Buried Secrets

Chapter 6 - Parting

There was a glen situated in a secluded, quiet little place at the foot of Stoatshead Hill. Here the deceased of the villagers of Ottery St. Catchpole lay, in a small, well-kept graveyard. Rhododendrons and young birch trees circled the place, while the trills of robins and sparrows added a bit of activity into the peaceful atmosphere, now and then. Sometimes, children from a nearby cottage would come and play if the sunshine is there to keep company. Their angelic voices and butterfly-like figures made the graveyard much less fearsome, and more inviting for people to come and visit.

A young girl walked down the granite path, carrying a bouquet of white lilies. She made her way to a certain grave. On her faultless face there was a heavy shade of darkness, showing signs of sorrow that shouldn't have bestowed on her age.

"Cedric Diggory..." Cho traced the letters carved on the headstone. Her fingers moved gently over the smooth surface, as though stroking a kitten.

She laid the flowers on the grave and got up, surveying the surroundings, but she saw nothing. All she saw were scenes of she and Cedric together, joyful and carefree. She could still picture Cedric astride on his broom, coaxing her for a ride, and Cedric sitting in the library, poring over advanced Transfiguration, and Cedric in the Yule Ball, radiant with pride and delight because the most sought-after girl in Hogwarts was his partner, and the last moments she spent with him...if only she had known the fates, there wouldn't be so many things left unsaid...

A tear leaked out of Cho's eye, and spilled down her cheeks. She let the tears come, assuming there wasn't anyone to see her cry. However, when she let out a low sob, she heard the shuffling of feet not far away. Time to put on a normal face.

Cho hastily wiped her eyes with her hand, and turned around to see who it was. She didn't know why; her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the lean frame of Harry Potter. He seemed to be a bit nervous, both hands thrust in his pockets, but still looking at her with unmistakable concern.

"Hello," Harry said shyly. He found himself embarrassed again, seeing Cho with traces of tears on her cheeks, kneeling before Cedric's grave. "Hermione told me you were here--so I just came to see--you all right?"

"I'm fine." Cho managed a small smile, wondering how many times she had said this. "I wonder--" she stopped.

Harry waited for a while, but finally he couldn't resist asking. "What?"

Cho looked away. "You'll laugh."

"No I won't," Harry said. His voice softened. "I promise I won't, but it's okay--if you prefer not to say."

Cho swallowed. "Well, I was thinking--where is Cedric now? What's he doing? Is he in heaven? If he doesn't--I--I just hope he isn't lonely and afraid, lying here."

Harry found it hard to reply. Nevertheless, he tried to soothe her. "Wherever he is, I'm sure he's in a better, happier place. He was brave, kind--he couldn't have a bad afterlife."

Cho smiled, but it was a smile that made Harry feel worse than tears. "I hope he will forgive me--for not attending the funeral. Oh, I know it's silly, but I can't bear to see him dead, lowered into the cold, hard earth like that..." She couldn't help it; her eyes were brimming with tears. Her gaze blurred, her heart sorrowful, Cho took a few steps forward and clung to Harry's arm, sobbing quietly.

Harry was surprised--and afraid that he might say anything wrong, all he could do was to stand there in compassionate silence. Only when he lifted a hand to pat her head did Cho shrink away, sensing his touch, and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"That was really stupid of me," she said severely, and gave a bubbling laugh. "Such a crybaby! Harry, don't you dare tell my crying to anyone, no, not even Ron or Hermione."

Harry smiled and assured her he wouldn't. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I know--he must be very dear to you."

Cho didn't notice the note of pain in the last sentence. "He was awfully nice--" she blushed, wondering why she was saying this to an outsider. "He thought very highly of you, Harry." She added, wanting to repay him for comforting her.

Harry looked surprised. "That's very noble of him, when I was nothing compared to him."

"But you did splendidly in the three tasks, you were really great. Especially in the last one, you fought the Dark Lord and risked your own life bringing him back! I can never thank you enough for that."

Harry shook his head. "It's me that should say that, Cho. Sirius wouldn't have survived had you not helped."

