptly shooed Harry out of the shop so she could take her time trying on dresses and promised to meet him in an hour. Harry wasn’t about to complain.

He was thinking about heading back to the Leaky Cauldron, their meeting point, when he was surprised to see his dad waving at him from the corner near Eeylops Owl Emporium.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

James just shrugged. “I forgot to take care of something at Gringotts, so I tagged along. Fancy some ice cream?”

Something about his unexpected presence felt suspicious enough that Harry squinted at James in suspicion. His parents had agreed that Harry would shop with the Weasleys, so it was a little surprising to see his dad there. But Harry was also quite hungry, so he was more than willing to follow James to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, which he claimed was the best ice cream shop.

The shop also served club sandwiches, and James ordered one for Harry along with his favorite Chocolate Sundae, the same one he loved to get every time they dropped by. The shop was crowded, but Fortescue’s eyes lit up in recognition when he saw James walk in and quietly gestured for them to take a seat upstairs.

There was a long dusty bar near the window, and from up there, they could see throngs of people weaving through the narrow alleys, with faint sounds of chatter and the soft hooting of owls and squeaking of mice floating up from below.

They were waiting for their lunch in comfortable silence, and Harry was distracted by the sight of a boy around seven years old who raised his gloved hands, clutching a huge Fire Crab, and walked out of the Magical Menagerie with a look of clear satisfaction. Smoke trailed from the rim of the boy’s hat.

When the food arrived, a thought suddenly occurred to Harry.

“Do you know anything about Barty Crouch Jr.?”

James turned to look at him, deflated, the spoon still hanging from his mouth.

“I knew you’d ask something like that. But before we get into it—” He raised a hand to stop Harry from asking more and rummaged in his jacket pocket. “I have something to give you.”

He handed Harry a piece of glass, which looked like a fragment of an ordinary mirror.

“It’s a two-way mirror. Sirius and I each have one so we can talk to each other in real time. It’s much faster than sending a letter or using the Floo when no one’s home,” James explained as Harry examined it. “I cut my piece in half to give one to you. You can use it to talk to either of us—me or Sirius. I usually carry mine with me, so if you speak directly into it, we’ll hear you. Just in case you need urgent help or want to reach out.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said, in awe. “Thanks. It’s really helpful.”

James chuckled and reached out to ruffle Harry’s hair, a sign of affection he and Lily often showed.

“Is it anything to do with the news?” Harry pressed.

His dad sighed. “Well, not directly. But we can’t be complacent when it comes to that madman.”

“Is Hogwarts not safe enough?” 

“We can’t be so sure about that.” James’s voice sounded uncharacteristically serious.

Harry countered, “I have the map. Wouldn’t that help detect the culprit by name?”

“The map can’t distinguish between people with the same name,” James explained almost immediately, like he’d already thought of it himself. “There’s Barty Crouch Sr. — the father. It would be hard to tell who’s who.”

Harry wanted to ask how Crouch Sr. could even get into Hogwarts, but he realised it was pointless once James had already considered it. He trusted his dad’s judgment about the map’s limitations and decided to keep it in mind for future improvements.

“So you do know him,” Harry said, steering the conversation back to what he really wanted to know.

Slumping his shoulders, James put down his spoon and sighed. “Yeah, a bit. He was a year younger than me at Hogwarts. Not a very popular kid, mind you. Very, very quiet and reserved—the same type as Severus, except even less talkative and kept everything to himself. But he was a very smart kid.”

“How can someone like that turn into a murderer?” Harry asked.

James scratched his cheek, looking uncomfortable. “No one really knows. His eleven victims so far were either Muggles or pure-bloods. But if you ask me, I think he did it because he can’t live with himself.”

Harry paused mid-bite of his sandwich. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he comes from a very perfect family. His father might have been a stick-in-the-mud. You know that type, rigid and a perfectionist and all that, but Crouch was an extremely competent wizard. He speaks, I don’t know, hundreds of languages. Honestly, he could have been a great candidate for Minister of Magic, far better than Fudge in terms of skill. Maybe not as legendary as Dumbledore, but he'd come a close second when it came to management.”

Harry was a little stunned to hear James praising someone so earnestly. He figured that meant everything James said about Crouch’s loyalty and integrity was true, and it was more unlikely Crouch Sr. would have been complicit in his son’s crimes.

“Mrs. Crouch was a very proper woman too. She knew Euphemia, so I saw her from time to time when I was young. Again, very kind and polite. So it shocked everyone when we learned that their only son, from such a loving family, had killed eleven people. In court, before they sentenced him to life, he said he was sick of the wizarding system—the way things are, and how they will be.”

Harry frowned. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

James laughed humorlessly. “Maybe not. But it’s enough for someone dangerously talented and a psychomaniac like him. He talks in riddles to sound clever and elusive. Fitting his cocky ego, I suppose. He has this strange, destructive idea that he alone can tear down the entire system and start over. Like during the Quidditch World Cup—he murdered those poor people not out of personal hatred, but to make some egotistical statement that he despises everything about the wizarding world.”

Harry let James’s words sink in. As the meaning hit him, he felt his appetite slipping away. “His intentions don’t justify his killing rampage,” Harry said slowly.

“Exactly. He can’t be reasoned with, and his obsession with his ideology makes him unpredictable and dangerous.”

“You said he targeted pure-bloods and Muggles. Is that why he escaped? To kill more of them?”

“Dunno. Maybe. He said pure-blood culture is like an incurable disease rotting the wizarding world. But personally, I think he hates what he is, and he can’t live with the fact that he’s a part of it.”

“That’s sickening,” Harry muttered.

“You’re telling me,” James chuckled darkly. “Lily’s going to kill me if she finds out I told you all this. But better you hear it from me or Sirius than from some crap rumors filled with exaggerated lies.”

“You said Sirius knew him too?”

“Yeah. And he’s really ashamed of it. That’s why he avoids talking about it. They were childhood friends, actually. The Crouches are one of the old elite pure-blood families, and Barty Jr. was Sirius’s first friend, before they even went to Hogwarts.”

Harry couldn’t quite imagine the young Sirius would be friends with Crouch, but then again, it might have been hard to see the warning signs when the younger Barty Crouch had been a quiet boy with a spotless background.

They finished their ice cream just in time for the hour, and walked back out onto the street. But the story of Barty Crouch Jr. kept circling in Harry’s mind. He tried to imagine a pale, reserved boy hiding among the crowds, maybe browsing broomsticks, maybe studying in a library and looking no different from any other kid Harry’s age. 

He would never know how a person could grow up with something so monstrous planted inside them.

“That confirms it. We can’t trust any of the Slytherins,” Harry reflected aloud as they approached Madam Malkin’s to meet Hermione.

James gave him an odd look. “Actually, he’s a Ravenclaw.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

James scolded him for swearing, but it couldn’t compare to the shock Harry felt.

Hermione came out of the shop, looking pleased with herself. James turned to greet her.

“Harry, where’s your bag?” his friend asked.

That was when Harry realised that he had left his shopping bag at Florean Fortescue’s. Cursing himself, he scurried back to retrieve it, the dark thoughts about Barty Crouch Jr. momentarily pushed aside by the rush and noise of the crowded alley.

***

The thought about the criminal faded from Harry’s mind after he learned more from James. It was enough to sate his curiosity, and he regarded Crouch as the maniac, piece of shit, like everyone else did.

The last week before school opened, Harry started to miss Cedric more and more. It felt a little empty to see the house across the hill without a tall boy waving or jogging toward him with a smile, since they had spent most of their summer together. Harry shook his head at the silly thought, and tried not to dwell on it. They were going to see each other anyway, on the train or at school.

He had stayed with Sirius and Remus for a couple of days before school started. Sirius even let Harry try riding his motorbike, which made him ecstatic. The bike was heavier and harder to control than he expected, but by the end of three days, he could spin it and take it out onto the countryside roads in the evening, with Sirius riding in the passenger seat.

The first of September came with heavy rain. James was grumbling the entire ride, as they were stuck in traffic, and being late was a close call. Harry quickly got his luggage and Hedwig out of the taxi, despite Lily’s warning about the umbrella, and hurried to the platform, slipping through Platform 9¾ with a smooth glide while his parents followed close behind.

What Harry didn’t expect was the long queue on the train. Witches and wizards dressed in Ministry uniforms were stationed at the train doors, wands in hand. Apparently, because of the fugitive, they were checking all students’ belongings before allowing them to board. It took considerably more time, and the train would be leaving much later than usual.

Harry hugged Lily goodbye at the bench, while James took charge of his luggage and joined him in the line, where a dark-skinned wizard with a large build and a maroon uniform was flicking his wand, scanning a second-year boy carrying a fat tabby cat whom Harry remembered was named Anthony before letting him scuttle into the car.

While waiting, Harry tried to scan through the crowd, looking for familiar faces, but he was disappointed not to find any red-headed Weasleys, Hermione’s frizzy hair, or Cedric’s tall figure.

“You can go. The taxi meter will be costing a fortune now,” Harry told James as they moved closer to the train door.

“Nah, it’s alright.” James clapped him on the shoulder. His dad had been acting a bit strange lately. He was casually looking out for Harry without making it obvious he was becoming more protective. Harry appreciated James’s subtlety, and also found it a bit funny, since his dad was usually so laid-back. Experiencing this side of him was a little amusing and heartwarming.

James turned to nod at the Auror in front of them. “Busy work as usual, huh? Kingsley?”

The wizard named Kingsley regcognised him and gave a salute. The line moved up now so Harry was in front.

“Couldn’t ask for more work, James. Now I’m thinking about an early retirement plan if Fudge allows it,” Kingsley said with a dry tone.

James chuckled. Kingsley swept his wand across Harry’s luggage, and then pointed it at Hedwig, who gave him the angriest glare an owl could muster.

“You’re good to go, boy,” Kingsley said.

Harry mumbled a thank you, then turned to hug James, who immediately hugged him back.

“Make sure to write, okay? Don’t worry, I can read your handwriting just fine.” James winked at him. “And if Cedric does anything that makes you cry, I’ll go smack his handsome face.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s unlikely to happen, but thanks. Goodbye, Dad.”

It was just a slip of the tongue that took him by surprise, and James too, who looked at him, his blue eyes wide. It was the first time Harry had called him that.

His dad cracked a wide grin and waved enthusiastically at him through the window even as Harry walked down the aisle. The last picture Harry saw was James still waving and jumping up and down outside, causing quite a scene among the other parents. It made Harry laugh, and he waved back.

The train was too crowded. Harry almost gave up on finding an empty coach if it hadn’t been for Neville calling his name and opening the glass door for him to step inside.

Five minutes after they caught up, Harry started telling Neville about his great experience at the Quidditch World Cup, making Neville listen in envy when Ron and Luna slid the door open, both looking exhausted and mortified.

“Bloody hell. What a nightmare from the start. One officer tried to confiscate Pig because he thought this brainless little gremlin might be an Animagus! Can you believe it?”

Pig chirped happily when his owner called his name, oblivious to all the trouble. Ron plopped down heavily on his seat next to Luna, who added that she was in the same line as Ron, and the officer didn’t believe her when she said Fudge had his own Heliopaths for personal guards – and somehow, with that, they let her go.

Hermione was the last to show up, her cheeks flushed and beads of sweat on her face.

“They thought I was carrying too many suspicious packages. I had to open them all to show it was just books. They’re being very strict now that Barty Crouch is on the run.”

“Wonder why they need to check us . Not like Barty Crouch is going to waltz through the most heavily-guarded place like Hogwarts. It's too risky for him," Ron observed.

“Maybe something’s happening at school this year. My dad dropped a hint, and so did yours," Harry said. "That’s why they’re being so cautious.”

Neville shivered. “My parents’re really stressed about Barty Crouch. They leave early and come home late. Gran says I should turn invisible if I have to, so I don’t cause them more trouble.” He was clearly referring to the incident where he nearly burned down his house, and Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically.

The train finally left fifteen minutes later, and Harry still hadn’t caught a glimpse of Cedric in the aisle. They went back to talking about Quidditch and gushed over Krum’s talent. Harry was determined to convince Angelina to let the team try one of the cool moves he had read about in the Quidditch tactics book.

The lady with the trolley came an hour later, and while Harry was exchanging Chocolate Frogs with Ron and Neville, the door slid open — and this time, Harry’s heart lurched in joy.

“Hi,” Cedric greeted them. His eyes briefly landed on Harry, and a flicker of a smile curled up on his lips. His brown hair was a little longer now, with some strands falling across his forehead.

“I just finished the Prefect duties. Bexley, the Head Boy this year, wanted us to double-check things on the train. How was your summer?”

Neville replied, “Not good,” while Ron said, “Never better.”

When Luna asked how his summer went, Cedric glanced at Harry before saying, “It’s been the best, so far,” which made Harry cough to hide his blush.

“I can’t wait for the next term break. Thinking about homework and all the professors’ stern voices already depresses me,” Ron added gloomily.

Harry finally turned his eyes from Cedric to cheer up his friend. Their conversation afterward became as amicable as ever. Hermione’s eyes almost bulged as large as Galleons when she found out Cedric’s all O.W.L. Outstanding results. Luna, in a slightly disappointed tone that Harry detected, told them that she and her dad had never found a Yeti in Columbia like some native myths claimed, but she was impressed by the size of the Peruvian Salamander and noted that a fully grown Dugbog could understand basic human language. Cedric also shared some of his discoveries about Stonehenge and the ancient witch’s rites from his recent expedition as well.

When the door burst open again, three figures loomed in the entrance.

“Hey, can you come back after lunch, so we don’t have to vomit just by seeing your face?” Harry greeted Malfoy not kindly.

The pale Slytherin sneered at him while Crabbe and Goyle smirked. “You be careful, Potter. With Barty Crouch running loose...” Then his eyes gleamed with malice. "I've heard Crouch had a good bond with the Black family. You know, all that history they had together. He might come after your good old godfather, Sirius Black."

“Shut your foul mouth, Malfoy,” Ron scowled.

“Or what? The Weasleys aren’t even a target. You’re too worthless for that... all those blood traitors.”

Harry was about to lash back when Cedric, who was closest to the door, stood up.

“You should leave. And I won’t say it twice.”

He looked Malfoy straight in the face, his own expression betraying no emotion. Cedric’s voice was hard and commanding, even Harry was taken aback by the authority it held. He was taller than Malfoy, and even Crabbe and Goyle, who acted like Malfoy's personal troll bodyguards. He didn’t look intimidating, yet somehow, Malfoy stumbled back, looking a little thrown off.

The Slytherin quickly recovered, straightening his posture.

“Don’t think I haven’t warned you, Diggory. Being friends with these troublemakers will make you lose your head one day. Purebloods like us — if we stand out during this time, we'll be easy targets for maniacs like Crouch. But you’ll want attention, won’t you? Always a good boy, Diggory. You’ll want to make your parents proud and all that.”

There was a flash of confusion across Cedric’s face, but Harry wasn’t having it. He stood up and pulled out his wand.

“Get the hell out, Malfoy. Cedric might not want to curse you, but I can do it. Counting to three. Two…”

Malfoy glared at him with all the hatred, but he knew he wasn’t fast enough to draw his wand, so he signaled Crabbe and Goyle to back off. Harry slammed the door closed a bit too hard with a loud bang , making the glass shatter.

Crookshanks hissed and Hermione let out a startled cry.

Cedric turned to Harry. “You didn’t have to do that.“

“He made death threats against you and Sirius!” Harry argued hotly.

“He wants to rile us up,” Cedric reasoned, before muttering, "Reparo!” at the fallen pieces of glass. They flew back into the window frame, good as new.

But Ron thought otherwise. “Oh, I’m sure he wants more than that. He mentioned something about school too. Like he knows something we don’t.”

“What’s he talking about? The pureblood thing... and Barty Crouch?” Hermione asked, a concern heavy in her voice.

Harry sank back into his seat. He knew exactly what Malfoy was hinting at, and he was sure Malfoy knew that he’d known, judging from the Slytherin's sneering reaction. That piece of shit succeeded in making Harry lose his temper after two years of trying.

“I know what he means,” Harry said.

All eyes on the couch turned to him as he started telling them what James had shared with him in Diagon Alley.

They all gasped at what Crouch had done. Neville’s face turned pale like old parchment, and Harry regretted suddenly sharing this to him since his parents working on Crouch’s case were both purebloods. With that information from people who had known him in the past, it made a lot more sense why the Minister was so desperate to capture him.

“This is also an international affair, considering the French Minister of Magic also put a bounty on him,” Hermione said. “I saw it in La Voix du Ministère. They even want Crouch dead.”

“You can read French?” Ron asked, incredulous.

Hermione nodded shyly, a faint blush rising on her cheeks.

“I’m surprised he’s a Ravenclaw,” Cedric added. Harry nodded in agreement.

It was Luna who spoke next. “Ravenclaws can be very calculating and secretive when they want to do something behind someone’s back. No one can detect their bad intentions, and they can be even subtler than Slytherins.”

“Everyone can do bad things at this point,” Ron concluded, then quickly glanced at Cedric. “Except probably Hufflepuffs. They’re too nice.”

Cedric snorted. “That’s overstated. Hufflepuffs are really good at holding a grudge, too.”

“I’ve got to tell you, that’s the least evil thing in a person, mate,” Ron said with a smirk.

By the time they finished their lunch (melonpan, corned beef sandwiches, and potato crisps), Cedric said goodbye and went to join his friends in another car.

Harry got up and followed him outside, trying to ignore Hermione’s knowing smile behind her Intermediate Transfiguration cover.

He was about to say that he had missed him, but the words died on his lips when Cedric turned around, and Harry noticed something had changed.

“You have your ear pierced?” Harry asked, staring at the older boy’s ear where the hair had been brushed back.

A blush immediately rose on Cedric’s face. “Yeah… one of the blokes from the expedition, Bragman’s friend, convinced me to do it.” His hand reached up to rub his ear self-consciously. “I know it might look strange, not that I—”

“No, no,” Harry interrupted. “It looks nice. Really. It suits you, in a good way. I mean, it’s unexpected but good.” He stumbled over his words, swearing at himself internally.

But Cedric didn’t seem to take Harry’s awkwardness for anything more than it was, and smiled shyly. “Thanks. And I see you’re still wearing the necklace.”

It was Harry’s turn to blush. He would have jumped off a cliff rather than admit that he hadn’t taken it off once since the day Cedric gave it to him.

So he said nothing, just nodded stiffly and tossed his messy hair back, needing something to do with his hands instead of reaching for Cedric.

But the older boy seemed to understand anyway. He smiled knowingly and leaned in slightly toward Harry. “See you at school, Harry.”

Then he winked. Just winked at him.

The expression on Harry’s face when he stumbled back to the couch made Hermione giggle even harder behind her thick leather-bound book.

Chapter Text

Fall

6

Harry could sense that something was amiss the moment he stepped off the train. 

First, there was the rain pouring down more heavily than usual. In the misty shroud, he noticed unfamiliar shapes in the lake. A huge ship was docked near the shore. Its dark silhouette caught the attention of many students.

“Hagrid, what’s that ship?” Harry asked Hagrid who was stationed at the gate, ushering the first years, as the five of them approached the invisible carriage bound for the school.

Hagrid’s lips curled under his bushy, long beard. “Shhh, don’t let me spoil the fun. You’ll find out tonight, alright? First years, follow me! Come on, will ya? Before you all get drowned!”

“I wouldn’t be happy crossing the lake in this rain,” Luna said very seriously. “It happens to be the time when grindylows are mating.”

They were already an hour late compared to their usual arrival time, and even the Sorting Ceremony would be held later than usual. A fuss broke out in the Gryffindor house when Professor McGonagall herself walked along the house table. Usually, she stayed up behind the podium with the other teachers, but this time, she was inspecting each student’s uniform with meticulous care. 

She flicked her wand at Harry and Ron’s ties and adjusted the sleeves of their shirts properly. She took a quick glance at Harry’s messy hair, but instantly knew it was a lost cause.

The Sorting Hat had sung its last note, and the new first-years had taken their places among the house tables to polite applause. The Great Hall quieted down once more as Dumbledore rose to his feet, arms wide, his familiar twinkle dimmed slightly behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts!" he began, voice warm and booming. "Before we tuck in and let the feast commence, I have several important announcements."

Harry, still glowing from the sorting excitement, leaned forward idly. He was expecting the usual list about forbidden forest rules and Filch’s ever-growing list of banned items. But instead, Dumbledore's voice took on a weight that made even the ghosts pause mid-glide.

"Firstly," he said, "I regret to inform you... that there will be no Quidditch matches this year."

The words hit Harry like a rogue Bludger. His mouth fell open.

"No Quidditch?" he blurted, loud enough for a few heads at the Gryffindor table to turn. Ron looked equally horrified. Even Hermione blinked in surprise.

"But… but why—?" Harry started, but Dumbledore continued in his usual, calm voice.

"This year, Hogwarts will play host to a most prestigious and ancient event – the Triwizard Tournament!"

An audible stir spread across the hall like a ripple in water. Students whispered thrillingly, some gasped. At the staff table, McGonagall allowed herself a small, approving nod, while Hagrid beamed.

Dumbledore raised a hand, and silence returned.

"The Tournament has not been held for over fifty years, but it has been revived, and we shall be joined tonight by two other wizarding schools—Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and the Durmstrang Institute."

As if on cue, the enormous double doors of the hall creaked open. A chilly breeze swept in.

First came the Beauxbatons students. About twenty of them, gliding into the Great Hall with startling grace. They wore robes of silken light blue that seemed to shimmer with each step, almost as though they were floating toward the podium. Even the boys had an ethereal air. Their faces were older, more refined, seventeen or eighteen perhaps. 

One girl in particular drew Ron's wide-eyed stare. “Blimey,” he nudged Harry. “That one—she looks like a Veela.”

“She’s not,” Hermione said sharply. “That’s just ridiculous.”

At the head of the group towered a woman of striking stature, whom Dumbledore introduced as Madame Maxime, Beauxbaton's headmaster. She was at least twice the height of a normal witch, draped in black satin robes with jeweled brooches glittering at her throat. She held her head high with a look of dignity, her expression unreadable.

Then came the second group. Durmstrang.

They marched in a uniform line, clad in heavy, blood-red robes trimmed with fur. Their boots echoed ominously on the stone floor. The headmaster walked in front. A tall, sharp-featured man with a narrow beard and cold eyes. There was something distinctly unpleasant about him, Harry thought. Something Snape-like.

But none of that mattered the moment the last Durmstrang student stepped into the hall.

“Is that...?” Ron began, standing so quickly he knocked over his glass.

“It’s Krum!” Seamus breathed.

But Krum looked nothing like he did in the Quidditch World Cup. Stooped, awkward, with a sullen scowl, he kept his eyes downcast, trying not to draw attention, which was entirely impossible, given the collective gasp of awe that passed through the hall.

Ron was already leaning across the table. “Whoever has to go against him is doomed . No Hogwarts, no Beauxbatons champions, no one can beat him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not a Quidditch match, Ron.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ron said earnestly. “It’s Krum.”

Once the guests had taken their positions beside the staff table, Filch came forward with a heavy wooden box. He opened it, and inside sat an ancient-looking cup. It was cracked and battered, blackened with age. But from within, a soft, pulsing blue light glowed as though there was a living flame dancing inside.

“This,” Dumbledore’s voice was ringing again, “is the Goblet of Fire. It will choose one champion from each school this Halloween. Only one may compete on behalf of their school. Only one may win eternal glory... and the prize of ten thousand Galleons.”

The hall erupted with excitement. Fred and George, who had been glowering over the cancellation of Quidditch, now sat up straight, their eyes gleaming with ambition.

Dumbledore glanced briefly at the twins, smiling too knowingly. “However, there is an age restriction. No student under the age of seventeen will be permitted to enter their name. This is for your safety.”

The wave of groans from the younger students was deafening, especially among Gryffindors. Fred and George, however, exchanged meaningful glances.

“I don’t care what Dumbledore says,” George muttered. “We’re going to find a way.”

Harry turned his head and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table. His eyes landed on Cedric who looked calm and placid, his gaze fixed on the goblet’s glow. The older boy didn’t look excited, or disappointed. Just… focused. Harry couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

After Dumbledore invited the visiting students to sit wherever they wished, the Beauxbatons girls floated to the Ravenclaw table, though a few boys drifted to Gryffindor as well. Ron’s eyes followed every movement of Krum until Hermione gave him an annoyed glare.

Durmstrang students broke formation, and Viktor Krum glanced around briefly before heading, unsurprisingly, to the Slytherin table.

Ron’s face fell. “Figures,” he grumbled. “Malfoy’s going to be all over him like a Niffler on gold.”

“He’s allowed to sit where he wants,” Hermione said primly.

“Yeah, and he wanted to sit with Malfoy,” Ron snapped, before folding his arms sulkily.

The feast began at last, and even through his excitement, Harry realised just how famished he was. They ate late into the night, buzzing with questions and speculation about the Tournament.

As dessert faded from the golden plates and the enchanted ceiling above them turned to starlight, Harry found his eyes drifting to the Goblet of Fire once more. Its blue flames flickered lazily, warm and ancient. He thought of Cedric's calm face, the enormity of what lay ahead, and the pang in his chest at losing Quidditch for a year.

Maybe he could find a way to fly anyway. The skies didn’t belong to just the tournament.

***

Despite how late they’d gone to sleep, Harry woke up early that morning. Ron was still snoring softly, and Harry didn’t bother to wake him. He quickly got dressed, shoved his first-day books into his bag, and dashed out of the Gryffindor common room, hoping he might have a chance to talk to Cedric before class.

As he hurried down the steps to the Great Hall, he scanned the Hufflepuff table and didn’t see the tall figure he was looking for. He made a mental note to try again at lunch or dinner.

The Goblet of Fire stood silently near the podium, looking completely out of place among the usual trappings of school life. 

Hermione was already at the table, sipping apple juice and absently scooping black pudding onto her plate. Her eyes were fixed on the front page of The Daily Prophet lying in front of her.

“Triwizard’s made big news,” she said as Harry sat across from her and began filling his plate. “I think the Ministry had the article ready to go after last night.”

“To tell you the truth,” Harry said, while spearing a cheese ham, “I think it’s pretty wild they’re even hosting it this year with all the scandals and Barty Crouch still out there.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just haven’t heard you sound cautious before. Or talk about anything other than your own plans. That is wild.”

Harry huffed, chewing his mouthful of sausage.

“And you know who’s on the committee for the Tournament?” Hermione added. “Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr.”

Harry nearly choked on his breakfast, his thoughts whirling frantically. 

“Shit. What James said earlier—that the map can’t distinguish the same name. That’s what he meant! He probably knows Barty Crouch Sr.'s involved. This tournament must be his project, and that’s why he can’t back down.”

There was a concern in Hermone’s voice, “Do you think Barty Crouch might go after his own father?”

Harry shrugged. “Could be. Dunno. They’re not exactly winning any ‘Father and Son of the Year’ awards. But anything could happen at this point. And Crouch Jr. does hate pure-bloods. That’s a valid point, isn’t it?”

Their conversation was interrupted by Ron’s sleepy arrival. Other Gryffindors soon began pouring in, still sated with excitement from the night before. Angelina Johnson mentioned she might put her name in. 

“My birthday was last month, so I think I qualify,” she said with a proud smile. Her announcement earned a wave of encouragement and cheering from her housemates around the table, including Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

“That would be brilliant! A Hogwarts Champion from Gryffindor!” said McLaggen, a fifth year, looking at her with admiration.

Ron turned to Harry and Hermione. “Imagine if we got a champion from Slytherin,” he muttered with a shudder. “I wouldn’t be able to cheer for Warrington, Flint or McNair. Not in a million years.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “The tournament’s meant to be about school spirit, regardless of house. You need to get past those kinds of prejudices—”

“Nope. Not a chance,” Harry said cheerfully. “And I don’t think the Goblet would spit out names of those nitwits anyway. If either of their names comes out, I swear I’ll eat bezoar for the rest of my life.”

“It might not taste very good with bread, don’t you think?”

They turned toward the source of the accented voice and were surprised to see a Beauxbatons boy smiling at them. He was tall, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, like many of the Beauxbatons students they’d seen last night, but something about him stood out. He had a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips, breaking the porcelain perfection of his features.

“You must be Harry Potter. I’m Fabien Cornellier.” He extended a hand toward Harry. “Professor Lupin has spoken of you many times. You’re his protégé, aren’t you? I loved his classes. He’s one of my favourite teachers. Everyone’s, actually.”

Harry felt flustered by the compliment as he shook Fabian’s hand. “Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s what Remus said. I’m more like a troublesome family member, actually.”

Fabian laughed cheerfully. “He talks about you so fondly! I’m glad I finally got to meet you in person.” He turned then and greeted Ron and Hermione, who still looked slightly dazed by his presence.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” he said with a wicked grin to Hermione, who blushed at his teasing. “Mind if I join you? I’ve been trying to find you, you know. Professor Lupin said you were a boy with dark hair, round glasses, green eyes… Not exactly the most specific description.”

He sat beside Harry, surveying the breakfast offerings with thoughtful consideration before selecting a pair of croissants and a spoonful of baked beans.

“You speak English really well,” Hermione commented, then fumbled. “Oh—sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no. C’est bon,” Fabian said with a dismissive wave. “I’m half-English. I can speak more fluently than most of the other Beauxbatons students. Fleur tries to prove she speaks English well too, probably just to prove she’s perfect at everything.”

He rolled his eyes, and for a second, everyone paused in confused silence until he chuckled, easing the tension.

“You must have seen her. Pale blonde girl. Looked like she descended from the heavens or something. She tries very hard to make sure everyone remembers her.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at Fabian’s snarky comment, but Ron chimed in, almost breathless. “You mean the Veela girl?”

“Oh yeah. She’s half-Veela. Her grandmother is one. She’s told the whole school about six times a day. Everyone knows the story by heart.”

Fabian chewed contentedly as he spoke, no longer the pristine, porcelain-perfect boy from the night before. He seemed easy to talk to, and generous with information. So Harry decided he could share something too.

“We have a girl in our house, Gryffindor, who’s planning to put her name into the Goblet.”

Fabian smiled crookedly. “Quick thinking. I’ve heard all about your house from Lupin. If she’s chosen, she might actually have a shot at winning.”

“Are you going to put your name in too?” Ron asked.

To their surprise, Fabian shook his head. “ Non. I’m good at charms and other bits, sure, but I signed up for this journey more for the experience. As much as I love Beauxbatons, and as much as I miss Professor Lupin’s class, I want something a bit more thrilling than being cooped up in the mountains. We have one big community. Ennuyeux. It bores me to death sometimes.”

