Chapter 4: THE LATENT WIZARD
Harry's happy thoughts were then brought back to Earth with an unpleasant thump.
"YOU WHAT!" boomed Aunt Marge from downstairs.
Harry guessed that Aunt Petunia had told her she was allowing him to have a friend over. Did she tell Aunt Marge it was a girl?
"AND WHERE EXACTLY DID HE MEET THIS GIRL?" he heard Aunt Marge yelling. "COME DOWN HERE, BOY!"
Smiling, Harry quickly stuffed Hedwig in her cage and hid her in the closet and then shoved Hermione's letter into his drawer. Still feeling the effects of Hermione, he strode happily downstairs, saying, "I have a name, you know. It's Harry."
"I don't like your tone, boy --" Aunt Marge snarled but Harry corrected her again.
"Harry," he said coolly, stopping at the bottom stair. Aunt Marge was a foot in front of him, looking at Harry like he was gum on her great big shoes.
"And don't you talk back to me," she growled, spit flying from her mouth. "You've not improved much, I see. It's a surprise to me any girl could ever like you."
Behind Aunt Marge, Aunt Petunia watched as Harry's face went from smiling to angry in less time than it took you to say "crap." Aunt Petunia was giving a look of distress -- even she knew Aunt Marge had gone too far. Harry liked Cho very much and it bordered on... something else. He put his hands behind his back so no one could watch his fists clench. A surge of anger rising made it very painful to keep a straight face. An unfortunate side effect was that he stopped blinking, giving him a threatening look.
"We like each other a lot," Harry replied, trying for dear life to hide his anger. He didn't care much for what Aunt Marge would say back to him and so then he said, "And I don't want you to touch her, she might catch something."
Aunt Marge's hand was shaking as if she wanted to use it but something seemed to be surpressing the movement. For a wild moment, Harry thought the Memory Charm placed on her had failed but then she would have known that Harry doesn't attend St. Brutus'.
Aunt Petunia was turning blue as she held her breath. Dudley had now successfully drooled on the table. Uncle Vernon was the color of sour milk.
Harry finally dropped his menacing look, finally blinked and tried to sound at least slightly more pleasant. "I have to call her," he lied. It wasn't a total lie; he had to send her a letter. "A family friend will be driving her here."
Immediately, Harry took note of Aunt Marge's hair being ruffled as Aunt Petunia exhaled. Her face turned a deep red as fresh blood entered it. The only thing keeping Harry from bursting was Cho and it wasn't going to last much longer if this kept up.
"Go on then, boy. Call her now," Aunt Marge demanded. "I want to hear this!"
Harry's shoulders tensed up, he suddenly felt very hot and Aunt Petunia's face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. What Aunt Marge didn't know, and the Dursleys could easily guess, was that Harry didn't have a telephone number for Cho. Aunt Petunia, who obviously suspected something like this, didn't stop her magical facial color changes and went as white as Uncle Vernon.
"I -- er --" Harry stammered. He just didn't know what to say
"Well? You want her to come, don't you?" spat Aunt Marge.
Aunt Petunia, sensing more danger, said quickly, "St. Brutus' also suggests to give them some room. Better for their minds. Allows them to relax." Aunt Marge, too thick to see through it, bought Aunt Petunia's very noticeably fake smile. "Come, Marge, I'll help you get into your room."
Was it possible, thanks to Sirius, that Aunt Petunia was on the verge of -- or at least at showing signs of -- becoming slightly, minutely, perhaps a teensy bit like a real aunt?
"Nah," Harry thought aloud dismissively when he reached his room.
"Lock the door," Aunt Petunia hissed quietly when Aunt Marge was preoccupied.
Harry had no objections. He then pulled out his eagle-feather quill and two pieces of parchment, loaded up his quill with ink and wrote quickly.
Hermione,
Thank you so much, you have no idea how happy that letter made me. I really owe you one. Aunt Marge insulted both me and Cho, going on about how she wonders no girl could ever like me. Just when I was about to blow her up again, my real aunt came to my rescue which was very strange.
I'm sending Cho a letter, too. Hedwig's going to carry both for me and I hope she's up to going again. If not, I'll send them in the morning. Just do me one last favor and don't read the letter to her?
Thanks a bunch,
Harry
He folded it up, and to make it very obvious that it was for Hermione, wrote HERMIONE, OPEN THIS ONE FIRST on it. He didn't know what he was going to put in Cho's but he would just rather it was solely between her and himself.
All he wrote was Dear Cho and then stopped. Maybe it would have been easier if he wrote to her first, but with the thought of her thinking it was "cute" that he was too shy to write to her first, his hand just didn't want to seem to write "Thank you."
