Adaptations

ADAPTATIONS PART 12

Harry spent the next couple of days trying to work out a plan to get Ron and Hermione talking again, but nothing he thought of seemed the least bit feasible. Finally, he decided that he was a Gryffindor, and not a Ravenclaw, for a reason. The thing to do was to just march straight ahead and do it. So, he headed over to the library and started looking in telephone directories.

The next morning he awoke bright and early, and took Snuffles for a long walk, then Harry hopped on his motorbike and headed off towards Oxford. He stuck mainly to the motorways to save time, flying disillusioned just above the level of the light stanchions, and arrived in Oxford in less than two hours. He had to stop and ask at several local petrol stations before he found someone who could point him to the street he was looking for. The directories in the library at Little Whinging had provided the Granger's address but no accurate local maps.

After he rolled up the drive and climbed off the bike, Harry stretched his back, the muscles aching from his cramped riding position. He hoped that Hermione was at home after his long ride. He draped his helmet over the left side mirror and strode up to the front door. He pressed the bell and waited, glancing over the freshly cut grass and tidy garden in front of the modest home. After a moment, the door cracked open and he saw through the slim opening, the bushy hair and inquiring brown eyes of Hermione Granger.

"You don't have to let me in if you don't want to, but at least open the door and say 'hullo'," Harry said cheerfully.

Hermione held the door open and said, "Hi Harry, what are you doing here?" She looked rather flustered and uncomfortable at his sudden appearance. "What I mean is: I wasn't expecting you; is anything wrong?"

Harry thought for a moment then answered, "Yes, Hermione. There is definitely something wrong, and we need to see to it right away."

Hermione's eyes grew wide with concern. "What is it, Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry reached in and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her out onto the porch and swung the door closed; taking a moment to make sure it was locked. Hermione struggled a bit in his grasp, but he held firm and reached his other hand into his pocket. His fingers first hit the leather of the fob then the cold metal of the key and they were both whisked away.

Harry tumbled to the floor as they arrived at the Burrow. Hermione reflexively reached down to help him back to his feet. Harry looked up and saw that Hermione was not pleased to be there. 'Oh well,' he thought, 'if she's mad at me she's less likely to stay mad at Ron. That way they can both gang up on me.'

Mrs. Weasley came bustling in at the noise.

"Oh, Harry dear. We weren't expecting you so soon." She stopped abruptly upon seeing Hermione standing next to him. "And Hermione? Is there something going on?"

Harry heard the concern in her voice and immediately moved to quell it. "No, Mrs. Weasley," he said, "nothing's wrong exactly. We just need to talk to Ron for a bit and straighten a few things out."

Mrs. Weasley nodded knowingly and pointed up the stairs. Hermione seemed reluctant to move, but Harry got behind her, before she could really dig in her heels, and shoved her up the steps.

"Harry, slow down," she stammered as Harry continued to push from behind.

"No, we're going to have this out, once and for all," he answered sternly.

At the top of the stairs he bodily turned Hermione and drove her up the final flight of steps to Ron's room. Harry looked fondly at the faded and lopsided sign reading Ronald's Room that hung on the door. Then he remembered that Luna always called Ron Ronald and he hoped that she wasn't in there with him. That was a complication that he didn't need right now. Well, at least he knew Viktor wasn't going to be hiding under Ron's bed. Now THAT would make things complicated!

Not bothering to knock, Harry threw open the door and propelled Hermione inside. Ron was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep, in his boxers. Hermione landed on him with an undignified thump, startling Ron awake.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, bleary eyed. "What the devil are you doing, throwing Hermione at me like that? HERMIONE!" Ron began a mad scramble to find something to cover himself with. Meanwhile, Hermione had her hands up covering her eyes, although Harry noticed a significant gap between a couple of her fingers. He also noticed how Hermione's head would rotate to follow Ron's movements.

Harry reached into Ron's wardrobe and grabbed his dressing gown. Tossing it to his friend, he said, "There! Put that on, or put on trousers, or stand there starkers, I don't care which." Ron fumbled into the gown and hastily tied the frayed sash around his waist.

"Now listen, you two," Harry continued brusquely. "I've got something to say and I'm only going to say it once, so you had better be listening." The two of them just stared with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.

Harry took a moment before speaking again. He looked at his two best and oldest friends. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard to get rid of it. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry."

Ron closed his mouth with an audible clack. Hermione just looked at him for a moment before launching herself off the bed and wrapping Harry into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry too," she said into his neck. "We never would have let you go alone. We thought that you were going to wait. That's what we agreed on."

Harry disentangled himself from her arms. "No, that's what you agreed on."

"DON'T PARSE WORDS WITH ME, HARRY POTTER," Hermione shouted with such sudden passion that Harry took a step back.

Ron stood next to her. "Yeah, what she said!"

"OK, I see we're going to take a bit to sort this out," Harry said, trying to remain calm. "Ron, why don't you get dressed first?"

Ron absently shrugged off his dressing gown and turned towards his wardrobe to gather some clothes. He suddenly saw Hermione staring at him, beet red, and scrambled to regain his robe.

"Um, do you mind?" he said shocked.

Harry, who thought that if he was going to be on the receiving end of their wrath then he ought to get a little fun out of it too, said, "C'mon Ron, we've shared a dormitory for the last five years. I've seen you get dressed before."

A blush began to cover Ron. It started at the top of his chest and quickly rose up his neck to cover his face, then, moving a bit more slowly, it crept down his chest towards his navel.

"I know YOU have, but she hasn't!" Ron bellowed, pointing at Hermione.

"Aw, Ron, I'm sure Hermione isn't embarrassed, are you?" Hermione remained quite extraordinarily red, although a lot less of it showed on her than on Ron, but still she shook her head no.

"Well, I bloody well am!"

"In that case," Harry replied reasonably, "we'll just take off our clothes, too. To sort of even things up, right Hermione?"