Fabian continued talking animatedly about the French wizarding community. Harry already knew most of it from Remus, but Ron, Hermione, and a few nearby Gryffindors listened with great interest. They got so caught up in the conversation and nearly ran late for Charms.

The first day passed like a dizzyingly fast hurricane. All the professors seemed to use the Triwizard Tournament as an excuse to assign heaps of homework and projects, wanting students to appear ‘studious’ in front of their international guests. But to Harry, Snape assigning them an essay on the completely useless Doxycide draught with no logical purpose other than to make students suffer felt like a pure torture.

Harry still hadn’t had a chance to talk to Cedric. He’d seen him several times, always surrounded by his housemates. In fact, it was a typical sight — Cedric in the middle of a crowd, laughing or deep in conversation. Harry had walked straight up to him countless times over the past few years, but this year felt… different. Since the term started, he couldn’t bring himself to approach Cedric as casually as he used to. Something held him back. He swallowed and absently touched the Snitch necklace at his chest.

On Thursday, as Harry, Ron and Hermione dragged themselves to the library to finally finish Snape’s Doxycide essay before Friday, the three of them were surprised to find a crowd gathered inside. Students, both boys and girls, were huddled together, whispering excitedly and craning their necks toward one dim corner of the room. Technically, they weren’t breaking any rules, just forming a rather large group, so Madam Pince could do little more than glare at them with visible irritation.

Hermione didn’t look pleased either. In fact, she looked downright furious, wearing the same expression as the librarian.

“What’s going on here?” she asked Hannah Abbott, who was trying to sneak past with a group of giggling friends.

“It’s Viktor Krum,” Hannah whispered back. “He’s reading!”

“Krum’s here?” Ron gasped.

Hermione scoffed harshly. “For goodness’ sake. Reading is a normal human habit. Besides, you do realise he’s disrupting the entire library, right? If he knows he’s got dozens of fans waiting to catch a glimpse of him, maybe he shouldn’t come sulking into a corner pretending to be subtle. We’re treating him like he’s some kind of rare Augurey!”

Hannah gave Hermione a look of disgust, as though she’d grown a second head, then turned away.

“We could head back to the common room and just work from the notes,” Harry tried suggesting.

“What? Go back?” Ron cried. “We’ve got a chance to talk to Krum here!”

Hermione shot them an annoyed look. “No. I’m not turning around just because he happened to sit in the same section as our books. That’s ridiculous.”

Before they could say another word, she stormed ahead, pushing through the crowd like a badger mole. Her frizzy ponytail swung with every furious step as she marched straight toward the section where Krum sat, then began browsing the bookshelf right next to him. 

Krum looked up from his reading, startled by her sudden presence, but Hermione didn’t so much as glance at him. Her eyes remained focused on the book spines as she traced her fingers along the titles.

She returned with a towering stack of books about Doxies, far more than anyone would ever need for a single essay. But the look on her face shut down any complaints Ron and Harry might have had as they silently followed her back to the Gryffindor tower.

Everything seemed to be settling down by the end of the week. They had just handed in one essay and were already assigned another. Harry could feel the bubbling joy of summer draining out of him, leaving behind the sad remains of a deflated balloon. With no Quidditch matches to look forward to and the term break still far away, he felt like a broomstick left in Filch’s old dusty cupboard, stuck in stillness and boredom.

Dragging his feet out of the dungeons, Harry was heading toward the Great Hall when a hand caught his arm. He turned, and there it was: the familiar smiling face that made his heart skip a beat.

“Are you the Snitch? Because you’re so hard to find,” Cedric said with a grin.

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “If I were the Snitch, you wouldn’t have a hard time catching me.” He paused, then pointed a finger at Cedric. “You, on the other hand, I haven’t seen you alone since the term started.”

The other boy smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, a lot’s been going on. It’s been an overwhelming week. Most of my N.E.W.T. classes are in the East wing, so I’ve had to leave the Great Hall either really early or really late.”

“And I’m guessing you get stopped along the way, too,” Harry raised an eyebrow.

The older boy slung his bag more securely over his shoulder—it looked heavy. The soft smile remained on his lips. “Yeah, sort of. Not that I’m complaining, but… I’ve missed you.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“Can we talk later? This weekend. I can go to the library to study with you three,” asked Cedric.

“Nah, Library’s a no-go for now. Hermione’s still mad about Krum invading her comfort zone. I’m sure the crowd will scatter eventually, but not yet.”

Cedric chuckled. “I can imagine that. How about the lake? We could have a picnic there. I’ve got Prefect duties on Saturday during the day, but I can see you in the late afternoon or around dinner.”

Harry nodded easily. “Sounds good.” He remembered Cedric’s birthday was this Wednesday, but he didn’t mind giving him a present a bit early. “I’ve got something for your birthday, too.”

Cedric’s face lit up. “Really? Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”

They stood there, simply looking at each other. Neither of them said anything. Then a girl with long wavy hair, one of the Hufflepuff Beater as Harry recognised, called Cedric’s name.

He turned and gave her a brief wave but didn’t leave right away. His gaze returned to Harry, lips parting like he was about to say something. Harry saw Cedric’s Adam’s apple move and decided, quickly, to cut the moment short even if he was desperate to keep talking.

“Gotta go. And your friend looks like she needs to talk to you,” he said, noticing the girl still standing nearby, watching them curiously.

Cedric finally relented and sighed. “Right. Yeah, see you later, Harry.”

He didn’t wave, just kept looking at him, waiting until Harry was the first to turn and walk away, disappearing around the corner.

***

Harry tried not to count the minutes. He really did. But the ticking of his wristwatch seemed to grow louder by the second, circling endlessly as he wished time would speed up and bring the evening faster.

He spent his morning writing letters to his parents, Sirius, and Remus about the first week back at school. It wasn’t something he usually did, but Lily had suggested it would be a good way to improve his handwriting, so Harry did though begrudgingly. 

Harry also managed to squeeze in some reading from Moody’s advanced material on the Unforgivable Curses for next week’s class.

They were all gathered in their usual spot in the Gryffindor common room, in front of the fireplace. Hermione was feeding Crookshanks a kibble during a break from her homework. Ron lay sprawled on the sofa, lazily flipping through Seeker Weekly.

“So, Avada Kedavra is the only way to kill someone?” Harry asked Hermione after finishing his chapter.

She nodded. “It’s the only quick way. But plenty of spells can seriously harm or even kill someone over time.”

Ron looked up from his magazine. “I’d rather go quickly than suffer through something slow and painful.”

Harry glanced down at The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. “You mean the Cruciatus Curse? Sure, it sounds painful, but to me, the Imperius Curse is worse. You could control someone’s mind, make them fall off a broom, and make it look like an accident.”

Ron nodded. “I wouldn’t want to die without even being aware of it. Not feeling pain, just...numbness. That’s awful too.”

Hermione shuddered. “Can we talk about something else? This is getting a bit too morbid.”

Harry still had more questions, but seeing the look on Hermione’s face, he let it go. They passed the morning doing homework, chatting idly, and eventually shifted to a lighter topic like forming a Quidditch Club. Harry wanted to propose the idea to McGonagall and felt confident she would approve.

When Hermione brought up her Yule Ball dress and how it now made sense why they needed it, Ron announced that he wouldn’t be going since he’d already used his dress robe as a cover for Pigwidgeon’s cage. Hermione was flabbergasted, and Harry rolled onto the carpet, crackling loudly.

“I can’t believe you boys! You never take anything seriously besides Quidditch!” Hermione snapped her book shut, glaring as sternly as she could. “Harry didn’t even look at his own robes when he bought them. What’s wrong with you two?”

“Oh, come on. Going to something like that is lame,” Ron grumbled, springing up from the couch. Harry nodded in agreement.

“It’s not lame,” Hermione said adamantly. “It’s an opportunity to experience new cultures and make new friends. We haven’t had a Triwizard Tournament in decades. The last time, it was hosted by Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts.”

“And it was held half a century ago. Why did it take such a long time to revive it now?” Harry asked. He was sure Hermione would have looked it up, and he was right as her expression grew tense.

“There was a casualty during the last tournament. A student died in one of the tasks. She was killed by Manticore poison,” she said quietly.

“What? And who on earth thought it was a good idea to bring it back now?” Harry raised his voice.

Hermione sighed. “It’s been fifty years. I’m sure they’ve thought it through. Security is tighter, and they have more skilled wizards now to keep everyone safe—”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Harry retorted. “They cancelled Quidditch just to put on a spectacle where some seventeen-year-olds might get poisoned to death?”

Hermione shrugged. “Let’s hope they know what they’re doing. It is a historical event meant to unite the international wizarding world, after all.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the twins, who came bearing suspicious treats like ‘blood candies’ and ‘inflatable gum’ and deceptively normal-looking snack boxes, apparently magical tools for escaping Binns’ and Trelawney’s boring lessons.

Harry had finished about half of his homework when it was nearly time for his meeting. He made a vague excuse to leave, catching the knowing smiles from Hermione and Ron.

Rain had begun pouring as he dashed out of the Gryffindor Tower and down the staircases. Harry spotted the tall figure sitting on a bench in the corridor near the Great Hall entrance. It was Saturday, so both of them were in casual clothes. Cedric wore a light blue sweater and jeans, with a brown jacket draped over his shoulders. He had a book in one hand and was making a few scribbles with his quill.

It was strange to see him alone without any of his friends nearby, and Harry’s heart did a ridiculous little flip at the sight of Cedric’s profile, focused so intently on his book. He wanted to just drink in the sight before approaching the other boy, but refrained himself as the thought sounded a little creepy.

“Hey,” Harry greeted him.

Cedric looked up and smiled easily. “Hey yourself.” He closed the book and tucked it into his jacket. “Looks like the rain isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Do you have anywhere else in mind? I don’t mind just sitting here either.”

Harry pulled out his map, sat beside Cedric, and scanned it. “Um… let’s see—we could just walk around the castle. Filch won’t be on patrol for the next couple of hours. We can go to the West Tower, the greenhouses, or the Astronomy Tower. But with this rain, I don’t think there’s much to see in the sky.”

“It’s not the stars I want to see,” Cedric said.

Harry blinked. It came out of nowhere. He could feel the heat rise to his face.

He swatted Cedric with the map, which only made the other boy laugh.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it. It’s good to see your face.”

“We saw each other all summer,” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, but I want to see you here , too.”

Then Cedric stood and offered Harry a hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Harry scoffed, but took his hand anyway.

The corridor was empty, probably because the rain had driven everyone back into their common rooms, so during the walk to the Astronomy Tower, Cedric didn’t let go of Harry’s hand. At some point, Harry even gave it a small squeeze, their fingers loosely entwined but staying there.

He didn’t need to put on the Invisibility Cloak, though he kept an eye on the map. Fortunately, they didn’t run into any students they knew.

When they reached the top of the tower, the curtain of rain had turned the sky nearly black. The castle’s turrets and spires were invisible, reduced to dark silhouettes, and the view of the forest was mostly hidden in the downpour. They couldn’t go out onto the balcony, so they decided to sit on a wooden bench near one of the pillars.

Cedric seemed to be in a good mood. He waved his wand, and two cushions tucked beneath the telescope shelves floated toward them.

“How’s your first week been?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “So far, so good. Still hate Snape. Moody and McGonagall gave us the toughest lessons, as usual. Too much homework. Other than that, bored to death. I’ve missed Quidditch.”

“It’s a bummer,” Cedric agreed. “You could’ve shown Krum the way you fly. He might’ve been impressed.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You think so? I don’t know… I’m not as good as him. He’s what—eighteen? There’s no way I’ll make it to England’s national team in the next four years.”

“You haven’t even tried yet. I’m sure you could join a good team to practice with next summer. Maybe the one my dad mentioned? Birmingham Youth, right?”

Harry scratched his cheek, a little shyly. “Yeah, maybe. If I really want to go pro in Quidditch, I guess I need to start doing something about it.”

Then he felt Cedric’s hand rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’d be a great asset to any team. You’re amazing,” Cedric said gently. 

“Thanks,” Harry swallowed. He wanted to change the subject before Cedric’s compliments made him melt on the spot. “What about you? You seem pretty busy.”

Cedric chuckled. “I might’ve signed up to tutor some of my housemates this year. My friend Lawrence told everyone I got Os in my O.W.L.s, and now a few of them want me to help out. So, well, I just went along with it.”

Harry smirked. “I’m sure tutoring wasn’t the only thing they wanted from you.”

It was satisfying to see the faint blush rise on Cedric’s cheeks.

“If they ask me, I’ll just tell them I’m not interested,” Cedric said.

“That’s not going to convince them.” 

“Then I’ll say I’m dating someone. Someone I really like and can’t stop thinking about,” Cedric said plainly.

Harry fought down a blush and averted his gaze from Cedric’s steady grey eyes. Instead, he looked toward a faint flash of lightning in the sky. “That… doesn’t help either.”

Cedric shrugged, smiling. “I don’t care how many people ask, as long as I get to be with you.”

Harry could feel the other boy’s eyes flick down to his lips, and he coughed. Cedric had been so... direct lately. There was no hesitation in his words, no uncertainty. Just calm, open honesty. It caught Harry off guard in a way that made his heart race.

And that thought alone made him blush even harder.

Harry cleared his throat, scrambling to shift the topic. “Wait—um—I have something for you. For your birthday.”

He pulled out the small gift he’d been meaning to give Cedric, something that had been on his mind ever since the day Cedric mentioned the Golden Snitch necklace.

Cedric gasped when he saw it in Harry’s hand. “Is this yours?”

Harry nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. It might seem a little lame, but I really want you to have it.”

He glanced at Cedric’s surprised expression and gave him a small, crooked grin.

“You said you wanted to be a Seeker because you saw a Snitch,” Harry said. “This one. On my ninth birthday. So… I figured you’d want to have it.”

“Thank you… But it’s yours, Harry. And you seem to be quite fond of it,” Cedric said, touching the Golden Snitch and examining it carefully, as though it might break. Then he reached out and brushed the hair that had fallen on Harry’s forehead, like it was the most natural thing in the world, before continuing.

“Besides, when I think back… it wasn’t just the Golden Snitch. I wanted to be a Seeker because I knew you would be. So if we weren’t in the same house, at least we could play Quidditch. I think my world’s been revolving around you and what you want since then.”

Harry thought he couldn’t breathe. Cedric’s fingers were still there — not brushing anymore, just resting gently on his hair, caressing him the same way he touched the Snitch, with gentleness and care.

He found his voice again. “Then let’s make a bargain. You can keep it… until I make the national team. Then I’ll have it back. The Golden Snitch is the promise.”

Cedric looked surprised, but also pleased. “I’d like that. And I’m sure I won’t have to keep it for long.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Always an optimist.” At the same time, Cedric blurted out, “Can I kiss you?”

The timing was so awkward. They both looked at each other, then burst into laughter. All Harry could hear was the loud thumping of his own heartbeat in his ears and the tremble in his fingers as he nodded.

Cedric gently pulled Harry closer, then leaned in and placed his lips on Harry’s right cheek. The older boy kissed softly around his temple and forehead, his hand tucked into the hair at the back of Harry’s head, nuzzling it absentmindedly.

“What—what are you doing?”

Cedric pulled away slightly, smiling shyly. They were so close now, their foreheads lightly touching. Harry could feel Cedric’s warm breath, see the delicate curve of his eyelashes. It almost hurt to believe that this boy in front of him actually liked him back.

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Cedric said softly. He waited for Harry’s reply, but when none came, he leaned in again and kissed the other side: his forehead, temple, cheek, and the tip of his nose. Harry’s breath quickened. The kisses were a little ticklish, but also new and disarming. There was so much caring in each soft press of Cedric’s lips.

Then Cedric’s mouth brushed against the shell of Harry’s ear, and the sensation sent a shiver through Harry’s body. A warm rush spread through his stomach like liquid sunlight.

The older boy paused, searching Harry’s face. “You alright?”

“Y–yeah. I’m good,” Harry managed, trying to steady his voice. He didn’t want Cedric to know how much just one kiss could affect him. 

But Cedric smiled gently. “I think you’ve got a sensitive spot. On your ears.”

“Shut up, Diggory.”

Cedric chuckled. “Don’t be mad. That’s perfectly fine. I’m happy I found that out about you. Something no one else knows yet. How do you—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Harry grabbed his shirt and kissed him—this time, right on the lips.

He didn’t know why it always ended up like this. The second time now that Harry’d been the one to impatiently close the distance between them. He regretted a little that his lips were dry and cracked, not as soft as he wished, but Cedric didn’t seem to mind. He kissed him back just as sweetly as before.

Harry reached out, gently placing his hand on Cedric’s chest, as if he needed to touch him to believe he was real. He was surprised to feel the fast, pulsing heartbeat beneath his palm, beating even faster than his own.

Cedric must have noticed. He pulled back slightly, biting his swollen lip. “It’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? My heart’s beating like crazy. Even now. When I kiss you. It’s like I never get used to it.”

“I’m going to explode if you keep being this dopey and ridiculously charming,” Harry muttered, curling his lips into a half-smile. “You don’t know how hard I’m trying to keep myself together.”

They looked at each other and grinned like a pair of idiots. Cedric’s laugh made Harry feel like he could listen to it forever. 

“Wow. I thought I was the only one going mad.” Cedric said breathlessly. He leaned in to kiss Harry quickly. “Can I ask you a question?”

Harry nodded.

“Since when have you had feelings for me?” 

His voice was quiet, unsure.

Harry snorted lightly. “What do you expect? You’ve been my friend since we were kids. And you were bloody nice to a goofy Quidditch maniac you’d just met.”

“You liked me back then?” Cedric looked astonished.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Harry paused, searching through his memories. “It all got mixed up along the way. I was so sure I hated you for a couple of years, but thinking back… it was because I cared too much about you and what you thought. Then in my second year, I thought I admired you, for all the Quidditch stuff, you know. But then I couldn’t stop looking at you across the table. Or anywhere, really… after that. Merlin, don’t make me explain all of it.”

“So you like me because of Quidditch?” Cedric teased, though Harry noticed a flicker of uncertainty in his expression.

“Of course not. Quidditch was just one part of it,” Harry said, grabbing Cedric’s hand. “I don’t know if this makes any sense, but I like you because you’ve always been kind to me. I think… that might’ve been the start of it.”

He heard Cedric exhale deeply. “Alright. Thank you. For telling me.”

“You’re also not a bad-looking bloke, either,” Harry added with a smirk. “But I know that comes with the package.”

Cedric laughed and leaned in, cupping Harry’s jaw as he kissed him. He didn’t ask this time, and Harry didn’t mind. He gladly kissed him back.

They didn’t do much besides kiss, slow and chaste, and hold hands. Harry felt his lips now a little swollen and soft, no longer dry. His throat, however, was parched from swallowing back so many blushes. Was this what dating felt like? He didn’t have an answer for that. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to kiss Cedric every time he saw him, and it was driving him mad.

The rain had stopped. They spent the rest of the time just talking about random things. Harry told Cedric that Ron and Hermione had figured out about their relationship, which surprisingly brought visible relief to Cedric’s face. He, in turn, admitted that one of his friends, Phoebe, also knew. It turned out their relationship might not be that hard to hide, at least not from the people closest to them.

By the time it was getting late, Harry’s hand was still in Cedric’s, and it felt harder to let go. But eventually, they had to. Filch would be rounding the courtyard soon, probably heading for the Astronomy Tower. They’d better move quickly.

As they walked downstairs, still hand in hand, Cedric asked if he could kiss Harry again. Kissing on the small steps turned out to be tricky. Harry had to grab Cedric’s arms and tiptoe to bridge the height between them while Cedric wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and gently pulled him close.

This is going to be the death of me, Harry thought wildly. Falling off the Astronomy Tower stairs just because he was too focused on kissing a boy.

Fortunately, Cedric pulled away just in time before any miscalculated step could send them tumbling. Harry didn’t even get a chance to sigh in relief when Cedric suddenly spoke.

“I’m going to put my name in the Goblet,” the older boy said, then quickly added, “Not that I’ll get picked, obviously. I haven’t told anyone yet, only you. But the chances are really slim. Loads of seventh years are giving it a go. From your house, too. I heard Angelina’s planning to try.”

Harry blinked at him in disbelief. How on earth did Cedric think he wouldn’t be selected? but all he could manage was a stupid, “Why?”

Cedric shrugged. “My friends and classmates said I should give it a shot. Doesn’t hurt, right? If my name doesn’t come out, I just go back to my life. And if it does , well... I’ll have a chance to prove myself.”

Harry stared at him, frowning. “You’re Cedric Diggory. What else do you have to prove?”

The question seemed to catch Cedric off guard. “You just think too highly of me.”

“I’m not,” Harry said, almost defensively. “You’re basically the most qualified person in the whole school to be our champion. It’s not like the Goblet’s going to choose someone like Warrington, no offense to all Slytherin, but come on. If you enter, there’s no way you won’t be picked.”

Cedric gave him a strange look. “You sound like you don’t want me to be Hogwarts Champion.”

“No. I don’t,” Harry said, a little too fast. “There’s a criminal on the loose, and the tournament’s really dangerous. Hermione told me what happened the last time it was held. I don’t want to see you get hurt or even…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Cedric clearly understood. The older boy’s expression softened as he reached out and took Harry’s hand.

“Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen. You’ve no idea how many talented seventh years are trying. Most of them probably have a better chance than me. And besides, I’m sure the schools have put in a lot more safety measures this time.”

“You’ve said just like Hermione. But neither of you knows that,” Harry said sharply.

Cedric sighed. “I don’t. But again, the odds are low.” He leaned in and kissed Harry lightly on the forehead. “Can we talk about this later? Maybe after my name doesn’t get picked? I’m sure we’ll laugh about this whole conversation being based on an imaginary scenario.”

“You don’t get to walk away just by kissing me,” Harry tried to sound stern, but his serious tone faltered under Cedric’s cheeky smile.

“Oh, that works? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t think you can do that again. We’re not finished.”

Cedric just grinned at him.

7

Dating had never been a thought that crossed his mind before, and Harry didn’t know he was even capable of it: dating someone, let alone dating your crush.

But for some reason, it fucking happened. And it was sweet, slow, and heartwarming. Pretty much the opposite of what he was, or qualities that defied who Harry was: someone so impatient, reckless, and usually blunt. He seemed like the type who would never learn how to hold hands without bursting into flames, or who would never consider himself the delicate type of ‘boyfriend.’

Shit. Shit. Shit. Boyfriend. Was that what he was to Cedric? Was Cedric his boyfriend now?

Harry almost knocked his head against the wall, if not for the portrait of Hermes Trismegistus shouting a warning at him at the last minute. Instead, he fell, scratching his elbow on the moving rail of the staircase.

“Careful, boy! You’ll lose your head full of clouds if you continue walking like that!” the old pre-medieval Alchemist scolded, as Harry rubbed at his bruised elbow and his own humiliation.

Cedric seemed to take the secrecy part seriously, but he still found time to drop by the Gryffindor table after learning that Ron and Hermione knew about their relationship. They didn’t do anything, not even hold hands, just talked like usual. Cedric even got introduced to Fabian and acted as a judge for Fred and George’s snack food schemes. 

Everything seemed normal, just like they were friends.

They didn’t get much time alone at night, but whenever they could, they’d meet briefly at lunch, in empty classrooms, dark passageways, or quiet corridors without any ghosts snooping around, just to hold hands or steal quick kisses. Harry’s heart would maddeningly burst out of his chest every time he saw a chance and took it.

When the weather was just cloudy, with a cool breeze and no rain, Harry went out to play Quidditch. McGonagall said they could use the pitch until the first task of the tournament was announced, and that was enough for Harry to seize every opportunity he could to fly.

He was surprised to see how many people joined in: Ron, the twins, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Ginny, who tagged along without a broom, Fabian, who turned out to be passionate about Quidditch and played Chaser for Beauxbatons. He even had a Nimbus 2000, which Harry couldn’t help wanting to try again for the pure sentiment.

Sometimes Cedric found time to join them, alongside his friend Miles, whom Harry found easy-going and full of interesting insight about team planning, though he refused to ride a broom.

“Careful. We’ll probably have to face off against each other this year. I might have to steal those tactics one day,” Harry said casually.

Only Miles chuckled. “As if you’re going to use much strategy, Potter. You rely solely on talent when it comes to playing.”

Harry tilted his head, unsure if it was a compliment or not. Still, it made him think. Maybe he should put more thought into other team positions. Talented or not, he’d better know the strengths, weaknesses, and blind spots of every role to be fully prepared.

They played two or three hours each week, and if there were enough people to form small teams, Madam Hooch was kind enough to lend out equipment and brooms. It was a carefree match, with them shouting instructions and tips across the field. They swapped roles occasionally — Fred and George tried playing against each other, Ginny and Fabian played Chasers against Katie and Angelina.

Harry noticed how quickly Ginny and Fabian adapted to more aggressive roles. Ginny had a sharp aim, and Fabian was relentless, constantly sending more Quaffles her way. Cedric was a decent Keeper when he played against Harry’s team (with Ron as Keeper, Angelina and Katie as Chasers, and George as Beater), and it was refreshing for Harry to see the team dynamics from a different angle while Miles acted like their coach, pointing out what they’d missed after they landed.

The Duelling Club was the other thing Harry looked forward to, and Moody didn’t disappoint. Some Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students were interested in joining too, and Moody began their first meeting by revising counter-curses and defensive spells. Harry was paired with a girl from Durmstrang who looked like she’d never smiled in her life. She eyed Harry with cold nonchalance, barely nodding when they started to duel or not even telling him her name. Her attacks were brutal and forceful, so much so that Harry nearly stumbled just trying to cast a Shield Charm.

He managed to flip the table and counterattack, finally forcing her to yield in the third round, which didn’t soften her scowl in the slightest.

Cedric came to him after the club ended, spotting Harry rubbing his right wrist, likely sore from blocking spells.

“You hurt?”

“No. Just didn’t expect to take such strong spells right off the bat. My duel partner doesn’t believe in holding back.”

“She should’ve,” Cedric said sternly. “But Durmstrangs take pride in the Dark Arts and duelling. I guess that’s her way of proving how good she is.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “That makes the whole tournament just a bunch of egotistical maniacs competing against each other.”

Cedric laughed. For a moment, Harry wanted to ask about their conversation that night – whether Cedric had put his name in the Goblet, but the other boy’s hand resting gently on his back, rubbing slow, comforting circles, made Harry forget that bit almost instantly.

“I can check your wrist in the Hall. Come on.”

He steered Harry toward the Great Hall, joining Ron and Hermione as they headed back to the castle. Cedric’s hand lingered on Harry’s back the entire way.

***

The first week of October came with a beautiful change in the colour of the leaves and a cooler breeze. Hermione triumphantly reclaimed her usual spot in the library, announcing that Krum had finally moved to sit at another table — not far, but at least not hers — and his admirers had begun to thin out. Krum didn’t interact with them anyway, just sat with his crooked nose buried in books.

“Seriously, I’m surprised to see him sitting for hours and reading,” she said. “Not exactly the picture I had in mind for a Seeker, you know.”

“Krum isn’t just a Seeker. He’s the world’s best Seeker, Hermione,” Ron corrected, a bit too eagerly, earning a sharp glare from her.

“Point is, he’s kind of surprised me, that’s all,” she said curtly, then returned to her book.

With Hermione’s victory, they started spending more time in the library, trying to catch up on homework that had piled up like a six-month assignment. Harry occasionally saw Krum nearby and noticed his expression, always stern and placid, didn’t look much different from the girl he’d dueled with. Maybe it was a Durmstrang thing.

Ron, on the other hand, never got any work done because he kept leaning out of his seat trying to sneak glances at Krum, much to Hermione’s exasperation.

“You could just go and talk to him, Ron,” Hermione said dryly.

Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What? Talk to Krum? Are you mad, Hermione?!” he blurted, only to quickly lower his voice. “I would never. Not in a million years.”

Hermione sighed. “Whatever you say. But seriously, stop treating him like some kind of god. He’s always sitting alone without friends.”

“Krum has lots of people who know him all over the world,” Ron argued.

“But fans aren’t friends,” she said simply.

Harry was glad to be left out of that conversation. He admired Krum, his insane skills at Quidditch especially, but he agreed with Hermione. Krum didn’t look like the approachable type, and despite his reputation, he didn’t seem to have any of his Durmstrang friends around either. Somehow, Harry felt a little sorry for the Bulgarian Seeker.

He was actually considering talking to Krum, maybe asking that question he’d always had about the Wronski Feint, or any other Quidditch tip, if not for what happened in Potions that week, which ended with him and Ron getting detention.

Without Quidditch matches, Gryffindor was already sitting at the bottom of the House Cup rankings. And of course, it all started with Malfoy.

He hadn’t even been that malicious, at least not by Slytherin standards. Malfoy just kept jabbing about the cancellation of Quidditch and how he didn’t get to watch Gryffindor crash and burn, literally, with Harry landing on his head. It was just annoying, especially while Harry was trying to take notes off Snape’s board and remember what he’d already added to his cauldron.

So, Harry simply stuck his leg out just as Malfoy leaned into Crabbe, probably scheming up their next insult. The timing was perfect. Malfoy tripped forward, face-first into a bowl of Boomslang Skin (unfortunately, not the boiling cauldron), and Crabbe tumbled backward onto the floor.

Snape, of course, chose that moment to appear.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” he said smoothly, “and detention for Potter and Weasley.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Ron shouted angrily, throwing his wand on the table.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t conspiring with Potter, Weasley. You two are always up to something,” Snape said coolly. Then he turned to Harry, who was glaring at him murderously.

“And you, Potter. Shouldn’t you be growing up by now? Stop acting like a spoiled, good-for-nothing child. You’re going to be a brother, after all.”

Harry forgot to glare. He blinked. “Wait—how do you know I’m going to be a brother? Did my mum tell you?”

Snape scowled even darker than usual, swished his robes dramatically, and swept out of the room without another word.

Ron continued to sulk for the whole week of detention he didn’t deserve, and Harry felt sorry for him. So he tried to cheer him up by letting Ron ride his Firebolt whenever they had time to go out on the weekend and play Quidditch, while Harry took his Cleansweep.

With the detentions (cleaning the cauldrons in the Dungeons and the Hospital Wing by hand), they also fell far behind on their homework. Harry had even less time to meet up with Cedric, as he had to stay up almost all night finishing Herbology essays, Summoning and Banishing Charms, and practicing spells along the way. They barely left the Gryffindor common room or had time to eat. Hermione was kind enough to bring them food from the dining table and offered some comfort instead of scolding them for their recklessness as she usually did.

