Love, Factually
Sometimes, Cho Chang wondered if Professor Flitwick wanted the Ravenclaw quidditch team to fail – set so much homework that there was no time for practice, therefore no time for winning games, therefore no distractions about the letters RAVENCLAW appearing on the Quidditch House Cup. Stick in class, be a good student, get points that way, thank you very much.
Really, he would have gotten on well with her father. But as she poured over a copy of A Treatise on Charms and Practical Applications, as Pertaining to the Placebo Effect on Treating Patients with Malladox Mallady (oddly specific, but she didn't ask questions), she supposed that her grand conspiracy theory didn't hold any water.
One, it made more sense for other teachers to increase the workload to students outside their house, not those within it, provided you assumed the worst.
Second, since there was no quidditch cup this year thanks to the Triwizard Tournament, it was a moot point anyway. Though as the coursework required to pass her O.W.L.'s was treating her like the titular animal (up all night studying, struggling to stay awake in the day), maybe the lack of a tournament made sense.
"Cho."
Still, as she bit the tip of her quill (it tasted of mint today), she cross-referenced the first case of Malladox Mallady, as recored in China, 219BCE, when some unfortunate soul got a boil, that created more boils, to the point where he transformed into a boil.
"Cho," came the voice again, more forceful than before.
Trying to ignore her fellow student, she bit the quill even harder, and looked up the first known successful treatment of the disease in India, 6CE, where someone used a pierching charm to treat one Girik Singh. He wept pus for the rest of his life, made all the worse by the use of a lancing charm 23 years later in Arabia, when-
"Cho!"
…really, she was barking up the wrong tree, since Professor Flitwick wanted an examination of placebo effects, far more than effective treatments. But, as she closed the book with a thud, she looked into the face of the girl opposite her, and asked the most important question that anyone could ask.
"What?"
Actually, according to the philosopher Warren Wumblebug, the most important question was 'why,' followed by a series of questions of descending importance, ending up with 'when.' Why and how that was the case, she didn't know, but Professor Binns had stopped answering her questions and continued droning on about…well, she couldn't even remember now.
"You're chewing that quill as if it's your last meal," Marietta said.
Cho remained silent.
"Cho, is this about what happened with-"
"A Treatise on Magical Philosophy, as compiled by Warren Wumblebug, 1226."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing." She made a quick note for later, hoping that would be the end of it. Alas, this was Marietta Edgecombe. Beginnings and endings were the same for her, as they formed the same points of the circle, with her in the centre.
"Cho, I think you're reading too much."
In spite of everything, the Ravenclaw seeker snorted. "Would you care to tell Professor Flitwick that? Or Professor Snape?" She tried to imitate his voice. "Please sir, you're assigning us too much homework. Could you please-"
"I'm talking about what happened with Harry."
Just once, Cho thought, she'd like to break Marietta's circle. Or better yet, conjure up four circles, transfigure them into wheels, put her friend in a cart, and send her crashing into the lake. It would get her expelled, but really, one had to take time to enjoy the finer things in life.
"I mean, you looked so sad when you joined us," Marietta said. "I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine," Cho lied, as she turned her attention back to the parchment.
"Of I'm Lady Morgana."
"Are you, Marietta?"
By way of response, Cho was hit over the head with a book.
"Shush," hissed Madame Prince.
"Sorry," Marietta whispered, leaving Cho to wonder who she was apologizing to.
Alas, that wasn't the problem. Being hit over the noggin had jolted her memories to the distant past of six hours and thirty-two minutes ago. When, during the day, Harry had come up to her and asked the question that every girl wanted to hear.
"(From book")
Later translated as (from book). Really, that was the English for you. Couldn't even speak their own language properly.
"Yep," Marietta said. "Perfectly fine."
Unable to meet her friend's gaze, Cho looked outside the window. Snow was piling up on its sill, and completely covered the grounds. The Yule Ball was in X days time, and given that she was going to the event with Cedric Diggory, she really should have been over the moon.
