#cedric diggory's funeral

[perciver4ever]

I knew my heart couldn't take angst and yet I still read it. Now I'm internally sobbing because of a fanfic where Percy and Oliver attends Cedric's funeral.

[wisteria-lodge]

Guys who Cry in the Harry Potter Books (and Why)

Men do 30% of the crying in the Harry Potter books, even though they represent 66% of the characters (and that's pretty much as expected).* I’m interested in why the crying happens though, and what it says about the characters. For the ladies, crying is neutral - they all cry, and for all sorts of reasons (tired, frustrated, stressed, emotionally overwrought...) Bellatrix, Augusta Longbottom, Ginny, Tonks… all cry. *Hermione* cries thirty separate times over the course of the books. 

Male crying though, that's something that gets mocked (usually by Slytherins.) Pansy calls Neville a “fat little cry baby,” and after Rita’s article (falsely) describes Harry crying, Draco comes in with “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” Of course there’s also “D’you think [Hagrid]’ll cry when they cut off his hippogriff’s - ” right before Hermione slaps him. So making fun of guys for crying is bad right? 

Let’s get into it. 

1 : Crying because of a death

The most “acceptable” reason for male crying. This happens a lot, we are definitely not supposed to think any less of the guys who do it. Mostly it happens *right* at the moment of death, or maybe at the funeral. The exception is Harry, who cries in Book 3 after talking about hearing his parents dying (although the narrative voice DOES let us know that he’s kind of embarrassed about this...)

“Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.” 

Then he cries again in Book 7, while visiting his parents' graves. But it’s definitely still crying over a death. Just one that Harry takes a little bit longer to process. 

Crying over a Death: Full Breakdown: 

Amos Diggory: 1 (Cedric’s death) 

Arthur Weasley: 1 (Fred’s death)

Harry Potter: 3 (Hedwig, Lily, James)

Rubeus Hagrid: 4 (Dumbledore, Buckbeak, Aragog, Harry) 

Argus Filtch: 1 (thinks Mrs. Norris is dead) 

Xenophillius Lovegood: 1 (thinks Luna is dead) 

Fillius Flitwick: (thinks Ginny is dead) 

Ron Weasley: 1 (Dumbledore’s funeral) 

Elphias Doge: 1 (Dumbledore’s funeral

2: Crying because of Pain

You’d think this one would also be acceptable. But… it really isn’t? Dudley cries when Vernon hits him (but Harry doesn’t.) Peter Pettigrew cries when he cuts off his own hand, Saw style, but it gets framed as blubbering weakness. Pettigrew framed SO pathetically for the entire resurrection scene - and honestly, for the entire rest of the series.

(Which is strange when you think about it. Like objectively, Pettigrew did GOOD. Sure he only likes Voldemort because he’s powerful, but so do most of the Death Eaters, that’s nothing special. Peter found Voldemort, resurrected him single-handedly (ha.) Found Bertha Jorkins,  i.e. the reason Voldemort was able to plan his comeback. Obviously he has god-tier bluffing and lying abilities, as well as enough willpower to cut off a limb. Being able to turn into a rat would make him a really useful spy. Also his spell, the one that killed thirteen muggles and destroyed a street? Most magic we see does not have a blast radius like that. Peter’s formidable. But somehow his job is to hang out and be Snape’s servant? (Is it because he’s not cute?  Is this JKR’s fatphobia rearing its ugly head? Unclear.)

Our last guy crying in pain is Book 1 Neville, after he breaks his wrist during flying lessons. He also “sniffs,” while walking into the Forbidden Forest for detention, which *might* count as crying? But really, Neville cries surprisingly little. We get a lot of “looked as though he might cry” and “on the verge of tears”... but that's not actually crying. And I think that’s because… early-books Neville, yes we’re supposed to see him as a little pathetic. But definitely not as pathetic as Dudley or Pettigrew. 

3: “Childlike” Crying

Sometimes the people who cry are literally little boys. This is also okay. No one is going to judge infant Harry for crying when Voldemort is in the house, or little Severus for crying when his parents are fighting. Interestingly, when Myrtle is talking about Draco crying in her bathroom, Harry assumes she’s talking about someone much younger: 

“There’s been a boy in here crying?” said Harry curiously. “A young boy?” 

But of course, when an adult is crying in a childlike way, it immediately becomes… pathetic. Again we have Pettigrew, who “burst into tears. It was horrible to watch: He looked like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.” In the Horcrux cave, crying Dumbledore is described “like a child dying of thirst.” Which is also meant to be pathetic, but in more of a ‘Harry has to be the adult now’ sort of way. Also, the potion seems to have made Dumbledore mentally regress back to his youth, so it’s *closer* to a literal “child crying” moment. 

(I considered putting Dumbledore drinking the potion in the ‘pain’ section, but at least in the book I think it’s clear he’s mostly in emotional rather than physical pain.)

Where this gets messy is with the house-elves. House-elves are not children, but they are presented as childlike. They are small and in-your-face, direct even though their problem-solving tends to be very convoluted/not especially logical. I like the present-tense, no pronouns way they speak, but I can’t deny it is kind of baby-talk adjacent. And… house elves are *really* emotional. Dobby, Kreacher (and Winky) cry a LOT. If I had to guess, I would say JKR likes treating house-elves as childlike so it’s more of a surprise when it turns out that one of them was behind everything. But considering that they are slaves, it is gross - considering that one of the main real-world justifications for slavery was ‘slaves are childlike, and unable to take care of themselves.'

There’s also Hagrid. With seventeen separate instances of crying, Hagrid easily cries more than any other guy in the Harry Potter books. And… well… he’s also presented as oddly childlike. He seems much more like Harry and Ron’s contemporary than a peer of the other professors - which is weird, since  if he went to school with Voldemort fifty years ago, he’s in his sixties now. But still, he’s helpless in the face of criticism, he’s comically out of his depth whenever he deals with the Ministry, he’s constantly letting things slip or drastically misjudging danger levels. The first three books all use “Hagrid gets in trouble, the gang has to bail him out” as a plot point, and in Book 4 his sideplot with Madame Maxime gets treated like a schoolboy’s first crush, with all these jokes about him wearing suits that don’t quite fit, and trying and failing to style his hair. Not to mention, we know she’s flattering him because she wants insider info on the Tournament. But he doesn’t know that. 

4. Crying because of Sports

Oliver Wood cries when Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup. That's all.

And that brings us to our stragglers. The only non-childlike guys who cry for reasons other than death, pain, or sports are as follows: 

Harry Potter: 1 instance of crying

Draco Malfoy: 2 instances of crying

Severus Snape: 2 instances of crying

Albus Dumbledore: 4 instances of crying

Horace Slughorn: 1 instance of crying

Let’s see what’s going on here. 

Harry Potter

Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him. Fang began to howl. He clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes

There’s a lot going on in this moment: Harry is tired, frustrated, disappointed, overwhelmed. But even though it is a complex moment, probably the main emotion is still Harry’s attempt to process Dumbledore’s death, now that he finally has a second to do so. So this honestly could have gone in the “Crying because of a death” category. It’s just different enough that I want to specially call it out. 

Draco Malfoy

We hear about Draco crying once from Myrtle, and then see it first hand: 

Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin.

The narrative takes a second to let us know that he was ACTUALLY CRYING, just to hammer in that this is something unexpected and not-normal. I think I want to attribute Draco’s tendency to cry - and cry because he’s overwhelmed, scared, lonely - to the character’s slight femme coding. What can I say, he cries for ""girly"" reasons. And so does Snape!

Severus Snape 

“Snivellus” is clearly a nickname meant to evoke the idea of “crybaby,” since “sniveling” is a synonym for crying. We also get this: 

Snape was kneeling in Sirius’s old bedroom. Tears were dripping from the end of his hooked nose as he read the old letter from Lily. 

Crying over Lily’s letter could count as crying over a death… but since he’s crying over a letter, not over a grave or her body (like in the movie), I’m going to say that he’s probably crying because of guilt, emotional overload, or love (especially because he rips the ‘love Lily’ off the end of that letter.) Like Draco, Snape might be getting little bit of femme-coding here. He’s the mean-girl type of bully (versus the mean boy) He cries, he threatens to poison people - which is something we only see women (and Draco) actually doing in these books. Idk, he’s an odd one who JKR clearly has very complicated feelings about. 

Albus Dumbledore 

I was actually really surprised that Dumbledore cries as much as he does, and at such unusual times! He cries when he sees Snape’s doe patronus - because of love or just because he’s emotionally overwhelmed. He cries all through the Horcrux cave, primarily because of guilt. He cries twice during the King’s Cross Station vision-quest, once because of his complicated feelings about Harry while he asks for forgiveness, and once over … Grindlewald.

“They say he showed remorse in later years, alone in his cell at Nurmengard. I hope that it is true. I would like to think he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends . . . to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow . . .”  “. . . or maybe from breaking into your tomb?” suggested Harry, and Dumbledore dabbed his eyes.

And okay. JKR announced that Dumbledore was gay just a few months after book seven was published, and I think she was folding in deliberate queer-coding as early Book 6. My proof of that is Dumbledore's increased emotionality - as we can see, it’s pretty unusual for men to cry in the Harry Potter books because of “softer” emotions like love, regret, stress etc. It’s something she associates with femininity, and I’m sure she associates gay guys with femininity as well (I mean, that’s a very common thing to do.)

There’s also this interesting passage from Book 6: 

This younger Albus Dumbledore’s long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing. “Nice suit, sir,” said Harry, before he could stop himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled.

Now, this is subtle. Wizards out and about in the muggle world often wear unusual colors like purple and emerald green. However. That adjective flamboyantly is only used one other time in the entire series, to describe Fudge’s hand gestures. But here, it is used to describe an outfit, a purple velvet suit which is honestly more than a little bit Oscar Wilde. And “flamboyantly gay” … those are two words often heard together. 

Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but I am pretty sure this is the only opinion about clothing Harry ever expresses aloud. And, I think @niche-pastiche hit the nail right on the head, saying that Harry's "Nice suit, sir" is "SO the response of a young adhd boy in the early 2000s trying not to say "thats gay." 

Horace Slughorn

Horace Slughorn cries at Aragog’s funeral, not really out of grief for Aragog, but mostly out of a maudlin sense of togetherness, nostalgia, and camaraderie. And… I do think we have one more slightly morally ambiguous femme-coded guy on our hands? Like Dumbledore, Slughorn is very much a flashy dresser, with shiny hair and gold buttons on his waistcoat. He loves treats and candies (hey… so does Dumbledore. They’re the only adults with a sweet tooth like that.) He loves fancy dinner parties, and is well-connected without being ambitious the way Lucius is. He also (like Draco) is aligned with pureblood-supremacy, but hyper avoidant of violence and confrontation. Except for the Harry example, I think I’d be comfortable with calling all of these last few instances “Femme-Coded Crying.” 

* Methodology - My list of 208 Harry Potter characters comes from TV Tropes, which had the most complete list. I am excluding characters from Cursed Child and the Fantastic Beasts Films. 

In order to find instances of crying, I searched for the words “cried/cry/crying” “tears” “sob” and “sniff.” I counted each crying episode as one, even if crying was brought up multiple times throughout the scene. I made the fairest call I could whenever I hit a “the crying intensified” or the “the tears restarted,” but I mostly judge pretty conservatively when I’m ringing up data.

[annaloveshjp]

goodbye tears

harry potter x reader

word count: 1.1k

———————————————————————————

a/n: sad sad sad!! and short :(

warnings: sad fluff, two swear words, and mentions of death.

———————————————————————————

you sat teary-eyed next to Harry as the funeral for Albus Dumbledore came to an end. Harry made sure to hold your hand the entire time, but you knew he wasn’t doing it to comfort you, it was for him, and you made sure to hold his hand right till the very end.

you could see his tear stained cheeks shining in the sunlight that shone across the Hogwarts grounds. you kept looking up to the sky so your tears wouldn’t fall, and to keep you from looking at the heart-broken silhouette of the love of your life sitting next to you, sobbing silently.

you had lost a few people in your life: your childhood dog, your aunt that you loved so dearly, and your old best friend from second grade. but you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Harry felt his whole life; he lost his parents before he could remember them, a good friend: Cedric Diggory, his godfather, Sirius, and now someone he looked up to for years.

you did your best to comfort him throughout his losses. if he needed a shoulder to cry on, it was yours. if he needed to rant until his throat ran dry, you were his diary. a distraction? no problem, you said, let’s go for a walk.

when you first met Harry, you immediately clicked. like it was meant to be. you would tell him all about your interests, and he would do the same. there was never an awkward moment between you— well, except for when he first admitted he liked you, and asked you out.

he was only fourteen, so he didn’t know how to do the whole dating thing, but you thought it was cute. he had tried to casually ask you to the yule ball “as friends”, but you could tell he wanted it to be more when you saw his hands shaking and his cheeks go red. he kissed you at the end of the night of the yule ball.

since then, you’d been closer than ever. not only intimately, but emotionally as well. he had told you he felt safe with you during his more stressful moments of fifth year. when he wept, you would hold him and tell him stories your mother passed on to you from her school years. if he was in a bad mood, you’d tell crazy stories from your childhood, or stories from summers when he was locked up. you’d spill your most embarrassing secrets if it meant a smile or watery laugh from your love.

but right now, funny stories couldn’t cheer him up. all that you could do was hold his hand and wipe his tears.

as everybody stood up from their seats, you kept your hand in Harry’s and walked wherever his feet lead him. he looked over at the sound of his name being called, you looked over and saw—

“Harry,” Rufus Scrimgeour. this bitch, you think; he didn’t look empathetic at all.

you opened your mouth to shoo him away, but Harry squeezed your hand and said quietly, “it’s fine, give me a minute.”

he gave you an unconvincing half-smile as he let go of your hand and followed Scrimgeour around the grounds. you observed their conversation from afar and noticed Harry tensing up and looking impatient. you trust him, so you waited.

after a few more minutes of an uncomfortable looking conversation, Harry made his way back to you. “kept asking about what Dumbledore and I were doing that night,” he answered your not-yet-asked question.

“that prick,” you scoff.

“calm, my love,” he rubbed your shoulder. you look up into his eyes and take a deep breath.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. “can we talk?” he looked nervous, and upset.

