Crisp, frigid air sighed mournfully at the behest of the slightest of breezes. The tired exhale of Hogwarts castle at the end of a frantic day. The hem of the Invisibility Cloak fluttered playfully in response. Faint torchlight, far behind and beyond, provided the lazy light of a half-lidded stare as the castle noted our presence. Dozens of portraits shifted subtly in their slumber – real or faked – providing a melange of movement stirring the peripheries of my vision.

Such was the magic of Hogwarts castle at night. The eerie sensation that everything you did was witnessed. That these hallowed halls knew of your presence. And permitted it. Tolerated it. It was the feeling that you were never truly alone.

'Ow, mate, that was my toe!'

Not that I needed the mystique of the castle for that. I had Ron Weasley's hissing voice in my ear to keep me up to date.

'Sorry, mate,' I breathed.

The Cloak was well and truly getting too small for two of us. I swear, every time I turned around Ron grew a little bit taller. I needed to stop leaving him out in the sun so often. He was like a bloody weed.

I held up a sudden hand, nearly clocking Ron in the jaw. We hunched on the spot, ensuring the tails of the Cloak completely covered our ankles and socked feet. Ahead lay our prey, just out of sight behind a bend in the corridor, but given away now by a pair of quiet, mumbled voices.

I had vowed to Ron and Hermione that I would get back the Marauder's Map, and so that is what I had set out to do; tracking my number one suspect day in, day out, until he slipped up and revealed himself as the possessor – and by extension, the one behind the plot to get me kicked from the tournament – or otherwise.

I'll bloody have you, Cedric Diggory. One way or another.

For over a week, I'd lain in wait each night, not far from the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitory, huddled under the Invisibility Cloak, fighting off sleep, as I willed Cedric to reveal himself and prove me right.

Now, for those of you playing along at home currently thinking that I'm the world's biggest idiot for trying to sneak up on a bloke potentially in possession of a map that prevents exactly this kind scenario, I beg you to relax. Your valiant hero is not that much of an idiot. I had the Cloak, after all. And I had more than a handful of little surprises in store for young Master Diggory, if it came to that. Things that couldn't be detected by the Map. Fred and George had been only too happy to oblige.

I know if I was in Cedric's place, staring at the Map each night, watching a little dot labelled 'Potter' lurking outside my common room, I'd get curious enough to rouse up a few cronies and go and have a look. I was using myself as bait, and relying on that very scenario.

Which was why I had hesitated in releasing the Weasley Wave of Terror this evening, when Cedric, finally, had emerged from his dormitory. But he had been alone. It was the first night since my watching that I'd seen him out after hours. He must have needed all that beauty sleep to keep looking so damned good. Prat.

Ron and I had gone perfectly still beneath the Cloak, afraid to even breathe. There was no sign of the Map, though that meant little. My mind thundered as I watched Cedric lurk in the shadows near the opening to the Entrance Hall. We were across the way, hidden behind a large plinth upon which was mounted a suit of armour. Cedric had no obvious help. There were no cronies. If I cast the spell now, I could snare him with no more difficulty than uttering the incantation. But something stalled me.

I had signalled Ron to wait, and to follow.

Thus, we found ourselves huddled in a first-floor corridor, squatting down behind a wall and trying to make sense of the two voices before us. There was the very real possibility that – if Cedric had the Map – this was a trap. The hunters were about to become the hunted. But, curse my burning curiosity, I had to go and bloody find out, one way or the other.

The second voice was feminine. Ron and I shared a knowing, and slightly embarrassed look. Of course, Cedric would be having these types of encounters. Regularly, if the swathe of girls eyeballing him every time he so much as sneezed was anything to go by.

'Should we…?' Ron asked, nodding back the way we had come.

But I wasn't about to let the opportunity slide. I shook my head, gestured forwards.

'Pervert,' Ron grinned. 'Betcha it's a seventh-year.'

We rounded the corner. It was not a seventh year. Not even a Hogwarts student.

'Christ, she's beautiful.'

Say what you want about Fleur Delacour, she was absolutely stunning.

'Get it together,' I hissed at Ron. I wanted to get closer. I needed to hear what they were saying. The sweeping ramifications of such an alliance were thundering over me in waves.

'But, mate, just look at her,' Ron insisted.

