"Let's play a little game."
Professor Snape wasn't someone easily impressed—or easily controlled. He turned toward Cedric with narrowed eyes and offered a cold challenge.
"When brewing your next potion," he said slowly, "if no more than one Hufflepuff student makes a mistake, I'll award you five points. But if more than one fails—I'll deduct a point from you."
A tense silence followed.
"Do you dare accept?"
It was supposed to be a short break between double Potions classes. Most of the Hufflepuff students had stepped outside to stretch their legs, some looking a little pale from the dungeon's chill and the unsettling jars of preserved creatures that lined the walls.
But at the sound of Snape's voice and Cedric's reply, they trickled back in, one by one.
Whispers buzzed among them. The offer Snape had given—only one mistake allowed among the entire group? That was nearly impossible.
In their first class just moments ago, twelve students had failed their first brewing attempt. The success rate had been barely fifty percent. Now, Snape was asking for near perfection.
The catch was clear: the challenge wasn't about Cedric alone. It was about how well he could teach and guide everyone else.
It wasn't a test of his knowledge—it was a test of leadership.
Even those who admired Cedric began to murmur with doubt. They had confidence in him—but not in themselves.
"This is great!"
To everyone's surprise, Cedric didn't hesitate. He straightened his back, smiled at Snape, and nodded eagerly.
"I accept," he said. "But I have one condition of my own. If I manage to improve the potion's recipe and we succeed—then I should earn extra points for innovation."
Snape raised an eyebrow. His gaze was calculating, skeptical—but amused.
"You want a bonus… for rewriting the recipe?"
Cedric nodded. "If I'm going to help them succeed, I might as well aim high. Hogwarts rewards creativity, doesn't it?"
Snape gave a cold, almost imperceptible smile. "Very well," he agreed. "Let's see how far your ambition takes you."
Once the terms were settled, murmurs of panic rippled through the Hufflepuff crowd.
"Cedric, we—we're not confident at all…"
"I still shake when I cut roots—I can't slice them properly!"
"What if we mess this up and you lose points because of us?"
Cedric stepped forward and raised his wand to his throat, casting a Sonorus charm to amplify his voice. The sound echoed against the stone walls of the dungeon.
"Everyone, please don't worry!" he called, calm and confident. "Since I accepted the challenge, I'll take full responsibility for any points lost. If we fail, I'll ask the professor to deduct the points from me."
His words cut through the uncertainty, and the classroom slowly quieted.
Cedric continued, walking among his classmates.
"Secondly—I believe in all of you. You were accepted into Hogwarts for a reason. You belong here."
His eyes swept over the room, meeting each nervous gaze. He smiled gently, sincerely.
"You don't need to be perfect today. You just need to try—and trust yourselves."
"Together, we can do this."
The silence that followed was heavy with emotion. One by one, students straightened their backs, lifted their heads, and began nodding.
They didn't want to be the reason he lost points—but more than that, they didn't want to let themselves down.
No one wanted to say they simply couldn't do it. Not after hearing that.
Across the room, even the Ravenclaws were watching Cedric with shining eyes. He wasn't just intelligent—he had heart. And courage. And charm.
He was, in many ways, the kind of student Hogwarts idealized.
He was, perhaps, what the Sorting Hat had seen all along.
The sudden applause from the Hufflepuffs startled everyone. The basement's cold atmosphere was momentarily pushed aside by a wave of warm cheers.
"You've got this, Cedric!"
"We believe in you!"
"I swear, he's like a hero from the pages of Hogwarts: A History! How does he come up with those inspiring speeches?"
"Perfect Cedric! I love him!"
Snape, still standing near his desk, crossed his arms and raised his chin. But behind the cool exterior, something flickered in his expression.
Cedric wasn't finished.
He turned back to face Snape, his voice now quiet but still firm.
"This challenge is the professor's way of testing me," he said. "Reviewing the basics is essential. If I want to go further in potions, I must master the foundation."
"I understand your intent, Professor Snape."
He bowed slightly.
"Thank you for the opportunity."
Snape stared at him. The other students were watching Cedric like he was sunlight in the cold. Their eyes sparkled with admiration. And Snape—he didn't know what to say.
The boy's words weren't flattery. They were sincere.
The fingers behind Snape's back clenched and relaxed around his wand. He gave Cedric the faintest, nearly imperceptible nod in return.
And then, the class broke into applause again—soft, warm, full of spirit.
For a brief moment, the chill in the dungeons disappeared.
When the second period of Potions began, Cedric didn't brew his own potion. Instead, after Snape delivered his lecture, Cedric moved among his classmates—answering questions, helping with techniques, demonstrating slicing and stirring methods.
To everyone's surprise, he even invited the Ravenclaws to join in.
Soon, nearly the entire class was gathered around Cedric, working through potions step by step, asking questions, improving together.
Snape stood silently at the door, watching.
In the center of the room stood Cedric, surrounded by classmates who were no longer timid, no longer afraid to fail.
They were trying. For him—and for themselves.
And Snape?
He found himself slipping into memory.
What had he been like, back in his own first year?
Ah, yes.
Arguing with James Potter. Being mocked by Sirius Black. Pining for Lily Evans. Wandering the corridors alone.
He had no Cedric then.
No one had told him he was worth believing in. That he belonged. That he could rise above his past.
No one had stepped forward to say, "You can do this. I believe in you."
Snape's eyes lingered on Cedric, who was now crouching next to a nervous girl, helping her adjust her flame and stabilize the brew.
So bright.
So kind.
So impossibly… golden.
A strange ache bloomed in Snape's chest.
How different would things have been…
If only, back then—he had met someone
like Cedric?
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