Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the different companies with a claim to the Harry Potter trademark. I make no money out of this.

A True Hufflepuff

Harry sat on one side of Dumbledore's grand desk, his eyes fixed on Cedric, who held the sorting hat in his hands with an air of deep concentration. The Hufflepuff had been silently scrutinising the tattered old hat for over ten minutes now, and Harry could feel the anxiety bubbling within him.

"Right," Cedric finally said, looking up from the hat with an uneasy expression. "I just don't think this is going to work."

Harry leaned forward, his brow creasing as he tried to hide his disappointment. With every fibre of his being, he hoped that Cedric would be able to summon the Hufflepuff Cup. "You can do this, Cedric. Just give it another try," he encouraged, trying to keep his tone light.

"Maybe you need to take a break, Mr Diggory," Dumbledore suggested gently, his half-moon spectacles glinting as he peered at Cedric from behind the desk. "It has been quite an arduous afternoon."

Cedric shook his head, clearly frustrated. "I'm not sure that would help, sir." He turned to Harry, his voice desperate. "If you could just tell me more about what I'm supposed to do, maybe that could help?"

Harry sighed inwardly. He knew they hadn't given Cedric much information, but sharing more details would not only put their plans at risk, but also would be dangerous for the Hufflepuff. "I understand your frustration, but trust me, we are sharing as much as we can."

"Trust goes both ways, Harry," Cedric responded. "And I want to help, but I need more information. I can't summon the cup when I don't even know what it looks like or why it's important."

Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the afternoon's efforts on his shoulders. He rubbed his temples before looking at Cedric, summoning all the patience he could muster he said. "You are summoning the Hufflepuff Cup. A true Hufflepuff can request the hat for the relic in a moment of need. If we don't get the cup a lot of bad things are going to happen."

Cedric shifted in his seat. "I get that, Harry. You've said it five times already. But I have no idea what these 'bad things' are. How can I 'need' something when I don't understand its significance?"

Albus leaned forward in his chair, his half-moon glasses reflecting the dim light in the room. "I believe Mr Diggory is correct, Harry," he said gently. "We may have reached an impasse."

Harry clenched his fists, frustration evident on his face. "But we're so close!" He turned to Cedric, his voice softening. "I know this isn't fair to you, and it is not that I don't trust you. It's just not safe to share this with you."

Cedric looked between Harry and Albus, his gaze steady. "I don't know. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to do here." Cedric puffed, "We're going in circles."

A heavy silence settled over the room as Harry stared into Cedric's earnest eyes. He couldn't be mad at the Hufflepuff, he was right. "Perhaps this plan won't work after all," he admitted, "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Cedric."

However, instead of withdrawing, Cedric straightened in his chair. "I don't want to give up. If it's as important as you both say, then I want to help." He looked between the two wizards, his brow furrowing. "But I need you to tell me more."

Albus and Harry exchanged another glance. Albus sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It is not so simple, Mr Diggory. The information we possess is... dangerous. To reveal it would put you in considerable danger."

Cedric's jaw clenched as he considered Dumbledore's words. Harry couldn't help but be impressed by Cedric's resolve. He could have easily stepped away from the situation, protecting himself from harm. Instead, he was seriously contemplating diving headfirst into peril because he believed in their cause.

After several moments of tense silence, Cedric made his decision. "If it means helping with whatever you're dealing with, then I'm willing to face the consequences."

Harry's smile was tinged with sadness as he admired Cedric's bravery. Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles, leaned forward and said, "Cedric, your courage and determination are a testament to the house of the badgers."

Cedric's cheeks flushed at the praise from the headmaster.

"However," Dumbledore continued, his expression growing more sober, "the issue remains that you lack the necessary mental defences to hold such knowledge. Even with basic Occlumency skills, it wouldn't be enough for what we need."

"Occlumency?" Cedric echoed. "My father taught me some basic defences... but I was never good at it." He looked crestfallen, disappointment etched on his face.

"Although," Dumbledore said, tentatively, as if the idea was at that moment forming in his mind. "There might be... another way."

Dumbledore looked at Harry, and he immediately understood what the headmaster was suggesting. "Absolutely not, Albus."

