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

29. Auld Acquaintance

Cho spent the next week in a daze. It was a good thing that there were no classes, because she couldn't have concentrated on them anyway. She couldn't concentrate on anything except that summer's promised trip to China. She had heard so much about it, and even read Muggle books and newspapers, but so much of it still seemed to be terra incognita. What could she see? Who would she meet? Were Chinese ghosts as fierce and powerful as they were rumoured to be? Did Chinese witches really ride clouds instead of brooms?

She seemed completely beside herself. One day, wandering through the halls, she ran into Professor Snape. "Get back to your House, girl!" he snapped. "These halls are unsafe."

"Sorry, Professor Flitwick," she said, even though the Potions Master and the Charms Master were as unlike as any two men could be. Cho simply burst out laughing and ran down the hall, watched by the very puzzled Professor Snape.

xxx

She had calmed down by New Years Eve, however, and traded the usual end-of- year pleasantries over dinner with Penelope and Roger. She also noticed, for the first time, that one of the Gryffindors was missing: Granger, the girl with the highest marks in her year. Everyone in Hogwarts knew, of course, that she was Muggle-born; Malfoy had made such an issue of it that fights had broken out. However, since the monster didn't seem to have claimed her and nobody from Gryffindor was panicking, Cho decided that she wouldn't either.

She went up to bed that night, but didn't feel at all sleepy. She got dressed again and went down to the Common Room, half hoping that someone else would be there.

Roger Davies was.

He was curled up in the day-bed. (Cho smiled inwardly, remembering that Penelope has Transfigured the day-bed into a harpsichord, and imagined how Roger would look in THAT!) His Christmas presents included new dragon-hide boots, a writing-quill made from the feather of a hippogriff, and a bottomless book-bag. Unfortunately, the bag was bottomless but not weightless; he had tried putting all his classbooks into it, but found that he couldn't budge it. He spent an hour cursing out "whatever gnome-brained clod thought that one up."

He'd also been given a facsimile copy of the oldest Quidditch book printed in England, "Quest for ye Snidget", written in 1188 by Crepuscule Mireditch. The book was prized not so much for its text but for its rich and fanciful illuminations, and Roger was leafing through these when Cho came in.

"You all right, then?" Roger asked. "Lately you've been a bit . . ."

"I guess I haven't told you. I just found out I'm going with my parents to China this summer!"

"That's great! You've never been before, have you?"

"No, and I really want to see it. It'll only be for a few weeks, but we're supposed to be in-country, away from the modern cities."

"Well, bring me back a Fireball."

"I don't know about that," Cho laughed. "How about a team jersey, if I can find one?"

"It's a deal." Cho turned to go back to her dorm. "Cho, wait! I mean, can you just stay a minute for a chat?"

"You're right; it's been too long." She settled herself into an overstuffed chair by the fire. "Remember two years ago? I was half hoping to find a crowd like that again. Have you heard from Mackie, by the way?"

"Oh, yeh. Got an owl just before the blizzard. He went on to Uni, but had to leave it. His da took sick and he had to help with the family business."

"What business is that?"

"They have a mill, weaving cloth for robes. You never see it, getting your robes at Malkin's, but it starts with them and with a hundred other little wizarding mills all over England."

"That's nice. I mean, it's a shame his having to leave University, but, you know."

They sat in silence for a minute. "Cho," Roger asked suddenly, a bit hesitantly, "why Quidditch? It's just a sport, and you've damn near killed yourself to get on the team."

Cho wondered if she should answer at all. She'd thought about it a lot in the past few years, but never tried to explain it to anyone. "I guess it started with Eunice Murray. You've read her, I take it?" Roger nodded. "I discovered that book when I was ten, and it just moved me so much. Her story had so much to do with me. I mean, she had to overcome so much to get to the top as a Seeker. And I've felt that all my life. I thought I'd have to struggle for whatever I get."

"Your family must be well off, though; to send you here, I mean, and go to China in the summer."

"It's not about money. The Malfoys have money and Draco is a swine. Harry Potter's got money, too, and he seems rather nice. I'm talking about the struggle. I mean, I've always been the only Chinese girl in the crowd. Even in Diagon Alley, there's not another my age. I feel like I'm always being judged."

"But surely you know we like you. Most of the people I know, anyway."

"It's different. If I'm liked, it doesn't change the fact that I'm an outsider. I feel like one anyway. But take Diggory in Hufflepuff, for example; he looks like he belongs here: the best young wizard Britain has to offer."

"Is this about looks, then?"

"That's just part of it. The looks reflect my family, my background. It's different. Raina could probably tell you the same thing. Do you know her?"

"Er, no, not really."

"So many people don't. They see the scarf, they find out she prays five times a day and won't eat certain foods, and that's all it takes. They don't want to know her, because she's from another culture and another country."

"But you're not like that."

"Roger, you're not getting it. I'm a British witch, and I'll probably never be anything else. But whether I am or not, people will look at me and see what they want to see. In their eyes, Raina and I are both aliens."

"Someone's been bothering you, then? Maybe you should tell the Headmaster."

Cho just sighed. "Maybe we should stick to Quidditch. Have you heard anything? Are we ever going to make up that game?"

"I talked to Hooch after the game was canceled. She's called a meeting with the heads of the Four Houses right after the holidays. If we work it right, there's still time for five games."

"I just hope I didn't make too big a spectacle of myself. I put so much hope into playing my first match as Ravenclaw Seeker."

"I know the feeling. When I went from reserve to regular, I didn't eat for a week before the game. I couldn't keep anything down. We're all like that; we wouldn't be Quidditch players if we weren't. Getting on a broom in front of hundreds of people, chasing little flying balls through the air- we all make spectacles of ourselves."

"Right now, that's all that I want to do. Before the end of January, do you think?"

"Well, old Flitwick doesn't exactly drive a hard bargain. I'll ask if the Captains can sit in on the meeting. Maybe I can push him in the right direction."

"I want the chance, Roger. That's all I've ever wanted."

"And you'll get your chance. It'll just be some time in 1993."

"Then it really will be a Happy New Year. Thanks, Roger," Cho smiled as she rose and went up to her dormitory.

At the stroke of midnight, a puff of green smoke appeared in the fireplace of the Common Room, followed by the head of Macarthur Culligan. "Are ye still awake, boyo?"

"Happy New Year, Mackie!"

"Same to you. Can you tell me what's been happening up there? The Daily Prophet is saying little but hinting a lot."

"I'll fill you in later. Right now, well, wait a second." Roger went to the staircase to the girls' dormitories, making sure that Cho wasn't there. "Mackie, I'm afraid it's just getting worse."

"You know you've got to keep your feelings off the pitch."

"It's not the pitch I'm worried about. As a Seeker she just gets better and better. It almost killed her when the match was canceled a few weeks ago. But it's . . . off the pitch, times like tonight, that worry me."

"What happened tonight?"

"Well, nothing happened, exactly. We've just been sitting here talking. But if I kept on biting my tongue any longer, there'd be a great bloody mess on the floor."

"Got you that bad, then?"

"I can't begin to tell you."

"So talk to her about it."

"And tell her what? 'Cho, you're only thirteen, but I've never felt like this about any other girl'? For God's sake, she's thirteen!"

"Then wait until she's fifteen. Your feelings may change by then."

"I don't know if that's good or bad."

"Wait and see, Roger. Wait and see."

xxx

to be continued in part 30, wherein Hogwarts' Quidditch schedule is determined for the rest of the year . . .