Chapter 11: THE TRUTH COMES OUT
"You're awake too?" called Harry through the morning sunlight.
It was the next morning and as Harry awoke in bed, he saw Cho's head moving.
"Yes," she replied groggily. "Woke up a minute ago."
"Oh. I woke up just a second ago."
Harry sat upright, as did Cho, picked up his glasses and put them on. Their bags from the mall from yesterday were sitting in a corner of the room and someone had washed the scarf with the picture of that strange Muggle named Daniel Radcliffe. Hedwig was back, hooting happily in her cage and pecking the door with her beak, obviously wanting to come out. Someone must had retrieved her and put her in her cage so she wouldn't disturb Harry or Cho. There were two letters sitting next to her cage and the last thing that Harry saw was that Raides was curled up like an extravagant rug, her head on her paws.
Careful not to trod on her, Harry opened Hedwig's cage, who immediately gave off a series of loud, happy hoots, enough to wake the dead and, consequently, Raides ("Damn bird").
"I guess now that your Aunt Marge knows, there's no need to hide anything from her," said Cho, grinning.
"Yep," Harry agreed as Hedwig fluttered onto his shoulder, nipping his neck affectionately. "Think one of these letters is from the Ministry?"
"Probably one from my parents, too," Cho said, grinning more.
"Hey, don't joke about that," said Harry, turning to Cho and giving her a stern look. "That could have turned out -- a lot worse."
Cho nodded gravely in agreement.
"Oh, no," said Harry, running a nervous hand through his hair. "This one's from Dumbledore. It's not good news. He has this amazing ability to make me feel either a lot better or a lot worse. I'll read it to you."
Dear Harry,
I got wind of your travels just this morning. While I am happy to hear that you're both safe, I must insist that you stay within the confines of the Dursley home until September the first.
See you then.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"That's it?" said Harry blankly. "That's all he has to say? It's the Dursley Dream. They want to keep me miserable. I'm going to be stuck here until they die and then Voldemort's going to get me."
"Is that really their dream?" said Cho suggestively.
"What do you mean?" Harry snapped.
"What is the Dursley Dream?" said Cho, sound just as suggestive.
Harry didn't understand what she meant at all. He put the letter down and then let out his frustrations by jamming his fist through the wall leading into Dudley's room. He acted like he did nothing more than break a pen in half.
"Harry -- you broke the wall," said Cho flatly.
"And?"
"You broke -- the wall," she repeated, looking at Harry like he was going to explode any minute.
"D'you want thirty points for Ravenclaw? Leave me alone."
He shrugged Hedwig off and went to lay on his stomach on his bed, holding himself up by his elbows and then clutched his pillow.
"What's going on up there?" he heard Uncle Vernon's muffled, angry voice shout from downstairs.
"Nothing!" Cho shouted back. She then rounded on Harry and said, "What're you doing, laying there? Fix the wall!"
"You fix the wall," said Harry dully.
"Harry, come on," she said pleadingly. "I know you're going through some very rough times and --"
"No you don't," Harry snapped.
"Fine," said Cho irritably. "What DO you want me to do then? I'm trying to help you get through everything, Harry. And what the hell is wrong with you!?" she shouted angrily. "You were perfectly fine just a few minutes ago!"
"Trying to help me get through what? You can help me by leaving me alone."
Cho stormed out of the room and he heard her voice saying, "Don't go in his room. He'll probably turn you into a beetle."
As Harry listened to Cho's footsteps die away descending the stairs, the strange spell of anger leaked out of him. He buried his head in his pillow, every fiber in him angry at himself, every part of him fighting back the impulse to shed a tear, every inch of him wishing he hadn't told Cho off. Every breath he exhaled seemed to get caught in his throat or was that him failing to stop himself from shedding a tear?
"Why did you blow up on her?" came the very concerned voice of Raides.
Harry really didn't feel like answering (he didn't know either) so he just continued to lay there, taking deep, calming breaths, sniffing occasionally, a total mess.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," said Raides wisely. "Or do you like her that much?"
Harry picked his head up and turned his neck to look at the elaborate rug on his floor, still clutching his pillow. Raides was facing the door. Harry guessed that she watched Cho leave.
"No, I hate her guts. Of course I like her!" he snapped.
Raides turned around and faced her beautiful head in Harry's direction, gazing up at him. They met each other's eyes.
"She makes me --" Harry went on slowly, "she makes me feel better."
Suspecting that Harry had gone temporarily soft, Raides said, "Go on, Harry, give me the details." She wanted to smile, but didn't think it would fit the mood.
