Shipping B3 - Trapped Together

Spring D3 - Path/Trail

Trope B4 - As the Prophecy Foretold

Stacked With: FPC; ToS; Star; Fence; T3; Ship; SpB; TrB; IC&F

Challenges: Old Shoes (Y); Mark It Up (Y); In a Flash; Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y); Lunar Era (Y); Hold the Mayo (Y); Ethnic & Present (Y); Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Neurodivergent (Y); Hufflepuff MC; Slytherin MC; Magical MC; Red Wave (Y); Rainbow Rainbow; Missing Rainbow; Happy Birthday

Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenge(s): Spinning Plates; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Persistence Still); Chorus (Bee Haven; Pear-Shaped)

Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenge(s): T3 (Thimble)

Warnings: Vomiting

Word Count: 932

~o0o~

Cedric was regretting trying to take all available courses. If he ended up being made prefect like Professor Sprout was hinting at, he might want to consider dropping at least Divination so he could also maintain Quidditch. Seventh Year Darla was already training him to take over as Captain for next year. He'd already had to stop volunteering in the hospital wing, which made him feel completely guilty.

If he were to drop any class his Dad would want him to drop Muggle Studies, but he refused. It was so interesting and it'd be way cool if wizards could start using the artifacts they learned about instead of just theorizing over them. The theory thing confused Cedric. This wasn't some ancient culture, it was one growing alongside them. Why wasn't their teacher a Muggle-Born who actually knew what these things were for?

Still, at least she tried.

Divination was ridiculous. He thought it was going to be learning the method and if they have the skill great, if not, well, at least apply what you learned and do your best. Professor Trelawney really wanted each of them to have some sort of great vision. To be a great seer. It reminded him of when his dad bragged about him to others. If she had students who were all Seers then it would reflect well on her rather than be the result of any talent or skill on their part.

His best friends, Tabatha and Shaylyn, at least made the class enjoyable. It was a little mean to be making a joke out of everything, but he thought he might lose his mind if he had to take it seriously.

This particular class, they were working on palmistry.

"Tell me, what do these little lines on my hand say about my love life?" Cedric asked, batting his eyes.

Before Tabatha could make up some story that would make him laugh, Professor Trelawney grabbed his hand and pulled it close. She bent over it, her many necklaces and bracelets sounding like the chittering of a pile of beetles.

"Oh, dear boy," she said, turning her attention to him. "You have a very short life-line. I see a very tragic end for you!"

Cedric winced at how hard she gripped his hand, then forced an easy-going grin.

"That's all right then, but what about my love line?"

Trelawney clicked her tongue. "Well, most who die young rarely experience true love."

Still, she looked at his hand. "Ah! Here. A soul mate. And she will appear to you in the most unconventional of manners. It will do you well to keep an open mind."

"Is she cute?"

Professor Trelawney dropped his hand and moved on. Cedric shook his head and turned back to his friends.

"Looks like my death is imminent," he said. "I'm pureblood, but perhaps the Heir of Slytherin will confuse me for someone else."

"I'm still convinced it's that Malfoy brat," Shaylyn muttered. "He and his friends give the rest of us a bad name."

Tabatha nodded in agreement. Both girls were Slytherin and had done their best to suss out if it was someone in their House just trying to scare everyone else. No dice. Cedric wondered if maybe it was someone in Hufflepuff. Zacharias Smith claimed his lineage went back all the way to Helga Hufflepuff. Who was to say that line didn't pivot to Slytherin at some point? And he knew a fair few who would pull the rug out from anyone else in the name of keeping things "fair." When really all it did was maintain the status quo.

"Well, nobody's died yet," he said, knocking on the table. "I think the best we can do is keep going. I'm still trying to convince the younger Puffs that just because Potter is a parselmouth that doesn't make him the heir."

"Even with what happened to Justin?" asked Red, leaning over from his table.

"That snake was backing down before Snape burned it up," Shaylyn huffed. "Parseltongue is the third most common magical language after Mermish and Gobbledygook. It used to be Felinese, but wixen lost their ability to talk to cats around the 15th century."

Trust Shaylyn to know historical events off the top of her head

"It's still suspicious," Red insisted.

"If he was the Heir, I doubt he'd be so blatant about his ability," Cedric scoffed. "And if Malfoy was the Heir he wouldn't shut up about it."

A few days later, he had finished changing into his Quidditch Robes for the game against Gryffindor when he got a horrible headache. His vision went grey and he barely made it to the toilets before vomiting.

"Ced?! What's wrong?" asked Darla.

"I don't—" he groaned, then screamed, clutching the sides of his head.

"What's going on here?!"

"Professor Sprout! Something's wrong with Cedric!"

Cedric retched and choked, but couldn't get anything else up. His vision wasn't gone, but he couldn't process what he was seeing. It hurt. He'd never experienced such pain in his life. His chest restricted and he heaved, unable to get a breath in until he thought his stomach and eyes were following his breakfast into the toilet.

"No. No, I'm too late."

Who was speaking? Late for what?

Was he dying? He thought he might be. His hands shook violently and his heart raced so fast. He couldn't breathe. What was happening to him?! He could hear weeping.

"Help me!"

Did he speak? Or were these the words of someone else? He didn't know.

What was happening?

Cedric's eyes rolled back and he fainted.