I do not own Harry Potter. J. does.
Cedric sat hunched over on his bed, crying softly to himself. The four-poster bed had the curtains drawn, so even if anyone had been there they couldn't have seen him. This was what he had been reduced to in the few days that had passed since then. Today was the funeral, and everyone was already filing down to the Quidditch pitch where the service would be held. It was only fitting, of course. Dumbledore had returned the pitch to its normal state the day before, and here the service would take place before Harry was taken to Godric's Hollow. Cedric remembered clear as day what had happened after he arrived back.
Cheering broke through the state of shock and pain Cedric arrived in. The band played loud, winning music and the grandstands were full of applauding students on their feet. Dumbledore had approached and saw Harry's body, and froze. He muttered a spell under his breath and the body had disappeared, then, with a look of triumph, had taken Cedric's wrist and thrust it into the air to face the students' uproar, cheering and clapping enthusiastically. He gestured for Cedric to follow him, and they entered the castle, backs to the crowd.
In Dumbledore's office, he was seated in a chair, still silent with the tears rolling down his face. He sat like that for several minutes, half an hour, an hour, he didn't know. Eventually he heard the door reopen and footsteps as several people filed in. He raised his head and saw Ron and Hermione, the Weasley family, his own father, an assortment of teachers- McGonagall, Moody and Hagrid, and the Minister for Magic. Dumbledore conjured a group of chairs to seat all, and motioned for them to be seated. After a few minutes, the Headmaster spoke. 'Harry is dead.' The shock was instantly obvious- Ron recoiled, Hermione and the Weasleys looked sick, and McGonagall clutched the chair so tightly that a small fragment of wood broke off. Hagrid broke his altogether. His father came to stand behind him. 'How?' The Minister for Magic asked. 'I'm not sure myself,' Dumbledore replied. 'Will you tell us, Cedric?'
Cedric took a deep breath and began talking. 'The cup- it was a Portkey. We appeared in a graveyard. There was a small man there, carrying a bundle. He shot a spell at me- the Killing Curse- but it was a bad shot. He hit Harry.' Cedric couldn't bear to say that he had jumped in front of him, saved him, when he was far less important than The Boy Who Lived. He would be resented forever. 'Then the bundle screamed, and the figure came towards us again, so I grabbed Harry and summoned the cup.' He looked up and saw the rest gazing at him. 'I think' he added, 'that the bundle was He- was Voldemort.' Everyone had broken down, started crying. The twins and Ron looked furious and Hermione was sobbing as Ron put an arm around her. Then, suddenly, Moody began changing. His appearance changed completely as his body mutated, eventually somewhat resembling Barty Crouch. Dumbledore shot a spell at him to bind him, and that's when Cedric finally broke down. As he found out later, it was Moody- or rather, Barty Crouch Jr that had enchanted the Cup. He had been sent to Azkaban.
Cedric sat up and wiped his face. He owed Harry that much, to attend his funeral. He quickly pulled on his dress robes and marched out of the Dormitory. 'I'll avenge you, Harry.'