I was. It was impossible not to. She was clearly "turning on the charm" to some extent. Obviously trying to manipulate Cedric into something. I needed to hear if it was working. It was certainly proving its efficacy on Ron, who was very nearly drooling at this point. I was less affected. I figure, once you've seen a girl spawn an exact clone of herself, watched one clone die horrifically, listening to her pleas as it happened, and then seen the other laugh maniacally at the whole affair, the shine kind of comes off the whole Veela thing. Call me old fashioned, but Fleur Two (that was how I would forever think of her, now) just didn't light my fire anymore.

'Focus, Ron. Don't get lured in. Try not to make eye contact.'

'It's not her eyes I'm looking at, mate.'

I jabbed an elbow into his solar plexus, as stealthily as I could. The gasp he gave doubled him over, and I swear our ankles were exposed for a heartbeat. Up the corridor, the conversation froze. Both of them turned to gaze in our direction.

'Lumos,' I heard Cedric say. Glaring wandlight illuminated the very spot where we stood. It lit up the interior of the Cloak. Even though I knew we were invisible, I still felt horribly exposed. I held my breath as Fleur Two took a step in our direction.

But Cedric lay a hand on her arm and put out the light, continuing their hushed conversation.

Ron and I crept forwards at a painful pace, afraid now even to breathe. We hid in a torch sconce, where somebody had stashed a mop and bucket. We were just barely close enough to make out words.

'Oh come, now, Cedric. Why is it that you don't trust me?' Fleur practically purred, batting her eyelashes and turning it up to eleven.

Beside me, Ron gave a strangled little groan.

Obviously flustered, Cedric kept having to look away. He'd force his gaze to the floor repeatedly, before having it dragged back ruthlessly, magnetically to meet Fleur's. It was hard to watch. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

'You're in this tournament to win it just as much as I am,' Cedric growled at Fleur's kneecaps. 'Hell, by last count, you're winning it already. I'm way down in third. I'm only ahead of Potter, because he's a git.'

Right back at you, mate.

Fleur's chuckle was musical, her smile radiant. 'I assume you have information of just what the Third Task will entail, no?'

My little old ears perked right up at that.

'I… have an idea. I have my sources.'

Pricks, the both of them!

'I think I have shown zat I am able to outmatch you silly boys in this game so far. But… if we are to cross wands, I believe I may need all the help I can get. And I think you believe the same.'

Cedric looked away, gazing back up the corridor in our direction. I was hardly breathing. I was trying to force my body to soak up as many clues about the Third Trask as possible, trying to will them to reveal more. In the third task, we were to be turned loose on one another? The thought was, indeed, chilling. Though it wasn't necessarily the thought of facing either of these two that worried me the most…

'Krum,' breathed Cedric.

Fleur nodded vigorously, looking up at Cedric with wide, glimmering eyes that seemed to say he was the only one in the world she could notice. Even from such a distance, even jaded though I was, I could feel the pull. A man could drown in those silvery-blue depths. Beside me, Ron seemed in physical discomfort.

'Indeed,' Fleur nodded, dropping her voice to a whisper, as if Krum might be lurking around the next corner. Wrong Champion, my dear. Just weedy old Potter hiding in the shadows. 'The thought of facing him scares me. That dark, brooding nature. That entire school unnerves me, headed as they are by Karkaroff. I do not doubt that he is bad news. But Krum is ze worst. Surely, you feel it too?'

'He certainly seems… formidable,' Cedric admitted. 'And you were there, the night of the Yule Ball. When we were chasing Potter…'

'That fire in his eyes. Such a burning anger.'

'It is, I fear, what simmers beneath the surface. Whether it is reserved solely for Potter, or it is for any he deems foe, I would rather not find out.'

Fleur pressed right in close to Cedric. Credit to him, he held his nerve. His knees did not give way. I could feel the Pull from where I stood, like a physical presence. I gripped Ron's shoulder and squeezed as hard as I dared.

'I can rely on your support, then, Cedric?'

'What did you have in mind?'

She had him. I caught it, the smile that flickered across her face, as she turned away and appeared to look thoughtful. The grin of the spider catching another fly in her web.

'I assume that you have heard that we will be released for the Third Task over time, in accordance with our rankings. As I lead, I will go first. Krum second, and so on.'

Cedric nodded. I fumed. Who the hell was leaking them all this information?

'There are to be certain… other privileges provided us, not just a time advantage. With these, I think I can lay a trap for Krum and pin him down when he enters, but I will need your assistance to finish him off.'

