An Excessive Amount of Politeness - Tye - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: The Yule Ball: Part 1

Chapter Text

Harry's most recent recurring nightmare goes like this: everyone has a date to the Yule Ball except for him.

Everyone. Every single living, breathing person in the entire castle has a plus one. Harry's left with no choice but to ask Moaning Myrtle. The whole school gawks as they dance their opening number, causing Myrtle to snivel and translucent, ghost snot to drip from her nose. Then his golden egg-- that he brought to the ball for reasons which only make sense in dream logic-- falls out from under his robes. It rolls and rolls across the dance floor until it reaches the feet of Draco Malfoy. He picks it up, and with a sinister smile, hurls it out the window and into the lake. Myrtle wails as it's swallowed up by the giant squid.

It's weird, but in a way it's nice to have normal nightmares about normal teenage things. His usual fare involve visions of a dark, half dead wizard and a pain like a hot brand pressed to his forehead. Still, he wants to tell his subconscious to knock it off with the reminders to get a date. He already gets an anxiety-inducing amount of them in his waking hours. Professor McGonagall's been on his tail about a dance partner. Fred and George shoot him goofy looks whenever an "eligible bachelorette" walks within 10 feet of him. Ron's peppered him with bits of advice-- though it's questionable since he hasn't asked anyone either-- and Hermione's grown less and less sympathetic with him each passing day.

In short: he needs to get his act together and ask Cho.

It's one question. One sentence, eight words. Will you go to the ball with me? Like everyone keeps saying-- the worst she can do is say no.

Accio the courage to ask Cho to the Yule Ball.

"Accio potions essay."

Harry waits with an outstretched hand for his parchment to come whooshing at him. He's greeted instead with silence and a big, fat nothing. He grimaces. His eighth attempt at a summoning spell is just as unsuccessful as his first seven.

"Still no luck mate?" Ron looks up from his Divination homework and gives him a sympathetic look. "I'll let you copy mine if you want."

At the mention of the word 'copy', Hermione breaks her gaze from her Ancient Runes textbook to shoot them one of her signature glares. Brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes stone cold. Ron squirms in his armchair and his ears turn bright red.

"Thanks Ron," he says, "but I think Snape will notice if we both hand in the same essay. It's not worth us both getting detention for."

"Yeah, you're probably right, and my essay's a load of rubbish anyway," he flashes Hermione a wide-eyed, woeful look. "Maybe if someone were to give it a read, y'know, check that everything's up to snuff... it won't be so dreadful."

"Yes Ron, I will look over your essay tonight," Hermione says. Her eyes stay glued to her textbook. "And Harry, do you remember the last place you had your essay?"

"Um... the library, I think."

"Then why don't you have a look there?"

Outside the portrait hole Harry makes one last-ditch attempt at summoning his essay. If it isn't in Gryffindor Tower, then it wouldn't have been able to get it past The Fat Lady. A piece of parchment can't recite the password, after all. But once again he turns up empty handed-- literally. Harry sighs, tucks his wand into his pocket, and heads off for the library.

Harry's found at this time of year everyone retires to their common rooms early. It's a combination of the dwindling daylight, chilly weather, and extra homework their professors pile on before the holiday break. All the usual chatter and noise die away after the sun dips below the horizon. He passes a group of second years trading chocolate frog cards, then two ghosts deep in discussion about some medieval warlock he's never heard of, but could probably find in his History of Magic textbook. And then it's nothing but empty hallways. If it weren't for the crackling torchlight and his footsteps, he'd swear someone cast a silencing spell on every corridor. He doesn't spot another soul until he's heading down the main staircase.

There, standing next to an enormous Christmas tree, is Cho Chang.

Harry's almost trips over the trick stair. He does a double take to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him. They aren't. Cho's really standing there, reading a piece of parchment with a tiny grin. Her whole face seems to glow under the soft Christmas lights. And she's alone. No people, no ghosts, no wandering Mrs. Norris. lf he had The Marauder's Map the nearest person would besides himself would be floors away.

Harry scrambles down the stairs before they spin off in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Cho."

Cho looks up from her parchment and her smile broadens. He tries to keep calm but his heart is hammering and his hands go cold and clammy. He stuffs them into his pockets. Merlin, why is he so nervous?

"Hi, Harry."

"Err... how are you doing?"

"I'm all right, what about you?"

"Good. I'm uh... I'm doing okay."

And now the pleasantries are out of the way. Here's the part where he asks her to the Ball. But his throat is bone dry, his tongue won't move, and the passing silence is veering into awkward territory.

The worst she can do is say no, he repeats in his head.

"Cho--"

"So are you my secret admirer?"

"Err... sorry?" Harry hopes she doesn't notice his burning hot face.

"Oh," her face falls. "I got this letter this morning. I was sort of hoping it might be from you."

Cho holds up the parchment. He leans in to read it, squinting In the dim light. In handwriting far neater than his, the letter asks Cho to meet them under the big Christmas tree at seven o'clock this evening. Harry glances at an ancient grandfather clock next to him. The little hand rests on VII, and the big hand hovers between XII and I.

"Sorry, I didn't write your letter," he says, "but there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh? What's that?" Cho stares at him with expectant eyes, her lips parted just so. Harry's caught off guard by how nice she smells. Like flowers and Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish. He takes a deep breath. His nerves are going to eat him alive if he doesn't spit it out already.

"Err... Cho, would you--"

He's cut off by a set of footsteps clambering down the stairs. He and Cho jump back-- were they really standing so close?-- and they squint at the figure at the bottom of the stairs. Cedric Diggory is pink-faced and out of breath, holding a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate in one hand and a single, red rose in the other.

"Cho, I am so sorry for making you wait. Those damn staircases. I've gone to school here for six years, you think I'd know how they work by now."

Well, there's one mystery solved. Cedric is Cho's secret admirer. Harry's struck by two thoughts. One: Cedric's plan to get her alone with a letter is bloody brilliant. He's kicking himself for not thinking of it first. And two: he can't believe he's gone and stolen Cedric's spotlight again. First the Triwizard Tournament, now this. Cedric had this all planned, and he stumbled in at the right time to wreck the whole thing.

Cedric flashes them a boyish grin. Harry's reminded of how his smile makes the girls on his Quidditch team swoon. Even he feels a little weak in the knees. Did someone add an extra log to the fire, or was it always this warm in here?

Harry blinks and shakes his head. Cho. Cedric's smiling at Cho, not the both of them. And Cho is grinning back.

"Uh... never mind, Cho," Harry says. "It's not important."

"Oh no. I'm not interrupting, am I?" Cedric asks.

"Honestly, it's nothing."

"Really, I don't mind. Go ahead and finish your conversation."

Cedric and Cho give him a reassuring smile. And Harry's trapped. It's too late to bolt up the staircase without looking like he's about to be sick-- or worse, rude. Damn Cedric and his politeness. Can't he see he's trying to do him a favor?

"Well... I was about to ask you to the Yule Ball, Cho, but I think that's what you're doing, Cedric, so uh... yeah." Harry winces and rubs the back of his neck. He's not sure where to go from here. Probably the best thing to do is leave and let them get on with it. Maybe it will sting less if he doesn't have to watch. If he doesn't hear Cedric saying the same words he's rehearsed in his head for weeks. If he doesn't see Cho's delighted response.

The worst she can do is say no. What a load of rubbish that turned out to be.

Harry turns on his heel, but only manages a few steps before Cho calls after him.

"Harry, forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't it my decision who I take as my date?"

Harry stops walking.

"Yeah, but--"

"So let me decide."

Cho's gaze flicks between them. First at him, then Cedric, and repeat. She's toying with him, biting at her thumbnail and not saying a word. Either that or she's coming up with a gentle way to let him down. She's going to pick Cedric. It's hardly a competition. He's older, taller, more handsome, probably a better dancer too. He showed up with chocolates and flowers, not ink-stained hands and robes with too short sleeves. His hair doesn't stick up like he just flew a dozen laps around the quidditch pitch. Instead it falls disheveled in that nice, tousled way Harry envies.

"I'm sorry," Cho says, "I don't who know to choose. I like both of you a lot."

"Then go ahead and take Harry," Cedric says. "It's only fair, he asked you first."

"No-- I didn't ask first! You did with your letter."

"That doesn't count. Really it's fine. You were right about to ask when I barged in."

"Yes, but the only reason I tried asking is because Cho was alone. And the only reason Cho was alone is because you set it up."

"Oh please, I don't want you to argue over me," Cho says. "There's got to be a good solution to this. I mean, I think I'd have a fun time going with either of you. If there was a way to take both of you, I would."

"Then why not take both of us?" Harry blurts, without thinking. He fights the urge to clasp his hands over his mouth. It's only after the words escape his lips and float in the air around them does he realize what a lousy idea he's come up with. They can't both take Cho to the Ball. How would this even work? There must be a rule somewhere that says only one date is allowed per person. Sure, Cho says she can't choose between them, but that doesn't mean she wants two dates. And Cedric doesn't want to share his date with someone else.

Harry braces himself for the scoff and disapproving shake of the head they're bound to give him. But Cedric and Cho exchange a glance and share a relieved smile.

"I think that's a great idea, Harry," Cho says. "I could spend part of the evening with each of you. Or we could go as a group? What do you think, Cedric?"

"Sounds perfect! Can't believe I didn't think of it myself."

"Well, I guess it's settled," Cho says.

"I guess so," he says. And he's smiling along with them, all the tension in his shoulders gone. For the first time since Professor McGonagall announced the Ball, he's actually looking forward to going.

"Oh, before I forget, these are for you." Cedric holds up the rose and chocolate bar. He offers them to Cho, but his eyes lock with Harry's and he bites his lip. "I guess I should split these up, huh?"

Harry reaches for the chocolate bar, his hand mere milliseconds faster than Cho's. Her hand rests atop his, while his hand is on Cedric's.

"Oh, do you want--" Harry says.

"No, go ahead."

"It's fine, I'll--"

"I insist."

Harry takes the chocolate bar and hands it to Cho, ending the discussion. Which leaves him with the flower. Gingerly, he takes it. And it might be his imagination or a trick of the light, but a faint blush sweeps across Cedric's cheeks.

Cho peels away the foil and breaks off three squares, keeping one and offering one to each of them. Harry grabs his with his free hand, but Cedric grins and shakes his head.

"No, I couldn't. It's a gift for you."

"Cedric, I insist. I have plenty and I want to share."

They go back and forth a few times before Cedric relents and takes the chocolate square. Harry can't help but smile at them.

"Well, uh… cheers," Cedric says. He holds up his square as though it was a flute of champagne. He and Cho follow suit.

This isn't at all what Harry expected, but it works. They work.

"So did you find your essay, Harry?" Ron asks.

It doesn't appear Harry's missed much in his absence. Ron and Hermione haven't moved from their place beside the fire. Hermione's still scribbling furiously into a spiral notebook. Ron's finished his Divination work-- or given up on it-- and is playing a game of wizard chess against himself.

"Err.. no," he says, "but I did ask Cho to the Yule ball."

Ron's chess pieces whine as he drops his bishop, scattering a knight and several pawns across the board. Hermione's quill comes to a halt, and it drips thick, black ink blots onto her parchment. They both stare at him wide-eyed and eager.

"Well, what did she say?" Hermione asks.

"She said yes."

The two of them break out into huge grins. Ron gets up from his chair and claps him on the shoulder.

"Brilliant! I knew you could do it!" he says.

"Congrats Harry, I'm really happy for you!"

"Thanks." Harry flops into his armchair, kicks his feet up on the ottoman, and hides his face in his hands. His goofy, satisfied grin seems to be stuck to his face.

It takes a moment, but their excitement calms down. Ron goes back to his game, muttering an apology to his chess set. Hermione waves her wand, casting a spell to remove the spilled ink, and carries on writing in a language that looks like utter nonsense to him. Harry reaches for his school bag. He undoes the front clasp, and a crumpled up piece of parchment shoots out, thwacking him in the face. So that's where his essay's been hiding. Lucky Ron and Hermione don't notice. He smooths it out and intends to start up on it, but he can't stop smiling. His brain only wants to think about the Yule Ball.

"Err... Harry, why have you got a flower?"

Harry blinks. Ron's voice pulls him out of his head and back into the moment. He's been wearing a vacant smile and twiddling Cedric's rose between his fingers without realizing.

"Oh. Cedric gave it to me."

Ron and Hermione share a confused look, seeming to only communicate with their eyebrows.

"And uh... why did Cedric give you a rose?" Hermione asks.

"Because Cho wanted the chocolate." Harry launches into an explanation. How he and Cedric asked Cho to the ball at almost the same time. How they didn't want to force her to choose between them. How he came up with their compromise.

When he finishes Ron and Hermione still look as though someone stupefied them.

"So you're going to the ball with Cho... and Cedric?" Ron asks.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean--" he sighs. "I'm going to the ball with both of them, but I'm only going to the ball with Cho. You know, as a date."

"And Cho is also going to the ball with Cedric? As a date?" Hermione asks.

"Yes."

"And you and Cedric?"

"Are not going together. At least, not like that."

He wishes they would stop looking at him like he's some puzzle they need to solve. They're making this needlessly complicated. His potions homework is complicated. His golden egg riddle is complicated. This isn't complicated. He's taking a pretty girl to the Yule Ball. And if another guy (who just so happens to be quite handsome himself) wants to tag along with them...

Well, there are worse ways to spend an evening.

Chapter 2: The Yule Ball: Part 2

Chapter Text

Harry's first Christmas present arrives a day early via one of the school barn owls. Two sugar quills and a chocolate truffle wrapped in gold foil fashioned to resemble a snitch, along with a silvery envelope with his name printed in blue ink. Across the hall at the Hufflepuff table, another owl drops a similar-looking parcel on Cedric's plate. Harry glances over to the Ravenclaw table where Cho gives him a tiny wave and mouths the words "open it".

A letter wishes him a happy holidays, and asks that the three of them meet up ten minutes before the Ball under the enormous Christmas tree in the Entrance Hall. It's a fitting location, as it's the same place they had their awkward-turned-fortunate encounter a few weeks prior.

"What are you smiling at?" Hermione asks.

"Nothing," Harry says quickly. He tries to pull his face together, but his goofy grin comes back full force when he reads the line: "Lots of Love, Cho"

After breakfast Harry stashes the letter in his trunk for safekeeping, next to Cedric's rose, which despite being about two weeks old still blooms vibrant red. The next evening when he gets ready for the ball, he considers pinning the flower to his dress robes, but decides against it. He's not sure he wants to admit to Ron, Hermione, or worse-- Cedric , that he's held onto it all this time.

Harry's dressed and ready to go with a half hour to spare. He paces in circles around his dormitory to work his nervous energy. He puts his hands into his pockets, takes them out, adjusts his glasses, has a momentary freak-out he's lost his watch only to find it's still snug on his wrist.

"Harry, no offense, but your pre-date jitters are kind of distracting," Ron says, looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he severs the lace ruffles off his dress robes.

Harry takes this as his cue to leave. When he can't find Hermione in the common room he heads down alone. The Entrance Hall is full to bursting with people. He's never seen so many brightly colored robes outside of Madame Malkin's display window. He can't hear anything over the hundreds of voices. Puffs of hazy purple smoke shoot off around him as his classmates snap pictures with their wizard cameras. Harry squeezes his way through the throngs of people to get to their meeting place.

"Hi, Harry!" Cedric grins and extends his hand. Harry's never noticed before, but he has dimples. When their palms meet, He gets this flustered feeling in his stomach that's eerily similar to the one he gets when he looks at Cho.

"Hey, Cedric. Have you seen Cho yet?"

"Not yet, but it's only quarter to eight. I didn't want to be late again, so I got here a bit early."

He and Cedric instinctively look over at the main staircase, only to find Filch in a musty set of dress robes carrying Mrs. Norris in his arms.

Harry's not sure where to go from here. He didn't plan on spending time alone with Cedric. He's not sure what the proper protocol is for their situation. Are they supposed to ignore each other? Avoid eye contact at all costs? Pretend Cedric is a peculiar accessory Cho brought with her to the Ball? Maybe if Cedric were some horrible Slytherin he'd do that, but-- well-- Cedric's kind of grown on him. Maybe they could attempt something similar to his relationship with Ron and Hermione. Three friends, two happen to be boys, and one happens to be a girl. It could work-- if it weren't for all the confusing, romantic feelings between them. He likes Cho, and he assumes since Cedric does too since he asked her to the Ball. And Cho likes… both of them?

"So… had any luck with your egg?" Cedric asks.

"Uh… yeah. I reckon I'm close to solving it." Harry shoots him his most convincing smile. He and Cedric are supposed to be rivals in this competition. He'd rather not let him in on how much this egg has him scratching his head.

"Really?" Cedric smirks raises an eyebrow. "You sure you don't want a bit of advice?"

"Oh, well, if you feel like sharing."

"Try taking a bath," Cedric says in such a low voice Harry's sure he didn't hear him right.

"Uh… excuse me?"

"Just… take a bath. With your egg. Mull things over in the hot water, it'll help you think and stuff."

Harry stares at him with furrowed brows. Is Cedric trying to help him, mess with him, or tell him he smells bad? His hint is only more helpful than the egg's wailing in that his voice doesn't give him a migraine. Before he can press him for more information, a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and squeeze his middle.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Cho sing-songs, her voice very near his right ear. Obliviated from his mind are all thoughts of golden eggs, Triwizard tasks, and everything except Cho's chin resting on his shoulder and Cedric laughing at the pair of them.

Cho lets go of him to properly wish Cedric a Merry Christmas. When they hug the top of her head just barely touches his chin. Harry waits for a spark of jealousy to hit him, an urge to pry Cedric off of her and keep them an arm's length apart the entire evening. Instead he's struck by a peculiar thought-- Cho and Cedric look good together. All he can do is stare at them, and wonder for the hundredth time what either of these two popular, talented, good-looking, quidditch players want to do with him.

"Well don't you two clean up nicely," Cho says, eyeing them both. "I love your dress robes, Harry. They match your eyes."

"Thanks, you look really pretty too."

Cho's silver dress robes are dotted with hundreds of gemstones that sparkle like stars. Her shiny, black hair is done up in a complicated top knot, except for a few loose curls framing her face. Cho always looks pretty. Harry's seen her leaving quidditch practice sweaty and mud-spattered and had to catch his breath. He didn't think it was possible she could get any prettier, but tonight she's proved him wrong in the best possible way.

"Yeah, you look stunning Cho," Cedric says. He can't seem to take his eyes off her. Harry can't blame him.

"Oh-- well thank you," Cho says. She stands on tiptoe to ruffle Cedric's hair before turning to him. "So, I saw you and the Weasley brothers having a snowball fight this afternoon. Who won?"

Harry spares no detail in retelling the afternoon's battle. As he recounts his attempt to bewitch a giant snowball to attack Fred and George from behind, Professor McGonagall approaches them.

"Potter, Diggory, the champions are lining up outside the main doors in ten minutes. I suggest you group up with your partners and make your way over."

"Professor, my partner is--" Harry is about to say, "she's right here", but he stops cold. When Cho agreed to be his date to the Ball, he was so overjoyed and relieved that one important detail slipped his mind. The opening dance. He and Cedric will need to have their own, separate partners.

Professor McGonagall looks him over with concern. "Yes Potter, your partner. You did tell me you found a partner, right?"

"Yes. Of course, Professor." He smiles, trying his hardest to look sincere, but Professor McGonagall has a talent of seeing through bullsh*t. Her lips form a hard, thin frown, but she says nothing else before stalking off towards Krum and his date-- a girl he doesn't recognize.

The three of them share a panic-stricken look. Cedric and Cho both look as though a bludger is streaking towards them and they don't have time to dodge it.

"Damn, how did I forget about the opening dance?" Harry says, "Professor McGonagall nagged me about it for weeks, and I still forgot."

"It's not your fault. It totally slipped my mind too," Cedric says.

"What about-- I can ask my friend Marietta to dance with one of you," Cho says.

"Great idea! I've got a couple friends I can ask too," Cedric says.

"And I suppose I could ask Hermione," Harry says. "Let's meet up at the doors in five minutes. Bring whoever you can get to say yes and we'll work it out from there."

Hermione's date is a touchy subject, to put it nicely. Whenever Ron badgered her about it, she'd get cross with him and stalk off. Harry however, couldn't care less how or with whom she spends her time at the Ball. He just needs to borrow her for a few minutes to avoid looking like an absolute idiot. He'll promise to pay attention in History of Magic or take on a more active role in SPEW if that's what it takes. He'll take an exasperated sigh from Hermione over an irate Professor McGonagall any day of the week.

But Hermione must be wearing his invisibility cloak or something. He searches the entire Entrance Hall and can't find her anywhere. He's got less than five minutes left. He's not sure which is louder, his watch ticking down the seconds or his frantic heartbeat.

Ron proves less difficult to find. Despite his best efforts, his old-fashioned dress robes stick out. The only one dressed more outlandish than him is his date-- a third year Ravenclaw Ginny set him up with-- who chose to don a wreath of enormous poinsettias on her head and dress robes of muggle traffic cone orange.

"Ron, have you seen Hermione?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, she's over there. With her date. " Ron spits out the last word as if it's poison, and makes a vague hand gesture towards the doors.

At first glance he wants to tell Ron to be more specific because, he doesn't see her. Then he takes another look at the girl in periwinkle robes next to Viktor Krum. She looks familiar somehow. No-- could it be?

Hermione's unrecognizable. Harry can't say for certain, but this might be the first time he's seen her in something other than her school robes. Her grin is nervous, but unwavering. Krum can't take his eyes off her. It's sweet how happy they both look. So much so he almost doesn't mind Hermione's unavailable for the opening dance and he's back to square one with finding a partner.

"What is she even doing with him?" Ron asks no one in particular. "She doesn't-- they haven't-- I mean, she said he wasn't even that good looking!"

"Right, can we talk about it later?" Harry says, not bothering to mask his impatience. He has more pressing matters than whatever tangent Ron's on. He turns his attention to his date. "Err… Luna, right?"

Ron's date-- Luna-- nods.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

"No, not really," she says, with such an air of nonchalance he's taken aback.

"Yeah mate, what gives? You've already got two dates, what do you need mine for?" Ron says, trying to frown but the corners of his mouth curl upward.

"That's right, you're going with Cho Chang," Luna says. "I heard her talking about it this morning. Although, I thought she said last week she was going with Cedric Diggory."

"She is. She's going with both of us, and uh…" Keeping an eye on the clock, Harry explains his current predicament in as few words as possible. When he's finished Ron bursts into a bout of hysterics which he tries-- and fails-- to mask as a series of loud coughs.

"Sorry Harry-- I know it's not funny but..."

"Well, I think you're all missing the obvious solution," Luna says, "Harry, if Cedric's also your date then you should dance with him."

"No! It's not-- we're not--" Harry stammers, feeling his face heat up.

"I really don't think Cho will mind, Harry. She's quite open-minded you know."

Ron shrugs, "Cedric did give you a very nice flower."

"Oh never mind."

Harry stalks off. Here's hoping Cho and Cedric's skills at persuasion are better than his. They both have large circles of friends. It shouldn't be too difficult for them, right? But he finds Cho friendless and distressed at the main door, and there's a sinking feeling in his stomach. It's amazing how just a few weeks ago he wanted desperately one moment alone with her.

"Sorry Harry, I tried my hardest, but Marietta said no. She said she was too nervous to dance in front of the whole school."

"It's all right. Maybe Cedric will turn up with one of his friends." No sooner does he say it when Cedric approaches them with nothing but a frown.

"Well, I take it neither of you had any luck finding a partner then?" He asks.

"What about a duplication spell?" Cho says, "Do either of you know how to cast one?"

He shakes his head, as does Cedric. "That's really advanced magic. Professor Flitwick says we won't cover it until next year."

The three of them jump as the clock bells clammer for eight o'clock. Professor McGonagall stands ten feet away talking to Fleur and Roger. At any moment she could look their way and know something is awry. She knows how to count after all. They've exhausted their time and all their options.

Well, there is one option.

Harry looks over at Cedric, opens his mouth to speak, and-- he can't find the words. His brain feels fuzzy, like he's been confunded. And he realizes-- he's nervous. The same kind of heart-racing, stomach-churning nervous he got when he asked Cho to the ball. Which doesn't make sense. This isn't the time for his nerves to get skittish, nor is it the person he should be skittish of.

"Err… Harry," Cedric smiles softly and scratches the back of his neck, "this is sort of an unconventional idea, but what would you think if you and I... uh..."

"If you and I danced together?"

Cedric nods, looking bashful. "I'd absolutely understand if you didn't want to but--"

"No, I'll do it!" He says, with more enthusiasm than he meant. "I mean-- as long as you're fine with it, Cho."

Cho shrugs. "Why would I have a problem with you two dancing together?"

"Great! Then it's settled." Cedric grins and lets out a breath of relief.

They come to their decision not a moment too soon. Professor McGonagall is bustling over to them, no doubt about to question their odd number situation. Before she can get a word out, they launch into an explanation of their arrangement. Professor McGonagall listens, her expression growing more and more puzzled, until she holds up her index finger for them to stop.

"Potter, Diggory, as long as you've both found a dance partner, I don't need to know all the details of your personal lives."

The champions stand by the doors as everyone enters the Great Hall. They wait until everyone is settled before they make their grand entrance. Harry takes Cho's right arm, Cedric takes her left, and they lead the procession inside. His classmates smile and applaud as they progress towards the top table-- where sit four of the Triwizard judges and one smugly smiling Percy Weasley.

When they choose their seats Harry again takes the spot at Cho's right, and Cedric to her left. Harry picks up the menu on his plate. He's not sure what to do with it-- where are the waiters? Then he watches Dumbledore place his order of pork chops and he gets the idea.

"Goulash," he says into his plate, enunciating his syllables so he doesn't wind up with a plate of mush. He hears a soft pop, and his plate is filled with a hot, delicious smelling stew.

There's a chorus of murmurs as everyone places their orders, then pops as the food appears. Hermione nudges Roger Davies-- who's staring at Fleur and seems unaware of his surroundings-- and he at last notices the menu on his plate. His table-mates dig in to their dinners, all except Cho, who's staring at her menu with a look of concentration.

"Not sure what you want?" Harry asks.

Cho shakes her head and laughs. "I think we've already established that I'm a bit indecisive. Everything sounds delicious."

"Well if you're looking for a recommendation, the goulash is good."

"It does look tasty. Mind if I try a bite?"

Harry nods. Cho reaches over him, taking a small but well proportioned spoonful of his goulash. She grins as she chews. "Oh you're right Harry, this is really good."

"Want to try some of mine?" Cedric asks.

"Sure, I'd-- Merlin's beard, Cedric!" Cho lets out a snort of laughter. Harry peers across her, and to his astonishment there's an enormous slab of chocolate cake on Cedric's plate.

"What? It was on the menu."

"The dessert menu, Cedric!" Cho says, still laughing.

"Dinner, dessert, what does it matter? It's Christmas. Have a bite, Cho." Cedric spears a forkful of cake and holds it inches from her lips. Cho, after a moment's hesitation, opens her mouth.

"Mmm… this is so good," Cho says. "Harry, you have got to try some."

"Uh…" Harry starts to politely refuse. After a month this summer spent surviving on progressively staler birthday cake, he can't say he's too keen to try it. Cedric's already reaching over Cho and holds his fork in front of him. The sweet, fudge-y scent is overpowering, and Cedric's dimpled smile should be illegal.

After a round of deliberation, Cho decides on the shepherd's pie. Though it hardly matters as they spend their meal swapping their plates around. Harry eats his goulash while Percy prattles on to whoever will listen about his new responsibilities since Mr. Crouch promoted him to his personal assistant. He takes a bite of shepherd's pie while Krum tells Hermione about Durmstrang. He laughs and almost chokes on a forkful of chocolate cake when Dumbledore mentions a secret bathroom on the seventh floor. He washes down all the delicious dishes with a goblet of Pumpkin juice while Cedric and Cho discuss NEWT level classes.

"I think I'll carry on with Astronomy next year. I really like Professor Sinistra," Cho says through a mouthful of goulash. "But I'm not sure about Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I never took Ancient Runes, so I couldn't tell you what it's like," Cedric says. "Defense Against the Dark Arts though… honestly, I'm not sure I'd recommend it."

"Oh no, is it difficult? It's always been one of my worst subjects."

"No, it isn't difficult. It's-- well the professors have been so hit and miss. I wouldn't want you to waste your time with someone who doesn't have a clue what they're doing."

"Professor Moody's been great though."

Harry reaches over Cho for another bite of shepherd's pie. "Yeah, but he's only here for one year as a favor to Dumbledore. Who knows what we're in for next year?"

The three of them share a look, and for a reason Harry can't place, they all seem to get struck with the same sense of dread.

"What do you want to do after you leave Hogwarts, Cho?" Cedric asks. "That ought to help you decide which classes to take."

"Oh, it's silly," Cho says. She fidgets under the table with her silver bangles.

"Come on, tell us," Harry says.

"Well… I'd like to play seeker on the Tornadoes. Or-- any team really, but if I got a choice I'd want it to be the Tornadoes," Cho sighs, "It isn't very realistic though. I'm not talented enough to play professionally."

"Cho, what are you talking about? You're a brilliant seeker," Harry says.

"Yeah, you flew circles around me the last time we played each other," Cedric says.

"Oh, well, thank you," Cho smiles, looking flustered, "but my parents tell me they would prefer I pursue a job in the Ministry. I suppose the Department of Magical Games and Sports wouldn't be so bad."

"If that's what you're interested in, we could introduce you to Ludo Bagman," Cedric says and points his spoon at Ludo, who's at the opposite end of the table chatting with Krum and Professor Karkaroff.

"Oh… maybe some other time," Cho says. "What are you studying, Cedric?"

"I haven't completely decided yet, but think I'd like to be a healer," Cedric says before taking a bite of shepherd's pie.

Cho's eyes widen. "Wow, I hear that's supposed to be really difficult."

Cedric shrugs. "It is a lot of work, but I've always found healing magic really fascinating. Like, last week I was reading an article in The Practical Potioneer about chimera blood and how it might be the key ingredient in a remedy for… sorry I'm rambling."

"It's alright," Cho says with something of a dreamy expression similar to the one Roger Davies gets when Fleur is in eyesight.

"Have you thought much about what you want to do, Harry?" Cedric asks.

"Uh… not really." He shrugs. He can't say he's dedicated much time into researching wizarding careers. He can worry about life after Hogwarts once he finished the third task.

"Well you're still in fourth year. There's no rush," Cedric says.

"Yeah, you'll figure out what you want to do eventually," Cho says.

The feasting continues until everyone's stomach is full and plate is cleared. Harry chews his last remaining spoonful of goulash when Dumbledore asks them all to stand. With a wave of his wand, he sends the tables soaring toward the walls to make way for a dance floor. with another flick of his wrist a stage appears in the faculty table's usual spot. Three witches-- they must be The Weird Sisters-- take the stage to a raucous applause, and begin warming up on their instruments.

"I guess that's our cue," Cedric offers Harry his arm and a sheepish smile. "Shall we?"

Harry gulps. He wishes now he didn't eat so much. His stomach is queasy, though he's not entirely sure it's because of the food.

"Have fun you two!" Cho calls after them as they make their way to the center of the dance floor.

Harry reaches for Cedric's waist-- then backtracks. Is that where he's supposed to put his hand? Does he lead or follow in this scenario? The procedure is clear when it's a boy and girl dancing. Boy and boy however… they didn't discuss it in his dance lessons.

The Weird Sisters begin a slow, waltzing tune. Not the music he was expecting based on the band's ripped, black robes. The other champions begin to dance, but he and Cedric stand motionless, looking awkward and out of place.

Harry takes the initiative. He catches Cedric's hand, lacing their fingers together, then places his other hand on his waist. Cedric expression eases into a smile, and he rests his other hand on his shoulder.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

Cedric nods, and they take their first step.

The music can't quite drown out the confused whispers. A few people stare scandalized at the pair of them. Draco and his gang of Slytherins sneer their way, but he wouldn't expect anything different from them. In a weird way it's actually kind of comforting. He notices though, the negative reactions are far and few between. Ron gives him a reassuring smile, with Luna waving next to him. Fred and George each give him a thumbs up, and he swears he spots Dumbledore wink at him. Cho is beaming at them with a smile so bright it could make flowers bloom.

"Sorry about all the extra attention," Harry says once he's got his rhythm down enough to talk.

"It's alright. At least this time if Rita Skeeter writes about your night at the Yule Ball, she can't forget about me again."

Harry's smile falters. "Oh… right. Sorry about that too."

"I was only making a joke," Cedric says quickly. "I really don't mind that she left me out. It's probably for the better because that article was… um...."

"A load of dragon dung," Harry supplies for him.

"Exactly!" Cedric laughs. "But Harry, I just want to make it clear, okay. I don't resent you for being in the tournament. I don't think you've stolen my glory-- or whatever people are saying. I think there's room for both of us."

Harry's heart feels light. He's hyper aware of Cedric's calloused fingers linked between his. He resists the urge to look at his feet and instead locks eyes with Cedric. There's only a few inches separating them. He's too close, and yet-- Harry doesn't want to pull away.

The music stops. After a short round of applause the Weird Sisters strike up their second song, which if not for the references to quidditch, it would fit right in at a muggle punk rock concert. His classmates cheer and stream onto the dance floor. They all seem to have forgotten their dance lessons and are jumping up and down in time with the beat.

"Well, I'm going to ask Cho to dance," Cedric shouts over the music. "Unless-- do you want to ask her first, Harry?"

Harry shakes his head. "You guys go ahead."

Harry looks over at Cho and is once again in awe of how beautiful she is. Her dress robes gleam under the chandelier lights. Cedric grabs her by the wrist and pulls her onto the dance floor. Harry watches with a grin as they hold hands and jump in time with the music.

Chapter 3: The Yule Ball: Part 3

Chapter Text

Harry's first thought once he finishes elbowing his way through the crowd of dancers is: he's alone for the first time tonight.

He's not sure what the plan is from here. The three of them didn't actually do much planning. He figures it'll go something like this: Cedric and Cho will dance for an undetermined amount of time, then he'll dance with Cho for an undetermined amount of time, and repeat. He and Cedric will swap places until the Ball is over, then they'll bid each other goodnight before heading off alone to their respective common rooms.

If they got together and discussed this hypothetical plan, Cedric would probably say it's the fairest option. Cho would probably say it's the most logical one. Harry doesn't necessarily disagree, but it still leaves something to be desired. It's stiff and formal, less like a date, more like an arrangement. Cho is a person, not a quaffle for him and Cedric to pass around. He'd rather not spend the night with one eye on his watch, counting the seconds to ensure they split their time with her evenly. Plus, there's a part of him-- a small, newly formed part he's not sure what to make of-- that wants to spend time with Cedric too.

Well, so far the night's proven to be an experiment in improvisation. The best thing to do is stop worrying and let things sort themselves out. It hasn't let him down yet.

Harry finds Ron and Luna at a table near the main doors. It was hard to tell on the jam-packed dance floor, but quite a few people hung back to sit and chat over glasses of iced pumpkin juice. The music isn't as ear-splittingly loud here. It's possible to have a conversation without shouting over guitars and drum beats.

"Hello Harry! You and Cedric looked good out there," Luna says.

"Yeah, very smooth," Ron says.

"Thanks," he says. He grabs the chair next to Ron and plops into it, leaning back and kicking his feet out in front of him. "So I take it you two opted not to dance?"

"Oh right, I forgot to ask," Ron says. "Er... did you want to dance?"

"Do you?" She asks with a wide-eyed expression.

"I dunno... only if you do, I guess."

"Maybe later then."

Luna reaches inside her poinsettia wreath and retrieves a rolled-up magazine. Ron rests his elbow on the table and stares off into space. Neither are much for conversation, but he still enjoys their company, and enough people stop to say hello so he's not left lonely. Dean and Seamus sit and chat a while. Their dates, Parvati and Lavender, appear to have ditched them for Beauxbatons boys, but neither seems too fussed over it. Hagrid asks if he liked his Christmas present before dashing off to talk to Madame Maxime. Hermione collapses into the chair next to him, smiling and flushed from dancing. When she asks Ron how his night is going, he's struck with a sudden interest with the bizarre-looking horned creature on the cover of Luna's magazine.

"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asks. "How's everything going with Cho and Cedric?"

"Pretty good. They're off dancing at the moment. I think once they're finished Cho and I will have a go." Harry's eyes flick over to Cedric and Cho. They're near the stage swaying back and forth with the beat. Their black and silver robes compliment each other nicely. And their smiles-- they both have bright, perfect smiles. On their own Cedric and Cho are ridiculously good-looking, but together... it isn't fair how amazing they look together.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione snaps her fingers in front of his face.

"What?" Harry blinks, and wills himself to focus on Hermione. It's not the first time tonight Cho, and Cedric too for whatever reason, have made his brain go a bit foggy. He's not ogling them on purpose, it's just where his eyes naturally want to go.

"I asked what you thought of the music."

"Oh. It's good. I like it."

Hermione stares at him with a curious expression. Before she can figure out who he's looking at, he turns his gaze elsewhere, though from her knowing smile he thinks his efforts might be in vain. He forces his attention to shift to George Weasley and Penelope Clearwater, who are doing a wild tango across the dance floor.

"Hey, did Percy and Penelope break up?" He asks.

"Yeah, he ditched her after he got his job at the Ministry." It's not Ron, but Ginny who answers him. She claims the chair next to Luna, and Neville the one next to her.

"Oh, your brother doesn't look too happy about it." Hermione points at Percy, who grips his butterbeer with such a tight grip Harry's concerned it might shatter. Ron's face shifts to a similar expression as Viktor Krum approaches their table.

"Herm-own-ninny," he says, then offers his arm. "Would you like to dance again?"

"Oh yes! Let's go, Viktor," Hermione takes his arm with one hand and waves goodbye to them with the other.

Ron scoffs once they're out of earshot. "Viktor? Since when has she called him that?"

"I thought you liked Viktor Krum, Ron," Neville says.

"He's fine," Ron says through gritted teeth.

"I don't blame you for not liking him," Luna says. "That fur collar would attract an awful lot of nargles, especially with all this mistletoe around."

Ginny snorts. "That's not it, Luna. Ron's just jealous."

Ron sputters. "Jealous? Why? Just because he's a famous quidditch player--"

"A famous quidditch player who's dancing with Hermione Granger."

"So what? Hermione can dance with whoever she bloody well pleases."

"See, he's jealous," Ginny leans into Luna's ear and says in a mock stage whisper.

"Shut up! I am not jealous!"

"Merlin, why can't you act more like Harry, Ron? His date's off dancing with someone else and you don't see him acting like a jealous git."

"That's because I'm not jealous." Harry shrugs. Jealousy doesn't quite feel like the right word in this scenario. Sure, he'd like to dance with Cho, but not if it means shoving Cedric out of the picture. What he'd really like is to be on the dance floor with them instead of staring at them from the outskirts. He'd like to grow an extra pair of arms so he can dance with both at the same time.

What he's feeling is excluded-- and confused. Definitely a bit confused.

"So uh... what exactly is a nargle?" Neville asks. Harry sighs inwardly, glad someone broke the tension.

Harry only half-listens to Luna's ramble. Nargles are tiny winged creatures that something something something or other. Where are Cedric and Cho? He scans the dance floor but they're nowhere to be found. He tries again, and again, then glances around the Great Hall. There, Cedric's by the refreshments table laughing with two other boys. Harry recognizes one as a beater on the Hufflepuff quidditch team, the other is unfamiliar. Cho isn't with them though, which means she must be...

