It had been two weeks since Cedric's fifth year at Hogwarts had ended and the summer break had begun. Already was he finding little to do, and when he did attend work with his father, he was told to just sit and observe. Mostly whenever anyone did come into Amos' office, it was some nutter that having difficulty with an exotic house pet.
"It bit my bottom!" An elderly witch complained, pointing to the travel case that was down by her side. She was dressed in a periwinkle robe that she fastened around her waist with a poison green belt. The crooked hat atop her white, fly-away hair was a putrid shade of yellow, which Cedric took offense to. Her stockings, which were striped the many colors of a sour rainbow, finally buried themselves deep in the depths of dark brown books.
"Madam," Amos said, giving the woman a bizarre stare that rivaled her own eccentricity. "Please, please. Calm yourself and have a seat." Mr. Diggory gestured to the chairs that were placed before his desk.
The witch, after shutting off her hysterics, brought herself to one of the chairs and sat down silently. The wooden frame of seat creaked beneath her weight. Cedric winced.
"Now, what did you say bit you again?" Amos reached into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a piece of parchment that looked something like a referral slip. Dipping his peacock-feather quill into a bit of ink, he prepared himself to write.
"Mr. Pimms," she stated casually, eyeing the carrying cause which, under her glare, shook wildly. Cedric stirred uneasily, unsure of what was in there. He then suddenly jumped as one of the witch's boots forcefully kicked the case and sent it flying into the wall to her right. A loud yelp was heard.
Amos scratched out 'Mr. Pim--' from the box on the referral that was labeled 'Creature.' Clearing his throat, and feeling a great bit of pity for whatever was in that case, he broke the moment of silence. "What type of creature is it, madam?"
"Oh," she replied, acknowledging Cedric for the first time. She gave a yellow smile. "A Crup."
"Was there anything that might have made him do it?"
"Do what?" The witch turned her attention back towards Mr. Diggory. With one of her fat hands, she scratched a tuft of white curly hair from behind her ear.
"Bite you," Amos murmured with a slight twinge of annoyance. Cedric suddenly had a feeling that their vacation this year was going to be even longer than the one previous.
"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "He wouldn't wear the new bow I bought for him. And might I add that this wasn't the first time he did anything like this. Oh, no. Certainly not," the woman leaned forward a bit, the tip of her crooked had sagging downward pathetically. "He's bitten me before. This is his third time now, in fact. Ruddy thing. I warned him, I did! Told him the last time that if he ever did anything like this again I'd have him locked away. And so here I am. Locking him away." The Crup whined from inside the carrying case.
"How serious of a bite was it?" The blue quill began to move frantically across the referral slip as Amos began to write down bits and pieces of what the bizarre witch told him.
"Oh, I don't know," she continued, "didn't even feel it."
The tip of Amos' quill snapped off as he was pressing too hard. Soon enough the Head of the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures found himself with a new quill in hand, writing up the witch instead. "I'm afraid that's too insufficient a reason to have your Crup ---"
"Mr. Pimms," she corrected.
"Mr. Pimms," Mr. Diggory stated, clenching his teeth with agitation, "filed for execution."
"Execution?! Oh, gracious me! I never wanted to have him eaten by crickets!" Both Cedric and his father just stared at the woman. She really was a strange one. "Oh, Pimmsie-poo! Come to mummykins!" Clapping her large hands together, the door of the traveling crate burst open. A little black dog that strongly resembled a Jack Russell terrier came prancing out. As it trotted over to the witch, Cedric noticed that it had a forked tail. "Do you forgive me?" She nuzzled her nose against the Crup's. The dog licked her swollen face in reply. Then, suddenly, what the Seeker had feared most came true. Under the pressing girth of the woman and her small, ebony dog, the wooden chair gave way. In a split second that become a fury of splinters and earth-splitting thunder, Mr. Diggory's chair became a pile of kindling.
With a look of pure horror on his face, Amos stood to his full height. "Get out you wretched, old bat! Get out!" Utterly appalled, the crash-course witch got to her feet, threw her nose snottily into the air, and squeezed her massive backside through the door. A hand rose to Mr. Diggory's forehead.
