A SUMMER PLACE
by monkeymouse
a/k/a Patrick Drazen
2.4: Old Folks
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]
By the time he got back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry's mind was more jumbled than before. If Granny Li chased him away from the shop, why did she say she was coming to see him? What had Cho told her family about him? She said they knew all about him, as did the rest of the wizarding world…
No, Harry thought; everybody knows my story, but they don't know me. Only Cho knows who I am, what I'm all about.
Back in his room, he reread Cho's letters one more time, before writing a reply. While he was reading, though, the mirror spoke up: "Are those from a ladyfriend, then? But it's none of my business, I suppose."
"Well, it's not your business, but yes, they're from my girlfriend." Harry felt just a bit uncomfortable conversing with the mirror, since its voice was pitched right in the middle range between male and female. He knew it was silly to think of a mirror as being either, but he couldn't help feeling self-conscious, especially when undressing for bed.
"Uses some rather strange birds, she does," the mirror went on.
"She's in Japan right now; I don't know what they use for owls over there."
"Ah, that explains a great deal," the mirror said. And, as if it could read Harry's mind, it didn't say anything else to him.
Harry started his reply:
"Cho my love,
I got both of your letters yesterday, and I'm glad to hear you're doing all right. I hate it that we're half a world apart, but at least the school sounds interesting and you're having a good time.
You've used some very different birds to send your letters so far. Do they use owls in Japan, then, or some other kind of bird?
Everything seems pretty quiet back here; no word in the Daily Prophet of anything wrong. Maybe "they" got discouraged after what happened at Hogsmeade. No such luck; they're probably cooking up something even worse. Still, I think we can handle just about anything, when we're together.
Speaking of Hogsmeade reminds me: how's the Quidditch over there? Have you had a chance to take a broom up and impress everyone yet?
And how are your teachers? I hate to think that you go ten thousand miles from Hogwarts, only to find another Snape waiting for you!
It feels good to be here, even when nothing is happening. I feel like I'm almost home. I only need you to make my world complete.
Write as soon as you can. I love reading your letters, almost as much as I love you.
Harry"
He tied the scroll to Hedwig's leg, watched as she flew off over the roofs of Diagon Alley, then went down to supper.
xxx
At first Harry thought that Tom had brought a house-elf to work in the kitchen of the Leaky Cauldron. The food that night was varied, plentiful and very tasty. After two helpings of lamb stew and some curried chicken, he asked Tom if there was a special occasion.
"Of course, ye wouldn't know, but it's my old dad's birthday today. I always do things up a bit special for him."
Tom's "old dad"? Tom looked as old as anyone Harry had ever seen; what could his dad look like?
He found out as the door was opened by a smiling old hag. She held it open while an old man walked in, moving with very short steps. He was just as bald and wrinkled and toothless as Tom, and also stooped at the shoulders. The other guests recognized him at once:
"Hey, Old Tom."
"Happy days, Old Tom!"
"Goin' ter try for two centuries, then?"
"Sure, and you'll outlive us all."
It took about five minutes for Old Tom to step the few feet from the door to a rocking chair made ready for him by the hearth. He settled in, and the hag brought him a glass of firewhiskey. He took a sip, and everyone in the dining room went silent to listen to him.
"Someone who gets to my time o' life, he knows what's important. We're all worryin' about the Dark Lord—and we should. He's a rough 'un. But I ain't gonna let worryin' 'bout him run my life. I didn't do 'er with Grindelwald, and I'm not gonna do 'er this time."
Old Tom took another sip of firewhiskey. "And Grindelwald, he was nothin' Bad enough, I suppose, but you take Murgibrook. Before everybody's time now, o'course. All but mine. I remember. Worst Gryffindor to ever come out of Hogwarts."
This made Harry prick his ears up. He had gotten so used to hearing about the heroes of his House that it seemed inconceivable that a Gryffindor would ever turn to evil.
"Still don't know how it could happen," Old Tom shook his head. "People seem to think they can explain away anythin', but couldn't nobody explain what happened to Murgibrook. One day he's livin' with his neighbors peaceful as ye please, and the next—it was awful."
He seemed to forget the people gathered around him, listening intently. "So when my son come along, I decides to take special care. That's when I moves my wife and son right here to Diagon Alley. Used to be nothin' here but some lowlife Muggles. Me an' my mate Foonie clears 'em out right enough. Scared easier, back then.
