Ah… Ah… Harry James Potter. I first encountered you in my sixth year at Hogwarts. Although calling it my sixth year doesn’t quite do it justice—after all, who doesn’t know Harry Potter—Master of death? Yet in those years, I never truly had the chance to meet you. Hogwarts, vast and endless like the boundless blue sky, made it so that meeting you felt like waiting for a destined encounter.
And perhaps our meeting was always fated, simply waiting for the right moment to blossom.
“A flower blooms with destiny.
A person arrives with fortune.”
I remember that day in autumn, when the blazing summer sun had softened, replaced by the golden warmth of the fall sunlight, gentler than the summer’s fiery heat. The crisp air brought with it the chirping of birds, welcoming a new beginning.
That night in the Great Hall, the air was heavy with anticipation. At the center of the room, the Goblet of Fire burned brightly, its blue flames casting an eerie, enchanting glow that drew every eye. The entire hall held its breath as the goblet began to release names—those chosen for the Triwizard Tournament.
I remember my heart pounding, the nervous thoughts swirling in my mind: Would my name appear? Would I be chosen? I had placed so much hope in this moment—not just to prove myself but to bring glory to Hufflepuff. And then when the goblet finally released the name “Cedric Diggory,” the Hufflepuff table erupted in joyous cheers. I smiled, stepping forward with pride, basking in the warmth of my housemates’ support.
But then, the peace of the room was quickly shattered by a suprising announcement.
The Goblet of Fire suddenly flared violently, spitting out another slip of parchment. Professor Dumbledore picked it up, his eyes betraying a moment of shock before he announced: “Harry Potter!”
The room fell into a stunned silence. Every pair of eyes turned to Harry.
I still remember that moment. Under the flickering glow of the flames, you looked like a masterpiece—a painting of unmatched beauty. Your deep emerald green eyes sent a shiver through me, and your long, delicate lashes fluttered as they caught the light.
In that instant, I knew… You were the springtime of my life.
Just what they said, a single glance can intoxicate for a lifetime.
People began to whisper about you, some glaring with resentment, others filled with judgment.
They said you were arrogant. They said you didn’t know your place and only wanted to attract attention. Even your closest friends began to harbor doubts, and it was clear how much it pained you.
Seeing the anguish on your face, I couldn’t bear it. For some reason, from the moment we first met, I had known—you weren’t the kind of person they made you out to be.
———
After the announcement, I went to congratulate you. But instead of thanking me, you hesitated and softly asked:
“Aren’t you… angry?”
“Angry about what?”
Your emerald green eyes didn’t meet mine. Instead, you lowered your head shyly, looking down like a timid puppy.
“That I stole your place… You should’ve been the only one chosen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t mind. Let’s bring glory to Hogwarts together!”
Your eyes suddenly lit up, as if someone had just lifted a heavy burden from your shoulders. You smiled, thanked me, and in that moment, enchanted by your beauty, I couldn’t stop myself from saying:
“Tomorrow… would you like to have lunch with me?”
You seemed startled at first but quickly nodded shyly. “Um..sure.”
———
After that day, it was as if we’d always been close. Wherever we went, we always seemed to be by each other’s side.
I still remember our heartfelt confession after our first challenge. It was late at night, during the final days of autumn. Instead of returning to the dorms, we snuck out to the grounds near the Forbidden Forest—a place untouched by anyone else.
The air was colder than usual, and the songs of birds had vanished. The magical creatures had retreated into the forest, preparing for the coming winter.
Golden leaves drifted lazily in the wind, their soft rustling like whispers in the quiet night. Each leaf seemed to carry the cycle of life—spring’s budding, summer’s greenery, autumn’s golden farewell—before finally falling.
We lay together on the forest floor, surrounded by the soft crunch of leaves beneath us.
“Cedric, the sky is so beautiful tonight,” you said quietly.
“It really is,” I replied, turning to look at you.
You fell silent for a moment, then turned to me and said, “I hate winter.”
I didn’t respond immediately, but I kept my eyes on yours. Your emerald gaze shimmered with a quiet melancholy.
“No flowers bloom in winter. Winter is cold. Winter is lonely,” you murmured.
ently placed my hand on your jet-black hair, stroking it softly as though afraid it might vanish. Your hair was so soft, so delicate—like strands of silk spun from the night sky, glistening with the luster of a precious gem.
“Who told you winter makes you lonely?” I asked.
Your eyes met mine, a sadness lingering in their emerald depths, but you didn’t reply.
“You have Ron. You have Hermione,” I said gently, as if to remind you of your strength.
Then I leaned closer, my voice almost a whisper. “And you have me.”
Yes, you have me, my youth.
Your eyes widened in surprise, shimmering like the first light of dawn breaking through a winter’s sky. You were silent, unsure of what to say, as a blush painted your pale cheeks in soft pink hues.
“Who told you flowers don’t bloom in winter?” I asked again, smiling as I looked at you.
