Harry Potter and the Missing Memories

Chapter 12

Many Happy Returns

Professor Dumbledore took Harry aside after dinner had finished that evening and told him that Sirius would be staying within the Hogwarts grounds for a couple of days. Harry would be allowed to meet him in Hagrid's empty cabin straight after tea each evening, taking Ron and Hermione with him if he wished, as long as he returned to the castle by nine-o'-clock at the latest.

"You had better use your Invisibility Cloak, just to be on the safe side," said Professor Dumbledore. "You may have my permission, but it would still not be wise to draw too much attention to Sirius' presence - he is still a wanted man, after all."

Harry took full advantage of the time with his godfather, going by himself the first evening and with Ron and Hermione the night after. On that occasion, as the three of them walked across the grass to Hagrid's hut, huddled together under the Cloak, they saw Professor Sophia coming in the opposite direction. She smiled when she saw them crouched under the Cloak, the cheek on the unscarred side of her face rising to reveal her perfect, white teeth, and she changed direction slightly, so that she would pass very near to them.

"Good evening, Harry, Ron, Hermione," she said softly, as she brushed past them. "No need to ask where you're off to."

And she continued on to the castle without a backward glance at them. After his experience in the Hospital Wing, Harry wasn't surprised by this, but although Harry had told them all about it, Ron and Hermione were still rather taken aback.

"She really can see through Invisibility Cloaks!" exclaimed Hermione. "But she doesn't have a magic eye like Professor Moody, so I wonder how she does it?"

"Yeah, it's creepy," said Ron. "Wonder where she's been though?"

"As if that wasn't obvious, Ron," replied Hermione with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "He's a sly old dog, that Snuffles."

When they reached Hagrid's cabin and were safely inside, they removed the Cloak. With Hagrid in residence, the hut was usually rather gloomy and untidy, lit only by one oil lantern and the flames from the fire, but now it was spotlessly clean and illuminated by at least thirty candles. Sirius was sitting contentedly in a chair by the fire, and the table in the corner had the remains of his evening meal on it. Two plates and wine glasses, Harry noted.

"Harry!" said Sirius, as he got to his feet to greet them. "Have you had a good day?"

"Not too bad," replied Harry. They settled down over a cup of tea and proceeded to recount the day's lessons topics: about revising Summoning Charms with Professor Flitwick, about falling asleep during Professor Binns' oration on the First Giant Treaty of 1465, and about Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Sophia.

"We saw her on our way over here," commented Hermione nonchalantly.

"Oh, yes, Kal brought me some tea over," said Sirius lightly, though unless Harry was much mistaken, the colour in his face had risen slightly. "Nice of her really - there's only so much dog food I can stomach. We did some catching up on old times."

"How comes she can see through Invisibility Cloaks?" asked Ron.

"I've been meaning to ask about her too," added Harry. "There's something about her when she looks at me, almost like she can read me like a book. Can she read minds?"

Sirius gave a wistful smile.

"No, she can't read minds," he replied, "but you're pretty close. Dangerous woman is Kal, you can't fool her easily."

Harry exchanged puzzled looks with Ron and Hermione.

"What do you mean 'pretty close'?" asked Harry.

"Kaliope Sophia is a Corfelan - that means she can sense motive and emotion very strongly," said Sirius. "It's a rare magical gifting, I suppose about as rare as Parseltongue and the like, but it's more common in Greece, where her parents are from, than anywhere else. She can't tell exactly what you're thinking, but she can sense your mood, whether you're lying or not, whether your motives are good or ill." Sirius paused and let out a small, barking laugh. "She had me pegged in a matter of seconds. Anyway, that's why Dumbledore employed her for the Defence Against the Dark Arts job - figured she'd be very handy to have around. Very useful when you're not sure who is a friend and who is a foe."

"But what about the Invisibility Cloak?" pressed Ron.

"Well, I'm guessing a bit here," Sirius answered thoughtfully, "but I think she can tell you're there from the motives and emotions you give off rather than because she can see through the Cloak. I could be wrong though."

"But she knew exactly who was under the Cloak, not just what we were feeling," said Hermione doubtfully.

"You'd have to ask her about that," said Sirius, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I do know it's got something to do with her eyes though. She told me she didn't discover her gifting until halfway through her schooldays here at Hogwarts."