"An' then the goblins come in. They was lookin' fer a good place to build the bank, and they liked what they seen here. Willin' to buy the whole street, but I says to 'em, says I, 'I'll sell, all right, but people have to be able to live here; not just have a shop. Ye got to remember one thing: ain't no pile of Galleons big enough to replace yer family.' I believes that then, an' still do."
Old Tom's muttering became more disjointed, and soon his head slipped onto his chest. Harry was feeling tired as well, and went up to his room.
"Well, was your plan successful?" the mirror asked.
For a second, Harry forgot what the mirror was talking about. Then he remembered looking for the Changs, which had been driven from his mind for the moment. ""Well, sort of. I was trying to look up my girlfriend's family. One of them is meeting me here tomorrow."
"I hope that's what you want."
I hope so too, Harry thought. Then, he remembered. "Have you ever heard of someone named Murgibrook?"
The mirror went quiet for a second. "Why do you ask?"
"Just that the landlord's father was talking about him downstairs."
"Ah. Well, he's old enough to remember, and Murgibrook was the kind of a man you can't forget. Haven't they talked about him at Hogwarts yet?"
"No. I mean, not that I recall." Falling asleep during History of Magic seemed to be an established custom, and Harry no longer knew what he'd missed.
"Well, I hesitate to be the one to tell you."
"I wish you would. He was a Gryffindor, according to the old man."
"I don't think that brought about what happened. Of course, it didn't stop it happening either."
"So what did happen?"
"Frederick Murgibrook came from a good family; they'd been in England a century after coming over from Holland, I think. Generations in Gryffindor, upstanding wizards. There was just no explanation."
"For what?"
"People started going missing. Wizards and Muggles both. Nobody could figure it out. And this was about the time of a Muggle maniac calling himself Jack the Ripper, so we were all in a right panic."
"We?" Harry interrupted. "You were there?"
"Yes, I was made about that time. Of course, I couldn't get out and about, and had to rely on others to get the news, but here's what I could put together about it afterwards.
"A couple of the missing were last seen near the Murgibrook place. They owned a fair-sized estate where Hampstead is now. Nobody thought anything of it, until a third person disappeared near there. Finally, the Ministry sends a couple of Aurors around to see what they can see.
"They knock on the door, and Frederick answers. He invites them in, very polite about it, saying he's in the middle of dinner and they should wait. Now, I wouldn't know about it, never having had a nose, but people say as how death has a smell all its own—or at least a body does that's been around a while. Well, they smell death as soon as they enter. They don't mention it because they don't want to frighten their man. But no sooner does Frederick go back into the dining room and close the door than they hear something loud. So they go to the dining room door and open it."
The mirror paused. "First thing they do in the dining room is almost trip over Frederick's body. He'd spelled the head clean off his shoulders. But then they saw the rest. All of the missing people, their bodies hanging from the gas jets, stripped bare. So the Aurors could see where parts of the victims had been cut off. And there was still something cooking in the fireplace."
Harry's mouth was so dry he could hardly say the next words: "Does anyone know why?"
"Nobody knows to this day. It's easy enough just to say he'd gone mad, but that doesn't explain anything, and it doesn't warn you."
"About what?"
"That the same thing could happen to anyone, no matter who you are."
Harry had a great deal of trouble getting to sleep that night.
xxx
There had been no answer overnight to his letter to Cho, so Harry went down to breakfast still a bit troubled about the story he'd heard yesterday. He placed his order, then looked around for a loose copy of the Daily Prophet. He could usually find one lying about, but not today.
As he left the dining room to go back upstairs, he heard the voice: "Where you go?"
He had looked around the dining room for the past two minutes for a copy of the Prophet, and he knew she wasn't there. But now, here was Granny Li, seated at a table as if she'd been waiting for him—and had been kept waiting a long time. She didn't seem too pleased, in any case.
Harry swallowed and sat opposite the old woman just as Tom brought a pot of tea and two mugs. She immediately poured herself a cup, then set the pot down. Harry poured some tea for himself.
While he was pouring, she suddenly spoke: "So, you Ha Li Po Te."
It was so sudden, Harry almost dropped the pot. "Er yes."
"You like Cho?"
"Yes, ma'am, very much."
