Edward remembers his life.
He remembers it as much as Cedric does, speaking in his mind about what they go through.
See, Edward Cullen didn’t exist. He had no body, only a borrowed one, from a dead man who lost everything in a flash of green light. There was a little known mental condition out there. It’s called Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID. Edward was a figment of Cedric Diggory's imagination. But he was very much real. He had a love, his beautiful Bella, and a gorgeous daughter.
Maybe Cedric could have had this. Before the Dark Lord. Before the mousy Death Eater, who killed a child on that monster’s order. In front of the small boy that Cedric had grown to care for. To love. They were children. They were competing in a school tournament, and were sent to their deaths. Neither Edward nor Cedric knew if Harry survived.
Edward hasn’t told Bella. He doesn’t plan to. Cedric never told anyone at Hogwarts. Except the Sorting Hat, but it didn’t count. The conversation on their first day was an odd one. Cedric was too Gryffindor, Edward was too Slytherin. So, the hat settled on Hufflepuff.
Ah, Edward had spiraled again. Cedric was yelling at him to get up, and feed Renesmee (Cedric always makes fun of the name, and Edward is this close to Avada Kadavraing himself). Edward complied, and kissed his wife as he sat up to start his work.