CHO CHANG'S EIGHTH YEAR

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over the wizarding world that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG-13

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

8. "We few, we happy few"

xxx

Cho had no way of knowing the time; the Hogwarts bells didn't seem to carry into this version of the Room of Requirement, and anyway it was the dead of night. She delayed the inevitable for a few minutes by throwing together some basic potions. Once she'd done that, realizing she needed to know how badly hurt Michael was and not being able to stall any longer, Cho removed Michael's clothes, washed him, dressed his wounds, then cleaned his clothes, first with a Tergeo then a Scourgify. By the time she had finished, she found, near the door, a tray with covered dishes. It wasn't just food; it was her favourites from her years there, including a steaming bowl of snow-white rice, dressed only with a bit of salt. As Michael was still unconscious, she set to it, made short work of the food, then, when she was carrying the tray back to the door, she heard Michael groan. She put down the tray, then hurried back to Michael, taking a chair that was next to his bed.

Michael, all but smothered by a large down-filled comforter, seemed slow in his movements and even slower in his thoughts. Part of this was Cho's doing; Michael's injuries were so extensive that he might accidentally reinjure himself unless Cho, or rather her sleeping draught, kept him from thrashing about at the wrong time. Gradually, though, his eyelids fluttered, then opened.

"Is this … real?" he managed to say.

"All of it, I'm afraid. Your organs are in pretty bad shape. They're healing as best they can, but it'll take time. You can't move about too much now, or you'll do yourself an injury."

"What day is it?"

"Hard to tell with no windows. January third, I think."

Michael thought about this for a minute. "Well. That's something. Now for the big question: What in the name of Malecrit's cat are you doing back here? You were well away from Hogwarts."

"That's … true."

Michael's eyes narrowed. "Then, you must think that you're safer here than back in London. Are things that bad there?"

"Things seem pretty bad here."

"You have no idea."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because they make sure nobody has any idea. Has anybody told you?"

"About the Carrows? Terry told me a bit. They did this to you?"

Michael's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. His eyes widened, and his body started to tremble. Whatever he was remembering was making him panick. Fortunately, Cho had found the ingredients to make up a Draught of Peace and helped him drink some of it. As soon as he did Michael's eyelids closed again.

When he came to, it was night; maybe around midnight. Cho had used the time brewing more potions and rearranging the room, while also getting a quick kip herself. She even moved a large, heavy wardrobe so that it blocked view of Michael from the door. It wasn't much of a defense, but it would buy them some time if the Carrows ever found their way in.

When Michael came awake, Cho stood by his bed. "Michael, I'm so sorry. They didn't tell me the memories were still so strong."

"Well, they didn't tell me you were coming, so I guess we're even." He paused for a few seconds. "Almost."

Here it comes, Cho thought.

"When they brought me here, I may have been half-dead, but I'm sure I wasn't half-dressed. Now my robes are hanging up there, and I'm starkers under this quilt."

"Yes you are. And yes, I did that."

"So this is your revenge for the times I tried…"

"Not another word, Michael. You need to hear me out. I, well, I thought about your behaviour toward me. And, yes, I've thought about revenge from time to time. But not the other night, when I was brought back here. I saw a Ravenclaw, someone I thought of as a friend, in a terrible state, and needing my help."

"But when you had the chance…"

"I had the chance, but I didn't have the choice. I had to tend your injuries, and clean you, and I'd never seen a naked boy before. So I pretended that I had."

"But, how?"

Cho gave a silent "Accio" command, and the book that the Room had provided her floated into her hand, then opened to a page. Michael could read the title: it was, of all things, a Muggle book: "The Life of King Henry the Fifth."

Cho continued: "I had asked the Room for help, you see, and it offered this line from this book."

Michael looked at the words glowing on the page:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

"The Room was right, of course," Cho smiled. "I pretended that you were the little brother I never had, that I'd changed his nappies scores of times, and that nothing I saw was a surprise to me. It all went rather smoothly."

"And, that was all that …"

"You needed the best care I could give. I couldn't let anything else get in the way."

Michael stared at Cho for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe what she'd just said. Then he turned away from Cho, burrowing under the comforter and facing the wall. It just took a minute, but Cho noticed a shudder, then a sniffle. It was obvious.

"Michael, why are you crying?"

"Leave me alone."

"I don't think the Room will let me do that. Michael, tell me what's wrong."

"I … I … I've behaved so beastly toward you, Cho, and here you pay me back better than I deserve."

"Nobody deserves ill treatment; especially not a member of the Army. And there were times, not too long ago, when I felt I had no friends left in the world. I wouldn't give you up, no matter how you acted, and certainly now that I know you're sorry."

"Look here," Michael sniffled, still facing the wall, "you're not going to spread it about that I've been crying, are you?"

Cho paused for a minute, then answered: "You know, it's a funny thing. I used to do a lot of crying in this old school. I'm sure a lot of people thought I was daft or, well, who knows what they thought. But now tears are so traumatising to me that a kind of amnesia sets in. In five minutes' time I'm sure I'll forget all about this conversation."

