The Room of Requirement still smelled like singed robes and regret. Not that regret had a smell, but if it did, it would be a mix of burnt parchment, sweat, and whatever ungodly potion Fred and George had launched into the middle of the battlefield. (Spoiler: It had sparkles. And possibly mild hallucinogenic properties.)
Harry Potter wiped his brow, wand still clutched in his hand, and surveyed the chaos. MageX—his not-so-merry band of magicals and magical mutants—looked like they had just survived a particularly aggressive Quidditch match fought with Bludgers made of fire. Which, to be fair, wasn't that far off.
Jean Grey stood beside him, arms crossed, her red hair practically glowing in the dim light. She had that look. The one that meant she was about to say something telepathically snarky.
"We're improving," she said, her voice smooth and self-assured. "Barely."
Susan Bones—who, despite her usual sunny demeanor, currently looked like she wanted to hex something—groaned as she stretched. "That's Jean's nice way of saying Ron got knocked on his arse again."
"OI!" Ron Weasley, still sitting on said arse, glared at her. "Not my fault! The blast came outta nowhere!"
Daphne Greengrass, brushing soot off her uniform like she was above such nonsense, arched a perfect eyebrow. "It came from your left, Weasley. You know, where your eyes should have been looking?"
Ron scowled but didn't argue. Probably because he had been flattened spectacularly.
Luna Lovegood, floating through the aftermath of the battle as pristine as ever, tilted her head, her blonde curls bouncing. "Perhaps if you envisioned yourself as a Wrackspurt, you'd be more elusive."
Ron squinted. "A what now?"
"She means move faster," Neville Longbottom translated, shaking the dust out of his hair. Neville, to his credit, had given as good as he got this time. He was finally growing into his own power, even if his robes had seen better days. "And I agree. You keep getting caught out in the open, mate."
Harry clapped his hands together, cutting off the debate. "Alright, let's do a quick debrief. But first—Fred, George, whatever that potion was? Never. Again."
The Weasley twins, lounging against each other like smug cats, grinned in eerie unison.
"Ah, but Harry—"
"—it was a learning experience!"
"For who?" Hermione Granger snapped, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Her bushy hair had somehow managed to frizz even more, which was honestly impressive. "Because we certainly didn't learn anything, unless you count 'What happens when you drop a glitter bomb on a battlefield?'"
"Yeah," Ginny Weasley muttered, dusting off her Quidditch gloves. "Lesson learned: We all looked like human disco balls for ten minutes."
Fred and George exchanged a guilty glance. "Okay, maybe we miscalculated."
"Maybe?" Tracey Davis cut in, arms folded, her dark eyes unimpressed. "Half the team was blinded by the sparkles. I walked straight into a Stunning Spell because I thought I was being attacked by a rogue unicorn."
"Which was not our fault," George pointed out. "That was just unfortunate timing."
Jean sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If you two do that again, I will personally project an image of Professor McGonagall scolding you into your subconscious every night until you crack."
The twins paled. "Duly noted."
"Right," Harry said, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Back to business. Ginny, you were quick on cover spells, but we need you calling out your targets faster. Hermione, your combos were great, but you need to anticipate when someone else needs cover. Daphne, your shield work was solid, but we need you calling out enemy positions faster. Cedric—"
Cedric Diggory, currently lounging against the wall like he belonged on a magazine cover, perked up. "Yeah?"
"That aerial maneuver you pulled? Brilliant. Do it more."
Cedric grinned, flipping his sweaty hair out of his face like some sort of Hufflepuff prince. "I do try to keep things stylish."
Susan rolled her eyes. "You mean reckless. You nearly got blasted out of the sky."
"Key word: nearly," Cedric shot back.
"And Neville," Harry continued, smirking. "You knocked Fred flat on his back. I'm proud of you."
Fred, still on the floor, groaned. "He's getting too powerful. We must stop him before he takes over."
Percy Weasley, who had somehow managed to stay mostly clean during the chaos, pushed his glasses up his nose. "I'd say we're making progress, but our coordination is still lacking. We need a better communication system."
"Less screaming, more strategy," Hannah Abbott added, patting Percy's arm like she was encouraging a stressed-out professor. "But honestly? That was fun. In a 'wow, we almost died' kind of way."
Jean clapped her hands together. "Alright, let's call it for today. Tomorrow, we'll work on defensive strategies. At this rate, we might actually survive if something real happens."
"Assuming Fred and George don't turn training into a circus again," Susan muttered.
The twins shared a mischievous glance. "No promises."
