Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Cedric Diggory's thoughts on Harry.
Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived, I knew that. So that should mean that he could handle the Tournament. But then why did it feel like he wouldn't? Something inside of me said that some part of that boy would die during this game. And I fear for him dearly.
I don't know when I really started to care about Harry Potter. Perhaps it was during the boy's sorting; he looked so excited and yet his figure was too petite, his cheeks were too hollow, and his eyes- my God his eyes. It still scares me when I think about the pain and resignation that radiated from those dark emeralds. Maybe...a part of Harry has already died; something a long time ago.
But maybe it was in his second year, once the entire school had heard about his Parseltounge abilities. No one but his closest friends stuck by him, they all whispered terrible things, accused him of any crime they could think of. And I hate myself because I was one of them. It was fear and honor that clouded my mind, that wiped the memory of those beautiful and forlorn eyes. Because he had ordered a snake to attack a fellow House-mate. Except he hadn't. The worst part is that I think I had known that throughout that year, but I chose to let other things cloud my judgment. And people think I'm perfect!
Or maybe it was last year when Harry had had Sirius Black after him. Such a cruel man after such a sweet boy. I almost had a heart attack when I heard that he had tried to break into Gryffindor tower. I couldn't stop staring at Harry the entire week. And then Black had escaped from the school, escaped justice. I still fear that he might come back and try to get to Harry while everyone's guards are down.
Perhaps it was just yesterday when that scrap of parchment with Harry's name on it flew out of the Goblet of Fire. He walked into the back room in a sort of daze, his eyes wide and filled with rage and fear. I think I knew that he'd been entered before anyone else had told us. I wanted to hug him and never let go, but I knew I couldn't. I'd probably freak him out.
I don't know when exactly I started to care for Harry Potter, but maybe it's just as well that I do. It just seems like the entire wizarding world is against him. But the worst part is that I think he's used to it, used to be hating him, used to bad things happening to him. And I think that's what really scares me; why is Harry so accustomed to pain?
© 2009 Inyx Dawn
10/11/09