42
Ian
Christmas morning was extremely anti climatic. I woke up before the sun even thought about rising and I left my dormitory before my friends could wake up. The castle was still sleeping as I walked through it without a place to go. I never had a place to go. I hoped that would change soon.
I finally stopped at the memorial. I hadn't let myself go in there yet but I figured I would have to face it eventually. I expected it to be dark when I went in but there were candles flickering over the walls. The sun was a sliver on the horizon and I expected when it fully rose the stained glass windows would light up the room like a church. It still didn't feel like enough.
Cedric's painting was farther down the aisle. I had never been in here but somehow I knew. It was like the unmoving faces of the dead were telling me where to go. It was morbid and sad and i hated it but I always did. I wasn't made for this kind of grief. None of us were. That's what the Potter Generation was about.
There was someone already sitting at Cedric's bench but I didn't even think about turning around now. I took a seat next to the person and studied the painting. It was perfect. Everything was just right. His confidence and happiness. It was moving but it felt alive.
"He would've been proud of all this." The person said suddenly. It was just dark enough to mask their features but I knew who it was. The green eyes behind the circle glasses gave him away. Not even the lightning scar.
"He would've been proud of having a memorial. He probably would have helped build it." Harry Potter continued. "Sometimes I still have nightmares about him. It's like I'm the only one who hasn't moved on."
"You aren't the only one." I replied quietly. Cedric was always in my dreams. Just like he was before he died, the same old Cedric Diggory. It was a comfort to see his face even if it wasn't real. "But I don't think it counts as not moving on. I think it's just remembering."
"Sometimes I don't want to remember." He sighed. "I hate saying it but sometimes I don't want to be the Chosen One. I don't want to remember all the people who died right in front of me. The people who died for me. I want to be normal for once. Not a leader of a revolution that started before my time."
"Why are here then?"
He turned to me then. The sun was rising steadily, blotting out the shadows and bringing his face into the light. He didn't look broken then. Despite his words, he just looked done. Done and strong enough to face whatever he had been facing his whole life. He couldn't change what had happened to him but he could pretend that maybe things were different.
"I have to remember." He said firmly. "For them." He gestured to the line of paintings before us. It seemed to go on forever. I stayed quiet, looking up at Cedric. The colors of the stained glass lit up his face and he looked like a saint at a church.
"People have been trying to make decisions for me lately. As if I'm made of glass and they're afraid I'll break. Or maybe they think I'm mental." Harry laughed. "After everything, I just want to be happy again. I don't want all this seriousness, this sadness. We've had too much of that."
I thought of the documentary. Hermione was the one that shut it down, not Harry. I didn't want to believe that that was one of the decisions he wasn't allowed to make. It was too good to be true.
"Someone tried to make a documentary about our year." Harry went on. "About how we weren't like other generations, not just because of Voldemort but because we're more aware, I suppose. We aren't blind to how prejudice our world is.
"They think it's propaganda. I think it's wonderful." Harry looked at me again with a slight smile on his face. "That was another decision that I didn't know about until it was made."
"You should do something about it." I said, trying to hold in my excitement.
"I wouldn't know how. Everything seems out of my reach lately."
"I know a way."
Harry Potter raised his eyebrows at me and I got the feeling that maybe we could fix this. I could fix this. The coin in my pocket felt like a weight and I knew what to do from there.
"So how about those Chudley Cannons?"