Alas, life was never simple. So despite the season, and the upcoming gala, she was most certainly not in the winter of her discontent.
"Okay, let me put it this way," Marietta said. "Wand to your head, two boys before you – do you choose Cedric or Harry?"
"Marietta, please."
"Simple question Cho. Wand to your head, remember? And I'm not talking about some stunning curse, I'm talking full unforgivable."
For a moment, Cho was reminded of last years' Defence against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin. Good times.
"Cho?" Marietta drew out her pointy stick. "Wand? Head?"
"Marietta, this is silly."
"No more silly than you letting one boy ask you out when you really anted to go out with another boy, but wanted to wait for that other boy to ask you out, so that by the time he did, you'd already said yes to the first boy when-"
"Shush!" Hissed Madame Prince.
For the first time in her life, Cho was grateful that the school's librarian lived up to her reputation of being a miserable vulture. But as brief as the respite was, it was just that – brief.
She closed the book with a thud. "Cedric isn't just some boy."
"No, course he's not. He's good looking, a team captain, good looking, a Triwizard contestant, and did I mention he's good looking?"
"Many times," Cho murmured.
"Then what's the problem?" Marietta asked.
The problem, Cho reflected, was that Cedric Diggory was good looking, which made her question whether her saying yes was due to that, or other associated factors.
"It's not as if we've never talked before," she protested.
"Oh yeah, like when you beat him last year in quidditch."
Cho remembered – Hufflepuff had beaten Griffindor, then Ravenclaw had flattened them. Ever the gentleman, Cedric had taken it in good stride, congratulated her on her win, she'd said thank you, and what had followed was a series of sporadic conversations in the halls of Hogwarts that steadily had less to do with quidditch, and more to do with, well, everything else.
"Just saying," Marietta said. "He's a catch, you're a catch, you know how many girls would sell their right arm just to dance with him?"
"I think if you lost an arm, dancing would be difficult."
"My point exactly," Marietta said.
Somewhere in the library, Cho could hear giggling. The heavy footsteps of Madame Prince told her that the librarian was on the warpath.
"Fine, so maybe Cedric isn't your guy," Marietta said. "What about Harry? He's not that bad looking."
Cho wished that Marietta didn't keep starting with the topic of physical appearances.
"I mean, remember when he turned up to be sorted? You had your eye on him."
"I did not!" Seeing Marietta's smirk, Cho added "come on, everyone had their eye on him."
"True," Marietta conceded.
The giggling got louder, until it was followed by a shriek by Madame Prince, followed by two seventh years (a male Gryffindor and female Slytherin) running out of the library.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Wynyard! And five points from Slytherin!" Madame Prince yelled. "Kissing in my library? Shame!"
The students caught up in the midst of study erupted with laughter. Laughter that was quickly silenced by a glare from the head librarian.
"World's gone bloody mad," Marietta whispered. "Gryffindors and Slytherins snogging?"
Cho didn't say anything, as her mind was elsewhere, namely to the Sorting Ceremony of three years prior. When Professor McGonagall had said the words "Potter, Harry," and a scrawny, black-haired, glasses-wearing eleven year old had timidly approached the Sorting Hat.
Really, that had been surreal enough – that not only had Harry Potter turned up at Hogwarts after a decade worth of rumours, but that as the Boy Who Lived, he looked like he'd barely been living at all. Made all the more strange when he ended up on the Gryffindor team as the youngest player in a century, had beaten Slytherin and Hufflepuff, then had failed to turn up for the match against Ravenclaw for reasons she'd never been able to find out.
"So, anyway," Marietta said. "Two boys, and…um, Cho?"
Not that she'd ever said it, but it had actually given her the impetus to try out for the Ravenclaw quidditch team. Despite having followed the Tutsill Tornadoes since she was seven, her father had made it clear that his baby girl was not going to fritter her life away on the quidditch pitch, but was rather going to knuckle down, get her O.W.L.s, her N.E.W.T.s, and then pursue a career in the Ministry. So it was to his surprise that at the age of thirteen, her daughter wrote home saying that she'd made the team reserves (shame about the season being cancelled), and even more to his surprise (and hers) when her mother gifted her a Comet 260 for her fourteenth birthday.
