The line for the medical check-up crawled forward in the Hogwarts infirmary, students whispering to each other about classes and Quidditch. You stood there, arms folded, trying not to look at the chart Madam Pomfrey was filling out after weighing you.

Her eyes narrowed, then softened. “Far too underweight,” she said quietly but firmly. “This isn’t just skipping meals. This is dangerous. You need watching over.”

You clenched your jaw, not meeting her eyes. Before you could respond, her gaze lifted over your shoulder. “Mr. Diggory,” she called.

You froze. Cedric Diggory—Hufflepuff’s golden boy, the Triwizard champion who everyone adored—was right behind you in line. He blinked, clearly not expecting to be dragged into this.

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey?” His voice was polite but uncertain.

She gave him a look that brooked no argument. “You’re responsible, disciplined. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he eats. He needs someone to keep him steady.”

Cedric’s brows drew together. He looked at you, confusion flickering in his warm brown eyes. “Uh—sure. I mean… yeah, I’ll… try.” His voice trailed, almost as if he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly responsible for a classmate he barely knew.

You shifted uncomfortably, cheeks heating under the weight of his attention. He gave a small, awkward half-smile. Not pitying—just… confused, like he was being asked to solve a riddle he didn’t understand.