"What I don't understand," said Harry slowly, giving voice to a question that had been growing in his mind for months, "is why there are these rare gifts like Parseltongue, Felinargo and Corfelan. Surely magic is magic. Isn't that what we're all here to learn?"

Sirius regarded them steadily for a few moments before answering.

"What all three of you have to understand," he said gravely, in a measured, almost parental way, " is that many wizards and witches assume - quite wrongly - that what they learn at school is the be-all-and-end-all of magic. What you learn here is just a springboard for the future, a stepping-stone. It shows you what your strengths and weaknesses are, so that you can build on them. Everyone is better at some things than others - Hermione, Harry tells me that though you're good at most things, you're particularly gifted at Charms and Transfiguration; Harry, you seem to be good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. Those are the things you should build on. So if someone discovers they have a particular area of gifting, they should be encouraged to develop it to its full potential. Kal discovered she had an unusual ability, and, with guidance, she was able to develop and hone it until it became a useful tool for the Ministry, and now for Dumbledore."

The nine-o'-clock curfew arrived all too soon, and Harry, Ron and Hermione took their leave from Sirius, walking back up to the castle again under the Invisibility Cloak. Once they were safely inside the Entrance Hall, the doors firmly closed behind them, they slipped out from under the Cloak and made their way back towards Gryffindor Tower, talking about what Sirius had said.

"What do you make of all that special abilities stuff he was talking about?" asked Hermione.

"I suppose he has a point," said Harry. "Perhaps I should be practicing Parseltongue rather than hiding it. Maybe I should go into The Magical Menagerie and have a few polite conversations with the pythons, pass the time of day with them."

"Yeah, - 'Hi there, have you eaten any nice small animals lately?' - I can just imagine it," snorted Ron sardonically. "I notice he didn't say what I was good at. Probably would have been 'Ron's biggest talent is Quidditch: perhaps he'd better just slit his wrists now'."

Hermione scowled at him.

"Ron! Don't talk like that! You're good at loads of things!"

"Like what?" countered Ron heatedly.

"Like - well, like loads of things," replied Hermione, clearly racking her brains for something, "like...chess! Nobody has beaten you at Wizard Chess in years."

"Hmph, suppose so," said Ron sulkily, his temper slowly abating. "But it's not exactly something to build your life on, is it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Harry caught her eye and warned her off with a small shake of his head. Sometimes it was better to just let comments like that go, let him sort it out for himself. They continued to the Common Room in silence.

*

A couple of days later, Sirius told Harry he was going to be leaving that very evening.

"It's not safe for me to stay here any longer," he said. "I've already stayed longer than I intended to, and I've got a few errands to run for Dumbledore, to keep me out of mischief. It's been really good to have the opportunity to spend some time with you, Harry. And I will be in touch soon, I promise."

*

The last leaves fell from the trees and the first snowfall dusted the ground like icing sugar, as November made way for December. The white of the ground met the white of the sky in a uniform wintry haze. The chill was now evident inside the castle as well as outside, and it became easier to tell which house an approaching student was in, because most of them were wearing their house scarves, even around the castle.

All the Gryffindor fifth years were struggling with huge piles of homework as the teachers increased the pressure on them to work hard for their OWLs, and the Common Room was frequently full of fifth and seventh year students until well past midnight. Even Fred and George Weasley had occasionally been spotted in possession of library books.

Hermione had not only drawn up a homework timetable for herself, but also for Ron, Harry and Neville, and she seemed to have taken it upon herself to ensure that any time not taken up by Prefect duties or Quidditch practice was gainfully spent in the library or studying in the Common Room. She seemed to be taking it all rather too seriously in fact, and even deducted house points from a couple of second year Gryffindor girls for raucous behaviour when they ate some Fizzing Whizbees, but landed rather awkwardly when they wore off, knocking Hermione's cup of tea off a pile of books onto her History of Magic notes.

