Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The great hall was silent.

It was a scarce sight; one very few students or teachers alike had ever witnessed in all of their time at Hogwarts.

The great hall was usually bustling with activity, it served as the eating hall, study room and was often overbearingly loud housing hundreds of different conversations, dramatics and scandals.
The few who had ever witnessed a ‘silent hall’ in fact were the handful of visitors during the summer, Filch who stalked around the castle in the late hours of the night desperately searching for those breaking curfew, and the Weasley twins who always evaded his capture, preparing to set an elaborate prank for the next day.

Yet the great hall at present met none of these requirements, it was in fact the end of the school year, and the busiest time of the day, the evening meal of which all inhabitants were required to attend. Every member of the castle had made certain to attend on this night. No, it was not that the hall was empty, it was simply silent. The type of heavy droning silence caused by hundreds of people sat brimming with expectation for a unique event.

The Triwizard tournament had taken place this year and whilst that itself was spectacular, a momentous occasion, the trials of the tournament paled in comparison to the tradition that would take place tonight.

As all of the wizarding world knew, the goblet of fire selected three victors of the Triwizard tournament, one from each school. These were the students who the goblet deemed as the bravest, smartest, strongest and the worthiest of representing their school as a champion. It was unclear why in particular they had been chosen for this honour but it was certainly significant as none who ever participated in the tournament went on to lead uneventful lives. These people were certainly special, had qualities that led them to stand out, achieve heights further than others would ever manage.

Of course, the goblet never revealed the choices behind the decision until after the tournament had taken place, where the champion, victors and all who wished were shown why these people were worthy. It was a tradition of the Triwizard tournament and an event that caused as much excitement and anticipation for some as it did fear and dread for others. Although for the victors, the goblet choosing them would be one of the happiest and treasured memories of their life, this tradition was held in reproach.

It was in fact one of the reasons among the high death tolls that the tournament had been stopped. For on the night after the final task, the three victors regardless of who the champion was would have to face their schools and all the world to see what trials they had faced, their traits, feelings and memories that led to them being chosen. For the victors, the glory and fame often outshone any embarrassment or fear from these revelations.

For Harry Potter however, this was but another reason he would have never entered himself in the tournament. Not only had he been hoping for a quiet year, not wanting to enter into a competition that was so dangerous they had to cancel it for the high mortality rate but also, having all of your most private thoughts, intimate experiences and memories broadcasted to the public, no thank you. He had enough of people hating and fearing him over the ears, he needed no further reasons for people to make fun of him, call him a liar, talk about him and snoop nosily on his business and like Rita Skeeter in those articles about him. He was determined to never participate in the tournament.

Naturally, he was entered into the tournament.

And of course, he won it which led him to sit here, on a bench facing the entirety of the great hall with the other two victors, a profound empty spot on the end of the bench.

Harry was enraged, he hated this blasted tournament, despised the thing. The great hall filled to the brim with journalists, the daily prophet, ministry officials and students along with many parents to watch the chosen victors’ lives. As if it was some kind of ‘reward’ to show how special the contestants were even if they didn’t win Harry thought scoffing.

Harry thought it was especially sick, to be subjected to this, only a day after Cedric’s death as if there was something to be happy about. Nevermind, that more than half the school didn’t believe him about the circumstances of Cedric’s death, the fact all these people still turned up to watch the memories of a boy who had died from this very tournament and why he was worthy to be ‘chosen’ was a travesty. He could see those who agreed with him, a crying Cho was seated at the back of the Ravenclaw table and in the audience, he could see that Cedric’s parents too had shown up. Not wanting his memory to be tarnished, and any way of seeing your son again was worth it Harry supposed, he would show up to watch his parents if he could.

Harry noticed the other champions, Viktor and Fleur looking pale and peaky, nervous for what the goblet would reveal, he was even more nervous. At first Hermione and he had assumed that maybe as the fourth champion he would get lucky, that because the cup hadn’t meant to pick him, he would not have to face the revelations of why he was a worthy victor, because of course he wasn’t a true champion. However, the four lights in the goblet of fire quickly let him know the truth, after all he had won, he supposed, it would be odd if the winner had no labelled characteristics for why they were the ultimate champion. He sighed in resignation.

Harry looked to Dumbledore who was stood upon a podium before the hall, the headmaster cleared his throat, which he needn’t have done to gather the attention of such a silent room.

“Thank you all for being here today” he began, face still grave from the events of last night and the news of Cedric’s death.