Aunt Marge booming about buying Dudley presents for his birthday present, which he heatedly reminded her that she forgot about, was not helping. Dudley was also going on about graduation presents. Smeltings held a huge graduation party at a nearby football field. Harry was forced to spend the entire two hours on his feet as all of the chairs were taken. It was no help that it was held outside in the sweltering heat.
And for once, he was dressed in clothing that fit him perfectly. Aunt Petunia had rented a suit for Harry -- the cheapest one she could find. She didn't want it to happen, but Harry ended up being in plenty of pictures and she couldn't live with herself if he looked like a wild animal in horrible home-made clothing... That and the only thing Dudley had that would even remotely fit Harry would make him look like he had lost fifty pounds in one day.
During Dudley's graduation ceremony, Harry's feet started to hurt beyond the threshold and he could no longer restrain himelf: he began to float a barely noticeable amount off the ground, reliefing his feet greatly. The only point at which someone noticed something was when a rather thick spider walked under him.
Harry spent good half hour of writing his letter to Cho and crossing things out so not a word that he didn't want her to see could be deciphered. For some reason, his hand was shaking. Was it because Aunt Marge was in the same house as him again or was it because he felt nervous, for some reason or another, writing to Cho? Perhaps the latter because his face was red the entire time. When Harry thought he was finished, he read the letter back to himself.
Cho,
Thanks.
A lot.
So, how about Monday? I need a few days to tell my aunt and uncle everything they need to know, whatever that is. I'm going to make up a story about both our parents just in case Aunt Marge gets curious again and try to stick it as close to what they all really do as I can so it's not so crazy. I'll tell you all about it when you get here. Let me know if Monday is okay.
Thanks again,
Harry
He didn't care for not sounding like a hopeless romantic -- Hermione had already done a good job of giving that impression to Cho's parents. But then he suddenly realized he would have to consult Aunt Petunia on the day Cho could come. Harry crumpled the note in his hand and without throwing it out, opened the door and looked around for Aunt Petunia. Her voice came to his ears and it sounded strangely like her and Uncle Vernon were in the cupboard under the stairs.
He walked down for a better listen. They weren't in the cupboard and in fact his ears had horribly deceived him: they were just outside the patio door. When Uncle Vernon had said something that sounded a lot like "Secret-Keeper," Harry stopped dead for a better listen.
"And that is?" growled Uncle Vernon.
"It's why they don't want him staying anywhere else over summer vacation," Aunt Petunia snapped. "If he does, then that Voldemort person will be able to find him. Goodness knows I wish they didn't dump him on our doorstep but I don't want him dead."
"Then why don't they mind it when we send him to someone else's house?" Uncle Vernon growled again.
"Voldemort wasn't living, that's why. Now that he is, we can't - send - him - anywhere!"
"And how did you find this out?"
Harry moved as close as he could without being seen.
"Read this," said Aunt Petunia, almost as a whisper. There was a few moment's silence, and then --
"OH, PETUNIA!" shrieked Uncle Vernon.
"Yes!" she shouted, irritated. "That was my reaction! Dudley! Our son! He said that... that I had it but it just never showed. Dudley caught it."
"What are we questioning? It's simple. He's not going to that - that..."
"They think it's a good idea if he just went for a year --"
"No! Petunia, one is enough. What do you keep telling me you thought of your sister?" Uncle Vernon spat. Aunt Petunia didn't reply. "Did you tell him?" said Uncle Vernon, breaking the silence.
"How can you even think I want Dudley going?" said Aunt Petunia, slightly calmer. "He doesn't know and neither does Harry."
Harry grinned.
"I don't understand. They want Dudley to go for a year just to see if he... LIKES IT?"
"They already know he finished normal school and he's supposed to attend college in September."
"Why are we even having this conversation!" said Uncle Vernon suddenly. "No! No! NO!"
Thinking quickly, Harry made himself seen and ignoring the horrified looks on their faces, he said, "Dudley got a letter, eh?"
"What's it to you?" snarled Uncle Vernon, his beady eyes fixed maliciously on Harry.
"Dudley's not going to be able to control it unless he's taught how to," said Harry grimly. "He has been doing random things like I used to be, hasn't?"
Uncle Vernon, if possible, looked even more strained. As all supposed-Muggles did before they knew they were a witch or wizard, Dudley had no doubt been unable to control himself and perhaps randomly showed a display of magic.
"A teacher of his was showing him a paper he got back," said Uncle Vernon, "and he turned the grade of one into one-hundred before her eyes -- without a pen or pencil. She sent him home saying he was playing with magic tricks!"
"One of the first things they do at my school is show you how to keep it under control," said Harry, grinning broadly. He tutted loudly as Hermione would and gave them a very noticeably fake sigh while turning to go back to his room.
"He's not going!" Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs.
"Who's not going where?" boomed Aunt Marge.
"Nothing, Marge, nothing."