She's 20 feet in front of him, walking with purpose towards his table. Her hair has started to come undone from her updo, but somehow it only makes her look more pretty. His mind flashes to images of her hair after quidditch practice looking messy and windswept.

"Want to dance?" Cho says. She smiles, then glances at his table-mates, who are wrapped up in a loud discussion about nargles. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, let's dance. Or-- do you want to sit down first? I could get you a drink or a pastry?"

She shakes her head. "Cedric already offered. I'm fine, I promise."

"Alright, lets dance."

The Weird Sisters play a soft slow tune. Harry's reminded of those Celestina Warbeck songs Mrs. Weasley likes. Everyone is coupled up close, dancing in a far less coordinated and formal way than his earlier waltz with Cedric.

Harry thought he kicked the nervousness from his system. He successfully completed one dance without stepping on his partner's toes or tripping over his feet. It shouldn't be too hard to do it again. The only difference now is he's substituting Cedric with Cho, the girl he's fancied for months. All she has to do is smile in his direction and butterflies burst to life in his stomach.

It's not dancing that's making him nervous, it's the person he's dancing with.

He puts his hands on her waist, delicately so his fingertips just graze the fabric of her dress robes. Cho wraps her arms around his neck, her silk sleeves soft on his skin. They sway in slow, easy circles. Harry smiles, and she smiles back. Her eyes are deep brown, almost black, and her eyelashes are long and delicate. Harry notices for the first time a faint scar running along her chin.

"I got it in a quidditch accident. Fred Weasley lobbed a bludger at my face. Or was it George? I don't remember," Cho says. "You were staring, so I thought I'd explain."

"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's alright. I've been staring at your forehead so..."

Harry laughs, "I suppose you already know how I got the scar?"

"Yeah, I may have heard the story once or twice."

The Weird Sisters strike up a new song, this one faster. Harry bobs his head and bounces his knees, feeling a little lost in all of this. He's not used to this kind of dancing, where there aren't any steps to follow and everyone seems to just flail around. Cho sways along in time with the music, her movements smooth and graceful.

"I've always thought you were really brave, you know," she says, shouting to be heard over the music.

"For what? Not dying when Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby?"

Cho doesn't flinch at his name, the way he's so used to other wizards doing. "Not exactly. I remember in my second year you fought that Mountain Troll to save your friend. And then last month you took on a dragon."

"But I wasn't trying to be brave or anything. I really didn't put my name in for the tournament, you know."

"I know. There's no way you could have gotten past Professor Dumbledore's age line."

"So you know I didn't do it to be brave or show off or anything."

"It doesn't matter. Actions speak louder than intentions. You were forced into a terrifying situation, but you conquered your fears and faced it head on. That's what bravery is, don't you think?"

He wants to dispute her. He opens his mouth to say she's wrong, but she grabs one of his hands and raises his arm into the air. She spins underneath it. Harry grins and twirls her again, and again, faster and faster. Her dress robes flare out, the gemstones glittering under the spotlights. Cho laughs, and Harry wishe s the room would go quiet because her laugh is the only thing he wants to hear.

Harry finds-- to his surprise-- dancing is kind of fun. After a few songs he stops worrying about how he doesn't know what he's doing. Everyone else looks equally as silly, and they're having the time of their lives looking foolish together. Most of the Weird Sisters' music is loud and fast, and he and Cho dance next to each other, in sync with the beat. Once in a while though, there's a slow song mixed in. Those are his favorites. Harry can hold her close and count the freckles dotting her nose.

"I think I need a break from all this music," Cho says, after one loud song ends and another even louder one begins. "My eardrums are throbbing."

"Want to get a drink?"

Cho nods. Harry offers his arm and they head for the refreshment table. Cedric's still talking to the same friends as earlier, but when he spots them heading over he pours three glasses of iced pumpkin juice. Cho takes one. He takes the other and swallows half the goblet in three long gulps. Dancing is far more tiring than he anticipated. He's quite warm, and his robes are damp with sweat around the collar, which he hopes neither of his dates notice.

Wait a moment-- did he just refer to Cho and Cedric as his dates?

"Want to go for a walk?" Cedric asks. "I haven't had a chance to look at the rose garden yet, but I hear it's nice."

"Sure," Cho says.

And that's his cue to leave, he thinks. Cho and Cedric can go on their romantic stroll while he sits with Ron and Luna until it's time to swap again. Except Ron and Luna aren't at their table. Crabbe and Goyle now occupy their chairs, sitting slumped over and fast asleep. Ron and Luna's outfits are distinct enough he should be able to find them easy, but they aren't at any of the other tables nor are they on the dance floor. He can't find Ginny or Neville around either. Hermione is dancing with Krum. Fred and George are wrapped up in a conversation with Ludo Bagman.

"Hey Harry, are you coming?" Cho asks. Cedric motions him to come over with his free hand. Harry picks up his drink and bounds after them.

Harry's never noticed this rose garden before. Was it built just for the Ball? It's all twinkling fairy lights, winding cobblestone paths, and roses in full bloom. There's no trace of the music inside, only owls hooting and water trickling in a distant fountain. It's snowing, but the surrounding air is warm like a sunny spring afternoon. Tiny snowflakes land in his hair and on his shoulders, melting on contact and evaporating away before his robes get damp.

The pathway is short-- Harry would guess a few hundred yards at most-- but each loop around it brings something different. They'll come across a statue they didn't see before, or a rosebush with flowers in a unique color, or a new face. A group of Ravenclaws on a stone bench wave at Cho. Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet wish him a happy holidays, as do Katie Bell and a girl Cedric refers to as Leanne. Madame Maxime cuts through them, alone and looking upset. Some 50 feet ahead of them a group of people dash out from a clump of hedges. Harry counts four of them, two with ginger hair, but they're gone before he's close enough to say hello.

On their sixth or seventh loop-- Harry's lost count-- they come across a fork in the path. The trickling water gets louder as they follow it, and they find themselves in front of a tall, marble fountain and several stone benches. On one of them sits an enormous silhouette. It's Hagrid, staring down at the pool of water. Harry walks over, his smile fading the closer he gets. Hagrid's eyes are red-rimmed and watery. He stuffs something small and silver into one of his pockets, and Harry catches a strong whiff of alcohol.

"Hagrid, are you alright?" He asks.

"Wha? Yeah I'm-- I'm fine." Hagrid stands, wobbly on his legs. He stumbles off not towards the castle, but his cabin in the opposite direction.

Harry takes a mental note to check on Hagrid tomorrow. He sits down on the bench. Right in the middle. He freezes, immediately aware of his mistake. The middle is Cho's spot so she can sit next to both of her dates, and so he and Cedric won't accidentally brush elbows. Except neither of them seem to mind. They smile and sit next to him, Cedric on his left, Cho on his right.

"So Harry, who's the better dancer? Me or Cedric?" Cho asks.

"I could ask you the same question."

Cho smirks at him and sips her iced pumpkin juice, not saying anything.

"She asked me the same question earlier," Cedric says. "I told her I thought you were both terrific."

"Then I'll take a leaf out of your book. You were both terrific."

None of them seem to know what to say after that. Cedric glances down at their reflection in the pool, Cho runs her fingers through her hair, attempting to put her top knot back together. He takes a drink of pumpkin juice. He's never been good at filling the gaps in conversation, at least, not with people he doesn't know very well.

"So… would you guys like to play a game?" Cho asks.

"What did you have in mind?" He asks.

"It's called Never Have I Ever," Cho says. "One of us says something they've never done before, and if you've done it you take a drink. I used to play it with my muggle friends all the time, it's fun."

"Sounds easy enough," he says. Cedric nods in agreement.

"Alright I'll go first," Cho says. "Never have I ever owned an owl."

Harry raises his glass, and waves away a fat beetle that's settled on its rim before taking a drink.

"Do you mean a personal owl, or just any owl at all?" Cedric asks, "Because my family has an owl, but Persephone isn't exclusively mine."

"If you're allowed to use her, it counts," Cho says. "My Mum's got an owl, but Bao is strictly for ministry business and if I want to mail something I've got to go to the owlery."

"Fair enough," Cedric sips from his goblet, "I'll go next. Never have I ever uh… had black hair."

Cho laughs. "Cedric, you're not supposed to say things you already know the answer to. This is supposed to be a way to get to know each other."

"Okay let's try again… never have I ever used a compooper."

He and Cho let out a snort of laughter. Cedric gives them a confused look.

"Sorry, what did you call it?" He asks, trying to rein in his amusem*nt.

"A compooper. You know, that muggle thing with the picture box and typing keys?"

"It's pronounced computer, Cedric," Cho says.

"I should have known Kaz was lying when he said that's what it's called," Cedric says. "You obviously know what I meant though, so drink up."

Cho takes a quick sip. Harry has to think a moment. He's not sure he ever got to use the clunky computer in Dudley's bedroom. Dudley would have killed him if he did, and since he's still very much alive, he lowers his glass.

"Alright my turn," he says. "Never have I ever… lost a game of quidditch to Slytherin."

"Ouch. Way to rub salt in the wound." Cho says. She and Cedric both drink from their glasses.

"Wait, no. I should say something else," he says. He remembers now, he was at the games where they lost. Cho missed the snitch by inches. She probably would have won if Malfoy didn't have a better broom. Cedric's attention was divided. He had to seek and keep after Bole "accidentally" knocked out the Hufflepuff keeper.

"It's alright," Cedric says. "I'll admit, my debut as team captain wasn't as good as I hoped. But you guys watch, I'll redeem myself next year."

"Bring it on!" Cho says. "Okay... never have I ever left my common room after curfew."

Harry takes a long gulp. It feels appropriate, given how many times he's snuck out under the cover of his invisibility cloak. Cedric takes a swig too, his face looking a bit flushed as he lowers his glass.

"What's this? Aren't you prefects supposed to be role models for the rest of us?" Cho asks.

"Well uh… one of the perks of being a prefect is having a nice bathroom. And I like to use it when no one else is around, which is usually after curfew."

"So you're risking detention and house points for a hot bath?"

"Hey, it's not the worst reason to could sneak out. Some people like to sneak out to take part in midnight duels." Cedric casts a shifty grin his way.

"That was one time! In my first year!" He says. "I didn't think anyone else knew about that."

"I have my sources," Cedric says. "Alright let's see... never have I ever had a detention."

He and Cho each take a drink.

"So what sort of mischief have you two gotten into?" Cedric asks.

"My only crime was running into Filch when he was in a foul mood," Cho says. "He gave the Ravenclaw quidditch team detention for tracking mud into the castle."

"And you Harry?"

"Well, I got caught out of bed after curfew--"

"For your midnight duel?" Cho asks.

"No, for sneaking a dragon up to the astronomy tower. I also mouthed off to Professor Snape, crashed a car into the whomping willow, and uh… that's everything, I think."

"That's… wow. How have you not been expelled?" Cedric asks, laughing.

Cho shrugs. "Honestly, I was expecting more."

And it's his turn again. He's never traveled abroad, taken Arithmancy, tried firewhisky. He hasn't been to a British and Irish Quidditch League game or checked a book out of the restricted section in the library. Harry taps his fingers on his glass and weighs his options.

"Never have I ever kissed anyone."

He's not sure where it came from, but now that it's out there, it's a question he wants the answer to. Cho bites her lip and runs her thumb along the rim of her goblet. Cedric looks at him, then Cho, then the small bit of pumpkin juice in his glass.

"Really? Neither of you?" He asks. They shake their heads.

"But I thought--" Cho says. She turns towards him. "Harry, wasn't Hermione your girlfriend? I read in The Prophet that--"

"I can assure you whatever you read isn't true," he says. "Hermione and I have always just been friends, nothing more."

"What about you and Davies, Cho?" Cedric asks. "Didn't you two used to go out?"

Cho shakes her head. "He asked me once, but I turned him down. My friends thought I was crazy, but I'm not into him that way."

"And you, Cedric?" Harry asks. "You've never kissed anyone?"

"I've never dated anyone before. I guess I'm just waiting…" Cedric trails off. He glances at Cho, then at him, and his lips curl into the tiniest smile.

"Waiting for what?" Cho asks.

"Waiting for the right someone to come along."

Around them the fairy lights dim until they're sitting in near darkness. Their only light now comes from the windows to the Great Hall. The three of them glance around with puzzled expressions. Cho shivers next to him, and Harry notices the drop in temperature. He checks his watch. Five minutes to midnight.

"We should head back inside," he says.

Cedric and Cho nod in agreement, and they follow the path back to the castle. They pass a few classmates in the entryway, yawning as they head for their common rooms. The refreshment table has been cleared away. The Weird Sisters address the crowd, saying thank you for being invited to play.

"Alright, it's the last song of the night. I want to see everyone up on their feet!" The lead guitarist says.

And it's like the same thought passes through their heads simultaneously. They don't have to say anything, they know what to do. Cho takes his left hand and Cedric's right. He and Cedric glance at each other before clasping hands and completing the circle.

The song is slow, but upbeat. It's an appropriate choice to close out the night with, he thinks. The three of them sway side to side, standing as close as they can get without huddling on top of each other. He can't decide which of them to look at. He locks eyes with Cho, then Cedric, then Cho again. Cho's hands are smaller than his, Cedric's larger, but they're both warm and they have the same broomstick calluses on their fingertips.

At the song's end the Great Hall bursts into applause. There are shouts for an encore. It almost looks like The Weird Sisters will oblige, but Professor McGonagall rushes on stage and whispers something into the lead guitarist's ear. And with that the Ball is officially over.

"Thanks for tonight," Cho says, shouting to be heard over the crowd of people in the entryway. "We should do this again sometime, the three of us I mean."

Harry nods, "Yeah, I think there's a Hogsmeade visit in January."

"We should all go flying when the weather's nice," Cedric says. "I haven't been on a broom in ages."

"Definitely!" Cho says, smiling. "Well, I'm off to bed. Goodnight you two."

Cedric opens his arms for a hug, but Cho takes him by surprise with a quick kiss on the cheek. Even standing on her tiptoes her lips barely reach his face. Cedric's cheeks tinge pink, and he bursts into a fit of giggles.

Cho turns to him. He grins, feeling awkward. He knows what's coming, and it only makes him more nervous. Cho's lips are soft and feather light, and he can still feel them brushing against his cheek after she's pulled away.

Cho waves at them before dashing up the stairs. She meets up with a group of girls at the top and they head in the direction he thinks is Ravenclaw tower.

"I should probably head off too," Cedric says. He offers his hand and Harry takes it.

"Before you go… what exactly did you mean with your hint about the egg?"

"Sorry, I know it was vague," he sighs. "Well, you were blunt with me about the dragons so... let me try this again. The egg's singing Mermish. Dunk it underwater and you'll be able to understand it."

"Thanks, I'll try that."

"You can use the prefect's bathroom if you want. It's on the fifth floor. Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered. The password's pine fresh."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Cedric leans closer. They're still clasping hands, but they've given up the pretense of a handshake. Harry wonders if he's going to kiss him. And he wonders if he'd mind if he did.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

"It's December 26th, Cedric."

"Happy Boxing Day then."

Cedric grins at him, his smile all dimples and perfect teeth. Then he stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads off for his common room. And Harry finds himself alone once more.

Chapter 4: The Second Task: Part 1

Chapter Text

As Harry climbs through the portrait hole, he half expects he'll stumble into a raucous after party. There were all sorts of rumors leading up to the Ball: The Weird Sisters' drummer would come up and sign autographs, a group of seventh years smuggled in a barrel of Madam Rosmerta's oak-mulled mead, Fred and George invented something even more explosive than Filibuster Fireworks.

Instead he's greeted by a few hushed conversations and the soft crackle of a slowly dying fire. Most of his housemates look like they could fall asleep standing up. They skip the common room and go yawning up the stairs to bed. Ron is one of the handful who stuck around. He's claimed a spot on the sofa by the hearth, and picks at the frayed edges of his sleeves. He smiles as Harry plops beside him.

"Hey! How'd it go with you and Cho? And uh… Cedric?" Ron's question ends with a shoulder shrug and lilt in his voice. Like there's more he wants to ask, but he isn't sure how to phrase it. A boundary in their usual rapport he doesn't want to cross if Harry isn't ready. And he's not-- at least not right now.

"It was good. What about you? You and Luna hit it off?"

Ron laughs. "She is an odd one. Did you see that magazine she was reading? And then in the middle of the evening she dragged us all outside to find this… hovering blimdigger thing."

"Did you find it?"

"Well... no. But we overheard Hagrid and Madame Maxime talking, and Harry, you're not going to believe this! Hagrid is--"

"Hello, did you have a nice evening?" Hermione grins at them. Some of the charm's come off her hair, and while still very pretty, she's much more recognizable. Ron stares at her with a somewhat starstruck look for just a moment before his face falls flat.

"I'm going to bed," he says.

"Wait, what were you saying about Hagrid?" Harry asks.

"I'll tell you later," he grumbles. Hermione watches crestfallen as he marches up the stairs.

"For what it's worth, it sounded like he had a nice time," he says.

"That's good." Hermione gives him a weak smile, and takes Ron's spot on the sofa.

"So… you and Krum? When did that happen?"

Hermione smiles sheepishly. "I'm afraid it's not that interesting, really. We met in the library a couple weeks ago and chatted about wizarding history books. I'd much rather hear about your evening. How did things go with Cho and Cedric?"

"They were alright."

"Just alright?" She scrunches her nose and stares at him the way she does her Ancient Runes homework, like he's a tricky translation in need of deciphering.

"Yeah, we had a nice time."

"Do you plan on seeing them again?"

He nods.

"Both of them?"

"You know what, I think I'll head off to bed now."

Hermione purses her lips and gives him an unamused stare, as if to say 'This conversation isn't over yet.', but she doesn't push him to keep sharing. Instead she retrieves from her clutch a pair of knitting needles and a small bundle of yarn and starts on another one of her elf hats.

As Harry climbs into bed, he thinks of the golden egg stashed away in his trunk. "The egg's singing in Mermish. Dunk it underwater and you'll be able to understand it. " He could solve the egg right now-- if he wanted to. Which… he'd rather not be the jerk who wakes up the whole of Gryffindor house at 1 AM the day after Christmas. And he wasn't lying when he told Hermione he was tired. His bed is so warm and cozy, he's already made himself comfortable.

Harry's last thought before drifting off to sleep is: he can sort it out first thing tomorrow.

He doesn't sort it out tomorrow.

Nor does he sort it out the next day. Or the day after that. "Tomorrow" turns into the Sunday before term starts.

His holiday break gets consumed with other important pursuits, such as snowball fights or cozy chats by the fire side. He doesn't forget about the task, per se. Once or twice a day he'll think "Oh, I should work out the egg clue" , and then he will go back to his transfiguration homework or game of exploding snap or whatever is holding his attention at the moment. It's not like he has to solve it right this instant, the next task isn't for another two months.

Hermione is… less than thrilled when he explains his logic. And Ron, who Harry thought would be on his side, goes along with Hermione when she orders him to work it out before term starts.

If all Harry has to do is dunk the egg in water, the sinks in the dormitory bathroom will suit him fine. Grateful as he is for Cedric's invitation to the prefect's bathroom, it's not worth getting caught out of bounds over. He waits until evening, when most of his housemates have left for dinner, and gives those remaining a warning so they don't mistake any potential wailing as a murder attempt in the bathroom. Harry fills a sink almost full, plops in the egg, and hopes for the best as he unscrews the top.

It doesn't scream, but it doesn't do much else either. From inside the egg there's a faint, white glow, and a few fat bubbles ripple to the surface. It makes what can best be described as melodic gurgling noises. Is it a song? For the next task will he have to sing in front of the entire school? In that case, he'd rather save himself the embarrassment and ask for a rematch with the Hungarian Horntail.

No, that's not right. The clue is the lyrics. If he dunked his head underwater he could hear it clearer-- except there isn't enough space in the sink for his head and the egg. He needs a bigger basin. The dormitory bathroom only has showers so he's left with two options: take a dip in the freezing cold lake, or visit the prefect's bathroom.

At least tomorrow his first class is History of Magic. He can use it to catch up on the sleep loses from sneaking out tonight.

The common room doesn't clear out until well after midnight. A quick glance at the Marauder's Map shows Filch and Mrs. Norris in the north tower, Peeves in the kitchen, and Snape in his office. Harry clears the map, throws on his cloak, and with the egg in one hand and a towel in the other, he sneaks out the portrait hole into the hallway.

It's apparent upon entering the bathroom Harry's earlier space constraints are no longer an issue. In the center of the room there's a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. It's already full. The air is warm and smells oddly of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish. He wonders if the bath is enchanted to start when someone walks in, until he notices someone sitting by the far edge staring straight at where he's standing.

"Er... hello?"

They can't see him, obviously, but they must know someone is there. Even in the wizarding world where paintings talk and staircases move, doors don't open and close on their own volition. If it were anyone else Harry would make a subtle exit, but he recognizes their voice, and as Harry's eyes adjust to the lighting he can make out their face.

Harry takes off his cloak. "Hello Cedric, fancy running into you here."

He hasn't seen much of Cedric or Cho since the Ball. Which makes sense-- he's spent most of his break lounging around Gryffindor common room. It's not until recently Harry's considered the obstacles in having friends in another house. You can't eat meals with them, you can't talk to them after curfew, if you're in the same year you might get a class or two with them, but even that's up to luck of the draw.

"Harry? Merlin, you sure know how to give someone a heart attack."

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was in here." The bathroom was empty when he checked the Map ten minutes ago. He was hoping to avoid this exact situation.

"It's alright, I should have mentioned the door. When the handle is turned upside down it means someone's in here. That's how we all avoid walking in on each other," Cedric says. "So, I'm guessing you're here to work out the egg?"

"Yeah, but since you're already here I'll come back tomorrow."

"No, it's fine. I'm just about done actually," Cedric sounds sincere, but Harry knows he's lying. He's been in this bathroom less than ten minutes, making him either the world's fastest bather, or the world's most polite one.

"No, I'll leave. I don't want to kick you out of your own bathroom."

"It's not my bathroom, and I've got no problem with leaving so you can sort out the egg."

"You're certain? I really don't mind coming back later."

"I'm absolutely certain," Cedric wades over to him. His shoulders peek out from under the foamy water. There's minty green soap suds stuck in his hair. "Uh… do you mind turning around for a moment?"

Oh.

Harry spins on his heel and shuts his eyes. He's only now aware of the fact the Cedric probably isn't wearing anything under that thick layer of foam. There's a tightness in his throat, like he's going to suffocate from this thick, steamy air. Water splashes and sloshes from somewhere behind him, then there's the pattering of bare feet on marble tile, and the soft ruffling of fabric.

"Okay, you can turn around," Cedric is still pulling his pajama shirt on. Harry catches a quick glimpse of his navel.

"It was uh… nice running into you," Harry says.

"Yeah, you too. Hopefully we'll run into each other a little bit more-- just maybe not in the bathroom next time." Cedric's hand is on the door when Harry remembers-- Peeves. According to the Map he's mucking around in the kitchen, which is across the hall from the Hufflepuff common room.

"Cedric, hang on, let me give you an escort."

He's never used the cloak with someone who isn't Ron or Hermione. He'd forgotten how little space there is under here, and the degree of closeness required for everything to stay hidden. Water from Cedric's still damp hair drips onto Harry's shirt. He can smell the soap on his skin. Their shoulders are pressed together, and the backs of their hands brush against each other. It would be easy to lace their fingers together-- and he shakes the thought of walking hand-in-hand with Cedric Diggory out of his head.

They make it to the Hufflepuff common room without incident. Hermione will be pleased to know Peeves left the house elves undisturbed. Cedric stops him in front of a row of large, wooden barrels, which Harry surmises must mask the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Thanks for the escort," Cedric says. "This cloak is nifty. No wonder you sneak out so often."

"I don't sneak out that often," he says, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

Cedric grins at him, "Well, best of luck with the egg. By the way, I recommend the third tap from the right. It's infused with amortentia."

Cedric's suggestion is an underwhelming one. It's a clear, oily substance that doesn't fizz or bubble, nor does it have a distinct scent. The other taps smell something specific: citrus, lavender, peppermint. The amortentia-infused stuff is a chameleon blend of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, Cho's perfume, and Cedric's cologne from the ball.

Harry finds it hard to concentrate on the egg with this aroma wafting around. By the time he solves it, the scent has vanished and the bathwater's turned lukewarm.

Harry's first move the next morning is to ask Ron and Hermione if there's a magical way to breathe underwater. Between Hermione's booksmarts and Ron's knowledge of the wizarding world, one of them must have the answer.

Except he doesn't get the chance. At breakfast they're distracted by Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins snickering over a copy of The Prophet . Which turns into them fuming over Rita's exposé on Hagrid. Which turns into a full week of damage control and several attempts to console Hagrid because he's not answering his door. Then Harry can finally turn his attention back to the egg.

And it turns out neither Ron nor Hermione have an immediate solution.

"I've never heard of anything like that," Ron says.

"Nor have I," Hermione says, "but I know of a few spellbooks we could try."

They spend all of January tearing through all the spellbooks in the library. Come February they have nothing to show for it. What are the priorities of some of these wizards? There are whole tomes of nothing but the most useless spells. Harry's found ways to unboil an egg, make his enemies talk in Haikus for an hour, seven different spells to turn his toenails bright pink, but nothing to breathe underwater.

"Okay, clearly a spell isn't the answer," Ron says, "perhaps transfiguration?"

The books in the library on human transfiguration are so complex even Hermione is left scratching her head at a few of them. They practice for two weeks straight, and all Harry ever manages is to make a few scales appear on his feet. He asks Professor McGonagall for advice, and she tells him flat out he's not skilled enough to perform human transfiguration. Still determined, he writes to Sirius with a plea for help. His response comes back three days later, and it's basically a kinder version of Professor McGonagall's spiel.

The pressure is building, and Harry is running out of time. He's getting less and less sleep every night. It shouldn't be this frustrating to find a solution to such a simple problem. Hermione starts studying spell creation theory. Ron suggests he try to accio an aqua lung. It's a joke, but maybe, just maybe...

And that's how the night before the second task they end up out in the cold, hoping beyond all hope to see a scuba tank whizzing towards them.

"Harry this isn't going to work," Hermione says. "Let's go back to the library and keep looking."

"I suppose you're right," Harry says. "Wait-- what if instead of summoning an aqua lung, I transfigured something into one?"

Hermione sighs. "You can't transfigure random objects into muggle things, it's illegal."

"Yeah, and it can go really badly if you don't know what you're doing," Ron says. "My Dad told me about a bloke who tried to transfigure a broomstick into a muggle bicycle and he nearly died because the thing bucked him over a cliff."

"Fine, then what if I used polyjuice potion?"

"And transform into what?" Ron asks.

"A merperson. There's mermaid hair in the student cupboard."

"Polyjuice potion only works with human transformations, you know that," Hermione says.

"It sort of works. As long as I get their gills who cares if I end up in the hospital wing for a few weeks?"

"Who cares?" Hermione shouts. "Harry, you could seriously injure yourself doing that!"

"Or you could end up with a tail and no gills and you'll just look extremely stupid," Ron says. "Besides, it took us a month to brew it last time, and I don't fancy breaking into Snape's private stores to steal the ingredients again."

"Okay fine! No polyjuice potion and no aqua lung. But there's got to be a solution, something we haven't thought of yet, something completely out of the box. Maybe something so stupid it might just work…. Maybe… hey Ron, what ever happened to your Dad's car?"

He shrugs. "I think it's still running wild in the forbidden forest. Why?"

"Well--I mean, if it can fly, maybe it could work underwater too?"

Hermione looks like a howler about to explode. "Are you seriously suggesting we traipse around the forbidden forest at night to find an illegally charmed car, and try to fix it so it can work underwater?"

"Well when you put it like that..."

So they return to the library, though Harry's not sure what good it will do. At least it's quiet here. Professor McGonagall gave him special permission to use the library overnight. Being as it's Friday night, there's never been more than a handful of students around. Even Madam Pince snuck out a few hours ago and never came back. When they left to summon the aqua lung, they were the only ones there. Which makes it a bit of a shock when someone is pouring out cups of tea at their vacated study table.

"Cho?"

Harry can feel his cheeks burning. He fixes his glasses, which have fallen askew, and tries to smooth out his hair. Is there a window around he can jump out of? If it were any other night he would be thrilled to see her. But he's on the verge of a breakdown and hasn't showered in three days.

"Hello! I wondered where you guys went," Cho says.

"What are you doing here?"

She points at a plate of pastries. "I didn't see you at dinner tonight. I figured you're probably pretty hungry."

Ron grabs a pastry and stuffs it into his mouth. He's about to have another when he spots Hermione glaring at him. He gives her a sheepish smile, his front teeth coated in strawberry jam, and puts it back on the plate.

"Thanks, but I'm really not that hungry," he says. He can't think of food at a time like this.

"Is everything alright?" Cho asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're certain? Because I've seen you in the library every night this week, and I know you've been skipping meals."

"I'm okay. You don't need to worry about--"

"Actually, do you know any spells that let people breathe underwater?" Hermione asks. Harry shoots her a glare. She shrugs.

"Uh… no, I don't think so," she says, furrowing her brows, "but I might know of a potion."

"A potion?"

They hadn't given the idea of a potion much more than a passing thought. Spells and transfiguration give him multiple chances to practice in order to get it right, whereas with a potion he has one shot, and even one small mistake could be dire. The only person who could offer him advice is Snape, and depending on his mood he might just leave him to drown.

But he trusts Cho.

She nods. "It's called the… aquilius potion? Or the aquillium potion? I don't remember its exact name, but I know I read about it over break when I was studying for my OWLs."

"Do you remember what book it was in?" Hermione asks.

"No, but I do remember the author, Acacia Abbott."

It turns out Acacia Abbott was a prolific potioneer who authored twelve volumes of potions. Twelve extremely thick, extremely heavy volumes. A book this dense would normally take Harry days to read. He has less than 12 hours, and he has to get through three of them.

At least he has some direction, a specific thing with a name to look for instead of an idea. It's the only thing motivating him to skim through page after page after page. They work in silence. Ron sneaks another pastry when he thinks no one is looking. Cho ties her shiny, black hair into a pony tail. She looks up from her book and smiles at him, and he realizes he's been staring.

Harry's almost done with his first volume when the clock strikes midnight. Ron's on par with him, and Cho and Hermione are already on their second. Just as he starts thinking he might actually pull this off, the library doors swing open. Professor McGonagall, followed by a boy with shaggy, brown hair who Harry recognizes as one of Cedric's friends.

"Professor? Is everything alright?" Hermione asks.

"Yes… everything is fine, but I need you and Mr. Weasley to come with me to my office," she says. Something seems a bit off about her. Perhaps something's upset her? Or maybe she's just tired from the late hour?

"What for?" Ron asks.

"I'll explain in my office."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?"

Professor McGonagall sighs. "No Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid it can't."

Ron and Hermione collect their things, and give him and Cho one last pitying look goodbye as they follow Professor McGonagall out of the library. With them go any chance of Harry finding the right potion. His workload is doubled. He can't read five books and brew a potion in nine hours. Harry closes his book and resists the urge to chuck it across the room. Instead he lets out a long, heavy sigh and slumps into his chair.

"Hey, don't look so defeated." Cho pats his forearm, and offers him a pastry. "Come on, you'll feel better after you eat something."

Harry offers her a weak smile. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me tonight, Cho, but it's getting late. You should head up to your common room."

She shakes her head. "I want to help you."

"I think I'm beyond help at this point. Even if we manage to find the potion, there's no guarantee we'll be able to make it. It might need really rare ingredients, or it might be too complex to understand. I'm already lousy at potions…"

Cho purses her lips. "Have you ever noticed how a lot of people say that-- that they're bad at potions?"

"I guess. What of it?"

"I've got a theory. Maybe the reason so many people claim to be bad at potions has nothing to do with their talent, and everything to do with the fact that we have a rubbish professor."

And for the first time in what must be weeks, Harry laughs.

"I'm not saying he isn't a talented potioneer-- he just can't teach. He has the same problem as some of my housemates, where they love to show off and their knowledge but they're not interested in sharing it with anyone. They just want people to respect them and think they're smart and… anyway I'm rambling."

"No, please, go on. Nothing makes me happier than listening to someone criticize Snape."

Cho laughs. "Well... I guess he could stand to wash his hair a bit more. And have you ever noticed he always favors the Slytherins?"

"Yes!" he says, "I sure wish Professor McGonagall would give us the same treatment."

"Same with Professor Flitwick. If anything he's tougher on us."

"Really? He seems so easy-going. It's hard to imagine him being strict with anyone."

"He rarely gets cross with us, he just has high expectations. He sees our potential, and wants us to succeed. Just like I want you to tomorrow." Cho beams at him with admiration. Harry can feel his heart flutter. Then her smile slips to something mischievous, and she holds a pastry under his nose. "Come on, this one's got chocolate filling."

He reaches for the pastry and takes a tentative bite. It's still got that fresh out of the oven warmth. And he's not sure if it's the pastry or Cho smiling next to him, but some of his earlier hopefulness has actually returned. He skims through the final pages of the first potions volume and opens up the second.

He's determined.

He can do this.

He's… going to fall asleep.

Harry's eyelids feel heavier with every page he turns. He shouldn't have stayed up so late these past few days. Every few minutes he has to shake himself awake. He snacks on pastries to stay alert. Which works up until he finishes the entire plate, and then without meaning to, he nods off.

Chapter 5: The Second Task: Part 2

Chapter Text

As Harry wakes there's a soft drizzle tapping on the windows. The usually well-lit library is dim and muted. Only the tiniest sliver of light escapes through the thick clouds. Harry wipes away the string of drool that's formed in the corner of his mouth (ugh… gross) and attempts to collect his thoughts. His brain is stuck in a grey, sleepy haze. What time is it? And why is he sleeping at a study desk with a textbook for a pillow?

The answer hits him like a shot of Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup Potion: the second task. It's today. Harry glances at the big clock above the entryway. 8:30. One hour until he loses something he'll sorely miss-- along with all of his remaining dignity.

Harry groans. How could he have let himself doze off? Sure, he hasn't properly slept in days, and those books are duller than Professor Binns' lectures, and the padded study chairs are too comfortable for their own good, but this potion was his top priority. Someone should have woken him.

"Oi Ron, how come you--"

But Ron's not in the chair next to him, nor is Hermione in her usual spot by the fireplace. Harry looks around the library and finds no sign of them anywhere. There's only Cho, who's breathing softly with her head resting in her arms.

Poor Cho, she must have scoured through all those potions books alone until she collapsed from exhaustion. He shouldn't have let her get involved. She wasted her whole Friday night helping him when she could've been having fun. But there's a small comfort in knowing she didn't give up on him. He studies her sleeping form and smiles softly. She really is something else.

"Cho?" he taps her shoulder, gentle so he doesn't startle her.

"Harry?" she gives him a groggy, half-lidded stare, then gasps and sits upright, "Oh no! What time is it?"

"It's 8:30."

"Oh thank goodness. I got worried we'd overslept."

"It might've been better if we did. At least then I'd have an excuse for missing the task besides 'I couldn't figure it out.'"

"Then it's lucky for you I've got a cauldron full of aquaspira potion brewing downstairs."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. She did it! Shediditshediditshedidit. She did the impossible. Harry gapes at her, unsure how to react. He didn't let himself fantasize about a scenario where things worked in his favor. He didn't want to get his hopes up. He was so certain they were running a fool's errand. Meanwhile Cho can't stop beaming at him with this radiant smile-- and Merlin, he's pretty sure he's in love with her.

"You-- you found it?"

"I did."

"And you were able to make it? It wasn't too difficult or anything?"

"Well, I ran into trouble getting some of the ingredients, but otherwise it was pretty simple."

"Cho that's brilliant. You're absolutely brilliant."

"Thank you." She laughs and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Come on, I think it's ready now. Let's go check."

They head down to the dungeons where Cho's set up shop in the Potion's classroom. A few Slytherins heading up for breakfast cast shrewd glances their way, but none stop to heckle them. The classroom is dark, lit only by a lone table lamp and a cauldron giving off a soft, blue glow. Harry's hit with the stench of under-cooked seafood, like those fish pies his Aunt Petunia makes. While he wishes for a window, Cho peers into the cauldron and gives the contents a stir.

"Does it look alright?" he asks.

Cho nods, "All that's left is to add a sprig of gillyweed, then if I did everything right, it'll turn bright green. Would you like to do the honors?"

"Uh… sure."

Cho sorts through her stock of ingredients until she sets sights on a large, crystal vial. She studies it in the light. Wriggling around inside is amass of short green tentacle-like vines. She plucks one and drops it into his palm. He shivers. It's cold and slimy, and he doesn't fancy holding it longer than necessary.

"I don't think I've seen this in the student cupboard before," he says.

"That's because it isn't." She shoots him an impish grin.

"I hope you didn't break into Snape's private stores to get it."

"No, I asked Professor Moody to break in for me."

"Wha?"

"Merlin, the look on your face. I'm only joking," Cho says, stifling a laugh. "Professor Moody was in the staff lounge when I ran up there at 5 AM looking for help, and he happened to have the key."

"That's fortunate. I'll have to thank him next time I see him."

The gillyweed makes a soft 'plunk' when he drops it into the cauldron. Cho stirs three times counterclockwise, and the potion turns an acid green so garish it's a strain on the eyes. Pale blue steam rises from the cauldron, and the fish pie odor is replaced with an earthy scent. Cho ladles three spoonfuls into a flask and hands it to him. He tucks it into his bag.

And that's it. With 51 minutes to spare, he's finally ready for the second task.

"Thank you again, you really saved my neck."

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"I'm just happy I could help," she says, smiling at him. "So... shall we get breakfast?"

"Actually, I think I'll head up to Gryffindor tower first. I should change into some clean robes."

"That's probably a good idea. I'm starving so I'm going to eat. I'll see you before the next task?"

He nods. "Let's meet up by the main doors in a half hour."

Harry races up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. He's bursting to give Ron and Hermione the good news, and to find out why they never returned last night. The common room is bustling and busy, but his friends are once again nowhere to be found. They wouldn't go to breakfast without him, would they? He asks around. Neville doesn't remember Ron coming to bed last night, and Parvati says the same of Hermione.

Something isn't adding up. Surely Ron and Hermione would want to catch up with him. At least he doesn't have to fear for their safety-- they were with Professor McGonagall after all. Perhaps she knows something? The task doesn't start for another half hour. He doesn't have to rush, but it also isn't enough time to dawdle. If he can't find them, maybe he can find Professor McGonagall and demand an explanation.

After a quick shower Harry rummages through his trunk for something suitable to wear. He needs to keep warm without being weighed down. It didn't occur to him to buy a swimsuit on his last trip to Hogsmeade. Come to think of it, he's never actually seen wizard swimwear.

He doesn't have to wait long to find out what it looks like. When he reaches the Great Hall Cedric is in the entryway wearing a swimsuit straight out of the 1920s. It's a loose-fitting shorts and tank top ensemble with black and yellow stripes. Merlin, what was Helga Hufflepuff thinking when she made her house colors the same as a bumblebee? He looks ridiculous, even more so coupled with the cape and rain boots he's presumably wearing to not freeze to death while walking outside. And yet, there's something endearing about him. He's kind of adorable. Huh , that's an odd thought to have about his rival 20 minutes before the competition.

"What?" Cedric asks as he draws closer. Harry tries to maintain a straight face, but his amusem*nt must bleed through.

"Nothing." He clears his throat and regains his composure. "It's just… is that really what wizard swimsuits look like?"

"Yeah, why? What do muggles wear? Just their normal street clothes?" he gestures to his outfit, a turtleneck and jeans.

"No, they've got bathing suits and swim trunks and stuff like that. I just didn't think to pack mine. In fact, I'm not even sure I own any. If I do, they're Dudley's and probably four sizes too big for me."