“As you know, we at Hogwarts lost one of our own last night, many of you may not wish to be here, myself included”.

Harry could see the pain in his eyes. “I understand that what will be shown today many may find upsetting, nevertheless this is a long-standing tradition, the powers of the goblet are ancient and forgotten, but it is important that we understand despite recent events.”

He paused and swallowed, a shine to his eyes and command to his voice that Harry knew held people’s attention.

“This is a great honour, all those who chose to be victors, to stand and fight for their schools he said nodding towards where the three sat, are unique and special in their own way, the goblet today will show you why they were chosen, why they are true victors, champions” he said, reverence in his tone.

People started to nod and chatter, the crowd gathering some life to it as people regarded the champions, even him he thought surprised, with awe.

Dumbledore’s tone became severe at this reaction. “Despite this” he said, “we must also have great respect for the invasion of privacy, the intimate experiences that reveal one's character, these will be private memories and although most of our champions volunteered for this” he said, a clear indication to Harry's exception to this, Harry flushed at the eyes suddenly on him.

Dumbledore continued “I ask that we all understand and respect privacy, these memories will undoubtedly end up published and I should ask that all of you think of these as people who have feelings and not as things to be gawked at or gossiped mercilessly about.”

Dumbledore regarded the crowd sternly, the students nodding in response, even the ministry and reporters taking the situation with the severity it deserved. Harry was surprised to see even Lucius Malfoy seeming subdued although Harry thought, this was an old tournament, undoubtedly this magical tradition would have posed a problem in the past.

Dumbledore smiled at the confirmation. “now of course, we have no control over the order of the victors, the goblet will decide to reveal who it wants, in the mysterious ways it works” he said expelling a bit of mystery.

His gaze turned to the three champions. “Ready?” he asked softly.

He waited for each of them to nod in affirmation, Harry being the last who gave an unconvincing grin. Dumbledore letting Harry see the sympathy in his eyes.

“Let us begin” he said.

Chapter Text

The First Champion.

Upon Dumbledore uttering those words, one of the four lights in the goblets expanded, the whole cup glowed ominously a powerful aura of magic emanating from it.

There was a second of great silence where the school waited with bated breath, watching as the light seemed to get infinitely brighter, reaching out towards them. Instantly Harry felt himself transported into a cold snowy place. He gasped, it was such an odd feeling he thought, he could hear other members of the audience mimicking his reaction with stunned gasps and screams.

It was a surreal experience, if he truly focused, he could feel the cool wood of the bench below him, could see those before him in the great hall however all his surroundings felt dimmed.

Everyone was instead feeling the thoughts, seeing the image of a person. They could feel the coldness of snow fall upon their skin, they all watched as the image of a boy became clear to them, a huddled figure, small, carrying wood in their arms and making their way through the snow to a battered building.

Harry felt familiar hunger in his bones, a hunger and a desperate fear that choked him. He knew from this, that the feelings were only a taste of what the person had truly felt, muted but enough to show their struggle. Especially to those who had never experienced hardship he thought, regarding the dramatic suffering expressions of those in the audience unaccustomed to the feeling.

The boy in the image came closer as it trudged through the snow toward the sanctuary. Loud gasps were heard when they were able to recognise a young Viktor Krum, who he realized was the first to be shown by the cup.

Harry looked toward the boy in question, seeing a pained expression on his face, his knuckles white and hands gripping the bench below him. Viktor’s eyes were wide as he took in the image, something flickering in them as if recalling a memory, he had forgotten or wished to forget Harry thought to himself. Seeing this Harry felt a guilty remorse and berated himself for his initial happiness at not being the first.

Attempting to leave Viktor some privacy and turning his attention back to the image, the dilapidated building was closer now, they could see an old house, rotten wood, and chipped paint, it would not have even looked habitable if not for the faint orange light he could see through the cracks in the boarded windows, from a fire. The audience felt as victor ran the last steps to the house, despite the great lethargy and overwhelming tiredness they could feel in his bones. The snow was falling heavily outside now, the sky grey and they could feel the chilling icy wind, something told them, a storm is coming.

Harry and the others froze at this voice, he looked around confused before realising it must have been Viktor’s in the memory, he seemed to mutter it under his breath.

As his younger self came into the house, Harry felt sick seeing how dire his circumstances were, there was a pile of blankets in the corner, some meagre supplies of food, he could feel the boy starving, it was obviously not enough. Seeing the snow Harry thought he could recall it now, something Hermione had mentioned once, a great storm in Bulgaria years ago, the cause of hundreds of deaths.

