It was a cold, dreary day, one characterized by heavy rain that pattered on the door and wind that whistled through the walls. Cho was sitting near the window, her gaze forlorn and distant. She was not fond of days like this, of days when the storm outside brought her down with it.
Her father was nervous as well, and she hadn't the slightest idea why. He kept stealing glances outside at the sky as though he was looking for something.
Waiting for something.
And when Cho tugged on his arm and asked him what it was that was troubling him so, he simply turned to her, offering a tight, forced smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."
Cho didn't believe him for a second, but she didn't want to be so bothersome as to ask again. He had given his answer and it wasn't going to change.
And so Cho sat beside him, her wide eyes on the sky and the world that lay above.
Watching, waiting, but for what, she had no idea.
The owl started as nothing but a blot on the horizon. A speck of tawny brown in a perpetually gray sky. Cho pressed herself against the window to better see what it was, hands splayed, framing it between her fingers.
Her father released a breath all in one go, a sigh of relief as the owl became discernable. It flapped its wings against the heavy gusts of wind, dangerously close to being blown sideways and off-course. There was an envelope tied to its leg, a small square of paper being whipped around and splattered with rain.
So that's what her father had been so worried about.
The mail.
Cho barely hid her disappointment.
He showed the letter to her, pride shining in his eyes. All signs of worry were gone now, replaced with a warmly relieved smile.
Dear Ms. Chang,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July…
Hogwarts.
She had been accepted to Hogwarts.
She'd always known, really- her parents had told her about it from a young age. She was a pureblood witch, after all. All a letter did was confirm what they'd already known.
But then why did her father look at it as though it had saved him from a terrible fate?
She only realized why later, on a sun-drenched day in August when they'd ventured to Diagon Alley to purchase her books.
When her parents had encountered one of her father's colleagues and they'd struck up a conversation.
When her father spared her a glance of sympathy before leaning in to whisper something Cho could not discern, save for one word: Squib.
That was why.
They had told her that she was a witch, but they had not even known it themselves.
Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor was a hubbub of activity, crowded with Hogwarts students. Cho was quick to hand off her shopping bags to her father before sprinting to the counter and asking the man there for peach sorbet, her favorite.
It was only when he asked for two Sickles that she whirled back around- to find her rather disgruntled father standing there, arms laden with shopping bags and a look of disapproval in his eyes.
"Please?" Cho asked. Just a few weeks ago he'd been so proud of her.
Now it didn't seem as though he would even spare her two Sickles.
His only reply was a slight shake of his head.
Cho's face fell, and she turned back to the counter just in time to see Florean Fortescue slide a bowl of peach sorbet towards her.
Cho swallowed hard and went to apologize, to tell him that she no longer wanted it. Her steps were slow, tentative, as though if she dawdled enough her father might lament and give in.
He did not.
Fortescue offered her a sympathetic smile before pulling the bowl back.
Cho did not linger for even a moment before she made her way back to her father's side.
Her depart on The Hogwarts Express was an unceremonious affair. She pushed her cart to the platform alone, her parents trailing like shadows behind.
Her father offered her a few words of farewell before she climbed onto the train, settling into an empty compartment.
He had not spared her two Sickles for a peach sorbet, but Cho dared to spare him a glance out the window.
She dared to spare him a wave goodbye, and she did not check to see if he'd waved back.