Reflections

He's gone. Forever. At first I couldn't believe it. It all seemed...surreal. But it was true. He died and left me here, alone. Cedric was the first person to really understand me. He was my best friend. He giggled with me over my secret habits, lamented with me over my lost dreams, and comforted me in my troubles. But all my problems seem so trifling now. How could I have complained about my homework to him when I had so little time left with him? I'm kicking myself for it, for the wasting of his precious life-- the wasting of his wonderful life.

He was so good. He once told me that although he hated spiders, he could never kill them. It about killed him to fight that dragon.

"Everyone has a right to life, Cho," he told me, "God forbid I take that away from it." And I remember poking him in the stomach and teasing him for it. He took it well but I saw his eyes after that. His beautiful eyes laughing with me yet frustrated that I didn't understand. And I didn't understand.

"It's only a spider, silly," I teased, "they can't feel anything." But now I understand. That's how he thinks. Voldemort. He squashed Cedric like a lowly bug--he annihilated Cedric's life as if he were a terminator. And to Cedric, he was. He was the end. How could I have been so insensitive? How could I have even thought that the life of a spider or anything else was worthless? I can barely do potions these days: Snape breathing down my neck and all those dead lives put into a boiling pot.

And then there's Harry. Or rather, was. Beginning of sixth year all these feelings started coming up. I had always like Harry, he was a sweet kid, but I never thought that I would develop more than platonic feelings for him. Especially since he was the one who...was there--the only witness, other than Voldemort, to see Cedric's death. Yes, I believed that it was Voldemort who killed Cedric--how could I not? I remember seeing his dead body, lying there. He didn't look peaceful, like everyone describes the dead. He looked afraid and shocked and so alone. I wanted to hold him and cry, never letting go. He was alone and I was alone. So cold and alone.

Everyone was so careful around me and I can't blame them. I was a human waterfall. I saw Harry looking at me and I was angry. Angry at the fact that all he did was sneak looks at me. Angry that he never tried to talk to me about it. But I can't blame him for that. He was blaming himself for Cedric's death. He was so angry that year. Angry and at the same time frightened. Maybe that's why I dated him for that short time, he reminded me of Cedric. Maybe I thought that if I quelled Harry's fears, I was also stopping Cedric's last fear.

I was angry that year too. All those people whispering that Voldemort hadn't really killed Cedric, that Harry was making it up. What did they think? That Harry killed Cedric? That Cedric died in an accident? Cedric would never die "by accident". He died nobly and, possibly, happy. All of my sixth year I was silently screaming, pleading, crying. How could they not believe? Was my grief feigned? Was I a pretender? How could they look at me and possibly think that it wasn't true?

I echo Dumbledore's last words to us silently. "Never forget Cedric Diggory." I won't forget. Ever. I'm living him.