Memory Viktor walked toward the fireplace, where the sleeping form of a worn women came into focus, his mother they assumed, feeling his love and desperation to get back to her.

Viktor dropped the wood by her side, rushing to restock the faint fire. As Viktor knelt by her side, they could see the sickness in her face. She looked aged years ahead of her time by the harsh conditions, malnourished and starved.

Harry could see some in the audience confused over the events, why had Krum not used magic? Harry scoffed at pureblood ignorance. He never knew, victor must have been a half blood, for they do not accept muggleborns in Durmstrang. His mother was obviously a muggle, and as Viktor appeared no older than nine in the image, he must not have known of magic yet.

Viktor was by her side, seemingly attempting to rouse the women. As he walked over to get some water Harry could see, a tremendous crash erupted from the ceiling, the beams that held the roof coming down and a large plank of wood crushed the women.

Harry’s heart stilled and exclamations of horror came from the crowd, they could feel the immense panic and worry of Viktor in the memory as he rushed towards her.

Harry looked to Krum beside him, his eyes closed not wanting to relive the memory.

Krum rushed toward her, trying to lift the plank of wood from her. Harry knew no non-magical person would have ever been able to achieve anything like this, the plank was too heavy, he could feel the ache in his arms watching the boy attempt this, accidental magic and desperation causing huge splinters of wood to break from the beam. The crowd gaped at this display of power at such a young age. Still, the women’s moans of pain and agony proved that it was not enough.

“Viktor” she whispered voice hoarse, Harry had to look away seeing a trail of dark blood leave her mouth.

“Viktor leave me, the storm is coming, you will be trapped if you stay here”. She said.

“Mama I won’t” They heard Krum utter, gripping her hand desperately.

A deep sadness overcame Harry, he hated magic, hated that Viktor had to go through this again. He despised that this was something to be watched for entertainment. Even looking upon the sympathetic crowd, he could see reporters ravenous for every juicy detail to spin the story.

Harry knew, from the shaking of the building and snow falling through the new cracks in the roof, that it would collapse soon. If Viktor did not leave soon, he would die.

A shudder seemed to go through Viktor, and he could feel a great swell of power exuded by the boy, a force.

Harry and the audience were in awe as Krum managed to lift the beam and free his mother, they could feel his exhaustion, his skin turning a faint blue from the frost and chill, everyone shivered. The young Viktor gathered his mother in his arms, Harry felt an overwhelming relief at the sight. It turned cold at the sounds of the building falling around them.

Despite Harry's disdain for the tradition, he did truly realise why Krum was a champion when he gripped a large splinter of wood from the beam in his hands, his magic turning it into a broom.

Harry was amazed at the sight, Viktor and his mother escaped just in time as the house seemed to crack and collapse, the two flying to safety as it fell.

The audience had tears in their eyes, many crying and gaping at the memory.

Viktor himself Harry thought looking to him seemed to smile at his mother in the image, the relief of being able to save her Harry thought.

The memory changed as the goblet showed glimpses of Krum after that, starting as a student of Durmstrang, working weekends, nights, early morning, practising quidditch, magic. They felt his need to become stronger.

As the goblets tale came to an end, the audience gave a collective sigh, trying to process the events.

Dumbledore appeared once again on the podium before them. A pleasant smile on his face as he regarded Viktor Krum.

“A truly harrowing tale my boy” he said. “Well, the goblet has shown us this student’s exceptional bravery, strength, and magic. A round of applause, we can see why he is a champion of the goblet and in our eyes” Dumbledore said, smiling down at him. He clapped, leading a thunderous applause from the hall.

Viktor blushed as everyone cheered for him, Fleur, and Harry cheering beside him, blown away at what he had accomplished. What he had had to overcome, how he had improved himself. Became stronger. No one else could deserve it Harry thought, he wished someone worthy like Krum had won. How could he compare to this man.

“Now” said Dumbledore after everyone had recovered, “we will meet after a fifteen-minute break”, Harry could already see the press and ministry moving toward Viktor.

“Then the goblet will reveal the next champion” he said, Harry and Fleur sharing a nervous look.

Chapter Text

As the image was projected in their minds, they were immediately aware of which victor’s memory this was.

They were in what looked like a young girls bedroom and the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen appeared before him. He could hear girls and boys alike from the house tables sigh in appreciation. The women, whom he supposed to be Fleur’s mother in the memory, was regal, blonde. She gave an aura of kindness and beauty.

