Cedric's father raises him to be a covert dark lord. During the Triwizard Tournament he realizes he's not the only secret dark lord at Hogwarts. Humor/Parody
A/N Cedric skips a year before coming to Hogwarts in order to further study the dark arts, so he's a fifth year during the events of GOF.
Evil Cedric Diggory
Chapter 1
Year 1
Cedric stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, carefully forcing his nervous expression into a neutral one. He walked the length of the train, thinking through his father's parting words.
"You are a normal eleven-year-old boy, Cedric. You come from a noble, if unrenowned, pureblood line. Your greatest desire is the quidditch cup. You are entirely unfamiliar with the dark arts. You are eager to learn at Hogwarts, having little spell-casting experience, and certainly never having cast the Killing Curse," the elder Diggory had softly told him on the platform.
It was essential that no one at Hogwarts could see through these falsehoods, most especially not Dumbledore. He was the most powerful wizard alive, and the one man that his father feared.
Cedric sat in an empty compartment with smooth composure. A pretty raven-haired girl walked in shortly after, sitting across from him with a curious, if shy, glance. Cedric slowly breathed out. He was a normal eleven-year-old boy, of an unrenowned pureblood line, who spent most of his spare time daydreaming about quidditch, the 12-year-old assured himself. He had never cast the Killing Curse. "Hi, I'm Cedric," he smiled.
"Cho," she replied, and nervously asked "Do you follow the Canons?"
Cedric smirked. He had spent hours memorizing statistics about every professional quidditch team in Europe. Spending the next seven years living a lie was going to be as easy as he had expected.
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"Chang, Cho" Professor McGonagall read out.
Cedric gave his friend a reassuring smile, watching as she shyly walked towards the sorting hat. They had formed a surprisingly strong bond in the span of a single train ride. She was his first friend, he realized. He was proficient with the dark arts, and likely had more first-hand experience casting the unforgivables than anyone else at Hogwarts. Except Snape and Dumbledore, Cedric corrected himself. A member of the Dark Lord's inner circle and the one man the Dark Lord feared. If the Dark Lord had cause to fear Dumbledore, then the Headmaster likely had far more experience with the Killing Curse than any other wizard. But despite Cedric's skill with the dark arts and his well-practiced ability to lie and charm, he had little experience interacting with children his own age. And so he loudly clapped when the sorting hat declared his first friend an Eagle.
"Diggory, Cedric" McGonagall called out.
The young lad nervously put on the ancient hat. This was the moment of truth. If anyone would see through Cedric's plan to fly under the radar at Hogwarts while accumulating the knowledge to rise as the next dark lord, it would be the sorting hat.
"Such deadly ambition," the hat growled at him. "The likes of which I have not seen in over forty years. You intend to be the most powerful wizard before the century is out. And such cunning. Two wars have come and passed since I sorted such a wizard. Slytherin it must be."
"Confundus," Cedric muttered, reaching up with his wand in his sleeve to adjust the hat, while occluding some of his darker ambitions.
"HA!" the hat seemed to smile. "And your disrespect for authority is unmatched by that of any mind I have read. Trying to confound an ancient magical artifact - such foolishness. Now what was I saying? Hmm." A long pause. "I think you might do well in Slytherin."
"No, please, anywhere but Slytherin," Cedric replied. Voldemort had soiled the house of Tom Riddle, and Cedric would never escape suspicion if he became a snake. No, he would recruit his band of followers from the most inconspicuous of houses. He smirked at the idea of Dumbledore's reign of power coming to a violent end at the hands of an army of Hufflepuffs. The irony would have Tom Riddle rolling in his grave. "I'm a Hufflepuff at heart. Don't you know my greatest desire is to win the quidditch cup?" he told the hat.
Cho watched the sorting hat give a shallow sigh before the ancient object screamed "HUFFLEPUFF!" She clapped loudly as her new friend joined the Badgers. She just managed to catch his eye before he disappeared behind a swarm of friendly, loyal 'Puffs, all eagerly welcoming the newest member of their clan.
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Year 5
Cedric had waited long enough. He had hidden in the shadows for four long years. It was time to reveal a hint of his true power. He would amass an army of Badgers before graduating from Hogwarts. The Triwizard Tournament would give him the perfect opportunity to intimidate any potential rivals while showcasing his more harmless magical abilities. Cedric stared at the ancient goblet that held his fate in its hands. A smirk flitted across his face. Nothing would be left up to fate - Cedric happened to have an above-average amount of experience with confounding ancient magical objects. The time had come to make Hufflepuff the most feared house.
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"Did you put your name in the cup Harry?!" Dumbledore roared, shaking the lad by the shoulders and slapping him across the face for good measure.
Harry gulped and looked around the room. Three death eaters stared back intently. Krum appeared bored, as he usually did when off the quidditch pitch. Cedric smirked back with thinly veiled amusement. And the gorgeous Fleur Delacour's gaze came with a dose of disdain. God, she's beautiful, though Harry.
"Gosh, no professor, I swear I had nothing to do with this," Harry replied. He added a flirty wink Fleur's way for good measure. Gotta keep 'em guessing, he reasoned.
