{In the stillness of a mist-shrouded meadow, a solitary wooden goblet stood, incongruous against the swirling fog. Its humble form bore the weight of something old, something that thrummed with a quiet power. There was nothing grand about it—just rough-hewn wood—but the space around it seemed to bend, as though the world itself acknowledged its presence.

Fiona moved closer, her steps slow, deliberate. She could feel the pull of the goblet, an irresistible lure that tugged at the edges of her thoughts. As she neared, blue-white flames flickered to life within the cup. They rose and twisted with an almost living grace, their movement wild and unpredictable.

Her fingers moved of their own accord, reaching toward the heat, toward the searing edge. But before her hand could close on the cup, another hand—a shadow of movement—intercepted it.

The goblet was gone, pulled back from her grasp.

A young man stood before her, the goblet in his hand. His features were obscured, swallowed by the light of the flames that licked up the sides of the cup. He lifted it to his lips, drinking deeply of the fire.

The fire drank back.

Fiona's breath caught in her throat as his body crumpled, lifeless, a discarded shell. He fell with a quiet finality, sinking into the earth, leaving only silence and the weight of what had been.

But out of the shadow where he fell, a presence stirred, laughter trailing in its wake—thin, brittle, like glass about to shatter. The laughter echoed through the mist, hollow and menacing.

From the dark, two eyes gleamed red—slanted and serpentine. They floated in the air like a cruel mockery, watching her, unblinking and cold. The eyes saw everything.

The red gaze drew her attention down, down to the body at her feet. Her breath caught, her heart twisting in her chest.

"Cedric?" His name escaped her lips in a whisper.

She knelt beside him, her hand trembling as she reached out. His skin was cold, hard beneath her touch, a chill that went deeper than the body. He was no longer Cedric, only a memory carved into something cold and unyielding.

"Cedric, wake up," she pleaded, her voice cracking against the silence. Her hand pressed harder, desperate for warmth, for life. But he was still, beyond her reach.

Laughter from the haunting red eyes echoed—a jagged sound, cruel and sharp. It filled the space around her, mocking her. The mist thickened, the goblet forgotten, as Fiona found herself stranded in a nightmare.}

Slowly, the world began to creep back in. The oppressive laughter faded, replaced by the gentle hum of morning. Birds chirped faintly outside the open window, their song light and delicate in the cool autumn air. A breeze stirred the wind chimes, their soft, steady music weaving through the quiet of the room. Fiona lay still, caught in the space between the fading echoes of her dream and the calm rhythm of the waking world. The peace felt fragile, as though it might shatter with the slightest touch.

"Morning," came a voice from the bed beside hers, thick with sleep. Heidi's yawn softened the greeting, the sound warm and familiar.

"Morning," Fiona answered, though the word felt hollow, heavy with the weight of the nightmare that clung to her. The memory of Cedric's cold, lifeless body lingered at the edges of her mind, half-formed but impossible to shake.

Heidi, unbothered by the early hour, tossed aside her canary-yellow covers with a bright energy. "Come on, let's get to breakfast," she said, her voice light, unaware of the heaviness that still pressed against Fiona's chest. Fiona nodded but didn't move. Her thoughts were still knotted, tangled in the remnants of that unsettling dream.

Heidi hesitated, her usual cheer fading as she caught a glimpse of Fiona's face. Concern softened the brightness in her expression, and the warmth in her eyes deepened into something more watchful, more attentive. "Fiona... are you alright?" she asked, her voice quieter now, gentle but probing.

Fiona tried to force a smile, as if brushing away the weight of the dream would make it disappear. But the chill of it clung to her, lurking in the corners of her mind. "Yeah," she said, though her voice wavered, betraying her. "Just... a strange dream." The words felt thin, insubstantial.

Heidi didn't move, her sharp blue eyes studying Fiona's face, catching the way her smile faltered. There was no need for Fiona to explain—Heidi had always been able to read her like an open book, even when Fiona couldn't find the words.

After a moment, Heidi nodded, her understanding quiet but present. She didn't push or pry, though her eyes held the weight of questions she knew not to ask—at least, not yet. Instead, she took a step forward, her voice carrying a gentle firmness. "Okay, well, let's hurry. Breakfast will help," she said, slipping her hand into Fiona's, her fingers curling around her friend's with a reassuring squeeze.

The touch was so simple, yet it said more than words could: I'm here. Whatever it is, you're not alone.

Fiona allowed herself to be gently led, the steady warmth of Heidi's hand wrapped firmly around her arm. Though her mind still swirled with the lingering fragments of the nightmare, Heidi's presence steadied her, offering a quiet comfort that words couldn't quite reach.