Harry reached down and started undoing his belt. Out of some strange reflex, Hermione unconsciously undid one of the buttons of her shirt, still staring fixedly at Ron, when the full impact of what she was doing struck home.

"I most certainly WILL NOT!"

Throwing her hands over her face, she fled the room. Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked at Harry. Then, as the sound of Hermione's footfalls reached the ground floor, they both burst into hoots of laughter.

Ten minutes later, the three of them were seated outside at one of the picnic tables. Harry looked again at the two of them and repeated, "I'm sorry."

"Is that all?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked past her shoulder at the house and called out, "You might as well join us, Ginny. What I've got to say goes for you as well as anyone."

From behind the half-closed door, Ginny emerged, her ears pink but her stride determined as she joined them at the table.

Harry waited for her to sit before he continued. "I never really meant to hurt your feelings, any of you," he said. "I want you both to know that I... well, that I think the world of you. You too, Ginny." He looked over at her and she returned his gaze fixedly. "We might not have been friends for as long as Ron, Hermione and I, but you're still a great friend and I never want to lose that."

"But why did you hare off like that, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I thought we were agreed that, even if Sirius could be rescued, it didn't have to be you that did it."

Harry sighed then drew a deep breath. "But you see, Hermione, it did have to be me. No one else could have done it. Who else do we know that can Astral Project? Dumbledore himself, maybe, but we couldn't possibly risk losing him if my idea turned out to be a bust, could we? That leaves me. I needed help of course, but I did have to be the one to do it in the end."

"Just like always," Ron said glumly.

Harry looked at his friend closely, but couldn't make out any signs of any emotion other than regret. "Yeah, it does seem that way sometimes, doesn't it?"

"You know something, Harry? I used to be kind of jealous of you," Ron said softly. "Everybody knew your name and it was always you who got to be the hero."

Harry thought back to the beginning of his fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when Ron's jealousy had boiled over. He watched his friend struggle for the words to continue.

"I mean, with the Philosopher's Stone, I got taken out of the game pretty early." Harry wanted to interrupt and point out that Ron had sacrificed himself, not been taken out, and it certainly wasn't early, but somehow he knew that facts didn't really matter right now. "Then when we went down into the chamber after Ginny, there was that rock slide and, again, I got left out of the real action." Ginny reached out and covered her brother's hands with her own. "Then last year, after we won the Quidditch Cup without you, I was the center of attention, and you know what?" Ron smiled wanly. "It felt great!" The smile quickly faded however. "And then came June, and we all went to the Ministry together. I reckoned, for once, we would all be in the thick of it. And we were."

Ron looked up at Harry and the emotions on his face were unreadable. "And that didn't feel so great. Is that what it was like all those other times?"

Harry could only shrug as if to say 'yeah, pretty much'.

"I've never been so scared in all my life," Ron continued. "Playing Quidditch against Slytherin for the Cup would be nothing compared to that. Mate, I don't envy you anymore. In fact, I wouldn't trade places with you for anything in the world."

Hermione gasped, but Harry understood that Ron didn't mean that he wouldn't do it again should the need arise, and he didn't mean that he wouldn't be there for him anymore. He just meant that he now knew that it wasn't fun, and it wasn't glamorous. It was scary, and deadly, and it just plain hurt too much.

Harry raised a hand and grabbed Ron by the back of the neck; Ron returned the gesture and the two friends bent their heads together. Ginny syruptitiously wiped at her eyes.

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "why? I mean, why do you want to be in the middle of everything?"

"I don't want to be, 'Mione," Harry said. "I have to be. It's not my choice."

Hermione grew stern. "Firstly, my name is HER-mione, and I'd appreciate it if you'd use it correctly."

Harry grinned. "OK, Her-me-oh-ninny."

Hermione ignored his comment and continued. "Secondly, you still haven't answered my question: why?"

Harry thought about this for a moment before answering, "I really can't say why; it's not my choice. Voldemort singled me out a long time ago and now all I can do is try to deal with it."

Hermione frowned in thought. "Do you mean like the prophecy?" Harry nodded. "But that was destroyed, so we don't know what it said."

"Does that really matter?" Harry asked. "Prophecies don't cause anything to happen, do they? They just describe what happens before it does."

Hermione thought some more then said, "I've been doing some reading on prophecies this summer and from what I've read, trying to avoid or alter a prophecy usually results in its fulfillment." Harry nodded while Ginny and Ron just watched. "So maybe it's a good thing that it was destroyed and we don't know what it said. That way it can't influence our actions." Now it was Harry's turn to frown. Hermione looked at him for a moment before speaking again. "Harry, it was destroyed, wasn't it?"

Harry said nothing for a moment. "That wasn't really the prophecy we had there in the Ministry, you know?"

"What!" the other three said in unnerving unison.

Harry turned his head slowly to take in all three of them. "The prophecy, the real prophecy, was given aloud, before I was even born. It was spoken by a seer and heard by one witness. Well, a part of it, the first part, was heard by a third person, an agent for Voldemort."

"But all those spheres in that Ministry vault?" Hermione asked.

"Those are only the official records of prophecies made, taken from the memories of witnesses. That's what those initials meant: 'S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D.'. Those spheres are only the official records of prophecies the Ministry knows about. Who knows how many others have been made but not recorded?"

"Like the one Trelawney made to you at the end of third year," Ron said, "the one where she told about Scabbers returning to him." Harry nodded. "Whoa, that's a lot to think about. How many prophecies have been made that we don't know about? Maybe even directly effecting us?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't waste your time on it. Prophecies are worthless."

"But Harry," Ginny piped in, "they tell us the future."

"No, they don't, Gin," Harry corrected. "They only describe the future. And they do it in such a way that nothing can be understood until it's too late to change it. Just like with Scabbers. If I knew what Trelawney's prophecy meant back then..."