Fleur was distinctly unimpressed, as were most of the others present. Snape let out a low groan. Cedric bit back a hearty chuckle - Schadenfreude is a dark lord's best friend. And Dumbledore was restrained from slapping Harry again by a frustrated Professor McGonagall.
"The tradition of the Triwizard Tournament is so old as to be legally binding, my boy. I'm afraid that if you withdraw now we'll have to toss you into Azkaban," explained Ludo Bagman.
Karkaroff paled as he thought of the island fortress he had narrowly avoided.
"There are worse places to die," murmured Krum. Cedric furled his eyebrows and went into a deep thought at that. He still had much to learn of the dark arts.
"But zis is outrageous! Hogwarts now has 2 of the 4 champions" exclaimed Madam Maxime.
Dumbledore brightened considerably having had the situation spelled out for him. "Naught to be done about it my dear Olympe. We had best retire and let the students get a good night's rest. They have an enormous adventure ahead."
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Harry walked alone to the Gryffindor common room. The very floor itself shook outside of the common room. Harry drew his wand, ready for anything. The fat lady opened for him and the shaking became a roaring rave. The twin's fireworks exploded as he entered, and empty bottles of firewhisky littered the ground. This is why I'm in Gryffindor, Harry realized.
Hermione hugged him. A game of makeshift quidditch was played in the common room. And much firewhisky was drunk.
"You know I love you, right Ron?" Harry asked.
An inebriated Ron thought for a moment. He had been angry at Harry earlier - Harry's attempts to hog the spotlight were starting to irk him. But thinking back on all the good times - when he had sacrificed himself so Harry could get the philosopher's stone and when Harry had saved Ginny from a freaking basilisk - he couldn't help himself.
"I love you too bro," Ron yelled and enveloped Harry in a hug. Even sober Hermione joined the group hug.
Finally at 4am the party began to wind down. A few first years lurched up the stairs to the dormitories. "Fucking eleven year olds - they can't hold their magic whisky for shit," a fourteen year old Ron told Harry and Hermione.
Harry took the lull as his signal. He jumped on top of a hastily transfigured beer pong table and cast a sonorous on his throat. "I think I have a bit of explaining to do. Yes, I defeated Voldemort when I was a baby. Yes, I defeated him twice more since I got to Hogwarts. And yes, I defeated Dumbledore's weak ass age line. But I didn't do it for myself. I did it for you. I did it for Gryffindor. So that we can show all the other houses, once and for all, who's boss. And if I win, I will use the prize fund to establish a trust that funds parties for Gryffindor for all eternity, so that we and our descendants can party like this every single night."
Ron jumped up and joined him. "Let's fooking go lads!" And just like that, the party continued until well past dawn, when the entire disheveled house of Gryffindor descended for a bright and early breakfast of bacon and sausages.
A few well-rested Hufflepuffs entered the great hall shortly thereafter. Cedric broke off and approached Harry. He sized up the lad. The boy-who-lived was… scrawny. Still, Potter defeated the Dark Lord in his prime. But Voldemort had been arrogant and border-line insane. Cedric was neither.
"Congratulations Harry," Cedric attempted a grin and came up with a smirk.
"Thanks mate. How'd you celebrate last night?" Harry replied.
"Oh nothing too elaborate. Just a butterbeer in the common room before an early night."
Ron choked on his coffee and barely held himself together upon hearing of the tame Hufflepuff celebration.
Draco took advantage of the distraction to make his appearance with his Slytherin entourage while the head table was still unoccupied. "So Potter, you think you're better than the rest of us?"
Ron recovered and reached for his wand a few milliseconds after Draco. But Fred and George were quicker. A few well placed blows knocked the fight out of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. The twins had learned long ago from garden tussles with one another that fists were often faster than wands.
From that moment on, the Gryffindors were a single unit. Almost everywhere Harry went, he was shadowed by at least one upper year with a solid dueling repertoire. The house of the lion understood the importance of protecting their best opportunity yet at a Gryffindor party fund. Before long the Gryffindor champion was left alone by the rest of the castle.
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Soon the first task arrived. The champions assembled in the tent, and Bagman revealed that they would be confronting dragons. Krum looked vaguely surprised, his first expression of emotion since the day Bulgaria lost the world cup. And looking around, he realized that he was the only champion caught off guard. Why was Karkaroff such a fool - prattling on about the need to follow the rules and his disaffection for Azkaban, he had remained completely tight lipped about the nature of the first task.
Harry knew because Hagrid had shown him the dragons.
Cedric knew because his sources in the underworld had caught wind of the feelers the British Ministry had sent out in their search for suitable dragons. And Harry had told him.
As for Fleur... Fleur inexplicably knew many things.
The French witch was selected to go first, facing off against the Swedish Short-Snout. She stood up to take her leave. Cedric wished her good luck with a soft smirk. Krum nodded in her direction while contemplating his immediate future.
Harry's brain blanked as he stared at the beautiful witch, fumbling for words. "May the force be with you," he decided upon.