Harry turned his attention to the floor just under Raides. If he was going to give the details, it had to at least look like there was no one else in the room if he was going to be honest with himself.
"Yesterday she bought a necklace that looked like this one," Harry kept going, picking up the Order of Merlin necklace -- and feeling very unhappy that it made him slightly calmer (and so he put it back down immediately) -- and showing it to Raides. "And when I grabbed it, it -- didn't do anything. I didn't feel bad -- I felt very good -- and that was the first time it didn't do anything when I -- you know."
"No, I don't know," said Raides, knowing perfectly well.
Harry took another deep breath and said, "It doesn't do anything when I'm feeling too sad but always does no matter how happy I am. There was just something that was right -- that I... didn't need it for."
"Unless I'm mistaken, dear old Dumbledore gave you some wise words on that necklace about this very thing," said Raides suggestively.
Harry didn't say them aloud at first but they came to him immediately. "I am afraid you will have to find the distinction between feelings battling each other and knowing when you are content with yourself on your own," Dumbledore had said. These words came to Harry during a long speech after Harry had found out what had happened to Sirius last year. After a full minute's silence, he did say them aloud.
"Now, why don't you tell Cho this?" Raides asked immediately after Harry finished, raising her scarlet tail in curiosity. Harry's eyes met Raides' again for a brief moment and then he suddenly became interested in a familiar pen on his desk.
"I can't," said Harry at once. "That would be like telling her that I --" but he abruptly stopped talking.
There was a pause, and then --
"That you what?" asked Raides.
"Nevermind."
"That you what?" Raides repeated loudly. "Why can't you?"
"I said nevermind," said Harry even more loudly.
Raides, not wanting to further upset Harry, gave up. She wagged her tail nervously a few times, not knowing what to expect next.
"So," she said, trying to spark a new conversation.
"What?" croaked Harry, feeling thoroughly horrible.
He sat up, crossed the room, picked up his wand, pointed it at the wall and shouted, "Paries Reparo!" then watched, a dull look in his eye, while the bits of smashed wood and paint chips climbed the wall and slid back into place.
"I'd write to someone but I don't know who," Harry said gloomily.
"Why write when she's just downstairs?" Raides said.
Raides was right, Harry wanted to talk to her but couldn't find the nerve. She was down there all right, and would be for all of the coming days leading to September first. Cho hadn't been speaking to Harry much since then and he figured she might as well go home. Raides told him, just a day later, that she asked Cho why she was still staying. While Raides wouldn't tell Harry why, he had the distinct feeling it had something to do with the breakfast that was sitting in his room for him each morning ever since that day.
Harry crossed off every day on his calendar until his return to Hogwarts, looking forward to leaving the confines of Privet Drive now more than ever. One week after that day, Cho could be heard saying good morning to Harry but beyond that, it was just a nod of the head or wave of a hand and that was the extent of her acknowledgement of him. Harry felt he deserved it for having exploded on her for no reason and what further upset him was that he didn't have any reason in particular for having done so.
One or two good things had come out of recent events. Aunt Marge, whether it be fear or having had a talk with Aunt Petunia (or more likely, Raides), ceased her torture of Harry. Instead, she did the best possible thing she could do: she ignored him completely. Realizing he was right in his assumption that Cho didn't hate him completely, he watched as Cho shot Aunt Marge dirty looks when none but he or Raides could see.
One night in particular, a very, very strange conversation for the inhabitants of Privet Drive, one Harry thought would never take place, had broken out over dinner and it would appear that Cho and Aunt Petunia had sparked it. While talking about Dudley and Smeltings, the school his parents had sent him to after he finished with the first few years of public school, the conversation had slipped onto --
"Hogwarts," said Raides.
She was sitting on Harry's side, peacefully sipping a bowl of fat free milk (even magical staves that can transform into animals have to watch their diet) and munching on a dead racoon Hedwig had brought for her. Every now and then, one of the Dursleys or Aunt Marge would take a quick, nervous glance at her. While they seemed satisfied that she wasn't dangerous, being seven feet long didn't stop her from being intimidating.
Harry kept munching on his spaghetti and meatballs, hardly daring to believe his ears.
Aunt Marge took a big gulp of her tea, wiped her mouth with a shovel-like hand and said, "Where is this -- this school?"
"Far north," said Cho thickly, munching on a pepper. "North of Edinburgh. They take a train there. Takes just about all day."
For the first time in two weeks, Harry and Cho caught each other's eye and Harry nodded at Aunt Marge in agreement with Cho.
