Cedric Diggory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theboywhodied) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92011-10-02 04:11 pm
theboywhodied) wrote in trans_92011-10-02 04:11 pm
Spared [Open]
"Reducto!"
Cedric had found a spot in the grass of this strange city's park from which to work on his spellcasting, starting with some target practice. He'd pushed back the sleeves of his plantsuit as far as was possible and made long movements with his wand, alternating between creating fast streams of bubbles and shooting them down. The almost childish game of bubble-popping was a simple diversion from the stream of thoughts that was flowng just as fast, one that hadn't stopped since the moment he realized he was alive: I'm about to die. It was hard to comprehend, when it seemed like his life had been going so well just hours ago.
Yet these Ohm had thrown everything off balance. Cedric had gone straight to Stacy to ask for his memories restored, as he'd never rest until he knew the truth of what happened. It had been just as hard to remember as that unicorn princess had predicted. Sure, the curse that was meant to kill him had been thrown off by another attack, but he'd heard awful yells. Harry's. When the sedation had worn off and he'd opened his eyes, he'd had to struggle not to scream.
That was what had happened to disrupt the course of history. For now, he had been given days, weeks, maybe months or a year or two to live, that long until he left this crew behind and met his fate. People had talked about their worlds being restored after the war. The Ohm were supposed had something that would fix things as they were meant to be, and 'meant to be' was his death. If he didn't die during the war, he'd be meeting his end immediately afterward. Time couldn't be changed, not even with a Time Turner. It had to happen.
Cedric was living on borrowed time. No one knew how long it would be until they won. They were going to win, he was sure. A small selfish part of him hoped that it would last a while, that he would have time to finish his unfinished business and learn more, but that was unfair. He couldn't allow the needless deaths to hang over his conscience any longer than necessary. The countless innocents killed during the Ohm's attack needed to live, not him. Billions of lives resurrected in exchange for his death, that was fair. He was the spare, not them. No matter what his father said or the Goblet decided, he wasn't special in the eyes of the universe, was he? He was just...
The spare who had been temporarily spared. A bubble waiting to be popped. Pop, pop, pop went the bubbles as his wand moved more precisely. If this was all the life he had left, he might as well do it right.
Cedric had found a spot in the grass of this strange city's park from which to work on his spellcasting, starting with some target practice. He'd pushed back the sleeves of his plantsuit as far as was possible and made long movements with his wand, alternating between creating fast streams of bubbles and shooting them down. The almost childish game of bubble-popping was a simple diversion from the stream of thoughts that was flowng just as fast, one that hadn't stopped since the moment he realized he was alive: I'm about to die. It was hard to comprehend, when it seemed like his life had been going so well just hours ago.
Yet these Ohm had thrown everything off balance. Cedric had gone straight to Stacy to ask for his memories restored, as he'd never rest until he knew the truth of what happened. It had been just as hard to remember as that unicorn princess had predicted. Sure, the curse that was meant to kill him had been thrown off by another attack, but he'd heard awful yells. Harry's. When the sedation had worn off and he'd opened his eyes, he'd had to struggle not to scream.
That was what had happened to disrupt the course of history. For now, he had been given days, weeks, maybe months or a year or two to live, that long until he left this crew behind and met his fate. People had talked about their worlds being restored after the war. The Ohm were supposed had something that would fix things as they were meant to be, and 'meant to be' was his death. If he didn't die during the war, he'd be meeting his end immediately afterward. Time couldn't be changed, not even with a Time Turner. It had to happen.
Cedric was living on borrowed time. No one knew how long it would be until they won. They were going to win, he was sure. A small selfish part of him hoped that it would last a while, that he would have time to finish his unfinished business and learn more, but that was unfair. He couldn't allow the needless deaths to hang over his conscience any longer than necessary. The countless innocents killed during the Ohm's attack needed to live, not him. Billions of lives resurrected in exchange for his death, that was fair. He was the spare, not them. No matter what his father said or the Goblet decided, he wasn't special in the eyes of the universe, was he? He was just...
The spare who had been temporarily spared. A bubble waiting to be popped. Pop, pop, pop went the bubbles as his wand moved more precisely. If this was all the life he had left, he might as well do it right.
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Not now, Harry though. Not now.
He would tell him about Cho. Just...eventually. For now, they had to focus on this new war and there were more important things to say.
One of them was something he'd wanted to say ever since Cedric died.
"And you weren't a 'spare,' Cedric. That's what's wrong with people like Voldemort and the Death Eaters--that they could see people like you that way. But I didn't. The rest of the school didn't. At the end of the year, Dumbledore said we had to remember you, that we'd have a choice to make between what was right and what was easy and that we should remember you when we made it. In the end, that's what we were all fighting for--for you and for everyone else who'd been killed, who'd had their families ripped apart, who'd had their lives ruined by Voldemort and the Death Eaters."
He nodded to himself, as if content with what he had said, with how it'd come out. For once.
"And I'm glad I'll have the chance to know you better now. I always thought I should have liked to have known you better."
He'd always wondered if he hadn't died that night in the graveyard if they'd have become friends after.
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The only response Harry received for some time after that whisper was silence. How many people could say that they knew how they were going to be remembered after they died? Cedric did, and he couldn't help but feel...touched. Overwhelmed. He was painfully aware of everything: his death, the loss and pain that followed, and the brighter things. Support, solidarity. Oh, his death was still painful, but in the grand scheme of things? It wasn't so meaningless---he wasn't so meaningless---after all. Cedric pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart thud so furiously that he thought it might slip out.
When he finally looked up again, that hand found Harry's shoulder and squeezed for a moment. Cedric was smiling.
"You've got yourself a deal. And that includes one fair Quidditch match. I've heard the Sensoriums can draw everything up for us."
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"I wholeheartedly agree. 'Course, it'd just be us unless these things can make up a team, but that's no issue. I just want to fly again."
That sounded like a fantastic idea in his opinion. It had been entirely too long---he'd been so busy learning and practicing spells on top of prefect duties and schoolwork that he hadn't really had time to fly all last year.