One shot from the perspective of Cedrics younger sister, Celeste. She's a Gryffindor, two years younger then Cedric, and befriends Harry through the pain of losing Cedric.

"Cedric Diggorys death was a tragic accident."

I felt like slapping this woman across the face. I stood up at the same time as Harry Potter, the last person to see my brother before he was killed.

"He was murdered!" I exclaimed angrily. I glanced at Harry, mentally asking for support.

"I saw Voldemort kill him. It was not an accident." Harry said icily.

Dolores Umbridge looked personally offended. "You must not tell lies, Mister Potter, nor you, Miss Diggory. Detention for both of you, see me after class for details."

I glared at her, then glanced at Harry, who was also glaring. I sat down, my eyes blazing, and my insides burning with anger.

Three months ago my brother was killed. I remember sitting in the stands during the third task, waiting for the winner to emerge.

Next thing I know, I see Harry appear out of nowhere, clutching Cedrics still body.

I panicked and ran. My parents were also running towards them. I reached Harry first. He looked up at me. "He's dead."

I screamed and burst into tears. I was crying, Harry was crying, we were all crying.

Now this awful woman was making it seem like my brother got himself killed by his own foolishness.

Harry told me everything that happened in the graveyard. How Cedric had appeared out of Harry's wand. How Cedric had asked Harry to bring his body back to me and my parents.

I wrote to Harry a lot that summer. I told him how I suspected I was sinking into depression and how my parents just waved me off.

Harry confessed that he was also struggling. His friends weren't writing to him at all, and neither was his godfather.

We wrote almost everyday, and I poured out my heart to him on particularly bad days. I told him my thoughts of suicide, and he talked me out of it.

When school started again, Harry and I continued to talk. We became close friends, and I started to develop deeper feelings for him.

That first detention we had together was the start of a full on battle against Umbridge and almost the entire government.

I sat down at the table and looked at the strange quill in front of me. Umbridge told us we didn't need ink for this quill, we just wrote with it.

So I started writing. I suddenly felt a stinging in my left hand. I glanced at it and realized that the words "I must" had written themselves into my hand.

I was horrified. I looked at Harry and he looked the exact same way.

"Is anything wrong?" The sickly sweet voice of Umbridge seeped through our horror and shock.

I shook my head, still looking at Harry. "No. Nothings wrong."

Over the next three months, the words, "I must not tell lies" were scarred into my hand and Harry's.

We were both furious and much too stubborn to tell anyone. So we decided to fight back. We started the "DA" (Dumbledores Army).

The year dragged on, and the night that we were found out, I was tortured under the Cruciatus Curse along with Harry.

When we finally got out of there I kissed him. Hard.

"I never knew you were so good at this." I smirked.

Harry grinned. "Me neither."

We retreated to a dark corner in the common room, where we snogged each other senseless.

Now we've been married for fifteen years, we have two kids, and I think about how much they would have loved their Uncle Cedric.

He would have loved them too. Cedric was only seventeen when he died. He had his whole life ahead of him. And it was stolen from him by a maniac who didn't even know who Cedric was.

I miss him. So much. But I know that he was only one of the many who died at the hands of Voldemort.

Harry, myself, and so many others have fought to avenge these people.

We're always going to lose someone. It's inevitable. But we stay and preserve the memory of the ones we lost. We tell their story.

We tell their story.