Harry sighed, already regretting all of his life choices. "Alright, everyone, go get some rest. And Ron, please—"
"—watch my flank, yeah, yeah, I got it," Ron grumbled, rubbing his ribs.
As the team slowly filed out, Harry stayed behind, watching them go.
They were getting better. Stronger. More unified. But something gnawed at the back of his mind.
Because sooner or later, this wouldn't just be training.
It would be real.
—
The last of the MageX team members trickled out, some limping (because, you know, training) and others chatting about what they'd grab from the Great Hall before the kitchens closed. The Room of Requirement, that ever-reliable magical space, began to shift back into its usual state—though Harry was pretty sure it had a permanent battle prep mode by now.
Jean, standing next to him, looked positively glowing with that "I'm about to take charge" kind of energy. She was practically radiating confidence, her red hair caught in the dim light like something out of an action movie poster. Grit, grace, and the occasional snarky remark. That was Jean.
Beside her, Percy Weasley adjusted his glasses, giving them all a look that screamed, "Am I in trouble, or is this a pep talk?" The poor guy had a permanent aura of being slightly confused—all the time.
Fred and George leaned against each other like they were glued at the hip, exchanging the kind of eyebrow-raised look that could only mean one thing: they were plotting—which meant absolutely nothing good for anyone in the room.
Hermione, looking like she might've just walked out of a library and into a battlefield, was definitely holding back a "this better be good" sigh. If there was a countdown on the number of books she had waiting for her in the library, it was probably ticking down to zero.
And Cedric Diggory, ever the relaxed, self-assured kind of guy, leaned casually against the wall, arms folded and looking like he could take on a dragon with nothing but his wits and a sarcastic comment. Which, in Cedric's case, wasn't too far from the truth.
Harry cleared his throat. "Alright, team. First off—Percy, you're doing great in training."
Percy blinked, visibly thrown off. "What? Really?"
"Seriously, Weasley, you're killing it," Harry said, gesturing with a thumb. "You're disciplined, level-headed, and—" He glanced at Jean, who was still standing there like she was ready to start a war. "Well, okay, mostly level-headed."
Jean raised an eyebrow, her lips curving up. "You don't exactly strike me as the 'headfirst into danger' type, Percy."
Percy snorted, adjusting his glasses. "Well, that's because I'm not stupid."
"Which is exactly why we need you where you won't be stupid," Harry replied, crossing his arms. "Not everyone needs to be in the middle of the action. You, my dear friend, are strategic."
Jean stepped in, her arms crossing with that "I'm not letting you get away with anything" look she was famous for. "We think you'd be way more useful keeping an eye on everything from somewhere safe—like, say, a high-tech operations hub."
Fred's eyes sparkled. "Ooooh, high-tech. Like James Bond meets Dumbledore?"
"Please tell me it involves a secret lair," George chimed in, shooting a wink.
Percy frowned, though the idea seemed to be slowly growing on him. "You mean, like, I don't charge in, wand blazing, saving the day? But I still get to be in charge of the plan?"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed, giving him a look of approval. "You'd be the brains behind the operation. We'll be the muscle."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "I mean, Harry's technically 'the muscle,' but we could all use a little backup."
Percy puffed out his chest, getting into it now. "I like the sound of that. But... how would I monitor the battle without being there?"
That's when Hermione, who had been staring off into space like she was calculating something monumental, suddenly perked up. "The Room of Requirement!" she said, snapping her fingers. "It could be adapted to serve as a remote operations center. Secure, magical interference, everything we need to stay under the radar."
Fred, who had somehow made his way to the front of the group without anyone noticing, looked thoughtful. "And Percy could be the all-seeing eye."
"Like a man in the chair!" George exclaimed, clearly in full scheming mode.
"You want to make me the computer guy?" Percy asked, looking very confused now. "I don't know the first thing about computer systems."
"Oh, Percy, this is magic we're talking about." Harry waved him off. "Think Omnioculars, but on steroids. Enchanted surveillance that's so good even Filch wouldn't notice it."
"Miniature self-sustaining observation charms!" Fred added enthusiastically. "Cameras, but better. Smarter. Slinkier."
"And, y'know," George grinned, "unbreakable."
Cedric, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "You could set up projections—some sort of map of the battlefield in real-time. Percy can control it all from his base of operations."
"Exactly," Hermione said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "We could use modified Omnioculars, or even something else. A magical projection system would be able to link with the Room and give Percy the view he needs."
