Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, nor am I ever likely to.
Summary: A Hogwarts Teacher ponders after the events in the Goblet of Fire
Note: All constructive criticism welcomed.
Remembering
They say only the good die young.
It's always tragic when a student dies. Everything in the castle becomes more sombre, and the rest of the students feel the aching wave of reality crashing around them. They begin to realise what is truly important - Or at least most of them do. Some will never see what's glaring them in the face (but that's another story).
The whole castle has turned up in the great hall to remember this Cedric. I look at the walls and decorations, totally devoid of their traditional colours, and then back at the students. They're quiet, I realise. What has happened here has affected them more than they know. I see the tears on many of their faces, and I wish I could make everything all right again. But I know that this is part of them now. This will force many of them to grow up, possibly quicker than they should.
I hate this part of my job. Saying goodbye in any form is saddening, but when you're saying goodbye to people moving on with their lives, who will experience the joys of living, it doesn't feel so bad. Saying goodbye to the dead is always more painful.
The headmaster calls for a toast to Cedric, and I follow, my mind not truly in it. Bits and pieces of his speech make it into my mind. Most of it, actually. Over my years teaching here I've developed the talent to listen and muse at the same time.. A Hufflepuff…. Loyal… A Hard Worker, yes – those were qualities this boy had.
Then comes the part I know the headmaster is dreading. All of the teachers have already been told what happened, how this boy died. But the students do not know, not for sure anyway. I know that the Ministry of Magic wants it to remain that way. I also know that Dumbledore does not. I know all along who would win this argument.
Since the truth behind Cedric's death has not yet been confirmed, rumours have been flying around the school like the dragons of the first task of the tournament, now almost forgotten – and some have been perceptively close to the truth. Most have been far from it. But now, as Dumbledore speaks, everyone learns the truth, and those rumours can be laid to rest.
As Dumbledore is talking I take my time to reflect on the boy that was no longer among us. I confess, I didn't really pay much attention to him. I'm not saying he wasn't important, just that he never stood out to me. His work was good; he followed the rules; he was one of a crowd of students to me. That sounds terrible, doesn't it? But it's the truth, and right now, I can't deny it to myself. I do know that his fellow students noticed him though. I know he had close friends who will mourn his loss deeply.
But he never stood out to me.
Until this tournament.
I should have been equally concerned about the students taking part, I know, but I have to admit, when the names were draw out of the goblet, his welfare was not the one foremost in my mind. I was too concerned about Harry. I suppose that's natural, seeing that he has the same knack of attracting trouble that his father did.
Dumbledore has finished his speech. The words he ends with "Remember Cedric Diggory" lift my heart a little. As I look out into the faces before me, I know that the greater majority of them will never forget. They will remember the real Cedric.
They say only the good die young. What that means for the rest of us, I don't know.
I just know that we'll always remember.