OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SEVENTH YEAR
By monkeymouse
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Everything
BOOK SEVEN: SEVENTH YEAR
Chapter 105: Back at the Start
The first day dawned as fine and fair as anyone could wish. The feeling was palpable; excitement was contagious. Even though the Seventh Year girls should have been accustomed to everything by now, there was still a sense of newness, of adventure.
When the four oldest Ravenclaw girls came down to the Common Room together, they could hardly believe it. The First Year boys and girls were all over the bookcases, oohing and aahing over the rare and unusual titles in the house library. Two boys were up on the ladder, trying to get at one title and pushing each other away. One actually pushed the other off, but before anyone else could do anything…
"PAUSA!"
Cho looked toward the fireplace, where Luna Lovegood had drawn her wand, and was bringing the falling boy slowly down with a Hover Charm. While Marietta ran to scold the other boy on the ladder, Cho went up to Luna.
"Thanks for doing that. I wouldn't have had the presence of mind."
"Oh, I think you would have," Luna smiled, "if you'd come down earlier and seen them. I thought something like that might happen, the way they were carrying on."
"That was a good spell, by the way."
"I read ahead in Goshawk this summer. It's my O.W.L. year, you know. Plus," Luna glanced across the room at Marietta before whispering, "I wanted to pick up a few things in case the D.A. started up again. Do you think it will?"
At that moment, Jan called to Cho from the bookcase. Cho gave Luna a quick "Let's just wait and see," before she dashed out of the Common Room.
When she got to the Great Hall, she had lost all of her appetite. She took a sip of pumpkin juice, decided it was too heavy, and just drank water. Luna's mention of Dumbledore's Army reminded Cho of her last conversation with Harry Potter. "Conversation" wasn't quite the word; like the Hogsmeade date, it ended up being a fiasco. She had tried to appeal to Harry to get the pimple jinx lifted from Marietta, but he made it clear that he despised Marietta for what she had tried to do, and would never forgive her, and things just went downhill from there, with the pair of them shouting things at each other that Cho regretted almost immediately afterwards… Little wonder she had no appetite.
She sat, half-hearing what the others were saying and only slightly involved in the conversation, until Professor Flitwick came down from the Head Table to pass out the class schedules.
"Just remember, Miss Chang," the diminutive teacher said as he placed the parchment in front of her, "if you have trouble keeping up, it's no dishonour to drop a class."
"If I have trouble keeping up, I hardly deserve to have been Sorted into Ravenclaw. But, thank you, Professor."
Flitwick simply gave a sigh and moved on to the next student, shuffling parchment as he walked.
It's sweet of him to worry, Cho thought. I won't let him down.
When she looked at the schedule, however, she got a shock.
xxx
Less than an hour later, she was in the queue waiting to enter the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for Seventh Years. As it was on her very first day at Hogwarts, her first class would be with Professor Severus Snape. And not even Potions; Snape was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, a course she would otherwise have felt whole-heartedly about.
But then, she still remembered the green-eyed Dark Arts instructor last year…
Cho found herself among about two dozen Seventh Year students, from all four Houses, in the Dark Arts classroom that morning. Actually, she was surprised at first that there weren't more students, especially after the summer they had all endured. Wizards and Muggles being killed and cursed, giants and dementors out and about…
Pablo Molina was probably thinking the same thing; he leaned past Marietta to Cho and whispered, "Maybe we're the only ones whose O.W.L.s were good enough."
Before Cho could answer, Professor Snape made his entrance. That's the only way to put it: he opened the classroom door abruptly, slammed it loudly behind him, strode noisily with robes flying to the front of the class, turned and stared at the class almost angrily.
I don't get it, Cho thought; it's no secret that Snape always wanted to teach Dark Arts. So, now that he has his wish, why does he look like he hates being a teacher?
Most of the students had the required textbooks out of their satchels and on their desks: Confronting the Faceless, Light Shall Be Your Shield,and Magick Most Evile. Some of the students, waiting for Snape to say anything at all, had their hands on their books.
"I have not asked you to open your books!" Those with their hands on their textbooks withdrew them as if they were petting tarantulas. "I want your full attention for what I am about to say.
"Because this is your Seventh Year at Hogwarts Academy, you have all had six years in which to study the Dark Arts—in theory, at least." He broke off to survey the room full of students again, reminding Cho of Umbridge looking for wrongdoers. "I regret that your education up until now has been … less than thorough. However, it is not my place to criticise either the Academy or the Ministry. My task is to supply your deficiencies as quickly and thoroughly as possible, and to do so in a subject in which one can spend a lifetime of study without ever fully reaching its depths.
"The Dark Arts are many and varied, ever-changing and eternal. They can no more be eliminated than any other branch of the magical arts, so none of you should feel that you will simply pass your N.E.W.T.s, leave this school, and play the hero by defeating those who practice the Dark Arts. This class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts for a very good reason: defense is in fact all that most wizards will ever be capable of. And defense itself will be much more complicated than it sounds. For the Dark Arts are perhaps the most complicated, multi-faceted branch of magic. The magic of the Dark Arts is limited only by the minds of those who use it. Wizards and witches have devoted their lives to the study of the Dark Arts, and your dedication to defending yourselves against those arts must be no less thorough. If you look about you, you can see the consequences of failure to properly defend oneself."
