Rainstorm on July 20 (Part 1)

Cedric Diggory had been in a funk all summer. His mother, Mrs. Diggory, watched him from the kitchen window as she scrubbed dishes with her wand. Her son was too quiet, too reserved. He loved Quidditch, but when Amos brought home tickets to the World Cup, Cedric had barely reacted. Mrs. Diggory sighed. If only he could be more like the Weasley kids—loud, carefree, and always up to something.

Perhaps, she thought, she could invite that girl, Cho Chang, over. At least Cedric might smile for once.

A loud knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Who would come knocking in this weather? Surely, anyone would use the Floo Network instead.

Mrs. Diggory wiped her hands and opened the door, only to find Albus Dumbledore standing there, his white beard dripping with rain.

"Hello, Mrs. Diggory. I hope you remember me," Dumbledore said with a warm smile.

Mrs. Diggory nearly slammed the door in shock. "Headmaster Dumbledore! What brings you here?"

Dumbledore stepped inside, shaking off the rain. "I'd like a glass of hot milk, if you don't mind. With sugar, please."

Mrs. Diggory hurried to the kitchen, her mind racing. What could Dumbledore want with Cedric?

"Wait," Dumbledore called after her. "May I speak with Cedric alone?"

Mrs. Diggory hesitated. "Of course, but… may I ask what this is about? He's been in a bad mood lately."

Cedric appeared at the top of the stairs, his expression calm. "It's about my studies, Mum. Don't worry."

Mrs. Diggory watched as Dumbledore followed Cedric to his room, her heart pounding. She couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.

---

In Cedric's room, Dumbledore admired the Quidditch posters and the meticulously crafted magical creature models on the desk. "You made these?" he asked, picking up a tiny Bowtruckle.

Cedric nodded. "It's a hobby."

"Remarkable," Dumbledore said, setting the model down. "Newt Scamander would be impressed. I'll introduce you to him someday."

Cedric's eyes lit up, but Dumbledore's expression grew serious. "Now, to the matter at hand. You know what's coming—the Triwizard Tournament, and Voldemort."

Cedric's fists clenched. The memory of his death in another life haunted him. The fear of what was to come had been gnawing at him all summer.

"Are you willing to be a champion again?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Cedric froze. A champion? Or a pawn destined to die? He thought of his parents, of Cho, of everything he stood to lose. But he also thought of the fight ahead, of the chance to change his fate.

"I am," Cedric said, his voice steady.

Dumbledore's eyes filled with tears. "It's a heavy burden, Cedric. But I promise, this time will be different. You'll live, fall in love, have children. I'll even be their godfather, if you'll have me."

Cedric laughed, the tension easing. "I believe you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled, relief washing over him. "Then let me tell you our plan."

---

Meanwhile, at the Forest household, Joey was bouncing off the walls. She had tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, and nothing could dampen her spirits—not even her mother's exasperated glare.

"Can't you sit still for five minutes?" Linda snapped, her patience wearing thin.

Joey ignored her, twirling around the room with the tickets clutched in her hand. "Fred! I have tickets! We're going to the World Cup!"

Linda groaned. She was ready to marry Joey off to Fred just to have some peace. Luther, freshly shaved and home for the first time in weeks, chuckled. "Let her have her fun, Linda. It's the World Cup!"

Linda shot him a look. "She's 16! She'll be married next year, and she's still acting like a child!"

Luther frowned. "Married? Not yet. She's staying with us for a while after graduation."

Linda rolled her eyes. "And then what? Give you a grandchild? You Americans are hopeless."

Before Luther could retort, bright headlights shone through the window. The Weasleys' flying car was hovering outside, rain pelting its windshield.

"Fred!" Joey shouted, throwing open the window. "I've got tickets to the World Cup!"

Fred leaned out, his expression grim. "We'll talk about the World Cup later. We need to save Flami!"

Joey didn't hesitate. She tossed the tickets aside and climbed out the window, landing in Fred's arms as George hit the gas. The car shot into the stormy sky, leaving Luther fuming.

"They didn't even say hello!" he shouted, pointing at the empty window.

Linda smirked. "You only get one husband in a lifetime. Don't be so harsh, Luther."

Ryan, sitting calmly on the couch, closed his book and went to shut the window. "Looks like Joey's not the only dramatic one in this family."