Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

The raid was the hot topic during lunch at the Gryffindor table, with the twins and their story as the focus of attention.

Katie and Alicia ranked second in short-time popularity. They were not only witnesses to confirm that yes, it was true what Fred and George said, but they also could offer their own story about the flight to the camp, the scouting for the Giants Lleyrin had gathered within seconds, and the final rejoining with the twins - closer to the camp than where they'd left them.

After recognizing the broomstick riders, the hostile Giants had quickly realized that pretty soon they'd be surrounded by a larger troop with only one intention - to let them know how it felt defending against a majority. They'd stopped fighting, and had retreated to gather and disappear in the forest.

Fred and George, as they confessed, had been tempted to follow, but decided to stay with their own group. Those Giants, tired from the fight, had made no attempt to pursue the defeated attackers.

Some time later, Lleyrin and his men had arrived. After hearing about the events, Lleyrin had invited the twins to visit another day, then had sent them home. The Giants had to take care of the three bodies on the ground - two comrades, one enemy, as Fred and George learned - duties for which the Squad members were neither required nor welcome.

Harry appeared as a minor figure in the drama, which was just fine with him. He had enough to think about, aside from listening to the details of what had happened after his and Cho's flight back to Hogwarts. His contribution became the subject of discussion only briefly when Lee, mad at his bad luck, was complaining that his parents had found the worst day in the year to visit him.

Harry was thinking about Cho's last words in Dumbledore's office, about the patrol exam, about the bond with the Goblins, about Hermione sitting opposite him and -

"What did McGonagall say?" interrupted Ron his musing.

"Oh, she was furious. But then - well, we went to Dumbledore, and to make a long story short, I have to do a patrol exam - "

"What a pity," said Hermione.

"What?"

"To make a long story short."

Harry examined her face, forcing himself not to look over to the Ravenclaw table. Hermione's expression was blank, not revealing how far she'd come in her own thinking.

"And then?" asked Ron. "Once you've passed the exam?"

"Then I'm with the Squad - either in a twin team with Cho, or in a quad team that includes Katie and Alicia."

Hermione looked surprised.

Study history, thought Harry ... or was it a hint that she hadn't figured it out yet? Whatever. As long as Ron kept hanging around, Hermione wouldn't tell him, wouldn't ask him either. According to his own preferences, that state could hold for a while.

---

How to preserve it? It was Christmas, as he remembered, and there had been more presents than a Steel Wing.

"Hey, Ron, shall we test our sweets?"

"More adventures, at the same day? Well, why not?"

They decided to give them a try in Gryffindor Tower, hoping they'd find some volunteers, whether in the full knowledge that those were twins' sweets, or without that information.

In his dormitory, Harry loaded both his and Ron's sweets onto the servant carpet, added the Chinese chopsticks, and led the small convoy, with him on top, to the Gryffindor common room.

The carpet found admiration from the other students. However, when he and Ron offered everyone sweets, the reaction was disappointing.

"Where do they come from?" asked Seamus Finnigan. "I bet it's a present from Fred and George."

They had to admit this was true.

The effect was that everybody would accept a sample only after witnessing someone else eating them.

"Fred, George," called Harry, "give us a hint!" He hoped that their glory of today would ease them enough to tell the truth, or at least not to lie. Hadn't it been him who'd caused -

"No need to worry," said Fred, "they're candidates for serious business. I'll tell you this much, the effects fade without a counter spell."

"I'll tell you more," added George with a grin. "What you see there includes Fred's Funny-Talks and George's Glorious Goggles. Then there are Star-Spangled Sugar Pearls and - yes, Calamity Candies."

"What's what?" asked Harry. Calamity Candies - no thanks.

George looked surprised. "Didn't we mark them? Must have slipped our mind - anyway, you'll find out."

Harry and Ron examined their combined collection.

Four types - provided the twins had told the truth. Then why could everybody see so many more shapes and colours?

After a while, they agreed that there were indeed just four types, one of them in several shapes, another in several colours, including blue, green, red, brown, yellow, and white.

The door opened. In came Angelina, followed by Bob.

A round of hello's welcomed Bob, though only after some teasing, then Angelina announced that she'd promised Bob he could hear today's story first hand or, better still, first mouth.

