Disclaimer: I do not own Harry potter.
I Live in a Shrine
People chant, and cheer as their champions enter the field in front of the maze, though it seems more like a labyrinth than a maze to me. All of the Beauxbatons students are supporting Fleur Delacour, and all of Durmstrang is rooting for Viktor Krum. Half of Hogwarts stand behind Cedric, and the other half are with Potter. Anthony stands next to me in the bleachers chanting, "Diggory, Diggory", with me as Cedric and my dad make their big entrance. I'm chanting the loudest of all. This tournament is all Cedric has been talking about since first term. He got even more obsessed about it when he became a contestant. And here he is, at the final challenge. Like dad, I couldn't be prouder of my big brother.
All too quickly the four champions have entered the maze and a hush installs over the audience. The pride I was feeling before crumbles away as nerves take over I remember what professor Dumbledore said at the beginning of the year. About the challenges being extremely dangerous and only those of age would be allowed to compete. Of course, that did not stop Potter. 'Please make it out okay' I asked Cedric in my head, clasping my hands to the front of my chest. Anthony gives a small smile at my nervousness, and places a hand on my right shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He's such a good friend.
Dad leaves the field and finds me in the stands, squeezing pass a third year ravenclaw to stand next to me. "Hello dear, good to see you supporting your brother", dad said, gesturing to my black and yellow hufflepuff sweatshirt that reaches to mid-thigh and has Diggory spelled on the back. Despite being a part of ravenclaw house myself.
I laugh softly, my nerves for my brother stopping any real laughs from coming out. Anthony's hand drops from my shoulder as I wrap my arms around dad's middle for a hug before I said, "It's actually Ced's quidditch sweater shirt. He loaned it to me for tonight", as I pulled away. Dad nods and turns his attention to Anthony.
"Mr. Goldstein", dad said with a stern look which made Anthony flinch away from me. I roll my eyes in annoyance. As if I would ever want to date Anthony. He's been my best mate since first year. Besides, he's been smitten with Mandy Brocklehurst since she showed off her transfiguration abilities in second year. Hell, that's the only reason why Cedric didn't break our friendship up when he realized the best friend I was always talking about was a boy.
Time creeps by at a flubberworm's pace as we wait for the winner to appear. Both Fleur and Krum have already been retrieved from the maze. Meaning that Hogwarts has already won, but who is our champion?
A flash of light appears for a split second, before it vanishes, leaving behind Potter, clutching his wand in one hand, the trophy in the other, and is hunched over something. But where is Cedric? People start cheering again before realizing the teachers and staff on the field aren't celebrating with us. But no one stops until Potter's sobs reach us. "I couldn't leave him! Not that!" He sobs over and over again.
Dad pales in an instant and starts pushing his way to the front. I glance at Anthony once to see his confused expression before racing after dad. Some people from the ministry try to stop us from coming onto the field, but dad shouts, "That's my boy!" Over and over until they let him pass with me hurrying after, passing a hysterical Cho Chang as I do. "No!" Dad screams as he throws himself over the figure that Potter had been hutched over when he got here. Where is potter anyway?
All thoughts of him are erased when I see Cedric, pale, cold and lifeless. No! It can't be! Not Cedric, not my big brother. My breath hitches in my chest as I drop to my knees next to him, on the opposite side of dad. No! The first tear falls. "Wake up", I whisper. As I place both of my hands on Cedric's shoulder. The sleeves of the sweatshirt are covering my hands, preventing me from feeling how cold he is. After all, this sweater is meant to fit him, not me. I start shaking him. "Wake up" I said louder. I shake him harder. "Wake up", I yell. "You're not dead, you're not! You can't be dead". But my big brother remains lifeless.
"No!" I scream, sitting up abruptly, and open my eyes. I sit, panting in my bed, looking at the early morning light shining through my window as my mind catches up with my body. Slowly I unclench my fists from their death grip on my bed sheets, thinking 'why do I have to relive that night in every dream?' My shoulders shudder as I hunch over and bring my hands up so I can burry my head in them. 'Why', I think as I sob.
Until that night sobbing was never something to listen to in my house. Mum's sounds consisted of pots and pans banging together as she created some concoction that never failed to make my mouth water. At the end of every school year, when Cedric and I came home there would be a feast ready for us. She'd make all of our favorites. Cedric would get his roast beef, and I could always expect the most amazing risotto. This year there was no food, no warm welcome, and no Cedric.
Dad's sounds consisted of talk. He was always going on about his work, the latest quidditch match, or us, his family, though mainly he just wanted to talk about Cedric. It was acknowledged by the whole family that dad favored Cedric, and there were no hard feelings about it. Cedric was his first born, and son. The spitting image dad when he was in his prime. Dad loved to whip out the pictures from his school days just to show us the similarities between him and Cedric. That didn't mean that dad didn't love me. I was his baby girl. As a child he would always sneak me sweets before dinner behind mom's back, and read story after story at bedtime. And when I got my acceptance letter from Hogwarts dad insisted that he'd be the one to take me to get my wand. Dad used to say, "My children are my pride and joy. Cedric was his pride and I was his joy. But no more, not since Cedric was killed. Now the only sounds that don't sound out of place are sobbing, sounds of anguish. I feel like I'm being too loud when my bedroom door squeaks when I open it.
It's only been a few months since Cedric's passing, but it seems like a year. It may have been a short amount of time, but our house still turned into a shrine. Mom dusts, and polishes every picture frame that holds a picture of Cedric without magic. She still sets a place for him at the table by the window at every meal. Cedric liked to sit there so when conversation was slow he could look out, and see what was happening outside of our home. That's Cedric's spot and no one is allowed to sit there. Mom only makes Cedric's favorite foods now. Not that any of us ever eat our fill. I haven't been hungry since that night. Eating is just a chore, something I have to do. Mom can't even make it through a meal without crying. She stares at the back door that leads from the kitchen to the garden, as if she's expecting Cedric to come strolling in at any moment with his broomstick hoisted over his shoulder so she can scold him for being late for dinner. When she realizes that he isn't coming she bursts into tears and runs out of the kitchen. Then dad drags his feet to the study, where he stares at the family portrait that hangs on the wall behind his desk, tracing Cedric's face with his finger as our picture selves all wave at the camera. Dad rereads every essay Cedric's ever written, reviewed every report card, and even the daily prophet articles about Cedric in the tri-wizard tournament. And as he does this he mutters, "My boy, my boy", over and over again. And me, when I close my eyes all I see is my big brother, and when I open them all I see is Cedric's shrine.