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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

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Ma guided me gently to sit on the edge of her bed, her hands warm as she swept the tangled mess of hair from my tear-streaked face. I had no tears left to cry; my swollen eyes burned, and my throat ached from sobbing. Now, there was only a hollow ache in my chest, an emptiness that refused to be filled. I sniffled, swallowing hard, trying to keep myself together, though every breath felt like it might shatter me.

"I'm so sorry, love," Ma whispered as she cradled my cheek in her hand. Her thumb brushed against my skin in a soothing rhythm, though it did little to quiet the ache inside me.

My eyes met hers, and the raw pain I saw there mirrored my own. It was unbearable, her sorrow layered on top of mine. I wanted to be strong for her, but every nerve in my body seemed to conspire against me, dragging me further into despair.

They were probably moving Cedric's body right now. The thought sent a cold shiver through me, and my stomach twisted painfully. The last image I had of him—so still, so lifeless—haunted me. It lingered behind my eyelids every time I blinked, a nightmare I couldn't escape.

"I should have tried harder," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the suffocating quiet of the room.

Ma's brow furrowed, and she shook her head in confusion. "What?"

"If I tried harder to stop him, this wouldn't have happened." 

"Stop that," Ma said firmly, crouching down at eye level with me. Her hands found mine, her touch grounding me even as I felt like I might float away on the tide of my grief. "This isn't your fault. Do you hear me? It's not your fault."

Her words should have comforted me, but they didn't. They couldn't. The sound of Amos' wails and Harry's broken cries replayed in my mind. I couldn't even imagine the pain his father must have been feeling.

"Is it true?" I asked, my voice shaky as I broke the silence.

"What, love?" Ma's eyes searched mine.

"You-Know-Who," I began, my gaze dropping to my hands resting in my lap. "Is he back?"

Ma hesitated, just for a moment, before nodding. "That's what Dumbledore and Harry believe. Yes."

"Do you believe it?"

She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as though the question was too much to bear. "He was never truly gone, love," she said softly. "Darkness doesn't work like that. It hides, it festers, but it never disappears entirely."

Her words sank into me, heavy and unrelenting. The room seemed colder now, quieter, as though the truth had stolen the very air from the space around us.

I looked back up at her, my lips trembling. "Then what's the point, Ma? If he's back, if all of this—if Cedric..." My voice broke again, and I couldn't finish the sentence.

Ma pulled me into her arms, holding me tightly as if her embrace alone could protect me from the horrors of the world. Her hand ran soothingly over my back as I buried my face against her shoulder, my chest heaving with everything I couldn't say.

"The point is that we keep fighting," she murmured into my hair. "For him. For Cedric. For all the good that still exists, even when it feels like it's slipping away."

But as I clung to her, tears spilling anew, I wasn't sure I believed her. The darkness felt too close, too vast, and Cedric—Cedric was gone. And with him, so much of the light.

"Come here," Ma said softly. She pulled away from me, climbing onto the bed with a quiet rustle of blankets. Her hand patted the mattress beside her, her arms outstretched in invitation.

I hesitated for a moment before I moved to join her. The bed dipped under my weight, and as soon as I lay down, she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into the warmth of her embrace. Her chin rested gently against the top of my head, and I felt her fingers stroke my hair, smoothing down the tangled strands with a tenderness that only made the ache in my chest sharper.

Her arms were strong, and protective, and for a fleeting moment, I felt like a child again—like nothing bad could touch me as long as I was in her grasp. But the truth was unbearable, the loss too profound to ignore.

I couldn't fight the tears anymore, so I didn't. They spilled freely, soaking into the fabric of her sweater as silent sobs wracked my body. Each breath came shallow and uneven, the pain in my chest a constant reminder of the gaping hole Cedric's absence had left behind.

I didn't have to look to know Ma was crying too. I could feel the subtle tremor in her body, hear the faint catch in her breath as she held me tighter. 

"I'm here, love," Ma whispered. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Let it out."

And so I did. I clung to her like she was the only thing tethering me to the world, letting every ounce of anguish spill out into the safety of her arms. Her hand continued its rhythmic strokes against my hair, and though it couldn't mend the pieces of my shattered heart, it reminded me that I wasn't alone.

✦

Ma and I stepped into the Great Hall, the heavy wooden doors creaking as they opened. The room, usually filled with the lively hum of students, was eerily silent. All eyes turned to us, a sea of solemn faces reflecting our shared grief. The long tables had been replaced with rows of dark wooden benches, arranged to mirror the solemnity of a funeral. It was fitting. It felt like the heart of Hogwarts itself was mourning.

We moved down the central aisle, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the space. My chest tightened with each step, every gaze bearing down on me. Reaching the Hufflepuff section, we found Lottie and Elsie sitting together. 

Elsie was weeping quietly into Bellamy's shoulder, her slight frame trembling with each sob. Lottie looked up at me, her eyes red and puffy, tears still streaking her face. She didn't need to say anything; the anguish in her gaze said it all. 

