Never Been Round The Garden?

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.” 

 - Romeo & Juliet (William Shakespeare) 

Today, August 18th, 1994, Cedric woke up a bit earlier which seemed impossible as he practically rises with the sun, but his excitement kept him from getting any sleep last night. Today his father was taking him up to see the finale of the Quidditch World Cup, and Cedric was betting that Ireland would win. So, he sprung up from his bed just before sunrise, stretching out his arms before he turned to gaze at the view from his bedroom window. Admiring the rolling hills and grassy pastures, lush trees that were a dark dull green in the light blue haze of dawn. Ottery St. Catchpole had always been a quiet place. Tourists usually never visited, it was too far away from any major cities, and it was easy to pass since the village was hidden by hills and trees. Today the streets were empty, it was a weekday after all, perfectly unsuspecting as most muggles were busy with work. 

Cedric had pulled himself out of bed, yawning just a little as he looked through dark mahogany drawers. What to wear? What to wear? It was bound to be a little chilly today, if the fog had anything to say about it. Cedric then remembered the outfit he’d set out the night before, grabbing it from the chair he gingerly placed it on last night, then off to the shower it was. Cedric turned the golden knob towards the cold setting, the water hitting his back sent a sharp wake up call to him, he felt his energy rising already.  

Afterwards Cedric stood in front of the bathrooms full length mirror to look at himself once more, dark jeans that were just a bit baggy around the ankles, a dark yellow jumper that was almost green, with a white stripe across the chest, green jacket that used to be his dads, and just a pinch of pomade ran through his hair. He looked alright, presentable at least, casual, maybe too casual?  

Not to say Cedric was overly interested in the fashion statements he made, but his father had told him they’d be walking to the portkey with the Weasley’s. Cedric hadn’t seen them in ages. They were close with his own family, but the last time he talked to any of the Weasley’s was maybe in the middle of his fifth year? Safe to say he wanted to make a good impression, especially since he hasn’t really met the parents. When Cedric’s father called from downstairs, it was time to head out, Cedric’s heart raced with excitement and anxiousness. 

Cedric quickly grabbed a bag he had excitedly packed the other night, racing his way downstairs where his father stood. Wrinkles at the sides of his father's eyes growing as he smiled, his bag immeasurably larger than Cedric’s, carrying all sorts of gizmos on its sides as well as a large rolled blanket at the top, tall enough it seemed it might topple him over, it didn’t help that his father was leaning slightly. 

“Ready son?” His voice having that same firm pronunciation to it, each word delivered with a certainty that carried the knowledge of a million experiences. 

“Yup.” Cedric simply responded, with a touch of hastiness, wanting to practically jump out of the door and embark on their journey of sorts already. 

 ~•☆•~ 

After wandering through wooded forest for a bit, Cedric’s father abruptly stopped in front of a moldy old boot, the portkey. His father claimed this is where they were supposed to meet the Weasley’s, yet they were nowhere to be seen, so they’d wait. There was a big tree nearby, large sturdy tall bark rising as thick branches curved and broke off into smaller ones. A thought crossed Cedric’s mind. He must climb it, and so he did. His arms wrapping around the tree bark as he scaled the large tree, hands feeling the groove of the wood as he pushed himself up to rest on a thick branch. He could see the sun, peaking over the horizon, spreading a golden hue like a blanket over the sky. If only he could stay in this moment forever. 

Though his impromptu tree climbing came to an end when he heard foot steeps approaching and the yell of his father.  

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!” His call held a stifled chuckle behind it at the sight of a confused older man, aimlessly looking around for the portkey. 

“Amos!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, smiling as he strode towards the pair, an entourage of children following in suit. The two adults shook each other's hands, Cedric’s father grasping a boot in his other hand. Cedric pondered if he should jump down from the tree already or wait for his father to call him down? Wouldn’t it seem rude to just lay around on a tree and not even introduce himself. So, he jumped off the branch he was comfortably resting on, his feet planting on the ground, creating a loud thud against the leaf and dirt of the forest floor. 