"Dudley?"

"My muggle cousin."

"Oh right." There's a pause. "Err… I've been meaning to ask you about your muggle relatives. I've heard rumors about them and… they're not really as bad as people say they are, are they?"

"Yeah, probably."

Cedric casts him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, "Really? Surely some of them must be exaggerations. I can't imagine anyone that… awful."

"No, they really are that awful."

Cedric doesn't say anything more in response, which is fine. He really ought to look for Ron and Hermione. He's only got... well, now zero minutes until it's time to meet Cho. Cedric takes a step closer. His eyes are remarkably grey. Harry's never paid much mind to them before. He doesn't break eye contact as Cedric throws his outstretched arms around his shoulders and pulls him into an embrace.

"What's that for?" He asks.

"Nothing. Just-- good luck out there today," he says. He lets go of him, but stays close. "So uh… want to head down to the lake?"

"Actually, I was sort of looking for someone. I wanted to find them before I went down."

"Ron and Hermione are still missing?" Cho approaches with a muffin in each hand. She gives one to each of them. Cedric takes a large bite out of his. He picks at the wrapper, too nervous to eat.

"Yeah, you didn't see them in the Great Hall, did you?" He asks.

She shakes her head. "Nor Professor McGonagall. C'mon, we ought to head out. Don't want to be late, right?"

The crowd of students pouring out the oak doors clear a path for them. Are they required to go to these things? It made sense for the first task, but there won't be much to see this round since the whole thing is happening underwater. There's applause and cheers of good luck, some for Cedric, some for him, but mostly for them both. Outside the rain has calmed to a gentle drizzle. Cho takes out a black umbrella from her bag. It's just large enough for the three of them to huddle underneath it.

"Hang on, you said your friends are missing too?" Cedric asks, his words garbled from the bit of muffin he's chewing.

"Oh! That's right!" Cho says. "Cedric, have you seen Kaz at all this morning? He was with Professor McGonagall last night, which is when we last saw Ron and Hermione."

"No, not since yesterday. He's never really been a morning person, but I figured he'd at least make an exception for today."

"That's a weird coincidence," Cho says. "You don't think it has something to do with the task?"

"I suppose it's possible," Harry says. He recalls the line 'We've taken what you'll sorely miss' . He's been so preoccupied with how he'd get into the lake, he never put much thought into what he'd retrieve when he got down there.

Cedric shakes his head. "No, it can't be. They wouldn't put our friends in danger like that."

"Well, it was just a thought," Cho says, shrugging. "So Cedric, did you figure out what you're doing for the task?"

"What do you mean?"

"How are you going to breathe underwater?"

"The bubblehead charm of course," he says it so matter-of-fact, like the answer is obvious. Harry clenches his jaw to keep it from dropping open. He can't believe it. The whole time there was a charm-- a simple charm by the sound of it.

"Hang on, there's a spell that lets you breathe underwater?" Cho says.

"Uh… yeah? Well, it's not specifically meant to be used underwater, but I asked Professor Flitwick about it and he said it'd work so..." He shrugs, "Why do you ask?"

"Because Harry here has spent the last month reading every book in the library searching for that exact spell without any luck."

"Oh no! You should have told me. I could've told you what I was doing and saved you all that trouble."

Harry had thought of the "Ask Cedric" option. He never considered doing it, even at his most desperate, but he was always acutely aware he could. And if he did, Cedric probably would've obliged, because that's the type of person he is. He's so genuinely selfless and good . Harry still remembers last year when he called for a rematch because he fell off his broom, despite winning fair and square.

But Cedric is his competition. They can't make a habit of helping each other. The Triwizard Tournament null and voids any fond feelings formed since the Yule Ball. People know they're friendly, and if they both do the same thing it might draw suspicion.

"Don't take it personally," Cho says, "he didn't even want me to help him. I had to flat out tell him I wasn't leaving this library until he put me to work."

Cedric laughs. "Harry, that's no way to treat your friends."

"I just didn't want you to waste your time," he stammers.

"It wasn't a waste. I got to study for my OWLs and spend some time with you, which has been a bit difficult lately. Promise me now that the task is over you'll stop being such a recluse?"

"Yeah, the three of us ought to hang out again," Cedric says.

He grins. "I promise you, I won't step foot into the library again until it's time to prepare for the third task if I can help it."

The lake looks murkier than usual. It could be from the weather, but it's probably his imagination. There's a set of covered bleachers set up along the lakeshore. It's packed to the brim with onlookers, a sea of striped scarves and mitten-clad hands holding steaming cups of tea. The Slytherin section is easily recognizable from their 'Potter Stinks' badges. He scans the crowd for Ron and Hermione, but surprise surprise, they aren't there. From Cedric and Cho's concerned expressions, he can assume they've done the same thing.

Opposite the bleachers the judges talk at a long table draped with a gold tablecloth. Nearby Fleur tucks her long, silver hair into a pale blue swim cap, while Krum does some arm stretches. They each politely ignore them as they make their way over.

"Good, you're here. We're just about to go over the rules," Percy Weasley says. Mr. Crouch appears to be absent again. He looks at Cho. "Champions only from here, Miss. You'll have to watch with the other students in the stands."

"Can we have a moment first?" Cedric asks. Percy gives them a curt nod and stalks back over to the judges' table.

"Well, good luck out there you two," Cho says. "Harry, make sure you're in the water when you take the potion. The effect will be almost immediate."

"Got it."

"And Cedric, you're certain this bubblehead charm works?"

"Positive, I tested it out last night in the prefect's bathroom to be sure."

"Then I'll leave you to it," Cho smiles, then gives them each a quick kiss on the cheek.

While the judges are purposefully sparse on details in their rundown of the second task, it's heavily implied the 'thing' they're looking for is a person. So Cho's earlier theory was correct. No wonder she's in Ravenclaw, she's quite clever. And when he thinks about it, what else could it be? Hedwig is off delivering a reply to Sirius, his Firebolt is in his trunk beneath his bed, and his wand is in his back pocket.

Harry's heart is racing as Ludo Bagman lines them up along the shore. He calms himself down by reminding himself nothing down there could possibly be as dangerous as a fire-breathing dragon. He glances at the stands. Dean's drawn a banner that reads 'Go Harry!', which he and Seamus hold up together. Fred, George, and Ginny wave their Gryffindor scarves above their heads like lassos. Cho sits in the front row of the Ravenclaw section. She waves at him and shouts something he can't hear over the din.

"Champions!" Says Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice. "On your marks, get set, GO!"

Harry wades into the lake until the water reaches his waist. He guzzles down the potion. It's a bit like seltzer water. Warm and bubbly, but lacking any distinguishable flavor. Then there's a pinprick on each side of his neck. He doesn't think much of it until a pressure builds in his chest. He can't breathe. Instinctively he lunges headfirst underwater.

It takes a moment, but Harry's body adjusts to the cold and his eyes to the darkness. He passes by schools of tiny, non-threatening fish, clumps of seaweed that stick to his newly webbed feet, and a disgusting amount of litter. His first bout of terror comes when he remembers this is where the school dumps its sewage. No wonder he's never seen anyone swimming here. There's no sign of the giant squid. No sign of the merfolk either until a half hour in when they recite another cryptic poem reminding him his friends are in mortal danger. No sign of anything remotely dangerous until he runs into a few grindylows. Two carefully aimed Relashio jinxes and the lot of them scatters, just like Professor Lupin taught him last year.

He's not sure how much time has passed when he reaches the hostages. His watch stopped working after he reached a certain depth. Tied like balloons to an enormous stone statue are Ron, Hermione, the boy from last night-- Kaz was it?-- and a young girl who looks like Fleur in miniature. The dozens of armed merfolk don't pay him much mind as he passes by them, nor when he uses Relashio to undo Ron's bindings. It's when he tries to free Hermione that they point their spears at him and inform him of the "one hostage per person" rule.

And he's not sure why he does it-- maybe because the hostages look so green and helpless, maybe because one of them is his best friend and another a child, maybe because those spears the merfolk are holding look very sharp-- but he waits to ensure they're rescued.

Cedric arrives not long after him. He gives him a wink and swims away with his friend over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Time passes, Krum arrives and claims Hermione, and when Fleur fails to show up, he takes matters into his own hands. With some quick spell work and improvisation, he frees the girl, dodges spear attacks from some very angry merfolk, and swims off with one person under each arm

When he finally resurfaces he's greeted with loud cheers of applause. Ron and the girl regain consciousness, and he'd let out a sigh of relief if not for the gills. The girl looks confused and speaks to him in French. Ron spits water in his face, (lovingly) calls him thick for taking the song literally, and helps the girl onto shore where the two of them are ambushed with hugs and coos of concern by their elder siblings, Percy and Fleur.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Cho calls. She's standing on the shoreline close enough for the tide to lap at her shoes. She looks like she might jump in the water to hug him if not for Cedric holding her hand.

"See, I told you he'd be alright," Cedric says. He has a thick, woolen blanket around his shoulders. "What happened down there, Harry? I figured you'd be right behind me."

He tries to tell them he's alright, but it comes out as a raspy wheeze. He nods and gives them a thumbs up.

"Cedric, get back here, I haven't released you from my care yet," Madam Pomfrey shouts from a warming tent set up close to the shore. "You too, Harry. You'll get sick if you stay in that lake much longer."

He shakes his head and surfaces enough to point at his neck. It seems Cho's potion worked a bit too well-- his gills show no sign of wearing off.

"Sorry," Cho says, "I might've given you a bit too much. I didn't want you to take too little and-- well I'm really sorry."

"Is there an antidote?" Cedric asks.

"Yes, but by the time I finish making it the potion will have already worn off. It shouldn't be much longer, maybe a half hour?"

Cedric shrugs. "Guess the best thing to do is wait it out."

And so, feeling a little foolish, he waits half-submerged in the lake while the judges tally their scores. It's no surprise Cedric scores high marks, then Krum a little lower, and Fleur lower than that. When Ludo Bagman announces his name, all he wants to do is dunk his head underwater so he won't have to relive how big his blunder was. But the judges, save Karkaroff, all thought he showed good moral fiber, and reward him with a generous 45 points.

"Combined with the first round that gives you 85 points," Cho says. "That's the same as Cedric."

"Hear that Harry? We're tied for the lead!" Cedric shouts from the warming tent.

Harry shoots them each a relieved grin. He survived the second task, and he doesn't have to worry about the third one for four glorious, blissful months. When this potion wears off, they're going to have to celebrate.

Chapter 6: The Interim: Part 1

Chapter Text

Hogwarts' collection of quidditch supplies are kept in a storage closet outside Madam Hooch's office. Harry's been in there dozens of times, usually when it was his turn to put the balls away after quidditch practice. He figures anyone in the school is free to use them whenever they want. It's not like they're kept under lock and key.

He figured incorrectly-- a fact which Professor Snape takes great pleasure in informing him of. The school's jumbled assortment of quaffles and old broomsticks are only permitted for use during official quidditch practices and games, and not, quote: "Whenever the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw seekers feel like it."

"I guess we can just fly around the grounds," Cedric says. "It's a nice enough day for it."

It's the last Sunday in February, and a reminder that spring is on the horizon. The three of them made the right call postponing their post-second task celebration to today. Yesterday's rain and muggy skies have cleared to a calm, picturesque blue. A chilly wind blows in from the mountains, but Harry's school robes and Hungarian Horntail sweater should be enough to stave off the cold.

"I've got a basketball in my dorm we could use," Cho says.

Harry nods. "That could work."

"Wait here, I'll run and get it," Cho says. Her shiny, black hair streams behind her as she dashes up the stairs. She hops over the trick step with ease, and effortlessly dodges Peeves' attempt to ambush her at the top of the staircase. Harry's struck again by how graceful she is. On her broomstick and on the ground, she moves with such poise and elegance.

"Err... Harry, what's a basketball?" Cedric asks.

"It's like a quaffle, except orange. Muggles use it to play basketball-- though you probably gathered that from the name."

"Muggles sure do have a lot of sports, don't they?" He says. "I've heard of tennis before, and football, and American football-- which Kaz says is nothing like football and more like a sport called rugby. But basketball's a new one for me."

Harry smiles and a pleasant warmth radiates in his chest. Cedric's cluelessness about the muggle world is oddly charming... plus his floppy hair and those damn dimples. This boy is too endearing for his own good.

"Cedric, have you ever considered taking a Muggle Studies course?"

"Yeah. I was going to take it originally, but... my Dad thought I should take something more challenging."

"What did you take instead?"

"Arithmancy, which turned out to be pretty easy actually. I probably would've had a harder time in Muggle Studies."

Harry scrunches his nose in disbelief. The one time Hermione tried explaining Arithmancy to him, he left the conversation needing a nap. All those numbers and symbols in her textbook make his head spin.

Cedric tilts his head and casts him a smile, seemingly reading his thoughts. "Really, it's not so difficult once you know the formulas."

"Of course you'd say that. You think it's easy because you're ridiculously brilliant." Harry winces. He'd meant to call him smart, not brilliant.

"You're brilliant too, Harry, and I'm sure you could handle Arithmancy if--"

"Think fast!" Cho appears suddenly on the bottom step. She lobs the ball at a bewildered Cedric who catches it with his impeccable seeker instincts.

With their broomsticks hoisted over their shoulders, they head out the main doors and down to the quidditch pitch. Cho walks beside him, standing closer than what's probably necessary for such a wide walkway. Her gaze flicks between him and Cedric, who's a few steps in front of them, smiling and dribbling the basketball on the brick paver path.

"I can see why the muggles like this so much. This is kind of fun," he calls back to them.

He and Cho share a smile, and he wonders if she's thinking the same thing, that the way Cedric stares at the ordinary basketball in utter fascination is kind of adorable.

"Pass it here, Cedric," Cho says, and he does. "Let me show you guys a trick my Dad taught me."

Cho tosses the ball into the air-- just above her head. Then she catches it on the tip of her right index finger. He and Cedric laugh and applaud as it spins around and around like a mad top on her fingernail.

"How'd you do that?" Cedric asks. He takes the ball and mimics her movements, but he only gets it to spin for a fraction of a second before it teeters off his finger and onto the path.

"You have to spin it a little when you toss it," Cho says.

He tries again, following her advice. He flails his arm wildly to keep the ball balanced before it falls. He gives it another try, and another, and another where he gets it to last several seconds, using his free hand to keep it spinning. On his sixth and seventh attempts he's so at ease he looks like he's been doing this for years.

Then Cedric passes the ball to him. Harry grips it between his fingers like it's a fragile piece of pottery. This can only end badly. But Cedric and Cho each shoot him an encouraging grin. So he tosses the ball. It balances on his outstretched finger for the barest of moments before falling and bonking him on the nose. Hard enough to sting for one painful second, but thankfully his glasses are still in one piece. Cho and Cedric laugh, but there's no malice to it, and he finds after the shock's worn off he's laughing along with them.

"And that's about how well it went the first time I tried," Cho says. "We can't all be as talented as Cedric here."

"Oh please, it was more luck than it was talent," Cedric says.

"Why don't you give it another go?" Cho says. Cedric nods in encouragement.

He's preparing to toss the ball when Hagrid appears in front of them on the path heading in the opposite direction. There's small, leafy bits stuck to his jacket and beard, and over his shoulder he's carrying what must be the world's largest pair of gardening shears.

"Afternoon Hagrid!" He says.

"Hello Harry! What are you kids getting up to today?"

"We're headed down to the Quidditch pitch to--"

"No!" Hagrid shouts with such urgency Harry flinches and nearly drops the basketball. "No, you can't be flying around the Quidditch pitch."

"Why not?" He asks.

"It's um... there's something in there you shouldn't be seeing yet."

"But what--"

"I can't say anymore than that right now, just promise me you'll stay away. You too, Diggory."

"Alright Hagrid, we'll keep away from the pitch," Cedric says.

"Good. I'm sorry for being so harsh, but I promise it'll all make sense soon enough." Hagrid casts them a toothy grin and heads on his way.

"I wonder what that was about?" Harry asks once he's sure Hagrid's out of earshot. Is this another rule he isn't aware of? No, Hagrid would have said so if it were the case. Snape might like to rain on their fun for his own amusem*nt, but never Hagrid.

Cedric shrugs, "Maybe Hagrid hasn't kept the pitch maintained? He's been so busy with his lessons and all the Triwizard tournament preparations, I don't know where he'd find the time."

"It could have something to do with the next task?" Cho suggests. "Maybe that's the thing he doesn't want you to see yet."

"You might be onto something, and considering you were right about yesterday too..." Cedric says, "got any theories on what it might be?"

Cho purses her lips, "Hmm... judging by those shears I'd bet he's growing something, but I'm not sure what."

With the Quidditch pitch now off-limits, the three of them brainstorm an alternate location to fly. Cho suggests above the courtyard, but Cedric shakes his head and reminds her if they aren't careful they might drop the basketball onto someone's unsuspecting head. Considering it's the first nice day of the year, it's bound to be crowded. With all those people milling about, someone will notice them. Perhaps one of Cedric or Cho's friends will see them flying around and wave, then they'll call them over for a quick chat, which will turn into a lengthy chat, and then the day won't be about the three of them anymore.

Harry doesn't want to share them with the rest of the castle today. It's selfish, but he misses them. There's this sort of energy when it's the three of them together. One he can't quite describe, but it's different from what he has with his other friends. After all, it's not like he cares when Ron plays wizard chess with Dean or Neville, or when Hermione spends an evening with her arithmancy study group for reasons other than studying. He's been looking forward to this since they planned it yesterday. Hell, he's been looking forward to this since they parted ways after the Yule Ball. It's been a whole two months since their last adventure, and they're well overdue for another.

"What about the lake?" He suggests. "If we drop the basketball the worst that'll happen is we disturb the merfolk, and frankly they deserve it after yesterday."

They start with a warm-up exercise. Cedric's suggestion, since they're all a bit rusty. They hover above the lake in a triangle formation, passing the ball between them. A simple, stationary game of catch.

It doesn't last long. They're seekers, they get antsy when they're forced to stay still. Harry tosses the basketball to Cho's right, and she swerves to catch it. She in turn throws it far above Cedric's head, and he soars upwards to retrieve it. And so it goes. They're showing off-- doing steep dives and loop-the-loops, waiting until the last possible second to make a mad dash for the ball. But they never miss. It's a show of just how in sync they are. Like they're a team of chasers instead of three people who are usually rivals. They always know just where to be to make a catch.

The game reaches its climax when Cedric tosses the ball high into the air. Harry waits for it to hit its peak, and only when it starts to fall does he dive after it. He speeds faster and faster, the cool wind streaking through his hair, heading nose-first towards the water. With inches to spare, he catches the ball and pulls back up before he takes another dip in the lake.

"Way to go, Harry!"

"That was incredible!"

Harry looks up. Cho smiles and applauds while Cedric sticks his fingers in his mouth and lets loose a shrill whistle. An ear to ear grin stretches across Harry's face. Their praise and attention leave him feeling flushed and quite pleased with himself.

Harry passes the ball back to Cho, who in turn passes it to Cedric, and so forth and so on. The friendly competition and escalating acrobatics between them naturally dwindles down. Instead they fly in slow, lazy circles while they share stories about their lives.

"When I first tried out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, I wanted to play chaser. I would've been happy in any position really, but since there were three spots open, I figured it was my best shot at getting on the team."

"My Dad was one of the only Muggles allowed at the Quidditch World Cup. Mum had to pull a bunch of strings with her Ministry connections to make it happen. You should have seen the hat he had to wear so all the anti-Muggle magic wouldn't affect him. It looked like it was made out of tinfoil."

"I almost got expelled during my first flying lesson. Madam Hooch had to take one of my classmates to the hospital wing and ordered us all to stay on the ground. You can probably guess what I did next."

"I never would have pegged myself as a seeker. I didn't think I had the build for it. So I was thoroughly baffled when our Captain announced I'd made seeker. When I asked him why he picked me, he said it was because I'm a particularly good finder."

"We had to leave right after the match ended, Dad had work the next morning. I was disappointed we didn't get to stick around for the celebration, but in hindsight it was definitely for the best. If those Death Eaters had known he was there… it could've been him instead of that poor Muggle family."

"Professor McGonagall caught me, of course. She dragged me away and I was terrified she was about to kick me out. Imagine my surprise when she offered me a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team instead. You wouldn't know it, but she's got a soft spot for Quidditch."

They carry on like this the rest of the afternoon. Swapping anecdotes, telling jokes, talking about anything and everything, having more fun than Harry's had in weeks. Until the sun dips beneath the distant, snow-capped mountains, and his fingers grow stiff from the cold.

"We should probably head in," Cedric says. He checks his watch. "It's nearly time for dinner. Dunno about you but I'm starved."

"Race you back to the main entrance," Cho says. She gets a head start, but he and Cedric are on her tail in no time. They're neck and neck. Cedric gets the lead, then him, then Cho. In the end it's too close to call, but they're too busy smiling and laughing to declare a winner anyway.

"Thanks for today," Cho says to both of them. "This was fun!"

"Yeah, we should do this more often," Cedric says.

"Same time next week?" He suggests.

Cho nods. "Works for me."

"Looking forward to it," Cedric says. He opens the main doors and motions for them to enter.

"Wait, before we go in." Harry holds out his Firebolt. "Either of you want a go?"

Cho shakes her head. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly."

"That's alright, I appreciate the offer though."

"Really?" He'd been expecting one of them to ask. Why else were they casting him those admiring looks all day long? "I'm happy to share it with you if you want."

"I'll keep that in mind next year when Hufflepuff plays Gryffindor." Cedric winks at him.

"Alright, most of the time I'm happy to share it with you guys."

The Great Hall is noisy with the usual dinner rush. The three of them bid each other farewell and head off to their respective tables, getting absorbed back into their groups of friends. He takes a seat across from Fred and George, who were hunched over whispering about something before he joins them.

"Hey Harry! Did you have a good afternoon?" Fred asks.

He smiles. "Yeah, it was nice."

On Friday afternoon Hedwig drops a letter on Harry's plate.

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.

So Sirius is in Hogsmeade. Harry's furious he did something so risky, but he can't lie, he's looking forward to seeing him after several months of separation.

He's also thankful for the distraction, because all week he's been lost reminiscing about last Sunday afternoon with Cho and Cedric. In Divination he swears he sees the silhouette of a man and a woman on a broomstick in his crystal ball. At mealtimes or while studying in the common room he'll suddenly remember something funny one of them said and smile. He's pretty sure Ron and Hermione have noticed his spaciness. Neither have commented, but he can sense a conversation is looming on the horizon.

Come Saturday morning, Harry is determined not to think about how much he's looking forward to flying with Cedric and Cho tomorrow. He talks with Neville on the way to breakfast. He loads his pockets with pastries and sausages to bring to Sirius. He discusses plans with Ron and Hermione as they head back up to Gryffindor tower.

"Hey Harry! Going on a picnic?" Cedric asks. Cho is at his side, grinning at him.

"Uh... something like that." He hides his overflowing bag of food behind his back.

"We'll catch up with you later, Harry." Hermione casts him a funny glance, like she knows something he doesn't. She takes Ron by the elbow, and they head up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

"So... what are you guys up to?" He asks.

"We were looking for you, actually," Cho says. "Got any plans this afternoon in Hogsmeade?"

"Cho and I are heading to Three Broomsticks to listen to this afternoon's Quidditch match," Cedric says. "Wimborne at Holyhead. Should be a good game. Did you want to join us?"

"Sorry, I've already got plans," he says. His Godfather comes first. No questions about it. Though, he wishes he could be more specific to them about what he's doing and who he's meeting. Sirius would like them, he thinks. And they would like him too-- once they realize he's not a mad Death Eater who killed 13 people. Maybe someday in a kinder and more forgiving future, the three of them could meet.

"Then you're ok with me and Cedric hanging out, just the two of us?" Cho says.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"We just don't want you to feel left out or anything," Cedric says.

"It's alright. You two have fun," he says. They asked him to come along. They made it clear they wanted him to be there. That's enough for him. "Though... if you're not doing anything this morning, I'm free until about one o'clock."

"I'm going cosmetics shopping with a few of my friends," Cho says. "You're welcome to join us, but I'm not sure how much fun you'd have."

"And I wish I could do something with you, but I've got to take my Apparition test," Cedric says.

"Oh, good luck!" Cho says.

"Thanks, I'm going to need it. So far I haven't managed to do it once without splinching myself."

Harry gives him an encouraging smile. He's heard apparition can be quite difficult, but if Cedric can face off against a dragon surely he can make mincemeat of an apparition test.

"Well, see you tomorrow then," he says. They wave at him before heading into the Great Hall.

"Have a fun chat with your girlfriend, Potter?" Malfoy says. He's wearing his signature sh*t-eating grin and holding a rolled up magazine. Pansy and her gang of Slytherin girls snicker behind him.

"Yeah, we were talking about what a nice ferret you make," he says. Draco shoots him an annoyed glare, but the tips of his ears go red.

"So it's true then, you and Cho are going out?" Pansy asks.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no."

Pansy casts Draco a thin, shifty smile. "See, I told you they weren't dating. It's the rumors about him and Cedric that are true."

"Huh, I never would've thought Diggory chased after his own team," Draco says, sneering, "and even if he did, I figured he'd have better taste."

"Malfoy," he says, barely able to mask his frustration, "as much as I love our little chats where you dangle information over my head, can we skip to the part where you tell me what's going on?"

Draco tosses the magazine at him. "You ought to give it a read. Show it to your mudblood friend Granger too. Bet she'll get a kick out of it."

Harry tightens his grip on the bag, thinking about his wand in his pocket. While it would be incredibly cathartic to hit them with a bat bogey hex, half the staff is seated within view in the Great Hall. So he turns his attention to the magazine-- Witch Weekly. He flips through the glossy pages, unsure what's waiting for him. It's probably not the cake recipe advertised on the cover. And there it is in the center pages, an article with a large picture of him and Hermione he doesn't remember taking, and two smaller ones of Krum and Cedric.

Love Conquers All-- The Real Prize of the Triwizard Tournament.

A boy like no other, perhaps-- yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it. "

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims.

Harry Potter's well-wishers can rest easy, however, as he appears not to have given up on finding true love at Hogwarts. This gentle boy-- who confessed he hasn't even kissed anyone yet-- is taking steps to open up his heart to someone new. He's been spotted lately with fellow classmate Sho Chang, a girl one year his junior and the daughter of controversial Wizengamot member Jinghua Chang.

"She's quite popular. A lot of boys like her," says Parkinson, "but she's got a huge ego. She fancies herself a Quidditch star when she can barely stay on her broomstick."

Or perhaps this traumatic heartbreak with Miss Granger has turned The Boy Who Lived off from the fairer sex. At the school's Yule Ball, Harry shared a dance with fellow Triwizard Tournament competitor Cedric Diggory. By all indications the pair appear to be quite close. Could this be the beginnings of a romance between the two-- or is this a cruel attempt on Diggory's part to sabotage his competition?

Harry sighs and shakes his head. The Slytherins would think this would get a rise out of him. He's not sure what to make of it really. Like he and Hermione would ever... or to think kind-hearted Cedric would do something so... she couldn't even bother to get Cho's name right. No one's going to believe this garbage.

Right?

Chapter 7: The Interim: Part 2

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Harry should have realized he was overly optimistic in thinking Rita’s scoop would slip away unnoticed by his peers. Ron lulled him into a false sense of security, assuring him "No one under the age of 30 would be caught dead reading Witch Weekly ". Perhaps under normal circ*mstances his statement would hold water-- but Rita name dropping four Hogwarts students (already notable for their own reasons) and one world famous quidditch player hardly qualifies as "normal".

By midday everyone in the castle had read the article.

Not since The Yule Ball has anyone been so invested in his love life. His classmates huddle in clumps along the streets of Hogsmeade, pointing and whispering as they walk by. Hermione shakes her head and sticks up her nose to the whole thing. She makes indifference look effortless. Harry wishes he could better imitate her attitude, but with every glance his way he wants more and more to retreat under his invisibility cloak.

Maybe if the article was a complete work of fiction, he could put up an indignant front to it. He’s no stranger to falling victim to untrue rumors. He wasted no time voicing his annoyance when people accused him of being the Heir of Slytherin or that he bamboozled the Goblet of Fire with dark magic to let him enter the Tournament. This time around-- there isn’t much for him to deny. He has been spending an awful lot of time with Cho with the hope it might lead to something more. And with Cedric with the hope of… exactly what he isn’t sure. And how on Earth did Rita know he’s never kissed anyone?

Harry hopes Cedric and Cho are being left alone through all of this. It wasn’t his intention to drag them into his and Hermione’s feud with a meddling gossip columnist. What is he going to tell them when they go flying tomorrow? There’s a lot they need to unpack, and he’s hardly prepared to have that conversation with them yet. He spends his evening panicking in the Gryffindor common room, his racing thoughts only interrupted when someone sneaks up behind him and thwunks him softly on the back of the head.

"Oi-- what was that for?" Harry turns to find Fred and George standing over him, each holding a decorative pillow.

"We’re knocking some sense into you," George says, then hits him again on the shoulder.

"Look mate, we know Cedric’s handsome and all, but you can do so much better than him," Fred says.

"Yeah, there’s plenty of people here who actually have a brain between their ears."

Harry can tell they’re only teasing him. Fred and George can be serious when they want to, and if they had an actual problem with him dating Cedric they wouldn’t bury it in jokes. But he hasn’t forgotten about their grudge against him either.

"I’m not seeing Cedric," he says, "but he is my friend, and I’d appreciate it if you were a little nicer to him."

Fred nods. "Duly noted."

"So are you single then, or is there any truth to this rumor about you and Cho Chang?" George says, then waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh... no, I’m not seeing her either, or anyone for that matter."

Fred cups his hands around his mouth and shouts across the common room, "Hear that Ginny, you’ve still got a shot!"

Ginny, who’s at a table with a few other third-years, looks away from her notebook and over at them. The tips of her ears glow the same shade of red Ron’s do when he’s stressed or embarrassed. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts back, "Well… it’s too bad for Harry that I’m seeing someone else."

"What?!?"

With that, Harry’s love life loses all its intrigue to Fred and George. The two of them (and Ron) spend the rest of the evening weedling Ginny for more information, though she remains quite tight-lipped. Harry ought to thank her for sparing him from any further prodding. Still, it was sort of nice Fred and George let him clear the air in a way that wasn’t too humiliating. Half of Gryffindor house heard their exchange, more than enough people to guarantee word will spread like wildfire around the castle. Come tomorrow morning, they can put this whole mess behind them.

"So... some weather we’re having, eh?" Cedric says when they meet in the Entryway Sunday afternoon.

Today’s gentle but steady downpour is the perfect misty March weather for curling up next to a fire with a blanket and a steaming mug of tea. Harry might even find it relaxing if his only plans for the day were to lounge around Gryffindor tower. Instead, he spent his morning checking the windows every ten minutes for the slightest break in the clouds and hoping Cho and Cedric don’t mind a little precipitation.

"I suppose it’s an improvement over all the snow we got in January," Cho says.

Harry nods. "Yeah, but it still doesn’t make for good flying."

"Does that mean you guys don’t want to go out anymore or..?" Cedric asks.

Cho shrugs. "I’m fine with whatever you want to do."

Harry clicks his tongue. "Indecisive as usual, I see."

"Hey, I’m not being indecisive. I’ve decided I’m going to follow your guys’ lead."

"Well... it looks like the rain might be letting up some," Harry says, peering into the windows of the Great Hall, "maybe if we wait a little longer..."

He’s interrupted by several high-pitched giggles as a group of Slytherin girls emerge from the dungeons. An uneasy feeling churns in his stomach from the way their leering gaze lingers on them.

"Oooh look, it’s the love triangle," one of them says in faux whisper as they pass.

"Didn't you hear? Cedric and Cho are seeing each other now," another says. "Milicent said she saw them snogging yesterday at Three Broomsticks."

"That means Harry’s been ditched three times this year. He must be a really lousy boyfriend."

Cold laughter rings out once more as they enter the Great Hall. Harry can feel all the eyes in the entryway boring into them. A group of Ravenclaws, who a moment ago were having a loud debate about the mechanics of wandless magic, have gone silent, as have the Hufflepuffs chatting by the staircase. Even some Gryffindors, who were in the common room last night, bow their heads together and whisper something he can’t make out. No matter what he says or does, the three of them continue to be a spectacle for people to gawk at.

Cho picks at a loose straw in her broomstick, Cedric sticks his hands in his pockets, and they both make a point not to look at him.

"On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t go out today," he says.

"Are you sure?" Cedric asks, his voice a touch softer than before.

He nods. "I’ve got a feeling it’s going to keep raining all afternoon."

"Okay, then let’s make plans for next week," Cho says. "Same time work for you?"

"Of course," Cedric says. Harry just nods. After all the trouble he’s caused them, why do they still insist on spending time with him?

"Good," Cho says. Her gaze lingers on him, "and um... just so you know, what those girls said wasn’t true."

"Yeah, all Cho and I did was share a butterbeer and a plate of chips. It was completely friendly."

Cedric and Cho are far too good for him. He's the source of their problems, and they’re trying to comfort him. It should be the other way around. He should apologize for dropping this spotlight on them, but when he tries, a tightness forms in his throat and he can’t find the right words.

"I know," he says, and dashes up the stairs before either of them can say anything else.

Harry would go on to overhear Nearly Headless Nick telling Dean and Seamus that not even the ghosts can recall a March this wet and miserable in the last century. Throughout the month, Filch stalks around the castle with a sopping-wet mop and a sourer attitude than usual. Potions is temporarily moved to a spare classroom when Snape’s dungeon floods. If Wood were still his team captain, even he wouldn’t make them practice in this weather-- probably.

The three of them keep trying though. Like clockwork they meet every Sunday in the entryway. And they each in turn decide that-- as much as they’d like to go flying, it’s far too stormy outside and they ought to try again next week.

"Maybe we could do something indoors?" Cedric suggests on the third week. He’s hard to hear over the Galleon-sized bits of hail pummeling the castle walls.

"I’ve got some homework I need to work on. Sorry," he says. He’s already thought through Cedric’s suggestion. There isn't anywhere they can go where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Even the bathrooms-- Myrtle or one of the other ghosts could barge in on them.

"No worries," Cho says. "I should study too. Professor Flitwick’s been getting on our case about OWLs lately."

"Yeah, and I’ve got a Transfiguration exam tomorrow. Professor McGonagall’s been hinting it’s going to be difficult," Cedric says.

Homework turns out to be a bust. No amount of last minute pressure can make Harry care about his stupid History of Magic essay. It’s supposed to be 24 inches long. So far he’s written three sentences. The longer he stares at his textbook, the less he takes in. He sighs, slams his book shut, and slumps over in his chair by the fireplace.

"Wizarding History is actually really fascinating," Harry recalls Cedric saying to Cho at the Yule Ball, "it’s just that Professor Binns has chosen to fixate on the least interesting parts of it."

"I know, right?" Cho says. "Someone ought to tell him there are other historically significant events besides Goblin rebellions in Medieval Europe. My Mum’s been lobbying the school Governors for more diverse coursework, but they keep brushing her off."

Even when Harry’s not trying to think of them, his brain finds a way of making the connection. It’s frustrating how deep they’ve burrowed themselves into his thoughts. He’s trying to let them go, after all.

It’s not that Harry’s let the rumor mill get to him. He knows better than to believe anything that comes out of a Slytherin’s mouth. Cedric and Cho told him they didn’t go on a date. They invited him along on said date only a few hours prior. Unless they changed their tune and lied to him about it, which feels unlikely considering how open they’ve been with him. Harry’s reasonably certain there’s nothing going on between them right now.

But it’s bigger than this one instance. Cedric and Cho have an eventuality about them. Their chemistry is obvious. It’s in the way they bounce off each other in conversation or stare when they don’t think the other is watching. Harry’s watching, and he hasn’t forgotten how good they looked together slow dancing together at the Yule Ball. It’s only a matter of time before something comes out of their relationship. And when it does... will they still want him around? Will he still even want to be around, watching them go about their lives as a couple, stuck with heartache because he can’t have...

He's not sure who's name belongs at the end of that sentence.

"You alright, Harry?" Hermione asks. She glances up from the mound of papers in front of her and gives him a concerned look.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"You sure? You look a little tense, mate," Ron says. He grins and holds up a set of knitting needles. A few weeks ago he took Hermione up on her offer to teach him how to knit. "You ought to give it a try, it’s relaxing."

"Don’t worry, it’s nothing."

Ron tilts his head and gives him another once-over before returning to the potholders he’s making for his Mother. Hermione picks up an envelope and reads the label. She scoffs, then tosses it into the fireplace.

"What was that?" Ron asks.

"Nothing, just another letter from a crazed Witch Weekly reader."

"You’re still getting those?" Harry asks.

"Not that often. It’s mostly died off now."

"I don’t like that you’re still messing around with those letters," Ron says. "One of them put you in the hospital wing for a week. I don’t want you to get hurt like that again."

"Don’t worry, I’m not opening them, just sorting through my mail. I don’t want to throw away anything important by mistake," Hermione sighs. "Merlin’s beard, who would have thought so many grown wizards would be so interested in the love lives of a couple teenagers?"

"But you’re not just a couple teenagers, you’re famous," Ron says.

"Well, I suppose Viktor’s a little noteworthy--"

"A little!?" Ron’s stitching has gotten knotted and uneven, though he doesn’t seem to have noticed.

Hermione shrugs. "I still want to find out how Rita’s been hearing all our conversations. Professor Moody said he didn’t see her hiding under an invisibility cloak, so it can’t be that."

"She probably just made it all up," Ron says.

"Yes, but that doesn’t explain how she knew about..."

"Knew about what?" Ron asks, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione rubs the side of her neck. "Well... Viktor really did invite me to visit him this summer."

"And what did you say?" Ron huffs.

"I haven’t given him an answer yet!"

"Are you going to tell him yes?"

"That’s hardly your business, Ronald!"

"Rita knew some stuff about me too," Harry shouts, hoping this will get them to stop bickering. They both turn to him with equally curious expressions.

"What did she know about you?" Hermione asks.

"That I’ve never kissed anyone before."

Ron shrugs. "Lucky guess?"

"Maybe, but I told Cho and Cedric at the Yule Ball that I’d never kissed anyone. No one else was around though. I don’t know how she could have heard us."

"Why did you tell Cho and Cedric you’d never kissed anyone?" Hermione asks.

"I dunno, we were just talking."

"Talking about kissing?"

Harry fights the urge to squirm under Hermione’s scrutinizing gaze. It’s not like it's weird to talk about kissing. Friends can talk about kissing. Though, he’s never had a conversation about kissing with Ron and Hermione until this very moment.

"Harry," Ron says, with a look of seriousness. "Hermione and I have sort of been wondering about your relationship with Cho and Cedric. You see... you talk about them quite a lot and--"

"Do you fancy them?"

"Hermione!" Ron shouts. "We talked about this! We were going to ease into it, not attack him outright!"

"I’m not attacking him, I’m being direct. There’s no sense in beating around the bush."

Harry clears his throat. It sounds like they’ve been planning this chat for a while. It’s weird to think they have conversations about him when he's not there. He can’t say he didn’t see this coming though. It’s kind of amazing Hermione waited this long to confront him. All credit to Ron for holding her back. Harry may not be the best at hiding his emotions, but as of yet, he’s never admitted to them out loud. There’s a power in words. Saying it brings his feelings to life in a way scattered, internal thoughts can’t.

But he trusts Ron and Hermione. They’re his best friends, after all. He’s told them far more dangerous secrets about himself, and here they are, sitting by his side and waiting with looks of encouragement for him to respond.