By the end of October, after surviving the maelstrom of homework and the hellish week of detention, Harry and Ron decided to let loose and blow off some steam. 

It was Halloween Day, and the school had ended classes one hour early. They borrowed rubber wands from the twins and fake-duelled at the back of the classroom during Transfiguration instead of practicing their Switching Spells. Within five minutes of roleplaying with gibberish spells, Ron’s wand turned into a large magical ice mouse and Harry’s transformed into a cotton candy snake.

They ended up losing another five points for Gryffindor, and with Professor McGonagall, who was far more reasonable than Snape, looming over them with a look of great disappointment.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, for clearly demonstrating what the rest of the class should not do, and for behaving like five-year-old children who’ve never cast a spell in their lives.”

The whole class snickered, except Hermione whose face mirrored McGonagall’s exasperation. Ron smiled sheepishly, while Harry tried to look as guilty as possible, hoping McGonagall wouldn’t launch into another lecture. By now, she had likely given up on Gryffindor’s chances at the House Cup and was only trying to convince them to behave their age.

The sky on Halloween was overcast by the time night fell. Dim lights reflected on the glass ceiling of the Great Hall, but the Halloween decorations outshone the gloomy weather and brightened the atmosphere. Floating candles and jack-o-lanterns chortled maniacally whenever someone passed near them. The hall looked more grand than usual. Even the suits of armor were painted gold and had skeletons placed in their hollow heads. The hall was more crowded than usual, filled with students talking animatedly and looking around with excitement.

Someone touched Harry’s elbow as he made his way to the Gryffindor table. He looked up to see Cedric smiling at him.

“Hermione told me you and Ron are the front-runners in your house for losing points this week,” Cedric said.

Harry rolled his eyes, which confirmed Cedric’s words and made the older boy laugh. He crossed his arms defensively before sitting down at the table.

“Part of this is Snape’s fault. He’s being unfair as usual.”

Cedric just hummed. He didn’t sit with Harry, clearly just stopping by to greet him. Harry felt his stomach tighten; he hadn’t seen much of Cedric over the past week, and they hadn’t had time to talk more than a quick hello or goodbye.

Harry was about to say something, probably mumble “I miss you”, when Lavender Brown joined the table, waving at Cedric and chirping loudly.

“Hi, Cedric! Susan said you’ve put your name in the Goblet. Do you hope to see your name tonight?”

Her voice shattered the moment. And that was when Harry remembered—it was the day the champions were going to be announced. He wanted to smack his forehead and curse himself for forgetting all about the tournament. What a slow dim-witted I am, Harry scolded himself.

Cedric turned to Lavender with a faint blush on his cheeks before shaking his head.

“Definitely not. I don’t think I’ll be selected. But thanks for asking.”

The twins and Ron stared at Cedric in astonishment.

“It’s not fair! You’re in our year, and we had to grow white beards for crossing the Age Line for a week!” Fred said accusingly, referring to the time a couple of weeks ago when they’d tried to use Aging Potion to fool the Goblet. It had been hilarious at the time — another thing Harry had completely forgotten.

“We’ve got Angelina as our house champion anyway,” George said, trying to console Fred.

“I wouldn’t dream of competing with her,” Cedric said earnestly. Then he turned to Harry, a brief hesitation crossing his face.

Ron looked like he was about to say something to Cedric, but Hermione smacked his arm and shot him a meaningful look toward Cedric and Harry.

“Can we talk later tonight?” Cedric asked Harry hopefully, his voice barely above a whisper.

Though overwhelmed by the sudden rush of thoughts and feelings, Harry nodded.

The other boy smiled. “Brilliant. Same corridor near the Great Hall exit? One hour after the feast ends.”

Harry nodded again, watching Cedric say goodbye to the Gryffindors before heading back to the Hufflepuff table. 

He turned to his table and saw that Hermione and Ron wore the same expression as his. Harry could feel his heart racing, but it was Ron who said what they were all thinking.

“His name’s definitely going to be selected unless the Goblet isn’t as magical as it appears to be.” 

Hermione nodded. “I’m not surprised if he’s chosen either.” Her eyes quickly glanced at Harry, but she didn’t say anything. Harry didn’t give his comments and just looked at his empty plates with wild thoughts running in circles in his mind. 

They were soon joined by Fabian who was dressed properly this time, in his Beauxbatons suit, declaring he didn’t want to join his fellow schoolmates because many of them were getting more antsy about tonight’s champion announcement. 

“They were fiercely competitive, especially Fleur. She’s unbearable with all her complaints about Hogwarts the whole week and how crestfallen she will be if her name isn’t picked up. I wish to all gods and deities she isn’t.”

Fabian’s usual talkative nature really helped ease Harry’s nerves, and he let himself be distracted by his remarks.

The dinner passed by so quickly. Once the last plates of desserts were happily devoured (toffee apple and pumpkin slab pie), Dumbledore stepped up to the podium. Beside him stood two new figures: Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr. Bagman wore a wide, jovial grin and waved cheerfully at the crowd, clearly aware of his popularity. In stark contrast, Crouch stood still as stone, dressed in a crisply tailored suit with every hair perfectly in place beneath his trim hat. 

Harry recalled what James had once said about the man. A very competent skillful wizard, and a perfectionist through and through. There was no mistaking it in the man’s rigid posture and meticulous appearance.

“We are honoured tonight to be joined by two esteemed guests,” Dumbledore’s voice was echoing through the Great Hall. “Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Mr. Barty Crouch Sr., Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, who are here to witness the opening night of the Triwizard Tournament.”

A low murmur of excitement buzzed through the students. All eyes turned to the Goblet of Fire, which now burned a brilliant blue atop its pedestal at the front of the hall.

“The Goblet is ready to make its decision,” Dumbledore continued. “It will choose one champion from each of the three schools to represent them in the Tournament.”

As if on cue, the goblet flared. Blue flames leapt higher, casting long shadows across the walls, then suddenly turned red and shot sparks into the air. Gasps rippled through the crowd as a small, scorched parchment flew from the flames and Dumbledore plucked it from the air.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” Dumbledore announced, holding the parchment high, “is Fleur Delacour!”

There was an immediate hush, followed by polite clapping as Fleur Delacour rose gracefully from the Ravenclaw table. Ron leaned out, trying to get a better look as Fleur glided past the Gryffindor table, head held high. Dumbledore gestured kindly to the door behind him, and she disappeared through it without a word.

Beside Harry, Fabian groaned and muttered in French-accented English, “Of course it’s her. It’s always her.”

Around them, a handful of Beauxbatons students, mostly girls, had their heads down on the table, some quietly crying, others slumped in disappointment.

Moments later, the goblet flared again. Another parchment was expelled in a shower of sparks.

“The Durmstrang champion,” Dumbledore said, “is Viktor Krum.”

The response was almost immediate and far louder this time. Krum, slouched and brooding, stood up at the Durmstrang table and walked toward the front with silent determination. Ron beamed like it was his birthday come early.

“I told you he’d get picked,” he whispered to Harry, bouncing slightly in his seat.

Krum gave Dumbledore a curt nod before vanishing through the same door Fleur had taken.

The room was tense now, buzzing with hushed voices and shuffling feet. Everyone knew what was next. The Hogwarts champion.

All eyes were on the goblet.

It flared once more, but this time, the flames died down almost instantly after a final burst. A last scrap of parchment floated out and Dumbledore caught it neatly.

He glanced at the name and smiled brightly, then turned to face the Hufflepuff table.

“The champion for Hogwarts,” he called out, “is Cedric Diggory!”

A roar erupted from the Hufflepuffs. The students stood up in unison, clapping, shouting, some even stomping their feet. Many rushed toward Cedric, who was buried among them. For a few seconds, Harry could barely see him through the crowd, just a blur of black robes and gold trim. Then Cedric emerged, looking stunned. His expression was somewhere between disbelief and awe.

Cheers came not only from Hufflepuff but from other tables too. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors also joined in the applause as well.

Cedric turned briefly toward the Gryffindor table. His eyes met Harry’s and for a moment, everything else faded. The noise, the lights, even Ron’s enthusiastic clapping beside him. Then Cedric gave him a faint smile, and turned away to follow Dumbledore through the back door.

The hall slowly quieted again.

Dumbledore raised his hands to speak once more. “The first task will take place in two weeks' time. The champions will face a challenge designed to test their daring, resourcefulness, and quick thinking. Details will not be disclosed in advance.”

Murmurs rose again, but there was no further announcement. The champions did not return, and the Halloween feast wrapped up shortly afterward.

On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, the twins lamented their failed attempt to enter and Angelina’s loss.

“Well, at least it’s Cedric. Could’ve been worse,” George understated.

“Yeah, at least Hufflepuff’s got someone proper,” Fred agreed. “And he didn’t grow a beard trying to cheat.”

But Harry stayed quiet the entire walk back. His thoughts were still with Cedric, and the way he looked back at him. He remembered their earlier promise to meet after the feast. One hour after it ended. Same corridor near the Great Hall exit.

But he didn’t go.

He didn’t think Cedric would show up now, not after something so big. Not after his name came out of the goblet.

And maybe, if Harry was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to find out if he was right.

8

Harry woke up feeling like the world had just turned upside down.

He was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when Ron put on his uniform and gave him a questioning look. Harry told his friend to go on without him; he didn’t have the appetite for breakfast this morning.

The stunned look on Cedric’s face was still vivid in his mind. Harry wasn’t ready to face what was going to change from now on, not yet.

Sighing, he rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and decided to shove all these complicated feelings aside. By the time he got up and headed to class, it was already five minutes late. The first class was Divination, which meant he had to run across the entire castle to the North Tower. On the way, he came across Neville, who woke up late and was in a frantic hurry, and together they dragged themselves up the spiral staircase to the top floor, wheezing and panting heavily.

“Where were you?” Ron asked as Harry barged into the classroom, followed closely by a sweaty and flushed Neville.

Harry dropped his bag unceremoniously and hurried to pull out Astrology for Beginners , but Ron stopped him.

“Trelawney’s sick today,” Ron said. “She told the class to finish the assignment on the board.”

Ron didn’t even glance at the board, instead gesturing toward another table. Harry followed his gaze and saw Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil crying, while Dean and Seamus sat beside them, trying to comfort the girls.

“What happened?”

Ron didn’t explain at first but shoved the Daily Prophet into Harry’s hands.

“You’ve missed the news, mate. It’s crazy.”

Harry looked down and saw the headline:

Perfume Shop Owner Attacked – Suspected Barty Crouch Jr. Involved

Last night on Halloween, Joshua Whittaker, an honorable wizard and the owner of Scentsory in Hogsmeade, was found nearly dead on the ground. He wouldn’t have survived if Madam Rosmerta hadn’t seen him and gotten him to the hospital in time. His condition is now being carefully treated by Healers at St. Mungo’s.

Madam Rosmerta, pale-faced, told our reporter that Joshua had been struck in the head, quite brutally, by the shattered head of a nearby faerie statue. She firmly believes it was no accident and suspects Barty Crouch Jr. was behind the explosion and ambush. According to her, Joshua had just left her pub around ten o’clock and was walking alone back to his shop when the attack happened.

The Ministry declined to comment, and there has been no statement from the Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour, on whether this was indeed Crouch Jr.’s heinous crime. However, additional Aurors will be stationed in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts as a safety measure, and the investigation will be closely monitored…

Harry didn’t keep reading. He’d read enough. His heart sank as he remembered visiting the perfume shop last year. He glanced at Lavender and Parvati with sympathy. They must be close, and Joshua seemed like a decent bloke.

“What do you think?” Ron asked, his voice grim.

“I think it’s him. Crouch,” Harry said. “He knows what’s happening at the school. The tournament. His father’s here.”

“But it’s just not... wizard-like. Don’t you think? Smashing someone’s head with a statue? It’s barbaric.”

“I think he’s trying to send a message. Probably to let Crouch Sr. know he’s around, or maybe just to… I don’t know, make a threat or something. Joshua’s a pureblood. This wasn’t random. He was targeted. Not to be killed, but to scare us. To let us know he’s watching.”

Ron stared at him, stunned. “That’s bloody mental. How do you even come up with that?”

Harry shrugged. “It just makes sense, with everything we know, or what my dad knows about him. I think he’s an egomaniac. That’s his way of doing things.”

“Sometimes you scare me with your thoughts, Harry,” Neville said quietly from the next table after listening to them talking. “And it’s Hogsmeade... that’s very close to us.”

Neville’s concern mirrored Harry’s. It wasn’t just that Barty Crouch was one step ahead of the Aurors; it was the way he operated, the way he chose his timing so carefully.

Harry couldn’t help but think of Cedric. He reached into his bag and pulled out the map, scanning quickly for Cedric’s name. There it was... in the West Tower, probably in Arithmancy class. Harry let out a sigh of relief, then looked up to see Ron smirking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve been acting weird since last night. I’m sure Cedric’s fine. You’re just being paranoid like Moody.”

“I wouldn’t mind being like Moody if I had his skills and talents,” Harry said with a dry tone.

“Come on. Take it easy. I know you’re worried about him, but this is the Triwizard Tournament. It’s happening here, in school. And we’re just students. I don’t think Crouch would target students—”

“Crouch will target anyone who fits into his plan,” Harry argued. “Remember, he killed two innocent people after the Quidditch World Cup just to get attention after two Ministries tried to cover up news about him. This time, too. If Fudge doesn’t act now, he’s even more stupid than I thought.”

Ron looked startled by Harry’s assessment and didn’t say anything else. He just shook his head. Neville shivered and looked pale.

No one tried to finish the class assignment, and when the bell rang, Harry’s mind was completely elsewhere, on the news, on Cedric, and how he could get to talk to him. 

Harry’s absentmindedness carried into Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid called on him for the first time in class to answer something about the habitat of Porlocks. Harry didn’t know the answer, and a look of disappointment on Hagrid’s face made his stomach twist. Ron and Hermione shot him worried looks.

Feeling guilty, Harry lingered after class to apologise.

“Nothin’ ter worry about,” Hagrid said, waving it off easily. “Bit of a letdown, yeah, but I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. Most teens do nowadays.”

Harry was surprised to see Hagrid take it so well. Usually, the man was sensitive about his teaching, especially when Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t know the material and couldn’t help him keep the class engaged. 

He looked at Hagrid with mild curiosity, then caught a faint whiff of something… 

“Hagrid, are you wearing perfume?” Harry asked, still staring at the large man.

“No, nonsense! How could I? This is Care o’ Magical Creatures! Can’t have the Porlocks sniffin’ weird scents…”

“Yeah, right. But I think—”

Hagrid cut him off by hurriedly shooing him out of the hut, his face turning bright red. “Go on now... don’t you have somethin’ teenager-y ter be doin? I’ve got me afternoon tea in half an hour, don’t yeh see?”

“Tea with whom?” Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

But Hagrid refused to say anything more and ushered him out with a big wave of his hand. Fang wagged his tail and trotted after them, clearly mistaking it as a sign to go outside and play fetch.

“I think Hagrid’s seeing someone.”

Harry told his friends the moment he found them in the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione paused mid-bite of her scone, while Ron spluttered on his pumpkin juice.

“How do you—”

“He wears perfume, of all things,” Harry said quickly.

Hermione and Ron, still looking flabbergasted, were about to ask more when Harry spotted a tall figure getting up from the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was leaving for class, with his heavy bag slung over his shoulder. This time, he was alone.

“I’ll be back,” Harry told his friends before they had time to respond and dashed off.

Harry managed to catch up with Cedric around the corner just before he entered the East Wing, where History of Magic was held.

They nearly collided and Cedric looked startled to see him as his grey eyes wavered. Harry caught a flicker of surprise on his face.

“You didn’t come up last night?” Cedric asked.

“What?”

“Last night. In the corridor. I waited for you until I realised you weren’t coming.”

“Oh.” Harry looked at him, dumbfounded, suddenly feeling like a complete arse. “I just thought—that since you disappeared toward the back... and with everything going on, well, I didn’t think I’d see you again last night. I’m... sorry.”

Cedric sighed. “It’s fine. I just thought you might be mad at me or something.”

“What? No! I wasn’t mad at you,” Harry blurted out, then quickly remembered why he’d chased after Cedric in the first place. “Look, have you read the news? About Barty Crouch and Hogsmeade?”

Cedric’s eyes lingered on Harry briefly before he replied grimly, “Yeah. Poor Joshua. There’s an announcement on the board this morning. Hogsmeade trips are cancelled until the end of the year.”

Harry scoffed. “It’s not just about a stupid Hogsmeade trip. It’s Barty Crouch Jr! He must be hiding around here.”

Alarm flashed across Cedric’s face. “It’s still a rumour. There’s no confirmation that it’s him.”

“It’s definitely him. He’s after his father, or maybe it’s just a threat meant to rouse suspicion. Let people know he’s out there. He probably wants to scare everyone by attacking random wizards, but it’s clearly planned.”

“Then it’s not a good idea to play into his hands, if fear is what he wants.”

Harry stared at Cedric in disbelief. “That’s not what I mean! It’s dangerous, for fuck’s sake… the tournament, and now you—”

His words were cut off by someone loudly calling Cedric’s name. A sand-haired boy Harry recognised as one of Cedric’s friends, Lawrence, ran toward them.

“There you are! Everyone’s been looking for you!” Lawrence panted, then grabbed Cedric’s arm and tugged him in the opposite direction, completely ignoring Harry. “You’re late, mate. The press is here. Wand Weighing Ceremony, remember? They’re waiting for you. Interviews and all that.”

“But I—”

“No ‘but’. Come on! Krum and Delacour are already there!”

Cedric looked back at Harry briefly before letting Lawrence drag him away. Harry watched him disappear around the corner with a heartache. 

***

When Harry told Hermione about his speculations on Barty Crouch Jr., she didn’t outright say he was being paranoid like Ron did. But she patiently pointed out that he might’ve missed the fact there were now more Aurors and Ministry officials patrolling both Hogsmeade and the school grounds, and that Dumbledore wouldn’t take the matter lightly.

“There’s nothing you can do, Harry,” Hermione reasoned. “One fugitive against the full security of the Ministry? It’s unlikely Crouch could even get in here.”

Ron nodded along. “And for what reason? If he wants to take revenge on his father, he could’ve done it outside the school. He’d have to be mental to try anything under Dumbledore’s nose.”

Still, Harry wasn’t satisfied. He started carrying the Marauder’s Map with him everywhere, constantly checking it, hoping Barty Crouch’s name might pop up. Both Hermione and Ron looked at him oddly, their expressions tinged with resignation.

In a half-joking excuse to roam the school more freely at night, Harry even agreed to join Luna’s proposed ‘Nargles Exploration Club’, an initiative she’d pitched to Professor Flitwick to hunt for Nargles’ lairs inside Hogwarts. Hermione flatly argued that a club based on searching for ‘imaginary creatures’ would never get approved.

Two days after Harry spoke to Cedric, the Daily Prophet published an article on the Triwizard Tournament. The front page gushed over Viktor Krum as “a young, talented Seeker and gifted Durmstrang student.” A slightly smaller column praised Fleur Delacour, praising her Veela ancestry and prestigious family background.

Then, in a tiny paragraph squeezed near the bottom, was a brief mention of Hogwarts Champion Cedric Diggory. There was a small frame of his picture and a few measly lines describing him as “Hufflepuff’s own Cedric Diggory: a modest, mild-mannered sixth year boy with a moderately good academic record and a suspicious aversion to the spotlight, reportedly harbours a ‘passion’ for History, though he’s far too shy to string two sentences about it together in public.”

Harry glared at the paper like it was an abomination.

“Who’s Rita Skeeter?” 

Ron looked up from his grilled sausage and rolled his eyes. “Ah, that woman. She writes for the Prophet , mostly stuff about the Ministry. Dad hates her though he doesn’t say it outright. She’s the kind of reporter who loves stirring things up. Don’t take anything she writes seriously. It’s rubbish.”

Hermione snatched the paper from Harry and skimmed it quickly. A look of distaste crossed her face. “How is she even allowed to publish this?” she muttered, but Ron only shrugged.

Though Harry knew Rita Skeeter’s articles were garbage and over-the-top, the frustration still burned. And it wasn’t just him. That morning, Gryffindor’s fourth years had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and Professor Sprout looked more stern and disgruntled than usual as she explained how to collect Bouncing Bulbs. Ernie and Justin openly discussed the Daily Prophet, calling Rita Skeeter a liar and claiming her writing was an insult to Cedric and all of Hufflepuff House.

Harry couldn’t have agreed more. He knew Hufflepuff students were often overlooked, even bullied by Slytherins the previous year. They didn’t deserve this kind of slander or ignorance.

“If Malfoy opens his mouth to talk shit about Cedric, I’m going to end him,” Harry muttered to Ron as they headed down to the cold dungeon for Potions.

He didn’t get the chance to strangle Malfoy, unfortunately. Snape had decided to take his torturous lessons to the next level by springing a prompt test on them, covering even material they hadn’t even learned yet. His reason was that there was too much content to get through for the O.W.L. Potions exam, and they all needed to be more alert and conscientious this year.

“I’m going to fail Potions this year, and my gran’s going to kill me.” Neville said worriedly as they walked out of the class, nearly limping with exhaustion. 

“Snape will kill you before your gran does,” Seamus added, not unkindly. “He’ll kill all of us before the year’s out.” His horrified expression mirrored the rest of them.

“Do you think those lunchbox sandwiches Fred and George made might be useful right now? The ones that make your nose bleed?” Dean asked. “I’d rather bleed out than sit through another one of Snape’s tests.”

And it wasn’t just Snape making things worse. Trelawney had been greatly disappointed that no one had finished the previous day’s assignment, not even Parvati or Lavender as both of whom had been too shaken by the news about Joshua to do anything. Still, she chose to single out Harry and Ron, claiming their ‘auras’ were all wrong, like they hadn’t come to class with the right minds or belief.

She assigned them extra homework on Astrology, saying that they needed to be more open-minded about the ‘high-brow, delicate arts’ of Divination.

It took every ounce of Harry’s willpower not to chuck Astrology for Beginners straight out the window as they descended from the North Tower.

Ron was no better. His ears were red, and he looked ready to do more than throw the book.

“Saying we’re not in the right mind like she’s the most sane person in the castle. She’s just mad no one likes her class and wants to take it out on someone,” Ron snapped. 

He shoved the book into his bag with more force than necessary, and the worn, secondhand bag (passed down from Charlie) finally gave in. It tore clean in half, spilling parchment, quills, and books all over the floor. Ron looked like he might explode.

“Great. Perfect. Now my day’s completely ruined.”

Harry helped him gather the mess and handed over the books. “Suppose you won’t be joining Hermione in the library, then.”

“Nope. I’m going to crash on my bed and take a nap,” Ron replied with absolute conviction.

They parted ways near the long gallery. Harry trudged to the library, tired and weighed down by thoughts of all the homework and extra work they'd been assigned for the next three days. Snape’s announcement that anyone who failed today’s test would have to attend extracurricular Potions classes was an absolute nightmare. Harry had a sinking feeling he’d be one of them, and he would be furious if Malfoy passed but he didn’t.

With his head full of bad thoughts, Harry was completely unprepared for what he saw next: Cedric sitting with Hermione in the library.

“Hi,” Cedric greeted him with a small smile, but Harry didn’t smile back.

Hermione was glancing between the two of them, looking pleased. “You’re right on time, Harry. Where’s Ron?”

Harry dropped his bag onto the seat carelessly. “Back at the tower. Probably taking a nap. His bag broke.”

“Oh, that’s awful. He could’ve come here. I could have fixed it.”

Slumping into a chair, Harry groused. “It’s not just the bag. That old hag Trelawney gave me and Ron a ton of extra work just because we didn’t give off the ‘right energy’ to look at a foggy sky and read stupid stars. It’s been an awful day.”

“I can help you with Divination,” Cedric offered. “I’m not great at it, to be honest, but I still remember how to read the stars, and I’ve just finished my homework.”

Harry turned to him sharply. “What are you doing here?”

Cedric looked taken aback. Harry saw a flicker of hurt flash across his face. Across the table, Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“I wanted to see you. And hang out,” the other boy said quietly.

“And help a fourth year with his stupid homework when the first task is next week?” Harry asked incredulously. “Don’t you have better things to do? Spells to practice? Ways to not die?”

“Harry…” Hermione warned.

But Harry didn’t stop. He was too tired, too frustrated, too angry that no one seemed to be listening to him or taking things seriously. 

“That nosy reporter wrote about you like you were some kind of joke, and now it’s in the paper this morning for everyone to read. It’s wrong, and it’s a lie.”

Cedric looked at him for a moment, then said calmly, “I don’t mind if it isn’t true. I wasn’t ready when Skeeter asked me those questions. Besides, Krum and Delacour are actually much more famous and talented than I am.”

Harry stared at him in annoyance. “Are you kidding? What’s next, you’re not ready for the first task either? You signed up for this, Cedric. And now you’re just going to let some idiot reporter slander you and say you don’t care?”

“Harry, you’re getting loud,” Hermione interrupted, sounding panicked.

Cedric didn’t reply. His eyes stayed on Harry for a long, silent moment before he looked down at his hands. Then his shoulders sagged. He looked deflated and deeply sad. 

“Right. I guess I should head back and practice spells, just like you said.”

Hermione watched Cedric pack up his things and walk out wordlessly, then lashed out on Harry. “Harry! How could you say that to him? I can’t believe it. Cedric came here because he wanted to see you!”

“He should’ve had better things to do,” Harry muttered stubbornly, rummaging through his bag just so he wouldn’t have to meet her accusing eyes.

“That’s not an excuse to say such hurtful things!”

Madam Pince appeared from behind a nearby shelf and shushed them sharply. Hermione clamped her mouth shut, but continued to glare at Harry.

They finished their homework in strained silence. When the library closed and they returned to the common room, Hermione climbed the stairs to her dorm without saying a word to him.

***

Things didn’t get better after that.

To make it worse, the Potions results came out. Harry had passed, miraculously, scoring just half the points. He was one of only four students in the class who passed, alongside Hermione (obviously), Parvati, and Theodore Nott. At first, Harry was glad Malfoy hadn’t passed, but it sucked that Ron didn’t either. His friend had to stay behind for extra classes, taking notes and enduring Snape’s cruel remarks.

Hermione still refused to speak to Harry, which only made him feel worse about what he’d said. But he didn’t regret it. Cedric should have taken the First Task more seriously. He should have spent more time figuring out how to survive it... He shouldn’t have spent time laughing at Harry’s silly jokes or helped him with such trivial things.

Whenever he didn’t have homework, he’d sprint outside, trying to get as much dim sunlight as possible. Without Ron and Hermione’s company, Harry spent time with Fabian instead. The Beauxbatons’s easygoing nature helped relieve the tension and slightly lifted Harry’s mood. Fabian was the most laid-back person Harry had ever met, and some of his traits reminded Harry of James. They had similar backgrounds; Fabian’s mum was Muggle-born, just like Harry’s. And despite being in his final year, Fabian had no real plans for the future. He wanted to travel abroad and seemed in no rush to figure things out.

“Maybe I can find a place to stay in England,” Fabian said one day. “Fred and George said they’d hire me as a shop assistant if they ever opened their joke shop. Sounds tempting.”

“Don’t you want to try Quidditch?” Harry asked.

“Nah. It’s too much work and training. I don’t have the same passion as you.”

“But you’re a great Chaser,” Harry pointed out.

Fabian shook his head with a smile. “Sometimes being good only gets you so far. It’s willpower that drives people to greatness, and I don’t really have that.”

“You don’t have anything you want to do?”

He shrugged. “Right now? Nothing. I like going to classes, playing Quidditch, and being curious as any exchange student would be.”

They often spent time near the forest, where there was a small clearing perfect for casual Quidditch matches. Luna would sometimes join them, having recently informed Harry that her club had been sadly revoked. The three of them strolled through the woods, listening to Luna’s wild stories about magical creatures, and Fabian got to see a Thestral for the first time.

Returning to the castle always felt like crashing back into responsibility. The weight of homework returned. With Hermione giving him the cold shoulder and Ron stuck in extra Potions lessons, Harry found little comfort in the Great Hall. He caught glimpses of Cedric at the Hufflepuff table, always surrounded by admirers or friends. Sometimes, their eyes met when Harry had just come in from outside, parting ways with Fabian and Luna, and he tried so hard to look away.

Cedric hadn’t spoken to him since that day in the library, and it had been five days. Harry missed him terribly. His chest ached like a sharp pang of needles.

One night in the dormitory, just before bed, Harry was drying his wet, messy hair with a towel when he caught a glimpse of himself, and noticed, for the first time, that his knobby knees looked bony and thin.

Slowly, he stood up and stared at his reflection: a boy who couldn’t be called tall, with wild, disheveled hair. Nothing about him could be called striking or handsome. He wasn’t ugly, if he ignored the few pimples on his chin and his thin lips, but he had narrow shoulders, freckles on his cheeks, and eyebrows that were almost always knitted together. He looked like someone ready to start a fight rather than strike up a friendly conversation. And his green eyes were intense, almost intimidating.

Suddenly self-conscious, Harry turned away from the mirror and flopped onto the bed with a groan.

He couldn’t find a single reason in his appearance why Cedric would ever like him. A thin, lanky boy with glasses and knobby knees didn’t exactly scream attractive. Sure, Cedric had said he liked Harry because of his bravery, but did that still count, after seeing Harry being paranoid and mean? He’d probably do it again. He would do it again—say bad and hurtful things to people he loved.

Would that make Cedric stop liking him?

Harry buried his face in the pillow, trying not to let his thoughts spiral. But he couldn’t help it; he could feel Cedric drifting away, moving toward a place Harry couldn’t follow.

Deep down, Harry’d always known why he was like this. And he hated himself for it. It was the selfish, mad, crazy thought that Cedric was his. That he wanted Cedric for himself. That he didn’t want to share.

Lily used to call him territorial, and Harry had thought he’d grown out of that phase. Turns out, he hadn’t at all.

An hour later, Ron climbed up from the common room and visibly winced at the sight of Harry curled up on the bed, looking like a complete wreck.

Harry’s mood didn’t improve as the first task of the tournament approached. The Quidditch Pitch was now covered by a huge, impenetrable dome that sent a buzz of excitement through the whole school. Speculation ran wild about what might be inside.

“It could be a banshee, or fighting a griffin with your bare hands,” Seamus suggested eagerly.

“Banshees can’t appear in daylight,” Dean reasoned. “And I don’t think fighting a creature with bare hands counts as a wizarding competition. It’s not wrestling.”

“It could be something terrible and painful, I’m sure,” Neville said in a small voice. “Like a maze or a duel with a powerful wizard.”