“-And I think you know his son, Cedric?” Mr. Weasley ended on, Cedric hadn’t heard the rest of Arthur’s words, so he immediately perked up and muttered out– 

“Hi.” Cedric said, waving and looking at everyone and mustering his signature grin, the grin he wore when he had nothing else to say after introducing himself. An expression acquaintances knew him by. Tension fell thick in the air when everyone said hi back except for Fred and George who merely nodded, had they not forgiven him for the events of last year? Even Harry himself said hi. Nostalgia and shame clouded over Cedric’s mind as he recalled the events of last year; he hadn’t exactly got off on the right foot with Harry Potter, or most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for that matter. He was silently hoping it wouldn’t be mentioned 

“All these all yours, Arthur?” Cedric’s father asked 

“Oh no, Only the redheads.” Mr. Weasley said, pointing out his children. “This is Hermione, friend of Ron’s— and Harry another friend—” 

“Merlin’s Beard,” Cedric’s father cut Mr. Weasley off mid-sentence, oh no, gods no, Cedric hoped he wouldn’t. “Harry, Harry Potter?” Cedric’s father couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Er— yeah,” Harry seemed a bit uncomfortable 

“Ced’s talked about you, of course.” Amos began. Cedric felt himself start to sweat. “Told us all about playing against you last year… I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will… You beat Harry Potter!” The words rang in Cedric’s, he’d been wishing his father hadn’t said anything, wishing he’d never jumped down from the tree, wishing he could still be laying down against the cool bark and under the gaze of the sun. The scowling expression of Fred and George only served to make him even more embarrassed.  

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” Cedric muttered. “I told you… it was an accident…” Cedric was never under the impression that he’d won that match, after he heard Harry had been nicked out of his broom by a dementor he quickly offered a rematch, deeming it to be unfair the Hufflepuff team was still the winner but the Gryffindor team captain and Madam Hooch both refused. Cedric had congratulated Harry when he’d got back his Firebolt broomstick, but it still felt awkward between them, like a bruise that was no longer fresh but not yet fully healed. 

To Cedric’s slight dismay, his father continued. “Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” Amos boasted with a wide grin, slapping his son on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman… but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!”  

“Must be nearly time,” Mr. Weasley said quickly, pulling out his watch again. Cedric was thankful for the change of topic, Harry also seemed to be appreciative of the diversion. Cedric grew excited when his father held up the old boot.  

They all circled round the boot, shoulders bumping together, and Cedric’s heart raced once he saw a couple of confused faces among the group. He smiled remembering his first time using a portkey, he was sure it wouldn’t be a dull experience for them. Mr. Weasley began counting down, the other faces of the group growing more nervous as he made his way to– 

“One.” Mr. Weasley finally looked up from his watch and it happened immediately, all of them swept into a whirlwind of swirling colors, a howl of wind filling up Cedric’s ears along with the surprised yelps and screams of the group. Cedric couldn’t help but smirk as they spun around in mid-air. He’d been through a portkey a couple of times, he could only imagine how he looked the first time he used a portkey for travel, he felt so dizzy after he could barely get up. 

 Before he knew it, they’d finally arrived, now in an outstretched area, composed of small hills and slightly wet grass. Accompanied by an unmistakable morning mist which made the surrounding area feel much colder even as the sun was out. Cedric, His father, and Mr. Weasley were the only ones standing, looking windswept yet standing; the rest had fallen on the grassy ground. Cedric looked over, extending a hand towards Harry, who was on the ground, untangling himself from his twisted bag. 

“Thanks.” Harry breathed out as he took Cedric’s hand. Both, making their way back towards the group, both Cedric’s father and Mr. Weasley, there was never a moment they weren’t moving. It wouldn’t be long before Cedric and his father were separated from the Weasley's after being directed to their campsite by a pair of tired and grumpy looking wizards, dressed oddly in an attempt to appear as muggles. Arthur greeted one of the wizards, his name was Basil; his tone was weary and held the same exhausted weight through each word, that along with the eyebags he wore in his face were enough to show they hadn’t slept. Basil looked through the long roll of parchment he carried, the index finger of his hand grazing down the list of names as he attempted to find their campsite.  

“Weasley… Weasley...” He muttered to himself before looking back up at the group. “About a quarter of a mile’s walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager’s called Mr. Roberts. Diggory… second field… ask for Mr. Payne.”  

