OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH 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
xxx
12. Another Option
For the next month, things went on like that for Cho. Classes were uninteresting, but she especially loathed Umbridge and dreaded Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was frustrated about the fact that the rest of her year in Ravenclaw House disliked Umbridge and her teaching methods as much as she did, but nobody would say anything against her. Umbridge would sit watching at her desk, the students would sit reading at theirs; the classroom would be as silent as a graveyard.
And maybe that was why she could never think of the text she was supposed to be reading, or anything else in that class but Cedric. They weren't even pleasant memories of their few short months in love. She thought instead about the Third Task, of Cedric's last hour on earth, of where he and Harry Potter might have vanished to, of what might have happened, of whether any of it could have been prevented-- She spent the periods with head bowed down, Slinkhard's book soaking up her tears.
She blamed Umbridge for all this. Why couldn't she teach a proper class, out of a proper textbook? Why couldn't they practice any really useful spells? And why won't the rest of them say anything?!
Cho felt this especially, because she still chafed under the additional weight of her parents. At the end of September, she received a scroll from her mother:
"I've been meaning to thank you for the lovely tulip bulbs. However, in this case you should have paid more attention to the word 'variegated' on the box; it didn't refer only to their colour. I had to give half of the tulips away, because they yodeled rather than sang. But the remaining blooms are quite lovely, in sight and in sound, as you will see and hear when you come home.
For now, I must take this opportunity to remind you to step carefully through Hogwarts this year, as long as Dolores Umbridge is there. She is there, after all, doing the work of the Ministry, with whom your father has a business relationship. It would reflect poorly on your upbringing to show any disrespect, even to a third party who might report back to Umbridge. This isn't merely about your sixth year at Hogwarts; this is advice which will stand you in good stead as you go through life. Authority may be mistaken, and may even be wrong, but it is still authority, and must be recognized as such..."
Cho crumpled up the scroll, threw it onto the floor of her dormitory room, and drew out her wand, pointing it at the crumpled scroll.
"Incendio!"
At once the scroll burst into flames. However, it burned for minutes without being consumed. Cho was about to repeat the spell when Marietta walked into the room.
"Don't bother, Cho. You did it right, I'm sure. That's another one from your mother, isn't it?" Cho nodded, her cheeks burning. "Well, don't you think she figured things out by now?"
Cho, her cheeks still burning with shame, muttered, "Finite Incantatem." The flame went out, leaving only a new set of words on the back of the scroll where none had been before.
"Surely, my little Horse, you didn't expect to treat my mail with such disrespect without my learning about it? This is precisely what I meant; you must learn to accept authority from those who are above you, whether you agree or not."
This time, Cho put the crumpled scroll into the stove in the center of the room. Perhaps it would still be there after the winter. If the scroll was burned to ashes, fine--if she simply forgot it was there, that would be fine too.
But Cho couldn't forget, and her mother was only one of too many memories, too many intrusions. Sometimes class assignments would push the memories aside briefly, but then they would come rushing back, as if they resented being ignored and pushed aside. It was a constant wrestling match, even after one month, and there were nine more months to go.
Sunday mornings was the only time Cho felt like herself, because of practice. In the stadium, she managed to focus her attention to a degree that was getting more and more difficult in Hogwarts itself. The Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall reminded her of Cedric; the hospital wing, which she had to pass every day going to and from her House, reminded her of Cedric. And Herbology was a severe test, since she was always tempted to approach the brick wall behind the Greenhouses; tempted to use her wand to try to re-enter the secret garden where she had spent so much time with Cedric. She never tried to enter, but each class in the Greenhouses was a temptation.
Only in Quidditch could she be free of all that, if only for a few hours. She could reduce her troubles, reduce her entire world, to the size of a winged walnut, and think only about the Golden Snitch. But, as soon as practice ended, even as she was in the changing room, she would recall Cedric in his own Seeker robes and start crying all over again.
xxx
Another avenue for Cho opened up when and where she least expected it to open. It was the first Friday in October, and she had just left the last class of the day. She now referred to it simply as "that class"; she couldn't even bring herself to say the word "Defense", since the class had nothing to do with defending oneself against anything at all. She had sat quietly with the rest of her year, weeping for Cedric yet again instead of reading Slinkhard. When the class was over, she went back up to her dormitory, threw her bookbag next to her desk, then went down to dinner, although after Umbridge's class Cho usually had no appetite.