Ron finished for him, "we would have fed that bloody rat to Crookshanks ourselves!"

"But that would have violated the prophecy," Hermione added.

"So, we can only truly understand prophecies after they've come to pass," Ginny reasoned, coming back to the point.

"Which makes them totally worthless," concluded Harry. "At best they're nothing but a distraction."

Hermione looked at him and understanding suddenly dawned in her eyes. "You know what it said, don't you?" Harry just looked at her. "The prophecy, it was made by Sybil Trelawney and witnessed by..."

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Harry finished tonelessly.

Hermione continued, "And so the Ministry record was taken from his memory?" Harry nodded. "Which means that he still remembers it. Which also means that he could have told it to you." Harry tried to keep his expression neutral as he idly scratched his head.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"Well what?" Harry responded.

"WHAT DID IT SAY?" all three answered.

"Nothing." They all just stared at him. "Nothing of any importance and nothing we didn't already know."

"Like what, for example?" Ginny asked sternly, her head cocked slightly to one side.

"Like how Voldemort would come after my family. How my mum's protection would destroy him. And how he would become obsessed with killing me."

"Is that exactly what it said," Hermione asked, "or are you paraphrasing?"

Harry thought for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and began to speak the words of the prophecy, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Hermione seemed stunned by the revelation. "But how can you say that means nothing? It says that YOU are the one with the power to defeat Voldemort."

"Yeah, but it doesn't say that I'm the only one, now does it?" Harry looked at their shocked faces. "Listen, I've had a lot of time to think about this over the last two months and the only conclusion I can reach is that the bloody thing is totally worthless! We made that trip to the Department of Mysteries for nothing, and Sirius... he went through the veil for nothing more than my own shortsightedness." Harry hung his head for a minute while none of his friends could think of anything to say. Finally, he just continued on, "It doesn't tell us anything we don't already know. It's all already happened."

Hermione shook her head and spoke, "You mean that everything in the prophecy has already come to pass? Then why was Voldemort so intent on getting a hold of it?"

"Because he only knows a part of it," Harry answered. "His spy only heard the first part of the prophecy and so now Voldemort is obsessed with learning the rest."

"But if it's all moot, why would Dumbledore go to such measures to protect it?" Hermione questioned.

"Right," said Ron, "Voldemort spent an entire year going after you to try to get to that prophecy; why would Dumbledore let him do that if he knew it wasn't worth protecting?"

"You answered your own question, Ron," Harry said. "Voldemort spent an entire year going after me and that bloody worthless prophecy."

"But WHY?"

"Because, during that whole year he was after me, what else was he doing?" Harry asked.

"He was lying low. Feeding you those dreams and trying to use you to get his hands on the prophecy."

"And what wasn't he doing?"

Hermione answered this time, "He wasn't killing people, that's what he wasn't doing. He wasn't trying to destroy the Ministry. He wasn't really doing anything to advance his cause."

Ginny continued, "He gave Dumbledore almost an entire year to rebuild the Order of the Phoenix and to try to convince the Ministry to take action."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Dumbledore bought himself almost an entire year to prepare for war before the first real battle."

Hermione shook her head as if she was refusing to believe this. "But that would mean that for an entire year, Dumbledore used you as..."

"As bait?" Harry spat, bitterness growing in his voice. "As the tethered goat in his tiger trap? As his stalking horse? Without ever telling me what he was doing or why?"

"I refuse to believe that," Hermione stated firmly. "There has to be more to the prophecy, something that needs to be protected." Harry shook his head. Hermione was undeterred. "Let's go over it line by line."

Harry shrugged and repeated the first line of the prophecy, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."

Hermione said simply, "That's you."

"Or Neville," Harry answered, "He was born at the end of July too, but Voldemort chose me." Ginny looked at him quizzically and Harry repeated the next line, "And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal..." Harry tapped a finger against the scar on his forehead. "Voldemort chose me, and by doing so committed the prophecy to me instead of Neville."

"He will have powers the dark lord knows not." Hermione said, her eyebrows going up in a question.

Harry replied, "When he attacked my folks, and my mum sacrificed herself to protect me, she gave me a form of protection that he didn't anticipate so that when he cast the Killing Curse on me, it rebounded and destroyed him instead." Hermione nodded in acceptance.

"And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives," Hermione spoke. "Now he's so obsessed with killing you, because he failed to do it before, that he can't get over it and move on, and you... as long as he is alive, you have to spend all your time looking over your shoulder and waiting for him to try to murder you again. No real life for either of you." Her brows knit in thought for a moment. "So, if he learns the whole prophecy and that it has all already come to pass, then maybe he'll leave you alone?" Hermione said hopefully.

Harry looked at her. "Do you really think so... really?" he said. "Say I stroll up to Ole Tom tomorrow and say, 'You know, Tom, I'm tired of this whole 'fighting each other' thing. What say we just agree to leave each other alone and go our separate ways?' Do you really think he'd do it?" Hermione sadly shook her head. "No, he'll just keep coming after me, and he'll keep coming until he finally manages to kill me."

"Or we kill him first," Ginny said with a fierce conviction. Harry looked at her with a wan smile.

"And until that happens, one way or the other, there will be no peace," Harry said sadly.

"And so it does always have to be you," Ron added.

"But it doesn't mean you have to do it alone, Harry," Hermione said.

"One way or another, it usually does," Harry replied. "The people around me, the people I care about, are targets. The closer they are, the more danger they are in. You all came to the Ministry with me and look at what happened. Hermione gets hit with a Severing Hex and spends a week in Hospital; Ginny gets her leg broken..."

"Only my ankle," Ginny said quickly, and Harry glared at her.

"Ron gets attacked by some sort of brain-thing, and Sirius gets..." Harry swallowed hard. "Sirius gets killed. I don't want anybody else to die. Not for me and not in my place."