In Potions and Care of Magical Creatures, which they had jointly with the Slytherins, it was the plight of Gregory Goyle that intrigued Harry the most. It seemed that he had been all but ostracised by the rest of the fifth year Slytherins: They would not work with him in class unless they were forced to do so, and they even excluded him from their grouping at mealtimes in the Great Hall. In Potions, Crabbe moved to work with Malfoy and Hermione, which didn't please Hermione in the least, leaving Goyle to work with Neville by himself. The tall, burly Slytherin boy cut a very sorry figure indeed, seeming almost shrunken in appearance under Malfoy's withering look of disdain. Neville, on the other hand, seemed to be growing in confidence daily. Harry felt quite proud of him, as he watched Neville trying to encourage Goyle, making helpful suggestions and passing him ingredients and equipment in class without being asked. Neville, like Harry, knew what it was like to lose one's parents in horrible circumstances.

Hermione once suggested, in her kind-hearted way, that they should perhaps try to befriend Goyle. After the initial shock, Harry thought this was quite an interesting idea, but Ron was dead against it.

"When all's said and done, he's still a Slytherin," Ron declared, and his mind was set despite all Hermione's protestations about second chances and inter-house integration.

One evening, while Ron was on Prefect duty and Harry, Neville and Hermione were sitting in the Common Room talking, Neville burst out, "I really don't understand why they're treating Goyle like that. Can't they understand what he's going through?"

"They're scared," came a voice from the armchair behind them.

They turned round in surprise and saw Lavender Brown looking at them.

"What do you mean they're scared?" asked Hermione after a pause.

"Malfoy told them all that Goyle's parents were executed because they were traitors, and the same fate awaits anyone who collaborated with them, or at least, that's what Tabitha told me," Lavender replied. "So now they're having nothing to do with Goyle, so that neither they nor their parents can be accused of collaboration. They don't want the same to happen to them. Can't say I blame them."

"Can't blame them?" exclaimed Harry vehemently. "When they place more credence on unsubstantiated gossip from the likes of Malfoy than on compassion for someone who's just lost his parents?"

"As if you're the world expert on compassion!" retorted Lavender, her eyes flashing with anger. "And anyway, you're the one who's been declaring that You-Know-Who is back when the Daily Prophet and the Ministry say he isn't. You should be applauding them because they believe you!"

"What about you?" asked Harry, frowning. "Do you believe me?"

"I don't see that the Ministry would lie about something like that," she replied sharply. "And if the alternative is the word of a batty old man and a self-opinionated boy who believes the world revolves around him, I know which I'd pick."

With a toss of her long, brown hair, she got up and headed up the stairs. Harry watched her go, wondering how many others at Hogwarts felt as she did and thought he and Dumbledore were making it all up. Certainly the Daily Prophet had done its best in its coverage of the Hogsmeade explosion to calm people's fears and show how life there had returned to normal very soon afterward. No mention had been made of the Dark Mark at all, referring obliquely to a 'small secondary explosion' instead. Harry himself had wondered from time to time if he had actually seen what he thought he'd seen. But Wormtail's appearance in Gryffindor Tower that same evening seemed to Harry to dispel any doubt: Voldemort was gaining strength and supporters, and Goyle's parents had been executed on his orders.

"I believe you, Harry," came a voice from beside him, cutting through his thoughts.

Harry glanced round. Neville and Hermione were looking at him with concerned expressions on their faces.

It was Neville who had spoken, and he continued quite simply, "I've always believed he was out there, waiting to return. Gran always told me he was. If Professor Dumbledore and you say he's back, then I believe you."

Harry, encouraged by Neville's support, gave him a half-smile and replied, "Thanks, Neville. Yes, he is back, but I wish I knew what he was planning."

*

About ten days before the end of term, Professor McGonagall stood up after the evening meal and made an announcement that lifted their spirits no end:

"As you are all very much aware, since the sad events of Halloween night, all students have been confined to the school grounds. However, as village life in Hogsmeade has returned to normal and The Three Broomsticks has now been rebuilt, the Headmaster and I see no reason to deprive you of your opportunity to do your Christmas shopping. All students in the third year and above will therefore be allowed to visit Hogsmeade this coming Saturday."

Loud cheers resounded round the Great Hall at her words.

George Weasley whispered loudly to Ginny and Ron, "Great! We'd almost run out of some of the ingredients for the Bearded Bonbons - demand has been huge."

So that Saturday, straight after breakfast, the Entrance Hall was filled with hundreds of students, all wrapped up in their winter cloaks and scarves, waiting to file out of the door, as Mr Filch ticked off their names on his list of 'the authorised'. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked together along the drive to the main gates of the castle and past the stone gargoyles along the road into Hogsmeade. The weather was very overcast and gloomy, and Hermione had brought her umbrella with her 'just in case'. Indeed it was so dark that the day seemed no more than a perpetual twilight.

