OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG

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

xxx

21. Third Year Begins

The summer of 1992 was an odd one for Cho Chang; more than at any time in her life, she felt as if she was becoming someone other than herself.

Most of the changes were because of her father. Chang Xiemin had to travel to China to close some business or other related to the shoppe, and ended up staying five weeks. This meant that Cho had to spend more time in the shoppe herself, since her mother couldn't run things alone.

Lotus Chang seemed to take advantage of this by berating Cho at every opportunity: if they ran out of one herb or another, if the display jars weren't angled just so, and even if Cho was thirty seconds late for her turn behind the counter because her mother had asked her to feed Chairman Miao.

Naturally, the time she spent in the shoppe was also time spent away from the Puddlemere Quidditch stadium. Under other circumstances Cho could at least grab her Comet Two Sixty and work off some of her frustrations, but even that was getting harder and harder to do.

The final straw came in early August, when Cho suffered a worse-than-usual bout of cramping. Her mother insisted on mixing up a Chinese potion that was different from the recipe Cho had been using. The Chinese remedy worked, but not as well, and Cho took the unusual step of writing to Madam Pomfrey about her mother's remedy. Quan Yin returned from Hogwarts empty- clawed, but the next day an owl arrived with Cho's school list for the year, a parental permission slip for trips to Hogsmeade(!) and a note from Madam Pomfrey:

"Dear Cho,

It was a bit of a surprise to hear from you; most Hogwarts students want as little to do with this place as possible over the summer! Things have been rather quiet here, with nothing new in the offing except our new Defense Against the Dark Arts master. You'll find out about him soon enough.

As for your question, I've had some experience with the Chinese potion you mention. Two summers ago I attended a WARTS gathering (Witchcraft And Related Topics Symposium) where a paper was presented comparing the efficacy of several different draughts from around the world. The Chinese brew didn't seem to have nearly enough asphodel to do the job, so I asked the panel about it. The witch who described the remedy said that it was intentional. Women have always held a lower status in China than men, and it seems that they just got used to potions that don't work all the way. Apparently, it was supposed to reinforce in the minds of the Chinese witches their second-class status. A pity, really, but there it is.

See you in September (not too often, I hope)

Poppy Pomfrey"

Cho sat stunned, rereading the letter until it finally sank in. She knew. Her mother knew. Her mother knew that the potion wasn't good enough, but insisted that Cho use it anyway. She would rather keep her own daughter in pain, out of some deluded notion of what a Chinese witch is supposed to feel.

For the remainder of the holidays, Cho refused to say a word to her mother. She showed up at the shoppe when she was supposed to, helped the customers on her own, and didn't utter a sound. Within fifteen minutes of her father's return from China, however, Cho was in Puddlemere, pelting up and down the field as quickly as she could. Even her father's gifts to her (an old Snitch carved from a piece of ivory and a new translation of the Analects of Confucius) barely elicited a "thank you" from her. Cho was just as surprised as her parents at how angry she was, even at her father. True, he hadn't done anything but leave the country, but somehow Cho was mad at him, too, for being in on it-somehow. She glared at him as he signed the Hogsmeade permission letter, then snatched it from him as if she feared he would tear it up.

But if Cho's silent rage toward her parents disturbed them, Cho was even more disturbed by the silence from Penny Clearwater. Cho had written Penny about her father bringing back the carved Snitch, but Penny-ever the quick correspondent-hadn't sent word in two weeks. It was almost September; Cho had gotten all her school supplies, and still no word.

Finally, on 30 August, an owl showed up on Cho's bedroom windowsill with a short message:

"Dearest Cho,

I know that you must think me an awful monster for not writing sooner. You have every right to hate me; I'd surely hate myself, except that this summer has been so marvelous that I don't think I could hate anybody ever again!

I'll tell you all about it on the Express, I'm sure.

Penelope"

What was that? Penelope?! Cho had been in Ravenclaw for two years now, and to her and everyone else, Penny Clearwater had insisted on answering to that nickname rather than Penelope! Something had changed her, and Cho would just have to wait to find out what it was.

xxx

Cho arrived on Platform Nine and Three Quarters with fifteen minutes to spare, and began searching the compartments. She found Diana Fairweather and Libby Foggly in one compartment and joined them; Raina al-Qaba entered the carriage just as the train started to pull out.

"Very strange thing I saw just now," Raina said as she stowed her suitcase. "I came through the barrier just ahead of Harry Potter, but when I turned to get in the carriage, I looked around and he wasn't there."

"Probably just waiting for someone," Libby said.

"You're not saying he missed the train," Diana asked.

Raina shook her head, but her face was still troubled.

For the rest of the trip, the four girls were joined by other students of Ravenclaw House-but not Penelope (or Penny) Clearwater. Roger Davies explained that one; Penny had been named a Prefect, and the Prefects usually rode together. That might explain the name-change, but becoming a Prefect didn't seem to be the marvelous something Penny had hinted at. She had to have been describing something else-but what?

