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-13 (for language)
Spoilers: Everything
xxx
19. They Came Bearing Gifts
Cho had another disturbing dream that night--one she hadn't had before. It was the Second Task, but she was the only one tied to the statue at the bottom of the lake. If there were others there, she couldn't tell; maybe they'd been freed already. She waited, patiently.
After a while, she saw Harry--and Cedric. They were approaching from different directions, but both intent on rescuing Cho. Until they got within two or three yards of Cho; then, noticing each other, they attacked. Both had daggers drawn, ready to cut Cho's bonds, but, when they swam toward each other, they had their daggers brandished as weapons against each other.
Cho could only watch in silence, unable to move, as Cedric brought his blade up from below, sticking Harry in his ribcage. Cho could see the blood pumping out, staining the filthy lake-water. Harry, for his part, saw that Cedric had his head inside a large glass globe; he struck the globe with the handle of the dagger. The glass shattered; Cedric let go of the dagger still in Harry's side. Cho watched as both of them struggled toward the surface.
Was that it, then? Would Cho be rescued, or had she been forgotten? A crowd of merpeople began to assemble, watching Cho greedily, their open mouths showing rows of sharp, pointed teeth...
As if some signal had been given, they rushed toward her, stripping off her robes, every bit of her clothing, and began sinking their teeth into her pale flesh...
"HELP ME!"
Cho was awake by this time, and realized she was sitting up in her dormitory bed, clutching the covers as if she meant to tear them in half. She was looking at the bed-curtains as they opened, revealing Marietta with a flagon, with some kind of sleeping draught, no doubt.
Cho thought she could speak, but her mouth was suddenly dry. After clearing her throat she tried again. "Thanks, but I don't think I'll be needing that tonight."
Marietta looked dubious. "You'd know, I suppose. What was that one about, then?"
"It was ... Chinese; nothing to do with Cedric or the Tournament."
Marietta stood there for a minute before she shrugged and closed Cho's curtains.
Why did you do that? Cho scolded herself. But she knew the reason, because Marietta had a fair idea of what happened after the D.A. class was dismissed. As public as she'd been with Cedric in her affections, she wondered why she didn't feel the same about Harry.
Well, they're so different, she told herself. Cedric was two years older and so self-assured. I wasn't the first girl he'd ever kissed, even though I knew that none of the others ever meant anything to him. But everything was so strange to me, so I let him guide me through it all. And he was happy to lead me.
And now, here I am, a year older than Harry, and he must surely be as naive as I used to be. Shall I have to push him in the right direction? Would he be angry if I did? Should I try to be as naive as Harry? Does he expect to give me the lead?
As she drifted back to sleep, she decided to "just take everything as it comes."
xxx
As she prepared for class in the morning she was almost singing; the dream of the night before had been replaced by memories of Harry and the kiss. She'd try to catch up with Harry again; maybe make some arrangements about meeting during the holidays--if Harry's going to be with the Weasleys, near Ottery St. Catchpole, maybe Cho could find a day to Floo over to the Fawcetts, or even the Lovegoods. Merlin only knows what kind of Christmas tree Luna would have at her house, though; possibly a Mimbulus. With Luna Lovegood, nothing was impossible.
But, although Cho was early to breakfast and lingered for an hour, Harry never showed. Nor was he there for lunch. She knew she couldn't just sit there; she had to find out what was happening. Did Harry have second thoughts? Was he avoiding her? Who would tell her the truth of it?
At that moment Hermione Granger walked into the Great Hall, reading up on Ancient Runes as she walked. Cho hesitated, then walked over to intercept Hermione. "Excuse me."
"Oh! Hello, Cho."
"Have you..." and Cho realized she was blushing but couldn't stop it, "have you seen Harry anywhere about?"
"Ah! You won't have heard. He, erm, left late last night."
"Left?!"
"Yes. We'd, erm, heard that Ron Weasley's father got into a terrible accident and was in hospital. Ron had to go back home right away, and Harry went with him."
"Is it serious?"
"The Healers were still working on him, last I heard. But I think he'll be just fine."
"Are you ... going to see him, then?"
"Oh, no, that is, I'm off with my parents to the French Alps. We'll be doing a bit of skiing."
"That's nice."
They stood facing each other, each apparently waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Cho said, "Well, I'd better get to class. Happy Christmas."
"Same to you," Hermione said as Cho was already headed out the door.
As Hermione Granger watched Cho leave the Great Hall, she started turning over and over in her mind what she had just done, and why she'd done it.
She didn't think of it as lying to Cho. Dumbledore had sent for her first thing in the morning and laid out the whole awful story about Harry and Arthur Weasley and the serpent. She'd dashed off a scroll to her parents immediately on returning to Gryffindor, making her excuses, saying she'd stay at Hogwarts while actually preparing to take the Knight Bus to Grimmauld Place the instant term ended. In any case, she lied to her parents--and just now lied to Cho--because Hermione knew that Harry Potter was far more important at the moment.
Not that she felt anything like love for Harry Potter; Merlin forbid! They were friends, and Harry was one of the few people at Hogwarts she could call a friend. She couldn't help being herself, but so many of her schoolmates saw her as a bossy, insufferable know-all. That included Harry and Ron Weasley at times.
But Harry and Cho? It just wasn't right. Harry was so ... complicated, caught up in being the Boy Who Lived, in seeing Cedric murdered and Voldemort brought back before his very eyes--seeing his own mother be killed for his sake, if it came to that, even though he was too young to remember or even understand.
Of course, Cho had her own complications, of a totally different kind. She obviously had feelings for Harry; Hermione could sense it months ago, in the office where they gathered before the Second Task. She has a lot to work through, poor thing, but so does Harry, and does he really need anyone in his life so--complicated? Perhaps they'd both benefit from some time apart--well, perhaps the kiss put the kibosh on that possibility altogether. And now she probably WILL want to see him outside the DA meetings. Personally, though, Hermione thought, I wouldn't shed a tear if they didn't get together.
xxx
By the time the holiday rolled around, everyone seemed glad to desert the school--or perhaps it was just about getting away from Umbridge. The sleds that took them to the station moved at a brisk pace, and those with upperclassmen seemed quieter than usual, since they knew now exactly what pulled those sleds. Luna apparently knew about the thestrals years ago, and couldn't stop commenting on them, whether anyone was listening or not.
Cho stopped listening before they got to the station; it was what one did with Luna. She had other things to worry about. She'd found presents for her parents in Hogsmeade in October; that was one less worry. But now the holidays, and whatever might happen. It would be just like Voldemort to fire off a salvo in a new wizarding war just at Christmas...
She sat in a compartment full of mostly younger Ravenclaws, but they didn't say a word to her and she didn't say anything to them. She couldn't tell anyone the one thing she wanted to shout from the top of the Astronomy Tower: that she had kissed Harry Potter, that he had kissed her, that they were in love--weren't they?
Cho didn't really understand what was happening, and didn't understand why she didn't understand. After all, she'd been down this road with Cedric, hadn't she? Why was the path so unrecognizable now?
Cedric; would anyone say anything about that? Surely not; it had been almost six months exactly since Cedric was killed; probably what they call a "decent interval." The only ones who might think ill of her would be lowlife belly-crawling dust-eating Slytherins, and they never liked her anyway, or Cedric.