Harry listened half-heartedly, but the food in front of him no longer seemed appetising.

It was a small mercy that Hermione still chose to spend most of her time quietly in the library, which suited Harry just fine. Ron, meanwhile, succeeded in convincing Lavender Brown to help finish his Astrology extra work. (Harry had already rushed through it during Ron’s Potions session, not that he had any idea what he was doing.)

Three days before the first task, Harry knocked on Hagrid’s door, hoping to find a distraction from his own anxious thoughts. But he wasn’t expecting the guest sitting inside.

Hagrid opened the door and quickly shut it behind him, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of the tall figure of Madame Maxime sipping tea at Hagrid’s usual rock table. Her elegant manners and long fur dress looked oddly out of place against the drab, earthy walls. She looked startled when she noticed a student.

A red blush bloomed across Hagrid’s bearded face as he led Harry away from the hut, far enough that Madame Maxime wouldn’t hear. They stopped at the edge of the garden.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Hagrid pleaded hurriedly.

“Can I at least tell Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked quickly.

Hagrid grunted but gave a slight nod.

“Bloody hell, Hagrid.”

“Shhh… You’d better keep quiet, Harry. She doesn't like being seen like that.”

“Or what? She’s the one who came to see you in the first place.”

“That’s ’cause I invited her,” Hagrid said defensively. “She’s… delicate, yeh know. Not familiar with all our customs.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she likes you just fine.”

Hagrid’s bushy eyebrows perked up. “You think so? I dunno. Maybe. It’s hard to tell.” Then he suddenly glanced back at the hut, then at Harry. 

“Look, Harry… I know I should’ve told yeh this, but I just told her, so Cedric ought to know too. There’s somethin’ comin’ up tonight in the forest you’ll want ter see. It’s amazin’! But you’ve got to be here ’round midnight, with your cloak. And don’t let anyone see yeh—seriously, yeh could get in big trouble, alright?”

His rushed tone made Harry frown. And Hagrid just said Cedric’s name.

“What are you talking about?”

But Hagrid hushed him. “Not gonna tell yeh anything. Just be there tonight at midnight, alright?”

With that, Hagrid hurried back into the hut, leaving Harry standing in the garden, dazed and confused.

***

The forest was colder than usual that night. A thin mist curled around the roots of the trees, and the moonlight pierced through the leaves in long, pale shafts. Harry moved silently beneath his Invisibility Cloak, his breath fogging in the chilled air. 

He followed the dim bobbing light of Hagrid’s lantern deeper into the trees, careful not to trip over roots or snap twigs underfoot. When Hagrid finally paused at the edge of a large clearing, Harry stopped too, clutching the cloak tighter around him.

There, already waiting, was Madame Maxime, towering and elegant, wrapped in her usual fur cloak that shimmered under the moonlight. Harry blinked. Hagrid had clearly made an effort tonight. His wild hair was slicked down with something shiny (that smelled suspiciously like cologne), and he wore the suit from last year’s purchase at Hogsmeade, which looked freshly brushed and ironed.

“Evenin’, Olympe,” Hagrid said, his voice oddly gruff and low. He kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Bonsoir, 'Agrid,” Madame Maxime smiled slightly. “Zis is a pleasant surprise.”

They walked side by side into the clearing, and Harry carefully trailed behind. Then, just past a cluster of trees, his stomach dropped.

They were there.

Three enormous dragons, each chained by thick, magically-reinforced collars to iron posts driven into the ground. The clearing had been transformed into a kind of temporary dragon enclosure, with high fences and a series of long, charmed poles sticking out in all directions to control the beasts if they got too close.

The first dragon was a towering creature covered in deep green scales that shimmered like beetle shells. Its head jerked side to side as it sniffed the air, a low growl rumbling in its throat. The second was sleeker, almost snake-like, with a deep blue sheen across its wings and long claws that left deep gouges in the dirt. And the third had a smooth, silvery-blue hide that glinted under the moonlight. It moved with an eerie grace, its nostrils pulsing with faint blue smoke, as if the fire within it burned colder and brighter than the rest.

Harry’s mouth went dry. The dragons were here. They weren’t in a book or behind protective glass at the reserve, and they were pretty much alive, restless, and massive. And then it hit him like the force of a Bludger to the chest: this was the First Task.

Cedric was going to face that .

Harry took a step back, heart hammering so loudly he was sure someone would hear it. From the shadows of the trees, he caught movement of a figure, lurking and hunched. Karkaroff. He lingered just beyond the clearing, watching, half-hidden behind a thick trunk. 

“Oi, Charlie!” Hagrid called suddenly, waving to a figure in dragon-handler robes approaching from the other end of the enclosure. “They’re all beautiful!” 

Charlie Weasley gave Hagrid a quick hug, grinning. “You brought company?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and nodding slightly at Madame Maxime.

“She’s just here for a walk,” Hagrid mumbled. “She’s not gonna tell her champion. I trust her.”

Harry resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, right. There was no way Madame Maxime wouldn’t pass this on to Fleur.

The green dragon gave a sudden screech, rearing back and breathing out a long jet of flame. The fire roared through the air, lighting up the clearing like daylight for a split second. Harry ducked instinctively, and knew at that moment  he had seen enough.

He turned and ran.

Leaves slapped against his face as he sprinted through the forest. He didn’t stop until he reached the castle gates, breath ragged, legs wobbling beneath him. 

By the time Harry reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, he was gasping. “Snargaluff pod,” he wheezed.

The portrait swung open and Harry stumbled into the common room. The fire had burned low, and only two people were still up. Ron sat cross-legged on the rug, a long parchment in hand, while Hermione sat stiffly on a chair with a thick book in her lap. Her arms were folded, and she didn’t look up when Harry entered.

But Ron did. “Finally! Where’ve you been? I’ve just finished McGonagall’s assignment and Hermione helped me check it.”

Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and dropped it onto the couch. Breathlessly, he said, “Hagrid took me to the forest. And then I saw—you won’t believe it.”

“You were in the forest?” Hermione asked, not able to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

“Yeah. And you two, listen.” Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. “The First Task. It’s dragons.”

There was a pause.

“What?!” Ron shouted.

Hermione’s book slipped off her lap. 

“Three of them. Massive. Charlie’s there. He’s helping guard them. The Task is going to be some kind of fight or test with dragons.”

Horror rolled in and laid down its claws in the silence between them. 

Harry took a deep breath and said to himself, “I need to tell Cedric about this.”

9

Harry hadn’t slept a wink last night, completely struck by the exhilarating fear of having seen the dragon up close. The heat of the flames that might’ve licked his skin if he hadn’t ducked in time still haunted his mind. The thought of Cedric having to face that creature alone, and at a much closer range than Harry had, sent his thoughts spiraling into full-blown panic.

The good news was that Hermione had started talking to him again, and the three of them agreed wholeheartedly: Cedric needed to know what he was going to face in three days. Hagrid had hinted at it too, even if not directly. Harry suspected that Krum and Fleur also knew, likely through Madame Maxime (Hermione immediately assumed she had used Hagrid to get information about the tasks) and Karkaroff, whose shadowy silhouette the night before confirmed that Krum would definitely be informed as well.

Harry made it his mission to talk to Cedric first thing in the morning, but he didn’t see the tall boy at the Hufflepuff table and had to wait until lunchtime. A few hours later, Harry emerged from the long, winding stairs into the Transfiguration courtyard, a crumpled Marauder’s Map in hand. He spotted Cedric’s name in a corridor heading toward the Charms classroom and sprinted in that direction.

Finding Cedric wasn’t difficult, but finding time alone with him was unbearably so. Cedric was surrounded by classmates, and with the first task looming, it was nearly impossible to get him on his own.

Nearly.

Ron’s broken bag gave Harry an idea. He slowed his pace, lingering not far from Cedric’s group, then pulled out his wand, aimed it subtly at Cedric, and whispered, “Diffindo.”

Cedric’s bag split open instantly. Textbooks poured out with a loud thud, and ink spilled over his parchments. His classmates gasped, but Cedric quickly turned to them and said, “That’s all right. I can fix it. Go ahead. Tell Professor Flitwick I might be late.”

Once they had gone, Harry approached Cedric, who was crouched on the floor gathering his books and supplies, his mind focused on one thing alone.

But Cedric looked up and gave him a strained smile. “You don’t have to do this just to talk to me, you know.”

Harry’s brain screeched to a halt. Right. They hadn’t had a proper conversation in a while, and the last time they had, Harry’s words had hurt Cedric, and it hurt him too.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. Cedric’s life was more important than salvaging their relationship.

“Dragon,” Harry said, the dreadful word hanging in the air. “Your first task.”

Cedric paused, hand frozen mid-air with a book in it. His eyes widened. “What? Are you sure?”

“Deadly sure. I saw it last night. Three dragons for the three champions. They’re fucking massive ,” Harry said, his voice tight as he reached out and touched Cedric’s arm. His hand trembled against the warm skin beneath the uniform shirt.

“I’ll help you. We can figure this out. Hermione’s in the library right now. She’s searching—”

But then Harry felt Cedric pull away. He stood up, his arms full of books and quills.

“No. I appreciate the help, but I think I have to deal with this on my own.”

Harry stood up so fast he nearly felt dizzy, but it was Cedric’s words that left him breathless. “Are you mad? I know you’re angry with me, and I’m sorry for saying those things to you, but can we focus on the task first? You’re about to face a dragon alone!”

Cedric nodded, his grey eyes unwavering. “I know. And that’s what the first task is for the school’s champion. I can’t let you help me, Harry. But… thank you for telling me. And for offering to help.”

Harry felt his heart sink. “Fuck, Cedric. Don’t be so stubborn! You’re risking your life—”

“That, I know,” Cedric cut him off, then offered a stiff smile. “And I’ll have to get through it.”

He pulled out his wand, and with wordless spell, the bag stitched itself back together. He packed up his things quietly.

“See you later, Harry.”

And with that, Cedric walked away without any word, leaving Harry in complete shock.

He still felt like his body was moving numbly as he turned back, walking in the opposite direction. What was Cedric thinking? Was he in his right mind? Or was he still holding a grudge over Harry’s hurtful words, refusing to have anything to do with him?

Harry would never be able to forgive himself if he ended up being the reason Cedric got hurt, just because he’d told the other boy to stay away.

His thoughts were all over the place, and he almost missed someone calling his name. He turned and saw Moody staring at him. The professor’s face was undecipherable, but his stance, and the way he leaned on his cane, was as imposing and intimidating as ever.

“Potter. Come with me.”

Harry’s senses snapped to attention as Moody turned on his heel and gestured for him to follow. This can’t be good.

Did Moody know what he’d told Cedric? Had he heard everything? Harry’s heart quickened. He wasn’t afraid of getting in trouble, but he didn’t want Cedric dragged into it, or accused of violating some Triwizard rule.

He was already thinking up excuses to cover for Cedric when Moody led him into an empty classroom used for practicing spells, and finally turned to face him.

“I could’ve given you detention for this. And you know full well what you did wrong,” the professor growled. His voice echoed against the walls, and his cane clattered sharply on the stone floor. His magical eye and his real one both locked on Harry without blinking.

Harry nodded but met Moody’s piercing gaze squarely.

“I know. But Krum and Delacour already knew about the task. Cedric didn’t ask me to spy or anything, and he has no part of this. It was my choice. I did it because I think it’s unfair and stupid to make students face dragons just to prove how brave they are. I told Cedric because it was the right thing to do. You can give me detention for the whole term if you want to.”

Maybe it was the crushing weight of anxiety that had been building since the night Cedric’s name had flown out of the Goblet that possessed Harry to talk like that to the most terrifying professor at Hogwarts, an ex-Auror no less, but he meant every word. 

What he didn’t expect was for Moody to suddenly burst out laughing. A loud, grating cackle like a black horse neighing, and somehow still terrifying. 

Harry stood there dumbfounded, watching him laugh for a solid minute.

“I know you’re always outspoken and fierce about what you believe in,” Moody said at last. “That’s one of the most admirable traits in you, boy. And you’ve got real magical talent. I’ve seen it in class and in the duelling club.”

His eyes lingered on Harry, sharp and calculating. “Got any idea what you want to do with that talent in the future?”

Caught off guard, Harry blinked. “Yeah... I want to be a professional Seeker.”

“Good. I like that. Self-assured and steadfast.” Moody nodded, which confused Harry even more. Then he added, gruffly, “Don’t become an Auror. You’ve got the skills and the sharp mind for it, but the job’ll change you. Either make you too powerful for your own good, or you’ll lose yourself in the process.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He’d expected a lecture, maybe even a punishment, but this bizarre, almost personal warning completely threw him off. He couldn’t even tell if what Moody had said was a compliment or a threat.

He couldn't help but ask. “What does that mean, sir?”

Moody snorted. “Nothing. Call me an old madman. You remind me of someone… a former Auror I trained. Barty Crouch Jr.”

“What?” Harry gasped.

Moody gripped his cane more tightly. “The way you think, Potter. You’re destined for something bigger, whatever that may be. You’ll always have good reasons for what you do, and that’s dangerous. Because when your reasons are so clear to you, the voices in your head become strong. Irrefutable.”

Harry felt his breath catch. He remembered what James had told him about Barty Crouch Jr. and about the way his convictions had led him down a dark path.

“I think I understand,” Harry said slowly. “I won’t be like him. I’ll prove it to you, sir.”

Moody’s expression didn’t flicker with even the slightest surprise. He gave a slow nod before turning away.

“I’ll hold you to that, Potter.”

The conversation with Moody had left Harry feeling jarred. Being told he bore a resemblance to a known serial killer was one of the most strange and outright disturbing things he'd ever heard, perhaps even offensive. But what unsettled him most wasn’t the comparison itself. It was how deeply he understood the implication.

He tried to shake off the discomfort from the encounter and focus instead on what he could do, starting with the frustration that had been gnawing at him: the thought of watching Cedric battle the dragon on the pitch in the next two days.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry trudged through the portrait threshold, desperate for a hot shower to wash away the day. But as he made his way downstairs, he found Hermione sitting near the fireplace, her expression grim and worried. The room was quieter than usual for a Thursday evening.

“I talked to Cedric,” she said, looking up as he approached. “But he refused to let us help.”

“Yeah, he’s a stubborn git,” Harry muttered, throwing himself onto the sofa and burying his face in the cushions.

“To be fair, he’s not wrong. It is supposed to be the champion’s task, after all.”

Harry didn’t answer right away. When he finally lifted his head, Hermione was studying him with a different expression: curious, maybe even cautious.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… your relationship with Cedric.”

Harry sat up slowly, but his limbs felt heavy and drained. “I don’t know.”

“You should talk to him. Apologise,” she said gently. “He might not be upset, but that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to say.”

“I know,” Harry replied, a little too quickly. Then, more bitterly: “I will, if he survives.”

Hermione gave him a long look, then shook her head and stood. “I need to go get changed. I haven’t seen Ron, but if you do, remind him he still needs to practice the Summoning charm before tomorrow.”

Harry nodded distractedly. He vaguely recalled Ron saying something earlier about helping Fred and George test one of their new Skiving Snackboxes. Something that already sounded like a terrible idea, but Ron had insisted he’d be fine.

The weight of exhaustion finally caught up with Harry. The lack of sleep, the mental strain all came crashing down. He drifted off on the sofa, lulled by the soft crackling of the fire.

When he woke, it was to a gentle shake from Ron.

“Oi, it’s past eleven,” His friend muttered.

Harry blinked blearily. He hauled himself upright and followed Ron up to the dormitory, barely registering that his friend was still in his uniform, and had yet to say why he was late coming back.

***

The day of the first task came, inevitably.

Harry hadn’t spoken to Cedric since that day, and he tried not to dwell on it. All he could focus on now was Cedric’s life, which would be at stake in the dragon pit within a few short hours.

“You should eat something, mate,” Ron said, watching as Harry glared at his butter knife.

But Harry couldn’t stomach even a piece of toast. He walked down to the Quidditch pitch on an empty stomach, his thoughts churning. He didn’t laugh along with Fred, George, Lee, and Fabian, who were loudly betting on which champion would score the highest. The ‘CHEER FOR DIGGORY’ signs and the sea of black and yellow flags waving from the Hufflepuff table only made his unease grow worse.

He’d only caught a glimpse of Cedric that morning surrounded by students wishing him luck and cheering him on, but he hadn’t gotten a closer look. The three champions had been summoned early, long before the crowd began making its way to the pitch to watch the tournament unfold.

The reality of the Triwizard Tournament struck Harry harder than ever under the rare, clear November sky. For a fleeting second, he wanted to turn back, run straight to the castle and away from the roaring crowds, away from the thought of Cedric stepping into the arena to face a dragon. 

But someone called his name, breaking him out of his trance as he trailed behind Ron and Hermione toward the Gryffindor stands. A Hufflepuff girl with short-cropped hair, sharp eyes, and dark eyeliner walked up to him. She wasn’t wearing a Hufflepuff scarf or waving a flag. After catching up with him, she extended her hand.

“We haven’t talked properly, Harry. I’m Phoebe. Cedric’s friend.”

Harry nodded quickly and shook her hand. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you.” He remembered Cedric mentioning that Phoebe knew about their relationship, he suspected that might be why she was here now.

Phoebe didn’t smile, but her gaze held steady. “Cedric hasn’t been doing well this past week. I thought it was just the pressure of being Hogwarts’ champion, but it’s not. Whatever’s going on between you two lately... it’s eating him up.”

Harry was stunned by her bluntness. “I didn’t—I don’t…”

“I figured you haven’t talked to him,” she said with a sigh. “You don’t seem like the type to believe everything people say, but trust me when I tell you—he cares about you more than you realise.”

Her words struck like a blade. Before Harry could respond, Phoebe gave him a brief, now a gentle smile, then turned and walked off toward the Hufflepuff stands without waiting for Harry to say anything back.

The Quidditch pitch no longer resembled the place Harry had soared through on his broom hundreds of times before. It had been utterly transformed, no longer a field of goalposts and soft grass, but now a rocky, uneven expanse bordered with towering stands and scorched earth. Numerous spells had morphed it into a vast, jagged arena, resembling a dragon’s quarry. In the centre stood a massive iron-clad gate, reinforced with runes that glimmered faintly under the weak autumn sun. Harry stared at it with dread curdling in his stomach.

He knew exactly what that door was for. He’d already seen what waited behind it.

He clenched the wooden bench beneath him, fingers white-knuckled, eyes fixed on that gate. The roaring crowd, the bright banners, the excited chatter of students barely registered to him. 

“Hello, Hogwarts!” boomed a voice, almost making Harry jump.

Ludo Bagman’s magically amplified voice echoed through the stands as he stepped onto the raised platform, beaming at the crowd. 

“Welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament!” Bagman continued, grinning as if this were a Quidditch final. “Today, our champions will face a challenge designed to test their daring, their ingenuity, and their courage under pressure!”

Harry barely heard the next part. His eyes were still on that massive door, the one with thick chains and dragon-sized claw marks gouged into the metal.

“They’ll each face a dragon,” Bagman declared cheerfully.

The word hit the air like lightning, and its effect was immediate. A ripple of gasps, cheers, and astonished murmurs swept through the crowd. Harry heard Neville let out a fearful whimper, while Dean and Seamus clapped harder, shouting cheers of excitement with many Gryffindors who shared their enthusiasm of seeing the real dragons for the first time. 

Bagman went on enthusiastically, “They’re allowed only their wand to face the task with no time requirement. Each champion must retrieve a golden egg, guarded by their dragon. The egg holds a clue for the second task. ”

A large floating replica of the golden egg appeared over the arena, glittering in the sun.

“And here are our judges!” Bagman gestured grandly. “Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts, Madam Olympe Maxime of Beauxbatons, Headmaster Igor Karkaroff of Durmstrang, Mr. Bartemius Crouch of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and myself, Ludo Bagman of the Department of Magical Games and Sports!”

The crowd erupted in applause again as each judge nodded politely. Dumbledore gave a slight wave.

Harry’s leg was bouncing nervously now. He could barely keep still.

“And now, for our first champion… from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic… Fleur Delacour!”

Delacour stepped into the arena with her head held high, pale but composed. Her silvery blond hair was tied back, and her blue robes trailing behind her. She didn’t flinch when the heavy door creaked open and out slithered a Common Welsh Green, its green scales glinting like jade, smoke puffing from its nostrils as it sniffed the air.

With a flick and a soft incantation, “Somnus!” A silvery glow floated toward the dragon. The spell hit. The Welsh Green blinked, staggered slightly, and then slowly sank to the ground in enchanted slumber. The crowd erupted, but Harry barely heard them as he was too focused on the scene unfolding below.

Just as she reached for the egg, the dragon let out a snore, followed by a jet of flame. The fire caught the hem of her robe, but Delacour reacted fast, extinguishing the flames with a quick “Aguamenti!” before retrieving the egg. Relief swept through the stands though Harry knew that moment of fire could’ve gone very differently. A mixture of cheers and relieved sighs echoed through the pitch as she bowed gracefully to the crowd, and disappeared behind the gate with the golden egg gleaming under her arm.

“Brilliant!” Ron, who was sitting beside him, clapped hard, looking at the Beauxbatons champion with admiration.

“The robe burning pisses her off,” Fabian chuckled, while clapping with the others. “But I gotta admit, that was impressive. Beauxbatons might have a high chance of scoring the highest.”

“Dream on, Cornellier,” Fred snorted.

Bagman’s voice boomed a minute after the cheering crowd subsided. “Next up representing Durmstrang Institute… Viktor Krum!”

The applause grew thunderous. Dozens of students stood and clapped for Krum as he strode into the arena, his expression still impassive. His opponent was a fearsome Chinese Fireball, with bronze scales and eyes like burning coals.

Krum didn’t hesitate. He pointed his wand and, with firm precision, at the dragon’s head.

A beam of light hit the dragon square in the eyes. It reared back, roaring in pain, swiping blindly. Krum seized the opportunity and flew toward the nest. In its confusion, the dragon thrashed violently, crushing rocks and lashing near its own eggs.

“Oh no,” Hermione gasped.

Despite the dragon’s destruction, Krum grabbed his egg and sped back toward safety. But he didn’t look as composed as he’d appeared earlier, in fact, he looked genuinely upset. A deep frown was permanently etched on his scowling face.

“Merlin. The judges will definitely dock his points on those broken eggs,” Ron murmured.

Harry wanted to point out that it was also cruel to use such a spell against the mother dragon, which had led to more of her eggs being smashed; he didn’t have the time, as there came the name Harry had been dreading.

“And now, the final champion—representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… Cedric Diggory!”

A roar of applause erupted from most of the stands. Cedric appeared at the gate. From afar, Harry couldn’t see his face or how the older boy would feel at that moment while facing the ominous silence in front of him. 

The gate opened. Out lumbered a Swedish Short-Snout , steel-blue in color, smoke already curling from its jaws.

Harry leaned forward so fast he nearly fell off the bench.

Cedric raised his wand and pointed it at a nearby boulder. “Canis Formare! ”

The rock shimmered and turned into a large, barking dog.

The dragon snapped its head in the dog’s direction, growling low in its throat. It crept forward, tail lashing, and Cedric ran, fast and low, toward the nest.

Ron squinted. “That’s a weird one. Looks like a real dog, though.”

Harry couldn’t answer. His heart was hammering as he watched Cedric duck low, inches from the golden egg.

But then–-too fast-- the dragon realised the deception. It swung its massive head toward Cedric and let out a blast of fire.

Harry jumped to his feet, shouting Cedric’s name.

A chorus of horrified gasps erupted as Cedric screamed, startled and pained, as flames caught the side of his face. He reeled back, a hand flying to cover the burns.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him. His fists clenched, and his fingers trembled as he clutched the rail of the stand.

But even injured, Cedric lunged forward, grabbed the golden egg, and bolted from the nest.

Cheers and applause burst forth, but they were also mixed with worried murmurs as two mediwizards rushed into the arena, racing toward Cedric.

Harry couldn’t watch anymore.

His stomach twisted painfully, and he pushed his way past the others on the bench, bolting from the stands as if chased by the fire himself. Hermione and Ron called after him, but Harry didn’t turn back. He ran, past the shouting, clapping crowd, past the stone stairs and into the grounds, his heart pounding and throat tight.

He didn’t stop running. Not until he could no longer hear the cheers. Not until it was just him, the wind, and the image of Cedric clutching his face burned into his memory.

10

He didn’t know where he was running, but all that mattered was to keep his body moving. He could feel the fear turning into a fit of rage, a blazing anger laced with a sense of crippling helplessness, all of it aimed at himself. That he’d only watched Cedric get injured and done nothing to prevent it. Only watched it like a sick form of spectacle.

Hot tears spilled from his eyes and trailed down his cheeks, and he choked but didn’t stop running. He could feel the heat against his chest, the wheezing sound muffling his ears, cutting him off completely from other noise, his body trembling all over. 

He only realised where he was when he set foot in an empty field of tall, overgrown grass. Above him loomed the south bridge that almost led to the school’s exit entrance.

Harry nearly collapsed as his legs buckled and his knees gave out. He didn’t know how far he had run, but he couldn’t stop panting, gasping for breath.

Suddenly, he felt a faint movement in the rustling grass. His mind was too disoriented to pull out his wand; he managed to turn and rear back, starting to sprint off in the opposite direction, but a strong voice pierced the air before he could move further.

“Incarcerous!”

Harry felt his body lift from the ground, and a second later he was bound by a rope, hanging upside down.

His heart was beating fast. He thought of Barty Crouch Jr., convinced he was now facing the fugitive. He cursed himself for his stupidity, as he’d let his guard down, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby. Fresh angry tears dripped past his eyelashes onto the ground.

But when the figure approached, it wasn’t the criminal. It was the sound of a woman, and her footsteps far from nimble, more like she stomped the ground in a hurry.

“Bloody hell! You’re a student!”

The ropes loosened and Harry hit the ground with a heavy thud. It didn’t hurt, but he let out a grunt and quickly fumbled for his wand, pointing it at the intruder.

The stranger stopped at his pointed wand. She was a young woman with a long face, and short purple spikey hair. Her maroon uniform made Harry hesitate and pause before casting a spell. There was an alarm in her eyes. 

“Oh no! I’m not a bad person, I swear!” she said, pointing at her maroon uniform. “I’m an Auror, and I’m sorry for accidentally hurting you. This is my first watch. First job outside the Ministry, to be honest. Merlin’s sake… you just came out of nowhere, kid! I thought you were Barty Crouch Jr.!”

Harry wiped his tears quickly. “That’s alright. No harm done. I wasn’t hurt.”

She looked briefly at his face and hesitated. She must have seen his tears and mistaken them for fear.

“Sorry again. I kinda suck at this patrol job,” she said weakly.

Something about her flustered apologies made Harry laugh. An Auror fumbling and apologising to a teenager was so unlikely.

“You’re not exactly bad at the job. I might’ve done the same if I were you,” Harry told her.

She slowly approached and offered her hand to help him up.

“You’re a good kid. I’m Nymphadora Tonks. Everyone just calls me Tonks.” She scrunched her nose. “You shouldn’t be wandering, by the way. Everyone’s in the Quidditch pitch watching the first task. I’d like to watch, though. It sounds exciting. But I’m stuck here on the south exit patrol.”

Harry swallowed and took her hand, hoisting himself up. “Believe me. You didn’t miss much.”

Tonks looked at him, squinting her grey eyes slowly. “Wait—black messy hair and those green eyes… I think I know you. You’re Sirius’s godson! A Potter boy, right?”

Then she laughed cheerfully. “Oh, how time flies! I saw you once when you were a toddler and I was still at Hogwarts. Merlin’s beard. You’ve grown up now!”

Harry blinked at her, surprised. “How do you know me?”

Tonks beamed. “I’m Sirius’s relative. Well, good relatives, if you know what I mean. My mum’s a Black, but she married my dad, the Muggle-born Ted Tonks, so poof ! Off we go from the Black family tree. Not that I care. What’s your name again? Harold? Henry?”

“It’s Harry,” Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“Ah, right. Sirius told me but I keep forgetting. I’m rubbish at names. Pleasure to meet you, Harry.”

Tonks was unbelievably likable. She offered to walk with him until they were far from the wall and closer to the castle. They talked some more about childhood, about Harry’s parents, and how Tonks’s Metamorphmagus abilities helped land her the Auror job. She even changed her appearance, holding her breath, then transforming into a very old woman in the blink of an eye. It was highly impressive.

They strode across the south bridge and reached the lake, near the castle and still within school grounds. The shimmering grey surface of the water dimly reflected the faint light of autumn. On the opposite bank, the towering castle gleamed on the glossy water. It was when Tonks said goodbye.

“Can you keep the thing about me binding you upside down off the record?” Tonks asked sheepishly. “I might get in trouble if they know I accidentally cursed a student.”

“Of course.” Harry nodded.

Tonks waved goodbye before heading back to her post. Harry looked at his watch and was surprised to see that over an hour had passed since he’d watched the first task of the tournament.

The way to the castle was a meandering path along the lake and through the pine trees. Harry lamented not wearing more layers, only a shirt and a hoodie, which was now getting damp from the cold breeze, and walking beside the lake didn’t help.

As he trudged through the overgrown moss and grass in the field, he heard someone call his name – a faint, familiar voice that made his heart stutter.
And then he saw him. A tall figure running toward him from the slope, still in his tournament uniform, a yellow and black tracksuit, was Cedric.

Harry couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He ran up to meet Cedric on the small slope, surrounded by tall pine trees. A lurch of emotions rose: joy, relief, happiness, and guilt, but he brushed them all aside, closed his eyes, and threw himself into Cedric’s arms.

The older boy let out a surprised gasp, catching Harry just in time before they both nearly collapsed. Still clutching tightly to Cedric, Harry wrapped his arms around him and broke into a cry.

It was so undignified. But at that moment, Harry couldn’t care less. He couldn't think of anything besides being here, breathing in Cedric’s embrace, feeling his warmth against the damp, cold air and letting the flood of relief wash over him. 

He heard Cedric say, “It’s alright. I’m here,” which made Harry’s shoulders tremble as he let out another sob.

“I can’t—I’ve watched you…”

“I know. I know, Harry.”

Then he felt a gentle kiss on his forehead, soft and light as a feather.

“I was so scared,” Harry admitted in a low voice, his eyes fixed on Cedric’s chest, rising and falling, and alive . He reached up and clutched Cedric’s stained shirt in his fist.

“I know,” Cedric said. “And I’m here now.”

“I don’t know what to do—or I… I don’t know what would’ve happened if—”

“I’m sorry that I made you cry.”