"But he's not dead, Harry," Ron piped in. "You brought him back; you saved him!"

Harry shook his head sadly, "No, I brought back Snuffles, a dog. Sirius is still stuck somewhere in between. He can't go forward because I have half of him here as Snuffles, and he isn't all here because some of him had already moved on." He looked down at his feet. "I've really buggered things up. That's why, when it comes down to it, I'll meet Voldemort alone. I don't want anyone else to get hurt... or worse, because of me. I won't let you."

"That's our decision to make, Harry," Hermione said firmly. Beside her Ron and Ginny were nodding their agreement.

"Yes," Harry agreed as well. "It's your choice to come, but it's MY choice to ask you in the first place. You don't have to follow me everywhere, and I don't expect you to."

"But you need our help," Ginny said.

Harry looked down again. The others began to think that he wouldn't respond at all when he quietly said, "Yes. Yes, I can't do it alone. I need help. I... I need friends. I need you all."

In a flash, Ginny was beside him and had her arms around his shoulders. "We'll always be there for you, Harry. Always."

"Thanks, Gin. I know that. I know that I can always count on you." Harry swallowed the lump that had returned to his throat. "But there are going to be times when you can't be there. There'll be times when I will have to face things alone."

Hermione then moved across the table and joined Ginny in hugging Harry. Ron came and stood behind them, with a hand on each girl's shoulder.

Hermione said, "But we'll be there, Harry, for just as long as you'll let us."

And Ginny whispered softly, "and a bit further than that."

* * * * *

After that talk, things seemed to return to normal between the foursome and Harry's life resumed the easy pace that he had so enjoyed during the weeks leading up to his birthday. Several mornings each week, Harry would Portkey with Snuffles, who determinedly remained a dog and refused to show any signs of being Sirius, to the Burrow to spend time with the Weasleys and romp in the pasture. Harry even brought his Firebolt some days and slowly began to regain his form after so many months away from flying. In the afternoons, Harry would do chores around the house for his aunt and uncle. A few times each week Cho would stop by and she and Harry would spend the afternoon talking or riding the motorbike. They even went to London for lunch a few times. All in all, it was the best summer of Harry's life. It was almost normal.

Then one morning Harry awoke with actual regret, the calendar above his bed said it was August the 31^st, the last day of his summer holiday. He and Cho were going to London for one last lunch and then Harry would begin setting things to right for his return to Hogwarts. There were many things to do and only a short time to do them, so Harry rose and began his day.

Harry wore a pair of cast-off jeans, torn into shorts, and a baggy t-shirt as he mowed the lawn; they were some of the last of Dudley's old things that Harry had. Over the course of the summer he had slowly built up a wardrobe of properly fitting clothes and he didn't intend to take any of these old things away when he left. Snuffles lay in the shade, his head resting on his forepaws and watched as Harry pushed the mower across the grass.

The work became a sort of meditation for him as he felt his mind drift into its pleasantly empty resting state. His abilities to block Voldemort's attacks had continued to improve, or else Voldemort was no longer trying that hard, and the occasional twinges of his scar now caused no more than a minor disruption of his day. Harry looked up, surprised to find that his chore was finished. He turned off the mower and rinsed it clean from the garden hosepipe before he put it away in the back of the garage. Then he swept the walks and drive free of any clippings. Last of all, he watered the shrubs and flowers; Snuffles enjoyed this greatly as Harry doused him as much as anything.

Heading back inside, Harry glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was nearly 9:30. Cho would be there soon and he still needed to get ready. Harry ran upstairs and stripped off his sweaty clothes, tossing them in the rubbish rather than the laundry. After his shower, Harry dressed in black denim jeans, a scarlet jumper, and a pair of black leather motorcycle boots. He smiled fondly at the scuff marks on the extra layer of heavy leather over the right instep, marks left from the shifter and a proud hallmark of how much time he spent riding. At the sound of the doorbell, Harry gave his hair a pointless brush with his fingers and headed down to greet Cho.

Harry opened the door and his greeting died on his lips as he stood there gaping. Cho stood on the threshold, her ears beginning to turn pink as Harry stared. Instead of her usual shorts and jumper, Cho was wearing a snug, black leather mini with a loose white blouse whose sleeves belled around the cuffs. She also wore dark hose and a pair of spike-heeled black boots. Her shimmering black hair fell loose around her shoulders and Harry longed to touch it.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively.

Harry shook himself out of his reverie and answered, "Oh, I'm sorry Cho. I... I was just... You look wonderful."

Cho smiled and thanked him. After Harry had closed the door, she spoke again, "I just figured that since this was out last lunch together, I ought to dress up a bit. Do you think it's all right?"

Harry grinned, "It's ruddy marvelous, that's what it is." Harry thought for a moment. "You think I ought to change?"

Cho shook her head and giggled a bit. "No, you look fine. Where we're going, you'll fit right in."

Harry looked over Cho again and blew out a loud breath. "We might want to rethink taking the bike though."

"Why?"

Harry waved his hand at her outfit and said, "Well, you're not exactly dressed for riding pillion, now are you?"

"Tosh," Cho replied, "I'll be fine. Just let me do something with my hair so the wind doesn't ruin it."

She reached up and began to plait her hair quickly. Harry rolled the bike out of the garage and stood astride it holding her helmet. He still wore a concerned expression as Cho took the helmet and strapped it on.

"What are you looking so worried about?" she asked.

Harry tried to grin. "You're wearing an awfully short skirt," he said uncertainly.

Cho feigned a shocked look. "What, are you worried that I might give some other fellows a bit of a show?" She grinned. "Or are you more worried that you'll miss it?"

Harry didn't know what to say and Cho just laughed. She lightly kicked his foot out of the way and put her right foot on the left footpeg, with a light hop she was sitting behind him sidesaddle and smoothing her skirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She noticed Harry watching and said primly, "I won't show anything that I don't intend to. Just have a bit of care and no grandstanding. We don't want to be late for lunch."