So why didn't she say anything?
Because she was certain of one thing: this was all still uncertain. It was still too new, too unsettled. She had hoped that, after the kiss, she and Harry could have the Nice Long Talk; discuss their hopes, their fears, their dreams, and she could tell him how she'd fancied him since their first match, and find out from him whether he felt the same. They'd talk about their plans for life after Hogwarts, about their families...
and there's a real problem, Cho thought as she felt her heart chill. Mother didn't approve of Cedric at all. Harry is far more accomplished a wizard, even as young as he is; is she going to object because he, too, isn't Chinese? Or is she going to take over the whole relationship, taking the credit at some future date for bringing us together in the first place, never giving us a bit of rest; how can I possibly tell her yet?
At one point she took to pacing the train's corridors for an hour, trying to settle her tossed emotions. All that accomplished was that she passed Luna Lovegood coming and going, causing Luna, who only wanted to help, to suggest an extract of medusa venom mixed with chalk from the Dover cliffs to settle her nerves.
"I'll, erm, remember that when I'm in town. Excuse me, Luna, you live near the Weasley's, don't you?"
She nodded. "I'm in Ottery St. Catchpole, you know, and the Burrow is just over the hills."
"Yes. Well, have you heard anything about Mister Weasley being in hospital?"
"No, I haven't." She took a quick look around, then lowered her voice. "But my father has."
"And?"
"Well, the Prophet won't breathe a word of it, but my father has his sources, and he says that a great monster snake almost killed Mister Weasley! And you'll never guess where..."
"Where, then?"
"In the Ministry itself!" Luna looked triumphant; Cho must have looked confused, so Luna went right on: "Fudge's been buying these great monstrous poisonous snakes from Draco Malfoy's dad--he breeds 'em under Malfoy Manor, you know. Then Fudge sets them all along the corridors after hours. To protect--things."
"Such as what?"
"Oh, all the nasty little secrets Fudge keeps as Minister of Magic. My dad tells me there are whole suites of rooms in the Ministry that are like Gringott vaults; it's worth your life to be anywhere near them."
Cho's head was starting to spin, partly from not having lunch yet but also from this story. "But Mister Weasley..."
"Still in Saint Mungo's. Right as dodgers except his snakebite won't heal. Something Dark that Malfoy Senior bred into the snakes' venom."
Cho couldn't think of anything to say except, "Ah." After a pause, "Well, thanks for clearing that up. Happy Christmas, Luna."
"Dinosaurs, Cho."
"Beg your pardon?"
"There's dinosaur bones in the White Cliffs, millions of years old. That's what evens out the medusa venom and makes the potion so effective."
"Oh. Thanks again."
"Happy Christmas, Cho!" And, for no apparent reason, Luna turned and ran up the corridor.
xxx
Cho dreaded what would happen at King's Cross. So far, absolutely nothing was happening over the holiday that was according to plan. Since the kiss and finding out that Harry was not stuck in Hogwarts after all, she'd hoped that they could ride up together on the Hogwarts Express, maybe see each other once or twice over the holidays--even if it meant going to the Weasleys in Devon. But this accident, or whatever had happened to Mr. Weasley, ruled that out. The train trip turned out to be glum and lonely, interrupted only by the bizarre exchange with Luna about killer snakes in the Ministry of Magic. Merlin only knew what the rest of the holidays would be like.
When she got off the train with a suitcase and Quan Yin in her cage, there was Lotus Chang. She didn't even speak to Cho until they were through the barrier and halfway to the taxi stand.
"I'm going to tell you something, and I'm telling you here, because I don't want a scene."
Cho's jaw was already clenched as she stared straight ahead. "What is it, mother?"
"We're having people over for Christmas Eve."
Who could it be; some other teenaged (or older) Chinese wizard Cho was supposed to be betrothed to? "Anyone I know, mother?"
"Celia and Amos Diggory."
The thud of Cho's suitcase hitting the floor, and the clatter of the cage and the screech of the owl inside it, echoed from one end of King's Cross to the other.
xxx
For the next three days Lotus and Cho were either waiting on customers in the shoppe, where they maintained a stony silence toward each other, or they screamed at each other in Chinese. Screamed was the only possible word for it: their voices were high, shrill, very loud and very angry.
"You know how I feel about them!" Cho would scream. "I told you what he said about me!"
"And YOU know what we told you about your father's business!" her mother would scream back. "If you can't put your feelings aside for one night, then your going to Hogwarts was for nothing! Your being Sorted into Ravenclaw was for nothing! You are too stupid to survive in the world!"
Nothing was thrown, however, and, after the three days of screaming, they settled into a frozen quiet. Cho knew, after all, that this was a matter of business. Chang Xiemin had arranged his Ministry contract through Amos Diggory, and pretended not to know that Amos had refused to allow his son Cedric to even think of marrying Cho, pretended not to know that Amos had called Cho a "squinty-eyed little alien." It was part of the price of doing business. He would make it up to Cho with this year's present--he hoped.
Cho knew what she wanted from her parents for Christmas: nothing. Absolutely nothing. She'd gotten her mother a new peach-coloured lounging-robe (not that Lotus Chang ever did anything like lounging, but Cho hoped that someday she would take the hint), and for her father had found a somewhat worn but still intact and interesting copy of the "Zoologicum Fantasticum" from 1585. She was glad enough to give these presents, but didn't want anything from the people who sprung the Diggorys on her.
Cho was working the shop on Christmas Eve. They didn't do as much business as, say Quality Quidditch Supplies during the holidays, but there always seemed to be some wizarding family or other realizing at the last moment that some important potion was lacking a key ingredient. Holiday requests always seemed to be very odd, and their purchasers in a hurry.
Just at sunset a humpbacked hag dashed into the shoppe. She couldn't even straighten up to look Cho in the eye, but simply barked out, "A pound of belladonna and two ounces of powdered manticore horn! And be quick about it; I have to be back in twenty minutes or the whole batch is worthless!"
A typical holiday customer. Cho quickly and quietly filled her order, took the hag's Sickles, then opened the door for her to leave. It was when she opened the door that she saw them.
She couldn't tell how long they'd been standing on the other side of Diagon Alley, just looking at the shoppe. But a light snow had started falling around noon, and they had to have been standing in the open for at least five minutes, judging from the snow on their robes. When they saw the door open, they started across the road. Cho stayed rooted to the spot as they came in.
Celia Diggory had seemed a patient and kindly woman when Cho met her in June, but also with reserves of strength. Not now; her eyes seemed hollow, almost as lifeless as if she was under Imperium. And Amos-- the brown whiskers were now shot through with silver, he must have lost twenty pounds, and his cheeks were ruddier than usual. As they passed her coming into the shoppe, Cho could smell the reason for Amos Diggory's ruddy complexion: firewhiskey. It was then Cho noticed that Celia held Amos's arm, and was using it to steer him.
Cho locked the shoppe door, drew the curtain and went upstairs, telling her mother simply, "They're here."
Lotus, who had been setting the table, simply said, "Change into your dress robes."
"Mother, I'm not..."
"We have company, and that means your dress robes. Now!"