Having almost completely forgotten about Cho in Dudley's drama, Harry doubled back downstairs.
"When's the earliest Cho can come?" he asked Aunt Petunia.
"She's coming by car, you said?" she asked, glancing sidelong, suspiciously, at Harry.
"Yes," Harry replied pleasantly, hoping to get the answer he wanted ("whenever you want").
Uncle Vernon opened his mouth as if to say something, let out a grumble, then closed it.
"Whenever you want," said Aunt Petunia.
Overcome with joy, Harry surprised himself by hugging Aunt Petunia and then striding happily back up the stairs. She stood frozen for a moment, watching him go. Upon reaching his room, Harry unfolded the parchment still clutched in his hand. He pulled put a fresh piece and copied it so he could send it -- he didn't want Cho to think he was sloppy.
"Hedwig?" he said, opening the closet. She was resting her head under a wing. "Feeling up to another journey?"
She turned to look at him and gave a low hoot that clearly said "not yet."
"Want some cake? It still tastes good. I don't have any bacon for you, maybe tomorrow."
Hedwig nodded and Harry opened the loose floor boards under his bed where he hid most of his important things, namely his supply of food. He dug a hand into it, pulling out just enough for Hedwig to be able to finish and put it onto a tissue. Hedwig fluttered down onto the floor and Harry set the cake and tissue on the floor for her to eat.
It was then that Harry realized every one of his friends had been so kind to him since the end of the last term. He just hoped that he would get to say thank you to Dumbledore for killing Voldemort this year. But, being Wednesday evening, Harry wanted Monday to come as fast as possible.
The next morning, Hedwig felt ready to go deliver Hermione's and Cho's letter and so after waiting until dark, giving her a strip of bacon and checking that Aunt Marge wasn't outside, she was off. Harry quickly set out to make up stories for his and Cho's family in case Aunt Marge happened to ask.
He decided that both his mom and dad worked at a hospital as doctors and Cho's dad was policeman, her mom, a shopowner. It fit... mostly. Harry informed his aunt (the real one), uncle and cousin of this as soon as he could and they quickly agreed to stick to it.
Time seemed to have a bad habit of going an order of magnitude slower when someone wanted it to speed up. The hours on Thursday seemed like entire days and it had been an entire week since Hedwig returned with a letter from Cho and someone else. He happened to pull off Cho's note first.
Harry,
No problem, really. I've been waiting to get out of the house all summer. I'll be there a little after two on Monday, going to eat lunch first. My Aunt Blossom is driving me. She's a witch but she's very good at disguising herself as a Muggle.
My parents wouldn't let me go anywhere because of You-Know-Who. Did you hear about those five Muggles who got killed in a shopping center? How horrible. I'm starting to see how bad it was when he first was in power. And Harry, you're not thinking of going after him, are you?
See you soon,
Cho
Harry never had any thoughts of going after Voldemort by himself because that would be just like throwing himself in front of a large, three-headed dog, Hagrid the Hogwarts gamekeeper, once owned. This vicious beast had been christened Fluffy and had taken a large chunk out of Hagrid's leg just last year. Harry had come to the rescue by killing it and repairing the damage on Hagrid's leg with his mother's Phoenix Bracelet, a bracelet that happened to be able to heal severe wounds.
Harry opened the second letter and read it.
Potter,
This year's Fire Quidditch game is again being held in the same place as usual. I've been given the date of August the fifteenth. Some rules have been changed this year and they are as follows:
There are now four Bludgers
You can disable them however you want and obviously, you have to
There are now two Spiked Snitches and both must be caught
The team with the most points when both are caught wins
You can disable the spikes on the Snitches however you want (bat, club, wand, hand, whatever, though we prefer not your hand as the medic witches can only repair so much damage and, needless to say, it will hurt as those blades spin very fast)
There will be a fifteen minute intermission when the first Spiked Snitch is caught
Catching the Snitch is still worth one hundred and fifty points
It seems they felt last year's game wasn't dangerous enough and it must be because of you that there are two Snitches and both must be caught. Do try to keep your extravagance down this time. Arthur Weasley is going to pick you up by car (yes, we know your adoring Aunt Marge is there) on the thirteenth. Miss Chang, obviously, can come, too.
I think the only reason this game can be held is because of the Staff of Cybele. Please bring it along with you.
The Unied States beat Germany and so England is playing them. The United States is a push-over this year. We're going to win.
Cheers,
Madam Hooch
Grinning, Harry told Hedwig to clear off to Ron's, giving her another letter. Harry then brought Madam Hooch's letter to his aunt and uncle when Aunt Marge was busy booming about her dogs that she had to leave with Colonel Fubster to Dudley. The only reason Dudley listened to this speech was because he knew he would be getting a twenty pound note when she was finished.
