Checkmate, Diggory

Opening Move

It was the first day of term for Y/N's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she had already decided 2 things.

1. Seventh year was going to be unbearable.

2. Cedric Diggory was going to be a problem.

Yes, Cedric Diggory was the "Golden Boy"of Hogwarts— the perfect, athletic, smart, good-mannered, popular, talented boy that everyone fawned over. But, Y/N never saw him that way. She's always seen him as an arrogant, self-absorbed smart-ass who got away with saying too much because people liked the way he said things. He was the kind who didn't have to try nearly as hard as everyone else to come out on top. It was almost as if the world rearranged itself in his favor. It wasn't just annoying, it was unfair—infuriating.

And he knew it too. He wasn't arrogant in the obvious way. He didn't brag or make a show of it like some of the others. It was subtler than that, quieter, tucked into the way he'd answer a question half a second faster than anyone else, or the way he'd look at her like he'd already figured something out she hadn't. Like he was waiting for her to catch up.

And then there was last year. The Triwizard Tournament. He'd nearly died. Everyone knew that much, even if no one could agree on the details. It had something to do with a graveyard, being face-to-face with Lord Voldemort, and barely making it back with Harry Potter. For a Slytherin, Y/N didn't hate Harry Potter nearly as much as the others, and especially not as much as she hated Cedric Diggory.

Him narrowly escaping death made everything worse. Not that Y/N wished he had died, because she didn't, despite what her best friend Daphne tried to pry out of her. But because now people didn't just admire him, they revered him. Like surviving something made him godly. Y/N didn't buy it. Sure, Potter survived a killing curse, but what really happened in that graveyard? Diggory could've ran away, cowered in a corner while Potter dueled the Dark Lord. Of course, no one would ever know the full story since neither of the present boys ever spoke of it since that night. If anything, Diggory just got lucky. But everyone else decided that meant he was extraordinary.

Y/N picked at her plate, as conversations overlapped throughout the Great Hall. At the Hufflepuff table, something sparked another round of laughter. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"What's got you in such a mood?" Daphne asked, glancing over at her friend.

"Nothing," Y/N said, a little too quickly.

Daphne made a quiet sound of disbelief. "Right. You always look like that when nothing's wrong."

Y/N didn't bother responding. She dragged her fork through what was left on her plate, more out of habit than interest.

"It's him, isn't it?" Daphne added, a touch of annoyance laced in her tone.

Y/N squinted her eyes.

"No."

"You didn't even ask who."

"I didn't need to."

Daphne leaned back slightly, watching her now. "So it is."

Y/N exhaled, setting her fork down. "I just don't understand why everyone acts like he's—" She stopped, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

"Like he's what?" Daphne prompted.

"Like he's some sort of god," Y/N finished.

Daphne followed her gaze, before looking back "He nearly died."

"And?" Y/N said, sharper than she meant to. "That doesn't automatically make him exceptional at everything else."

"It doesn't hurt," Daphne replied.