Cedric Diggory walked through the streets of Ottery St. Catchpole on a Saturday morning. He was tall and handsomely built, wearing a yellow t-shirt which accented his sun-tanned skin and matched his trainers. He walked with the casual grace of a lion checking up on his empire on a lazy summer morning when the temperature was still tolerable. His grey eyes didn’t miss a single detail of what went on around him.

But behind this façade of apparent confidence an insecure teenager was hiding, aware of everything and everyone around him. In reality he didn’t like to go out dressed Muggle-style. If it were up to him, he’d rather wear his usual clothes which made him feel more comfortable, as opposed to this flashy fashion-wear which made him feel like a walking lighthouse.

According to his father though, his wizard clothes would not give the proper impression. And as much as he hated it, his father was usually right bout these things, even though he was sure they could see him as far as Plymouth.

It had also been his father who had proposed he would get a job. It would be good for his social skills, he had claimed and Cedric had to agree with him; he never was good in making contact with strangers and was usually alone. Even at school he didn’t have many friends. Sure, he was surrounded by a lot of people, but none of them were real friends. The girls all wanted to be with him because he was good looking, and the guys all hung out with him because he was Quidditch Captain and a Prefect. None of them were sincerely interested in him. None of them ever asked him what he liked or how he was feeling.

And on that part his father wasn’t any different. All he ever cared about were his results, both at school and at Quidditch – mostly Quidditch actually. To his father ‘The game’ – as he used to call it – was almost sacred and Cedric were to be made a Saint as far as he was concerned. He was still talking about the time he beat Harry through some ill twist of fate; Cedric still shivered when he thought about the swarm of Dementors hovering over the Quidditch Pitch. It really wasn’t a fair victory, but his father wouldn’t listen to it: To him, Cedric had beaten the most promising and quite possibly the best seeker ever, and for that he should be rewarded, fair victory or not. ‘Luck becomes the winner,’ he used to say and with that the discussion was closed.

Cedric had not bothered to tell him otherwise. He had long ago given up trying to convince his father of anything and was patiently waiting for the day he could leave the house and start a life on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to be home or anything – of course he did – he just wanted to get away from his father’s dictating presence. He was always telling him what was best for him, how to act, what to wear and always encouraging him to do what he wanted him to do. In that sense, he was just like his school-buddies.

And now he was on his way to the bookstore his father had sent him off to, to the job his father had arranged for him.

He meant well, Cedric was certain of that, no doubt his father must know of his passion for books, but if his father had bothered to consult him, he might have known what his real passion was. Then he might have realized that the reason he liked to read came only from his even greater passion for writing. Miles and miles of parchment lay gathering dust, waiting for someone to read it. But Cedric had long ago promised himself to never show anyone his writing, unless that person was truly interested in him, even though he realized full well that day might never come. Until then his stories remained hidden and treasured behind a secret panel in his closet, maybe for all eternity.

He considered it his fate that he couldn’t share his passion with anyone, although it did hurt him a little. His other fate was working in a bookstore, where he was constantly reminded of the fact that he would never find his own stories in these racks.

One more year, he just had to hold out for one more year, and then he would sail out. Maybe he would travel and gather inspiration and experiences from all over the world. India with its wide variety of cultures would certainly provide more then enough for a trilogy. Or perhaps Africa, with its wild and untamed jungle, where the people still lived in harmony with nature. And he wanted to go to Australia, diving at the Great Barrier Reef and tracking through the Outback.

Without realizing it he had passed the bookstore. Feeling rather stupid and plain in sight, he turned around and hurried to the entrance. One more year, he though as the ring of the doorbell announced his entrance, one more year at Hogwarts where, according to his father, something special was about to happen this year. He would find out soon enough when school started.

One more year and then he could start a real life.