Aunt Petunia was happy to hear that she would be rid of Harry and Cho for three days as was Uncle Vernon. They would explain the situation to Aunt Marge that Harry was on a sports team for St. Brutus'. Aunt Marge didn't believe it. When Harry threatened to get his sports equipment (namely, his Dragonback and Quidditch robes, which thankfully, were the same color as England's Fire Quidditch robes), Uncle Vernon hastily said that he once went to a game and found it interesting. Feeling Harry pinch him in the side and trying to keep his face smiling, he somewhat proudly added that Harry was the star player. She didn't believe it.
The evening before Cho's grand arrival came. Aunt Marge had sent Ripper to go play with Dudley, who had finished his dinner very, very fast. Harry thought that he couldn't stand any more talk of Cho and had the crazy idea that Dudley hadn't talked to any girls. It wasn't much surprise. Who would like someone who had once acheived what they've threatened to do since they were little and become wider than they were tall?
"This girl -- what's her name again? -- what's she like?" Aunt Marge asked curiously. For once, Harry had no problems talking to Aunt Marge. Rather, he was glad the conversation wasn't clearly going to find a way to insult him.
"Cho and she's smart, popular and I like her a lot," said Harry proudly. "She's coming to watch me play."
"I see," said Aunt Marge, narrowing her eyes. Harry could honestly not see where she was going. "And where did you two meet?" she asked as if Cho was nothing more than an imaginary friend.
"We -- er -- met at a... a game. Two years ago." Harry made a mental note to tell Cho this tomorrow. "Been seeing each other every summer ever since..." he added, staring at Uncle Vernon, then Aunt Petunia, both of whom nodded to accept the story.
Monday morning arrived and Harry had woken up to see that the sun had not fully come up yet. The walls of his bedroom were a shade of orange, the sky, a dull pinkish. He groped around for his glasses and put them on and sat up, forgetting about the notion of getting any more sleep. Harry took a minute to assess his current situation and decided it wasn't that bad, especially when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't had that awful dream since his birthday.
Feeling an overpowering urge to wear the Order of Merlin necklace, he had an idea so that Aunt Marge would never know what it really was. He crawled off his bed and grabbed the Staff of Cybele. It sprang to life, the crystal disappearing, and immediately he heard the familiar, soft voice speak in his head.
"Well, hello there."
"I think it's about time I see how powerful you really are," Harry said in his head.
"Oh? What is it?"
Harry pulled the staff out from under his bed and locked his door then held up the Order of Merlin necklace.
"This," he said. "Is it -- er -- possible you can take the plaque off and later be able to stick it back on without damaging it at all?"
"Of course! I specialize in defacing -- er, sorry -- modifying jewelry. Hold it up and point me at it."
Harry did as he was told and was shocked at what had happened. The crystal, which had reappeared and was glowing a soft white, emitted one, thick ring of white light that widened, extending down the length of the staff until it looked like the entire staff was glowing. A soft, deep hum seemed to be produced by the white glow. The glow then rose up the staff, bunching up at the crystal, forming a huge ball. As soon as none of the glow remained on the staff except at the crystal, the white ball escaped the crystal and hit the plaque, which then fell to the ground, looking like it had never been attached in the first place.
"Wow," said Harry aloud, amazed at not only that it worked but the cool special effects of his staff.
"You'll get used to it after a while," said the staff in his head. "Just hold both of them in your hand and tell me when you want to reattach it. Have a good time with Cho," it added, the lion's mouth grinning broadly, the crystal having disappeared again.
"Hey!" said Harry, turning red. "How did you know? You don't come to life until I hold you!"
"I can see it in your eye," said the staff, laughing. "Why else would you feel like holding that plaque?"
Harry, feeling slightly guilty, said, "Well, thanks. Sorry about having to keep you under the bed, but..."
"It's all right. I quite like bed bugs." Harry couldn't help but laugh quietly. "You just watch yourself during that Fire Quidditch game. It's a good thing Dumbledore suggested you bring me along. Goodness knows Lord Voldemort wouldn't dare touch you with me around, especially when I'm morphed into a lion."
"I don't think -- anyone -- would dare touch me with a seven foot lion breathing down their neck," said Harry, giggling.
He sighed and looked around his room again; the orange was slowly fading into white.
"Time for you to go, Raides," Harry told his staff and it went lifeless. He stuffed the Staff of Cybele under his bed and out of sight then got dressed and tried fruitlessly to make his untidy hair lie flat. A comb didn't work and so forgetting about the notion of grooming himself, he sat in bed until breakfast came, thinking of what he could possibly do for a month with Cho. This tragic reality hadn't occured to him and the most they could do inside the house was sit in his room and talk. The mere thought terrified him...
Maybe they could think of ways to convince Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon of sending Dudley to Hogwarts?