Harry and Ron were on their own with the sweets, leisurely watched by Hermione.

"Okay," said Harry, "let's see what the chopsticks can tell us." He took the chopsticks and tried to hold them single-handedly, so he could pick a sweet. It didn't work.

Hermione offered to show him.

He declined - that had to be Cho's privilege.

After several tries, he found an arrangement which was probably still wrong but good enough for the time being. He picked a piece which, from the outside, looked like a small triangular cake, covered by a light frosting. It belonged to what he and Ron had identified as one type in several shapes.

The sticks, ivory-coloured while at rest, paled to pure white.

Harry was still holding the cake when suddenly the sticks returned to their original colour.

"What does that mean?" asked Ron.

Harry didn't know. "This stuff is certainly jinxed, but that's nothing new. I guess Fred said the truth, the effect fades by itself after some time."

Ron remained suspicious. "Sure. And how long is some time?"

Harry dropped the piece and took one of those which appeared in various colours. His choice was a red one.

The chopsticks reddened, not very intensive.

He waited to see if the colour would fade again. It did, only it took longer than before.

He picked a green piece - the sticks greened. He took a white one and yes, the sticks paled.

The third type of sweets looked like ordinary peppermint pills - small, white, hard surface. Harry picked one.

A rapid stream of colours moved over the sticks, from one end to the other, then the sticks returned to normal.

"Looks nice," said Ron.

"Yeah - on the sticks." Harry offered Ron a pill. "Want to try?"

"No need to hurry ... Check the other."

The fourth type looked very much like a Chocoball. Harry picked one.

The sticks - did they look different? He dropped the candy, then took it again. No reaction.

"That's my first pick," said Ron.

"Go ahead."

Harry felt more suspicious. He was ready to believe that none of those sweets would really hurt. Under these premises, what did it mean if the others created strong colour effects and this one nothing?

Well, they'd know soon, as Ron was already eating. He watched him.

Ron didn't change, didn't choke, or cough ...

"Do you feel something?"

Ron swallowed, then opened his mouth to answer. But there was no sound coming out of his mouth; instead, two large bubbles formed, then hung in the air, their surfaces milky.

"Hey, Ron - is that a bubble gum?"

Ron opened his mouth again, and his lips moved as if he were speaking, but all he produced was a rapid sequence of bubbles, smaller ones and bigger ones.

Harry stared.

Ron's eyes had widened considerably. He opened his mouth, as though speaking slowly and pointedly. Out came a single bubble.

Harry watched him. "Are you okay?"

Ron nodded, not daring to speak - or to try.

Suddenly, with an almost inaudible sound, the first two bubbles popped. "Not," said the first bubble. "Yet," said the second.

Harry gasped.

Ron looked as if understanding; he had calmed a little.

Then Harry understood it, too. He asked, "Did you say that?"

Ron nodded.

They watched the other bubbles. Ron's hand grabbed the last one. The bubble burst ... "Something".

Seconds later, the other bubbles popped by themselves, the smallest first, the largest last. What came out sounded like nonsense, especially because the intonations were at the wrong places.

"No - an - not - it's - this - like - ball - stuff - choco - tastes - ordinary."

Harry giggled.

The twins had noticed. "Oh," said George, "Ron has found Fred's Funny-Talk ... Ron, say something."

Ron looked angrily at his brother. An instant later, a new chain of bubbles erupted from his mouth, smaller and bigger ones.

"I know," said Hermione. "The shortest words pop first."

"That's correct," said Fred. "That's the funny part."

They waited, watching the bubbles.

The other students had noticed, too. For a moment, the room fell silent. Then the popping started.

"I - it - how - can - long - does - take - until - speak - again - normal."

"In a minute, it'll be over," said Fred. "We're still trying to make it last a little longer. Ten minutes sounds right."

Waiting another moment, he looked at Ron. "Try it."

"Bubble."

Ron could speak. He used it immediately to swear at his brothers, who reacted quite as if he was giving them the nicest compliments.

Ron had relaxed. "Well, it's more fun for the others. At least I'm one ahead. Harry, it's your turn."