Percy blinked at the sudden influx of ideas. "Okay, okay. I can get behind the whole 'watching the action' thing. But… what happens when you need to tell us what to do? I don't exactly have a megaphone built into my brain."
"We have a solution for that, too," Fred said, pulling out a handful of shiny, ridiculously small earpieces. "Protean Charms. We can link them to communicate back to Percy—no mirrors or shouting spells needed."
"Discreet, effective communication," George finished, looking pleased with himself. "Like a walkie-talkie, but magical."
Hermione nodded, impressed despite herself. "That could work. If we set up the Protean Charms right, it'll be a flawless network for communication."
Percy exhaled slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the whole plan. "This is all... incredibly complex, but I think I can handle it."
"Complex? You're a Weasley," Jean said with a wink. "Complex is in your DNA."
"Hey, I resent that!" Percy crossed his arms. "Just because we're all talented doesn't mean I'm not a special Weasley."
"Sure, sure, mate," Fred said, laughing. "You're the official brainy one. We just... cover all the fun stuff."
Cedric raised a hand. "Alright, let's get back to the mission. If this works, it'll change how we handle things. I'm in."
Jean clapped her hands together. "Alright, nerd squad, you've got your assignment."
Fred and George straightened up, practically in sync. "Mission accepted."
"We'll get the plans," Fred said. "And maybe sneak in some pranks for good measure."
Percy groaned. "I can already feel the disaster."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "I'll start drafting the enchantments. The sooner we test it, the better."
Harry gave a grin that was way too satisfied for someone who'd just thrown out an insane idea. "Let's make it happen."
With that, the MageX team began brainstorming their most ridiculous (and probably genius) idea yet. And Percy, of course, was going to be the one who kept them all from making a complete mess of it.
—
As Fred, George, Percy, and Hermione filed out of the Room of Requirement, their voices bounced off the walls, a chaotic mix of banter and ideas. The room, always eager to accommodate, shifted with them, shelves sliding into place, books and strange objects popping up like they were part of some grand treasure hunt. It almost felt like the room was alive—like it was getting excited about whatever the next big thing was.
Harry leaned against a table, watching them leave, shaking his head with a grin. "I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd say we were putting together a team for the next big heist, not a war."
Jean, standing beside him, gave his shoulder a nudge. "Don't act like you're not in this for the chaos, Potter."
Harry raised his hands, palms out. "Chaos? Me? Never. I'm just here for the cool gadgets and the ability to set things on fire with my brain. You know, the usual."
Jean snorted, arching an eyebrow. "Right, like that's totally the only reason."
Harry shot her a mischievous grin, but before he could say anything else, his attention turned to Cedric. The usually composed Cedric Diggory had his arms folded, leaning back against a wall like he was trying to figure out the secrets of the universe. He looked as if he were still digesting all the recent developments—one of those rare moments when the normally calm, collected Cedric was lost in thought.
"Alright, Cedric," Harry said, stepping forward and clapping his hands together. "You look like a man in need of a cold drink, so let's talk about you for a second."
Cedric looked up, eyebrows raised slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "What about me?"
Harry grinned, pointing at him. "Your mutant abilities, man. You've come a long way since that first awkward 'I-Can't-Stop-Scratching-Myself' moment. You're dodging spells like you've got eyes on the back of your head, and your claws—those retractable beauties?" He whistled low. "I'd say we're getting some serious Wolverine vibes here."
Jean nodded in agreement, her usual calm expression softening. "You've made a lot of progress, Cedric. Your enhanced senses, your reflexes, your healing factor—impressive. But—"
Cedric's face turned serious, his posture shifting as if bracing himself for what was coming next. "But?"
Harry winced. "The feral senses. You're still struggling with those, aren't you?"
The room went quiet for a beat. Cedric's eyes darkened a little, and his jaw tightened. Harry didn't need him to say a word. He could see it. Cedric had always been in control, always steady. But those feral instincts—the heightened smell, the razor-sharp hearing, the overwhelming emotional undercurrent from everyone around him—it was like being on constant high alert. Like his brain was stuck in fight-or-flight mode.
"Yeah," Cedric finally admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "Sometimes, I can't tell where the noise ends and my thoughts begin. It's like everything's too loud—too sharp. And then my instincts… they want to act before I can think. I don't know how to shut it off."
Jean leaned forward, her expression gentle, but firm. "That's exactly why we've called in a specialist."
Harry straightened up, crossing his arms with a grin. "We've talked to someone who can help. Someone who's been through it all—mutant abilities, claws, feral senses, the whole package."
