Chapter 3: The Novel
"Did you bring it?" said Harry.
They were in the library., It was a Tuesday afternoon, and they had arranged this meeting the day before.
"Oh, right," said Cho. She fished around in her bag and pulled out a few folders stuffed with paper. "Here," she said, handing it to him as one big stack.
Harry leafed through it eagerly. "So each folder is one part, and it's all . . . hand-written. How long did it take you?"
"Well . . . I wrote it over the summer. But"--she added hastily--"you can tell that it's rushed."
Harry didn't look up. He was looking at the first page, Cho's neat and economical handwriting giving the page an aesthetic value. "It doesn't look rushed."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, it looks . . . neat," said Harry.
Cho gave him a dubious look, as if she had written it with no real regard for legibility.
Harry looked up again, but Cho had got out of her seat across from him to peruse a nearby bookshelf. He watched her reclaim her place in front of him, her eyebrows raised, a smile starting to form on her face.
She had found a biography of Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of her house. Harry's curiosity wasn't really piqued, but hers evidently was; she started flipping through the pages and then began to read.
Harry looked up at her face. Her eyes were downcast, her long eyelashes pointing at the wooden table before them. She turned the page. Suddenly, Harry noticed how fast she was reading. The pages were small, he allowed, but he soon timed her to be spending thirty seconds on every two pages, or fifteen seconds a page!
Harry went back to the unpublished novel in front of him. Words were crossed out here and there on the first page. He adjusted his glasses and read the first chapter in one sitting. Then he looked up, exhilarated and yet confused, and Cho's eyes met his. He instinctively averted his eyes to his right.
"What do you think?" she said anxiously.
What did he think? He thought those large, brown, almond shaped eyes of hers had the same hypnotizing quality as her writing, but she wasn't asking about her eyes. "It's . . . deep and . . . and no sixteen year old has a right to be that wise and . . . eloquent."
She blushed. "Well . . . I'm glad you like it," she said with finality. "Let me tell you something interesting about Rowena Ravenclaw."
Rowena had loved Godric Gryffindor when they were single. She married a man named Martin Smith, a dragon keeper, and they had had a daughter, Malena. Smith had died early in a dragon keeping accident, and, several years later, Rowena had met and married an aristocrat named Paul Brown. They both lived long and died on the same day, of natural causes.
***
Harry had never read a novel before--much less read from the second chapter of a novel to the very end in one night. With dark circles under his eyes and stiff joints, he caught Cho leaving the potions dungeon. Harry knew that Potions was her last class on Wednesdays.
"Cho," he said, "can I speak to you?"
She stopped in surprise and looked at him. "Sure, Harry."
"We'll see you in the common room, Cho," said a green-eyed redhead. Three other girls waved along with the redhead, and Cho smiled back at them.
"How was Potions?" said Harry.
"Fun."
"Potions is never fun."
"There's nothing we can do about Professor Snape, Harry. Also, I know you don't like him, but in most cases, there is more total good in a person than bad--often despite appearances."
"I know that for a fact," said Harry. "But I don't know what those things are. I know that Professor Dumbledore trusts him, and that means something."
"Yeah. So what did you want to tell me?" she said, tilting her head to the side.
"I read your book last night."
"Good one, Harry."
"No, I mean it."
She looked at him doubtfully.
"And I loved it," said Harry.
"Oh," she said.
"When Kristy talks about 'true love being a perfect blend of love and reason', you're talking about abstinence."
"Yes. Don't you feel the same way?"
"Yes, I have the same position on the issue," said Harry truthfully. "I think you're right."
"You may agree with the stance, but the wording . . . Maybe I can get it published someday."
"You could publish it as it is. I haven't read much, Cho, but I know this is a great novel. You're a great writer with perfect handwriting, and I think you just need to believe in yourself more." Harry stopped himself before his compliments got out of control.
To his surprise, she giggled. "I know I have that problem, but thanks for pointing it out. While we're talking about each other's faults . . . "
"I'm working way harder this year than last year, Cho," said Harry. "And I'm learning to swallow my pride, like when I ask you or Hermione for help."
"How about considering that there may be more good in some people than you may think?"
"Well, that's a new one I need to work on." Harry grinned.
"Harry, one day you may actually become mature." She laughed.
"Oh, and I'm the heir of Gryffindor," said Harry.
"Really?"
"Yeah. You were mentioning Rowena Ravenclaw yesterday. I thought I should tell you."
Her face was full of curiosity. "How do you know?" she breathed.
"Long story. I'll tell you next time. And it's kind of a secret, so don't tell anybody."
"Okay, but why not whisper it to me now?"
"It's a long story," Harry repeated, a little amused at her curiosity. "Your friends are probably waiting for you before they eat dinner."
"Can't you just--"
"--No," he said firmly.
"Harry," she said with obvious disappointment.
"I'll walk you over to your common room entrance."
"Okay," she said. "But you have to tell me someday."
They walked back in a restless silence, Harry resisting the urge to laugh at her.
***
The Ravenclaw common room entrance was a painting of Rowena Ravenclaw. Rowena had white, flowing hair and thin spectacles on her eyes. Her hands were in her lap, and she sat in an oak chair wearing a blue dress. Full bookshelves stood up in the background. The painting wasn't alive.
"Now go away," said Cho. "I have to say the password."
"Is it Nerd House?" joked Harry.
Cho scowled at him with mock anger as he turned around and left.
***