“‘course, what is it?” you ask him as he leads you toward the edge of the lake and away from the crowd.

he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “you know how much I love you, right?”

“yeah, I do,” you say.

“and I would never want anything to happen to you. ever.” he says. you continue looking into his eyes and he takes that as a sign to continue. “I just- I want you to be safe, and I can only think of one way to ensure that.”

fuck.

“Harry…” you start.

“Y/N, listen to me, please,” he pleaded, his voice cracking, “I love you so, so much, I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like I love you, but we can’t be together anymore.”

you know his reasoning behind this decision, though you can’t help but get choked up when you speak next.

“Harry, I know you think I c-can’t protect myself or s-something—“

“no, honey, that’s not it at all,” he interrupts, “it’s just- everyone else I’ve lost was able to protect themselves, but Voldemort is now the most powerful wizard alive. and every time I have survived, it was luck. all luck. and I can’t have me and you depending on luck for your life.”

looking down, you let out a shaky sigh. you can’t pretend you’re not scared, but you know you need each other.

“Harry, I already know about the Horcruxes and everything. why can’t I come? am I not as useful as Ron and Hermione? I can help, Harry.”

“that’s why I need you to stay here, so you can help everyone else. Ron, Hermione, and I can get the job done, and you would help loads, but I don’t want you to get hurt, or even killed because of me.” he says.

“even if I did get hurt, it wouldn’t be your fault! you can’t—“

“everything has been my fault so far, though.” he looked down, “Voldemort wanted me dead in the first place, my parents died because of me. I told Cedric to take the cup with me. my fault. I believed a false image Voldemort planted in my mind, leading to Sirius’ death. my fault. don’t you understand? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

your heart broke. you knew you couldn’t do anything that would change his mind, so you did the first thing that came to mind. you hugged him tight.

“I love you so much,” your words were muffled by his shoulder. he wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against yours. the warmth he radiated saddened you even more; you’d miss it.

“I love you more,” he sniffed, bringing one hand up to stroke your hair. you two stayed wrapped in each others arms for a few minutes, but to you it felt like seconds. you didn’t want to say goodbye yet.

he pulled back and looked at you, his nose was red and his cheeks were shining. “just promise me one thing,” he said.

“anything,” you say.

“don’t fall into an unbearable sadness while I’m gone,” he brought his hand up to your cheek to wipe away a tear that had just fallen. “I want you to be happy, and safe. promise me that too; you’ll stay safe, no matter what.”

“of course,” you put your hand over his. he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. you closed your eyes, letting more tears fall.

when he walked away, that was the first time you felt like giving up.

[amethystandemma]

Welcome to chaos!

My last introduction post is like a year old, so here we go.

AmethystandEmma’s Intro

Hi everyone! I’m Emma. I’m 20 years old, autistic, and a Christian. Plus a bunch of other stuff, but those are my main three things.

My username is AmethystandEmma because Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld is one of my favorite superheroes!

I’ve been writing fics since sixth grade, so about eight years now? I’ve recently gotten into drawing as well.

My main fandoms are currently DC Comics, Marvel Comics, Harry Potter, Hogwarts Legacy, and Fantastic Beasts. They are subject to change though, so keep that in mind.

As of October of 2024, I have become less active on all social media sites. I was feeling extremely stressed and social media was part of the reason.

I’m fine with minors being on here. I remember how lonely I felt without fandoms. It’s important to be able to connect.

It literally makes my day when people comment on my stuff or share it. I usually check out the other person's profile as well and try to spread the love back!

If you have any questions or just wanna chat, give me a DM or ask!

Pfp is a commission from @giselsann of Sebastian Sallow and Althea Moonlace (Sebthea). The header is also Sebthea.

Now, for my content (under the cut).

Fanfics!

The Funeral of Anne Sallow [COMPLETE]

Part 1

Proposal Gone Wrong (Newt Scamander x OC fic) [COMPLETE]

Part 1 -> Part 2

Radiant Glasspetal and the First Quidditch Match (Oliver Wood x OC fanfic) [COMPLETE]

Part 1 -> Part 2

No Making Out on the Quidditch Pitch! (Oliver Wood x OC) [COMPLETE]

Part 1

Young Love (Sebastian Sallow x OC) [COMPLETE]

Part 1

Times Are Changing (Oliver Wood x OC) [COMPLETE]

Part 1

The Wedding of Bruce Wayne and Silver St. Cloud [COMPLETE]

Part 1

Stolen [ONGOING]

Part 1 -> Part 2 ->

Rise of the Blue Comet (Dick Grayson x OC Fanfic) [ONGOING]

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3 ->

My Tags

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About my OCs

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[mirrorofliterature]

a promise that could not be kept

Cedric Diggory, speaking to his friends after successfully entering the Tournament, circa November 1994: “Sure, Dumbledore and the ministry can be a little reckless at times, but Percy is involved, and I trust him.”

Lord Voldemort who specialises in killing young people with bright futures, circa June 1995: “Kill the spare.”

.

Oliver Wood did not think that he would be attending a funeral this summer, but here he is, dressed in midnight black robes underneath the glare of the sun.

If he had seen a funeral in his future, it would not have been this one. One for a peer, a friend, someone barely past the cusp of adulthood. 

Yet here he is, standing straight in thick, uncomfortable robes as they say their final goodbyes to Cedric Diggory.

Where did things go wrong?

.

Alternatively: Percy & Cedric's friendship, explored from the perspective of Oliver during Cedric's funeral. Read on AO3.

[riddikuluspuff]

hermione’s haven bingo post one

title: the comfort of your touch

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45524695

square filled: viktor krum

ship: hermione granger x viktor krum

rating: teenage and up

major tags/warning(s): love confessions and fluff

summary: Hermione Granger had not seen her first crush, Viktor Krum, since the funeral of Cedric Diggory but the two of them had occasionally kept in touch through the form of letters, but they usually fell one-sided with Hermione writing more than Viktor. However, she couldn't care less. Hermione loved having someone to talk to. Someone that would listen to her problems and her feelings. She couldn't disclose everything to Harry or Ronald, so Viktor was to who she spewed all of her problems. She spoke more of her problems to him than her own parents. Hermione hated to admit it but she missed the comfort of Viktor's touch.

word count: 777 words

created for @hermiones-haven​

[di-daynamic]

@harrypocter Week 4: Padma Patil

5 times Padma stopped Parvati from doing something + 1 time she didn't

1.

Padma had learned to pick her battles.

She was a brown witch with a muggle grandparent growing up in a society which dripped with white pureblood supremacy and with a best friend who was part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a Ravenclaw with a Gryffindor sister thought of as little more than an airhead, and a member of Dumbledore’s Army.

She had had to learn.

“He was our headmaster!” Parvati hissed. “We have every right to stay and attend his funeral!”

“Not on my watch,” Their dad snapped.

“Ma!” She appealed to their mother. “Come on. Hogwarts is the safest place in Europe!”

Their mother visibly hesitated. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “But we can’t believe that. Not after the Sirius Black fiasco—”

“He was innocent!” Parvati snapped with the vehemence of someone who knew Harry Potter and how he grieved his godfather.

“But he still got in,” Dad emphasized, voice breaking. Padma looked at him. “When he was believed to be a mass murderer.” He gulped and closed his eyes, making the dark circles under them even more evident. “Cedric Diggory. Katie Bell. Now Death Eaters got in here—”

“You can’t throw their names at us,” Parvati said, her lips trembling. “You can’t use his memory to – to force us to leave—”

“We’re not forcing you,” Ma said. She leaned forward and reached out to Parvati, who brushed her off. “We’re begging you. It’s not safe here.”

“We agreed at the beginning of the year that Dumbledore being here and the protections the Ministry set were enough,” Dad said forcefully. “For some reason, I let the two of you remain even after the attack on your classmate. You could have died last night.” His voice broke, and his hand trembled. “No more. You’re coming home.”

It wasn’t that they weren’t right.  With Dumbledore’s death, the castle had become a lot less secure. With his funeral being held right there, thousands would gather. Any one of them could be a Death Eater in disguise. She had no doubt the funeral of pretty much the leader of the fight against You-Know-Who would be an incredibly strategic target.

“I want to attend the funeral!” Parvati said sharply. “It’s not like home will be much safer.” She pointed out. Their parents flinched.

Padma had seen the way her dad tensed every time news of a murder came in - especially Amelia Bones, who’d had the same amount of security and notoriety the Patils had. She’d seen her mother having nightmares from her time fighting in the first war as Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. She’d seen the way Pansy avoided her gaze when talking about the holidays.

But Parvati was right too. Hogwarts was where they belonged, with their friends. She knew her sister immensely regretted not having her DA coin on her last night, that she’d joined the fray too late, after Draco Malfoy had fled. Padma wanted to attend the funeral of their headmaster too.

Her skull felt like a million red hot hammers were pressing into it. She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall as her parents and sister argued in circles, making the same points repeatedly.

“You’re our children!” Dad said, sounding crazed. He pressed his hands in his hair. “You have to understand – we need to keep you safe! How are we supposed to let you stay here, when it’s so dangerous, when the Ministry is months from falling, when any time someone might come to recruit you, when you’ve already decided to become child soldiers—”

“The DA isn’t about fighting!” Parvati said angrily. “It’s about defending and—”

“Okay,” Padma cut in. “We’ll come home.”

She had learned to pick her battles and this wasn’t one she wanted to fight.

“What?” Parvati turned on her, stunned. Padma had to swallow at the look of betrayal on her face.

“They’re right,” she preempted her sister. “It’s too dangerous. We need to go home.” She tried to convey the complexities of the matter silently – their parents wouldn’t give in this time, it truly was dangerous, remaining at Hogwarts was pretty much pointless when school was over and everyone was wrung out with grief and exhaustion and worry and half were leaving anyway, their parents’ trauma was affecting the way they viewed things and the twins couldn’t make it worse, they could argue about attending the funeral and seeing their friends later – but Parvati didn’t meet her gaze.

Dad turned to Parvati with an air of triumph that made her wince. “Dekho! Your sister agrees. Now—”

“Meri jaan—” Ma started, trying to remedy that.

“Don’t, Ma,” Parvati said tiredly. “Fine. We’ll go pack.”

All her defiance was gone. Padma swallowed again.

Parvati turned on her the moment their parents left them at the gates of the castle. “How could you?” She demanded, sounding close to tears. “How could you side with them?”

“Parv—”

“It’s dangerous?” She laughed maniacally. “Like the entire world isn’t going to fucking narak right now—”

“It wasn’t only about that—”

“Like all our friends aren’t here, like the person after whom the DA was named for isn’t dead, like we both don’t know we’re going to fight in the war because our friends will because Harry has to—”

“Mujhe pataa hai! But that doesn’t need to be addressed right now—”

“I just figured,” Parvati shook her head. “That you of all people wouldn’t disagree with and abandon me.”

Her throat closed up. “I’m not doing either of those things,” she tried.

“Pack your bags, behen. We’re going home, apparently.” She said bitterly and stalked off.

Padma stood behind, watching helplessly, eyes stinging with tears.

Had there been a right choice?

2.

“We’re nine!” Parvati said, jumping up and down.  “We’re so big now! Paresh mama has to stop calling us the babies now,” she said, nodding determinedly.

“We’re still younger than the others,” Padma pointed out, stopping her sister’s growingly physical excitement.

Parvati stopped flailing about, pouting. “Tu mujhe mazaa karne kabhi deti hi nahi,” she complained.

“I let you have plenty of fun!” Padma protested, insulted. “And if you had kept making that much noise, Ma and Dad will come up to scold us. Stop it.” Parvati let out a loud sigh. Even she clearly thought it would be a pity to end their amazing birthday with their parents coming to yell at them for staying up past bedtime.

“In two years, we’ll get our Hogwarts letters,” Padma said excitedly, changing the subject.

“That’s two years!” Parvati said, waving her hands for emphasis. “Doooooo saaaaaal,” she stretched, giggling. “I can’t wait! We’ll have so much fun!”

“You, Pansy and me,” Padma said, nodding fiercely. “We’ll make an amazing trio!”

“Dad says it’s a castle,” Parvati said in awe. “With a large talab!”

“Lake,” Padma corrected. “We’ll have to speak only in English there. Not many people will know Hindi.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to stop speaking it now,” Parvati protested. “Did Pansy say something?”

“Nahi!” Padma squeaked. “I just think we need to practice.” She added, hoping it had thrown Parvati off the scent. Pansy hadn’t said much, she’d just made a casual comment about it being difficult to switch to speaking only in one language for them after being bilingual their entire lives. But Padma had taken it to heart, like she did with most criticism.

“Not now,” Parvati decided. Padma shrugged and nodded. It was fine. Pansy and their parents and their teachers wouldn’t care, which was all Padma cared about. “Cordelia and Gillian want to play a joke on Mister Ramsay tomorrow,” she continued. “Mein ne bola mein madat karoongi.”

“Parvati!” Padma scolded.

“It’s just some fun,” her sister said. “We’re going to put some sneezing pilleties—”

“Pellets,” Padma corrected.

Parvati waved a hand in a dismissive way. “On his desk. That’d mean he’d achoo-achoo his whole way through class!” She said, clearly pleased with herself.

“But that could be khatarnak,” Padma said, frowning.

“Kaise?”

“Sneezing continuously makes you dizzy,” Padma said, adopting her lecturer’s pose. “And you don’t know what’s in those pellets!”

“It’ll be fine,” Parvati argued.

“Parv, our class is forty minutes, sneezing continuously for that long could be really bad!”

Parvati looked doubtful. “Okay, but I can’t stop them. . .”

“They’ll listen to you! How would you feel if they were called to the principal’s office? Or Mr. Ramsay had to go to the nurse?” Parvati persisted. “They don’t even have magic to heal him!”

That sold it. They were too used to having their parents magic away every booboo. “You’ll help me?” She asked.

“Bilkul.”

“And we can do something else, something that isn’t as dangerous,” Parvati decided. She didn’t look enthused. “Come oooon, Padma. Pleeeeaaaase?”

Padma sighed. “I can’t let you get into trouble without me.”

“Yay!” Parvati squealed, jumping into Padma’s bed and hugging her.

“Parvati, they’ll come up!” She hissed, but hugged back.

“You’ll be with me even if they do,” Parvati said, sounding remarkably unconcerned.

