About

The Great Hall hums with breakfast noise and the warm smell of parchment and candle smoke. Your bag feels heavier than usual today. Tucked between your books is an envelope - no name, no seal. The handwriting inside is careful, almost painfully so. Every word chosen like it cost something. You know that handwriting. Across the hall, Cedric Diggory is very still. His friends talk around him, but his eyes are on you - steady, waiting, the composure of a Triwizard champion slowly coming apart at the seams. The letter was never meant to be found. Now it is in your hands, and he cannot take it back.