If there's one great thing about being sorted into Hufflepuff, it's the people. The students here were warm, genuine, and delighted by each other's success. Even though Cedric was new, he was quickly accepted, and when he expressed his wish to join the Quidditch team as a Seeker, the team welcomed him without hesitation.
Of course, Professor Sprout's recommendation helped, but Cedric still felt a twinge of guilt. The truth was, Hufflepuffs didn't prioritize victory the way the other houses did. They valued the process, companionship, and shared joy far more than competition. When Cedric joined, they even paused their training—not to strategize, but to ask him questions about food.
"I love Dongpo pork. It's so tender when braised—melts in your mouth. Legend has it that the dish was created by a poet!" Cedric laughed.
"I want to hear more about that soup dumpling you mentioned. How did someone figure out you could put broth inside a dumpling?"
Cedric chuckled. "Xiao Long Bao? I didn't invent it! But it's an art, really."
He hadn't expected upperclassmen to be more curious about cuisine than Quidditch tactics. Were it not for the crowd and their differing schedules, they would have dragged him off for a cooking lesson already. Cedric obliged, telling the tale of Su Dongpo and how pork and rice wine had once crossed paths in a poet's kitchen.
After finally agreeing on a time for the next training session, Cedric left the common room with a half-smile.
"I didn't think it was possible to be annoyed by teammates who are too nice."
But as amiable as his team was, Cedric knew the stakes. He wasn't just here for camaraderie—he was here to win. And right now, their casual attitude toward training was a hindrance. He considered spending one of his hard-earned Legendary Points to upgrade his Quidditch talent to SSS-level, but he'd wait—at least until the first match.
Fortunately, everything else was going smoothly.
Filch's body had finally begun to resonate with magic, and Cedric had all the necessary materials for publishing a magical case study. His spellwork was progressing well too—he'd mastered the Symphony Spell and was now casting it a hundred times a day to drill it into his muscle memory.
It wasn't that he was stingy with experience points. On the contrary, he wanted his battle magic ingrained in every fiber of his being. There were plenty of spells for speed—but few that truly increased raw magical power.
Academically, Cedric had become a marvel. Most professors now treated him like an assistant, posing questions at the start of lessons to confirm his mastery, then leaving him to pursue more advanced material. This gave him time to dive into second- and third-year content on charms, potions, and history.
Within a month, even the Ravenclaws had accepted him as the undisputed top student in their year.
Still, Cedric maintained his relentless schedule: nine hours of sleep, then spell practice, advanced reading, potion brewing, and quiet meditation. Even Ravenclaws began to whisper that Cedric was too hard on himself.
But Cedric didn't care.
He had a mission.
Time was short. Harry Potter would enter Hogwarts next year. Cedric's minimum goal? Eliminate one Horcrux per year.
Then, just as he was settling into this rhythm, trouble found him.
That morning, Filch stormed toward him, his face red and twisted with frustration.
"I can't take it anymore!" Filch exclaimed. "I try to be nice, I really do—but some students, I swear they're out to get me!"
Cedric raised an eyebrow. He hadn't seen Filch this upset in weeks. The caretaker's transformation since beginning magic therapy was remarkable. His greasy hair was gone, replaced with neat, brushed strands. His usual tattered coat had been traded for one with golden trim and a rich purple hue. He didn't look like a drowned ghoul anymore. Now, he looked like someone's mildly eccentric uncle.
"What happened?" Cedric asked calmly.
"Someone's been smuggling joke products into the castle! Trick sweets, exploding quills—stuff that's impossible to clean up! They're all getting passed around Gryffindor!"
Cedric nodded slowly. "I think I know who the culprits might be. Do you have the Gryffindor roster in your office?"
"Yes—yes! Come, I'll show you."
Filch trusted Cedric implicitly now. He led him straight to his cluttered office and pulled out the list.
But Cedric wasn't after names. He already had a strong suspicion—it could only be the Weasley twins. What he really wanted was something else: a certain magical map.
After scanning the roster perfunctorily, Cedric spoke.
"I'll catch them tonight. But leave the punishment to me. I just need to let off some steam."
Filch shrugged. "Fine by me. I'm over torturing students, to be honest. These days, I'm happy when they say good morning to me."
He gave Cedric a broad smile, the kind that made his crow's feet deepen around his eyes.
"I know a few secret passages, want me to show you?"
Cedric shook his head. "No need. I have other ways."
Casually, he opened a side drawer, pulling out a seemingly innocuous scrap of parchment.
"Mind if I take this?" he asked.
"Be my guest. I don't even know what half that junk does."
Cedric smiled. "Pick me up at Hufflepuff's entrance at ten tonight. We'll catch them together."
That night, Filch arrived punctually with his oil lamp.
Cedric, already prepared, cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself. His figure shimmered, rippling like water before blending into the shadows.
"I'll go ahead," Filch muttered, walking off with the lamp.
Now invisible, Cedric knelt and opened the parchment. With a grin, he tapped it with his wand.
"I solemnly swear that I have done no good deeds."
Instantly, ink spread from the wand tip, unfurling into fine lines and curves. A sprawling diagram of Hogwarts Castle appeared, labeled in tiny, elegant print. Footprints began to move across corridors and rooms, each labeled with a name.
The title scrolled across the top in shimmering green script:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, purveyors of magical mischief, are proud to present… the Marauder's Map.
Cedric let the words fade, then scanned the map.
Most of the dormitories were crammed with names, but those wandering the corridors were far easier to identify.
He quickly found what he was looking for.
With a smirk, Cedric turned and whispered to the darkness, "Filch, go wait by Gregory the Smarmy's statue. I'll handle the rest."
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