Hunger Consumed

The sun was barely rising when the door to Harry’s room flew open with a creak. Harry groggily opened his eyes to see his mother standing in the doorway. Her wide eyes quickly darted from Harry to Cedric, who was still sound asleep next to him, hand hugging his abdomen and their calf’s wrapped together like snakes. Lily froze in place for a moment, her tired face shifting from confusion to flustered surprise.

“Oh, goodness, Cedric?” she shrieked, a touch of color rising to her cheeks. Her hand instinctively went to her mouth, as if she hadn’t meant to intrude.

Cedric, half-awake now, groaned as he slowly sat up, blinking away sleep. His gaze flickered from Harry to Lily, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Mrs Potter it’s not… uh, it’s not like that,” Cedric began, his voice a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness.

Lily bit her lip, her expression finally settling in one of mischief’s. “Oh uh, silly me, forget to knock sometimes!” She looked over Harry and smiled a lopsided smile. “Anyway, breakfast is ready. Come downstairs whenever you feel like it.”

With that, she disappeared out of the room, leaving Harry and Cedric in stunned silence.

Harry blinked a few times as the reality of what had just happened sank in. “That was…uhm,” he murmured, pulling the blankets off himself and standing up. He caught Cedric’s gaze for a brief moment, and they both shared a quiet laugh at the awkwardness of the situation.

“Do you think she misunderstood?” Cedric asked, his voice hoarse but still laced with a trace of embarrassment.

Harry moved picked up fresh clothes from his and tossed some to Cedric, an oversized shirt and some pants he thought might fit the other. Last night, fear had gripped Harry so tightly that he asked Cedric to stay without a second thought.

It had been a surprise, Cedric laying on his bed with him instantly, without even asking for night clothes or protesting about anything, really.

On second thought, that was Cedric’s character. Kind and selfless. He’d always go out of his way to help Harry, no matter the situation. And now Harry had started feeling the familiar feeling of guilt nagging him, crawling inside him. He cursed the moment he had asked the other to stay the night.

Especially after Cedric’s stay had no effect.

Harry never intended to drag Cedric into something so personal, but what else could he have done? The nightmares weren’t stopping, and for once, he hadn’t wanted to be alone. But that didn’t make the guilt any easier to bear.

Shaking his head, Harry tried forgetting about the night’s revelations. “I hope not. It’s dad I mostly worry about.”

“I guess we should go down and face the storm, huh?” Cedric teased playfully.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Harry replied, thankful for Cedric’s attempt to ease the tension. He quickly got dressed, not minding the not so subtle looks Cedric would give him now and then.

His mind was raising with remnants of his nightmare, the voice whispering threats, confessing, making Harry feel a possession rather than a human. He felt the terror creeping up at him, hands grasping on his hips.. He felt..

Downstairs, the smell of toast and eggs filled the house as Lily and James Potter sat at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand. Harry could see that his parents had already settled into their usual morning routine. Lily smiled brightly as they entered, the earlier surprise from her still lingering in the way she looked at Cedric.

“Good morning. How did you two sleep?” she asked with a warm smile.

Cedric, still a little off-balance, returned the smile, albeit a bit sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Potter. Uh, I slept well, thank you.”

James, who had been flipping through the Daily Prophet, looked over the top of it with a raised eyebrow. “Does Amos know you slept here?”

“Shit!” Cedric exclaimed under his breath, and Harry saw the way the gears turned about in his head. No doubt, he was thinking about flooing his dad.

Before he could open his mouth to ask for permission to use the fireplace, James raised a hand and placed the paper down.

“I sent a patronus few minutes ago.”

Cedric sighed and sat down. Following his queue, Harry sat down next to him, ignoring Jame’s raised eyebrow. Blushing, Harry avoided his gaze, pretending to look elsewhere. The front page of the Daily Prophet that his dad had laid on the table caught his attention.

There was a picture of a man’s back, facing a wave of people seated at connected benches, dressed in plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the lefthand side of the chest. Though Harry never had been in one, he knew what a court proceeding was when he saw one. Both father and godfather being the Heirs of ancient magical houses, it was only natural for them to have a chair in Wizengamot.

