Tangled Fates

I’m afraid I owe you all an incredible apology for taking so long. Life has been...hectic lately, and I’ve been writing as often as I could. As some of you may have heard, I was sick for a week and basically did nothing in that time. I would like to thank the SCUSA board members who wished me well while I was sick. :)

I know this chapter isn’t that great. I tried, though, and after a lot of thinking and a LOT of writer’s block, this is what came out. I was proud of Snape’s speech, though. Go me! :D

The Tarot part is very, very, very glossed over, simply because although I tried to teach myself Tarot over the Internet, it was just too involved and so I made it up.

Thank you to NAPPA for encouraging me. To the Pumpkin Pie Archives for providing me with lots of wonderful H/H fluff to tide me over while I was feeling bad. And most of all to Rex, who has been my sounding board and is just plain awesome. :D

Also, thanks to the people who took the time to e-mail us privately. Your suggestions and comments were simply fabulous and, although I’ve said it before, it is just awesome to get that kind of feedback from people. I <3 you all!

--Lauren and NAPPA

Chapter Seven: Sympathy for the Devil

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game

--The Rolling Stones

Morning dawned crisp and clear, September sunlight filtering pale sunbeams through the thick glass windows of the Great Hall. The daily stream of post owls fluttered down through the sunlight, each carrying a bit of home to his or her owner. From his place at the Ravenclaw table, Harry looked up, instinctively searching for a snatch of jet black against the dappled grays and browns of the other owls.

Flying in, Poe carried a large package with her, gently fluttering towards where Harry sat. Alighting on his shoulder, POE dropped her bundle on the table in front of Harry. He slipped her a few bits of bacon and whispered, "Thank you, POE I know that was a long journey."

POE seemed to smile at him before nodding her head in an unmistakable bow and flying off again.

Cho was looking at him inquisitively. "Was that...yours?"

Harry nodded absently, picking up his parcel and opening it. "Yeah. Her name’s POE"

Cho gaped at him. "You have a raven?"

Harry tore his eyes away from Vernon’s letter to look at her. "And this is bad...why?"

"How did you get her to stay with you? Magical ravens are known to be independent and very, very rarely will stay with any one person. Even I tried to get a raven when I first came to Hogwarts—none would trust me enough. You’re really lucky, Harry—that raven will be extremely loyal to you."

"I don’t know. I just picked her out at the store. Anyway, my uncle sent me a whole bunch of things from home, so I’m going to go run these to my dorm. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?"

"Sure. See you, Harry."

Harry gathered up his things and hurried out of the great hall.

* * * * *

Once in his dorm, Harry sank down on his bed, happily drinking in all the news from home that his uncle had sent him.

Dear Harry,

I must say, it was quite a shock to see a raven fluttering through the kitchen window this morning. (You should have seen the look on your poor aunt’s face!) Hogwarts sounds great. I am very pleased that you like it. I was worried that it would’ve been too much of a shock at first, but it sounds like a great place. I really do want to see it someday.

Your classes sound equally as fascinating—I knew you’d do well.

Things are going well here. Danny drops by every now and then to help with the harvest. (You’re lucky you’re not here this season—biggest crop I’ve seen in years and you’d be working yourself to the bone!) Danny says that Jimmy Parnell has been made captain in your place, although I am assured that no one could ever do as good of a job as you did.

I don’t believe you know exactly how popular you were around here. Ever since you left, the ladies of the town have been dropping by in droves to see if it’s "really true" that you’ve left. I swear, that Feliciano girl has been here at least ten times!

So you’re undercover, are you? I must admit, I don’t exactly understand why you’re so famous—it’s got to be quite odd for you, I guess.

All I have to say is just keep up the good work—even though you’re at this magic school, I do expect you to keep up the same grades as you did while you were at St. Gabe’s. Although I know I needn’t worry—you always do great, no matter what.

Say hello to Remus Lupin for me. He’s a good fellow. Your Aunt Petunia says hello, as well.

Love,

Uncle Vernon

P.S. Enclosed are some things that you may have accidentally left behind.

-V.

Harry set Vernon’s letter aside and pulled apart the wrappings on the parcel. Out fell a well-used basketball and ten or so dog-eared paperbacks. Harry beamed as he looked through the titles: Great Expectations,The Catcher in the Rye,Anna Karenina, and a few others. Just then, Will burst through the door, prompting Harry to drop his books and look up, startled.