Cho stared at her mother, unbelieving, then turned and went to her bedroom. In her wardrobe, where it had hung since she unpacked it in June, were her dress robes: pale blue, with a string of pearls in the pocket. She hadn't worn it since the night she danced with Cedric Diggory.
She put on the robes, felt the pearls, pulled them out and threw them on the bed. She also felt the black lacquered comb in her pocket; although her hair was now much shorter, she could still use it to gather her hair into a tight, severe bun on the back of her head. When she was done, she looked in the mirror.
It was what she wore last Christmas, but the dress was on a very different girl.
I won't cry for him tonight, she swore to herself. I won't cry.
She was too angry to cry.
xxx
Dinner was a little strained. Cho's parents and Celia Diggory tried to keep up small talk, much of it centering on the food (which featured roast beef and a goose prepared in the manner of Peking duck) and events mentioned in the Prophet. Once or twice Cho's father (addressed as James, the Anglo name he used for business purposes) would try to get a comment out of Amos Diggory, but Amos sat sullenly at the table, picking at the food on his plate, and had to be prompted by his wife for even a word or two.
Cho refused to say a word unless she absolutely had to.
They moved from the dining room to the parlour for coffee and dessert (pumpkin parfait). By this time, the atmosphere had thawed a bit, and Amos even joined in the conversation on his own, although he only spoke a word or two when he did. Cho sat apart from the grown-ups and was seldom addressed by them now. She preferred that. Wearing her dress robes for the first time since the Yule Ball was torture, like the nightmare about the machine that carved her crime into her back. It was all she could do to sit silently through dinner without screaming at the constant reminder of what she had felt, what she had lost...
"Well, I think Christmas has always been a bit of an imperfect fit for us all," Lotus was chatting away as she poured more coffee for Celia. "Just a bit too Muggle. Halloween has always been more to the point. Although when she was young, about five or six..."
She wouldn't, would she?
"...Cho was in a Muggle school at the time, a very good one..."
Don't do it, mother.
"...put her little hand up and told them she'd written a Halloween song."
"Really? How clever," Celia Diggory gave a small smile and a nervous glance at Cho.
"Well, she's Ravenclaw, after all," Lotus smiled. "Although the Ministry had to do a little bit of Memory Modification. Cho, dear, you remember that song, don't you?"
"I ... I don't think I do, mother."
"Of course you remember it," Lotus said, her smile a bit more metallic. "Give it a try, then."
She had dreaded just this: a nightmare while she was awake. She swallowed, and started in a small voice, with the words she had matched as a child to the song about King Wenceslas:
"Bad old You-Know-Who is dead,
Thanks to Harry Potter.
We lived lives of fear and dread,
Now we needn't bother.
He..."
She stopped. "That's all I can remember."
"Nonsense," her mother said proudly. "Go on, then."
"STOP IT!" Cho was on her feet before she realized it. She'd held herself in for two hours, since the Diggorys arrived, and she'd finally reached her limit. "Stop pretending that that song is anything but a lie! Do you want to know what Hogwarts did for Halloween this year? Nothing; absolutely nothing! No banquet, no special entertainment. The Ministry can say what it likes; the Prophet can say what it likes, but Dumbledore knows the truth of it: Voldemort is alive."
"CHO!" Lotus looked as if Cho had just torn her robes off.
"Stop putting on an act, mother; you know the truth of it!"
"Fudge."
Everyone turned to look at Amos Diggory. This was the first word he'd spoken in twenty minutes. He sat on a sofa next to his wife, staring straight ahead.
"Fudge," he repeated. "Bagman. Crouch. You work with these people for years. And you trust them. You put your life in their hands, and the lives of everyone you love, because they tell you they know what they're doing." Tears started rolling down his cheeks. "So you swallow your tongue, and you keep still, and you trust the ones who say they know better ... and it all turns to shit." Amos completely broke down, covering his face with his hands and sobbing uncontrollably.
"There, there, old man," Cho's father said, walking over to Amos and putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Cho," Lotus said pointedly, glaring at her daughter, "show Missus Diggory the rest of the flat, won't you?"
Lotus was plainly dismissing them. Celia was already standing by the door. Cho opened it and swept past her, not even caring if she followed.
But Mrs. Diggory followed, and the two simply stood in the hallway. "I suppose you've seen the flat before?" Cho asked.
Celia Diggory nodded. "Your mother's going to prepare a potion for him; she's done it before." She hesitated; when she spoke again, her voice was heavy with emotion. "You have to believe me, I didn't mean for things to turn out like this."
"Nor did I." Cho rounded angrily on Mrs. Diggory. "My wish was to be with Cedric. Your wish was that I have nothing to do with him. At least one of us got what we wanted." Cho turned her back and started upstairs to her room.
"Cho!"
Cho stopped, hesitated, then turned. Celia Diggory, now also crying openly, stood holding out a yellow envelope toward Cho. Cho recognized it as Cedric's special stationary, in Hufflepuff yellow.
"Cedric..." Her voice cracked, but then she continued. "Cedric gave us this, just before the Third Task. We wanted you to see it before we left, but you wouldn't see us. Please take it: he wrote it for us, but I'm sure he meant it for you."
The little food Cho had eaten at dinner felt as if it had turned into a lead cauldron in her stomach. She reached out for the envelope in Celia Diggory's trembling hand, but just as she touched it...
"Celia!"
Lotus. Mrs. Diggory let go of the envelope, turned and went back into the parlour, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself.
Cho stared for a minute at the envelope, at the handwriting she thought she'd never see again, then thrust the envelope into a pocket of her robes and followed Mrs. Diggory.
Celia Diggory was again on the sofa next to her husband, talking softly to him while he stared at his hands in his lap.
"Will he be all right?" Cho's father asked. "I really think he's in no condition to Apparate."
"Don't worry," Celia said. "My mother still lives in town, and we were going to spend tomorrow with her anyway. We'll just be early, is all."
"Perhaps you can get a room at the Leaky Cauldron," Lotus suggested.
"On Christmas Eve? I don't think so. We'll be fine. We," Celia hesitated. "We've done this before."
So they all went down together to see the Diggorys off. Amos wasn't saying anything, and probably felt thoroughly ashamed. Cho's parents exchanged pleasantries with the Diggorys at the door, but the moment they were gone, Cho ran upstairs to her room, slammed and locked the door, tore off her dress robes and threw them in the corner. She couldn't have stood the feel of them against her skin one more minute.
xxx
Breakfast on Christmas morning was just as quiet as dinner had been the night before. Lotus seemed to have more than a few opinions she wanted to express to her daughter, but was apparently holding her tongue in honour of the season. Cho was doing the same. Chang Xiemin expected that one or both of them would explode around sundown.
Just when breakfast ended, and before anyone could suggest opening presents, there was a loud knock on the shoppe door.
"I'll get it," Cho said quickly, and was up and dashing down the stairs before either of her parents could say anything.
Cho welcomed the interruption. Having the Diggorys over was bad enough, with their constant reminder of their opposition to Cedric seeing her. Last night, she realized something she hadn't wanted to realize: how badly Cedric's death was still hurting them. She didn't like to think that they had any common ground at all. It was so much easier to think of them as monsters...
Cho saw a young witch at the door; she looked to be about thirty years old, and had a tanned complexion. She was tightly bundled up in winter cloaks, as if she wasn't used to the cold of London.