We had all lost someone irreplaceable.

I sat down beside Lottie, and without a word, she reached over, threading her fingers through mine. Her hand was warm but shaking. We didn't speak. No one did. The silence was thick and suffocating, broken only by the occasional muffled sob or the shifting of someone in their seat.

At the front of the Hall, Dumbledore sat in his grand chair, his expression etched with the kind of sorrow only a great loss could bring. He looked out over the gathered students, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. 

Slowly, he rose. "Today we acknowledge... a truly terrible loss," he began.

Lottie's grip on my hand tightened, and I clutched back as if to anchor us both. Dumbledore's eyes swept across the room, lingering briefly on our little group before continuing.

"Cedric Diggory was, as you all know, exceptionally hard-working, intricately fair-minded, and most importantly, a fiercely loyal friend."

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to cry again, but my vision blurred nonetheless. 

Dumbledore stepped forward. "I think, therefore, you have the right to know exactly how he died," he said, his voice rising just enough to cut through the tension.

I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest as Dumbledore paused. 

"You see... Cedric Diggory was murdered," he continued. "By Lord Voldemort."

The name sent a ripple through the hall. Gasps and hushed whispers broke the silence. My stomach churned, my nails digging into my palm as the words echoed in my mind. The world felt as if it had tilted on its axis, leaving me adrift in its chaos.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this," Dumbledore continued. "But not to do so, I think, would be an insult to his memory."

The room stilled once more, and my breath came in shallow bursts. Lottie moved closer, slipping her arm around my shoulders as my body trembled. I felt the warmth of her embrace, but it couldn't chase away the icy grief that gripped me.

"Now," Dumbledore said, his voice softening, "the pain we all feel at this dreadful loss reminds us that, while we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one. In light of recent events, the bonds of friendship we have forged this year will be more important than ever."

I wanted to believe him, to find solace in the idea that Cedric's death would bring us together, but all I could feel was the aching emptiness he had left behind.

"Remember that," Dumbledore said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. "And Cedric Diggory will not have died in vain. Remember that, and celebrate a boy who was kind and honest and brave and true, right to the very end."

Tears streamed down my face unchecked, my chest heaving with quiet sobs. Cedric's face flashed in my mind—his warm smile, his laugh, the way his hand always felt steady in mine. He had been all those things Dumbledore said and so much more. And now, he was gone.

✦

Elsie, Lottie, and I sat in the dormitory, the silence deafening. The room felt hollow now. The faint creak of the floorboards and the rustling of fabric as we packed away our belongings were the only sounds that broke the stillness. It was defeating—this shared grief that wrapped around us.

I folded a sweater slowly before I pressed it into the corner of my trunk. Each item I touched felt heavier than it should, memories of better times clinging to every thread. 

Lottie sat cross-legged on her bed, her face pale and her eyes rimmed red. She wasn't crying anymore, but her sadness was etched into every line of her expression. She reached for a photo frame on her bedside table and stared at it for a moment before setting it gently into her trunk, as though it might shatter if handled too roughly.

Elsie, perched on the edge of her bed, was folding her robes with mechanical precision. Her movements were stiff, her gaze distant, as though her mind had wandered far from the confines of the room. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but the occasional quiver betrayed the tears she was holding back.

"I hate this," Lottie finally murmured, her voice cracking. She clutched the edge of her blanket tightly, her knuckles white. "I hate every second of this."

I looked up from my trunk, meeting her gaze. My throat felt tight, the words I wanted to say caught somewhere between my chest and my lips. Instead, I nodded, a tear slipping down my cheek before I could stop it.

"He didn't deserve this," Elsie whispered as she blinked rapidly, her hands freezing mid-fold. 

The lump in my throat grew, and I closed my trunk, unable to look at either of them for fear I might shatter completely. "None of this feels real," I admitted. "It's like... like any second he'll just walk through that door and tell us it's all some sick joke."

Lottie sniffled, shaking her head. "I keep thinking about his laugh," she said softly. "How it would light up a room. And now..." Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I reached over, placing a hand on her arm, and Elsie moved closer, wrapping an arm around her. We sat there, huddled together in a circle of shared pain.

"He wouldn't want us to be like this," Elsie said after a long moment. "He'd tell us to smile, to remember the good things."

I sniffled as my fingers brushed against the surface of the frame Lottie had placed in her trunk. Without a word, I lifted it, angling it just enough for all of us to see. 

The image inside shifted gently, a moving photograph of the five of us. We were all laughing, the kind of unrestrained joy that made your stomach hurt and your cheeks ache. Cedric's head was thrown back, his grin wide and infectious, his arm slung casually over Bellamy's shoulders as though he had no care in the world.

The laughter in the photo seemed to echo in my mind, mocking the hollow silence in the room. My thumb traced over Cedric's face, my breath catching in my throat. 