"Come on, Harry! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! We’ve got Defense in five minutes! Trust me, you don’t wanna be late for that!"

Harry grimaced. "Snape?" he questioned.

Will’s eyes lit up. "Yeah! Maybe he’ll show us his scars from when he dueled with You-Know-Who himself!"

"Snape fought with Vol—I mean, You-Know-Who?" Harry asked, impressed.

"It was amazing! Every year, he tells us a little more about what happened to him. There are rumors that he actually was a spy for Dumbledore, right in You-Know-Who’s inner circle! Snape’s class is the best! Come on, we have to go!"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and dashed out after Will.

* * * * *

There were many windows that looked in to Professor Severus Snape’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but for some reason, no matter the amount of sunlight streaming though these windows, the classroom was unequivocally dark. To add to the gloomy atmosphere, the front wall was adorned only with a single poster depicting the remains of what appeared to once be a middle-aged man. Emblazoned across the top, blood red words screamed out "Always Pay Attention!" to drive the point home.

All in all, it wasn’t a very cheery place.

Professor Snape stood tall in front of the classroom, surveying his students like a king surveys his kingdom. Technically speaking, this was his kingdom, and God knows he was aware of it.

"Welcome," his crisp voice rang out, breaking the silence, "to another year."

The collected fifth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors watched him silently as he paced about the front of the room, no one daring to make a sound.

"I must admit, I do look forward to this class. The fifth year is a very consequential year in the course of your education, and I aim to further your knowledge in any way I possibly can. For that is why we are here, after all, not to play a silly game on broomsticks, not to run amok on a nearby town, but to learn. You are among the best—young Ravenclaws, known for their intelligence and wit, and young Gryffindors—infamous for bravery. I must pose this question then, my students—what would you do in the face of evil? Would you amaze even myself with your knowledge of curses and hexes? Would you stand and fight? Or would you run?"

The class was spellbound, hanging on his every word.

"This is the question I ask you, and the question you must ask yourselves—trust me, I’ve asked myself this same question many times in my dark and seedy past," he allowed himself a self-depreciating chuckle, "and I have come to the inescapable conclusion that the answer to this question lies within your very own character. Character. What makes you, you? I doubt if you even know yourselves at this point, much less be able to tell me who you think you are. It’s a difficult thing to understand, this question of character, but I certainly hope that when it’s your back against the wall, your inner mettle is strong enough."

The only sound was that of Snape’s dragonhide boots tapping out their staccato rhythm as he crossed the floor to his desk.

"And this invariably leads us up to where we were last year—an in-depth discussion of the Unforgivable curses. Speaking of which, I have a delightful little quiz I’d like you to complete before the end of class."

The class collectively groaned.

Snape held up a long, thin finger. "Ah, no complaints. I need to assess what you’ve managed to managed to retain from last year—and of course, to see what some people" he looked pointedly at Harry, "know, inasmuch to not waste my time."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Snape scowled. "P—Dursley! Pass these to the class."

Harry got up and took the sheaf of parchments, passing them out to his classmates. He sat down, carefully skimming the contents. It looked fairly easy—basic questions on the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, telltale signs of the Imperius Curse, that sort of thing. Needless to say, Harry was quite pleased that he had found The Unforgivables: Protection and Awareness by the Auror’s Guild while searching the library with Hermione.

He zipped through the questions, answering them to the best of his knowledge, which, I don’t mind adding, was quite good. Finally, he came to the last question, which, much to Harry’s surprise, was about him.

He looked around furtively at the rest of the class before tacking the question: Who is the only known survivor of Avada Kedavra, and how, in your opinion, did he/she survive?

Harry thought carefully before jotting down his reply. It was rather bizarre to write about himself in the third person, and even weirder to write about himself at all. The only known survivor of Avada Kedavra is Harry Potter, who somehow managed to live through the spell when it was cast upon him by Voldemort himself. To the best of my recollection, no one knows for certain how Potter lived, although there are many theories, most of which pertain to either a mistake on Voldemort’s part or something incredibly special about The Boy Who Lived. In my opinion, Harry Potter was incredibly lucky to live, although being as that his parents were killed in his defense (also another possible explanation as to how he survived) I wonder if really he was the victor of that particular battle.