Harry's happy thoughts were then brought back to Earth with an unpleasant thump.
"YOU WHAT!" boomed Aunt Marge from downstairs.
Harry guessed that Aunt Petunia had told her she was allowing him to have a friend over. Did she tell Aunt Marge it was a girl?
"AND WHERE EXACTLY DID HE MEET THIS GIRL?" he heard Aunt Marge yelling. "COME DOWN HERE, BOY!"
Smiling, Harry quickly stuffed Hedwig in her cage and hid her in the closet and then shoved Hermione's letter into his drawer. Still feeling the effects of Hermione, he strode happily downstairs, saying, "I have a name, you know. It's Harry."
"I don't like your tone, boy --" Aunt Marge snarled but Harry corrected her again.
"Harry," he said coolly, stopping at the bottom stair. Aunt Marge was a foot in front of him, looking at Harry like he was gum on her great big shoes.
"And don't you talk back to me," she growled, spit flying from her mouth. "You've not improved much, I see. It's a surprise to me any girl could ever like you."
Behind Aunt Marge, Aunt Petunia watched as Harry's face went from smiling to angry in less time than it took you to say "crap." Aunt Petunia was giving a look of distress -- even she knew Aunt Marge had gone too far. Harry liked Cho very much and it bordered on... something else. He put his hands behind his back so no one could watch his fists clench. A surge of anger rising made it very painful to keep a straight face. An unfortunate side effect was that he stopped blinking, giving him a threatening look.
"We like each other a lot," Harry replied, trying for dear life to hide his anger. He didn't care much for what Aunt Marge would say back to him and so then he said, "And I don't want you to touch her, she might catch something."
Aunt Marge's hand was shaking as if she wanted to use it but something seemed to be surpressing the movement. For a wild moment, Harry thought the Memory Charm placed on her had failed but then she would have known that Harry doesn't attend St. Brutus'.
Aunt Petunia was turning blue as she held her breath. Dudley had now successfully drooled on the table. Uncle Vernon was the color of sour milk.
Harry finally dropped his menacing look, finally blinked and tried to sound at least slightly more pleasant. "I have to call her," he lied. It wasn't a total lie; he had to send her a letter. "A family friend will be driving her here."
Immediately, Harry took note of Aunt Marge's hair being ruffled as Aunt Petunia exhaled. Her face turned a deep red as fresh blood entered it. The only thing keeping Harry from bursting was Cho and it wasn't going to last much longer if this kept up.
"Go on then, boy. Call her now," Aunt Marge demanded. "I want to hear this!"
Harry's shoulders tensed up, he suddenly felt very hot and Aunt Petunia's face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. What Aunt Marge didn't know, and the Dursleys could easily guess, was that Harry didn't have a telephone number for Cho. Aunt Petunia, who obviously suspected something like this, didn't stop her magical facial color changes and went as white as Uncle Vernon.
"I -- er --" Harry stammered. He just didn't know what to say
"Well? You want her to come, don't you?" spat Aunt Marge.
Aunt Petunia, sensing more danger, said quickly, "St. Brutus' also suggests to give them some room. Better for their minds. Allows them to relax." Aunt Marge, too thick to see through it, bought Aunt Petunia's very noticeably fake smile. "Come, Marge, I'll help you get into your room."
Was it possible, thanks to Sirius, that Aunt Petunia was on the verge of -- or at least at showing signs of -- becoming slightly, minutely, perhaps a teensy bit like a real aunt?
"Nah," Harry thought aloud dismissively when he reached his room.
"Lock the door," Aunt Petunia hissed quietly when Aunt Marge was preoccupied.
Harry had no objections. He then pulled out his eagle-feather quill and two pieces of parchment, loaded up his quill with ink and wrote quickly.
Hermione,
Thank you so much, you have no idea how happy that letter made me. I really owe you one. Aunt Marge insulted both me and Cho, going on about how she wonders no girl could ever like me. Just when I was about to blow her up again, my real aunt came to my rescue which was very strange.
I'm sending Cho a letter, too. Hedwig's going to carry both for me and I hope she's up to going again. If not, I'll send them in the morning. Just do me one last favor and don't read the letter to her?
Thanks a bunch,
Harry
He folded it up, and to make it very obvious that it was for Hermione, wrote HERMIONE, OPEN THIS ONE FIRST on it. He didn't know what he was going to put in Cho's but he would just rather it was solely between her and himself.
All he wrote was Dear Cho and then stopped. Maybe it would have been easier if he wrote to her first, but with the thought of her thinking it was "cute" that he was too shy to write to her first, his hand just didn't want to seem to write "Thank you."