---

Harry felt trapped. Of course, Ron was right, he had to test the next type. Only - some minutes ago, the colour effects in the sticks had looked less dangerous than the missing reaction with Fred's Funny-Talks, while now that they'd wised up a bit, he wasn't sure any longer.

Even so, Ron's look left no doubt what was expected of him. If he wouldn't eat one of the other sweets quickly, Gryffindor Tower would echo with bad remarks about elephant-like students: ready to confront a Giant but trembling at the sight of sweet little sweets ...

Harry inspected the collection again. The type with the various colours ... maybe it wasn't that bad, something the others would laugh about. Then what colour? Blue?

No, not blue - he took a yellow one, shoved the whole thing in and chewed. The taste was excellent - so far.

Could he still speak?

"Oy, Fred!"

Yes, it worked. "How did you make them? They're delicious."

Fred grinned. "You should know the answer, Harry. Can you spell house-elf?"

Harry didn't feel anything - his senses told him everything was normal, except for a little edginess from the expectation.

Ron was watching him.

Harry examined his own body. "Nothing so far. Ron, can you see something?"

"Hmm - no." Ron inspected Harry. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, then a grin appeared on his face.

Harry recognized something like appreciation.

"Have a look, all!" shouted Ron. "Look at Harry!"

Harry could have strangled him. "WHAT IS IT?"

"Harry the cat!" Ron was having fun - oh yes. "Harry, you have cat's eyes."

Harry darted to the mirror at the wall and checked his face. These eyes - oh no, big, shining, yellow eyes, sparkling ...

"Harry, let's see!" The others came closer.

Katie grabbed him and turned him around. "Wow - Harry the tiger."

Hermione came, looked, and grinned diabolically. "No, Harry the Goblin!"

Harry's start of surprise looked quite natural.

Yes, the others agreed, Goblins had yellow eyes, too, but 'Harry the Tiger' found more supporters. Except for Hermione, the girls found it great and wanted to try for themselves.

Katie, hands over the servant carpet, stopped. "Fred, how long does it hold?"

"Ask George - those are George's Glorious Goggles."

George was beaming. "Should be gone by tomorrow."

"Should be? Or will be?" Katie's glance remained suspicious.

Ginny was more determined. "Gimme a red one! Red eyes and red hair - that's going to look terrific."

They watched Ginny. After a moment, shrieks and shouts erupted, then Ginny was running to the mirror. She squeaked, more in delight than desperation.

Harry examined her face. Terrific wasn't the term he'd used; nightmarish came closer to it.

The other girls surrounded the carpet. "Harry - a blue one, please." That was Katie.

Alicia, having blue eyes, asked for a brown one.

Angelina pushed through. "Is there still ... yes, can I have it?" She wanted yellow eyes like Harry; on her dark face, the effect was a real show-stopper.

"Bob," said Angelina, "give it a try."

Bob stopped admiring Angelina's eyes. Smiling, he took a sample - a white one. "Let's see - white to white." He put it in his mouth and chewed.

"White?" George came over. "There are no white ones. Bob, what did you eat? Was it a triangular one?"

Bob nodded.

"Oops - Bob, you've caught a Calamity Cake."

Bob's eyes narrowed. "What - " He stopped; his hand flew to his mouth. For a second, it looked as if he was trying to spit out the cake, except it was already eaten.

Angelina pulled Bob's hand aside to examine his face. Her yellow eyes widened, her expression reflected a thrill that was something other than scaring. "Bob, you look ... I could ..."

The others, including Harry, came looking.

Bob opened his mouth and made a snarling sound, revealing two long, sharp canines that protruded from his gums, giving him the appearance of a vampire.

Alicia said playfully, "Bob - bite me!"

Angelina wheeled around. "No! He's my vampire."

"What an egoistic girl." Alicia looked disappointed, maybe only half-playing. She turned to look at the new faces. "Hermione, you still have your own eyes! C'mon, don't be shy!"

Challenging Hermione ... Harry watched expectantly.

Hermione stepped to the carpet, examining the sweets that were left. "Nice Goggles are out - I've got brown eyes by myself ... I'll try those." She took one of the sweets that resembled a peppermint pill and started sucking.

"Courageous girl," said Katie.

Hermione shrugged. "Not at all. Those must be the Star-Spangled Sugar Pearls, the only ones left - except that their taste's a bit strong."