Harry shook his head. "I guess this means no wheelies."

Cho grinned widely and replied, "Well, as long as you're not going too fast at the time..."

She wrapped her arms around Harry's waist and he felt the familiar tap of her helmet against the back of his. He dropped the bike into gear and eased off on the way to London.

A little more than an hour later, Cho and Harry, with a cap pulled low over his scar and dark sunglasses concealing his tell-tale green eyes, were walking down Diagon Alley. There were crowds of people milling about, doing last minute shopping. Harry even saw Neville coming out of Flourish and Blotts with his Gran, still wearing her rather tattered fox stole and carrying her huge red handbag. No one seemed to take notice of them however, beyond the young men who turned to watch Cho as she strolled past them. Harry was still surprised that such a small change in his appearance could have such a large impact. People didn't see him as anything more than a scar after all, and without it he was totally unremarkable. Soon, they came to the intersection where Dye Urn Alley branched off from Diagon.

Harry noticed this and asked, "Are we having lunch in Chinatown today?"

"Oh," Cho said innocently, "didn't I tell you? My father wanted to see you again, and so he asked that we have lunch with him."

Harry hadn't seen Cho's father since the beginning of the summer when he started him on learning Occlumency the right way, it would be a pleasure to see him again.

"Good," Harry said, "I'll finally get a chance to thank him for what he taught me that time."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way," Cho said nervously. "I was afraid that the idea of meeting my whole family might intimidate you."

"Your whole family?" Harry gasped. Cho nodded and tried to ignore Harry's reaction. "But I thought you said it was just your father?"

Cho turned towards him and looked a little chastened. "Well, my father will be there of course, but my Grandmother wanted to meet you, too. And of course my mother had to come, which meant that my sisters had to tag along as well, since they are visiting."

"Your sisters too?" Harry sounded defeated.

"And their husbands," Cho added finally.

Harry was beyond stunned. "How many nieces and nephews?" he asked.

"Oh, none. Neither of my sisters has had any children yet."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Harry said.

"I know this is a bit of a shock, Harry, and I'm sorry. I was sort of hoping to spend some time alone, but you've met my father. There's no saying no to him."

"Yeah, I suppose."

By this time they were standing outside of a restaurant. The sign was in Chinese, as was the menu posted in the window. The ornate double door was flanked by a pair of statues. They were the images of some sort of animal.

"They're Beijing Lions," Cho explained. "They guard the entrance and protect it from evil spirits."

Harry was staring at one of the statues. The beast was the size of a bear with a massive head and its jaws half open in a fierce grimace. Or was it a grin? Harry looked closely but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't decide which it was. The statues were made of a dark marble and looked almost black. Harry noticed that the thick manes seemed to curl in vast tangles.

Cho noticed his staring and looked at the statues through fresh eyes herself.

"Harry," she asked after a moment's consideration, "do these remind you of anyone?" Harry nodded silently. "Well, they are guardians after all, so it does seem appropriate."

She took Harry's elbow and led him into the restaurant. Harry craned his head around to continue to stare at the statues that so keenly resembled his godfather. She directed him to a large table in the rear of the restaurant. It was circular and seven people were seated there with two seats still empty, on opposite sides of the table. Cho went over to one chair, which Harry pulled out and held for her, and Harry took his place between an older woman and a fellow who appeared to be in his late twenties, neither of whom Harry recognized. He nodded to them as he pulled his seat close to the table. Across the table from him, Harry saw Mr. Chang, seated next to Cho. Harry hastened to remove his cap and sunglasses.

Mr. Chang was the first to speak. "Harry, I would like you to meet my family." He nodded towards the older woman. "This is my mother."

Harry turned and with a shy smile said, "How do you do, ma'am." She seemed to be small although she carried herself with a regal air. Her hair was cut into a style quite similar to his Aunt Petunia's although with more gray and less dye. Harry also noticed that she wore white lace gloves on both her hands. She nodded in return.

Mr. Chang continued, "And this is my wife."

"Mrs. Chang," Harry said and watched as she gave him an appraising look over.

"And these," Mr. Chang indicated the two younger couples seated at the tables, "are my other two daughters and their husbands." Harry turned to greet them and noticed the women's eyes locking onto his scar. It made him feel uneasy, as it usually did when people did this. He smiled and turned back to Mr. Chang.

Cho spoke up. "My brothers-in-law operate a very successful business trading goods between Hong Kong and Taipei, Taiwan. One lives in each city and each manages that end of the business." Harry turned to smile at the two couples and noticed that the women had puffed up slightly with their younger sister's words.

A waitress appeared with several platters of food. She placed them onto a large Lazy Susan that rested in the center of the table. Several pots of tea were also there and the turntable began to spin back and forth as people rotated it to get the dishes they wanted. Harry was amazed at how simple and useful the arrangement was. Instead of passing platters of hot food up and down the table, or reaching across your dinner companions to get to something, you simply spun the large tray until what you sought was right there in front of you. He also noticed that Cho made sure to serve her father before taking anything herself. Likewise, her sisters each served their husbands. Mrs. Chang took care of her mother-in-law. Harry examined the food as it passed before him. There was a poached fish that he didn't recognize. Surprising since the head and scales were still there, but then Harry wasn't much of a fisherman. There was also a platter of some sort of poultry that he assumed was duck. Several dishes of rice, both white and fired. And two types of soup. The soup was thinner than he was used to, almost a broth.

Seeing that Harry hadn't taken anything to eat yet, Mr. Chang spoke up. "Is something wrong, Harry? Don't you see anything you like?"

"Oh no, sir," Harry replied. "It all looks wonderful. I just wanted to see what was there before I began."