"I remember Har- -- you, boy, saying something about platform nine and three-quarters?" Uncle Vernon said, looking strained. Raides rolled her eyes each time Uncle Vernon referred to Harry as "the boy." That, and Harry noticed that his uncle had purposely held back from saying his name. "What was that about?"
Harry, smiled, dribbling pasta sauce down down his mouth. He wiped it with a napkin and said, "You have to walk through a wall -- it's not actually solid -- and when you do, it sort of -- sort of teleports you and you're at platform nine and three-quarters."
"It works something like a Portkey, Harry," Cho said to him.
"Oh?" Harry said, interested.
"Professor Flitwick covers charms like that one in the seventh year."
Harry opened his mouth, a silent "Ahh!" escaping it, nodding.
Uncle Vernon looked between the two of them and said, "That's the first time I've seen you two --"
"Why don't you tell them what happens when first year students get there, Harry?" said Raides loudly. "I'm sure Dudley would be interested -- seeing as his parents are thinking of sending him," she added, glancing sidelong at Aunt Petunia.
"Hagrid, the gameskeeper, sees them onto boats and they float across the river up towards the castle. When they --"
"There's a castle?" said Dudley excitedly.
He seemed to forget that he didn't really like wizards and witches and Aunt Petunia seemed to be fighting back the impulse to tell off Harry. Harry, wanting to keep Dudley's excitement up, plunged into the history of Hogwarts -- or at least what he could remember from what Hermione had told him.
"The castle's a thousand years old. It had four founders. Their names were Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw -- at least I think so on those last two, hardly anyone ever mentions them." He paused for a good minute and took the time to eat more of his dinner, waiting to see if anyone was going to object to his explanation. Harry couldn't tell if the Dursleys were keeping quiet because they were interested or Harry scared them silent.
"When they were alive," he went on after he finishing chewing, "they handpicked students to be in one of their Houses to be taught by them. All of them wanted to teach students with different qualities. For example, the people in Slytherin are very nasty and devious. People in Gryffinor are" -- and he turned slightly pinkish -- "supposed to be brave and courageous. There was a lot of rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Just before all of them died, Gryffindor enchanted his hat so it can pick for them. First year students put it on and it shouts the House the founders would have picked for them and they go into that House."
"What House are you two in?" Dudley asked.
"I graduated last year," said Cho, "I was in Ravenclaw. Harry's in Gryffindor." Ignoring everyone else's presence and why she was currently angry with him, she added, "And he's very brave, aren't you, Harry?" while giggling softly.
And he turned even more pink.
"What can they possibly teach there?" said Aunt Petunia. Harry was surprised to see that she looked mildly interested.
Harry swallowed the bit of meatball in his mouth and said, "Er -- they teach you all about magic and -- er -- our -- history." Aunt Marge looked at him funny. Being Muggles, the Dursleys had nothing to do with goblin rebellions or the culture of house elves. Harry, having a father who came from a long, long line of wizards, had come from what could only be described as a different world. "Magical creatures like trolls and hobgoglins --"
"Those really exist?" said Dudley, still sounding excited and shoving a bit of bread in his mouth with a pudgy finger.
"Yes," said Harry firmly, the pink color receeding from his face. "They had dragons at the school three years ago as part of a tournament. In fact, they're having that tournament again this year," he added, grinning at Cho, who, he wasn't happy to see, didn't return it.
He couldn't figure out whether it was because she was mad at him again or she didn't want him to even think of participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Dudley was looking at Harry with an expression of awe and a twinkle in his eye that Harry never saw before. He could swear Dudley would be drooling if he wasn't rapidly chewing his food.
"They usually have an inter-house Quidditch Cup -- that's a sport for wizards -- but the tournament takes up so much time they have to cancel it," Harry explained. "Er -- Aunt Marge, when I said I was going to play Quidditch, well..."
She looked at him over the top of her tea glass and understood the clue. She knew now that Harry hadn't gone to play a new sport made up by St. Brutus', though Harry still wasn't sure she was interested in seeing a game of Quidditch... And then, quite suddenly, something dawned on Harry. He was talking at the dinner table with the Dursleys... about school! He had never done that in his life, it was like they were his -- no, they weren't. Why did I even think of that, he thought bitterly. Harry kept this little revelation to himself, to be revealed at a later time and answered yes to Dudley's question about whether Harry had entered the tournament last time.
"The thing is, I didn't want to," he explained.
"You didn't want to," said Uncle Vernon flatly, "but you did anyway." It was more of a statement then a question.
"I don't want to explain it," Harry said heavily, twirling the last mound of spaghetti in his plate on his fork. "You," he added to Cho. Harry put his fork down, took a sip of his drink and pushed his plate away. His throat had mysteriously stopped working.