"Where shall we go first?" asked Ron, as they reached the main street in the village.

"I need some more quills and parchment," said Hermione, looking across the lamp-lit street towards Scrivenshaft's, the stationer's.

"I want to go to Honeyduke's and Zonko's," said Harry. "It seems like ages since we've been there."

In the end they went to the stationer's first, then to Honeyduke's, where Harry replenished his supply of Chocolate Frogs and bought a few of their new creations to try, followed by a couple of shops to restock their Potions ingredients and finally to Zonko's.

As they reached the door of the joke shop, Harry realised that he hadn't bought any Christmas presents for Ron and Hermione.

"Oh no," he exclaimed, "I forgot to get some dried nettles. I'd better go back for them. Are you going to The Three Broomsticks for lunch after here?" They nodded. "I'll meet you there in a bit."

Harry retraced his steps to Honeyduke's, where he purchased a very ornate singing chocolate cherub for Hermione and a massive stocking-shaped sweets selection for Ron.

He had paid, and his purchases were just being wrapped by the assistant when a voice behind him said, "Hi Harry, are you by yourself today?"

He turned to find Cho Chang standing there, smiling at him.

"Hi Cho," he replied, smiling back at her, his stomach doing its familiar back flip at the sight of her. "I was just buying a few Christmas presents. What about you? Where are all your friends?"

"They said they had a few bits and pieces to get, but I'm not sure I believe them," she said. "I think they're plotting something."

"Plotting what?"

"I'm not quite sure," she answered, smiling coyly. "You see, it's my birthday today."

"Oh..."

Harry hadn't meant to sound so taken aback. Was he supposed to have known this? He felt the blood rush to his head and pound in his temples as he looked at her beautiful, expectant face. Then on the spur of the moment he did something far more daring than he would have normally given himself credit for.

"Um, well how about we go and, um, grab a coffee somewhere - you know, to celebrate - if you've got the time, that is," he stammered.

Cho's smile widened.

"That'd be really lovely," she replied. "There's a quaint little teashop just round the corner. Shall we go there?"

Harry nodded mutely. His heart pounding, he picked up his packages from the counter and followed Cho out of Honeyduke's and down a little side street like an obedient puppy, still amazed with himself for suggesting anything.

A couple of minutes later they reached a small café with an old-fashioned, leaded bay window and crooked stone steps leading up to the door. Both the top and bottom of the bay were lined with holly garlands and twinkling candles for Christmas, and there was a large green wreath on the door.

A little bell jangled as Cho opened the door, and they went inside. The heat from the fire in the corner hit Harry as he closed the door behind him, and his glasses steamed up immediately. He hastily removed them, dropping one of his parcels as he did so, and wiped them on a corner of his cloak. Only able to see marginally better through the smears and condensation, he retrieved the parcel and sat down opposite Cho at a small table next to the window, stowing hi purchases on the windowsill. Once he had removed his cloak and cleaned his glasses properly, he could see that the little tearoom was cheery and welcoming. There were eight or nine tables, only three of which were occupied: themselves, an elderly couple and a pair of seventh year Hufflepuffs that Harry knew by sight. A short, plump witch bustled over, notepad in hand and beamed at them.

"What can I get you, my dearies?" she asked merrily.

"What would you like?" Harry asked Cho, feeling he ought to at least try to take a lead. "I'm going to have a coffee."

"I'll have a hot chocolate, please, with all the trimmings," replied Cho.

The witch hurried away again with their order.

"So what do you think your friends have got planned for you?" Harry asked.

"I really don't know," Cho replied with a small smile. "Probably just a cake and some nasty surprise or other from Zonko's. I'll have to keep a careful eye on everything they offer me for the rest of the day, just in case. By the way, congratulations on winning the Hufflepuff match the other week. That was quite some catch you pulled off - I don't think Susan Bones has recovered yet!"

"Thanks," grinned Harry, glad to be on the safe topic of Quidditch once more. "I'm sure Susan will toughen up after a few more games. You didn't do so badly against Slytherin last week either. At least you didn't let Malfoy get the Snitch."

