The Boy In My Dreams -HEDRIC (1)

5.(HC) no such thing as luck

HARRY

XI

For the third time, Harry listened to Oliver Wood, the captain of his team, talk about the strategies that each member would carry out soon enough. He paid attention to each one's role. Knowing and taking into account what others would be doing in the field was necessary. So was having certain guidelines for his seeker position, even though Harry had some sort of philosophy as far as the game was concerned. He created his own strategies as he went along.

No plans, just improvising.

It had worked out well for him so far.

"No being soft on Diggory," Wood warned one of his teammates, Angelina. "Yes, I'm telling you."

"I thought you were talking to me," George pointed out to himself. Along with his twin brother, Fred, they burst out laughing, especially when the latter did an imitation of a sweet voice: «I can be whatever he wants».

Harry wondered what Wood would say to him if he knew he had spent the entire afternoon yesterday talking to Cedric. What he did tell Harry was that he trusted him and gave a pep talk to the whole team. Harry was aware that his position had a special importance, being the one that determined the duration of the match and in many occasions the victory. He hadn't stopped thinking about his conversation with Cedric and he imagined how he would feel if he, in addition to being a seeker, was also the captain. How much pressure would he feel then?

The nerves that used to get to him before each game show up as usual. They didn't scare him, since he considered them a common part of the experience. Blinded for an instant by the sun, he entered the field.

Knowing who he would find gave Harry a little pang up his stomach.

Cedric was there along with the rest of his team.

All the players used regulatory uniforms. Harry liked his own very much. Not because of the Gryffindor colours, the good quality or the wizarding world style, but because of what they represented. A belonging. Something that was his . While growing up, all of his clothes had been someone else's. Intended for someone other than him. The cloak he was wearing had POTTER written on it in big letters and he was so proud of it.

He had seen each team's uniforms a million times, and yet he had never paid more attention to them than he did now. Cedric did look very good. The yellow colour stood out under the sunny day and the black highlighted his bright clear eyes. Harry realised that he probably shouldn't be taking notice of that kind of detail as they approached the centre of the field.

"May the best team win," Oliver Wood decreed as he stopped in front of Cedric.

Wood could be a passionate and born leader. He had a blind trust in Harry that took him by surprise at times. Harry had no doubt that when he said that he was referring to himself and his team, Gryffindor. He felt uncomfortable. Not just because Cedric was there, but because Harry didn't often think of himself that way. Or about anyone.

Cedric remained silent. Harry was starting to get to know him. His expressions. The slight tension in his eyes. His incredulous little smile and the subtle shake of his head. Everything he wouldn't say was contained in his face. Cedric was so diplomatic. He would not show disagreement with him.

Both captains shook hands.

As each of them walked away to their places, Harry took a few steps closer to Cedric.

"We're both good," he muttered loud enough for only him to hear, and he straightened his uniform, holding his broom firmly. "Good luck, Cedric."

Cedric nodded and flashed him a smile.