Satisfied, and not particularly willing to divulge too much about himself, Harry left it at that. The bell rung as Snape was collecting the quizzes and he let them leave with a promise that they would be graded for next class. Feeling inordinately pleased with himself for surviving his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry trekked through the school behind Will to his first Divination lesson.

* * * * *

The Divination room in itself was extraordinary, not even counting the eccentric professor who made it her home. Sibyll Trelawney was, to say the least, interesting. She flitted around the incense-saturated room, cloaked in gauze and spangles, gazing at her pupils through large misty eyes.

"Welcome back to the mysticism of Divination," she proclaimed softly. "This year is very special, my children. The fates have informed me that we shall be reading the future through the Tarot this year—a very select few of you, I have seen, shall become quite proficient at readings, all the better, for I have also seen that the Tarot will encompass quite a bit of your final exam."

Next to Harry, Will hastily stifled a snort of laughter, drawing Trelawney’s gaze. "Ah, Mister Jones, pity, you still seem as mundane to the clairvoyant auras as always."

Will scowled. "Isn’t it a shame?"

"The dismal grade that I am seeing in your future is also quite a shame, Mister Jones."

Harry laughed shortly, shutting up as he saw the glare etched on Will’s face. Trelawney stared at him.

"I am to call you Mister Dursley, is that correct?" she whispered, looking intensely at a random spot below his hairline.

"Um, yes, that’s my name, Professor."

"Yes, yes—" she trailed off. "You certainly are a special one, aren’t you, Mister Dursley? I would like to do a reading for you, if you wouldn’t mind, you know, for demonstration purposes."

"Well—"

"Splendid!" She grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him to the front of the room, plopping him down in a plushy armchair situated in front of a highly polished mahogany table. She sat down across from him, pulling out a purple velvet drawstring bag. "Reach in and pull out a deck." She commanded.

Hesitantly, Harry reached into the bag. His fingertips connected with something solid and a shiver ran down his spine. He wrapped his hand around the deck and pulled it out, wordlessly handing it to Trelawney.

Her eyes widened. "Incredible, Mister Dursley. Le Paquet D'Ivoire—given to me by a French gypsy many years ago—only those with intense power can summon it. I’ve never even used it before." Her voice was low and she was staring at the intricate deck raptly, tracing its adornments with a long, bejeweled finger.

The class was staring at the pair, some, who’d heard what Trelawney said, in amazement.

She shuffled through the deck quickly before laying the beautiful cards out in an elaborate pattern. Harry watched with growing anticipation as she flipped the cards,m reading them softly.

"Unexpected danger...betrayal...hidden truths...you hold a lot of power—it’s right here...your fortune will turn swiftly...beware...a devastating foe...oh!" she shot back from the table.

"What? What is it?" Harry cried.

She looked at him, immense sadness traced all over her face. "My poor boy, you have the grim!"

"The grim?!"

"Oh, you poor thing! The grim is an omen of death!"

"What?"

"I’d be careful if I were you, Harry," Will interjected, smirking. "Now you’re going to die."

"I am not going to die!" Harry said hotly.

"But the Tarot never lies!" Will and Trelawney chorused together, Will laughing and Professor Trelawney looking horribly affronted.

Harry smiled. "Listen, if I were going to die, I think I would have done so already. Really, Professor—nothing to worry about."

"I don’t like the flippant way you’re dealing with this, but it is brave of you to accept your fate so well. Runs in your family, you know. That Gryffindor bravery."

Harry gulped. "I—I’m a Ravenclaw."

Professor Trelawney smiled superiorly. "I think you forget that I possess the Inner Eye, Harry," she said pointedly. "Class dismissed."

Harry ignored the stares of his classmates and made his way back to the common room. Cho was there, sitting on a cozy blue and gold sofa, engrossed in the latest copy of Which Broomstick?.

"Hey. Cho," Harry greeted amicably.

"Harry! I didn’t see you there! Are you finished with your classes?"

"Yeah, just got out of Divination. Trelawney thinks I’m going to die."

"Oh, that’s too bad."

"Apparently I have the grim."

"Horrible shame. I suppose I shall speak at your funeral. ‘Such a tragic loss! So young!’ I will say."

"Good to know I can count on you, Cho."

"Always."

Harry laughed. "Anyway, what do you want to do? I have the night free."

"Actually, there’s Quidditch tryouts tonight. McGonagall’s announcing it at dinner."

"Really? D’you think I can try out?"

"You want to play?"