The same thing happened this Friday, only it was worse. She stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall, listened to the other students eating and chatting and laughing--LAUGHING--and this brought her up short. How can they, she thought; how can they sit there enjoying themselves like that? Cedric is dead and Voldemort is alive and we're learning absolutely nothing about how to defend ourselves and they're acting as if nothing is wrong and it's all wrong, all of it--
Cho ran to the girls' toilet near the Great Hall, locked herself in one of the stalls, and let the tears come, as they had so many times since June. Once again, she was sorry she had ever decided to return to Hogwarts Academy.
Cho was in the stall for about fifteen minutes before she decided to come out. Usually, Moaning Myrtle would either be waiting for her or would get impatient and come through the stall door. Nothing entertained Moaning Myrtle so much as another girl's misery, and she seemed to enjoy Cho's distress, even if she said recently that Cho was just "putting on the same old show, week after week."
As Cho opened the stall door, she saw someone waiting for her; it wasn't Myrtle.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," the student began, unconsciously straightening her robes so that her Prefects badge was clearly visible.
"No need," Cho said, sniffling just a bit. "I remember you from ... from the Tournament. Granger, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, and seemed to be relieved that one bit of business had been taken care of. "There's something I would like to ask you. The thing is, well, there are some of us who, well, we're really not satisfied with the way Defense Against the Dark Arts is being taught this year." Cho nodded, not saying anything yet. "Yes, well; there are a number of us, as I said, and we're talking about doing something about that, maybe getting a study group together to learn the spells on our own."
Cho knew Granger's reputation around Hogwarts, as a know-all who swallowed textbooks whole and had mastered a great number of spells, although she couldn't fly a broom if her life depended on it. "Will you be teaching it, then?"
"Oh, I'm nowhere near good enough to teach spells like that. I, erm, that is, we were thinking of having Harry Potter do the teaching."
No sooner had Hermione said it than Cho realized that this was the answer. Private lessons, taught by the only student who could teach such lessons. "Where and when?"
"Well, tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day, you know. We were thinking of having a get-together in the village. Do you know the Hog's Head?" Cho knew where the pub was; she'd never had reason to set foot in it. But she nodded. "Well, then, if you could stop by at the beginning of the visit. And maybe bring a friend; someone you can trust."
Cho nodded again, but more happily than she had before.
"Yes, well, tomorrow, then." Hermione left the toilet.
Cho left a minute later; unlike her mood when she came in, she was now almost too excited to think.
xxx
"Bring a friend; someone you can trust." Cho didn't realize how hard that would be until she got back to the Great Hall. Dinner was almost over; she only had time and appetite for some stew. Many of the students had already gone to the library or their dorms.
Many but not all. As Cho hastily tucked into her dinner, she heard a voice behind her, dripping with false concern: "Don't eat too fast, Miss Chang. You'll get sick to your stomach and that's not pleasant. I should know; you make me sick to my stomach."
Draco Malfoy. Cho had been trying to avoid meeting up with him this year. Not because she was afraid of him, but because of his Prefects badge. He now had the power to make her life miserable, and she wasn't going to give him a chance to do so.
Cho slowed down her eating, staring straight ahead, trying not to look at this ghost of a boy who tried to push his face in front of hers.
"Funny how things change, isn't it? I'm sure you've wished me dead for all these years, and it's your poor fool Cedric who dies instead." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If it's any consolation, he won't be alone for long. Things are starting to happen, and some of the fools here will pay the price for their foolishness."
Don't say anything, Cho told herself. Don't look at him. Don't say anything.
"Umbridge has plans for Hogwarts; of course, there are others who have plans for Umbridge. For now, she's a useful fool. What do you say; don't you think she's a fool?"
Don't answer, Cho told herself over and over. He'll report me if I agree, he'll report me if I disagree. Can he report me for keeping silent?
