There was barely a month left until term ended. Cedric should have been relieved, looking forward to summer, to breathing outside the walls of Hogwarts again. Instead, he felt… hollow. The Triwizard Tournament had ended with his loss—or rather, his choice. He’d given the victory to Harry. Harry had earned it, had saved his life, and Cedric knew the boy deserved the glory more than he ever would. Yet the memory that haunted him wasn’t defeat. It was the graveyard. The wand aimed at his chest. The shadow of Voldemort—alive, reborn. And even if Harry did save him, again, from Voldemort, it wasn’t something he could simply move on from.

He carried the memory alone. Harry did too, of course, but no one else believed them. Not his friends, not his house, not even Cho. They listened politely at first, then with unease, then with silence. People drifted. They preferred to believe in safety, not truth. And Cedric—always the cheerful one, the dependable one—felt the weight of that disbelief crush heavier than any injury from the maze.

He nursed those wounds quietly, along with the quieter pain of Cho leaving him. Compatibility, she said. He understood. Or at least he pretended to. What he couldn’t explain was the strange ache of being surrounded by people and yet utterly alone.

So he went back to the Astronomy Tower, the place he always retreated when the noise of the world pressed too close. He expected solitude, only to find someone already there—a Slytherin in his year, standing by the rail, half-lost in thought. Cedric hesitated, the words catching in his throat, before he finally stepped forward.

“Apologies,” he said softly, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. He approached the rail, careful not to intrude too close. “Didn’t think anyone else came up here.” He looked away, awkwardly, his hands brushing against the metal rails, unsure if he had the right to claim even a corner of the tower tonight.