Lottie leaned closer, her eyes misting over as she stared at the image. "That was fourth year," she murmured. Her lips twitched, a ghost of a smile trying to surface, but it faltered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Elsie let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against mine as she reached for the frame. "He always laughed like that," she said softly, her voice trembling. "Like... like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing could ever go wrong."

"But everything did," I choked out, my tears blurring the image. "Everything went so wrong."

Lottie leaned her head against my shoulder, her tears soaking through my sleeve. Elsie pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob as she stared down at Cedric's smiling face.

"He was the glue," Elsie finally whispered. "He held us all together, didn't he?"

I nodded, unable to speak. Cedric had always been the one to make everything seem lighter, easier. He'd been the steady hand when things felt uncertain, the kind word when one of us needed it most. Without him, everything felt fractured, like a puzzle with a piece missing that could never be replaced.

"I don't want to forget," Lottie said, her voice small and broken. "I don't want to lose these moments, even if they hurt."

"You won't," I promised, though my voice was shaking. "We won't let ourselves forget. We'll carry him with us, always."

Elsie reached out, her hand covering both of ours where they rested on the frame. "For Cedric," she said softly.

"For Cedric," Lottie and I echoed in unison, our voices breaking under our grief.

The photo shifted again in the frame, Cedric's smile flickering as though he were looking right at us. For a moment, it felt as if he were still here, laughing with us, lighting up the room as he always had. 

✦

The four of us stood in the courtyard, the crisp morning air biting against our skin as the Durmstrang ship began its slow descent into the lake's depths. The water rippled and swirled, the ship's masts disappearing beneath the surface like a ghost fading into the ether. No one spoke. 

I glanced at Lottie, who stood beside me, her arms wrapped tightly around herself despite the warm cloak she wore. Her eyes were fixed on the lake, unblinking, as though willing herself not to cry. 

Bellamy shifted awkwardly on his feet, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his usually bright and mischievous demeanor dulled. Elsie leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder, her quiet sniffles the only sound among us.

The Beauxbatons carriage began its ascent, the winged Abraxans lifting it effortlessly into the sky. I tilted my head back to watch as the carriage grew smaller and smaller, the golden sunlight catching the windows and making them glint like stars. It was beautiful, but all I felt was an ache in my chest.

"It's really over," Elsie whispered.

"It is," Bellamy said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "Cedric should be here to see this."

I forced myself to look away from the carriage and back to the lake, where the ripples were finally settling, the ship completely gone. 

"I hate it," Lottie muttered, her voice thick with anger and sadness. "I hate that they get to leave, to go back to their lives, while..." She trailed off, unable to finish.

I placed a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. "I know," I said softly. "I hate it too."

Elsie shifted against me, her voice small. "Do you think they'll remember him? The others, I mean. The Durmstrang boys, the Beauxbatons girls. Do you think they'll remember Cedric the way we do?"

"They better," Bellamy said firmly, his jaw tightening. "He deserves to be remembered. By everyone."

We stood in silence as the Beauxbatons carriage disappeared into the horizon, leaving behind only the faintest outline of its golden silhouette against the morning sky. The courtyard felt emptier now, the departure of the champions marking the end of something far greater than a competition.

"I don't know how to move on from this," Lottie admitted, her voice barely audible.

"Maybe we don't," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Maybe we just... carry it with us. Carry him with us. Wherever we go."

Elsie reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. Bellamy and Lottie joined in, our hands forming a small, trembling circle. It wasn't much, but it was something—our own quiet promise to each other and to Cedric.

Grief is such a strange thing. People tell you it fades with time, that it gets easier. They say the darkness that comes with it is temporary. But they don't tell you that grief changes you. It's not something you get over. It's something you carry. Forever. It creeps into the corners of your mind when you're least expecting it—like a shadow that never quite leaves, no matter how much light you try to bring into your life.

I used to think I understood pain, but I didn't. Not really. Not until now. Because grief isn't just sadness. It's anger. It's guilt. It's regret. It's the ache of all the words you'll never get to say, of all the moments you'll never have. It's waking up and forgetting, just for a second, that they're gone, only to have reality crash down on you all over again.

And the darkness... It's always there. Some days, it's quiet, just a whisper in the back of your mind. Other days, it's deafening, like a storm raging inside your chest, threatening to pull you under. And you can't outrun it. You can't fight it. You just... endure it.

People say the light always wins. But what if it doesn't? What if the darkness doesn't go away? What if it just... becomes part of you? What if you have to learn to live with it, to coexist with it? To let it sit beside you without letting it consume you?

That's what I'm trying to figure out. How to live in a world that feels so much emptier without him in it. How to hold onto the memories without letting them drown me. How to find light again when the darkness feels so overwhelming?

Because the truth is, I'm not sure if I can. But I know I have to try. For him. For me. For all the things we won't get to do together. Because maybe, the only way to fight the darkness is to keep going. To keep living. To keep remembering.

✦