“Thanks Basil.” Mr. Weasley responded as he beckoned the group to follow him and keep up. About twenty more minutes of making their way through the misty moorland, they had reached a gate just next to a small stone cottage. Amos and Cedric bid their goodbyes as they went off to look for Mr. Payne. About a few miles along the gate that surrounded the deep valley was a man. A bit frumpy looking in his thick cable knit jumper, his grey eyebrows slightly lifted in a dazed looking expression that was only highlighted by his wrinkles.  

The old man was speaking to another group and Cedric’s gaze was drawn to a girl among them. She was quite pretty, with a lob of hair that shined in the morning sun. Friendship bracelets bunched up at her wrist, contrasting against her soft skin. Easily the most vivacious among the group, carrying a soft smile and interacting with everyone, even the old man, she could easily light up a room. It wasn’t long before the old man let the group pass through onto the campsite, and the girl followed with them, disappearing into the morning mist. Cedric still stood there, distracted, hoping he’d bump into the girl again. Amos quickly taking the chance to ask- 

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Payne?” Amos asked as he made his way over, Cedric diverting his attention and following his father. 

“I sure am, say you don’t think there’s quite the turnout? Are you Larpers?” The old man asked, his voice just as flat and distant sounding as his expression. 

“Larpers?” Amos responded, bemused at his words, unaware. Cedric stifled, there weren’t many times he got to see his father confused so the sight of it was amusing. 

“Aye, Larpers. It’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, my nephew’s a Larper, just a month ago I took him to an event– not so different looking than what’s going on here.”  Mr. Payne gestured towards a sea of bright green and red banners stuck out like a sore thumb against each tent. All of which were various sizes, with crooked skinny metal chimneys that reached towards the foggy sky. “See he was running around, with these err– what do you call them? A sword I believe, made of err cardboard. Now I told the boy's parents, my brother and his wife, my sister-in-law formally, that erm they should be concerned. See that fake sword had looked so real, sure I thought the boy was going to harm someone.” Mr. Payne retold it as if it was a story as if it was one of a great hero, though his voice still managed to come out flat. “Now before I let you and your wain in, I’ll need you to pay me before you enter and get to your larping.” 

Amos decided not to ask anymore, not wanting to find out if Mr. Payne had more stories to tell, or perhaps not wanting to alarm him, as he already thought this meet up was strange. Amos muttered to himself as he looked through a stack of muggle money. Amos had been practicing counting the money the day before with Mr. Weasley, but that didn’t exactly make them experts at it.  

“Here you go.” Amos handed a few bills towards Mr. Payne. 

“That's a five Sir.” Mr. Payne handed back the bill. 

“Right–” Amos looked back through the stack, returning to looking for the right bill, and after about five minutes he had managed to find the right bill. He let out a sigh under his breath as they made their way through the wooden gate. “Sorry, son I must’ve taken ages but, we’re here.” Amos patted Cedric’s back again. “Welcome to the Quidditch world cup my boy.”  

 ~•☆•~ 

Had it been an eternity? Perhaps it felt that way because Cedric had been up since two in the morning. Nevertheless, it was almost time, night stretched out towards the horizon, warm summer air that still lingered from earlier in the day, chatter that carried an anticipating buzz as Cedric and his father made their way towards the stadium. It looked massive from the outside, towering over the campsite like an impending storm, one could only imagine how huge the pitch itself must be, or at least Cedric did.  

It was now at night when the salesmen started to roll out and the ministry had stopped their attempts to conceal the magic, accepting it would be paraded all about sooner or later, at least it was happening at night. The salesmen walked round the campsites, shouting enthusiastically about their merchandise or simply showing it off. Just on their way out of the campsite Cedric saw glowing rosettes in the colors of green or red, tall top hats with the colors of Ireland and Bulgaria, flags from both countries that played the national anthem when waved; miniature figures of the famous Quidditch players, tiny little Firebolts that flew around, and trading cards with moving pictures, Cedric navigating through all of them until they became a flurry of color.  

Amos went to get Omniculars for Cedric and him, whilst Cedric made his way over to sweets salesman who was practically surrounded by young patrons. 

“What can I get ya!” The perky man next to the trolley asked Cedric as he gave sweets to others, multitasking effortlessly. 

“Just two cauldron cakes please?” Cedric responded. The trolley man nodded, it was just then that Cedric felt something graze his shoulder suddenly, he turned to see a girl. 