He spoke earnestly; there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone. Cho blushed, he made it seem that she had saved a baby from a dragon..

"Don't mention it," she commanded. She tried to look as though it was nothing, but Harry could tell that she was really pleased. He had to repress a smile.

They stood looking at each other in complete silence, each trying to find something else to say. Cho suddenly jabbed her temple with a finger.

"Oh--I've forgotten this." She took out the little velvet pouch, and drew out the yellowed handkerchief. "What do you make of this?"

Harry looked interested. Cho told him how the item turned up, and in doing so, she related her story while they were separated in Malfoy Manor.

While turning over the handkerchief, Harry suddenly remembered his second year--Lucius Malfoy had kept some things left by Voldemort in his house. Maybe this was a Dark object? If so, he couldn't let Cho go through the same trial Ginny had.

"Cho, I think you'd better throw this away."

"Why?"

Knowing that she wouldn't be satisfied without an explanation, Harry gave her a brief account of Riddle's diary. Cho was horrifed to learn that such a little thing had done so much damage. However, she had a different idea when Harry finished.

"But we're not sure if this is dangerous," she said, though she was rather afraid after the horrible encounter with Death Eaters. "Maybe it's just a family heirloom of Charlotte's."

"But why would she be carrying it in her apron?" Harry persisted.

"But you don't know if Charlotte's on the bad side, either," Cho pointed out. "Anyway, I think it's best not to destroy the handkerchief right away. It might be valuable."

"All right. But when we get to Hogwarts, take this to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do."

Cho nodded. "Now it's your turn."

"What?"

"You disappeared when I went out of the dungeons with Draco. Where on earth were you before Snape got you? I was worried sick!" Cho glared at him, remembering what a fright she had.

Harry told her about the meeting in the secret chamber behind the dungeons. Cho's eyes widened in horror. So Voldemort had planned to attack Azkaban and recruit the dementors. And to think of him alone in the chamber, helpless, with all those Death Eaters. If it weren't for Snape, he'd surely be taken to Voldemort, and probably be dead now. Her initial anger dissipated immediately.

"That's really disturbing! Harry, we should go and tell Dumbledore about this too. Imagine if You-know-who returns to power--and you--"

She couldn't help taking his hand, forgetting everything but concern for him. "Harry, you've got to be careful. Let me know whenever I can help. We can't let anything horrible happen after--after--"

Tentatively, Harry gave her hand a squeeze. "I know. Th--thanks."

They stood there for a moment in awkward silence, just like last year when Harry asked Cho to the Yule Ball. Harry was having an inner debate whether to drop her hand, or wait until Cho pulled away, when a shout rose from behind. Out of Seeker reflexes, both of them broke the hand contact faster than making a sharp turn on the broom.

"Harry!"

Ron and Hermione were standing under a slender white birch tree. Ron was grinning at them, but Hermione wore an apprehensive expression.

"You've got an owl, Harry." Ron said, coming closer. "Cho--" He turned slightly pink when addressing the young Ravenclaw. "Mum wants you to stay for lunch. In fact, she wants to know if you'd like to come with us to Diagon Alley tomorrow. You know--getting your stuff for school."

"Your mother's a dear," Cho said warmly. "But I really have to go home. My parents would be worrying--I told them I was only staying away for two days. However, of course I'll stay for lunch. I'm dying to taste more of that delicious shortbread she made yesterday."

Harry looked rather disappointed, but he didn't dare to ask her to stay. Hermione gave him a searching look, and said out loud, "Harry, you go ahead with Ron. Cho and I will catch you up later."

Cho looked confused, but she readily agreed. Harry looked at her for a fleeting second before letting himself steered away by Ron.

When the boys were at a safe distance, Hermione led Cho to a flat gravestone near the opening of the glen.

"I'm going to ask you a very blunt question," Hermione looked at Cho, an urgent look in her eyes. "Do you like Harry?"

"What?" Cho stared. "I like him, of course."

"Do you like him enough to be his girlfriend?"

