Dream to Me

Saturday, 20 November 1993

Harry just wanted this game to end. It was pouring rain, freezing cold, and there was a death omen hanging out in the quidditch stands.

There, finally, a flash of gold.

Harry took off at a breakneck pace, the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory, hot on his tail.

The snitch was going up, and up, and up. It was getting colder; the air was getting thinner. But Harry and Oliver Wood were of an identical (if psychotic) mindset; you win, or you die trying.

Just as Harry reached out to wrap his fingers around the little golden ball, the screaming started.

And it didn’t stop until everything went dark.

* * *

Harry doesn’t remember plummeting to the ground, he doesn’t remember Dumbledore’s cry of arresto momentum, he doesn’t remember his broom whipping away and crashing into the Whomping Willow, he doesn’t remember his teammates panicking or Cedric catching the snitch or Cedric’s subsequent attempt to get Madam Hooch to re-do the match.

He vaguely remembers waking up in the hospital wing and being presented with the pile of splinters that used to be a top-of-the-line broom. He vaguely remembers all of his teammates except Oliver showing up and assuming that Oliver was either hiding from the Chaser line who had likely chewed him out about his, admittedly, insane outlook on quidditch or was crying on the floor of the shower about losing.

What he does remember, quite clearly in fact, was waking up in the middle of the night to the feeling of someone brushing the hair off his forehead.

He remembers blinking awake to the blurry face of someone with kind grey eyes and golden-brown hair.

That description didn’t quite match any of his friends.

Scrambling slightly, Harry tried to locate his wand and glasses.

“It’s alright,” a soft voice said, “it’s just me, here,” the mystery person said before placing Harry’s glasses gently on the bridge of his nose.

“…Diggory?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, “I needed to make sure you were alright, and this was the first chance I had where you weren’t surrounded by angry Gryffindors. Lions are rather frightening, did you know that?”

“They’re really just giant cats,” Harry said with a laugh, “it’s the badgers you have to worry about, vicious little things.”

“Oh no,” Cedric said with an exaggerated sigh and a poorly hidden smile, “you’ve figured us out.”

Laughing, Harry relaxed back against his pillows, “I’m alright, thank you for asking. Congrats on the win by the way.”

Cedric breathed out a genuine sigh and ran a hand down his face, “I shouldn’t have won though, Potter, you were right there, and it would’ve been your catch if the dementors hadn’t shown up.”

“I think I remember George whispering that you tried to get Hooch to redo the game, and she said it was a fair catch, we’re not going to fight her on that, and you shouldn’t either. Be proud of yourself, you’re a great Seeker.”

“I’m not as good as you and we both know that.”

“Stop talking poorly about yourself,” Harry chided, “you’re a great player.”

Smiling, Cedric just nodded his thanks before the pair fell into silence.

It was rather strange, Harry thought, to be so comfortable in someone’s presence that he didn’t need to fill it with mindless chatter. There were very few people who made him feel like that. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Fred, and George were about it, and he didn’t even know Diggory … but there was just something about him that was calming.

Cedric was thinking much the same thing. He was rather popular, both in his House and across the school. People expected him to always know what to say and he so rarely did. He had learned how to put on a mask of confidence, he’d figured out how to make the right jokes and say the right things, but it wasn’t natural. He was much better one-on-one; he preferred the quiet.

“Are you alright, really?” Cedric asked after a few minutes of peaceful quiet.

For the first time he could remember, Harry thought about the answer. He always just responded that he was fine. But he found himself wanting to be honest. He wasn’t sure if it was the strange calm he felt around Cedric or the quiet of the hospital wing or the magic of midnight that made conversations easier.

“I’m not sure,” he answered after a minute, “I’m really not sure.”

“That’s alright,” Cedric responded easily, “it’s alright not to know.”

“Yeah,” Harry said after a moment, “I guess it is.”