But Cedric’s words only made Harry cry harder. Cedric didn’t say anything more, just held him, soothing him, peppering his forehead and messy, tangled hair with soft kisses.

They stayed like that for a while, breathing in ragged, shuddering breaths. Harry’s crying eventually subsided into soft sniffles, and he felt a blush creep in, embarrassed that he probably looked like a small, spoiled child.

“I’m sorry. For the other day. For what I said to you,” Harry mumbled. “I was so afraid of losing you.”

It was a real, deeply earnest confession that one Harry would never have dared to think, let alone say out loud to the person he had feelings for.

Cedric pulled away slightly, moving his hand to gently wipe the tears from Harry’s red, swollen eyes. That was when Harry finally looked up at him properly, and saw that the right side of Cedric’s face was still covered in a thick layer of orange paste. Part of it even covered his right eye.

“I’m sorry, too,” Cedric said softly. “That I refused your help. It’s done nothing but made me think about you even more.” He let out a sigh, gesturing toward his face, and gave a sad smile. “I got distracted. Even when I faced the dragon. My body just froze when it turned on me. I know that shouldn’t be an excuse for what I’ve done.”

Harry remembered what Phoebe had said that Cedric had been under a lot of stress lately, and now hearing it from him, it felt like even that was an understatement.

He shook his head. “That’s not your fault. It’s a fucking dragon, and you were seeing it for the first time.”

“I had no clue what I was doing the whole time,” Cedric said with a short laugh, more to himself. “I’m just glad I survived… and that I got to see you and talk to you again.”

Wiping the last of his tears with his sleeve, Harry said, “So, you’re going to let me help you with the second task.”

Cedric nodded. “Of course. I don’t think I’d survive the next one if I ended up in that state again.”

“Well… I can’t guarantee I’ll be much help,” Harry said, “but I’ll try my best.”

Cedric leaned in and kissed his forehead, whispering, “Your best is enough for me.”

If he hadn’t already fallen for Cedric, he did now—hard and deep.

They started walking back to the castle together, hand in hand. Cedric told Harry what had happened after the tournament. It turned out his performance had ranked second. Fleur had won the first task with the highest score, and Krum came last, probably because he’d broken the real dragon eggs. He’d been looking for Harry ever since he was released by the mediwizards. Ron and Hermione had told him where Harry had gone, so he’d set off in that direction.

“How’s your wound?” Harry asked quietly.

Cedric smiled. “They said it’ll heal by tonight. Might leave a faint scar on my eyebrow, though.”

Harry squeezed their hands together, hoping it conveyed a gesture of comfort. “That was one hell of a Transfiguration, conjuring an animal from a rock like that.”

Cedric paused, looking genuinely surprised. “You think so?”

Harry nodded vigorously. “It’s bloody hard to concentrate under that kind of pressure, and you only get one shot to make it work. You made it run around and bark. That’s impressive.”

He saw Cedric’s face flush slightly pink, and Harry’s breath caught at how adorable he looked.

“Well, thanks,” Cedric said. “I did think about using the Conjunctivitis Curse like Krum. It’s effective against giant creatures, but I didn’t want to hurt the dragon. So the only thing I could think of was a diversion.”

Harry felt his heart melt. He nearly missed a step and would’ve tripped on the slope if Cedric hadn’t caught him by the arm.

They were nearly back at the castle, stepping onto the bridge that led to the clock tower, when Cedric spoke again.

“You know, there’s a real reason I put my name in the Goblet.”

Harry looked at him. “You said you wanted to prove yourself.”

Cedric sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s partly true… but I think I did it because I wanted to impress you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. 

“I know! It’s… pathetic,” Cedric continued with a reluctant smile. “But that’s what I had in mind at the time and still do. I like you, Harry. So much more than I thought I could feel for anyone. You’re amazing. Brave, kind, and so talented. Even if you don’t see it yourself, you’ve inspired me to be better. I just wanted you to see that I’m good too.”

Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever find his voice again. Cedric’s words had left him completely speechless. Everything he’d assumed — that Cedric would be out of reach, and far from him — was wrong. All along, Cedric had been trying to get Harry to notice him. All the effort, the risk, the dangerous tasks…

Before Harry could respond, Cedric laughed softly and shook his head.

“It’s mental, I know. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to come clean about my motivation even if it doesn’t make me look good now. Maybe now you just see me as a hopeless people pleaser who’s been trying all this time to get you to admire me and think I’m worthy.”

Harry could see the fluster on Cedric’s face and the visible trembling in his fingers.

“Guess I just went the hardest way to impress you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Harry blurted out.

Cedric gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged. “Guess so. Still, I’ve got two more tasks to prove that to you.”

Harry couldn’t hold back any longer. He closed the small gap between them, tiptoed, and kissed him hard. He didn’t care about the burn marks on Cedric’s face or anything else. It was a desperate kiss, driven by impulse, desire, and something raw inside him that he hadn’t even known was there.

He wrapped his arms around Cedric, and almost immediately, Cedric’s hands were on his back, holding him close, kissing him back just as eagerly.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were blushing furiously, unable to meet the older boy’s eyes. Harry punched Cedric lightly in the chest.

“Ouch!”

Still laughing, Cedric caught Harry’s fist resting against his shirt, and brought it to his lips. Then he kissed Harry’s knuckles, curling into a smile.

“I like you too.”

Harry didn’t have anything to say to that.

He returned to the Gryffindor Tower feeling slightly dazed but relieved, as if all the anxious knots that had been gnawing at his mind had finally loosened and almost faded away. Together, they had this. They would get through the tasks, and soon enough, this stupid tournament would be over.

Harry reassured Hermione and Ron three times that he was fine. His friends exchanged silent, knowing glances, which Harry recognised the look immediately. He'd seen it often enough between James and Lily, and knew Ron and Hermione’d definitely speculated and already discussed it. He rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to point out how in sync both of them were.

That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling and listening to Neville’s soft snores, Harry smiled to himself under the blanket. He thought about Cedric, and how soft his lips had been against his, the warmth that had made him shiver. It was electrifying and addictive. A sensation he’d have to get used to, or else he’d melt like butter on a frying pan every time Cedric touched him—and that would be mortifying. Especially if Cedric ever knew how hot his face could get. In the last minute before sleep claimed him, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the wave of heat still coiling warmly in his body.

***

Harry woke feeling well-rested, far better than the night before. His eyelids no longer felt heavy, and the weight in his chest had lifted. He yawned, open-mouthed, and stretched toward the soft morning light of November, basking for a moment in the peaceful stillness.

It was Sunday, and the dorm was empty, so he took his time showering and getting dressed. His thoughts drifted back to Cedric, and a cheeky smile tugged at his lips. Maybe he’d do some homework, and if Cedric was free, unlikely, but worth a try, he’d ask him to join the three of them in the library. He also considered writing to his parents or to Remus and Sirius, updating them about the first task, how he’d run into Tonks, and his growing concerns about the ever-suspicious Barty Crouch Jr. Of course. Even after things had settled with Cedric, the unease about the criminal hadn’t gone away.

It was already past ten when he pulled on a freshly cleaned T-shirt (James’s old Tornadoes shirt from the 1990 Premier League final) and headed down to the common room, humming nonsense to the tune of the Irish national anthem still stuck in his head.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Ron and Hermione climbing in through the portrait hole. Both looked immediately alert when they spotted him.

“Morning,” Harry greeted. “I was just about to come meet you in the Hall.” But he frowned as Hermione shot Ron another not-so-subtle glance.

“What’s the matter?”

Ron coughed and shifted uncomfortably. “Mate, it’s probably best if you don’t go to the Great Hall today.”

Hermione nodded, a sign of worry etched all over her face.

Harry’s heart dropped. “Why? Is it about Cedric? Or Crouch?”

Ron sighed, pulling a folded Daily Prophet from his robe pocket and handing it to him. Harry scanned the front page briefly. The dramatic headline about the first task, a photo of a raging dragon, with three smaller images showing the champions dodging smoke and fireballs during the first task.

“What about it?” Harry asked, still puzzled.

“It’s not on the front page. Check page three," said Ron.

Harry tore the paper open in a rush.

And there it was… a small column printed in small, seemingly harmless text. Written by none other than Rita Skeeter.

Romance Ablaze — Hotter Than a Swedish Short-Snout’s Smoky Trail!

Who would have guessed that beneath the shy and courteous exterior of Hogwarts’ golden boy, Cedric Diggory, lies a love-struck heartthrob? Not only did he charm the Swedish Short-Snout during yesterday’s first task, but it seems he also captured the heart of a certain dark-haired boy, who was spotted in a rather intimate embrace with our Champion.

Sources confirm that Cedric Diggory was seen snogging the unidentified boy in a moment so passionate that the poor lad’s glasses nearly toppled off his blushing face. Witnesses report that the two collapsed into each other’s  arms–-undoubtedly a post-task reunion after the dragon’s fiery theatrics nearly scared the wits out of Diggory’s alleged young lover.

Being the gallant soul he is, Diggory apparently didn’t hesitate to soothe the boy’s nerves with kisses and possibly more. One wonders how many hopeful hearts across Hogwarts will be shattered at the news that our Champion may already be taken… or is this just a fleeting spark ignited by danger? We’ll have to ask Mr. Diggory himself to shed light on the mystery behind those smouldering kisses.

Despite placing second in yesterday’s trial, and beating even the famed Viktor Krum, one must ask: is Diggory’s dazzling performance truly the result of skill and courage? Or was it the rush of romance that pushed him to new heights? Stay tuned, readers… the second task will tell all.

Harry looked up from the paper, his face frozen in shock. Ron’s horrified expression matched Hermione’s stunned silence. 

They both stared at Harry, waiting for the inevitable explosion. But he said nothing. He couldn’t. He was too stunned to form a single word.

After a quiet awkward moment, Ron cleared his throat again, this time more sheepishly.

“Well... I can bring you breakfast here, if you’d like.”

All Harry could do was nod at him dumbly.

Chapter Text

Winter

11

“Is that him?”

“Is it just me, or is he a little too short?”

“Does he always walk like that? Look at his hair!”

“Potter’s one hell of a Seeker. Maybe that’s what caught Diggory’s eye…”

Those little humming noises of gossip buzzed around Harry’s ears like Billywigs. Harry tried to swat them off as he rushed around the corner, quickly climbing the moving stairs to the sixth floor. He dashed into the Charms corridor before the eyes of curiosity could follow him.

Harry was used to attention, but being under the spotlight due to his Quidditch skills was entirely different from these low voices whispering across the table and funny little sideways glances thrown at him.

Rita Skeeter’s column had been a shock at first, but now it just annoyed the hell out of him.

Harry forced himself to think about how she could have seen them, but he couldn’t come up with any concrete, reasonable explanation for how she could’ve been there. There had been no one on the South Bridge at the time. And yet, what she had written was roughly true. Ron suggested she might’ve been under an invisibility cloak, while Hermione raised a more concerning point: if she could sneak up on students like that (“maybe through some kind of secret passageway,” she suggested), it would be even more troublesome when it came to Barty Crouch Jr.

He begrudgingly followed Ron’s advice, as his friend suggested not to respond to any questions or gossip. All Harry had to do was simply treat them like flobberworms by giving them a bored look in return. It seemed like the best way to avoid acknowledging the rumours and let them die down on their own. 

Lily’s letter came Sunday’s evening saying the same thing with Ron: that he shouldn’t react to Rita Skeeter’s columns which were overly sensational and mostly full of lies. But under his mum’s calm tone, Harry also detected a hint of mild curiosity about his relationship with Cedric, and questions on how much of what Skeeter had said was true. 

He tried not to read too much into it. 

The most tormenting part was not being able to talk to Cedric at all. Harry had protested that, vehemently, but Hermione and Ron thought it was better for them not to talk in public for a few days even though Harry was dying to know how the other boy was doing and how he felt.

Fortunately, there had been no clear details, no name mentioned in the article, which meant there were plenty of curious eyes, but not daring enough to ask outright. Harry realised that part of it was that Rita Skeeter didn’t have much credit when it came to telling the truth, so most people didn’t believe it was true. There weren’t any professors treating Harry differently, which pretty much said it all. Hagrid had patted him on the back so hard he nearly toppled over, saying he was completely supportive and understanding as puppy love was often the most difficult and challenging of all. Then he had gone on and on about being in love and tried composing a love poem, which only made Harry feel even more awkward.

His housemates like Dean and Neville only eyed him with openly curious looks while Seamus gave him a funny face that Harry chose not to interpret too much. Lavender Brown winked at Harry, saying she’d keep it a ‘secret’ like it was hard to guess who Cedric had been with. Fabian didn’t seem surprised at all, and even said that in the French magical community, same-sex dating was pretty common. Fred and George were surprisingly more merciful, only teasing that Ginny would have her heart broken if the rumours were true. They joked that they’d probably have to console their sister before she drowned herself in her own tears, which only made Harry roll his eyes exasperatedly.

Honestly, Harry thought he had been good at managing his frustration. He even wanted to reward himself for not reacting to Malfoy’s jabs when the boy taunted him relentlessly before Snape arrived in Potions on Monday.

“Aww, Potter. I didn’t know you wanted a boy under your pants. Is that why Diggory was acting like your chivalrous knight on the train? Did you tell him to do that?” Malfoy sneered unpleasantly, his eyes gleaming with a malicious smirk. Harry had to turn away, clenching his fists so he wouldn’t punch Malfoy in the face.

But the Slytherins didn’t stop. A few of them laughed along with Malfoy, snickering and making disgusting noises. Crabbe and Goyle made kissing faces and some crude gestures of snogging.

It was Ron who got up from his seat and turned to Malfoy, eyes hardened. “Oi! Shut up!” 

Hermione tugged at his sleeve, whispering quickly, “Don’t start a fight in Snape’s class. It’s not worth it.”

Malfoy only laughed harder, keeping up his taunts by reading Skeeter’s column aloud, especially the part with ‘the poor lad’s glasses nearly toppled off his blushing face’ and ‘soothe the boy’s nerves with kisses and possibly more’ until Snape burst out of his office, silencing the class with his icy glare.

Among the scandals and petty rumours swirling around, Harry appreciated Ron and Hermione’s help, feeling grateful for how they tried to speak up for him. Ron didn’t hesitate to confront people who gave them curious or accusatory looks, and Hermione was even talking to Cedric for him during her Arithmancy class.

In the common room on Tuesday, while the three of them were doing homework in their usual spot, McLaggen and Critchley playfully asked what it was like to make out with a boy, and what part made it ‘exciting’. Ron put down his quill and looked straight at them.

“The part that’s exciting now is cursing you two and sticking you to the walls like old wrinkled ghouls.”

The smiles slid off McLaggen's face. “Mind your own business, Weasley. No one’s asking your opinion.”

“I’ll mind mine if you mind yours,” Ron snapped, pulling out his wand.

Without anyone laughing at their teasing, the two fifth years glanced around uneasily and finally left them in peace, much to the relief of the second years who were watching the scene warily for potential collateral damage.

“Wow, thanks,” Harry said gratefully. Beside him, Hermione was also staring at Ron without blinking, the ink from her quill already smudging her fingers.

Ron waved it off. “That’s nothing. We have Charlie who doesn’t like boys or girls. And Bill likes both. He gets asked questions and crap from nosy people who want to snoop around and ask stupid questions about other people’s sexuality.”

Understanding dawned on Harry. That’s why the twins hadn’t seemed surprised when they found out about him and Cedric. In hindsight, it wasn’t all that shocking, at least not to some people. And from his side of things, it hadn’t hit all that hard either. After the first wave of surprise, it was mostly just… annoying. Extremely annoying.

Cedric, though. That was different.

The other boy had never had any ‘bad’ news floating around; he’d always kept a perfect image throughout six years. Now he must be dealing with all that rubbish people were saying about him.

By Wednesday, Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He asked Hermione to tell Cedric he’d like to set up a time to meet him in the evening, and suggested a place where they could meet without being seen. Then in the evening, before dinner, Harry shoved the Invisibility Cloak into his bag, along with the map (always in his bag to check on Barty Crouch Jr.) and waited anxiously to meet the other boy.

At six o’clock, while other students streamed into the Great Hall, Harry put on the cloak and slipped out into the third-floor corridor, where the statue of the one-eyed witch stood. He tried not to run, just in case the cloak slipped or he tripped under it.

His heart was pounding as he spotted the tall figure of Cedric already waiting there, glancing around cautiously. Harry held back until a group of Durmstrang boys passed by, then pulled off the cloak.

Cedric’s eyes lit up with recognition, but before he could speak, Harry raised a finger in a silent gesture. Then he pointed his wand at the hump of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor and murmured, “Dissendium”.

Instantly, the statue slid aside, revealing the dark passageway. Harry stepped in, alongside Cedric following close behind.

The tunnel was long, filled with the familiar damp, echoing drips of dirty water. Harry was grateful for the dim light filtering in from above, probably seeping through the brick layered roof of the castle, just enough to faintly illuminate their way.

“It’s the secret passage to Hogsmeade,” Harry quickly explained at Cedric’s confused look. “Down there, about half an hour’s walk, leads to Honeydukes’ cellar. Only me and the twins know about this route. James told them this summer, and made them swear not to tell anyone, so… no worries about Barty Crouch Jr. popping up here, at least for now.”

Cedric nodded tightly. Then his expression shifted from confused to serious.

“Harry, I’m so sorry for how things turned out. I shouldn’t have kissed you on that bridge…”

Harry stared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding? I’m the one who kissed you and messed everything up! I’ve ruined your perfect golden-boy image now.”

But to his surprise, Cedric just shook his head. “I told you already. If it’s true, I don’t care about any of that.”

“But it is true, though, about us,” Harry said quietly.

The tension in Cedric’s shoulders eased as he stepped closer. Harry’s breath hitched as he was unprepared for the other’s hand gently brushing his face, tucking away a strand of hair.

“Yeah, it is. But I mean the part she wrote about us, especially you. Like you were scared and all that.”

Harry tried to laugh it off, fighting the flush rising in his cheeks under Cedric’s unwavering, earnest gaze. His fingers lingered in Harry’s fringe, absentminded and gentle.

“Again, it’s true,” Harry admitted. “I was scared witless. And I cried, remember?”

Cedric scoffed, his hand dropping to his side, and Harry was a bit let down by the sudden lack of touch.

“You know what I mean,” Cedric said gently. “She writes like she knows exactly what happened, but she knows nothing. She made up half the story from a single scene, and that’s a lie.”

“How’s it going for you?” Harry asked, unable to hold back the question he’d been wanting to ask.

In the dim light, Cedric gave a faint smile. “Not bad, actually. Most of my housemates understand. Some don’t, but they haven’t said anything or acted badly. Nothing I can’t handle. My dad owled me the other day. He’s just upset because he thinks it’s slander. He never believed anything Skeeter wrote, anyway. My mum’s overseas right now, so the news might have reached her late, but my grandparents sent me a letter saying Skeeter’s pieces are rubbish, and that they support me—whatever I want to do.”

His last words hinted at more than just support, and Harry felt a swell of relief. The idea of dating Cedric was becoming more and more real as their closed ones knew.

“You think your dad would react badly if you… you know, told him the truth?”

The question seemed to catch Cedric off guard. “I don’t know. But I don’t think I can keep it from him for much longer.”

Harry was just about to offer Cedric some kind of comfort when the other boy continued.

“I wanted to talk to you right away if not for Hermione coming to me and laying out what we should do. But I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you?”

“I’m okay,” Harry answered quickly. “Just annoyed when someone whispers or points at me, but most of the time I’m fine.”

Cedric still looked somewhat dismayed. “So much for taking things slow, huh? I promised you that, but now… I’m sorry I broke that promise.” He looked down, then muttered, “You can call this off, Harry. We can still be friends… it’d be easier for you.”

His voice was grim, and Harry could see how much Cedric felt bad. So he reached out and cupped the other boy’s face, lips curling into a smile.

“Hey, it’s too late to back out now, dumbass. I’m not going to stop kissing you just because a nosy reporter saw us.”

Cedric laughed, a surprised, delighted sound, and Harry laughed too. Suddenly, still grinning, Cedric leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. Their teeth bumped and their noses collided. The angle was awkward, but Harry didn’t mind one bit. Now that kissing Cedric felt like the most natural thing in the world, he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

They kissed again — this time slower, longer, brushing their lips together in the dim, dark light. It was almost like they were experimenting, figuring out how to kiss in the shadows. Cedric’s hand clumsily found Harry’s hair, gently nuzzling the back of his neck the way Harry secretly loved, and tilting his face to try new angles.

At some point, Cedric’s lips parted slightly, and for the first time, Harry felt the warmth of the other boy’s tongue slide past his own.

Before his knees could give out and his heart burst from his chest, Harry pulled away slightly.

“How’s… uh, how’s your second task going?”

Cedric blinked. “Oh, um—I haven’t done anything with it besides opening it. It screams. Loud enough to wake everyone up. Lawrence thinks I’ll have to face a Banshee or something terrifying.”

Harry scrunched his nose. “I doubt it.”

“I like when you do that.”

“What?”

“The nose.” Cedric pointed at Harry’s nose, smiling shyly. “When you scrunch it like that. You do it a lot without realising. It’s adorable.”

Cedric leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose, while Harry was trying not to blush furiously.

They parted ways soon after, with Harry leaving the tunnel under the cloak. He almost skipped all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, feeling far better than he had in days.

***

The happiness from seeing Cedric on Wednesday had elevated Harry’s mood for several days. He almost forgot about the scandals and found it easier to ignore the curious, wary eyes of other students. 

He was beginning to feel like himself again until horror struck the following Monday.

Hermione was the first to know. As usual, she opened the newspaper while having breakfast, but this time, Harry saw the colour drain from her face as she looked at him in genuine shock.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, feigning nonchalance despite the sinking feeling in his chest. Ron paused mid-mouthful of scrambled eggs and glanced between them.

Wordlessly, Hermione handed him the Daily Prophet. Page three. Harry felt a cold sense of déjà vu as he tore it open.

HOGWARTS’ CHAMPION’S LOVE INTEREST REVEALED!

After last week’s most sensational scoop, we can now reveal the identity of the mysterious, dark-haired boy who has captured the heart of our beloved Hogwarts Champion. Thanks to our devoted student readers, we have confirmed that Cedric Diggory’s secret sweetheart is none other than fourth-year Gryffindor, Harry Potter!

Who is he, really? There’s still much we don’t know about this elusive boy, but we’ve gathered insights into just why the golden boy of Hogwarts would fall head over heels for someone two years his junior.

“I was shocked, truly,” said Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student known for his polished manners and sharp intellect. “Diggory was dating one of the prettiest, most popular girls in school just last year. So imagine my surprise when I found out he’s dating Potter. He’s a narcissistic attention-seeker who’s been causing chaos at Hogwarts for years. He’s always scheming. And I’ll admit, he’s oddly good at Potions for someone like him, which just makes it more suspicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s dabbling in love potions or something similar to get what he wants.”

Dark implications, indeed. Could this boy be manipulating affections for his own ends?

Marcus Flint, Slytherin’s talented Quidditch captain, echoed Malfoy’s concerns. “Potter’s using Diggory’s fame, plain and simple,” Flint stated. “He’s obsessed with Quidditch, and with the tournament cancelled this year, he’s desperate for attention. Cedric’s a great bloke, a bit naïve maybe, and I wouldn’t put it past Potter to exploit that for social gain.”

Mr. Flint insists he wouldn’t speak ill of anyone unless it were the truth. If that’s the case, it’s deeply troubling to imagine our Champion being drawn into the manipulative web of this seemingly innocent fourth-year. We can only hope Cedric Diggory realises the truth before it’s too late, and steers clear of bad eggs that only leave your hands smelling foul.

Harry could feel his face flush with fury. His fingers clenched around the paper, nearly tearing it in half.

Ron let out a loud gasp after finishing the article beside him. “What the bloody bullshit is this? Malfoy’s a nasty little shit.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide with alarm as she met Harry’s blazing glare. “Please, don’t… whatever you’re thinking. You both have caused enough trouble this term. The news will die down just like last week.”

But even as she said it, Harry could tell she didn’t believe her own words. The horror and sympathy on her face said everything.

Still trembling with rage, Harry barely touched his eggs and bacon, and was too angry to speak. He stood abruptly, muttering something about going to the greenhouse, and hurried away, desperate to vanish before more students poured into the Great Hall for breakfast.

The rest of the day turned out to be a living nightmare.

Normally, Herbology class was quite amicable and had a friendly atmosphere, but this time Harry could feel a piercing gaze coming from the Hufflepuff groups. Ernie Macmillan didn’t say a word to him and ignored Harry’s greeting with a cold stare. Even the nicest girl, Hannah Abbott, who always smiled and greeted Gryffindors, looked at Harry in utter disappointment as if he had deeply offended her. Even Professor Sprout, one of the kindest teachers, looked at Harry coolly and answered his question with a tone far from her usual enthusiastic one.

When they had to squeeze the seeds out of the Bouncing Bulbs, Harry accidentally pulled the sheath a little too harshly, and the seeds bounced out of the plant and hit him squarely in the face, leaving a jarring pain on his left cheek. Beside him, loud snickers came from Justin Finch-Fletchley and Zacharias Smith.

Livid and embarrassed, Harry placed the pot down a little too hard, and it cracked. Professor Sprout rushed over with a horrified, admonishing look on her face and docked five points from Gryffindor. It earned another wave of laughter from the Hufflepuffs.

Harry was the first to leave the class, swinging his bag over his shoulder and bolting out of the greenhouse.

Potions class afterward was no less insufferable. The Slytherins looked at Harry like wolves spotting fresh meat. Malfoy, not missing his cue, kept asking about the nasty Skeeter article. He even remarked that Harry should be grateful for the ‘mild version’ Malfoy had shared, hinting that he could’ve gone even further, dragging in Remus Lupin and the suspicious escape of the Hippogriff. He claimed he could have exposed Harry’s ‘more evil schemes’ if he’d wanted to.

“I’ve told Diggory already,” Malfoy sneered. “A pure-blood like him should be careful who he’s with. He’s got himself dirty, wasting his time on a blood traitor like you, Potter.”

Harry strode toward Malfoy, wand in hand, ignoring Hermione’s alarmed warning, only to be stopped by a cold hand on his shoulder. It was Snape’s. The Slytherins' jeers instantly died down, and the other Gryffindors stared at the scene in horror.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape drawled, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. “Clearly fame’s gone to your head, Potter. Just because you're mentioned in the newspaper doesn’t exempt you from harassing other students.”

Harry couldn’t help but scoff. “That’s the least of my worries, sir.” His final word was laced with such sarcasm that Snape’s frown deepened. Behind him, he heard Hermione let out a startled gasp and Neville whimpered.

Harry ended up being punished to clean all the cauldrons after class and count ingredient stocks for next week’s Calming Draught. The task took so long that by the time he was finished, the bell had rung and he’d missed lunch.

Too exhausted and frustrated to care, Harry decided to skip the afternoon classes without telling Ron or Hermione. He went straight to the Gryffindor Tower, his stomach empty and a tightly knotted anger vibrating through his body.

Feeling the last of his energy drain away, he threw himself onto his bed and fell asleep without even taking off his sneakers.

He dreamed of being chased by an army of enormous custard pies that wanted to squeeze him flat against the ground, chanting “DECIMATE HIM!” as they smudged across the earth, looming over him. Then he jolted awake some time later, soaked in cold sweat by the sound of constant pecking on the window. Slowly, he sat up and turned toward the noise to see Hedwig staring at him impatiently, a letter clutched in her beak. The sky outside gleamed with the colors of a reddened sunset and glowing pink clouds.

He let his owl swoop into the dorm room and grabbed the letter as she landed on his bed. He was surprised to see it was from James. His handwriting looked rough and rushed.

Harry,

You have every right to be upset. First of all, ignore that foul-mouthed old crone, Rita Skeeter. She’s not worth a single knut. I hate to curse in a letter, but let’s just call her a schmuck old goon in the dunk.

Sirius and I went to the Daily Prophet today and demanded they retract the lies she wrote. You know what they said? Those cowards didn’t even admit the article was by that hag! One of the stinkiest ones, Phineas Campbell, had the nerve to say it wasn’t ‘a lie’ if the witnesses were ‘verified’. Can you believe it? The press in this country is like a troll's dungheap. Sirius almost burned down the whole floor if it hadn’t been for Addison, my old editor, stepping in to negotiate. She promised to speak to Skeeter and agreed to halt her publications until there’s a proper source validation. I know—it’s probably useless. The bloody damage is done, and it’s dirty and cheap.

We’ve also stopped subscribing to the Prophet daily, though we still want updates on the Triwizard Tournament. Your boyfriend’s in the race, and he’s even surpassed Krum. Tell Cedric we’re all rooting for him.

On a better note, Lily’s staying with your grandparents and has taken time off work for the month. She’s been gardening and brewing potions. The old hobbies of her which have done her good for these last few months of pregnancy. We can’t wait for the baby to arrive—just two more months to go!

I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I gave you the mirror. It’s faster than using poor Hedwig to fly across the country. Just raise the mirror in front of you if you need me. I’ll be able to hear you.

Hope you feel better soon. And if Malfoy or Snape bother you, kick their arses for me.

Love,
James (your dad)

Harry laughed for the first time that day after finishing James’s letter. The image of his dad and Sirius storming into the Daily Prophet office demanding an apology was both satisfying and hilarious. A surge of affection swept over him. James and Sirius were angry for him, and they’d rage against the world for someone who wronged him. That was both sweet and deeply comforting.

He also felt a twinge of guilt for not using the mirror James had given him. He’d always thought he’d only call in case of an emergency and this didn’t feel like that. Not yet.

He folded the letter and tucked it into the drawer under his desk just as Ron and Hermione emerged from the dormitory stairs. Their arms were full of food they had brought from the Great Hall.

Ron laid out a ham sandwich, cheese and crackers, grapefruits, a bottle of milk, and a chocolate pudding on Harry’s bed. With his stomach growling, Harry dove into the food without hesitation, while Hermione untied a bundle of parchment and notes from under her arm.

“McGonagall asked about you. You missed our discussion on cross-species switches. I told her you were sick,” she said, unfolding her notes and handing them to Harry.

Harry shrugged, chewing a mouthful of sandwich. “I didn’t want to lose more house points like I did in both morning classes.”

Ron sighed sympathetically. “I get it, mate. That sucks. I wanted to hex Malfoy myself after what he said.”

“Pansy Parkinson wasn’t any less annoying in the girls’ bathroom,” Hermione added, deadpan. “I told her she sounded like an Erumpent in mating season.”

That made them laugh.

“Thanks, really. Both of you,” Harry said.

