Disclaimer: This is based upon J.K. Rowling's series of novels, Harry Potter, mostly drawing from the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
A/N: Okay, I have the urge to write this fiction with Harry/Cedric. Interestingly enough, there is an utter lack of these types of fics. So hopefully, I'll be going into a genre that needs some more variety. And hopefully I'll be able to give the events in the Goblet of Fire a new spin. And sorry about the late update, my beta and I revamped the chapter to make it more original. At least that's what I hope for. Hey, no more babbling, let's get to the story. Please read and review! But first, the summary!
Summary: What if Cedric and Harry had secret feelings for each other? They must realize and accept these feelings during the Triwizard tournament, before it's too late.
Chapter 1: Off to the Cup"Interesting," commented the corpse sitting in the chair. It was a wonder that the thing was alive.
"What is it, Master?" asked Wormtail, cowering before the Dark Lord.
"Nagini has just told me the Muggle is standing right outside this room. Please, turn me around to see him," said the Dark Lord.
Frank Bryce, the old caretaker of the Riddle House, was frozen with fear, his eyes glazed over in terror. He thought— no, knew— that his death was coming.
He saw the remains of what should be a man, a shadow of a life. His worst suspicions were confirmed as he gazed into the thing's eyes.
"Avada Kedavra!" screamed the Dark Lord, his wand pointed at the Muggle. Instantly, an eerie green light flooded the room as though it were the middle of day.
Without a sound, the light hit Frank. He fell over dead. A loud "thump" echoed throughout the room as his head hit the hardwood floor. And the Dark Lord laughed.
That was all he could take.
Harry woke with a start, sweating profusely and his scar singing into his skull. His hands were on his forehead, holding his scar, trying desperately to ease the pain.
He could not believe what he had just seen. Had he seen it? Had it been real? Who was that man in the dream?
Something about it felt so tangible, so concrete as though it had actually happened. And Harry's burning scar only served to strengthen the notion that something bad had happened, perhaps the murder of a Muggle. But what else had he seen, what else had been so violent, had made his scar hurt—
Voldemort!
Harry had seen Voldemort. He knew he had to tell someone about the event, but who? Harry pondered who would prove the best to tell.
Ron wouldn't know what to do, he would probably want me to contact the Ministry, Harry thought. And Hermione… she would be more help than Ron, but even she doesn't have experience with dreams like these. She'd go look in a book probably or tell me to go see Dumbledore. But I just want someone to talk to about this, I don't want to alarm Dumbledore…
And then it hit him.
Sirius. He could tell Sirius what happened. He knew he could trust Sirius. He knew it.
Harry searched for his quill, and wrote a short letter telling of the mysterious dream he had. He woke Hedwig up and sent her way with the letter. He gave her an affectionate pat before she flew away.
With that dream under control, and his scar finally beginning to cool, Harry felt that he could go back to sleep. Sleep was probably his favorite part of his annual summer stay at the Dursley's. After all, it was the one part of his day where he was treated with dignity, where Dudley, Petunia, and Vernon could not scold him for being a Potter. His dreams gave him bliss.
He was hundreds of miles from his bed, in the countryside.
A sunlit field, a golden Snitch flashing in the sun's rays. He looks up and smiles, his Firebolt speedily ascending towards the devious Snitch. His green eyes twinkle with joy as he flies onward.
The Snitch swoops downward into the shade of the Quidditch stands. Harry follows the golden sparkle into the shade, his clothes billowing behind him as he dives downward.
He maneuvers through the stands, the Snitch trying its best to avoid him. Over and under the wooden supports, barely missing certain doom. The Snitch tries and tries to zoom away. But he is too good. He is Harry Potter, and he can catch that Snitch.
The Snitch will not give up though and veers left and out of the stands, glistening in the sunlight. He follows close behind, leaving the endless forest of wood, the sunlight showering his face, his body, and his broom. He flies out to the middle of the field, hundreds of feet in the air now, the Snitch within his reach. So he stands on his zooming broom, his arm outstretched, his fingers grasping for the Snitch.
And then…He notices something glint to the right of him. He ignores it, eager to catch the Snitch. But it doesn't ignore him. Another player purposefully flies into him, swooping him off of his broom and into his arms. Harry looks up and smiles, staring into the gray eyes, lost in them. The buzzer sounds—
Harry awoke with a start, his alarm clock buzzing non-stop, his dream fading into nothingness.
'Just when things were getting good,' he thought thinking about the Snitch, and… something else. He had already forgotten it. He hoped that it would come back to him later. That dumb device just had to go off, didn't it? But Harry knew it helped he had to wake up. He had to get going if he would be ready to go on time.