They sat quietly for a while longer. Cedric found himself thinking he really should get back to the dorm, but it was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. Something told him he just needed to sit here for a few more minutes.

After nearly 30 minutes of silence, Harry leaned his head back and closed his eyes, he took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face and then through his perpetually messy hair.

There was something about that mop of black curls that Cedric found endearing.

Harry Potter had always been something of a mythic creature in their world, but he was just a boy. A too skinny, too short boy who flinched away from loud sounds and sudden movements, who hid his intellect and skill, who thought the very fate of the world rested on his shoulders.

“I don’t think I’m alright,” he admitted for the very first time, “I really can’t think of the last time I was alright. There are good moments, of course. But, I think, overall, I’m rather far from alright.”

“Okay,” Cedric said, “I can understand that.”

Harry snapped his eyes open and looked at Cedric in shock, “you can?”

“I can,” Cedric said with a nod, “though the circumstances are probably quite different, I do get what it’s like to have people pressuring you to be something you’re not sure you want to be.”

“It’s exhausting.”

“It is.”

“I didn’t know magic was real until I was 11,” Harry quietly admitted, “and then I got here, and everyone expected me to be something great but I’ve never been allowed to be great, so I did my best to fade into the background. I don’t really think it’s working though.”

Deciding that most of that statement was something they could unpack later, Cedric simply said, “you should let yourself be great, but only in the way you want to be, not in the way other’s tell you to be.”

Harry smiled his first genuine smile in what felt like months, “thanks, Diggory.”

“Call me Cedric.”

“Harry, then.”

* * *

Saturday, 25 December 1993

On Christmas morning, Harry unwrapped his normal selection of gifts; candy from Ron, a book from Hermione, a hand-knit Weasley sweater and fudge from Molly, a carving from Hagrid. Then he found something out of the ordinary … a package that looked rather like a broom.

A Firebolt.

The best broom on the market and Harry’s first thought, oddly enough, was that he could challenge Cedric to a Seeker’s match now.

* * *

Friday, 11 February 1994

“Cedric,” Harry called when he’d finally found the Hufflepuff alone on the map Fred and George had passed down.

“Harry, hi,” Cedric said with a smile, “what can I do for you?”

“McGonagall finally cleared my new broom; how do you feel about a Seeker’s match sometime?”

“New broom? Why’d she have to clear it?”

“It came from an anonymous sender and it’s a Firebolt, so she and Hermione were convinced that Sirius Black bought it, cursed it, and sent it to me to try and kill me. I rather think that’s a stupid way to kill someone, but whatever.”

“You have a rather strange life, don’t you Harry?” Cedric said with a laugh.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Harry said with a wry smile, “so Seeker’s match? We can swap brooms every round if you want.”

“Sounds great to me, are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I can’t, my uncle refused to sign my slip, so I’ll be here.”

“Let’s play while everyone’s at Hogsmeade then, I’m guessing you’d rather avoid attention.”

Oddly touched fact that someone had finally noticed he hated attention without him having to tell them, Harry smiled and nodded and suggested they meet at the pitch after breakfast before heading back down the hallway.

Cedric smiled at Harry’s retreating form before he remembered what weekend it was.

Valentine’s weekend.

He rather hoped Harry wouldn’t notice and question Cedric’s intentions because he didn’t think he’d be able to lie, and he wasn’t exactly ready to admit that he had intentions.

Lucky for Cedric, he could probably yell “I have a massive sodding crush on you!” directly in Harry’s face and he still wouldn’t notice.

* * *

Saturday, 12 February 1993

After breakfast, everyone headed down to the entrance to get checked out of the castle by Filch. Harry bid his friends goodbye before darting up the stairs to get grab his broom and a snitch Oliver had definitely not stolen from the supply shed before heading back down to the pitch.

When he got there, Cedric was already waiting, leaning against the wall with his broom thrown over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips, “hiya, Harry,” he greeted, “ready to go?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said with a grin, “best 2 out of 3?”