She frowned. Cedric's smirk deepened. Schadenfreude is truly beautiful, he thought. Once he ruled Britain, he would force everyone to be as awkward as Harry.
Fleur stepped into the arena. Her performance was academic, and the third edition of Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts would reference Fleur's exhibition repeatedly while discussing dragons.
Two well-placed conjunctivitis curses blinded the Scandinavian beast before it laid eyes on her. She masked her scent, cushioned her boots, and deftly stole the golden egg from the dragon's nest while he furiously rained fire at the distant crowd. Twenty seconds was all it took.
Krum came out next, ready to do battle with the Common Welsh. He was unprepared to face a dragon, but any student of Durmstrang was always ready for a good fight. And so he dispensed with subtleties and waged battle, pitting his magical core against the dragon's, as in the ancient Bulgarian texts. He began with cursed fire and other dark spells that any respectable Malfoy would know that proved generally ineffective against the dragon's inherent magical shielding. As the Welsh dragon drowned the stadium in fire (really closer to napalm than a traditional "incendio"), Krum surrounded himself in thick opaque shield that quickly drained his magical reserves. Beginning to tire, his incantations switched first to German, then Swedish, and eventually a medley of the Slavic languages, while his dark spells wreaked more and more damage on the green fire breather.
"Write this down! Write this down!" screamed Dumbledore at Professor McGonagall as the Bulgarian champion called upon dark arts not seen in Britain since the previous Triwizard Tournament five hundred years ago.
The Common Welsh collapsed and lay unmoving, its tattered wings wrapped around its scarred torso. Krum stood emotionless with burns visible across his face and torso. He stumbled forward, grabbed the golden egg, and chucked it at the still dragon's head, which promptly let out a low whimper. Krum laughed and then promptly collapsed.
A brief intermission was held to give the medics and veterinarians time to ensure that both would recover before Cedric faced the Chinese Fireball. The rising dark lord's plan to defeat the dragon relied heavily on deception. He would distract the dragon with patroni and then summon the golden egg. And the audience - most importantly Dumbledore - would be assured that Cedric was as light as any Hufflepuff.
Upon seeing the massive red Chinese Fireball in person, Cedric began to doubt his original plan. He needed to get away from that thing as soon as possible. He summoned the golden egg, but it stubbornly refused to budge. Steam erupted from the dragon's nostrils, and it lunged at him with bared teeth. Acting almost of its own accord, his wand slashed down. A flash of green light was the last thing the Fireball ever saw.
Silence filled the stadium. Cedric glid toward the golden egg, his feet barely touching the ground as his magic propelled him forward. He grabbed the egg with one hand and lifted it above his head. Every Hufflepuff took the cue and began applauding, soon joined by the students of Durmstrang, the Slytherins, and eventually the whole stadium. Cedric noted that Dumbledore's gaze was steely. He entered the medical tent whereupon he was immediately intercepted by Amelia Bones and some of Britain's finest aurors.
Harry dove down out of reach of the airborne Horntail and snatched the golden egg from its nest. He then flew a few laps of the arena, the Hungarian Horntail hot in pursuit, Harry held the egg high and chanted "Gryffindor!" The Gryffindors took up the chant like a battle cry, imagining the triwizard-cup-funded parties that they would enjoy next year. Professor McGonagall felt happier than she had in a long time.
Harry landed just inside the medical tent where he encountered Dumbledore, Moody, Amelia Bones, and Shacklebolt, all of whom were focused on Cedric.
"He used an unforgivable!" shouted Bones.
"Now, now Amelia, let's examine all the facts," replied Dumbledore. "Unforgivables are only illegal when used on humans, not animals."
"Quite right," interjected Moody.
"And furthermore this was a clear cut case of self-defense," continued the headmaster, eager not to reduce Hogwarts' odds of winning from two in four to one in three. "Indeed, I would say that the use of an unforgivable in this case was entirely forgivable." The headmaster's eyes twinkled.
Amelia Bones stood speechless. "But how does a fifth year Hufflepuff know the Killing Curse?" she demanded. Even Dumbledore looked a little concerned at that thought.
This time Cedric answered for himself. "Sometimes, Madam Bones, the best self-defense is a good offense." He called upon all his willpower to turn his smirk into a good-natured smile.
"Constant vigilance!" added Moody, pleased at the legal precedent being set.
"But what if he's an up and coming dark lord…" murmured Shacklebolt.
Fleur had been silently observing the entire exchange while Krum watched from his hospital bed as his body healed under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye. As the silence lingered, Harry felt the need to stand up for his fellow Hogwarts champion - for his friend.
"Cedric's not a dark lord. He's one of the kindest guys I know. He's renowned throughout the castle for helping the eleven-year-olds, I mean first-years. Any suggestion to the contrary is simply slanderous," he firmly stated.
Cedric mentally breathed a sigh of relief. All those years of helping people - pretending to be someone he wasn't - had finally paid off.
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Harry had emerged unscathed from the first task. He was in third place, close on the heels of Fleur and Cedric, but well ahead of Krum. And that was enough of a reason for the Gryffindors to party all night.