Just then, Pansy Parkinson called to Draco. Cho was never so happy to hear that whiny, scratchy voice.
"This year isn't over yet," Draco whispered to Cho as he turned to leave.
xxx
There was hardly anyone at the Ravenclaw table as Cho, her mood and appetite ruined, looked around. Those who were there were First- and Second-Year, and she hardly knew them at all. The Quidditch team was nowhere to be seen; not in the Great Hall, not in the Common Room.
That didn't leave much choice. Cho would have to try her luck with the girls in her dormitory. Surely Raina would be willing to come along tomorrow; maybe Jan as well.
The others were in the dorm as Cho entered. Raina was at her desk, writing a scroll home in flowing Arabic script. Cho watched for a minute, fascinated, and wondered if she was feeling what the others felt watching her when she wrote in Chinese to her family. When Raina came to a stop, Cho told her what Hermione had said.
Raina stopped her. "Cho, I'm sorry, but I can't go to that meeting tomorrow. It's the Ministry, and my parents."
"How do you mean?"
"My dad says they've cut back severely on activities in International Magical Cooperation. I'm surprised your parents haven't spoken of it."
"They haven't. They're doing business with Magical Creatures, though."
"Lucky for them, then."
"Besides, I didn't think you cared whether your father approved or not."
"That's true, I used to be like that. But, this summer, after the, well, after what happened, they sat me down for a long talk. They said that England was getting dangerous; they even spoke of moving back to Iran once I was out of Hogwarts. It's just not a good time to be on the wrong side of the Ministry, and Umbridge is still the Ministry."
Jan Nugginbridge was sitting on her bed, playing with Coriander, her Manx cat, by Levitating a stocking. Cho walked up to her, but Jan spoke up before Cho could say a word. "Yeh'd better save yer breath; I heard all that, an' I ain't goin'. I don' like Umbridge ennymore'n you, but I jes' don' want teh get involved in summat that might turn dicey later. Wait an' see; that's what I say."
Cho smiled weakly, and turned to Diana Fairweather. She was already in bed, reading "The Once and Future King" for Muggle Studies. "Sorry, Cho, but you see what I'm up against." She held the thick book aloft. "That assignment on 'The Magical World in Muggle Literature' is going to be poisonous. I wasn't even planning to go to Hogsmeade."
"Are you sure you can't? Just for an hour or so?"
Diana sighed and put the book aside. "Listen, Cho, I didn't want to be this blunt about it. But we still don't know what happened to Libby Foggly..."
"I TOLD you what happened!"
"You told us some cock-and-a-bull about her parents being Death Eaters. Granted, nobody's seen or heard from the Fogglys since this summer, but that don't mean--"
"Cho," Raina interrupted, "you told us, but you're the only one who's said anything about them. I mean, I'd be willing to believe you."
Cho couldn't believe this. "But you don't, is that it?"
Diana spoke up again. "My mum doesn't have anything to do with the Ministry, and my father's traveling on business. I don't want to get in on anything like this unless I talk to him first."
Without another word, Cho threw herself fully clothed onto her own bed, drew the curtains and cried into her pillow. She couldn't remember ever feeling so betrayed.
After a few minutes, the curtains opened. Marietta was standing there. "I'm a bit disappointed you didn't ask me."
"I didn't think you'd want to go," Cho sniffled. "I mean, your mum works for the Ministry, and you're a Prefect."
"Well, Potter's best friends are both Prefects, and they'll be there, won't they?"
Cho had to stop and admit that this was true. And if Granger had a problem with Umbridge...
"Besides," Marietta went on, "the Floo Network isn't exactly the inner circle of the Ministry of Magic. My mum has probably never met Fudge or Umbridge. Anyway, why can't I come along, just to keep you out of harm's way? I mean, just because there's talk of some lessons doesn't mean that it's going to happen."
You're wrong, Cho thought. Those lessons are going to happen. But aloud, she smiled a watery smile at Marietta. "You're a good friend; thanks."
"See you tomorrow, then," Marietta smiled in turn as she closed the bed curtains.
xxx
to be continued in part 13, wherein we see what happened to Cho and Marietta before and after the meeting.