“Deal,” Cedric responded before following Harry out onto the field.

Harry won both times, Cedric just smiled and demanded a rematch.

* * *

Monday, 6 June 1994

Cedric’s young friend was acting rather cagey.

It was nearing dark, and Hermione and Harry had just sprinted down from the hospital wing, headed out onto the grounds.

“Harry,” Cedric called, “what are you two doing?”

“Just going to see Hagrid,” Harry said, refusing to meet Cedric’s eye, “we can’t be late, don’t want to run out of time.”

For some odd reason, Harry’s quip about running out of time got a snort out of Hermione who Harry promptly jabbed in the side with his elbow.

“We best be going,” Harry said quickly, before grabbing Hermione’s hand and turning back toward the grounds, “see you later!” he called over his shoulder.

Cedric just stood on the front steps watching the pair run toward Hagrid’s hut, sticking to shadows before they ran into the forest for some reason.

Just as he was about to shrug it off and head back into the Castle, he spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione dart out Hagrid’s backdoor.

Had Ron been in the hut the whole time? How in Merlin’s name did Harry and Hermione get into the hut from the woods without Cedric noticing?

Cedric decided this was probably just another day in the life of Harry James Potter and went inside.

He darted out of the way of Professor Lupin who was running full tilt at the front door and then narrowly avoided colliding with Professor Snape who was running in the same direction a couple minutes later.

Cedric decided there was no way they were involved in whatever it was Harry and Hermione were doing.

Cedric maybe should’ve thought that through a little harder.

* * *

Tuesday, 7 June 1994

The next morning at breakfast, Cedric looked up when Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the Great Hall.

Ron was limping, Harry’s hair was somehow messier than normal, and Hermione had a rather satisfied smirk on her face.

Malfoy and his goons walked up, and Cedric watched as the Golden Trio just stared back before Hermione clenched her fist and moved like she was about to raise it. To Cedric’s eternal shock, Malfoy flinched before turning tail and darting back to the Slytherin table.

* * *

Thursday, 30 June 1994

The train was leaving in a couple of hours and Cedric still hadn’t gotten an answer to whatever had gone on at the beginning of the month.

He waited until he saw Harry stand up from the Gryffindor table before leaving the Hall himself.

Ducking through the crowd until he was next to the younger boy, Cedric threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders and steered him toward the nearest abandoned classroom.

“Cedric,” Harry said once the door was closed, “what can I do for you?”

“You are such a cheeky git.”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry said with a grin, “what do you need though?”

“I’m not going to ask you what happened the other week because I know you’re not going to tell me, but I am going to ask you to please write to me this summer.”

Harry cringed slightly and Cedric thought maybe he’d overstepped or misread their friendship. Just as he was about to back peddle, Harry took a deep breath and seemed to decide something before saying, “I’d love to write, I’m just not sure how much I’ll be able to. I live with my muggle aunt and uncle and they don’t like anything magic or anything that might get the neighbors to think they’re strange so they don’t let me send Hedwig out all that often.”

“I live near a muggle town,” Cedric said after a moment, “near the Burrow actually, so I could go into town and send you letters through the muggle post.”

To his surprise, Harry cringed again. Now Cedric really thought Harry was trying to avoid writing to him.

“They don’t just dislike magic, they dislike me, they probably wouldn’t ever actually give me the letters,” he then went quiet and appeared to be thinking, it was a couple of minutes before he pulled out a piece of parchment and jotted down an address, “I’ll try to send mail with Hedwig, but if you haven’t heard from me, you can send a letter through the muggle post to this address, it’s the public library down the street and I go there at least once a week. The librarian likes me, so she’ll set mail aside for me. I’m hoping to end up at the Burrow by the end of the summer, so I’ll let you know once I’m there.”

“Alright,” Cedric said, taking the address and deciding now was not the time to ask Harry about his family, “I’ll write.”

“Great,” Harry said with a bright smile, “I look forward to it.”