With each step, the weight of the dream seemed to lift, if only slightly. Her thoughts remained distant, but Heidi's unwavering support was an anchor, drawing her back to the present, reminding her that she wasn't alone.

***

"Bloody hell, mate, ever heard of a Silencing Charm? Those curtains around your bed aren't just for decoration, you know," Malcolm grumbled from across the breakfast table, his voice thick with irritation, though there was a rough-edged humor to it.

Fiona slipped onto the bench, sliding into a gap beside Alfie. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she caught the tail end of their conversation.

Alfie, looking distinctly like a rabbit caught in wandlight, blurted, "No! Nothing at all!" His eyes flicked nervously from side to side, a brief flash of panic crossing his face before he tried to cover it up. Cedric, seated across from him, let out a low chuckle, the sound tapering off as Alfie shot him a withering glare.

"Where's Heidi?" Cedric asked, shifting the conversation as smoothly as flipping a Knut. His tone was light, but there was an ease to it, a subtle shift that made the question seem like it was meant to steer things back to normal.

Fiona tilted her head toward the entrance of the Great Hall, where Heidi stood deep in conversation with a younger Gryffindor. The girl's wild, bushy hair made her easy to spot. "Got held up talking to some girl," Fiona said with a shrug, her tone casual.

"We gathered that much, you twit," Alfie muttered, though the teasing lilt in his voice took the edge off the insult. Fiona's lips twitched into a slight smirk.

Just then, the Gryffindor girl handed something to Heidi, her expression eager. Heidi, in turn, made her way back to the Hufflepuff table, fingers moving quickly as she fastened a badge to her robes with a sense of deliberate pride.

Alfie leaned forward, squinting dramatically at the badge, his eyebrows knitting together in exaggerated confusion. "What's 'Spew'?" he asked.

Heidi's eyes gleamed with conviction, her face lighting up as she announced, "The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. We're called S.P.E.W."

Malcolm barely managed to suppress a laugh, while Alfie's attempt to hide his amusement dissolved into a snort. Their poorly disguised chuckles soon turned into outright laughter. Alfie leaned over with a wicked grin. "S.P.E.W? Merlin's beard, Heidi, what's next—Fiona founding the 'Society for the Advancement of Goblin Beards?' S.A.G.B!"

Fiona shook her head at her friends' antics, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips as she nudged Alfie. "Maybe you should start a new club, Alfie. The Society for People Who Make Bad Jokes."

Alfie grinned, unfazed, and shot her a wink. "You'd be my first recruit."

"Spew," Malcolm repeated, shaking his head as he struggled to suppress a grin. "Sounds more like you're campaigning for Elfish... vomit or something."

Heidi shot them both a glare sharp enough to slice through parchment. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did my attempts to improve the world disrupt your important schedule of eating and sleeping?"

Malcolm, clearly deciding it was best to steer the conversation away from further bickering, leaned in. "What do you reckon Moody's got in store for us today?"

Cedric leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face, a trace of something like awe coloring his words. "Who knows. Hard to top the first lesson."

It was an understatement. Professor Moody's first day of class had been nothing short of unforgettable. He hadn't just lectured them about the Unforgivable Curses—he had shown them. Made them real. The memory hung heavy in the air, unspoken but felt, seared into the minds of everyone who had witnessed it.

For Fiona, the lesson was a symphony of dread that played just beyond the edge of her perception. She couldn't see the spectacle herself, but the tension in the room, the shifting murmurs of her classmates, told her enough. Moody's voice was darkly amused as he described the Imperius Curse, conjuring vivid images of a spider's helpless, grotesque dance on the desks.

As the classroom plunged into a suffocating silence, Fiona's senses strained to grasp what was happening. The Cruciatus Curse had been cast, and though the spider made no sound she could hear, the weight of its suffering seemed to press down on the room. She felt the horror in the stillness, in the way her peers' breaths became shallow, as if they, too, were trapped in the unseen agony. Her mind filled in the gaps, painting shadows of torment far worse than any spoken description.

Then came the Killing Curse. The room held its breath until the silence broke with a dull, final thud—the spider's body hitting the desk, lifeless. That sound reverberated through Fiona like a drumbeat, final and hollow. The cruelest part of all was how mundane it seemed. There was no grandeur, no flourish—just an end. It left her with a creeping sense of what cruelty might sound like.

"It seems... cruel, to perform those curses in a classroom," Heidi's whisper finally cut through the quiet, her earlier argument forgotten. Fiona nodded slowly, her thoughts still lingered on the shadows of what she hadn't seen.

