Several days passed, and the day of the First Task finally arrived.
Escorted by Professor Snape out of the Great Hall, he swept his black robes as he always did, wearing an irritable expression, and turned to face me.
"Celestia, how are you feeling?"
"I've written my will, and I have no regrets left. I didn't take out life insurance, though."
"To still be so flippant at a time like this. That's impressive, in its own way."
For just a moment, Professor Snape's expression softened, only to immediately return to its usual severity.
"If things get out of hand, call for help without hesitation. This is nothing more than an exhibition match. Risking your life is the act of a fool."
"Yes, sir."
After that, I walked with Professor Snape around the edge of the Forbidden Forest until we reached the tent serving as the waiting area.
"Go inside and stay with the other champions. Wait until your turn. And then…"
Professor Snape's voice trailed off, and after a brief pause, he spoke as if steeling himself.
"Take great care not to suffer any pointless injuries."
"…?"
"What is it?"
"I just didn't expect to hear something like that from you, Professor."
When I said that, Professor Snape replied with a quiet "I see," and turned his face away. Was this what people called being tsundere?
"But thank you."
As I entered the tent, Professor Snape watched over me until the very end.
Inside the tent, the other champions were already there.
Madame Fleur looked pale and was sweating nervously. Krum seemed even more taciturn than usual, pacing back and forth. Cedric, who had been doing the same, noticed me and offered an awkward smile.
"It feels more tense than during the Quidditch Cup, doesn't it?"
When I tried to lighten the mood, Cedric gave a wry smile.
"In Quidditch, at least a Bludger won't kill you if it hits."
"Though if you're unlucky, you might lose the bones in your arm."
Remembering the misfortune Harry had suffered in his second year, and despite knowing it was inappropriate, we both recalled Professor Lockhart's sheer idiocy and burst out laughing.
Then Cedric continued.
"By the way, thank you for telling me about the task."
"Oh, not at all. Don't worry about it."
After Ron went to see Harry, I was the one who informed Cedric about the dragon.
"Still, it's nerve-wracking right before the real thing."
As he lightly warmed up, Cedric said that with a restless air. Though he claimed to be nervous, that was not all there was to it.
Unlike Fleur, who looked anxious, or Krum, who seemed to have accepted everything, Cedric wore an expression where tension and anticipation were mixed together. He was holding back his eagerness, yet looked just a little excited.
"Are you actually looking forward to it?"
When I asked, Cedric thought for a moment.
"Maybe. Of course I'm scared, but that's not all."
He spoke in a calm voice, gentle yet faintly bold.
"I've done everything I can to prepare for today. So yes, I'm anxious, but at the same time my spirits are just as high."
Cedric smiled cheerfully, but his eyes were filled with a quiet fighting spirit. It was so vivid that I could feel, instinctively, that this was the face of a true sportsman.
"I won't lose," Cedric said quietly.
"If I'm going to fight, then I want to enter the match determined that I will win."
◇◆◇
For several days after being selected as a champion, my life was, for me, Cedric Diggory, the most blessed time I had experienced since entering Hogwarts.
If I were to say something arrogant, I suppose I belonged to those who were "fortunate."
To be fortunate meant that if you put in effort, you could produce results, and that you lived in an environment where those results were recognized by the people around you.
From the moment I was born, my future was more or less assured. As the son of a distinguished wizarding family descended from Eldritch Diggory, the Minister for Magic who founded the Auror Office, even the exclusionary pure-blood aristocrats of Slytherin regarded me with a certain respect.
I was also blessed in my relationships.
My father, Amos, could be a bit overbearing, but he adored me. Being relied upon by friends, receiving favorable looks from the opposite sex, all those positive feelings directed toward me were, in the end, genuinely pleasing.
I won't say I never felt pressure, but more than that, I felt joy in being needed and valued by others.
That was why, without being told, I had always tried to approach both my studies and sports with sincerity. Wanting to be a better version of myself today than yesterday, and tomorrow than today, felt natural to me. Running for Quidditch captain, working hard to become a prefect, and even putting my name into the Goblet of Fire to become a champion were all connected steps along the same path.
And when the Goblet of Fire chose me as Hogwarts' champion, surprise, anxiety, and joy all surged through me at once.
My friends were celebrating me. My parents would surely be delighted.
But there had been deaths in past tournaments. Thinking about that made me a little afraid.
What could I do in the tournament? Could I bring the Cup of Victory back to my alma mater?
It was while I was thinking all this that something unexpected happened.
"Mahoutokoro: Harry Potter!"
"Ilvermorny: Elaina Celestia!"
Something no one had predicted occurred.
The Goblet of Fire flared up again, and two younger students were chosen. Both were two years my junior, and both were famous figures from Gryffindor and Slytherin. One was the hero who had defeated "You-Know-Who," and the other was a prodigious girl with a mature beauty. By a strange twist of fate, all three of us were also Quidditch players.
