Dusk

Chapter 5: Home Again

"Cho! Come down to dinner."

Cho made no effort to move. She glanced at her watch and gasped-- it was a quarter to seven! Somehow the day had flown by her; she literally could not account for the ten hours that had lapsed since she had eaten breakfast.

"Cho! I said, dinner!" Her mother's voice had gained a hard, angry edge. "Come down at once! Your father and I want to talk to you."

Cho didn't even bother to stifle a groan. Somewhat reluctantly, she swung her legs over the side of her bed. Her sheets were twisted and dishevelled; her hair felt as though it hadn't been brushed for days. Impatiently, she tied it back loosely with a rubber band.

"Cho! Don't make me come up there."

"Yes, I'm coming!" Cho hollered. As she descended the staircase, she had an unsettling urge to beat on the walls, or break something. Anything to disturb the pretentious tranquillity that had been smothering her relentlessly ever since her home coming. In fact, everything about her lavishly decorated household had been aggravating her-- from the antique rugs, to the delicate drapes that hung on every window. All of which, of course, had been imported and purchased at ridiculously exorbitant prices.

Up until recently, Cho's own room had complemented all of this beautifully. After Christmas dinner, however, she had decided to spend the day "redecorating". Her parents were yet to see the transformation; but Cho felt as if she were almost looking forward to the uproar.

"...yes, I know. Piama owled me this morning; she was most upset. Apparently..."

"Cho!" Mrs. Chang interrupted her husband loudly, catching sight of her daughter standing in the doorway. "Sit."

Cho slumped into a nearby chair. "I thought you said dinner was ready."

"We'll be having dinner shortly," Mrs. Chang responded sharply. "There's a certain matter we need to discuss."

"Oh?"

Cho's father sighed. "I think I'll go and..."

"No, stay here. I'd like your help in getting to the bottom of this."

"Getting to the bottom of what?" interrupted Cho irritably.

Mrs. Chang thrust a piece of paper onto the table. "This."

Cho didn't even bother reading it. "Well?"

"It's an owl your father received this morning from your aunt. She says that your cousin Amy has been crying ever since Christmas Dinner two nights ago. All that

poor Piama has been able to make out is that you told Amy some nonsense and she took it to heart. To wreak your moodiness on an impressionable nine year old girl! What on earth did you say to her to make her so upset?"

Cho snorted. "She probably just spilt pumpkin juice on her silk dress robes. What kind of nine year old has silk dress robes?"

Cho's mother gave a sigh of despair. "Where is this attitude from? Your father and I don't care for it at all! Now you will tell us..."

Cho leapt out of her chair. "I didn't do anything!"

"Sit down!" thundered her father suddenly. For a moment, all was silent. Moodily, Cho sat down.

"I don't know what happened but I want it put right! Tonight! Do you understand me?"

Cho didn't respond.

"I said, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

The room grew quiet and tense. Finally Cho's mother spoke.

"Cho..." she began, in a gentler tone. "What did you say to Amy? I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding that we can very quickly put right. I'm sure if you just write an owl to your aunt and apologise..."

"It was Amy's fault."

"Amy's fault?" she asked, almost wonderingly. "How could it have been...?"

"She came up to me when I was sitting inside on the sofa," Cho muttered. "She asked me why I was in such a bad mood and I told her I was just thinking about things, and I asked her to be a good girl and leave me be." Cho's empty gaze turned into a glare. "She told me that everyone thought I was being stupid, sulking all the time."

Cho's mother sighed wearily. "Children are very outspoken, Cho, and its doubtful that Amy meant to be hurtful. She probably just wanted you to play with her."

"I don't care!" snapped Cho. "She's a brat, mama. A spoilt..."

"That's enough, Cho," said her father quietly. "What did you say back to her?"

"Why do I have to say? Mama..." Cho looked back at her mother pleadingly.

Her mother nodded firmly. "Word for word. No lies."

Cho's eyes stang with the recollection of the memory. "I told her that she had no idea what pain and suffering were, and that one day she would love someone with all her heart and then lose them."

Her father raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "She can't have known what you were talking about! Nonsense and melodrama."

"She didn't," Cho admitted. "She rolled her eyes and told me that she didn't care for boys. I told her that death was everywhere and that it could sneak up and spoil our lives at any moment."

"You said what? You know she's been having trouble sleeping... but you don't care about anyone but yourself these days," said Cho's father angrily. "You will write an owl to your aunt. Right now. In that owl you will have a message to Amy. In that message you will apologise, and this rubbish will be done with. Now, Cho. I don't want a word of protest."