'So I sneak up and Hex him from behind?'

'Together, we can defeat him,' Fleur assured Cedric.

'And then what? Turn on one another?'

Fleur made an attempt to look hurt at the very suggestion. 'Of course not, Cedric. You know as well as I, that we will need to search for our Key before we can advance to claim the Triwizard Cup and Tournament victory. I believe these searches will lead us off on very different paths. I am content that we might tread our own paths, and let victory fall at the feet of the best wizard. Or witch.'

On the last, she popped a perfect little curtsey. I had flashbacks to the game board of the Second Task.

'And what about Potter?' Cedric asked with a growl.

Touched, I was, to know he cared so much.

'Potter is so far behind in the points, that we will be long finished with Krum by the time he even enters. He will not be an issue.'

'I want to make sure of it. He's a weaselly git. Always finds a way to come out on top.'

Fleur shrugged. 'What are you proposing?'

'The same. We finish Krum, then turn on Potter. Then, and only then, do we go our separate ways.'

Fleur grimaced. Somehow, even that was a breathtaking expression. 'I do not think it wise, to try such an ambush twice.'

'That is my price,' Cedric said, stepping back from Fleur, who was practically draping herself across him, and crossing his arms. 'Krum and Potter, or no deal.'

Fleur pouted. And my goodness, those lips. She tossed her silvery hair, which glinted and shimmered in the torchlight like a cascade of quicksilver. She huffed angrily. She did everything but stamp her foot.

I have to begrudgingly admit a little bit of respect for Cedric, as he stood firm in his desire to ambush yours truly. He remained steadfast in the face of such a fierce wave of Veela Allure that even I was grappling with the desire to tear off my clothes and prostrate myself at Fleur's feet.

Beside me, Ron had screwed his eyes shut, and was furiously whispering, 'Grandma's feet… Snape in a dress… House Elves' armpits… spiders… oh, I bloody hate spiders.'

Atta boy, Ron.

Cedric won. Fleur agreed. They shook hands on it. A gesture that Fleur somehow managed to make charged and tense. She turned, and began walking back off up the corridor.

'Wait!' Cedric called. She paused. 'Why now? You have hardly spoken to me, this whole Tournament. You've openly said that Hogwarts and all of her students are inferior. Aside from getting revenge on Potter, you wouldn't give me the time of day. What's changed?'

Fleur's lips quirked into a knowing smile. 'Let us just say, that recently, I have had something of a change of heart.'

She turned once more, and sauntered off. I felt sick. I knew.

We waited, as Cedric stood in the corridor for a long time after. I studied him intently, desperate for insight into the machinations that worked behind that furrowed brow. A childish part of me hoped that Cedric was the sort to talk to himself, to mull his problems over aloud.

But no such luck. Only stoic silence, as Cedric thought through the exchange. I could see him, examining the opportunity. Just where he thought Fleur would be most likely to betray him. And just where the best time would be to do the same to her. Ideally – for him, at least – that would be once Krum and I were already taken care of. Which was to be not long after the beginning of some task which everybody else seemed to be familiar with except me.

About par for the course, then, so far this Tournament.

It looked as though Cedric was not about to move for some time. His lips were moving subtly, as unrestrained thought bubbles rose swiftly to the fore. He started pacing, back and forth. My hopes of catching him with the map were beginning to diminish. If he did have it, he'd have known we were waiting for him, and wouldn't have carried out the meeting with Fleur, surely.

Unless… I shook my head. Too deep down the rabbit hole, Harry Potter.

I might be forced to re-think some of my assumptions. A prospect that squirmed uncomfortably in my gut.

Speaking of uncomfortable, my legs were cramping. I hadn't noticed the tautness in my entire body until now that the exchange was over, the electric atmosphere dissipated. I stretched my leg, trying to work back some life into it. Careful not to stand too tall and expose our ankles.

'Ow, that's my bloody toe,' Ron growled again.

'Sorry. Could you move back a bit? My calf is cramping.'

'Not really, it's tighter than a–'

'Ow, ow, ow!' A sudden knot of searing pain balled in the back of my leg. Too late.