"Cruel?" Cedric interjected, defending Moody with a shrug. "Maybe unorthodox. But better to see those curses in a controlled setting than face them unprepared in the real world." Alfie and Malcolm nodded in agreement. But Fiona remained silent, her discomfort settling into the pit of her stomach like a stone.

"Okay, but what Moody did to Malfoy?" Fiona's voice was quiet but firm, cutting through their animated discussion. "That was just cruel."

The table fell silent, Alfie and Malcolm exchanging irritated glances. "You can't seriously be defending that little git!" Alfie grumbled, frustration thick in his voice. Malcolm's glare was sharp, a silent rebuke for Fiona's unexpected stance.

"Don't you remember the things he's said? About us? About you?" Malcolm added, his tone rising with incredulity.

"And he's what, twelve? Moody's an adult. Turning him into a ferret and tossing him around... that just seems wrong," Fiona argued, her voice steady but drawing scornful looks from both boys.

Alfie sneered. "No wonder you two get along so well," he said, casting a frosty glance toward Heidi. "You and your pointless crusades. Elfish welfare, justice for gits—what's next?" His voice dripped with exasperation.

Cedric, visibly weary of the bickering, rolled his eyes and turned away, letting the conversation fizzle out on its own. His gaze wandered across the Great Hall, only to land on a familiar figure watching them closely. A pair of brown eyes, brimming with mischief, locked onto his, and a Weasley twin smirked when he caught Cedric's attention.

The smirk held a touch too much interest, though Cedric didn't realise it wasn't directed at him. The twin's gaze flicked briefly toward Fiona, his grin widening ever so slightly before his eyes returned to Cedric's puzzled stare.

Cedric frowned, suspicion flashing across his face. He knew the Weasley twins well enough to recognise one simple fact: being in their sights was rarely a good omen.

"We'll be late for Defence if you lot keep this up," Cedric cut in, his tone sharp enough to slice through the rising tension between Fiona and Alfie. Heidi, barely glancing up from her Care of Magical Creatures notes, waved absently at the others before immersing herself back into her work, her quill scratching lightly against the parchment.

With a huff, Fiona linked arms with Alfie, and together with Cedric and Malcolm, they made their way toward the third floor. The journey, however, was anything but smooth. Stubborn as ever, Fiona refused to rely on Alfie's guidance through the ever-shifting maze of staircases. It was only after relentless reassurances from Cedric and Malcolm that she begrudgingly followed their lead, though her wariness slowed them down. The staircases seemed to mock them, twisting at the worst possible moments and forcing detours that only added to the delay.

As they trudged on, the air between them crackled with frustration. Fiona and Alfie bickered loudly, their voices bouncing off the stone walls, each trying to pin the blame for their tardiness on the other. Meanwhile, Cedric and Malcolm exchanged exasperated glances, their patience wearing thin.

"If you hadn't tricked me fifty times last year, maybe I'd trust you!" Fiona snapped just as Cedric reached for the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Thank you for joining us," growled Professor Moody, his voice rough as gravel underfoot. The four of them ducked their heads in unison, muttering quick apologies as they slipped inside.

"Sorry, Professor. Got a bit turned around," Cedric said, his tone steady, though humble. Alfie and Malcolm exchanged guilty looks, subtly deflecting the blame toward Fiona with sidelong glances.

"Very well. Take a seat," Moody grunted, gesturing them forward with a curt wave.

Still simmering from their argument, Fiona and Alfie sat apart. Cedric guided Fiona toward the last two empty desks in the middle of the room. As the lesson unfolded, however, Cedric couldn't shake a nagging sense of unease. It was as if eyes were following him, watching. He tried to focus, but the feeling only grew stronger, gnawing at the edges of his concentration.

With only a few minutes left of class, Cedric let his gaze wander around the room. His instincts were spot on. Across the classroom, a pair of brown eyes were fixed on him with unmistakable intent.

One of the Weasley twins, smirking in that mischievous, all-too-knowing way, held Cedric's gaze a beat longer than necessary. A knot of unease tightened in Cedric's stomach. Nothing good ever comes from the Weasley twins, he thought grimly.

"Right," Moody muttered, glancing down at his battered pocket watch. "That'll do for today. Next time, we'll dive deeper into the Imperius Curse. Make sure you've all read the chapter."

The room erupted with the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling feet as students began filing out. Alfie's voice rose above the din, his usual humor creeping back. "The curses were much more fun before we had to read about them."

As they made their way down the corridor, a voice rang out, cutting through the chatter. "Cedric! Cedric!"