"It's called the Triwizard Tournament," Cho began, shifting her eyes slowly between all of the Dursleys, not noticing she was staring extra hard when turning to Aunt Marge. "They stopped holding it about a hundred years ago because the death toll rose too high. Three years ago, Hogwarts hosted it and two other wizarding schools, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute sent their headmaster and a bunch of students. This cup called the Goblet of Fire is what they use to determine who's worthy enough to be in the tournament. They obviously don't want anyone to die so the goblet is supposed to pick the most adept people, one from each school. You put your name and school on a piece of paper, stick it in the goblet and when the date, set by magic, comes, the goblet spits out the pieces of paper, one from each school, of the student's name."
By the time Cho finished the first part of her story, the Dursleys had all forgotten about their dinner and were goggling at her.
"Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang all had their champions for the tournament selected. Someone had slipped Harry's name into the goblet because they were planning to" -- and she shot Harry a half nervous, half scared look "-- kill him," she finished dramatically.
Harry distinctly saw Aunt Petunia's hand move as if she were going to cover her mouth with it in horror but she was a horrible actor and her face became painted with a fitting expression.
Cho sighed and said, "Oh I might as well tell you everything, then, because I have to if you want to know who did it and why."
Aunt Marge waved a hand, inviting her to go on and Cho plunged into the story about Voldemort when Harry was just a year old. She instinctively referred to Voldemort as "You-Know-Who" and winced when Harry had corrected her by saying the name and told them that this was Voldemort, the person who was causing all the deaths of Muggles and had done so so many years before, as well. She was keen on telling how people disappeared and all about the mass murders she had heard about and how all of this was fun to Voldemort and his followers. Cho then explained how Voldemort had been trying to rise to power again in Harry's fourth year and finally did during the fiasco of the Triwizard Cup. It then took her a good hour to explain last year's events and the story of Raides. When she finished, all of the Dursley's mouths were hanging open.
"Oooh, do I remember him," said Uncle Vernon fiercely, his face turning the usual purple. "Petunia, do you remember Charlie?"
"Charlie?" she said, her brow furrowed. "He disappeared a long time ago... Fiona said he went on vacation to Australia."
"For twenty years?" Uncle Vernon said as if his wife was stupid. "He's dead!"
That time, Aunt Petunia didn't hold her hand back from covering her mouth.
"Why don't they just kill him and get it over with?" Dudley suggested.
"Because we can't," Cho told him grimly, staring directly into Dudley's eyes and trying her very best to incite fear into him. "He's played around with being immortal. He should have died both times that curse failed on Harry. And no one knows why he wants to kill Harry or why he lived twice," she added before any words escaped Dudley's mouth.
"That's great," said Uncle Vernon angrily. "No one can kill him?"
"That's right," said Cho.
"Unless someone comes up with a miracle," Harry said, "we're stuck with him until all his follower's are caught and he's ripped from his body again. One of his followers is someone I really hate by the name of Lucius Malfoy... Most of them said Voldemort controlled them and got out of getting sent to the wizard prison, Azkaban, which, mind you, you don't even want to visit. It's that bad."
"Why not?" said Dudley disbelievingly.
"I you told you two about it, once," Harry said, looking between Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He felt his insides turn cold at the very thought. No sound escaped his throat anymore, yet his mouth was moving... Cho turned to look at him.
"It's guarded by creatures called dementors," Cho said, noticing Harry's difficulty and then turning her attention to the Dursleys. "Non-wizards can't see them but you'll still feel their effects. They make you feel like utter crap -- really bad -- and you can only remember anything bad that ever happened to you, nothing good."
And there Harry sat, sitting before the very people that helped make it possible for a dementor to cause Harry to go unconscious every time he got too near one of them.
"Can we -- er -- switch to a different subject," said Harry as a block of ice swam up and down his back.
"Ah, yes, well, it's getting late," said Uncle Vernon, looking at his watch.
Harry looked down at his golden watch and saw that it was half past eleven. Where had all the time gone?
Cho still hadn't come up to his room to sleep there. He had gotten the feeling she wanted him to say something but, not knowing the mind of a girl very well, he simply didn't know what. Harry had the crazy idea of talking to Aunt Petunia about the subject but thought, upon reflection, that part of the reason for the conversation that night was Raides sitting next to them all, keeping them utterly terrified about badmouthing Harry or, for that matter, wizards in general. He then thought about talking to Raides but forgot that she was just a staff and not a human girl by any means and writing to Hermione was just plain embarassing. For all he knew, she was going to write to Cho's parents and tell them about it and he simply couldn't have that.
