The Exchange Student - Cedric Diggory⁴

➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟏 "𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝘾𝙪𝙥"

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It was 5 a.m., and the entire house was reigned by silence. Like every morning after waking up, Nicolás was off his bed doing his yoga routine. He may not be as sporty as Caelum, Cedric, or Harry — being more on the nerdy side of the spectrum —, but he knew his body needed the movement to conserve its good functioning, and yoga offered him a good moving time without the excessive sweating and aftermath aching.

Still in bed, Ember seemed to be sleeping, even if Nicolás knew he wasn't. The Wampus Cat simply laid in there, relishing in the silence, and soaked on the last vestiges of Nicolás' warmth on the covers.

Nearing the end of the morning's session, while Nicolás was doing his last minute of Lotus Pose, Ember's head snapped up, eyes fixed on the door, and Nicolás knew that something was off.

Without calling for him, Ember leaped off the bed and ran to scratch the door. With quick steps, Nicolás got up and opened it for him. The Wampus Cat crossed to the other side of the hall, scratching at Harry's door.

Trusting in Ember's instincts, Nicolás pushed Harry's door open, finding the younger boy on his hands and knees on the mattress. His breathing was shallow and loud, and even with the little light that permeated the curtains at such an hour, Nicolás could see he was sweating. But more worrying, he was pressing one of his hands against the lightning bolt scar on his forehead

"Little One?" Nicolás called out, because, in his pain, Harry hadn't noticed his entry.

"N-Nico," Harry groaned. The boy swallowed hard as he raised his eyes.

"Little One, what happened?" Nicolás asked, walking to sit in front of Harry. Before he arrived, Ember had already leaped into the bed, rubbing his forehead against Harry's shoulder.

"I — I don't — I —" he groaned. "It hurts," he pressed the palm of his hand on his scar.

"Hurts?" Nicolás asked; Harry nodded. With his hand, he brushed away the sweat-drenched hair stuck to Harry's forehead. "How much?"

"It burns," Harry provided.

"Wait here," said Nicolás. He leaped to his feet and bolted to the ground floor towards the kitchen. It was very early, and surprisingly, even Abu Pedro was resting; the last thing he wanted was to wake anyone up. Only if he couldn't alleviate Harry's pain would he raise them from their slumber.

On the far wall, next to the stove, they had their first aid kit. It was magically enlarged, and it contained all the kinds of potions, tonics, and balms you could need for a house emergency. Nicolás took a small phial with analgesic potion and a cold balm Abu Angela had made for any burning and ran back to Harry's room. Luckily, his bare feet made little sound on the floor.

He handed the black potion to Harry. "Drink it, it'll help with the pain," he said, opening the flask of balm. As Harry drank the potion — not without a small grimace at its not-so-pleasant taste —, Nicolás rubbed the balm over the lightning bolt marred on the boy's forehead.

It was long moments as Harry breathed and the potion and balm did their intended effect. When Nicolás was ready to bolt for Abu Angela to take care of Harry's pain, the younger boy exhaled relieved.

"Thank you," Harry sighed. The wrinkles of pain completely off his countenance, and his brow now relaxed.

"So... bad dream?" Nicolás offered.

Harry closed his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I... yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Harry looked around the room but ended up sighing. "It was about... Voldemort."