Phoenix Summer

Harry Potter got into the back of his uncle's car after his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Usually he would've glowered a bit at him, but this year he was unusually quiet. He sat with his green eyes glazed, staring into space as his uncle shifted his bulk around the car to close the trunk.

As he stared, he noticed a short, black haired girl start down the sidewalk with a number of funny-looking packages start off down the sidewalk. She had an owl. Harry started to open the door. But remembering his stammered invitation to the ball and tendency to go red whenever she was near, he hesitated. Finally his resolve hardened. It was now or never, he thought as he got out of the car and started after the girl.

"Hey, boy- get back in here, I'm leaving!" His mustached uncle started to turn his trademark beet red color of anger.

"Wait," he brushed past Uncle Vernon and kept going. The corpulent red-faced man was so shocked that he just gaped as his skinny little nephew walked right by him.

Harry waited until he got close enough to shout. "Hey, Cho!"

She turned around with a tired expression on her face, thoroughly expecting another well-wishing classmate to try to engage in a bit of last-minute crying and support that only made her feel worse. Her eyes lit up as she saw who was walking towards her.

"Harry."

Boy, did she hate this kid. She'd tried to be nice to him, even after that article where he told all these lies and claimed he was the only champion. Still, she needed to know the answers to her questions and this was the guy who could answer them.

So here was the person she had been looking for. Professor Dumbledore had given only the vaguest comments to the questions she had asked about Cedric. He didn't answer a single one. It got to sound like a broken record, her constant stream of questions and his murmured repetitions of Cedric's being a true Hufflepuff and Harry Potter's bravery in returning the dead body.

Thanks, Harry. Thanks a lot. You go in with Cedric, come out with a dead body. I knew Dumbledore wouldn't lie about Voldemort murdering Cedric, but. . . If he could return the body, couldn't he keep him alive? Couldn't Cedric keep himself alive? So here she was, with all these questions, and the only people who could answer them were her dead boyfriend, a headmaster who wouldn't tell, and a skinny green eyed boy who had been a prat all year before coming out of the maze with her Cedric. Dead.

Harry turned slightly pinkish as she said his name, but controlled it. Now was not the time to start stuttering. He already knew what he wanted to say.

"I just wanted to know where you lived, so I could owl you over the summer."

(AN: I've always wondered how Harry sent Sirius letters without knowing where he was. Maybe Hedwig knew where he was from each previous visit. This is only a plot device anyway, so it doesn't matter whether you need an address or not.)

"Oh. Sure, let he get out some parchment." Secretly, she was taken aback by his newfound confidence. She smiled slightly (not in a nice way), remembering his invitation to the Yule Ball. The smile faded quickly. She supposed that because this wasn't exactly a romantic setting, especially after what had happened to Cedric, he could refrain from acting like a fool. Of course, that didn't make her dislike him any less. She ripped off a piece of paper from a package and scribbled a few words onto it, then gave it to him.

"Thanks." Her expression abruptly turned into a frown as she spoke slowly. "I haven't got your address, though. . . oh. . Harry, there's a large man coming up just behind you. . ."

Uncle Vernon growled. "Boy, how many times do I have to tell you not to give any information about us to people like you!?" he shouted at Harry, completely ignoring Cho.

Harry wasn't going to let his summer jailors push him around anymore, though. He had decided, while on the train home, that he wouldn't stand for it. Voldemort's return really put things in perspective, and he'd come to the conclusion that he had more important things to worry about than the Durselys. They were going to get off his back once and for all.

"Oh, Uncle Vernon!" he began sweetly. "You and Cho haven't been introduced! Cho, meet my reluctant relative Uncle Vernon." He gestured toward the seething man. "Uncle Vernon, this is my friend Cho. Oh, yes, here's my address." Harry handed Cho a small slip of parchment on which was written his address, but also read:

Use a banishing charm on his hair. He's bald; it's a wig.