"Yeah, I do! I can play well, too so there’s no need for pity votes."

"Like I would vote for you anyway."

"Again, really nice to know I can count on you."

"Well, if you want to play, we’ll go down to the pitch together at about six," Cho said, laughing.

"Okay, sounds good," Harry replied, smiling. "Come on, let’s go to dinner. I’m starved. Those incense fumes made me hungry."

Cho nodded her acquiesce and the two meandered to the Great Hall, chatting about nothing and everything.

* * * * *

Harry and Cho walked through the warm night air, Harry shouldering his Firebolt and feeling the familiar swarm of butterflies that always seemed to form in his stomach before a big game. In a way, it was almost reassuring knowing that no matter where he was some things would always be the same.

They arrived at the pitch as the sun began to creep downward, swirling the sky with streaks of pink and orange. It was a beautiful night; the air was warm and the wind was soft, and personally, Harry couldn’t wait to get into the air.

There was a small group already assembled when they made their entrance, Cho’s arrival garnering a few piteous smiles from younger students. Cho pointedly ignored their looks and held her head high. Finally, the rest of the team made their way to the pitch and the try out began.

The younger students mounted their brooms first, one at a time, as Terry Boot, a sixth year chaser and team captain, released the snitch time and time again into the night air, the beaters timing each applicant. If it took the flyer longer than fifteen minutes, they were called down and disqualified from the running.

Harry watched nervously as a third year girl landed in tears after her fifteen minutes were up. Praying that it wouldn’t happen to him, he recalled some of the better applicants. To his untrained eye, some of them were quite good, although no one was really outstandingly spectacular yet.

"Harry Dursley!" Cho called, shaking Harry out of his reverie with a jolt.

He stood quickly and walked to the center of the pitch where Boot was waiting.

"Okay, Dursley, is it? You’ll have fifteen minutes to try to catch the snitch. We’ll be timing you and well, the best time wins. Good luck."

Harry nodded, closing his eyes briefly to gather his wits about him before kicking off into the air.

As soon as he was airborne, however, all of his insecurities vanished. He instinctively knew what to do—he was in control. He flew higher and faster, scanning the ground with his eyes when suddenly he spotted the snitch hovering near the ground by the bleachers.

He narrowed his eyes in concentration, pointing the handle of his broom straight down. He sped faster and faster towards the ground, his eyes focused on the small glint of gold that fluttered unaware. He zoomed downward, the wind whipping through his hair and sending his robes flapping behind him like black storm clouds. He could vaguely hear gasps of amazement as he flipped over, his hair skimming the grass as he stretched out his arm, reaching for the snitch.

He snatched it out of the air, relief streaming through his senses as he felt the tiny wings fluttering against his palm.

Righting himself, he held up his arm, signaling the capture. He hopped off his broom, shouldering it once more and walked over to Terry Boot, handing him the snitch.

"Bloody incredible, Dursley!" he cried. "Barely a minute and a half! Best dive I’ve seen in years!"

Harry beamed. "Thanks!"

Cho looked at him, eyes wide. "I’ve never seen anyone go that fast, ever. You were amazing, Harry. You’re a shoo-in."

The other potential seekers were glaring fiercely at him as he took his seat, watching the rest of them take their turns. Will was there, and he flew well, but it was clear that he wasn’t built to be a seeker—he flew straight and fast, like a chaser and Harry supposed that next year, Will would have no problem filling in for the graduating Ravenclaw chasers.

Will plopped down next to Harry, clapping him on the back. "I had no idea you were so good, Harry. Hey—next year when I go for chaser, can you kinda sway things my way, d’you think?"

Harry laughed. "I’m not even on the team yet, Will!"

Will rolled his eyes. "Honesty! It’s not like anyone’s going to beat you!"

Harry flushed. "I don’t know..."

"Well, I know because I’ve seen a lot of Quidditch matches in my life but I haven’t seen anyone fly like you ever! I wouldn’t be surprised if the league signs you right out of Hogwarts!"

"That would be cool," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Are you kidding me? You could get me tickets to all the good games! It would be more than cool!"

Harry laughed aloud. "Sure, I’d get you tickets, but I really don’t think I’m good enough to play professionally or anything!"

Will shook his head. "You really have no idea how good you are, do you?’

"Honestly! I’m not that good, Will!"

Just then, Cho and the rest of the team came over, effectively halting all conversation for now.