“Obviously,” Padma rolled her eyes. “We’re sisters.”

“Behen!” Parvati cheered. “Together forever!” She held out her pinkie. Padma stared at it, unimpressed. “Come on.”

Sighing, she wrapped her own around her sister’s. “Together forever.”

“Maybe we can do an agni yajna to seal it!”

“No, Parvati.”

3.

A loud scream echoed through the Great Hall.

Padma turned, concerned. “Who’s that? Can we help?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, her usually stern but kindly face melted into despair. “That’s George Weasley, dear.”

“George?” Padma blinked. “Wha – what happened?”

“It’s Fred,” Anthony Goldstein said grimly, not stopping applying dittany on an unconscious Ernie Macmillan’s arm.

“He’s not--?” Padma started, but she didn’t need to finish. The scream had trailed off into gasping sobs.

Padma swallowed as she mended Devin Abbott’s broken arm, moving to Janet Waite, who had multiple wounds from Acromantulas.

Her throat was dry. Fred Weasley. She remembered him from her sister’s tales of the Gryffindor common room, from pranks and jokes in the corridors, his awe-inspiring defiance of Umbridge, and his excellent wandwork in the DA.

And she had never once thought of him without the addition of George.

His twin brother. George had lost his twin.

Feeling a sudden bout of empathy and panic, Padma’s hands shook as she forced down a Blood Replenishing Potion down the throat of someone she didn’t recognize.

Anthony’s gaze softened when he looked at her. “Go. Find her. We’ll manage.”

“Thanks, Ant,” was all she managed before she ran off. “Have you seen Parvati?” She asked Hannah Abbott.

She nodded, hair falling back revealing a blood-stained scar on her face. “She was sent out to – to gather the wounded and dead,” she said. “I think she’s assigned to the first two staircases in the Entrance Hall.”

“Thank you!” Padma called as she sped away. She passed Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley hauling in a wounded man who groaned with pain, gave someone directions to Madam Pomfrey’s make-shift clinic, stopped to help Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt heal someone from a curse growing hair on the inside of their lungs, and finally reached the Entrance Hall. Emeralds from the Slytherin hourglass were spilled all over the floor, blood trickling through them. Mandrakes, strands of venomous tentacula and shards of crystal balls added to the general vibe of wartime chaos.

“I’m going after him!” She heard Parvati snarl. “Let me go! Now!”

Matharchod.

“Padma!” Katie Bell hailed her in relief, as she got closer and spotted the limp body of her sister’s best friend. It was instantly clear what had happened to her. Padma felt bile rise in her throat, but forced it down to look at her sister instead, and savour the guilty relief that she was safe.

The rest of the world could be dead or dying, but Parvati was safe.

“Padma,” Parvati echoed, her voice dead, launching herself at her. Padma wrapped her arms around her sister and held her tight, hearing George Weasley’s screams even though she was long past hearing range. “I need to go after him.”

“Parv—”

“No! No, you can’t—” she began sobbing. “Lavender is – she’s – how is she going to deal with the scars? She’s going to hate herself – that’s my best friend— I’m going to kill Greyback --”

Padma forced the knowledge of Parvati’s denial of her best friend’s chances of surviving back, instead holding her as she gave great heaving coughs and bawled into her shirt.

“We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey now,” she said, making sure Parvati understood the urgency. Still keeping a hold of Parvati, she moved to see how best to move the bo- to move Lavender. “Katie, levitation. Carefully.”

“Right,” the ex-Gryffindor nodded. The matter-of-factness reminded her of Pansy, and with a pang, she remembered how their last conversation had gone.

Not now.

Lavender gave a great groan as she was levitated, which gave Padma hope she might survive. She didn’t dare interfere – levitating a person was bad enough, and Padma might be an amateur healer, but she certainly wasn’t good enough to try her hand at cursed wounds, especially those inflicted by a werewolf.

They followed Katie to the Great Hall entrance, wands at the ready to take over, but the older girl had always been steady in her castings in the DA, and she had maintained it the past two years. Padma couldn’t make herself go inside. George was still sobbing, and it reverberated around the Hall.

She felt Parvati move from beside her the minute Lavender was swarmed by Madam Pomfrey, Healer Vance and Anthony, all looking grimly determined, and she reached out to grasp her wrist.

“Let me go,” Parvati hissed.

“No way,” Padma snapped back. “Are you insane?”

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same if it was Anthony or Parkinson or me like that,” she said, deadly soft.

Padma forced herself to meet her sister’s gaze. “I can’t. But it’s not one of you, so I’m holding you back from going and getting yourself killed. Lavender wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know what she’d want?” Parvati said angrily. “You’ve never once deigned to speak to her.”

She scowled at the reminder of her haughtiness towards Lavender. She sighed. “Fine. But I know you love her, and you would never love someone who’d want you to get yourself killed in seeking vengeance.”

“I won’t get myself killed---”

“Yes, you will.”

“I’m a good fighter—”

“I know you are. Believe me. You’ve outscored me every time we’ve had a decent defence teacher. You did amazing in the DA. It’s still dangerous.”

Parvati laughed scornfully. “You sound like our parents.”

“Parv. Greyback will have gone back to You-Know-Who – Voldemort – now. Charging in there recklessly like a Gryffindor will get you killed. That’s it. It won’t avenge Lavender.”

Parvati blinked back tears. “But then – I have to – he – I need to kill him. Or at least incarcerate him.”  

Padma held back a sigh. Her sister, always a fighter. “I know. But you think he won’t end the ceasefire in an hour when Harry doesn’t surrender? The fighting will start again. Greyback will join the fray.”

Parvati leaned against the wall, the manic look fading, replaced by steely determination. “And then I’ll find him.” She took a deep breath. “Padma. I saw Parkinson near Greenhouse Three.”

“You what?”

“I’m going to go sit with Lavender. Go find her.”

“Parv—”

“Go. It’s okay. I’m not going to run off.” She said reassuringly.

“I don’t believe you.” Padma said with narrowed eyes.

Parvati flicked her braid back. “You’re right, as always. Lav would miraculously heal herself just to come kill me if I went after Greyback right now. Without even proper make-up. And anyway—” she hesitated. “I need to know—”

Who else has died, hung in the air.

“I love you,” Padma whispered into her sister’s hair.

“Love you too, behena. Go be all lovey-dovey.”

4.

“What are you doing?”

“Has Anthony left already?” Parvati asked, startled. “I thought he’d stay longer.”

Usually Padma would’ve snarked that she and Anthony weren’t as codependent best friends as Parvati and Lavender were, but with Lavender still in St. Mungo’s, still in critical condition, the thought barely formed before being crushed.

“He went to check on his family,” she answered. “He’s worried about them.”

“Aren’t we all?” Parvati muttered wryly, eyes still on the parchment. The war had ended, but Death Eaters were still at large. Parvati was right, Anthony was far from being the only one who was paranoid about his family’s safety. “Have you heard from Parkinson?”

Padma reflected on how glad she was that her darker skin prevented blushing, because heat rose in her face at the thought of Pansy. “Stop distracting me. What are you writing?”

“It’s nothing. Anyway, you’re seriously telling me the witch who is in love with you enough to return to a battle she was terrified of hasn’t contacted you?”

Padma ignored that, walking over to the desk and seizing the parchment. “Chutiya!” Parvati cried angrily. “Give that back!”

She danced around the room, avoiding her sister’s grasping hands. “Dear Headmistress McGonagall, I thank you for the information and letter and hereby state that I will be enrolling for the ‘eighth year batch’ and—what?” She finished incredulously. “You’re coming back to Hogwarts?”

“So what?” Parvati asked defensively. “I want to. You’re going back.”

“Well – yes, but that’s because I need NEWTs to start a Mastery and go into Spell Efficacy and Research. You don’t need them.”

“I have every right to make my own decision, and this is what I’ve decided. I want to go back to Hogwarts.” Parvati said firmly, but she didn’t meet Padma’s gaze and her lips trembled.

“Parv,” she said softly. “We both you know you want to join the Aurors with Harry and Neville and Ernie and Morag and Ron and the others, and that like everyone in the DA you have that option. Why are you writing to go back to school?”

“It’s my decision.”

“Sure, and as your sister, I’m asking why you’re taking this particular one.”

Parvati paced the room. “I can’t leave you alone there,” she said, finally. “We just fought a battle at Hogwarts. It’s not safe, especially with so many high priority targets like Harry’s best friend and girlfriend attending.”

Padma raised an eyebrow. “Sure, and you are definitely someone to shy away from danger. You know I can take care of myself. Cut the crap. Sach bol.”

“Fine! How do I know this is what I want to do?” She asked. “I saw my friends get killed. I’ve seen dead bodies. I’ve killed. What does it say about me that I want to jump right back into the fight? How do I know this isn’t just because we grew up having to learn to defend ourselves and joined the DA? I’ve only wanted to be an Auror since—”

“Fourth year,” Padma completed, leaving since we saw Harry having a mental breakdown over Cedric’s dead body unspoken. “That’s more than three years now, Parv. Do you really think if it weren’t for the war, you’d take a nice cushy job? You’ve always defended people. You’ve always stood up for what was right. You’ve always been incredible at defensive and offensive magic – you were one of the best in the DA. You’ve always wanted to fight the good fight. Wanting to become an Auror was just another way to further that.”

Parvati furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you really think me being an Auror would be a good decision?” She asked tremulously.

Padma hesitated. All her bossy instincts and knowledge of who her sister was told her to tell Parvati firmly that yes, she was meant to be an Auror. Her protective side wanted to wrap her in basilisk hide armour and stow her away where no one could ever harm her again. She sighed. “I can’t tell you what to do or think. As someone who knows and loves you, I think that you’ve wanted this for a long time and that even if it eventually goes wrong, you’ll regret not taking this opportunity, especially since Death Eaters are still at large. But ultimately, this is your decision, and I will support you no matter what you choose.”

There. That was truthful and kind.

She was quiet for several moments. “I’ll talk to Lavender and Hermione and Neville first,” she said finally. “But … yeah. You’re right. I don’t want to go to Hogwarts. I’ll chafe there, after the year we’ve had.”

Padma smiled softly. “You will. Why them, though?”

Parvati shrugged. “Lav’s my best friend, and I want her opinion. Hermione isn’t taking the Aurors’ offer, though she’s helping out, so I want that perspective. Neville was our leader this year, and he’s joining too, so it’ll be helpful.”

“Fair enough.” Pleased, she turned to leave, but her sister caught her.

“Oh, itni jaldi nahi.” She spoke. “I’m not wasting this parchment. You’re writing to Parkinson.”

“You don’t even like her!” Padma exclaimed, trying to get out of the grip.

“I don’t. But you care for her. You’ve liked her since before the Yule Ball, and honestly, you’ve pined enough.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” she muttered sullenly. “She was all gaga for Malfoy.”

“And she’s been gaga for you since we were kids,” Parvati said firmly. “Write.”

Padma sighed and obeyed. Her sister could be right once in a while, she supposed.

5.

“What happened between you and Pansy?” Parvati asked curiously.

“Pucho mat,” Padma grumbled.

“I’ve never seen you two fight,” she needled. “Ma says you told her to make Pansy go away! What did she do? Is it to do with us going to muggle school? Is it to do with Hogw--?”

“It’s none of your business, Parvati. Chup re.” She snapped. Her sister looked hurt. “Sorry.” She sighed and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m just really, really mad at her. You’re right, it’s about Hogwarts.”

“Maybe we’ll find a new best friend at Hogwarts,” Parvati suggested.

“She’s still my best friend!” Padma exclaimed, panicked at the thought that she wasn’t. Did the fight mean – were they not friends any longer? But she couldn’t! Maybe she should apologize. . .?

“Woah, Padma, calm down.” Parvati said. She swung her legs. “Pansy adores you. You’ll be friends again in no time.”

“But she was very bad to me,” Padma argued, remembering the cutting things Pansy had said.

“You’re the one who still wants to be friends.” Padma crossed her arms and pouted at that, since it was undeniable. “But soch, Padma, we’re finally going to Hogwarts!” She crowed. “Only one month left! It’ll be sooooo much fun!” She said in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Padma laughed. She’d think about Pansy later. Something occurred to her. “Did dad tell you how they Sort us?”

“Noooo,” her sister whined. “He says it’s tradition that first years go in without knowing.”

Padma huffed. “How can not knowing something be considered a tradition? It’s ridiculous.”

Parvati considered. “I don’t know. It seems adventurous, right? Going in without all the information.”

“It’s reckless,” she corrected primly. “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t worry,” Parvati comforted. “Dad said it’ll be in alphabetical order, so you’ll be called before me. And then I’ll just make sure we end up in the same place.” She nodded confidently.

“Wait, what?” Padma asked, bewildered. “Why would you do that?”

Parvati looked at her like she was crazy. “So we’re together, obviously! I mean, we’re twins. We’re similar enough that we can end up in the same house.”

“No you won’t,” Padma said sharply. “It’s a personality-based test. You’re going where you’re told to. You can’t argue just to be with me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not right, Parv! You can’t just—”

Her sister’s eyes were filled with tears. “If you don’t want to be with me, you should just say it.”

“Waise mat bolo! It’s not that. It’s just—if you’re good for one house, and you insist that you want to be with me, maybe it’ll be bad for you! Maybe the house I’m in will treat you badly or something,” she fretted. “You should be somewhere where you can thrive and grow well.”

“But we’ve always been together,” Parvati whispered, slightly mollified at the reassurance.

“And we’ll still be!” Padma nodded determinedly. “If they say people from separate houses can’t be friends, we’ll just prove them wrong. I love proving people wrong.”

“Maybe if you were ever right, you could do it more often,” Parvati teased, now looking happy. Padma stuck her tongue out at her.

“Kids! If you want any pakoras or kachoris you need to come down now!” Ma called.

“Coming!” They both howled back.

“I get more than you, ‘cause you said you didn’t want to be with me!”

“No you won’t, you little--!”

+1.

“And the two of you will leave, of course,” Dad said, looking expectantly at them.

Parvati scoffed and laughed out loud. Padma simply stared at their parents.

“No, we’re not,” Parvati said confidently.

“Beta,” Ma said with trepidation. “You have to! This is—" she wrung her hands together, and Padma felt a stirring of sympathy. “This is the battle of the century! The ultimate one, if Harry Potter is here.”