A dish of pork and broccoli came past and Harry spooned some onto his plate. He glanced at the other people at the table and noticed that each had a large bowl of white rice in front of them and several small portions of the other dishes on their plates. They would take up a small bit of food and place it in the bowl of rice and then scoop up both rice and meat and eat it. Harry also noticed that they were all using chop sticks. Harry had never tried to eat this way before. Sure, the Dursley's would eat Chinese take-away on occasion but all Harry ever had were the leftovers that Dudley hadn't gotten too, and he had always used a fork for those.

Gamely, Harry served himself a dish of rice and then removed the pair of chop sticks from their paper sleeve and snapped them apart. He looked around the table but everyone was eating so easily and quickly that Harry couldn't quite see how they were doing it. Across the table Cho stopped and caught his eye. Her cheeks were pink and she was struggling mightily to hide a huge grin at the sight of his predicament. Mr. Chang waved at a passing waitress and in a moment Harry had a fork and spoon resting beside his plate. Harry looked at them, then at the chop sticks. He quickly decided that he wasn't going to let a pair of pencils get the better of him and returned to trying to control the chop sticks.

He looked over at Cho again and noticed that she had set down her own pair. She carefully picked up one and placed it over the web of her thumb, holding it in place with her third finger. She then picked up the second stick and held it like a quill. She moved this against the fixed one like a sort of pincer and picked up a small bit of fish and brought it to her mouth. Harry tried to imitate her and soon was ready to give it a go. He seized a bit of pork and tried to get it to his mouth. Halfway there, his finger slipped and the morsel dropped into his lap. Harry hoped that no one noticed, but the stifled snickering coming from one of Cho's sisters told him that wasn't the case. He felt his cheeks begin to heat. Across the table, Cho again caught his eye. She took her chopsticks and pressed them against her plate so that her fingers slid down them; instead of gripping them at the very end, she was holding them in the center. Harry tried this and found he could better control them this way. Again, grabbing a bit of meat, Harry managed to get it into his mouth this time. Feeling vindicated, he looked up and saw smiles on the faces of all five of the women at the table. The men studiously ignored him.

A platter of dumplings came and replaced the now decimated fish. Harry had a much easier time with these as they were larger and he could simply jab them with the chop sticks rather than trying to grasp them. He quickly got the hang of things and by the time the meal began to wind down, he was almost able to feed himself.

Pudding was a platter of pressed rice balls filled with a paste of what Cho said was red bean curd. They weren't nearly sweet enough to please Dudley, or Ron for that matter, but Harry found them rather pleasant. He was chewing on his third when Cho's grandmother said something to her in Chinese and Cho giggled. Harry threw her a questioning look.

Cho swallowed the last of her laughter and said, "My Grandmother says that it is no wonder you are so thin, but given a little more practice you should be able to eat like a civilized person."

Harry grinned in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment and responded to the elderly woman, "Thank you... I think." Cho translated and she nodded to him with a smile.

"Bu ke chi," she said.

Harry noticed that her tea cup was empty so he picked up a pot and refilled it. The old woman watched him with sudden and intense concentration as he did so. When Harry set the pot back on the table she reached out with one gloved hand and grasped his right hand firmly. Before he realized what was happening, she had turned the back of his hand towards her. Thanks to the sun that Harry had gotten that summer, the words the white scars formed across the back of his hand stood out in sharp relief. Harry felt his cheeks burn for a moment, only to have the feeling replaced with a cold anger as the woman chattered at her son in Chinese. Harry tried to pull his hand back but the old woman's grip was surprisingly strong and she held him fast. Now Cho was involved in the discussion and Harry could tell that things were becoming tense.

As soon as he had the chance, Harry wrenched his hand from her grasp. She looked at him sharply and Harry said through clenched teeth, "I am NOT a liar."

Madam Chang turned again and spoke with her son. Mr. Chang turned to Harry and said calmly, "Harry, no one here thinks that you are." The sudden snorts from Cho's sisters and the angry look that she shot them in response told him differently.

Mr. Chang continued, "Harry, I know you think that Ms. Umbridge and Minister Fudge are the worst possible examples of government, but let me assure you, when it comes to attempting to control and manipulate the truth, they are mere amateurs compared to the regime that currently controls my country."

Harry looked back at him, not able to loosen the grip his anger had over him. Madam Chang spoke again to her son, more curtly this time, and he replied. He was obviously reluctant to do as she said, but he finally acquiesced.

"Harry," he began, obviously struggling over how to phrase things, "in my country, they have what are called Re-education Camps. These are places where those who refuse to follow what the government says is the truth are sent to be taught obedience." He paused and Madam Chang quickly spoke again. He responded to her and she back. He shook his head in refusal at first but as his mother began to remove the lace gloves she wore, he continued, "The black quill is only one of their methods." The old woman held her hands out to Harry and he took them. Across the backs were carved several lines of Chinese characters. Harry's eyes grew wide with shock and sudden understanding. Where Harry's scars were thin white lines against his skin, these were deep, black and obviously carved over a far longer period than just a few weeks of detention. Several of her fingernails were also missing. Harry looked up into the old woman's eyes and saw a depth of understanding there that even Dumbledore couldn't achieve. She had trod his path and she had gone further along it than he had yet to travel.

Mr. Chang took a deep breath and spoke again. "When my mother was finally released from one of these camps, I decided that it was time to leave my homeland." He looked at his mother with a deep respect and love then said, "As you can tell, Harry, strong-willed women tend to run in my family." From the corner of his eye Harry again saw Cho's two sisters swell with pride at their father's comments. Cho had her eyes cast down at her plate and did not see her father looking at her.

Harry looked back at the Grandmother and she returned his gaze steadily. "Would you like to know what they say?" she asked in only slightly accented English.

Harry thought for a moment then answered, "No, it doesn't matter what they say. I can see the truth." Then he bent his head and gently kissed the scarred backs of the old woman's hands.