"Cho," Marietta said, flicking her fingers before her. "Pay attention."
Cho sighed. It was hard enough to pay attention on her essay. Harder still when Marietta was being, well, Marietta.
"It's not too late you know," her friend said. "Really, you could walk up to any boy in the castle, say you wanted to go to the Ball with them, and they'd be lining up like gnomes on the end of a cliff."
"Gnomes?"
"Well, some animal beginning with g." Marietta leant back and folded her arms. "Am I wrong, Miss Popular?"
Cho looked around. Half of the boys who were looking at her looked away, and the other half kept staring out of desperation, confidence, or both. Breaking their gaze, Cho looked back at Marietta and said, "gophers."
"What?"
"My point exactly," she said, as she returned to her essay. Or rather, tried to. Because she couldn't get certain thoughts out of her head, and her heart was doing something funny. Like it was trying to burst out of her chest, climb up to her face, and slap her something silly.
Isn't there a charm for that?
The thing was, she reflected, as she went back to chewing her quill, Marietta was probably right. She was pretty, and while beauty was in the eye of the beholder, she'd seen enough mirrors, seen enough boys glancing, and heard enough of her friends giggling to understand the way of the world. Which would have served her will if she wanted people doing her every bidding like Morgana or Circe, but she wasn't (or at least hoped she wasn't) that kind of person.
Which made things weird when Cedric had talked to her, and her heart began acting funny. Which made things even weirder when she and Harry had met face-to-face on the pitch for the first time. When it was clear that his heart was doing something funny, which made her heart do something funny, which meant that she and Cedric watching the Gryffindor-Slytherin match together had made her feel funny.
"Um, Cho? You okay?"
She bit her lip. When Cedric had asked her to the Yule Ball, she'd said yes immediately. When Harry had asked…good grief, it wasn't as if she hadn't turned other boys over the last few weeks and told them the truth of the matter, but for someone who could probably get whatever girl he liked, it was actually flattering that he'd want to go with her.
"Cho?"
And most unpleasant, she reflected, when she'd had to say no. For him, clearly, and for herself.
She sniffed, and put a hand to her chest. Nothing was right. Everything should have been right, by all rights nothing was wrong, and-
"Cho?"
"What?!"
Marietta recoiled, and not just because Cho had risen to her feet like a giant that had popped out of the earth. Tall enough to intimidate her friend, not tall enough to dissuade Madame Prince from swooping down like a Hungarian Horntail.
"Five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Chang," she sniffed. "And if I hear one more peep out of you, I'll-"
"Oh damn your points you old hag."
Prince stared at her. Someone gasped. Every instinct in Cho's body told her to apologize now lest she face a month of detentions.
"That's right, I just said that. Out. Loud."
Instinct, in this case, was as functionally extinct as a North American thunderbird. So, taking wing, Cho picked up her books, shoved them into her bag, and walked out of the library before Madame Prince had chance to respond.
She slammed the library door shut, wondering what on earth she was doing. Really, one month's worth of detentions was looking like a best case scenario. Worst case…well, she had O.W.L.s. And her ability to go to the ball might be cancelled. She might even be expelled. She'd have let her parents down, let her house down, let Cedric down, let Harry down and, wait, she'd already done that, but then, she didn't owe him anything, and damn, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she'd said yes and-
She sniffed, and brushed her eyes. "The wetworks," as her father often called them, had been a thorn in her palm as long as she could remember. It didn't take much to get her to cry, and while she'd gotten better at it over time, the tears still had a way of returning. Really, the best thing to do in her experience was to avoid any situations that could bring her grief – get good grades, catch the snitch, don't get into trouble.
Which was all well and good, if not for the fact that brushing the hair from her eyes had left her blind to where she was going, and where she was going had her barging straight into Professor Snape.