"He's a nasty piece of work, that Malfoy," said Cho frowning slightly. "But yes, I really needed to catch the Snitch when I did, or the Slytherins would have wiped the floor with us. Their Chasers were all over us - one hundred and sixty points to one hundred and forty was the final score, that's only one goal and the Snitch for us."

Cho paused for a moment, clearly still indignant at their near-defeat by Slytherin. But then the shadow lifted and she continued with a grin, "but don't think we won't give you a run for your money when we play you in January, Harry Potter! We know your weaknesses."

"Don't underestimate us," Harry grinned back.

The plump witch brought their coffee and hot chocolate over to the table.

"That'll be one Sickles and eleven Knuts please, dearies," she said brightly.

Harry pulled some coins out of his moneybag and paid her. When he looked back up, he saw Cho warming her hands on the hot chocolate cup and staring out of the window wistfully, a tinge of the sadness he'd seen on the train now evident on her face again.

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

Cho jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and looked quickly round at him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was thinking - dangerous thing to do sometimes."

"What about?" he asked, rather puzzled by her answer.

Cho sighed.

"Coming here was a bad idea," she replied. "Cedric brought me here once, so the place has some memories attached to it, but it was the first place I thought of."

Harry looked down into his coffee, unsure of what to say.

"It's not that I'm not getting over him, because I am," she continued, "but there's still so much I'm confused about, so much I don't understand."

She paused for a second or two and then carried on, "I liked Cedric, and I like you too, Harry, probably even more than Cedric. But it's like you and he are somehow bound together, linked by whatever happened that night, and I can't separate it all out in my mind. I heard what Professor Dumbledore said, and I've heard all the rumours, but I still don't know what happened. Perhaps...perhaps if you could tell me..."

Her voice tailed off. Harry looked up at her and saw the pain in the soft, brown eyes that met his gaze. Then he felt her hand touch and cover his on the table and he looked away again.

"Harry," she said gently, squeezing his hand a little more tightly, "could you tell me how he died, so that I can hear it from you?"

Harry looked back up at her, his heart beating faster and his cheeks burning. He was sitting in a café in Hogsmeade holding hands with Cho Chang - something he'd dreamed of more than once - but it was nothing like he'd imagined it would be. He could feel the comforting warmth of her skin next to his, but in his head all he could hear were those chilling words 'Kill the spare' and all he could see was Cedric's blank face staring up at the sky.

"I don't know, Cho," he said, "it's difficult to talk about... and it's your birthday too. Shouldn't we be talking about happier things today?"

"I really do need to know," she replied earnestly, intertwining her fingers with his on the tabletop. "Please tell me."

"Okay," said Harry tensely and took a deep breath before continuing. "Cedric and I reached the Cup in the centre of the maze at the same time and..."

But just then there was a blinding flash of light at the window next to them that made them both jump, and they heard footsteps running away. Harry leapt to his feet, jerking his fingers apart from Cho's, flung the door open and rushed out into the street, reaching for his wand. He could just make out the shape of a figure turning the corner at the end of the road. Not tall enough for a grown-up; it had to have been a Hogwarts student then. He went back inside and put his wand away again.

"Did you see who it was?" asked Cho, who was stood by her chair looking nervous.

Harry shook his head. "What did you see, Cho? What was that light?"

"I don't know," she answered. "At first I thought it was an explosion of some kind or a firework, but then I realised it was coming from below the window. And I saw someone running away - a boy - and I think he had blond hair. I didn't get a clear look at him though. Still, no harm done."

They stood by the table awkwardly, then Harry glanced down at his watch.

"Oh no, I was supposed to meet Ron and Hermione in The Three Broomsticks ages ago!" he exclaimed, clapping his hand to his forehead. "I'm going to have to go. Sorry Cho."

"Yes, I'm supposed to be meeting Fay and Marietta too," she said. "But Harry, this is really important - I do need to know what happened."

"I know," he replied wearily, "but this is too public, too open. Do you want to meet tomorrow afternoon to talk about it then?"

"I can't tomorrow, I've got Quidditch practice. What about Monday evening?"

"Okay, straight after tea on Monday then."

They gathered up their things and walked together in silence back to the main street. Cho immediately caught sight of her friends further down and waved to them.

"Well, 'bye then," she said to Harry, "and thanks for the hot chocolate."

"That's okay. Happy birthday."