"Yes, I fancy Cho. That’s why I asked her to the Yule Ball, and why I’ve been spending so much time with her ever since."

"And Cedric?" Ron asks.

He shakes his head. "I don’t think so. I mean-- I like him, but I wouldn’t say I fancy him."

"Are you sure about that?" Hermione asks. "Because it kind of seems like you do."

Whatever Harry feels for Cedric, it’s different from his crush on Cho. Though, now that he’s forced to reflect on it, it isn’t that different. They’re in the same neighborhood, like different flavors of the same thing. They both make his heart race and his insides warm and fluttery. The way their laughter sounds and the feeling of their hand in his are ingrained into his memory. When he compares the two sensations, he doesn’t have a preference to one over the other.

"Maybe. I dunno. It’s... different. I’m not really sure how to explain it."

"Is it because he’s a boy? Is that why you’re having trouble figuring it out?"

As Hermione asks it, it's immediate to him she’s right. When a girl is so pretty it makes him nervous, it’s a crush. When a boy is so handsome it makes him nervous, it’s a source of confusion. His brain never made the connection because he didn’t think he was attracted to boys. But he also thought for 11 years he was an ordinary Muggle kid, even though he was doing magic left and right. The signs were right there in front of his face, but he ignored them in favor of an explanation that while logical, never fully satisfied him. It’s a reminder he’s still growing into himself and should keep his mind open to unexpected possibilities. Sometimes change happens when a gigantic man knocks down his door and gives his cousin a pig tail, other times it’s when he’s sitting by a fireplace having a heart-to-heart with his best friends.

"Yeah, I think that probably has something to do with it."

"And are you worried if Wizards hold the same prejudices about different sexualities and gender identities that some Muggles do?"

"To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it. Do they?"

"Nope. Historically, we’ve been pretty accepting." Hermione taps his History of Magic textbook. "If you ever bother reading this thing, you’ll find plenty of examples. For instance, there’s evidence suggesting Godric Gryffindor was bisexual. And remember Acacia Abbott, the witch who invented the Aquaspira potion you used in the second task? She was an openly transgender woman."

"My family all supported Charlie when he told us he was asexual," Ron says. "It’s really not a big deal to most people. Unless you want us to make it a big deal. Because we want to make sure you know that we support you-- if you want to go out with Cedric or Cho or whoever strikes your fancy."

Harry nods. He didn’t go into this conversation looking for their approval, but it’s nice to know he has it. Whether it's fighting dark wizards or getting a date, Ron and Hermione have his back.

"Thanks, but you guys don’t need to make a big deal out of it. Although, there is one thing you can do for me."

"Of course," Hermione says.

"Yeah, what is it?" Ron asks.

Harry holds up his parchment. "You want to finish this essay for me?"

Hermione shakes her head and rolls her eyes, though she can’t stop herself from letting out a tiny giggle. Ron grins at him, then picks up his ball of yarn and chucks it at his head.

Harry shrugs. "Well, it was worth a shot."

April begins next Sunday, and it brings with it a much-needed break in the weather. The sky is still overcast, and it’s so windy Harry’s afraid his glasses might get blown off his face, but the telltale patter of rain is nowhere to be heard.

"You think the weather will hold?" Cho asks.

"Yeah, I think we’re good," he says, "and even if it does drizzle a bit, we can handle it."

They head back to their spot over the lake and start again with the same warm-up exercise as last time. It should be easy, but they keep making stupid mistakes. He keeps throwing the ball too hard, nearly unseating his partners. Cedric has one close fumble after another. Cho needs to be reminded to throw the ball and not stare at it. They’re out of sync. He’d love to blame it on being out of practice, but after fifteen minutes of awkwardness with no signs of improvement, they have no excuses. All the joy from their last flight together evaporated along with the rain.

Since his talk with Ron and Hermione last week, Harry’s been coming to grips with his feelings for both of them. His confidence had never been higher, and he thought he was ready to have this conversation. Except now that they’re in front of him, he’s tongue tied and still woefully unequipped to talk about how much they both mean to him.

"So Cedric... how did your Apparition test go?" He asks, hoping this will start some kind of dialogue between them.

Cedric frowns. "It could’ve gone better."

"Oh... sorry."

"It’s fine. I’ll get another shot in a few months. Hopefully next time I won’t splinch off my hand." Cedric tosses the basketball to Cho. "Um... did either of you catch the Holyhead at Puddlemere match yesterday?"

Harry shakes his head. "No, was it good?"

"Not really. Holyhead caught the snitch in the first five minutes."

"Oh no, Oliver must’ve been upset."

"That’s right-- I forgot Wood plays for them now. How’s he doing?" Cedric asks.

"I dunno. I haven’t heard from him since the World Cup."

Cho tosses the basketball his way. Harry holds his hands in front of his chest, but somehow the ball slips through his fingers. It spirals down faster and faster until it lands in the muddy banks far below, a tiny orange dot against a brown backdrop. They could have easily dived after it, but instead they chose to watch and do nothing. It’s as if none of them have the energy or will to do more than hover in place.

"Sorry, I’ll go get it."

"Wait," Cho says. It’s the first thing she’s said since they were in the castle. "I think we should talk."

Harry’s hands clench around his broomstick handle. A part of him wishes he pretended not to hear her and went diving after the ball. He’s going to feel better once they talk about it, he reminds himself. This is a good step forward in their relationship. He takes comfort in knowing there’s no way anyone can overhear them. They’re hundreds of feet above the ground. There aren’t even any passing birds or insects up here to hear them talk. Anyone watching would only see three indistinguishable pin pricks against a grey sky.

"It’s not fair," Cedric says with a scowl. His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips his broomstick, and there’s a coldness in his gaze Harry’s never seen in him before.

"What’s not fair?" He asks.

"It’s not fair that we’re forced to talk about this because a journalist had a bone to pick with a 15-year-old girl. I wanted us to have this discussion, but not until we were ready. Rita took that opportunity away from us, and that’s really, really unfair."

"If it makes you feel any better, my Mum’s checking to see if there’s any legal recourse we can take," Cho says. "she’s on the Wizengamot-- though I suppose you already knew that now-- so she knows about libel laws and stuff like that. She was absolutely furious about the article."

"So was my Dad. My Mum said he’s been writing howlers to Witch Weekly every day for the past month. I suppose I’m glad for it, though. He was so distracted by the lies, he hasn’t asked me about the parts that are true."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

Cedric purses his lips. "I hadn’t told my parents about our... arrangement at the Yule Ball, and I didn’t really envision them finding out through a gossip magazine."

"I know what you mean. I thought my Mum would have a comment about not getting involved with boys when I should be focusing on my OWLs, but she seemed more concerned about the sleight at her reputation."

Harry rubs the back of his neck. He was so worried about the reaction of Cedric and Cho’s friends, he hadn’t even considered their parents and the people in their lives who live outside the castle walls. It’s hard for Harry to picture his only parental figure who matters to him disapproving of his choice in Yule Ball dates. He hasn’t talked to Sirius about the article yet, and if he knows about it, he hasn’t let on.

"I’m really sorry about the attention you’ve gotten," he says. "I know you’re going to tell me it’s not my fault, but if it weren’t for me, Rita would have left you two alone. I’m used to this sort of thing. I mean-- I don’t like it, but I’ve learned to deal with it. You guys shouldn’t have to."

"Well you’re right, it’s not your fault," Cho says, "and you shouldn’t apologize for someone else’s actions."

"Yeah, we don’t blame you. We’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks," Cedric says. "If being your friend means occasionally showing up in the tabloids, then we’ll get used to it too."

"So is that how you guys see me? As a friend?"

Neither of them say anything. The only sound comes from the wind whistling in his ears. It’s hard to read what’s going on inside Cho and Cedric’s heads. Their expressions betray no emotion. Goosebumps prickle up and down Harry’s forearms. He has to know. He’s tired of questioning and wondering and replaying every interaction they’ve ever had in his head looking for hints. It’s more frustrating than his Divination classwork. He’s ready, he thinks, for them to shoot him down.

"Oh, this is just silly," Cedric says at last. "Cho, Harry, if you two like each other, then you should go out."

"No!" He shouts at the same time as Cho. The three of them look between each other. Neither of their reactions are what he expected, and judging by Cedric and Cho’s expressions, they’re just as lost as he is.

"But why?" Cedric asks. "I’m not reading this wrong, am I? You two do fancy each other, right?"

"No, you’re not completely wrong," he says. His mouth has gone dry, and he’s struck with the same jitters he got when he asked Cho to the Yule Ball back in December. But he takes a breath anyway. It’s now or never. "Cho, I like you, quite a lot actually. And Cedric, I wasn’t expecting it, but I’ve come to like you quite a bit as well. It doesn’t really matter though. You’re both way out of my league. So if anyone ought to go out, it’s you two."

"What do you mean we’re out of your league?" Cho asks.

"Well, you guys are both so..." He pauses. Even with the chilly wind blowing around him, his face feels like it’s about to burn up, "so cute. I mean, you’re really, ridiculously attractive to the point where it’s intimidating. And I’m just... me."

Cho and Cedric furrow their brows and give him a look like he spoke in a language they don’t understand.

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Cho asks. "Or have you not looked in a mirror lately?"

"What do you mean?"

Cedric chuckles. "I think what Cho’s trying to say is: we think you’re really cute too."

Harry looks back and forth between them, feeling more gobsmacked than he ever has in his life. They fancy him too? That’s what they’re saying, right? He’s not overthinking this, or seeing what he wants to see? Cedric keeps grinning at him with his adorable, dimpled smile and Cho nods along beside him. Merlin help him, he’s going to have a heart attack if he can’t get his pulse under control.

"All this time, did you think I wasn’t interested in you?" Cho asks. "Why do you think I went to the Yule Ball with you? Why do you think I spent a whole night reading a bunch of boring old potions books with you?"

"I dunno? I guess I thought you were being friendly."

"Well yes, but I wanted to be a bit more than just your friend." She laughs. "Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel stupid or anything. I just thought I was being so obvious."

"Yeah, I thought you’d figured me out for sure," Cedric says. "When I told you about the Amortentia in the prefect’s bathroom, it felt like I was wearing my heart on my sleeve. But I figured you were straight, and that you were working out a way to let me down easy."

"Well, you’re wrong on both accounts. I have absolutely no idea what Amortentia is, and I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual."

"It’s a love potion, known for smelling like the people you’re attracted to," Cedric says. "And I’m bisexual too, just in case that wasn’t obvious by now."

Harry stifles a laugh. So that’s why the prefect’s bathroom smelled like them, and why the aroma made it so hard for him to concentrate. Ever since he figured out he's bi, he’s been amazed at how many hints he's missed over the years. Like the world planted tiny bisexual flags everywhere he went and he just thought they were nice decorations.

"So all this time, you two both fancied me?"

"Yup," Cedric says, nodding.

"Sounds about right," Cho says.

"You fancied me, and I fancied both of you, and I suppose you two also fancy each other?"

Cedric turns to Cho. "I hope I made my feelings clear in the letter I wrote when I asked you to the Yule Ball. If not, I can gush again about how nice and cute you are."

She nods, and her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. "I gathered. I think you’re very nice and cute too, by the way, though I’m hoping you were able to pick that up."

"Yeah, I suspected. But I also suspected that you liked Harry, and I didn’t want to force you to choose between the two of us."

"Well, this makes things easy," Harry says, grinning. "You don’t have to choose between us, Cho, you can choose both of us. All three of us can choose each other."

"What do you mean? Like a couple, but with three people instead of two?" Cho asks.

"A throuple?" Cedric asks. "Is that even a real word?"

"I dunno, but I’m sure we can figure it out," he says. "We made it work for the Yule Ball, after all."

"Yeah, that was fun, wasn’t it?" Cedric says. "Okay then, if this is something you two want to try, then I’m all in."

"Wait--" Cho says. She scrunches her nose and she appears to be in deep thought. "How would we kiss each other though? We can go on dates in threes, and hold hands in threes, but kissing-- that’s not really..."

Harry’s eyes widen, and another bout of jitters runs from his head down to the tips of his toes. Not in a bad way, in the absolute, best possible way. Cho and Cedric kissing him is an actual possibility. The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to stop thinking about it and get to doing it.

He shrugs, "I guess we’ll take turns?"

"How do we decide who goes first?" Cho asks.

"We could make a game of it?" Cedric suggests. "Like, a game of tag where the person you catch is the person you kiss."

Cho grins. "I like games."

"I know," Cedric says. He winks and taps her on the shoulder. "You’re it."

Cedric flies off towards the forbidden forest while Harry aims his broom straight up and soars higher and higher into the sky. He can’t see where Cho’s zipped off to, but he doesn’t hear anyone behind him. This is the first time his Firebolt has been a hindrance. He keeps willing himself to slow down a little, then a little more.

There’s a tug on the back of his broom. He spins around and there she is, leaning forward on her broomstick with a grin.

Harry’s breath hitches. Cho's lips are shiny and pink. Make-up is a form of sorcery he doesn’t understand, but damn if the results don’t make his heart skip a beat. He has an urge to run his thumb along the scar on her chin, though he’s not sure if that’s romantic or weird. He’s never done anything like this before, and he’s second-guessing everything he knows. He reminds himself Cho is as experienced as he is with this stuff, which is to say, not at all. She’s not expecting him to be a debonair who sweeps her off her feet. All three of them are clumsily figuring this out together, and that’s okay.

"Hey, are you two going to kiss or what?" Cedric shouts from a few feet away.

Cho caresses his cheek with a soft, gloved hand. He closes his eyes, leans forward, and hopes their noses don’t bump when their lips meet.

They don’t.

The kiss doesn’t last long, but Harry knows immediately this is going to be his happy memory next time he needs to conjure a patronus. It’s soft and sweet and electrifying all at once. Like a crate of Filibuster Fireworks exploding inside him. He keeps his hands clamped around his broomstick for fear of falling off like the clumsy, love-struck fool he is.

They pull away at the same time and share a breathless laugh.

"Catch me if you can," Cho whispers before speeding away.

Cedric puts on a good show of racing at the speed of sound, but in actuality he’s barely moving. It takes very little effort on Harry’s part to grab him by the shoulder and gently spin him around. His heart is fluttering all over again. There’s a moment’s hesitation that wasn’t there with Cho. Cedric is a boy... a very handsome boy, who he would very much like to put his lips on. Feeling slightly bolder this time, Harry places his hand on the back of Cedric’s neck and pulls him closer.

He’s expecting it to be different from kissing Cho. Girls are supposed to be delicate and dainty while boys are rough and rugged. But aside from a few physical differences, Cedric’s face is longer and he has a bit of peach fuzz on his upper lip, it’s very much the same sensation. The same shiver goes down his spine, and the same warmth radiates in his chest.

"You taste like strawberries," Cedric says as they break apart.

"I think that’s Cho’s lip gloss."

"I suppose I’ll have to find out."

Harry doesn’t mind that after their kiss, Cedric makes no attempt to chase after him. He doesn’t mind again when he grabs Cho by the waist and her cheeks go red from laughter and delight. And he definitely doesn’t mind when their lips lock and they relax into each other. They look so good together. A tiny bubble of pleasure forms in his stomach at the sight of them. He’s surprised by how much he likes that they’re letting him in on such an intimate moment.

They continue going around in circles, catching and kissing and releasing, until the newness and giddiness of it all wears off (or maybe because their lips have grown dry and chapped). Cho eventually retrieves the long-forgotten basketball, and when they try again at playing catch, they’re an unstoppable trio once more. They keep up their game until the sun hangs low and the sky turns vivid peach and gold. Then Harry takes Cho by her left hand, Cedric by her right, and the three of them make their way back to the castle.

Chapter 8: The Interim: Part 3

Chapter Text

“Hey Harry, did you hear the big news?”

Colin Creevey pops up from seemingly out of nowhere as Harry climbs through the portrait hole. His enthusiasm startles him out of his post-dinner lethargy. He glances at Ron and Hermione, hoping for some clarification, but they appear to share in his bewilderment.

“Er… no, not yet.”

“Then you should check out the notice board. I don’t want to ruin the surprise!” Colin grins and gives him an awkward thumbs up before dashing away.

After Harry fully processes Colin’s outburst, he notices the palpable hum of excitement buzzing through the common room. The notice board has attracted a growing swarm of his classmates. A few first years stand on tiptoe to catch a glance. At the front of the pack Fred-- or George, he isn’t sure which-- lets out an excited whoop and hi-fives Lee.

When he last checked the board, the only post was a plea from Neville for help with finding Trevor. Maybe it’s because Harry’s received mostly bad news this year, but his mind spirals into a flurry of worst case scenarios. This has something to do with the third task, doesn’t it? He’ll read the board and find out he has to fight a pack of angry trolls or drink a vial of Snape’s deadliest poison. The thought makes his dinner churn in his stomach. Harry takes a breath and counts the reasons that doesn’t make sense. The judges won’t announce the third task for another month, and when the time comes, they won’t announce it via bulletin board note. Feeling slightly calmer, he reads the notice.

Attention Students:

There will be a Hogsmeade visit this Saturday. All students third year and above in good academic standing are invited to take part.

- Prof. M. McGonagall

“Excellent, that’s the day of the Cannons game,” Ron says. “I bet Madam Rosmerta will have it playing on the wireless.”

“And I’ve been hoping for a chance to visit Flourish and Blotts,” Hermione says.

Ron shoots her an incredulous look. “You want to spend your free weekend shopping for books?”

Hermione shrugs. “Well I wasn’t inviting you to come with me.”

“Then what are Harry and I supposed to do while you’re out book shopping?”

“Didn’t you just say you’re going to Three Broomsticks for a Quidditch match?”

“And er… I’m probably going to ask Cho and Cedric if they want to do something together. You know, like, a date?”

The upcoming Hogsmeade visit brought something different to the forefront of each of their minds. For Ron it was Quidditch, for Hermione books, and for him, his thoughts strode without hesitation to his partners. Harry shrugs and gives them a sheepish smile. He meant to tell his friends sooner about his new relationship- honest- but he could never find a good way to bring it up. Even after their intervention, discussing this kind of stuff makes him awkward and tongue-tied. But their bickering brought with it the natural segue in conversation he’s been searching for.

Though, from their narrowed eyes and knowing smirks, it seems they figured it out without him having to say a word.

“I’m guessing you guys worked things out?” Hermione asks.

He nods. “We did.”

“And?” Ron asks.

“We’re seeing each other, all three of us I mean. I know it’s a bit unconventional and all, but we want to try and make it work.”

Hermione looks giddy. “Oh that’s wonderful! I’m really glad for you. You guys deserve this, you really really do.”

“Yeah, good for you, mate,” Ron says. He claps him on the back and nearly knocks his glasses askew.

Harry grins. He’s known all along they’d be supportive, but it’s still nice to hear it said aloud. “So uh… yeah, you guys’ll be on your own this weekend.”

“No worries. I’m sure somehow I’ll manage without you,” Hermione says.

“Yeah, and Three Broomsticks will probably be packed. I’ll find other friends to tag along with. Hey, maybe you could take Cho and Cedric there for your date.”

“I doubt Harry and his partners want their first date to be at a crowded sports pub,” Hermione says.

“Of course they do, they’re Quidditch fans.”

“Well yes, but I’m sure they’d rather do something more romantic.”

“Like what? Going to a bookstore?”

Harry’s never put much thought into what makes somewhere romantic. He figures it’s not the place, but the people who make a date memorable. They could stroll along the streets of Hogsmeade with no destination in mind, and he imagines he would enjoy himself. Still, he and his partners should probably have some kind of plan. A place and time to meet at the very least.

“I dunno. I guess I’ll have to ask them what they want to do.”

There’s still a few hours left before curfew, but Harry decides it would be pointless to go looking for Cedric and Cho. Chances are they’ve retired to their common rooms for the night like him. The three of them are in different common rooms in separate corners of the castle, but they probably all have the same thing on their mind.

Saturday is still several days off, so they aren’t in a time crunch to talk. He’ll catch them tomorrow morning at breakfast, or in the halls on his way to class. This doesn’t prevent the want from swirling around in his chest and keeping his thoughts set on Cho and Cedric. He wants to talk to his partners now, right now. He wants to do more than talk. He wants to do things with them that if Cedric were on prefect duty, he’d have to dock points from them for doing. Maybe their biggest relationship hurdle isn’t that there’s three of them, but their time together is limited by separate houses.

Maybe he could use some advice. Sirius told him he could reach out if he ever needs anything. So far Harry’s asked what to do about his scar hurting and how to take down a fire-breathing dragon, but he imagines his Godfather can offer insight on normal things too, like girl/boy troubles. He could write to him, or speak to him on Saturday. Or better yet… maybe…

Harry fishes his stationary set out from underneath his bed.

Dear Sirius,

Professor McGonagall announced a surprise Hogsmeade visit this Saturday. I know you said we shouldn’t visit each other in person anymore, but I’m wondering if you’d make an exception, just this once. I’d like to introduce you to some people. As Snuffles, obviously, though I hope someday maybe they can meet you in your real form. I’m still working out where and when. I’ll write back later this week.But is this something you’d be okay with? Let me know before Saturday.

Anyway, that’s all the news I have at the moment. Hope you and Buckbeak are well.

Sincerely,

-Harry

Satisfied, he seals the envelope and attaches with it a few leftover Easter sweets. Mrs. Weasley sent him and Hermione these enormous candy baskets to cheer them up after the Witch Weekly fiasco. Next time he sees her, he’ll have to let her know things worked out okay.

Hedwig isn’t in the owlery when he arrives, which is fine, since this way he doesn’t have to witness the betrayal in her eyes as he attaches his letter to one of the school screech owls. Next to him, Luna Lovegood prepares to send off a large, lumpy package. The Ravenclaw insignia on her robes makes him think of Cho, which makes him think once again about finding his partners. He considers asking her if she knows where Cho is or if she could pass along a message, but decides against it. He’s not sure he knows her well enough to make that kind of request. Instead, he simply returns her smile as he leaves.

Harry’s still a bit lost in thought as he makes his way back to Gryffindor tower. Perhaps if he were paying better attention, he would have noticed the staircase preparing to move. Instead, he’s startled by the low rumbling and bangs his wrist on the railing as the stairs swing clockwise.

“Ouch. Stupid staircase.” He winces and shakes out his wrist in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“Are you okay?”

Harry freezes, hardly able to believe his ears. No, it’s too perfect for Cedric to be at the bottom of the stairs. But be it magic or coincidence, there he is on the bottom step grinning up at him.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” he says. “Wow, fancy running into you here of all places.”

“I know, right? I was actually just looking for you and Cho,” he says.“Did you hear about the Hogsmeade visit this weekend?”

Harry nods. “I don’t suppose you already have plans?”

“Nothing yet, but I was hoping you and Cho might join me.”

Cedric smiles again, and a faint blush sweeps across his cheeks. A tiny flutter goes off in Harry’s chest to remind him, that’s his boyfriend.

“Yeah, definitely,” he says, grinning back at him. “What do you have in mind?”

“I dunno, whatever you want to do is fine.”

“It doesn’t make much difference to me. We can do whatever you like.”

“I’d like to do whatever you want to do.”

The staircase continues in another slow rotation. Their conversation is similarly going in circles. They’ve been slowly climbing up and down the stairs as they spoke, and now they’ve met in the middle. Their fingers are a fraction of an inch apart on the railing. Harry would reach out to hold his hand, but it doesn’t feel right without Cho with them. Talking is fine, but physical affection seems a step too far.

“We could ask Cho what she wants to do?” Harry suggests.

“I imagine she’ll tell us she’s fine with whatever we choose,” Cedric says.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I guess... have you ever been to Madam Puddifoot’s?” Cedric asks. Harry shakes his head. “It’s a tea shop on Blackthorn Lane. I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s rather nice. Maybe we could check it out?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The stairs grind to a halt, finishing their rotation in the same spot it started. Was there even a point to the staircase moving? Is there a point in trying to analyze the movements of magical staircases? A group of Slytherins waiting at the top cast them a curious look as they pass on their way down. They pull their hands back. They haven’t figured out yet how much affection they want to show in public. Do they want to be like Roger and Fleur who lock lips in corridors and not care who watches, or Ginny who keeps her relationship on such a low profile he still doesn’t know who she’s seeing?

“I’ll uh… see you around then.” Cedric says.

“Yeah. Let me know what Cho says.”

“Of course.”

With the Slytherins out of sight, Cedric pats his shoulder, and they continue on their way.

Harry,

New people you say. I’m intrigued. Friends of yours? We’ll have to be careful of course, but I trust your judgement. Let me know a place and a time, and I’ll gladly meet you there.

-Sirius

Sirius,

We’ve decided to have tea at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shoppe at noon. I imagine we’ll finish around two. We could meet somewhere outside the shop, or I can try to lead them somewhere less conspicuous?Whichever you prefer is fine with me.

And they’re a little more than just my friends. I don’t know if you remember the Witch Weekly article about me and my classmates Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory, but it’s true, we’re seeing each other. Well-- we weren’t seeing each other when the article was written, and it got a lot of other facts incredibly wrong. But the point is: they’re my girlfriend and boyfriend, and I’d like you to meet them.

-Harry

Harry,

Good for you. I imagine they must be quite special if you’re taking them out for tea at Madam Puddifoot’s. Be sure to try the macarons. I’ve heard they’re quite tasty.

See you soon,

-Sirius

On Saturday morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off for Hogsmeade at half past 11. The wind is so strong he has to keep a firm grip on his hat to prevent it from blowing away. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered with a hat, but he wanted to look nice, and as usual, his hair refused to lay flat. It’s good his partners have decided on an indoor activity, he thinks. Today would be a horrible day for flying. Maybe they could manage if they were only playing catch, but he’s learned kissing on a broomstick requires some stability. Though, kissing in a tea shop requires some tenacity he’s not sure he or his partners possess.

They pass Three Broomsticks first, where half of Hogwarts appears to be seated inside. Raucous laughter almost drowns out the Quidditch announcers talking over the wireless.

“Well, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Ron says. “Good luck on your date, Harry. And Hermione, you’re certain you want to spend the entire day book shopping?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then I hope you find whatever boring book you’re looking for,” Ron gives them one last smile before entering. They watch through the windows as he takes a seat at a table with Ginny and Luna.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you too, Harry,” Hermione says. “Have a good time.”

“Uh… yeah, you too.”

Hermione turns and struts away. Perhaps she doesn’t know their destinations are on the same street. He quickens his pace to catch up with her, but she just goes faster. It almost appears she’s purposefully keeping a few steps’ distance between them.

“Err.. Hermione, is there some reason you don’t want me to walk with you?” He asks when they’re both stopped at the intersection of High Street and Blackthorn Lane.

Hermione bites her lip. “Well I… don’t tell Ron but… I’m sort of meeting someone.”

“Who?” He asks, but the answer becomes obvious when he looks across the street at Flourish and Blotts, where Krum stands underneath an awning holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “Oh... I guess I’m not the only one with a date this afternoon, huh?’

“It’s not a date!” Hermione says quickly. “We’re just… I told him what I was doing this afternoon, and he offered to accompany me.”

“You know, you made me spill my guts to you about Cedric and Cho. It’s only fair you tell me what’s going on between you and--"

“Sorry, I’ve got to get going. We’ll talk later, okay?” Hermione huffs indignantly before crossing the street. Harry resists the urge to laugh, and notes that for all the fuss she made over it not being a date, she accepts his flowers with a shy grin.

He doesn’t have much time to mull over their relationship status, as his own destination is only a few storefronts away. Cho stands next to a menu board outside the shop. She’s pinned a sunflower to her robes and tied her hair back in a loose braid. Looking at her makes goosebumps prickle up his arms. He still isn’t sure how he got so lucky. Then she turns his way and her whole face lights up. It’s all he can do not to go running towards her.

“Harry, you’ve made it!” She says before throwing her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you.”

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Not at all. Only a few minutes,” she says. “Shall we get a table, or do you want to wait for Cedric?”

“He’s not here yet?” He asks, though he could have come to that conclusion on his own by looking around. Cho shakes her head. “I guess let’s give him a minute? What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno, you’re the one with a watch.” She smiles and points at his wrist.

“Er… it stopped working after the second task. I’m mostly wearing it out of habit now.”

“Too bad. Maybe you could get it fixed?”

“Yeah, maybe?”

They linger outside the shop, watching for Cedric to appear at the intersection. Harry’s heart skips a beat whenever he sees a black and yellow scarf peak out from inside a group of passersby, only to get let down when it’s not him.

“So um... how was your week?” He asks.

Cho shrugs. “It was alright. Just lessons and stuff. You?”

“Pretty much the same.”

“I probably didn’t pay much attention though.”

“Yeah, me too.”

A sudden gust of wind blows their way and captures his hat. Cho snatches it before it can get too far, and their fingertips brush when she returns it to him. He’s struck with a feeling of guilt, similar to the one with Cedric a few days earlier. Whatever this is, it isn’t cheating, but it still doesn’t feel right to show intimacy when it’s only two of them. He takes his hat back and averts his gaze at the menu board advertising Madam Puddifoot’s spellbinding cappuccinos.Cho, appearing to be similarly flustered, goes back to her watch.

“Hey, is that him?” She points at a tall, brown-haired boy at the intersection.

“I think so,” he says. They wave tentatively in his direction. When the boy spots them, his face breaks out into a grin and he waves back.

“Harry! Cho! Don’t you two look nice,” Cedric says when he arrives, then gives each of them a quick hug. “I’m so sorry for making you wait. I was on my way when I saw a group of second-years playing with a fanged frisbee in the halls, and of course I had to stop them, which took longer than expected.”

“I hope you weren’t too hard on them,” Cho says. “How can anyone be expected to remember the hundreds of items Filch banned at the beginning of the year?”

“Well, I might’ve looked the other way if it was a screaming Yo-Yo or something, but fanged frisbees are dangerous. Look, the damn thing nearly bit my hand off.” Cedric pulls back his right sleeve, revealing several rows of inflamed teeth marks dotting his wrist.

“Ouch, I guess it didn’t like it when you tried to confiscate it,” he says.

“Yeah, you might want to have Madam Pomfrey look it over when you get back,” Cho says.

“It’ll be fine. The fangs weren’t venomous-- thank Merlin-- and I’ve already put some murtlap on it to make it heal faster,” Cedric says. “So, shall we go in?”

Thinking it the gentlemanly thing to do, Harry pulls the door open and gestures for them to enter. The inside of the shop is small, but it’s a cozy sort of small instead of a cramped one. Plush rugs line the floor and the pastel pink walls are decorated with frilly bows and paintings of flowers. The coffee and cookie dough aroma wafting around makes him salivate. This cutesy style isn’t much to his taste, but Cho lets out an awed gasp and Cedric too looks around with curiosity and amusem*nt.

“Hello dearies, table for um… three?” The hostess behind the desk asks, eyeing them with a puzzled expression. Judging by all the couples sitting at tiny tables for two, this must not be a request they get often.

“Yup, we’re all together,” Cedric says.

The hostess glances at the book on her desk, then around the dining area, until her gaze lands on a round booth at the back of the shop. It’s seemingly the only table that could accommodate the three of them. She grabs three menus and leads them over. Harry slides into the booth first, then Cedric, then Cho.

“Can I start you with anything?” The hostess asks.

“How about three coffees and a plate of macarons,” Harry says without looking at the menu. It’s silly, but he’s kind of proud they made a decision with no hesitation and backtalk.

“Anything else?”

“Hmm… do you think we should get sandwiches too?” Cho asks.

Well, the feeling of pride was nice while it lasted.

“Um… I don’t know. What do you think, Cedric?” He asks.

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

“It might be nice to have some variety with our biscuits,” Cho says, “and it’s lunchtime, so sandwiches would pair well with that. But what if we can’t eat it all? That would be wasteful.”

“It’s only sandwiches. You don’t have to put so much thought into it,” he says.

She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. We Ravenclaws tend to overthink everything.”

“How about I give you some more time to decide?” The hostess says.

“That would be great, thank you,” Cedric says.

The hostess nods and heads back towards her desk. A floating kettle passes by their table, stopping to pour coffee into each of their cups. Cho takes her coffee black while Cedric dumps what must be half the sugar bowl into his. Harry’s never been much of a coffee drinker, but the aroma is enticing and the warmth radiating from his cup feels good against his fingers. He adds a sugar cube, takes a sip, and finding it’s still too bitter, adds another.

“So… how have you guys been carrying on?” Cedric asks. “Did I miss anything while you were waiting for me?”

“Uh… not really,” he says.

“Yeah, we mostly just stood around and made some small talk,” Cho says

Cedric smiles and sets down his cup. “You didn’t have to wait for me. I know the three of us are together and all, but you’re allowed to make eye contact when I’m not in the room, you know.”

He and Cho both laugh, but he’s grateful to Cedric for breaking the tension. If he’s been worrying about it, he imagines his partners were as well.

“We know, we were just being polite,” Cho says, “but we should probably talk about that. You know, set some rules about what we should do when it’s only two of us?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he says.

“Do you want to start then, Harry?” Cedric asks, “I remember you seemed worried about Cho and I spending time without you, and if you don’t want us seeing each other without you around that’s fine with me.”

“Yeah, me too,” Cho says.

“Well, I was mostly worried you guys didn’t like me back, but now that I know that’s not the case-”

“It most certainly isn’t.” Cho smiles and nudges his foot with hers under the table.

“Then I don’t mind if you want to go on dates and stuff without me. I trust you.”

“You’re certain?” Cedric asks.

He nods. “What about you guys. Do you have any problems with me seeing one of you without the other?”

“Not at all,” Cedric says. “I mean, I’d like to spend as much time as I can with both of you, but if our schedules don’t line up, I don’t want you to cancel plans on my behalf.”

Cho nods. “Yeah, and in a few weeks’ time I’ll be buried up to my eyeballs in textbooks studying for my O.W.L.s. You lucky ducks don’t have any exams, so I imagine you’ll have to do things without me around.”

“Ok, it seems we’re in agreement,” he says. “Is there anything else you think we should discuss?”

“Yes,” Cedric says. He sets down his cup and gives him a serious expression. “You and I definitely shouldn’t help each other with the third task.”

“Agreed,” he says, holding back a laugh. “We probably shouldn’t even discuss it at all.”

“Good. It wouldn’t be fair to Fleur and Krum if we worked together. Plus, while I like you a lot, I still want to win.” Cedric gives him a smirk, which he returns.

“What about me?” Cho asks. “Am I allowed to help either of you or should I take a pact of neutrality?”

“Hmm… I guess there’s nothing wrong with it, but you should probably focus on your OWLs instead of helping us,” Cedric says.

“Fair enough,” Cho says. “Tacking onto that: until the third task is over, I think we should try to be discrete about our relationship. I’m worried if people know you’re seeing each other, they’ll think you’ll go soft on each other during the third task.”

“We’re doing a real good job at that.” He gestures around the crowded restaurant.

Cho laughs. “This is a special occasion, but going forward let’s try not to flaunt it. I’m not saying we should hide it or anything, but for now maybe only tell our friends and people we trust.”

“Yeah, it’s probably best we stay low key. I don’t fancy us winding up in the tabloids again,” Cedric says.

Harry takes another drink of his coffee and sighs quietly into his cup. He’s surprised at what a relief it is they don’t want to go fully public yet, but not that surprised. He suspects he knew all along this is what he wanted. The wizarding world knows so much of his life already, he’d like to keep this little bit for himself.

“I’ve only told Ron and Hermione, and I probably won’t tell anyone else,” he says, then remembers Sirius. “At least, no one else at Hogwarts, anyway.”

“I’ve only told Kaz and Anthony, and that’ll probably be it,” Cedric says. Harry knows Kaz from the second task, and he assumes Anthony is Anthony Rickett, the Hufflepuff beater and Angelina’s cousin. He doesn’t know either of them well, but if Cedric trusts them, he assumes he can too.

“I haven’t told my Hogwarts friends, and I don’t think I will anytime soon,” Cho says.

“Really? You could if you want to,” he says.

Cho fidgets with his cup. “I suppose, but if I tell one of my friends, I’ll have to tell all of them, and telling all of them means telling Jessica.”

“Jessica Marsh-Parkinson? I didn’t know you two were friends,” Cedric says, his nose wrinkling.

“Parkinson? Like Pansy Parkinson?” he asks.

“We’re mostly just friends by association. And yes, they’re estranged cousins,” she says. “I’d still rather she didn’t find out though. So I’ve only told my muggle friends for right now, and I guess I ought to tell my parents too.”

“Oh right, I should write to my Mum and tell her about you guys,” Cedric says.

“Not your Dad?” Cho asks.

Cedric shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell him just yet.”

“How come?” he asks.

“Well... he’s not your biggest fan right now. I know it’s not your fault, but he’s still a bit upset about that interview in The Prophet. I’ll tell him eventually, but I think that conversation will be easier in person instead of through letter.”

Harry remembers the encounter he had with Mr. Diggory over the summer, specifically the part where he said Cedric would tell his grandkids about how he beat “the famous Harry Potter”. Harry smiles to himself. This won’t be such an accomplishment if “the famous Harry Potter” isn’t some far-off historical figure, but their other grandfather.

“You could just tell him about Cho if that’s easier. I won’t mind,” he says.

“I suppose, but that seems dishonest. You guys are a package deal, and I don’t want him to know about my girlfriend but not my boyfriend.”

It’s at this point their hostess returns and sets a large plate of pink, purple, and blue macarons on their table. Harry’s stomach lets out a low rumble. He’s grown exponentially hungrier now that the food’s within his reach.

“Have you guys decided on sandwiches?”The hostess asks.

Cho’s worry about leftover food ends up not being a problem. They scarf down a plate of finger sandwiches and two more trays of biscuits. It helps, he suspects, that he’s discretely slipping food into his robe pockets as a treat for Snuffles later. Once they’ve stuffed themselves full of food and coffee, the hostess comes back with their tab, which they all reach for at the same time.

“I’ve got this,” Cho says.

“No, let me,” he says.

“I don’t mind. It’s only fair since I arrived late and made you wait for me in the cold,” Cedric says.

“You didn’t make us wait long, and it wasn’t that cold,” Cho says. “How about I pay now, and whichever one of you wins the thousand galleon prize can pay me back later?”

“Alright, sounds fair,” he says. Cedric nods in agreement.

Despite their arrangement, they both offer to pay once more at the hostess’ desk on the way out. Cho takes out her coin purse, and laughing, she shoos them away. Behind her, A cuckoo clock chimes the hour, two O'clock. Right on schedule. Harry glances out the window to find Snuffles sitting under a lamppost across the street, his obedient eyes trained on the shop door.

“So… what do you guys want to do now?” Harry asks as they leave. He makes a left out the door, the direction they need to go to pass Snuffles. Cedric and Cho follow him without questioning.

“We could go to Three Broomsticks,” Cedric suggests. “There’s a quidditch match on, if it hasn’t ended already.”

“It’s the Cannons, the match probably ended five minutes after it started,” Cho says.

“Ooh, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Cedric asks.

“Not as harsh as the beating they got last month from Holyhead.”

As they pass the lamppost, Snuffles trots over to them, wagging his tail and sniffing their hands and pockets. His partners eye him skeptically. Harry can’t blame them, considering Snuffles is a huge, hairy animal who looks like an omen of death and smells like his last bath was several months ago. Harry recalls when he first encountered Sirius like this, he fell over in fright. Now, nearly two years later, he grins and crouches to rub him on the head.

“Hey there boy, how’re you doing,” he says. Sirius sticks out his tongue and pants, his expression looking something like a smile.

“Er… that’s an awfully large dog. You might want to be careful,” Cedric says.

“It’s okay. I’ve seen him around before. He’s friendly.”