The man in the picture was raising his hands animatedly, his body moving and at every step he took, his dark short locks bouncing a bit on his head.

Harry tuned out the chatter around him, hearing his dad question Cedric about his school fairing from a distance.

The headlines wrote;

Thomas Gaunt Claims Wizengamot Seat as Heir to Ancient House

By Barnabas Quill, Senior Political Correspondent

LONDON—In a move that has sent shockwaves through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, Thomas Gaunt has formally claimed his ancestral seat in the Wizengamot, reasserting the presence of the once-feared House of Gaunt within the highest echelons of magical governance.

The Gaunt family has long been presumed politically extinct, yet Thomas Gaunt—a previously little-known descendant of the line, has emerged to reclaim his family’s influence in the wizarding world.

“I stand here today as the rightful heir of myhouse,” Gaunt declared in a solemn yet commanding address before the Wizengamot. “For too long, our name has been shrouded in obscurity and misconception. But House Gaunt has not faded—it endures. And now, it reclaims its voice.”

A Controversial

Thomas Gaunt’s emergence as a legitimate heir has sparked both intrigue and concern within the wizarding community. Some members of the Wizengamot welcomed his arrival as a return to tradition, while others were apprehensive about what his presence might signify for the future of magical law.

With Thomas Gaunt’s seat now confirmed, the wizarding world watches closely to see what role he will play in shaping magical policy. Will he be a reformer, seeking to rehabilitate his family’s reputation? Or will he lean into the traditions of his lineage, invoking the influence of the past?

Whatever the case, one thing is certain: the House of Gaunt has returned, and its presence in the Wizengamot will not go unnoticed.

Harry frowned as he read the article, his eyes tracing over Gaunt again and again. It wasn’t a name he saw often, and yet it felt strangely familiar, like something he should remember. His mind churned as he tried to place it, but no immediate connection came to him.

Next to him, Cedric was spreading jam on his toast, blissfully unaware of Harry’s growing unease. Across the table, James took a slow sip of his tea, but Harry could feel his father watching him closely.

“You alright, kid?” James asked, voice casual but perceptive.

Harry hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, just—” He gestured vaguely at the newspaper. “The name ‘Gaunt.’ I feel like I’ve heard it before.”

James and Lily exchanged a quick glance, and it didn’t escape Harry’s notice. That only made his curiosity grow.

“It’s not a name you hear much anymore,” James admitted, setting his mug down. “The Gaunts were an old pure-blood family—one of the oldest, actually. Descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, or so they claimed.”

That caught Cedric’s attention. “Slytherin’s bloodline? And he’s just now showing up to claim his seat?”

Lily hummed thoughtfully. “The Gaunts fell into obscurity ages ago. They were… reclusive. A bit eccentric, even for old pure-blood families. No one’s heard from them in decades. If this Thomas Gaunt is stepping forward now, well… it certainly raises some questions.”

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek. Something about the idea of this long-lost heir reclaiming power didn’t sit right with him.

“You think he’s trouble?” he asked.

James leaned back in his chair. “Hard to say. He could just be looking to restore his family’s name, or he could have bigger ambitions.” He tapped the paper with a finger. “Either way, it’s not every day a vanished family resurfaces in the Wizengamot.”

Harry glanced at the moving photo again, watching as Thomas Gaunt addressed the gathered officials. The way he moved—self-assured, almost theatrical—made Harry uneasy. He didn’t know why, but something about the whole thing gave him the distinct feeling that this wasn’t just some ordinary political maneuver.

Something was happening.

And Harry had a strange, creeping feeling that this was only the beginning.

Soon, the morning chatter died down, replaced by the quiet clinking of forks against plates. Harry hesitated, pushing his eggs around as he tried to find the right words. His mother and father were still exchanging occasional glances—ones Harry had seen before, ones that meant they were worried about him. He hated that.

Taking a breath, he finally says, “I think I should go back to Hogwarts.”

Lily and James both looked up. Cedric, who had been mid-sip of his pumpkin juice, lowered his glass slowly, his brows furrowing.