They watched as she knelt gracefully next to a small girl, Fleur in bed in the memory. He could feel the warm comforting touch of her hand to his shoulder as Fleur did in the image.

Fleur looked to be around seven or eight, smiling widely at her mother and many seemed to aww at the cuteness of the young veela so different from the strong and cold woman they knew presently.

Young Fleur in the image was talking with her mother, asking questions in a small, excited voice however it was muffled to the audience, her mother’s bell like laugh was clear and he could sense the happiness and love radiating between the mother and daughter. Harry had never felt something like that before.

This feeling was brief however and soon overturned by a dread and trepidation as a man stumbled into the room. He was a large and odious man, much like Vernon Harry thought disgustedly.
The man crashed through the door breaking their peaceful enjoyment and stumbled toward the two, Harry could almost smell the fire whiskey on his breath, felt the familiar fear of Fleur’s memory self as if this was a frequent occurrence.

The audience too could sense the strained tension the man's presence generated, people bracing themselves along with the young girl in the memory in anticipation of what would come next.

Harry regarded Fleur seated next to him. She simply stared ahead with a sharp smile on her face, determined to not let this fear affect her any longer. It was obvious to Harry she had overcome this demon.

The man in the image stood menacingly at the head of the bed, sneering down at the two veela.

Harry did not like the look the man gave to them, he could tell those observing didn’t either, the Beauxbaton headmistress muttering something angrily in French and many students looking on in pity.

As Harry studied the man face, he could see similarities between the colour of his eyes and Fleurs, he was Fleurs father he realised astounded.

“What are you doing filthy creature” Her memory father shouted suddenly, regarding the mother knelt beside the girl.

Fleurs mother gave a pained smile, pleading to the man. “I’m so sorry Gerald, it’s her bedtime I was putting her to bed I just got distracted”.

Fleur’s mother tentatively raised a hand toward him as if to console him but flinched away at the look in his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you I wanted you when I came home, not to have to come looking for you and the little brat” he spat, Fleur crying into her pillow.

Fleurs mum sighed, putting on a serene smile however Harry and others in the audience could recognise the slight tremble in her form. “It won’t happen again Gerald, come lets leave, goodnight Fleur” She reassured, stepping up effortlessly and kissing fleur on the cheek.

As she kissed goodnight to Fleur the audience looked on with alarm as a sudden dark expression overcame his putrid face

“Whore!” he swore, swiftly slapping her across the face, a gasp broke out among the crowd at the act, saddened at seeing the beautiful veela so stricken, tears marring her perfect face.

“Ungrateful, dirty animal” he spat at her figure on the floor before him, “don’t I treat you well, take care of you, this is you show your love” he raged towering over her still form.

She crawled towards him begging at his legs, Harry had to look away at the sick feeling of the image of this poor women being treated so awfully created.

“Of course you do Gerald, I am so sorry” she croaked, pleading with him “please let me make it up to you.”

“Yes” he sneered down at her, a vile smirk on his face, he grabbed her chin in his meaty grip, staring down at her, you are good for one thing “come here and make it up to me then”

He watched as Fleur on the bed seemed to cry as her mother was taken out, Harry gasping at the overpowering feeling of helplessness.

The image faded before them, changing into sudden fleeting images dark and grey as they watched Fleurs childhood play out before them, her mother appearing with more bruises, a dejected expression on her face, losing that spark of happiness she once had.

They felt the swarming emotions of anger, fear and sadness in Fleur continue when she started school, her peers, the boys, and girls of beauxbaton school taunted her. They tormented her, boys making comments on her beauty from age 11, their appraisal and expression similar to the sneering and lustful gaze of her father toward her mother, the audience could feel her trepidation and fear for her safety.

Harry could see the boys featured in the memories in the crowd retching, pale faced and shocked, shamed at what they had done.

Images of Hogwarts students too and their attempts at flirting with her, unwanted touches and salacious endeavours to get close to her. Girls from beauxbaton also held disdain for Fleur, her attempts at friendship rejected due to their jealously of the attention she received, calling her a slut, a creature.

Harry watched all this with rising awe at her calm countenance, how she powered through this, it revealed why she was a true victor, why the goblet had chosen her. Fleur’s response was not one of strength and power like Krum, but of intelligence and careful planning. She studied, developed herself to become stronger than her enemies.