After much debate among the adults, it was decided that five champions would compete this year. Even so, I remained the official Hogwarts champion, and when I returned to the Hufflepuff common room, everyone congratulated me.
That night, after the party ended and my excitement faded a little, I suddenly grew calm and thought:
Would I really be able to overcome the three trials ahead?
Once the excitement settled, anxiety and fear came rushing in.
What if I failed in the tournament? Would I die? Or even if I survived, if I suffered a humiliating defeat, would everyone be disappointed in me?
It was at that moment, while I was still holding onto those vague fears, that Elaina told me about the First Task.
"Cedric, the First Task is a dragon."
"What?"
I stared at her intently.
"Are you sure?"
"If you're curious, go check the Forbidden Forest yourself."
For a moment, I wondered if she was teasing me, but she didn't look like she was lying.
If only it had been a bad joke. How much easier that would have been.
"But how did you find out? We weren't supposed to know."
"There are… various adult circumstances involved."
Adult circumstances. A very convenient phrase.
"Please don't worry too much. Fleur, Krum, and Harry should have heard as well, from Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, and Ron."
It wasn't an impossible story. Karkaroff was constantly surrounded by dark rumors, and Madame Maxime didn't seem like a rigid stickler for rules either. I didn't know Ronald Weasley very well, but thinking of him as Fred and George's younger brother made it oddly convincing.
As I thought that far, another concern suddenly crossed my mind.
"A dragon…"
The enemy was a fire-breathing monster covered in scales and spikes, standing fifteen meters tall. Our weapon, by contrast, was just a wand. Compared to a dragon, it might as well have been a stick. With that, we had to outwit a dragon, in front of a crowd of spectators.
How was that even possible?
"This is the worst…"
The words slipped out before I could stop myself.
What should I do? What should I do?
When was the last time I had panicked like this?
I knew I had to start thinking of countermeasures right away, but my body refused to move. Only the sense of urgency spun endlessly in my head. It felt as though I alone were trapped in a different world, able only to watch as people passed by on either side.
"Cedric?"
Noticing that something was wrong, Elaina spoke to me with concern. I tried to put on a polite smile to brush it off, but my facial muscles wouldn't cooperate.
All the while, Elaina stared at me intently, as if observing something strange.
Please stop. Don't look at me like this.
Not wanting her to see me in such a pathetic state, I hurriedly tried to leave. But after only a few steps, my legs grew heavier and heavier. When I forced myself to keep moving, a tight pain seized my stomach, and a wave of mild nausea rose up.
"Um… are you all right?"
I brushed aside Elaina's worried hand, covered my mouth, and crouched down on the ground.
"Wait, are you going to throw up here…?"
Elaina recoiled slightly and began rummaging around inside her robe.
"Here, use this."
When I looked up, a crumpled paper bread bag was being held out in front of me.
"Gh…!"
Before I could think, I reflexively grabbed it and, with a gagging groan, emptied the contents of my stomach all at once. I vomited several times until the nausea finally subsided, and by the time I managed to calm down, a deep exhaustion had settled over my entire body.
"…Sorry."
I apologized, at least for the moment, to Elaina, who had stayed there the whole time while I was being sick.
"Sorry you had to see something so gross. The paper bag really helped."
"You're still very pale."
"I'll be fine soon, really."
Even though there was no way to smooth things over at this point, I forced a smile anyway. This time, rather than looking worried, Elaina let out a sigh with an expression closer to exasperation.
"If that's how you're feeling, wouldn't it be better to withdraw from the First Task, even now?"
"…You seem to be handling this pretty calmly."
I didn't want her to think I was the kind of person who would flee right before the fight. Even though she was clearly worried about me, I snapped back without thinking. Elaina, however, merely shrugged as if it were nothing.
"I looked into past tournament records and made some predictions. In the previous tournament there was a cockatrice, and further back there were things like manticores and acromantulas."
Her reply was far more studious and model-student-like than I had expected.
It was an extremely straightforward approach: analyze past examples, grasp the tendencies, and prepare accordingly. Use your head, analyze properly, and then put in steady, honest work. Shrewd like Slytherin, yet patient like Hufflepuff.
(This is just like back then…)
Feeling a little calmer, I looked closely at Elaina's face. Then, as if to steer the conversation away from dragons, I spoke.
"There's something I've wanted to ask you ever since last year."
Early summer of last year, hotter than any other. The day Slytherin and Gryffindor fought over the Cup.
"During last year's Cup match, why did you and Malfoy… keep going, right until the end?"
That match is still vividly burned into my memory.
Slytherin's team had always been infamous for rough play, but last year's Cup match was especially bad. Foul after foul that no one playing seriously would ever commit, penalties be damned. And just as expected, the match itself spiraled into self-destruction, ending in a crushing loss to Gryffindor.