"Why? What you like about Cho?"
The question caught Harry off-guard. "I, well, there are so many thing. I don't know where to start."
Granny Li, for the first time since he'd met her yesterday, smiled. "THAT good place to start."
Harry couldn't even say why, but he smiled too. Maybe he sensed the worst was over. "Well, we met playing Quidditch. We're both Seekers, you know, but she's brilliant. She's a nice person; has a lot of friends. Very smart, and not just in school. And she's very pretty."
Granny nodded. "For a Chinese, you mean."
"What? No, I didn't mean that."
"I meant it. She is Chinese. How you feel about that?"
"Well, I…" Harry realized he hadn't ever let himself think about it—and he realized why. "It just isn't important to me. I know she's Chinese, but that's just who she is. It doesn't make a difference."
Granny Li stared critically at him, then nodded. "Good answer. Better than Ced."
Ced? "Do you mean Cedric Diggory? You knew him?"
"I met him just before end of Tournament." She took a sip of tea, sat back in her chair, opened her mouth—and Harry felt goosebumps rise all over. The voice that came out of Granny Li's mouth WAS that of Cedric Diggory, killed over a year ago by Lord Voldemort.
""Well, I, I reckon I like her well enough. She's a good little Quidditch player and all, and she's come to mean a lot to me these past few months, but I don't know that we'd, y'know, have any sort of long-term … I mean, my father's made it pretty clear that he wants me to start a proper family, as he puts it. And I can't just go against my own dad; you understand that, don't you?"
Granny Li stopped, and looked knowingly at Harry.
He was still speechless. "How did you do that?"
She pointed at the scar on Harry's forehead. "That your magic. My memory, my voice; that MY magic." She went back to stirring her tea.
"Did, did that really happen the way you remember it? I mean, I remember Cedric, too, and he didn't strike me as…" Harry let the sentence trail off as Granny Li fixed him with a cold stare.
"I remember exactly. What you know about Ced?"
"I know he dropped dead right in front of my feet. Is that enough for you?" Harry couldn't believe he was defending Cedric to her, but there he was. "We both grabbed the Cup at the same time, but it was really a Portkey. We got sent to a graveyard where Lord Voldemort was being reborn. And he—no, someone else killed Cedric, on orders from Lord Voldemort. He didn't deserve to die. And I don't think he deserves your talking about him like that."
"You learning," she nodded.
"Learning what?"
"Dead, living; no difference. You still good friend to Ced."
Harry didn't know how to reply to that.
"This what I mean by saying Cho is Chinese," Granny went on. "We have ancestors; many ancestors. They die long time ago, but they still here." She took another sip of tea. "You don't mind that?"
"I, I don't know. I never had a family, you know about my parents. I think, well, it'd be kind of nice to have someone to talk to about things…"
As quick as lightning, Granny Li thwacked Harry on the side of his head with her knuckles. "You have someone; you always did. You have your ancestors, Cho has her ancestors. You don't mind both?"
Harry's head was still smarting from her knuckles. "I don't really know my own ancestors that way; I can't say. Besides, sometimes you just need someone live to talk to, right?"
The old lady stared at Harry, then chuckled, took another sip of tea, and leaned back in the chair. Then she opened her mouth, and out came the voice of Cho Chang:
"Gran, something happened on the train to school. I haven't talked about it, but there's this boy I've liked for a long time now…" There was a pause, and even though Granny Li didn't smile, Cho's voice clearly did: "You always know everything. Yes, Gran, it's Ha Li Po Te. He never spoke to me before, and I was trying to work up the nerve to speak to him when Ced came along. Anyway, he finds me on the train, and I think he just wants to comfort me about Ced. But he tells me that, I still don't believe it, but he loves me. Gran, the past four months have been wonderful. And, yes, I know about Andrew and the Tans, but…" Another pause. "I gave him a Christmas present, Gran. I told him I wanted us to be together. Gran, the only present I want from you this year is to talk to my parents. Please tell them how happy I am."
Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper.
"No thank yet. You get Cho in trouble already."
"What, at Hogsmeade? She wanted to go! We couldn't just let Death Eaters burn it down."
