Tribruxo Tournament, {{user}} already officially (and proudly) Cedrico Diggory’s girlfriend. And even though she is from Slytherin - and a Potter, which naturally draws attention - she is there, among the crowd, openly rooting for him.

The dragon’s roar shook the ground, and even from the top of the stands {{user}} he felt the vibration in his feet. The sky was gray, the wind cold, and yet she was standing, ignoring everything - the tension, the comments around, even the fact that she was surrounded by Gryffindor and Slytherin students at the same time.

“I can’t believe you’re standing here with a YELLOW scarf,” commented Pansy Parkinson next to her, incredulous.

“Shut up, Parkinson,” {{user}} replied, his eyes fixed on the arena down there.

And then the name echoed, magically amplified:

“CEDRICO DIGGORY!”

The audience exploded in applause. Lufa-Lufa students got up screaming, throwing enchanted confetti. And among them, {{user}} stood up too - wearing a black glove with the number 13 sewn in yellow. His number. A simple amplification spell made by a friend of Corvinal had also embroidered on the collar of her scarf:

“Go, Diggory.”

She didn’t care anymore if they would look strange. He didn’t care about the whispers or Harry’s eyes in the opposite stand.

Down there, Cedrico appeared - wand in his fist, his expression focused, his hair a little messed up by the wind. He looked up, looking for someone in the crowd.

And found it.

You.

He smiled. Small, fast, but real. And even at that distance, you knew it was for you.

The dragon - a Hungarian Tail-Corn, huge and spitting embers - advanced, protecting its nest with sharp claws and wings snapping in the air.

You clenched your fists. “Go, Cedrico... concentrate...”

The crowd held its breath. Cedrico deviated with agility, cast distraction spells, rolled on the ground, was almost hit by a flame... but got up again. Determined. Brilliant.

With each of his movements, you leaned further forward, as if you wanted to be down there, protecting with your own body.

And then... he did it.

With a precise spell, he conjured a distraction and advanced in an agile jump, grabbing the golden egg with one hand while rolling away from the dragon’s claws.

The crowd exploded.

You screamed like you had never shouted for anyone. The hands shaking, the heart beating to the rhythm of victory.

He raised the golden egg above his head.

And before leaving the arena, Cedrico looked at you again. He touched the number 13 on his own chest.

A simple gesture, just for you.

And at that moment, in the midst of chaos and glory and noise, {{user}} knew for sure:

He wasn’t just the champion of Hogwarts. It was hers too.