"You're awake too?" called Harry through the morning sunlight.
It was the next morning and as Harry awoke in bed, he saw Cho's head moving.
"Yes," she replied groggily. "Woke up a minute ago."
"Oh. I woke up just a second ago."
Harry sat upright, as did Cho, picked up his glasses and put them on. Their bags from the mall from yesterday were sitting in a corner of the room and someone had washed the scarf with the picture of that strange Muggle named Daniel Radcliffe. Hedwig was back, hooting happily in her cage and pecking the door with her beak, obviously wanting to come out. Someone must had retrieved her and put her in her cage so she wouldn't disturb Harry or Cho. There were two letters sitting next to her cage and the last thing that Harry saw was that Raides was curled up like an extravagant rug, her head on her paws.
Careful not to trod on her, Harry opened Hedwig's cage, who immediately gave off a series of loud, happy hoots, enough to wake the dead and, consequently, Raides ("Damn bird").
"I guess now that your Aunt Marge knows, there's no need to hide anything from her," said Cho, grinning.
"Yep," Harry agreed as Hedwig fluttered onto his shoulder, nipping his neck affectionately. "Think one of these letters is from the Ministry?"
"Probably one from my parents, too," Cho said, grinning more.
"Hey, don't joke about that," said Harry, turning to Cho and giving her a stern look. "That could have turned out -- a lot worse."
Cho nodded gravely in agreement.
"Oh, no," said Harry, running a nervous hand through his hair. "This one's from Dumbledore. It's not good news. He has this amazing ability to make me feel either a lot better or a lot worse. I'll read it to you."
Dear Harry,
I got wind of your travels just this morning. While I am happy to hear that you're both safe, I must insist that you stay within the confines of the Dursley home until September the first.
See you then.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"That's it?" said Harry blankly. "That's all he has to say? It's the Dursley Dream. They want to keep me miserable. I'm going to be stuck here until they die and then Voldemort's going to get me."
"Is that really their dream?" said Cho suggestively.
"What do you mean?" Harry snapped.
"What is the Dursley Dream?" said Cho, sound just as suggestive.
Harry didn't understand what she meant at all. He put the letter down and then let out his frustrations by jamming his fist through the wall leading into Dudley's room. He acted like he did nothing more than break a pen in half.
"Harry -- you broke the wall," said Cho flatly.
"And?"
"You broke -- the wall," she repeated, looking at Harry like he was going to explode any minute.
"D'you want thirty points for Ravenclaw? Leave me alone."
He shrugged Hedwig off and went to lay on his stomach on his bed, holding himself up by his elbows and then clutched his pillow.
"What's going on up there?" he heard Uncle Vernon's muffled, angry voice shout from downstairs.
"Nothing!" Cho shouted back. She then rounded on Harry and said, "What're you doing, laying there? Fix the wall!"
"You fix the wall," said Harry dully.
"Harry, come on," she said pleadingly. "I know you're going through some very rough times and --"
"No you don't," Harry snapped.
"Fine," said Cho irritably. "What DO you want me to do then? I'm trying to help you get through everything, Harry. And what the hell is wrong with you!?" she shouted angrily. "You were perfectly fine just a few minutes ago!"
"Trying to help me get through what? You can help me by leaving me alone."
Cho stormed out of the room and he heard her voice saying, "Don't go in his room. He'll probably turn you into a beetle."
As Harry listened to Cho's footsteps die away descending the stairs, the strange spell of anger leaked out of him. He buried his head in his pillow, every fiber in him angry at himself, every part of him fighting back the impulse to shed a tear, every inch of him wishing he hadn't told Cho off. Every breath he exhaled seemed to get caught in his throat or was that him failing to stop himself from shedding a tear?
"Why did you blow up on her?" came the very concerned voice of Raides.
Harry really didn't feel like answering (he didn't know either) so he just continued to lay there, taking deep, calming breaths, sniffing occasionally, a total mess.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," said Raides wisely. "Or do you like her that much?"
Harry picked his head up and turned his neck to look at the elaborate rug on his floor, still clutching his pillow. Raides was facing the door. Harry guessed that she watched Cho leave.
"No, I hate her guts. Of course I like her!" he snapped.
Raides turned around and faced her beautiful head in Harry's direction, gazing up at him. They met each other's eyes.
"She makes me --" Harry went on slowly, "she makes me feel better."
Suspecting that Harry had gone temporarily soft, Raides said, "Go on, Harry, give me the details." She wanted to smile, but didn't think it would fit the mood.