Harry

(Yeah, right- thought Cho. As if I'd do anything for this arsehole. . . then she remembered. . . she needed this specific arsehole to tell her what the hell happened in that maze so she could stop her prolonged hyperventilation period.)

Harry heard a whisper as he strode jauntily back to the car. He smiled as his uncle's wig flopped into a puddle in the road and was promptly run over by a car.

Vernon fished it out and held it at arm's length. Slowly, his expression morphed from exasperation to anger (directed, as it always was, at Harry)

"Listen boy," he snarled, "I don't know what happened at your freak school this year, but I don't like your attitude one bit. You're insolent,--"

"Be quiet and drive, Uncle Vernon." They were in the car already. Harry allowed himself a small burst of satisfaction as Uncle Vernon gaped soundlessly at him, looking remarkably like a fish.

His uncle tried a different tact. "Who was that? New girlfriend?" he taunted.

"No," said Harry, and this time his voice was cold as ice. "Ask again and I'll hex you."

They were silent the rest of the trip.

~'~'~'~

Cho Chang thought about what she had seen as she walked towards the bus stop her mother's car was parked at. They had used that bus stop as a drop off and pickup point since her first Hogwarts trip. She slipped into the bright purple, trendy new sedan. Unusually large in Europe, especially so as there were only three in the family, a large car like this wasn't necessary. She was silent as her mother looked back with concern in her eyes.

"Don't ask me if I'm all right, please, I've had enough of being asked that," she pleaded with her mother.

Her mom, a petite native Chinese woman, looked with worry at her. "Cho, are you al- er- We got your owl. . . I suppose you wouldn't like to talk with us?"

She decided to give her parents a break, rather than shutting her out as she had originally been planning to do. "No. . . we can talk. ."

Her father sighed with relief. "Cho. I haven't seen you since Easter, and. . . what with the tournament and quidditch being cancelled!" Her father had been a chaser for the Wimborine Wasps, but had played during the time of Ludo Bagman. He was therefore overshadowed and never well known, although he had been quite good.

And highly disappointed that the quidditch season had been canceled. "I just wanted you to know you could talk to us, as your letter was very brief. What- what happened, Cho?"

Cho looked suspiciously at her mother. There was something different about her. . The fit between her waist and the steering wheel looked rather tight, for such a large sedan. . .

"Cho?"

She sighed. Well, she was a parent; she had to know. "A few boys asked me to the Yule Ball this year, and I told one of them I would go. He was a Hogwarts Champion. We dated for a while; went to Hogsmeade, -"

"So this was Harry Potter?" her mother interrupted interestedly.

Cho sighed again. She was surprised the car windows weren't fogging up from all the sighing. This would be harder than she thought. "Okay. On the night they picked champions for the schools, one name came out from each school, and everyone was all hyped up. People were cheering and screaming and stomping as the Goblet- you read about that in that article in the Prophet, didn't you? Yes, so everyone was excited as the names were chucked up. It was a madhouse. Anyway, the champions were Fluer Delecour, Viktor Krum, and Cedric Diggory." This last name she attempted to say clearly, but could not.

"But then, the another name got spit up from the magical judge. Everyone was all quiet, and Dumbledore read the name. It was Harry Potter. People were shocked. Nobody clapped, and I kind of felt bad for him as he stumbled out of the Great Hall to where the champions were. So- they did all their Triwizard- or, in this case, Quadwizard- events, and later on, before the second event, Cedric and Harry asked me to the Yule Ball. Cedric asked first, so I went with him. Cedric and I kept dating, and Rita Skeeter wrote some pretty nasty articles that you no doubt saw. Cedric wasn't even mentioned! He was pretty mad, and so was I, how could Potter let her make out with him as the only champion? But then a few more articles came out that couldn't be true, about all Harry's friends and stuff. And the grounds keeper, Hagrid. Those are the ones you saw."

