Chapter 22: SHPLOWMP?
The whole of Hogwarts had been waiting for September to finally end and October to finally arrive. Aside from people giving strange glances at Harry ever since he had exploded in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, life had returned to normal. Sure, Harry had tasted unicorn blood, an act which would have sent many wizards into such a horrible state of being that they would have killed themself, but, what the hey, Harry was not like many wizards.
"Yes, Miss Granger," said Professor Binns during History of Magic when the subject of unicorn blood's discovery had come up, "and no, Mr. Potter."
"Oh so he did finally learn our names," said Ron quietly.
"Yes, we are still unbeknownst to many of the effects of it and no, we are fully sure it has not affected you. Rest assured, this will be another thing that goes in textbooks about you. And now all we need is to hear that you can possess people and you're going in a few more textbooks as well," he added irritably as Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.
Harry was extremely happy that Malfoy had been skirting him in the corridors and even avoiding him in lessons they had together.
"Look at him, he walks like you're going to attack him any second," said Ron after a Potions class where Malfoy exited the class room as fast as possible, beckoning Crabbe and Goyle to him.
"He better," said Harry, staring at the back of Malfoy's blonde head as he walked quickly away.
"Why? What'd he do?"
"You would have done it, too, if you were me," said Harry, getting angry at the mere thought of it again. "He said I know I'm going to die... just like my parents did."
Harry and Ron kept walking but Hermione didn't.
"He didn't," said Ron, his mouth agape.
"That sick little --" Hermione began.
"I scared the pants off him," said Harry, still staring at the back of Malfoy's head. "And he knows by now not to take it as an empty threat. Just how many times do I have to threaten him, though, before he stops?"
Hermione eventually got control of her legs and started walking again.
"Well, I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it but you shouldn't keep doing that," she said.
"Whatever," said Harry dismissively. "He struts like he doesn't have to be afraid of anyone and only because his dad works for Voldemort and him, he's just a sick murderer." Harry's fists slowly clenched as he said this.
"Calm yourself, Harry," said Ron hastily, "or you're going to bust a blood vessel."
"It's a little hard when you just want someone to di -- disappear," said Harry, his teeth half gritted. He had almost said "die" but didn't want Ron and Hermione fussing over the bad attitude he'd been having lately any more.
Harry started to walk a little more quickly but Ron grasped the back of his robes before he'd gone two paces and gave him a meaningful look.
On their way to the Great Hall from Potions, they found they couldn't even get into the vast entrance hall owing to a large number of students chattering and a number of heads pointed in the direction of the marble staircase.
"The signs there again, isn't it," said Harry.
"Yep," said Ron, the tallest of the three of them, standing tiptoe to get a better look at it.
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE GUESTS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DUMRSTRANG
WILL BE ARRIVING ON THE 30TH OF OCTOBER AT
6 O'CLOCK. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR
EARLY. ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN THEIR BAGS
AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE
OUTSIDE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR
GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST. DO NOTE
THAT THERE WILL BE AN ANNOUNCEMENT OTHER
THAN THAT CONCERNING THE TRIWIZARD
TOURNAMENT.
"Excellent!" cried Ron. "They're going to tell us that other stupid thing they're holding besides the tournament!"
As Ron finished, Dumbledore appeared behind him and drew an H over his head and a P over Harry's head but then he drew an L over Hermione's head and confused them all. As he waded through the students, he continued by drawing an M in the air, followed by an O, an S, another P and then a W. He then smiled broadly, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles and disappeared into the Great Hall.
"What the hell has an H, two Ps, an S, L, M, O and W in it? Shplomwp?" Ron asked, his face screwed up in thought.
"Somehow I don't think so," said Harry. "But we'll find out in about a week and a half. Wonder who's going to go for the tournament?"
"Fred and George will have my head if I don't enter my name in," said Ron. "And mom doesn't want me bothering."
