Diclaimer: Hi there. Now I know you don't read the disclaimer. Because I don't read the disclaimer. And I wrote this story because it's what I wanted to read in a HarryCho story. Therefore, if you're reading this, then it stands to reason that we think vaguely the same! Which means you too will probably skip this. Well then. It's quite pointless to write this. But I am DEDICATED. Ha. Haha. Funny. So yeah. I own most of my plot, some of my characters, but most definitely all of their actions. The rest? J.K. Rowling. Damn her. I'M JUST KIDDING.
When they looked back on them, the days that led up to the end of term seemed abnormally short.
Harry:
But Harry had learned long ago that 'a few short days' could change your life.
Dumbledore recounted everything that transpired during night of the Final Task on the day that followed. Of course, everything except Merlin's reappearance, which he had requested remain secret. As well as the school appeared to take it, the faces that Harry'd watched during the announcement were skeptical, to say in the least. He took pleasure in the sour expressions of Malfoy and his cronies, however.
The castle's mutterings towards Harry, which had somewhat lessened over the past few months, were back and with a vengeance. He couldn't even leave his dormitory with being the subject of accusing glares and awkward questions.
When he and Cho sat next to each other at lunch on the day after, the jealous whispers that had all but disappeared were back. Hogwarts' male population seemed convinced that a break up was inevitable now that Harry had apparently shown 'substantial amounts of overall instability' as quoted from Rita Skeeter's article on the Tournament's conclusion.
Cho had taken it quite well, thought Harry. She'd responded by snogging the lips off his face for a full ten seconds the moment they sat down, before a thin-lipped (pardon the pun) McGonagall split them apart.
Both of them wore extremely satisfied smirks that made both Ron and Samantha nauseated. Even Hermione averted her eyes when Cho had speared her hand into Harry's messy locks. Not that either of them minded. On the contrary, Cho seemed to enjoy proving everyone wrong. Although, she confided in Harry later, it was partly because he was a great snogger.
His head had swelled up to somewhere along the size of a large hot-air balloon, when she followed up by saying there was food stuck to his sleeve. Pop! went his head.
She giggled at his sudden change of expression, and let out a peal of laughter when he checked his robes to find them spotless. Damn those Ravenclaws. And damn his transparent expressions.
But, he reflected after a 5 minute make out session, she'd more than made it up to him.
In fact, aside from half the school thinking he was mad, the only cloud blocking his sunlight was Cedric's death. Even if this wasn't so much a cloud as a storm system. The worst part by far was when he'd met the late Champion's parents earlier in the day.
Cedric's father, who Harry remembered as a loud and boisterous man, spoke in a quiet voice that constantly broke. His wife cried the entire time Harry told how Cedric had died. "Such a brave boy," she'd weeped from her husband's shoulder.
They had elected to have a quiet and private funeral, for family and friends instead of the public memorial that was Fleur's. Harry privately thought that it suited both of the Champion's personality. Fleur had lived in the spotlight, but Cedric had been much more reserved.
The cool tones that Mister Diggory spoke to him in told him quite plainly that some portion of him still blamed Harry for his son's demise. He still refused Harry's offer of the Triwizard gold though, saying 'No, you won it fair and square boy.' Mrs. Diggory agreed with a much kinder 'Of course not dear, we couldn't. It's yours to keep.'
In contrast to her husband, Mrs. Diggory couldn't have been more grateful to Harry. She must have told him six or seven times just how thankful she was that he'd brought back Cedric's body, although her words would always stumble over her son's name. Her transparent sincerity only made Harry feel guiltier, even though he had long ago been forced to accept that he couldn't blame himself.
Fleur's death had done that for him, and it was a hard but necessary lesson for him to learn. Especially since he had resolved to oppose Voldemort at every turn, Harry could very well find himself facing many deaths before the deed was done.
However, knowing who was responsible made it easier for him. It afforded him a sense of closure, now that he had someone to blame. Every tear shed over the Dark Lord's victims only increased the fire in Harry's heart to put a stop to it.
It never burned hotter than on the night following the Hufflepuff's death. Dumbledore had called the students to attention before they could gorge themselves, looking unusually grave. The same look he had when he'd told them the story of Cedric's or Fleur's demise.
"Students. Faculty. Esteemed guests. I would like to speak to you briefly about unpleasant things during what should be a pleasant time. I am talking of course about the untimely departures of Miss Fleur Delacour and a Mister Cedric Diggory.