Aunt Marge booming about buying Dudley presents for his birthday present, which he heatedly reminded her that she forgot about, was not helping. Dudley was also going on about graduation presents. Smeltings held a huge graduation party at a nearby football field. Harry was forced to spend the entire two hours on his feet as all of the chairs were taken. It was no help that it was held outside in the sweltering heat.
And for once, he was dressed in clothing that fit him perfectly. Aunt Petunia had rented a suit for Harry -- the cheapest one she could find. She didn't want it to happen, but Harry ended up being in plenty of pictures and she couldn't live with herself if he looked like a wild animal in horrible home-made clothing... That and the only thing Dudley had that would even remotely fit Harry would make him look like he had lost fifty pounds in one day.
During Dudley's graduation ceremony, Harry's feet started to hurt beyond the threshold and he could no longer restrain himelf: he began to float a barely noticeable amount off the ground, reliefing his feet greatly. The only point at which someone noticed something was when a rather thick spider walked under him.
Harry spent good half hour of writing his letter to Cho and crossing things out so not a word that he didn't want her to see could be deciphered. For some reason, his hand was shaking. Was it because Aunt Marge was in the same house as him again or was it because he felt nervous, for some reason or another, writing to Cho? Perhaps the latter because his face was red the entire time. When Harry thought he was finished, he read the letter back to himself.
Cho,
Thanks.
A lot.
So, how about Monday? I need a few days to tell my aunt and uncle everything they need to know, whatever that is. I'm going to make up a story about both our parents just in case Aunt Marge gets curious again and try to stick it as close to what they all really do as I can so it's not so crazy. I'll tell you all about it when you get here. Let me know if Monday is okay.
Thanks again,
Harry
He didn't care for not sounding like a hopeless romantic -- Hermione had already done a good job of giving that impression to Cho's parents. But then he suddenly realized he would have to consult Aunt Petunia on the day Cho could come. Harry crumpled the note in his hand and without throwing it out, opened the door and looked around for Aunt Petunia. Her voice came to his ears and it sounded strangely like her and Uncle Vernon were in the cupboard under the stairs.
He walked down for a better listen. They weren't in the cupboard and in fact his ears had horribly deceived him: they were just outside the patio door. When Uncle Vernon had said something that sounded a lot like "Secret-Keeper," Harry stopped dead for a better listen.
"And that is?" growled Uncle Vernon.
"It's why they don't want him staying anywhere else over summer vacation," Aunt Petunia snapped. "If he does, then that Voldemort person will be able to find him. Goodness knows I wish they didn't dump him on our doorstep but I don't want him dead."
"Then why don't they mind it when we send him to someone else's house?" Uncle Vernon growled again.
"Voldemort wasn't living, that's why. Now that he is, we can't - send - him - anywhere!"
"And how did you find this out?"
Harry moved as close as he could without being seen.
"Read this," said Aunt Petunia, almost as a whisper. There was a few moment's silence, and then --
"OH, PETUNIA!" shrieked Uncle Vernon.
"Yes!" she shouted, irritated. "That was my reaction! Dudley! Our son! He said that... that I had it but it just never showed. Dudley caught it."
"What are we questioning? It's simple. He's not going to that - that..."
"They think it's a good idea if he just went for a year --"
"No! Petunia, one is enough. What do you keep telling me you thought of your sister?" Uncle Vernon spat. Aunt Petunia didn't reply. "Did you tell him?" said Uncle Vernon, breaking the silence.
"How can you even think I want Dudley going?" said Aunt Petunia, slightly calmer. "He doesn't know and neither does Harry."
Harry grinned.
"I don't understand. They want Dudley to go for a year just to see if he... LIKES IT?"
"They already know he finished normal school and he's supposed to attend college in September."
"Why are we even having this conversation!" said Uncle Vernon suddenly. "No! No! NO!"
Thinking quickly, Harry made himself seen and ignoring the horrified looks on their faces, he said, "Dudley got a letter, eh?"
"What's it to you?" snarled Uncle Vernon, his beady eyes fixed maliciously on Harry.
"Dudley's not going to be able to control it unless he's taught how to," said Harry grimly. "He has been doing random things like I used to be, hasn't?"
Uncle Vernon, if possible, looked even more strained. As all supposed-Muggles did before they knew they were a witch or wizard, Dudley had no doubt been unable to control himself and perhaps randomly showed a display of magic.
"A teacher of his was showing him a paper he got back," said Uncle Vernon, "and he turned the grade of one into one-hundred before her eyes -- without a pen or pencil. She sent him home saying he was playing with magic tricks!"
"One of the first things they do at my school is show you how to keep it under control," said Harry, grinning broadly. He tutted loudly as Hermione would and gave them a very noticeably fake sigh while turning to go back to his room.
"He's not going!" Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs.
"Who's not going where?" boomed Aunt Marge.
"Nothing, Marge, nothing."