“Well, if you say so,” Cedric says, and this appears to be all the convincing he needs, as he reaches out to scratch the back of his ears.

“So is this why you were sneaking biscuits into your pockets during lunch?” Cho asks.Harry nods, and his face grows warm. Guess he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. “Can I give him one?”

Harry nods and fishes a biscuit out of his pocket to give her. She offers it to Snuffles, who scarfs it down in one, gigantic bite. The three of them smile and take turns feeding him biscuits until his pockets are empty.

“Sorry Snuffles, all gone,” he says, then turns out his pockets to further emphasize this point.

“Snuffles? Is that his name?” Cedric asks.

“It’s just something I’ve taken to calling him,” he shrugs.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you Snuffles,” Cedric says.

Snuffles woofs in response, which Harry takes to mean likewise.

Harry,

We didn’t have time to speak on Saturday, so I wanted to let you know how nice it was to meet Cho and Cedric. They seem like nice kids-- or rather-- they smell like nice kids. They practice good hygiene and treat stray animals well, both important traits in a partner. You’ve done well for yourself.

Did you know Madam Puddifoot’s was popular back when I went to Hogwarts? Before you ask, no, your’s truly never took anyone there, but I have fond memories of your Dad attempting to woo your Mum into having tea with him there. Even after they became a couple, she always shot him down. James thought the place was romantic. Lily thought it was garish.Now that you’ve seen it for yourself, I’m curious to know your thoughts.

I suppose it’s my duty as your Godfather to tell you to be careful. It’s been quite some time since my last relationship, but I do still have some wisdom to offer. For instance: some classrooms have protective charms on them to prevent students from making certain kinds of physical contact (I imagine you know what I’m referring to, though if not I could give you that talk too). The map should tell you which rooms to avoid and which ones are ok. Also, while you’re required to eat meals at your house table, in between meals you can sit at whichever table you like. The three of you could have afternoon tea or an evening snack at the Slytherin table if you wanted, though I wouldn’t recommend it.

You’ve had a rough time of it lately, and I’m glad you’ve found a boy and a girl who bring a little extra joy into your life. Again, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to write. I’ve got your back.

Best wishes,

-Sirius

Chapter 9: The Third Task: Part 1

Chapter Text

When Harry, Cho, and Cedric agreed to keep their relationship discreet, Harry worried he’d blow their secret in the first week. He’ll be the first to admit he’s not always the best at concealing his emotions. But he’s proven so far to be pretty good at not drawing attention to himself. He doesn’t doodle hearts in his notebook or gaze longingly at his partners across the Great Hall. When he spots them in the halls, he doesn’t run up to them with open arms, but smiles, nods, and makes friendly conversation when it feels appropriate. All three of them are careful to not give anyone reason to suspect they’re anything other than close acquaintances.

When they’re on the ground, that is.

But in the sky.

In the sky, they can’t keep their hands to themselves.

And it’s grown into a problem.

The seasons have shifted from winter to spring to almost summer. Gone are the days where they were the only ones crazy enough to brave the cold and wind to spend the entire day out on their broomsticks. The shift in weather has brought more people into the air, and a lot of Cedric and Cho pretending to "fix his glasses" whenever someone ventures too close. They laughed off their close calls, until last week, when Cedric’s friend Anthony picked an inopportune time to apologize for taking part in the "Potter Stinks" mania, and almost getting caught turned into actually getting caught.

Not wanting a repeat of their past embarrassment, they agreed today they’ll make a genuine attempt at being responsible by studying instead of snogging. Cho’s O.W.L. exams are only a few weeks away, after all. Harry and Cedric quiz her on Astronomy while they fly around the grounds.

"When is the best time to view Orion?" Harry asks, reading off the flash card hovering in front of him.

"November to February," Cho says.

"What’s Jupiter’s lar--"

"Ganymede."

Cedric laughs. "Cho, let me finish the question first."

"You were going to ask what’s Jupiter’s largest moon. It’s Ganymede," Cho says. "C’mon, keep them coming."

"What’s the brightest star in the constellation Lyra?" Harry asks.

"Vega."

"How many moons does Mars have?" Cedric asks.

"Two. Phobos and Deimos."

"When’s the best time to view Draco?" Harry asks.

"All year round."

"Nope."

Cho’s brows furrow in confusion. "No, I’m right. I’m definitely right. Draco’s a circumpolar constellation, so it never sets below the horizon."

"Actually, the correct answer is: after Professor Moody transfigures him into a ferret."

Cedric snorts, then laughs so hard Harry worries he might fall off his broomstick.

"Harry…" Cho says, rolling her eyes and stifling a laugh, "I mean, you’re not completely wrong, but I don’t think the Wizarding Examinations Authority would appreciate your sense of humor."

"I appreciate it though." Cedric holds up his palm for a high-five. Harry’s inordinately proud he can return the gesture without turning it into hand-holding.

"Boys, I know we all loathe Malfoy, but can we stay focused, please?" Cho asks.

"Of course, sorry," Cedric says. "Do you want to keep going with Astronomy? I think you’ve got the hang of it."

"You think? Because you’ve only tested me on the stars and moons. There’s still planets and comets and--"

"Cho, at the rate you’re going, the Exam Authority will have to make up a grade higher than an O to give you." He grins. "Have you been practicing your stargazing for the practical portion?"

Cho nods. "Ravenclaw Tower is equipped with a set of excellent telescopes."

"Good, though if you wanted to practice in the Astronomy Tower… has Harry shown you his invisibility cloak?"

Cho smirks at him. "He has not."

Harry grins. "Just say the word and I’ll sneak you up there sometime. It actually wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it."

"You still owe us that story, by the way," Cedric glances at his watch and frowns, "but not now. It’s 2:50 and I’ve got prefect duty at 3:00."

"Aww... do you have to?" Cho sticks out her lower lip in a pout.

Cedric feigns a pained expression. "Sorry, I promised Rhys I’d cover for them. But... they agreed to take my shift Friday night, so we could get dessert in the Great Hall or check out one of those classrooms Harry suggested."

"Ooh... I like the sound of that," Cho says.

Cedric returns the stack of flashcards to Cho, his hands lingering in her longer than necessary. He does one cursory glance around, and finding no onlookers (besides Harry, who doesn’t count for obvious reasons) leans in to kiss her on the lips.

"I’ll see you Wednesday for Charms practice?" Cedric asks, after they’ve broken apart.

Cho nods. "Will you bring that book by Hecate Selwyn? It was really helpful last time."

"Sounds like a plan." Cedric grins at her, then turns and points at him. "And I’ll see you Tomorrow."

Tomorrow. May 24th. Exactly one month before the third task. The two of them received identical letters with instructions to meet at the quidditch pitch at 9 PM, where they’ll learn what they’ll be squaring off against next.

"Meet me in the Great Hall at 8:45?" Harry asks.

"Let’s make it 8:30," he says, then kisses him fondly farewell.

"Wait!" Cho calls after him as he flies towards the castle. She grabs him by the elbow and plants another lingering kiss on his lips. And there goes today’s perfect behavior streak, not that Harry minds.

"Cho, come on, you’re going to make me late," he says, trying to sound stern, but he’s grinning too much and his cheeks are flushed pink with pleasure.

"Hang on, if Cho gets another kiss then I should get one too."

"Well, can’t argue with that logic," Cedric flies over and tilts his chin up with this thumb. Even while sitting on broomsticks, Cedric’s still got a few inches on him. Harry jokes sometimes that he hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, but in truth he doesn’t mind. It’s nice, being in the middle with one partner taller and shorter than him.

He and Cho watch Cedric grow smaller and smaller until he’s a speck of floppy brown hair on the ground. They got lucky, no one seems to have noticed their bit of PDA. The group of Slytherins are still engrossed in tossing their quaffle around (of course Snape lets them use the school Quidditch supplies), and the person doing chaser drills around the towers is probably too far away to tell what they were doing, much less identify them.

"So, shall we start another subject? How about Ancient Runes?" Harry asks. Last night he went to Hermione for advice on how to help her study, since he’s not at all familiar with the subject.

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me with Defense. Is that alright?"

He nods. Cho reaches into her small crossbody bag and hands him another stack of self-shuffling flashcards.

"What spell would you use to get past a Hinkypunk?" He asks.

"Hmm…"

Cho’s responses come slow and hesitant. There are a lot of ums… and uhs… that were absent when they practiced Astronomy. Sometimes she gets so lost in thought, her flying slows to a complete stop. She’s mentioned before Defense Against the Dark Arts is her weakest subject. Still, he can tell she’s been practicing. Harry gives her some gentle coaching when it feels appropriate, but she usually doesn’t need it. She always gives him an answer, even if it’s a stab in the dark.

"What spell would you use to get past a Silverspinner?"

"Um..." Cho purses her lips and squints in concentration, "you er… ask it nicely to move?"

Harry laughs. "You could try, but Silverspinners can’t hear so… it probably won’t be very effective."

"Uh… then…" she thinks for another moment, then sighs. "I don’t know, just tell me."

"No, you’ve got this. If it can’t hear, then it has to compensate with another sense, right?"

"I guess… so… that means it can see really well?"

Harry nods. "And what spell can you use to weaken its sight?"

There’s a pause, then:

"Oh! Lumos Maxima! You blind it!"

"See, I told you you could figure it out."

"Thanks to you, of course," she grins at him. "You’re a really good teacher."

"I dunno about that. I’m just copying what Professor Lupin did last year."

"Well, you picked a good person to emulate," Cho says. "I hope he’s doing alright. It was so unfair what happened to him, don’t you think? He’s probably the best Defense professor we’ve had, and it’s not his fault he’s a werewolf. He shouldn’t’ve had to resign because of it. "

Harry grins, and another starburst of affection for her ignites inside him. Sometimes he thinks he can’t find more reasons to like Cho, then she’ll say something surprising and wonderful and he gets butterflies all over again.

"Don’t worry, I think he’s doing alright. Last I heard from Snuffles, he’s living somewhere in the country and working odd jobs around Diagon Alley."

"Sorry, did you say Snuffles? As in that stray dog from Hogsmeade?"

Harry gulps, and his stomach twists into an uncomfortable knot. He’s grown so comfortable speaking candidly with her, he forgot she’s not in on that particular secret. At least he used his Godfather’s nickname. He’d rather not picture Cho’s reaction to finding out he and her beloved former professor are on friendly terms with Sirius Black.

"I uh… meant Professor McGonagall?" He says, hating the way his voice rises at the end so he sounds like he’s asking a question.

"Oh, okay," Cho nods, but she still stares at him with a bewildered expression. Maybe he should change the subject before he digs himself deeper into this hole.

"So… have you decided to carry on with Defense next year? Last time we talked, it sounded like you were going to drop it."

Cho sighs. "I don’t know. I'd really like to drop it, but nearly every Ministry position requires a NEWT in Defense so... it’s in my best interest to carry on. As my parents keep saying: it’s the practical choice."

"They’re still on about that, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yes, they’ve mentioned it in every letter since Easter. Oh, and did I tell you my Mum wants me to clerk for her this summer?" Cho groans and sticks out her tongue, as if eating a large bowl of gillyweed holds more appeal than a Ministry internship.

"Sounds… riveting," he says. "What does your Mum do at the Ministry again?"

"She’s on the Wizengamot. It’s basically the same thing as a muggle judge. My Dad is a muggle judge and they’re always asking each other for advice."

"Oh right," he says, recalling now the Witch Weekly article mentioned her job title. "And um… why exactly did Rita Skeeter say she’s controversial?"

Cho rolls her eyes. "It depends on the day, really. Usually it’s because she disagreed with a ruling my Mum made, but sometimes it’s over the stupidest things. Like, last year she claimed she wore fake glasses to appear more dignified."

"What? That’s-- you’re right, that’s really stupid," Harry says, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

"I know. She’s practically blind without her glasses. Much like someone else I know," Cho smiles and playfully pokes his shoulder.

"Hey, my vision isn’t that bad."

"Oh yeah?" Cho smirks. In one swift movement, she swipes his glasses off his face and flies away.

Laughing, Harry chases after her, sparing only a moment to collect the flashcards. It’s easy enough to follow the human-shaped blob a few feet ahead of him, even without his glasses. Cho likes to tease, but she’d never be purposefully cruel. She can fly much faster and far more reckless than she is right now.

Harry reaches out and clumsily clamps a hand on her shoulder. She’s blurry, but he can tell she’s grinning. She reaches up to put his glasses on, taking care to be gentle and not poke him in the eye. Her face comes into focus, all tiny freckles and long, dark eyelashes. Her hands linger on his face, caressing his cheeks and smoothing out his hair. He could tell her her efforts are for naught, but decides his lips could be put to better use kissing her.

This isn’t wise. Those Slytherins are still close by, not to mention they still don’t know how Rita’s been able to sneak onto school grounds. They should stop, he knows they ought to stop, but Cho sighs and he gets another taste of her strawberry lip gloss.

Maybe getting caught wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

The next evening Cedric waits for him at the bottom of the main staircase at 8:30 PM sharp. As they make their way down to the quidditch pitch, their peers pass by in the opposite direction, heading towards the castle. Odd, as it’s still fairly light out and curfew isn’t for another half hour. The sky is all pinks and peaches as the sun dips beneath the mountains. On the night of the third task, the sun probably won’t set until very late in the day.

Harry’s not sure who reaches for the other’s hand first. Their palms brush in a slow but deliberate movement, then their fingers intertwine.

"So, what do you reckon the third task will be?" Cedric asks.

"I dunno, but it looks like it’s going to involve the Quidditch pitch," he says. "Remember Cho mentioned a while back it looked like Hagrid was growing something in there? Maybe we’ll have to fight a venomous plant?"

"Could be. Come to think of it, Professor Sprout’s been oddly tight-lipped about what she’s growing in Greenhouse eight. If it’s a dangerous plant, she’s probably involved."

"Or maybe it’s the opposite?" Harry suggests. "Maybe Hagrid was clearing out all the grass on the pitch? Maybe it’ll be like a gladiatorial arena or something."

"Or maybe he was digging something. Fleur mentioned something the other day about underground tunnels and buried treasure."

They keep going, their suggestions growing more and more ridiculous until all their ideas are too expensive, too dangerous, or impossible to pull off even with magic. When they reach the Quidditch pitch, his chest aches from laughter.

"So a couple weeks ago, Kaz was telling me about monster truck rallies," Cedric says. "It’s this thing where muggles drive giant cars that fly in the air and crush other, smaller cars."

Harry snorts. "I’m familiar with the concept, but I’m fairly certain that would violate every rule in the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

"Yeah, but so does bringing four dragons into Great Britain. The Ministry can obviously pull some strings regarding the law. And you and Ron flew that enchanted car to Hogwarts a few years back, so y’know, it is possible."

"Still… monster trucks?"

Cedric laughs. "How am I the crazy one when you suggested unicorn jousting?"

"Hey, it could work. Those horns are really sharp."

"Yes, but Harry, they’re unicorns. Getting them to fight each other would be like getting Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts to behave for five seconds." Cedric frowns. "Merlin, what if we have to fight the Skrewts?"

"Then I don’t care what the rules say, I’m dropping out."

They’re the first ones to arrive at the pitch, not surprising since they left the castle so early. Fleur and Krum could show up any minute though, so it’s best not to wander too far, or get too handsy. Cedric tries the main gate, and finding it’s still locked, plops down underneath a nearby sycamore tree. Harry sits next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. If only he could enjoy this nice, quiet moment with his boyfriend without the pressure of the third task dragging him down.

"Hey Cedric?"

"Yeah?"

"I don’t think I’ve ever asked you. Why did you put your name in the Tournament?"

He doesn’t answer right away. "I suppose... I thought it sounded fun. I like challenges, you know?"

"So you didn’t-- it wasn’t the money, or the fame?"

"No. Well… the money is nice, but no. The way I see it, I’m no more worthy of fame than you or the eleven other Hogwarts students who put their name in. They all would’ve been fine champions."

"Yes, but the Goblet chose you."

"I’m sure that would’ve been different if Anthony was allowed to enter, but he only turned 17 last month so he wasn’t eligible."

Harry smiles, and kisses him softly on the cheek. Cedric’s unwavering humility was endearing when they first started dating. But he wonders sometimes, and he’s talked privately about it with Cho, if his "No, you’re much better than I am." attitude is truly how he sees himself.

"Did you ever figure out who put your name in the Tournament?" Cedric asks.

"Nope."

"And er… you definitely didn’t do it yourself?"

"I definitely did not."

"Weird. I wonder what someone had to gain from you being entered into the tournament?"

"Evening boys!" Mr. Bagman waves as he comes down the path. Harry flinches, and he can feel Cedric do the same. They’re not doing anything particularly telling-- he’s sat under trees with Ron and Hermione before-- but there’s still this uneasy feeling, like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Harry stands quickly and brushes off his robes. He offers Cedric a hand, but spots Mr. Bagman watching them with a keen interest and takes it back.

"Hello Mr. Bagman," Cedric says.

"You must be eager to find out about the third task, eh? I’d love to let you take a peek, but we best wait for Ms. Delacour and Mr. Krum. I don’t want to get accused of favoritism now." Mr. Bagman laughs, as though he’s said something particularly witty. Cedric nods and smiles politely, and Harry gets the feeling he’s not the only one hoping Fleur and Krum show up soon.

They’re forced to make awkward small talk with Mr. Bagman until Fleur finally arrives. Krum trails in a few moments later. After they’ve all exchanged pleasantries, Mr. Bagman unlocks the gate and leads them onto the quidditch pitch.

"Whoa."

"Yeah," Cedric says, looking similarly stunned, "I mean, I knew it was going to be different, but this is-- what is this?"

A year ago the Quidditch pitch was a flat, meticulously maintained lawn. Now it’s been replaced by grassy hedges at least 20 feet high. Even Hagrid would need a ladder to see over them. Harry thinks about those muggle adventure movies where someone cuts through thick jungle foliage with a machete. He’ll have to ask Ron or Hermione if they know of a spell with a similar effect.

Mr. Bagman claps his hands, calling them to attention. "Okay, who wants to guess what the third task is?"

No one answers at first, then Krum mutters something Harry can’t quite make out, but Mr. Bagman looks pleased.

"That’s right! The third task is a maze."

Mr. Bagman goes on to explain the rules. The four of them have to fight their way through a maze filled with dangerous obstacles (Harry can’t help but notice he’s deliberately vague on what those obstacles are). Whoever touches the cup at the center of the maze first wins the tournament.

"That explains why Hagrid didn’t want us to fly over the Quidditch pitch these last few months," Cedric whispers, "if we did we would have known the solution."

Mr. Bagman lets them ask a few questions, then allows them to explore their new surroundings, except they’re explicitly barred from entering the maze or going to the upper stands for an aerial view. Because looking at hedges isn’t particularly interesting, the four of them wander around a few minutes, then leave.

Fang howls in the distance as he and Cedric return to the castle. The sun has almost completely set, and the temperature is cooler than when they left an hour ago. Harry’s reaching for Cedric’s hand when someone taps him on the shoulder.

"Could I have a quick word with you?" Krum asks.

"Okay. What’s up?" Harry asks. He waits for Krum to speak, but he just sticks his hands in his pockets and gestures towards the forbidden forest.

"Will you walk with me? I don’t want to be overheard."

"Uh… alright," he says. Cedric casts him a confused look. Harry tries to communicate with his eyebrows he doesn’t know what this is about either.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" Cedric asks.

"No, I’ll be fine."

"Okay, I’ll see you Friday then."

Krum silent as they head down the path and into the forest. Harry holds his tongue instead of asking what he wants. Krum probably won’t say anything until he’s sure not even the centaurs can overhear them. It must be something quite sensitive if he’s going through all this secrecy. Maybe it has to do with Karkaroff? Harry hasn’t forgotten the cryptic conversation Snape had with him a few weeks ago.

"What is your relationship with Herm-o-ninny?"

Krum’s expression is the picture of grave seriousness, but his question… it’s just so trivial. Harry has to bite on his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Krum really dragged him all the way to the Forbidden Forest to ask about Hermione.

"We’re friends."

"Just friends?"

"Yup, just friends. We’ve never seen each other, nor have we ever wanted to. Anything you’ve heard otherwise was completely made up," he says. "Er… hasn’t Hermione told you that already?"

"She has said something similar, yes... but she talks about you often and with great fondness."

Harry wants to shout at him he’s already in a relationship, and if he’d waited two seconds, he would have caught him holding hands with one of his partners. Except, no, Harry doesn’t need to prove anything. Krum is the one in the wrong here for jumping to conclusions and accusing him of having romantic feelings for his best friend.

"Hermione’s fond of me as a friend, nothing more," he says. "Don’t you trust her?"

"I-- I suppose you’re right."

Their conversation gets interrupted by an unnatural rustling behind them. Heavy, uneven footsteps draw closer. Something large emerges from between the shadowy trees. Harry takes out his wand, preparing himself for a forest dwelling beast, but instead a haggard-looking man stumbles into the light.

If Harry had not met Mr. Crouch before, he would not have recognized him now. It takes him a few moments to place this man with an unshaven face, sallow skin, and bloodstained robes as the prim and proper Ministry man Percy admired so much. Stranger still is how he’s muttering and gesticulating, engaged in a lively conversation with absolutely no one.

"When you’ve done that, Weatherby," Mr. Crouch says, making direct eye contact with an oak tree, "send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament. Karkaroff just sent word there will be twelve."

"Er… Mr. Crouch?" Harry says. He ventures a few steps closer, keeping his wand at the ready. Mr. Crouch doesn’t acknowledge him.

"Ludo says he hasn’t heard back from the Swedish Minister of Magic about our request to borrow a dragon for the first task. I imagine he hasn’t even asked her yet. Yes, Weatherby, you’ve mentioned you have a brother who works with dragons, but we need to clear this through the proper channels."

"Mr. Crouch?" Harry says, louder this time. "Are you all right?"

"What’s wrong with him?" Krum asks.

"I… don’t know," Harry says. "Maybe we should fetch Madam Pomfrey. She might be able to--"

"Dumbledore!" Mr. Crouch shouts. He grabs the collar of Harry’s robes and drags him uncomfortably close. His eyes seem strangely alert in a way they weren’t a few seconds ago. "I need... to see... Dumbledore.... Need to... tell him…. My fault…. All my fault."

"Okay. Okay, I’ll get Dumbledore," Harry says, hoping this means he’ll let go of him, but his grip remains firm. "Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I’ll get him."

"Must warn... must tell him…. Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge." Mr. Crouch turns his attention back to the oak tree. Now free from his grip, Harry scrambles backwards towards Krum.

"I’ll go get Dumbledore," Harry says. "Will you keep an eye on him? Make sure he doesn’t run off or hurt himself."

"What? You can’t leave me alone with him!"

"I’ll be quick, I promise."

Krum bites his lip. "Well-- okay, but hurry, won’t you?"

Harry nods, then sprints out of the forest and up towards the castle. He’s going so fast and his mind is so frazzled that he almost misses Cedric leaning against the sycamore tree by the quidditch pitch.

"Hey! I know you said not to wait, but--" Cedric’s expression shifts to one of concern, "are you alright?"

"Do you-- do you know where the Headmaster’s office is?" He asks, panting and out of breath.

"Yeah, it’s on the second floor next to that ugly gargoyle statue. Why? Harry, what’s going on?"

"I need you to fetch Professor Dumbledore? Tell him--" he pauses, not sure how to explain without sounding like a lunatic, "Tell him Mr. Crouch is in the Forbidden Forest, and he has something he needs to tell him."

Cedric’s eyes widen. "Mr. Crouch? From the Ministry? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure. It’s definitely him, and he seems… not right, like he’s ill or something. Please, will you go get Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, of course. I’ll be as fast as I can," Cedric takes his hands and squeezes them gently. "Please be careful, Harry."

"I will."

Crouch is still giving orders to the tree when Harry returns. Krum kept his word and guards him from a comfortable distance, his wand held in a firm grip at his side.

"Where is Dumbley-door?" Krum asks.

"Cedric’s gone to get him. They should be back soon," he says. "Has Mr. Crouch said anything coherent since I left?"

"Not really. I don’t think so. Sorry, he speaks very fast and my English isn’t the best."

"It’s fine. I’m fluent in English and I don’t know what he’s going on about either." He grins sheepishly. "I think I’ve got it covered from here. You can go back to your ship. Thanks for staying with him."

"Of course. You were right, it wouldn’t be wise to leave him like this." Krum starts towards the main path, but turns back after only a few steps. "You um… you play quidditch, yes?"

"Yeah. I’m a seeker, same as you."

Krum hesitates a moment. "You fly quite well. I was watching you during the first task. I thought you should have gotten a higher score."

"Oh, uh... thank you," he says, suddenly feeling quite flustered. "You’re loads better than I am though. I was at the Quidditch World Cup when you-- the Wronski Feint, you really--"

"Stupefy!"

There’s a loud whiplike crack, then a bright red light strikes Krum from behind. He groans, then falls forward and collapses onto the forest floor. Harry flounders before coming to his senses, then readies his wand. Was that Mr. Crouch? No, he’s still talking to the tree, oblivious to the outside danger. Harry squints into the night in a desperate attempt to find the assailant, but an eerie mist has settled over the forest. Something vaguely human-shaped lurks between two trees. Harry can’t tell if it’s a person or a beast or just his imagination.

"Stupefy!"

Another beam of red light strikes Harry in the chest, knocking him back and slamming him hard against a tree.

That voice. The person who spoke the curse. He’s heard it somewhere before. But his head is woozy and he can’t concentrate. Harry closes his eyes, and succumbs to sudden and overwhelming fatigue.

Chapter 10: The Third Task: Part 2

Chapter Text

Harry's vision is blurry when he wakes up-- he's no longer wearing his glasses-- but he's visited the Hospital Wing enough times to recognize it from the fuzzy outlines of hospital beds and the scent of antiseptic potion. He sits up, rubs his eyes, and searches the nightstand next to his bed until he finds his glasses.

"Ah... you're awake." Professor Dumbledore says from a chair by his bedside. He folds his copy of The Evening Prophet and gives him an expectant look.

Harry hoped he'd say a little more, perhaps an explanation on how he ended up here. He's finding his most recent memories jumbled and scant. Trees casting eerie shadows in the Forbidden Forest, Krum glaring at him with a stern expression, a jet of red light striking him in the sternum. He concentrates, forcing the pieces to form a coherent story, but his efforts are rewarded with a dull headache reminiscent of an oncoming migraine. Harry groans and massages his temples.

"Professor… what happened?"

"I believe I should be asking you that question," Dumbledore says with a slight smile. "Earlier tonight I received word that you stumbled upon Barty Crouch in the Forbidden Forest. When I went to investigate however, I found you and Viktor unconscious and arranged in a way to suggest you'd had a duel."

A duel? That sounds... familiar. Something clicks in Harry's memory, and a scene plays like a movie in his head:

"What is your relationship with Herm-o-ninny?"

"None of your business."

"She's my Girlfriend, of course it's my business."

"She only likes you because you're famous. She plans on ditching you for me as soon as you're gone."

Their argument strengthens in intensity, reaching its tipping point when Krum challenges him to a duel. Things get a little hazy after that. Harry has half-formed memories of negotiating terms with Krum and convincing Cedric-- who for some reason he knew was nearby-- to leave with a hastily formed lie. Then he and Krum drew their wands, spewed out spells, and the last thing he remembers is a beam of red light striking him in the chest, knocking him back and slamming him hard against a tree.

"So, am I in trouble?"

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow and gives him a peculiar look. "That depends. Did you see Mr. Crouch tonight?"

"No," he says flatly, listening to the voice in his head insisting this above all else isn't true. "I only told Cedric that so he'd leave. I didn't want him to overhear us."

"Why that specific lie though?"

Harry shrugs. "It was the first thing that popped into my head."

"Then I must say, it wasn't very wise of you to pick a duel with your competition."

Harry scoffs. "He started it."

"What was your duel about then? Something to do with the Tournament?"

"No. It was um… personal stuff."

"Ah… could this 'personal stuff' have to do with the Witch Weekly article on your and Viktor's relationship with Hermione?"

"Er… something like that, yeah." Harry shifts uncomfortably in his hospital bed. While he likes Professor Dumbledore a great deal, he'd rather not chat with him about his feelings for Hermione. The romantic feelings he definitely has for Hermione. He got into a duel with Krum over them, so that must mean he fancies her. Why is it then, when he thinks about how he fancies his best friend, his headache swells to near unbearable?

"So your duel was over the affections of Hermione Granger? You're certain of this?"

"Pretty certain, yeah," he says through gritted teeth. He's struggling to focus on anything other than how much his head throbs.

Dumbledore strokes his beard, as if pondering something. "Poppy, are Cho and Cedric still waiting outside?"

"Yes, shall I send them off to bed?"

"No, have them come in. I'd like their assistance with something."

Madam Pomfrey tsks and mutters something Harry doesn't catch, but she opens the hospital doors, revealing Ron, Hermione, Cho, and Cedric huddled together in the corridor.The four of them rush for the entrance, but only Cedric and Cho are permitted inside. Ron and Hermione attempt to protest as Madam Pomfrey slams the doors shut once again.

"Harry! You're awake!" Cho says.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry it took me so long to get help," Cedric says.

Cho and Cedric grin at him with expressions of relief. They have very nice smiles, Harry notices, and he has an urge like a reflex to reach for their hands and reassure them he's fine. He has this hazy feeling that the three of them are friends... or…

No, he fancies Hermione. He had a duel with Krum over which of them fancies Hermione more. Merlin's beard-- why does his head hurt so much?

"You guys were waiting for me?" He asks.

"Of course! We've been worried sick about you," Cho says.

"When Professor Dumbledore and I found you and Krum unconscious, we feared the worst," Cedric says. "Was it Mr. Crouch? Did he attack you and Krum?"

"No, Mr. Crouch wasn't--"

"That's what we're trying to get to the bottom of," Dumbledore says before he can finish. "Harry, I'd like to ask you a few questions to test your memory. I'm hoping your friends' presence might help you a bit."

"Er… okay," he says. He stares at Dumbledore, hoping he'll further explain his logic-- so far Cho and Cedric have only made him more confused-- but he receives in response only a patient smile.

"What's today's date, and who's the current Minister of Magic?" Dumbledore asks.

"May 24th and Cornelius Fudge."

"Can you name the band that performed at the Yule Ball?"

"The Weird Sisters."

"And who did you take to the Ball as your date?"

"I... um..." He trails off, finding his memories of the Ball frustratingly fuzzy. He remembers shiny black hair, a dimpled smile, the calloused fingers of a seeker. Not Hermione, she went with Krum. His date was probably someone he asked as a last resort since he couldn't take his crush. Except... his hazy memories have a pleasant air about them. Whoever his dates were, he gets the feeling he cares for them quite a bit.

"I... I think..." He winces. His head throbs, and there's a tinny ringing in his ears. "No, I clearly remember dueling Krum about Hermione--"

"What?!?" Cho shouts. She and Cedric wear similarly bewildered expressions. "No, you must be remembering things wrong. There's no possible way that could've happened."

"Harry, are you sure you're alright?" Cedric asks. "Krum didn't seem cross with you, and you were dead certain you saw Mr. Crouch."

Harry closes his eyes and concentrates, willing the events of the Ball to come back to him. He's slow-dancing with someone, he can almost make out their face, then... he's in the Forbidden Forest taunting Krum about how close his bond with Hermione is. His memories are like identical poles of a magnet, the harder he tries to make them fit, the more they repel each other away.

"Don't think too hard on it. What feels most correct to you?" Dumbledore asks.

What feels most correct? The duel of course. It's what he remembers clearest-- almost too clear. Like something he saw happen instead of something he experienced. The longer he concentrates on it, the more something about it feels off, artificial almost. So he sets it aside and focuses only on the sights and sensations of the Yule Ball. Grey eyes, lightly freckled cheeks, iced pumpkin juice, a face-- no, two faces he wanted to kiss.

Harry focuses on Cho and Cedric. His memories of them are a bit jumbled, but the feelings of warmth and fondness he gets when he looks at them tell him all he needs to know.

He loves them.

"It was you two." He says with certainty. Cedric and Cho grin back at him, two dazzling grins he can't help but return. "But I still don't understand, why do I remember--" he groans and rubs his still aching head, "I must've hit my head on something?"

"While that's possible, I have another theory involving significantly less blunt force trauma to the head," Dumbledore says. He looks at Cedric. "I believe Professor Sprout's mentioned you've taken an interest in healing magic."

Cedric nods. "Uh... well... I've still got a lot to learn, but I enjoy it."

"He's being modest, he's really good at it!" Cho says. "He's been helping me study for my Charms OWL and he's taught me all these healing spells and incantations."

"Then maybe one of you is familiar with the Adversa Memoriae effect?" Dumbledore asks.

Cho frowns and shakes her head, but Cedric's expression shifts to one of alarm.

"Adversa Memoriae! That only happens when someone has memories falsely-implanted in their head," he says. "Professor, do you think Harry's memory was modified?"

"Huh? No, it couldn't be that," he says. When Professor Lockhart erased his own memory, he couldn't even remember his name. Harry's not that lost. He's probably just a bit groggy from being knocked out.

"But you wouldn't remember if someone messed with your memory, would you?" Cho asks.

"I suppose not."

"And you're showing all the symptoms of Adversa Memoriae," Cedric says. "You've got headaches, confusion, seemingly contradicting memories."

"I... guess so."

"Then it goes to reason that your duel was a by-product of a poorly-planned memory modification spell," Dumbledore says. He chuckles. "It makes far more sense than this supposed duel for Hermione taking place, considering the three of you have been in a relationship since April."

"You um... you know about that?" Cedric asks, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. Cho bites her lip and shifts awkwardly next to him.

Dumbledore smiles, not unkindly. "In the future, you may want to be more careful which windows you fly in front of during your more... intimate moments."

Well this settles it. The duel definitely did not happen. If it did, and he really does fancy Hermione, he would not be feeling such a deep sense of mortification right now.

"So um... how do I get my real memory back?" He asks, hoping to move the conversation along to anything else.

"Well… that's the thing," Cedric says, "it's really hard to recover memories erased by magic, especially when they're modified instead of outright obliviated."

"So I'll never remember?" He asks. While he's relieved he has a diagnosis and he's not losing his mind, there's still the mystery of what actually happened to him tonight. Something had to knock him and Krum unconscious. If not a duel, then what? What could he have done that was so important, someone made certain he forgot all trace of it? He worries it's related to his dreams about Voldemort regaining his strength, especially since he's attacked him in the Forbidden Forest once before.

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore says. "Memory is a tricky thing, hard to control even with magic. Perhaps you'll never remember, or perhaps you'll wake up tomorrow with your memories completely restored."

"And we can glean some stuff about tonight even without your memories," Cho says. "It sounds like whatever happened involved Mr. Crouch."

"Indeed, Alastor and Hagrid are searching the grounds for him as we speak," Dumbledore says. He stands and tucks his newspaper under his arm. "Well... that's enough for tonight I think. I imagine Poppy wants to have a look at you. Will you let me know if anything comes back to you?"

"Yes, Sir."

After Dumbledore exits voluntarily and Cho and Cedric are kicked out, Madam Pomfrey starts her examination. There's some sore spots on his back and a scar on his sternum that looks like a cigarette burn, but otherwise she finds nothing unusual. As Dumbledore theorized, no blunt force trauma to the head. Madam Pomfrey wavers on whether to keep him overnight, but to his relief, she declares him well enough for discharge-- though not before giving him strict orders to avoid strenuous activity for the next week.

Harry barely has one foot out of the Hospital Wing before four pairs of arms are throwing themselves around him. His friends' and his partners' voices all blend together as they ask how he's feeling and reassure him everything is going to be okay.

Harry does not wake up the next morning with his memory restored. All he has to show for the previous night is a lingering migraine and a soreness between his shoulder blades like someone shoved him against a wall. A tonic from Madam Pomfrey relieves his physical pain. Too bad restoring modified memories isn't as easy as chugging a potion.

Later that week Professor Moody confirms neither he nor Hagrid found any trace of an intruder, Mr. Crouch or otherwise, and through the social grapevine Harry learns Krum's memories were similarly modified. It appears the only person who knows what happened is their attacker. So far every clue about their identity has led to a dead end. He's ruled out the possibility of an outsider, and an insider seems equally unlikely. Karkaroff's Death Eater ties point some suspicion his way, but he wouldn't attack his prized pupil. As for Voldemort-- Harry can't deny the possibility-- but he's fairly certain if he were involved, he would've used something a bit deadlier than a memory modification spell.

To distract from his quasi-amnesia, Harry throws himself into preparations for the third task. It helps, but Ron and Hermione's company helps more. Together they spend their evenings in the library, flipping through books on spells, potions, magical creatures, and anything else that might be of use. Harry keeps a list of things that seem promising. By Friday night it's three pages long.

"Huh, here's an interesting one," Harry says, reading from a page of Humberto's Handbook of Helpful Hexes, "the Foliconsumpto spell. It shoots out an acid that kills weeds," he laughs. "Hey, maybe I could use it to disintegrate the hedges."

"That's a brilliant idea!" Ron says.

Hermione glares at him. "I hope you're joking."

"No, I'm serious. You should do it. The judges seem to like it when you show some cheek."

"Yes, but there's a difference between showing cheek and totally disregarding the rules. If the goal of the Third Task was to reach the cup as fast as possible with no holds barred, Harry may as well summon his broomstick again."

"Oh yeah, that's even better!"

Hermione sighs. "And you completely missed the point of what I just said."

"Well... Mr. Bagman didn't explicitly ban going around the walls," Harry says, hesitantly, not wanting to add more ammunition to their squabble. "But maybe I should check with him first? I wouldn't want to get disqualified over it."

"I dunno," Ron says, "it's like Fred and George say, sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

Hermione tsks and shakes her head. "Of course they'd say something like that."

Harry writes the spell down anyway, just in case, ignoring Hermione's look of disapproval as he does. He glances out the large library windows at the courtyard below. He's itching to get out and try some of these spells, but spell-practice is considered to be a "strenuous activity" and he isn't supposed to over-exert himself, as Ron, Hermione, Cedric, Cho, Hagrid, Sirius, Madam Pomfrey, et cetera are keen on reminding him.

Speaking of Cedric and Cho, the large clock over the library entrance chimes for the hour.

"Damnit, I'm late," he says.

"Late for what?" Ron asks.

"Date night."

When searching for rooms without anti-PDA charms, Harry found their choices somewhat limited. They settled on a dungeon in the basem*nt, the same one where Cho brewed his life-saving potion for the Second Task. Their plans weren't particularly extravagant. Cho wanted to study a bit more, Cedric promised he'd nick some sweets from the kitchen, but after everything Harry went through this week, he can't think of anything he'd enjoy more than an easy night in with his partners.

Hermione gives him a concerned look. "Are you sure it's okay to be sneaking around after curfew, especially after what happened earlier?"

"I think so. We're just meeting up in a spare classroom. We're probably as safe there as we are here."

"Yeah, they'll be fine. It's not like they're going to do something stupid, like sneak off for a snog in the Forbidden Forest," Ron says.

"Well... okay. But be careful. And don't stay out too late. Ron and I will wait up for you to make sure you get back safe."

"Hey, how do you know I don't have plans for tonight?" Ron casts her a co*cky smile. "Maybe I've got a date tonight too."

"Do you?" Hermione asks.

Ron frowns and his ears turn red. "Well... no, but it would have been polite to ask."

The three of them part ways at the library entrance, Hermione and Ron discussing a knitting project as they climb the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Harry checks the Marauder's Map as he heads for the basem*nt. Curfew isn't for another hour, but leave it to Snape to question him about what he's doing in the dungeons at this time of night. Except Snape isn't on the map, nor are most of his Professors. The only ones he can locate are Trelawney in the Divination tower, Moody in his office, and Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. Maybe Hermione was onto something about safety, or maybe he should take comfort in the fact that it's highly unlikely more Professors will find out about their relationship tonight.