"As all of you know, and as I hope all of you believe, they were victims of a terrible plot. A plot which has succeeded, in bringing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back to corporeal form. It is only through the acts of great courage and valor displayed by a person that we know of this. The person I mention is, as you all know, Harry Potter." Heads turned to look at him, all with different expressions; Disbelief, hostility, confusion, but with some, acceptance.
Dumbledore began to talk again, recapturing the Great Hall's attention. "The ministry, and those who run it, do not wish me to tell you this. They happen to be of the opinion that this is all, and I quote, 'A cock-and-bull story.'" Several girls gasped, the guys snickered. "The Daily Prophet is, of course, aiding the Ministry heavily. It is quite possible that your parents will not want you to attend this school anymore. And I happen to know for a fact that the Ministry is going to cast me into the part of 'senile old fool,' just like they are attempting to make Harry into 'the deluded, attention seeking boy.' Considering the fact that I remember all of your names, and that Mister Potter is more modest than even myself, I don't think it's the right time for that one." His eyes regained a bit of their old twinkle "All I ask is that you keep an open mind and an open heart until you know all of the facts. In my admittedly long life, I've noticed that it's best to judge- if one must judge at all- after they know both sides of the story.
"Some of you may also notice that our Defense professor is not present today. I say 'Defense professor' and not 'Alastor Moody' because the events of last night have revealed that Alastor Moody has never, in fact, taught here. Instead an impostor took his place, with the use of Polyjuice Potion. It was he who enchanted the Triwizard Cup, and he who bewitched Cedric Diggory into inciting the Giant Squid to take the life of our beloved Fleur. And so it is he, and through him, Voldemort," the Hall flinched "who is responsible for their deaths.
"Now," and his face became even more downcast, "please, join me in a moment of silence for our fallen Champions." With a wave of his wand, the lights dimmed, the banners blackened. "Remember Fleur Delacour, of great beauty and skill. Remember Cedric Diggory, embodiment of Hufflepuff; possessed of loyalty and perseverance. Remember them in the times that will follow, because mark my words they will be dark and difficult. And remember yourselves, and stay true to it."
Silence reigned for more than half a minute, and most Hufflepuffs wore somber expressions, for Cedric was well known and well liked. Harry found himself in the unusual position of being both happy that he hadn't known Cedric well, and sad that he hadn't. The Beauxbatons students were expressionless, although their eyes tightened very slightly every time Fleur's name was mentioned. They had been well trained to hide their pain.
But finally, after the moments of quiet remembrance, the Hall brightened and the banners' colors were returned to normal.
And even though the food was made exactly the same, it's taste was slightly bitter to Harry's tongue.
Cho:
Cho sat in her common room, glaring at the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. She seethed quietly, that stupid woman, what right did she have to say those things about Harry? Her Harry? Really, how could she even justify it? Someone's life and the fate of the Wizarding World over a few extra papers sold?
She sighed quietly, if only there was something she could do for him, why- her thoughts halted when a new idea popped into her mind. Of course! She grinned in a slightly evil way. She could do something. Not directly perhaps, but her father... Her grin widened further, her father.
"Cho?" said Samantha from a neighboring armchair, her voice slightly nervous voice "You know I don't like when you get that look. Remember the last time?
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Cho innocently.
"Right," said Sam in a dry, sarcastic voice, "and I'm the world's largest stinkworm."
"Aren't you?" Cho cocked an eyebrow.
"What I meant," continued Sam, in a voice of forced calm "was that just because you were never caught..."
"That is a horrible accusation and I demand you retract it immediately." responded Cho properly. She tried and failed to maintain a straight face, while her friend gave her a look of deep disgust.
"Please. Everyone knows you did it. Selena Fawcett looked like she was wearing a trash can on her head for the better part of a week. You jinxed her hair into a magnet."
Cho giggled at the memory, but sobered when her eyes fell on the paper again. "Blasted Skeeter woman," she muttered under her breathe.
Understanding came over her best friend's face, followed by an anger that rivaled her own. Sam hated Rita Skeeter with a passion, she'd once published an article about what a waste of time the Committee of Experimental Charms was. Her father happened to be the Head.
"Oh, never mind Cho, get that smile back on. That lady needs to go. Off a cliff, preferably. You have a plan?"
Cho nodded, while Sam mentally tabulated a list of things that Rita needed to go off of.
"Great," said the blonde haired girl, "what is it?"
"Daddy," replied Cho simply, but that seemingly normal statement was enough for Samantha. She grinned wickedly, "Oh you are bad."
"I know," smirked Cho, "I know."
"Yes," mused her best friend, "but does Harry? Actually, I take that back. A better questions is how well does he know it." She winked in a suggestive manner.