Harry turned his attention to the floor just under Raides. If he was going to give the details, it had to at least look like there was no one else in the room if he was going to be honest with himself.
"Yesterday she bought a necklace that looked like this one," Harry kept going, picking up the Order of Merlin necklace -- and feeling very unhappy that it made him slightly calmer (and so he put it back down immediately) -- and showing it to Raides. "And when I grabbed it, it -- didn't do anything. I didn't feel bad -- I felt very good -- and that was the first time it didn't do anything when I -- you know."
"No, I don't know," said Raides, knowing perfectly well.
Harry took another deep breath and said, "It doesn't do anything when I'm feeling too sad but always does no matter how happy I am. There was just something that was right -- that I... didn't need it for."
"Unless I'm mistaken, dear old Dumbledore gave you some wise words on that necklace about this very thing," said Raides suggestively.
Harry didn't say them aloud at first but they came to him immediately. "I am afraid you will have to find the distinction between feelings battling each other and knowing when you are content with yourself on your own," Dumbledore had said. These words came to Harry during a long speech after Harry had found out what had happened to Sirius last year. After a full minute's silence, he did say them aloud.
"Now, why don't you tell Cho this?" Raides asked immediately after Harry finished, raising her scarlet tail in curiosity. Harry's eyes met Raides' again for a brief moment and then he suddenly became interested in a familiar pen on his desk.
"I can't," said Harry at once. "That would be like telling her that I --" but he abruptly stopped talking.
There was a pause, and then --
"That you what?" asked Raides.
"Nevermind."
"That you what?" Raides repeated loudly. "Why can't you?"
"I said nevermind," said Harry even more loudly.
Raides, not wanting to further upset Harry, gave up. She wagged her tail nervously a few times, not knowing what to expect next.
"So," she said, trying to spark a new conversation.
"What?" croaked Harry, feeling thoroughly horrible.
He sat up, crossed the room, picked up his wand, pointed it at the wall and shouted, "Paries Reparo!" then watched, a dull look in his eye, while the bits of smashed wood and paint chips climbed the wall and slid back into place.
"I'd write to someone but I don't know who," Harry said gloomily.
"Why write when she's just downstairs?" Raides said.
Raides was right, Harry wanted to talk to her but couldn't find the nerve. She was down there all right, and would be for all of the coming days leading to September first. Cho hadn't been speaking to Harry much since then and he figured she might as well go home. Raides told him, just a day later, that she asked Cho why she was still staying. While Raides wouldn't tell Harry why, he had the distinct feeling it had something to do with the breakfast that was sitting in his room for him each morning ever since that day.
Harry crossed off every day on his calendar until his return to Hogwarts, looking forward to leaving the confines of Privet Drive now more than ever. One week after that day, Cho could be heard saying good morning to Harry but beyond that, it was just a nod of the head or wave of a hand and that was the extent of her acknowledgement of him. Harry felt he deserved it for having exploded on her for no reason and what further upset him was that he didn't have any reason in particular for having done so.
One or two good things had come out of recent events. Aunt Marge, whether it be fear or having had a talk with Aunt Petunia (or more likely, Raides), ceased her torture of Harry. Instead, she did the best possible thing she could do: she ignored him completely. Realizing he was right in his assumption that Cho didn't hate him completely, he watched as Cho shot Aunt Marge dirty looks when none but he or Raides could see.
One night in particular, a very, very strange conversation for the inhabitants of Privet Drive, one Harry thought would never take place, had broken out over dinner and it would appear that Cho and Aunt Petunia had sparked it. While talking about Dudley and Smeltings, the school his parents had sent him to after he finished with the first few years of public school, the conversation had slipped onto --
"Hogwarts," said Raides.
She was sitting on Harry's side, peacefully sipping a bowl of fat free milk (even magical staves that can transform into animals have to watch their diet) and munching on a dead racoon Hedwig had brought for her. Every now and then, one of the Dursleys or Aunt Marge would take a quick, nervous glance at her. While they seemed satisfied that she wasn't dangerous, being seven feet long didn't stop her from being intimidating.
Harry kept munching on his spaghetti and meatballs, hardly daring to believe his ears.
Aunt Marge took a big gulp of her tea, wiped her mouth with a shovel-like hand and said, "Where is this -- this school?"
"Far north," said Cho thickly, munching on a pepper. "North of Edinburgh. They take a train there. Takes just about all day."
For the first time in two weeks, Harry and Cho caught each other's eye and Harry nodded at Aunt Marge in agreement with Cho.