"I myself am not too happy about this, Harry, and I would not consider it in a different context," Dumbledore explained, looking as old as Harry has ever seen him, "but alas, desperate times demand desperate measures."

"No," Harry sentenced, "We'll find another way."

"Care to fill me in?" Cedric interjected, he didn't look pleased with once again being kept in the dark.

"What I am suggesting, Mr Diggory, is that we could offer you the necessary information for you to better understand the situation," Dumbledore started, ignoring Harry's unhappy glance, "But unfortunately, we would then need to make sure said information remains in this office."

"He means we would need to Obliviate you," Harry explained, seeing Cedric's look of confusion.

"Oh," Cedric said, slowly nodding, as if playing with the idea, "That makes sense."

"No, Cedric, it doesn't." Harry refuted. "Obliviation takes the memories away, but memories have an impact on who you are, memories touch your soul in ways we can't even begin to understand."

"You wouldn't remember what we tell you, and no one could take it out of your mind, but the weight of the information would stay with you." Harry looked at Cedric, trying to convey the severity of the situation. "You would carry the wounds and never know where they come from."

"Oh," Cedric repeated.

The room fell silent, tension hanging thick in the air. "Perhaps Harry is right," Dumbledore finally conceded, "I am sorry I suggested it, Mr Diggory."

Cedric looked between both wizards, his eyes lost far away. Suddenly, he looked at Dumbledore, his aura almost pulsating with determination. "I want to do it." He said.

"Cedric," Harry started.

"No, Harry, I want to do it." Cedric interrupted. "I can see that this is truly important, I don't think the headmaster would have suggested something like this if it wasn't. I want to help."

Harry looked at the Hufflepuff, madly trying to come up with another plan, anything that would spear Cedric. "You really don't need to do this, Cedric."

"But I want to," The Hufflepuff said, "Let's do this."

Harry's eyes narrowed, studying Cedric's determined expression, "Alright." he finally drew out. Harry gave Dumbledore an angry look that promised a future argument, "Bring out the Pensieve, Albus."

The headmaster gave Harry a nod and, with a subtle wave of his hand, summoned forth the Pensieve from its hiding place. The shallow stone basin floated gracefully through the air, coming to rest on the desk in front of them, hovering just above the polished wood.

Harry drew his wand and pressed it to his head. A silvery strand of memory emerged from his temple, twisting and writhing like a living thing. With great care, Harry deposited it into the Pensieve, where it swirled and shimmered within the liquid surface.

Harry hesitated, "This won't be pleasant," he said, "You are still in time to back off this."

Cedric nodded firmly. "I understand, Harry."

"Ok." Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who merely inclined his head, watching them both with sadness.

"Let's get this over with, then." Harry didn't look away from the Pensieve, his eyes transfixed by the swirling memories. He turned to Cedric, who was studying him and the magical object with keen interest. "You should know, Cedric... I come from the future."

At this, Cedric's brow furrowed, and he looked from Harry to Dumbledore, clearly searching for any sign that they were pulling some elaborate joke. "You... what? Are you serious?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Alright," Cedric said hesitantly, clearly still trying to wrap his mind around the revelation. "So, this... future you come from, it's important that I understand it fully?"

"It's not something I'd wish upon anyone," Harry said "But if you want to go ahead with this you need to see what we're up against. What we're trying to prevent."

"Is that why you're so advanced in magic, then?" Cedric asked, his voice full of wonder. "Because of your time in the future?"

"Yes," Harry replied, finally tearing his gaze away from the Pensieve. "I thought I was hiding it better than that."

Cedric laughed softly. "Well, you're not exactly subtle, mate. The other champions and I have had our theories, but none quite as... outlandish as time travel."

"Really?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Cedric admitted. "We can all tell that you are holding back during our training, and the way you move during our duels… It's almost inhuman."

Harry chuckled weakly, "Well, I was never good at being subtle." His mood quickly changed back to sombre, "Let's jump into the memory, it will show you what could be, if we can't get the Cup." He glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded solemnly.

"I'll wait here," the headmaster said quietly.

"Alright," Cedric agreed, seemingly collecting his resolve. "Let's do this."

Harry gave Cedric a reassuring smile before submerging his index finger into the swirling memories within the Pensieve. Cedric followed suit, their world shifting around them as they entered the depths of Harry's past and future.