The group slowed as Ernie Macmillan came hurtling toward them, his breath ragged, face flushed, and robes askew—a clear sign he'd been sprinting through the castle. Cedric turned at the commotion, raising an eyebrow in mild concern.

"What's the matter, Ernie? Everything alright?" Cedric asked, his tone calm, though the slight furrow in his brow betrayed a flicker of unease.

Ernie skidded to a halt, hands bracing his knees as he struggled for breath. "This Friday..." he gasped between breaths, "...the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students are arriving!"

Cedric couldn't help but chuckle as Ernie's excitement began to outpace his exhaustion. His expression softened, a knowing gleam brightening his eyes. "I know, Ernie. The whole school knows."

"No, no, listen!" Ernie straightened up, his eyes wide with determination. "Everyone in Hufflepuff is talking—you have to enter. We need a Hufflepuff champion, and you're our best shot!"

Cedric blinked, clearly caught off guard by the intensity of Ernie's words. He scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly awkward. "I don't know about that," he said, his modesty creeping through. "There are going to be loads of students entering."

"But that's exactly why you have to enter!" Ernie's eyes practically sparkled with admiration. "You're the best at everything! Everyone in the house is counting on you—you've got to do it, Cedric. You're our only hope!"

Cedric's laugh came out a little more nervous this time, uncertain how to handle the flood of praise. "Well, I'll... think about it," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Fiona stood quietly beside her brother, her thoughts swirling with unease. The dream she'd had flashed through her mind once more. As much as she believed in Cedric, the Triwizard Tournament wasn't a Quidditch match. It was dangerous—too dangerous—and the thought of him entering filled her with dread. She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, forcing a smile, though the fear gnawed at her insides.

"Fee, what do you think?" Cedric asked, turning to face her. "Should I go for it?"

Fiona hesitated, her heart pounding. She wanted to tell him no, to keep him safe, but instead, she forced her voice to remain steady. "You're... more than capable." The words felt hollow, weak compared to the storm brewing inside her, the dark cloud of her nightmare still hanging over her thoughts.

Before Cedric could respond, a voice broke through the tension, smooth and far too familiar.

"Pardon me!" Fred Weasley's voice rang out as he inserted himself into their circle, all smiles and boundless charm. He slid neatly between Cedric and Fiona, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Urgent business!" Fred announced, looping his arm through Fiona's as if they'd been lifelong friends embarking on some grand adventure.

"Very urgent!" George added, appearing on her other side like a perfect mirror image, promptly linking his arm through hers.

Fiona's lips twitched into an involuntary smile. She knew exactly what the twins were up to.

Cedric blinked, clearly bewildered by their sudden appearance. "What's this about?" he asked, eyeing the twins with wary suspicion.

Fred shot him a mock-reproachful look, wagging a finger as though Cedric had gravely insulted their honor. "Nothing for you to worry about, Diggory. Fiona here has important... potion-related matters to attend to." He winked at Fiona, the gesture so exaggerated it could only be cheeky.

George, on the other side, nodded solemnly. "Very serious potion matters. We'd explain, but it's all highly classified. Top-secret, hush-hush... you understand."

"Absolutely. Ministry-level secrecy," Fred agreed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though it carried through the hallway as if he were shouting.

Fiona shook her head, biting back laughter. "You don't need to worry, Ced," she said, attempting to sound innocent. "Just a bit of... help with a potion they're working on."

Cedric folded his arms, his suspicion deepening. "You're not brewing anything dangerous, are you?"

Fred gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Dangerous? Us? Never! What sort of reckless troublemakers do you take us for?"

Cedric raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You're not using my sister to sneak past the restriction for the tournament, are you?"

"Such baseless accusations," George muttered, shaking his head in mock dismay.

Fiona, trapped between the two, couldn't help but giggle. She knew exactly what the twins were plotting—dragging her off to perfect their ridiculous aging potion. Still, she couldn't let Cedric catch on. "Don't worry. I'll be back before Transfiguration," she assured him, doing her best to sound lighthearted.

Fred grinned, giving her a playful tug forward. "We'll have her back by seven."

"Eight at the latest," George chimed in. "You have our word."

"And we're always punctual," Fred added with a wink.

With that, the twins whisked Fiona away, their steps quick and exaggerated, as if they were on some urgent, world-saving mission. Fred cast one last dramatic glance over his shoulder. "Worry not, Diggory! She's in the safest of hands!"

***
Thanks for reading! If you liked the chapter vote and comment!

Also....i was so tempted to make this the image at the top of the chapter. Please enjoy the stupidity of this