She dropped her books and fell down with them. Like a scared mouse, she scurried back up, but in her hurry, left her books on the ground.
The professor just stood there, looking down at her, as if she were a mushroom that he was considering adding to some concoction. Really, it would have been preferable to be given detention then and there, rather than spend another moment in the company of the school's potions master.
"In a hurry, Miss Chang?"
"Y-yes, sir."
With a wave of his wand, her books levitated and dropped into her arms.
"Do look where you're going Miss Chang. It would be most unfortunate if you stumbled into the other Hogwarts…celebrity." He gave a small smile. "Though if I may say so, you've made the worthwhile catch."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir."
"On your way, Chang."
She didn't need any encouragement. Really, that she'd managed to not lose any further points today in the company of Professor Snape had to be some sort of miracle. At least she had no intention of taking Potions beyond her O.W.L. levels, but until that happened, she-
"Cho?"
She glanced back at Marietta – she'd clearly been hurrying after her, but not so fast that she hadn't noticed what had happened.
"Blimey, was that Professor Snape?"
"In the flesh," Cho whispered.
"And…you haven't been given a week's worth of detentions."
"No."
Marietta must have taken the hint that she wasn't interested in talking, as she made her way back to Ravenclaw Tower. Past girls who were giggling, past boys who were winking, past Frenchies and Bulgarians and no shortage of Christmas decorations, as Snape's words rolled over in her head.
Worthwhile catch…was that an endorsement of Cedric, or should she do the opposite of what he'd said? There was still time, she told herself. She could march to Gryffindor tower now, tell the Fat Lady to fetch Harry, and then do something incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid. Which, she figured, might be appealing to people from that house, but-
"Hello Cho."
She kept walking past the blonde-haired girl with the Quibbler.
"Bye, Cho…"
She reached the entrance to the tower. As it always did, the bird began its riddle.
I stand in the centre.
All feel my shine.
Even with no clock,
I still tell the-
"Sun," Cho said irritably, and sure enough, the door to the tower opened.
"Still got it," Marietta said nervously. "Hey, remember that time in first grade? When I just couldn't get the answer, and it wasn't until you came along that you got me into the tower?"
Cho remained silent. She remembered that the answer had been "core," but she didn't remember the riddle.
"Yeah," Marietta whispered. "Good times."
The two girls entered the Ravenclaw common area, as Cho remembered the riddle.
In the centre of apple,
In the centre of earth.
What am I, speak swiftly,
Bring me some mirth.
It had been quite simple – Cho had a suspicion that the eagle (not a raven, because that would have made too much sense) that the house riddles became more complicated each year. But then, that didn't matter right now, as she plopped into a seat by the fire. Chances were that within the next twenty-four hours, she'd be brought between Professor Flitwick, Madame Prince, or both.
"Um, okay," said Marietta. "I'm going to cut to the chase – you're not with it."
"Excuse me?"
"Goodness sake, you have two boys who like you, and you like both of them. Heck, in love with both of them."
"I…what?" Cho spluttered.
"Love, like, whatever. Usually I'd say that all the need to do is be a good kisser (and in this case a good dancer), but since that isn't working…" She unrolled some parchment and gave it to Cho, alongside a quill. "Do a list or something. Weigh up the pros and cons, work it out, and get it sorted out by tomorrow."
It was so typical of Marietta, Cho reflected, to boil love (it's not love, she told herself) to mathematics. Maybe when the Sorting Hat had plonked on her head, it had mistaken brain cells for feathers, and put her in the house with the associated avian.
But what was worse, was that…damn it, she set to work immediately. Even as Marietta sat there, yawned, said goodnight, then returned to the girls' dorm.
"Hi Cho."
The voice reached her at 1AM.
"Night Cho."
And echoed in her ears as she fell asleep by the fire.
She was overthinking it, she told herself. One ball, one dance, likely a nice walk through the gardens, maybe some mistletoe, and after that, back to studying for O.W.L.s
Really, what was the worst that could happen?