“Harry…” Lily started cautiously.

Harry sighed, already bracing himself for their concern. “I just—look, I know you’re worried. But staying here isn’t helping. I feel like I’m missing out on everything. Being at Hogwarts, around my friends, dealing with classes and Quidditch—maybe that’s what I need. Some reality. Maybe it’ll help.”

Cedric didn’t say anything, but Harry could feel him shifting slightly next to him, his presence warm and steady.

James rubbed his chin, his expression unreadable. “It’s only been a few months, Harry. And after that..”

Harry stiffened, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. Last night had been bad—but they didn’t know that. And that was exactly why he needed to leave.

“I know,” Harry admitted, voice softer now. “But that’s why I think I should go back. Lying in bed here, waiting for the nightmares to stop—it just makes me think about them more. At least at Hogwarts, I have distractions.”

James exhaled slowly, looking toward Lily. She bit her lip before nodding slightly, reaching over to squeeze Harry’s hand.

“If the next few nights go well—if you don’t have any more nightmares—we’ll talk about it,” James finally said. His tone was firm but not unkind.

“We just want to make sure you’re okay before sending you back.”

Harry wanted to argue, wanted to say he was okay, but the words wouldn’t come. Because part of him knew they were right.

“…Fine,” he muttered, setting his fork down.

Cedric finally spoke up. “I think that’s fair,” he said, but Harry caught the way he was watching him—like he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Harry didn’t meet his eyes.

The afternoon sun had begun to cast golden light through the windows as Cedric stood near the fireplace, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.

“Well,” he said, offering a small smile, “I guess I’ll be off, then.”

Lily pulled him into a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, Cedric.”

“I always do,” Cedric promised, glancing briefly at Harry.

Harry, standing nearby with his hands in his pockets, gave a half-smile. “I’ll write,” he said.

Cedric smirked. “You’d better.” Then, with one last glance between them, he stepped into the Floo, vanishing in a swirl of green flames.

Silence settled over the room once Cedric was gone. Harry exhaled, turning to leave, but before he could take a step, his dad’s voice stopped him.

“Sit down, Harry.”

Harry turned slowly. James had that tone—the one that meant a conversation was coming, and it wasn’t one Harry was going to enjoy.

With a sigh, he dropped onto the couch. “Alright, what is it?”

James leaned against the mantel, arms crossed. “I wanted to talk about Cedric.”

Harry’s stomach twisted. “What about him?”

James raised an eyebrow. “For starters, about how he’s been sleeping in your bed without us knowing.”

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in James’ tone. His father wasn’t accusing him —he was just… worried. Which was worse, in a way.

James exhaled, running a hand through his already messy hair before speaking again. “You know… when I was at Hogwarts, I once walked in on Remus and Padfoot.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Walked in on—? Dad, I really don’t need to know this.”

James huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not like that. Well—” He cleared his throat. “The point is, I was their best mate, and I had no idea they were together until I found them curled up in Padfoots’ bed one night. Remus had been having a rough time, and Sirius just… stayed with him. Because it helped.”

Harry hesitated. “…What did you do?”

James shrugged. “Talked to them. Asked if they were happy. Then I let it be.” His gaze softened. “I know what it’s like to want someone there when things get dark. I won’t pretend I understand exactly what you’re going through, but I get why Cedric being there helps.”

Harry looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “I didn’t want to be alone,” he admitted, voice quiet.

James nodded. “I know. And I’m not mad, Harry. I just—your mum and I want to make sure you’re actually okay, not just shutting everything off.”

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”

James moved to sit beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone. Whether it’s Cedric, or us, or even your godfather… you’ve got people who care about you, kid. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Harry let out a slow breath, nodding. “I’ll try.”

James squeezed his shoulder before standing. “That’s all I ask.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “But if I catch you sneaking Cedric in again without informing us, there are a few pranks me and the marauders got away with during our prime.”

Harry groaned. “Dad.”

James just grinned, ruffling Harry’s hair before heading towards the kitchen to help Lily.

Harry sat there for a moment, staring at the fireplace Cedric had disappeared into, before allowing himself a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he sometimes felt.