"I should think not," said Hermione and for a brief moment, Harry thought she was Mrs. Weasley. "And you're not going to convince Harry to enter if he doesn't want to, either."
Harry smiled pleasantly at the two of them.
"C'mon," he said, "I'm starving."
The castle, as it had been three years ago when the Triwizard Tournament was also coming to Hogwarts, was undergoing an extra thorough cleaning and causing Mr. Filch to snap even more than usual.
"You're dragging mud all over the entrance hall, Potter!" he barked at Harry when they had come from Herbology. Seventh years had been working with mud-loving plants in greenhouse five and there was just no way to enter the castle without dragging mounds of mud into it.
But Harry solved the problem with Raides.
The suits of armor that lined the corridors were now sparkling and Peeves had been trying his absolute hardest to drive Mr. Filch up a wall. He would have succeeded one afternoon if Raides hadn't been walking by and growled very loudly at Peeves. The Bloody Baron was getting upset at Raides only because he was usually the only one that could control Peeves and his job was being taken from him rather forcibly. Raides, however, couldn't be bothered by such petty nonsense.
"You're going to remove him, Harry," she said, "or I'm going to... something."
"Really?" groaned Harry flatly, unconvinced. "You can't do any magic unless I do it and you know it," he said, much to Raides' displeasure.
An article turned up in the Daily Prophet about Harry. Hermione had subscribed to the newspaper several years ago and they all found it very useful. Before she had subscribed, the Slytherins had been helping them do so, all with very embarassing suject matter...
HARRY POTTER: ONE STRANGE WIZARD
It's been reported, though rather hard to believe, that young Potter, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in an accident not revealed to the press (let alone his fellow classmates), had swallowed an undetermined amount of unicorn blood.
As many of us know, such an act will curse the drinker forever, with no counter-curse known and the effects so bad, the drinker usually ends up killing themself anyway. But Potter, being one of the biggest mysteries of the age, had not been affected in the slightest. Rather, he is up and about, actively pondering whether to enter his name in the Goblet of Fire and take his shot at becoming a champion for Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament --
"Yeah, I'm really pondering that," Harry muttered.
-- Officials in the Ministry of Magic refuse to comment on whether or not this has anything to do with Dark magic or is just one of the many mysteries regarding Potter's past --
"THAT -- BITCH!" Harry roared in the middle of the Great Hall which made many, many faces turn to him. He then swiveled his head around and muttered sheepishly, "Sorry."
"Let me finish reading it," said Hermione, shaking her head.
-- Whether or not Potter has been playing in the Dark arts remains a mystery, though it must seem strange that he can remain good natured after all that has happened.
"Now that she's written that, I'm sure people are going to wonder whether or not I'm playing around in the Dark arts," Harry rambled.
"Who wrote that junk?" Ron asked.
"Our good friend Rita Skeeter," said Hermione loftily.
"I thought you had her licked?" said Harry, fully disgusted. "What happened?"
"I did," Hermione told him, "but it would seem she doesn't care anymore."
Harry dropped his knife and fork heavily onto the table and went to lean back when Hedwig landed on his shoulder.
"Oh good," he said, feeling slightly more happy, "you have Cho's and Sirius' letters. Here, I'll read you Sirius'."
He tore it open and read aloud.
Harry,
Took you long enough to find out, ha --
"What!" Harry hissed. "He already knew?"
Dumbledore had told me what happened to Mr. Filch's cat and what you did to that Muggle boy got around, though it never got into the Daily Prophet nor did Mrs. Norris. Dumbledore and I have been keeping it from you, figuring you'd probably figure it out eventually and, of course, we were afraid of the reaction you would give us had we told you. And truth be told, we actually knew before you did anything to Mrs. Norris but I think I'll save how we knew for a personal meeting.
Remus and I will be coming down to see the first, second and third task (we'll also be there for the winnings ceremony and, naturally, to see you graduate) so I'll tell you when I get there. I'll find you in the Great Hall during breakfast the day of each task, don't worry about finding me.