The walls of the Dark Arts classroom had been decorated over the break; now, the students could see pictures of victims of various curses and monsters. Neither the living nor the dead in the pictures seemed to have been able to defend themselves against anything.
"We shall begin," Snape interrupted "with non-verbal spells. You are all novices in the use of non-verbal spells, are you not…" Snape scanned the classroom before settling on a suitable victim: "Miss Chang?"
Even as she stood to answer the question, Cho knew that all he wanted was a simple "yes." However, once she was on her feet, she had a moment of inspiration, and her mind raced ahead of her good sense.
"Actually, Professor, we've all had experience of non-verbal spells. It's one of the ways magic manifests itself in childhood, and how our families know we're magical in the first place. Of course," she added, "this magic is involuntary."
Snape had neither expected nor wanted this answer. He and Cho looked at each other for a moment, as if sizing each other up for the first time. "A minor distinction, Miss Chang," Snape finally said in a voice full of scorn, "but I'm sure you'll agree a crucial one. That was a technically correct answer, and it will cost Ravenclaw House ten points for inaccuracy, and another ten points for sarcasm."
Eddie Carmichael was halfway up on his feet to protest when Jan grabbed his robes. "It's not worth it," she whispered.
"Divide up into pairs. One of you will try to cast a hex, while the other tries to repel it—in silence."
"This is a load of toss," Marietta muttered as she and Cho moved to one wall. "How are we supposed to know what to defend against?"
"It's no matter," Cho replied. "Just use a Shield charm."
"Erm, why don't I try hexing you first?"
"Fine with me," Cho smiled.
At first, Cho wasn't concentrating on the lesson. It all seemed so much like Dumbledore's Army—except that Snape was, of course, no Harry Potter. She was unable to block a small dose of the Lacryma hex—ironically, one that brought on uncontrollable crying. Marietta started apologising.
"Don't worry," Cho sniffed as she tried to compose herself. "Actually, after last year, it's quite funny."
Marietta applied the counter-hex. "Thanks. Anyway, that's good progress for you, doing that without speaking."
"It was what you said about magic when we were kids. That gave me the clue about how to do it. Want to try again?"
By the time the first class was over, most of the Ravenclaws had been able to cast a non-verbal spell, either a minor hex or a shield. Cho was one of the last of them to pick up on the technique, because she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how the class had seemed to pick up from Dumbledore's Army, and how Marietta still couldn't remember a bit of what she'd done last year, and the irony of it all…
xxx
The next class was as different as could be. Unlike Snape, who would always be Snape (as Diana put it, "He'd have to be at death's door to be even a bit human"), Seventh Year Potions at first looked as if it were being taught by the Jolly Old Victorian Uncle from a Prangboller novel. This was Cho's first chance to see Horace Slughorn, although Marcus Belby had already had that honour on the Express. Along with Cho and Marcus, Diana and Marietta were the remaining Ravenclaws in the class; Cho didn't recognize most of the others, except for Bettony McQuinch and some of the other Hufflepuffs with whom Ravenclaw used to share Double Potions.
Slughorn rubbed his hands together briskly as if he were freezing. "All present and accounted for, eh? Very good, very good." He checked a scroll on his desk. "Let me see, Filius Flitwick mentioned something about … Ah, yes, you would be Miss Chang, then?" Cho had not even finished nodding her head before Slughorn was rereading the scroll. "Any relation to Victor Cheng at Gringotts? Continental banking liaison, you know."
To Cho, there was as much difference between Chang and Cheng as between Smith and Jones. She could practically hear her mother's voice inside her head dismissing Slughorn as just another ignorant white wizard as she said, "No sir, no relation."
"Quidditch Captain, I see." He had noticed the badge on Cho's robes. "And a Ravenclaw to boot. Mens sana in corpore sano; words I haven't been able to live by for years, I'm afraid. So, what exactly do your parents do?"
Before Cho could answer, Belby spoke up, perhaps trying to get back into Slughorn's good graces. "Her family has a very fine apothecary in Diagon Alley."
Even though Cho would probably have given the same answer, Slughorn gave a fleeting glance at Cho. "Ah, so they're … merchants." He made it sound like some sort of disease, not lethal but unfortunate. He moved on to the Hufflepuffs.
"Sorry," Marcus whispered to Cho. Cho, for her part, didn't hold anything against Marcus, but she no longer saw Slughorn as a Jolly Old Victorian Uncle.
Eventually, Slughorn got down to business, talking about the three large batches of potion that were brewing when they entered the Potions dungeon: Veritaserum ("For those of you who make it through to be Aurors, it'll be one of the tools of your trade"), Polyjuice, and Amortentia. As Slughorn nattered on about the risks of love potions, Cho glanced over at Bettony McQuinch, whose cheeks were blazing crimson. They could both recall Snape, back in Third Year, assigning them a massive essay about Tristan and Iseult and the dangers of artificially-induced love, just because Bettony had asked about love potions.