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
12. Another Option
For the next month, things went on like that for Cho. Classes were uninteresting, but she especially loathed Umbridge and dreaded Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was frustrated about the fact that the rest of her year in Ravenclaw House disliked Umbridge and her teaching methods as much as she did, but nobody would say anything against her. Umbridge would sit watching at her desk, the students would sit reading at theirs; the classroom would be as silent as a graveyard.
And maybe that was why she could never think of the text she was supposed to be reading, or anything else in that class but Cedric. They weren't even pleasant memories of their few short months in love. She thought instead about the Third Task, of Cedric's last hour on earth, of where he and Harry Potter might have vanished to, of what might have happened, of whether any of it could have been prevented-- She spent the periods with head bowed down, Slinkhard's book soaking up her tears.
She blamed Umbridge for all this. Why couldn't she teach a proper class, out of a proper textbook? Why couldn't they practice any really useful spells? And why won't the rest of them say anything?!
Cho felt this especially, because she still chafed under the additional weight of her parents. At the end of September, she received a scroll from her mother:
"I've been meaning to thank you for the lovely tulip bulbs. However, in this case you should have paid more attention to the word 'variegated' on the box; it didn't refer only to their colour. I had to give half of the tulips away, because they yodeled rather than sang. But the remaining blooms are quite lovely, in sight and in sound, as you will see and hear when you come home.
For now, I must take this opportunity to remind you to step carefully through Hogwarts this year, as long as Dolores Umbridge is there. She is there, after all, doing the work of the Ministry, with whom your father has a business relationship. It would reflect poorly on your upbringing to show any disrespect, even to a third party who might report back to Umbridge. This isn't merely about your sixth year at Hogwarts; this is advice which will stand you in good stead as you go through life. Authority may be mistaken, and may even be wrong, but it is still authority, and must be recognized as such..."
Cho crumpled up the scroll, threw it onto the floor of her dormitory room, and drew out her wand, pointing it at the crumpled scroll.
"Incendio!"
At once the scroll burst into flames. However, it burned for minutes without being consumed. Cho was about to repeat the spell when Marietta walked into the room.
"Don't bother, Cho. You did it right, I'm sure. That's another one from your mother, isn't it?" Cho nodded, her cheeks burning. "Well, don't you think she figured things out by now?"
Cho, her cheeks still burning with shame, muttered, "Finite Incantatem." The flame went out, leaving only a new set of words on the back of the scroll where none had been before.
"Surely, my little Horse, you didn't expect to treat my mail with such disrespect without my learning about it? This is precisely what I meant; you must learn to accept authority from those who are above you, whether you agree or not."
This time, Cho put the crumpled scroll into the stove in the center of the room. Perhaps it would still be there after the winter. If the scroll was burned to ashes, fine--if she simply forgot it was there, that would be fine too.
But Cho couldn't forget, and her mother was only one of too many memories, too many intrusions. Sometimes class assignments would push the memories aside briefly, but then they would come rushing back, as if they resented being ignored and pushed aside. It was a constant wrestling match, even after one month, and there were nine more months to go.
Sunday mornings was the only time Cho felt like herself, because of practice. In the stadium, she managed to focus her attention to a degree that was getting more and more difficult in Hogwarts itself. The Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall reminded her of Cedric; the hospital wing, which she had to pass every day going to and from her House, reminded her of Cedric. And Herbology was a severe test, since she was always tempted to approach the brick wall behind the Greenhouses; tempted to use her wand to try to re-enter the secret garden where she had spent so much time with Cedric. She never tried to enter, but each class in the Greenhouses was a temptation.
Only in Quidditch could she be free of all that, if only for a few hours. She could reduce her troubles, reduce her entire world, to the size of a winged walnut, and think only about the Golden Snitch. But, as soon as practice ended, even as she was in the changing room, she would recall Cedric in his own Seeker robes and start crying all over again.
xxx
Another avenue for Cho opened up when and where she least expected it to open. It was the first Friday in October, and she had just left the last class of the day. She now referred to it simply as "that class"; she couldn't even bring herself to say the word "Defense", since the class had nothing to do with defending oneself against anything at all. She had sat quietly with the rest of her year, weeping for Cedric yet again instead of reading Slinkhard. When the class was over, she went back up to her dormitory, threw her bookbag next to her desk, then went down to dinner, although after Umbridge's class Cho usually had no appetite.