Keep in touch; don't lose your head; stop threatening Malfoy; Remus says hello; Ron, stop telling Harry to enter because he doesn't want to. You don't have to write back. I know you're not exactly fine, but you've got enough on your plate without me.
Sirius
"He already knew," Harry repeated, shaking his head and staring at the letter, "I don't believe it."
"And how does he know I keep telling you to enter the tournament?" said Ron, his cheeks turning ginger.
"That's obvious, isn't it?" said Hermione as if it were the easiest question in the world. "I imagine Dumbledore is sending him almost daily owls."
"Then how does Dumbledore know!"
Hermione just laughed.
"So come on then," she said, ignoring Ron and turning to Harry, "read us Cho's letter."
"No," said Harry shortly, stuffing it into his robes and handing Ron Sirius' letter.
It wasn't until he was up in his dormitory with Seamus, Ron, Dean and Neville sleeping did he finally look at her letter. Laying on his back in his pajamas, Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, stretched out his legs, folded them, and read.
Dear Harry,
I don't know what to say so I'll just say this:
I studied this as part of my final year at Hogwarts. Each and every wizard who's ever had the ability to possess someone has used it for something very bad. It's been said that someone with it who finds out they have it usually ends up being a Dark wizard because it goes to their head that they can make people do things. I do believe that won't happen to you mostly because you're too good of a person. You're a real Gryffindor; you're true of heart and you just wouldn't. I wouldn't tell anyone else yet, though, because you need the issue of You-Know-Who to blow over.
Harry stared at "you need the issue of You-Know-Who to blow over." Cho made it sound like something that was just going through a passing phase. While Harry dearly wished it was exactly like this, he didn't think it was going to just pass like the wind any time soon. He folded his legs the other way and went on reading.
My mom and dad were going nuts for a good hour after I showed them your letter but I think I've managed to calm them down; at least my dad is no longer sputtering incoherently anymore. His therapy is going really well, mom thinks he'll be able to get another job soon.
Still love you,
Cho
Reading this left Harry with a tingling feeling. "You spilled your heart out to her and she just couldn't bring herself to be as honest as you were," Hermione had said to him but now it was the exact opposite. Every letter from Cho had been reassuring, trying to keep his spirits up and he hadn't sent her one letter that didn't contain at least one thing depressing. Perhaps he ought to just try a hand at sending her a random letter about the goings-on in his school life? It would be a nice change of pace, what with talking about Voldemort and everything...
Deciding on it, Harry then let the hand holding the letter fall onto his heart, his eyes closed. Every letter Cho had sent had been full of support. He didn't think he'd be able to take a reaction from her that was more along the lines of what he thought she would react like. For a split and very scary second, he envisioned Cho just doing again what she had done when they first met. But then he took comfort in the idea that Cho really did, well... Did Harry actually open her up? Show Cho what it was like to spill your heart out to someone? It made him feel slightly weird, but it just might be true.
Harry unfolded his legs and let one dangle limp off the edge of his four-post bed. He figured that supporting someone, giving them words of comfort and making them feel good about themself was just part of what being in love with someone was really all about. Though he might have experienced it in his first year of life, he couldn't remember any of that. If it was true, that was just more solid proof that the Dursleys hated him right down to how skinny he was and how messy his hair looked. Whenever he tried to comb it, even a mirror once said he was fighting a losing battle.
He turned himself and let his other leg hang off the edge and was now sitting upright, the letter in one hand, that palm on the bed and a nice chunk of bedsheets grasped in the other. Harry took one more look at the last two lines before putting the letter on his bedside cabinet to stare at. Not being at all used to someone caring so much about him, he didn't know whether to smile or look depressed. The look on his face was pretty much neutral, though, as he stood up and took out a piece of parchment and that old pen to write back to Cho. A guilty eye stole a look of the Order of Merlin plaque still danging from his neck and then, not really wanting to grab it for it's effects, took it off, feeling slightly better about himself for the few seconds it was in his hand.