She exhaled to create a peppermint wave. What came out was a sparkling stream of miniature stars, glittering in all colours of the rainbow, then quickly disappearing.

"Look!" cried Ron. "Hermione, the fire-breathing dragon!"

Hermione's head snapped around and she glared at Ron. "You ..." Her words were drowned in a new stream of stars erupting from her mouth.

The others watched in admiration. After a moment, they applauded, shouting, "Do it again!" and, "Hermione - through the nose!"

Hermione had calmed down.

Fred came over to her. "Five minutes - at the most."

And really, about three minutes later, Hermione's breathing became invisible again.

It was the signal for the others to grab the pills Harry and Ron offered. Within minutes, the Star-Spangled Sugar Pearls were gone. Nobody wanted brown eyes, nobody wanted to find out what the other shapes of the Calamity Cakes meant. Angelina would have been interested in triangular white ones, however there weren't any other. Later that evening, Harry dropped the leftovers into the waste basket.

* * *

Parents' visits started early the next day. Most parents had announced themselves for the afternoon, while some of them came before lunch because they wanted to treat their children in Hogsmeade.

Dumbledore had agreed to it, though hesitantly. The Headmaster's reluctance had little to do with the fact that Hogwarts' food quality would be hard to beat. As Harry knew from Viktor, Dumbledore had asked the Giants to run guard patrols around the town. In addition, Viktor and some Squad teams - formed by students without visiting parents - would fly frequent patrols up and down the way to Hogsmeade.

After lunch, Harry escaped into his dormitory. The Great Hall was full, Gryffindor Tower was full, parents were hanging around everywhere, so he decided to stay out of the way. Lying on his bed, he tried to imagine his patrol exam, which was scheduled for the next weekend.

With or without Cho ... He didn't want to think of returning alone, although such a situation seemed more than likely; stunning a team partner had been one of the standard attacks in the other exams. He concentrated on the Steel Wings, mentally examining each of their remarkable features and the possibilities they might offer. After a while, he fell asleep.

Someone shaking his shoulder brought him awake, pulled out of a dream in which Goblins were wandering through Hogwarts.

It was Ron. "Harry, get up - Mum and Dad are downstairs."

Still drowsy, Harry asked, "You sure I should come?"

Ron looked incredulous. "What do you mean, sure? Mum would give me hell if I came back without you. Get moving."

Harry felt a rush of joy. He would always wonder how easily and naturally the Weasleys had adopted him; it wasn't something he could ever think of as obvious. He tried to imagine the Dursleys at Hogwarts. The picture made him giggle.

Ron muttered, "It's not funny, Mum getting at you."

Harry giggled more, then quickly explained the misunderstanding. The last thing he needed was Ron feeling teased about his mother.

On their way downstairs, they were discussing ways to drive Dudley crazy. Arriving in the hall, they found only Ginny and the twins; Mr and Mrs Weasley were nowhere seen.

"Where are Mum and Dad?" asked Ron.

"Upstairs with Dumbledore," answered Fred. To Harry, he added, "They're waiting for you - something to talk about."

"Argh."

Harry had a feeling that was unfamiliar yet easily recognizable. Being the subject of a discussion between teacher and parents, whether natural or by habit, was rarely good news.

He headed for Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle was open. Reaching the door to the office, he heard the voice of Arthur Weasley.

"... can't put him on a leash. Besides, it would be no good. In the tournament, we couldn't intervene. The fact that we can do it now - "

Harry knocked. The last time he'd tried eavesdropping here at the same spot, the false Moody had sensed him immediately. In addition, what he'd heard convinced him that he should immediately participate in the discussion.

"Come in."

Stepping inside, he found Dumbledore sitting with the Weasley parents.

---

Still before Fawkes had a chance, Mrs Weasley came rushing. "Harry, my dear. How good to see you." She looked disturbed.

Arthur Weasley, looking tired but friendly, shook Harry's hand.

Dumbledore's face was neutral. "Please sit down, Harry. I was just talking with Mr and Mrs Weasley about our Flying Squad, in which three of their children are involved, one way or the other. Then we came to talk about you ..."