Harry was overwhelmed with pride as he saw her help her mother fight back, they watched as she discovered her father thieving from his job and how she used this to slowly destroy the man’s life and livelihood.

As another memory played out the crowd sensed a turning point in Fleurs life, her father appeared before her and her mother in a dark room, a study Harry presumed assessing the dark mahogany desk and fire roaring in the corner. The father seemed drunk, looked tired and weary, stressed with bags under his red rimmed eyes.

The memory flashed suddenly forward and within a second they saw him viciously attacking and beating Fleurs mother, he could feel her paralysed with fear, unable to move to stop it before a warm force of power rushed through her, the audience murmuring at it, as she turned her wand on him, wordlessly slamming him across the room and above the mantel of the fire.

They saw this as the breaking point, her mother finally divorcing her father and fleeing with Fleur and her younger sister to safety.

The presence of her sister seemed to generate another memory and Harry was astounded to see his face in the image. The audience could feel Fleurs panic at not being able to save her sister, her inadequacy at being unable to complete the second task which she had been training all her life for, her struggle to control her veela powers, and the torture she had put herself through in her strive to be better.

Harry saw heads turn to regard him as they sensed her shame at not being able to save her sister whilst he, had been able to save two of the victims, at only fourteen years old.

As the images finally faded there was a great silence, while the crowd processed her achievements. Harry mourned for her childhood, she had risen from the ashes of ridicule, refused to let anyone tear her down, lower her confidence and had stood up for herself even when she had no support. He wished he could have been that brave in his own interactions with the Dursleys.

Harry knew if Krum was the strongest, she was the smartest and most resourceful in the face of adversity, he berated himself for never being able to match up to these two, he knew how hardworking and kind Cedric was but there was nothing special about himself, he was just lucky or rather unlucky he thought with a sardonic chuckle.

The foreboding silence continued as the crowd thought on about Fleurs experience, as Harry looked around the room, recognising many from the memories he could see the guilty looks of the crowd. Even Hermione, Harry realised had thought Fleur to be a lazy bimbo who didn’t take the competition seriously, and Ron too had been so enraptured by her allure not caring for her personality.

After a few moments, small noises began to trickle from the crowd before rapturous applause and cheering broke out in praise of all Fleur had achieved, Harry felt himself turn to look at the girl in question, happy to see her gentle smile in thanks at their recognition of her accomplishments.

The happy feeling ebbed slightly as something occurred to Harry, the goblet had shown memories from interactions with Hogwarts students and events that had occurred after the champions had been chosen. Did the goblet someone know the future, who would make a good victor determined by something they would do in the future and how they would act as being one?

He shuddered at the thought. But as Dumbledore said, it was a mysterious object, one of the most respected for its power of decision much like the sorting hat, it would do well not to question ancient magics he thought to himself.

The headmaster in question appeared before them as he stepped up once again to the podium. “That was amazing my dear, I think we can all see the mistakes some have made to assume about people, let us toast to Fleur” He cheered raising a goblet of pumpkin juice Harry realised snickering.

“To Fleur” dumbledore began, “showing the importance of intelligence, perseverance and true inner beauty”. The crowd roared in agreement.

“Dumbledore's expression turned neutral as he faced towards the goblet again.

Harry felt his breathe leave him in a rush as he realised, along with many others, than only himself and Cedric were left. He could see the audience bursting with curiosity to see either of their stories, the reporters, ministry workers, even teachers he thought dreading to think what Snape would think of this. With the way the cup had been acting he knew people were hoping to see Cedric’s death due to the circumstances and their denial of Harrys claim of Voldemort being back.

Harry gulped in fear, it was so close now he thought, he didn’t know what he dreaded more, seeing Cedric’s face again and knowing it was his fault he was dead, or seeing his own memories, he felt pale and sickly, swallowing vomit coming up his throat.

He flinched as he felt Fleur squeeze his arm in reassurance, even Viktor he saw on his other side, gave him a look of sympathy. He smiled grateful for their support.

What Harry found odd was that Fleurs memories had lasted longer than Krums, whilst just as special Viktor’s had lasted around five minutes whereas Fleur’s was definitely over ten, Harry wondered what that meant, surely the goblet wouldn’t showcase every life changing event he thought, he sincerely hoped not.

He began to wonder to himself, what were his greatest moments, his motivations, he just wanted to practice magic he thought, be good like his parents were.

As Dumbledore reached a hand towards the cup, everyone knew whatever happened next would certainly be interesting.