When Harry arrives Cedric is fiddling with a loud, static-y wireless, and Cho's brewing a potion that gives off a strong, lemony odor. Harry didn't have a good chance to look around the last time he was here-- he was a bit distracted by everything going on that morning. This must be an old potions classroom. Rows of empty ingredients cabinets line the walls and there's a layer of dust on everything except a few tables Cedric and Cho have claimed. They've added a few touches to make the space a little homier: candles, a plate of sweets, a few pillows and blankets in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw colors. Harry grabs a biscuit and gives each of them a kiss on the cheek.

"Sorry I'm late," he says. "Looks like you guys have kept busy."

"Yup. Give me a minute, I'm almost done." Cho says as she sprinkles a powder into her cauldron that turns her potion bright yellow.

"And I've almost got this thing to work," Cedric says. He smacks the wireless with the heel of his hand, but it only makes the static louder. "The noise isn't bothering you, is it? I wouldn't want to aggravate your headaches."

"No, you're fine. My headaches have mostly gone away. Though, I'm slightly concerned someone might hear the noise and come to investigate."

Cedric smirks and looks as though he's stifling a laugh. "Oh don't worry, no one's going to overhear us tonight."

Harry raises an eyebrow. "You sound awfully certain of that."

"Yeah, do you know something we don't?" Cho asks.

Cedric pauses. "Alright, but you can't tell anyone. The Professors went out to Three Broomsticks tonight so it's just the Prefects supervising, and I may have pulled a few favors and asked them not to come down this way on their patrol."

Harry and Cho exchange grins. That explains why nearly every adult vanished off the map. Though, why anyone would want Snape for a drinking companion is beyond him.

"How long until they get back?" Cho asks.

"Midnight? Maybe a little after? Don't worry, we've got plenty of time." Cedric leans in, giving her a flirtatious look, but he inhales too much of the scent from her cauldron and sputters. "Wow-- that is quite strong. What are you making?"

"It's called the citrilludent potion. It makes everything you eat and drink taste like lemons."

Harry scrunches his nose, wondering why anyone would spend time creating a potion so useless. Cedric also makes a face, though it's one of concern rather than disgust.

"Oh no, not the citrilludent potion. Sorry, I wish I'd known. I would've stopped you."

"What's wrong?" Cho asks. "Davies said it comes up on the OWLs a lot, so I thought it might be worthwhile to study."

"Uh... no, it's never on the OWLs. It's a prank. Some people think it's funny to watch fifth years waste their time and struggle to eat a meal that tastes like sour lemons."

Harry makes a mental note next year for when he's taking exams because it sounds like the kind of thing Fred and George would try. Cho sighs and takes out her wand to vanish the potion, but Cedric holds out his hand to stop her.

"Wait, save some and slip it into Davies' breakfast tomorrow," Cedric says.

"Oh, that's devious. I love it." She smirks. She spoons a small amount of the bright yellow solution into a crystal vial, then vanishes away the rest. "So what potions should I actually study?"

"Well, for last year's OWLs I had to make a sleeping draft, a strengthening serum, and Polyjuice potion-- or part of it, we weren't able to finish since it takes several months to stew."

"I was reading about the Polyjuice potion. I wanted to try it, but a bunch of the ingredients were missing in the storage cabinet."

Harry shrugs. "Sounds like a lot of people have been studying it too."

"I doubt they'll have Polyjuice potion on the exam twice in a row," Cedric says, "but if you're really determined you could owl order the missing ingredients."

"I considered it, but they're a bit out of my price range." She holds out an empty palm at Cedric. "Care to spare me 60 galleons for some boomslang skin?"

Cedric laughs and shakes his head. "Sorry, check back after the tournament."

"I won't need it then, though if you'd like to spend your prize money on a Firebolt for your favorite girlfriend..." Cho smiles and bats her eyelashes.

"We'll see. How much do those things cost anyway?" Cedric asks, looking at him.

"Dunno, mine was a gift," he says, and because he's certain their next question will be: 'From who?' , he changes the subject. "What would you do with the prize money if you won? I still haven't decided."

"Well, I'd start by paying Cho back for our tea date," Cedric says, then kisses her nose.

"I wasn't being serious about that," Cho says, laughing.

"I know, but I'm going to do it anyway. Then... Harry, your birthday's in July, right?"

He nods. "It's the 31st. When's yours? I haven't forgotten it, have I?"

"No, it's not until October. October 9th to be exact."

"And mine's even later, December 11th," Cho says.

"Right so, I'll get both of you birthday presents at the appropriate time," Cedric says. "After that... I know it's boring, but I'll probably save most of it for after I graduate."

"No, that's practical," Cho says. "Have you decided what you want to do after you graduate?"

He nods. "I think I'm going to try for a healing apprenticeship, but I haven't decided which hospital yet."

"St. Mungo's?" he suggests.

"Maybe, but they're really selective. They only take one or two apprentices a year and I already know six people who want to apply."

Harry laughs and brushes a stray strand of hair out of his boyfriend's eyes. "Cedric, you're a Triwizard Champion, a prefect, a quidditch captain, and a shoo-in for Head Boy next year. You're probably over-qualified for their apprenticeship."

"I know, but that's not a guarantee they'll choose me. It'll probably come down to my NEWT scores."

"And you got seven Outstandings on your OWLs last year. As long as you remember to study, I think you'll be alright," Cho says. She reaches up to caress his cheeks. "You're incredibly brilliant, incredibly handsome, and any hospital would be lucky to have you as an apprentice."

Cedric rolls his eyes. "How does being handsome help me get a healing apprenticeship?"

Cho laughs softly before standing on her toes and kissing him.

They don't say much of anything after that. Their lips are otherwise occupied. They start fumbly and awkward, but it doesn't take long to find a comfortable rhythm. Taking turns really is the answer to 'How will they all kiss?' , and when one of them isn't kissing his lips, they're kissing his cheeks and neck and shoulders. He loses track of who's hands belong to who, not that it matters because it feels so good and they're both so hot and he doesn't want them to stop.

Somehow they end up sprawled across their pile of pillows and blankets, enveloped in warmth and an easy silence, aside for the wireless still humming with soft static. Harry lies with his head in Cho's lap, Cedric not far away. The top few buttons of his shirt have come undone, revealing the newly formed scar on his chest.

"That looks like it came from a stunning spell. It should fade in a few weeks," Cedric says. He runs a finger lazily along his sternum.

"Yeah, that's what Madam Pomfrey said."

"I'm really sorry I couldn't get Dumbledore quicker. When I got to the castle--"

Cho cuts him off with a quick kiss. "Hey, we talked about this. It's not your fault. You did the best you could."

Harry squeezes Cedric's hand. "Yeah, and I was knocked out so soon after you left, I doubt you could've gotten Dumbledore fast enough."

"How do you know that?" Cho asks, "Do you remember something?"

He'd meant it to be reassuring, but there's one memory that's stuck with him, feeling more grounded than the rest: a beam of red light striking him in the chest. When he digs down and concentrates so hard his head hurts, the spellcaster shifts from Krum to someone else, a distant figure with a familiar voice, though he can't quite pin down.

"No… just a feeling."

"Well, if you get any more feelings, you ought to tell Professor Dumbledore about them."

"I will."

Cho strokes his hair while Cedric takes his hand and kisses his fingertips. He can worry about his missing memories later. Right now he's busy making new ones with two of the people he loves most.

Chapter 11: The Third Task: Part 3

Chapter Text

"Hang on," Cedric says, pulling out of a sharp dive to give Harry a confused look, "did you just say that this professional wrestling thing is fake?"

"Yup."

"Totally, completely staged? With a winner decided in advance and everything?"

"Yup."

"And all the Muggles watching know this?"

"I think so."

"And they still enjoy it?"

Harry shrugs, then tosses Cedric the basketball. Cho loaned it to them earlier before dashing off to cram for her Herbology OWL tomorrow. They've flown past the library a couple times in hopes of catching a glance at her, but wherever she's studying, it's not near one of the big windows.

He and his partners have all hit crunch time. The third task is just four days away and the OWLs are in full swing. Harry really ought to be more disciplined, but weeks of research and spell practice have left him burnt out. Cedric hasn't said as much, but he gets a sense he's in a similar headspace. He's quieter than usual and prone to getting lost in thought. Harry's caught him at meals staring at the Great Hall ceiling with a vacant, glassy-eyed expression. They could both use a break, which is why he's out here explaining Muggle sports to his adorably clueless boyfriend.

"So is there a version of wrestling that isn't faked?" Cedric asks.

"Yeah, but it's not as popular. They don't usually show it on TV unless it's the Olympics."

"Ah, the Olympics. I remember reading about those," Cedric tucks the basketball under his arm and leans in to whisper conspiratorially. "I particularly enjoyed the bit about the athletes competing nude."

Harry rolls his eyes. "That's the ancient Olympics. The modern Olympics require the athletes to wear clothing. Though, I suppose how much clothing depends on the sport."

"Oh? Tell me more about these half-naked Muggle athletes."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Diggory." Harry swats his arm and fails to suppress a grin.

"Fine, fine. Then explain to me again, in professional wrestling-- hang on, what's that?"

Cedric points at two specks flying towards them. Harry shields his face from the sun and squints. It's Hedwig and another slightly larger owl carrying a shoebox-sized parcel.

As part of his preparations for the third task, Harry reached out to all the non-Hogwarts Professor wizards he could think of, that being Lupin, Sirius, and Bill and Charlie Weasley. The Weasley brothers sent their replies last week, Sirius has been sending him letters almost daily, but he's yet to hear back from Lupin. He thought Hedwig may have gotten lost, then he remembered to check the lunar calendar and felt terrible for bothering him in the first place.

Hedwig lands on his broomstick handle. The envelope clutched in her beak is addressed to him in Lupin's handwriting. The other owl, brown with bright orange eyes, hovers in front of Cedric. He casts a quick wingardium leviosa on the basketball, then uses his now free hands to grab the box.

"What d'you have there, Persephone?" Cedric says, hesitating before removing the lid. After inspecting the contents his face relaxes. "Mmm! My Mum made cauldron cakes. Want one?"

The cake is still warm when Harry bites into it. If this is what Mrs. Diggory's desserts taste like, then he can understand how Cedric got such a sweet tooth. He offers a piece to Hedwig, but she turns her head away in disinterest. Harry wipes his hands clean of powdered sugar and jelly filling, then opens his envelope.

Dear Harry,

I hope this letter finds you before the final task. Unfortunately the full moon took a bigger toll on my health than usual this month, and I apologize for my late response.

I looked over the list of "Spells and Other Useful Stuff" you sent me. It's quite comprehensive, so much so I don't have anything to add. I'm impressed by your, Ron, and Hermione's thoroughness. I highlighted the things I think are most critical for you to learn. You should focus most on protecting yourself against beasts. If you're correct about Hagrid helping design the maze, there's bound to be plenty of them. I'd also advise not to spend much time on the nonverbal spells you listed, it's advanced magic you haven't learned yet. I have full faith you'll master them one day, but right now your time is limited. If you are set on them though, Padfoot is quite adept at them. Perhaps he could share some tips if he hasn't already.

Professor Dumbledore invited me to Hogwarts to watch you compete. I'd like to attend, but I've missed quite a bit of work recently due to my health so I may not be able to. I hope to see you soon, but if not I wish you the best of luck.

Sincerely,

Remus

PS: Pass along my best wishes to Cho on her OWLs. Padfoot informed me that you're seeing her and Cedric Diggory. I'd ask you to wish him well too, but I'm afraid it might ring hollow when attached to this letter of advice specifically for you.

Harry looks over the notes Lupin added to his list, then sticks the letter in his pocket. He'll show it to Ron and Hermione later. They'll be glad to know Lupin's feeling better, and that they've been on the right track with their practice sessions. With one notable exception, he's got at least a cursory grasp on all the highlighted spells.

Cedric received a letter with his parcel too. At first glance Harry thinks he's reading it, but his eyes aren't moving and he has that empty look he gets when he's lost in thought. He hasn't even touched his cauldron cakes.

"Hey, you okay?" He asks.

"Huh?" Cedric's expression comes back to life, and he quickly folds up his letter. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a note from my Dad, wishing me luck for the third task and all."

Harry nods. They've been good on their pact not to help each other with the third task, so much so they avoid talking about anything even bordering the subject. But Cho's told him some things. His Dad sends him these letters. They're meant to be encouraging, pep talks and frequent reminders of how proud he is of his son, but they only serve to stress him out. Cho never got too specific about the contents, and of course Cedric hasn't mentioned them, but Harry imagines his name comes up in them, and that the things Mr. Diggory says aren't the kindest.

"Well, I suppose I should put this away," Cedric says, gesturing to the box, "and then I think I'll get back to studying, if that's alright with you."

"Of course. Tell your Mum I said thanks for the cauldron cakes."

"Don't worry, you'll get to tell her soon enough."

Cedric leans in and swallows him in a lingering kiss. Harry reciprocates, sighing and putting a hand on the back of his neck, but he can't shake the feeling something's off. Cedric didn't check for onlookers. Granted, they're far away from any windows and most people are inside studying for exams, but it's unlike him to be so reckless.

He can still taste Cedric on his lips as he and Persephone fly away. Cho's basketball hovers forgotten in midair. They're probably not going to see each other again until the night of the third task. He wishes they hadn't left on such a strange note, but they'll have all the time in the world to talk when the tournament's finally over.

Harry looks at Hedwig, who's fallen asleep on his broomstick handle. "Suppose we should head in too? Be responsible and all?"

Hedwig doesn't stir. Poor girl must be exhausted after her journey to Lupin's. He'll give her a lift to the Owlery, then figure out what to do for the rest of the afternoon. He could practice more, but he'd be on his own since Ron and Hermione are studying for exams. He's found he's far less productive when they're not around to keep him on track. Plus the weather is gorgeous, clear skies and a gentle breeze, and he's only got a week left to enjoy it before his broomstick is locked away at Privet Drive.

Someone's doing chaser drills around the towers when Harry gets to the Owlery. He's seen them before during his Sundays with Cho and Cedric, they were out flying almost as often as them, but none of them could figure out who they were. His first thought is that he hopes they didn't catch him and Cedric snogging a couple minutes ago. His second thought is-- is that Ginny Weasley?

"Oh uh... hello Harry," Ginny says, because it's definitely Ginny. She smiles awkwardly and her cheeks are pink from the sun-- or is it embarrassment?

"Yeah, fancy meeting you here. Ron never mentioned you flew."

"Ron doesn't know. None of my brothers do."

"Well you ought to tell them. You're really good. Especially considering-- are you on one of the school broomsticks?"

She nods, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "So um... how are you feeling? Hermione mentioned you're still having trouble remembering things?"

Harry hasn't abandoned all hope of recovering his memory. It has to be buried in his subconscious somewhere. It's just taking it's time reemerging. Not for lack of effort. He's taken up meditation and journaling, and he's read every book in the library about memory charms. Last week he met with Dumbledore after a dream about Voldemort and Wormtail made his scar burn. In an attempt to spark something, Dumbledore used thing called a Pensieve to show him one of his memories of Mr. Crouch. All he got out of it though was that Mr. Crouch took his job very seriously, had little love for his son, and employed Cho's mother as one of his aides.

Harry sighs. "Yup, the whole night is still one big blank."

Ginny offers a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. I know better than most how frustrating that is."

"Right, you would huh?" He says, recalling the events of two years ago with Riddle's diary and the Chamber of Secrets.

"Something I used to do when I had gaps in my memory was ask other people what they saw me doing at the time," she says. "It never actually brought any of my memories back, but it helped me piece things together. Maybe it would work for you too?"

Harry's already heard Cedric's account of what happened. According to him: he ran out of the forbidden forest in a panic and demanded an audience with Dumbledore. Cedric held his hands, told him to be careful, and they went their separate ways. Fleur and Mr. Bagman offered their version of events too, but he still remembers bidding them both goodnight. His memory doesn't get hazy until after, when Krum taps him on the shoulder and asks to have a quick word.

"I've tried that, and yeah, it's helped a bit. I just wish I could talk to Krum. Karkaroff still won't let me near him. I thought Hermione might know since they're... involved, but it sounds like they haven't talked about it much."

Ginny stifles a giggle. "They're just friends. Hermione turned him down last week. She likes him, but I think her heart's set on someone else."

"Really, who?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You can't tell?"

"Err... I've been told I'm not very good at picking up those kinds of hints."

"Well if she hasn't told you then I won't say anything. And you're not that bad at picking up hints. You must've realized I used to fancy you."

"Yeah, but I'd have to be really dense not to get it after the 'Eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad' thing," he says, causing Ginny to wince and her ears to burn bright red. "And I completely missed the signs that you started fancying someone else."

"That's not your fault. I've been keeping quiet about it. I don't want my brothers to find out," she looks away and says quietly. "They're just going to make fun of me when they do."

"Hey, it's alright. If I promise not to say anything to Ron, will you tell me who you're seeing?" He asks, hoping it might cheer her up a little.

She considers a moment. "Only if you tell me what's going on between you, Cho, and Cedric. And you give me a go on your Firebolt."

He smirks. "You drive a hard bargain, but alright."

They swap broomsticks in the Owlery. Hedwig isn't too thrilled about getting woken up, but she gives him an affectionate nip on the finger and flies lazily towards one of the water bowls. He and Ginny do a few laps around the castle, tossing Cho's basketball between them. Harry can barely keep up with her, and he suspects it's not entirely because of his sh*tty school broomstick. This summer when he's staying at the Weasleys, he's going to insist Ginny's included in their backyard Quidditch games.

"So, going to tell me about this mysterious boyfriend of yours?" He asks.

"Girlfriend, actually." Ginny says, blushing slightly. "Do you remember Ron's date to the Yule Ball?"

"Luna Lovegood?"

She nods. "We'd been friends for a while, but then we shared a dance at the Yule Ball and I... realized a few things about myself."

Harry laughs. "I think I might have an idea how that feels."

"Stupefy!"

Harry casts his spell and the gargoyle they'd "borrowed" from outside the Slytherin dungeon crumbles to pieces.

"Reparo," Ron says, and the stone chunks reform into the statue. "That's five in a row. Not bad! Want to give it another go?"

After a month of practice, Harry's only now-- the night before the final task-- getting the hang of stunning things, and thus far he's only been successful on the ugly gargoyle statue. When faced against Ron or Hermione, his hands go cold and clammy and a pain like an electrical current sparks in his chest and runs down his spine. Sirius reckons it's because of the incident in the forest. A mental block stemming from a traumatic experience. He still has the cigarette burn scar on his sternum, though like Cedric and Madam Pomfrey said, it's starting to fade.

Harry glances at the clock above the common room fireplace, quarter to 11. He yawns. "Nah, let's call it a night."

"You're certain?" Hermione asks. "We don't mind, you know."

"Thanks, but I'm getting kind of tired."

"Ok, but let's do some more practice tomorrow afternoon. I'd like for you to get a bit more comfortable with stupefy, and it can't hurt to practice impedimenta a couple more times too."

For all his talk about being tired, Harry finds himself tossing and turning. It's the first time he's had the luxury of going to bed at a reasonable hour the night before a task, and of course he can't fall asleep. He really couldn't hope to be in a better position for tomorrow. He's done everything in his power to prepare, and he isn't scrambling at the 11th hour to learn a spell or find a potion. He isn't even all that nervous. Mostly he's ready to get this over with. He misses hanging out with Ron and Hermione without any discussion of strategy or tactics. He's tired of sneaking around with Cho and Cedric because people would assume they're working together if they knew they were in a relationship.

Harry rolls onto his side and glares out the window. He still doesn't know how he wound up entered into the tournament. Not for the first time, he finds himself resentful of whoever threw his name in the Goblet of Fire.

As he's finally dozing off, a memory pops into his head. He's in a dimly-lit forbidden forest, staring up at a stone-faced Viktor Krum.

"What is your relationship with Herm-o-ninny?"

"None of your business."

No, that's not right. He wouldn't have said that.

"None of your… None of… We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"Yup, just friends. We've never seen each other, nor have we--"

"Stupefy!"

A jet of red light strikes Harry hard in the sternum. Krum stands above him pointing his wand at his chest, then he isn't. Someone else's lit wand tip is hidden between the trees. His memory flickers between Krum and the stranger, familiar and unfamiliar.

"Stupefy!"

The words come from Krum's mouth, but it's not his voice. In all the times he's replayed the memory on loop, it's never been his voice. It's too gruff and it lacks his heavy Bulgarian accent. Harry plays it again in his mind, and again and again and again. It's a man's, someone quite a bit older than him, probably Irish judging by the accent. He's heard it before, but he just can't figure out where.

The pounding in his head swells until it's too severe to carry on. Harry sits up and rubs his temples. The headaches usually go away once he puts his mind on something else, but tonight it lingers. At least he still has Madam Pomfrey's pain relief potion.

"Ooh… sneaking off to see Cho?" Ron whispers.

"Huh?"

He only got out of bed to grab a potion vial from his trunk, but he remembers now, Cho's Astronomy OWL is tonight. If he can catch her after the exam ends and before she returns to Ravenclaw tower they could hang out for a short while. He's barely seen her since exams started. Their last conversation was a couple days ago when he returned her basketball and passed along Lupin's message. Like the rest of the fifth years she looked absolutely exhausted, but otherwise in good spirits. Of course he wants her to do well on her OWLs, and he's also been up to his ears in third task prepwork, but he really misses spending time with her.

In addition to the pain relief potion, Harry grabs his cloak and his map, then tiptoes down the stairs and out the portrait hole.

The exam is still in progress when he arrives. Professor Sinistra calls out the five minute warning. He waits, going over defensive hexes in his head until a stream of fifth years make their way down the Astronomy tower stairs. He catches Cho at the end, talking to a few girls in Ravenclaw robes. Funny how approaching her with her friends around once turned his feet to lead and tied his stomach into knots. Tonight he taps her on the shoulder with the same ease he writes his name.

"Hey, it's me," he whispers. "I've got my cloak on. Have a minute?"

"Of course. Hang on a sec." Cho dashes back to her friends. He can't make out what she says, but they nod and carry on without her. Once they're out of eyesight, he slips the cloak over her. "Sorry, I didn't want them to worry."

"Good thinking. What did you tell them?"

"That I need to visit the Owlery. Come to think of it, I do have a letter I need to send to my parents."

"You can borrow Hedwig if you want."

"That would be great, thanks."

Cho lights the tip of her wand and slips her arm around his waist. Quietly, they make their way to the Owlery.

"So how have your exams been going?" he whispers.

"Good! Except for Defense, that was a bit of a disaster, but I think I've done well on everything else."

"What happened in Defense?"

"When I was trying to capture a pixie I got Flipendo and Incendio mixed up and er… accidentally set the proctor's table on fire," she says. "Don't worry! The proctor was fine, but I doubt they'll give me very high marks."

Harry gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, you were planning on dropping it anyway. And I bet you did brilliant tonight."

"What about you, are you ready for tomorrow?"

"As much as I can be."

"Do you need any help preparing? My last exam is tomorrow afternoon, so I'll have plenty of time afterwards."

"Nah, I've got Ron and Hermione helping me. You should relax after finishing your OWLs."

"I'll relax when the task is over and my boyfriends are out of harm's way."

They find Hedwig on a low-hanging ledge curled up with Persephone. The two appear to have taken a liking to each other. Hedwig's eyes perk up when Cho fishes a letter out of her bag. Cho smiles and gives her a pat on the head before attaching her note to her leg.

"Have a safe trip, Hedwig. Send my love to Bao if you see him," Cho says as Hedwig flies off. She then turns to him, casting him a coy smile. She looks awfully pretty with the stars twinkling behind her.

"What?" he asks, feeling unexpectedly flustered under her gaze.

"Nothing, you just look cute in your pajamas."

"Oh, I um… thank you. You look cute too."

"No I don't. I'm running on three hours of sleep and I forgot to put on eyeliner this morning and--"

"You always look cute."

Harry brushes a strand of hair from her face and leans in, kissing her on the mouth. Cho puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls him closer, telling him without words that she's missed him too. The taste of coffee replaces her usual strawberry lip gloss. They haven't kissed since their date in the abandoned potions classroom. They've been too busy or there were too many people around. Tonight though, the only ones who can see them are the owls.

"We should probably head back," Cho says as they break apart. "My friends are expecting me any minute now."

"Alright, I'll walk with you to Ravenclaw Tower," he says. He shakes out the cloak, then takes the map out of his pocket.

"Oh! Is that your enchanted map of the castle? Can I have a look?" He nods, and hands her the map after opening it. Cho makes the most adorable delighted faces as she looks it over. "This is fascinating. I wonder what kind of spellwork went into making this. Hey look! There's Cedric." She points at the dot labeled 'Cedric Diggory' in the Hufflepuff dormitory.

"Looks like he's not sneaking off for a bath tonight."

"Shame, we could have joined him." Cho says, casting him a mischievous look.

"And we would've immediately been caught. The anti-PDA charms in the prefect's bathroom are the strongest in the castle."

"Alright, alright," Cho laughs and continues scanning the map. "Looks like Phoebe and Jessica went to bed. Marietta's still in the common room though. And… oh! Ijeoma is sitting with Rhys. I'll have to ask if anything happened, she's fancied them since-- wait..." Her expression shifts to confusion, then worry. "No, that can't be right."

"What is it?"

"Harry," Cho points at two dots on the map, "why is Mr. Crouch in Professor Moody's office?"

Chapter 12: The Third Task: Part 4

Chapter Text

Alastor Moody. And Bartemius Crouch. Together. In the same room. Standing only a few feet apart.

The longer Harry stares at their unmoving dots, the less it makes sense.

Harry's mind races to find connections between the two men: they're high-ranking Ministry officials, acquainted with Dumbledore, passionate about bringing Death Eaters to justice. But friends? In the handful of times Harry saw them together, he can't recall them interacting. Professor Moody didn't appear overly fond of Mr. Crouch in Dumbledore's memory, nor was he overly concerned about his illness and disappearance. If Ron or Hermione ever got sick and vanished, Harry would be frantic.

Which brings up another point: Mr. Crouch has been out of contact with everyone in the wizarding world for over a month. Not counting his letters and possible appearance in the forbidden forest, no one has seen him since last December. Minister Fudge is personally involved in the inquiry into his whereabouts. Per Cedric, Mr. Crouch had an urgent message for Dumbledore, which explains why he's at Hogwarts instead of the Ministry or St. Mungo's, but not why he's in Moody's quarters.

"Maybe it's a mistake?" Cho suggests. "Is that it? Could the map be mislabeling him, or showing someone who isn't there?"

Harry shakes his head. "It can't be. The map doesn't make mistakes. If it says he's there, then he's definitely there."

"Then, does it show... ghosts," she says, the last word barely above a whisper.

"Yes, it does."

"Then you don't think..." She shivers. Harry pulls her into an embrace. He can feel the racing thump of her heartbeat against his chest.

"Hey, it's alright. Tomorrow morning we can figure out what's going on."

After a fitful night's rest, Harry shares his evidence of Mr. Crouch's sudden reappearance with Ron and Hermione. They lay the map out on a table in the common room, huddling tightly around it to avoid prying eyes. The dot for Bartemius Crouch still lingers in Moody's quarters, though it's now moving around the room instead of stuck in a corner.

"That's so bizarre," Hermione says.

"Yeah, bloody Hell," Ron says.

"Cho thought it might be Mr. Crouch's ghost," Harry says. "It's not the most... pleasant explanation, but it makes sense."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron says, then his expression darkens. "Wait, no it doesn't! If Mr. Crouch was a ghost haunting Moody's office, don't you think he would've noticed and done something about it?"

Harry frowns. That had been bothering him too. The dot for Alastor Moody is still in his quarters, not appearing to have budged an inch since last night. Moody knows Mr. Crouch had an urgent message for Dumbledore. Mr. Crouch has been in his office for at least seven hours now, and if the map is to be believed, neither of them have made any attempt to deliver it to him.

"Hmm... I dunno. Maybe he slept through it? It looks like he might still be in bed."

"I dunno, Professor Moody doesn't strike me as a heavy sleeper."

"Yeah, I guess not." Harry says, thinking of the dozens of secrecy sensors Moody keeps in his office. One of them would've startled him awake if there was an intruder: human, ghost, or otherwise.

Hermione purses her lips, still staring at the dots on the map. "You haven't seen Mr. Crouch on the map before, have you?"

"No, he just appeared all of the sudden last night."

"When was the last time you checked? Was it before or after the incident in the forest?"

"After, the Friday after, and he definitely wasn't there. I was very thorough."

Since Harry's allowed to visit Hogsmeade this year, he hasn't had much need for the map. The last time he used it was on his date with Cho and Cedric in the spare potions classroom. In hindsight, he should have checked it right after the incident, but the events of that night left him shaken and not entirely thinking straight. It probably wouldn't have told him much anyway, considering he was unconscious for several hours. If there was an intruder, they would've used that time to slip away.

"I wonder..." Hermione says, tapping her chin. "There's a protocol for wizards who want to become ghosts after they die. You're supposed to declare your final wishes to the Ministry and get added to a registry."

"Yeah, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures handles it. My dad mentioned it once," Ron says. "If Mr. Crouch were a ghost, the Ministry would know about it, and they'd know to look for him here."

"If he's not a ghost though, then what?" Harry asks. "Is he alive and just catching up with Moody over tea in his office?"

Hermione and Ron share a look. Neither one has a response.

"I guess we'll just have to ask Professor Moody about it," Hermione says.

Hoping to find some answers, they close the map and head for Professor Moody's quarters. There's got to be an explanation, some context they're missing. The map is helpful, but it doesn't tell the whole story. When they arrive at the staff wing however, they're deterred by a rancid smell wafting from the hallway. Angelina and Alicia rush by them in the opposite direction, covered head-to-toe in noxious green slime.

"Peeves," Alicia says. "He got a hold of a bag of Stinksap pellets, and is chucking them at everyone who walks by."

Harry gives them a pitying look as they carry on, presumably back to Gryffindor Tower to clean up. He turns to Ron and Hermione and shrugs. "I guess we'll catch Professor Moody at breakfast?"

Professor Moody's chair is empty when they arrive in the Great Hall, much to Harry's dismay. He hoped he might show a bit more haste considering the circ*mstances. They catch Cho on her way out, off to do some last minute cramming for her Transfiguration OWL. She looks exhausted, even more than usual, and she's clutching a large thermos he suspects contains a lot of coffee.

"Have you figured out anything?" She asks.

Harry frowns and shakes his head. "But we're working on it."

Cho nods, though she still looks nervous. If they were alone, he'd wrap his arms around her and tell her not to worry, but with her friends lingering in the entryway he can only offer a smile he hopes appears reassuring.

While they wait for Professor Moody, Malfoy and a few other Slytherins shout something his way. Harry rolls his eyes and ignores them. They're just trying to rattle his nerves before the task. It is a bit odd though that instead of flashing those 'Potter Stinks' badges at him, they're waving copies of The Prophet and pretending to clutch their foreheads in pain.

An owl drops a newspaper in Hermione's lap. She curses when she reads the front page. "Ugh... I don't believe it! That vile, lying-- as if we don't have enough going on this morning."

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing!"

Hermione attempts to stuff the newspaper into her bag, but Harry snatches it out of her hands. Gracing the front page in very large print is an article titled: "HARRY POTTER: DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS".

He doesn't need to read the byline to know who wrote it.

Somehow Rita heard about his dream in Divination that caused his scar to hurt. Her article paints him as both a psychologically unstable basket case in need of professional help and a fame-hungry attention seeker who's otherwise perfectly healthy. It's garbage, but it's enough to derail their thoughts from Mr. Crouch's reappearance to Rita's methods of sneaking onto Hogwarts grounds. Something Ron says sparks an epiphany in Hermione, and without explaining anything, she dashes off to the library.

"What is she doing? Our History of Magic exam starts in fifteen minutes," Ron says, exasperated. "Hang on, I'm going to make sure she's not late."

As Ron exits the Great Hall, Professor Moody limps in. He wears his usual hardened expression, and nothing about his demeanor gives off the appearance of a man disturbed by a missing person popping up in his quarters. It might not mean anything, Moody's decades of Auror work likely gifted him with an excellent poker face. Maybe it's not unusual compared to all the grizzly and disturbing things he's seen in his career.

Somehow though, Harry isn't too sure.

He stands quickly, then stops, realizing now that Moody's here, he doesn't know how to confront him. He can't just ask: "Hey, was Barty Crouch in your quarters last night?" without sounding suspicious, or feeding into Rita's "disturbed and dangerous" rumors. He has the map in his pocket. He could show it to him, assuming Mr. Crouch hasn't vanished in the last half hour. The map's technically a contraband item, and explaining how he got his hands on it would place him and several other people in hot water. But if it helps find Mr. Crouch, he decides it's worth the risk.

Harry retrieves the map from his pocket and is about to solemnly swear he's up to no good when Professor Moody approaches him.

"There you are, Potter. The champions are meeting in the chamber off the Great Hall. You've got visitors."

"Huh?"

Professor Moody brushes past him, hobbling off to the staff table. He takes a seat next to Dumbledore and whispers something into his ear, sparking a conversation between them. Moody does most of the talking. Something he says makes Dumbledore frown and wrinkle his nose. Harry ventures closer, hoping to catch their conversation.

"Well, I'm sorry you had to wake up to something so unpleasant, but I appreciate you taking care of it." Dumbledore says before taking a sip of tea.

"Eh, hazard of the job, I suppose," Moody says. His magical eye latches onto him. "What are you doing, Potter? I told you, you have visitors."

"I know, but--"

"Go on. Best not keep them waiting."

Harry sighs and heads for the chamber off the Great Hall. It's clear he's not going to get anywhere with Moody, and if the thing he took care of this morning was Mr. Crouch, he might already know what he's trying to tell him. At least he can breathe a bit easier knowing Dumbledore's now in the loop. There's still the mystery of how Mr. Crouch got here, and if he's ok, and what his urgent message was. He can always ask them about it later, after he talks with these visitors he apparently has.

When Harry opens the chamber doors, he finds Bill and Mrs. Weasley waiting for him at a table next to the fireplace. Harry grins. It's a pleasant surprise considering all the weirdness of last night and this morning. Harry glances around for Lupin, but he must not have been able to get the time off work.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley calls out as he approaches. She smiles and kisses him on both cheeks. "Look at you! Why, you must have grown three inches since last summer. Did the sweater I made for Christmas fit alright?"

"Yeah, it fit fine, thanks. The Hungarian Horntail design you made was really nice."

"How's it going, Harry?" Bill asks. "Ready for tonight?"

"I think so. Thanks again for the advice."

"Of course, glad I could help," Bill says, smiling. "Charlie passes on the sentiment too. He wanted to come tonight, but he's stuck in Romania."

"Arthur's coming later today, after he gets off work," Mrs. Weasley says. "Percy might come too, if he's feeling up to it."

"Won't he have to be here to judge the task? Or is Mr. Crouch going to be here? Has he recovered already?"

"Recovered? No, Mr. Crouch is still missing," Bill says. "Fudge is filling in for him as a judge tonight instead of Perce."

"The Ministry decided, after everything that's happened, that Percy should take a step back from some of his responsibilities," Mrs. Weasley sighs. "Poor thing, he's been under so much strain lately. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement's been questioning him for weeks."

"So no one's found Mr. Crouch yet? But I thought..." Harry trails off. If Moody and Dumbledore only discovered Crouch this morning, then the Weasleys wouldn't know about it yet. He still doesn't know much about it either.

"Unfortunately not. All I've heard from Arthur is that The Department of Magical Law Enforcement's investigation found no signs of struggle in Mr. Crouch's house, so it seems wherever he is, he went there willingly."

"Hey, don't look so glum," Bill says. "The Aurors are working hard trying to find him. I've got a friend who's on the case, and she's one of the best people I know. Something's bound to turn up soon."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," he says.

A loud laugh rings out from across the room. It's Fleur's father, at least he presumes it's her father, grinning as Gabrielle says something in French. Sitting at a table nearby are Krum and his parents. He looks far less gloomy than usual, cracking a smile when his father tells him something in Bulgarian. A sharp contrast to Cedric, who looks nervous as he talks with his parents. Harry recognizes Mr. Diggory, but he's never met Cedric's mother before. She's slightly taller than her husband, with glasses and a long braid of brown hair. A leather messenger bag is slung over her shoulder, and a strange metal contraption pokes out of a side pocket.

Mrs. Diggory must sense his gaze, as she turns his way and offers a kind smile. Cedric's inherited her grey eyes and dimples. Mrs. Diggory nudges her son, and gives him a tentative wave. Mr. Diggory raises an eyebrow and glances skeptically between the two of them. He doesn't appear to have noticed the target of their attention, and Harry figures it's for the best. He turns back to his conversation with Bill and Mrs. Weasley.

"Your Auror friend, is she the one with the green hair who was seeing the Hopkirk's daughter?" Mrs. Weasley asks.

"Yeah, that's her. Except her hair's violet now and she and Annalise broke up around Christmas. She's got a muggle boyfriend now, though Charlie says it isn't serious."

"Oh? Maybe you should pay her a visit while you're in town... unless there's someone else I ought to know about?"

Bill laughs. "Mum, if you want to know if I've got a girlfriend or not, you can just ask. The answer's no."

Fleur's taken an interest in their conversation, casting Bill a coy smile. Maybe Harry's not as bad at picking up hints as he previously thought. Cedric also pays them close attention, though Harry's pretty sure it's not for the same reason as Fleur. His mother gives him a gentle nudge, and he starts walking towards him.

"Do you have a minute? Cedric asks. He glances back at his parents. Mrs. Diggory waves. "My mum wants to say hello."

"Are you sure? We don't have to, you know."

"No, I want you to meet them. And I had my mum talk to my dad about a couple things, so he shouldn't bite your head off or anything."

Harry nods, then turns to Mrs. Weasley and Bill. "Do you mind if I talk with the Diggorys for a few minutes?"

"Of course not. Go ahead," Mrs. Weasley says. Bill nods beside her. Harry's never mentioned his relationship to them, and he doubts Ron or Ginny have either, but from their knowing smiles he senses they have an idea what's going on.

Harry's footsteps are heavy as he crosses to the other side of the room. He'll be battling unknown horrors in the maze tonight, and yet the thought of talking to someone is what makes his breakfast churn uncomfortably in his stomach. The last time he and Mr. Diggory spoke was at the Quidditch World cup, where he accused him of casting the Dark Mark. He took it back almost immediately, but it's all Harry can think about as he approaches.

"So Mum, Dad..." Cedric says, "this is Harry Potter, one of my... friends."

Mr. Diggory nods and gives him a neutral expression. He doesn't look particularly pleased to see him, but he's not radiating hostility either. Mrs. Diggory, however, is all smiles as she offers her hand to shake.

"It's lovely to meet you, dear," she says.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Diggory. Thanks for the cauldron cakes."

"You're welcome. You'll have to visit this summer, I'll make more."

"Er... how do you do, Mr. Diggory?" Harry asks. He holds out his hand. Mr. Diggory hesitates before returning the gesture.

"I'm-- well, I'm a bit concerned about you after what I read in the paper this morning."

Harry gawks at him, unsure how to proceed. While he wasn't expecting a warm welcome from Mr. Diggory, the bluntness of his response catches him off guard.

Mrs. Diggory sighs. "Amos, don't start with this."

"What? I think it's a fair thing to ask him about. Apparently, you've been having scar pains and siccing snakes on other students. And you had the audacity to accuse my son of being nice to you to sabotage his competition."

