A HogwartsElite fic for the challenge "Death sentence." I own nothing in this fic.
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When his name was read off, the words solemn and echoing in the large hall, it was met with elation, cheering. His heart did a double-beat, as for a moment he struggled to understand. Him? With all the talented, powerful witches and wizards at the school, the spell had selected his name, picked him to be the Hogwarts champion? He walked forward, grinning and accepting congratulations and pats on the back with a grin he could feel but couldn't remove if he wanted to. It was a heady feeling, to have not just the respect but the support of one's peers.
He understood the danger, even from the first, even before it was impressed upon them at school, long before he even faced the first challenge. His father worked at the ministry. However long the tournament might have been dormant, it had been large enough in its time to still be an occasional topic of conversation between his father and his friends and coworkers when they visited the house. He went into the process with eyes wide open.
There was no way for him to predict what he would find at the end of that maze.
At first, he found himself angry at Potter – not because of sharing the spotlight, as that was big enough and more for a dozen entrants, but because he had circumvented the rules. Not only that, his parents might have been well-known in the magical world, but Potter had been brought up by Muggle relatives. It was likely that the first he'd heard of the Triwizard Tournament was Dumbledore's announcement. He couldn't possibly appreciate the danger they faced. Potter had faced Voldemort, after all. How could someone his age who had already survived such trials possibly take a game seriously?
But he was proven wrong, strongly and unwaveringly. There was something in Potter, a fierceness and a fairness that Cedric couldn't help but admire. As his death tolled closer and closer, unknown to him, he found an odd camaraderie forming between himself and the Gryffindor
How terrible, that a piece of paper should decide one's fate. As they came through the end of the maze together and reached the trophy that awaited them, Cedric had no reason to suspect anything, anymore than he had when his name was first drawn, first read. There was only the elation, the thrill of winning and the knowledge that he was sharing the moment with someone great in the Wizarding world.
Then came that familiar sensation, the pull, the darkness, and they were somewhere else entirely.
The place stank of wrong, of darkness of magic and darkness of something fouler. They'd pulled out their wands, trying to work out what they were seeing and where they had come.
He missed what was said by his attacker. Harry had dropped to the ground, his body taut with pain, and Cedric had let down his guard on the rest of the place. Not that it would have mattered. The Killing Curse didn't care whether or not you were prepared, and Cedric had never tried to deflect an Unforgivable cast with malice.
The last thought in his mind, right after itoo slow/i was that he never thought his death sentence would have been delivered by magic and read by Dumbledore as a pre-eulogy to his entire school.
Then all was gone./textarea