Nor did Penny approach Cho during the welcoming dinner, nor in the Common Room afterwards, although Cho waited up until almost midnight. She finally went up to her dormitory, greatly disturbed.

xxx

Apart from this, Cho's third year at Hogwarts started out in a fairly ordinary manner. She was in the Great Hall having breakfast the day after she arrived when a great deal of screaming went up from the Gryffindor table. It was a Howler, directed at one of the Weasleys. Some of the students laughed, but Cho acted as if she heard nothing; she didn't find any joy in anyone else's troubles.

Later that morning, she arrived in the dungeon classroom for her first Potions as a Third-Year knowing just what to do: nothing. She dropped her cauldron onto the table and inventoried the contents again and again. She wasn't about to look at Snape, wasn't going to give him any reason to call on her...

Before Snape or anyone else could say anything, though, another voice piped up: "If you don't mind my asking, Professor, can you tell us about love potions this year?"

That was Betony McQuinch, a Hufflepuff and normally rather levelheaded; dull, even. For her to even think in terms of a love potion seemed, well, as alien as a dragon sauntering through Trafalgar Square at high noon.

Snape didn't even pretend to be surprised. Instead, he gave her such a withering glare that everyone immediately felt sorry for Betony. Until Snape spoke: "It seems that we will begin with an essay, due at the start of the next Potions class. Six scrolls in length; no more, no less. Refer to Arsenius Jigger's "Advanced Draughts and Potions", which is, I believe, required for this year. Read his commentary, on pages 189 to 210, on the legend of Tristan and Iseult, and then tell me why love potions are perhaps the single biggest hazard of the wizarding world."

"It can't be as bad as all that, can it?" Nobody felt sorry for McQuinch now. She should have taken the hint and let the subject drop; now, she'd stepped right back into it.

What had been a slow burn in Snape's eyes flared to life. "Are you accusing me of lying to the class, girl? Or are you saying that I don't understand my own subject as well as you do? If I haven't made myself abundantly clear already, perhaps this will get through your thick little skull: twenty points from Hufflepuff. The matter is closed!"

Most of the Hufflepuffs looked daggers at Betony McQuinch. Not Cho; she'd been there before. Although she had to wonder, as she unpacked her cauldron, why Betony would run such a risk just to find out about love potions.

Friday brought both her first Divination class and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Divination tower was so hard to find that it put Cho in mind of when she was a First-Year. They finally found the classroom, then waited ten minutes past the start-time for Madam Sibyl Trelawny to make her entrance. When she did, in a riotous ensemble of mismatched scarves and beads, Cho was afraid she'd break out giggling. Madam Trelawny looked-and spoke-like a gypsy fortune-teller from some old Muggle movie. As Cho tried to "focus her inner eye" on the dregs in her teacup (apparently, doing so involved putting one's real eyes out of focus), Cho longed for the year when Madam Trelawny might get around to teaching Chinese divination. Tortoise shells, star charts, yarrow stalks, and especially the I Ching: something grounded in reality.

It was a toss-up whether Trelawny or Gilderoy Lockhart was the more pointlessly entertaining. Friday night after supper, the Ravenclaw Common Room was occupied by an impromptu debate on the topic: "Gilderoy Lockhart: DADA or DUD?" Most of the Ravenclaws agreed that Lockhart's books were, as Cho politely put it, "lightweight". But opinions were split over his abilities as a professor-and his supporters were overwhelmingly female.

xxx

Saturday turned out to be a mess for all concerned with Quidditch. In the morning, Gryffindor had the field, but were forced off by Slytherin. The rumour quickly spread through the Great Hall at noon that Draco Malfoy was the new Slytherin Seeker-and that it had cost his father a full set of Nimbus 2001 brooms for the Slytherin team.

"Does anyone know much about Malfoy?" Cho asked, trying to sound casual.

She didn't succeed. "Nothing to worry about," Roger Davies dismissed her. "He may have gotten in a few hours around the house, but I don't think he's ever played a match. Besides, if his dad had to buy him the spot." Roger left the rest of the sentence hang.

That afternoon, though, history repeated itself, as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw showed up at the same time. While the faculty heads of the respective houses (Madame Sprout and Professor Flitwick) were summoned to resolve the scheduling, Cho took the opportunity to size up the Hufflepuffs. She was most surprised by Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker. The last time she saw him play, only a few months ago, he was a slight, even scrawny Fourth Year reserve. Now, however, Seeker Chase- Sanborn had graduated, and Cedric had undoubtedly had what the textbooks call a "growth spurt" over the summer. He not only stood several inches taller, but his body seemed to have filled out a bit.

"Paying a little too much attention to the opposition, aren't we?" Roger whispered into Cho's ear, breaking her train of thought.

"What are you suggesting?" she asked coolly.

"I've already heard some of the witches speaking about how well Diggory's turning out."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, he's only got more problems as a Seeker. The bigger he is, the harder it'll be for him to get up to speed and maneuver the broom."

"And that's all?"

"All what?"

"You don't feel-anything?"

Cho didn't know whether to be amused or outraged. "I assure you, Captain, that no such thought has crossed my mind about Cedric Diggory!" She then worked her way to the back of the team, before Roger could ask her how she felt about anyone else.

He really wanted to know, and not just for the sake of Quidditch.

xxx

to be continued in part 22, wherein Cho, and all of Ravenclaw House, must confront the actions of two of its students.