He wrote Dear Cho and then stopped, nothing coming to mind.
What was there to tell her about that didn't involve something stupid and depressing? How he'd been threatening Malfoy to stop bothering him? All about how he'd lost his temper twice in just a few short days? His dad's Invisibility Cloak and how he wasn't going to get it back until the end of the year? More brouhaha about unicorn blood? Rita Skeeter's new article in the Daily Prophet? The entirety of Hogwarts wanting him to enter the Triwizard Tournament? Dudley and the Sorting Hat? Raides and her Dark tendencies?
No, Harry thought, putting the parchment down but keeping the pen in his hand, turning to lie on his back again and stare up at the canopy of his bed, nothing conversational. Harry closed his eyes again and slapped his forehead with the back of his wrist, letting it stay there. There was no denying it, he wanted something to write about, something to show her that he wasn't all about the bad stuff, that there really was a person under all of that Voldemort-killed-my-parents-and-now-I'm-going-to-kill-him stuff. Or would that just be lying horribly to himself, that he really was all about getting revenge on Voldemort and letting his personal life (what personal life?) suffer?
Harry, shaking his head, hacked and slashed that thought until there was nothing left of it. What did he want to be known as? Or did he want to be known at all?
Harry jerked his eyes open, the boring picture of the bottom of the roof of his four-post bed, meeting them. He stretched his arm as far out as possible to put the pen back on the cabinet. It's just not going to happen, he told himself, at least tonight. You have good intentions, and that has to account for something.
Harry put his glasses and bracelet on top of the Order of Merlin necklace.
Rolling over onto his stomach because he was sick of looking at the canopy, Harry let his visions of Cho meeting both his parents slip into dreams, hoping against hope that he wouldn't wake up in the morning -- or in the middle of the night -- having had that one unpleasant dream again. He hadn't had it at Hogwarts yet and the thought of what anyone would say when he woke up screaming from such a dream... well, he didn't want to think about that, either.
The whole of Hogwarts had been waiting for September to finally end and October to finally arrive. Aside from people giving strange glances at Harry ever since he had exploded in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, life had returned to normal. Sure, Harry had tasted unicorn blood, an act which would have sent many wizards into such a horrible state of being that they would have killed themself, but, what the hey, Harry was not like many wizards.
"Yes, Miss Granger," said Professor Binns during History of Magic when the subject of unicorn blood's discovery had come up, "and no, Mr. Potter."
"Oh so he did finally learn our names," said Ron quietly.
"Yes, we are still unbeknownst to many of the effects of it and no, we are fully sure it has not affected you. Rest assured, this will be another thing that goes in textbooks about you. And now all we need is to hear that you can possess people and you're going in a few more textbooks as well," he added irritably as Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.
Harry was extremely happy that Malfoy had been skirting him in the corridors and even avoiding him in lessons they had together.
"Look at him, he walks like you're going to attack him any second," said Ron after a Potions class where Malfoy exited the class room as fast as possible, beckoning Crabbe and Goyle to him.
"He better," said Harry, staring at the back of Malfoy's blonde head as he walked quickly away.
"Why? What'd he do?"
"You would have done it, too, if you were me," said Harry, getting angry at the mere thought of it again. "He said I know I'm going to die... just like my parents did."
Harry and Ron kept walking but Hermione didn't.
"He didn't," said Ron, his mouth agape.
"That sick little --" Hermione began.
"I scared the pants off him," said Harry, still staring at the back of Malfoy's head. "And he knows by now not to take it as an empty threat. Just how many times do I have to threaten him, though, before he stops?"
Hermione eventually got control of her legs and started walking again.
"Well, I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it but you shouldn't keep doing that," she said.
"Whatever," said Harry dismissively. "He struts like he doesn't have to be afraid of anyone and only because his dad works for Voldemort and him, he's just a sick murderer." Harry's fists slowly clenched as he said this.