Granny Li thought a second, then got out of her chair. "You be good boy one more year; then we see." She started out of the Leaky Cauldron, but stopped at the door and smiled at Harry. Then she was gone.
by monkeymouse
a/k/a Patrick Drazen
2.4: Old Folks
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]
By the time he got back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry's mind was more jumbled than before. If Granny Li chased him away from the shop, why did she say she was coming to see him? What had Cho told her family about him? She said they knew all about him, as did the rest of the wizarding world…
No, Harry thought; everybody knows my story, but they don't know me. Only Cho knows who I am, what I'm all about.
Back in his room, he reread Cho's letters one more time, before writing a reply. While he was reading, though, the mirror spoke up: "Are those from a ladyfriend, then? But it's none of my business, I suppose."
"Well, it's not your business, but yes, they're from my girlfriend." Harry felt just a bit uncomfortable conversing with the mirror, since its voice was pitched right in the middle range between male and female. He knew it was silly to think of a mirror as being either, but he couldn't help feeling self-conscious, especially when undressing for bed.
"Uses some rather strange birds, she does," the mirror went on.
"She's in Japan right now; I don't know what they use for owls over there."
"Ah, that explains a great deal," the mirror said. And, as if it could read Harry's mind, it didn't say anything else to him.
Harry started his reply:
"Cho my love,
I got both of your letters yesterday, and I'm glad to hear you're doing all right. I hate it that we're half a world apart, but at least the school sounds interesting and you're having a good time.
You've used some very different birds to send your letters so far. Do they use owls in Japan, then, or some other kind of bird?
Everything seems pretty quiet back here; no word in the Daily Prophet of anything wrong. Maybe "they" got discouraged after what happened at Hogsmeade. No such luck; they're probably cooking up something even worse. Still, I think we can handle just about anything, when we're together.
Speaking of Hogsmeade reminds me: how's the Quidditch over there? Have you had a chance to take a broom up and impress everyone yet?
And how are your teachers? I hate to think that you go ten thousand miles from Hogwarts, only to find another Snape waiting for you!
It feels good to be here, even when nothing is happening. I feel like I'm almost home. I only need you to make my world complete.
Write as soon as you can. I love reading your letters, almost as much as I love you.
Harry"
He tied the scroll to Hedwig's leg, watched as she flew off over the roofs of Diagon Alley, then went down to supper.
xxx
At first Harry thought that Tom had brought a house-elf to work in the kitchen of the Leaky Cauldron. The food that night was varied, plentiful and very tasty. After two helpings of lamb stew and some curried chicken, he asked Tom if there was a special occasion.
"Of course, ye wouldn't know, but it's my old dad's birthday today. I always do things up a bit special for him."
Tom's "old dad"? Tom looked as old as anyone Harry had ever seen; what could his dad look like?
He found out as the door was opened by a smiling old hag. She held it open while an old man walked in, moving with very short steps. He was just as bald and wrinkled and toothless as Tom, and also stooped at the shoulders. The other guests recognized him at once:
"Hey, Old Tom."
"Happy days, Old Tom!"
"Goin' ter try for two centuries, then?"
"Sure, and you'll outlive us all."
It took about five minutes for Old Tom to step the few feet from the door to a rocking chair made ready for him by the hearth. He settled in, and the hag brought him a glass of firewhiskey. He took a sip, and everyone in the dining room went silent to listen to him.
"Someone who gets to my time o' life, he knows what's important. We're all worryin' about the Dark Lord—and we should. He's a rough 'un. But I ain't gonna let worryin' 'bout him run my life. I didn't do 'er with Grindelwald, and I'm not gonna do 'er this time."
Old Tom took another sip of firewhiskey. "And Grindelwald, he was nothin' Bad enough, I suppose, but you take Murgibrook. Before everybody's time now, o'course. All but mine. I remember. Worst Gryffindor to ever come out of Hogwarts."
This made Harry prick his ears up. He had gotten so used to hearing about the heroes of his House that it seemed inconceivable that a Gryffindor would ever turn to evil.
"Still don't know how it could happen," Old Tom shook his head. "People seem to think they can explain away anythin', but couldn't nobody explain what happened to Murgibrook. One day he's livin' with his neighbors peaceful as ye please, and the next—it was awful."
He seemed to forget the people gathered around him, listening intently. "So when my son come along, I decides to take special care. That's when I moves my wife and son right here to Diagon Alley. Used to be nothin' here but some lowlife Muggles. Me an' my mate Foonie clears 'em out right enough. Scared easier, back then.