"Oh shut it," muttered Cho. She blushed a deep red, and hit Sam lightly.
"Really though," said her best friend earnestly, "How is he? Not in bed obviously, or are you-? Okay okay," she backed up hurriedly as she eyed Cho's hand, poised to hit her again. "Snogging I meant. Is he... orally gifted? Natural tongue twirler?"
The asian girl reddened further, and looked away, biting her lip.
"Oh Merlin," said Sam, "he's horrible isn't he? A lip-cripple?"
Briefly debating the wisdom of what she was about to do, Cho shook her head. "No," gasped Sam quietly, "then he's great isn't he? Incredible? Freaking magical?"
And Cho couldn't help it, she grinned so wide her face threatened to split in two. "Ahhh!" her friend screamed quietly "that is not fair. Cho Chang, beautiful Prefect, Ravenclaw Seeker, with a bloody gorgeous Snogmaster boyfriend. Where is my break?" she finished with a slight growl.
But Cho was ready for this one; she'd seen that particular rant coming from a mile away. "Ron Weasley," she said, and Sam stopped talking and turned crimson.
"R-ron? What does he have to do with any of this?" she tried to blow it off.
Raising her eyebrows, Cho said "Don't play dumb with me, it doesn't suit a Ravenclaw. But don't worry, I'm sure he fancies you as well. Harry agrees with me."
"You told Harry?!" she nearly cracked the glass.
Thinking fast, Cho decided the best solution would be to avoid this entire argument before it turned into the mess it was quickly headed for. "Harry would have found out eventually," she said, on the defensive now, "and I, will talk to you later! I need to send an owl remember? Daddy's waiting."
Sam tried to grab at her, but Cho twisted deftly out of the way, "Don't think you're getting out of this! You come right back after you're done Cho Chang!"
But she was already walking away with her inky black hair swaying in step, pretending not to hear. Besides, she did have a female reporter to take care of, and the sooner, the better.
Lei Chang:
The door to the Wizengamot's oldest courtroom closed with a satisfying bang!
Lei strode down the hallway, not bothering to weave between the bustling crowd. They moved of their own accord as soon as they recognized him, mumbling feeble greetings. Dressed in plain black robes, he was nonetheless one of the most powerful wizards within the Ministry, and indeed the world.
His story was legend. As a prerequisite for graduations, all Aurors were required to have an elective, an assignment that they gave themselves to boost the status of the Wizarding Community. Most wizards chose to make small arrests, maybe throw a fundraiser, but then, Lei Chang was not most wizards.
Months from his wedding day, he had disappeared, relocated himself to China and immersed himself in the shadiest places he could find. It took him a little over a week, but finally, in the back alley's of Gangzhou, he had his first breakthrough.
He was inducted into a small branch of the Wizarding World's mob equivalents, run by the man called Hammerhead.
Within 3 weeks, Lei had replaced him, and within a handful of months, he had worked his way up to the biggest fish.
Using his persuasive reasoning and strong presence, that large Eurasian man cut through the magical Underworld, getting right up with the leader of China's largest triad. Known only as 'the Emperor' he controlled 90 percent of illegal dragon trade in the region, and his partnership with the infamous Praying Mantis, distributor of all known (and a few unknown) types of poisonous potions ingredients, had put Ministry's worldwide into a sticky situation.
Move against them, and a force larger than any six branches of Auror's would strike back. It had been attempted before, but concluded in the silent but brutal defeat of Mongolian's magical law enforcement. They still hadn't recovered.
The UK, USA, and Japan were preparing to use the information funneled back by Lei in order to coordinate a crippling strike to China's mob system, but Chang was quicker still.
He used his influence with the the Emperor to bring together all the big crime lords for a 'proposal they couldn't refuse.' No sooner had the last of them entered the conference room, hidden in the heart of a mountain, when Lei broke the chamber's magical bonds and brought a thousand tons of rock down on top of their heads.
Hundreds of Aurors stormed known Mob hideouts the following day, only to find the gathered wizards in complete disarray. Without proper leadership, they were easily subdued and contained. Six months work, thousands of known dark wizards contained; 20 year old Lei Chang was a hero.
And here he was, two and a half decades later, heading the International Council of Aurors.
Of course, none of the adoring press clippings described the real struggle. What had happened when he got home. Why? Well, because he had missed his wedding date.
Emiko Yamamoto, fiance to Lei Chang, struck fear into his heart when he apparated back to the flat they shared.