Having almost completely forgotten about Cho in Dudley's drama, Harry doubled back downstairs.
"When's the earliest Cho can come?" he asked Aunt Petunia.
"She's coming by car, you said?" she asked, glancing sidelong, suspiciously, at Harry.
"Yes," Harry replied pleasantly, hoping to get the answer he wanted ("whenever you want").
Uncle Vernon opened his mouth as if to say something, let out a grumble, then closed it.
"Whenever you want," said Aunt Petunia.
Overcome with joy, Harry surprised himself by hugging Aunt Petunia and then striding happily back up the stairs. She stood frozen for a moment, watching him go. Upon reaching his room, Harry unfolded the parchment still clutched in his hand. He pulled put a fresh piece and copied it so he could send it -- he didn't want Cho to think he was sloppy.
"Hedwig?" he said, opening the closet. She was resting her head under a wing. "Feeling up to another journey?"
She turned to look at him and gave a low hoot that clearly said "not yet."
"Want some cake? It still tastes good. I don't have any bacon for you, maybe tomorrow."
Hedwig nodded and Harry opened the loose floor boards under his bed where he hid most of his important things, namely his supply of food. He dug a hand into it, pulling out just enough for Hedwig to be able to finish and put it onto a tissue. Hedwig fluttered down onto the floor and Harry set the cake and tissue on the floor for her to eat.
It was then that Harry realized every one of his friends had been so kind to him since the end of the last term. He just hoped that he would get to say thank you to Dumbledore for killing Voldemort this year. But, being Wednesday evening, Harry wanted Monday to come as fast as possible.
The next morning, Hedwig felt ready to go deliver Hermione's and Cho's letter and so after waiting until dark, giving her a strip of bacon and checking that Aunt Marge wasn't outside, she was off. Harry quickly set out to make up stories for his and Cho's family in case Aunt Marge happened to ask.
He decided that both his mom and dad worked at a hospital as doctors and Cho's dad was policeman, her mom, a shopowner. It fit... mostly. Harry informed his aunt (the real one), uncle and cousin of this as soon as he could and they quickly agreed to stick to it.
Time seemed to have a bad habit of going an order of magnitude slower when someone wanted it to speed up. The hours on Thursday seemed like entire days and it had been an entire week since Hedwig returned with a letter from Cho and someone else. He happened to pull off Cho's note first.
Harry,
No problem, really. I've been waiting to get out of the house all summer. I'll be there a little after two on Monday, going to eat lunch first. My Aunt Blossom is driving me. She's a witch but she's very good at disguising herself as a Muggle.
My parents wouldn't let me go anywhere because of You-Know-Who. Did you hear about those five Muggles who got killed in a shopping center? How horrible. I'm starting to see how bad it was when he first was in power. And Harry, you're not thinking of going after him, are you?
See you soon,
Cho
Harry never had any thoughts of going after Voldemort by himself because that would be just like throwing himself in front of a large, three-headed dog, Hagrid the Hogwarts gamekeeper, once owned. This vicious beast had been christened Fluffy and had taken a large chunk out of Hagrid's leg just last year. Harry had come to the rescue by killing it and repairing the damage on Hagrid's leg with his mother's Phoenix Bracelet, a bracelet that happened to be able to heal severe wounds.
Harry opened the second letter and read it.
Potter,
This year's Fire Quidditch game is again being held in the same place as usual. I've been given the date of August the fifteenth. Some rules have been changed this year and they are as follows:
There are now four Bludgers
You can disable them however you want and obviously, you have to
There are now two Spiked Snitches and both must be caught
The team with the most points when both are caught wins
You can disable the spikes on the Snitches however you want (bat, club, wand, hand, whatever, though we prefer not your hand as the medic witches can only repair so much damage and, needless to say, it will hurt as those blades spin very fast)
There will be a fifteen minute intermission when the first Spiked Snitch is caught
Catching the Snitch is still worth one hundred and fifty points
It seems they felt last year's game wasn't dangerous enough and it must be because of you that there are two Snitches and both must be caught. Do try to keep your extravagance down this time. Arthur Weasley is going to pick you up by car (yes, we know your adoring Aunt Marge is there) on the thirteenth. Miss Chang, obviously, can come, too.
I think the only reason this game can be held is because of the Staff of Cybele. Please bring it along with you.
The Unied States beat Germany and so England is playing them. The United States is a push-over this year. We're going to win.
Cheers,
Madam Hooch
Grinning, Harry told Hedwig to clear off to Ron's, giving her another letter. Harry then brought Madam Hooch's letter to his aunt and uncle when Aunt Marge was busy booming about her dogs that she had to leave with Colonel Fubster to Dudley. The only reason Dudley listened to this speech was because he knew he would be getting a twenty pound note when she was finished.