Chapter Text

The light from within the goblet glowed ominously, it had radiated brightly with Viktor and Fleur however it shone impossibly brighter now than ever before as it reached towards the crowd consuming them in its warm yellow aura.

When the image of a small boy in a field popped up Harry felt his chest drop, breath rushing out in disbelief.
It was Cedric he thought, himself along with others stunned to see the lively boys face once again, as it he wasn’t even gone, as it nothing had happened.

He was stood in a field, it appeared to be a bright summer's day, they could feel the warmth from the sun heat their skin, sink into their bones. He could almost smell the grass, the flowers, feel the vibrant nature and life that buzzed around Cedric.

As Cedric walked through the field, weaving his fingers through the tall grass they got a closer look at the adorable child version of the man they knew, he had a sweet smile, probably around seven years old, giggling as he played.

Harry frowned at the peaceful sight, the memory was so different from Fleur and Krum’s darker ones, a welcome reprieve from the two brilliant but harrowing experiences of the other victors.

Harry didn’t know what to feel as he watched the young Cedric, so happy, such a full childhood he could sense the security, the love and absolute safety and comfort emanating from Cedric, so different from his, Viktor and Fleur’s childhood.

Although even Viktor and Fleur received love from one of their parents he reasoned, an absolute love they could trust in, the overwhelming sensation of these emotions Harry had never felt before baffled him, sure he loved his friends but he could barely recognise the serenity that Cedric displayed.

The audience felt a jolt of surprise and panic as Cedric seemed to spot something in the field suddenly, rushing to a far corner, the sun blocking their vision. As he came to a still they saw what had caught his attention, laid in the tall grass was a small bunny, its leg was twisted at a wrong angle, injured, dying Harry thought.

Cedric bent to gently pick up the rabbit, cradling it in his arms as he rushed towards an aged but welcoming cottage in the distance. They watched as he left his food, his games in the field, an inherently selfless act for a small child to bring it in, as he came to the withered door an older women, his mother Harry recognised grinned indulgently at him as he presented it to her with concern.

“Again Cedric” she said, her grin betraying her attempt at scolding as he blushed and smiled impishly.

“Please mummy” he said, looking up at her imploringly “I couldn’t just leave it”

She sighed and nodded, beaming down at him “I know honey, that’s why you’re my lovely boy” she teased, rustling his hair and kissing his forehead.

Harry along with the audience sat stiffly, bodies tensed as they attempted to ignore the choking sobs coming from the back, at least trying to give his parents some privacy for their grief.

This was hard for many Harry knew, seeing the student the school had admired so, looking up at the teachers table he could see the tears in Professor McGonagall and Sprout’s eyes.

The memory continued with the rabbit raised in Cedric’s hand toward his mother.

“Please will you heal it, its hurt” His mother smiled,

“Of course sweetie” she assured, giving a wave of her wand as its wounds began to heal, they could feel Cedric’s awe, his desires to pet it. They felt his slight jealously of his friend’s rabbit come to mind, but how he knew his family were too short on funds to afford one.

His mother looked at his expression in consideration “Do you want to keep it” she suggested lightly.

Cedric turned to look up at her in astonishment “Really” he questioned, almost jumping up in excitement at her offer.

“Yes”, she said, hugging him in her arms, “you did rescue it after all”.

Cedric hugged her back tightly, “thank you so much” he whispered into her embrace.

She grinned “shush”, she began, “Just don’t tell your father” she joked, Cedric laughed.

The memory skipped briefly, Harry sensed it was later in the day, the sun beginning to set, Cedric was sitting in the grass with the bunny on his lap, he noticed it moving looking imploringly toward the woods at the edge of the field, he gave a disappointed smile as he lowered it down gently, the bunny must have a family he thought, he couldn’t keep it, he sighed letting it go and keeping guard as it reached its safety of the forest.

The crowd sat stunned at his kindness.

Of course this wasn’t the last time, they watched as memories carried out, far too many to count Harry supposed, all revealing Cedric’s kindness, his care for others. How he worked hard, how he sought extra lessons to learn healing spells so he could continue his acts of care into adulthood.

Whilst the other two champions had been determined to become powerful and Stronger not a bad thing, Cedric’s motivation stemmed from pure desire to work hard to be able to help others.

At his years in Hogwarts all saw his gentle nature, countless times helping students who were lost, his mentoring those in his house, even bridging the house divide and aiding those who were facing difficulties fitting in to their respective houses, Harry recognised a girl from Slytherin who smiled at the image of Cedric’s memory self, consoling her in the library one night.