She skipped off to join her friends and Harry quickly headed in the opposite direction to The Three Broomsticks, where Ron and Hermione looked quite relieved to see him.

"Where have you been?" asked Ron, handing Harry a tankard of Butterbeer. "We were starting to think something had happened to you."

Harry took a swig of the Butterbeer and shut his eyes with pleasure, as he felt the golden liquid slide down his throat, both warming and refreshing him. Hermione was watching him keenly, her head tilted slightly to one side.

"What's happened, Harry? Something's happened, hasn't it?"

So Harry began to tell them about bumping into Cho, though he purposely didn't mention what shop he'd met her in, and about their trip to the café. As Harry explained how she'd said she liked him and held his hand, Ron's eyes slowly widened with incredulity and he began grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat.

"So did you kiss her?" he asked eagerly. "Go on, you can tell us. You did, didn't you?"

"Ron," said Hermione with a hint of warning in her voice, "of course they didn't. Can't you tell from his face? But there's something more, isn't there Harry?"

Harry nodded. He paused to thump Ron, who'd started inspecting his face to wind up Hermione, before telling them how Cho had wanted to hear how Cedric had died and about the flash of light outside the window that had interrupted them.

"Trouble is, I can't work out what that light was," mused Harry. "It wasn't a firework, and it can't have been a spell, because nothing else happened."

"What colour was the light?" asked Hermione.

"It didn't have a colour," replied Harry. "It was just, well, bright."

*

Harry, Ron and Hermione only had to wait until the following morning to find out what the source of the light had been. As they came down for breakfast and passed the notice board in the Entrance Hall, Hermione suddenly stopped with a gasp, causing Harry and Ron to crash straight into her.

"Oh no!" she cried. Then she rushed forward and ripped something from the board before Harry and Ron had time to see what it was.

"What is it, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Oh, it's nothing," she replied in a strangely high voice.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Whatever it was, it was clearly not nothing.

"Hermione, give it here," said Ron, holding out his hand.

Hermione hesitated, then handed what she was holding to Ron. As he looked at it, his mouth dropped open. He glanced up at Harry wide-eyed then down at the paper in front of him again. Harry was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

"Come on guys, let me see," he said.

"I'm not sure that's a very good idea," Ron replied, holding the sheet of paper away from Harry's outstretched hand.

"Look, if it's about me, then I need to know, and if it isn't then you've no reason not to show me."

Apprehensively Ron handed the sheet of paper to Harry and stepped back, as if waiting for a bomb to explode. Harry looked down at it and saw that it wasn't just a sheet of paper, but a photograph. To be exact, it was a photograph of him and Cho Chang sat in the café the previous day, their hands intertwined across the table, seemingly gazing into each other's eyes. Across the bottom of the photo were scrawled the words 'Did Diggory die for this?'

Harry felt his stomach clench with anger. Was someone really suggesting that he'd killed Cedric to get to Cho? Having a go at him was one thing, but dragging Cho into it as well was downright despicable. Who would do such a thing? His mind instantly flitted to Malfoy: Yes the person he'd seen running away from the cafe had blond hair - and that flash of light had obviously been from a camera. Perhaps it was Malfoy. If so, he'd teach the snake a thing or two. But surely he would have recognised Malfoy yesterday if it had been him?

"Harry."

It was Hermione speaking.

"Harry, whoever did this is a complete and utter moron. Pay no attention to it. They're only trying to get to you."

"Well they've succeeded, whoever 'they' are," answered Harry bitterly. "Why couldn't they leave Cho out of it? What's she ever done to deserve this? I just wish this would all end."

"The first thing we should do," said Hermione brusquely, in a very businesslike manner, " is to check the other notice boards to make sure there aren't any more of these. Then I'll go and see Professor Dumbledore to ask permission to check all the Common Room boards. Ron, you take the Sport and Societies boards, Harry, you come with me to do the rest."

They eventually walked into the Great Hall for breakfast very late, having found and destroyed a further four copies of the picture. A wave of whispering broke out as soon as they entered.

"Did you get what you wanted then, Potter?" yelled Draco Malfoy from the Slytherin table as they passed.

Harry ignored him, his eyes carefully trained on where his feet were going, his fists tightly clenched. Ron and Hermione flanked him closely, one on each side, until they reached the Gryffindor table and found some space near Ginny, Fred and George.