"An' then the goblins come in. They was lookin' fer a good place to build the bank, and they liked what they seen here. Willin' to buy the whole street, but I says to 'em, says I, 'I'll sell, all right, but people have to be able to live here; not just have a shop. Ye got to remember one thing: ain't no pile of Galleons big enough to replace yer family.' I believes that then, an' still do."
Old Tom's muttering became more disjointed, and soon his head slipped onto his chest. Harry was feeling tired as well, and went up to his room.
"Well, was your plan successful?" the mirror asked.
For a second, Harry forgot what the mirror was talking about. Then he remembered looking for the Changs, which had been driven from his mind for the moment. ""Well, sort of. I was trying to look up my girlfriend's family. One of them is meeting me here tomorrow."
"I hope that's what you want."
I hope so too, Harry thought. Then, he remembered. "Have you ever heard of someone named Murgibrook?"
The mirror went quiet for a second. "Why do you ask?"
"Just that the landlord's father was talking about him downstairs."
"Ah. Well, he's old enough to remember, and Murgibrook was the kind of a man you can't forget. Haven't they talked about him at Hogwarts yet?"
"No. I mean, not that I recall." Falling asleep during History of Magic seemed to be an established custom, and Harry no longer knew what he'd missed.
"Well, I hesitate to be the one to tell you."
"I wish you would. He was a Gryffindor, according to the old man."
"I don't think that brought about what happened. Of course, it didn't stop it happening either."
"So what did happen?"
"Frederick Murgibrook came from a good family; they'd been in England a century after coming over from Holland, I think. Generations in Gryffindor, upstanding wizards. There was just no explanation."
"For what?"
"People started going missing. Wizards and Muggles both. Nobody could figure it out. And this was about the time of a Muggle maniac calling himself Jack the Ripper, so we were all in a right panic."
"We?" Harry interrupted. "You were there?"
"Yes, I was made about that time. Of course, I couldn't get out and about, and had to rely on others to get the news, but here's what I could put together about it afterwards.
"A couple of the missing were last seen near the Murgibrook place. They owned a fair-sized estate where Hampstead is now. Nobody thought anything of it, until a third person disappeared near there. Finally, the Ministry sends a couple of Aurors around to see what they can see.
"They knock on the door, and Frederick answers. He invites them in, very polite about it, saying he's in the middle of dinner and they should wait. Now, I wouldn't know about it, never having had a nose, but people say as how death has a smell all its own—or at least a body does that's been around a while. Well, they smell death as soon as they enter. They don't mention it because they don't want to frighten their man. But no sooner does Frederick go back into the dining room and close the door than they hear something loud. So they go to the dining room door and open it."
The mirror paused. "First thing they do in the dining room is almost trip over Frederick's body. He'd spelled the head clean off his shoulders. But then they saw the rest. All of the missing people, their bodies hanging from the gas jets, stripped bare. So the Aurors could see where parts of the victims had been cut off. And there was still something cooking in the fireplace."
Harry's mouth was so dry he could hardly say the next words: "Does anyone know why?"
"Nobody knows to this day. It's easy enough just to say he'd gone mad, but that doesn't explain anything, and it doesn't warn you."
"About what?"
"That the same thing could happen to anyone, no matter who you are."
Harry had a great deal of trouble getting to sleep that night.
xxx
There had been no answer overnight to his letter to Cho, so Harry went down to breakfast still a bit troubled about the story he'd heard yesterday. He placed his order, then looked around for a loose copy of the Daily Prophet. He could usually find one lying about, but not today.
As he left the dining room to go back upstairs, he heard the voice: "Where you go?"
He had looked around the dining room for the past two minutes for a copy of the Prophet, and he knew she wasn't there. But now, here was Granny Li, seated at a table as if she'd been waiting for him—and had been kept waiting a long time. She didn't seem too pleased, in any case.
Harry swallowed and sat opposite the old woman just as Tom brought a pot of tea and two mugs. She immediately poured herself a cup, then set the pot down. Harry poured some tea for himself.
While he was pouring, she suddenly spoke: "So, you Ha Li Po Te."
It was so sudden, Harry almost dropped the pot. "Er yes."
"You like Cho?"
"Yes, ma'am, very much."