No matter how you looked at it, Slytherin were the villains.
I was outraged along with everyone else and cheered for Gryffindor. I didn't say it out loud, but I remember thinking, "A team that can't follow the rules deserves to lose." Most of the spectators probably felt the same way.
But those two were different.
They shrugged off the air of impending defeat, ignored Flint and the others who had practically given up, and even pushed aside the pressure of the Firebolt.
"Well, honestly, there was a lot of pressure, and I was nervous too. I kept thinking during the match, 'This is bad, we're going to lose,' more times than I can count."
"But," she continued,
"I practiced a lot every day with Draco and the upperclassmen. The experience filled in what confidence I lacked."
Ah.
The moment I heard Elaina's words, the final puzzle piece clicked into place.
When you think about it, it was obvious.
Why did I feel anxious? Because I lacked confidence. Then how do you gain confidence? It had to be the experiences you built up beforehand.
I've practiced this much. I've put in this much effort. I can cast these spells and make these plays now. My scores have improved this much. That's why I'll be fine today too.
It's the accumulation of those everyday efforts that forges mental strength.
Because you properly invest time and effort, steadily building knowledge and skill, you gain confidence backed by results, not empty bravado.
That is why the witch named Elaina Celestia is strong.
The excitement of that match is something I still can't forget.
In the end, Gryffindor won the Cup. But there was no doubt that the heart of that match belonged to Elaina and Draco Malfoy.
Honestly, it was unexpected.
Elaina was smart, athletic, hardworking, and had many friends. In short, I had casually lumped her into the same category as myself, one of the "fortunate ones," and felt a sense of kinship.
But that wasn't all.
(She plays beautifully…)
I know it's a vague way to put it, but that's how it felt.
Just as the match was about to turn into the classic story everyone wanted, with Gryffindor, backed by the crowd's cheers, defeating the villainous Slytherin team to claim the long-awaited Cup, Elaina calmly stole the Quaffle and unleashed a move called "Aerial Disengage," a technique with maybe one percent practical value, and turned that one percent into a goal.
I was left staring, mouth hanging open. Did a player like that really exist?
She scored only ten points, yet set off flashy fireworks, struck a smug pose, and shamelessly showed off.
And yet, that seemingly ridiculous performance of Elaina's changed the flow of the match. An atmosphere emerged where people started thinking, "So Slytherin has someone like that," and "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to cheer for them a bit."
In the end, Gryffindor still won. But if the match had gone on just a little longer, no one could have predicted the outcome. That was how overwhelming Slytherin's late-game momentum became.
How frustrating.
When Slytherin lost, I realized I felt that way for some reason.
I may not look it, but I'm a sportsman in my own right. After being shown a match like that, there was no way my blood wouldn't start boiling. Like Astoria Greengrass, who was shouting herself hoarse in the crowd, I almost wanted to push my way in and join them.
Because it was such a beautiful match.
Not just racing along the shortest path to the goal.
Not just meeting everyone's expectations.
But burning hot, reckless with passion.
Yet joyful, dragging everyone into a whirlwind of excitement.
This is my play. Look at it. Isn't it amazing?
It felt as though she were asking that question, and I couldn't take my eyes off her.
(So that's why.)
Because she has confidence built through relentless practice, her anxiety transforms into anticipation.
(I bet this tournament will be the same. Elaina will challenge it just like that.)
What kind of play will she show this time?
What kind of scenery will she reveal next?
As I thought about Elaina, my anxiety and fear strangely melted away. Anticipation and excitement welled up instead, filling me with the same giddy feeling a child gets before a trip.
This kind of scenery must be what she sees all the time.
Toward places she's never seen, toward people she's never met, she swells with expectation and reaches out with all her strength.
Being able to live like that made me feel a little envious.
(If there hadn't been an age limit, maybe Elaina would've been chosen instead of me.)
If that were the case, she probably would have handled everything flawlessly, and I would have supported her without hesitation.
But still.
(Now that I'm a champion, I can't afford to lose either.)
I felt a spark ignite in the fighting spirit that had been on the verge of fading.
◇◆◇
When Cedric declared firmly that he would win, I nodded back at him.
Whether we cried or laughed, the match was already right in front of us. Since it couldn't be avoided anyway, it was better to face it with a positive mindset rather than gloom.
"Phew."
I took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and tried to steady my condition. Time seemed to slow just a little, and the background noise faded from my ears.
"Let's settle this."
"Yeah."
As we were talking like that.
"…Grrrgh."
At the grinding sound, like rocks being scraped together, I turned around to see someone clenching their teeth in the gap of the tent. The suspicious figure, Saya, was glaring at Cedric with the look of someone staring at their mortal enemy.
(End of chapter)
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