"Do you think I'd want a relationship when Cedric just died?"

Hermione gave a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear that. Not that I'm jealous, of course," she added hastily, "--but I'm worried about Harry. He's got so much on his mind, You-know-who and such, and if he breaks his heart over you..."

"He won't," Cho said, thinking what a ludicrous idea it was, Harry breaking his heart over a girl. "I'm just a friend."

Hermione looked incredulous. "Honestly, didn't you see him staring at you all the time like an idiot?"

Cho couldn't help blushing. "I know. I thought it was just a schoolboy's crush; it will go away soon."

"I don't think so; he's liked you for two years!"

Cho looked up. "Is it...true?"

"I know him." Hermione replied shortly.

An uncomfortable period of silence passed through them. Cho was thinking about the first time she met Harry. She remembered him turning bright red when she faced him on the Quidditch field. It was really cute to see that pink flush diffusing over his face; the famous Boy-Who-Lived acting nervously like a shy girl. She could never bring herself to be nasty towards him, even when he shouted at her when he dropped his quill in the corridor. But did she really want to be his girlfriend? She shuddered when Lucius Malfoy's ruthless image appeared in her mind. "Besides," she thought, trying to come up with more excuses. "He just likes me for my face. He'd never cast a second look at me if I weren't pretty. Just like Draco Malfoy."

Hermione, seeing her hesitate, spoke earnestly. "Cho, I'm really grateful that you helped Harry save Sirius yesterday. But it's really better if you maintain friendship only between Harry. He's famous, and you'd be gossiped all over if--"

"I know, but I never thought of--"

"And it's not only that," continued Hermione. "I've said before, Harry has enough on his mind. Having a girlfriend will only make his life more complicated, and if his girlfriend were you, I can't imagine how much trouble there'll be."

There was a faint popping noise, and an elderly-looking man appeared. He had a greyish beard, thick grey eyebrows, and a great big lump on his back, which made him move with some difficulty. When he saw the girls, Cho thought she saw disappointment appear on his face, but vanished quickly.

"Hello?" Hermione ventured.

"Hello," replied the old man. "Who're you girls? Don't look like you live here, can't be one of the Weasleys...well, who are you?"

"If you'd tell us who you are first," said Cho, not liking the man's attitude.

"No respect for your elders," muttered the old man, shaking his head in disapproval. "You should have been taught some manners, young lady."

Cho scowled, and was about to make another retort, but Hermione quickly intervened. "Uh, we're friends of the Weasleys. We're here to visit a friend who--who just passed away."

The old man pulled at his beard. "I see. Bet it's young Diggory, eh?"

"Why, yes," Hermione said in amazement. "Excuse me, but who are you, please?"

"Now that's more like it," replied the old man, seeming pleased. "Mundungus Fletcher's the name, and I'm here to visit my Agatha. Killed twenty years ago by Death Eaters."

Cho immediately felt sorry for him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Mind you, I'm almost a hundred," responded Mundungus haughtily, looking puffed-up. "Normally, I don't mind having to reason with little girls, but now excuse me, I must go to my daughter first."

He hobbled away, and both Hermione and Cho looked at each other and shrugged.

"Have you heard of him?"

"No. It's really strange, how did he keep a low profile? Well, let's get back, shall we?" asked Hermione.

"Okay." Cho was feeling a bit curious, though.

When they got home, the whole Weasley family and Harry were waiting for them.

"What's been keeping you?" Mrs. Weasley inquired innocently, hustling everyone to the dinner table.

Both Cho and Hermione blushed. Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged, the identical confused expression written on their faces. Fred looked over at his twin, and suddenly a gleam sparkled in his eye, and he winked. George's eyes opened wide, and he looked as though he had just swallowed a whole egg. Ginny sat down on her seat, keeping her eyes downcast.

"We met a man at the graveyard--" began Hermione hurriedly.

"His name was Mundungus Fletcher, and he talked to us--" Cho added, trying to appear neutral.

