... like riding a broom ...

2.

The day before the First Task was cold and bleak. The clouds coloured the skies with shades of grey, sprinkled with peppered silver that teased the world with proof of better things. Cedric had returned to his sleeping quarters - a solitary room that was the benefit of all prefects. He stood at the window overlooking the Great Lake, unable to understand why he found himself incapable of concentrating in his Advanced Charms class earlier that day.

Normally, he would sit raptly as Flitwick lectured, absorbing everything that came out of his mouth. That's what he was expected to do, right? That's what his father wanted him to do, at any rate. 'Excel in everything you do, young man,' his father would advise, 'because the world won't be handed down to you like a potted plant.'

Cedric was well aware of the slight against Harry Potter in that comment. Cedric had grown up knowing the 'Harry' story since he was at least three years old. In the Diggory household, the Potter legend was revered. There was no malice in the tone as they talked about them, but certainly, Cedric was well aware, or so he thought, that Harry would have his life handed to him without breaking so much as a sweat. Certainly, Harry Potter - the Boy Who Lived - would never have to work or put forth any effort in his life, or studies. Certainly, He-Who-Destroyed-The-Dark-Lord-Before-He-Could-Walk would excel at Hogwarts and after.

Certainly.

Cedric Diggory, on the other hand, would have to fight and work and claw his way to the top.

It was fortunate for him, then, that he was, at the very least, blessed with physical beauty. The brains would come later, but Cedric, even as a child, was coddled and pampered by strangers and family alike. If anyone lived the very definition of 'life on a silver platter', it was Cedric. Even Draco Malfoy looked upon him with accusatory eyes - or were those jealous eyes? It was hard to tell the difference sometimes - if there were even differences to tell.

The Diggorys were not rich, but they were well loved. Isn't that the same thing?

Cedric's first year at Hogwarts was a right mess. Up until that point, he rarely worked hard for anything. He didn't need to, after all. When the Sorting Hat stretched itself over Cedric's crown, even it pampered the young boy - talking about his fine smile and starlit eyes. There were admirations and adorations cemented in every whisper into his mind's ear. Compliments such as 'oh, I bet even Veela become jealous at the sight of you' and 'such a pretty mind to match a pretty face' and 'ahh, you do make me look better as I sit upon your head' made Cedric blush and titter. Nevertheless, they also made him fret.

"But I don't know much," Cedric remembered thinking to the Hat, "and I fear I'm no good."

"Ahh," was the Hat's reply, "but what of these things for the likes of you? Would you need to be brilliant? Or brave? Or wise? You are beautiful, after all. And good - and great - things come to those who are beautiful. Do they not?"

Well, how could an eleven year old argue with logic of that sort?

The hat sorted him into Hufflepuff house, where his magnificence would be truly inspirational. His father, of course, a Hufflepuff in his own time, did not mind. His Ravenclaw mother, however, poised and dignified though she may be, could not help as the disappointment washed over her. Fortunately, Cedric was not home to witness such things.

Cedric made friends quickly and easily enough. Although there were the sycophants who thought, much like the Sorting Hat, that being at his side made them look better - or prettier - he did have true friends; friends that he could tell any secret to without fear of retribution, aversion, or betrayal. (Well, he could tell them almost anything.) And he adored them all. Yes, even the sycophants.

Conversely, Cedric's grades were anything but top-notch. A letter from his mother just before the Christmas holiday was curt:

Cedric, (Not "Dearest Cedric" or "My Dearest Son" or anything of the sort.)

It has come to our attention that your grades are abhorrent and that you are failing even the simplest of assignments. I would remind you that you are at Hogwarts to make a name for yourself through all your endeavours, not simply to acquire and maintain a fan club.

Your father and I do not have the money to waste on an education that you care little for. Should you wish to live as a squib then I suggest you return home immediately and save us the trouble of having to work thankless jobs to pay for such profligate things.

I cannot impress upon you how disappointed I am at your lack of focus and vision. This is unbecoming of the life your father and I have worked so hard to provide. I expected better of you.

Should you wish to return home, we could find a suitable position for you on the farmlands or perhaps at a Potions Brewery where you could become a journeyman and learn a trade that may be of some use to the Wizarding world. If that is what you want, do nothing. Your father and I will come to Hogwarts to sign for your dismissal. Should you want to remain, send back our owl with a letter saying as such. Enclose your next examination grade. I expect immediate improvement. Anything less than 'Exceeds Expectations' will result in the precipitous end of your Hogwarts' career.

I shall expect your answer within the week.

Mother (Mind you, not "Love, Mother" or "Your Dearest Mother" or even "Respectfully Yours, Mother". Simply... "Mother".)

The letter was neat and tidy, as expected, and devoid of emotion - all but one: disappointment.

Cedric had never disappointed his mother. Or, if he had, she made no mention of it or he was oblivious to it.

He returned the owl two days later with the test results from his most recent Transfiguration assessment.

Cedric had received his first 'Outstanding' mark. However, it would not be his last.

He didn't return home for the Christmas holidays that year, or the year next; instead opting to stay behind and study more. Ever since then, Cedric Diggory had become a prize in the eyes of his professors as well as his peers.

Then Harry Potter came to Hogwarts.

If Cedric were honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was slightly jealous of the attention that Harry was receiving. Worse yet, Harry and his trio of Gryffindors were having adventures, staying out past curfew, and basically getting away with breaking hundreds of centuries-old rules.

It was no great shock that Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire; that he would try to steal Cedric's thunder and glory when others could not. He relished the torture that the other students inflicted upon Harry.

'Potter Stinks!' indeed.

It was no great shock; either, that Harry would have been told what the first task was. Although the students preferred honest Cedric to treacherous Harry, many of the adults - including Headmaster Dumbledore - made their preferences carelessly obvious.

No, what did shock Cedric was that Harry approached him, of his own volition, and told him what to expect. Granted, it was two days before the first task when he did so - not time enough to prepare, mind you - and there was no telling how long Harry, himself, knew of the dragons. Still, Harry told him.

Moreover, Harry paid for his honesty by being caught by that maniac Moody.

After transfiguring Draco Malfoy into a ferret, there was no telling what the ex-Auror would do to poor Harry for cheating. Cedric shuddered at the thought of all the horrendous things that came to mind.

Had he been wrong about Harry?

Were the actions of Sunday afternoon that of an attention seeking celebutante?

Furthermore, why were Cedric's thoughts so focused on the boy?

Was Harry Potter the reason why he could no longer focus in his classes?

Was Harry Potter the reason why he had degenerated back to the scholastic mess he was his first year?

Cedric leaned on the windowsill of his solitary room, watching as his breath frosted the glass. And that was when he saw him.

Harry was walking towards the Great Lake, in quite a huff. He was upset, that much Cedric could see.

Suddenly, and without preamble, Cedric felt he needed to make sure Harry was okay. If he had been disciplined for his Sunday afternoon revelations, Cedric would have to try to make things right; or, at the very least, square them off, level pegged.

He suddenly felt very happy at the thought of making things right.