Cedric blinked, clearly confused. "A specialist?"
Harry couldn't suppress the laugh bubbling up. "Yeah, Logan. You know, Wolverine? The guy we've been joking about—'You're gonna start calling people 'Bub' and drinking cheap beer like a pro.'"
Cedric raised an eyebrow, looking both skeptical and slightly amused. "Logan?"
Jean smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching as she fought off a smirk. "The very same. Wolverine, the guy who's basically a walking muscle with a grumpy attitude. He's lived with the feral senses, the claws, the healing factor—everything you're dealing with. He knows how to control it. How to stop it from overtaking you."
Harry leaned in, his tone mock-serious. "And trust me, Cedric, you might end up with a new vocabulary after a couple of lessons. I'm talking bad habits, terrible cigars, and the kind of grumbling you wouldn't believe. You might even start considering 'Bub' as a legit nickname."
Cedric chuckled, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Right. So you're telling me I'll be hanging out with a guy who's pretty much a living tank and probably hates anyone under thirty?"
Jean's smile grew. "Sounds about right."
"Well, I guess I'm up for that," Cedric said, shifting a little, the humor in his voice not quite masking the uncertainty. "But I'm pretty sure that's not the kind of advice I was hoping for."
Jean shrugged, giving him a wink. "You'll survive. Logan's rough around the edges, but he knows his stuff. And besides, it'll be good for you. He can teach you how to control your instincts before they control you."
Harry threw an arm around Cedric's shoulders, trying—and failing—not to laugh. "You might come back with a permanent scowl and an unhealthy love of cheap beer. But hey, if you survive Logan's grumpy lessons, you'll have a whole new level of control over your powers."
Cedric shot him a look, his voice dry. "I'll take whatever he's willing to teach me, but no promises about the beer."
Jean gave a small chuckle. "We'll set up a training session for next week. It's about time you learn how to harness those abilities."
Cedric shook his head, an exaggerated sigh escaping him. "Great. First training session: 'How to Not Turn Into a Grumpy, Beer-Swilling Loner 101.'"
Harry snorted. "That's the spirit! Next thing you know, you'll be grumbling about 'kids these days' and avoiding any responsibilities. It'll be perfect."
With a small grin, Cedric pushed off the wall. "Alright, alright, I'll try not to let Logan turn me into a one-man 'grumpy old man' club."
Harry gave him a slap on the back. "That's the attitude! You've got this."
Jean stepped back with a sigh. "Alright, we've got a plan. Let's get to it. The world's not going to save itself, and we can't rely on you becoming Wolverine overnight to fix it."
Cedric gave a small smile, shaking his head. "Guess I'll just have to trust you two not to let me drink any bad beer while we're at it."
"Oh, no promises on that one," Harry replied with a wink. "Now, let's get to work. Time's ticking, and the apocalypse isn't going to stop for us."
With that, the three of them headed out of the Room of Requirement, the echoes of Fred and George's laughter fading down the hall as they left the chaos behind them and got ready for whatever came next.
—
Steve Rogers stood at the window of the safehouse in New York, gazing out over the city. His mind wasn't really on the skyline, though. It was more on the fact that he was about to embark on something utterly ridiculous. Logan had invited him to some "training" session next weekend, which Logan had assured him was a "secret." No details, no explanations—just a cryptic statement about helping kids with powers. Steve wasn't sure whether to be excited or terrified, but knowing Logan, it would probably be both.
He was still pondering that when he heard the door open behind him. Steve didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. Nick Fury's presence was like a hurricane—you could feel it before it hit. And sure enough, there was Fury, standing with his arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked, looking every bit the grumpy, one-eyed father figure Steve didn't realize he needed.
"Cap," Fury said, his voice low and rasping, "what's this I hear about you getting mixed up with Logan next weekend?"
Steve turned around, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Logan's got me on some 'training mission' with some kids who've got powers. He didn't really tell me much. Typical Logan move, right?"
Fury narrowed his good eye. "You're tellin' me that Wolverine—Wolverine—wants you to 'train some kids' with powers, and you're just going to walk into that blind? No questions asked?"
"Pretty much," Steve said with a shrug, his lips twitching in a half-smile. "I'm used to it by now. Logan's never been one for details."
Fury shook his head in disbelief. "You're walkin' into the lion's den, Cap. You know that, right? Logan's probably got a whole pile of traps, tricks, and god-knows-what-else waiting for you. And kids, Steve. Kids! With powers! What could possibly go wrong?"