Ron clapped his shoulder and gave him a tight smile. Hermione added gently, “Cedric asked about you, you know. He seemed really concerned… about all this.”

Harry winced, gulping down his milk. “I’ll find a way to talk to him. Somehow.”

Idly watching Harry finish his meal, Hermione briefed him on the lessons he’d missed and the homework that had been assigned. A moment later, Dean and Seamus came up. They greeted the three of them casually but didn’t linger in the dorm room, only stopping to get changed and use the washroom before heading out.

Ron turned to Harry again once Dean and Seamus had left. “I can’t believe the Hufflepuffs have turned against you like that.”

It was Hermione who had an answer for that. She worded it carefully.

“I think they’re just very protective of Cedric. He’s their champion, after all. For a lot of Hufflepuffs, it feels like they really get to have something special – someone who represents their house and their pride. And now... well, it might seem to them that you, a Gryffindor, are somehow taking that away. Like they can’t have something good without it being overshadowed.”

Harry scowled. “Cedric isn’t just some token for them to be paraded.”

“Some people would see it as loyalty, mate.” Ron reasoned.

“And Skeeter’s article doesn’t help either,” Hermione added curtly. “Most people might not believe every word she writes, but with the so-called witnesses and all the speculation… it gives people something or someone to latch onto.”

“That’s unfair,” Ron said, frustrated.

“Nothing’s fair in love and rumours,” Hermione said grimly.

Harry frowned. “I think it’s supposed to be ‘love and war.’”

She just smiled softly at him.

***

If Harry thought things couldn’t get any worse, they certainly didn’t get better.

The next morning arrived with strange, odd-looking letters addressed to him. At first, a handful of anonymous envelopes seemed harmless enough, but they turned out to be far from innocent.

Several of the letters carried similar messages: threats and hate speech, accusing him of disgraceful behavior. Some — Harry only caught a glimpse of a few words before tossing them — expressed disgust at the idea of two boys kissing. Two Howlers, which Harry purposely ignored, let out blood curdling screams that echoed through the hall, scolding him in high-pitched voices for being shameless and sinister, claiming he should feel guilty for being greedy and too ambitious for his own good.

Ron abandoned his black pudding to help Harry fend off the letters, while Hermione snatched a large box from Harry’s hands, fearing it might be something dangerous. But she accidentally knocked it off the table, and it exploded in a cloud of horrid dungbomb fumes, creating a scene that sent most of the Gryffindor students fleeing from their table in horror. Neville, who had been sitting across from them, got a full breath of the foul air and started coughing violently.

“This is outrageous! Who the bloody hell would send a prank like this to a fourteen-year-old?!” 

Ron burst out, sniffing himself in disgust. Hermione quickly pulled out her wand and cast, “Redolentia Purgo!” on all three of them. Harry sighed in relief as the smell finally faded from his hair. Demetrius, the fifth-year Prefect, gave them an accusing look but didn’t say a word.

Afraid of returning to the Great Hall and being bombarded with more pranks, the three of them skipped the rest of the meal and went early to the Charms classroom while other students cast suspicious glances at them as they passed. Among them, Harry saw the sand haired boy, Lawrence, whom he recognised as one of Cedric’s friends, shot them a wary look.  

“Seriously, you two don’t have to stick with me,” Harry said as they plopped into chairs in the empty classroom. He pulled out his textbook and parchment from his bag. “Maybe I really do have whatever Trelawney meant by a Grim aura. I’m bringing misfortune.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. You’ve never believed her before. Don’t start now.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Ron said firmly.

Harry only nodded, too overwhelmed with gratitude to say anything.

Despite a traumatic morning, the rest of the day wasn’t too bad. During lunch, some students, especially Hufflepuffs, still seemed hostile, casting cold glances at Harry and whispering when he accidentally met their eyes. The Slytherins, as expected, were their usual nasty, mean-spirited selves, so Harry didn’t even bother taking them seriously. 

Gryffindors, on the other hand, treated him more kindly than usual. Fred and George roped Harry into one of their revenge plots, hoping to get back at the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Harry appreciated their enthusiasm although the plan seemed like a lost cause. Still, the twins shared some of their newest projects with him: a 'Jink-Off Hat' designed to ward off minor hexes, a pile of unnamed experimental explosive devices, a Skiving Snackbox for quick escapes, and a few dungbombs as a ‘token of the day’.

Neville and Dean gave Harry encouraging looks whenever they passed him in class, though Harry wasn’t sure why, and during Moody’s lesson, when Harry was called up to demonstrate a spell, his housemates clapped and cheered for him. 

After Defense Against the Dark Arts, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil approached Harry with enthusiastic grins. They told him they’d gladly be interviewed on his behalf and would say good things about him.

“You’re kind of annoying sometimes,” Lavender admitted cheerfully, “but you’re generally good and honest. And you’re not bad-looking, either,” she tilted her head, and reached out to pat Harry on the cheek. “In fact, I think you’re cute. With your pretty eyes and fluffy hair. I can see why Cedric fancies you. Opposites always attract.”

Parvati nodded in agreement and winked at him. “Don’t worry. We promise to spread only good news about you.”

Harry was too flustered to respond. He just stood frozen as the two of them scurried off, giggling cheekily.

Later at dinner, Luna wandered over to the Gryffindor table and offered to interview Harry for The Quibbler to counter Skeeter’s article. Hermione immediately brightened as she thought it was a brilliant idea, but Harry politely declined.

“I just don’t want anything to do with this shit,” he sighed.

Fabian, who was sitting beside Ron at the time, chimed in. “Isn’t this kind of taboo in your country? The whole boyfriend thing? I thought Professor Remus and Sirius—ah, merde. Je suis désolé. I shouldn’t have said that out loud…”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry reassured him. “Ron and Hermione know about them. You know Sirius?”

The Beauxbatons student nodded. “Yeah, he’s popped by a few times with Remus. He’s actually really popular, especially with girls. You could ask any of the Beauxbatons students here. They all adore Remus’s boyfriend. He’s... charismatique.”

Harry smiled. “That sounds like Sirius. He’s the real deal when it comes to being famous. He could do it so effortlessly.”

Fabian nodded appreciatively. “And you’re lucky to have both Remus and Sirius raise you. No wonder you turned out so amazing, Harry.”

The seemingly casual compliment added to the strange wave of encouragement Harry had been receiving all day. He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously as he hadn’t realised just how much support he had around him until moments like this.

After dinner, Harry planned to crash on his bed and sleep without thinking about the world. But as they walked up the stairs from the Great Hall, someone approached them. It was Cedric’s friend, Phoebe.

She didn’t waste time with a greeting, only smiled cryptically. “Your bleeding finger needs to be checked.”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “My what?”

“Your finger. Come on. Let’s go to the Hospital Wing.” She motioned for Harry to follow her. Hermione and Ron looked equally confused, but it seemed like there was little room to argue.

Phoebe led him to the other side of the castle, scurrying down the corridor with Harry trailing behind her.

“What’s this about?” Harry asked, keeping pace with Phoebe, who was walking surprisingly fast for her petite figure.

“I take Healing for my N.E.W.T.s, and I’ve been assigned to monitor the Hospital Wing today. Madam Pomfrey went to stock up on more supplies at St. Mungo’s earlier this evening. Last week, some seventh-year students were infected with Scrofungulus, so the potion supplies ran short. But all the students were healed just this afternoon.”

Her casual, matter-of-fact tone didn’t tell him much, and Harry was even more bewildered by her words. Phoebe simply turned and smiled at him skeptically. Then Harry realised… Though a Hufflepuff, she still made the effort to come talk to him.

They reached the Hospital Wing in surprisingly little time, considering the distance they’d covered in roughly five minutes. Harry was panting a little as Phoebe opened the infirmary door and gently ushered him inside.

“You have fifteen minutes,” she said before closing the door.

Harry didn’t even have time to ask what she meant before the door shut behind him, and he was left standing awkwardly in the Hospital Wing, with rows of beds lined up in silence. 

Then his eyes caught sight of Cedric walking toward him, but before Harry could greet him properly, the older boy wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tight.

The hug caught Harry completely off guard, but the warm touch made him swallow his surprised gasp and melt into Cedric’s embrace.

Cedric’s voice whispered close to Harry’s ear, “Sorry for all the fuss. I owe Phoebe for bringing you here so I could have time to talk to you.”

A flush spread across Harry’s cheeks. “Oh, um… you didn’t have to go through all this setup. We could’ve met at the one-eyed witch like last time.”

“We could’ve. But it’s a little dark there, and I just wanted to see you more clearly,” replied Cedric earnestly.

“Oh,” Harry responded awkwardly. 

He was still wrapped in Cedric’s arms, so slowly, he reached out and placed his hands on Cedric’s back, hugging him in return. 

Harry was no stranger to hugs and physical touch, but Cedric’s embrace felt ten times more intimate and, if he were self-indulgent, more protective. It reminded him of the first time they hugged in the Hospital Wing when Harry had lost his Nimbus. It always felt like Cedric wanted to shield him with his whole body. 

So Harry let himself go, closed his eyes, felt Cedric’s heartbeat and breathing against him and just breathed with him.

After a few minutes of taking in warmth from the other boy, Cedric reluctantly released him.

“Sorry. All I could think about all day was hugging you. Are you alright? I’m so sorry for what happened. I’ve tried telling everyone in my house that you’ve done nothing wrong, that the whole thing is nonsense, but they don’t seem to believe me much, except Phoebe and Miles.” Cedric shook his head, brushing strands of hair off his forehead, and Harry noticed he looked ruffled and tired. 

“I’m so disappointed in my house, how easily they’ve been convinced that you could do something like that. I can’t believe it.”

Harry’s heart sank. “I get it. Hermione said it’s probably because they’re so protective of you. That’s understandable. If I weren’t me—well, if I were your housemate—I’d probably want to antagonize some nobody who was sabotaging my friend’s reputation too.”

“But you’re not just a nobody! They’ve seen me with you several times. They know you’re my friend. Some of them have been friendly to you for years! And now they’d rather believe some random article over everything they’ve known about you. It’s beyond ridiculous.”

Harry winced. He hadn’t seen Cedric this upset before, his voice raised with frustration, his jaws clenched.

“It doesn’t matter what they think, really,” Harry said eventually. “The people I care about know the truth, and that’s enough. I was angry, yeah, but the news will die down in a few weeks like every other rumor.”

Cedric let out a long, tired breath and closed his eyes briefly. “I shouldn’t have put my name in the Goblet. Now I get why it was a stupid idea. I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault Rita Skeeter conspired with those nasty Slytherins.”

Cedric shook his head, still not looking relieved.

“My dad sent me a letter this morning. The news finally got to him, I think. He warned me that I’d risk spoiling the family lineage if I kept being with you. He’s not outright against same-sex love, but he’s worried there won’t be a legacy if I ruin it ‘with my own hands.’ I wrote back and told him I won’t come back to stay with him next summer if he still thinks like that.”

Cedric let out a hollow laugh, and Harry’s heart clenched painfully for him. He’d just reconciled with Mr. Diggory this past summer, thinking he'd made it to his good side, only to have it all undone by this news and the weight of old prejudices.

He reached out, took Cedric’s shaking hands in both of his. “I’m sorry,” Harry said the only words he could muster. 

Cedric looked at him oddly. “Aren’t you angry at him? You can be, you know. You have every right to be. After everything you’ve done to help me, he still thinks like that…”

“Well, Remus used to say his relationship with Sirius was either welcomed, frowned upon, or tolerated. And those in the middle, those who just tolerate it, they need more time to adjust. But it’s not their place to decide what love is supposed to look like.”

Harry saw Cedric’s eyes soften, then his gaze lingered on him, steady and impassioned, as though searching for something. The intensity made Harry quickly look away.

“I wish I could show people how amazing you are,” Cedric said quietly.

“That’s just what I remembered from Remus,” Harry mumbled.

“It doesn’t make you any less amazing and wonderful, Harry,” Cedric said, and then he leaned in to give Harry a soft, almost feather-light kiss on the cheek.

Shortly after, they heard the door creak, and Phoebe poked her head in, saying that Madam Pomfrey would be back soon. Cedric sighed and reluctantly let go of Harry’s hands. They parted ways at the entrance to the Hospital Wing.

“Thanks for, um—for this meetup,” Harry said shyly to Phoebe.

She smirked. “Of course. Or I’d have gone insane watching Ced mope and sulk in the Hufflepuff common room for another day. He was desperate to see you. It was almost pitiful.”

“I wasn’t moping,” Cedric retorted, looking slightly embarrassed.

Phoebe shot him an accusing glare, but the exchange was funny enough to make Harry laugh.

Late that night, when everyone else had gone to bed and Harry saw that it was past midnight, he silently pulled out the mirror James had given him, put on his hoodie, and tiptoed to the small balcony. He squeezed himself into a comfortable seat and shut the door behind him.

Raising the mirror in front of him, Harry only saw his own reflection staring back. He whispered, “Hey, Dad.”

Harry'd half-expected not to get a response right away. James was probably asleep and wouldn’t hear his voice calling to him.

He waited for about two minutes, listening to the sound of leaves swaying gently in the cold night breeze, and the faint howls of distant creatures echoing from the forest. He was about to put the mirror down when a flicker of light blinked across the glass, and the green eyes staring back at him turned light blue. 

A second later, his dad’s face appeared, looking right back at him.

“I’m never going to get used to you calling me that. Sorry, I just scrambled out of bed and went downstairs. Didn’t want to wake Lily.”

“How’s she doing?” Harry asked softly.

“Oh, splendid. Though she has trouble sleeping regularly. Sometimes she dozes off in a chair or even on the kitchen floor. She gets distracted, has back pain—it’s been happening since before she had you. Typical pregnancy symptoms, as she says.” Harry heard a shuffle from James’s side, like he’d just flopped down onto the couch. “And how are you doing?”

Harry shrugged, even though James couldn’t see it. “I’m okay. I was really angry at first, but… I think I’m okay now. Ron and Hermione helped. Cedric, too.”

James sighed. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How quickly people change their opinions because of some whirlwind gossip.”

“It sucks,” Harry admitted. He deliberately left out the chaos from that morning when there was a flood of letters and Howlers because he didn’t want James to get even angrier.

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure she never publishes garbage like that again. Sirius has already found a good M.A. in case we need to sue her.”

“Yeah, about that—” he hesitated. “I think she’ll keep doing it anyway. If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. Ron says Skeeter has a reputation for spreading scandals. It’s her job to be that nasty. If it isn’t true, it’ll fade away sooner or later.”

James looked surprised. “Alright… if you say so. I just don’t want you to go through any of this. You’re only fourteen, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry chuckled. “Which gives me plenty of time to outlive her dirty rumors and prove I’m not who she says I am. I don’t want to give in and let my anger feed more of her lies.”

His dad looked at him through the mirror for a long, thoughtful moment before finally saying, “Wow. You sound just like Lily.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I am her son, you know.”

James smiled. “Yeah, I know. And I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

A flood of pride surged in Harry’s chest. Most of the time, people compared him to James, but very rarely did anyone notice the ways he took after Lily aside from the green eyes.

James cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s not just this situation you wanted to talk to me about, is it?”

It was striking how perceptive his dad could be, seeing right through him like that. Harry sighed, then muttered, still unsure how to put it into words.

“It’s not… easy, is it?”

He didn’t expect James to understand it right away, but somehow he did. His dad took a deep breath, blue eyes steady on Harry.

“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry,” James said quietly.

“I’m not going to pretend I know what it feels like, but even the most perfect couples have flaws. Your mum and I… we’re also not perfect by society’s standards. People can be hypocritical and stupidly judgmental.”

Harry thought about what had bothered him earlier, especially when Cedric talked about his dad. The reasons Amos Diggory gave to convince Cedric not to be with him. He added, “Especially the purebloods.”

James’s eyes darkened. “Yeah. Especially those uptight ones who cling to family heritage without realising they’re the root of the problem.”

Harry sagged, leaning back against the balcony railing. “It’s bloody exhausting.”

His dad hummed in response. “Watching people walk out of your life just for being who you are is the hardest part. You might lose some friends along the way, but there will always be those who understand. But let me tell you this: Don’t compromise for who you are, Harry. Promise me you don’t shrink yourself just to make others comfortable.”

“I won’t,” Harry reassured him.

James nodded. Then a familiar mischievous grin crept onto his face.

“Good. Now tell me—it’s Lily who’s asking, not me—we’re totally chilled and all, you know, but… did you both do something more than kissing?”

“No, we didn’t!” Harry nearly shouted, clapping a hand over his mouth just in time. He stared at James in disbelief. One moment his dad was giving heartfelt advice, and the next, he was back to being a cheeky prankster.

“Your mum’s just a little concerned, but she didn’t want to spook you,” James said airily.

“There’s nothing else! We didn’t do anything besides kissing!” Harry muttered hurriedly, his face turning a deep shade of red from sheer embarrassment.

James tilted his head, mock thoughtful. “To be fair, kissing can be tricky and experimental, don’t you think? Where’s the line, really? I mean, there can be tongues involved—”

“I’m going to bed. I’ve got an early morning class with McGonagall,” Harry spluttered.

James sighed. “You know you can’t avoid this conversation forever, right?”

“I absolutely can. Goodbye, Dad.”

It worked, sort of. James paused instantly at the word Dad . Harry made a mental note to exploit that later when he needed a quick escape.

“Alright. Goodbye, son.”

This time, there was no sarcasm in his dad’s voice. 

A few minutes later, Harry was back in bed, tucked under his blanket, staring up at the dim starlight glimmering on the dormitory ceiling. The nasty words and scandalous looks aimed at him throughout the week seemed to fade into the background – distant and unimportant.

Harry drifted off, feeling lighter than he had in days.

12

With a firm conviction to ignore the news and let it burn down to crisps, Harry felt like he was coming back to himself again. To Hermione’s surprise, he had started spending his time studying, practicing spells, and keeping up with homework on schedule.

He spent most of his time in the library, trying to understand the theoretical aspects of Charms spells he had trouble grasping. Professor Flitwick often said that Harry had far better practical skills than theoretical ones, so Harry knew that if he wanted to pass the written exam, he needed to be precise about how to flick his wand properly and what angles and forms he had to name when casting Bombardment spells. He also couldn’t give up on memorising potion ingredients, which this term focused on various types of antidotes. At least he was trying to get better at Potions out of spite for Snape.

And because they were in their fourth year, Harry could wander around the restricted and long-forgotten archive sections without having to use his cloak, so it became his newfound enjoyment to slip past suspicious-looking books bound in heavy leather and discover interesting facts here and there. He’d stumbled upon something morbid and fascinating, like Blood Magic—how magical power could be inherited through bloodlines. In the Dark Ages, many wizards and witches were exploited by others who consumed their blood, earning them the title of ‘vampires’ from Muggles for centuries. He also read about magical creatures like the Nundu, Basilisk, and Lethifold, which were assumed to have once been more intelligent but, according to some conspiracy theories, had been cursed by wizardkind and categorised as extremely dangerous without fully understanding the bounds of their magical power.

There were no living photographs of the Lethifold, since no one had managed to capture one in time without being eaten within seconds. Harry was staring at the illustrated picture of the Lethifold with fascination when he felt someone lean in close and whisper near his ear, making him jump.

“It looks a hundred times more terrifying than dragons,” Cedric commented, reading the book over Harry’s shoulder. They were terribly close, and Harry could feel the other boy’s warm breath lingering at the shell of his ear. 

“Um, I guess so,” Harry muttered, feeling his body stiffen from their close proximity.

Hermione probably noticed Harry’s red face and took pity on him.

“He’s been engrossed in those grotesque creatures lately. Also reading a lot about deformed curses and ancient spells.”

The older boy hummed, pulling out his notes and quill from his bag. He turned to Harry and smiled. “You’ll love Professor Moody’s class next year. In fifth year, he showed us loads of cases of spells backfiring on real people. Those images still haunt me.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Oh? What’s it like? We just finished Reducto and counter-curse spells last week. I’m a little sad Moody didn’t introduce dark creatures until after Christmas.”

Cedric turned to answer her, which gave Harry a moment to collect himself, letting his breathing settle back into an even rhythm.

Two weeks had passed since they talked in the Hospital Wing, and the two of them had agreed there was no point in keeping their distance anymore. People would talk no matter what, and they couldn't stop all the rumours, good or bad, from spreading. So Cedric resumed greeting them at the Great Hall, and more frequently lately, he would drop by to do homework with them in the library or go out to play Quidditch (now that the pitch had returned to its usual size and shape) with Ron, the twins, and Fabian.

They didn’t express anything more than light touches on the arm and small talk. But once or twice, Cedric would reach out to brush strands of hair from Harry’s face, saying his hair was getting long, or he’d touch Harry’s back lightly as they walked to the Hall, or rest his hand on Harry’s shoulder while laughing at one of Ron’s jokes. They were simple, yet dangerously intimate, similar to those gestures Cedric used to do during the summer, the kind that once made Harry’s mind freeze.

There was no new attack from Rita Skeeter in the Daily Prophet, and the curious, accusing looks were starting to fade. Once or twice a week, there were still vague letters he’d received, probably scolding him as a greedy social climber or worse, but Harry didn’t even bother to read them. He happily tore them to shreds or let Pig peck them into holes and pieces.

“Those sad, poor people should really get a life,” Ron lamented, feigning a sad tone. “They ought to have better things to do than harass a teenager.”

Harry grinned as he casually dipped one of the letter envelopes into his salad cream.

The Slytherins still tried to get on his nerves, throwing slurs and insults at Harry (and occasionally Cedric) during Potions class. It was hard to ignore, if not for Harry’s determination to improve his grades and avoid giving Snape any excuse to assign him more detentions. Thanks to his extensive reading in Charms, Harry discovered the Mufflebubble Charm, which greatly helped reduce unnecessary noises. He secretly cast it during Potions so he couldn’t hear the jibes and malice coming from those useless twats. The downside was that the only sound that filtered through was Snape’s incredibly monotonous voice, which apparently counted as ‘necessary’.

Hufflepuffs still looked at Harry warily and didn’t speak to him. It stung a little, but there was nothing he could do. Some students, however, approached him with more sympathy (though he didn’t need it). A fifth-year Ravenclaw once came up and hugged him, saying he felt sorry about how the media had portrayed him, and admitted that he, too, fancied boys but hadn’t had the courage to say so until he saw Harry and Cedric. It was incredibly awkward to get a hug from a random student, but Harry took it as a good sign.

Miles tagged along with Cedric for one friendly Quidditch match and apologised to Harry. He admitted he’d doubted him at first because of the news and the talk among his classmates. To make up for it, he lent Harry a Quidditch board game. Harry also received a huge basket of homemade chocolate from Mrs. Weasley addressed to him, Hermione, and Ron, which Harry could tell was her way of showing she believed in him, rather than any of that nonsense.

***

The first snowflakes floated through the air in the first week of December. Harry woke up late. The weather had turned much colder, and the warmth of his blanket made it difficult to get out of bed.

Still sleepy, he joined Hermione and Ron for breakfast just in time for the morning mail to arrive. Over the past few weeks, this had become a dreadful, monumental moment that often determined the mood of his entire day, but thankfully, he no longer felt that way.

Until Hermione let out a loud gasp.

She had just read the front page and accidentally knocked over her glass of milk, which splashed across her half-bitten toast and ham.

Harry assumed it was another sensational piece by Rita Skeeter, but the look of astonishment on her face said otherwise.

“It’s Barty Crouch Jr. He’s been arrested!”

“What?!”

The drowsiness vanished from Harry’s mind instantly. Hermione quickly made space on the table to unfold the newspaper so the three of them could read it together.

The Notorious Fugitive Captured and Sent to Azkaban

CROUCH MANOR, DEC. 7 — The wizarding world can breathe a sigh of relief today as one of its most wanted fugitives, Barty Crouch Jr., has been apprehended after a violent duel with his father, Senior Ministry official Barty Crouch Sr.

The younger Crouch broke into the family estate last night, allegedly intending to murder his father. In a brief statement to the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch revealed that his son had not ambushed him, but rather issued a formal challenge. Despite the odds, Mr. Crouch Sr. successfully overpowered and subdued his son, rendering him unconscious. 

Mr. Crouch, who sustained lacerations to his legs and a head injury gave us a brief statement: “I am grateful no one else was home. Our house-elf was the only other being present. My wife, Guinevere, is currently abroad for charitable work. She’ll be devastated,” he said. “The disgrace our son has brought upon this family is immeasurable.”

Mrs. Crouch is expected to return to Britain within the fortnight. In an unorthodox move, Mr. Crouch Sr. had bypassed standard investigative procedures and arranged for his son’s immediate transfer to Azkaban, citing the gravity of his crimes and the prolonged threat posed by his escape. 

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge approved the expedited detention, stating, “Our community has endured enough uncertainty. Barty Crouch Jr. has long been a shadow over our safety for several months, and that ends now.”

The Ministry has yet to release a full statement regarding the broader implications of the arrest, but further investigations may follow in the upcoming days.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered. “He really comes after his father, just like you said, Harry.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad it’s finally over. Crouch must’ve been a very skilled wizard to defeat his own son.”

“Or he really hated him to the core,” Ron added under his breath. “Sending your own son to Azkaban right after that... that's cold.”

“But how could Crouch bypass the law and send his son to Azkaban just like that?” asked Harry.

“It was a major crime,” Hermione explained. “As Fudge said, it kept everyone on edge for a long time. And if Crouch Jr. really is that dangerous, just detaining him might not have been enough. They probably thought it was the only way to be sure he wouldn’t escape again.”

“It doesn’t explain why Crouch doesn’t want to see it through,” Harry pressed on. “There’s the case of Joshua. We don’t know whether Crouch attacked him or not. Doesn’t anyone want confirmation? Even the two murders are just speculation. We still don’t know how—”

But Ron interjected. “They’ll squeeze a confession out of Crouch sooner or later. What’s the rush, as long as everyone’s safe now? He’s finally locked up with the Dementors. Good riddance.”

Hermione nodded vigorously. “I agree with Ron. The legal process can come after we’re certain he’s secure and unable to escape. Even if he didn’t commit those three latest crimes, he’s already got a long record of murders.”

With no one sharing his doubt, Harry finally relented. He turned back to his toast and began chewing mouthfuls of it in silence.

Apparently, not only Ron and Hermione, but everyone seemed to take the news as a huge relief. At lunch, a new announcement about the Hogsmeade visit scheduled for next week was posted on the notice board, along with a notice of patrol cancellations from the Auror Department. This made Harry think of Tonks, and he hoped she’d get to enjoy doing more important missions rather than just patrolling.

A wave of excitement spread through the students and the teachers. Professor Flitwick practically sang an off-key tune while instructing them to cast the Aguamenti Charm. Even the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students seemed keen on the idea of going outside the school. 

Even Professor McGonagall was in an unusually good mood. She didn’t even reprimand Harry and Ron after they spent ten whole minutes during Switch Spells practice casting charms on each other, swapping their facial features with animal parts for laughs. Ron had managed to give himself a dachshund’s snout combined with an antelope’s muzzle, while Harry had transformed his ears into small elephant ears and his nose into a tapir’s. They did their best to look serious and attentive when McGonagall came over to check their progress at the end of class. The professor merely shook her head in exasperation.

“I see you both have mastered the art of the unnecessary flourish. Perhaps next time, you could apply that talent to following instructions?" she said dryly. Her reprimand earned a ripple of amused chuckles, and made Ron sheepishly change back to himself.

Clearing her throat, McGonagall continued, “Now, I have an announcement. For all students in fourth year and above, there will be a mandatory dancing lesson for Gryffindor House at the end of this week in preparation for the Yule Ball, which will be held in two weeks during the Christmas holidays.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the classroom. Lavender and Parvati exchanged gleeful giggles, Neville’s face flushed pink as he stared at McGonagall in awe, while Dean and Seamus shifted uncomfortably in their seats, looking horrified.

Harry raised his hand. “Professor, is the lesson compulsory? Ron and I don’t plan to go to the Yule Ball. Do we still need to attend?”

He was already planning to use that free time to read more about the cult fanatics and their immortality experiments he’d come across in the Restricted Section, and he still had Astronomy homework to finish, of all things.

McGonagall looked surprised by his question but quickly recovered. “Yes, Mr. Potter, the lesson is mandatory. Even if you and Mr. Weasley don’t plan to attend the ball, you still need to learn the basics of social etiquette and how to behave your age.”

The class burst into laughter. McGonagall then announced the time and location for the dance lesson and dismissed them five minutes early.

Hermione caught up with them outside the classroom. “Harry, you can’t be serious. You’ll have to go to the Yule Ball eventually.”

“Says who? I’m tired of getting any more attention, Hermione. Especially on the dance floor in a frilly suit of all places.”

His friend rolled her eyes. “Have you considered that Cedric might want to ask you to the Yule Ball?”

Harry blinked. “Um, no. But I don’t want to go anyway. I’ll just tell him later.”

Hermione gave him a look as though he had just started speaking in a foreign language. “I can’t believe it…” she muttered under her breath.

They walked past the Transfiguration Courtyard, where groups of students from other classes and years were chatting animatedly. The atmosphere felt lighter than usual, which might be the effect of the morning’s good news.

A familiar voice called Harry’s name. He turned to see Cedric jogging toward them, his tousled brown hair bouncing as he moved. It looked ridiculously soft, and Harry’s stomach flipped helplessly at the sight. Hermione gave him a knowing stare that screamed “Told you so,” then quickly grabbed Ron by the sleeve.

“We’ll be in the library,” she announced in a rush, dragging Ron away and leaving Harry behind.

Harry’s nerves prickled as Cedric approached. Around them, students glanced curiously and whispered behind their hands, but Harry tried his best to ignore them.

“Hi,” Cedric said, smiling.

“Hi,” Harry replied, nodding stiffly.

“I saw the Hogsmeade visit posted on the board this morning,” Cedric said, suddenly looking a bit shy. “I was wondering if you’d like to go together, you know.”

Harry fought off the blush creeping up his cheeks and gave a small shrug. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“It’s a relief not to have a convict on the loose anymore, isn’t it?” Cedric said lightly.

Harry didn’t want to sound paranoid like he had that morning with Ron and Hermione, so he kept his suspicions about Crouch’s arrest to himself. Better to save that conversation for another time. 

So, he said, “At least we’ve got some time for last-minute Christmas shopping.”

Cedric smiled, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s nice… Hogsmeade next week, then.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Uh—we’re heading to the library now. Do you want to come?”

Cedric shook his head slightly. “I’ve got my first Apparition training this evening. Sorry. I’ll join you next week.”