Harry and Cedric landed with a soft thud on the blood-soaked grass of the Hogwarts grounds, surrounded by the horrific aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the once-pristine castle stood battered and scarred, its walls crumbling under the weight of the devastation they had witnessed.

Cedric's eyes grew wide as he took in the gruesome scene before him. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield – students, teachers, and members of the Order of the Phoenix, all fallen in a desperate struggle against the countless Death Eaters that still fought viciously against their dwindling opposition.

"Merlin's beard..." Cedric whispered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle cries and spellfire that echoed around them.

Harry's gaze was locked on a point in the distance. Memory Harry and Memory Dumbledore stood back-to-back, wands flashing and spells flying as they valiantly fought wave after wave of dark-robed figures that swarmed upon them like a relentless tide.

"Harry," Cedric tried to talk, but Harry's face remained grim, his attention unwavering from the memory that haunted his past.

"God, I hate this memory," Harry finally said. "This is less than two years from your time, Cedric. After Voldemort returned, everything went to hell. We did what we could, but nothing seemed to make any difference."

"Wh-why?" Cedric stuttered, trying to comprehend the carnage around them.

"Voldemort created soul jars – objects tethering him to life, preventing his death." Harry paused, swallowing hard. "The Hufflepuff Cup is one of them, the last we need to destroy in order to defeat him."

"His own soul... in the Hufflepuff Cup?" Cedric breathed, horrified by the very thought. He stared at Harry, his eyes searching for any hint of deception, but all he found was a resolute determination that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "We need that Cup, Cedric. We can't let this future happen."

Cedric's jaw clenched, though Harry could tell the full gravity of the situation hadn't yet sunk in. Cedric's eyes roved over the battlefield, taking in the devastation and destruction wrought by the war that had ravaged their world.

"Harry," Cedric said, swallowing hard. "Where am I in all this? I would have stayed and fought." His voice wavered slightly as he spoke.

Harry's face twisted with grief as he looked at his friend. "I... I can show you. But trust me, it's not something you'd want to see."

Cedric stared at him. "I think I need to see it."

With a nod, Harry focused on the memory surrounding them, and the scene began to change in a flurry of black, inky smoke. The smoke swirled and danced around them before finally settling into a new image.

The cemetery was an eerie sight, shrouded in darkness and surrounded by gnarled trees. A chill hung in the air, as if the very land itself were mourning the dead buried beneath its soil.

Cedric glanced around the graveyard, but stopped short when he noticed Harry's intense gaze fixed on a particular point. Following Harry's line of sight, Cedric saw Memory Harry and Memory Cedric lying on the ground, the Triwizard Cup just within reach. Cedric's eyes widened as he heard his own memory self questioning why they had been brought here.

"Harry?" Cedric asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are we here?"

Harry's expression was solemn as he replied, "This is where it happened."

Memory Harry's sudden yells of pain echoed through the Riddle Cemetery, his hand clutching his scar as if to rip it from his head.

Memory Cedric tensed, looking worried and confused. "What's happening, Harry?" he asked urgently.

"You need to leave… Now!" Memory Harry managed to choke out between pained gasps.

Memory Cedric hesitated, torn between fleeing and staying to help his friend. In that moment of indecision, they saw Peter Pettigrew emerge from the shadows, carrying the deformed form of Voldemort in his arms. Memory Cedric's eyes widened in horror, but his bravery took hold as he raised his wand at Pettigrew, ready for battle.

"Kill the spare," Voldemort commanded coldly, and without a second thought, Pettigrew unleashed the lethal green light that struck Memory Cedric in the chest.

"NO!" Memory Harry cried out, watching as Memory Cedric crumpled lifelessly to the ground like a discarded marionette.

Cedric stared at Harry, disbelief etched across his features as he processed the scene before him. "Was... was that me?" he whispered, unable to tear his gaze away from the memory of his own death.

Harry looked at Cedric, his face a mask of sorrow. "You were the first casualty of the war," he said softly, his voice laden with regret.

Cedric's shock gave way to a dawning comprehension. As they watched, Memory Harry let out one final, anguished scream before collapsing unconscious. A torrent of inky black smoke rushed through the scene, obliterating everything in its path and forcing them back into the real world.