"Now, down to business," Slughorn finally declared. "Turn to page 256 in "Advanced Potion Making." You'll see the formula for the Draught of Peace, similar in many respects to the Draught of Living Death, except for one or two ingredients. And the effect, of course. So, everybody, whip up a batch, leave a sample for me to judge, and for next time write up two scrolls comparing and contrasting the two potions, their history and their effects. Off you go!"
As the rest of the class was setting up their cauldrons and gathering ingredients, Marietta whispered "Claw Club" to the other Ravenclaws. The others decided to follow Marietta's lead, although Cho was the only one who knew why. The year before, when Cho was given to nightmares and sudden bursts of crying in her grief over Cedric's murder, Marietta had to become adept at preparing the Draught of Peace in case Cho needed it.
So Cho, Diana, and Marcus followed Marietta's lead more than Borage's textbook, especially when it came time to add oil of valerian root. Instead of the time-consuming process of mincing the root, Marietta simply pressed it with the flat side of a silver dagger, which produced more than enough oil.
"How did you know to do that?" Diana whispered.
"Purely by accident. One time my knife slipped; came down flat on the root, there was oil all over the place." Marietta glanced at Cho and smiled as she whispered, "This potion and me, we're old friends."
Cho smiled, too, as she scooped the oil up into her cauldron. How could Harry have expected Cho to side with the DA against Marietta? Well, there was her running to Umbridge, but still there were so many sides to the question Harry just didn't know…
xxx
After lunch, Cho repacked her book bag and set off for Hagrid's hut for her only Monday afternoon class. This was one class her parents knew about and approved of her taking; Care of Magical Creatures, at least, had something to do with the family business. The family had won a Ministry contract to supply food for various kinds of magical creatures, and Cho was expected to know enough about magical creatures to help keep up the terms of the contract.
Of course, Cho had no such plans. Staying in the shoppe, or more accurately, hiding in the shoppe, was not her idea of defending oneself against Voldemort and his minions, or launching any kind of counterattack. If it were up to her, she would have been studying something really useful, under a better teacher than Rubeus Hagrid. However, this would probably be the easiest N.E.W.T. she would earn all year, and would be worth the little bit of time she had to put into it.
But when she got to the paddock outside Hagrid's hut, she saw that she was the only one there. She waited five more minutes, ten more minutes. Would she be the only Care of Magical Creatures Seventh Year in all of Hogwarts?
She kept seeing the curtains rustle slightly in Hagrid's hut. He was obviously thinking the same thing that she was: this was an embarrassing way to start the year. Still, nobody else came, and eventually, the huge groundskeeper came out of his cottage, carrying a birdcage in one hand.
"Well, then," he smiled, speaking with an enthusiasm so forced that Cho immediately felt sorry for him, "quality over quantity, eh? Let's get on wi' it, then. Good teh see yer back, Miss Chang."
"Thank you."
"Right. Erm. Now, this little beastie here." Hagrid set the cage down in front of Cho; it contained what seemed to be an oversized ferret. "This is one of those creatures I'm not supposed ter teach until Seventh Year."
The reason why this harmless-looking animal was kept back for older students became obvious when it looked up at Hagrid through the bars of its cage and spoke: "Come here and suck my …"
Cho and Hagrid both blushed. "Yeh, erm, well, any ideas wot this is?"
Cho remembered Scamander's description of an animal mimicking human speech—very rude human speech. "That's a, a Jarvey, isn't it?"
"Well done," Hagrid nodded.
"Kiss my arse," the Jarvey added.
Hagrid's face got even redder.
Cho drew her wand. "May I, professor?" Hagrid nodded. "Silencio!"
The Jarvey was cut off in mid-obscenity.
"Sorry abou' that," Hagrid muttered.
"It's all right," Cho smiled. "Reminds me of one of the boys in my year. The Jarvey doesn't live in the wild, does it?"
"Well, yeh, but it lives underground. It's a burrower, yeh see."
"Then it can't really mimic human speech, can it, if it hardly hears any. It doesn't even know how rude it is. So how did it learn to speak like that?"
The question seemed to embarrass Hagrid worse than the obscenities. "Yeh, well, Scamander's book don' say, does it?"
"Maybe it heard some hunters and decided to mimic them. To defend itself."
Hagrid thought about this for a minute. "I dunno; maybe. Funny thing is, it's only been found where people speak English."
It wasn't a class a Ravenclaw would have enjoyed, with Cho speculating on the origins of the Jarvey, and Hagrid unable to do much more than listen to her speculations. Still, by the time the hour ended and Cho walked back toward Hogwarts, her old opinion of Hagrid as one of Hogwarts' worst teachers had been largely undone.
Largely.
xxx
to be continued in chapter 106, wherein Cho keeps her appointment with Michael Corner…
A/N: Slughorn quotes an old Latin motto: "A healthy mind in a healthy body."