I buckled, clutching at the leg in question. This pushed Ron backwards a step, into the wooden bucket that had been left in our hideout alcove. He kicked it with a heel, created an almighty racket. I heard him curse violently, then felt an odd sensation, like a dense cloud of moist air whipping past my face at high speed. As I fell, brought down by Ron's wildly flailing limbs, I realised that it was the feeling of the Invisibility Cloak being pulled free.

I hit the floor, utterly exposed. The bucket clattered and rolled to a stop, a ways back up the corridor. Some fortunate twist of fate had left Ron still entirely covered by the Cloak. It was only I that was exposed. I heard the heavy breathing next to me, and soft shuffling, as he no doubt drew his wand. I tried not to look in that direction. Ron's presence might be my only shot at getting out of this unscathed.

Instead, I looked up at Cedric, who had turned to face me. Confusion marred his features, then anger, then a vicious smile.

'Potter,' he said through a malicious grin. 'I didn't know your Disillusionment Charm was anywhere near good enough to track me unnoticed.'

I remained silent, favoured him with my best impression of the glare Hermione reserved for Ron when he said something flippant about S.P.E.W.

I might as well have blown a raspberry at him.

'But you messed up. And now you've showed your hand. You've showed your whole body, matter of fact.'

He chuckled at that, like he found it funny. He was gloating like a villain in a Bond film. They were some of Dudley's favourites, growing up. He'd sit there and yell "just kill him!" to the villain, urging him to finish the job and off Bond. Odd, how Dudley related more to the villains than the good guys.

Or, decidedly not, odd, if you got to know the bloke.

I propped myself up on to my elbows. I was still on the floor, prone and exposed. My wand still tucked in to the waistband of my trousers. There was no way I could reach it in time. Cedric had his drawn already, lowered at my chest. I was relying utterly on Ron to save me, should it come to that. I was fairly certain that it would.

'Why do you always have to be involved, Potter?'

The question took me aback somewhat. It was almost petulant, pleading.

'I–'

'You always have to be there. Whenever something is happening. The centre of attention.'

'I don't–'

'Don't try and deny it! You've been doing it since first year. I remember when you started. People couldn't get enough of you. And then McGonagall lets you on the Quidditch team. Just shepherds you straight in, no questions asked. Some of us had to work our arses off to make the team. But not you, Potter. You just waltz right in, waving that big old scar under everyone's nose, just to let them know you're special.'

'Cedric, that isn't how it happened.'

'Of course it is! The rules don't apply to you, do they? Like at the end of first year, when you… did whatever the hell it was you did in the third-floor corridor. Any of us try that, and we're expelled. You, somehow, single-handedly win the House Cup for it.'

'We almost died, Cedric.'

'And then you came back in second year and did it all again! Parseltongue-ing and snake-charming your way around the castle while the Heir of Slytherin ran wild. Dumbledore never did give a good enough explanation as to what went on down in that Chamber, Potter. Us mortals were just told to believe him. And you. Again. Because you're untouchable, aren't you?'

'Any time you want to throw yourself in front of a Basilisk for me, Cedric, you just let me know. There will be a job vacancy open real quick for you. Just say the word.'

'Oh, but you're never in any real danger, are you? Dumbledore's favourite. His Chosen One. You could take your tea with the blood of Muggleborns, and he wouldn't bat an eyelid.'

'Listen to yourself talking, Cedric. This is ridiculous.'

'You're protected, Harry. From everything. From doing anything wrong. From failing. From the consequences to your actions. From anything truly bad ever happening to you, because Dumbledore is looking out for you. Hell, if I Hex you right now, he'd probably appear and Transfigure me into a toad for touching his precious little boy.'

That one got to me. I launched to my feet, half expecting that Hex to come. It never did. Cedric took a step backwards, but kept his wand raised.

'Oh, I have it good, do I?' I spat. 'I have the easy life? Sure, Cedric. You can have a little extra attention from Dumbledore. You're welcome to it. You can have my whole damned life. But it'll cost you. It'll cost you your parents, Cedric. It'll cost you any hope you might have had at living a normal, healthy life. It will cost you summer after summer of misery and neglect. It will cost you a lifetime of bearing the weight of certainty that you don't fit in. That you're different, and that's wrong. That you're little more than a curiosity, to be prodded and poked. Or worse, to be used for personal gain.