Every time a student was featured, they would blush and sob, they all revered the inner purity of the champion.

Whilst many, especially the Slytherins had resented a Hufflepuff champion even they could see how someone so loyal and true like Cedric was one. He worked hard, believed in honestly toward others and giving back. Even at times when one would be selfish or envious he denied his desires and thought of those who his actions would hurt, how it would affect others.

Harry knew that the cup chose him for his noble heart. The characteristics of a true champion.

As Harry’s own self appeared in Cedric’s memory he and others gasped. They watched as Harry was chosen as the second champion for Hogwarts, Cedric’s confusion when another was called, his inner doubt that he was a mistake somehow, how jealous he felt to be paired with Harry who was already famous and rich.

Harry hunched in on himself as people in the crowd glanced toward him, even now still believing he had cheated, they would hate him even more now, as he hated himself for making someone so true and good as Cedric doubt themselves.

His thoughts were quickly overturned though as Harry saw himself through Cedric’s eyes again.

He along with everyone else felt Cedric’s increasing guilt at seeing how the school treated Harry. Harry appearing frail and upset, abandoned in Cedric’s memories.

He blushed as people looked toward him in pity, avoiding the concerned gazes of Dumbledore and McGonagall, the Weasley’s in the corner.

The school watched as everyone praised Cedric, wore Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts champion and the horrific Potter stinks badges, they watched on as Cedric accepted the praise, even as the guilt slowly ate away at him.

Harry watched as a familiar memory of himself came into focus, Cedric was walking through the halls with his friends when Harry appeared from the corner, he could feel his own small hand pull Cedric to the side.

“Cedric” his memory self, whispered, looking embarrassedly toward Cedric’s own friends making fun of him. “The first task, its dragons”

Everyone in the audience gasped, the teachers and ministry officials looking toward Harry, they were shocked.

The memory continued as Harry told Cedric how the other two schools champion’s had been informed about the first task. Hogwarts teachers murmuring angrily at finding out the competitors had cheated. At Harry's revelation the other schools, well Beauxbaton at least appeared guilty.

Hogwarts students along with Cedric it appeared were still confused however as to why Harry had told Cedric this, as Cedric himself questioned Harry.

“I don’t understand, why didn’t you keep it to yourself to win” he questioned Harry.

Harry explained, “look Cedric I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t put my name in, I don’t want to win, I don’t want the fame, I just want to survive” he implored.

Harry turned to the side hiding his face from view as he was once again made a spectacle of before his school. As he did, he even saw Snape turn his head to regard him.

Cedric’s thoughts shifted at this, he seemed to admire Harry. Harry blushed, how could he, he thought to himself, Cedric was so hard working, so kind, Harry had merely landed himself in another awkward situation that he needed others to help him get out of.

But that was not what Cedric saw he realised, watching with the crowd how after the dragon task Cedric reached a breaking point, confronting those who tried to bully the lonesome Harry, confiscating the badges and his anger at the school and ministry that a fourteen year old was tasked with defeating a dragon, Cedric’s amazement when Harry actually did.

The audience were astounded again and many smiled and sobbed in gratitude when Cedric returned the favour with the eggs.

At this point many had begun to assess Harry with new eyes, while they had once believed Harry had indeed stolen the championship from Cedric, that he had orchestrated it and put his name into the goblet.

They couldn’t ignore someone so admired and caring as Cedric believing Harry’s innocence, seeing the tasks themselves from Fleur and Cedric’s memories allowed them to see the pure panic and nervousness that the mere fourteen year old Harry could not fake in reaction to the tasks.

Those who had partaken in voting, made bets on the young child losing or even dying looked down on shame at their callous attitude toward such a dangerous tournament.

Everyone held still as a new memory came forth, the third trail of the tournament, the maze appeared before them. With bated breath people anticipated the revelation of what exactly had occurred in the maze. How Cedric Diggory had died.

They watched as Cedric and Harry arrived at the goblet, sweaty, dirty, blood soaking their clothes.

Harry could barely stand to look as Cedric’s figure appeared, he knew what was coming.

Outcries from the crowd occurred when they saw the enchanted maze bounding toward Harry and Cedric, a dark mass of leaves heading violently toward them pushing them in the direction of the goblet.