As Harry raised his head, she reached up and cupped his cheek. Her skin was rough, from a lifetime of manual labor, but her touch was gentle. She then grasped both of his hands in hers and turned them over to examine his palms. She was silent for a moment then spoke to her son in rapid Chinese. Before he could reply, she rose from the table and headed towards the door. Mr. Chang spoke quickly to Cho then went after her, the rest of his family following behind. The two men, whose names Harry had never been told, held their heads together in conversation while their wives did the same, two steps behind them.

Cho took Harry by the arm and began to walk him out. Harry looked at her, confused. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh no, Harry. Grandmother just decided that the meal was over."

Harry's brows knit. "Just like that?"

"She does that sometimes. My sisters think it's a sign of senility."

Harry thought about the old woman's eyes, her body might be aged but there was nothing like senility in those eyes. "I think your sisters are in for quite a surprise one of these days." Cho nodded with a smile. "Shouldn't we pay for the meal?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," she replied deadpan. "My family owns this restaurant."

When they had gotten back out onto the street, Harry said, "Cho, what did she say to your father? Was it about me?"

Cho's voice grew solemn. "My Grandmother isn't a Seer, but she is good at some kinds of Divination, like reading palms. She said that you had traveled a long journey, but that you had farther to go still before you could rest." Cho was silent for a minute then spoke again, her tone light and happy once more. "You know, Harry, I think my Grandmother kind of likes you."

Harry tilted his head. "How so?"

"She's given you a Chinese name, Shao Long. It means: the little dragon."

"And that's good?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry, that's very good. The dragon is more than just a symbol of good luck in China; it is a symbol of justice and the power of righteousness. When the gods come down to earth to combat evil, they ride on the backs of dragons."

Harry hesitated. "Yeah, well I'm sure that she gave Michael just as nice a name."

Cho snorted. "Oh, Michael hasn't met my family. He's exactly the type of European boy my father would like me to date. Grandmother would never bother giving him a Chinese name." Cho became thoughtful for a moment. "You know something, Harry? Until today, I'd never heard the story of why my father decided to leave China."

"Your Grandmother is quite an impressive woman."

"Yes, she is, isn't she?"

Together they strolled along Diagon Alley, looking in windows and casually discussing how to spend their time as they idled it away. The sun was warm and the crowds gay as the afternoon wore on. As they turned away from Quality Quidditch Supplies and were about to head to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, Cho drew up sharply and stared across the way. Harry turned to see what she was looking at and saw Michael Corner leaning against a lamp-post chatting with some friends. He recognized some of them from the DA last year and was about to call out to them when Cho grabbed his arm and hurried him away.

Cho was mumbling under her breath. Harry could only make out a portion of it, "...didn't tell me he'd gotten back..."

"Don't you want to go over and say 'hullo'?" he asked.

"No," Cho said firmly, "he said that he'd owl me as soon as he got back."

"Where's he been?"

She looked intently at a tattered sign posted on the wall beside her. "Michael's family takes a holiday every summer. He said he would be out of touch and that he'd send me an owl as soon as they returned."

"Well, maybe he just got back? You've likely got an owl waiting for you on your windowsill right now."

"Maybe," she said looking unconvinced, "but he's here hanging about, isn't he?"

"Well," Harry reasoned, "it is the last day of the holidays. If he just got back then he would have to be here to get all his things for tomorrow, right?"

"Maybe," Cho said again.

"Well, why don't you just go and say 'hi'; I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

Cho thought for a second. "No, if he does still need to buy all his things then I wouldn't want to hold him up. Tomorrow on the train... then we can talk."

Harry shook his head in confusion. He did that an awful lot around women, he'd noticed. Cho, meanwhile, was heading off towards The Leaky Cauldron at a good pace and Harry had to hurry to catch up.

They were quickly outside in Muggle London and standing beside the motorbike. Harry began to unhook the helmets while Cho took out her wand and, with a wave, transfigured her skirt into a pair of jeans and her blouse into a chambray work shirt. Her boots became riding boots like Harry's as she slipped her wand up her sleeve for safekeeping.

Tightening the chin strap of her helmet she said, "Why don't we go for one last ride, hmm?"

Harry flew them disillusioned until they were outside of London and on an empty stretch of road where he could set the bike down unseen. Then they began to tear along headed west. The wind wiped around their helmets and tugged at their sleeves Cho held on fiercely through every maneuver Harry did. Finally needing a break, Harry snapped into a rest area. They headed towards a parking stall at far too great a speed. Suddenly, Harry grabbed a handful of the front brake. The nose of the bike dove down under the added weight as Harry held the brakes just short of lock-up. The rear wheel lightened and then rose up into the air. The bike was rolling along on only the front tire when Harry suddenly shifted his weight and the bike pirouetted around. The rear wheel came down with a thud and Harry then applied the rear brake as well bringing them to a stop. Cho saw that they were sitting perfectly inside one of the stalls, pointed back out the way they came.

They climbed off the bike and when they had removed their helmets, Harry saw that Cho was grinning from ear to ear. He opened his mouth to say something when she threw her arms around his neck and laughed with unbridled joy.

"That was just ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS!" she fairly screamed in his ear.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Harry said, hugging her back. "It's the first time I've ever done that with a passenger."

"The FIRST?" she squawked. She swung her arm at him and the helmet she was holding batted him in the shoulder. "You're completely mad, you know that?"

"Barking," he replied with a grin.

They walked over to a series of vending machines and Harry bought them both bottles of fashionable water. Harry downed his in a couple of swallows but Cho just sipped hers.

"So, any idea where we're headed?" Cho asked.

"Well," Harry answered, "I've arranged to store the bike at the Burrow while I'm at school. I just thought we'd run it over there and then Portkey back to Surrey. You don't mind, do you?"

Cho thought for a moment, her lower lip caught between her lips. "It's getting a bit late anyway," she said finally. "Maybe I'd best just Apparate home. You can go on by yourself."