Harry nodded, a little dazed as he watched Cedric wave goodbye and walk off to join his friends, Miles and Phoebe, waiting near the courtyard entrance.

Then, all at once, a wave of excitement hit him. This would be the first time they went out on an actual date. In public. Not just sneaking into the Astronomy Tower at night or having a quiet picnic in a Muggle town. This would be real, official, visible.

Harry didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

His head still felt like it was wrapped in cotton as he floated toward the library, light on his feet while his heart hammered loudly in his chest. He kept thinking about what he and Cedric might do together. He had no idea what a proper date was supposed to look like. What couples even did. The word ‘couple’ alone made his mind go completely blank.

“So? What did Cedric ask you about?” Hermione asked innocently.

Harry looked down so she wouldn’t see his face. “He asked me about Hogsmeade.”

“That’s it? No Yule Ball dancing?”

Pulling out his star map and Astronomy notes, Harry sighed. “I told you, Hermione. I don’t want to go.”

She made a sulky noise but finally relented. Harry wasn’t sure why she was so determined to push this Yule Ball thing on him. It was getting a little annoying, so he changed the subject about himself. 

“What about you? Do you have anyone in mind to go with?”

The effect was immediate. Hermione’s face flushed red as she took a deep breath and shook her head a little too forcefully. “No—no, I’m not sure... I don’t—”

Harry smirked. “Come on, Hermione. You’ve been talking about this since the beginning of term.”

Ron, who had been quietly copying Hermione’s Potions notes for the past hour, suddenly perked up. “Who are you going with?”

“I—I don’t know!” Hermione said quickly. “Honestly, I don’t mind. If you two won’t go, I might just go with Ginny or Luna.”

“Neville’s going to ask Ginny. I’ve heard him talking to Dean,” informed Harry. 

Hermione sat up straighter. “Well, that’s fine by me. Aren’t you going to finish copying my notes, Ron? I need them for revision.”

Her abrupt subject change brought the conversation to a halt. She finally snatched her notes back from Ron, and they went back to working on their homework. Harry’s eyelids grew heavier each time he stared at the Planisphere star charts, trying to identify twelve constellations when all he could see were tiny dots and confusing oblique lines.

Remembering that he still had chocolate from Mrs. Weasley in his bag, Harry discreetly unwrapped one of the chocolate balls and quickly handed another to Ron. Hermione refused with a subtle shake of her head.

“Wow, thanks. I really need this,” Ron said, unfolding the wrapper and popping the sweet into his mouth.

As Harry chewed his raspberry-flavored one, a thought struck him. “I haven’t seen Krum in the library lately,” he said. Probably not since the first task, if he remembered correctly.

“Oh, he’s aware of the noise he causes here,” Hermione replied. “And he said he needed more space to practice spells. He still feels quite guilty about how things turned out with the Conjunctivitis Curse on the dragon, and for destroying half of its eggs.”

Her words came out so smoothly and offhandedly that both Harry and Ron stared at her, eyes wide.

“You talked to him? To Krum? ” Ron gaped.

Hermione looked taken aback, then turned slightly sheepish. “Well, yeah. He just came up to me and asked what kind of book I was reading—”

“Since when?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“I’m not sure. Last month, I guess.” Her cheeks flushed a little pink. “Honestly, it’s not a big deal. Viktor’s nice and a bit lonely, too. You two should get past his celebrity status and actually see him as a person. He said his schoolmates from Durmstrang focus more on the Dark Arts and competitions, so no one really helped him with the second task except Karkaroff.”

“You were annoyed with him before,” Harry pointed out.

Hermione sighed. “That was three months ago. I’m not holding a grudge, Harry.”

But Ron ignored her and pressed on. “You called him Viktor ?”

“That’s his name. What else would I call him?”

“And you’re saying he approached you first?”

A frown deepened on Hermione’s face as she lifted her chin and looked directly at Ron. “Yes. What’s the problem?”

Ron gave a half-shrug. “Well... it’s Krum. And you’re you . I just can’t believe he came up and talked to you like that.”

A flash of hurt crossed Hermione’s face, but Ron didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, it was already too late. The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, like a weight dropped on the table.

Harry glanced nervously between them and quickly blurted out, “Who wants more chocolate? Hermione?”

Hermione’s tear-filled eyes flicked to Harry, her voice trembling. “No. Thanks, Harry. But I’d better get back to the dorm. I just remembered I left Professor Babbling’s notes.”

She quickly gathered her scattered books and notes. Harry caught sight of a single tear slipping down her cheek as she turned and almost ran out of the library.

A few minutes passed in stunned silence. Ron looked almost ashamed and avoided Harry’s gaze. Without saying a word, Harry flicked his wand, carelessly shoving his star charts and notes back into his bag.

“I’ll go check on her,” he said before Ron could reply. Then he got up and hurried out of the library, passing Madam Pince, who scowled at his loud footsteps, with barely a glance.

But Harry didn’t catch Hermione in time. For one, he couldn’t even climb into the girls’ dormitory. The moment he tried, the stairs transformed into a slippery slide, sending him tumbling back down into the common room five times in a row.

A group of first-year students laughed at him, and Alicia Spinnet, who was on her way downstairs and had clearly witnessed his humiliation, kindly explained that the staircase was enchanted to prevent boys from sneaking into the girls’ dormitories.

“Stupid rule,” Harry muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder in defeat and heading back to his own dorm. The giddiness he’d felt earlier about Hogsmeade with Cedric had vanished, replaced by a gnawing worry.

When he reached the boys’ dormitory, it was empty except for Ron, who was sitting at the edge of his bed, guilt written plainly across his face. 

Good, Harry thought bitterly. It was your fault.

“How is she?” Ron asked uncertainly.

“Dunno. I couldn’t get to her dorm. It’s protected by some ridiculous spell,” Harry replied, throwing his bag onto the bed and dropping down to sit opposite his friend. “You shouldn’t have said that to Hermione.”

Ron’s fingers fidgeted nervously in his lap. “I know. It was awful.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging. He knew he couldn’t stay mad at Ron. He’d put his foot in his mouth more times than he could count and had hurt people he cared about without meaning to, just like Ron had.

“Just apologise to her first thing in the morning. I will too. We were both being stupid.”

His friend nodded slowly. “I will.”

“Good. I’m heading to the Great Hall to grab some dinner. You coming?”

But Harry noticed Ron hesitate. He didn’t move to get up.

“Um, actually… I’ve got something to tell you.” The freckles on Ron’s face deepened, and the tips of his ears turned red. An unmistakable sign that he was embarrassed or under pressure. Harry paused and sat back down, looking at him expectantly.

Ron took a deep breath, then blurted out everything in a rush. “I’m going to the Yule Ball. With Lavender Brown.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

His friend looked both mortified and sheepish. “We’re not dating or anything, just—uh, remember when I begged her to help me with Divination at the last minute? She’s actually really nice and helpful. But then… well, she asked if I’d like to spend a day with her, like her boyfriend or something.”

Harry stared at him, stunned, his mind reeling. “That night—I remember now! You came back and saw me asleep on the sofa.”

Ron’s ears were now as red as beetroot. “Yeah… that’s when she asked me. It was nice, though, you know?” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “She might seem annoying and nosy sometimes, but she’s genuinely nice.”

“You keep saying she’s nice. What did she want from you?” asked Harry sternly.

Ron looked startled. “Nothing! We were just hanging out… and kissed a bit.” His face turned scarlet, and he coughed awkwardly. “But it’s not like we did more than what you and Cedric already have.”

Harry chucked a pillow at him. “Hey! Don’t change the subject. So what now? Are you dating her?”

His friend shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess. She just asked me to go to the Yule Ball with her, and I said yes.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it… I thought you and Hermione…”

“What?”

“Nothing! Never mind,” Harry said quickly, cursing himself for saying it out loud. “And what are you going to wear? Your dress robes are being used as Pig’s cage cover now.”

Ron looked deflated. “Yeah… I guess I’ll have to fix them by hand. Fred told me some useful spells to adjust the length and get rid of those awful frills. Hopefully they’ll work.”

A thought occurred to Harry. “What if I lend you mine?”

Before Ron could refuse, Harry was already rummaging through his trunk and pulled out his dress robes, still neatly folded and wrapped, just as he had left them. 

“If you don’t mind the colour. I’m not even sure what it looks like — I never actually take a good look. Just adjust the shoulders and length a bit, and you’ll be fine.”

He handed the robe to his friend, who looked at it apprehensively. “Harry, are you sure?”

“Definitely. I’m not going anyway.”

“But don’t you want to go with Cedric?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“I don’t want to be the centre of attention or have people stare at me weirdly. I’m tired of it,” Harry said adamantly.

Ron placed the robe carefully on his bed but didn’t open it yet. He turned back to Harry. “Thanks, mate. Really.”

Harry nodded and gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. “Just promise me you’ll make up with Hermione tomorrow morning, yeah?”

Ron nodded quickly, “I will.”

***

As promised, Ron apologized to Hermione first thing in the morning over their grilled cheese sandwiches. But things didn’t return to normal, especially after he told her he would be going to the Yule Ball with Lavender Brown.

“Oh. Good,” Hermione replied coolly. Then she promptly buried herself in her Advanced Spells book and didn’t look up once throughout breakfast.

Ron looked too terrified to say anything else, so he said nothing at all. Harry, who witnessed the awkward tension between them, focused on shoveling food into his mouth and doing his best not to lose his sanity.

He decided to shelve the thought of asking Cedric about any of this until their Hogsmeade visit. He was certain the other boy could give some helpful advice about Ron and Hermione much better than him. Cedric had been incredibly busy the past two weeks with tutoring sessions, Prefect duties, and Apparition training every evening. Not to mention he still had to solve the clue from the golden egg for the second task. It was hard to even catch him during meals, especially since he was often surrounded by friends or housemates.

“Don’t you think someone will ask your boyfriend?” Fabian asked with a buzz of Yule Ball talks around them.

Harry jumped and choked on his boiled egg. 

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he coughed.

“And you’re not jealous about that?”

Harry shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, and didn’t reply.

If he was being honest with himself, it was a bit strange. Everyone seemed to assume he’d be going to the Yule Ball with Cedric. But if he turned Cedric down, it wasn’t like it would be the end of the world. Cedric could go without a date, right? Or he might go with his friends, just like Hermione said she would if no one asked her. Harry was sure Cedric would understand.

It wasn’t that big of a deal… was it?

He only half-listened as Fabian rambled on about being asked to the Yule Ball by two girls yesterday. Fred and George were currently at war after both deciding to ask Angelina Johnson, even betting on who she would say yes to — only to find out five minutes later that Angelina had already agreed to go with Malcolm Ruggs, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, who’d asked her the day before.

Aside from the awkward tension between Ron and Hermione, a week went by rather smoothly. It was the third day in a row that Harry hadn’t received any threats or angry shouting from random letters, so he counted it as a win. They also had time to catch up with Hagrid during the class, who couldn't contain his excitement about going to Yule Ball with none other than Madam Maxime, much to no one’s surprise. The dancing lesson during the week wasn’t so bad; Harry was just standing at the back, cracking up with the twins when McGonagall picked Ron as a partner to demonstrate the dance moves and teased him relentlessly afterward. 

The last subject of the week was Potions, and today’s assignment was the Wiggenweld Potion, a restorative draught that required careful precision. Snape had also threatened that it would count as part of their term assessment.

Harry’s head was bent over his cauldron, eyes scanning the cramped margin notes he’d scribbled during late-night study sessions, along with the ones he’d compared with Hermione. Malfoy’s quiet laughter echoed occasionally from across the aisle, but Harry didn’t pay attention.

Snape stalked past behind him. “Try not to melt the bottom of your cauldron, Potter,” he sneered without stopping.

By the time he decanted the potion into a glass vial, its contents shimmered a soft, opalescent green, exactly how it was described in the notes. Harry smiled smugly as he placed his work on Snape’s desk, just after Hermione had handed hers in. 

Snape picked it up, swirled it once, and said nothing. But the deep scowl on his face said Harry's done it perfectly. Not a single mistake for Snape to nitpick.

Take that, Harry thought, the corner of his mouth twitching with pride.

After they walked out of the dungeon fifteen minutes later, Hermione said excitedly, “That’s amazing, Harry. You brewed it perfectly! I saw—”

But before Harry could answer, Malfoy’s taunt echoed off the stone walls.

“Well, is that how you prove you’re a little too good at potions? Brewing love draughts for Cedric Diggory now, are you? Everyone should know by now how cunning you are.”

Harry tried to ignore the laughter that followed, thinking about how Malfoy’s potion had looked like muddy sludge instead of the translucent green it was supposed to be. It was nothing but a jealous jab.

“Eat shit, Malfoy,” Harry scorned.

Like a sore loser, Malfoy went on.

“Tell me, Potter,” Malfoy said, his eyes glinting with animosity, “do you get the boyfriend discount on broom servicing? Or does Diggory just polish more than your broomstick?”

Hermione stepped in front of Harry and grabbed his robe, whispering hurriedly. “Don’t. He wants you to get in trouble and lose more points in front of Snape!”

But Harry’s face had gone stony, his wand already in hand.

“You’re a disgusting piece of shit.”

Malfoy’s smirk widened. “And what are you going to do with it? fairy Potter?”

“Furnunculus! ”

A blast of light shot from Harry’s wand, but Malfoy clearly expected the attack and ducked just in time. The spell slammed into Goyle, who let out a blood curdling bellow as his face erupted with boils and pustules.

Malfoy retaliated immediately. “Densaugeo! ”

Hermione cried out as the hex struck her squarely in the mouth. Her front teeth began to grow uncontrollably, pushing past her lips, past her chin—

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, rushing to her side and wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder, trying to hide her face.

Harry’s temper snapped in half. His hand shook as he raised his wand again and charged toward Malfoy, about to curse him squarely when Snape burst from the classroom, his cloak flaring behind him.

“What is going on here?” His cold voice sliced through the chaos.

“Potter hexed Goyle!” Malfoy shouted instantly. “It was a dark curse! Look at him!”

Goyle was howling, clutching his face in agony.

“And Malfoy hexed Hermione!” Harry snapped. “Look at her teeth!”

Snape turned his gaze to Hermione. She was still shaking, her face hidden behind Ron’s robe.

“Her teeth don’t look any different to me,” Snape said flatly.

That broke something in Hermione. She let out a choked sob. Ron looked as if he might actually lunge at Snape himself.

Harry could barely hear anything. His ears were roaring. Even Hermione’s cries were a muffled hum under the fury buzzing in his skull. His voice when uttered was low and trembling with rage.

“You complete bigot!” Harry spat. “You call yourself a teacher, but all you’ve ever done is acting bitter and cruel. You pick favourites and punish anyone else for existing!”

The corridor fell dead silent. Everyone froze.

Snape’s face twisted with cold fury. “Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence. And fifty more for attacking another student. And since you’re clearly in need of time to reconsider your behavior, Potter, you’ll serve detention every evening until the term ends.”

He turned away sharply and snapped at Malfoy, “Get Mr. Goyle to the Hospital Wing.”

Ron was already guiding Hermione in the other direction, his robe wrapped around her face, covering her now-elongated teeth. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

Harry stood there for a moment, fury vibrating through his spine like a live wire.

***

In the next hour, Harry was sent to McGonagall. She informed him that she would have to send a letter to his parents, warning them about his insult to a teacher and the seriousness of his accusation.

McGonagall raised her hand before Harry could even try to argue.

“No, Potter. I won’t elaborate on why calling Professor Snape that was a serious and very foul accusation. You might not know this, but Professor Snape has been friends with your mother for years. He shouldn’t be spoken of with such disrespect, especially when it comes to claims of bias against a Muggle-born student.”

Harry still felt his anger simmering in his chest. He would never count Snape being friends with Lily as a reason to absolve him from being a thick-headed favoritist, if not for what McGonagall said next that plunged him into horror.

“You should be grateful the detention lasts only until the end of the month. You’re one detention away from getting a week’s suspension. There will be no time off for you until the end of this term.”

“But—”

“It’s not detention if you get to enjoy a day’s excursion and don’t feel penitent for what you did,” the Head of House explained strictly. “It’s also in the school’s rules, so let’s use this spare time to think about what you’ve done wrong instead.”

As if that wasn’t bad enough, McGonagall also sent Harry to Filch for his first detention. With his spiteful satisfaction at punishing students, Filch gave Harry the task of cleaning the entire old trophy room. That included polishing all the dusty trophies and awards no one cared about, without using magic, until he finished — no matter how long it took.

Harry groaned when he looked up at the vast, cluttered room. Defeated, he picked up the mop and water bucket Filch had given him and started to work.

It was tedious and torturous. The walls were stained with old graffiti, and Filch had specially ordered him to scrub it all off before even touching the trophy shelves. The room reeked of dust and putrid odor of something that might have died in the nooks and crannies. Harry thought bitterly of his unfinished Charms essay due tomorrow, that he might have to ask Flitwick for the extension. 

It took him an excruciatingly long hour to finish cleaning the floor. He was about to begin scrubbing with a dirty brush when a hand reached out and lifted the water bucket for him. Harry turned around and saw Cedric’s grey eyes met his.

Harry quickly looked around for Filch, who had been there a few moments ago. “What are you doing here? You’re not getting detention, are you?”

“No. But I figured you could use a hand. Don’t worry. Filch’s away for a while. I just told him the Devil’s Snare in the poisonous greenhouse had gone rogue and that Professor Sprout might need help.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Did you do that as a diversion?”

The older boy chuckled. “No! Well, not… exactly. A housemate told me about it. So, as a Prefect, I used it as an excuse to get Filch out of here.”

“You’re getting cheeky,” Harry shook his head with a smile.

Cedric smiled back, then his expression changed. “I’m sorry. I just heard from Ron what happened in Potions. He also wanted me to tell you that Hermione’s alright now. Madam Pomfrey fixed her teeth in just five minutes.”

Harry sighed in relief and resumed his scrubbing while Cedric sat beside him, taking another brush in hand to help.

“And how did you find me? Don’t you have Apparition training all week?”

“The trophy room’s always at the top of the list for detention spots. Prefects are supposed to know them in case we need to assign someone detention. And as for Apparition… I just skipped it.”

Harry looked at him, stunned. 

“It’s just for one day. I think I’ve already got the hang of Apparating over a short distance. I’ll just practice harder tomorrow to catch up. I’ll be fine.”

A sudden blush spread across Harry’s cheeks for the fact that Cedric had actually skipped his session just to find him. It was sweet, so much so that Harry quickly averted his gaze and stared dumbly at the dirty wall, trying to collect his thoughts.

“I just got banned from going to Hogsmeade,” Harry said eventually. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined it.”

But Cedric was still smiling. “At least we finally got some time together now.”

“In this dusty trophy room? Scrubbing mould and decades-old graffiti and breathing in centuries old dust?”

“Hmm. It’s not ideal, but I’ll take what I can get to be with you.”

Harry was glad the room was dimly lit and dusty so he could pretend he coughed because of the dust, not because of Cedric’s words.

“I gotta say, Diggory, your expectations for a date are on the floor.”

Cedric chuckled good-naturedly. “That’s not true. When it comes to you, they’re always high.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And I’m flattered by your delusions, but let’s not forget you’re Hogwarts’s golden boy who’s never gotten a detention in your life and this is my fourth or fifth this term.”

“It’s not about house points or behavior that I love about you. You stood up for Hermione, and I think that says so much about who you are.”

He said, so bloody casually, while cleaning the top part of the wall, without even looking at Harry whose heart was still pounding ridiculously fast for what he just heard. He wasn’t sure self-combustion was a magical thing, but for better or worse, Harry chose not to say anything. It was better not to lose his wits or look stupidly in love.  

They worked in companionable silence for quite a while until Cedric glanced at his watch and sighed regretfully. “Filch will be back soon. I think I’d better head off…”

Harry merely nodded.

The other boy dropped the brush and mop into the bucket. The setting was far from romantic (Harry furiously blushed just thinking of the word) but they were standing close now, and he could feel Cedric’s breath only inches away. He tried hard not to stare at Cedric’s lips or give in to the urge to close the gap and kiss him right there.

Cedric cleared his throat. “Well, before I go… I was planning to ask you next week at Hogsmeade, but since that’s not happening… um—would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Still looking at Cedric’s soft lips and lost in a fantasy of kissing him, Harry missed most of what he said. “What? Sorry?”

“The Yule Ball—would you like to go with me?” There was a slight tremble in the older boy’s voice.

“Oh,” Harry realised. “Uh—I’m not going. I was going to tell you, but I think I’m going to bail. Too much trouble for me, you know.” He vaguely gestured at himself and laughed nervously. “It’s just… a lot of misfortunes have happened because of me these past few weeks, and I really don’t want any more attention. It’s exhausting.”

Cedric blinked, his expression slowly shifting into confusion and slight disappointment. 

Then he nodded. “I get it. Sorry, I was thinking that… never mind. I didn’t think about how you’d feel. I should’ve.”

Harry hated seeing Cedric look so dejected. Watching him fumble over his words made it worse. 

“It’s not your fault! It’s just—either I go and ruin the dance somehow, or I embarrass both of us in public. Besides, I can’t go anyway. I gave my dress robes to Ron. His robes were ruined and I lent him mine, so he could go with Lavender Brown. It’s just… I can’t go. Sorry.”

Cedric’s face softened, and he leaned in to kiss Harry on the cheek. “That’s really kind of you. Don’t worry, I understand. We can hang out after the Yule Ball. I’ve got some clues about the egg. Maybe you can help me figure it out?”

Harry smiled. “Count me in.”

After finally scrubbing off the last of the graffiti on one wall, Harry was dismissed. Exhausted and starving, he trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to grab some dry chicken sandwiches from the common room before diving into his Charms essay and pulling an all-nighter to finish it or die trying.

In the common room, he found Hermione and Ron sitting together on the sofa. They both stood when Harry stepped through the portrait hole. He felt a bit of relief seeing them talking to each other again.

“How are you doing, mate?” Ron asked.

“Not bad. I was assigned to clean the trophy room. Nothing terrible, just boring as hell. What about you? How are your teeth, Hermione?”

Hermione smiled shyly. “I’m fine. Thank you, Harry.”

The reason both of them had waited for him, as Harry quickly realised and was immensely grateful for, was to help him finish his essay. Hermione sat beside him, walking him through the structure of the essay, while Ron had brought over extra reference books for Harry to use and let him read through his own essay for ideas. (Hermione refused to let Harry copy anything, but she generously agreed to proofread his finished draft.) By the time Harry was done, it was past midnight, and he was more than ready to crash on the sofa without even bothering to change.

“How could I pass this without you two?”

“You would’ve done fine if you didn’t constantly get on Snape’s bad side and land yourself in detention,” Hermione said gently.

“Either that, or you could just have Cedric help you,” Ron teased, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not dating the top student for nothing, right?”

Hermione giggled beside him. Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t date him so he can help me with homework. I’m not like you and Lavender.”

“Hey, that’s uncalled for!” Ron tossed a quill at him, though Harry noticed the brief flicker of discomfort on Hermione’s face. He cursed himself and made a mental note not to tease Ron about Lavender in front of her again.

“Speaking of, I just told Cedric I’m not going to the Yule Ball with him. And contrary to what you both think, he’s fine with it. See? No big deal. I’m sure Cedric doesn’t think much of it.”

Hermione’s eyes widened while Ron stared at him. “I thought you were joking! Merlin… then he’ll have to find someone else to go with. You really pushed him into a tight spot, mate.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean? I thought you could go without a partner. Hermione said so.”

Realisation dawned on Hermione’s face, followed by something like painful sympathy. 

“Oh, Harry. This isn’t the same. The three champions have to go with someone. They’re representing their school and all that. I think McGonagall even hinted at it when she announced the dance lessons and insisted that you attend. Everyone assumes you’re going with Cedric!”

“You didn’t know this whole time?” Ron asked, sounding amused and incredulous.

Harry looked between them, still in shock. Then everything fell into pieces. And he felt very, very stupid.

13

A week passed, Cedric still came to visit them regularly. He’d announced that he had passed the Apparition test just the week before Christmas, and on top of that, he’d found someone to take to the Yule Ball. 

Harry, on the other hand, was still cleaning the trophy room (now moving on to the shelves, which gave him absolute hell). He had long given up on mustering the courage to ask who Cedric was taking to the Yule Ball despite the burning curiosity sizzling in his frantic mind. 

He was certain Cedric would go with some pretty girl, someone who knew how to dance and didn’t stutter or fumble every time they touched his hand. Maybe it was Cho… Harry swallowed hard, trying not to imagine her in an impossibly beautiful gown, twirling in Cedric’s arms, both of them smiling, eyes locked under the fairy lights.

An uneasy feeling of seeing Cedric dancing with someone else rested in Harry’s stomach like a growling beast. 

Perhaps sensing the downward spiral Harry put himself in, Hermione kindly assured him that Cedric probably didn’t think much of it. Harry feigned his usual nonchalance, and asked her about the Hogsmeade visit instead. There was no way he’d ever admit he was jealous of whoever was going with Cedric to the Yule Ball (definitely Cho, his useless brain answered helpfully). No bloody way.

Harry had considered going home, catching the early train with the younger students who didn’t attend the Yule Ball until he received a letter from Lily saying that she, Euphemia, and James were traveling to the Isles of Scilly for warmer weather and some sort of water-based healing therapy, and would be back a week before the labour. Harry tried not to feel too anxious as Lily’s due date approached, but was also excited that he’d meet his sister by the year’s end. 

When the day of the Yule Ball arrived, snow blanketed the castle grounds in a shimmering layer. The view outside looked like a fairytale, or at least, that’s how Lavender described it. (She’d been hanging around Ron more lately.) But to Harry, it felt like the whole castle had been buried, sealing off from the world, and he was trapped in his own restlessness and self-pitying jealousy that he hadn’t wanted to admit.

Determined to keep his mind occupied, Harry planned to spend the night in the common room. At the very least, his Firebolt needed a serious once-over and a meticulous trim after enduring wear and tear all year. Right, the broom, Harry thought, trying to focus on maintenance instead of what would happen at the Yule Ball tonight.

With that plan set, he pushed his bitterness aside and kept moving. He’d helped Ron fix his own robes and adjust the length at the last minute, reassuring him repeatedly that the dark green colour didn’t look too bad with his red hair. At least it wasn’t the ghastly second-hand one with horrendous frills.

Ron stood in front of the mirror, looking self-conscious, his eyes flickering uneasily.

“I shouldn’t have said yes when Lavender asked me,” he muttered, staring down at his hands.

Harry nudged him lightly. “You seem to like her just fine. And she’s not that nosy or intolerable when she’s with you.”

His friend sighed. “Yeah, I’ve told you. She’s nice… but I—” He suddenly looked nervous, almost terrified. “I didn’t ask Hermione to go with me, and now she’s going alone. I don’t want her to feel bad.”

Harry stared at him, holding his breath.

Ron continued muttering distractedly, “Well, you know… it’s kinda obvious. I know you know, too. That she… the way she reacted when I told her I was going with Lavender. She was definitely angry at me a few weeks ago… before your detention and the Snape incident.” He took a breath. “I think Hermione likes me. And she’s jealous of Lavender.”

Wary of scaring Ron away from this whole revelation, Harry tried to keep his voice calm and casual.

“And you? Do you like her?”

Ron blinked in surprise, staring at Harry as if he’d grown another head. “What? No! I—Hermione’s my friend! Like you! Besides, I’m… sort of dating Lav now.”

Harry shrugged. “Being friends doesn’t mean you can’t like her.”

“I don’t,” Ron said quickly, taking a step back, a faint blush blooming across his freckled face. “I’m not—well, if you think about that… I’m just so conflicted about the whole awkwardness. I don’t want her to be alone, feeling horrible because no one asked her.”

Harry had always known Ron had a soft spot like that. It was sweet—too bad his friend was just too thick to realise how he really felt about Hermione. It made Harry want to knock some sense into him.

But instead, he clapped Ron on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s all right. Maybe I’ll walk her to the entrance. You go with Lavender. Have fun.”

Ron looked a bit more at ease and gave Harry a small, anxious smile before tugging his wand into his sleeve and heading downstairs.

Shortly after he disappeared, a soft bell rang from the Great Hall, echoing up to the dormitory balcony and signaling that the entrance to the Hall was now open. Harry grabbed his Firebolt, his servicing kit, and the broom care handbook Sirius had bought him, then hobbled down the stairs. It was better to stay in the common room, just in case he could catch Hermione and see if she was all right.

The living room was nearly empty. Not many younger students had remained at school over Christmas. Harry caught a glimpse of the twins, hurriedly buttoning up their robe jackets and fixing their hair. They waved at him before dashing out through the Fat Lady’s portrait, each carrying a bulging bag that swung wildly on their shoulders that looked suspiciously like they were up to some prank or another bit of mischief for the night.

He also greeted Ginny, who was wearing a light green dress and had pinned her hair back nicely. As she passed him, he told her to have fun. The girl’s face turned slightly pink as she mumbled back a thank you.

Harry carefully placed his broom on the long table in front of the fireplace and opened the handbook. He was just unscrewing the jar of Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish when he heard Parvati’s voice greeting him as she made her way out of the tower. Dressed in a bright red sari, she looked stunning. 

“Has Hermione already left?” he asked, worried he might miss his friend.

Parvati’s face lit up. “Hermione’s there! She’ll be down in a minute. Oh, Harry, you won’t believe it!” 

She didn’t wait for him to respond before waving goodbye and disappearing through the portrait hole.

Harry didn’t have long to wonder what she meant before he heard footsteps coming from the girls’ dormitory. He turned around and froze.

It was Hermione.

She looked almost unrecognisable. Her hair was no longer frizzy. It had been straightened, perhaps with a spell, and now fell in soft, glossy waves with delicate curls at the ends. Her light blue dress, with soft puffed sleeves, highlighted her features in a way that made her look more graceful and far from her usual everyday appearance. She also wore make up, which was something Harry had never seen before.

“Wow, Hermione,” he breathed, getting up and walking toward her. “You look amazing!”

Her face turned pink as she smiled coyly. “Thanks… I was worried I might look ridiculous.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, swallowing anxiously. “I just don’t feel like myself. With this dress and all…”

Seeing her hesitation, Harry reached out and touched her arm gently. It was something he remembered Lily doing often. An instinctive, reassuring gesture that always helped calm his nerves.

“You look beautiful. I’m sure someone will come up and ask you to dance the moment you walk into the Hall.”

Hermione looked even more flustered. “About that… someone’s already asked me, Harry.”

When he looked at her in confusion, Hermione cleared her throat, looking sheepish and visibly nervous. Her fingers were shaking slightly.