Cho opened the door, but didn't ask the witch to step inside.
The witch looked at a scrap of paper. "Would you be Cho Chang, then?" she asked in a rather broad accent.
"I am."
"Ah; well, then. I'm Amanda Tewksbury; my husband and I are in town from Auckland, New Zealand. My great-uncle Gridpipe works down at Quality Quidditch."
"Ah, yes," Cho smiled, remembering how he had taken the train to Hogwarts to see her play just a few weeks earlier. "How is he?"
"Not very good, I'm afraid. His liver hasn't been in the best of shape for years now, and his heart's starting to go; he entered Saint Mungo's a couple of days ago. We think it's just a matter of time now."
"I'm ... sorry," Cho said, no longer sure what to say.
"Don't be," Tewksbury said with a half-smile. "He's had a good long run. And he said there was only one thing he wanted to accomplish in his last days, and this is it." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small box and handed it to Cho. "Happy Christmas, then."
Before Cho could utter a single word, the witch turned and walked off.
"Who was that?" her father called from the top of the stairs.
"A present from..." Cho didn't finish the sentence. She had seen a bit of parchment sticking out from under the lid of the box. When she pulled it out, it turned out to be part of a letter.
"Dear Miss Chang,
They say I haven't many days left, but please don't weep for me. I've had a wonderful long life, and spent most of my days in the sport of Quidditch. A few wars and things were just minor interruptions. And now, before I pass through the Veil, there's something I've got to do. In the box you're holding is something I've treasured for years. And, since I have no son to leave it to, and since I know how much heart you bring to the sport, I feel it will rest easiest if it rests with you.
Remember that Quidditch is only as great as the hearts of those who play it. Think fondly of an old man, who spent a Saturday morning watching young wizards and witches at Quidditch, and saw in them something of his own youth.
Sigismond Gridpipe"
"What's going on?" Cho's parents, hearing nothing, had come downstairs to the shoppe. They saw their daughter finish reading a scroll, then look carefully into a small box. She turned toward them, her eyes as wide as they'd ever seen her, as she held the box out toward them. Inside was a small mettalic ball, just larger than a walnut. This one, however, was slightly larger than normal; it was a Snitch used in regulation play earlier in the century. Except that words had been engraved onto this Snitch:
Good game, Gridpipe
Eunice Murray
5 May 1937
xxx
All during lunch, Cho told her parents about her meeting Gridpipe just before the World Cup, and about his coming to Hogwarts to see her play a few weeks ago. From there, she went on to tell everything she could think of about Eunice Murray, who her parents only knew by reputation--but that was still enough for them to be impressed by the gift of an autographed Snitch.
"So," her father said in a deliberately offhand manner, "we could sell that for, what, a couple hundred Galleons?"
"Thousands, more likely, and you're NOT selling it!" Cho was sure her father was teasing her--reasonably sure.
"Then it's going into Gringott's first thing tomorrow," Lotus said firmly. "Just imagine if the cat thought it was a new toy!"
"I still can't believe it," Cho said, looking into the box for the hundredth time during lunch. She hadn't let the Snitch out of arm's reach since it arrived.
"Yes," Lotus replied, "that little hunk of enchanted metal could put you through Hogwarts next year."
"While we're on the subject," Cho's father said, pushing himself away from the table, "let's get the gifts out of the way right now."
He led his family into the den, where Cho saw that there were noticeably fewer gifts under the tree this year. His gifts to her parents, and their gifts to each other; that was all. The gifts had all been given in five minutes, and Cho had gotten nothing.
Her parents had never done this before; given her nothing. Even during a bad patch of business years earlier, Cho had at least been given a book. Had she done something to make them angry?
"Have a seat, Cho."
Cho, who was already seated on the floor by the tree, seemed puzzled.
"In the chair, dear," Lotus said. "This is important."
A very curious Cho did as she was told.
"This year," began her father, "business has been better than usual, thanks to the Ministry contract. We've been in a better position than usual to buy you, well, just about anything you wanted for Christmas. But, Cho, I'm sorry to bring it up, but this year has taught us that, sometimes, what's most important isn't a thing, isn't something you can buy or sell or give away."
Cho nodded. Her father seemed to be talking about Cedric, but she was utterly confused as to where this was going.
"We have to be honest with you," her mother continued the speech. "We may not have approved of your playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, but we've seen and heard you work at it for the past six years, work more diligently than anything you've ever done in your life. We've kept in touch with your Professor Hooch, who told us of your skills; we've spoken with your old Captain Culligan..."
"You've talked to Mackie?" Cho burst out.
"He came by the shoppe about a year ago, during the Tournament," said her father. "We struck up a conversation, and he told us everything you neglected to tell us. Regarding your tryouts, I mean."
Cho now knew; this wasn't really a Christmas present, it was an Inquisition. Her face burned as she looked down at her clenched hands. "If you knew I'd broken bones during the tryout, I thought you'd tell me I could never be on the team."
"Nonsense," Lotus said, as if the thought would never have crossed her mind. "We know Quidditch is a rough sport, and that these things are bound to happen. But if you refused to let broken bones dissuade you from playing, we knew exactly how serious you were. As I was saying," she arched an eyebrow at Cho, "we've spoken with Culligan, with Hooch, with your Professor Flitwick to verify that your studies haven't been suffering. I suppose what decided things for us was meeting poor Mister Gridpipe. The way he spoke about how you played the other day, and your obvious knowledge of Quidditch and love of the game, you would have thought he was an uncle."
"I know you have one more year at Hogwarts," her father said, taking an envelope out of a desk drawer. "But at the end of this year, I am going to give you this letter, which you will deliver personally. I'll keep it until then. It's addressed to Philander Dreadly."
Philander Dreadly?! "The manager of the Tornadoes??"
"It's a reminder of something he and I spoke of a little while ago. This summer, in addition to your usual work with the team, he is going to give you a tryout."
Cho was glad she was sitting down, because she felt everything go limp. This wasn't happening; her parents, who had threatened to disown her when she said she wanted to play Quidditch at Hogwarts, had arranged an audition with her favorite team...
"You're welcome, I'm sure," Lotus said archly.
As she did when she found out they were going to the World Cup, Cho launched herself out of her chair and threw herself at her parents, trying to hug them both at once. Her father allowed one hug, then got up from the sofa, muttering something about seeing "what the cat has gotten up to," and left the parlour.
Cho realized that she was actually sitting on her mother's lap; something she couldn't ever remember doing, even as an infant. And Lotus didn't seem to mind.
"And by the way, my little Horse," Lotus said gently, stroking Cho's hair (or what was left of it), "don't think you're the first child who ever tried to resist the advice of her mother. I could tell you tales about the fights I had with your Granny Li."
"Please."
"What's that, Cho?"
"Please tell me about you and your mother. You've never told me before."
So Lotus did. For two hours she recalled the mischief she had gotten into as a child, and the resulting arguments with her mother, holding Cho all the while. It was a Christmas utterly unlike any Cho had ever had.
It was wonderful.
xxx
to be continued in part 20, wherein Cho returns to Hogwarts to find a new edict from Umbridge, a new problem with Marietta, and a new hope with Harry...