"First, we’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight. We would be lucky to have any one of you play for us. However, we only have one open position and after much debate, we’ve decided on Harry Dursley. Harry, do you accept?" Terry asked.

"Of course!"

"Excellent! Harry’s our new seeker then. All of you—better luck next year!"

The crowd dispersed, leaving only the team itself alone on the pitch.

Terry spoke up again. "Well, guys, I think I can say that Gryffindor is in for a huge surprise this year! They won’t know what hit ‘em!"

The team cheered and Terry continued. "Harry—if you can fly that well every time, no one will even come close. I want to keep you a secret, though, we’ll tell the house not to let it slip who’s playing seeker. Our first game’s versus Gryffindor in a month and a half and if they don’t know how you fly they can’t effectively neutralize you. Okay, everyone?"

A chorus of "yeahs" and "yeses" sounded in response and Terry dismissed the team.

Harry smiled widely as he and Cho walked back to the school together, both excitedly discussing Ravenclaw’s chances for the cup.

* * * * *

A large, tawny owl fluttered in alone the next morning, dropping a thick letter into the hands of one Ron Weasley. He tore it open instantly and screamed. "Oh, my God! Ginny! C’mere! Look at this!"

The Gryffindors huddled around the Weasleys as Ron read aloud from The Daily Prophet: "Yesterday, in an unanimous vote, Arthur Weasley, former Head of International Cooperation, was declared England’s new Minister of Magic, the first, as we all know, since the war."

"Minister Weasley issued this statement shortly after the vote: ‘My family and I are extremely overjoyed at this new appointment. I promise you, I will work my hardest to get this country back to the way it was before the war. Thank you to everyone for your continued support.’"

"Weasley and his wife of thirty years, Molly have seven children: William, a curse-breaker for Gringotts bank; Charles, a dragon wrangler in Romania; Percival, Personal Assistant to the Minister; Frederick and George, twin co-founders and proprietors of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes joke shop; Ronald, a sixth-year Gryffindor student at Hogwarts; and Virginia, a fifth-year Gryffindor at Hogwarts."

"In Minister Weasley’s first act as Minister, he will be traveling to the island fortress of Azkaban to complete the yearly Ministry inspection of the prison."

"An inaugural ball will be held in two weeks time at the Ritz-Merlin in London."

Ron grabbed Ginny and swung her around, the two of them whooping madly while their housemates cheered along with them. Ron set Ginny down and grabbed Hermione, who was smiling widely. He pulled her into a deep kiss, whispering in her ear. Her smile got wider as he lifted her up, swinging her around as he did Ginny.

From the Head Table, Minerva watched the scene with a large grin plastered across her face. "Ahem." She cleared her throat loudly, tapping on her goblet to restore order. "If you please?"

The Gryffindors sat down, still visibly excited.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Miss Weasley. I am certain your father will do an excellent job."

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny called from the Gryffindor table.

"Now that all the excitement has passed, everyone, please, return to your breakfast."

Cho’s eagle owl dropped her copy of The Daily Prophet on her plate next and she grabbed it excitedly, wanting to read the article on Arthur Weasley.

"Oh, Harry! This is incredible! If anyone deserves this, Uncle Arthur does. I’ll have to send an owl to Aunt Molly as soon as I can."

"The Weasleys are your aunt and uncle?" Harry asked confused.

"No, but ever since I was little I’ve always called them ‘Aunt Molly’ and ‘Uncle Arthur’. They’ve honestly been like a second family to me."

"In that case, I’m very happy for them. Extend my congratulations in your letter, please. I met Mrs. Weasley at the train station and she was very sweet."

"Sure." Cho was once again scanning the newspaper. Suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God!" she said, pointing to an article lower down on the page. "It says Harry Potter’s been spotted in Diagon Alley!"

Harry blanched. "What? Let me see that!" He grabbed the paper from her hands, staring at the article. Sure enough, there under bold letters proclaiming "Harry Potter Seen!" was a picture of what he recognized as his right foot disappearing into a Floo fire.

"A bit anxious, are we?" Cho teased, raising her eyebrows at Harry."

"Um," Harry answered, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had.

"Wouldn’t it be awesome to meet him? I mean, I’ve been hearing about him since I was little! I wonder what he’s like!"

"Er," Harry replied eloquently.

"Don’t you wonder? I’ve always wanted to meet Harry Potter, haven’t you? OH! I forgot! You were raised by Muggles, right? Do you know who Harry Potter is?"