Steve smirked. "What? You think I should cancel? I've faced worse."
Fury's eye locked onto Steve's. "You've faced worse, sure. But you didn't face it with Logan's sense of 'helpful'—which, by the way, is usually a mixture of lethal force and bad attitude. You know, like teaching kids to 'channel their rage' by getting punched in the face?"
"Sounds like my kind of weekend," Steve said dryly, though the smile never quite left his face. He liked the challenge. He'd spent years throwing himself into impossible odds. This would just be another one of those times. "But seriously, Fury. It's Logan. What's the worst that could happen?"
Fury let out a long, drawn-out sigh, pacing back and forth like a tiger trapped in a cage. "The worst, Cap? You want to know the worst? The worst is Logan teaching a bunch of super-powered kids to beat up anyone who so much as looks at 'em funny. The worst is those kids being all 'feral' and 'untamed'—like their teacher—only with way less experience and no clue how to stop themselves when things go south."
Steve's eyebrows shot up. "That bad?"
Fury stopped pacing and gave Steve a pointed look. "Do you even hear yourself? Logan's got a long history of messing up people's heads. He's got the temper of a freight train and the social skills of a wet cardboard box. And these kids? I guarantee you they're not your average 'let's learn how to do some cool tricks and save the world' kind of kids. No, they've got all kinds of powers—some of them dangerous as hell—and they probably don't even know how to control 'em. And you're just walking in there like, 'Hey, I'm Steve Rogers, I'm here to make sure everyone survives and nobody gets a concussion.'"
Steve let out a huff of laughter, more at the image of himself trying to wrangle Logan and a bunch of mutant kids than anything else. "I'm not worried. I've survived worse."
Fury crossed his arms, looking like he was about to explode. "You're not worried? Are you listening to me, Rogers? I've seen what happens when Logan starts teaching people—he thinks 'survival' means getting stabbed by a claw or getting hit by a mutant's untrained power just to see if you can take it. He doesn't 'train' the way you think he does."
Steve's grin didn't falter, though. "Yeah, I've learned that firsthand. But let's be honest, Fury, if anyone's got a chance of handling Logan's 'training,' it's probably me."
Fury rubbed his temples like he had a headache. "You're seriously telling me you're walking into this with no backup plan? No exit strategy? No contingency?"
Steve looked at him like Fury had just suggested they cancel Christmas. "Exit strategy? When has Logan ever given anyone an exit strategy?"
Fury's lips thinned, but then, almost reluctantly, he sighed. "I can't stop you, can I?"
Steve shrugged. "You could try."
Fury stood still for a moment, eyeing Steve with a mixture of suspicion and begrudging respect. "Fine. But you'd better be careful. And if those kids end up with powers like anything I've seen—telekinesis, mind control, anything dangerous—you'll be the one to explain it to me."
"I'll handle it," Steve said, still not fazed. "But thanks for the warning, Fury. I'll keep my eye on them—and Logan, too."
Fury shook his head again, muttering something under his breath about 'rookie mistakes' and 'we're all gonna die.' He shot Steve one last glare. "You're crazy. And next time I see Logan, I'm punching him in the face for dragging you into this."
Steve smiled, genuinely amused. "I think that's the least of your worries."
As Fury stormed off, muttering to himself, Steve turned back to the window, letting out a sigh. Logan's "training" sessions were never easy, and they were never simple. But he'd survived worse. Besides, if nothing else, it would be a good story to tell later. At least until Fury tried to kill him for getting mixed up with Logan's wild schemes.
"Guess we'll see what happens," Steve muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And if I don't come back with a few new scars, I'll probably be disappointed."
—
As Cedric made his way down the corridor, still a little lost in the whirlwind of his new, mutant-fueled life, he couldn't help but feel the weight of it all. But then, just as his mind was beginning to spiral into yet another anxious hole of "What the heck am I doing with my life?"—he heard it.
"Cedric!"
Oh, great. It was Cho. Cedric knew that tone. It was a mix of curiosity and concern, like when you tell someone you're fine but your face says you've just discovered your pet owl has learned how to do interpretive dance, and they're not buying it. Not one bit.
He spun around, already preparing his "I'm totally fine, nothing to see here" face, which, if he were being honest, was about as convincing as a pair of Crocs at a formal dinner.
Cho was standing near the staircase, looking as effortlessly graceful as usual. Seriously, how was it even possible to look that cool while just standing there? Cedric half-expected her to break into a slow-motion, wind-blown hair flip just for dramatic effect. She wasn't quite doing that, but she might as well have been.