"Calm yourself, Harry," said Ron hastily, "or you're going to bust a blood vessel."
"It's a little hard when you just want someone to di -- disappear," said Harry, his teeth half gritted. He had almost said "die" but didn't want Ron and Hermione fussing over the bad attitude he'd been having lately any more.
Harry started to walk a little more quickly but Ron grasped the back of his robes before he'd gone two paces and gave him a meaningful look.
On their way to the Great Hall from Potions, they found they couldn't even get into the vast entrance hall owing to a large number of students chattering and a number of heads pointed in the direction of the marble staircase.
"The signs there again, isn't it," said Harry.
"Yep," said Ron, the tallest of the three of them, standing tiptoe to get a better look at it.
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE GUESTS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DUMRSTRANG
WILL BE ARRIVING ON THE 30TH OF OCTOBER AT
6 O'CLOCK. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR
EARLY. ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN THEIR BAGS
AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE
OUTSIDE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR
GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST. DO NOTE
THAT THERE WILL BE AN ANNOUNCEMENT OTHER
THAN THAT CONCERNING THE TRIWIZARD
TOURNAMENT.
"Excellent!" cried Ron. "They're going to tell us that other stupid thing they're holding besides the tournament!"
As Ron finished, Dumbledore appeared behind him and drew an H over his head and a P over Harry's head but then he drew an L over Hermione's head and confused them all. As he waded through the students, he continued by drawing an M in the air, followed by an O, an S, another P and then a W. He then smiled broadly, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles and disappeared into the Great Hall.
"What the hell has an H, two Ps, an S, L, M, O and W in it? Shplomwp?" Ron asked, his face screwed up in thought.
"Somehow I don't think so," said Harry. "But we'll find out in about a week and a half. Wonder who's going to go for the tournament?"
"Fred and George will have my head if I don't enter my name in," said Ron. "And mom doesn't want me bothering."
"I should think not," said Hermione and for a brief moment, Harry thought she was Mrs. Weasley. "And you're not going to convince Harry to enter if he doesn't want to, either."
Harry smiled pleasantly at the two of them.
"C'mon," he said, "I'm starving."
The castle, as it had been three years ago when the Triwizard Tournament was also coming to Hogwarts, was undergoing an extra thorough cleaning and causing Mr. Filch to snap even more than usual.
"You're dragging mud all over the entrance hall, Potter!" he barked at Harry when they had come from Herbology. Seventh years had been working with mud-loving plants in greenhouse five and there was just no way to enter the castle without dragging mounds of mud into it.
But Harry solved the problem with Raides.
The suits of armor that lined the corridors were now sparkling and Peeves had been trying his absolute hardest to drive Mr. Filch up a wall. He would have succeeded one afternoon if Raides hadn't been walking by and growled very loudly at Peeves. The Bloody Baron was getting upset at Raides only because he was usually the only one that could control Peeves and his job was being taken from him rather forcibly. Raides, however, couldn't be bothered by such petty nonsense.
"You're going to remove him, Harry," she said, "or I'm going to... something."
"Really?" groaned Harry flatly, unconvinced. "You can't do any magic unless I do it and you know it," he said, much to Raides' displeasure.
An article turned up in the Daily Prophet about Harry. Hermione had subscribed to the newspaper several years ago and they all found it very useful. Before she had subscribed, the Slytherins had been helping them do so, all with very embarassing suject matter...
HARRY POTTER: ONE STRANGE WIZARD
It's been reported, though rather hard to believe, that young Potter, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in an accident not revealed to the press (let alone his fellow classmates), had swallowed an undetermined amount of unicorn blood.
As many of us know, such an act will curse the drinker forever, with no counter-curse known and the effects so bad, the drinker usually ends up killing themself anyway. But Potter, being one of the biggest mysteries of the age, had not been affected in the slightest. Rather, he is up and about, actively pondering whether to enter his name in the Goblet of Fire and take his shot at becoming a champion for Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament --
"Yeah, I'm really pondering that," Harry muttered.