Cho looked at the anxious expression on her mother's face, and her father's silent anger. Suddenly she wanted to laugh at them both contemptuously and never see either of them again.

***

Write to Harry, Cho. I'm sure he's dying to hear from you.

"What the hell do you want?" whispered Cho angrily. "I'm not writing to him. I did what I said I would do. I kissed him. I've fallen for him. What now?"

So why are you still thinking about Cedric?

"CHO! COME UPSTAIRS RIGHT NOW!"

Cho breathed sharply, realising that her mother must have just discovered her room. She tried to saunter up the stairs as casually as possible.

Mrs. Chang, who was standing dumbly in the doorway, was flabbergasted; more shocked and shaken than Cho had ever seen her in her entire life.

"Your... wallpaper..." she whispered.

"I was sick of it," said Cho, trying to sound nonchalant. "The ripped effect-- not bad, don't you think? Oh, and I...changed the furniture a bit."

Cho's mother appeared to be hyperventilating. "The...carpet..." she gasped. "And...the..." She turned to Cho, suddenly gaining her bearings. Her face darkened.

"This behaviour...this ridiculous teenage rebellion... it will stop."

"Rebellion?" Cho sneered. "Just because I don't want my room looking like some posh 19^th Century Witch's Cottage doesn't mean I'm..."

"I know exactly what it means!" her mother managed.

Cho cringed, expecting to be yelled at once more. When all she heard was silence, she opened her eyes and realised that her mother's own eyes had filled with tears.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this, Cho!" she cried. "How you must hate your father and I! First your cousin...now your room..."

Cho felt conscious stricken. "Just leave me alone, mama. I need to be alone."

Her mother gave her a haunting look. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what's to be done!" She slammed the door. Cho threw herself onto her bed.

It's good to be home, isn't it? The voice was mocking.

"Shut up!" Cho croaked. "Just shut up!" She huddled a pillow to her chest and burst into bitter, painful tears.

*

I took a taste/And that was that...

Cho recognised the song. It was one of the less well- known singles from the Weird Sisters, one of her favourite songs.

So come now...come /Weaver...entangler...in tangles...

Cho looked up and saw Harry smiling at her, nothing less, nothing more.

"Let's talk," he said simply, extending a hand to her.

You know you do/You know we are...

Cho took his hand and allowed him to lead her to a small, deserted café. "Coffee?" she asked.

We are...Mr Weaver and entangler...We are...

"No," he replied. "I just want to talk. You've been having problems lately. Dreams."

Cho nodded.

He leaned forward sharply. "Give them to me," he said eagerly. "I'll take them away."

Cho beamed ecstatically. "You will?"

Harry patted her hand. "Of course!"

He gave a quick motion. The black, freakish tendrils again extended seemingly out of nowhere. They bound her wrists and ankles and leaped down her aching throat.

Cho screamed; a long, piercing, fiendish scream as the tendrils finally left her body. Behind them they dragged an ordinary lemon.

Harry picked it up carelessly. "Lemon?"

*

"Cho... I don't want our Christmas holidays to end like this."

Cho was sitting stubbornly on her chair, looking at her newly "repaired" room. As far as her parents were concerned, order had been restored. So long as the carpets were spotless, Cho thought to herself bitterly.

"Your Aunt sent an owl days ago. All is long forgiven and forgotten! Your room is back to normal..." At this, Cho's mother heaved a sigh of relief. "And...your mood is improving, isn't it?" she added hopefully.

Cho tried to feel nothing as her mother wrapped her arms around her.

"You'd tell me if something serious was bothering you, wouldn't you?" her mother whispered into her hair.

"Yes." Cho lied.

"Why don't we go somewhere together next vacation?" Cho's mother asked brightly. "Leave your father at home-- just me and you?" Cho checked a sigh just in time; her mother was clearly trying to introduce a friendly, bantering tone.

She gave a thin smile. "I have get some things ready now."

Back to school

It's lots of fun

Coz you'll see Harry

You know he's the one

He'll make it better,

It's plain to see,

Without him you're nothing,

To Cedric...or me!

At the conclusion of the rhyme, the shrill, taunting voice burst into peals of laughter.

Not bad! The male voice laughed appreciatively.

Well, what can we say, Cho? It's the cold, hard truth.

Cho's mother was staring at her confusedly. "Cho? What's wrong?"

Cho looked into her mother's eyes. The concern was sincere-- as was the love that she saw shining through them. But her mother would never understand. What could she tell her? That there were voices in her head that tortured her? How could her mother even begin to comprehend?

"I'm fine," said Cho firmly. I'm going to be fine, she added to herself. Once I see Harry again it'll only be a matter of time.