Dumbledore hesitated, then continued. "It's my natural interest as well as my obligation to discuss the situation in Hogwarts with all parents, more so with those who have sons or daughters in the Squad. In your case, Harry, that would mean talking with your relatives, which didn't seem appropriate."

"Not at all," confirmed Harry, grinning at the idea.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley volunteered to take over that role. For me, this seems a good idea. What's your opinion?"

Harry's opinion was very clear. He had no intention of discussing his position in the Squad any further. For him, the issue was settled; a patrol exam would decide yes or no. He remembered the year when a written permission was required for a trip to Hogsmeade - at that time, the Weasleys hadn't counted.

But he also remembered other times when the Weasleys had visited Hogwarts, on occasions when he'd been grateful for the comfort Mrs Weasley could give. And there was no doubt - reading her face, it was obvious what she thought about him being outdoor with the Squad.

"Yes," he said, "sure - except that I thought my role in the Squad's already set." With some uneasiness, he realized that his answer hadn't sounded very polite. Only honest.

Dumbledore smiled. "I just explained the current situation with the new broomsticks from the unknown but trustworthy sponsor. Mrs Weasley is quite concerned at the thought of you flying patrol. Mr Weasley suggests a calculated risk, mainly because he thinks that's the only agreement you would truly support."

"If I pass the exam - " Harry interrupted himself to look at the Weasleys. "Do you know about the exam that I have to pass before it starts?"

Mr Weasley nodded.

"I think that should give the answer," said Harry. "Professor Dumbledore said that mine will be much more difficult than those of the others. I don't want to be treated specially - I mean, aside from the special test. Everybody takes risks - the twins ... Charlie's good with dragons, I'm good with a broomstick."

"But, Harry, you could be killed!" Mrs Weasley's voice was shrill. "Charlie is much older than you."

"Age didn't help my - " Harry stopped himself.

Their age hadn't protected his parents, that was what he'd intented to reply before thinking better of it. Even so, the other faces made clear that they'd understood.

He said quickly, "Professor Dumbledore specified three precautions for my security. My partner's the first control element, Ron's the second, and the exam is the prerequisite. That will do." The sooner this discussion was dead, the better.

"Who is your partner?" asked Mrs Weasley.

Before Harry could speak, Dumbledore answered, "Miss Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker."

Mrs Weasley shot a glance toward Harry.

Dumbledore saw it. "Miss Chang is in her sixth year and quite competent. By the way, she is the oldest of the four students with Muggle parents only."

This information seemed to have a quieting effect on Mrs Weasley.

Harry tried to look nowhere.

After some more words, the issue was settled. Mr Weasley considered the exam and the highly protective Steel Wings as enough security and convinced his wife to give it a rest.

Harry and the Weasleys went down to join the others. Reaching the table, Mr Weasley announced that Harry's Squad membership would be handled as planned. Fred and George gave Harry the thumbs-up.

"Ron," said Mrs Weasley, "you're responsible for him keeping to the rules."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mum." To Harry, he added, "Blimey, I think Hermione would have been better suited to that job ... Reminds me how I had to look after Ginny."

"That was long ago," protested his sister.

A moment earlier, she'd been busy answering her mother's question whether she knew Harry's team partner. Maybe that explained why she looked more grateful than angry about Ron's remark.

"Yeah, true," said George. "Now she's a big girl, also very committed to our common efforts - 'specially when it's about integrating students from Durmstrang."

Ginny blushed.

Mr Weasley looked uncomprehending. His wife demanded to know what George was talking about. Hearing who had invited whom to the Christmas Ball, Mrs Weasley looked perplexed. "But ..." She glanced at Ginny, then at Harry.

Ginny seemed unable to speak; Harry wasn't sure whether he should explain.

Ron came to help. "Calm down, Mum. We interviewed Viktor about Grigorij. He's okay. You can ask Hermione, she's with Viktor all the time."

Harry suppressed a grin. Ron had, certainly not by accident, blocked the subject. It seemed most unlikely to hear Mrs Weasley asking Hermione, of all people, not after she'd been misled so badly by Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet. Harry knew such moves from Ron's style in playing chess; the only new thing was that his friend did the same with living people.