"It'll blow over, Harry," said George encouragingly, as he passed him a bowlful of porridge. "Give it a day or two and nobody will remember it."

But Harry, taking a brief look across to the Ravenclaw table, where Cho sat puffy-eyed and deliberately avoiding his gaze, wasn't so sure.

*

Harry stayed in the Gryffindor common room for most of that day, keeping out of the way and catching up on some long overdue studying. Ron went to find Dobby in the kitchens and arranged for Harry to have his meals delivered to Gryffindor Tower, and Hermione kept the notice boards free of the photos by a combination of her own constant vigilance and pressure from the Headmaster on the Heads of House to ensure that none were found in the other common rooms.

But the following morning, Harry's misgivings that it wouldn't all blow over so easily were horribly confirmed.

Knowing he was going to have to face lessons anyway, Harry went down to breakfast early with Ron and Hermione to avoid having to walk through a crowded Great Hall to their table. He sat with his back to the other tables and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. It was all going as well as could be expected until the post owls arrived. Pigwidgeon arrived with a small parcel for Ron and Ginny - some homemade chocolate buns from Mrs Weasley - and Hermione received her usual subscription to The Daily Prophet. She took a bite of toast as the delivery owl landed on the table, removed the paper from the delivery owl's leg and put a Knut in the leather pouch on its leg. The bird flew away again, and Hermione unfolded the paper to scan the headlines, as she usually did. She took one look at the front page, choked and sprayed fragments of toast all over the table and paper. Harry and Ron hurriedly slid along the bench to look over her shoulder. A large copy of the photograph of Harry and Cho dominated the front page, and the headline over it read:

DID POTTER KILL FOR LOVE?

When Hogwarts student Cedric Diggory, son of Amos Diggory, died in the final task of the Triwizard Tournament in June this year, few doubted the official explanation that his death was a tragic accident. The Daily Prophet has now unearthed new evidence, however, that casts doubt on the official account.

The only witness to the death of Cedric Diggory was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who was also competing in the tournament. It now appears that Mr Potter and Mr Diggory were rivals for the affections of one of the prettiest female students in the school, Miss Cho Chang. With Mr Diggory conveniently out of the way, Mr Potter has wasted no time in pursuing his interest in the young lady, as our picture shows.

The question that needs to be addressed is exactly what part Harry Potter played in the death of Cedric Diggory. Did The Boy Who Lived, who has never known the love of his parents, kill for love?

"How could they write such drivel?" exclaimed Hermione angrily, tossing the paper to one side. "Surely nobody is going to believe tosh like that. Anyone with eyes and half a brain round here could see that Harry hasn't gone out of his way to pursue her."

"Don't be so sure, Hermione," replied Ron sagely. "People will believe anything if it's more comfortable than the truth. They see what they want to see."

Harry glanced discretely over his shoulder. All around the hall he could see students unfolding their copies of The Daily Prophet. He saw their startled faces, the elbows nudging their neighbours, the whispers and the pointing fingers. Harry sighed deeply. This was not going to be easy. What had yesterday seemed to be a malicious student prank, which would have been forgotten in a few weeks, had today been given legitimacy, and therefore durability, by the Press. What he would give not to be the 'famous' Harry Potter right now!

There was a small commotion over at the Ravenclaw table. Cho Chang had just seen the article. She jumped up in floods of tears and fled from the hall. All eyes, and a few catcalls from the Slytherins, followed her as she went. Harry half-thought about following her out and went to rise from his seat, but Ron laid a hand on his arm.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Harry," he said. "They'll only talk more."

So they waited for a few minutes, heads down, and then got up and walked briskly to the door, Hermione and Ron shielding Harry from view as much as possible. Even so Harry was acutely aware of how silent the hall fell while he was walking, and how the whispers broke out once he had passed, like the hissing of a snake behind him.

That day was one of the worst Harry had ever had to endure. Apart from the whispering, pointing, hateful comments and the occasional Slytherin trying to trip him up, the other students were also giving him a wide berth in the corridors, as if afraid that he was going to hex them into oblivion if they went anywhere near him.