"Cedric!" she said again, this time with a smile that was part shy, part confident. It was like a riddle he wasn't sure he was ready to solve.
"Hey, Cho," he said, giving her his usual lopsided smile. He was suddenly hyper-aware of how messy his hair must look after hours of deep, soul-searching training with MageX. (Which, by the way, had nothing to do with how many times he might or might not have almost clawed someone's face off. Definitely nothing to do with that.)
"I was just wondering where you've been," Cho said, her eyes twinkling with that mix of concern and something else. Maybe it was amusement, maybe she just thought he was a walking disaster waiting to happen. "Haven't seen you much lately."
Cedric scratched the back of his neck, doing his best to act like everything was totally normal, and definitely not a complete disaster. "Uh, yeah, been busy. You know, life stuff. School stuff. You know how it is."
Cho raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She had that look—the one that said, I've known you long enough to know when you're hiding something, and I'm about to break you with a single question.
"Life stuff?" Cho repeated slowly, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "You sound like a bad spy movie. 'Oh no, I'm just off doing... life stuff.'"
Cedric blinked at her, trying to decide whether to laugh or not. "Well, I mean, if you've seen any spy movies lately, I suppose I could've been hired to, you know, save the world or something," he said, shrugging as if that was the most plausible explanation. Honestly, if Cho believed that, he'd probably just roll with it.
She didn't buy it for a second, though. "Nice try, but I've got eyes, Cedric," she said, crossing her arms with a look that could have melted the strongest dragon in existence. "What's really going on? You've been all mysterious lately. Not your usual 'I'm the adorable golden boy with perfect hair' self. Seriously, what's up?"
Cedric stared at her for a beat, trying to figure out how much to say. His thoughts were in a chaotic swirl of confusion, training sessions with Logan, mutant DNA, claws, and this inexplicable urge to not tell anyone anything ever again.
But then Cho did that thing she always did, where her expression softened just a little bit, like she wasn't looking to expose him but wanted him to be real with her. It was an annoying superpower. He'd never been great at hiding anything from Cho when she got that look.
"I... uh... Well, I'm not really ready to talk about it," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "But, you know, I'll tell you eventually."
Cho gave him that patient, I'm-trying-not-to-murder-you-with-a-wand look. "Eventually? Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. But come on, Cedric. You're being weird. Weirder than usual. And that takes talent."
He managed a chuckle at that. "Okay, I'm not that weird."
"You're totally that weird," she said with a grin, before tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You're like the mystery wrapped in a riddle, inside a really good-looking package. No one's buying the 'nothing's wrong' act, Cedric. What's the deal?"
"Honestly?" Cedric ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up even more. "I'm just trying to figure it all out myself, okay? So... maybe not right now. But I'll tell you when I'm ready. Promise."
Cho leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms again but with a smile this time. "You're lucky you've got that whole 'Charming Cedric' thing going for you. Makes it hard to stay mad at you."
He grinned, grateful for the brief reprieve. "Well, I mean, who wouldn't love this face?"
She rolled her eyes. "Your ego's already big enough, thank you."
There was a brief, comfortable silence before Cho tilted her head to the side, her voice softer now. "You sure you're alright, Cedric? Really?"
For a moment, Cedric just stared at her, considering. Maybe Cho was right. Maybe he didn't need to keep so many things to himself. But right now? It was all too much.
"Yeah," he said finally, managing a genuine, if small, smile. "I'm getting there. Just... need some time, y'know?"
Cho nodded, her smile softening. "Alright. Just don't disappear for too long. We both know you get weird when you hide things."
He chuckled again, the tension in his chest easing a little. "I'll try to avoid that much weirdness."
"Good," Cho said, tapping her foot lightly as if ready to move on. "Now go eat. I'm sure you're starving. Honestly, you could eat a whole three-course meal and still look like you need snacks."
"You know me too well," Cedric admitted with a grin. "But yeah, food sounds good."
"Go on, then," Cho said, her voice light. "Don't take too long. And Cedric?"
He stopped just before turning away, half-smiling at her.
"Yeah?"
"I mean it about the 'eventually,'" Cho said with a wink. "I'm holding you to that."
Cedric gave her a salute, turning toward the staircase. "Promise," he called over his shoulder.
And with that, he was off. As much as he hated to admit it, Cho's words had hit him in the right way. Maybe it was time to let a few people in. But first? Food. Because, let's be real, if there's one thing Cedric Diggory always needed, it was food.
---
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