The same thing happened this Friday, only it was worse. She stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall, listened to the other students eating and chatting and laughing--LAUGHING--and this brought her up short. How can they, she thought; how can they sit there enjoying themselves like that? Cedric is dead and Voldemort is alive and we're learning absolutely nothing about how to defend ourselves and they're acting as if nothing is wrong and it's all wrong, all of it--
Cho ran to the girls' toilet near the Great Hall, locked herself in one of the stalls, and let the tears come, as they had so many times since June. Once again, she was sorry she had ever decided to return to Hogwarts Academy.
Cho was in the stall for about fifteen minutes before she decided to come out. Usually, Moaning Myrtle would either be waiting for her or would get impatient and come through the stall door. Nothing entertained Moaning Myrtle so much as another girl's misery, and she seemed to enjoy Cho's distress, even if she said recently that Cho was just "putting on the same old show, week after week."
As Cho opened the stall door, she saw someone waiting for her; it wasn't Myrtle.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," the student began, unconsciously straightening her robes so that her Prefects badge was clearly visible.
"No need," Cho said, sniffling just a bit. "I remember you from ... from the Tournament. Granger, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, and seemed to be relieved that one bit of business had been taken care of. "There's something I would like to ask you. The thing is, well, there are some of us who, well, we're really not satisfied with the way Defense Against the Dark Arts is being taught this year." Cho nodded, not saying anything yet. "Yes, well; there are a number of us, as I said, and we're talking about doing something about that, maybe getting a study group together to learn the spells on our own."
Cho knew Granger's reputation around Hogwarts, as a know-all who swallowed textbooks whole and had mastered a great number of spells, although she couldn't fly a broom if her life depended on it. "Will you be teaching it, then?"
"Oh, I'm nowhere near good enough to teach spells like that. I, erm, that is, we were thinking of having Harry Potter do the teaching."
No sooner had Hermione said it than Cho realized that this was the answer. Private lessons, taught by the only student who could teach such lessons. "Where and when?"
"Well, tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day, you know. We were thinking of having a get-together in the village. Do you know the Hog's Head?" Cho knew where the pub was; she'd never had reason to set foot in it. But she nodded. "Well, then, if you could stop by at the beginning of the visit. And maybe bring a friend; someone you can trust."
Cho nodded again, but more happily than she had before.
"Yes, well, tomorrow, then." Hermione left the toilet.
Cho left a minute later; unlike her mood when she came in, she was now almost too excited to think.
xxx
"Bring a friend; someone you can trust." Cho didn't realize how hard that would be until she got back to the Great Hall. Dinner was almost over; she only had time and appetite for some stew. Many of the students had already gone to the library or their dorms.
Many but not all. As Cho hastily tucked into her dinner, she heard a voice behind her, dripping with false concern: "Don't eat too fast, Miss Chang. You'll get sick to your stomach and that's not pleasant. I should know; you make me sick to my stomach."
Draco Malfoy. Cho had been trying to avoid meeting up with him this year. Not because she was afraid of him, but because of his Prefects badge. He now had the power to make her life miserable, and she wasn't going to give him a chance to do so.
Cho slowed down her eating, staring straight ahead, trying not to look at this ghost of a boy who tried to push his face in front of hers.
"Funny how things change, isn't it? I'm sure you've wished me dead for all these years, and it's your poor fool Cedric who dies instead." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If it's any consolation, he won't be alone for long. Things are starting to happen, and some of the fools here will pay the price for their foolishness."
Don't say anything, Cho told herself. Don't look at him. Don't say anything.
"Umbridge has plans for Hogwarts; of course, there are others who have plans for Umbridge. For now, she's a useful fool. What do you say; don't you think she's a fool?"
Don't answer, Cho told herself over and over. He'll report me if I agree, he'll report me if I disagree. Can he report me for keeping silent?