Hermione and Cho's flustered words and gestures indicated that there was much more besides conversing with a stranger. Luckily, Mr. Weasley spoke up, though purely out of interest.

"Mundungus? Why, I do seem to remember him. Wasn't he the father of Agatha Fletcher, Molly?"

"Oh yes." Mrs. Weasley was ladling steaming chicken broth for everyone, but while she spoke, her hand trembled a bit.

"What about him?" Ron asked.

"Nothing important, Ron. Hand me the green bottle, I believe I didn't put enough salt."

Ron seemed to be bursting with curiosity, but his mother was keen on changing the topic. After lunch, she asked Hermione and Cho to help her wash the dishes. When the rest had gone out of the kitchen, she said in a low voice:

"I'm sorry dears, but did Mundungus tell you anything?"

"About his daughter? No." Cho shook her head.

"Good." Mrs. Weasley seemed relieved.

"But why don't you--" Hermione said, ignoring the dishes sinking against the sink.

Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand, and the soup bowl came floating gently to her. "I don't think it's appropriate for you to know--"

"Has it anything to do about You-know-who?" blurted Cho.

The soup bowl crashed on the floor.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Her face crimson with apology, Cho kneeled down to pick up the pieces.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself, dear. It's all right; I was being paranoid." Mrs. Weasley also bent down, laying her hand on Cho's arm to stop her.

Hermione had found the solution, though. With a flick of her wand, the broken pieces rose in the air, and flew together to piece themselves together into the original bowl, like new.

There was an awkward pause of silence. Mrs. Weasley was contemplating; suddenly she sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. Then she indicated the girls to sit down.

"I suppose you'd know it, sooner or later," she said quietly. "You may tell Harry and Ron if you like, but don't spread the thing around. Please."

Cho and Hermione nodded, their faces solemn and attentive.

"Mundungus was the Defense of Dark Arts teacher when I was at Hogwarts. He was a very good teacher, though sometimes a bit impatient and grouchy. But we all liked and respected him." At this point Hermione and Cho both thought of the Defense of Dark Arts teachers they had. Hermione began to wonder who was taking up the position this year.

"Mundungus had a daughter, Agatha, and she was a little older than Harry's parents. But she was very small, pale, and fragile--at her age she actually looked three or four years younger. And--when she was nineteen, she was killed by Death Eaters."

Although she had heard this from Mundungus before, Cho couldn't help giving a little shiver. She didn't enjoy being pursued by those horrible Dark-Lord-supporters.

Mrs. Weasley sniffed, and wiped her nose with a cotton, patched-up sleeve. "I didn't know Agatha very well, but Mundungus went half mad when she died. He had to be removed from his job. I knew it took Dumbledore great pains to prevent him from seeking the Death Eaters alone for a mad battle. Later, however, he didn't listen and even got his best friend, Pascal Dallas, to accompany him to find the killer. Dallas got killed, a second blow for Mundungus--"

A tear trickled from Hermione's eyes. "Poor old man." she said quietly. Cho couldn't help but give her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"So Mundungus disappeared. It was such a pity, a brilliant wizard not to be come in decades--totally ruined, a wreck. Never came out, when You-Know-Who was after Lily and James Potter. Said that he wanted no more killings; he was tired. We couldn't exactly blame him, though. He might get killed next."

"He didn't look too bad when we saw him," Cho remarked. "Maybe time has healed the wounds."

"Really?" Mrs. Weasley looked at her eagerly. "How did he look?"

Cho gave a brief account of their encounter, making herself seem childish and irrational as possible. All hard feelings she originally had for Mundungus Fletcher had gone. He had lost his only daughter; a far greater loss than a boyfriend. Cho thought about giving him some gift or at least apologize to him, but it seemed improbable. She might not see him again.

"Well, I guess I'd better let you girls run, or the boys and Ginny'll be suspicious. Won't you come with us to Diagon Alley tomorrow, Cho? You don't have to waste time going back to the Muggle world."