“Exactly,” Parvati exhaled. “Which is why we’re fighting. We can’t all run away or give up.” Padma looked away, unable to shake off the feeling of pointing her wand at her – whatever Pansy was to her.

“Not all of us, but you can,” Dad said angrily. “You have no responsibility to be here, no reason to—”

“No responsibility or reason?” Padma asked incredulously. “Of course we do! This is our school. It’s our home. Most of our friends are here. We’re fighting.”

Parvati smiled proudly. Their parents paled at their more reasonable daughter arguing too. They looked stricken.

Dad scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten sucked into the Gryffindor heedless glory-hound mentality too, Padma.” It probably would’ve stung them more if he hadn’t looked so utterly and completely terrified.

“It’s not about the glory,” Parvati started.

“It’s about justice and what’s right,” Padma added.

“And fighting for it,”

“And for a world in which we want to live and grow up in.”

“It’s about love—” She thought of Pansy, who was so terrified, and of Anthony, setting his jaw and remaining at the Ravenclaw table.

“And about friendship and togetherness—”

“And because someone has to fight him, and the ugliness and the prejudice of our world and I am a Gryffindor and we do not run.”

“And I am a Ravenclaw and I know when to stand and fight.” Padma finished.

She wondered if this was how Fred and George felt all the time, with how they completed one another’s sentences. Unity and love and understanding swirled within them as they locked eyes.

Their parents looked defeated. Ma sniffed and wiped her eyes with a hanky she’d produced out of nowhere. Dad looked helpless, and yet so proud.

“I don’t know what we did to raise such amazing children,” he said quietly. “And while I certainly wish you had an ounce of self-preservation, well—” he smiled sadly.

“So where do we get our marching orders, generals?” Ma asked, and suddenly, she wasn’t Ma who scolded them and healed their cuts and baked and roamed around with frizzy hair and bargained with (yelled at) shopkeepers. She was the MLEP captain, who had won medals for her actions in the First War.

“Great Hall,” Parvati said, similarly struck.

As they walked, Lavender came over, said hi to their parents and started jabbering on with Parvati about something Padma didn’t care to feign interest in.

Anthony caught sight of her from where he was talking to Terry and Ernie, and came over. “Staying, then?” He asked quietly.

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Naturally.”

He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

The Great Hall was still teeming with underage stragglers, and Order of the Phoenix members giving commands, and roars of delight at seeing old friends and alumni.

Padma knew how to pick her battles, and this was one she was proud to be fighting in.

Her sister slipped her hand in hers as they waited to be assigned to their groups. “Love you,” she whispered. “Baadme, behena.”

“Love you too, behena.”

Hindi guide:

Dekho = See

Meri jaan = My life; an endearment

Narak = hell

Mujhe pata hai = I know

Behen = sister

Tu mujhe mazaa karne kabhi deti hi nahi = You never let me have any fun

Do saal = two years

Talab = Lake

Nahi = No

Mein ne bola mein madat karoongi = I said I will help

Khatarnak = Dangerous

Kaise = How

Bilkul = Of course

Agni yajna = Fire sacrifice

Matharchod and Chutiya = Swear words

Sach bol = Tell the truth

Itni jaldi nahi = Not so fast

Pucho mat = Don’t ask

Chup re = Keep quiet

Soch = Think

Waise mat bolo = Don’t say that

Pakoras and Kachoris = Fried snacks

Beta = child

Badme = Later

The length got away with me. Again. Though much more, this time. I swear, only the first part was meant to be posted.

The moments here mirror one another: 1st and +1 are Padma agreeing and disagreeing with their parents, 2nd and 5th are promising to be together and yet taking their own paths, and 3rd and 4th are Padma stopping Parvati from fighting and encouraging her to fight.

The Padma/Pansy thing started with the Parvati-and-Pansy-knew-one-another-before-Hogwarts theory, and went into me contemplating inter-house relationships, especially romantic, in the times of the war. Also, since Padma means flower and Pansy is a name of a flower it seemed cute. Of course, by that logic Padma and Lavender would make a cute pairing too, and I did consider that, but I thought that a Padma/Lavender rivals to lovers fic featuring Ron and Parvati friendship where they bemoan how their sister and best mate are in love deserved its own separate fic. And since I apparently have no self-control, I’ll probably be writing that too.

Padma and Anthony being besties who nerd out with one another is my new headcanon.

Feedback appreciated!

[runyou-clever-boy]

"I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

Zacharias Smith

Zacharias Smith (November 27th, 1991) was a wizard who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who was Sorted into and a member of Hufflepuff House

Gender: cis-man

Face Claim: Hugh Laughton Scott

Pronouns: he/him/his

Star sign: Scorpio

Age: verse dependant 

Height: 6”1 or 185.42 cm

Sexuality: bi-curious 

Relationship Status: single

Pure Blooded

He was a Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team 

Wand: Rigid, Dragon Heartstring Core, Hawthorn, less than 9inches.

Boggart: Voldernmort 

Member of Dumbledore's Army, an organisation taught and led by Harry Potter

On 2 May 1998, he abandoned the D.A. instead of fighting with them during the Battle of Hogwarts

Ronald Weasley detested him as soon as they met, mostly because of his insolent and cynical attitude while talking to the trio, and his disloyalty towards Harry Potter and Hogwarts

Zacharias was born into the Smith family, Smith was the surname of a wizarding family that descended from Helga Hufflepuff, one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Their family heirloom, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, was stolen from Hepzibah Smith by Tom Marvolo Riddle, who then turned it into one of his Horcruxes. It was eventually destroyed by Hermione Granger, who stabbed it with a Basilisk fang. 

Zacharias’ father is probably the main reason Zacharias acts the way he does. His father has been telling him stories about their ancient ancestry all his life, which has made Zacharias believe that he is above most of his fellow students. Zacharias’ mother is a very sweet woman, who, unlike her husband and son, does fit in perfectly with Hufflepuff House. It might be thanks to her that Zacharias has his kind moments every now and then.

Zacharias is close to both his parents, but he doesn’t trust a lot of people apart from them. Zacharias is a bit of a loner and he didn’t have any friends before coming to Hogwarts.

Zacharias Smith was described as a tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose. Zacharias Smith seemed to generally be a rather unpleasant person and was seen as overly critical of Harry Potter in the D.A. He was also pushy and insensitive in questioning Ginny Weasley and rude and biased in his Quidditch commentary. He was obnoxious, condescending, pessimistic, and a hypocritical ingrate. He failed to see flaws in himself and was constantly openly insulting people or pointing out exaggerated facts or opinions about said people. When he was part of Dumbledore's Army, he obnoxiously criticised and challenged Harry's competence as a teacher as well as a wizard. 

The main reason he attended the D.A. recruitment meeting was to hear details regarding Cedric Diggory's death; even though Harry made it clear the meeting was not about such topics and that he has no intention of speaking of it. Smith pressed on the matter until Harry bluntly told him to stay down or leave

Aside from this lack of fair play, Smith also showed cowardice and a lack of the loyalty uncharacteristic of Hufflepuff house in fleeing, instead of fighting for his school and fellow students in their time of greatest need. He was so selfish that he went as far as to forcefully rush through first years in his great haste to escape. He did not stay for the late headmaster Dumbledore's funeral, instead leaving the moment his "haughty-looking" father came to pick him up.

AFTER THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS

Zacharias completed both his OWLs as well as his NEWTs where he went on to work for the Ministry Authorities - a group of convened Ministry of Magic officials with the power to give orders or enforce employee-related policy at the Ministry Headquarters, in London. Now an office drone, Zacharias is never pleased, struggling with the guilt and the many thoughts of others despite how he may present himself.  

Potions [A]

Charms [O]

Transfiguration [E]

Herbology [E]

Care of Magical Creatures [P]

History of Magic [E]

Defence Against the Dark Arts [O]

Study of Ancient Runes [A]

Arithmancy [P]

Charms [O] / Transfiguration [E] / Herbology [O] / History of Magic [O] / Defence Against the Dark Arts [O]

[pariahsparadise]

ghosts | c.d.

nav. | m.list

pairings: cedric diggory x gn!reader

a/n: i'm not the best at angst (but not for lack of trying)

massive trigger warnings: character death, self harm, self injury, swearing, angst angst angst

wc: 1k

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It’s been a week since the world ended.

Not that it feels that way exactly, because everyone seems to be moving on already. There’s already talks of gossip, seeds of doubt creeping into everyone’s minds- is Harry lying? How could they trust a 14 year olds words? Was he the one to kill Cedric, just to win the cup?

You don’t want the answer to the last question. You want it erased from your brain, but you can’t, can’t get rid of it. It’s everywhere you look, the glaring doubt about how it all happened, how could you have let this happen? You knew this tournament was dangerous from the start and had even told Ced so, why had you let him convince you? You should’ve pushed harder, you should’ve talked him out of entering, you should’ve saved him.

It isn’t just the shadow in the mirror who thinks this, it’s everyone. Wherever you go, whispers and accusations follow, you were the person closest to him, after all. If anyone had been able to stop him, prevent this, it would have been you. What you can’t tell them is that you fucking agree, that it’s hurting you worse than they could have imagined, that you’re sick of living in the skin of someone so fucking despicable. Your knives trace red into the skin where his lips used to trail, cutting into the wrists he once kissed down slowly, gently, with such care you felt like porcelain. He’s claimed you, heart and soul, your body branded with his name over and over, reinforced with every fleeting touch the two of you shared.

Cedric. Cedric. Cedric.

“Cedric?”

“Who else would it be?”

Your breath catches as you look at him, standing in front of you casually, as if he’s about to walk you to class. His dirty-blonde hair is ruffled but still perfect, his Hufflepuff tie is loose, and his face isn’t as scarred as it was anymore. Not as scarred as it was at-

“-your funeral. You’re dead. You died in the Maze. What the fuck is- is this?”

Cedric looks amused, and it does alleviate some of the strain on your heart, some of the tension in your welling, unshed tears, “I’m right here, love. How could I be here if I died in the maze?”

He smiles. You’re being ridiculous.

You smile.

You kiss him, and he’s real, the floodgates open and your tears spill, red leaks from your wrists, but he’s wrapping his arms around you and it’s Cedric. And it’s perfect.

“Who all know?” You ask him, hands now tightly on both sides of his waist, pinching hard, not wanting to let go for even a second.

“No one but you, and I’d like to keep it that way. Harry’s right about You-Know-Who being the one after me. Is it alright if I lay low here for a while? I’ll be quiet, I promise, you won’t even know that I’m-”

“You can always stay here,” you whisper, your hands crushing into his hip bones but he doesn’t even wince, “Please.”

You spend the next month with him, revelling in his company after having it permanently (or so you believed) taken from you. The two of you settle into domesticity, he wraps your wounds and cooks breakfast, you stroke his hair and kiss his scars, the two of you free-falling down a one way path to the most toxic codependency, but you don’t care, you just can’t. You have Cedric back, see, and that’s all you need. You can keep his secret, you can keep him safe this time, fix what you had broken before.

That’s until Amos visits.

“I see you’ve got two plates set up already,” he greets, new wrinkles on his skin, eyebags sagging deeper with the grief they now hold. “How’d you know I was coming?”

“Lucky guess?” You say a little panickedly, whirling around to look at the table where you were sitting with Cedric, but he’s already gone. Quick on his feet, that one is.

Amos slides into the chair and you take the one across from him, and you finally talk to the man you always hoped would become your father-in-law. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to somebody outside of Cedric for a while now, and evidently it’s his too; he leaves sentences unfinished and can’t meet your eyes, his own overtaken by the ghosts of his follies.

And then they overflow, tears dripping out from them quicker than you can process and your heart cracks in two, the slowly healing crevice splitting open once more as you rush to his side, reliving the sight of Cedric’s body before you and you’re crying too, just remembering how weak and broken he had looked.

But Amos is crying harder.

So, you tell him. It’s only fair. Cedric wouldn’t mind, Amos is his father. Cedric loves his father.

You don’t understand why Amos starts howling, clutching at his chest like you just ripped his heart out of it, why he’s looking right at you when he sobs, why he shouts,

“Oh God. Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, oh God-” he cuts himself off to take a gasp of air, filling his lungs with air and guilt, because his son will never fill his own again, “-Y/N, he’s gone. We saw his body, he’s gone, you need to see that.”

“Y/N, Cedric is dead.”

You kick Amos out, his howls scratching away at your head, grating your skin, he’s lying, he’s lying, he has to be, because if he isn’t, it means Cedric is. You scream for your boyfriend, ransacking through your entire house, searching for him, screaming your throat raw.

You never see him again.

You never stop looking.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

this made more sense in my head sorry

[jimblejamblewritings]

yes, i’m a squib | part 26.

Summary: Y/N Black has always been a squib, to the dismay of her pureblood family. Cast out to the orphanage at a young age, she thought that was her life. Until her relative Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban. Suddenly a letter to Hogwarts in thrusted into her hand and Y/N becomes a true part of the magical Wizarding World.

Warnings for the Series: violence, death, light smut, angst, fluff

Pairing: harry potter x black!reader, cedric diggory x black!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Grimmauld Place was quiet. Remus, Tonks, and Andromeda left you alone. Kreacher didn’t talk around you like he used to. Your friends stopped writing letters when you never responded back. After the funeral, everyone came to the same conclusion. You needed time. And a lot of it. The only thing that broke through to you was Padfoot. Even the plants in the attic had been neglected. You had big plans to work on your alchemy over the summer and they all fell through.

You arrived at the Burrow with Remus and Tonks. It was agreed that having people in Grimmauld would not be taking your mental health into consideration. No one ran to you when you walked in. They all just watched and waited for you to put down Padfoot but you never did. You weren’t even excited to see Fleur or hear of the engagement between her and Bill. You merely gave your former Alchemy classmate a wave.

“Where’s Harry?” you asked before coughing.

“Not here yet. He’s coming with Dumbledore in a minute.”

You nodded and said you’d be upstairs. Mrs. Weasley pulled Remus aside.

“She’s coughing again?”

“Not from screaming,” he reassured. “She just doesn’t say more than two words a week. She hasn’t this entire summer. If she talks more, it’s to the cat.”

“Do you think she’ll come down for dinner?”