Today was the day that the Weasleys would be picking him up for this hellhole. He couldn't contain his excitement when the letter had come in the mail. After all, Harry would leave two weeks earlier than anyone had hoped. And that Monday…
That Monday he could go to the Quidditch World Cup. It was a dream come true…literally.
After some rousing games of Quidditch at the Burrow, and restful night of sleep, although a short one, Harry woke up to Mrs. Weasley's frenzied shaking. The sun was not even above the horizon yet, but he had to get up. With a rush out of the house, Hermione, Harry, and all of the Weasleys except for Mrs. Weasley made their way through the countryside.
"Harry, do you think I look Muggle enough?" asked George. He did look like a Muggle, just with a very bad fashion sense. Harry didn't really care though. He was still tired. Too tired to think.
"Of course you do," said Harry with a yawn. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Personally, I'm ecstatic that we get to witness such an event," said Hermione. Everyone stared at her for a moment, mad at her for trying to start a conversation. They were still sleepy. Mr. Weasley seemed fairly enthused, however.
"Yes, it's history in the making," he commented. "First time in thirty years Britain has gotten to host the event, and you can bet that it will be at least as long before the next British cup. Should be exciting."
"Bulgaria versus Ireland—it should be interesting," remarked Fred. "Ireland's a great team, but Bulgaria's got Krum."
"What's a Krum?" asked Hermione. Fred, Ron, and George glared at her. "Or should I say who?" she corrected, trying to avoid their wrath. Harry had no idea who it was either, he was just glad Hermione had asked instead of him.
"Just the best Seeker in the league!" said Ron. "Really Hermione, you should put down the books once and a while and just have fun like the rest of us!"
"What do you call this?" asked Hermione. "Some school related outing? It's not academic! It's purely extracurricular!"
"Not for you, Hermione. You do have your Ancient Runes book with you," said Harry.
"That's a challenging class! I have to be prepared when we start school in just two weeks. It's not my fault that I like being prepared for class, unlike you two," said Hermione with a huff.
"It's summertime Hermione, a time for relaxation, and forgetting about school," said Ron.
"But I have to be ready for school," said Hermione.
"But that's it, sometimes you just have to relax. You can't bring your books with you everywhere," remarked Ron.
"Watch me," said Hermione.
"I have, and that's why you need to relax," said Ron.
"This is how I relax," said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips.
"Is Ancient Runes really that enthralling?" asked Harry.
"Yes!" replied Hermione.
"Wow," commented Fred and George.
"No wonder has no idea who the bloody hell Victor Krum is," said Fred.
"Yeah, if I were her, I wouldn't know anything about Quidditch," said George.
"I do know a few things about the game, like the Snitch…" Hermione trailed off.
"Scratch that. I'd know one thing about Quidditch. But otherwise, I'd be Quidditchless," said George. "What a pitiful existence that would be."
"Hey—" said Hermione, but she was interrupted before she could finish.
"As amusing as your little argument is, I think we should be civil when our company arrives. We have arrived." said Mr. Weasley, turning around as he reached the top of the hill.
"Where exactly are we?" whispered Harry to Ron. The twins overheard him.
"The Portkey," said George.
"The port what?" asked Harry.
"The Portkey, it'll take us to the World Cup," said Fred. "What, did you think this was it?"
"No, not exactly," said Harry.
"Believe me, you'll know when you're there," said Fred.
"Yeah, it's mighty hard to miss," remarked George.
"Ah finally Amos, I was getting worried!" said Mr. Weasley. Harry stood still, wondering whom this person was exactly. Mr. Weasley shook the hand of a tall, middle aged man, with round glasses and light brown hair with a tinge of gray. Harry could swear that he had seen the man somewhere before. He looked so familiar. Like someone else Harry knew.
"Everyone, this is Mr. Diggory," introduced Mr. Weasley. "He works at the Ministry as well."
Harry could swear that he had heard the name before, but where? Where had he heard that name?
"You probably already know my son, Cedric," said Mr. Diggory. Cedric had just walked up the hill and flashed everyone a smile.
Everything instantly made sense to Harry, as he looked at the tall, handsome man that was Cedric. Harry felt something within him stir, something deep, something innate, something almost instinctive. But that went away after Mr. Weasley introduced them all.
"Dad, we have to get going. The Knight Bus is coming soon," said Cedric. His father looked pretty anxious.
"Knight Bus?" asked Harry. "I thought we were taking the Portkey!"
"Oh no, didn't you hear? The Portkey was canceled. We got an owl from the ministry a while back informing us of the change," said Mr. Diggory. "And we better get going. The Knight Bus should be arriving down on Western McDurn Avenue in about five minutes."
"What?" asked Mr. Weasley.
"McDurn Avenue, the road down in the Muggle Village. We have to be there for the Knight Bus, " said Mr. Diggory.