"Honey?" he had asked tentatively. The ferocity unleashed by that word was similar to the intensity of a Category 5 Hurricane. If hurricanes could rain tigers.
After a brief moment of rapidly dodging and deflecting hexes, he managed to gabble out several apologies. She glared at him for a second, then rushed back into his arms. Emiko brought her face up to his ear, and he waited for whatever congratulations she had for him. Instead, she'd said "Six months? Darling, I could have done it in four."
He chuckled deeply; that's why he loved her.
And now, years later, they had two strapping sons, and a beautiful daughter, who, if his sources were correct, had been seeing Harry Potter for the past half year.
Lei grinned silently to himself, the Changs had always done well. His eldest was married to lead singer of The Unicorn Horns, and his second was engaged to the Team Captain of the Hollyhead Harpies. He himself had married the daughter of Japan's Magical Ambassador. Not that they did it on purpose, on the contrary, blood and status mattered as much to them as it did to the Weasleys.
They simply had the prodigious luck in happening to find their soul mates in the rich, famous, and powerful. Just like themselves.
He reached his spacious office, larger than even the Minister's and sank into a cushioned armchair with a tired sigh. It had been a long day, one of the Minister's private guards had attempted to assassinate their charge. Lei had been present at the trial, as he always attempted to be there whenever one of his men were involved.
The delusional Auror lost his case of course, and was subjected to the Dementors' Kiss on the spot. Lei forced himself to watch; this was the consequences of incorrect guidance.
Large, cloaked figures glided past him on their way out, bearing the blank faced man between them. They chilled him as they swept by, but he had long ago trained his mind to resist their pull of despair.
Lei looked to his desk, and was surprised to find a letter on it. Only letters from friends and family reached him, after all, one grew tired of work memos and death threats.
His daughter's elegant scrawl graced the parchment, and he allowed himself a brief smile before opening it. It was brief with slightly harried handwriting, and almost completely to the point.
Dear Daddy,
I miss you so much! How's work? I hope it's not too hard, you don't want to get sick now.
Lei stopped reading for a moment to frown. I miss you? Don't work so hard? She must want something he decided. His suspicions were confirmed when he continued reading.
But I need you to do me a favor. Have you seen the Daily Prophet yet, the one by Skeeter? It's absolutely horrid and I need to do something about it. Naturally, I owled you.
He smiled wryly; just like her mother. Lei was surprised though, and unpleasantly so, the Prophet had never dared to run negative articles even close to the subject of his family before. Truth be told, the Prophet tried to avoid the Changs as much as possible. They had resources more vast than the Atlantic, and even a small side comment from one had been known to catapult- or destroy- a career.
This isn't just for me though. It's for Sam too, remember that article on her father? And it's for Harry, he's under enough pressure as it is. So don't you be selfish now! Whatever you decide to do, I hope it's something good, because that woman needs to be taught a lesson. Samantha wanted me to tell you that it would be perfectly alright with her if you just pushed Skeeter off a cliff. And I have to say, I think she has an excellent point. I'll see you soon, I can't believe it's the end of my fifth year already! Love, Cho
It took him thirty seconds before the rough outline of his plan appeared. It would be a near thing, but if correctly done Rita's career would be ruined. That alone would stop the Daily Prophet from writing any more stories concerning his daughter, or her boyfriend. The Daily Prophet may be big in magical Europe, but the Changs were big in the magical World.
He drafted a quick letter to two of his most trusted and trained bodyguards. The eagle owl flew quickly out of the window. 15 minutes later, and his men were there.
Lei had met them while traveling in China, shortly after he had taken out their mob. He'd been in a rather sticky situation with some gangsters who'd avoided the Aurors, and they were angry with him, for obvious reasons. All seemed lost when they had disarmed him, but their vicious side had, ironically, saved him.
Instead of killing him immediately, they began to beat Lei against a wall when two wizards had stolen into the alley way. At first, Lei despaired when they sheathed their drawn wands, but he quickly realized that they themselves were so much more deadly than any spell. In a brief demonstration of controlled ferocity, they left three men dead and the other five severely wounded.
The two been raised in a magical monastery, where wizards were brought up to make both their wands and their bodies deadly weapons. Fu and Long had been some of the top students, and elected to take Lei into their school.
After a few months, he'd become quite proficient at self defense, but still wasn't close to matching their blinding speed and pinpoint accuracy.
Rural China was devoid of opportunity, even for those who'd spent their entire life training to become deadly as swords. So when he'd left, they decided to come with him. Over the years, they had become among his most steadfast friends and protectors.