Quite funny, somehow - not so long ago, the same Ron had nearly exploded when Grigorij's name had come up first.

To shift the conversation in another direction, Fred asked about the work in the Ministry of Magic.

Mr Weasley explained that it was "just a mess." Cornelius Fudge was still in charge, although everybody wondered how much longer. This minister was simply "unable to steer the ship through rough water," as Mr Weasley put it.

Percy had sobered up, after suffering a severe shock in his trust of authority and administration. Crouch's department was officially being led by someone else while, de facto, Percy was doing the job. As bad as Crouch's failure had been, it would significantly speed up Percy's career.

But somehow, the friendly family atmosphere felt shattered.

Mrs Weasley kept silent, lost in her own thoughts, looking up only when Ginny or Harry spoke.

Harry sensed a mutual agreement among the others to ignore her unusual quietness. He had exchanged glances with Ginny. She had shrugged, quite as if to say, I had a kid's dream, and she had a mother's dream.

He felt a little tense, thinking about his future relations with the Weasleys. A polite but cool Mrs Weasley seemed worse than the Dursleys at wand's distance. Mr Weasley looked the same as before, only Harry wasn't sure if Arthur Weasley knew about everything that went on in his family.

* * *

The Weasley parents were about to leave when Harry became aware of Cho. Standing nearby, she was obviously trying to catch his attention without intruding in the circle. She looked a bit tight-lipped.

If Mrs Weasley noticed her, she'd ask and then find out that ... Harry decided to say goodbye to the Weasleys.

Mr Weasley was the easier part. "Harry, watch yourself. We'll stay in touch."

Mrs Weasley managed a smile, although a miserable one. She didn't hug Harry; he told himself that it was because of the people around. Then he walked out of earshot, followed by Cho.

"Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Harry." Cho's cheeks were red spots.

"No, it's okay, we were done. What's wrong?"

"Erm ..." Cho seemed unable to speak, something that astonished him considerably. Only when he looked really alarmed, she could answer.

"Nothing's wrong. My parents are here, and ... That is, my father's asking whether you'd like to have a cup of tea?"

"Oh."

Her words had come out as if squeezed out by strong force. Harry didn't know what to expect. Right now, Christmas without parents looked a lot better than it really had been. At any rate, there was just one answer.

"Yes, of course."

Cho marched ahead. Harry followed.

Looking toward where she aimed, the first figure he saw had to be Cho's mother. The similarity was significant - size, hair colour, features. Mrs Chang wore a robe that was certainly Chinese. As different as it was from anything Harry had seen before at Hogwarts, where wizard robes were the norm, it appeared quite natural. And it looked beautiful.

As they reached the table, a man stood up.

So this man was Cho's father. Black hair, sharp features, something in the eyes that felt familiar. He was of medium size and wore an elegant suit in Muggle style. For an instant, he looked at Harry, then at his daughter.

Cho, cheeks as red as before, said, "Harry, I want to introduce you to my parents. Dad, Mummy, this is Harry Potter."

Mr Chang bowed.

Mrs Chang, sitting, did something similar, very gracefully.

Harry bowed in response.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter. It is very kind of you to accept our invitation on such short notice."

Mr Chang's voice was clear, polite, with no accent audible, but still his pronounciation was somehow different from that of an ordinary British citizen. He didn't speak slowly, rather with a slightly longer pause between the words than usual.

Harry said, "It's a pleasure for me." Well - maybe.

"Please have a seat," said Mr Chang.

Harry sat down first, then Cho, and finally Mr Chang. Cho's mother was pouring tea.

Mr Chang waited silently until she'd finished.

"Each time we come to Hogwarts, we feel admiration for the buildings and the spirit in which they were built. We are proud of our daughter being a student here."

Harry glanced at Cho, who didn't stir at these words.

So this was the Chinese small talk ritual, size or version to be seen, or heard. After his practicing for the visit to Lleyrin, Harry felt well prepared for this kind of conversation.

"Yes - this is the best school I can imagine. And Professor Dumbledore is the best Headmaster in a long time."

Mr Chang praised the landscape around.

Harry replied that the Squad members felt privileged, as they were currently the only ones with a chance to see more of it.

Mr Chang mentioned the careful preparations which made Hogwarts safe against the Dark Forces.