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-13 (for language)
Spoilers: Everything
xxx
19. They Came Bearing Gifts
Cho had another disturbing dream that night--one she hadn't had before. It was the Second Task, but she was the only one tied to the statue at the bottom of the lake. If there were others there, she couldn't tell; maybe they'd been freed already. She waited, patiently.
After a while, she saw Harry--and Cedric. They were approaching from different directions, but both intent on rescuing Cho. Until they got within two or three yards of Cho; then, noticing each other, they attacked. Both had daggers drawn, ready to cut Cho's bonds, but, when they swam toward each other, they had their daggers brandished as weapons against each other.
Cho could only watch in silence, unable to move, as Cedric brought his blade up from below, sticking Harry in his ribcage. Cho could see the blood pumping out, staining the filthy lake-water. Harry, for his part, saw that Cedric had his head inside a large glass globe; he struck the globe with the handle of the dagger. The glass shattered; Cedric let go of the dagger still in Harry's side. Cho watched as both of them struggled toward the surface.
Was that it, then? Would Cho be rescued, or had she been forgotten? A crowd of merpeople began to assemble, watching Cho greedily, their open mouths showing rows of sharp, pointed teeth...
As if some signal had been given, they rushed toward her, stripping off her robes, every bit of her clothing, and began sinking their teeth into her pale flesh...
"HELP ME!"
Cho was awake by this time, and realized she was sitting up in her dormitory bed, clutching the covers as if she meant to tear them in half. She was looking at the bed-curtains as they opened, revealing Marietta with a flagon, with some kind of sleeping draught, no doubt.
Cho thought she could speak, but her mouth was suddenly dry. After clearing her throat she tried again. "Thanks, but I don't think I'll be needing that tonight."
Marietta looked dubious. "You'd know, I suppose. What was that one about, then?"
"It was ... Chinese; nothing to do with Cedric or the Tournament."
Marietta stood there for a minute before she shrugged and closed Cho's curtains.
Why did you do that? Cho scolded herself. But she knew the reason, because Marietta had a fair idea of what happened after the D.A. class was dismissed. As public as she'd been with Cedric in her affections, she wondered why she didn't feel the same about Harry.
Well, they're so different, she told herself. Cedric was two years older and so self-assured. I wasn't the first girl he'd ever kissed, even though I knew that none of the others ever meant anything to him. But everything was so strange to me, so I let him guide me through it all. And he was happy to lead me.
And now, here I am, a year older than Harry, and he must surely be as naive as I used to be. Shall I have to push him in the right direction? Would he be angry if I did? Should I try to be as naive as Harry? Does he expect to give me the lead?
As she drifted back to sleep, she decided to "just take everything as it comes."
xxx
As she prepared for class in the morning she was almost singing; the dream of the night before had been replaced by memories of Harry and the kiss. She'd try to catch up with Harry again; maybe make some arrangements about meeting during the holidays--if Harry's going to be with the Weasleys, near Ottery St. Catchpole, maybe Cho could find a day to Floo over to the Fawcetts, or even the Lovegoods. Merlin only knows what kind of Christmas tree Luna would have at her house, though; possibly a Mimbulus. With Luna Lovegood, nothing was impossible.
But, although Cho was early to breakfast and lingered for an hour, Harry never showed. Nor was he there for lunch. She knew she couldn't just sit there; she had to find out what was happening. Did Harry have second thoughts? Was he avoiding her? Who would tell her the truth of it?
At that moment Hermione Granger walked into the Great Hall, reading up on Ancient Runes as she walked. Cho hesitated, then walked over to intercept Hermione. "Excuse me."
"Oh! Hello, Cho."
"Have you..." and Cho realized she was blushing but couldn't stop it, "have you seen Harry anywhere about?"
"Ah! You won't have heard. He, erm, left late last night."
"Left?!"
"Yes. We'd, erm, heard that Ron Weasley's father got into a terrible accident and was in hospital. Ron had to go back home right away, and Harry went with him."
"Is it serious?"
"The Healers were still working on him, last I heard. But I think he'll be just fine."
"Are you ... going to see him, then?"
"Oh, no, that is, I'm off with my parents to the French Alps. We'll be doing a bit of skiing."
"That's nice."
They stood facing each other, each apparently waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Cho said, "Well, I'd better get to class. Happy Christmas."
"Same to you," Hermione said as Cho was already headed out the door.
As Hermione Granger watched Cho leave the Great Hall, she started turning over and over in her mind what she had just done, and why she'd done it.
She didn't think of it as lying to Cho. Dumbledore had sent for her first thing in the morning and laid out the whole awful story about Harry and Arthur Weasley and the serpent. She'd dashed off a scroll to her parents immediately on returning to Gryffindor, making her excuses, saying she'd stay at Hogwarts while actually preparing to take the Knight Bus to Grimmauld Place the instant term ended. In any case, she lied to her parents--and just now lied to Cho--because Hermione knew that Harry Potter was far more important at the moment.
Not that she felt anything like love for Harry Potter; Merlin forbid! They were friends, and Harry was one of the few people at Hogwarts she could call a friend. She couldn't help being herself, but so many of her schoolmates saw her as a bossy, insufferable know-all. That included Harry and Ron Weasley at times.
But Harry and Cho? It just wasn't right. Harry was so ... complicated, caught up in being the Boy Who Lived, in seeing Cedric murdered and Voldemort brought back before his very eyes--seeing his own mother be killed for his sake, if it came to that, even though he was too young to remember or even understand.
Of course, Cho had her own complications, of a totally different kind. She obviously had feelings for Harry; Hermione could sense it months ago, in the office where they gathered before the Second Task. She has a lot to work through, poor thing, but so does Harry, and does he really need anyone in his life so--complicated? Perhaps they'd both benefit from some time apart--well, perhaps the kiss put the kibosh on that possibility altogether. And now she probably WILL want to see him outside the DA meetings. Personally, though, Hermione thought, I wouldn't shed a tear if they didn't get together.
xxx
By the time the holiday rolled around, everyone seemed glad to desert the school--or perhaps it was just about getting away from Umbridge. The sleds that took them to the station moved at a brisk pace, and those with upperclassmen seemed quieter than usual, since they knew now exactly what pulled those sleds. Luna apparently knew about the thestrals years ago, and couldn't stop commenting on them, whether anyone was listening or not.
Cho stopped listening before they got to the station; it was what one did with Luna. She had other things to worry about. She'd found presents for her parents in Hogsmeade in October; that was one less worry. But now the holidays, and whatever might happen. It would be just like Voldemort to fire off a salvo in a new wizarding war just at Christmas...
She sat in a compartment full of mostly younger Ravenclaws, but they didn't say a word to her and she didn't say anything to them. She couldn't tell anyone the one thing she wanted to shout from the top of the Astronomy Tower: that she had kissed Harry Potter, that he had kissed her, that they were in love--weren't they?
Cho didn't really understand what was happening, and didn't understand why she didn't understand. After all, she'd been down this road with Cedric, hadn't she? Why was the path so unrecognizable now?
Cedric; would anyone say anything about that? Surely not; it had been almost six months exactly since Cedric was killed; probably what they call a "decent interval." The only ones who might think ill of her would be lowlife belly-crawling dust-eating Slytherins, and they never liked her anyway, or Cedric.