"You all right, Dad?" Cedric asked his father, only to get a nod in reply.
"Come on, Cedric. Get your things. We're going home."
After a long, dinner discussion with his parents, Cedric decided to turn in early. Excusing himself from the table, he headed up the stairs to his room on the second landing. "Lumos," he called softly, illuminating his bedroom. It was a soft green in color, and a very mellow place to be. There were a few posters here and there, some of his favorite Quidditch team, the Appleby Arrows. As he walked past the poster of Zacharias Mumps, Seeker for the Arrows, it smiled and waved to him.
Falling carelessly onto his bed, Cedric stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. After lying there for a moment, his mind immediately wandered to the prospect of Oliver. Before he knew what was happening, his consciousness faded out and he found himself straying into a dream.
Rain fell openly from the sky, pounding mercilessly against the cement streets of London. The fog in the air was thick, but not as it typically was. A sweet aroma filled the air, and it was somewhat calming. Cedric sat quietly on the steps of an apartment, allowing himself to get soaked to the bone. It was still summer, and the rain came as a refreshing shower more than another bothersome obstacle. His hands, covered to the knuckles by the sleeves of a drenched blue button-down, were raised to his mouth as his rested his check against them. Strands of chestnut brown hair fell loosely before his brown eyes. He was waiting; waiting for someone or something. . .
A dark silhouette shaped itself in the thick, gray clouds of the fog. As the person stepped nearer, the blackness of the figure deepened until became entirely solid. It was none other than Oliver Wood, but something was different about him Cedric noted. He wasn't dressed in his usual clothes, but wearing a charcoal gray suit and khaki trench coat. The tie he wore was black, matching the hat he had loosely tipped on his head. In his right hand and slung over his right shoulder, Oliver held a vivid, red umbrella.
Standing the moment he spotted the Gryffindor Keeper, Cedric ran to Oliver and threw his arms around him in a gentle embrace. Wrapping an arm around the Seeker, Wood held him tightly against his chest.
"I've been waiting for this moment," Cedric said, looking up at Oliver's half shaded face.
"Me, too." With his hand, Oliver gently lifted Diggory's chin slightly higher, and beneath the shelter of the red umbrella, they shared a kiss. Wood's lips were soft, Cedric imagined, and had would taste like the bittersweet flavor of white wine. They lingered there a moment, forgetting everything; too enveloped in sheer presence of one another.
Cedric breathed heavily, trying to inhale the sweet scent of Oliver, but in actuality, the Gryffindor wasn't there. He awoke to a crude reality, opening his eyes to discover himself back in the confines of his bedroom. Sighing depressingly, Cedric sat up. Tugging off his shoes, he cast them idly to the ground. There was no desire to get undressed, and so, once he removed his socks, the Hufflepuff Seeker went back to the sanctity of his sheets.
"Abeo incendia," he muttered, and the many candles that littered his room extinguished on immediate command. In silence and in darkness he lay, often closing his eyes to remember a glint of his dream. How it all seemed so real, yet so surrealistic. Cedric soon discovered that he was developing a crush for that handsome, brown-haired boy, and he felt that he would give anything to just be with him for a single minute.
As Cedric's consciousness slowly slipped from his grasp, there was an alarming noise at his window. With his eyes snapping wide, he bolted upright, sitting attentively in the darkness. Straining his blue eyes to cut through the blackness of his room, Cedric finally mustered the courage to open his window. As he did so, a grayish-brown barn owl came swooping in with a letter in its mouth. Gliding across the room, the owl landed and perched itself upon a chair by the door.
Cedric slid out from beneath his bed sheets, walking calmly over to the owl. Allowing the letter to be taken from his beak, the bird hooted softly.
"Sorry. I don't have any food." With that said, the owl ruffled its feathers and took off the same way he entered. The Seeker watched it depart, but then quickly returned his attention to the letter in his hand.
It was a crème colored parchment, bound by a red ribbon and lightly browned at the edges. Carefully sliding off the ribbon, Cedric uncurled the scroll. Written in a black, scratchy letters was the following message:
Dear Cedric,
Hope your school break is going all right. Mine has been boring. Using the old broomstick to keep busy. Well, hope to hear from you soon. Keep flying!