"Now, at Hogwarts we knew they weren't true, but everyone made fun of Harry anyway. Anne got some badges from a Slytherin friend that said "Support Cedric Diggory- The REAL Hogwarts Champion." Then you pushed the and they changed to say "POTTER STINKS."

"Wow." Her father looked surprised. "I didn't realize that Harry Potter would be so unpopular at school."

"Oh, he's not, but. . . well, in third year, I told you about the Chamber of Secrets, right? Well, everyone thought Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin because he's a Parselmouth. I must say, all the evidence did point to it. I wonder whatever became of that anyway. The attacks just stopped. And then, of course, Harry Potter got hundreds of house points at the Leaving feast to secure the Cup for Gryffindor. Again."

Her mother started tactfully. "Well, it does sound like he had a lot to do with it. . . why don't you ask him? You were getting his address before you came to the car, right?"

"Yes, and- oh look! We're home!" Cho smiled, coming home was always a happy time for her. "Mum, you still really don't know what happened." Yeah, she thought, we spent the entire trip talking about Harry Potter. "I still don't know the full story, but I'll tell you when I write to Harry Potter."

They walked into the house, and left on the train platform miles away, all alone, was a brown owl trying to find where it was supposed to deliver the summer's first Illegal Magic card.

~*~*~*~

Harry was, at that moment, asserting his authority over the Dursleys. They commanded him, he refused, they threatened, and he threatened right back. So it went for the next few days. Finally Uncle Vernon tried to bodily throw him in the cupboard, but Harry coolly pulled out his wand, and, keeping it trained on Uncle Vernon, walked out the door.

He stayed out for a day or so; he had kept a store of non-perishable food just in case this happened. It was only a small collection of cans of soup that Dudley didn't like. Aunt Petunia had thrown them out but Harry retrieved them when no one else was around. He put in inside one of the fake rocks in the garden, and they sure did come in useful then.

He'd simply grabbed a can and gulped it down once in the park. He felt quite comfortable here; he'd hid from Dudley's gang often in this sanctuary. Only a few blocks from home, sheltered by woods; there were hiding places everywhere. He'd gotten some strange looks from people, and he didn't blame them. With his baggy clothes and cold cans of soup he must've been quite a sight.

Coming back the next day, the Dursleys were awed to see him alive. After that he'd simply gone his way, and they didn't bother him. He wasn't given a workload anymore, or forced to cook. As far as they cared, he could lounge around all day if he felt like it.

However, he did recognize that the Dursleys fed him, and to giving no contribution to the household wouldn't be right. So he did not skip all jobs, but decided which ones he would do. He preferred working outside, and worked on small projects that became more and more numerous as the days went on. So far he had landscaped the garden to a new modern look and fixed a leak in the attic. Now he was mowing old Mrs. Figg's lawn. He was trying to get up the nerve to ask if she was a witch, but there could be other Figgs he didn't know of. Better not take the risk.

He was finished quickly, and went up to collect his pay. Knocking on the door, he debated again whether this was Arabella Figg, one of Dumbledore's operatives. He heard hurried footsteps and the door opened. Blocking the opening with her legs so that the cats couldn't escape, she smiled and thanked him and handed him some coins, and shut the door in his face.

Harry was left gazing in wonder at the coins. They were galleons! Mrs. Figg had paid him in wizard money! He chuckled to himself in a self-satisfied sort of way, and started off home. He had been right. Mrs. Figg was a witch.

It was only around noon, and the sky was beginning to become overcast. He wouldn't be surprised if it poured later today. With the coins jingling merrily in his pocket, he admired his handiwork in the garden. He'd tried to model it after the Weasleys' garden, but there was no way the Durselys would allow magical plants.

Nobody bothered him as he entered the house. He guessed that his new hostile attitude toward the Dursleys had surprised them into submission. They'd probably get over it and then there'd be trouble. But his act was so unprecedented, with no warning, that his relatives hadn't dared to challenge him.