So why didn't she say anything?
Because she was certain of one thing: this was all still uncertain. It was still too new, too unsettled. She had hoped that, after the kiss, she and Harry could have the Nice Long Talk; discuss their hopes, their fears, their dreams, and she could tell him how she'd fancied him since their first match, and find out from him whether he felt the same. They'd talk about their plans for life after Hogwarts, about their families...
and there's a real problem, Cho thought as she felt her heart chill. Mother didn't approve of Cedric at all. Harry is far more accomplished a wizard, even as young as he is; is she going to object because he, too, isn't Chinese? Or is she going to take over the whole relationship, taking the credit at some future date for bringing us together in the first place, never giving us a bit of rest; how can I possibly tell her yet?
At one point she took to pacing the train's corridors for an hour, trying to settle her tossed emotions. All that accomplished was that she passed Luna Lovegood coming and going, causing Luna, who only wanted to help, to suggest an extract of medusa venom mixed with chalk from the Dover cliffs to settle her nerves.
"I'll, erm, remember that when I'm in town. Excuse me, Luna, you live near the Weasley's, don't you?"
She nodded. "I'm in Ottery St. Catchpole, you know, and the Burrow is just over the hills."
"Yes. Well, have you heard anything about Mister Weasley being in hospital?"
"No, I haven't." She took a quick look around, then lowered her voice. "But my father has."
"And?"
"Well, the Prophet won't breathe a word of it, but my father has his sources, and he says that a great monster snake almost killed Mister Weasley! And you'll never guess where..."
"Where, then?"
"In the Ministry itself!" Luna looked triumphant; Cho must have looked confused, so Luna went right on: "Fudge's been buying these great monstrous poisonous snakes from Draco Malfoy's dad--he breeds 'em under Malfoy Manor, you know. Then Fudge sets them all along the corridors after hours. To protect--things."
"Such as what?"
"Oh, all the nasty little secrets Fudge keeps as Minister of Magic. My dad tells me there are whole suites of rooms in the Ministry that are like Gringott vaults; it's worth your life to be anywhere near them."
Cho's head was starting to spin, partly from not having lunch yet but also from this story. "But Mister Weasley..."
"Still in Saint Mungo's. Right as dodgers except his snakebite won't heal. Something Dark that Malfoy Senior bred into the snakes' venom."
Cho couldn't think of anything to say except, "Ah." After a pause, "Well, thanks for clearing that up. Happy Christmas, Luna."
"Dinosaurs, Cho."
"Beg your pardon?"
"There's dinosaur bones in the White Cliffs, millions of years old. That's what evens out the medusa venom and makes the potion so effective."
"Oh. Thanks again."
"Happy Christmas, Cho!" And, for no apparent reason, Luna turned and ran up the corridor.
xxx
Cho dreaded what would happen at King's Cross. So far, absolutely nothing was happening over the holiday that was according to plan. Since the kiss and finding out that Harry was not stuck in Hogwarts after all, she'd hoped that they could ride up together on the Hogwarts Express, maybe see each other once or twice over the holidays--even if it meant going to the Weasleys in Devon. But this accident, or whatever had happened to Mr. Weasley, ruled that out. The train trip turned out to be glum and lonely, interrupted only by the bizarre exchange with Luna about killer snakes in the Ministry of Magic. Merlin only knew what the rest of the holidays would be like.
When she got off the train with a suitcase and Quan Yin in her cage, there was Lotus Chang. She didn't even speak to Cho until they were through the barrier and halfway to the taxi stand.
"I'm going to tell you something, and I'm telling you here, because I don't want a scene."
Cho's jaw was already clenched as she stared straight ahead. "What is it, mother?"
"We're having people over for Christmas Eve."
Who could it be; some other teenaged (or older) Chinese wizard Cho was supposed to be betrothed to? "Anyone I know, mother?"
"Celia and Amos Diggory."
The thud of Cho's suitcase hitting the floor, and the clatter of the cage and the screech of the owl inside it, echoed from one end of King's Cross to the other.
xxx
For the next three days Lotus and Cho were either waiting on customers in the shoppe, where they maintained a stony silence toward each other, or they screamed at each other in Chinese. Screamed was the only possible word for it: their voices were high, shrill, very loud and very angry.
"You know how I feel about them!" Cho would scream. "I told you what he said about me!"
"And YOU know what we told you about your father's business!" her mother would scream back. "If you can't put your feelings aside for one night, then your going to Hogwarts was for nothing! Your being Sorted into Ravenclaw was for nothing! You are too stupid to survive in the world!"
Nothing was thrown, however, and, after the three days of screaming, they settled into a frozen quiet. Cho knew, after all, that this was a matter of business. Chang Xiemin had arranged his Ministry contract through Amos Diggory, and pretended not to know that Amos had refused to allow his son Cedric to even think of marrying Cho, pretended not to know that Amos had called Cho a "squinty-eyed little alien." It was part of the price of doing business. He would make it up to Cho with this year's present--he hoped.
Cho knew what she wanted from her parents for Christmas: nothing. Absolutely nothing. She'd gotten her mother a new peach-coloured lounging-robe (not that Lotus Chang ever did anything like lounging, but Cho hoped that someday she would take the hint), and for her father had found a somewhat worn but still intact and interesting copy of the "Zoologicum Fantasticum" from 1585. She was glad enough to give these presents, but didn't want anything from the people who sprung the Diggorys on her.
Cho was working the shop on Christmas Eve. They didn't do as much business as, say Quality Quidditch Supplies during the holidays, but there always seemed to be some wizarding family or other realizing at the last moment that some important potion was lacking a key ingredient. Holiday requests always seemed to be very odd, and their purchasers in a hurry.
Just at sunset a humpbacked hag dashed into the shoppe. She couldn't even straighten up to look Cho in the eye, but simply barked out, "A pound of belladonna and two ounces of powdered manticore horn! And be quick about it; I have to be back in twenty minutes or the whole batch is worthless!"
A typical holiday customer. Cho quickly and quietly filled her order, took the hag's Sickles, then opened the door for her to leave. It was when she opened the door that she saw them.
She couldn't tell how long they'd been standing on the other side of Diagon Alley, just looking at the shoppe. But a light snow had started falling around noon, and they had to have been standing in the open for at least five minutes, judging from the snow on their robes. When they saw the door open, they started across the road. Cho stayed rooted to the spot as they came in.
Celia Diggory had seemed a patient and kindly woman when Cho met her in June, but also with reserves of strength. Not now; her eyes seemed hollow, almost as lifeless as if she was under Imperium. And Amos-- the brown whiskers were now shot through with silver, he must have lost twenty pounds, and his cheeks were ruddier than usual. As they passed her coming into the shoppe, Cho could smell the reason for Amos Diggory's ruddy complexion: firewhiskey. It was then Cho noticed that Celia held Amos's arm, and was using it to steer him.
Cho locked the shoppe door, drew the curtain and went upstairs, telling her mother simply, "They're here."
Lotus, who had been setting the table, simply said, "Change into your dress robes."
"Mother, I'm not..."
"We have company, and that means your dress robes. Now!"
