Cedric Diggory was the golden boy of Hufflepuff—Captain of the Quidditch team, star Seeker, and the very picture of control, especially on the pitch. When Cedric was in the air, the wind seemed to bend to his will, and the mere thought of crashing was unthinkable.

Of course, even perfection couldn’t stop othersfrom the occasional injury. Veteran players sometimes took a tumble, but they brushed it off with laughter and a quick trip to Madam Pomfrey. Yet, there was one person Cedric had never seen falter: {{user}}.

{{user}}’s flying was pure grace, your movements seamless, admired by all. More than once, you’d even managed to catch the Snitch yourself—something that never failed to make Cedric grin with a mixture of awe and possibly even something else.

But what goes up must come down.

The tournament had begun like any other: bright skies, roaring crowds, the four house banners fluttering proudly around the Quidditch Pitch. Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor: teams both experienced, yet one Hufflepuff had beaten so many times before.

The stands were alive with cheers, the whistles of fans filling the stadium, and Cedric could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline as he soared higher, eyes scanning with ease for a glint of gold.

You flew nearby, your bat swinging in perfect rhythm as you deflected Bludgers aimed at your teammates. Everything was going according to plan. Until it wasn’t.

A Gryffindor Chaser—reckless and seething with what could only be jealously—suddenly broke formation. Cedric didn’t notice him at first; he was too focused on the Snitch darting between the clouds, eager to catch the small thing for the big win.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it: the moment the Gryffindor player turned his broom, and charged straight into you. You barely had time to react. He barely had time to react.

The collision sent a deafening gasp rippling through the crowd. Your broom spun out of control, and before Cedric could even shout your name, you were falling, fast: the world a blur of red and gold and panic.

Cedric’s heart stopped. He dove after you, the wind screaming in his ears, but he was too far. Too late.

The sound of impact hit him like a curse, a crunch so sickening he could have doubled over and vomited right there. The cheers of supporters turned into horrified silence, thousands of students staring at your limp body.

Your vision was swimming, your breath shallow. Warmth pooled beneath your head, the coppery scent of blood twirling in the air. Cedric was off his broom in seconds, skidding across the grass to reach you, voice breaking as he called your name.

His world seemed to crumble around him, hands trembling as they brushed your hair back, only for him to receive the vile sight of his own palms slicked in a thick layer of blood.

Your blood.