"Thanks, but I said I'd be home soon. I think I'll just go up to say goodbye, then I'll need to use Floo Powder to get back." Actually, Cho found herself wanting to stay. She couldn't help liking the Weasley household immensely, which had given her a lot of fun and cheer than locked up all alone in her aunt's house. After all, Cho was more a social person, and enjoyed spending time hanging around with friends. But she couldn't stay. She was afraid her traditional-minded parents would worry, and moreover, she felt it necessary to stop seeing Harry anymore. Deep down in her heart, she felt that something unneccesary will be bound to happen if she did.

Mrs. Weasley leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "God bless you, dear. I'm so glad to have met you."

"Thank you. Oh, thank you so much for taking care of me, Mrs. Weasley. I wish--" Cho stopped short. She was going to say "I wish I had a mother like you". But how could she say that, and do disrespect to her own mother?

"I'd better go." Cho stood up, blocking any further chance for Mrs. Weasley to question her. Hermione also got up, following her close behind.

They heard an indistinct stream of talking before knocking on the door. Harry and Ron were playing chess in Ron's room. Both boys swiveled around when Hermione and Cho entered the room.

"Chess!" Cho exclaimed, the Ravenclaw in her coming out. Chess had been one of her favorite pastimes, right next to Quidditch. Then the eager expression faded in her eyes. "I really wish I coud stay, but my parents are expecting me."

"But--" Ron began, glancing at Harry.

"You have to go now?" Harry asked, meeting Cho's eyes.

"Yes, I'm sorry." Cho could feel Hermione's gaze on her. Even if she couldn't see, she could sense that the other girl was tense and sharp.

Cho had wanted to give Harry a parting hug, but with Hermione nearby, she didn't dare to do so. She had promised to be only friends with Harry. A hug may not seem much, but with the weird tension between them, it could easily trigger off unwanted ideas. So the young Ravenclaw just laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "Take care, Harry. See you later in school." She dared not look into his eyes. Then she turned and offered her hand to Ron, receiving a hearty shake. "It was nice meeting you," she said, politely but rather stiffly.

"I'll go with you downstairs," Hermione said. "I'll come up later."

Harry watched them leave in silence. When the girls were gone, Ron pounded him on the back. "Harry! What's the matter with you? You should've gone with them!"

Harry didn't answer directly; he looked downwards, fiddling with the queen chess piece. "Didn't feel like it."

"Why? I thought you liked her!"

"So? So I should go after her, when I just killed her boyfriend?"

Ron opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was goggling at Harry. Finally he cleared his throat. "Look, you know it wasn't your fault. Everyone knows--Dumbledore said so at the feast--it was You-know-who, or Wormtail, as you said."

"But I told him to take the Cup," Harry said bitterly. "I was too wrapped up in pride, jealousy--it makes no difference. I killed him."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said irritably. He looked like he was going to throw something at Harry. "You think blaming youself is going to bring Diggory alive? I bet if he'd any decency, he'd want Cho happy. He'd want you happy. Not wallowing in this--this self-pity."

"You make it seem so easy. You weren't there to see Cedric die right in front of your eyes."

"That's not the point. You're the one who likes her. So why don't you--"

"Because I killed her boyfriend. Nothing's going to change that, whatever you say. Now," Harry concluded, getting up and going to the window. "I don't want to talk about it. Leave me alone."

"But--"

Just then Hermione knocked on the door, and entered. Ron looked over at her. "Is she--?"

"Yes, she's just gone." Hermione nodded.

Ron jerked his head towards Harry. "Can't you knock some sense into him?"

"Harry--" Hermione began in a serious, motherly voice.

He didn't turn around.

A knock sounded on the door, but before anyone could answer it, Fred and George burst into the room.

"Game of Quidditch, anyone?"

"Harry, old boy, come on--"

"We don't want to lose to that--er--charming Ravenclaw seeker, eh?"

Two hands thumped on Harry's shoulders, forcing him to turn around. Although Fred and George both wore mischievous grins, there seemed to be something more serious under the skin. His friends were concerned about him. Anyway, having a spin and dive in the air does sound appealing. Lucky he had brought his stuff back from Mrs. Figg's house. He wondered briefly when he would see Sirius in full health again.

