Butterfly Storm

Terry, Michael, and Anthony were chattering away like magpies, but Cho and Marietta sat silently in the compartment. Marietta still wasn’t speaking at all. She had been vague and disoriented since the incident, and the DA members were all either ignoring her or rushing up to her with mirrors and polished spoons.

Why couldn’t they understand? Cho was the only one who stood by her friend. Even Michael and his mates were only here as a favor to Cho; all of them, even Michael, pretended that Marietta wasn’t there at all.

Of course, Cho hadn’t been immune to the backlash either. Between her support of Marietta and her breakup with Harry, there had been nasty whispers dogging her every step for the last few weeks of school. It had got pretty rough after that devastating loss to Gryffindor; Cho remembered feeling as if she had hit rock bottom. At least when Cedric died she had been surrounded by friends and family. This time, thanks to her faith in Harry, all of her old friends had driven her away, and after the DA fiasco Marietta was the only person she had. And right now she was hardly company at all.

But then Michael had shown an interest. Cho favored him with a grateful smile as she thought. He was smarting too, about the Quidditch match and his own recent breakup, and he didn’t seem to mind that she was supporting Marietta. He was just an all around decent bloke. Really, she wasn’t surprised that Ginny had dumped him. It only went to prove that you could never trust a Weasley.

Had there ever been a good one? Cho vaguely remembered the one who had been Head Boy a few years back. Perhaps he was okay. The twins were boisterous, but they seemed mostly good-natured. They had been quite brave against Umbridge also, almost as much as Harry. But the younger two were nothing but trouble. Ron, who couldn’t believe in the existence of a true Tornados fan. And that Ginny . . . Cho swore under her breath, and then sniffled. The boys noticed immediately and stopped talking.

“Cho? Are you all right?” Michael asked tenderly. Cho blinked away the tears and tried to ignore the nasty looks Michael’s friends were shooting at her.

“I – I was just thinking about Quidditch, and that little Ginny Weasley,” she managed to choke out. Her cheeks burned.

“Hey. It’s okay, love.” Michael leaned forward and took her hands in his. Her vision was a bit blurry from her tears, but Cho could still see his warm brown eyes. They reminded her of chocolate.

“I know. It’s just – I worked hard to fly better, after Cedric died, and I deserved to get that Snitch!”

“It’s all right, deep breaths,” Michael urged. Cho tried to follow his suggestion and gave a long, shuddery sigh. “I’ll get you a glass of water. Just calm down.” He nodded to his mates, and all three stood and left the compartment.

In their absence, Cho did her best to cool off, but it was a losing battle, especially when Marietta gave her a tentative pat on the back. The unfairness of that entire situation descended on her again, and it took a few minutes for her to get herself under control.

In the meantime, Michael was having an urgent and whispered conversation with Anthony and Terry out in the corridor. As other students went up and down, they would break off, throwing suspicious glances at the interloper.

“Look, this is hard, okay? I’ve never ditched a girl before. How do I do it nicely?”

“What are you talking about, nicely? This is Cho Chang we’re talking about. She doesn’t deserve any kindness from you.”

“I told you, she’s a sweet girl. I just can’t deal with all this crying. There’s got to be some way to let her down gently.”

“The way that she – what do you want, Longbottom? – the way she starts sobbing her eyes out at the drop of a pin, there’s probably no easy way to do it. I reckon you ought to make it brutal and quick. Maybe she’ll be so shocked that you’ll be gone before she can make a scene.”

“What are the chances of that? She’s a Seeker, so she’s used to thinking on her feet. And the last thing I want is for her to be angry at me. Girls go crazy when they’re pissed off. Remember the time Susan Bones cracked a broomstick over your head?”

“Look, we’ve just had some legendary disagreements, that’s all.”

“All right, all right, let’s figure out a plan of action. You, Michael, basically don’t want to deal with her melting down on you, right?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the general idea. Though I really don’t want to hurt her too much, no matter what you two think of her.”

“Good luck with that one. She’s been clinging to you like a Devil’s Snare to a tree.”

“You’re not being very helpful, here. Anyway, no one said you have to do it on the platform. Just owl her a nice letter a day or two after you get settled at home saying that she’s a lovely girl but you just don’t think it’ll work out. She’ll have all summer to get used to it, and you won’t have to deal with her in the meantime.”

“You’re brilliant, Anthony! And you’ll help me write the letter and all, right?”

“What, you don’t want my help?”

“Shove off, Terry. If you helped to write it, she’d probably go on a ten hour broom ride just to punch me in the nose.”

Feeling much jollier than they had for some time, the three boys reentered the compartment, only to be met with two blank stares.

“I thought you were going to get me some water.”

Cho disembarked, grabbed her trunks, and looked around for people to say her goodbyes to. There would only be a few people, not like this time last year, when everyone stopped to give her a hug. But that memory was too painful. She paused a moment to wipe her eyes, and then set off, weaving her way through the crowd milling around on the platform.

First was Marietta, who was to be driven straight to St. Mungo’s to get Hermione’s Sneak Charm reversed and try to figure out what happened to her. It was Cho’s opinion that Hermione had addled Marietta’s brain somehow. She’d been behaving rather oddly, and her schoolwork had gone all to pot. The healers would be able to sort it out, though. She gave Marietta a kiss on each cheek and took her to her mother.

Next were a few cold farewells to people who, until recently, had seemed like lifelong friends. Su Li was the only one who gave her a hug. The rest either shook hands or stood back as if she had some infectious disease.