-- Officials in the Ministry of Magic refuse to comment on whether or not this has anything to do with Dark magic or is just one of the many mysteries regarding Potter's past --
"THAT -- BITCH!" Harry roared in the middle of the Great Hall which made many, many faces turn to him. He then swiveled his head around and muttered sheepishly, "Sorry."
"Let me finish reading it," said Hermione, shaking her head.
-- Whether or not Potter has been playing in the Dark arts remains a mystery, though it must seem strange that he can remain good natured after all that has happened.
"Now that she's written that, I'm sure people are going to wonder whether or not I'm playing around in the Dark arts," Harry rambled.
"Who wrote that junk?" Ron asked.
"Our good friend Rita Skeeter," said Hermione loftily.
"I thought you had her licked?" said Harry, fully disgusted. "What happened?"
"I did," Hermione told him, "but it would seem she doesn't care anymore."
Harry dropped his knife and fork heavily onto the table and went to lean back when Hedwig landed on his shoulder.
"Oh good," he said, feeling slightly more happy, "you have Cho's and Sirius' letters. Here, I'll read you Sirius'."
He tore it open and read aloud.
Harry,
Took you long enough to find out, ha --
"What!" Harry hissed. "He already knew?"
Dumbledore had told me what happened to Mr. Filch's cat and what you did to that Muggle boy got around, though it never got into the Daily Prophet nor did Mrs. Norris. Dumbledore and I have been keeping it from you, figuring you'd probably figure it out eventually and, of course, we were afraid of the reaction you would give us had we told you. And truth be told, we actually knew before you did anything to Mrs. Norris but I think I'll save how we knew for a personal meeting.
Remus and I will be coming down to see the first, second and third task (we'll also be there for the winnings ceremony and, naturally, to see you graduate) so I'll tell you when I get there. I'll find you in the Great Hall during breakfast the day of each task, don't worry about finding me.
Keep in touch; don't lose your head; stop threatening Malfoy; Remus says hello; Ron, stop telling Harry to enter because he doesn't want to. You don't have to write back. I know you're not exactly fine, but you've got enough on your plate without me.
Sirius
"He already knew," Harry repeated, shaking his head and staring at the letter, "I don't believe it."
"And how does he know I keep telling you to enter the tournament?" said Ron, his cheeks turning ginger.
"That's obvious, isn't it?" said Hermione as if it were the easiest question in the world. "I imagine Dumbledore is sending him almost daily owls."
"Then how does Dumbledore know!"
Hermione just laughed.
"So come on then," she said, ignoring Ron and turning to Harry, "read us Cho's letter."
"No," said Harry shortly, stuffing it into his robes and handing Ron Sirius' letter.
It wasn't until he was up in his dormitory with Seamus, Ron, Dean and Neville sleeping did he finally look at her letter. Laying on his back in his pajamas, Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, stretched out his legs, folded them, and read.
Dear Harry,
I don't know what to say so I'll just say this:
I studied this as part of my final year at Hogwarts. Each and every wizard who's ever had the ability to possess someone has used it for something very bad. It's been said that someone with it who finds out they have it usually ends up being a Dark wizard because it goes to their head that they can make people do things. I do believe that won't happen to you mostly because you're too good of a person. You're a real Gryffindor; you're true of heart and you just wouldn't. I wouldn't tell anyone else yet, though, because you need the issue of You-Know-Who to blow over.
Harry stared at "you need the issue of You-Know-Who to blow over." Cho made it sound like something that was just going through a passing phase. While Harry dearly wished it was exactly like this, he didn't think it was going to just pass like the wind any time soon. He folded his legs the other way and went on reading.
My mom and dad were going nuts for a good hour after I showed them your letter but I think I've managed to calm them down; at least my dad is no longer sputtering incoherently anymore. His therapy is going really well, mom thinks he'll be able to get another job soon.