Cho stared at her mother, unbelieving, then turned and went to her bedroom. In her wardrobe, where it had hung since she unpacked it in June, were her dress robes: pale blue, with a string of pearls in the pocket. She hadn't worn it since the night she danced with Cedric Diggory.
She put on the robes, felt the pearls, pulled them out and threw them on the bed. She also felt the black lacquered comb in her pocket; although her hair was now much shorter, she could still use it to gather her hair into a tight, severe bun on the back of her head. When she was done, she looked in the mirror.
It was what she wore last Christmas, but the dress was on a very different girl.
I won't cry for him tonight, she swore to herself. I won't cry.
She was too angry to cry.
xxx
Dinner was a little strained. Cho's parents and Celia Diggory tried to keep up small talk, much of it centering on the food (which featured roast beef and a goose prepared in the manner of Peking duck) and events mentioned in the Prophet. Once or twice Cho's father (addressed as James, the Anglo name he used for business purposes) would try to get a comment out of Amos Diggory, but Amos sat sullenly at the table, picking at the food on his plate, and had to be prompted by his wife for even a word or two.
Cho refused to say a word unless she absolutely had to.
They moved from the dining room to the parlour for coffee and dessert (pumpkin parfait). By this time, the atmosphere had thawed a bit, and Amos even joined in the conversation on his own, although he only spoke a word or two when he did. Cho sat apart from the grown-ups and was seldom addressed by them now. She preferred that. Wearing her dress robes for the first time since the Yule Ball was torture, like the nightmare about the machine that carved her crime into her back. It was all she could do to sit silently through dinner without screaming at the constant reminder of what she had felt, what she had lost...
"Well, I think Christmas has always been a bit of an imperfect fit for us all," Lotus was chatting away as she poured more coffee for Celia. "Just a bit too Muggle. Halloween has always been more to the point. Although when she was young, about five or six..."
She wouldn't, would she?
"...Cho was in a Muggle school at the time, a very good one..."
Don't do it, mother.
"...put her little hand up and told them she'd written a Halloween song."
"Really? How clever," Celia Diggory gave a small smile and a nervous glance at Cho.
"Well, she's Ravenclaw, after all," Lotus smiled. "Although the Ministry had to do a little bit of Memory Modification. Cho, dear, you remember that song, don't you?"
"I ... I don't think I do, mother."
"Of course you remember it," Lotus said, her smile a bit more metallic. "Give it a try, then."
She had dreaded just this: a nightmare while she was awake. She swallowed, and started in a small voice, with the words she had matched as a child to the song about King Wenceslas:
"Bad old You-Know-Who is dead,
Thanks to Harry Potter.
We lived lives of fear and dread,
Now we needn't bother.
He..."
She stopped. "That's all I can remember."
"Nonsense," her mother said proudly. "Go on, then."
"STOP IT!" Cho was on her feet before she realized it. She'd held herself in for two hours, since the Diggorys arrived, and she'd finally reached her limit. "Stop pretending that that song is anything but a lie! Do you want to know what Hogwarts did for Halloween this year? Nothing; absolutely nothing! No banquet, no special entertainment. The Ministry can say what it likes; the Prophet can say what it likes, but Dumbledore knows the truth of it: Voldemort is alive."
"CHO!" Lotus looked as if Cho had just torn her robes off.
"Stop putting on an act, mother; you know the truth of it!"
"Fudge."
Everyone turned to look at Amos Diggory. This was the first word he'd spoken in twenty minutes. He sat on a sofa next to his wife, staring straight ahead.
"Fudge," he repeated. "Bagman. Crouch. You work with these people for years. And you trust them. You put your life in their hands, and the lives of everyone you love, because they tell you they know what they're doing." Tears started rolling down his cheeks. "So you swallow your tongue, and you keep still, and you trust the ones who say they know better ... and it all turns to shit." Amos completely broke down, covering his face with his hands and sobbing uncontrollably.
"There, there, old man," Cho's father said, walking over to Amos and putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Cho," Lotus said pointedly, glaring at her daughter, "show Missus Diggory the rest of the flat, won't you?"
Lotus was plainly dismissing them. Celia was already standing by the door. Cho opened it and swept past her, not even caring if she followed.
But Mrs. Diggory followed, and the two simply stood in the hallway. "I suppose you've seen the flat before?" Cho asked.
Celia Diggory nodded. "Your mother's going to prepare a potion for him; she's done it before." She hesitated; when she spoke again, her voice was heavy with emotion. "You have to believe me, I didn't mean for things to turn out like this."
"Nor did I." Cho rounded angrily on Mrs. Diggory. "My wish was to be with Cedric. Your wish was that I have nothing to do with him. At least one of us got what we wanted." Cho turned her back and started upstairs to her room.
"Cho!"
Cho stopped, hesitated, then turned. Celia Diggory, now also crying openly, stood holding out a yellow envelope toward Cho. Cho recognized it as Cedric's special stationary, in Hufflepuff yellow.
"Cedric..." Her voice cracked, but then she continued. "Cedric gave us this, just before the Third Task. We wanted you to see it before we left, but you wouldn't see us. Please take it: he wrote it for us, but I'm sure he meant it for you."
The little food Cho had eaten at dinner felt as if it had turned into a lead cauldron in her stomach. She reached out for the envelope in Celia Diggory's trembling hand, but just as she touched it...
"Celia!"
Lotus. Mrs. Diggory let go of the envelope, turned and went back into the parlour, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself.
Cho stared for a minute at the envelope, at the handwriting she thought she'd never see again, then thrust the envelope into a pocket of her robes and followed Mrs. Diggory.
Celia Diggory was again on the sofa next to her husband, talking softly to him while he stared at his hands in his lap.
"Will he be all right?" Cho's father asked. "I really think he's in no condition to Apparate."
"Don't worry," Celia said. "My mother still lives in town, and we were going to spend tomorrow with her anyway. We'll just be early, is all."
"Perhaps you can get a room at the Leaky Cauldron," Lotus suggested.
"On Christmas Eve? I don't think so. We'll be fine. We," Celia hesitated. "We've done this before."
So they all went down together to see the Diggorys off. Amos wasn't saying anything, and probably felt thoroughly ashamed. Cho's parents exchanged pleasantries with the Diggorys at the door, but the moment they were gone, Cho ran upstairs to her room, slammed and locked the door, tore off her dress robes and threw them in the corner. She couldn't have stood the feel of them against her skin one more minute.
xxx
Breakfast on Christmas morning was just as quiet as dinner had been the night before. Lotus seemed to have more than a few opinions she wanted to express to her daughter, but was apparently holding her tongue in honour of the season. Cho was doing the same. Chang Xiemin expected that one or both of them would explode around sundown.
Just when breakfast ended, and before anyone could suggest opening presents, there was a loud knock on the shoppe door.
"I'll get it," Cho said quickly, and was up and dashing down the stairs before either of her parents could say anything.
Cho welcomed the interruption. Having the Diggorys over was bad enough, with their constant reminder of their opposition to Cedric seeing her. Last night, she realized something she hadn't wanted to realize: how badly Cedric's death was still hurting them. She didn't like to think that they had any common ground at all. It was so much easier to think of them as monsters...
Cho saw a young witch at the door; she looked to be about thirty years old, and had a tanned complexion. She was tightly bundled up in winter cloaks, as if she wasn't used to the cold of London.