"Yes, of course I know who Harry Potter is!"

"Whoa, no need to be defensive. Anyway, they say Harry moved to New Zealand, Harry—hey! You two have the same name and you both live in New Zealand! Isn’t that a coinci—" Cho trailed off, looking at Harry’s down turned face.

Her jaw dropped. "Are you—can you--?"

Harry looked up, catching her eyes with a pleading stare. "Please, Cho. Don’t say anything. Come on, I’ll tell you everything."

Still in shock, Cho followed Harry out of the Great Hall and into the deserted Ravenclaw common room. He sat her down across from him, pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling to himself before he spoke.

"They always said Ravenclaw was the smartest house," he said quietly.

"Is that all you can say? You’ve been lying to everyone, lying to me all this time!"

"Please. Let me explain." He paused, looking down. "It all started when Professor Lupin came to my house this summer with a letter from McGonagall. Basically, it said that I was magical and that my parents really hadn’t died in a car crash; that Voldemort had killed them and I lived when I wasn’t supposed to. Apparently, Dumbledore decided that it wasn’t safe for me here and so nobody told me about anything. McGonagall says that he wished for me to come here after Voldemort was defeated, and so here I am. I—I’m using a different name because—because I don’t think I can deal with everything. In Diagon Alley, all these people freaked out when they found out who I was and I really didn’t want that. I’m just a regular kid, or at least, I thought I was. Can you understand that? I just wanted to blend in. I’m sorry for lying to you, Cho. I really am."

Cho stared at him. "I can’t believe it. You—you’re Harry Potter and you don’t want to be famous?"

"No! It’s just so weird, you know? Thinking you were one person and then one day, poof! You’re some legendary figure and everyone knows your name. It’s hard enough trying to catch up on all this magic stuff without being, well, me."

"I think I understand where you’re coming from," Cho said slowly. "But can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do you know how you lived? I mean, when You-Know-Who tried to kill you?"

"Well, Dumbledore left me a letter that had a couple of his thoughts on it. If I tell you though, you have to promise not to tell anyone. This is even a bigger secret than me being Harry Potter."

"I promise, Harry."

"Okay, I trust you—you know that. I mean it. McGonagall’ll kill me if she finds out I told you. All right. First, Dumbledore thinks that a lot of it had to do with my blood. You see, my dad’s family from the line of Gryffindor and my mum, somehow, had Merlin’s blood. Dumbledore said that this combination together was pretty powerful. Plus the fact that both my parents died to protect me, I guess Voldemort didn’t stand a chance." He paused. "There’s also the possibility that Voldemort transferred some of his powers to me that night, something we’re not sure that he meant to do, although I have a sneaking suspicion that he did."

"Why?" Cho asked, awestruck.

"I’ve been getting these—dreams, I guess you could call them. He’s there, or, I guess, I’m there. I can see everything through his eyes—his time at Hogwarts, random murders, everything up to when he killed my parents. He has to be sending me these visions for a reason, I just don’t know what it is yet. I’ve been working with Remus and Minerva on finding information on this sort of thing, and they’re helping me as much as they can. Hermione Granger is also helping with research, although she doesn’t know the specifics. I guess that’s it."

"Wow. This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Do all the professors know who you are? And where’s your scar?"

Harry smiled weakly. "Yeah, they all know. I think Snape’s trying to blow my cover, but he won’t risk McGonagall if he does. My scar? I’m hiding it until, well, I guess until the inevitable happens and someone other than you finds out."

"I’ve never heard of a spell that can mask your appearance."

"It’s some Auror thing—Remus told me about it."

"No way! That’s supposed to be really difficult!"

"It’s not too bad. Remus says it’s just like channeling some of my magic into concealing it. I don’t even realize I’m doing it."

Cho just gaped at him some more.

"Er—Cho? I know this is hard, but you have to just treat me regularly, you can’t let on that you know. Can you do that for me?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure," Cho said absently, staring at Harry still.

"Thank you. I know you won’t tell anyone."

"I swear it. Now come on, Potter." She laughed. "We have to get to classes."

Harry stood up and followed her out of the room. Although it was frightening that someone else knew his secret, it was strangely cathartic to let everything out. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he was revealed—his story was too ill-planned to hold up, but he intended to make the best of the time he had left as Harry Dursley while he still could.