Michael turned his head back a bit to look at her, then turned to face the wall again, and said, very quietly, "Thank you."

"Rest easy now," Cho said. "I have to get some more supplies."

"But, doesn't the Room just, well, supply them?"

"This is something special. I'll tell you about it someday." And with that Cho left the Room of Requirement.

xxx

Taking it completely on faith that the Room would let her back in when she returned, she walked down the corridors as best as she could still remember them. She hadn't had much reason to go where she was headed now: the stores closet of Headmaster Severus Snape.

Whatever time it was, the corridors were completely deserted; not so much as a house-elf or pet cat was stirring. When she'd gotten within twenty yards of the corridor she was seeking, she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and climbed up the wall right to the vaulted ceiling.

Good thing they dust the place, she thought. Don't think I could do it if it were all spiderwebs.

Silently she picked her way across the ceiling to the stores closet. She was confident that a simple Alohomora would open it if it were locked.

To her surprise, though, just when she was within three feet of it, the door opened.

She didn't know how she stayed on the ceiling, especially when she saw that Snape himself had opened the door. She couldn't imagine why he had been in the stores closet at this very strange hour.

Stranger still; she heard someone else's footsteps approaching. She pressed herself against the ceiling, hoping that nobody would think to look up.

"Aha!" came a loud voice. "Well-met by moonlight, eh Severus?"

It was Horace Slughorn, the Potions Master. Since last year, she had learned that Slughorn and Snape, who were both Slytherins, had known each other for years. Slughorn seemed just a bit too jolly.

"Still ringing in the New Year, I see," Snape said, in his usual cold and disapproving manner.

"But of course, Severus," Slughorn said jovially. "Right on up to Twelfth Night, don't you know. Unfortunately, my private stock is running a bit low, and I just wanted to—"

"You just wanted to help yourself to my stores!"

"Listen, my lad, they're my stores too! The Potions Master has a right to the Potions supplies."

"Not at the present time! You know that the disruptive element amongst the students has resorted to pilfering all manner of things. I was just checking the stores before retiring and I found some boomslang skins missing. And, since you ARE the Potions Master, as you point out, you surely know their principal use."

"No sense fretting about it," Slughorn said, returning to his jovial manner. "Polyjuice takes a month to cook up, and you have things under close watch." He'd said it confidently, as if it were a fact, but still he raised one eyebrow as if asking Snape whether he was really being watchful.

"I trust Filch and the Carrows."

"As do I. But do we really need to debate the matter here and now? If you'll just let me get what I—"

"In the morning!" Snape waved his hand; the key turned in the lock. He then dropped it into the pocket of his robes and, without another word, turned and walked away. As soon as he'd turned the corner, Slughorn also turned and went back toward Slytherin.

Maybe I'd better go easy on the pilfering, Cho thought; I really don't want them taking it out on the students. With a wave of her hand she cast an Alohomora; the door to the stores closet swung open soundlessly. She pocketed the few items she needed, then closed and locked the door, going back to the Room of Requirement.

xxx

Cho spent about a week in the windowless Room of Requirement with Michael Corner. If anyone had told her that they would be thrown into such close quarters before she got there, she would have thought it was a form of punishment. But now that they had cleared the air, things between them seemed less of a problem.

It still didn't stop Michael from asking one day, "Cho, tell me honestly: did I ever have a chance?"

She answered without hesitation and without malice. "I'm sorry, Michael, but not even when Harry and I were fighting. I don't know how else to say it, but my heart simply could not let him go."

"Lucky you, then; you know what you want out of life."

"Not all that lucky, really. It wasn't easy to figure what I wanted out of life; it wasn't painless, either."

Michael just nodded, as if he finally understood her.

After a few days, some of the other members of Dumbledore's Army came by to ask about Michael and to say hello to Cho. She hadn't realized how much she missed these old friends, including Neville Longbottom, who came to see her on her sixth day.

"Great to see you again," he smiled as she shook her hand a bit too briskly.

"Same here," she smiled, "but I wish you'd taken Michael to the hospital wing when he was first attacked. Then he'd be in London and away from here."

"Is it that bad, then?"

"Very bad, actually. His spleen was bleeding and almost shut down. He would have had to go to St. Mungo's."

"Yeh, well, then there'd be all sorts of questions."

"But you're head of Dumbledore's Army now, right? You really should take better care."

"Yeh, I'm sure you're right." Neville just sort of looked down at his feet for a minute. Cho was afraid she'd been too rough, but then he spoke up again. "So, do you listen to Potterwatch?"

"What's that, then?"

"Some friends of Harry," Neville smiled. "They've sealed off a corner of the Wizarding Wireless Network and get the truth out about the Ministry, the search for Harry, everything."

"And the Death Eaters can't stop them?"

"Not for lack of trying. The only problem is, the broadcast needs a password, and unless you heard them mention it the previous broadcast you pretty much have to guess what it might be. It changes every time, you see."