Aunt Petunia was happy to hear that she would be rid of Harry and Cho for three days as was Uncle Vernon. They would explain the situation to Aunt Marge that Harry was on a sports team for St. Brutus'. Aunt Marge didn't believe it. When Harry threatened to get his sports equipment (namely, his Dragonback and Quidditch robes, which thankfully, were the same color as England's Fire Quidditch robes), Uncle Vernon hastily said that he once went to a game and found it interesting. Feeling Harry pinch him in the side and trying to keep his face smiling, he somewhat proudly added that Harry was the star player. She didn't believe it.
The evening before Cho's grand arrival came. Aunt Marge had sent Ripper to go play with Dudley, who had finished his dinner very, very fast. Harry thought that he couldn't stand any more talk of Cho and had the crazy idea that Dudley hadn't talked to any girls. It wasn't much surprise. Who would like someone who had once acheived what they've threatened to do since they were little and become wider than they were tall?
"This girl -- what's her name again? -- what's she like?" Aunt Marge asked curiously. For once, Harry had no problems talking to Aunt Marge. Rather, he was glad the conversation wasn't clearly going to find a way to insult him.
"Cho and she's smart, popular and I like her a lot," said Harry proudly. "She's coming to watch me play."
"I see," said Aunt Marge, narrowing her eyes. Harry could honestly not see where she was going. "And where did you two meet?" she asked as if Cho was nothing more than an imaginary friend.
"We -- er -- met at a... a game. Two years ago." Harry made a mental note to tell Cho this tomorrow. "Been seeing each other every summer ever since..." he added, staring at Uncle Vernon, then Aunt Petunia, both of whom nodded to accept the story.
Monday morning arrived and Harry had woken up to see that the sun had not fully come up yet. The walls of his bedroom were a shade of orange, the sky, a dull pinkish. He groped around for his glasses and put them on and sat up, forgetting about the notion of getting any more sleep. Harry took a minute to assess his current situation and decided it wasn't that bad, especially when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't had that awful dream since his birthday.
Feeling an overpowering urge to wear the Order of Merlin necklace, he had an idea so that Aunt Marge would never know what it really was. He crawled off his bed and grabbed the Staff of Cybele. It sprang to life, the crystal disappearing, and immediately he heard the familiar, soft voice speak in his head.
"Well, hello there."
"I think it's about time I see how powerful you really are," Harry said in his head.
"Oh? What is it?"
Harry pulled the staff out from under his bed and locked his door then held up the Order of Merlin necklace.
"This," he said. "Is it -- er -- possible you can take the plaque off and later be able to stick it back on without damaging it at all?"
"Of course! I specialize in defacing -- er, sorry -- modifying jewelry. Hold it up and point me at it."
Harry did as he was told and was shocked at what had happened. The crystal, which had reappeared and was glowing a soft white, emitted one, thick ring of white light that widened, extending down the length of the staff until it looked like the entire staff was glowing. A soft, deep hum seemed to be produced by the white glow. The glow then rose up the staff, bunching up at the crystal, forming a huge ball. As soon as none of the glow remained on the staff except at the crystal, the white ball escaped the crystal and hit the plaque, which then fell to the ground, looking like it had never been attached in the first place.
"Wow," said Harry aloud, amazed at not only that it worked but the cool special effects of his staff.
"You'll get used to it after a while," said the staff in his head. "Just hold both of them in your hand and tell me when you want to reattach it. Have a good time with Cho," it added, the lion's mouth grinning broadly, the crystal having disappeared again.
"Hey!" said Harry, turning red. "How did you know? You don't come to life until I hold you!"
"I can see it in your eye," said the staff, laughing. "Why else would you feel like holding that plaque?"
Harry, feeling slightly guilty, said, "Well, thanks. Sorry about having to keep you under the bed, but..."
"It's all right. I quite like bed bugs." Harry couldn't help but laugh quietly. "You just watch yourself during that Fire Quidditch game. It's a good thing Dumbledore suggested you bring me along. Goodness knows Lord Voldemort wouldn't dare touch you with me around, especially when I'm morphed into a lion."
"I don't think -- anyone -- would dare touch me with a seven foot lion breathing down their neck," said Harry, giggling.
He sighed and looked around his room again; the orange was slowly fading into white.
"Time for you to go, Raides," Harry told his staff and it went lifeless. He stuffed the Staff of Cybele under his bed and out of sight then got dressed and tried fruitlessly to make his untidy hair lie flat. A comb didn't work and so forgetting about the notion of grooming himself, he sat in bed until breakfast came, thinking of what he could possibly do for a month with Cho. This tragic reality hadn't occured to him and the most they could do inside the house was sit in his room and talk. The mere thought terrified him...
Maybe they could think of ways to convince Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon of sending Dudley to Hogwarts?