She didn’t even bother trying to talk to the former members of Dumbledore’s Army. They, in turn, looked around her as if she wasn’t there. The only exception was Loony Lovegood, who mumbled a distracted “Goodbye, then,” as she was passing by. Cho had promised herself that she wouldn’t look for Harry, but when she gave up and scanned the crowd he had already gone through the barrier. Probably to spend the summer with Hermione and her parents, Cho thought sourly.

The last person Cho had to say goodbye to was Michael, of course. She hugged him close, and planted a kiss on his jaw.

“Now, we’re going to have to write every single day,” she murmured in his ear. He sort of nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He cut off the hug rather abruptly, and waded through the crowd towards the barrier.

Cho frowned. Was he angry because she had kissed him in front of everyone? But nobody was paying attention to the two of them in this mob, and it would be such a long time before they saw each other again.

She went through the barrier and spotted her father, who was waiting with no signs of impatience. “Daddy!” she shrieked, and threw herself into his arms.

Son Chang was not a hasty man. In fact, if he had any flaw it was that he sometimes spent too much time considering his next move. In this spirit, he had cautioned his daughter last summer to put thoughts of He Who Must Not Be Named out of her head. Time would tell if You Know Who had really come back, and there was no use in jumping to false conclusions.

Now he wasn’t sure what to think. He had slowly been coming around to the idea that a few renegade Death Eaters may have killed the Diggory boy while attempting to stage a comeback, but You Know Who himself? It was impossible, and yet the Daily Prophet and Minister Fudge had both confirmed Cho’s wild story. Son kept adding up the pieces in his mind, trying to make sense of it all.

And then of course there was Cho, his darling, grieving daughter. At Christmas, she had seemed a little happier than she had when she left for her sixth year, which Son attributed to rejoining her friends at Hogwarts. When she stepped off the Hogwarts Express to come home for the summer, she seemed almost back to normal – perhaps a little quieter, but given the news that was to be expected. And yet now, barely two days later, he walked past her door and heard her weeping inside.

Another father might have rushed in to comfort his daughter, or tried to resolve whatever was troubling her. Son Chang kept going. A few days later, having done some thinking and consulting his wife Takara, he asked Cho over dinner whether she’d like to spend a few days with some friends.

From the way her face lit up, he knew he’d made the right decision. She replied immediately, “I’d like to visit Marietta Edgecombe, Daddy, if that’s okay.”

Son had hoped that she would ask to visit a family they knew a little better, like the Fawcetts. But Cho was almost seventeen now; surely he could trust her judgment. And he certainly hadn’t heard anything bad about the Edgecombes.

By the time he’d worked his way through this logic, Takara had given her approval. Cho jumped up from her seat and fluttered around the table to hug her parents. It was an excellent plan. Cho would spend a few days with her friend Marietta, and by the time her birthday came she’d be happy and smiling. Not like that fiasco last year.

Cho danced up the stairs and into her room. It would be so nice to hear Marietta speak again, and to see her without those horrid marks on her face. She and Cho had exchanged letters, of course, but that was hardly the same thing. Getting to see her and talk to her, though, was almost worth getting the break-up letter that Michael had sent her. Why couldn’t things ever work out for her? Michael had broken things off with no warning, and Harry had turned out to be a dick, and Cedric –

Resolutely she put them all out of her mind and focused on Marietta. The healers had removed the greater part of a powerful Memory Charm from her as well as the pustules. Cho had fumed at that when she read Marietta’s letter. Memory Charms were for wayward Muggles, not punishment for breaking a rule in a teenagers’ club. Trust a Muggle-born to commit the most heinous offenses! St. Mungo’s wasn’t able to remove the entire charm – not surprising, considering who had cast it – but they had recalled most of her classes. That meant less catching up to do over the summer, and more of things like shopping.

If Marietta’s mother agreed to the visit (and Cho was certain that she would), then in a day or two she’d be going through the Floo Network to the Edgecombes’ flat. In a week and a half she’d be eligible to get her Apparition license, but for now she would have to travel in soot. Cho wrinkled her nose. Why couldn’t they use pink sparkles in fireplaces? But no matter. The important thing was that she was going to spend the next week with Marietta, with no whispers or nasty looks or idiot boys to follow them.

Two days later, Son saw off his daughter. Mrs. Edgecombe had given her permission, Cho’s luggage was packed, and now she stood in front of the Chang fire. She said, “Edgecombe Flat” and stepped in with no trouble.

In the days to come, Son would rue the fact that he had not gone with his little girl to make sure she reached her destination safely. At the time, though, such a thought never entered his mind. He went back to his study, humming, and didn’t give a moment’s thought to his daughter’s safely until the next day, when a slightly confused letter from Mrs. Edgecombe arrived.

Takara made the fire call, and her face was pale when she pulled it from the fire.

“Something’s happened. Cho never arrived at the flat.”

A deep chill enveloped Son, even as he groped for an explanation. “Well, perhaps she got off at the wrong spot, or an ashwinder might have thrown her off course . . . .” He noted absently that Takara’s eyes were red.

“Son, it’s been over twenty-four hours. Even if she did come out at the wrong fire, wouldn’t she have found her way back yet?” As Son struggled to find a way that their daughter could be missing but still safe, Takara pushed past him.

“I’m going to the Ministry. With You Know Who out there, there’s no telling what might have happened to her.” She grabbed her wand and disappeared with a sharp crack.

Son sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace and put his head in his hands. He Who Must Not Be Named was on the loose, and his beautiful, helpless daughter had gone missing. Had she even taken her wand?

He choked back a sob and stared into the fireplace. Would he ever see his daughter again?