"Well, I haven't asked for much since I came here, but I really wish we had a radio."

Neville's smile grew a bit as he turned, walked back to the door, and paced back and forth in front of it several times, muttering to himself. After a couple of minutes, he stopped and walked back to Cho. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a small wireless radio.

For the first time in a long time, Cho was amazed by magic. "The Room did that?"

"I guess the Room likes me," Neville said, blushing a bit. He set the radio on Michael's bedside table, knocking a few things onto the floor in the process. "Sorry," he said, pulling his wand from his pocket. "This is the latest broadcast, I think. They don't exactly have a schedule, you see."

He tapped the radio with his wand twice, paused, then tapped it again and said, "Godric."

The radio instantly came to life:

"Happy Holidays to all friends near and far, and especially to friends of the Number One Undesirable. This is Potterwatch."

Cho's jaw hung open in amazement. "And that's Professor Lupin!"

"Well, he can't call himself that," Michael started to explain. But Cho was too intent on listening.

"We don't have a lot of time. The Ministry seems intent on giving itself a lot of presents this year, so it's rounding up as many of our friends as it can find."

"Fortunately," another voice interrupted, "the Ministry's as good at that as they are about other things."

What sounded like the same voice interrupted: "Which means there are still a lot of us out and about, including The Boy Who Lived."

The Weasley twins.

"By the bye, who are we this time?"

"I dunno. We never decide these things in advance, do we? Riff and Raff, I suppose."

"But which is which?"

Professor Lupin interrupted: "Well, while those two argue the toss, this is Romulus, bringing word of a very lucky family. We've heard from a contact deep in the Ministry itself about a family that came within a hair of being imprisoned for not having the right kind of relatives."

"Yes," interrupted another voice. "Sorry I'm late; lots of Snatcher activity near Trafalgar Square today."

"Glad to see you dodged it, Royal. Did they get their target?"

"Not while I'm around." Cho now recognized the voice as belonging to Kingsley Shacklebolt; he'd been a major figure in the Ministry when it was run by Scrimgeour, but who walked away from it when Pius Thicknesse took over. "Anyway, they've been chasing after anyone they can find, including the wizards who have been loyal to the Ministry. They even went after a maintenance wizard named Reg Cattermole, who was accused of marrying a Muggle. No real evidence; just the accusation."

"That's all it takes these days, it seems."

"Too right, Romulus. Well, I've been informed by other Ministry contacts that Reg, his wife, and their three children have fled the country successfully. The family is alive and well and safe, living under another name in Canada."

"Why Canada?"

"That's a story that's too long and strange to talk about here and now. I'll save it for a future edition of Potterwatch, because it's the sort of story we all need to hear, and it actually involves the Chosen One himself. But he's currently on a Grand Tour of Britain, it seems, so he's unavailable. Maybe we can get him on the program one day. He can tell us all about it."

"And we all live and work for that day, Royal. Thanks for the information."

The broadcast didn't go on much longer, but Cho listened to it utterly rapt; a dragon could have burst through the wall and she wouldn't have paid it any mind. She hadn't expected the effect the broadcast would have on her. In a sense, it was the closest she had been to Harry Potter in months. She couldn't help it, but she surrendered to the love she still felt for Harry; nothing else mattered.

Nothing, that is, until the radio switched off. Cho now realized that Terry Boot had entered the Room, carrying something large under his robes.

"Sorry to interrupt the party, but we've had a visitor, and I think we have to have the doctor examine this patient."

"What do you mean?"

Terry opened his robe, and Cho's heart turned to lead.

It was her owl, Quan Yin.

"She brought you a message," Terry started. The bird interrupted him by flying to Cho and presenting the leg with the strip of paper tied to it.

Cho didn't even have to read the message; "It's from my mum," she told the others.

"Let me guess the message," Michael sighed; "come home at once."

Cho barely glanced at the paper. "Words to that effect," she nodded. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I really don't want to leave."

"Look, you've told me about your mum often enough. If the others can give me what I need, I'll be fine."

"Give me five minutes." Cho started writing a schedule of potion dosages and the times of day they were to be given to Michael. Meanwhile, Neville went back to his pacing in front of the door. By the time Cho had finished the instructions, a roaring fireplace stood along one wall.

"It's on the Floo, but only for a minute and only one use. We've had to do this before," Neville explained to Cho.

"Fine. Send Quan Yin home on her own. It was lovely seeing you all again. Sorry I have to heal and run." She took a pinch of Floo Powder from a bowl on the mantelpiece.

"Wait!" Neville shouted. "I almost forgot. Check the Galleon!"

"The what?"

"The Galleon!"

"Time, Cho," Michael said.

She stepped into the fire, threw the Floo Powder down, and spoke her destination in Mandarin. She immediately vanished, and, a few seconds later, so did the fireplace.

xxx

To be continued in part 9, wherein Cho finds a very big surprise waiting for her at home.