"Okay."

* * *

When Cho arrived home, appearing in her house's fireplace in a midst of emerald-green flames, her mother was sewing in the living room. She jumped up at the sight of her daughter.

"Cho! Where were you?"

"At Andrea's house, mother. I left a note at Auntie's, didn't she tell you?" Cho tried to smile innocently.

"Yes, but you should ask my permission first. Andrea, she is muggle, huh?"

Cho nodded, wondering what was wrong with that.

Mrs. Chang wagged her finger. "Muggle world, not safe. You don't know that place well. Next time, always tell me where you go. Understand?"

"Yes, mum." Cho replied nonchalently, thinking how her mother would react had she knew the truth.

"Now come here." Mrs. Chang held up her needle.

"What?" Cho stared.

"You must learn sewing, or cooking. You waste too much time on Kiddich. Not like good girl."

"It's Quidditch, mum. Please, you know I hate sewing. I don't need to know that, I'm a witch!"

"You won't get a good husband if you keep on like that, that Diggory boy was good-looking, but not rich enough, like that Jeco Malfoey--"

"Mother! How dare you say that about Cedric! He's dead. And Draco Malfoy is a slimy, stuck-up, nasty git. He, he--" Cho stopped abruptly. She almost revealed that she had met Draco at his home.

"Cho--" Mrs. Chang began, somewhat subdued.

But Cho had already ran upstairs. Mrs. Chang sighed and sat back on the sofa. This headstrong, obstinate girl--when would she learn to obey her elders? She'd never appreciate that her mother only wanted the best of her. Mrs. Chang sat thinking for some time. She'd have to find some way to cure her abnormal daughter.

Cho had thrown herself onto her bed, and lay there motionless for a while. She was angry with her mother; why couldn't she have more sense? This was twentieth century, in England, not several hundreds of years ago in ancient China. Cho thought of her friends. Their mothers hadn't been so strict on them. Then she thought of the kindly, pleasant Mrs. Weasley. It led her to think back to Harry. She had promised Hermione not to become intimate with him. Yet--Cho put her hand on her forehead--she couldn't banish him from her mind. How he looked when she said goodbye. No, she wasn't going to think more about him. He's just a younger boy with a stupid crush. Cedric was miles better, whether from the looks or mind. But why--?

A soft knocking sounded on her door. "Cho? Cho?" It was her sister, Jing.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Jing Chang bounced into the room. On her shoulder perched a small red-brown squirrel, in her arms she carried three custard-coloured furballs with long tongues, and behind her trailed a large wildcat. Cho let out a small gasp, even though she was used to her sister's habit of finding stray animals and keeping them.

"Jing! Are those--new?"

Jing smiled; a charming, blossoming smile it was. She was not as dazzlingly pretty as her elder sister, but tended toward a more adorable type. Her eyes were so bright and round and black; they seemed to be sparkling like black crystals. Her hair was short and tied up into two pigtails, and with the addition of her height (shortness ran in the family), Jing looked no more than eight or nine. But it was quite difficult to link her love for animals and beasts, whether it may be a hippogriff or rat, to her vulnerable little-girl image. Just like Hagrid. They'd make very good friends, Cho thought, when Jing starts school this year.

"Aren't they cute?" Jing said, holding out the furballs. Cho had read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. These little creatures were puffskeins, pleasant to look at, and could make calming, purring noises. She took one in her lap, though she wrinkled her nose when a drop of saliva stained her robes.

"And this?" Cho pointed to the squirrel, after using her wand to clean her robes.

"Say hello to Cho, Chipper." Jing held out the small, furry animal. "I hope there's going to be lots and lots of cutie animals at Hogwarts."

Oh yeah, Cho thought sarcastically. Imagine petting a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Don't get your hopes too high."

"I want to see Harry Potter too," Jing continued. "Have you met him at Hogwarts, Cho? Is he nice?"

Things were getting uncomfortable. "He's a normal person," Cho said briskly. "Now please, take your pet out of my room. I'm tired."

