"I need you to tell me everything," Dumbledore said firmly. "I know it's painful, but it's of the utmost importance that you don't leave out a single detail."

So I told him. I described how Harry and I reached the cup at the same time, how we agreed to take it together, to win together. I told him how the cup was a Portkey and how we were transported to the graveyard, where a small, ratty looking man who Voldemort called Wormtail tried to kill me, and how Harry saved me. How he sacrificed his life for me.

Once I finished my story, Dumbledore let out a deep sigh and thanked me, his twinkling sapphire eyes looking dull and somber for a change.

It had been four days since the Tournament, and I was back in my dorms. My roommates knew to leave me alone, so I hadn't been talking much to anyone. My parents were also staying in the castle for the time being so Dumbledore provided them with a guest room.

I pushed my bedsheets aside and dropped my feet on the cold floor of my dorm. I put on a warm black sweater and headed downstairs towards the Hufflepuff common room. The sun had only just risen, so not many people were up yet, which I was glad about.

I loved the common room. It had a warm, cozy feel to it, similar to the feeling of when you wake up Christmas morning to the smell of hot chocolate and the burning heat of the fireplace where you slept. This morning I could smell cinnamon wafting in from the kitchen. The elves must be making cinnamon rolls, my favourite.

Deciding to have a bath before getting ready for the funeral, I went to the nearest Prefects' bathroom, seeing no one along the way except for a couple ghosts drifting by. The Fat Friar nodded at me as he floated along, a pitying look on his transparent face.

I stayed submerged up to my shoulders in water for quite a while, until my fingers and toes were like sweet, sweet raisins.

I reminisced about the past year while leaning back in the floral-scented bubbles. The simultaneous joy and anxiety I felt when my name was drawn from the goblet of fire, me walking up to the front of the great hall with my entire school cheering me on, and the pride of my parents when they found out. I remember asking Cho to the Yule Ball, and the beautiful grin on her face when she accepted. We danced together for the entire night and ended with us kissing in the moonlight. She asked me to be her boyfriend a week later.

I was never very close with Harry, but he did tell me about the dragons, and of course I helped him figure out the egg. I naturally knew of him before this year, but not too well since he was two years below me and in a different house. I did hear so many stories about Harry from my friends Fred and George Weasley though, so I knew of his adventures and such. I was partnered up with George in first year potions after Snape split the twins up, and we have been good friends ever since.

After my bath I got dressed for the funeral. I put on my best black robes and glanced in the mirror. For a minute, I stared into my reflection's eyes, imagining how it would've been if I had died. Harry would be in my current position. While I wouldn't want anyone to feel the way I did, I truly wished that I could trade places with harry, for the good of the entire world.

Eventually, I left the room and headed up to Dumbledore's office where he was waiting with the Portkey to take Harry's close friends and me to Godric's Hollow, where Harry's funeral was to be held. I arrived at the stone gargoyle where Dumbledore was waiting for me.

"You're the last to arrive. We will be leaving momentarily," he said, turning around to the gargoyle and muttering, "smarties."

The gargoyle started to turn, and a spiral staircase was revealed. Dumbledore led me through and up the stairs until we arrived at at a wooden door with a griffin-shaped door knocker.

He opened it to reveal his office, a circular room with multiple peculiar objects sitting around. Something that looked like a very fancy dish of water with swirling tendrils of ink (I admit, I thought about taking a sip) inside on the back wall, a magnificent phoenix perched on a bird stand, an hourglass that seemed to be faintly buzzing, and in the middle of the room a pair of goggles, the Portkey.

I didn't register much of what was going on, except that most of the Gryffindor fourth years were there. Ron and Hermione were both in the corner of the room, eyes red and faces blotchy, looking like they'd barely slept in days. McGonagall was also there, her usual stern expression replaced by a saddened look.

Dumbledore gathered us around the portkey and instructed for us all to touch it somewhere, he counted down from five and we all started spinning into oblivion. All I could think of was when I grabbed the cup less than a week ago. Just the thought of what had happened that day made my stomach turn more that any Portkey could.

We were surrounded by spiraling bursts of colours as we traveled hundreds of miles across Scotland and England.