"I remember Har- -- you, boy, saying something about platform nine and three-quarters?" Uncle Vernon said, looking strained. Raides rolled her eyes each time Uncle Vernon referred to Harry as "the boy." That, and Harry noticed that his uncle had purposely held back from saying his name. "What was that about?"
Harry, smiled, dribbling pasta sauce down down his mouth. He wiped it with a napkin and said, "You have to walk through a wall -- it's not actually solid -- and when you do, it sort of -- sort of teleports you and you're at platform nine and three-quarters."
"It works something like a Portkey, Harry," Cho said to him.
"Oh?" Harry said, interested.
"Professor Flitwick covers charms like that one in the seventh year."
Harry opened his mouth, a silent "Ahh!" escaping it, nodding.
Uncle Vernon looked between the two of them and said, "That's the first time I've seen you two --"
"Why don't you tell them what happens when first year students get there, Harry?" said Raides loudly. "I'm sure Dudley would be interested -- seeing as his parents are thinking of sending him," she added, glancing sidelong at Aunt Petunia.
"Hagrid, the gameskeeper, sees them onto boats and they float across the river up towards the castle. When they --"
"There's a castle?" said Dudley excitedly.
He seemed to forget that he didn't really like wizards and witches and Aunt Petunia seemed to be fighting back the impulse to tell off Harry. Harry, wanting to keep Dudley's excitement up, plunged into the history of Hogwarts -- or at least what he could remember from what Hermione had told him.
"The castle's a thousand years old. It had four founders. Their names were Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw -- at least I think so on those last two, hardly anyone ever mentions them." He paused for a good minute and took the time to eat more of his dinner, waiting to see if anyone was going to object to his explanation. Harry couldn't tell if the Dursleys were keeping quiet because they were interested or Harry scared them silent.
"When they were alive," he went on after he finishing chewing, "they handpicked students to be in one of their Houses to be taught by them. All of them wanted to teach students with different qualities. For example, the people in Slytherin are very nasty and devious. People in Gryffinor are" -- and he turned slightly pinkish -- "supposed to be brave and courageous. There was a lot of rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Just before all of them died, Gryffindor enchanted his hat so it can pick for them. First year students put it on and it shouts the House the founders would have picked for them and they go into that House."
"What House are you two in?" Dudley asked.
"I graduated last year," said Cho, "I was in Ravenclaw. Harry's in Gryffindor." Ignoring everyone else's presence and why she was currently angry with him, she added, "And he's very brave, aren't you, Harry?" while giggling softly.
And he turned even more pink.
"What can they possibly teach there?" said Aunt Petunia. Harry was surprised to see that she looked mildly interested.
Harry swallowed the bit of meatball in his mouth and said, "Er -- they teach you all about magic and -- er -- our -- history." Aunt Marge looked at him funny. Being Muggles, the Dursleys had nothing to do with goblin rebellions or the culture of house elves. Harry, having a father who came from a long, long line of wizards, had come from what could only be described as a different world. "Magical creatures like trolls and hobgoglins --"
"Those really exist?" said Dudley, still sounding excited and shoving a bit of bread in his mouth with a pudgy finger.
"Yes," said Harry firmly, the pink color receeding from his face. "They had dragons at the school three years ago as part of a tournament. In fact, they're having that tournament again this year," he added, grinning at Cho, who, he wasn't happy to see, didn't return it.
He couldn't figure out whether it was because she was mad at him again or she didn't want him to even think of participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Dudley was looking at Harry with an expression of awe and a twinkle in his eye that Harry never saw before. He could swear Dudley would be drooling if he wasn't rapidly chewing his food.
"They usually have an inter-house Quidditch Cup -- that's a sport for wizards -- but the tournament takes up so much time they have to cancel it," Harry explained. "Er -- Aunt Marge, when I said I was going to play Quidditch, well..."
She looked at him over the top of her tea glass and understood the clue. She knew now that Harry hadn't gone to play a new sport made up by St. Brutus', though Harry still wasn't sure she was interested in seeing a game of Quidditch... And then, quite suddenly, something dawned on Harry. He was talking at the dinner table with the Dursleys... about school! He had never done that in his life, it was like they were his -- no, they weren't. Why did I even think of that, he thought bitterly. Harry kept this little revelation to himself, to be revealed at a later time and answered yes to Dudley's question about whether Harry had entered the tournament last time.
"The thing is, I didn't want to," he explained.
"You didn't want to," said Uncle Vernon flatly, "but you did anyway." It was more of a statement then a question.
"I don't want to explain it," Harry said heavily, twirling the last mound of spaghetti in his plate on his fork. "You," he added to Cho. Harry put his fork down, took a sip of his drink and pushed his plate away. His throat had mysteriously stopped working.