Fu was a large and broad man, 6 feet tall and 350 pounds of solid muscle. He was a master of Tiger style Kung Fu, and could dent metal plates without batting an eyelid.
Long stood slightly taller, but his body was more compact; steel rather than rock. His forte was Dragon style Kung Fu, and his fighting skills were so perfected that he remained unmatched, even by Fu. Just when Fu would think he'd have him, Long would hit him with a perfectly placed punch, or throw a strike so fast that it hissed through the air. Fu would buckle in exactly the place that Long wanted, and with a flurry of moves the Tiger style master would be locked in an unbreakable hold, or lying unconscious on the ground.
"Lei," said Long warmly as he stepped out of the fireplace, clapping him on the shoulder with a calloused hand. Fu simply nodded as he brushed a bit of spare ash off of his robes.
"I'd like you to accompany me to Hogwarts," said Lei briskly, and the other two Chinese men inclined their heads. "What for?" grated Fu, in his low and scratchy voice.
"There is business of a... sensitive nature that may need to take place. And it would be a great comfort to me if you were there with me to help and oversee." said Lei, choosing his words carefully. Decades of friendship told him that if he phrased this question wrong, made it seem as though they were merely there to be physically imposing, then they would refuse. Politely. And if he continued to insist, less than politely.
"What is this business you wish us to be present for?" asked Long. Questions, Lei breathed out in silent relief, questions meant they were going to accept.
"There is a woman by the name of Rita Skeeter, who has been slandering the names of many prestigious wizards. And her latest story has brought her dangerously close to the Changs. If she begins to investigate, begins to uncover our secrets," he shrugged, "then I will have no choice but to kill her. And I'd rather not."
"When do we leave?" growled Fu, always to the point.
Lei grinned, and it bore an eerie resemblance to his daughter's, "Now."
Harry took a moment to mentally prepare himself before walking through the Great Hall's doors for breakfast. But even then, no amount of fortitude could have helped him in the events to follow.
The moment he pushed back the large wooden door, he found himself immersed in a sea of voices and flashing lights. Reporter after reporter pushed and shoved, trying to make themselves heard and answered.
"Mister Potter! Is it true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is-"
"Harry! Over here Harry! What is your opinion on the articles being-"
"Potter, do you still cry over-"
"What is the state of relations between you and Miss-"
"Why are you flying a Firebolt? Is there an endorsement-"
"ENOUGH!" boomed a powerful and foreign voice. The mob of people pulsed back from Harry, scrambling over each other to get away from the commanding yell.
A tall and handsome man, with prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw sat next to Dumbledore on the Head Table. He was good looking, and appeared to be in his early forties, with shorn salt and pepper hair. His almond shaped eyes- which Harry found strangely familiar- were bordered by laugh lines, but his lips were set in a grim expression. A thin white scar crossed from his right cheek to his jawline.
"No, do not leave this hall!" the man commanded once more. The line of reporters froze, and did a slow about face.
He paced back and forth in front of them, flanked by two dangerous looking Chinese men. "I believe our agreement was observation only. And the last time I checked, observation was silent. As silent as you are now."
And indeed, not a single one of them seemed to even breathe, intense fear and discomfort covered their faces. Harry allowed himself a small, but smug grin. His eyes sought Cho's, searching the tables of stunned students. Finally, near the middle of the Ravenclaw table, he saw her seated next to Sam. But instead of the satisfaction he felt, her face was both nervous and apprehensive. She attempted to smile at Harry, but she kept looking back to the large Eurasian man, and unease would once again flit across her face.
Her face. Wait a minute... No, it couldn't be.
He looked towards the large man who'd so cowed the reporters. Then back to Cho again. The man. Cho. The man. Cho.
Half a dozen times in several seconds, each glance only further confirming what he saw.
Harry gulped nervously, his face suddenly felt very hot, and his stomach very cold; it appeared as though he had found Cho's father.
Author's Note: This was a hard chapter to write... I'm pretty sure the next one will be a lot easier though. And quicker, sorry about the late update. I was busy :P someone from Rock Steady Crew in New York came down to Hawaii yesterday, and we took a bboying class from him. Phenomenal. Next chapter will be the last few days of the term, mostly HarryCho, as well as Lei's solution for Rita Skeeter. I might slip in a bit about Merlin at the ending of the next chapter as well. The chapter after that will start out Harry's fifth year. Thank's for sticking with me! Leave a review.
OH! And i'd like to give credit to Jonathan Stone. He's where I got the idea for, as well as the name's, of Cho's father's bodyguards. It's in his series 'The 5 Ancestors' which is really good, by the way.