Remus shook his head. True to Remus’ word, you hadn’t come down for dinner. They weren’t sure if you had gone to bed or not. Eventually as each person passed by the bedroom you were in, they could see a light underneath it. It was late into the night when someone knocked on your door.

“Come in,” you said almost barely above a whisper.

Harry poked his head through the doorway. “(Y/N)?”

He didn’t expect you to run to him. Harry was barely given time to breathe before you were kissing him. You closed your door, keeping your back against it. At first, Harry kissed you back before pulling away because he felt like something was wrong. You looked at him before dropping your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Not that I don’t love snogging you but… that wasn’t you, (Y/N). What’s wrong, love?”

You met his eyes. “I need to feel something, I haven’t since…”

Harry kissed your forehead and held you close. “I’m not taking advantage of you and snogging you up and down the Burrow, but I’ll stay here tonight if you want.”

“Please?”

You went back to the bed and closed your eyes while Harry changed into pajamas. He held you close to him, drumming patterns on your back until you fell asleep. You clutched onto him in your sleep in the same way you had been holding your cat for most days.

Harry couldn’t believe that Remus considered this the better version of how you had been. The first bit of your summer was riddled with crying so much they thought you might pass out from dehydration. You had finally moved into the stage of not feeling anything. According to Remus, a step in the right direction but Harry didn’t believe it much. He turned over so you were both on your sides— you didn’t stir at all. Pressing a faint kiss to your shoulder, Harry went to sleep.

Morning didn’t bring much change to you. Harry reluctantly gave you a kiss after you begged and said he wouldn’t be taking advantage of you. He pulled away before it could turn into snogging. Ron informed Ginny and Hermione that Harry hadn’t come to his room to sleep and they all could assume where he was. It was like everyone moved around you. They learned how. You would sit on the couch or in the Weasleys’ garden. If you were holding Padfoot, they knew not to even try speaking. If you weren’t or you sat next to one of them, they could talk but they shouldn’t expect a reply back. You started sitting at the dinner table for meals. You barely ate. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t let you up from the table until you took a few bites.

They were glad to see you were no longer in black— not completely. You were wearing all your Hufflepuff stuff, adding the splash of yellow. Considering at dinner on the first night Remus told them that you had been wearing only Sirius’ clothes before progressing to black, the addition of yellow was very much welcomed. You came downstairs after everyone else and dropped Padfoot next to Harry. He absentmindedly petted your cat as you went to get water. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t let you leave the kitchen until you ate a scone. You sat on the couch and flopped your head onto Harry’s shoulder. He poked at your shirt.

“This looks nice.”

“Thank you. I thought I should try to be happy for Fred and George.”

You all were going to Diagon Alley to get school supplies and check out Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes now that it was up and running. You reluctantly left Padfoot behind, holding onto Harry’s hand instead. Diagon Alley resembled you. Almost all life had been sucked out of it. Voldemort being back and Sirius marked as his first official kill made the entire wizarding world scared. You almost enjoyed it in a bit of a sadistic way. If they had listened in the first place, your father would have been alive. So they all deserve to suffer a bit— it wouldn’t compare to how you were. You left the Weasleys when you spotted Draco getting his robes refitted. Narcissa immediately roped you into a hug as you entered the store. She turned solemnly to Draco.

“Look after each other, you’re the only family you’ve got left.”

Draco nodded before looking at you. You didn’t smile or do anything really so they let you out of the store. You didn’t go back to the Weasleys right away. You marched to Gringotts and did the thing you had been avoiding all summer— closing Sirius’ bank account and putting all the money back in yours. It was the final step in letting your dad go. You told yourself that once you closed his account, you would work on feeling happy again. But wallowing felt nice. You thanked the goblins and made your way to Fred and George’s shop. Everyone was already outside.

“He’s replaced his father, why else was he in that shop?” You heard Harry ask.

“I don’t know but would You-Know-Who even let Malfoy join?” Hermione asked.

A fight wasn’t what you wanted. You ignored what they said and walked up as if you didn’t hear. They got quiet as if they hadn’t just been gossiping about your cousin. You wanted to find a time to bring it up that wouldn’t cause an argument. By the time you sat down on the Hogwarts Express, you still hadn’t found the proper time. You finished putting up your trunk and went to find Harry who was getting something from the trolley right outside. He was surrounded by a bunch of girls. Somehow, Harry became the very interesting Chosen One to everyone. It’s like they forgot he had a girlfriend. Or didn’t care. That became apparent when you heard Romilda Vane introduce herself.

“You could come to our compartment, it’s got to be more interesting than (Y/N)’s wallowing.”

You exited the compartment and none of them seemed apologetic. Harry’s arm snaked around your waist. You grabbed at his sweater and snogged him. The girls scoffed and walked away. You glared at the spot where they had just been. Harry squeezed at your sides, making you look at him.

“Romilda Vane isn’t taking me away from you… but that was kind of hot.”

“We can snog more in the compartment, Ron and Hermione are already harassing the first years and letting everyone know they’re the prefects. It’ll be empty for a bit.”

Harry went to move his hands from your waist but you stopped him.

“You aren’t taking advantage of me. I broke up once with Cedric to try and recover and it didn’t work, I don’t want to break up with you.”

“I don’t want you to break up with me either.”

“I closed my dad’s account at Gringotts, we moved all of his stuff into the attic at home. I’m a prefect again. I’m supposed to be working on my Alchemy project, helping in Potions. I can’t do any of that if I shut down. I spent the summer sad or feeling nothing… I want to feel something again and I do with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Harry, please kiss me.”

You were forced to walk backwards as Harry put his lips on yours and moved from the hallway to the compartment. With one hand, he practically slammed the sliding door shut. You pulled Harry down until he was resting most of his weight on one hand as you two laid down on the train seats. It was desperate. You knew it. You wanted him to make you feel breathless because it would mean feeling something. Like you felt jealous when those girls were talking to him. Was it right? No, but feeling jealously felt better than feeling emptiness or even apathy. The kiss couldn’t have been more aggressive if you tried. You both pulled away to catch your breath for a moment, laughing when you met each other’s eyes.

“I missed that sound coming from you,” Harry said.

You didn’t get the chance to answer because he was kissing you again. One hand took your chin and tilted your head back even more. You were forced to break apart when someone knocked on the compartment door. Harry opened it and you sat up straight at recognizing the third-year Hufflepuff. She was holding a scroll in her hand.

“Professor Slughorn wants to invite you to lunch in his compartment… he said to tell you that he wanted to speak to you later, (Y/N), when you weren’t still grieving.”

Harry said a small thanks and she skittered away. He opened the invitation to see exactly what she had said. He held it up and you understood that he had to go. He pressed a kiss to your hairline and closed the compartment door behind him. The moment Harry left, you felt kind of empty.

You sat back down and just watched the scenery go by. You needed to find yourself sooner rather than later you decided because you couldn’t just use Harry to make you feel again. He didn’t return after the lunch hour was over. You didn’t have time to wait for him. Little ones needed you and you were a prefect. Changing into robes, you gave yourself a look in the hand mirror you brought. You practiced a smile in the mirror.  

“I can do this, keep smiling and it’ll be real one day.”

The smile definitely felt forced but the young students were none the wiser. You looked around Gryffindor, confused as to why you didn’t see Harry. It wasn’t until the sorting had finished that you watched him walk in with a bloody nose. There wasn’t a lot of time to think about him. You were leading the new group of first years to the common room— lying about the streak never being broken on letting an outsider in. By the time you got to your room, your cheeks hurt. You pulled out the diadem— Sirius’ first gift— and set it on your nightstand next to the photo of you and your dad that Andromeda took over the holidays. Padfoot meowed and you nodded.

“I miss him too, buddy. But we’ve got to keep going… hello?”

You opened your door to see a first year. He seemed a bit panicked. “I’ve never spent the night away from my brother. We’re twins and he was put in Gryffindor.”

“Well, it’s curfew so we can’t sneak out— not that I’m ever recommending that. But, the kitchens are technically open to Hufflepuffs after hours. Do you like hot chocolate?”

You closed your door and led the boy to the kitchens where Kreacher and Dobby made two glasses of hot chocolate. The first year seemed calm enough to go to bed. You knocked on the barrels— it was now the one in the very center. Making sure the boy got upstairs first, you finally went to bed.

The morning of schedules was complicated. You gave out schedules along with the fifth year prefects because you had already had your schedule confirmed with Professor Sprout. All the other sixth and seventh years were getting their schedules checked by the Head of their House. Just like last year, the younger students laughed as you smacked Ron and Harry in the head with schedules whenever you passed by— this time adding Seamus, Neville and Dean to the mix. Harry grabbed your wrist as the fifth schedule went to hit him. He pulled you close. You scrunched up your nose when you heard oohs coming from behind you.

“Harry Potter, this is very unbecoming behavior of a prefect.”

“But smacking me with a schedule isn’t? You seem better this morning.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re doing great.” He pecked your lips and you heard squeals from your table.

McGonagall ignored the two of you as she grabbed Harry’s schedule. “You don’t want to be an Auror anymore, Potter? You haven’t applied for N.E.W.T. level Potions.”

“I wanted to but I only got an E on my Potions O.W.L., I needed an O.”

“When Professor Snape was Potions teacher,” McGonagall started. “Lucky for you Professor Slughorn is content with letting students that scored E take the class… and while not forbidden, brazen public displays of affection are frowned upon. You have read the school handbook, haven’t you, Professor?”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said as he let go of you. “Wait, Prof— who’s a professor?”

You handed out the last schedule you were holding to the Hufflepuff right behind you. The rest of the Golden Quartet looked at you before Dumbledore stepped up to the podium. You said nothing, sitting at the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore cleared his throat and everyone who wasn’t currently getting a schedule checked looked at him.

“We meant to announce this yesterday but circumstances still felt a little wrong. However, the school year is starting and after talks last night, we have decided to proceed according to plan. Many of you know your fellow classmate (Y/N) Black became an alchemist two years ago. As the only living alchemist, we are happy to have her bring back alchemy to Hogwarts as an official class. Alchemist Black, do you have any words?”

Your friends watched with jaws dropped as you left your schedule at the table and began to walk up to the front of the Great Hall. Ron opened the scroll and gave a half scoff half laugh while looking at it.

“She’s taking only two classes. Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms.”

A chorus of ‘what’ came from around him. Ron passed it around to the DA members at the Gryffindor table. They all read the same thing, not believing it. They all looked at you when you reached the front. You fiddled with your prefect badge before looking at everyone.

“Hello.” You gave a little wave.

“HI (Y/N)!” Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, making the whole room laugh and you relax a bit.

“Right, hello. I know everyone’s seen what’s happened in my family. I am still processing it but after speaking with Professor Dumbledore, I decided that I want to continue with plans we discussed towards the end of last school year. Alchemy is available to start taking. For anyone in seventh year, I probably just wouldn’t take it because you won’t have another year to do your own project. Sixth years are welcome to try but it might be the same as seventh years. And for anyone in fifth year and under, it’s an intense class and honestly you might not be successful but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. You’re going to be taking advanced bits of all your other classes to do this. I hope to see some faces in class, thank you.”

You walked away before running back up, making Harry laugh.

“Oh, I’m still available to help in Potions but I’d like to make a recommendation. If you need any help in Herbology, ask Neville Longbottom. He really knows his plants.”

You nodded in confirmation to yourself that you said everything you meant to say. Neville gave you thanks when you got back to the table. You told him that he should ask Professor Sprout about taking your spot as a professor’s assistant. Neville knew his way around a greenhouse just as well as, maybe even better than, you did.

“How are you only taking two classes?” Seamus asked. “You passed N.E.W.T.s but shouldn’t you still have at least Transfiguration and the other classes we just took O.W.L.s for?”

“There wasn’t much I could do over summer so I took N.E.W.T.s for the classes that I hadn’t bothered with yet. McGonagall let me finish Transfiguration because of my Animagus status, it’s not like I was ever improving anyway.”  

The others were talking about what you just said. While breakfast was being eaten, students were debating whether they should take Alchemy. People kept going back and forth to the professors table to ask their Head of House to either put it on or take it off of their schedule. You flopped your head on Harry’s shoulder and he looked down when you sighed. He patted your cheek.

“You don’t have to try all day. When you’re alone or with us at the table, you can stop, you know.”

“If I’m not trying all the time, will it get better?”

“I think it will. You could only try for an hour a day and it would eventually get better.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“No problem… you don’t happen to have the books for Potions this year? I didn’t buy the N.E.W.T level one.”

“Sorry, I don’t. But Slughorn’s got to have extra copies. I wish Dumbledore told me he was taking Snape’s spot, I wouldn’t have agreed to be a professor’s assistant if I knew it wasn’t Snape.”

“That’s exactly why he didn’t tell you. He hasn’t been telling much of anything lately.”

You looked up. “Is something going on?”

“No. Not yet anyway. I don’t think you should worry about it, though. You should be focused on recovering completely.”

“Alright, but tell me if something is going on.”

“I will.”

You lifted your head up completely. Breakfast was almost over— people had already begun leaving to get to their classes. You gave Harry a kiss.

“I have to go set up for class, I’ll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

You got up and walked out of the Hall. Your classroom wasn’t too high up in the castle. The room looked like a copy of the Hufflepuff common room. The front was full of mismatched armchairs, beanbags, and sofas. There was a large chalkboard in front of the furniture and your desk was angled off to the side of the board. The back held lab tables and a few individual desks. The entire sides and back of the room were lined with low shelves.

While you couldn’t work on your own alchemy project, you managed to finish going through Flamel’s journal. He marked a lot of findings to never finished projects that inspired your ideas for class. Being the only fully realized alchemist that was still living meant you got to decide how alchemy existed. You decided that it would flourish. You didn’t believe in hiding how you created things. Not only would Hogwarts students learn practical alchemy but you would gladly share it with all the other wizarding schools around the world. It shouldn’t have been a class of just theory anymore.

Of course, there were still lines you wouldn’t cross. No one was going to learn how to make the Philosopher’s Stone. You agreed with Flamel destroying it after Voldemort almost got it— there would not be another one. No one was going to know that you had Flamel’s journal. You stood by your principle that no one should live forever and so— at least in your class— you refused to teach how to create the Elixir of Life.