“Remember when I told you I’d been talking to Viktor—uh, Krum. He asked me to go with him. Just last week, during the Hogsmeade visit.”

“Krum asked you?!”

“I know, I know. I couldn’t believe it either. I’m not—I’m not the kind of girl someone usually asks for a thing like this.” Her face flushed even deeper.

“No, no, that’s not why I was shocked. Bloody hell, Hermione.”

It was probably an instinct, but suddenly Harry felt very protective of her. After everything he’d been through, with the nasty scandals about him and Cedric over the past few months… 

Hermione might end up facing the same thing. Or worse.

Not wanting to ruin her night with his bad feelings, he gave her a quick hug instead.

“Come on. I’ll walk you to the entrance. Where are you meeting Krum?”

A wave of visible relief washed over Hermione’s face. She smiled at him gratefully.

“The west corridor. Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded, understanding the unspoken words Hermione didn’t say: Thank you for not making fun of me. 

All along, he’d been caught up in Hermione’s grudge against Ron dating Lavender. Maybe he had read the whole situation wrong. 

He’d berate himself for his own stupidity later. Right now, Harry offered his arm to Hermione, which she accepted with a smile as they walked side by side through the Fat Lady’s portrait.

As they descended the stairs and neared the Great Hall corridor, Hermione suddenly asked him.

“Don’t you want to know who Cedric’s going with?”

Harry deflated. “Nope.”

“You can still go, you know.”

“I’m in baggy jeans and my dad’s old hoodie, Hermione. I’ll look like a clown. Or worse, the hag Skeeter will write some trash about how I’m an attention seeker, not a Quidditch Seeker.”

She chuckled softly. “I can’t believe what love does to you.”

“What?” His voice came out as a weak squeak.

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly. “I just meant… I can’t believe how much you’ve changed, just from being in love with someone. The infamous Harry Potter who never flinched at anything is suddenly all cautious and shy.”

“I’m not shy!” Harry protested.

“Oh, you are! Especially with Cedric. You’re always blushing and stuttering,” she giggled.

Harry scowled at her.

“Oh, don’t be so glum! It’s cute. I’m sure Cedric loves every version of you.”

“Where’s Krum? I’m done chaperoning you.”

She laughed again, slowly releasing his arm. “He’s there.”

In a quiet corner, Harry spotted Krum’s slightly stooped posture. The Durmstrang champion wore a red suit trimmed with gold along the sleeves and buttons, elegant and proper. Krum straightened immediately when he saw them approaching. 

Harry couldn’t help the smug smile tugging at his lips when he caught the stunned expression on the boy’s face upon seeing Hermione in her Yule Ball dress.

“Have fun dancing,” Harry smirked at Hermione, gave Krum a nod, and waved before heading back.

***

On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry nearly bumped into someone at the bottom of the staircase. He stumbled back slightly, only to look up and see a familiar figure in a sharp white dress robe, slightly wrinkled from leaning against the wall. 

“Fabian?” Harry blinked, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Ball? You said two girls asked you.”

The other boy grinned, pushing his blond hair out of his face. “And they did. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor sixth-years. Both very determined.” He winked. “I told them I’ll catch up in a bit. Just didn’t fancy walking into the hall at the same time as Fleur. She tends to… make a performance of it.”

Harry huffed a small laugh. 

“Besides,” Fabian continued, now visibly more animated, “I just got back from the kitchen. You’ll never guess whom I ran into. One of the elves knows you and Cedric.”

“Dobby?” Harry asked, eyes widening.

“Oui!” Fabian said cheerfully. “He said he’s working here now. I was grabbing a snack and we had a nice little chat. You want to come meet him?”

Harry hesitated for only a moment, thinking about his Firebolt left in the living room that he could trim its bristles at any time before nodding, “Sure. Lead the way.”

The way was quieter than usual as most students were either at the Ball or went home. They walked through the lower corridors of the castle, passing an arched hallway lined with ancient suits of armor, then descended a narrow spiral staircase lit only by flickering torches.

“Fred and George showed me,” Fabian said, tapping his fingers along the stone wall before stopping at a large painting of a bowl of fruit. “I’m pretty sure they sneak down here for extra roast potatoes. Or crème. Possibly both.”

With a quick motion, Fabian reached out and tickled the green pear. It gave a soft giggle, then turned into a gleaming brass door handle. He turned it, and the door creaked open.

The warmth of the Hogwarts kitchen hit them immediately. It was bustling, large and filled with copper pots clanging, steam curling from cauldrons, and house-elves darting everywhere, chopping, stirring, and lifting dishes to long tables that mirrored those in the Great Hall above. The air smelled rich with spices and roasted meat.

Noticing Harry’s slight hesitation, Fabian said. “Don’t worry. They’re used to me by now. I’ve been down here more times than I should probably admit.”

They weaved their way through the busy elves until Fabian stopped at a far corner. “There he is.”

Dobby was standing on a small stool, decorating an enormous icing-covered cake that looked like it belonged at a royal wedding. He wore a bright orange sock and a knitted tea cosy as a hat, both mismatched but looked perfect on him.

“Harry Potter!” Dobby squeaked, eyes going wide. He leapt off the stool and ran straight into Harry’s legs, clutching him in a tight hug. 

“Harry Potter has come to see Dobby! Oh, what a wonderful night this is!”

Harry smiled, kneeling down to Dobby’s level. “It’s good to see you, Dobby. How’ve you been?”

“Dobby has travelled far, Harry Potter. Dobby worked for a wizarding family in Wales for a time, doing household chores, but now Dobby is here!” His eyes sparkled. “Dobby wants to learn proper wizard cooking! So Dobby asked Professor Dumbledore, and he gave Dobby a job!”

Harry looked around. “All these elves… they work here too?”

“Yes, yes!” Dobby nodded rapidly. “Many used to serve in noble wizarding houses. But their masters died, or freed them, and they had nowhere to go. The Headmaster gave them a home. They do not get paid, but they like working at Hogwarts. Only Dobby asked for pay.” He puffed his chest proudly.

Fabian crossed his arms, leaning casually against the countertop. “It’s strange, you know — in my home, house-elves aren’t kept like this anymore. They’re considered citizens. Can’t imagine having one bound to a family.”

Harry gave him a thoughtful look, but before he could say anything, Dobby chimed in. “Dobby also brought a friend. She was just freed. Her name is Winky.”

He gestured toward a shadowed corner of the kitchen. There, curled on a bench and wrapped in what looked like a dirty tea towel, was a much smaller elf with drooping ears and wide, watery eyes. She wasn’t moving, just sitting with her knees hugged to her chest and sniffling softly.

“Who happened to her?” asked Harry carefully.

“The family Winky's been loyal to for many, many years just gave her a scarf, Harry Potter. Winky was still in shock. She couldn’t believe she was dismissed after what happened at the Crouch manor.”

Harry stiffened, now that he realised he was looking at the house-elf from the Crouch family. The only other soul in the house when the younger Crouch tried to ambush his father. 

“You mean she was freed after Barty Crouch Jr. had been caught?”

Dobby nodded. “Winky was with them that night. She would never disobey Mr. Crouch. But… he freed her. Said it was for the best.”

Harry stared at the trembling elf, his heart aching. “She doesn’t look well.” 

“Winky has not eaten much,” Dobby said sadly. “She will not work. All she does is cry, and she does not speak.”

Without a word, Fabian approached her and gently placed a hand on her thin shoulder. Winky flinched, and then burst into tears again, trembling as she leaned away. Fabian crouched and murmured something soothing in French. His voice was quiet. Winky didn’t respond, but she didn’t move away either.

Dobby watched them and sighed. “Dobby hopes she will get better here. It is a good place. Hogwarts is home.”

As they stood, a stack of dishes floated upward and vanished, clearly being magicked up to the Great Hall. An elf passed them a large plate of warm pastries and handed Fabian and Harry a pair of goblets filled with chilled pumpkin fizz.

Fabian took a bite of a pastry, then glanced at Harry. “You know, I don’t get how anyone could throw someone like her away just because it’s convenient.”

Harry nodded, chewing quietly. “Why did Crouch even do it? After all that loyalty…”

“Maybe he didn’t want the reminder,” Fabian said softly. “Or maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, it’s a rotten fate. I hope she finds some peace here.”

They left the kitchen shortly after, their footsteps echoing as they walked past old portraits and a long gallery room. From ahead, faint music drifted down the corridor. It was no longer classical waltzes, but pulsing, lively rock rhythms and the clash of drums and guitars.

Harry checked his watch. It had been over an hour since he left with Hermione.

Fabian elbowed him lightly. “Sounds like the boring part’s over. I should go back, find a nice girl who’ll let me spin her around the floor. You should come. Everyone’s dancing now. The stuffy ceremony’s done.”

“I don’t know,” Harry glanced down at his hoodie and jeans. “I’ll look—”

Fabian clapped a hand on his shoulder. “No one cares anymore. Just music and a lot of stomping feet. Come on.”

Before Harry could argue, Fabian was already dragging him by the arm, pulling him toward the now-wide doors of the Great Hall. 

The sight that greeted him was a bit overwhelming.

The hall had been transformed into a glittering ice palace. Frosted garlands draped the rafters, enchanted snowflakes drifted lazily from the ceiling, and the walls sparkled with silver light. Where the long House tables had once stood, enormous fountains glittering stars cascading instead of water. The dance floor now heaved with students laughing and dancing in a blur of color and movement. A magical band played loudly on stage, blasting rock beats that vibrated through the floor.

Fabian grinned and gave him a push forward. “Go on. Just one dance. Or five.”

He shouted and waved cheerfully at Veronica McDuff, a sixth-year Gryffindor dancing with her friends, before turning back to Harry, giving him a wink, then waltzed into the crowd with nimble steps, leaving Harry shaking his head in disbelief.

Within a minute, Harry had finally adjusted to the loud noise from the enchanted speakers and the cheerful screams rising in waves. Unsure of what to do, he glanced around the crowd, trying to blend into the shadows and standing stiffly near the tables on the left.

In the background, he spotted the large figure of Hagrid as he was talking animatedly with Madam Maxime, his arms gesturing wide while she nodded with a small smile. Near one of the icy columns, Fleur Delacour stood radiant as ever, her silvery dress catching the light as she laughed at something, surrounded by a small group of boys hanging on her every word.

Harry blinked and looked away, trying not to feel even more out of place than he already did.

Then someone called his name.

Harry turned around and froze, caught completely off guard as Cedric walked up to him.

He looked… if Harry dared to admit it, breathtakingly handsome. His face flushed as soon as the word formed in his head. He’d always found Cedric attractive in a vague sort of way, but this was different. This was the first time he actually noticed how good-looking he was. Cedric wore black dress robes embroidered with silver, the lapels resting neatly on his shoulders in a way that made him look effortlessly elegant. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d just run a hand through it before walking in, and somehow, it made him look even more impossibly touchable.

There was something about the way Cedric carried himself tonight. Grounded, but lit from within. The silver threads in his robes caught the light that made Harry feel like he was seeing him properly for the first time.

Then Cedric smiled. Wide, bright, familiar, like the boy Harry had always known. Just… impossibly more stunning. Incredibly attractive.

Harry’s chest tightened. 

“You came!” Cedric said breathlessly, his face slightly flushed, probably from walking across the hall to find him. Once he stepped closer, Harry noticed a silver earring glinting in his ear, making the lines of his face look even more beautiful.

Suddenly, Harry felt self-conscious in his own clothes. He must look sweaty from being dragged up from the kitchens.

“Yeah, well… I just came with Fabian, but he’s gone now with the sixth-year girls.”

A small frown appeared on Cedric’s face. “You came with Fabian?”

“Sort of. I ran into him, actually. We went to the kitchen and met Dobby! You know him...”

Harry felt like he was fumbling again. He groaned, “Ah, bloody— I’ll tell you later. How about you? Having a good Christmas night?”

He tried to sound casual, praying his voice wouldn’t betray him or his burning curiosity. 

Cedric smiled, so dashingly. “I am. Luna’s great company, but I was actually thinking about how I’d find you after the Ball ended.”

Harry blinked. “You—you came with Luna?”

“Yeah, she’s right there, dancing with Neville and Ginny.” Cedric gestured toward the crowd, and that’s when Harry spotted Luna. She dressed in a silvery gown that curved softly around her figure. Her blonde hair was braided into two buns, and she was dancing, more like to herself, beside Neville and Ginny who looked content just watching her move.

“You two have matching colours,” Harry teased, and the other boy chuckled.

“Luna was kind enough to make her own dress somehow at the last minute. I taught her to dance a few nights ago, and she nearly took over the dance floor when we had to open the ball.”

Harry could imagine that. He grinned. “Wasn’t she stealing the spotlight from Delacour?”

Cedric hummed. “Fleur isn’t as uptight as she looks. She just doesn’t feel very confident speaking English. The one who’s really in the spotlight tonight is Hermione. Everyone was staring at her until they finally realised who she was. She looks beautiful.”

Harry smiled, feeling proud of his friend, then asked whether Cedric had seen her.

“Yeah, on the dance floor with Krum. Haven’t seen Ron since the band started playing, but he’s been with Lavender the whole time. Come on, let’s get you something to drink.”

Cedric placed a hand on Harry’s back as they walked through the crowd toward the side of the hall, where soda punch and non-alcoholic champagne were being served. Cedric quickly whispered, “Fred and George tried to put a drunken spell on the beverages, but Professor Flitwick caught them just in time.”

Two glasses floated idly toward them. Harry gladly grabbed one, grateful to have something to do besides gawking at Cedric. He was definitely gawking. Averting the older boy’s eyes, Harry was glancing around the room, pretending to admire the ice fountain sculpture and the dazzling enchanted stars overhead.

The music shifted into a more upbeat rhythm. Cedric leaned in close, his face near Harry’s ear. “It’s the Weird Sisters. I think this song is their latest single.”

“You’re a fan,” Harry remarked, trying to keep his voice casual despite the quickened pace of his heartbeat.

Cedric smiled. “I am. Their blasting drums really help ease stress. Want to head to the dance floor?”

Harry was surprised by the question and Cedric’s enthusiasm. “Nah. It kind of defeats the purpose of me not coming in the first place. I just… hate being looked at like that. Sorry.”

A flicker of emotion crossed Cedric’s face, but it was gone before Harry could make sense of it. Then Cedric nodded.

“What if we sneak out of here and go somewhere else?”

“Where would you want to go?”

The boy’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, and his eyes lit up. “I know a place. Let’s go.”

Before Harry could reply, Cedric reached out and gently took his hand, guiding him in the opposite direction toward the south exit that led outside the castle. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Cedric, without looking back, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. They walked side by side, steering past a group of fifth-year Slytherins, who turned and whistled lewdly at them.

Cedric didn’t stop. He simply used his robe to wrap around Harry’s shoulders, shielding him from the curious stares and crude remarks.

Once they reached the outside, the real cold hit Harry’s face so sharply it almost made him stumble. It was snowing. A few couples were scattered around the grounds, taking advantage of the dim lighting to huddle close together or kiss on benches despite the bloody cold air. Harry tried not to look too startled by the scenes around him as Cedric pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him and draping his black robe over Harry’s shoulders. He guided Harry around to the back of the castle, where the soft green glow of the greenhouses flickered in the distance.

Harry was certain Cedric would suggest going to one of the greenhouses — just like two years ago, when he’d led him to another building that looked like a makeshift dome. Sure enough, Cedric pulled out his wand, and without a word, the door lock sprang open.

“Don’t get too cocky,” Harry said with mock seriousness when Cedric turned and smirked at him.

The dome turned out to be another indoor garden with no windows. Plants and flowers hung from the walls and filled the aisles in pots and earthy beds. They looked taller than usual, painted in strange colors — shimmering purple leaves, glowing blue stems. Some petals reflected the lamp light with iridescent brightness as Cedric flicked the switches on the posts.

“It’s the Nocturnal Plants Dome,” Cedric explained with a smile. “Professor Sprout just started the project this year. They’re sensitive to sunlight, so they stay sheltered in here unless the glass roof opens at night.”

He pointed up, and Harry followed his gaze to the transparent dome roof, revealing the dark velvet sky above and snowflakes falling gently — just like the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall.

“I found out about this place during Prefect patrols,” Cedric added shyly. “I’ve been meaning to show you for a while, but we’ve been both pretty busy.”

Turning away from a plant with the longest pollen strands Harry had ever seen, he scoffed, “You mean I’ve been busy getting detention for a whole month.”

“That’s not exactly new for you,” Cedric replied smoothly.

Harry feigned a shock, “Did you just call me a troublemaker?”

Cedric laughed, and Harry had a hard time hearing what he said next, mostly because he couldn’t stop thinking about how nice Cedric’s laugh sounded.

“It’s just you being you. I’m used to it… and honestly, I find it kind of endearing.”

Harry cleared his throat. “That’s a weird way of telling someone you fancy them. By telling them you enjoy seeing me get detention.”

Cedric’s face flushed. “I’m bad at this, aren’t I?” he said sheepishly, then stepped closer and reached for Harry’s hand. “I should’ve just said that no matter what you do, I’ll always be so attracted to you.”

“That only makes it worse,” Harry mumbled, fully aware that his face was now definitely redder than Cedric’s. He didn’t get the chance to add another snarky comment before the older boy’s hand cupped his face and kissed him.

A soft scent of soap, or something even more pleasant, drifted up as Harry inhaled the closeness between them. Cedric always smelled nice, but this time it was almost intoxicating.

Cedric slowly pulled away. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all week.”

Harry honestly wondered if people could die from blushing too hard. Did Cedric just take Veritaserum? Because these brutally, faithfully honest words weren’t just catching him off guard, they were going to kill him. He couldn’t handle this.

“I—I smell weird,” Harry blurted.

“No, you don’t. You’re perfect,” Cedric replied, kissing him again on the forehead.

“Says the one who looks impeccable in dress robes,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

Cedric chuckled. “My dad picked them. Bit too fancy for me, honestly.”

Harry’s fingers laced around the silver embroidery and lapels of Cedric’s robes, and he swallowed, speaking almost absentmindedly. “It suits you.”

It makes you look even more handsome and I’m going to incinerate just to be near you, he thought helplessly.

Cedric glanced at Harry’s fingers fiddling with his collar and murmured softly, “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry… for being so stupid. When you asked me to the Yule Ball, I didn’t know… that it was a champion thing,” Harry blurted out.

Cedric shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. When I said I understood how you feel... all the pressure, the scandals, I meant it. You shouldn’t be forced or expected to be with me if you don’t want to. You said from the beginning you didn’t want to be overwhelmed. And the Yule Ball... I knew it wasn’t your thing, and I know how much you hate that.”

Harry bit his lip. “Maybe I’d like to try, you know… letting loose. If it’s something I get to do with you.”

Cedric looked at him - really looked - and Harry felt like those grey eyes could burn straight through him. 

Then Cedric held out his hand.

“Dance with me?”

Stumbling over his own thoughts, Harry looked down briefly at Cedric’s waiting hand… and took it.

Wordlessly, Cedric placed Harry’s hand on his shoulder and slowly rested his own on Harry’s waist — a standard dancing gesture, but Harry felt like he’d been hit with a body-freezing charm, and stiffened instantly.

Patiently, Cedric guided him through the steps, telling him which foot to move forward and back. He even tried to teach Harry how to spin, but Harry just couldn’t time it properly.

“Shit, sorry,” Harry blurted as he stepped on Cedric’s foot again . He kept staring down at his shoes, cursing his sudden clumsiness. He had never been clumsy in his life, for fuck’s sake. And now, here he was, in jeans and James’s dark grey hoodie. He looked like an unruly young boy, compared to Cedric, who was now a proper young man.

“Maybe you need a rhythm,” Cedric said gently. Then he began to hum a soft tune, nodding his head along and taking Harry’s hand again to lead him.

Harry had heard him hum before during the summer, usually while wearing an earphone in one ear, the other song blasting in the background. But now, without any music, Cedric’s hum felt raw and sweet, with a slight crack in his voice. The low vibrations traveled through their joined hands and where their bodies touched, sending shivers down Harry’s spine. A wave of warmth curled in his stomach.

The soft tune helped. Harry slowly got the hang of the steps, though he remained cautious, worried he’d get lost in Cedric’s voice and trip over him again.

Cedric eventually stopped humming. “Will you look at me, Harry?” 

His voice was low and gentle and very, very close to Harry’s ear.

“I can’t. I’ll step on your feet again.”

“You won’t.”

“You never know that,” Harry muttered half-heartedly.

There was a short pause.

“Tell me about Dobby. You met him in the kitchen. How’s he doing?”

Harry finally looked up, meeting Cedric’s grey eyes. He realised, too late, that it was a trick to get him to stop staring at his feet, but he relented and began recounting the story.

Surprisingly, he didn’t miss a single step while telling it.

Eventually, they stopped dancing, and Cedric let go of Harry’s hand, a slight frown creasing his brow.

“That’s a little strange,” he murmured.

Harry raised his hands. “I know, right? Crouch just freed Winky after the night his son was arrested.”

“We don’t know for sure if it happened right after that night,” Cedric said thoughtfully. “It could’ve been for a number of reasons, at any time after. Maybe Barty Crouch Jr.’s arrest made him realise something. Maybe it pushed him to make a change.”

“Winky was devastated,” Harry said quietly. “Unlike Dobby, she was completely inconsolable, like she hadn’t expected to be abandoned just like that.”

There was a bench at the corner of the dome, and Cedric guided him to sit.

“What are you thinking?” Cedric asked.

Harry was a little surprised at how easily Cedric read him.

“I just find it weird… even the way it was in the papers. Why did Crouch send his son to Azkaban all of a sudden without a trial? I bet Crouch Jr. will get the Dementor’s Kiss before he even gets a court date. And now this… throwing Winky away like that. That night, there were just Crouch Sr. and his house-elf. Then his son sneaks in and tries to kill him. Their duelling like proper wizards made it even more weird. Then he gets caught. That’s it? Something doesn’t add up.”

“And a Beauxbatons student who just happens to know the way to Hogwarts’ kitchen,” Cedric pointed out.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Harry turned to Cedric. “What do you mean? Fabian knows the way because of Fred and George. It didn’t seem strange to me.”

Cedric gave a tight smile, his eyes showing a flicker of unease. “The way to the kitchen is something mostly only Prefects and Hufflepuffs know. It’s kind of a house secret, since our common room is nearby. I don’t know how Fred and George found out how to tickle the pear, or who told them. But Fabian? He leads you straight there, already dressed for the Yule Ball?”

Harry tried to recall anything odd about their encounter but came up with nothing. 

“Fabian was even gentle with Winky. He went to comfort her, but she couldn’t talk through the crying. He said that in the French wizarding community, elves aren’t required to serve wizards. They’re treated more like citizens.”

Cedric sighed. “Of course. The French have a more progressive wizarding history, if you want to call it that. But they’re also small in numbers and keep their distance from Muggles. That’s why most of the Beauxbatons exchange students only speak French. Their community’s strong and prosperous enough that they don’t need much to do with outsiders. I’m just surprised Fabian speaks English so well.”

Raising his eyebrows, Harry asked, “Do you have something against Fabian?”

Cedric looked taken aback. He blinked. “No, I don’t. What makes you think that?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “Cedric, you just gave a lecture on the French wizarding community just to prove that Fabian’s strange!” He laughed harder when he saw Cedric looking completely bewildered. “I mean, I admit he’s a little eccentric, but nothing I haven’t seen before in Sirius or James. He’s laid-back — but in a cool, harmless way. Actually… I think he’s kind of the opposite of you!”

To his surprise, Cedric huffed, uncharacteristically. “I can be easy-going and cool.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Harry laughed and gave Cedric’s chest a playful push. 

Then a thought struck him, and everything clicked. “Do you… are you jealous?”

It was too good. A wave of blush bloomed across Cedric’s cheeks, and though he said nothing, the silence was all the confirmation Harry needed. His jaw dropped before he burst into laughter.

“You said you came to the Yule Ball with him,” Cedric mumbled, clearly flustered, still not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. “And you mentioned seeing him a few other times too…”

“That doesn’t mean I fancy him!” Harry spluttered, failing to stifle his grin.

“He’s not bad-looking either,” Cedric muttered.

“Undoubtedly. He’s way more handsome than you,” Harry said, nodding solemnly. “His blond hair looks really soft, and those blue eyes are pretty dreamy, actually.”

“Oh,” Cedric said flatly, looking like Harry had just told him he failed his History of Magic exam.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He gave Cedric a light punch on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! I’m messing with you!”

Relief washed over Cedric’s face, and his shoulders sagged against the wall.

“Did you really believe what I said?” Harry asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know. You’ve said you like me because I like Quidditch, and I’m kind, and not bad-looking. It’s not that hard to find someone else like that, is it?”

Harry cursed himself. Just for a second, he’d forgotten that he was talking to someone who literally put his name into the Goblet of Fire and risked his life just to impress him.

He reached out and took Cedric’s hand, looking at him earnestly.

“Maybe I didn’t say it right. Or maybe I just wasn’t totally honest with you,” Harry began. “But the truth is… I don’t have a particular reason. And I probably won’t — even if I tried. Fuck, how do I explain this? It’s just there . The feeling. I don’t even remember when it started. Maybe it was seeing you on a broom. But it doesn’t matter. I know I could’ve fancied you even if you had pox on your face. Because I’ve spent half my childhood thinking about you. I’ve seen you be stupid and preachy, and also honest and noble. It’s just you that I like. The whole you.” Harry exhaled hard. “And I made a mistake trying to simplify it.”

He paused, then added quickly, “But it doesn’t mean I don’t like you being kind and hot, either.”

And then he realised his second (or maybe third) mistake that he’d just called Cedric hot .

Well. It was time to die. Nothing could be more terrifying than this.

Cedric just looked at him, gaze steady, grey eyes wavering slightly. Harry watched his chest rise and fall with a few slow breaths before he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry… that I doubted you.”

Harry chuckled. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of funny. I never thought you could get jealous—”

But he didn't finish. For the first time, Cedric didn’t let him.

He cupped Harry’s face and kissed him, pressing their lips together. It happened so suddenly that Harry didn’t even have time to close his eyes. He found himself staring at Cedric’s eyelashes, his glasses bumping into the other boy’s nose. But that wasn’t what made his heart race into full-blown panic as he realised how their lips met.

Harry’s lips had been slightly parted, and Cedric, chasing after the kiss in a moment of urgency, brushed his tongue against Harry’s — just barely. A small, accidental touch.

He heard Cedric gasp softly, but the boy didn’t pull away. Harry’s hands shot out, gripping the front of Cedric’s dress robes, surely wrinkling the fine fabric as he clutched it tight. Slowly, almost shyly, Harry shut his eyes and tentatively rolled his tongue forward to meet Cedric’s.

They both gasped in surprise.

When the older boy placed a hand on Harry’s head, it wasn’t to playfully ruffle his hair like usual, but to hold him firmly. His tongue parted Harry’s lips more fully now, deepening the kiss.

As Cedric shifted the angle, freeing himself from the awkward press of Harry’s glasses, he pushed forward, tongue warm and weighted as it moved deeper into Harry’s mouth, nuzzling gently. Harry let out a whimper, his breath growing short and fast. 

In that moment, he could hear nothing but the thunder of his own heartbeat, the ragged sounds of their breathing, Cedric’s soft hum, and the wet, rhythmic movements in his mouth. The sensations that would burn into his memory forever.

Overwhelmed, Harry finally pulled away, panting. As their lips parted, a strand of saliva stretched and dropped onto his hand, making him blush furiously.

They stared at each other, both red-faced, breathless. Harry’s eyes flicked down to Cedric’s lips, now red and slightly swollen from kissing him. 

And suddenly, like a wave crashing over him, the terrifying thought hit: Cedric had just spent a good few minutes kissing him. With bloody tongues touched.

Cedric opened his mouth to say something, but Harry beat him to it.

“Don’t apologise,” he blurted. “Because I really, really liked it.”

Cedric froze, then smiled, shyly, his cheeks still burning bright red. The sight was so adorably attractive, Harry felt his heart skip a beat.

“I liked it, too.”

And then they both grinned, like two boys who had just discovered the secret of the universe. A secret only they understood, just the two of them and no one else.

14

Harry didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. Not after discovering that kissing Cedric was the best fucking thing in the world.

It was all he could think about. His body felt restless, his heart was pounding so hard against his chest he feared he might die of heart failure or one of those strange diseases Lily had once mentioned.

He tried replaying the kiss in his mind while lying in bed, but it couldn’t quite capture the real sensation: how Cedric had shifted, rolled his tongue, and sucked gently at Harry’s, a breath between them filled with anticipation, dread, and dizzying excitement. It was maddening, and exhilarating. Alive. 

When sleep finally took him, it was almost four in the morning. He let go of the faint echo of kisses still lingering in his head and surrendered to rest.

He woke again almost noon on Christmas Day and practically floated downstairs to the common room. A few sixth years lounged on their usual sofa, and the seventh years were playing self-shuffling cards by the window. He paused to check under the Christmas tree for presents. A knitted scarf from Mrs. Weasley (he made a mental note to thank her in person next time), a broom compass from Sirius, an all-museum pass from Remus (good for a year), and a box of macarons from his parents that James had made them himself, according to Euphemia’s card, which also mentioned that baking helped calm his nerves while waiting for Lily to go into labour. Hagrid packed him a box of cake, and Ron had given him a Chudley Cannons flag.

He was flipping through Hermione’s gift, a book about Quidditch teams from England and Ireland, when he saw her enter the room. Her hair had returned to its usual frizz, and she wore no makeup.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” he greeted cheerfully, waving. “Thanks for the book! It looks great. Did you like the quill set I gave you?”

Hermione smiled. “It’s wonderful. Thank you. You didn’t have to, especially after the omnioculars.”

Harry shrugged it off. But then he noticed something off with his friend. Hermione’s eyes looked puffy and swollen, and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

He gently caught her arm. “What’s the matter? Did you enjoy last night?”

She nodded stiffly, tugging at her cardigan. “I did. It was amazing.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Hermione sighed, avoiding his eyes as she glanced around the room. After a moment, she walked over to the common table and picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet . The moment Harry saw it, he knew what had happened.

It was garbage, even worse than the article about him and Cedric. The piece painted Hermione as some conniving girl trying to bewitch the world’s most famous Seeker, a mastermind of seduction, and, worst of all, an accomplice of ‘that Potter boy’, someone not to be trusted.

Harry had expected Skeeter to publish something eventually, but he didn’t think it would come this fast. His anger flared.

“How the hell did she sneak into the castle last night?”