Oliver
"It bit my bottom!" An elderly witch complained, pointing to the travel case that was down by her side. She was dressed in a periwinkle robe that she fastened around her waist with a poison green belt. The crooked hat atop her white, fly-away hair was a putrid shade of yellow, which Cedric took offense to. Her stockings, which were striped the many colors of a sour rainbow, finally buried themselves deep in the depths of dark brown books.
"Madam," Amos said, giving the woman a bizarre stare that rivaled her own eccentricity. "Please, please. Calm yourself and have a seat." Mr. Diggory gestured to the chairs that were placed before his desk.
The witch, after shutting off her hysterics, brought herself to one of the chairs and sat down silently. The wooden frame of seat creaked beneath her weight. Cedric winced.
"Now, what did you say bit you again?" Amos reached into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a piece of parchment that looked something like a referral slip. Dipping his peacock-feather quill into a bit of ink, he prepared himself to write.
"Mr. Pimms," she stated casually, eyeing the carrying cause which, under her glare, shook wildly. Cedric stirred uneasily, unsure of what was in there. He then suddenly jumped as one of the witch's boots forcefully kicked the case and sent it flying into the wall to her right. A loud yelp was heard.
Amos scratched out 'Mr. Pim--' from the box on the referral that was labeled 'Creature.' Clearing his throat, and feeling a great bit of pity for whatever was in that case, he broke the moment of silence. "What type of creature is it, madam?"
"Oh," she replied, acknowledging Cedric for the first time. She gave a yellow smile. "A Crup."
"Was there anything that might have made him do it?"
"Do what?" The witch turned her attention back towards Mr. Diggory. With one of her fat hands, she scratched a tuft of white curly hair from behind her ear.
"Bite you," Amos murmured with a slight twinge of annoyance. Cedric suddenly had a feeling that their vacation this year was going to be even longer than the one previous.
"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "He wouldn't wear the new bow I bought for him. And might I add that this wasn't the first time he did anything like this. Oh, no. Certainly not," the woman leaned forward a bit, the tip of her crooked had sagging downward pathetically. "He's bitten me before. This is his third time now, in fact. Ruddy thing. I warned him, I did! Told him the last time that if he ever did anything like this again I'd have him locked away. And so here I am. Locking him away." The Crup whined from inside the carrying case.
"How serious of a bite was it?" The blue quill began to move frantically across the referral slip as Amos began to write down bits and pieces of what the bizarre witch told him.
"Oh, I don't know," she continued, "didn't even feel it."
The tip of Amos' quill snapped off as he was pressing too hard. Soon enough the Head of the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures found himself with a new quill in hand, writing up the witch instead. "I'm afraid that's too insufficient a reason to have your Crup ---"
"Mr. Pimms," she corrected.
"Mr. Pimms," Mr. Diggory stated, clenching his teeth with agitation, "filed for execution."
"Execution?! Oh, gracious me! I never wanted to have him eaten by crickets!" Both Cedric and his father just stared at the woman. She really was a strange one. "Oh, Pimmsie-poo! Come to mummykins!" Clapping her large hands together, the door of the traveling crate burst open. A little black dog that strongly resembled a Jack Russell terrier came prancing out. As it trotted over to the witch, Cedric noticed that it had a forked tail. "Do you forgive me?" She nuzzled her nose against the Crup's. The dog licked her swollen face in reply. Then, suddenly, what the Seeker had feared most came true. Under the pressing girth of the woman and her small, ebony dog, the wooden chair gave way. In a split second that become a fury of splinters and earth-splitting thunder, Mr. Diggory's chair became a pile of kindling.
With a look of pure horror on his face, Amos stood to his full height. "Get out you wretched, old bat! Get out!" Utterly appalled, the crash-course witch got to her feet, threw her nose snottily into the air, and squeezed her massive backside through the door. A hand rose to Mr. Diggory's forehead.
"You all right, Dad?" Cedric asked his father, only to get a nod in reply.
"Come on, Cedric. Get your things. We're going home."