Cho opened the door, but didn't ask the witch to step inside.
The witch looked at a scrap of paper. "Would you be Cho Chang, then?" she asked in a rather broad accent.
"I am."
"Ah; well, then. I'm Amanda Tewksbury; my husband and I are in town from Auckland, New Zealand. My great-uncle Gridpipe works down at Quality Quidditch."
"Ah, yes," Cho smiled, remembering how he had taken the train to Hogwarts to see her play just a few weeks earlier. "How is he?"
"Not very good, I'm afraid. His liver hasn't been in the best of shape for years now, and his heart's starting to go; he entered Saint Mungo's a couple of days ago. We think it's just a matter of time now."
"I'm ... sorry," Cho said, no longer sure what to say.
"Don't be," Tewksbury said with a half-smile. "He's had a good long run. And he said there was only one thing he wanted to accomplish in his last days, and this is it." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small box and handed it to Cho. "Happy Christmas, then."
Before Cho could utter a single word, the witch turned and walked off.
"Who was that?" her father called from the top of the stairs.
"A present from..." Cho didn't finish the sentence. She had seen a bit of parchment sticking out from under the lid of the box. When she pulled it out, it turned out to be part of a letter.
"Dear Miss Chang,
They say I haven't many days left, but please don't weep for me. I've had a wonderful long life, and spent most of my days in the sport of Quidditch. A few wars and things were just minor interruptions. And now, before I pass through the Veil, there's something I've got to do. In the box you're holding is something I've treasured for years. And, since I have no son to leave it to, and since I know how much heart you bring to the sport, I feel it will rest easiest if it rests with you.
Remember that Quidditch is only as great as the hearts of those who play it. Think fondly of an old man, who spent a Saturday morning watching young wizards and witches at Quidditch, and saw in them something of his own youth.
Sigismond Gridpipe"
"What's going on?" Cho's parents, hearing nothing, had come downstairs to the shoppe. They saw their daughter finish reading a scroll, then look carefully into a small box. She turned toward them, her eyes as wide as they'd ever seen her, as she held the box out toward them. Inside was a small mettalic ball, just larger than a walnut. This one, however, was slightly larger than normal; it was a Snitch used in regulation play earlier in the century. Except that words had been engraved onto this Snitch:
Good game, Gridpipe
Eunice Murray
5 May 1937
xxx
All during lunch, Cho told her parents about her meeting Gridpipe just before the World Cup, and about his coming to Hogwarts to see her play a few weeks ago. From there, she went on to tell everything she could think of about Eunice Murray, who her parents only knew by reputation--but that was still enough for them to be impressed by the gift of an autographed Snitch.
"So," her father said in a deliberately offhand manner, "we could sell that for, what, a couple hundred Galleons?"
"Thousands, more likely, and you're NOT selling it!" Cho was sure her father was teasing her--reasonably sure.
"Then it's going into Gringott's first thing tomorrow," Lotus said firmly. "Just imagine if the cat thought it was a new toy!"
"I still can't believe it," Cho said, looking into the box for the hundredth time during lunch. She hadn't let the Snitch out of arm's reach since it arrived.
"Yes," Lotus replied, "that little hunk of enchanted metal could put you through Hogwarts next year."
"While we're on the subject," Cho's father said, pushing himself away from the table, "let's get the gifts out of the way right now."
He led his family into the den, where Cho saw that there were noticeably fewer gifts under the tree this year. His gifts to her parents, and their gifts to each other; that was all. The gifts had all been given in five minutes, and Cho had gotten nothing.
Her parents had never done this before; given her nothing. Even during a bad patch of business years earlier, Cho had at least been given a book. Had she done something to make them angry?
"Have a seat, Cho."
Cho, who was already seated on the floor by the tree, seemed puzzled.
"In the chair, dear," Lotus said. "This is important."
A very curious Cho did as she was told.
"This year," began her father, "business has been better than usual, thanks to the Ministry contract. We've been in a better position than usual to buy you, well, just about anything you wanted for Christmas. But, Cho, I'm sorry to bring it up, but this year has taught us that, sometimes, what's most important isn't a thing, isn't something you can buy or sell or give away."
Cho nodded. Her father seemed to be talking about Cedric, but she was utterly confused as to where this was going.
"We have to be honest with you," her mother continued the speech. "We may not have approved of your playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, but we've seen and heard you work at it for the past six years, work more diligently than anything you've ever done in your life. We've kept in touch with your Professor Hooch, who told us of your skills; we've spoken with your old Captain Culligan..."
"You've talked to Mackie?" Cho burst out.
"He came by the shoppe about a year ago, during the Tournament," said her father. "We struck up a conversation, and he told us everything you neglected to tell us. Regarding your tryouts, I mean."
Cho now knew; this wasn't really a Christmas present, it was an Inquisition. Her face burned as she looked down at her clenched hands. "If you knew I'd broken bones during the tryout, I thought you'd tell me I could never be on the team."
"Nonsense," Lotus said, as if the thought would never have crossed her mind. "We know Quidditch is a rough sport, and that these things are bound to happen. But if you refused to let broken bones dissuade you from playing, we knew exactly how serious you were. As I was saying," she arched an eyebrow at Cho, "we've spoken with Culligan, with Hooch, with your Professor Flitwick to verify that your studies haven't been suffering. I suppose what decided things for us was meeting poor Mister Gridpipe. The way he spoke about how you played the other day, and your obvious knowledge of Quidditch and love of the game, you would have thought he was an uncle."
"I know you have one more year at Hogwarts," her father said, taking an envelope out of a desk drawer. "But at the end of this year, I am going to give you this letter, which you will deliver personally. I'll keep it until then. It's addressed to Philander Dreadly."
Philander Dreadly?! "The manager of the Tornadoes??"
"It's a reminder of something he and I spoke of a little while ago. This summer, in addition to your usual work with the team, he is going to give you a tryout."
Cho was glad she was sitting down, because she felt everything go limp. This wasn't happening; her parents, who had threatened to disown her when she said she wanted to play Quidditch at Hogwarts, had arranged an audition with her favorite team...
"You're welcome, I'm sure," Lotus said archly.
As she did when she found out they were going to the World Cup, Cho launched herself out of her chair and threw herself at her parents, trying to hug them both at once. Her father allowed one hug, then got up from the sofa, muttering something about seeing "what the cat has gotten up to," and left the parlour.
Cho realized that she was actually sitting on her mother's lap; something she couldn't ever remember doing, even as an infant. And Lotus didn't seem to mind.
"And by the way, my little Horse," Lotus said gently, stroking Cho's hair (or what was left of it), "don't think you're the first child who ever tried to resist the advice of her mother. I could tell you tales about the fights I had with your Granny Li."
"Please."
"What's that, Cho?"
"Please tell me about you and your mother. You've never told me before."
So Lotus did. For two hours she recalled the mischief she had gotten into as a child, and the resulting arguments with her mother, holding Cho all the while. It was a Christmas utterly unlike any Cho had ever had.
It was wonderful.
xxx
to be continued in part 20, wherein Cho returns to Hogwarts to find a new edict from Umbridge, a new problem with Marietta, and a new hope with Harry...