If Harry hadn’t been so cocky and stupid, Cedric wouldn’t have been hurt. He wouldn’t have been in that graveyard, wouldn’t have come close to facing the danger he did. Now, the older boy, who had been plenty decent to Harry when the whole school had been pretty dead-set against his existence, and now he was stuck in the hospital wing, and while no one would tell Harry anything, he’d overheard enough to know that a full recovery just wasn’t possible. If he had just been smarter, or faster, or better, then he would have been alone in the graveyard like Voldemort had planned, and things would be… well, maybe not totally fine, but much, much better than they were.
No one had directly shooed him off, for which he was grateful, but he assumed that was at least due largely to the fact that any time Cedric’s parents came around he made himself scarce- he couldn’t face Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, not knowing that they’d surely see the fault for their son’s condition clearly lay with him. He also managed not to be around when the older boy was awake, for the most part, until recently when Cedric was awake more than he was asleep. Most of the time they were just quiet, aside from Harry’s awkward attempts to ensure Cedric had everything he needed ( which he did, of course, since the adults were all around to take proper care of him ).
Harry cast his eyes down at the retort to his question- Ron and Hermione were around him basically whenever he wasn’t with Cedric, but he was a little glad he seemed to be flying under the radar of most of the adults- he wasn’t really feeling up to being interrogated about what ‘really’ happened. He kept them fixed on the text book he hadn’t read a word of as Cedric continued, knowing that everyone had thought Harry’d put his name in, that he was reaching for attention and glory and whatever other nonsense made people sign up for crazy death tournaments — and then Cedric made a joke, and Harry’s eyes snapped up with surprise.
“Huh?” That was not eloquent at all, but before Harry could really try again, a short, slightly hysterical giggle left him. “No- it definitely isn’t,” he said once he’d recovered, smiling a little. “Careful- sooner or later you’ll never have a moment’s peace. Probably right when you get out the door, honestly.”
Cedric had tasted fame in the wake of his name being drawn from the Goblet of Fire. He had thought for a time that the confirmation of his own abilities was enough - but it was not long before he realized the cost of his own insecurities, and found himself genuinely pitted up against challenges that could very well take his life while spectators cheered in the background.
Complacency had fled him the day Harry informed him they would be facing dragons in the beginning - yet even with all his time to prepare, there was no accounting for a wild magical creature intent on protecting its sole remaining offspring. The burns that had lanced him that day had served as a constant reminder of how dangerous this tournament truly was - and he began to doubt, well and truly, that Potter had managed to get his name in the Goblet on his own.
It was then that he began to suspect that his fellow competitor was in even greater danger than the rest of them, though he could not rightly say why he felt that way - maybe it was just precedent. Potter seemed to be near to death every year, but never had it been so closely observed as it was now. Yet there was little time to look into it - in truth, Cedric had become obsessed with ensuring his own survival - it was no longer a matter of treating the tournament as a game, and the more that he was interviewed, the more that he realized the tournament was still very much seen as just a game, the more he began to sympathize with Potter and the scrutiny he faced when simply trying to get through his lessons.
He didn’t want to think of what it would be like when he left the relative safety of his hospital bed. The flashes of the photography bulbs had been too much for his senses before the third task had landed him in a graveyard with the He Who Must Not Be Named himself - the interrogations that awaited were terrifying to consider. He no more wanted this than he suspected Harry wanted any of his fame - and considering where his came from - well, Cedric felt more empathetic than he had before, to say the least.
“I don’t suppose you know any secret halls out of this place?” He suggested weakly, offering a slight smile. He knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable forever, but damned if he couldn’t try. “I know a couple secret passages between here and the common room - it’s just getting past the initial barrage that I’m worried about.” Though his tone was light, the fact of the matter was Cedric really didn’t want to deal with the questions, because he remembered so very little - and none of what he had was particularly useful, really.
Sighing, he winced a little as pain spiked through his lungs at the extra effort, and he took a moment to let that settle before inquiring honestly, “What are they planning to do about - him - do you know? My parents won’t talk to me about it.”
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