Harry agreed, slightly wondering. There was only Mr Chang talking while Cho's mother sat there, listening silently. Occasionally, Harry spoke in her direction, not receiving more of a response than a short glance.

"We came from China to England," explained Mr Chang, "which certainly brought a significant change in many aspects. But that was minor, compared to what has changed since our daughter showed magical power. How was it with you, Mr Potter?"

Did the question mark the end of the small talk? Maybe the entire tea ceremony would be an exchange of pleasantries.

"It was as a total surprise for me. I didn't know until I got the letter for the first year." Harry had no intention of going into the details of the dreadful events at that time, and how Hagrid had rescued him.

But Mr Chang didn't let go. "How was it for your parents to learn about their son being an - ah, wizard, and about this parallel world?"

"My parents are dead. I was raised by relatives - and for them, it was quite a shock."

Harry's astonishment grew rapidly. For pleasantries, the questions were a bit too precise. Actually, they felt more like an exam. It had taken him a while to realize why Mr Chang's style of conversation seemed so familiar: on occasions, Cho had used the same technique.

Mr Chang revealed that he was in trade business, and asked about Harry's relatives.

Harry gave an outline of Uncle Dursley's drill business.

Mr Chang explained that Cho was their only child, for once something Harry knew already. Sure enough, the statement was followed by the question about Harry's own status.

Harry reported he was an only child too, barely avoiding a remark that his parents had been killed before they had had time for other children. The mixture of confession and examination was getting on his nerves.

"But certainly you live with your relatives like in a big family?"

"They have one son, Dursley. He's a Muggle, and we couldn't be more different."

Mr Chang seemed perplexed.

After a moment, it became clear why. Cho's father had confused the Weasleys with Harry's relatives. So Harry had been examined even before arriving at the table.

He explained that the Weasleys were like step-parents to him. "The Dursleys are horrified by magic. They'd rather die before coming to Hogwarts ... Which is just fine with me." The last remark hadn't exactly slipped, it had actually come out on purpose.

"Does that mean, Mr Potter, that you value witchcraft more highly than family?"

Before Harry could answer, Cho said something very fast, in a language unknown to Harry - obviously Chinese. She sounded like an angry bird.

Mr Chang listened. Then, without answering her, he turned to Harry again. "I apologize for my daughter talking in a language you don't understand, Mr Potter. I take it you don't know Cantonese."

Harry had reached a state in which he no longer cared what Mr Chang thought of him. Only Cho was his concern - he didn't like the way her father had compromised her, regardless of any cultural differences. He searched for the rudest reply just short of open hostility.

"Yes, that's correct. Aside from English, all I know is Parseltongue. For all the good it did me."

He wasn't sure which reaction to expect. Cho had inhaled audibly at his remark; however, that could have been still in response to her father's humiliating remark.

Mr Chang's answer, given with a faint smile after a moment of silence, illustrated his profound knowledge of wizard habits.

"The serpents' language, indeed. In China, Mr Potter, this ability would be valued high. Understanding other cultures is treated as a gift of the gods - like patience, for example. Or like respect to the ancestors."

Harry blushed, from irritation as much as from shame. Being accused of lacking respect for his parents was more than he felt ready to tolerate, except that Cho's father was so different from people he knew. Arguing with Snape had been simple in comparison.

---

Before he could find an answer, Mrs Chang spoke for the first time.

Not looking to anyone in particular, she said, "Patience is held as a virtue of the serpents. It is sometimes confused with indolence, or sufferance. That does not happen when it occurs in its purest form, which is tolerance."

Her voice was quiet, also without accent, more fluid than her husband's. She waited a moment.

Mr Chang had turned to her in a movement that seemed to end in the slightest indication of a bow.

Mrs Chang asked, "How did you learn it, Harry?"

Harry hadn't caught the full meaning of her statement, only the effect it had toward her husband. And her question's effect on him was even stronger - her words, her addressing him by his name, had disarmed him entirely. His fury was gone in an instant.

"I didn't learn it. Actually, I can't speak it at will."

He told the story of the snake in the duelling club, when his weird skill had become obvious. He explained how the event had - in retrospect - illuminated his encounter with the boa constrictor in the zoo.