After a long, dinner discussion with his parents, Cedric decided to turn in early. Excusing himself from the table, he headed up the stairs to his room on the second landing. "Lumos," he called softly, illuminating his bedroom. It was a soft green in color, and a very mellow place to be. There were a few posters here and there, some of his favorite Quidditch team, the Appleby Arrows. As he walked past the poster of Zacharias Mumps, Seeker for the Arrows, it smiled and waved to him.
Falling carelessly onto his bed, Cedric stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. After lying there for a moment, his mind immediately wandered to the prospect of Oliver. Before he knew what was happening, his consciousness faded out and he found himself straying into a dream.
Rain fell openly from the sky, pounding mercilessly against the cement streets of London. The fog in the air was thick, but not as it typically was. A sweet aroma filled the air, and it was somewhat calming. Cedric sat quietly on the steps of an apartment, allowing himself to get soaked to the bone. It was still summer, and the rain came as a refreshing shower more than another bothersome obstacle. His hands, covered to the knuckles by the sleeves of a drenched blue button-down, were raised to his mouth as his rested his check against them. Strands of chestnut brown hair fell loosely before his brown eyes. He was waiting; waiting for someone or something. . .
A dark silhouette shaped itself in the thick, gray clouds of the fog. As the person stepped nearer, the blackness of the figure deepened until became entirely solid. It was none other than Oliver Wood, but something was different about him Cedric noted. He wasn't dressed in his usual clothes, but wearing a charcoal gray suit and khaki trench coat. The tie he wore was black, matching the hat he had loosely tipped on his head. In his right hand and slung over his right shoulder, Oliver held a vivid, red umbrella.
Standing the moment he spotted the Gryffindor Keeper, Cedric ran to Oliver and threw his arms around him in a gentle embrace. Wrapping an arm around the Seeker, Wood held him tightly against his chest.
"I've been waiting for this moment," Cedric said, looking up at Oliver's half shaded face.
"Me, too." With his hand, Oliver gently lifted Diggory's chin slightly higher, and beneath the shelter of the red umbrella, they shared a kiss. Wood's lips were soft, Cedric imagined, and had would taste like the bittersweet flavor of white wine. They lingered there a moment, forgetting everything; too enveloped in sheer presence of one another.
Cedric breathed heavily, trying to inhale the sweet scent of Oliver, but in actuality, the Gryffindor wasn't there. He awoke to a crude reality, opening his eyes to discover himself back in the confines of his bedroom. Sighing depressingly, Cedric sat up. Tugging off his shoes, he cast them idly to the ground. There was no desire to get undressed, and so, once he removed his socks, the Hufflepuff Seeker went back to the sanctity of his sheets.
"Abeo incendia," he muttered, and the many candles that littered his room extinguished on immediate command. In silence and in darkness he lay, often closing his eyes to remember a glint of his dream. How it all seemed so real, yet so surrealistic. Cedric soon discovered that he was developing a crush for that handsome, brown-haired boy, and he felt that he would give anything to just be with him for a single minute.
As Cedric's consciousness slowly slipped from his grasp, there was an alarming noise at his window. With his eyes snapping wide, he bolted upright, sitting attentively in the darkness. Straining his blue eyes to cut through the blackness of his room, Cedric finally mustered the courage to open his window. As he did so, a grayish-brown barn owl came swooping in with a letter in its mouth. Gliding across the room, the owl landed and perched itself upon a chair by the door.
Cedric slid out from beneath his bed sheets, walking calmly over to the owl. Allowing the letter to be taken from his beak, the bird hooted softly.
"Sorry. I don't have any food." With that said, the owl ruffled its feathers and took off the same way he entered. The Seeker watched it depart, but then quickly returned his attention to the letter in his hand.
It was a crème colored parchment, bound by a red ribbon and lightly browned at the edges. Carefully sliding off the ribbon, Cedric uncurled the scroll. Written in a black, scratchy letters was the following message:
Dear Cedric,
Hope your school break is going all right. Mine has been boring. Using the old broomstick to keep busy. Well, hope to hear from you soon. Keep flying!
Oliver