“The most brilliant flower of winter is here, right beside me,” I said, my voice filled with certainty.
Yes, it’s true. You are the sunflower that blooms in the frostbitten cold, the light that saves broken souls wandering through the endless winter. You are the crimson blossom that radiates warmth, casting away the darkness for those who have lost their way.
You are the flower that saved my soul.
“Cedric…” you murmured my name quietly, your voice trembling with something unspoken. You looked down, unsure, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
“Don’t say things like that,” you said softly, your voice tinged with insecurity. “I’m nothing special… I only cause trouble for everyone.”
Ah, my springtime—so beautiful, yet so unsure of yourself.
You are a sunflower—not the kind that demands attention with its golden brilliance, but one that quietly brightens its surroundings with a warm, comforting presence.
I fell in love with you because of your resilience. Beneath your delicate frame, your slight and fragile body, there burned a fierce determination—a quiet strength that refused to give up. Like a sunflower reaching for the sun even in the harshest storms, you stood tall and unwavering, drawing strength from the earth.
It wasn’t until I spent time with you that I truly understood how resilient you were.
But life… life has never given you the word peace that you deserve.
“You’re so strong,” I said, brushing your hair aside, pulling you closer to me.
“I like Harry,” I confessed softly, the words leaving my lips as though they had been waiting for this moment.
“After all the moments we’ve shared, through every trial, I’ve always thought—you are my youth, my entire springtime.”
You looked at me, startled at first, but then your lips curled into a shy smile. “I… I like you too,” you whispered, barely audible, but it was enough to set my heart alight.
I leaned in and kissed your forehead, then tenderly kissed the scar that had caused you so much pain. Every part of you, every flaw and every strength—I loved them all.
“Harry likes sunflowers?” I asked, my voice soft with affection.
Your eyes lit up, pure and filled with a childlike joy. “I do! I love them! That’s why I hate winter… because in winter, sunflowers can’t bloom.”
I smiled, ruffling your hair gently. “Then this summer, I’ll take Harry to see the sunflowers, alright?”
———
Autumn faded, and winter arrived, carrying with it the trials and tribulations of life.
You remained the same—always placing others before yourself, always forgetting to care for the fragile soul inside. That time, when you didn’t rise from the water’s surface during the challenge, I was terrified. But I knew—like a sunflower reaching for the sun, you would never let the darkness pull you under.
You and I… we lived as though the world outside didn’t matter. We didn’t care for glory or hardship. We were just two souls, two birds flying through the endless skies, finding solace in each other.
Do you remember that winter? We danced in the freezing cold, laughing like fools, ignoring the biting chill and the judgmental stares. We played silly games—throwing snowballs, building snowmen, living in a world that was ours alone.
I made you a crown from shards of ice that day. You laughed, your eyes sparkling with pure joy, and said you’d wear it for the rest of winter.
Do you remember when you played so hard that you fell sick? I stayed by your side for two weeks, nursing you back to health, even though Professor Dumbledore scolded me for it.
Do you remember those late-night conversations we had? When the world was quiet, and it was just the two of us, wrapped in a bubble of our own making. We talked about life, about dreams, about the kind of future we hoped for.
I remember how your eyes sparkled when you told me you wanted to live in the forest someday. “The forest feels like freedom,” you said, “a place where I could finally just be myself.”
I promised you then, with all the conviction in my heart: “One day, when we’re older, when this is all behind us… we’ll marry. And I’ll build you a wooden house in the heart of the forest. It’ll be your sanctuary.”
Do you remember the Yule Ball that year? We danced to the gentle rhythm of jazz, our movements slow and steady, as if time had stopped just for us. I held you close, feeling the warmth of your small frame against mine.
I remember brushing back your messy, unruly hair, revealing the scar that told your story. I leaned down and kissed you softly, not caring about the room full of people watching us.
They said we looked like a perfect pair, like two swans gliding on still water. Everyone was happy for us, admiring the love we shared.
But for me, the world faded in that moment. All I could feel was the pure joy of having you in my arms.
You are my sunflower.
You are my springtime.
———
Time moves so fast, doesn’t it, Harry? Winter came and went, yet it feels like I only blinked.
But why, at the end of winter, does the snow not melt? Why does the sky remain so cold, so unyielding? Why does the chill cut through my skin, into my very soul, and why does my heart feel this restless ache?
Why… why am I lying here, beneath the earth?
Your wide, tear-filled eyes stare at me, frozen in horror. Your lips tremble as you call my name, over and over, but I can no longer answer you.
Why am I here, while you—my Harry—are bound in chains? Why do I see your tears falling like raindrops, why do I hear your sobs, your cries of anguish?
But then I saw him
.
Voldemort.
Then I saw myself.
I had died.
Now, I was just a wandering soul, watching over you.
The late winter sky was cold, its chill cutting through the very bones. It was during that final challenge, the one where the trophy we both reached for together became a portkey leading us to the Dark Lord’s trap.