A sigh of relief left your lips when you saw that your first class of the morning was filled with a bunch of nervous first years. A schedule suddenly appeared written in the corner of your chalkboard. You assumed it was Dumbledore or Professor Sprout’s doing. All first years interested had class first period on Thursdays and Fridays because technically they already had full schedules. First period on Tuesdays and Wednesdays were given to all second years for the same reason. The rest was split throughout the week like other electives with students from all Houses at a time and done around your schedule— which wasn’t hard when you only had two classes. The kids sat at the tables in the back.

“Come up to the sofas. This is where we’re having most of class. Sit where you want.”

They grabbed their bags and moved up. You moved to stand in front of your chalkboard.

“Technically, I think you’re supposed to call me Professor so go ahead and call me (Y/N). Don’t be nervous. I’m much nicer than everyone else, especially Professor Snape.”

You found yourself smiling when they laughed. You grabbed a beanbag and sat down with them.

“Alright. What is Alchemy?”

You called on them one by one, shaking your head as they gave wrong answers.

“Alchemy is finding the highest and lowest point of existence. Some of you mentioned metal to gold or immortality. Those are examples. Metal’s highest existence is gold, life’s highest existence is immortality. We aren’t just going to focus on the highs and lows. There’s a lot of fun in the middle as well. You won’t be doing big things this year but if you continue taking this class, by fifth year everyone will have turned salt to gold. And by seventh year you will be able to take up one of two established projects, either recreating a restorative medicine from Alchemist Dzou Yen or turning any liquid into water. Some of you may even come up with projects on your own.”

“What do we get to do this year then?”

“Reading. A lot of reading but also learning certain skills that your peers might not learn until third or even fourth year. And I do have some tiny things planned along the way. Should we get started?”

The sixth years walked in to see first years excitedly talking to each other as they left class. Your back was turned as you erased the board to write new notes, not knowing that the others had already come in. Based on the looks of the younger students, the sixth years thought that maybe Alchemy was going to be fun. They stopped watching the first years leave and turned to look at you when you muttered an ‘oh no’. The enchanted chalk had left your hand and was now floating where you couldn’t reach. You stretched your fingers to no avail. Pulling your wand out, you pointed at your chalk.

“Accio chalk… oh come off it, you know I can’t do magic very well. Just return to my hand, please.”

The students snickered when you stomped your foot at the chalk not coming back.

“Accio chalk.”

You turned to see all of your classmates standing at the doorway of the classroom. Harry was holding the chalk piece in his hand. Having seen where the first years had been sitting, everyone automatically walked to the furniture. Harry handed you the chalk.

“Thank you, I think Dumbledore forgot that I would struggle with enchanted chalk. I’m going to have to get normal ones,” you said as you put the floating chalk back in the little cage with the others.

You looked around to see who all had taken your class, surprised and encouraged that it was your friends. It was basically all of DA plus your cousin and his friends. That part worried you a bit, Draco being in class with everyone else. Tension seemed high this year before it even started and a fight was the last thing you wanted to deal with. You weren’t even sure if you could deal with it. You sat back down on your beanbag.

“You all make me nervous, I think I liked the first years better. Um, this won’t be easy. The babies get their class spread out through all seven years at school, you guys get two. We’re going to condense theory and practical work all into a year. And unlike fifth years, you don’t get two or three years to work on final projects. You only get seventh year.”

Draco sat back on the loveseat. “I think we’re up for the challenge.”

The rest of them echoed agreement. You looked at your cousin who gave a nod of reassurance.

“Okay. Well, here’s the plan. The end of this year is about turning salt into gold. Before that we’ll be doing helium from sunlight, selenium from moonlight, oxygen bubbles from water, and light into solid colors that you can touch. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, (Y/N). What books are we supposed to have?” Dean asked.

“I haven’t gotten that far… I had to look through multiple books when I took this class. There isn’t one solid alchemy textbook, it needs to be created. But everyone buying or even borrowing hundreds of books isn’t helpful either.”

“Then what do we do?”

“I’m working on it. For now, Harry, can you multiply these pages for me?”

He did as you asked and you handed out the pages to everyone. The first thing was understanding the basics of Alchemy. They had an advantage at having learned most of the potions needed. You weren’t completely rushing them but it still would be a challenge. Everyone piled out of class as it ended except for the Golden Quartet. Harry helped you up from the beanbag.

Hand in hand you walked to one of the two classes you had— Defense Against the Dark Arts. You immediately separated from Harry before the two of you entered the classroom. Based on Snape’s previous reaction to the two of you attempting to hold hands, it was an awkward moment that you didn’t want to relive. You went up to the front to speak to Snape.

“I failed my O.W.L.s, I shouldn’t be in this class. It’s N.E.W.T. level. Shouldn’t I be with the others who failed?”

“Even if you can’t perform practical magic, your connection with Voldemort has Dumbledore very concerned. You’re taking N.E.W.T. level because you need to learn what is going to be used against you.”

“I won’t be able to defend myself, though.”

“You can’t do a simple levitating charm but you can fix a broken glass. One might argue that the latter is harder. I’ve heard with Mr. Potter’s help, you’ve conjured a patronus. There might be something that you learn you can do and it’s important we discover it. Now back to your seat, I have a class to teach.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the dismissal. This must have been what Harry meant by Dumbledore didn’t say much these days. Because the old man could have told you when he approached you about taking on teaching an Alchemy class. If Voldemort having a connection to  you was as important as his connection to Harry, Dumbledore could have mentioned it.

Instead, he only mentioned his fascination at you teaching. That and giving you a children’s book saying you could learn from it in ways he didn’t think someone other than a banshee could. You weren’t sure what you were going to be learning from The Tales of Beedle the Bard which you had heard enough of as a child when it was told to you at bedtime. He could have said all that but you were left to wonder why he didn’t as Snape began his lesson— deciding to immediately start instead of giving a relaxing first day. It was clear Voldemort was a threat in the world and every day you all had to prepare for it to be your last.

(Part 27)...

[carry-on-wayward-daughter]

@may184748104: hii!! is it possible to do hc about being school rivals to flirt to lovers with cedric diggory? tysm!

Of course! I love doing request.

Warnings: Ending of GoF so angst, otherwise fluff

WC: 589

Request: Open

A/N: This one was so much fun to write. It kinda reminds me of West Side Story in a way, so be prepared.

H/C: Cedric Digory X rival house!reader

You are a member or Ravenclaw

You meet Cedric in your first year during DDA

At first you were rivals because of your houses

But in year to he decides to start flirt with you as a joke

Only for you to return it back

Later on down the road you decide to put your differences aside and become friends

That was when you started developing feelings for each other 

But it wasn't til year 5 he decided to admit that he has feelings for you

After that you two were inseparable

Literally the "Perfect Couple" according to your friends

He would take you on all sorts of dates

Butterbeer at Hogsmade

Sneaking into each others dorm

Picnics by the lake

Dancing in the astronomy tower

You name it

Cuddles

Lots of cuddles

Seriously, this man love to cuddle

Usually he's the big spoon but on rough days he'll let you be the big spoon

He loves it when you play with his hair

Sometimes he'll just lay his head down on your lap while you are doing something, and that usually means play with my hair

Because he doesn't like to admit that he like it

Its a good way to lull him to sleep when he needs it

When year 6 rolls around and its time for the Triwizard Tournament rolls around, both of you decide to put your names in for the fun of it

And for Cedric to look all big and buff

But neither of you though he would get chosen

But, you were with him every step of the way

Helping him solve the clues

Learn new spells

Training alongside him

For the second task, you were the person he had to rescue from the bottom of the lake

And let me tell you, when he say you under the water, tied up, he had never been so worried

That was the moment he realized how much he loved you

As soon as he got you to the dock and he made sure you were ok, be pulled you in for one of the most passionate kisses EVER

You spent the night with him in his room, because he wanted to make sure you were ok

That night was full of love

And I think you know what I mean by that 😏

Every day after that you two were barely apart

And then the day of the final task came

To say you were worried would be and understatement

But, you never imagined that Harry would return with Cedric's body

That's the moment your heart shattered

It took you a moment to realize that Cedric was dead

Your Cedric, dead

You run to see if its really him and not some sick joke

Mcgonagall tries to hold you back but your able to break free

You run over to where is body is and sink to yours knees next to him

It was him

You could recognize his face anywhere

That was when you broke down

Begging for him to wake up

A day that you thought would be filled with excitement, turned into the worst day of your life

In the days following the a funeral was held for him, and the participating schools left

It still didn't feel real

The person who you once hate, who had turned into the person you loved the most was gone

The train ride home was filled with silence and sobs

But you could swear that you could feel the ghost of him there

[wisteria-blooms]

time after time (f.w. & reader) (6/7)

chapter directory: [one] [two] [three] [four] [five] [six] [epilogue] taglist: @impossibelle @ellenerys @sapnap-girlfriend (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

pairing: fred weasley x reader/you

summary: Every summer like clockwork, Fred Weasley is paid a visit by a woman from the future. Every encounter is a chance to learn a little more about himself as he heads into adulthood. She divulges all he wants to know, but leaves one question unanswered: why is she here? Written in Fred’s point-of-view (third person) and Reader’s (second person, italicized). tags/warnings: time-traveling, romance, war, mourning, grief, death

(6): july 04 1997; 4:40 pm

It seemed that summers would be changed forevermore for Fred. Two years ago, Cedric Diggory had died, causing rumblings that the Dark Lord was back. A year later, his father had been attacked while on duty for the Order. It was one of the biggest scares Fred had ever experienced – the thought of losing his family. Then months later, there had been a battle at the Ministry of Magic that confirmed Voldemort’s return. Though he was able to enjoy the shop’s opening that year, he felt uneasy about the future.

It wasn’t until he attended the funeral of his old Headmaster last week that he was certain things were going to complete shit.

With a grunt, Fred moved boxes of merchandise that had piled up in his shop. Knowing the fragile state of the world and the thinning crowds at Diagon Alley, he and George decided it would be wise to focus on deliveries again. Sure, he had magic to help with the deed, but he was angry, and he preferred to physically handle boxes to ease his temper.

“Can I help?” the woman asked, trying to grab at a delivery on the other side of the room.

“Don’t need it.” He brushed her off and continued to ignore her presence.

She sighed. “I’m not coming back after this,” she promised as she dangled the time turner in front of him. “This is what I’ve been using, and it’s my last turn. See?”

“Why should I believe you?” Fred scoffed. “You lied the first three times.”

“You could at least extend me the courtesy of explaining everything. And besides, you so graciously let me in.”

He almost snorted at her words. The way he let her in was not at all gracious – he appraised her wordlessly and left the door open.

“Tell me why I should,” he grunted as he sealed a box shut.

“I’ve been at least truthful,” she said in defence of herself. “Your brother Bill is getting married, isn’t he? Your mum is busy like I said.”

He wiped the dust from his hands. Then, he looked upstairs at the office area where George had begun packaging next week’s orders the other day. He really was contemplating whether he should give her his trust. Like he’d previously thought, she seemed inherently truthful, and he was a good reader of people.

“You’ll let me ask anything?” he asked after a few moments.

“Yes.”

“Okay, firstly,” Fred continued without missing a beat. He glanced at her hand again, at the silver band that’d been there every year she’d returned. It was suspicious because she’d never talked about a lover or being married. “What’s the ring on your hand? The one you keep touching. Who’s the unlucky man?”

“Oh, this old thing?” she asked, slipping it off her ring finger. She tossed it to Fred, who caught it with both hands. “It’s nothing special in itself.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he said, appraising the nicks and scratches in the lifeless silver. It looked like something that his grandparents would’ve worn back in the day. “Couldn’t even get a knut for this if you tried to trade it in at the second-hand shop.”

He tossed the ring back to her. “So why keep it?”

“I was told I’d get a good return on it.” She slipped the ring back on her finger where it looked like it perfectly belonged.

“Oh?” Fred asked, looking interested now. He wouldn’t pass up the chance to hear about a good investment.

The bone-chilling winds of January kept you contained in the cottage. Being inside most of the time meant a lot of household duties to be taken care of. You spent most days tidying around the house with the radio on, alternating between smooth jazz and Lee’s voice on Potterwatch. George had gone off with Lee for a change in scenery and to quote, ‘to get away from you and Fred.’

George had also, to your embarrassment, remarked he’d never seen Fred like this. And if he had to guess, this was how Fred would fall in love: hard and fast. When he was sure, he was sure and there was no going back. You shook your head and sent George off, unwilling to accept the fact that Fred was in love with you. You reckoned it couldn’t be any sort of love deeper than an adolescent infatuation.

Today, after your chores, you were sat in the living room and admiring how beautiful and pristine the snow looked on the evergreens.

“Hey,” called Fred as he entered the living room. “Want to see something more interesting?”

“Such as?”

“Come on.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you upstairs until you were standing under the attic door.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you inquired nervously as you climbed up the ladder with him. Fred pushed the door open and crawled through.

“Consider it a treasure hunt,” he responded, helping you up the last steps. The attic housed possessions that belong to his late grandparents and to his late uncles, Fabian and Gideon. “And trust me, love, it is a million times more interesting than what you were doing.”

“I'd been cleaning,” you huffed. “It’s quite important, you know. Especially living with someone like you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said and placed a long kiss to your forehead.

After a few moments, Fred turned to large drawer on the far side of the room. Eagerly, he began to rummage through the contents. Unknowingly, his elbow knocked over a red velvet box. It fell over and split open as it hit the floor. A gleaming ring fell out and rolled until it hit the wall. Fred was quick to sweep it up. He turned it side to side under the light, trying to appraise its value.

It was a simple silver band, nothing fancy or expensive, likely bought at the market one weekend and forgotten in a pile in the attic.

“You’re going to hold onto that?” you questioned. “I thought we were just looking.”

“Hm, how about we make a trade?” suggested Fred, twirling the ring between his thumb and index finger.

“What kind of trade?” you asked, cautious of what antics Fred had in mind. He was a businessman first and foremost, wasn’t he?

“Keep this,” he cupped your hand and placed the ring flush on your palm, “let it accrue, bring it back to me after the war, and I’ll give you something more valuable in return.”

“Something more valuable? And I just have to hold onto it?” you repeated, staring at the silver band. You placed it in your pocket and matched Fred’s grin.

“You’ve really got nothing to lose,” he affirmed.

“You’re on, then.”