'And it will cost you sleep, Cedric. It will cost you sleep as you worry about where the next attempt on your life is coming from. It will cost you sleep as you worry about dragging your friends deeper into every mess that comes your way. That you're putting them at risk. That they didn't ask for this, but you lose more sleep as you wonder how long you can reasonably ask them to continue to stick around. Or when they'll finally get fed up and realise that you are more trouble than you're worth and leave.

'If you want all of this, Cedric, just say the word right now. It's yours. You're welcome to it.'

'You expect me to feel sorry for you, Potter, because you didn't ask for everything you have? Because you've got it tough? Here's a bit of news for you, that maybe doesn't make it through to the Potter-centric world that you live in: we're all struggling out here. We've all been dealt shit hands, Potter. We're all fighting battles that make it hard to get up in the morning, but none of us are getting our hands held through every moment of it. None of us are having all of our mistakes excused away and swept under the rug. None of us are coasting through this Tournament, when we should have been kicked out three times already.'

'Oh, seeing as we're on the topic of things we didn't ask for!'

'You killed a man, Potter! That Weasley bloke is dead because of you. And somehow, you're still here! What's worse, you've the audacity to try and mess with us. Destroying clues, harassing Fleur. Underhanded move after underhanded move. It's gone to your head, Potter. You've gone too far this time. We're going to make you regret the day your name came out of that Goblet, mark my words.'

I had been regretting that moment every waking second for the past six months. But I didn't reply as much. I couldn't. His comment about Charlie had driven a knife into me, in the very spot I was most vulnerable. And worse, Ron was right there. I felt myself physically crumpling, buckling over beneath a weight I had thought I was free from. Or, at least, one that I had put off sufficiently to allow myself to function. His words brought it all crashing back down.

Vaguely, I noted voices that weren't our own. We'd been yelling at each other for a good few minutes. It was no wonder that someone was coming to investigate. Cedric heard it too.

'This isn't over, Potter,' he snarled. 'Petrificus Totalus!'

I felt my body snap suddenly rigid. I toppled to the floor, face-down. Hard tiles punched home, and blood flooded into my mouth. I could only hear his footsteps receding in the direction opposite the voices. Before long, there was movement, and Ron rolled over, smothering me in the Cloak, and doing his best to shuffle us to the side of the corridor.

The voices were a pair of prefects. Ravenclaws, I could make out by the hem of the robes that passed in front of my limited field of vision. Thankfully, they didn't stay in the corridor for long, as Cedric's flight must have caused him to knock over a suit of armour further up the corridor. Their footsteps soon receded, and Ron cast a very welcome Finite on me, to release me from Cedric's spell.

We made our way back to the dormitory in utter, all-consuming silence. I couldn't find the words. I couldn't begin to imagine the things racing through Ron's head. I didn't know what to say to him. I needed Hermione, desperately. I did not even know if I made things worse with my silence.

In the common room we removed the Cloak. I lingered. Figured I could lose a little more of that sleep by staring into the flames and dwelling moodily on what Cedric had said. I was terrified of the fact that he was right, yet at the same time, knew that it was the truth.

Ron was content to head off up to bed. He paused at the foot of the stairs and turned back to me.

'Hey, mate. Any idea what Cedric meant about… about Charlie, back there?'

The question I knew had been coming. One that I hadn't had time to formulate a response to. One that I needed Hermione for. Needed my hand held, yet again. Just as Cedric had said. Instead – and it shames me even now to write this – I looked up at Ron and shrugged.

'He was just mad, mate. Trying to hurt me.'

Ron nodded, as if he'd expected the response. 'What you said back there, about us. About your friends… we won't leave you, mate. We couldn't walk out on you like that. No matter what comes ahead. I hope you know that.'

Ron was shuffling uncomfortably on the bottom stair. This unmasked display of emotion was uncharacteristic, and he was clearly lost as to what happened next. I had to grab a hold of the arm of a couch for support as I nodded mutely, desperately hoping to hold back the tears that stung my eyes as the burden of it all threatened to crush me utterly.

I was a fraud.

Harry James Potter, you absolutely must not think that way about yourself. When I first learned that I was a witch and came to Hogwarts, I was terrified upon discovering what Voldemort was, what he wanted to do to people like me.

But do you know what helps me sleep at night? The one thing that keeps the fear at bay? It's not Dumbledore, Harry. It's you. It's the knowledge that someone as caring and brave and selfless as you is on our side. So don't you dare listen to what Cedric said, Harry. I won't have it. Because I know the real you.

HJG x.