You, bound by Death Eaters, were forced to kneel before Voldemort’s father’s tombstone. I tried to protect you, but it was too late.
I watched as his pale, skeletal hand touched your delicate cheek. His ghastly fingers caressed your face, his lips curling into a sinister smile.
“So beautiful,” he said, his voice dripping with venom.
I watched as he began to tear away your clothes, forcing you to kneel against the icy snow. You resisted, but Voldemort’s Cruciatus curse broke you, leaving you trembling in pain.
Then, he ordered those Death Eaters to take off your clothes. Their rough hands held you down, pulling at your ebony hair that I had once compared to the finest silk. Those hands—the same hands I longed to crush—now dared to sully your perfection.
You were stripped bare beneath the silvery moonlight, lying upon the snow-covered ground. Your body, as radiant as sunlight breaking through frost, was violated by darkness. How dare they touch something so precious, so untouchable?
Not even in my wildest dreams could I imagine harming you.
Voldermort then brutally took out his cock, forcing you to turn and face him. Voldermort ordered the Death Eaters to lock your hand, then brutally pounding into you, wielding his vile power as if to shatter every piece of light you carried within. You, my sunflower, my warmth amidst the icy abyss, began to wilt under his cruelty.
I screamed, but only in silence.
I begged, but only as a soul adrift.
“Stop…! Please, stop! Spare him!”
My soul could do nothing but plead, knowing all too well that I could no longer shield you, no longer protect you.
Your cries tore through me, each sob a dagger to my heart. Your lips, once so soft and pink, were now bloodied and trembling. Your emerald eyes, brimming with tears, reflected nothing but pain.
“Please… it hurts… I beg you, have mercy…” you whispered through gritted teeth, your voice a broken melody.
But he was deaf to your pleas. He reveled in your torment, his savagery knowing no bounds. The faint dignity you held onto was consumed by his cruelty, your body trembling from the unbearable cold and agony.
And then suddenly, he stopped, andturned you to face my corpse, your trembling figure forced into his hands.
“If you’re in the middle of sex,” Voldemort sneered, “but see the corpse of someone you care about, would you feel greater pleasure, Potter?”
Your eyes widened in horror as Voldemort’s words sank in. Tears streamed down your face in uncontrollable waves. Without any warnings, Voldermort started pounding into you rentlessly.
What had you done in your past life to deserve such torment? Had you ever wronged anyone so gravely to be repaid like this?
Your trembling voice broke through the still air. “P-please… stop it, Tom… please…” His sobs choked his words, filled with desperation.
Voldemort’s response was a wicked grin, cold and devoid of humanity. He gestured to Peter Pettigrew, who obediently drew out a gleaming dagger. Without hesitation, Peter plunged the blade into my lifeless body lying in the snow, the crimson spreading like ink on a blank canvas.
With every stab, your cries grew louder, your emerald eyes brimming with tears that streamed endlessly down his cheeks. Your mind went blank as you witnessed my body being violently destroyed by every cruel stabs. A silent scream echoed within you, reverberating through every fiber of your being. You wanted to stop them, to fight back, but you couldn’t even move.
The pure white snow under the gentle light of the crescent moon was now drenched in blood, a stark contrast to its once-pristine beauty.
I knelt before you, though you couldn’t see me.
I could no longer hold you. I could no longer shield you from this cruelty. I could no longer be the one to stand by your side.
I could no longer walk with you through the golden hues of autumn, could no longer dance and laugh with you under the freezing skies of winter. I could no longer accompany with you to gaze upon fields of sunflowers in the heat of summer, just as what I have promised
Memories faded, like flowers falling into a rushing stream. My soul lingered, consumed with sorrow and guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the void
You were my sunflower. My springtime. My everything… and I failed you.
I failed you.
———
No one knew how much time had passed. But your body lay lifeless, submerged in a pool of blood. Inside you, remnants of malevolence coursed—a cruel mix of Voldemort’s sperms and blood. The boy who once shone so brightly was now marked, your light extinguished by unthinkable evil.
“Avada Kedavra!”
That was the last thing I heard before a flash of green light pierced through your fragile body.
your body crumpled onto the blood-stained snow. Your emerald green eyes, always so radiant, closed as if embracing death as a merciful release.
Perhaps this was the only way for you to escape the torment of this life.
Even in death, my “springtime”—held the elegance of a kind soul.
Even in death, my “springtime” remained pure, harboring no hate, no vengeance.
“You were the springtime of my life…” I whispered into eternity.
The springtime of my life.
Is gone.
“A flower blooms as fate.”
“A flower wilts as torment.”
“A person arrives as fortune.”
“A person leaves as destiny.”
Perhaps all that remains between us now is torment. In another life, I pray you find happiness. But please, don’t come looking for me again.
Because I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t shield you, my sunflower, from the storms that tore you apart.
Forgive me.
End.