Jing's eyelids dropped, and she carried her pets ouside quietly, her head bowed. A pang of remorse stung Cho briefly as she listened to the door open and shut. Jing only wanted someone to talk to. But her own mind was too ruffled up to play with her sister. Harry Potter, no, she simply must get him out of her mind. Cho jumped off her bed and reached for her Comet Two-Sixty. Flying, now it seemed, to be the best way to refresh her feelings.

* * *

"Why didn't you let my godson stay?" Sirius Black grumbled. He was sitting up on his couch, his arms folded on his chest. The nasty greenish colour had drained from his cheeks, but big beads of sweat sparkled on his hair, face, and neck.

"Because you were unconscious, for the fifth time, Sirius Black." Mrs. Figg said from her rocking chair, where she was knitting.

"You could have waken me."

"You needed rest and relax," protested Celestine. Three fluffy white kittens were sitting on her lap.

Sirius pouted. "I hate being treated like a child."

"You will be, if you keep up that attitude." Mrs. Figg laid down a fat heavy volume, and stood up. "I'll have to warm up your potion, and get supper ready. Don't quarrel, you two."

Sirius lay back on the couch, pillowing his head between his elbows. "Bossy old hag," he remarked cheerfully. "As if we're born yesterday."

Celestine looked over at him with large, reproachful eyes. "You know she's just worried about you."

There was a pause. "And you?"

His former girlfriend flushed. "Everyone is. Look at Harry, he was practically frantic when you were poisoned, and--"

"Stop beating around the bush. You know what I'm talking about."

Celestine shrugged. "Not much. I left England--couldn't bear to stay after, after all that happened. I found a tiny little village in Switzerland, and stayed there until the wedding--"

Sirius jerked up. "Wedding?"

"My father's. He's always around travelling, doing business, so it was sort of a surprise--when he informed me he's getting married to a Spanish woman. I attended their wedding at a beautiful Spanish cathedral, and stayed there some time before I got a job. When you broke out of jail--I longed to return, but I admit, I was also afraid. You don't know how happy I was--when Dumbledore wrote me that you were innocent, and asked me to come back."

Sirius was silent for a while. "It was my fault, though. I should have never--" his voice shook "never asked James to change the Secret-Keeper."

"It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"But--"

"Please, I don't want to hear about this anymore." Celestine glared at him, which was uncanny for her angel-like face.

They listened to the rattle of pots and pans in the kitchen. Sirius suddenly grinned. "This Chang girl--you said she was pretty?"

"Prettiest little thing you ever saw."

"I bet Harry's mad for her," Sirius smirked in satisfaction. "He'd better get a girlfriend soon, or James'll be ashamed."

Celestine laughed. Suddenly she frowned, shooed the kittens off her lap, and leaped up. "Someone's eavesdropping!"

With a slight wobble in her step, Celestine hurried to the window. Mrs. Figg overheard the noise, and was out of the kitchen in a second. Sirius tried to get up, but couldn't. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the room.

Celestine peered out cautiously. There was no one outside, except for a flock of sparrows fluttering onto the roof. Behind her, Mrs. Figg frowned.

"There's no one out there."

"But I heard a noise! Very small, but I heard it. Didn't you, Sirius?"

"Well--I wasn't paying much attention--"

"Maybe it was this." Celestine had put her head out of the window. Drawing her wand, she pointed toward the pansy beds below. "Wingardiam Leviosa!"

A beautiful snowy seagull rose into the air. A small roll of parchment was tied to its scrawny, ink-clack legs.

"Gaviota! From my--my stepmother."

"Huh?"

Celestine reached out and brought the bird inside, cradling the limp body in her arms. "All the way from Spain--poor thing--no wonder she's worn out. Arabella, could you get some bread and water?"

While Mrs. Figg tended to Gaviota, Celestine opened her letter. After a brief silence, she looked up. "Can you believe it? My father has gone travelling again. And Luisa--my stepmother--is coming to England to see me." She sighed, shaking her head.