"Dad! Harry never said that! Rita Skeeter made it up."

Mrs. Diggory puts a hand on her son's shoulder. "Cedric, it's alright. Your Dad knows Harry is a good kid, and he can't control what people write about him, and sometimes these so-called 'journalists' will embellish or flat out lie about things because it sells," she gives her husband a pointed stare. "Right, Amos?"

"Er... yes, Livia." Mr. Diggory says. He gives him a sheepish smile. "I hope you'll forgive me for speaking out of turn. It just drives me mad to see Ced's name dragged through the mud like that-- but it's not your fault and I shouldn't blame you for it."

"Thank you," Harry says. "I felt bad about what happened. I don't know if you remember Cho Chang, she was also in the article. She's a... friend of ours, and her mum checked if there was any legal action we could take. Unfortunately since Cedric and I are considered 'public figures' there isn't much we can do."

"Yes, I did some digging into that, but didn't find anything useful. And I do remember Cho Chang," Mr. Diggory gives Cedric a knowing look. "Someone here thought she was one of the most amazing girls he knew and was plucking up the courage to ask her to the Yule Ball."

"Yeah," Cedric says, looking bashful. "I'll introduce you to her later, she's taking her OWLs right now."

"So things worked out between the two of you?"

"Er... sort of. I wanted to talk to you about that," Cedric says. He rakes his fingers through his hair. "Do you remember the talk we had over the summer, about how I'm bisexual and I fancy girls and boys?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well... I've actually got two partners. One of them is Cho, and the other is... well..." Cedric takes his hand and grins. Harry beams back at him. "The three of us are all seeing each other. I know it's a little unconventional, but we've made it work."

"Oh..." Mr. Diggory's expression wavers between surprise and confusion. His eyes flicker between their linked hands and sheepish smiles before finally turning to his wife. "Did you know about this?"

Mrs. Diggory chuckles. "Yes darling, I've known about it for a while."

"And you didn't think to clue me in?"

"I believe I told you, repeatedly, that Harry's one of Cedric's good friends and you should treat him kindly."

"Yes, but--"

"I asked mum not to say anything," Cedric says. "I wanted to tell you myself. I knew you weren't going to be thrilled, but I thought you'd take it better if you heard it from me instead of through someone else."

It takes Mr. Diggory a moment to respond. When he does, he laughs, softly in a self-deprecating sort of way. "Well, I've been a bit of an idiot, haven't I?"

Cedric offers him a weak smile. "It's alright. I knew you'd come around eventually."

"Ced, I'm so sorry. Spouting all that nonsense... while this whole time you were... it's your first relationship, and my misguided anger made you think you couldn't tell me about it. I hope you know I'm thrilled for you, all three of you." Mr. Diggory grins and wraps an arm around Cedric's shoulder, pulling him into a side-hug.

"Thanks, Dad," Cedric says, pink-cheeked and beaming.

Mr. Diggory turns to him. "Harry, I know I said this earlier, but I think it bears repeating: I'm so sorry about tossing all those accusations at you. I know that story today was a bunch of rubbish."

"Well... today's article wasn't entirely wrong," he says, feeling it's best to be honest. "The part about the headaches was mostly true, and I am a Parselmouth-- but I never sicced a snake on anyone, that was a misunderstanding."

"Parseltongue gets a bad rap, but there's really nothing wrong with it. Sometimes I wish I could speak it. Would've come in handy last week when a nest of boomslangs got loose in the London Underground," Mr. Diggory shudders. "It was a mess. Took us nearly three days to round them all up."

Harry's going to ask why he was chasing snakes in Muggle London, then he remembers: Mr. Diggory works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Mr. Weasley mentioned it when they first met.

"Do you know about the ghost registry?"

Mr. Diggory furrows his brows. "Come again?"

"The uh... the list of people who want to become ghosts after they die. Doesn't the Ministry keep a record of it?"

Cedric gives him a look of concern. "Are you alright? You're not... thinking about becoming a ghost, are you?"

"No!" He says quickly, realizing his sudden interest in the afterlife right before the final task might give the wrong impression. "I just wondered if-- are there a lot of people on it?"

Mr. Diggory shakes his head. "I don't think anyone's on it. Becoming a ghost has never been a popular choice. Certainly not the way I'd want to go."

"Why don't we talk about something a little less morbid, shall we?" Mrs. Diggory asks. "You and Ced are both young, neither of you are dying anytime soon."

"Did you want to take pictures, Livia?" Mr. Diggory asks.

"Of course! I was going to wait until Cho's finished her OWLs, but we can always take more later." Mrs. Diggory says. "Molly, do you and Bill care to join us?"

The metal device that captured Harry's attention earlier turns out to be a collapsible tripod. Mrs. Diggory casts a quick spell, causing it to spring to full size. She then retrieves a silver camera from her shoulder bag. It's smaller and far more modern-looking than the Wizarding cameras he's seen before.

"Mum's a professional photographer," Cedric says. "She owns a camera shop in Diagon Alley."

"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm a professional. I'm much better at developing photos than I am taking them," Mrs. Diggory says, sounding bashful. Apparently Cedric's looks aren't the only thing he inherited from his mother.

Mrs. Diggory lines the five of them up behind the fireplace, Cedric on his left, Mrs. Weasley on his right. Mrs. Weasley tries to smooth out his hair, which is only slightly more successful than her attempt to convince Bill to take out his earring.

"Alright, big smiles everyone," Mrs. Diggory says. She presses a button on the side of the camera, presumably a self-timer, then dashes into the frame next to her husband.

Harry puts his arm around Cedric's shoulder and grins as the camera clicks.

Chapter 13: The Inevitable

Chapter Text

Harry spends the morning giving Mrs. Weasley and Bill a tour of the castle grounds. They're both in good spirits, laughing and reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts. Harry smiles along with them, but can't find it in him to join their merriment. His thoughts are clouded with Mr. Crouch and the map rolled up in his robe pocket.

If Mr. Diggory is correct, then the Mr. Crouch on the map isn't a ghost, and Harry's lost his most plausible explanation for his reappearance. He shakes his brain for an explanation, but every reason grows increasingly implausible. Could he be here in secret under an invisibility cloak? No, Moody would've seen him. Is he an Animagus? He's not registered, and it seems unlikely he'd break the law and become an unregistered one. Maybe it's his Patronus, or maybe the map is starting to show its age?

"Look how peaceful the lake is today," Mrs. Weasley says. "You know, Bill, your Father and I used to take strolls along the shore when it was sunny like this."

"Charlie and I used to toss in scraps of food to attract the giant squid. It never worked, but I bet the fish were pleased," Bill says. "Hey Harry, did you catch a glimpse of it during the second task?"

"Huh?" Harry gawks at them, embarrassed he's caught half-listening to their conversation. "Er… no, sorry. I only saw some grindylows and the merfolk."

They carry on like this, making pleasant chit-chat while Harry gives himself a headache pondering Crouch's reappearance, until the early afternoon, when they return to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione and Ron, now finished with their exams, eye him with anticipation.

"So, what did Moody say this morning about Crouch?" Ron asks as he joins them at Gryffindor table.

"Er... nothing," he says. "Sorry, I didn't get a chance to talk to him. We got a bit side-tracked. But I think Moody knows he's here, at least."

Hermione raises an eyebrow. "You think he knows?"

"Well, I overheard him and Dumbledore talking at breakfast. Dumbledore thanked him for taking care of something unpleasant this morning, so I'm assuming he means--"

"Took care of what?" Ginny asks, her words garbled from a mouthful of potatoes.

"Are you talking about the stinksap pellet incident?" George asks. "Because that was all Peeves. Fred and I had nothing to do with it."

Fred nods. "Yeah, we've got an alibi and everything. We were in our dorm with Lee, prepping the Filibuster Fireworks show for tonight."

Mrs. Weasley frowns. "You were what?"

"Nothing Mother!"

Harry glances at Ron and Hermione, and they silently agree to continue their discussion after lunch. They slip away from the Weasleys as soon as they finish eating, claiming they need to practice for tonight.

The Gryffindor common room is near empty, with his housemates presumably deciding to take advantage of the nice weather and spend the afternoon outside. Harry unrolls the map on a table by the fireplace. He hasn't been able to check it since this morning. Once he says the magic words, there's no telling what they might find.

"Well, here goes nothing." Harry points his wand at the map. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Slowly ink ripples through the parchment until Hogwarts is revealed. Harry's gaze darts to the staff wing.

There's only one dot in Moody's quarters, and it's labeled Alastor Moody.

Harry sighs and flops backwards into his chair. "Oh thank Merlin, he's gone."

"Uh… might want to double check that, Mate." Ron points at the Quidditch Pitch, where a dot labeled Bartemius Crouch stands in the center of the field.

A knot forms in Harry's stomach, tightening until it's difficult to breathe. He wants to swipe the map off the table and chuck it into the fireplace. He does not have the time or patience to deal with Mr. Crouch-- or whatever it is-- roaming freely around the castle grounds. Not now, not today, and certainly not with the Third Task a few hours away.

"So, he's a ghost," Hermione says. "He has to be. That's the only way he could've gone from Moody's office to the Pitch without anyone spotting him."

"No, he can't be," Harry says, then relays his earlier conversation with Mr. Diggory.

"What if he died before he had a chance to register?" Ron suggests.

Harry shakes his head. "He'd been ill for months before he disappeared. I imagine he would've thought about his er... final wishes. If he wanted to be a ghost, he would've filed the paperwork with the Ministry."

"You're right. He was a stickler for all those Ministry rules and regulations. That's why Percy admired him so much," Ron huffs and taps his fingers on the table. "I bet this map is busted."

"You know, you could be onto something," Hermione muses. "One of the charms could be wearing off. We could ask Snuffles about it, though-- he probably wouldn't get back to us for a few days."

Ron and Hermione fix their gaze on him, but he's just as stumped as they are. If only Lupin could be here today, or they could openly communicate with Sirius. They could explain if the enchantments they placed on the map came with an expiration date. Harry studies the map once more. Their three dots gathered in the Gryffindor common room. Ron's family is in the Great Hall, still at Gryffindor table. The Diggorys and Cho are in the North Courtyard, Cedric's mother posing them for a picture behind one of the elaborate stained glass windows.

"I don't think it's broken," Harry says at last. "Everyone else is showing up in the right place. The only thing that isn't is Mr. Crouch. And the last time someone who wasn't supposed to be here showed up on the map, it turned out it was really him."

Hermione nods. "You're right. We can't say it's broken just because it's convenient."

"Then what do you suppose is going on?" Ron asks.

"I dunno," he says, then shakes his head. "I think we need to have a chat with Moody, or Crouch, or I suppose we could go straight to Dumbledore."

"Looks like Dumbledore's in a meeting," Ron points at the Beauxbatons carriage, where inside around a large conference table are Dumbledore, the other Headmasters, and Minister Fudge, "but Moody and Crouch are still options."

"Why don't you talk to Moody?" Hermione suggests. "Ron and I will take Crouch. If you're caught near the Quidditch Pitch so close to the Task, it might look like you're trying to cheat."

The stench from this morning is gone from the staff hallway when Harry arrives. All remnants of Peeves' prank are scrubbed out of existence. In hindsight, it should've been obvious that's what Moody and Dumbledore were discussing at breakfast. Though this begs the question: why weren't they talking about Crouch? A missing person shows up at Hogwarts, and instead of getting to the bottom of it, they're calmly discussing Peeves over tea?

Moody's office door is closed. Harry knocks.

"Hello, Professor Moody? Do you have a moment?"

He waits, thinking over how best to approach him. His earlier plan of showing him the map is a no-go, as Ron and Hermione took it with them to keep an eye on Crouch. He has to question Moody in a way that's firm, but not accusatory. Aside from acting a bit odd this morning, Harry doesn't have any tangible proof of wrong-doing on Moody's part, and he'd like to believe there's an innocent explanation to all this.

"Er... Professor Moody? Hello?"

Harry knocks again, louder this time. Through the thick wooden door Moody's secrecy sensors whirr and buzz, but there's no movement, no chair scraping on the hardwood floor or artificial leg thudding as he crosses the room. He was in his office not five minutes ago. Harry checked the map right before he left. Even if Moody left momentarily to visit the staff lounge down the hall, he'd still be able to hear him.

"Professor Moody. It's rather urgent, if you don't mind."

Harry frowns. Now this is personal, as if he's deliberately being ignored. Even if Moody is in the middle of an important task and can't be disturbed, he could at least tell him to come back later. Harry bangs on the door again, his fist stinging from the effort.

"Professor Moody! I know you're in there! Open up, I need to talk to you!"

"What in Merlin's name are you up to, Potter?" Snape looms over him with a clenched jaw and severe scowl. Of course, of all the Professors he could have attracted, it had to be him.

"I was trying to talk to Professor Moody."

"Yes, I gathered that from your attempt to knock down his door. What- may I ask- do you need to speak with him so urgently about?"

"I err... wanted some advice for the task tonight," he lies.

Snape scoffs. "Hasn't he helped you enough, letting you rifle through my private ingredients whenever it strikes your fancy? You still owe me for the missing gillyweed, and boomslang skin, and lacewing flies."

"Right... sorry about that, but I really need to speak with Professor Moody."

"Professor Moody is busy assisting with preparations for the Third Task," Snape says airily. "Perhaps this will serve as a valuable lesson on why you shouldn't put important tasks off until the last minute."

"So he isn't in his office?" he says, ignoring the jab.

"Is that not what I just said?"

"You're certain?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely certain."

"...can you check?"

Snape glares at him, tapping his fingers on his forearm without saying a word. For a moment, Harry wonders if he's considering it. Then Snape closes his eyes and inhales sharply. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your refusal to take no for an answer."

"But--"

"Shall I make it 20?"

Harry turns on his heel, and when he's out of Snape's line of sight he flashes a rude hand gesture in his direction. Harry's blood boils, anger and adrenaline surge through him, and it's not until he plops down into an armchair in Gryffindor tower he remembers he failed to complete his one and only task: talk to Moody.

It takes Ron and Hermione ages to get back-- at least it feels that way. The common room clock confirms it's been less than 15 minutes. Harry passes the time casting spells at the fireplace, lighting it up and putting it out. Incendio, aguamenti, incendio, aguamenti, over and over. He's a bored muggle child playing with a light switch.

It doesn't make sense. Moody was in his office, Harry's certain he was. Yet Snape insisted he wasn't. Snape could've been mistaken-- or lying-- but if that's the case, why didn't Moody answer the door?

When Ron and Hermione finally return, Harry has moved on to levitating the sofa. Their entrance breaks his concentration, and it crashes down with a harsh thunk. Three of the four wooden legs snap, but he'll repair them later, after he debriefs with his friends.

"How'd it go?" Harry asks.

"It could've gone better..." Hermione sighs. "Crouch was somewhere inside the maze, so there wasn't much we could do. It's not like we could chase after him."

"We walked around the outside, but we couldn't see anything," Ron says. "You weren't kidding, those hedge walls are enormous."

"There was one bright side at least: Hagrid, McGonagall, and Sprout were in the maze too-- setting up for tonight, we suspect. Maybe they'll run into each other without us needing to intervene?"

"Was Moody with them?" he asks.

"Moody?" Ron says. He shares a puzzled look with Hermione. "But didn't you just talk to him?"

"I tried to, but..." he frowns and recounts his confrontation with Snape.

"Well, we definitely didn't see Moody in the maze," Ron says, "but maybe he was somewhere else in the castle?"

Hermione unfolds the map and smooths it out on the coffee table. Moody is still in that same damn corner of his office, not having moved a fraction of an inch since the last time they checked.

"Ugh..." Harry growls. "I'm sick of this. Let's just practice jinxes until they move. One of them is bound to poke their head out eventually."

Unfortunately for them, Moody and Crouch seem comfortable right where they are. Crouch bounces all over the Quidditch Pitch, but he doesn't leave nor does he cross paths with any of their professors. Moody remains in his office, stationary as a statue. It's infuriating, and it distracts him from his spell practice. He falls into a habit of glancing at the map every few minutes, hoping for some sign of movement, only to be let down and frustrated when nothing has changed.

This goes on for hours, until it's almost time for dinner.

"Look!" Hermione says, pointing at Bartemius Crouch's now moving dot. He's finally left the pitch and is ambling up the path to the castle, in perfectly plain view of anyone nearby-- and there are plenty of people nearby. There's a group of fifth years several paces ahead of him, some Durmstrang students lounging on their houseboat deck, and Hagrid in his front garden with Fang at his heels. Crouch pauses as he passes Hagrid's garden, then… yes, he strays off the path and stops in front of Hagrid.

"We have to talk to Hagrid, now."

Harry scoops up the map and the three of them scramble out the portrait hole. His classmates shoot them quizzical looks as they dash past them. Harry runs straight through The Fat Friar and shouts an apology as he continues down the corridor. Pansy and Draco make some snarky remarks as they pass, but Harry doesn't bother to stop and acknowledge them. He's not going to let anything keep him from getting to Hagrid as fast as his feet will carry him.

"Harry!"

Nothing except his partners, who rush towards him with equal haste.

"Harry, where have you been? We've been looking all over for you," Cho says. Looking at her worried expression hits him with a surge of affection, and regret. He meant to update her earlier, but she got lost in the shuffle.

"Sorry, but can we chat later? There's something really important we have to do right now. I'll fill you in later, promise."

"Is it about the map?" Cedric asks.

Harry gapes at him. He didn't want to rope him into this mess with the Third Task so close. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Cho filled me in. Harry, there's something we need to tell you. We think it might explain what you saw, but we have to ask you something first."

"I..." Harry glances between his friends and his partners. He's been waiting for this breakthrough with Crouch all afternoon, but Cho and Cedric have had their own epiphany, and he doesn't want to write them off. "Do you guys mind talking to Hagrid without me?" He asks Ron and Hermione. They nod, and Harry clings to the map as they continue on their way.

After making something of a scene in the Entryway, the three of them retreat to a more secluded courtyard for their talk. It takes Harry a moment to recognize this place, the rose garden from the Yule Ball. It's strange how different it looks without the twinkling fairy lights, fragrant blooms, and delicate snowflakes swirling all around them. What was once a warm and inviting winter wonderland is now an ordinary garden in an ordinary courtyard.

They sit on a stone bench beside the fountain's edge. The spigots are off and the water is still. The songbirds perched at the top of the fountain fly away. It's only the three of them, Cedric on his left, and Cho on his right.

"So… you guys think you know what's going on with Crouch?" He asks.

Cedric nods. "But first… I have a confession to make."

Cho reaches across him and places her hand on Cedric's thigh. "Hey, it's not a confession. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I did Cho! I trusted him!"

"And how could you have known not to? We didn't even start to suspect him until this afternoon."

"Suspect who?" He asks. "What did you guys figure out?"

Cedric studies his hands. "It's about the incident in the Forest. That night, when you told me to fetch Dumbledore, I ran into someone else first."

"Who?"

"Professor Moody. He saw me run in through the Entryway all panicked and he asked me what was wrong and… I told him everything."

Harry nods, though he doesn't quite see the significance of this. "Cho's right Cedric, it doesn't sound like you did anything wrong. Moody would've found out anyway, whether you told him or not."

"There's more," Cho says.

"Moody told me Dumbledore was with Trelawney, so I went to the Divination tower," Cedric scoffs. "He wasn't there. He hadn't left his office all evening. I wasted so much time sprinting up those stairs and arguing with Trelawney about reading my palm. I could've helped you faster if I'd just gone straight to his office."

"Okay, that's kind of odd, but Moody was probably just--"

"Mistaken?" Cho finishes for him. He nods. "That's what I thought too when Cedric first told me. But I've been mulling it over all day and… I don't think he was mistaken. I think he purposefully sent Cedric in the wrong direction. I think he wanted to get to Mr. Crouch before anyone else did."

"But… why?" Harry furrows his brows. It doesn't make sense. Why would Moody want to keep Dumbledore-- his friend and arguably the most powerful wizard alive-- from knowing something possibly dangerous is happening at his school?

"That's the million galleon question," Cedric says. "We have an idea, but we need to ask you something first to confirm it."

Cho takes his hand. "Harry, do you think... is it possible Professor Moody was the one who attacked you?"

"What? No, Moody didn't..." Harry trails off, doubting himself too much to finish his thought. His memory is still an incomplete jigsaw puzzle. There's an invisible wall keeping him from the full picture. Cho squeezes his hands and Cedric puts an arm around his shoulder. Maybe the reason he can't remember his attacker's face... is because he never actually saw them. Maybe they were too far away, or they attacked him from behind. So instead of focusing on what he saw, Harry concentrates on what he heard.

Stupefy!

There was a voice. He's almost certain he heard someone cast a spell, and Moody's voice ticks off all the boxes: older man, Irish accent, gruff and gravelly. Harry thinks back on a year's worth of Defense lectures. Moody taught him dozens of spells, but Stupefy! wasn't among them.

"I dunno. It's possible. I can't rule him out, but... I'm sorry, I'm not confident enough to say it was definitely him."

Cedric squeezes his shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. It's not an easy accusation to make. I didn't want to believe it either. But… if Moody attacked you and Krum, then it's possible that he… Mr. Crouch…" Cedric shudders, unable to continue.

Cho gives Cedric a gentle look before turning to him. "Harry, we think what we saw on the map is Mr. Crouch's... remains. And we think Moody might have something to do with his death."

Harry looks between them, trying to gauge if they're serious. He laughs nervously. "Er… no, that can't be the case. Sorry, I should have told you sooner, but Mr. Crouch isn't dead. He's been moving around all day."

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Cedric says, looking relieved. Cho however, isn't so easily assuaged.

"He's moving-- as in independently moving?" She asks. "Moody's not next to him, carrying him around?"

Harry shakes his head. "He's moving all on his own. He was bounding around the Quidditch Pitch all afternoon, it's been driving us mad. Me, Ron, and Hermione were about to chase him down when you caught up with us."

"Where was he headed? Where is he now ?"

Harry unfolds the map to check where Crouch is now, but before he can find him he's interrupted by a set of heavy, rapidly approaching footsteps. A very out of breath Hagrid appears from behind the corridor, Ron and Hermione following a few paces behind.

"Harry, what's going on here?" Hagrid asks. "What's this about a magic map that shows Mr. Crouch at Hogwarts?"

"You mean-- you didn't just talk to him?"

"No! Of course I haven't! How could I when he's been missing for the past month?"

Harry furrows his brows. The map showed the two of them talking to each other. Though... if Hagrid had spotted Mr. Crouch, he wouldn't just pause and have a casual conversation with him, he'd high-tail it over to the Beauxbatons carriage to alert Dumbledore and Minister Fudge. But Hagrid was definitely talking to someone. If not Crouch, then who?

"It gets more bizarre," Ron says, catching up to them at last. "Hagrid said the last person he talked to before us was--"

"Moody…" Cho finishes for him. Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione gawk at her.

"Yes! How on Earth did you know that?" Hermione asks.

Cho doesn't seem to hear her. She's gone pensive, staring off at the mountains and muttering to herself. "But if Crouch… and Moody… Merlin, that would change everything!" She turns her gaze to him. "Harry, how does the map work on polyjuice potion?"

"Um… I'm not sure. I'd assume it shows the name of the real person instead of who they're disguised as." And then it hits him. "Wait... you don't think.."

"Oh! That's right!" Cedric exclaims. "Cho, you told me about the polyjuice potion ingredients that went missing. A couple of my housemates said the same thing too."

"Yeah, and Snape said this afternoon that his polyjuice potion ingredients went missing around the second task. He was accusing me of stealing them, but--"

"It would've been Moody," Cho says. "He's the only one besides Dumbledore with a key."

"Er... you guys want to fill us in on your theory there?" Ron asks.

Harry turns to them. "What if the Moody you just talked to, and the person we've been seeing move around on the map all day, was Crouch taking polyjuice potion to look like Moody?"

Instead of joining their excitement, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid give him looks of skepticism.

"What? But why would Crouch want to impersonate Moody?" Hagrid asks.

"And we've seen Moody and Crouch together, at Halloween and the First Task," Hermione says. "Unless you think there's a third person in on it, or they didn't swap places until later?"

"Yeah, and if Crouch was Moody, then who did you supposedly see the night of the incident in the Forest?" Ron asks.

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but finds he doesn't have any answers. With some time to reflect on it, there's more than a few holes in their theory. But there's something about it… he can't quite shake the feeling they're onto something.

"I think we need to talk to Crouch--or whoever he is-- and demand some answers."

Bartemius Crouch has migrated into Dumbledore's office. He paces back and forth while Dumbledore sits behind his desk. Harry can't be certain from the map alone, but it seems like Dumbledore is familiar with whoever he's speaking with. If it were Crouch, then Minister Fudge and Mr. Bagman would be there too instead of dining at the staff table in the Great Hall.

"I'll talk to Dumbledore," Harry says. "You guys go to Moody's office and make sure he's alright."

"But--" Hagrid protests.

"No, find Moody. Knock down his door if you have to. If we're right about this, then he probably needs your help more than I do."

Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione hesitate, but only a moment, before heading back into the castle. Cho and Cedric stay behind.

"You guys..." he starts, "I appreciate everything you've done, but I don't want you to get even more wrapped up in this."

"Well, it's too bad you don't get a choice," Cho smiles. "We're not letting you do this alone."

"Besides, you'll need me to get into Dumbledore's office," Cedric says. "I'm the only one of us who knows the password."

The password turns out to be co*ckroach Clusters, which certainly wouldn't have been Harry's first guess. He leads his partners up the spiral staircase. Dumbledore is still at his desk, writing something with an elaborate Phoenix quill. Someone else is with him, their uneven footsteps shaking the ground as they circle around the room. Harry glances at the map again. The dot still reads Bartemius Crouch, but that doesn't match the person standing by Fawkes' cage holding the Triwizard Cup.

"So… I noticed you still haven't put an ad in The Prophet for my position yet," Moody says.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me. I'll get in touch with Benji MacMillian tomorrow," Dumbledore says. "You're sure I can't convince you to stay on another year? It would save me an awful lot of trouble."

Moody snorts a laugh. "You're out of your mind. The students are fine, but all this grading-- I didn't have to do half as much paperwork with the Ministry."

Harry replays his words over: The students are fine. Students fine.

Stupefy!

Harry turns to his partners and whispers. "It was him!"

"What?" They ask in unison.

"The thing you asked me earlier? It was him, I'm sure of it now. I recognize his voice."

"Hang on Alastor, I think I hear someone coming," Dumbledore looks up from his paperwork and grins. "Ah… Harry, Cedric, and Cho. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You okay there, Potter? You're looking a bit pale." Moody-- or Crouch, or whoever-- asks him.

"Professor Dumbledore, do you mind if we have a quick word with you, alone?" He asks.

Dumbledore nods and beckons them inside. Moody busies himself with the Cup, polishing the glowing blue surface in small circles. He either didn't hear, or-- what Harry suspects is more likely-- is choosing to ignore him.

"Alastor, if you don't mind?" Dumbledore asks.

"Right, I'll get going." He starts for the exit, but pauses midway. He's now standing only a foot away from him. "I just thought-- I heard from Snape you were looking for some advice about tonight. Anything I can help you out with?"

"No, this isn't about the Task."

"Then what is it about?" Moody's magic eye swivels between his partners and Dumbledore, but his real one stays trained on him.

"We'd like to discuss it privately with Professor Dumbledore, if you don't mind," Cedric says.

"Does it have to do with the incident? Do you remember anything?" Moody asks.

"No, it's something else," Cho says. Despite her cool tone, Moody doesn't seem convinced.

"You remember, don't you?" He takes a frantic step forward. "Harry, I'm sorry for what I had to do that night, but I promise if you let me explain--"

"Then explain why you've been impersonating Professor Moody, Mr. Crouch! " He shouts.

"What? How the hell did you--" Moody's face turns an angry shade of red. He hasn't looked this unhinged since the beginning of the year when he transfigured Draco. It was comical then, but now-- Harry takes a step back and collides into one of Dumbledore's bookcases.

"Accio hip flask," Dumbledore shouts. Moody scrambles for his flask, but he's too slow. It soars across the room into Dumbledore's open hand. He unscrews the cap, takes a whiff, and his expression of shock turned confusion turned outrage tells Harry all he needs to know.

"Phineas, fetch Professor Snape," Dumbledore says to a portrait on his wall. "Tell him to bring veritaserum and polyjuice potion antidote. Dilys, find Minister Fudge and…"

"Harry, I know how this looks, but I can explain," Moody whispers. He shoves the Cup at him. The glow is almost blinding this close. "Hold this. Just for a minute. I promise, everything I've done will make sense."

"What?"

"Just hold it, will you?"

"No, get away from me!"

Moody lets loose a guttural growl and thrusts the cup into his arms, like a sucker punch to the gut. Harry braces himself for the knockback, but instead an invisible force yanks him forward. His partners let out horrified screams as he's dragged upwards. Dumbledore's office spins out of existence. He can't move. He can't breathe. He can't pull his hands away from the cup. Then, as quickly as it started, it stops, and he tumbles onto hard ground.

Harry claws at his forehead. His scar burns with a pain that's going to eat him alive.

Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son.

Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master.

Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.

Lord Voldemort rises once more.

Harry survives.

Somehow, with magic beyond his comprehension and sheer luck, he denies Voldemort the chance of killing him for the second time. He escapes with the Cup, which was transfigured into a portkey by Voldemort's servant, the Impostor who was not Alastor Moody.

It was all carefully planned. How Voldemort snuck the Impostor into Hogwarts. How the Impostor entered his name into the Goblet of Fire. How the tournament was rigged to ensure his victory and force his transport across the country to the graveyard that's plagued his dreams for the last year. And Harry played right into it, none the wiser of the charade until it was too late to stop it. If he'd been quicker about telling Dumbledore his suspicions, or if he hadn't given Moody the benefit of the doubt, or if he'd just looked at his map a bit closer earlier in the year...

He survives, but he shouldn't have.

Harry lands in a thick patch of grass. His shaky hands lose their grip on the Cup. It bounces a few feet away, glowing bright blue in the darkness. Harry's hit with a wave of nausea, but he takes a few deep breaths, and the feeling subsides. His scar still burns faintly like an aftershock.

"Lumos," he says, and a faint glow sparks on his wand tip. The portkey dropped him off on the Quidditch Pitch near the maze entrance. Harry waves his wand towards the stands. They're empty. He's all alone out here. The tournament must have ended hours ago. Harry has no idea how much time has passed since he confronted the Impostor. He wonders faintly who ended up winning.

From behind him a set of heavy footfalls stride towards him. An escaped beast from the maze or… Voldemort? He could have tracked him down. There's no telling what he's capable of now that they're bound by his blood.

Shakily, Harry turns around and points his wand at the approaching threat. The creature stops in its tracks. Through the glow of the Cup, Harry recognizes the large black dog sitting before him. In an instant, Sirius transfigures from beast to man. He's thinner than Harry remembers. His hair is longer and his eyes more sunken, but his hardened face breaks out in relief at the sight of him.

"Harry! Oh thank Merlin you're alright."

Harry's stoic facade breaks. He rushes for his Godfather, throwing his arms around him and burying his sobs into his chest. "Voldemort-- I'm sorry-- I couldn't stop him-- he's back, Sirius. Voldemort is back."

"Shh…" Sirius whispers. He pulls him close and gently strokes his hair. "It's okay. It's okay. You're going to be okay."

Chapter 14: The Third Task: Part 5

Chapter Text

Sirius walks with him to the castle, his arm around his shoulders until they spot shadows moving in the windows and he resumes his Animagus form. There's a group of people pacing the Entrance Hall: Professor Sprout, Luna Lovegood, Cedric's friend Kaz, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They rush towards him as he stumbles inside. Word spreads of his arrival. One portrait tells another tells another until the group escorting him from the Entrance Hall to the Hospital Wing takes up half the corridor.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Where did Crouch send you?"

"Why is that dog following you?"

Harry keeps his head down, letting their queries go unanswered. What is he supposed to say? The truth would horrify them. They'd hate him for not being able to stop it. He should have been able to stop it.

"Come now, let's give Harry some space, shall we?" Dumbledore says. He puts a hand on his shoulder and Snuffles growls softly at the crowd, making them back away. The questions keep coming though, and it's not until Dumbledore shuts the Hospital Wing doors that the whispering stops.

Dumbledore says something to Madam Pomfrey, Harry doesn't catch what, but she nods and retreats to her office, giving Snuffles an uneasy glance before shutting the door. Dumbledore lowers the shades and closes the windows and when it's safe, Sirius transforms. He helps him settle into a hospital bed, fluffing pillows and tucking him in. He finds a bottle of an antiseptic potion in a cabinet behind his bed and tends to the gash snaking up his arm. It stings, but Harry doesn't mind.

"You and your friends were very clever in discovering Crouch's deception," Dumbledore says. "I must admit, I'm a bit ashamed of myself for never suspecting anything was amiss."

"So the Imposter-- he really was Mr. Crouch?"

"He was a Mr. Crouch, but not the one you're thinking of, I suspect. You recall Mr. Crouch had a son, Bartemius Crouch Jr.?"

Harry nods. "But he died in Azkaban, didn't he?"

"No, he did not," Sirius says. "As it turns out, I'm the second person to escape Azkaban and live to tell the tale."

"But... how?"

Sirius and Dumbledore explain how Crouch escaped Azkaban with the help of his parents. How after years of living captive in his father's house, he and Voldemort reconnected. How they formulated and executed the plan that eventually led to his abduction and Voldemort's return.

"So the real Moody, is he ok?" Harry asks. He gestures with his good arm at all the empty hospital beds.

Sirius nods. "He's at St. Mungo's. He was quite weak when Hagrid, Hermione, and Ron found him, but he's expected to fully recover."

"Alastor's made of pretty tough stuff," Dumbledore says, smiling. "I suspect he'll be back to his old self soon."

"And Crouch, is he back in Azkaban?"

"No, he's dead," Sirius scoffs. "Fudge saw to that."

"What?"

"When the Minister found out a Death Eater and Azkaban escapee was masquerading as a Hogwarts Professor, he brought a dementor to the castle," Sirius shudders. "It was supposedly only there for security purposes, but when it encountered Crouch, well..."

Harry nods, not needing him to elaborate.

"I'm going to have a chat with Cornelius tomorrow. There are certain precautions he needs to take now that Voldemort is back," Dumbledore gives him a very soft look, "I take it his resurrection attempt was successful?"

Unable to meet his gaze, Harry looks down at the cut on his arm. The antiseptic twinge has worn off, but the scar on his forehead still burns, an echo of a greater pain from earlier. This doesn't feel real. None of this feels real. Voldemort is back. He has a body, a real body all his own, grotesque and snake-like and created with his own blood.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "He overpowered me. I couldn't stop him. Voldemort's back, and it's my fault."

Sirius squeezes his shoulder. "No, it's not your fault. You tried, that's what's important. You tried to stop him, and you were incredibly brave to do so."

"There's nothing you could have done, Harry," Dumbledore says. "I can't explain everything tonight, but I need you to understand: this was always going to happen. Voldemort was always going to return, and there's nothing you nor I nor anyone could have done to prevent it."

Harry nods, though he's still quite confused. What does he mean no one could have prevented it? Harry would press him for an explanation, but he's exhausted and emotionally spent. He's not in the right frame of mind to process whatever new information Dumbledore would provide. The hospital sheets are so soft, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and sleep for an eternity.

From his pocket, Dumbledore retrieves a vial of clear liquid. "This is a potion that will put you into a dreamless sleep. I'm going to give it to you, but first, I need you to tell me exactly what happened to you tonight."

"But--" Sirius starts. Dumbledore holds up a hand.

"I know, it's not fair to make you relive it, but we need to know."

And so he does. Sirius grips his shoulder as he recounts everything that happened after the portkey whisked him away. When he's done, Dumbledore pours the potion into a cup and hands it to him. Harry takes a tentative sip. It's warm and almost flavorless, like a very weak tea. After only a few swallows he's struggling to keep his eyes open. He can barely focus on Sirius as he transforms and curls up next to his bed.

"I'm going to let your friends know you're okay and ask them not to disturb you for the night. Is there anything else you want me to tell them?"

"No, just... did Cedric win?"

"The tournament?" Dumbledore smiles. "No, we postponed the final task after you disappeared. If you're feeling up to it, the champions and remaining judges are meeting tomorrow afternoon to discuss the future of the tournament."

Harry nods, and mutters a sleepy ok before drifting off into unconsciousness.

When Harry wakes the next afternoon, he's not confident he's up for the meeting. His forehead still hurts and all he could stomach for breakfast was a single piece of unbuttered toast. But Madam Pomfrey's insistence he stay in bed and not over-exert himself makes him spiteful. Sirius offers to accompany him-- at least that's how Harry interprets his canine whining-- but he decides to go alone, taking the long way through less crowded corridors to avoid running into anyone. He isn't ready to answer questions, not yet.

His detours make him the last to arrive. The champions and judges-- save Crouch, who's dead, and Karkaroff, who Harry assumes has fled-- gather in a semi-circle around Dumbledore's desk. Minister Fudge is there too, gazing out the window with a dour expression. Harry wonders if Dumbledore had that chat with him yet.

Dumbledore's office bears no remnants of last night's events. The books on the shelf he knocked into have been put back in order. The rug Moody-- or Crouch rather-- kicked askew has been straightened into place. Someone retrieved the Triwizard Cup from the stadium after he abandoned it there last night. It sits on its pedestal, casting flecks of bright blue light on the wall behind it. Harry looks away.

"Harry!" Cedric bounds over and greets him with a wide, dimpled smile. Harry's heart flutters and it's the first he's truly felt at ease since yesterday. He'd kiss him full on the mouth right here if not for everyone watching.

"Hey, Cedric. It's good to see you."

Cedric takes his wrist, inspecting the bandages running up his arm. "How are you feeling? Cho and I tried to visit this morning, but Madam Pomfrey said you weren't seeing anyone yet."

"I'm... recovering. Tell Cho I send my best, will you?"

Cedric nods, then gives him a one-armed hug and a whispered promise to catch up later. What follows is a peck on each cheek from Fleur, a cold nod from Fudge, and handshakes from Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Bagman, and Krum.

"Err... sorry about your Headmaster," he says.

Krum frowns. "Don't be. It's his own fault for being a Death Eater and a coward."

Minister Fudge clears his throat loudly. "Now that we're all here, let's get down to business, shall we?"

With greetings and pleasantries wrapped up, Harry stands next to Cedric as they gather around Dumbledore's desk.

"The Ministry would like to hold the final task as soon as possible," Fudge says. "Without giving too much away, there are certain obstacles that require special care and can't remain in the maze indefinitely."

"Of course, we'd understand if you need more time to recover, Harry," Bagman says. "We don't want you to be at a disadvantage, after all. We can make arrangements to postpone the task until the end of summer, or later if need be."

Harry clenches his fists. The fate of the tournament, it seems, is up to him, and the way everyone stares at him with faces full of eagerness and anticipation, it makes him want to scream. None of this matters. Don't they get that? Voldemort is back. They should be preparing for war, not hashing out the details of this stupid tournament. He and Dumbledore and maybe Cedric are the only ones who seem to grasp the urgency of the situation.

But he's still bound by magical pact to compete. Even if everyone in this room knows for dead certain he didn't enter his name into the tournament.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "Do whatever's most convenient for Hagrid and the rest of the maze caretakers."

Bagman grins. "Brilliant! Then we'll reschedule the task for Monday night, the day before the end of term. Does that seem good to you?"

"Sure, sounds great," he says dryly.

"And how about the rest of you?" Bagman asks, eyeing the other three champions. "Still good to go?"

Fleur and Krum nod, but Cedric hesitates. He turns to him with a look of concern.

