Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, unfortunately. Just this plot is.
A/N: Another chapter! My muse is moving me again. Too bad it won't budge for my schoolwork…Oh well. The chapter title's really vague. I just thought it seemed appropriate. It's the title of a Robert Frost poem, I think. Anyway. Review!
Chapter Three: For Once, Then, Something
The day's events weighed down on the Weasleys, even when Mrs. Weasley served them all with hot shepherd's pie back in the Burrow. Harry barely ate and retreated to Ron's room and flung himself on the cot. Everybody was considerate enough to leave him alone to stew with his thoughts, all of which were growing increasingly murderous every time he pictured Little Whinging again. Moody's discouragement at his plan to go after Voldemort did nothing for the rising indignation that rose in his throat and threatened to liberate itself in a series of Unforgivable Curses.
A few hours later, Harry heard Ron slip into his room. Harry turned towards the door. A warm glow from outside cast a square of orange light onto the bedroom floor. Shadows of feet punctuated the brightness, before the light was dimmed and Harry fell asleep.
The door slamming with the wind and a murmur of voices woke Harry up. He looked over at Ron, who was snoring and scratching his stomach. Harry went outside and tiptoed down the stairs, stopping when he had a clear view of the four visitors who were now in the Weasleys' living room.
"Terrible, Molly, absolutely terrible," Tonks said, accepting the cup of tea Mrs. Weasley passed to her. "Over four thousand Muggles dead in all. Arabella Figg too. She was found hanging from her chandelier with a noose made of her cats' tails."
"Oh dear," said Mrs. Weasley, and she put a hand to her heart. Mr. Weasley hugged her from behind.
Another figure threw back the hood of his cloak. Harry nearly screamed in shock. Long scars zigzagged across Lupin's face, and there was a patch over one hazel eye. Tonks stole one pitying look at him before looking down at the floor and twiddling her fingers.
"That's not all they did," said Lupin grimly. He threw a copy of The Evening Prophet on the table. From his place Harry couldn't see what the headline was, but he didn't have to.
"Oh my God—Azkaban—" Bill gasped. "I thought the goblins were just gossipping again—didn't think it could actually happen—"
"Well, they've got the Dementors on their side now, haven't they?" Lupin muttered bitterly. "And the giants are being won over, Hagrid says a group of them from Orkney just threw their lot with Voldemort. Probably just took one yank and those prison bars were open—"
"But Azkaban is protected by more than just bars," Bill said. "Some Curse-Breakers must be Death Eaters, it would take an expert to get past all the protection spells and hexes that were on that place…. I did hear some of them turned…." He leaned on Fleur and closed his eyes.
Rufus Scrimgeour ran his fingers through his mane of grey hair and sighed with frustration. "How is Harry, Arthur?"
"In shock," Mr. Weasley replied gravely. "I daresay he would want to have his revenge now."
"Oh, we should have returned him there straightaway!" Mrs. Weasley said shrilly, and Scrimgeour gestured for her to lower her voice. "We just had to bring him here after picking him up from King's Cross—oh Arthur, we should have brought him back to the Muggles…now the charm's gone, he had to be there before his birthday so he'd be protected till then, at least…"
Scrimgeour sighed again. "What has happened has happened," he said curtly. "All we could do now is ensure Potter's safety until Voldemort is found, convicted and locked up. I have a few security measures in mind.
"We have made this house Unplottable and removed you from the Floo network. You are not to receive visitors without being informed through owl post first. Should an emergency occur and you are not informed before the actual visit, consult the Dark detectors we are providing you." The fourth visitor, still cloaked, removed a Sneakoscope and a Foe-Glass from a carpet bag on the floor. "Continue following the safety guidelines the Ministry sent out last summer. As for the boy himself, he is not to leave this house unless you are all informed beforehand. Should he be required to move someplace else, he is to wait for his escorts before leaving. He will be an accompanied by at least one Auror and a Hit Wizard at all times." Scrimgeour drew an hour glass from his pocket and furrowed his brow. "I must leave now. Thanks for the tea, Molly. Miss Tonks, Miss Chang, your shift starts now. Goodbye."
Miss Chang? Harry thought. He watched the fourth visitor finally remove her cloak and hang it on a peg. Long black hair, petite frame, almond eyes—Harry couldn't believe that his former crush was now assigned to protect him. She couldn't even Stun on her first try.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley still looked worried.
"Each shift lasts a month," Lupin said.
"Where are you going, Remus?" Bill asked, looking up from Fleur's shoulder.
"I'm off to Romania in a while—mediator for a werewolf community there," Lupin answered resignedly. "Though I doubt they will be persuaded. The only reason they didn't turn before was the trust Dumbledore showed them. Without that, they have no motivation to help us—and now Voldemort is showing them that same trust to get them to his side."
"Damn zat Voldemort," Fleur muttered. "Zis is all pointless, what 'e's doing! And all those stupeed people, zey theenk 'e's going to reward zem—"
"If we can only convince them with that, dear," Mrs. Weasley said wearily. She looked at Tonks and Cho, who were standing awkwardly on one side. "More tea?"
Harry stood up to return to Ron's room, suddenly tired. He accidentally stepped on Ginny's Pygmy Puff, Arnold. Its squeaks directed Mr. Weasley's attention to the staircase above.
"Harry?"
Cho and Tonks looked up. "Wotcher Harry," Tonks said. She grimaced and clutched at her stomach.
"Come down, Harry. Might as well have a word with you," Mrs. Weasley said.