“Hi, could I please have a bag of fizzing whizbees?” Her voice was soft,  it was that girl again. Carrying an excited expression on her face, dawning on a light green shirt with a singular shamrock in the middle. Cedric eyed the green rosette pinned to her jacket as they stood next to each other in silence. Time seemed to still when he was around her. 

Cedric was just about to say something however, the man operating the candy trolley handed her the whizbees before Cedric could do so much as get another word out. “Thank you!” She exclaimed excitedly, handing the trolley man a few sickles. She quickly dashed back to her friends, two girls who wrapped their arms around her, walking together down the forested path. Cedric couldn’t help but watch from afar. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to her; he was pulled out when he heard a feigned cough. 

Turning back, he saw the trolley man, who now wore a wry smile, the man held up two cauldron cakes he had ready minutes ago. 

“Sorry.” Cedric mumbled in a low tone, looking down quickly out of embarrassment. Exchanging his sickles for the sweets. 

“Oi! Ced!” A voice echoed, it sounded oddly familiar, uncharacteristically posh sounding. Cedric turned to see his best friends, Phineas Warwick, hand extended to give those extremely hard handshakes Cedric had grown accustomed to. “Oh, don’t tell me!” Phineas retracted, clutching onto the top hat above his head decorated in Bulgaria's team colors. “Don’t tell me you’re supporting that rubbish team?!” He gestured to the shamrock pin on Cedric’s jacket. 

“Rubbish?” Cedric was bewildered by his take. “What do you mean rubbish?” 

“You really think Ireland’s got the skill to take the cup?” Phineas scoffed. “C’mon Ced I thought you were better than this, you’re a quidditch captain for Merlin’s sake!” He playfully jested. 

“Alright, why don’t you tell me why you think Bulgaria’s going to take the cup hmm?” Cedric was willing to hear him out. 

“They’ve got Viktor Krum! Need I say more?” Phineas raised his arms up as if this was common knowledge.  

“You can’t just base a win based on one good player! Quidditch is a team sport, what makes a winning team is synergy and I’m telling you that’s what Ireland’s got!”  

Phineas rolled his eyes at that and simply said. “I guess we’ll see after the match.” 

“I guess we will.” Cedric agreed, hoping to prove him wrong just a little bit. “What’s with all of—“ Cedric tried to search for words to describe it, his friend practically a walking advertisement of all the souvenirs you could purchase in support of the Bulgarian team. “That.” Cedric gestured to all the merchandise practically hanging off Phineas 

“I don’t want to forget this.” Phineas responded somewhat proudly, showing it all off. “I will have relics of this important moment in Quidditch history Ced.” 

Cedric simply smiled and said, “Good luck fitting that all in your trunk.”  

Phineas’ eyes widened, as if he hadn’t considered it. “Bullocks.” He muttered out. “I knew I should’ve brought my enchanted trunk.” Cedric chuckled. 

“Cedric! Son!” He heard the call of his father who made his way over. It appears everyone was trying to drag him along somewhere today.  “I’ve been trying to find you for ages, I tell you what you really know how to turn my head boy!” His father messed up his hair, hair he was now desperately going to have to fix. “Let’s get moving, the match is about to start.”  

“I’ll see you around.” Cedric nodded off the Phineas, a casual goodbye. Cedric and his father made his way towards a lantern-lit path which led to tunnels that jutted out from the side of a hill. He could just make out the tall walls of the stadium in the distance. 

“It took the ministry a year to build the stadium.” Amos noted. “Placed muggle repelling charms on every inch of it!” Cedric hummed, that got him wondering exactly how many charms they must’ve put to cover the entire stadium. But his thoughts were out to the back of his mind as his father and him entered. 

At least a hundred thousand witches and wizards were seated in the large oval stadium, a soft golden glow that seemed to emanate from the place itself. The Quidditch pitch grass was smoother than velvet, plush enough you wouldn’t mind falling into it. At either end of the field were three golden goal hoops, at least fifty feet high, paired with a large black board just right of the arena; it was enough to make a Quidditch captain’s heart race. Cedric couldn’t help but admire the sight before his eyes. If only he could stay in this moment forever. 