Still love you,
Cho
Reading this left Harry with a tingling feeling. "You spilled your heart out to her and she just couldn't bring herself to be as honest as you were," Hermione had said to him but now it was the exact opposite. Every letter from Cho had been reassuring, trying to keep his spirits up and he hadn't sent her one letter that didn't contain at least one thing depressing. Perhaps he ought to just try a hand at sending her a random letter about the goings-on in his school life? It would be a nice change of pace, what with talking about Voldemort and everything...
Deciding on it, Harry then let the hand holding the letter fall onto his heart, his eyes closed. Every letter Cho had sent had been full of support. He didn't think he'd be able to take a reaction from her that was more along the lines of what he thought she would react like. For a split and very scary second, he envisioned Cho just doing again what she had done when they first met. But then he took comfort in the idea that Cho really did, well... Did Harry actually open her up? Show Cho what it was like to spill your heart out to someone? It made him feel slightly weird, but it just might be true.
Harry unfolded his legs and let one dangle limp off the edge of his four-post bed. He figured that supporting someone, giving them words of comfort and making them feel good about themself was just part of what being in love with someone was really all about. Though he might have experienced it in his first year of life, he couldn't remember any of that. If it was true, that was just more solid proof that the Dursleys hated him right down to how skinny he was and how messy his hair looked. Whenever he tried to comb it, even a mirror once said he was fighting a losing battle.
He turned himself and let his other leg hang off the edge and was now sitting upright, the letter in one hand, that palm on the bed and a nice chunk of bedsheets grasped in the other. Harry took one more look at the last two lines before putting the letter on his bedside cabinet to stare at. Not being at all used to someone caring so much about him, he didn't know whether to smile or look depressed. The look on his face was pretty much neutral, though, as he stood up and took out a piece of parchment and that old pen to write back to Cho. A guilty eye stole a look of the Order of Merlin plaque still danging from his neck and then, not really wanting to grab it for it's effects, took it off, feeling slightly better about himself for the few seconds it was in his hand.
He wrote Dear Cho and then stopped, nothing coming to mind.
What was there to tell her about that didn't involve something stupid and depressing? How he'd been threatening Malfoy to stop bothering him? All about how he'd lost his temper twice in just a few short days? His dad's Invisibility Cloak and how he wasn't going to get it back until the end of the year? More brouhaha about unicorn blood? Rita Skeeter's new article in the Daily Prophet? The entirety of Hogwarts wanting him to enter the Triwizard Tournament? Dudley and the Sorting Hat? Raides and her Dark tendencies?
No, Harry thought, putting the parchment down but keeping the pen in his hand, turning to lie on his back again and stare up at the canopy of his bed, nothing conversational. Harry closed his eyes again and slapped his forehead with the back of his wrist, letting it stay there. There was no denying it, he wanted something to write about, something to show her that he wasn't all about the bad stuff, that there really was a person under all of that Voldemort-killed-my-parents-and-now-I'm-going-to-kill-him stuff. Or would that just be lying horribly to himself, that he really was all about getting revenge on Voldemort and letting his personal life (what personal life?) suffer?
Harry, shaking his head, hacked and slashed that thought until there was nothing left of it. What did he want to be known as? Or did he want to be known at all?
Harry jerked his eyes open, the boring picture of the bottom of the roof of his four-post bed, meeting them. He stretched his arm as far out as possible to put the pen back on the cabinet. It's just not going to happen, he told himself, at least tonight. You have good intentions, and that has to account for something.
Harry put his glasses and bracelet on top of the Order of Merlin necklace.
Rolling over onto his stomach because he was sick of looking at the canopy, Harry let his visions of Cho meeting both his parents slip into dreams, hoping against hope that he wouldn't wake up in the morning -- or in the middle of the night -- having had that one unpleasant dream again. He hadn't had it at Hogwarts yet and the thought of what anyone would say when he woke up screaming from such a dream... well, he didn't want to think about that, either.