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Most students avoid the Quidditch stands after the season ends; the boards creak, and the wind carries a constant howl through the rafters that makes it feel abandoned. But there he is—Cedric Diggory, alone on the top row, knees drawn up, gaze titled toward the patchy summer sky as if he's searching for something he lost.
He doesn't hear you at first. His shoulders are relaxed in a familiar way, but the expression on his face is unfamiliar. You don't know how to explain it, you only know it makes you... sad.
When he finally senses you on the stairs, he glances over, and his expression shifts from a strange longing to relieved.
"You always find the quiet spots," he says. His voice isn't the bright, warm tone he used to carry through the corridors like a beacon; it's quieter now, more careful.
You sit beside him, leaving only a small gap, close enough that he knows you're here on purpose, but far enough he can fill the remaining space if he wants to.
For a while, neither of you speaks. The sky is doing this gorgeous thing where the clouds stretch thin and golden along their edges—a summer light that feels too gentle for everything this year held.
"I didn't think I'd see this again."
You turn to him. "See what?"
"The way the clouds look." His mouth pulls into a faint, crooked smile. "That sounds ridiculous, I know, but when Harry brought me back... things were blurry. Faces. Voices. Even colors. Everything felt too much and not enough at once. I wasn't sure what would stay."
There's a tightness beneath his tone, a tremor of honesty most people don't get from him—especially not these days.
"Cedric, what's going on?"
He lets out a slow breath, eyes drifting back to the sky. He hesitates long enough that you think he might brush it off, say he's fine, or tired, or still recovering. He's good at that sort of lie.
But he doesn't.
"Something's wrong with me," he says softly. "Not physically. Or... not only physically. It feels like I'm here and not here at the same time, like my body's fighting to keep me anchored."
You sit very still as his words bury their way into your head.
"I remember dying," he continues, swallowing thickly. "Not the pain, exactly. More like absence. Like I fell out of everything. And when I woke up back in the maze, when Harry was beside me, I thought I'd been given a second chance. But it doesn't feel like that anymore." A wry sound escapes him. "It feels like the universe accidentally gave me more time and isn't sure how to take it back."
It takes you a moment to absorb, but as you do, you force yourself to hold back the tears.
You move a little closer, not touching, but putting yourself in his line of sight. "Why are you telling me this?"