Then we were free falling and I crashed into the ground of Godric's Hollow.

I could smell freshly cut grass, the neighbours must've been mowing earlier. It was a lovely day out, the sun shining down from the heavens and not a cloud in sight.

I suddenly felt a strange flash of anger. How dare people be continuing on with their day, when Harry Potter, our one hope for survival, was dead? How dare the sun still be shining? It wasn't fair.

Dumbledore must have noticed my fury, as he placed a soothing hand on my shoulder. I looked up into his knowing eyes and felt myself relax slightly.

I took a moment to look around properly. We had landed at the edge of a graveyard, the one Harry's parents were buried in. He was to have a gravestone beside them, despite us not actually having a body to bury.

There was a small crowd gathered a wee bit away, I recognised Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Professor Lupin, who had a large black dog by his side.

My group and I made our way over to the rest of the funeral. Ron tightly hugged his parents, and we all gathered around to hear the speeches.

Ron, as Harry's best friend, went first. He walked to the front of the group.

He coughed into his fist, then looked up and at everyone in the audience. "Harry Potter. Many of you may have known him as the Boy-Who-Lived. I knew him as Harry, just Harry. My best friend. To be honest, I didn't think he could die, after everything we've done together the last few years. He's fought trolls, spiders, basilisks, dementors, dragons, and even You-Know-Who himself and survived. I-it's hard to believe this is really happening." Ron wiped his eyes with his sleeve and took a deep breath. "Uh, anyway, Harry was an incredible person, and an even better friend. No one could ask for a more loyal mate. I wish I had told him that more... "

He paused, looking as though he was having trouble speaking. "I-I know he'd want us to keep fighting, so that's what we're going to do. He believed in us just as much as we believed in him, and we have to defeat You-Know-Who in honour of that. In honour of him. His sacrifice will not be in vain. We will fight, until every last one of us has used up our power. Because otherwise, You-Kn- no, Voldemort wins. And all of this? It won't mean anything! And I'm not willing to let that happen. In honour of Harry Potter, I promise to fight until my dying breath. For Harry!"

There was an immediate chorus of "for Harry!" from everyone in the audience. They all looked determined; Ron had clearly inspired them.

Ron turned slightly pink and coughed. "Erm, thank you."

He made his way back to his seat, and Hermione replaced him at the front.

I began to look around and examine the crowd. Dean and Seamus were sitting in the back corner, comforting each other. All of the Weasleys were sitting with each other, except Ron, who sat in the front row with Hermione, Oliver Wood, McGonagall, and everyone else giving speeches. Next to the Weasleys was the Gryffindor quidditch team, then some of the Hogwarts staff, Neville Longbottom, and finally Professor Lupin and his dog.

I turned my attention back to Hermione just as she finished talking. However, instead of her going back to her seat beside Ron, she walked over to me.

She slid into an empty seat beside me.

"Hey, Cedric. How are you doing?" She looked at me sympathetically, even with her own puffy eyes.

I looked at her, somewhat surprised she thought to ask. After all, I barely knew her.

I unexpectedly found myself tearing up a bit.

Hermione noticed and immediately leaned in to give me a hug.

"I just wish things were different," I sniffled into her shoulder, "Harry didn't deserve to die... It's my fault, I've ruined everything."

"No, Cedric! No one blames you for what happened. Harry had a severe hero complex, you wouldn't have been able to stop him if you tried." She rubbed my back comfortingly.

We stayed like that for a minute or two.

Eventually, I wiped my eyes and detangled myself from her. "Thanks Hermione, I needed that," I said and managed a small smile.

Hermione returned it. "You're welcome. We have to stay strong for each other during these trying times."

We both stood up.

"Write if you need anything this summer, okay?" She handed me her address written on a small slip of paper before walking towards the street to join the others by the portkey.

I stood there for a moment longer. A drop of water landed on my cheek and slid down to my chin. Looking up, I saw dark clouds moving in, and I felt nauseatingly glad. This weather was much better fitting.

More drops fell.

I finally turned to leave as the rain flooded the grave of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Boy-Who-Lived (past tense)