Going to his room, he found another owl next to Hedwig. It was a black owl, and although it wasn't huge, it was rather sleek and strong-looking. Hedwig looked somewhat jealous and fluttered over to Harry as if to say, "This is my human."

The black owl lifted up its leg in a bored manner, waiting for him to take the letter off. He began to do so, and the owl slipped free as soon as he undid the knot and flew out the window, toward the now purple sunset. "Not a sociable type, was he, Hedwig?" Harry asked his snowy owl. Hedwig ruffled closer to him to reassure herself that she had a better home than that other fancy owl. Harry grinned and looked down at the letter, and began to grin even more.

It was from Cho! Quick, letter opener- don't need it- use a finger- there, it's open! Nice parchment, with owls all around the edges- quite pretty- pull it out- no it's stuck! Jimmy the edges around, wobble just a bit more, -

He stopped moving abruptly. Feeling quite silly at the sudden flurry of rapid rips at the letter, (Hedwig had jumped back in fright and was taking refuge in a corner) he easily extracted the letter and turned on a light to read it. No need to get excited, it was just a letter. That was rather attractive writing, he thought, and in green ink, too, that was-

Stop. Just a letter. No, despite his cool façade toward her at the station, his feelings hadn't budged an inch. He closed his eyes to clear his head of stupid thoughts (he hated them, stupid thoughts) and began to read.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I'm feeling all right, although I'm still quite shaken up by what happened. Harry, there's only one problem. I don't know what did happen. Please send an account of what went on in there by owl. I mean, how he died. I really need to know, because nobody will tell me.

Thank you,

Cho

Harry winced. It sounded like an interrogation! What happened, Harry!? Where!? When!? How!? Why?!?! This would not be an easy response to write. He needed to do it devoid of emotion. Cool, calm, collected. He couldn't send a letter with tear drops on it to Cho!

Or maybe that wasn't the best way. He didn't want to sound like a coldblooded uncaring creep. Yes, plenty of emotion was the way to go.

He cursed his frantic thoughts and motions. First he practically had a seizure trying to open the letter, then couldn't even think coherently about a simple reply note! What was wrong with him?! Was he tired or was there anything wrong with him in any physical way? No.

Scar?

Fine.

Had his wand snapped or something? Would a wizard suddenly go crazy if their wad broke? Ron hadn't, but Ron. . well. .

Wand was fine.

Well then. He simply needed to "meticulously close in on the problem, leaving no room for error, and isolate the variable." That's what his math teacher had said constantly through school, sort of like Moody's cry of "Constant Vigilance!" Moody. . .

He was wandering. Back to the problem. Why was he acting strangely around this normal fifth year girl? Was he nervous? Yes. Afraid? Well, yes, he supposed he was afraid, but why?

He'd knew why. What was that terminology again? Oh, yes- fear of rejection. The old 'what if-' situation. He could recall from his first year, when he was afraid the Sorting Hat would declare him unfit for magic, or put him in Slytherin, or just not say anything at all. It was the same type of fear, only for a very different reason. What if she acted like Fluer, and just stared at him until he left in disgrace? What if she told him in her next letter that what he had written was the most insulting thing she had ever seen?

And the fact that she was very pretty and quite popular also made him rather shy. And then he didn't really know her that well. Strange how he could obsess over her so much without even knowing anything about her. He didn't know her like he knew Hermione; didn't know how she would react to a situation. It was this not knowing, he surmised, that made him the most cautious. Born of this cautiousness was the awkwardness and shyness.

He looked at his clock. He'd been back from Mrs. Figg's for about a half hour. Did he have no life, so much so that he could spend this much time obsessing and fretting over a stupid short little note from a classmate? He answered his own question. No, during the summer he had absolutely no life. He sat around with no contact to the outside world and basically counted down the days until the summer was over.

That was another thing that needed changing. He should find a job, or find something to do. He really assumed that after Cho got his letter, she wouldn't want to speak to him anymore. Or write letters. And speaking of his letter, he'd better get started. He put a pen to paper and began to write.