"Professor Dumbledore thinks I received it when - when I got this scar." He pointed at his forehead, registering that his audience either knew or didn't want to ask. "When I arrived here at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat would have placed me in Slytherin. But I talked it out of it."

The three Changs were listening with full attention, most visibly Cho. At Harry's last remark, she looked perplexed. "You did what?"

Harry explained how the Sorting Hat in his case had pondered between Slytherin and Gryffindor. "At that time, the only thing I knew was that Draco Malfoy had been sorted into Slytherin. I wasn't going to be in the same house."

Mrs Chang said, "In Chinese tradition, serpents are respected highly. If they have wings, the word for them here would be dragon."

Harry looked surprised. A link between serpents and dragons was new to him.

"Your affinity to dragons is remarkable," said Cho's mother. "We heard about your career as a Seeker - for us, that's the closest human equivalent to a dragon. And Cho showed me the Green Dragon - very uncommon."

Harry blushed again, more deeply than before, but didn't care. It seemed impossible to feel uneasy when talking with Mrs Chang.

"I didn't look at it that way," he said. "If it's about affinity with dragons, you should know Hagrid. Once he - "

Just in time, he realized what he'd almost done - spilled the secret of Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback. His mind raced for an exit.

" - he tried to join our dragon guards. But he couldn't because of the Giants."

Nothing in the expression of the Changs had changed at his stumbling, only Cho had shot a glance.

"Mr Dumbledore told us about the event with the Giants."

It was the first time in a while that Mr Chang had spoken. Harry registered how very different that was from conversations between Mr and Mrs Weasley, not to mention the Dursleys.

"We will honour the memory of those who died in the defence of our children. It is comforting to know about the powerful forces which protect Hogwarts."

That was another hint at how much Mr Chang knew about the reputations and prejudices in the wizarding world. Harry remembered Cho's knowledge of Goblin habits - probably Mr Chang was doing business between the Muggle and the wizarding world. His explanations had not been specific in any way; also, his last remark didn't give the slightest indication whether he knew about his daughter having been so close to fighting Giants and, if so, what he thought of it.

Harry wasn't sure whether it was impolite to leave or to stay. He felt relieved when Mrs Chang, sensing his uncertainty, stood up and touched his arm.

"It is so entertaining, listening to stories about Hogwarts. Tales and gossip are a very Chinese habit. Thank you for your time, Harry. Please excuse us, we will leave soon."

He managed a goodbye and a thanks for the tea. Then he bowed, first to Mrs Chang, who smiled in response, then to Mr Chang, who smiled and bowed. It felt quite natural to do this.

With a "See you" to Cho, he left the table.

* * *

The hall had cleared. The Changs were among the last parents to leave. Somehow it was funny how darkness influenced the behaviour of people at dangerous times, in spite of the fact that the Dark Forces had performed most of their attacks in broad daylight.

Harry found a place where Cho could find him, or pass by without himself noticing. He was just imagining what a trade meeting between Mr Chang and Uncle Vernon would be like when someone touched his head.

"Hi, storyteller." It was Cho. "Recovering from the shock?"

"No, there's no need." Harry hesitated. "You know, when your mother - I mean, yes, I was angry at that moment, but the next second I just felt good."

Cho nodded. "Yes, she can do that."

"You parents are fantastic ... I think your father knows everything about wizards."

Cho beamed. "That's very kind of you, Harry."

"No, I mean it. He asked me a lot but, you know, as if it was business between equals. No playing big. And your mother - first she's all mute, and then, when she spoke up, it was like ..."

Harry couldn't find the word. "She looks totally different, and of course she's older, but somehow she reminds me - " He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Cho waited a moment, until suddenly she seemed to realize what he'd been trying to say. She looked away.

"I do love her," she said after another pause. Then her grin came back. "Seems to be quite unusual between mother and daughter."

Harry didn't know what was usual.

"I like my father, too. You know, in China, having just a daughter is considered bad luck. He never made me feel like it. He's just challenging."

"Yeah," replied Harry, "that's right, and I can imagine a bit how it is day in, day out ... What did you say to him when he asked me that question?"

Cho's grin deepened. "Harry, if I'd wanted you to know, I would've used English."