 ~•☆•~ 

There was a buzz in Cedric’s head.  At least it felt that way ever since the end of the match. Cedric paused when he heard the commentator, Ludo Bagman shout- 

“KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that?” Bagman’s voice echoing loudly throughout the pitch, it seemed Cedric’s legs willed him to stand up and applaud with the rest of the crowd. Bright green and white sparks flying and appearing in the air just overhead the pitch, standing out from the dark night sky. Amos proudly collected galleons and sickles in his hand out of the hands of his coworkers from the ministry; it seems he placed his bets right. Cedric couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face whilst he watched the crowds of people cheering, celebrating, debating the match that just unfolded right in front of their very eyes. It was certainly worth waiting all that time for. The campsite awaited him in the distance, as the tall twisting birch trees started to separate Cedric could just about make the bright lights back at camp, the stars seemed to disappear as it came into focus. 

When Cedric met his tent again, a warm glow was emanating from the inside beckoning him to enter for rest, Cedric turned back just once to take it all in again before he retreated into the warmth of his tent. He was up way later than usual, but he didn’t mind, the book in his hand proved to be far more entertaining. The continuous noise of cheer was too loud to allow him to get any good sleep anyway. It wasn’t until his father burst into the tent, Cedric finally lifted his head up. Amos’ eyes were wider than usual, his demeanor was panicked as he scrambled to grab his coat.  

“Is everything alright-“ Cedric asked before his father's arm yanked him up and out of the chair.  

“We have to go, there’s no time.” Amos said all matter of fact, the usual drawn out, over explaining form of talking his father held suddenly gone. “Stay close boy!” Amos beckoned as they made their way out of the tent. It was at this point Cedric realized what he had heard moments earlier wasn’t cheering.  

The campsite was now littered with fires, crowds screaming and running, parents holding on to their children as they left their tents behind. He could make out figures that gave chase to them, sounds that almost mimicked that of gunfire and flashing lights as curses were casted. Amos leads Cedric towards the woods, placing him carefully behind a wonky tree.  

“I’ll be back, don’t move a muscle-“ Amos stopped once he noticed Cedric’s eyes not wide with an unfamiliar gleam in them as they stayed fixed towards the sky. “What is it son?” Amos promoted, following Cedric’s pointed finger. Up in the sky was a cloud of green smoke, shaped into a skull opening its jaw as a snake slithered pass. The dark mark. Before Amos could say anything, Cedric softly blurted. 

“Merlin’s beard.” The events of tonight solidifying themselves into Cedric’s mind. His legs seemed to be planted to the ground in fear, his heart hammering. A green glow shining on both him and his father.  

Before Cedric could pull himself, his father was already gone, no matter how much his eyes searched he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t differentiate from the many bodies from the crowd. Cedric turned making his way into the nearby clearing people had situated themselves in. Among families hiding together he saw her, that girl. This time she wasn’t so bright, perched on top of a log, her face was almost pale, pulling her own fingers as she stared off into space. 

Cedric’s legs made like propellers and moved him over to her. “Are you alright?” His voice was soft, in a low tone. 

She looked up at him, nodding before answering. “Aye, I’m fine just—“ she stopped herself for a moment, almost as if she was ashamed to say it. “I don’t know where any of my friends are. I lost them in the crowd.” Her breath quivered just slightly when letting those words out. 

“I’m sure they’ll turn up.” Cedric leaned over slightly attempting to meet her eyes. The girl offered a soft, defeated smile. “Mind if I sit?” Cedric gestures to the empty spot on the log.  He slowly made his way over, she mumbled something and scooted over. Silence settled between them as they both stared up into the sky, unspoken fear filling their minds before Cedric decided he would have none of it. “Are you rooting for Ireland?” Cedric asked, breaking the silence and gesturing towards the green rosette still pinned to her jacket. 

“Oh um, aye.” She seemed a bit surprised he was making small talk with her, ultimately thankful for the distraction. “I mean, I grew up in Ireland so, it’s sort of obligatory?”  She let out a huff of amusement, a soft almost shy, grin playing on her lips.  

“Well, obligatory or not I think you have great taste” Cedric softly added, now matching her grin, tugging on a shamrock pin attached to his jumper, moving it towards her line of sight. Everything felt suddenly lighter, now that neither of them were alone. 

“I’m (Y/N) by the way…”

“Cedric, nice to meet you...”