“Don’t lose it now, love,” he tutted as he took the ring out from your pocket and slid it on your ring finger instead. He chuckled as your face went red with realization. “Best to wear it. And blimey, it fits you perfectly.”

“You aren’t serious?”

“Do I ever kid?”

You peered at him in silence before everything you were feeling spilled out. “Always, Fred! Sometimes, I think you’re serious, but it turns out you’re just kidding.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his hands coming out to stroke your reddening cheeks. “What am I without my jokes? I’d be boring like our dear Georgie.”

"No, I want to believe you with all my heart,” you explained, shying away from him. “But sometimes, I can’t decide if that’s a completely safe thing to do.”

“Okay, then let me be serious for a moment,” he said. He took your hand into his and looked at the silver band on your ring finger. “I, Fred Weasley, promise if you hold onto this, the first thing we do after this is all over is shop around Diagon Alley for one that you actually fancy.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“You promise?”

“On my life.”

He leaned down and inched closer to you, his nose brushing against yours. You could feel the flutter of his eyelashes as his eyes closed. No sooner did you feel the brush of his soft lips against yours. His hands moved up your shirt and grasped the bare skin of your waist. Fred pulled back and looked earnestly at you.

“Let me show you.”

“Well, who gave it to you?” he asked, the boxes on the side of the store long forgotten.

She chuckled.

“You did.”

He paused. “I did?”

“Yes, you,” she responded with a laugh. “Fred Weasley, you have a heart. Is that so hard to believe?”

She turned her head to look outside at the vacant streets. She stared intently at one of the boarded-up shops on the intersection. Its doors were still encrusted with diamonds though a former glory of itself. Little did Fred know, like all girls dreamed of, it had been her dream too: a ring from the man she loved most, from the most beautiful jewelry store in Diagon Alley.

Almost wistfully, she continued, “you promised me a good return. I’m still waiting.”

Fred furrowed his eyebrows. It wasn’t like him at all to not uphold a promise.

“You swindled me!” She was relentless in her teasing.

“I’d never!” he protested, getting up from his seat and throwing his washcloth down. All his previous anger had washed away at their silly banter. “Come on, let’s settle the score now. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” she responded, getting up as well. “I’ve just decided to forgive your debts.”

She held up the time turner and dropped it in his hands.

“Oh, you also gave me this. So, you can’t be angry at me for being here.”

Fred held your hand to stop you from shaking: from nerves and from the sheer height off the ground as you stood on the balcony. Both of you knew that you were walking into a permanently changed world, and whether you’d walk out together was entirely up to fate. And you could only hope it was the right side of it.

“Merlin,” he remarked as the walls began to crumble down on the other side of the castle. You watched the cement cascading down, aware that the wreckage was drawing closer and close to you. There was no escaping now. The sound of warfare was overwhelming, trickling in deafening decibels. Flying debris streaked your face, cutting away at the delicate skin of your cheeks.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on Fred’s voice, which was getting harder and harder to hear over the collapsing castle and the screams of people below. “Why did it take so long for us to find each other? Seven years and yet we were just metres from each other?”

“Even if it’s just been a couple of months,” you said, keeping your hand firmly in his. “I feel like I’ve known you for lifetimes.”

“Me too,” he affirmed. It was the first time you heard his breath shake which was uncharacteristic for a man you knew to be so fearless. His finger skimmed over the ring he gave you in the attic. Then, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it. “If we met earlier, I’d do it again.”

“Tell me we’ll be okay,” you pleaded. You stared at Fred, looking for comfort. “Tell me I’ll see you after tonight.”

Fred was silent. He felt the desperation in your eyes grow with each second he didn’t speak. He felt awful that he couldn’t give a straight answer, but he wasn’t a man of false promises. He really did want to give you the world after but couldn’t if he wouldn’t be alive to do so. Instead, he took something from his own pocket. You looked down at the glowing locket curiously then back at him.

“Yeah,” he said, enveloping you in a hug and shielding you from the flying debris. You coughed into his chest from the thick smoke. His hands trailed down your coat. “You’ll see me.”

You felt the weight of the object as it settled in your pocket and he felt the weight of a beautiful white lie as it left his lips.

“Right before we ran into war, you dropped this in my p-pocket and I had no time to ask,” she choked back a sob as she spoke. “You gave me a time turner for a reason I’ve been searching for all these years.”

“For what reason? So you could come back and bother me?” he laughed. “Merlin, I’m mean to myself, hm?”

He sat back down on some boxes behind him. His resolve to joke was faltering. He watched her lips tremble and her hands shake, and it made his heart lurch. Her mood had taken a complete nosedive after talking about the time turner.

“I understand it now,” she said. She inched towards him slowly and brushed his red hair back. Carefully and on her tiptoes, she placed a light kiss to his forehead. He was receptive, leaning down to make it easier for her. He could see tears forming in her eyes as she looked longingly at him, not a desperate kind of love but a deep aching love that had lost all chance of being returned. “Thank you—” she gasped for breath, “for letting me into your life.”

Her fingers grazed his forehead at the spot he’d been kissed. Suddenly, Fred began to feel hazy, and the vision of the woman in front of him was blurring. Each passing second, he was beginning to lose memory of her. No matter how hard he tried to hold onto each beautiful feature of hers, she trickled away like she’d never been here. Her voice faded with each tick of the clock behind him.

“I’ll love you forever.” She sounded so far away, so distant. “Even if time was never on our side.”

[lilmissquackson]

The Brighter The Sun

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem! Reader (First pov)

Warnings: Mentions of death, tears, it’s all just sad and depressing. (The ending is very bittersweet tho)

Summary: Cedric Diggory has always been a sunshine. When he left, Y/N was left with only gloom.

Author’s note: I don’t have a map as I write this, so I apologize in advance lmaoo

~~~~~

The sun has never felt darker. Day after day, the sun stared at me with such sorrow like mine.

It felt surreal. When I saw him in Harry’s arms, it was like I was dreaming. My mind couldn’t take the fact that he was gone. That my Cedric was gone. I was in denial. Frozen in time. But when Amos’ screams came, it was an awakening.

Cedric left only a few months ago, and never did I go out ever since his funeral. I couldn’t. My bed was always left unmade, his sweater was filled with dry tears, food was always brought up to my door because I didn’t have the energy to go down to eat. Sometimes, the silence would be unbearable, and I would just imagine him beside me, hugging me tightly, so that I didn’t feel alone. He always did that.

But whenever I open my eyes, and realize he’s not there, my eyes would always flood with tears, the cut reopening like I’ve just got it.

It hurt that we once made memories, and now we couldn’t make any more. All I can do is look back at them over and over again. It hurt to think there was no next chapter for the two of us, and that he left me with a cliff hanger.

I remember what he always said: “The brighter the sun, the happier we are.”

He said the weather was always in out favour. What we felt, earth would always radiate. I never really paid attention to those. Not until he left me, that I paid attention to everything he said, and did. Even if it was just from my memory.

The summer of nineteen ninety four was sunny, and so was Cedric and I. My parents allowed me to stay with the Diggorys for a week before school, and it was the best week I’ve had my whole life.

Waking up beside Cedric, and him showering me immediately with kisses once my eyes open. He was as bright as the sun.

“Good morning, my love!” Were his words every morning, his smile as big as ever.

And my lips would always spread in delight of seeing him under the morning light, “Good morning, Ced,” my soft words were just for the two of us to hear, “You’re so pretty under this light,” I told him, cupping his face.

He gave me a grin, “They don’t call me the golden boy for nothing,” he said, giving me a peck on the lips— oh how much I missed them, “And a golden boy isn’t complete without his golden girl.”

I wasn’t. But I was, apparently, for him.

But was a golden girl complete without her golden boy?

It was unfair. I wanted to be mad, I wanted to shout, to yell bad things, to have someone to blame. But even if I did, I knew Cedric wouldn’t be happy about it. He’s always wanted peace. To not have to fight with people.

He was such a sunshine.

“You look absolutely beautiful.”

The Yule Ball truly was a great night to remember. Cedric and I received plenty of compliments, some with hints of jealousy, but most were genuine.

When people started to party in the middle of the dance floor, Cedric and I decided it was the perfect time to slip away. We ran through the hallways of Hogwarts, me leading, and him not far behind.

Our laughs bounced off the walls, until we made it out into the Courtyard.

The moon was so beautifully round, so bright. Not as bright as the sun, but it’s almost just as beautiful.

I stared up at the sky, the stars sparkling down at me, making me smile. For a moment, I was just silent, not even noticing Cedric come nearer to put his blazer on my shoulders, “Thanks,” I kissed him on his cheek.

“You missed,” he rolled his eyes, then pointed at his lips. I laughed, and kissed him on the lips, “That’s more like it,” he had said.

With a small chuckle, I wrapped my arms around him, cuddling to his side as snow softly fell on our heads, “It’s so pretty out here,” I told him, “I want stars in my room,” a pout made its way to my lips.

But Cedric laughed at me, “You’re adorable,” he said, pulling me closer by wrapping me in his arms, “We can put stars in your room— glow in the dark ones, maybe.”

My eyes made its way up my ceiling. They were filled with stars, but even they didn’t light up anymore, as if we put them on a very long time ago.

I looked out my window instead, not being able to stare at the stars any longer.

But I immediately stood up when I realized that the sun was no longer dark.

It was bright, with only a hint of gloom from a far.

Cedric is happy. And I was the one with gloom.

Before I knew it, I had my shoes on, and my wand in hand. I didn’t even told my parents I was going to leave, but I apparated before anyone noticed.

June twenty fourth, nineteen ninety five.

This was the last time I saw him smile. The day it all ended. The day the sun suddenly felt much darker.

He hugged me tightly before going into the maze, “I’m bringing the cup back for you,” he whispered in my ear, giving me a peck on the lips, “Wish me luck?”

I smiled at him, proud of how far he’d gone, “I wish you the best of luck,” I told him, to which he responded with a kiss on the hand, “I love you, Cedric.”

The love of my life kissed me on my temple, “I love you too, darling.”

He went into the maze. He went in without knowing he won’t ever come back to me alive.

Cedric’s tombstone was always clean. Shiny, and bright as ever. Just like him.

I sat on the grass, lifting my hand to hold his tombstone like how I would’ve held his cheek in my hand.

“Cedric,” my voice was soft, my eyes clouding with tears. But I blinked them away, not wanting him to see me so sad, “I miss you, my love,” I told him.

The breeze hit my face, the trees swaying.

I could be imagining things, but I truly felt his presence. Maybe he was just waiting for me.

“For the past months— It’s been hard for me, Ced,” I told him quietly, “It’s so hard to live without you. All my days were full of darkness. The sun was never bright for me. Remember what you said? The brighter the sun, the happier we are,” I laughed, a tear rolling down my cheek, “Guess what, love. Today, the sun was bright.”

To say I didn’t know how to continue was an under statement. But I had to.

“I know you’re happy now, at peace. And I should be, too. I shouldn’t get in the way of the sun. I shouldn’t fill my heart with gloom, because that’s what you would’ve wanted,” I sniffled, wiping my tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “I’m still not okay, of course. It will take time for me to heal this wound in my heart you’ve cut. But it will heal. Maybe not now, but it will soon.”

The wind sent yet, another breeze.

With a bitter smile, and tear stained cheek, I stood up from the grass, “Until then, Cedric,” I said, “Keep the sun bright, alright? I love you, and even if you can’t say it back— I can still feel it.”

And so I bid my goodbyes. I walked away from him, my chest felt lighter, and the sun seemed brighter. The breeze felt like spring, as if welcoming me to a new book.

Maybe Cedric and I’s story was over, but it will always be my favourite.

The sun was brighter with him. And I’ll go back to read those pages to remember the light.

But never the gloom.

~~~~~

Cedric Diggory taglist: @thehalfbloodedwitch @pottahishotasf @blackthunder137 @kazscrow

𝖌𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓?

[fidelixcorde]

Into the Havoc // blackcurlsgreeneyes

@blackcurlsgreeneyes​

(*)

Four years down, three more to go.

As much as it pained her, Taylor had to concede that her plan had worked flawlessly: by sacrificing Cassius Warrington in place of Cedric Diggory, Slytherin House had been shaken to it’s core at the announcement that a pureblood boy from a well known pureblood racist family had been killed off by someone that these ideologists held on a fucking pedestal. 

Tom Riddle cared for no one but himself. That much had to be seen, clear as day, and during Cassius’ funeral, she knew it had been the wake up call most of Slytherin House needed. Seeing their faces, the doubt in their eyes, the way they glanced at each other, it was enough.

Returning to Little Whinging with Harry was the norm, but it changed them both. Harry was suffering from PTSD, and Vernon and Petunia barely even cared enough about him to notice. Dudley reported quietly to Taylor that Harry was having night terrors, so she did everything she could to keep him occupied and active during that summer of isolation, but the more the days passed, the more it felt like the news hadn’t reached the Muggle world that something was wrong. If anything, everything seemed to be...normal.

It was a week after Taylor finally released Rita Skeeter from her jar with the threat that if she said or did anything against Harry in publication that her status as an unregistered Animagus would be revealed that Taylor and Harry were found outside on the hottest day of the year, hiding in the hydrangea flower bed. The windows were wide open hopes of a nonexistent breeze to reach them, allowing the teenagers to hear the news blaring on the television set.

“Glad to see those brats have stopped trying to butt in,” Vernon said after a moment and Taylor rolled her eyes so hard they nearly strained. “Where are they anyway?”

“Not in the house,” Petunia said, clearly unconcerned.

“Watching the news...” Vernon said scathingly. “I’d like to know what they’re really up to. As if a normal teenager cares what’s on the news — Dudley hasn’t got a clue what’s going on, doubt he knows who the Prime Minister is! Anyway, it’s not as if there’d be anything about their lot on our news —” 

“Vernon, shh!” Petunia hissed. “The window’s open!” 

“Oh — yes — sorry, dear...”

Blowing a strand of hair out of her face and failing due to the sweat sticking it to her forehead, Taylor peeked through the foliage to see Mrs Figg ambling down the street with one of those pully carts, frowning and muttering to herself. The poor Squib had been trying to invite Taylor and Harry around for tea ever since they came back from Hogwarts, and Taylor was thinking rather longingly of a nice cold cup, somewhere with a fan, but Harry was determined to hear the news out, so she stayed put, glancing at Harry and watching him frown up at the sky.