"Are you certain you're up for this?"

Harry's instinct is to say something like "I'm fine, don't worry about me.", but his response gets caught in his throat. Something inside him breaks under the weight of his boyfriend's caring gaze. If Harry had a choice, a real choice in what to do about the tournament, he'd walk away from it entirely. Let them deal with it, he no longer wants a part. Lord Voldemort snuffed out all his ambitions for the tournament, and he's still so very tired. Last night's sleeping potion did little to rid him of his exhaustion.

"Professor... am I really still required to compete? Can't I be disqualified since Voldemort," everyone except Dumbledore flinches, "put my name in the tournament?"

"We don't know that!" Fudge snaps. "The Ministry is still investigating what happened. As best we understand it, you were entered into the tournament by a deluded former Death Eater who thought he was acting under You-Know-Who's orders."

"He wasn't deluded, he was acting on Vol--"

"I understand these are extraordinary circ*mstances," Dumbledore says, cutting both of them off, "but unfortunately it doesn't matter how your name got into the tournament, you're still bound to compete. It's very powerful ancient magic. There aren't many loopholes."

"Then I think we should cancel the tournament," Cedric says. "It's not fair to force Harry to compete if he doesn't want to, and doesn't it feel... wrong to still hold the tournament now that You-Know-Who is back?"

"Allegedly," Fudge says.

"Right... allegedly," Cedric says, casting the Minister a look of contempt. "But regardless, Harry almost died last night. This tournament very nearly killed someone. What does it say about us if we carry on like nothing happened?"

Minister Fudge scowls, fusses with his bowler hat, and says nothing.

"Cedric, it's fine." he says. "I don't want you to cancel the tournament on my behalf. That's not fair to you three."

"But if you wanted us to call it off, I would be ok with that," Fleur says. "I owe you for saving my sister's life, and for introducing me to your friend, Bill Weasley,"

"Er... I don't recall introducing you to Bill."

Fleur smirks. "Not yet, but I am hoping you will."

"I think I owe you too," Krum says. "It was my fault you were in the Forest the night we were attacked by Crouch, and you're Hermione's friend. So if you want us to cancel the tournament, that's ok with me."

Harry smiles sheepishly. He's touched by their generosity, but he shakes his head. "You guys deserve to see the tournament to the end. I don't want to take that away from you."

"It's also, unfortunately, not possible to cancel the tournament," Madame Maxime says. "The rules are very clear: once the tournament has started, it must be seen to completion."

Dumbledore nods. "Olympe is correct. In fact, the only reason we were able to delay the final task at all was because Harry and the cup were forcibly removed from Hogwarts grounds. But..." he says, and his eyes twinkle in his direction, "when I said there aren't many loopholes, I didn't mean there were none. I think we can come up with a compromise."

"What's that?" he asks.

"While you are bound to compete in the final task, you are not necessarily bound to finish it. Before you enter the maze, you'll be given these instructions: if you find yourself unable to continue, for whatever reason, shoot sparks into the air and someone will come to your aid."

"Of course, if you did that, you'd lose all your points," Bagman says, laughing nervously. "It seems a waste to throw away all your hard work, don't you think? You're in the lead after all."

"I'm tied with Cedric for the lead," he says.

"Right well... you know what I meant."

Godric Gryffindor's sword hangs above Dumbledore's desk, the blue glow of the Triwizard Cup reflecting on its shiny silver blade. Dropping out of the tournament and running away from danger isn't a very Gryffindor thing to do. But there's a voice in his head-- one that sounds a lot like his girlfriend-- reminding him there's a quiet, defiant bravery in recognizing his limits and not pushing himself to do more than he's able.

"So all I have to do is try?" he asks.

Dumbledore nods. "That's all we're asking."

"Then... yeah, I think I can do that. I can try."

After a few days in the Hospital Wing, Harry recovers from most of his physical wounds. The bumps and bruises from being tossed around by the Portkey fade. Wormtail's gash on his arm doesn't even leave a scar. There are, however, some ailments that magic can't cure. Lingering still is an ever-present prickling on his forehead, and a gnawing sense of guilt. Even though everyone tells him what happened that night wasn't his fault, he can't convince himself it's true.

He has Madam Pomfrey turn the mirrors away.

In the mornings Hedwig drops stacks of cards on his bedside table. Most of them go unopened. People insist on bringing him food. Mrs. Diggory makes another batch of cauldron cakes. Mrs. Weasley sends a mountain of baked goods-- Ron and his siblings snag a pastry or two when they think he's not looking. Hagrid makes rock cakes hard enough to break his teeth. Cho and Cedric bring sweets from the kitchen, though upon discovering he's been giving most of his food away to Snuffles, the snacks change to sliced cheese and sausage links.

Ron and Hermione stop by as often as Madam Pomfrey will allow. He and Ron play exploding snap and wizarding chess while Hermione fills him in on the news. The Prophet' s been quiet-- and not just because Hermione trapped their star reporter in a shatter-proof glass jar (she explains on her first visit how she discovered Rita is an unregistered animagus and how she used the map to find her buzzing around the grounds). There's no mention of Voldemort, or Crouch, or anything related to what happened in the graveyard. Only a three sentence article buried in the middle of the seventh page two days into his hospital stay.

The final task of the Triwizard Tournament was postponed for undisclosed reasons. It has been rescheduled for Monday Night. This is an ongoing story, and The Prophet will keep you up-to-date with the latest information as it becomes available.

"Everyone knows what the undisclosed reasons are," Cho says, putting air quotes around 'undisclosed reasons'. "It's all everyone's talking about. Even at the Ministry-- at least that's what my Mum said in her last letter."

"That's what my Dad said too," Cedric says, nodding. "He's trying to tamp down on all the misinformation going round, but Fudge really wants to sweep this under the rug."

Cho and Cedric try to avoid heavy topics when they visit, and when they come up, they're quick to pivot to something else. They only mention the upcoming task once, when Cho asks his permission to help Cedric practice. He says yes, of course. Now that he's more or less out of the running, he doesn't mind if she shows a bit of favoritism.

They don't ask about what happened in the graveyard, for which he's grateful.

Mostly his partners busy themselves taking care of him, fussing over him almost more than Madam Pomfrey. Cedric gives him pain potions and changes his bandages with gentle, skillful hands. Cho makes tea and sprays his linens with a calming lavender and moonflower potion. They hold hands and steal kisses when Madam Pomfrey's back is turned, though he tries to keep this to a minimum. It's a bit awkward snogging his partners with his Godfather in the same room. Snuffles, for his part, politely pretends to get distracted with whatever's passing by the windows when they get affectionate.

"You should visit over break," Cedric says as he dabs a cool, translucent salve over a bruise on his shoulder.

"Sure, I think the Weasleys will have me over again this summer. You live nearby, right?"

He nods. "We're a few miles south. It's about 15 minutes by broomstick, but you have to watch out for Muggles."

"I don't suppose either of you will be in Scotland over break?" Cho asks before offering him a spoonful of congee. Harry chews, swallows, then shakes his head.

"It wasn't exactly on my to-do list, sorry."

"No worries, I'll also be in London three times a week. We should get lunch. Mum said I'm allowed to visit Diagon Alley on my breaks."

"Oh! I could show you my Mum's shop," Cedric says.

"Hey, how come your Mum isn't making you work for her over the summer?" Cho asks teasingly.

Cedric shrugs. "Guess I'm just lucky."

Sunday evening Harry receives a somewhat hesitant discharge from Madam Pomfrey. Ron and Hermione wait for him outside the hospital wing, and they walk together to the Great Hall for dinner. It'll be his first time facing the whole school since Voldemort, and his stomach is doing somersaults over it. He doubts he'll be able to eat more than a few bites of plain bread.

"Dumbledore announced at breakfast you were going to be released today," Hermione says. "He asked everyone to respect your privacy and not hound you with questions, so you shouldn't have to worry about anyone bothering you."

"Yeah, and if anyone gives you a hard time, let me know. I'll hex them," Ron says.

Predictably, all eyes land on them when Ron pushes open the Great Hall doors. The room goes dead quiet as they step inside, then they're greeted with a thunderous applause. The entirety of the Gryffindor table and most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws cheer. Even a few Slytherins join in, which-- Harry does a double take to confirm it's actual Slytherins and not just the Durmstrang students who've taken up residence at their table. It's a bit overwhelming, and he's grateful when Dumbledore raises his hand to break up the revelry.

"Welcome, Harry," Dumbledore says, directing a smile his way. "We're all very glad to have you back."

After dinner, he, Cedric, and Cho settle in a quiet patch of sand on the lakeshore. It's their last evening together, since tomorrow is the final task and they go home the morning after. Harry sits cross-legged on a blue Tutshill Tornados blanket, watching Cho skip stones and wade in the shallow shore. She's rolled her robes up to her knees and tied her hair up with a silver ribbon. Cedric sits next to him, reading from a book titled: Watch Out for Thorns! A Guide to Defending Yourself Against Carnivorous Plants. They don't talk much. Cho shouts when she stumbles on a shell or a tiny fish, and Cedric occasionally mutters to himself before jotting something down in his notebook. But after everything that's happened, it's nice to simply be in their company.

When the sun has almost completely set and the lights go on in the castle, Cho plops down beside him. She gives him, then Cedric, a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Did you want to go flying tomorrow?" Cho asks. "I was planning on packing tonight, and I want to know if I should put away my broomstick or not."

"Maybe, I'm doing some spell prep with Ron and Hermione tomorrow, but I doubt it'll take all day."

Cho raises an eyebrow. "Spell prep? But I thought you were dropping out of the tournament?"

"I dunno, I might try to get past a few obstacles. I think I'd look pretty silly if I took one step into the maze and immediately sent up a distress signal."

"You could though, if you wanted to. It's stupid they're still making you do this after everything that's happened."

Harry shrugs. "I don't have much of a choice. Magical binding agreement and all."

It's weird thinking back how at the beginning of the year, he actually had a quiet desire to enter the tournament. He dreamed of being named Hogwarts Champion and winning the glory, the gold, and Cho's admiration.

Harry tucks a stray lock of Cho's hair behind her ear. She grins, her face radiant and dotted with new freckles from the summer sun. He's lucky enough to have earned her affection, so he supposes he doesn't really need the rest. In his fantasies now, he's utterly ordinary. He sits in the bleachers with his girlfriend, holding her hand and cheering their boyfriend on to victory. He blends in with his classmates and no one looks and points and whispers about whether he's telling the truth or he's lost his mind.

"Well... at least this task seems pretty easy to back out of. Imagine if you tried that against the dragons," Cho lowers her voice and swaps out her Scottish accent to do an impression of him. "Excuse me, Ms. Hungarian Horntail? Would you mind not burning me to a crisp while I stand here doing nothing and wait for the judges to give me straight zeroes?"

Harry laughs. "Yeah, and I'm sure Ron would've loved it if I left him to drown in the Second Task."

A few of Cho's housemates pass by on the path up to the castle, laughing and calling out greetings. Cho grins and waves back enthusiastically, and he gives a small wave too. He still doesn't know her friends very well, or Cedric's, but he might like to now that they don't intimidate him so much. They've both met Ron and Hermione, and the four of them get on pretty well.

"So are we going to tell people about us, now that everyone knows I've more or less dropped out of the Tournament?" he asks. They're in full view of passersby, and while they aren't engaging in gross amounts of PDA, they aren't attempting to hide their affections either.

Cedric laughs, shutting his book and resting it on his lap. "I think most people already know about us, or at the very least they suspect something is going on."

"Yeah, I know," he says. He really thought for a while they were doing a good job keeping their relationship quiet, but in hindsight, they were about as quiet as a freshly uprooted mandrake. "But we've never really confirmed it to anyone outside of a few friends."

"I think we just keep doing what we've been doing," Cho says, "but now if people ask we give them the real answer instead of a shrug and coy smile."

"And once we tell one person, they'll tell their friends who'll tell their friends," Cedric trails off. "You know how the rumor mill works around here."

Harry nods, and once again he's thankful Rita Skeeter isn't around to document this.

"I guess it's nice that we can be open about it now," Cho says. "But I will admit, it's been fun watching my housemates go crazy trying to guess which one of you I'm seeing. Only Marietta and Luna Lovegood worked out that it's both of you."

"Er... Luna probably knows about us because I told her," Cedric says. "Sorry, I was helping her look for a few things she'd lost and she seemed a bit down. I thought it might cheer her up."

Cho beams at him, then yanks him by the arm and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. "That's so sweet of you. I didn't know you two were friends."

"Yeah, we're neighbors. Our Dads don't get on very well, but my Mum and Mrs. Lovegood were friends before she passed away." Cedric picks up his book again, squints at it, then dog-ears the page and shuts it. "Do you mind if we head in? It's getting too dark to read."

"Yeah, it's probably close to curfew anyway," he says. He'd check the time but his watch is still broken.

"Of course, but first... there's something we wanted to ask you about, Harry." Cho says.

"Oh right! Yeah we should probably do that before we head in," Cedric says. He and Cho share a look, like they aren't sure how to approach this conversation. Harry's stomach flutters nervously.

"Is everything ok?"

Cedric holds up his hands. "Oh no, it's nothing bad! We've just... we've been wondering about Snuffles."

"He's not just some random stray dog you found in Hogsmeade, is he?" Cho asks.

The question takes him by surprise, though it probably shouldn't. If the situation was reversed, and after a traumatic event a large, smelly, slightly malnourished dog was sleeping at his partner's bedside in the hospital, he'd be dying from curiosity too. He's struck with a pang of guilt for keeping them in the dark so long.

"No, he's not."

"What is he then, your pet?" Cedric asks.

"Why did you lie about him?" Cho asks. "If you wanted to have a secret pet dog that's fine with us. We wouldn't snitch on you. Though, Dumbledore already seems to know about him... so..."

"No, he's not my pet. He's..." Harry pauses. He's not sure how to explain it, or even if he can. Sirius is still the most wanted criminal in Great Britain, and it seems increasingly unlikely Fudge is going to grant him his much deserved pardon. Harry trusts them not to tell anyone, especially not their parents who work at the Ministry, but still, Sirius' secret isn't his to share.

"Hey, if you can't tell us, it's alright. We'll respect your reasons," Cedric says.

"Yeah, Cedric and I have talked about it, and we realize occasionally there's going to be some... well... weird sh*t going on in your life, and we're okay with that." Cho says. "We're willing to roll with the punches."

Harry smiles, and he's reminded how Sirius gave them both his stamp of approval, and said he trusts his judgment. Would it be so bad if he told them? Dumbledore's been telling people about Sirius in an attempt to reform some kind of old resistance group. McGonagall and Hagrid know now, as does the entire Weasley family, save Percy.

"If I tell you," he says, his words measured, "you have to promise not to say anything to anyone."

"I promise," Cho says.

Cedric nods. "Of course. Mum's the word."

"I mean it. If the wrong people find out, something very bad will happen to someone I care an awful lot about."

"I understand, and I won't say anything," Cho says, giving him her most serious expression.

Cedric holds up his wand. "I'll make an unbreakable vow with you if you want."

"No, that's alright. I'm pretty sure I can trust you, I just wanted to make sure you knew it's quite literally life or death. Snuffles is..." He pauses, not sure if it's better to ease into the truth or rip the bandage off. "He's an unregistered animagus."

"I guess that begs the question: who is he?" Cho asks.

Harry glances around once more for any eavesdroppers, and says in a low voice. "He's Sirius Black."

"What?" Cho shouts, then clasps her hands over her mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so loud. Just-- Merlin, that's not at all what I was expecting."

"But why would you want to protect him?" Cedric asks. He lowers his voice to a near whisper. "He killed 13 people."

"No, he didn't. He was set up," he says. "He didn't do any of the things he's been accused of."

Cho takes a shaky breath, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. "Okay... explain from the beginning."

And so he does, his partners listening patiently as he tells them everything that happened to him and his Godfather last year.

When Crouch was interrogated under veritaserum, he confessed part of his plan was to patrol the maze perimeter with Moody's magical eye and clear the obstacles out of his way. Because of this, security at the final task is tightened tenfold. Dumbledore warns the entire school at dinner about the secrecy sensors they'll have to pass through before entering the Quidditch Pitch. Bill shows up not as a spectator but as a Gringotts employee to help set up security. Harry tips him off he might want to introduce himself to the Beauxbatons champion.

Harry's not a nervous wreck this time around, probably because he's not aiming to win. If something does go horribly wrong in the maze, he trusts Dumbledore can get him out of it. Some Slytherins flash their "Potter Stinks" badges at him, but rather than being annoyed he considers asking if he can have one, for the "Support Cedric Diggory" side of course. He eats a full plate of dinner and treacle tart for dessert. Cedric, who he now knows has a massive sweet tooth and a tendency to overeat when he's nervous, scarfs down almost an entire chocolate cake. His fingers are still a bit sticky with frosting on their walk down to the pitch.

"Sorry, only champions, judges, and approved staff are allowed on the pitch tonight," Hagrid says at the stadium entrance, tossing Ron and Hermione an apologetic look. They each wish him luck before heading for the bleachers' staircase.

Cho stands on her tiptoes and kisses Cedric on the cheek. "Good luck out there. You've trained hard and you've got this."

"Thank you," Cedric says. "And thank you again for your help these past few days."

"Of course. And you," Cho says. She takes Harry's hands. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. We all know you're an incredibly talented and incredibly brave wizard. So don't do anything stupid out there, alright?"

"I won't," he laughs.

"That's what I like to hear," Cho smiles and kisses him too. Then she's pulling away, giving them one last wave goodbye before joining the procession entering the stands.

After getting through the secrecy sensors, Hagrid escorts him and Cedric onto the pitch. The scoreboard's been bewitched to show the Tournament standings. At the top in bright red letters are Potter and Diggory with 85 points each, then Krum with 80 and Delacour with 63. The hedges are nearly twice as tall as last month and Harry suspects they're several inches thicker. Most of the spectators have seated themselves in the highest rows of the bleachers. He thinks he spots Ron, Hermione, and Cho near the commentator's box. He waves, and they wave back.

"Hey, where's Bagman?" Cedric asks. Harry checks the judges' table. There's Dumbledore, Maxime, Fudge, an olive-skinned woman in Durmstrang robes-- he assumes she's their Interim headmistress, and an empty chair.

"Oh? You didn't hear?" Lupin strolls over to them. "The official story is he's gone abroad to care for a sick relative, but there's a rumor he's been having financial problems and had to run for it to avoid his debt collectors. Fudge is replacing him. Crouch's spot is staying open to honor his memory."

"Professor Lupin! What are you doing here?" Cedric asks.

"Please, call me Lupin. I'm not your professor anymore. And Dumbledore asked me to help with security. I uh... also thought my dog could use some exercise." Lupin makes a vague hand gesture towards the locker rooms, where Snuffles sits quietly in the shadows, camouflaged by his black fur. Harry smiles in his direction. Sirius had left for Lupin's yesterday and he wasn't expecting to see him so soon.

"Is it wise for him to be here with all these people around?" Cedric asks.

"Probably not, but he threatened to chew up my sofa if I didn't bring him. And Dumbledore said it was ok, as long as he didn't draw attention to himself."

"Champions, gather round," McGonagall calls out, and the three of them make their way over to the judges' table.

Madame Maxime gives them a quick rundown of the task, and he's reminded once again of the distress signal. The crowd cheers as Dumbledore lines him and Cedric up at the maze entrance. Harry squints down the pathway, but he can only see a few feet in before the maze is swallowed by darkness.

"Champions... on your mark... get set." Hagrid blows a whistle and they're off.

It's eerily silent inside the maze. The hedgewalls insulate them from the roar of the crowd. Perhaps it's his imagination, but the temperature seems to drop a few degrees too. Cedric lights the tip of his wand and he follows suit. They walk side by side until they reach a fork, one path going right, the other left.

"So... which way do you want to go?" he asks.

Cedric shines his wandlight down each entrance, revealing two equally dark and misty pathways. "Uh... I dunno. Which way do you want to go?"

"You pick. You're the serious contender here."

"No, I want you to take a path you're comfortable with."

"It makes no difference to me. I can't see what's down either of them anyway."

There's another whistle, signaling Krum's entrance into the maze.

"Okay this isn't the time for politeness. I'm going right," Cedric says. Harry nods, and though it's dark, he can just make out Cedric's smile.

"Best of luck out there," he says.

"Back at you."

Harry takes the left path, then makes another quick left, then a right, then reaches his first dead end. He backtracks and takes the left passageway, even though he thinks he hears a low growl coming from within. It's a long stretch of path, and when he makes it to the end, he wishes what was waiting for him was a growling beast. Instead, panic seizes him as he stares straight into the blood-red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

"No... how did you..."

"Avada Kedavra."

Harry ducks in the knick of time, and the spell hits the hedgewall behind him. Rather than dying though, the hedges bloom to life with butterflies and bright tropical flowers. Voldemort stares back at him, his cat-like pupils fully dilated in a confused expression that's almost... comical?

"Oh, I should have known! You're not Voldemort, you're a boggart. Riddikulus. "

His wand lets loose a whip-like crack. The boggart swells up and explodes into a hibiscus-scented pile of red dust.

Harry then comes to another fork and goes right, leading him to a dark pool filled with a thick unnaturally still red liquid that spans the width of the pathway. When he shines his wandlight over it, he can see neither the bottom nor his reflection. It's too long to jump over, and he doesn't fancy a swim, so he thinks up some other way to get across. He laughs to himself, remembering Ron's idea of summoning his broomstick and soaring his way to the finish line. Too bad he packed it away this morning.

" Glacius ," he says, pointing his wand at the pool. The liquid freezes into a thick, pinkish ice. He tests it with his foot to ensure it can hold his weight, then he uses the hedges as a handrail and slowly eases his way across.

Harry soon comes to another junction and tries the right path first, but finds another dead end. Then he goes left and his heart stops. There's not one, not two, but five enormous Blast-Ended Skrewts blocking his way. One of them bellows out an angry screech and lobs a fireball his way that narrowly misses his head. He gets a whiff of something that smells like singed hair.

Harry hightails it back to the junction. Nope. No, he's not doing this. A thousand galleons and bragging rights are not nearly enough compensation to tango with that. Seeing his only option to avoid the Skrewts is to return all the way back to the start, he sends a jet of red sparks into the air.

Lupin finds him in the maze. Apparently, the foliconsumpto spell works on the hedges, so he's able to get him out rather quickly by blasting holes in the walls and covering them up again with a counterspell. He leads him towards the locker rooms, where Sirius waits obediently.

"Good show out there. I was impressed how you handled yourself against that boggart," Lupin says.

Harry grins. "I had a good teacher."

"We've got to get going. Sorry we can't stay longer, but I'm sure we'll see more of each other this summer." Lupin shakes his hand, and Harry pats Snuffles on the head before the two of them retreat into the locker room.

Harry's forced to visit the medical tent before joining his friends in the stands. Madam Pomfrey tuts, but she fails to find any injuries aside from burned hair and scraped hands so she lets him go. He clambers up the bleacher staircase. He's panting and out of breath when he reaches the top, but that doesn't deter Cho from standing and throwing her arms around him.

"Thank Merlin you're alright," she says.

"See, told you I wouldn't do anything stupid."

Harry sits between Cho and Ron and takes in the aerial view of the obstacles he missed out on. He wishes he had his omnioculars from the Quidditch World Cup to properly examine the maze. What he sees makes him very glad he's up here and not down there. There's acromantulas, trolls, and dozens of other creatures he only recognizes from illustrations in his Care of Magical Creatures textbook, not to mention all the strange misty clouds in a rainbow of colors.

"Fleur's in the lead right now," Ron says, pointing at her as she faces off against a swarm of bright blue pixies.

Hermione points at Krum, who navigates a narrow stretch of path behind and slightly to the left of Fleur. "Viktor was leading, but he got stumped by the sphinx. After she gave her riddle, he turned round and went the long way."

"Where's Cedric?" Harry asks. He searches the maze but can't find him anywhere. Was he forced to drop out? He didn't hear anyone shoot off a distress signal, but maybe it got muffled by the maze.

"He's in there," Cho points at a dark gray cloud with a bluish hue. "He was doing great at first. You should have seen him. He did amazing against the snallygaster! But then he made a couple of wrong turns, hit some dead ends, got stuck in enchanted sinking-sand, and lost his lead."

Harry keeps his eye on the cloud, even as Fleur vanquishes the last of the pixies and Krum takes on a large, ferocious-looking graphorn. Harry's pulse quickens. Minutes pass and nothing happens.

"Look!"

Cho points at an identical grey cloud on the other side of the maze, one significantly closer to the center. Cedric stumbles out, shivering violently. Snowflakes stick to his hair and shoulders, melting now in the summer heat. Once the shivering subsides, Cedric does the four-point spell (Harry's thrilled to see he knows that one too) and heads for the center. Cedric soon comes up against the fork. The left is a straight path with no obstacles, the right a very large pit of fire crabs.

"Come on, come on, go left." he says.

Cedric peers down each path and goes left. He and Cho breathe out identical sighs of relief, but they're back on the edge of their seats when out of nowhere, several thorny vines burst through the hedges and swing at him. Cedric dodges, but loses his footing and takes a hard tumble to the ground.

"Oh no! Is he okay?" Cho asks.

Cedric stands, cradling his wrist. Harry suspects it's broken. Fortunately it's not his wand arm, and he's able to cast a shield charm the next time the vines strike. Then he points his wand at himself and winces momentarily as his wrist snaps back into place.

Cedric tames the vines with a well-placed jinx, then faces off against several red caps, a mountain troll, and a lone Skrewt until the only thing standing in his way of the cup is a sparkling cloud of purple smoke. Harry's heart is racing. What if it's poison? What if it transports him across the maze again? On the opposite side of the maze, Fleur duels a creeping Devil's Snare, and if she defeats it faster she'll win. And Krum just entered a hazy cloud of green fog and could reemerge anywhere at any moment.

Harry reaches out to Cho and clutches her hands.

"You can do it! You can do it!" She whispers under her breath.

Cedric bursts out from the cloud, a trail of purple slime oozing behind him as he rushes for the maze center. He's twenty feet away, then ten, five, then the cup is within reach. His fingers hover inches from the handle, but he hesitates. The last time he saw someone touch the cup, they were swept off Hogwarts grounds and into Voldemort's trap. Fleur breaks free from the Devil's Snare and sprints towards him. If he doesn't get over this soon...

Cedric grabs the cup with both hands and holds it above his head. Even from this distance, Harry can tell he's beaming.

"And the winner of the Triwizard Tournament is: Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory!"

Triumphant music plays from the commentator's box, but he can hardly hear it over the roar of the crowd. Several people in the Hufflepuff section shoot off gold Filibuster fireworks that take the shape of badgers. The rest of them rush onto the pitch, joining Professor Sprout in a procession escorting Cedric out of the maze. Dumbledore and the other judges transform their table into a stage decorated with Hogwarts and Hufflepuff banners.

"He did it!" Cho squeals. She stands and pulls him up with her. She can hardly contain her excitement, grinning and holding his hands and jumping up and down. And he's right there with her, so full of giddiness and pride he thinks he's going to burst.

Cho leads him hand-in-hand down the bleachers and onto the pitch. Cedric's quidditch teammates carry him on their shoulders, his feet not touching the ground until he's placed on the stage. His grin stretches across his whole face, and even with a gash in his robes and slime stuck in his hair, Harry thinks he looks stunning.

Mr. Diggory crushes his son in an embrace. If possible, he looks happier than Cedric. Mrs. Diggory snaps a few pictures before handing her camera to Professor Sprout and throwing her arms around them too. He and Cho give them a moment before approaching. Then, when Cedric spots them he tosses the cup aside and sprints towards them.

Cho gets to him first, meeting in the center of the stage. She wraps her arms around him and in his eagerness he picks her up and spins her around. In a haze of sparkling confetti, with streaks of pinks and blues and golds from the sun setting behind them, they kiss. And Merlin, they look beautiful together. The sureness of Cho's fingers as she caresses his jawline. Cedric's tiny smile, and how he runs his hands along her spine the way Harry knows she can't get enough of. Harry is utterly awestruck. How did he get so lucky to get them both?

They break apart, and Cedric whispers something in Cho's ear that makes her smile. Then Cedric takes his hand and pulls their bodies flush and he kisses him too, firm and unrelenting. Gone is the awkwardness from their debut dance at the Yule Ball. He doesn't have to think about where to put his hands, just wraps them around his waist and revels in the familiarness of his body. All eyes are on them once again, and this time, he couldn't give a damn about it.

"Congratulations," he says when they separate.

"I bet you did great too."

"No, no modesty from you tonight. You earned this."

Cho throws her arms around both of them. She's grinning and a bit misty-eyed. "Sorry, I'm crying," she says, then sniffles. "I'm just so happy for you."

Cedric Diggory Wins Triwizard Cup!

The Prophet's story detailing the final task takes up the entire front page. Harry's flush with pride, seeing the article read by so many of his classmates at breakfast. The Great Hall is decked out with Hufflepuff colors, and Cedric receives a standing ovation when he enters. At least a dozen owls swoop down and drop copies of The Prophet on his plate.

Of course, the article can't resist a few digs at Harry's expense. His name pops up in the final paragraph.

Harry Potter, the other Hogwarts champion, came in last place, failing to finish the final task. Potter was reported to have suffered from a 'mental episode' a few days prior, which may have resulted in his poor performance.

Harry rolls his eyes and sighs into his cup of tea. It's frustrating the Ministry's still steadfast in their avoidance of mentioning Voldemort's return, but it's hard to stay too mad with Cedric's picture smiling and waving at him.

He asks Hermione if he can keep her copy, and hastily stuffs it into his trunk before boarding The Hogwarts Express.

"So Snuffles... is he really as ridiculously wealthy as he claims?" George asks. He and Fred clutch the letter from Sirius they received this morning in disbelief. After he found out how Bagman ripped them off, he offered to repay them what they'd lost-- and then some.

Hermione nods. "He comes from one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in all Great Britain."

"And he can access his fortune even though he's a wanted criminal?" Fred asks.

"Yeah, I forget exactly how, but he can," Harry says. "He's the one who bought my Firebolt."

"Oh! So that's how you got it!" Cho says, looking up from the Quidditch magazine she's sharing with Ginny. "I've been wondering about that for months, ever since you said someone gifted it to you."

"But still... it's so much money," George says. "Maybe we should turn him down."

Ron groans. "Stop being thick, he wants you to have it. It's like he said in the letter:" he points at the line and reads aloud, " Hogwarts could use a bit of mischief, and since I'm no longer able to do it myself, I'm passing the torch on to you. I hope you put my fortune to good use. "

The door to their compartment slides open. Fred quickly slips the letter into his bag as Kaz drags Cedric by the arm inside.

"Kaz, come on. I really don't mind helping out," Cedric says.

"Nope, you're off Prefect duty until September. Triwizard champions are exempt from doing rounds."

"But--"

"No, I won't hear it. You are going to stay here and relax with your partners while Rhys and I cover for you," Kaz looks at them. "Make sure he doesn't leave."

"Works for us," Cho says, grinning. Kaz nods and shuts the door.

"Well... we're going to head out," Fred says. He and George cast him a shifty look before standing. "We're going to meet up with Lee and uh... maybe or maybe not throw dungbombs at the Slytherin Quidditch team."

Cedric waves a hand. "You heard Kaz, I'm off-duty til September. Your hypothetical rule-breaking is no longer my concern."

George grins and claps him on the shoulder. "You know what, you're alright, Diggory."

"Er... thank you?"

"Anyway, we're off." Fred says. He and George glance at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "Are you coming with us?"

Hermione and Ron nod, but Ginny shakes her head. "I've got other plans."

"Oh? Off to see your mystery boyfriend?" Fred asks.

Ginny's ears turn red, and she hesitates, but only for a moment. "Girlfriend actually, but yes. Luna wants to show me her chocolate salamander card collection."

"Girlfriend?" Fred and George exclaim.

"Luna Lovegood?" Ron asks, wide-eyed.

"Chocolate salamander cards?" Harry scrunches his brows.

Ginny grins at him. "Yeah, Luna made them herself. They're cards of all the witches and wizards she feels were unfairly snubbed by the Chocolate Frog Company," she glares at her brothers. "And yes, Luna Lovegood is my girlfriend, and if any of you has anything mean to say about her, I'll bat bogey hex you."

"Oh no, we would never. We're very happy for you," George says.

"Yeah, good for you! Boys are idiots," Fred says.

"He would know, he's both a boy and an idiot," George mock whispers. Fred elbows him in the stomach, but there's no malice behind it.

"Did you two know about--" Ron starts.

"Why don't we go see what Neville is up to?" Hermione asks, ushering him out the door. Harry's thankful, as he's not about to admit he's known of their relationship since last week. He suspects Hermione's known even longer.

With the cabin now to themselves, Cedric kisses them each on the mouth, then kicks off his shoes and sprawls out on the bench opposite them.

"So... is everyone behaving out there, Mr. Prefect?" Cho asks.

"Actually, I ran into a spot of trouble with a few of your housemates. They were trying to break into the engine room to see how the train works," he laughs and reaches across to poke Cho's knee. "Aren't you guys supposed to be the smart ones? Because that seems like a very stupid idea."

Cho rolls her eyes. "Intellectual curiosity doesn't always translate into intelligence, unfortunately. You'd be surprised how many of my housemates lack anything resembling common sense."

"Well, other than that, there were just some Seventh years who snuck a bottle of firewhiskey aboard and were playing a drinking game. I think it was the same one you showed us at the Yule Ball."

"What did you do about that?" Harry asks. "I mean, you can't exactly give detention to someone who's already graduated."

"I left it to Kaz and Rhys to sort out, but I imagine they're going to let it slide." Cedric says, then stretches his arms above his head and yawns loudly. "Sorry, I'm running on about two hours of sleep."

Harry laughs. "How late were you Hufflepuffs up partying last night?"

"Not sure. I tapped out around four in the morning, but I suspect it went on even longer."

Harry nods. Gryffindor had their own slightly subdued end-of-the-year celebration too. He'd stayed up chatting with Ron and Hermione in their usual spot until quite late. One strong cup of black tea and the prospect of snogging his partners is all that's keeping him from falling asleep in his chair.

"So... I've been thinking..." Cho says.

"About what?" He asks.

"About next year. I think I'm going to stick with Defense after all," she says. "Well... I guess it depends on how I do on my OWL. I'll only be able to stick with it if I passed."

"You passed," he says. "You're smart. I know you passed."

"I guess... but I also had help from two very handsome tutors."

"I hope you're referring to us," Cedric says, laughing.

"Yes, my two very handsome tutor boyfriends." She pokes his shoulder, then nudges Cedric's foot. "But really... I want to be able to defend myself. I want to be useful if we have to fight... fight Voldemort." Cho clutches a hand to her chest. She's trembling as she whispers his name. Harry offers her a kind smile.

"You will be," he says.

"I've also been doing some thinking," Cedric says. "I've decided I'm going to try for the St. Mungo's apprenticeship next year."

"That's great!" he says, "I'd have been so heartbroken if you went and studied abroad."

"I also decided... I think I want to focus on mental health. We wizards are very good at curing physical ailments, but we're not as good at treating mental illnesses. You know, things like depression and anxiety."

"I think that's brilliant," Cho says. "And you're right, I don't think the wizarding community focuses on mental health as much as we should."

"Yeah, I bet that's something you'll be really good at," he says.

"Have you thought more about what you want to do, Harry?" Cedric asks.

He shrugs. "Well... I want to knock some sense into Fudge."

"Okay, but besides that?" Cho asks.

Harry rolls on the question. It's not something he's given much thought into, and thinking about it now, he's not sure if anyone besides them has ever asked. Most of his goals are short-term and fueled by circ*mstance as opposed to desire. Get away from the Dursleys. Make Dumbledore tell him whatever it is he isn't telling him. Stop a war from starting. Protect his friends, family, and partners. But if he's lucky, there's going to be a day when he doesn't have to worry about the 'need to's' and he can focus on the 'want to's'.

"I don't know, but I think, whatever I end up doing, I want you two to be there with me." he says. "I love you. Both of you."

Cedric smiles. "Oh Harry, we love you too."

"Yes, we do. We love you so, so much." Cho cups his face, then kisses him, slow and lingering. Harry leans in and runs his hands down her back, causing her to moan in delight.

"Mmm yes... keep doing that," Cedric says, watching them from the opposite bench with a look of pleasure. "Wow, you two are so... so..."

Grinning, Cedric closes his eyes, and it doesn't take long for him to drift off to sleep. He and Cho continue kissing lazily until they're nodding off too. Harry doesn't remember when he falls asleep, but hours later they're awoken by a blaring horn as the train pulls into King's Cross Station.

Harry takes Cedric's left hand and Cho takes his right as they walk down the train corridor. Cedric helps them down the steps, and having already snogged each other thoroughly goodbye in their compartment, they split off to find their things and say farewell to their friends. The Platform is hectic as always. Harry dodges several luggage trolleys and narrowly avoids stepping on Crookshanks after he gets loose from his cat carrier. Hermione's not bothered though, and pulls him into a goodbye embrace. He then gets hugs and handshakes from Ron and all his siblings, and Mrs. Weasley promises to pick him up as soon as Dumbledore gives the ok.

The Dursleys wait for him as far from the swarm of departing witches and wizards as possible. Dudley's grown taller and more muscular, but otherwise they look the same as ever. Harry starts towards them, but stops when someone taps his shoulder.

Cho hands him a slip of paper. "My phone number. I can't believe we've been dating all this time and I've never given it to you."

"Er... sorry, I don't think I'll be able to call you. It didn't work out so well with the Muggles last time I tried."

"Then I'll write letters. Lots and lots of letters. So many you'll be drowning in them."

"You know, that almost happened to me once," he says. "It's a long story."

"Write me a letter about it. And let us know if your relatives give you any trouble, alright?" Cho kisses him softly on the lips, then heads off towards a short bespectacled man in a Glasgow Rangers jersey he assumes is her dad.

"Was that your girlfriend or something?" Uncle Vernon asks as he approaches. Harry nods, figuring there's no harm in telling them the truth.

"You sure about that?" Dudley snickers. He points at Cho on the other end of the platform, where Cedric's joined her. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead, causing her to giggle.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." He smirks. He's going to leave it at that, but as they head for the car park Cedric dashes over to him.

"Hey! My Mum wanted me to give you this," Cedric says, then hands him a photograph of the three of them taken last night.

Harry grins. "This is great, tell her I said thanks."

"Of course," Cedric glances at the Dursleys, giving them a look of disdain. "Well, um... goodbye then."

"Yeah, see you in a few weeks."

Cedric offers a handshake. Harry looks at his outstretched hand, then grabs his shirt collar and pulls him into a kiss, playing it up just a tad for the Dursley's sake. Cedric comes out of it flush-cheeked and grinning, and gives him a wink before returning to his parents.

"Right then, shall we get going?" He says to his stunned speechless relatives. "I promised I'd write my Godfather as soon as I got home. You remember him, the escaped convict accused of murder? By the way, he's very supportive of my bisexuality, and he'd be very disappointed if he hears you guys aren't too."

After Harry arrives at Privet Drive, he lies in bed and studies the photograph. The three of them have their arms slung around each other as glitter and confetti fall endlessly around them. Cho and Cedric grin and wave, then kiss the photograph version of himself on each cheek.

How has it only been mere hours since he last saw them and he already misses them so much?

Harry shuts his eyes and imagines that instead of this dreary bedroom on a quiet Muggle street, he's with them. They're soaring above the quidditch pitch, Cho on the new broomstick she bought with the money from her summer job. Cedric with his shiny new Head Boy badge pinned to his school robes.

Harry grins. The start of next term is only a few weeks away. They'll be together again before he knows it.