"Oh dear, five minutes? But it's so far. We really should get going," said Mr. Weasley.
The Diggorys led the way down the hill's tall green grass, through a few Muggle's backyards, past an empty playground, and into the Muggle town. Thankfully, none of the Muggles were up to see the interestingly dressed people walking through the town at this most unreasonable hour.
"What I don't understand," said Mr. Weasley, "Is why we never got the letter."
"Um, about that," said Hermione. "The other day, when some stray gray owl stopped by the house, Crookshanks got a little excited. And in the excitement, hissed at the owl and accidentally scratched the wing. I don't think the owl was able to drop off the letter before it had to flew away because it was too frightened to play. Crookshanks may have been a little mad, but those vicious garden gnomes had just annoyed her. She was just taking her anger out in the wrong way."
"Hermione, can you at least admit that Crookshanks did something wrong, even if he never ate Scabbers" said Ron.
"Well, he didn't do anything bad, per se. He was just trying to—"
"Hermione, be realistic," said Ron.
"Okay, so Crookshanks made a tiny mistake. I still think he's a sly cat," said Hermione. Harry laughed.
"Next time just tell us what happened, for goodness sake," said Mr. Weasley. "Wouldn't want to miss the World Cup. Luckily for us, the Diggorys came by." Hermione blushed in embarrassment. She had come extraordinarily close to ruining everyone's day, and their chance to see the only British Cup in about forty years.
They had finally reached the street, and peered down the deserted road. But within a few seconds, a rumbling sound in the distance broke the crystal silence.
Bright yellow lights came into view as the towering Knight Bus rounded the corner, blinding the group momentarily. It stopped right in front of them, sending a screech that sounded throughout the surrounding neighborhood. Thankfully, the Muggles couldn't hear the infernal noise, otherwise the lights in their homes surely would have instantly lit.
Stan Shunpike stood at the door to the Knight Bus, looking down at the group of people. "Uh-oh Ern, I don't know how we're going to fit this load onto the bus. The Ministry really has to get their system in order." He looked down at them expectantly.
" Well, come on! Enough lolly-gagging! We've got a schedule to keep up for the Cup! Don't want to miss it now, do you?" said Stan. "Now, do try to find somewhere comfortable. I'm sure there's somewhere for you to go among this mass of people."
Harry and Cedric were the last two to squish their way onto the bus. Although there were a lot of people standing up, there were a couple of seats open. With the rest of their party out of sight, lost in the crowd of people, the two decided to sit together, as opposed to being alone amongst complete strangers. When they sat down next to each other, Harry couldn't help but smile. And he couldn't help but notice that Cedric was smiling too.
They had taken the only available seats next to each other, which happened to be right next to where Stan was standing. Perhaps this proximity to the interesting person that was Stan was the reason why the area was completely vacant. Not that the two of them minded having Stan nearby. It just made their lives more—interesting.
"So Harry, looking forward to the Cup?" asked Cedric.
"Yeah," said Harry. "What about you?"
"I couldn't stop thinking about it all summer. It's not every year that England plays host to the Quidditch World Cup," said Cedric.
"So I've heard," said Harry, grinning. He gazed out the window to see the countryside whizzing by, colors mixing, the light beginning to emerge, beginning to lighten the dark scene shades of green and blue. Stan couldn't help but butt into the conversation.
"You know, the cup is even better to watch when you have someone to share it with," said Stan smiling at Cedric.
"So, why does a good-looking lad like yourself not have a girlfriend to go see the World Cup with? I'm sure a lot of your friends do," said Stan as he looked at Cedric. Harry saw Cedric's cheeks flush to a rosy pink. Could the person who Harry saw as perfect actually be embarrassed?
"Haven't really—gotten around—to it," said Cedric, trying to string a few words together. "I have other things on my mind." Stan looked at him for a second, as though studying him, then went to the door to let the next group of people on the bus.
"So Harry, do you have any girls that you're going to meet up with?" asked Cedric.
"Well—er—no," said Harry. "I, yeah, have other things on my mind."
"Like what?" asked Cedric.
And that question stumped Harry. Sure he worried about Quidditch, but what else was on his mind. Soon enough, he would figure everything out.
Except for Cedric, that is.
A/N: Sorry, I had to cut it off there, otherwise I would have made the chapter too long. I hope you guys liked it, I really tried to make it believable and follow the same sort of plot the book did. But it would have been too long if I included of the initial plot, so I only included the relevant stuff. Got everything moving pretty quickly, which is good. So please review if you would like me to update soon. Oh and yeah, my beta and I re-formatted the chapter so that it was a bit more different from the book. I hope you like it.
Another A/N: Want more chapters sooner? Please Review!