After tea, Harry waited in the furthest corner of the Entrance Hall to see if Cho was still going to meet him as they had arranged. Just when he was beginning to think he had missed her, she emerged from the Great Hall with her friends, Marietta and Fay. She stopped sharply when she saw him, and the colour drained from her face. She whispered something to her companions, who shot him a black look and nodded. Cho walked towards Harry and stopped about four feet from him, her tear-stained face now closed to him, set like a mask.

"You're either very brave or very stupid to wait for me here," she said brittly.

"Do you still want to talk?" asked Harry. "After all, it's for your benefit, not mine."

At that she let the mask drop and exploded.

"My benefit?" she snorted incredulously. "I've had precious little benefit out of any of this! In the two years since I've met you, my boyfriend has been killed, my marks have dropped dramatically, and now my reputation has been ruined. All because of you! You know, my dad owled me today to say that they'd remove me from school if I'm ever seen with you again. Do you think I'm going to risk that?"

Cho stopped suddenly, her breath catching in her throat, and then she burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she sobbed, "I wish I was strong and brave and fearless like you, but I'm not - I just can't cope with this, this pressure. It's best if we don't see each other again."

Tears streaming down her face, Cho turned abruptly and ran to catch up with her friends. Harry stood there for a minute or two feeling quite numb before making his way quietly back to the Gryffindor Common Room. It was over before it had even begun. The feelings he'd had for Cho for so long had disappeared, leaving just a dull emptiness behind.

*

All in all, Harry was very glad when the students went home for Christmas at the end of the week. He had spent as much time as possible in his dormitory or in the Common Room, and had dreaded every change of lesson and mealtime when he was exposed to the jibes and suspicion of the students. Hate mail had started arriving with the post owls each morning too, for Cho as well, he noticed, and he took to only opening letters while wearing his dragon hide gloves, just in case.

But much as he was looking forward to the peaceful solitude of the castle when the students were not around, he was also unhappy because Ron and Hermione would not be there as well. Both were going home to their families for Christmas, and this would be Harry's first Christmas at Hogwarts without either of them. Ron in particular was extremely apologetic about it.

"I'm really sorry," he said for the umpteenth time. "Mum says she would have had you to stay too, but the house is going to be crammed full. Fred, George and Percy are all going to be in my room, because Bill and Charlie are both home too. There's a big family do for Percy's engagement to Penelope - she finally agreed to marry him, the fool. Thought a Head Girl would have more sense."

Hermione was a bit more sanguine about the holidays.

"It'll give you loads of time to catch up on your work," she said. "Here you are, I've made you a study plan."

"Hermione," he said, looking down at the multi-coloured chart in front of him, "at this rate I'd be able to sit the OWL's in January!"

But as the holidays went on, he became glad of Hermione's study plan, as it gave him a sense of purpose to get up for each day and a sense of achievement at the end.

Christmas Day itself was almost as much of a non-event as it would have been at the Dursleys'. There were only two other students left in the castle, neither of which he knew, and only three members of staff: Professor Sinistra, Madam Pince and tiny Professor Flitwick. So Christmas dinner was a very quiet affair indeed; Harry didn't feel inclined to be sociable, so he ate his dinner and left as soon as he felt he could politely do so.

Harry did get some presents and cards: Ron and Hermione had both left presents with him before they had gone, and Mrs Weasley had sent him a new hand-knitted jumper, in royal blue this year. But without Ron or Hermione to open them with, it just didn't properly feel like Christmas. Even the arrival of Hedwig with a very brief Christmas card from Sirius only cheered him for a while.

December turned to January, and Harry began to count the days until the Hogwarts Express would pull into Hogsmeade station again. Two days before the students' return, Professor Flitwick enlisted Harry's help to take down the decorations that had adorned the castle since early-December. Harry found it quite interesting to discover which charms the professor had used to put them up, as each charm required its own distinct counterspell to undo it. He had cleared the Entrance Hall and the last of the decorations from the trees in the Great Hall when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"All righ' there, Harry? D'yeh need an 'and?"

Harry dropped the box he was holding and wheeled round. He looked up at the tall, fur-coated person in front of him, and a wide grin broke across his face.

Hagrid was back.

Author's Notes:

This was a bit of an infodump chapter, I know. Necessary before the real action starts

For any of you wondering where the word 'Corfelan' comes from, it's a bit of a mixture of languages:

Cor = Latin for heart/motive

Felan = Old English for 'to feel' (Germanic origin)