"It's called the Triwizard Tournament," Cho began, shifting her eyes slowly between all of the Dursleys, not noticing she was staring extra hard when turning to Aunt Marge. "They stopped holding it about a hundred years ago because the death toll rose too high. Three years ago, Hogwarts hosted it and two other wizarding schools, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute sent their headmaster and a bunch of students. This cup called the Goblet of Fire is what they use to determine who's worthy enough to be in the tournament. They obviously don't want anyone to die so the goblet is supposed to pick the most adept people, one from each school. You put your name and school on a piece of paper, stick it in the goblet and when the date, set by magic, comes, the goblet spits out the pieces of paper, one from each school, of the student's name."
By the time Cho finished the first part of her story, the Dursleys had all forgotten about their dinner and were goggling at her.
"Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang all had their champions for the tournament selected. Someone had slipped Harry's name into the goblet because they were planning to" -- and she shot Harry a half nervous, half scared look "-- kill him," she finished dramatically.
Harry distinctly saw Aunt Petunia's hand move as if she were going to cover her mouth with it in horror but she was a horrible actor and her face became painted with a fitting expression.
Cho sighed and said, "Oh I might as well tell you everything, then, because I have to if you want to know who did it and why."
Aunt Marge waved a hand, inviting her to go on and Cho plunged into the story about Voldemort when Harry was just a year old. She instinctively referred to Voldemort as "You-Know-Who" and winced when Harry had corrected her by saying the name and told them that this was Voldemort, the person who was causing all the deaths of Muggles and had done so so many years before, as well. She was keen on telling how people disappeared and all about the mass murders she had heard about and how all of this was fun to Voldemort and his followers. Cho then explained how Voldemort had been trying to rise to power again in Harry's fourth year and finally did during the fiasco of the Triwizard Cup. It then took her a good hour to explain last year's events and the story of Raides. When she finished, all of the Dursley's mouths were hanging open.
"Oooh, do I remember him," said Uncle Vernon fiercely, his face turning the usual purple. "Petunia, do you remember Charlie?"
"Charlie?" she said, her brow furrowed. "He disappeared a long time ago... Fiona said he went on vacation to Australia."
"For twenty years?" Uncle Vernon said as if his wife was stupid. "He's dead!"
That time, Aunt Petunia didn't hold her hand back from covering her mouth.
"Why don't they just kill him and get it over with?" Dudley suggested.
"Because we can't," Cho told him grimly, staring directly into Dudley's eyes and trying her very best to incite fear into him. "He's played around with being immortal. He should have died both times that curse failed on Harry. And no one knows why he wants to kill Harry or why he lived twice," she added before any words escaped Dudley's mouth.
"That's great," said Uncle Vernon angrily. "No one can kill him?"
"That's right," said Cho.
"Unless someone comes up with a miracle," Harry said, "we're stuck with him until all his follower's are caught and he's ripped from his body again. One of his followers is someone I really hate by the name of Lucius Malfoy... Most of them said Voldemort controlled them and got out of getting sent to the wizard prison, Azkaban, which, mind you, you don't even want to visit. It's that bad."
"Why not?" said Dudley disbelievingly.
"I you told you two about it, once," Harry said, looking between Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He felt his insides turn cold at the very thought. No sound escaped his throat anymore, yet his mouth was moving... Cho turned to look at him.
"It's guarded by creatures called dementors," Cho said, noticing Harry's difficulty and then turning her attention to the Dursleys. "Non-wizards can't see them but you'll still feel their effects. They make you feel like utter crap -- really bad -- and you can only remember anything bad that ever happened to you, nothing good."
And there Harry sat, sitting before the very people that helped make it possible for a dementor to cause Harry to go unconscious every time he got too near one of them.
"Can we -- er -- switch to a different subject," said Harry as a block of ice swam up and down his back.
"Ah, yes, well, it's getting late," said Uncle Vernon, looking at his watch.
Harry looked down at his golden watch and saw that it was half past eleven. Where had all the time gone?
Cho still hadn't come up to his room to sleep there. He had gotten the feeling she wanted him to say something but, not knowing the mind of a girl very well, he simply didn't know what. Harry had the crazy idea of talking to Aunt Petunia about the subject but thought, upon reflection, that part of the reason for the conversation that night was Raides sitting next to them all, keeping them utterly terrified about badmouthing Harry or, for that matter, wizards in general. He then thought about talking to Raides but forgot that she was just a staff and not a human girl by any means and writing to Hermione was just plain embarassing. For all he knew, she was going to write to Cho's parents and tell them about it and he simply couldn't have that.