Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ For Cedric ❯ Chapter 1

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Author’s Note: Fourth Year, right after Harry and Cedric are portkeyed by the cup. Cedric is dead, and Harry comes to a logical conclusion. A thought of why everything should always be the way it was.

It echoed in Harry’s ears, until it was all he could hear. Voldemort’s whispers, that night in the graveyard, Harry knew he would remember every word. He would recall every breath taken, he would catalogue each action to a precise moment. It swirled in his thoughts, etched into his very brain, until it was all he could see. Cedric’s lifeless body lay in front of him, his usefulness had ended. Voldemort no longer needed him.
Harry felt as if his very chest would explode at any moment. He didn’t care. His subconscious was most likely praying for it to happen. As long as Harry didn’t have to see anymore, did not have to hear. He did not want to realize the gasping and dry heaves were from his very own throat. He would rather never think that he was on the verge of tears. It was a wrongness that began to overwhelm him, as he hid, like a coward behind the grave stone.
The very stone which Voldemort had sought his resurrection. He had succeeded with Harry’s help, his blood. It wasn’t right, it was terrible, and it was never supposed to be this way. This caused pain, this caused sadness, this caused death. If anything, Harry wanted there to be no more death. No more blank eyes, no broken faces. He just wanted everything to leave. Harry didn’t want logic. Whatever the answers were, they would never make up for Cedric.
Yet, as Voldemort whispered, and stalked around ‘his’ clearing, Harry stared into Cedric’s eyes. The very eyes that no longer spoke of anything, and would remain silent until they turned to dust. Harry stared, and began to feel his mind unravel.
Dirt was caked onto nearly every part of Cedric’s body, his face was bloody, and his clothes were torn. He would never move, he would never again smile to any of his friends. Everyone would despise Harry for letting Cedric die, it was his fault after all. He was the only one who could have prevented Cedric’s death. But, why hadn’t he?
“Come out Harry, I will kill you this night.” Voldemort rasped, very near by. Harry heard this, as he had heard everything that night. His breath caught in his throat, and he gripped his wand. Cedric may be useless to Voldemort, but his friends has still wanted him, still needed him. Hogwarts had not been done with Cedric Diggory yet. Harry knew how it was to be missing something you desperately needed. Anyone who had not lost something so precious, that it bordered on insane, only someone such as this would be able to sympathize. It was anger, it was despair, it was Harry.
A Harry who would no longer lie idle, he would not hide from this thing. He would get up, and he would face that which had taken. Harry stood, his back to the gravestone. He cast one more long glance at Cedric.
For a moment, Harry imagined that Cedric’s bloody mouth had turned into a slight smile. Harry thought, just maybe, that one of his hallowed eyes closed a portion, and had winked at Harry. For a short time in that graveyard, for that small moment, Harry was Cedric’s greatest friend. Only Harry would ever know.
He smiled sadly at Cedric, and turned, marching from behind the lofty rock. Harry decided something, that he tucked safely away in that back of his head. In a black corner that not ever the greatest of Snape’s Veritaserum could uncover. Something that would hide in every shadow of his thought, giggling, as it skipped from one memory to the next; reminding him.
Harry stood in front of Voldemort, with an under glow of a soft smile. There was no possible way Harry could loose this fight. It was his fight, and he had to complete his duty. He would kill Voldemort, he realized. For his parents, for his friends-

Harry raised his wand, holding it aloft. He took aim.

…For Cedric.