Harry looked at her sadly. "But why, Cho? I thought we were having a good time."

She smiled just as sadly. "We were, Harry. It's just that I'd rather not have to deal with Ginny Weasley right now."

"Aw, c'mon Cho, I know Ginny has been acting a bit odd about you but it's just that... Well, I don't know why she acts that way actually, but I do know that it's not your fault and it shouldn't be your problem. We won't stay long. I'll just put the bike up in their shed and then we'll head out."

"No, Harry," Cho said, shaking her head. "I think it's best if I just go home now. I've... I've still got a lot of packing to do... and things."

Harry suddenly remembered that she, most likely, had an owl waiting for her as well. "Oh, OK then," Harry mumbled. "I guess I'll see you on the train then."

Cho looked down at the grass-lined verge. "Yeah, or at school."

Harry just nodded. Cho stepped away but before she could pop out Harry stopped her.

"Cho!" he called.

"What is it, Harry?"

Harry suddenly was at a loss for words but he also knew that he had to say this. "Well, it's just that... You see..." Harry swallowed hard and tried again, "I just want to say thank you."

"For what?"

"Well, you see, this has been probably the best summer of my life and it's all down to you, and I just wanted to thank you for it."

"Oh Harry," she said returning to his side, "I ought to be the one thanking you. You've given me so much help. I don't think I would have made it through this summer at all without you. I mean, if it hadn't been for our talks, I'd probably be locked away in an asylum by now. Either that or I'd be on a boat to China for my last year of school and then an arranged marriage, like my sisters."

"Your sisters?" Harry managed to say.

"Oh, you remember my saying that I was supposed to be sent to school back in China, don't you?" Harry nodded. "Well, my sisters were."

"And their marriages were arranged?"

"Well, not arranged, per say, but after they finished school, they were fixed up with a couple of fellows who worked in my father's shipping business."

"I thought you said your family owned that restaurant?"

"Harry, my father does a lot of things. So, even though it wasn't formally arranged, they were encouraged to see people that my father had selected. My brothers-in-law got their current positions as sort of their dowries."

"So they don't run their company?"

"Yes, they run it, but my father owns it. I suppose that they'll inherit that portion of the business from my father's will. I know they certainly expect to."

Harry was shaking his head again and could only manage to mumble, "Curious."

"Anyways, Harry," Cho began again, "not only did you give me a wonderful summer, but you also helped more than I can ever say. I really ought to be thanking you."

Harry blushed and was about to say something else when Cho quickly leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Harry," she said. "I'll see you back at Hogwarts." With a *crack* she was gone before Harry could even say good-bye.

* * * * *

Harry had arranged for a Muggle taxi to take him to Kings Cross so that he didn't have to bother the Dursleys. In truth, Harry was quite excited about getting away from Privet Drive and doing it in Uncle Vernon's company car would only spoil the moment for him. The cab showed up at exactly 9:00 in the morning on Saturday, September the first.

Harry bumped his heavy trunk down the stairs by himself, as the Dursleys lingered over breakfast. No one said a word to him and no one lifted a finger to help until the driver gave him a hand lifting the case into the boot of the car. Next Harry carried out Hedwig's cage and the driver gave Harry a bit of a cross look when Snuffles bounded into the back seat along with the owl.

"Not to worry," Harry said, soundling as chipper as he could. "They're both quite well trained and won't cause any bother." The driver looked as if he doubted this very much.

Harry returned to the smallest bedroom of number 4, Privet Drive one last time. He wanted to make sure that he left nothing behind because he wasn't planning on ever coming back. He checked the wardrobe, his dresser. Both were empty, as was the battered desk. He looked over the pile of Dudley's broken toys that still occupied a significant amount of space in the room. Well, in a few minutes they could occupy all of it, for all Harry cared. Finally, he got down on his knees and crawled under the bed to lift the loose floorboard to make sure that his hiding space was empty. It was, not even a crust from one of Mrs. Weasley's much welcomed meat pies was there.

Hefting his school bag onto his shoulder, he gave the room one last look. He knew he wouldn't feel sad, but somehow he was surprised to find that he didn't feel the least bit nostalgic, or anything for that matter. He had never belonged here and he didn't even want the memories of it that he was taking with him. He shut the door behind him and turned one of the several locks that were still mounted on the door.

At last, he turned towards the stairs and was surprised to see Dudley standing there, waiting. He thought the last Dursley who would want to say good-bye to him would be Dudders. He stopped to look at his cousin and was completely taken off-guard by the uppercut that rammed like a sledgehammer into his solar plexus. All the air in his lungs rushed out with a whooping sound as Harry doubled over. It felt as if his lungs had been turned inside out and Harry struggled against the cramping pain to try to bring air into them again. He slumped slightly forward and right into the path of the overhand right that Dudley brought down against his temple. Harry heard his glasses crack and felt them fly off of his face and onto the floor. Dudley shifted his feet and stepped directly onto them, ensuring their destruction. He grabbed Harry by the hair and twisted his head around roughly. Harry could feel Dudley's breath and taste the sugary sweet cereal that Dud ate for breakfast on it.

"Don't think anything has changed, Cousin," he slurred. "You're still nothing but a worthless freak."

With that, Dudley shoved him towards the stairs and it was only luck that let Harry grab onto the railing and prevent himself from falling all the way down them. Harry scrambled to gather up the shattered remains of his new glasses and staggered down the steps and out into the hall. The only sound he heard was Dudley sniggering as he went to reclaim his second bedroom again.

"'Ere now," the driver exclaimed when Harry collapsed into the back seat of the cab, "you're 'urt. Maybe you ought to go back inside and see t' that before we get under way."

Harry just shook his head. What more appropriate way to leave the Dursleys then bleeding and a bit the worse for wear, just like he had come fifteen years ago? "Just drive," Harry said to him. "I've got a train to catch."