Harry went down the remaining steps. His legs felt as though they were made of lead. He stood in front of Mrs. Weasley, carefully avoiding Cho's eyes. "What?"
Mr. Weasley sighed. Upon closer inspection, Harry thought that he aged a lot since they came back from Little Whinging. His crow's feet were more obvious and his cheeks were starting to sag a little.
"I suppose you heard everything," he said finally.
"Yes," Harry replied through gritted teeth.
"And I suppose you don't agree with the, er, new security measures."
"Damn right I don't," Harry said, and before he could stop himself, said, "If you want Voldemort dead so badly, why don't you just send me? I'm the one who's supposed to finish him off, I'm the one that prophecy's talking about!"
"Don't be irrational—" Bill started.
"I'm not being irrational!" Cho looked startled at his outburst and bit her lip. "You are! If you want Voldemort dead and the whole damn world safe, why don't you just let me have a go at him?"
"And what eef you die?" Fleur asked.
"Well, that's too bad for me then. At least I tried, instead of sitting around. If I die, I'm gonna make sure killing him was the last thing I did."
And as soon as he said it, Harry knew it was true. He was prepared to die just to get rid of Voldemort. He was prepared to endure torture just to see the regret and hurt in Voldemort's snake eyes, to see the man—no, thing—who murdered his family beg for his mercy—he was prepared to not grant it—
"What about your friends?" Bill said.
"They will understand," Harry answered. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run off into the night and hunt his parents' killer down, wand at hand and the wind whipping his cheeks—
Bill and Fleur exchanged looks and mumbled something about "Gringotts business" before leaving the house. Mr. Weasley gave Harry a look of pity. He led his sobbing wife upstairs, leaving Harry with Tonks and Cho.
Tonks left to go to the bathroom. Harry stared at Cho.
"What are you doing here?"
"I thought you would know, having been eavesdropping," she said. "I'm working for the Ministry now."
"Oh." Harry didn't know what to think. Her hair was a little shorter and wavier, and her posture seemed to have changed with the purpose she gained since the last time he saw her. He noticed that Cho's eyes seemed to have aged faster than the rest of her body—they were now filled with determination and a fire that sent an unwanted electric shock through Harry.
"So you're…a Hit Wizard? What's that?"
"Hit Wizards work with Aurors for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Cho recited automatically. "Their job is to handle minor incidents and criminals, to hand them over to the Wizengamot or the Wizards' Council for the proper legal process." She smiled shyly. "I'm still in training. Tagging along seems to be part of that. But my supervisors thought I'd made enough progress to go on an actual mission. Why don't you sit down?" She gestured to the armchair opposite her, and Harry obeyed, asking, "What are you doing now?"
"For now I'm still studying wizard laws," she replied. Her voice was lower than before, as if the short months of her training drained the lightheartedness from it. Harry smacked himself inwardly for thinking she sounded sultry. "Being a Hit Wizard is good training for joining the Wizengamot, which is what I've always wanted. I've only gone home once since summer began, to get my things. I guess now that Dumbledore's gone, the Ministry feels like they need all the help they can get. I was surprised they accepted me; my grades were sort of unsteady. The qualifications are like those of an Auror's, but not too much emphasis on Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions."
"I'm sure you did well," Harry said, almost robotically. Where the hell is Tonks? He found it strange that he knew more about Cho in the past five minutes than in the months that they dated each other. A warm feeling spread through his body. At least she didn't seem to hate him for being an insensitive git.
"How about you?" Cho asked, her gaze steady on his face. "How are you…doing?"
"Been better," Harry replied.
"I couldn't blame you for wanting to go after Voldemort."
"You don't?" Harry was pleasantly surprised. Then, with a sinking feeling, he realized that she might be thinking of Cedric.
"Yes, I don't. You sound surprised."
"I just thought, you know…" Harry swallowed. "I mean, you never seemed like someone who would—"
"Encourage vengeance?"
"Yeah."
"Harry, everything we're doing now are acts of vengeance. Just because they're not violent doesn't mean they don't have retribution behind them."
"I guess."
Cho sighed and bit her lip again, diverting Harry's attention to her mouth. A small cut had formed on her lower lip, and her tongue quickly licked the blood off. Harry stared.
"Marietta was murdered, did you hear?" Cho said.
"No." Harry couldn't care less about Marietta, but her murder itself interested him.
"Her whole family was killed just awhile ago. Her parents were prominent in the Ministry." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe they're trying to finish us off."
The toilet flushed. Tonks's head popped in the living room. "I'm going to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, all right? Don't go outside."
"We won't," Cho assured her, and Tonks ran up the stairs.
"How do you do it?" Harry burst out.
"Do what?" Cho asked him, looking anxious.
"How do you hide it? Your best friend died, and you're here, not acting like it at all! Like nothing happened! How do you do it?"
"I don't—I don't know." Cho looked down. "I thought that if I did…I mean, crying about Cedric never did me good. I guess I thought that if I acted the same way…people would…stay away." She swiped at a tear. "Besides, there is something much bigger than Marietta that's happening. She would have wanted me to be part of it."
"Cho—there's nothing wrong with showing how you feel." Harry winced, thinking that that sounded like he was defending his tantrum more than he was comforting her.
She cracked a small smile that curled at the corners in sarcasm. "Oh really?"
Harry felt a pang of guilt. "I'm-sorry-for-not-being-there-when-we-you-know-were-together," he said in a rush. He took a deep breath. "I'm really, really—"
"Go to bed, Harry. You need rest." Her words were accompanied by shining almond eyes and full, quivering lips that made Harry instantly obey—out of what, he didn't know.