Marauders - Always - Part One

CC: Everybody Was Dragon Fighting (Cedric's Version)

"FIRST UP... HOGWARTS FIRST CHAMPION... CEDRIC DIGGORY!"

Cedric felt his feet moving, felt the ground beneath them slowly bringing him down a slope, took a couple stone steps and into a short tunnel. The light at the end glowed bright white and he squinted against the sunlight as he stepped out of the mouth of the tunnel. His eyes adjusted to the light and he stood still, arm raised up against his forehead, trying to see clearly... and then he focused upon it... and there it was.

The Swedish Short-Snout loomed over him - massive and blue-grey, steaming about the nostrils as it looked around at the thundering crowd. Her head swung about as she looked at all of the threats, and Cedric saw her hind legs shift and her tail curved around her haunches and there, tucked beneath her heavy grey belly was a slight glint of gold.

The egg.

The world seemed to spin blurry around him, and he thought he might just pass out.

"THAT'S MY BOY!" Cedric heard his father's voice, echoing down from the stands. "THAT'S MY SON!" Amos Diggory was front and center, standing up, cheering, arms over his head... pride glowing on his face...

And Cedric remembered what he was doing this for.

For that. For that very look of pride and joy. For his dad.

His palms were pools of sweat. He swept them over his Champion jersey and grabbed hold of his wand, drawing it from his pocket, shoving back the rising lump in his throat, trying to temper his breathing.

"One important thing to remember in the heat of the moment is that nothing that's happening in the stands can matter to you... There's a great deal of noise and colour and motion, but you musn't let that distract you."  Oliver Kent's voice echoed in Cedric's mind then, a lesson from one of their training session. "Remember, you have one sole purpose in the moment and it isn't to be paying attention to them... It's to get that golden snitch."

Golden snitch... golden egg... That was his one sole purpose.

The motion of drawing his wand was enough to catch the attention of the Swedish Short-Snout. The round head turned back on it's curving neck to look down at the tunnel, at the boy in the mouth of the tunnel, standing petrified and staring up at the beast with wide eyes, heart near to stopped. The head lowered and a snort of disapproval blew hot air like a humid summer wind across the enclosure, ruffling Cedric's shirt and sweeping his hair back. Her head lowered and she brought it straight down to his level, turning her head so that her eye was near to level with him, the dark grey ring of her iris expanding and widening as she focused on him, her pupil as large as a door. Cedric could hardly breathe.

It was as though everything else in the enclosure had gone silent and all he could hear or see what that dragon as she shifted her weight, planting her feet directly beneath her chest heavily, the pebbles on the ground jumping as her weight shook the earth, and she stared at him.

For a long moment, neither Cedric nor the dragon moved.

Maybe, thought Cedric, the dragons weren't so hostile after all.

He took a step forward.

The dragon opened her mouth and Cedric dove only just in time as flames shot forth from her mouth so hot that he could feel the blast of the heat against his back as he landed face-down on the stone ground, the fire blasting just inches above him.

The crowd screamed as Cedric rolled out of the mouth of the tunnel - a bush near the tunnel was smoking, nothing but black sticks, more charcoal than tree now. He felt his body roll down a couple drops in the stones and the sleeve of his shirt tore on the edge of one. He managed to stop himself rolling, his trainers scraping as he caught on to steady himself, and he looked up at the dragon as she closed her mouth. The rock at the mouth of the cave was red-hot in places, darkening, returning to the dark grey of its natural color as it cooled.