The three academy professors looked on with alarm. As Harry saw Dumbledore hastily conferring with the ministry and professors he realised that that had not been planned, was not supposed to happen, Barty crouch junior must have bewitched the maze he realised.

As they stepped before the goblet, glowing with a blue light as it was presently, the audience watched astounded as Cedric urged Harry to take the goblet.
Yes no one had dare say it out loud, but many secretly believed Harry had killed Cedric in his jealousy to win the tournament.

“You saved me back there, take it” Cedric demanded, the threat of the maze behind them imminent as he urged the younger boy toward the cup.

His parents watched on proud of their son, it melted their hearts to see his kindness, his honour.

Harry felt even more grateful despite what his actions had caused, knowing that even as winning meant so much to Cedric, what the fame and money would allow him to do, he was still willing to share in his victory, not take it for himself as he deserved.

Memory stood firm shaking his head in denial, he looked to Cedric grasping his hand “Together” he shouted, dragging the Hufflepuff both racing toward the goblet before the maze could harm them, as they touched the cup the audience screamed as the were portkeyed away, they were supposed to be released from the maze, not taken away.

The images faded as the memory faded there, Harry was relieved not to see the next events although a small part of him shared in the audiences disappointment, at least part of the truth had been revealed.

With that final scene there truly was an odd atmosphere in the hall.

Harry avoided the numerous expectant looks he received, beseeching him to explain once again the circumstances and events that lead to Cedric’s death, he could feel their curiosity, knew from the looks of auror’s and ministry that he would be questioned after the event had finished.

He hoped at least that more people believed him about Voldemort now. The popular viewpoint had been that Harry was hysterical after Cedric’s death, he was confused about his parents death so lied about what had happened to Cedric (however most believed this was to become more famous), the ministry’s ‘conclusion’ had been that it was an accident, that the dangerous creatures of the maze which had given Fleur and Krum such severe injuries had led to Cedric’s death, but now people realised, they had seen Cedric take the cup with Potter, had seen them leave, what had happened after?

The hall was filled with voices, screaming at the school, at Harry, at the ministry for answers.

Harry was so alarmed he didn’t know where to look, he saw Ron and Hermione urging people to leave him alone. As he cast his eyes over the room he found himself catching the eye of Amos Diggory, who looked to be making his way toward Harry he saw panicking at the act, Harry looked around planning to escape from the room.

A loud explosion from Dumbledore drew the attention of the hall

“Silence” he shouted many flinching at the power and serious in the typically genial man’s tone.

“We have watched the events the goblet deemed to reveal to us, no one shall be questioning Harry right now for answers, the ministry has been informed of his version of events, whether they or indeed anyone here chooses to believe it is up to yourselves”

Harry could see some people such as Madame Bones, Moody and a female auror with colour changing hair speaking in hushed tones, casting a glances and harsh looks towards Fudge, they obviously had not been informed by the minister how Cedric had died , they too assuming it was in the maze.

Harry felt a brief hope, maybe, maybe truly there was some use to this farce, that by seeing what the goblet had revealed they would believe that Voldemort was back, prepare and protect themselves.

Harry could see Lucius Malfoy sweating, casting wry looks at him as he made his way to the back of the doors. However the doors had been kept locked earlier, to prevent disruptions Dumbledore had informed them, and would not reopen until the ceremony had finished.

Dumbledore stood up to the podium once more, “Now with that, I ask that we all give a moments silence for the late Cedric Diggory, we have all known him to be a charming, intelligent and hardworking young man, he was an honoured student here and I trust we can all appreciate the difference he has made to many lives. A young man with such a caring, noble and heroic heart was well deserved to be a champion for Hogwarts school.”

“Let us honour him” Dumbledore said, head down leading a silence that all followed.

Harry closed his eyes, rested his head against the table. Praying that Cedric was at peace.

As the noise started again moments later, Harry knew it was his turn, he gulped. Ron and Hermione sent him grins of assurance; he looked up to the professors table to see a beaming Hagrid offer him his unequivocal support. Even Snape appeared to have a neutral assessing look on his face in place of his usual sneer.

“Now” Dumbledore declared, “ Those of us who know Harry Potter know he has already proved himself, however maybe this will prove suffice to those who doubt him, the final champion” he said his blue eyes looking with concern at the boy who had gone through so much already, with so much more to come he thought sadly.

The goblet glowed with a brilliant emerald light, bigger than the rest, Harrys heart sank at the sight of it, somehow knowing it would last longer than Fleurs, maybe even longer than Cedric’s.