Just then, Pansy Parkinson called to Draco. Cho was never so happy to hear that whiny, scratchy voice.
"This year isn't over yet," Draco whispered to Cho as he turned to leave.
xxx
There was hardly anyone at the Ravenclaw table as Cho, her mood and appetite ruined, looked around. Those who were there were First- and Second-Year, and she hardly knew them at all. The Quidditch team was nowhere to be seen; not in the Great Hall, not in the Common Room.
That didn't leave much choice. Cho would have to try her luck with the girls in her dormitory. Surely Raina would be willing to come along tomorrow; maybe Jan as well.
The others were in the dorm as Cho entered. Raina was at her desk, writing a scroll home in flowing Arabic script. Cho watched for a minute, fascinated, and wondered if she was feeling what the others felt watching her when she wrote in Chinese to her family. When Raina came to a stop, Cho told her what Hermione had said.
Raina stopped her. "Cho, I'm sorry, but I can't go to that meeting tomorrow. It's the Ministry, and my parents."
"How do you mean?"
"My dad says they've cut back severely on activities in International Magical Cooperation. I'm surprised your parents haven't spoken of it."
"They haven't. They're doing business with Magical Creatures, though."
"Lucky for them, then."
"Besides, I didn't think you cared whether your father approved or not."
"That's true, I used to be like that. But, this summer, after the, well, after what happened, they sat me down for a long talk. They said that England was getting dangerous; they even spoke of moving back to Iran once I was out of Hogwarts. It's just not a good time to be on the wrong side of the Ministry, and Umbridge is still the Ministry."
Jan Nugginbridge was sitting on her bed, playing with Coriander, her Manx cat, by Levitating a stocking. Cho walked up to her, but Jan spoke up before Cho could say a word. "Yeh'd better save yer breath; I heard all that, an' I ain't goin'. I don' like Umbridge ennymore'n you, but I jes' don' want teh get involved in summat that might turn dicey later. Wait an' see; that's what I say."
Cho smiled weakly, and turned to Diana Fairweather. She was already in bed, reading "The Once and Future King" for Muggle Studies. "Sorry, Cho, but you see what I'm up against." She held the thick book aloft. "That assignment on 'The Magical World in Muggle Literature' is going to be poisonous. I wasn't even planning to go to Hogsmeade."
"Are you sure you can't? Just for an hour or so?"
Diana sighed and put the book aside. "Listen, Cho, I didn't want to be this blunt about it. But we still don't know what happened to Libby Foggly..."
"I TOLD you what happened!"
"You told us some cock-and-a-bull about her parents being Death Eaters. Granted, nobody's seen or heard from the Fogglys since this summer, but that don't mean--"
"Cho," Raina interrupted, "you told us, but you're the only one who's said anything about them. I mean, I'd be willing to believe you."
Cho couldn't believe this. "But you don't, is that it?"
Diana spoke up again. "My mum doesn't have anything to do with the Ministry, and my father's traveling on business. I don't want to get in on anything like this unless I talk to him first."
Without another word, Cho threw herself fully clothed onto her own bed, drew the curtains and cried into her pillow. She couldn't remember ever feeling so betrayed.
After a few minutes, the curtains opened. Marietta was standing there. "I'm a bit disappointed you didn't ask me."
"I didn't think you'd want to go," Cho sniffled. "I mean, your mum works for the Ministry, and you're a Prefect."
"Well, Potter's best friends are both Prefects, and they'll be there, won't they?"
Cho had to stop and admit that this was true. And if Granger had a problem with Umbridge...
"Besides," Marietta went on, "the Floo Network isn't exactly the inner circle of the Ministry of Magic. My mum has probably never met Fudge or Umbridge. Anyway, why can't I come along, just to keep you out of harm's way? I mean, just because there's talk of some lessons doesn't mean that it's going to happen."
You're wrong, Cho thought. Those lessons are going to happen. But aloud, she smiled a watery smile at Marietta. "You're a good friend; thanks."
"See you tomorrow, then," Marietta smiled in turn as she closed the bed curtains.
xxx
to be continued in part 13, wherein we see what happened to Cho and Marietta before and after the meeting.