"Why? What you like about Cho?"
The question caught Harry off-guard. "I, well, there are so many thing. I don't know where to start."
Granny Li, for the first time since he'd met her yesterday, smiled. "THAT good place to start."
Harry couldn't even say why, but he smiled too. Maybe he sensed the worst was over. "Well, we met playing Quidditch. We're both Seekers, you know, but she's brilliant. She's a nice person; has a lot of friends. Very smart, and not just in school. And she's very pretty."
Granny nodded. "For a Chinese, you mean."
"What? No, I didn't mean that."
"I meant it. She is Chinese. How you feel about that?"
"Well, I…" Harry realized he hadn't ever let himself think about it—and he realized why. "It just isn't important to me. I know she's Chinese, but that's just who she is. It doesn't make a difference."
Granny Li stared critically at him, then nodded. "Good answer. Better than Ced."
Ced? "Do you mean Cedric Diggory? You knew him?"
"I met him just before end of Tournament." She took a sip of tea, sat back in her chair, opened her mouth—and Harry felt goosebumps rise all over. The voice that came out of Granny Li's mouth WAS that of Cedric Diggory, killed over a year ago by Lord Voldemort.
""Well, I, I reckon I like her well enough. She's a good little Quidditch player and all, and she's come to mean a lot to me these past few months, but I don't know that we'd, y'know, have any sort of long-term … I mean, my father's made it pretty clear that he wants me to start a proper family, as he puts it. And I can't just go against my own dad; you understand that, don't you?"
Granny Li stopped, and looked knowingly at Harry.
He was still speechless. "How did you do that?"
She pointed at the scar on Harry's forehead. "That your magic. My memory, my voice; that MY magic." She went back to stirring her tea.
"Did, did that really happen the way you remember it? I mean, I remember Cedric, too, and he didn't strike me as…" Harry let the sentence trail off as Granny Li fixed him with a cold stare.
"I remember exactly. What you know about Ced?"
"I know he dropped dead right in front of my feet. Is that enough for you?" Harry couldn't believe he was defending Cedric to her, but there he was. "We both grabbed the Cup at the same time, but it was really a Portkey. We got sent to a graveyard where Lord Voldemort was being reborn. And he—no, someone else killed Cedric, on orders from Lord Voldemort. He didn't deserve to die. And I don't think he deserves your talking about him like that."
"You learning," she nodded.
"Learning what?"
"Dead, living; no difference. You still good friend to Ced."
Harry didn't know how to reply to that.
"This what I mean by saying Cho is Chinese," Granny went on. "We have ancestors; many ancestors. They die long time ago, but they still here." She took another sip of tea. "You don't mind that?"
"I, I don't know. I never had a family, you know about my parents. I think, well, it'd be kind of nice to have someone to talk to about things…"
As quick as lightning, Granny Li thwacked Harry on the side of his head with her knuckles. "You have someone; you always did. You have your ancestors, Cho has her ancestors. You don't mind both?"
Harry's head was still smarting from her knuckles. "I don't really know my own ancestors that way; I can't say. Besides, sometimes you just need someone live to talk to, right?"
The old lady stared at Harry, then chuckled, took another sip of tea, and leaned back in the chair. Then she opened her mouth, and out came the voice of Cho Chang:
"Gran, something happened on the train to school. I haven't talked about it, but there's this boy I've liked for a long time now…" There was a pause, and even though Granny Li didn't smile, Cho's voice clearly did: "You always know everything. Yes, Gran, it's Ha Li Po Te. He never spoke to me before, and I was trying to work up the nerve to speak to him when Ced came along. Anyway, he finds me on the train, and I think he just wants to comfort me about Ced. But he tells me that, I still don't believe it, but he loves me. Gran, the past four months have been wonderful. And, yes, I know about Andrew and the Tans, but…" Another pause. "I gave him a Christmas present, Gran. I told him I wanted us to be together. Gran, the only present I want from you this year is to talk to my parents. Please tell them how happy I am."
Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper.
"No thank yet. You get Cho in trouble already."
"What, at Hogsmeade? She wanted to go! We couldn't just let Death Eaters burn it down."
Granny Li thought a second, then got out of her chair. "You be good boy one more year; then we see." She started out of the Leaky Cauldron, but stopped at the door and smiled at Harry. Then she was gone.