[boobyloverr]

Cedric Diggory x fem Reader  tw: Character Death and Angst.     Also this is like my first time writing any type of fic so pls don’t judge tysm.

Just as the third challenge was about to begin, Cedric paid a visit to the bleachers where his very worrisome girlfriend was seated. “I know you’re worried, but I’m going to be okay. I promise.”

“You promise?” She stared back at him.

He nodded with a smile, “I promise.”

“You better come back to me, do you understand, pretty boy Diggory, if you don’t, I will seriously murder you”

“I understand.” He laughed, “Y’know you’re cute when you’re worried.”

“I’m serious” she smiled and shoved his shoulder lightly.

“There’s that pretty smile of yours” She smiled at him and gripped the fabric of his shirt and pulled him towards her; their lips connected into a kiss full of love. “I’ll see you in a minute love, I swear by it” She finally loosened her grip on his shirt and let him go, and with that, he felt he could conquer anything in the world. With the sound of the cannon, he disappeared into the maze as she watched tearfully.

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His body hit the ground with a loud thud the last thing he heard being Harry’s terrified scream and Voldemort’s nasally scratchy voice, his last sight was the bright light of the killing curse, and his last thought being Y/N and her beautiful smile, how her skin felt against his all moments he would miss and how he would never be able to take in the sight of her beauty anymore. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Cedric was now dead he had accepted it in the short time of his death but now that he could see Harry and Harry could see him he felt he had a message or two that he needed to have relayed. His first request was for Harry to bring his body back to his father he felt it was only right. His second message however was for the love of his short life 

“You have to tell her that I love her, Harry. She will never hear it from me again and she needs to know that even if I’m gone that I will always and forever love her.” Cedric told Harry with a stern tone and tearful eyes “Please Harry” He said softly tears flowing down his cheeks. Harry nodded almost mournfully as he tried to smile comfortingly towards his friend Cedric had returned the smile.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She waited anxiously anticipating his arrival. When she had seen harry appear with Cedric she had hoped and prayed for his well-being. But as she realized that there was no movement and as she heard harry’s cries. She came to the realization that he was dead. She fell to her knees screaming in agony as she saw Harry clutch to Cedric. She desperately crawled from the stands to his body. She wrapped her arms around his torso her head on his chest hoping to hear a heartbeat but when she couldn’t hear anything she felt she couldn’t breathe she could only cry incoherently mumbling about how he promised her that he would be safe.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the day of the funeral she could only numbly watch as they lowered his body into the ground. She didn’t say a word the entire funeral, afraid of what would come out. She looked up when Harry took a seat beside her and then looked forward. 

“He really loved you he told me that I had to tell you because you would never hear it from him again but I have a feeling you already knew how much he loved you” all she could do was laugh most guests turned to look at her but she kept cackling the more she laughed the more tears streamed down her face. Harry had pulled her into a hug caressing her hair telling her everything was going to be alright. soon her laughter turned to sobs and the indecent stares turned to stares of pity and sympathy. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When people thought of Cedric Diggory they thought of his kindness, his smile, and most of all his bravery. But the first thing that came to mind were her cries and pleads for the love of her life to come back to her.

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, fluff, sadness??? slow burn

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.5K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

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PART 2

The next school year felt empty. You spent the whole summer with your Muggle relatives, not having the heart to go back to the places you spent time in with Cedric. Mr. Diggory fell off the face of the Wizard World, taking time for himself. After the funeral, he bid you a short goodbye, unable to look at your face without seeing the absence of his son. You couldn’t blame him as every time you looked in his eyes, you were haunted by the same emptiness that you saw in Cedric’s eyes before they forced it closed. 

You hadn’t smiled in a long time, not since the day of the final round. Ron, Hermione, and Harry tried their hardest to stay in touch with you but you refused to write back. You couldn’t find it in your heart to reply, your chest growing heavy every time you inked your quill. It didn’t seem right. 

You packed your luggage, grabbing clothes from your closet, ones that you haven’t touched since your arrival to the Muggle world. You forced yourself to detach from the Wizard world for the time being, wanting nothing else but to forget the pain you endured in your last moments at Hogwarts. It never truly worked, really. Every night you looked up to the sky and watched the stars twinkle and thought of Cedric. The color of the sunflowers planted in your aunt’s front garden, beamed with brightness and the color of happiness, and all you thought of was Cedric. The smell of fresh parchment and the aroma of his scent tormented you when you found yourself stumbling into the rabbit hole of gifts he gave you over the years; You missed Cedric terribly.

As you zipped up your last bag, the lone, yellow sweater stayed still on the hanger. The blood stain seemed to glow, reminding you of the harsh reality you had to face. Cedric is gone and he’s not coming back. You gulped, hands trailing over the intricate detail of the yellow sweater. You could still feel him. 

As you boarded the train, you shuffled past your fellow Hogwarts students, trying to find the Golden Trio. You hoped that they didn’t harbor any hard feelings due to your absence. They seemed to be the only ones you had left and you realized as you knocked on the door that separated you from them, that you might’ve just lost them too. 

“Would it be alright if I sat with you all?” You asked, voice small and trembling as their intense gaze fell upon you. 

The three stared at you, eyes showing nothing but concern over their broken friend. Hermione smiled sadly at you, scooting over her seat to make some room for you. Ron took your heavy bag and placed it beside him, helping you carry the burden of loneliness with a simple gesture. Harry grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze as you passed by him to get to your seat. You returned the act, not having enough energy in your body to do much else. 

The space was silent. The giggling of students from the other side of the door sometimes catching your attention. You heard familiar voices, laughing, getting closer to where you sat. The twins arrived in front of the door, grinning widely when they saw you propped up against the window. 

Fred opened the door, allowing George to come in first and he followed right after. “Y/N! Nice to see you. We missed you.” 

“Nice to see you, as well.” You replied, getting up to embrace the two. 

“We were about to hunt you down ourselves if Ron didn’t stop pacing in his room wondering about your whereabouts.” George complained. 

“Yeah, he’s a room above us and he kept us up all night! Sometimes Harry and Hermione would join him and it’s three times worse!” Fred added on. “But we’re glad you’re back.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at their words. Your cheeks cramped up at the sensation of the unfamiliar feeling. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled. You buried your head in between the two some more before laughing slightly once you heard Ron’s protests. Hermione and Harry joined a little bit after, enjoying the smile that graced your features for the first time since Cedric. 

When you arrived at Hogwarts, your heart sunk knowing that it was the first time that you would be walking to the Hufflepuff dormitories by yourself, without Cedric by your side. Besides Cedric, you really didn’t know anyone in your house. You often hung out with the Trio, the Weasleys, and Cedric, nobody else. You walked up the stairs on your own, trying to ignore the looks of pity that other Hufflepuffs shot your way. Of course everyone knew how close you and Cedric were. And of course everyone knew how much his death took a toll on you. 

You ignored the hushed whispers that welcomed you when you walked into the dormitories. You rolled your eyes at their failed attempts to be discrete, glaring at them when you caught them staring at you with their nosy eyes. You shook your head, tugging at the sleeve of your robe. 

Once you were settled in, you made it your mission to stay away from Hufflepuff’s side of the castle. A fear that you’ve always had in your heart started to bubble inside of you. A part of you always felt like you were only placed in Hufflepuff because Cedric played a huge role in your life. It was like once he vanished, the aspects of you that are meant to be in Hufflepuff left with him. After all, he was the only one who even assured you that you belonged where he was placed. You were sure everyone else in the house saw traces of the other houses in you. 

You sat by yourself in the garden, reading a book on Potions with scribbles written along the margins. Cedric’s messy handwriting always did make it difficult for you to follow along. You closed the book, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the idea of him crashing down on you in waves. You hadn’t thought about Cedric in so long but now that you’re back in Hogwarts, it was inevitable. 

If it wasn’t the framed picture of him that greeted you once the gates opened, then it was the way students whispered his name under their breaths fearing that you might break down if you heard it spoken from their lips. If it wasn’t the lack of his presence beside you as you sat on the corner right side of the bench, being so used to him sitting to your left, then it was you turning, out of habit, to ask him what this word written in his book was and then realizing that he wasn’t there to answer. If it wasn’t the sound of laughter from across the hall, that so greatly reminded you of his, then it was the smell of the garden drawing you to the secret passageway he used to help you escape in at night. 

“Y/N!” 

You looked up from your feet to see the twins walking happily towards you. You placed the book beside you and looked up at the two boys. “Hello, boys. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We are planning a fun prank for tonight.” George admitted, silencing his voice to where only you and Fred could hear it. 

“It is our last year after all.” Fred continued. “But we need your help.” 

You cocked an eyebrow, “How can I be of service, Weasleys?” 

“We need a look out.” They said in unison. “We’re planning to sneak out after hours and start a light show. Explosions in the air, in all colors. No harm, of course, but just something to ruffle their feathers.” 

“What do you need me to do?” You asked, intrigued by their plan. 

“We just need you to let us know when any of Umbridge’s little brats are coming. They’re the ones patrolling now and we lost our privileges as Head Boys.” Fred stated, his disapproval of Umbridge evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, the prank is totally harmless. We reckoned everyone just needs a pick me up with everything going on right now.” 

“I’m in.” You smiled. “You two always did know what’s best for us all in times of uncertainty.” 

“That’s our job, Y/N.” They chirped before waving goodbye. “Meet us outside the Great Hall once they call lights out.” 

Time seemed to move awfully slow. The moments leading up to the night dragged on forever. You couldn’t contain your excitement the entire day. The Trio knew of the plan, telling you to calm down when you got too giddy, in fear that someone might catch on. But you couldn’t help it. It was the first time that you'd been excited about something; Something other than the mark of the day ending. 

By the time they called lights out, you nearly sprinted to the designated meeting place. You tiptoed down the hall, looking around for the two gingers that formulated the plan. All of the other students, besides the Slytherins, knew of the plan and they all played along like it was a normal night but in reality, they were all waiting for the show to begin. 

Once you spotted the boys, you rushed over to their side, giving them a brief hug before starting your job as a lookout. 

“Malfoy is out tonight,” Fred started, head turning left and right to make sure that nobody was coming. “So be careful. You know he gets.” 

You haven’t seen Malfoy since the day Cedric passed. You knew that he was aware that Cedric is no longer here but you didn’t know how he would treat you because of it. But knowing Malfoy, not much will change. He’ll continue to be the spoiled, rotten, Slytherin prince that he is, with no care for people’s feelings. He lacked empathy and sometimes you wondered if it’s because nobody ever showed him what that meant. 

You pushed the thought out of your head, clearing your mind from the complexities that is Draco Malfoy. You grinned up at the twins and prepared to do your job. Before the twins could ever step away from you to start the prank, Umbridge’s booming voice startled the three of you. 

“Weasleys!” She screeched, her shadow emerging from the corner. “I know about what you’re planning to do!”

The twins looked at each other, then looked at you. They let out a wild laugh, unphased that they might have to make a run for their lives in just a few seconds. They pushed you towards the other direction yelling, “Run, Y/L/N!”

Your eyes widened but you obeyed their orders. You ran as fast as your legs could take you, zigzagging through the halls. You didn’t realize that your feet were following an all too familiar path, a path that you haven’t graced upon in what feels like lifetimes. You stopped in front of the door to the secret passageway, air knocked out of your lungs. You could see the faint outline of the carving of your initials on the cobblestone wall that served to hide the door. You touched the marking with your finger, smiling fondly at the memory of the one who etched it. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You turned, shocked that you were no longer alone. You saw Draco, staring at you intently, eyes bright under his pale skin. He was wearing his Slytherin robe, wand at the ready in his right hand. His finger housed his Slytherin ring, a snake that seemed to hiss when you made eye contact with its emerald green eyes. He looked at you up and down, confused about your disheveled appearance. You realized then how crazy you must’ve looked; Hair in disarray from running against the motion of the wind, pajamas peeking out from under the Hufflepuff robe you wore, and tear stained cheeks. 

“Nothing,” You replied, facing away from the door, hoping that you didn’t cause much attention to it already. “Just making my way back up to the dormitories.” 

“Dormitories are the opposite direction.” 

“Must’ve gotten lost,” You said nonchalantly, slowly walking away from the situation. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

“Wait..” Draco mumbled, following you as you treaded away from him, as inconspicuous as you could manage. “You were with the Weasleys weren’t you?” 

Your face dropped, “Malfoy, we were just having a bit of fun. No harm was going to be done.” 

Draco continued to stare, taking in your appearance. You were thinner than he remembered. Your eyes were sunken in their sockets, the color on your face drained, your hair grew longer too. He saw that you kept twiddling your thumbs, a sign of anxiousness maybe? Your robe also seemed to engulf you, as if you were drowning in the fabric. You couldn't possibly have gotten that much smaller. Then he realized the robe wasn’t yours. 

“Just make your way back to the dormitories.” He sighed, pointing his wand in the direction. “Don’t let Umbridge catch you.” 

You nodded your head, making your way back. You turned away from him before he could catch the expression on your face. Was Draco Malfoy actually kind? You thought of the simple gesture your entire way back to the dormitories. Why was it that he let you off the hook like that? You tried to think of moments where Draco was kind. There wasn’t much that you could think of. Your mind was littered with instances where he called Hermione a “Mudblood” and you a pathetic Hufflepuff. He constantly enraged Ron and Harry with his comments and used his power and status to make everyone else’s life a living hell. 

He wasn’t even kind to Cedric, a boy two years his senior. Draco was kinder to him, though, compared to other students, but he was still brutal nonetheless. Maybe he felt bad that you lost your only friend. But even that thought comes with the assumption that Draco understands the principle of pity and to do so would insinuate that he has a heart. Perhaps he does, you thought, but why does he insist on not showing it?

The word spread around that the Weasley twins got caught and the light show was not going to happen tonight. The students were disappointed as they were looking forward to the escape from reality that it would’ve brought them for even just a few moments. Umbridge’s reign was taking on everybody, it seemed. 

You snuggled into your covers that night, mind split into thinking of two different people. Cedric lingered in your dreams, but honestly there hasn’t been a day where he wasn’t occupying your thoughts. But tonight, you dreamt of a different boy; broken in nature, lonely, it seemed, with hair of snow and eyes of a clouded sea, of a high ranking family and deadly expectations. 

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