Staff of Cybele

Chapter 3: THE OFFER

Harry woke up the next morning in slightly brighter spirits. Since he hadn't gone anywhere for an entire month, there just wasn't a point in getting out of pajamas -- that and he had just put them on two days ago. The Dursleys had gone back to being their rotten selves in Sirius' absence and they had now taken to becoming even worse -- he was only allowed to shower once a week ("You're wasting the water."). When Harry had told them what happened to Sirius, for Aunt Petunia had asked why he wasn't staying again, their response was a shrugging of the shoulders and a nonchalant "Oh." This had made Harry furious and he stormed back up the stairs to his room.

He opened the door to his room and walked down the stairs to breakfast. Dudley was sitting in the living room eating on the couch much to Aunt Petunia's detestment ("You're getting crumbs on the floor, Dudders. Do you mind eating on the couch, please?"). Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were finishing up pancakes and eggs in the kitchen. Like always, they didn't acknowledge Harry when he entered. Their conversation caught his interest but it wasn't anything he liked to hear...

"You're picking up Marge today, aren't you?" Aunt Petunia was saying.

"Yes. She's getting a new house. Thinking of moving here. Bad things going on lately. Says her neighborhood is bad news. Good for her. That old house of hers is ratty anyway," said Uncle Vernon.

Anything old was immediately distasteful to the Dursleys, even if it was in perfect condition. This held true for expensive things as well, which were difficult to replace. If it was old, get rid of it and if needed, get a new one. That was their motto.

Marge, or Aunt Marge, rather, as she forced Harry to call her even though she was not a blood relative of Harry's, was on his top ten list of most hated people. She was a beefy woman with a mustache, though not as thick as Uncle Vernon's. She never married. She also had no knowledge of Harry being a wizard and that was just the way Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia liked it. As such, they need excuses for why he was missing for ten months out of twelve. According to them, he goes to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. That aside, Aunt Marge still thinks Harry as such.

She once came bringing Dudley a robot toy and Harry, dog biscuits. When Harry had accidentally stepped on the tail of one of her dogs, the dog, Ripper, chased Harry up a tree. Aunt Marge had not called Ripper off until past midnight. It was this that made Harry tell himself "not again... not - ever - again." She liked to say what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person. Harry was not going to stand for this any longer, he assured himself. He has enough problems, he doesn't need her... To make matters worse, he couldn't explain to himself why she hated him so much.

Why, just three years ago, during Aunt Marge's first visit since Harry found out he was a wizard, something bad had happened. While Aunt Marge had been going on about how Harry turned out, she had made a comparison that Harry didn't take a liking to.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," he remembered clearly that she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup --"

Just as soon as she got to that, Harry had lost control. Gripping her wine glass, it shattered beneath her fingers. Thankfully, Aunt Marge had done such a thing without a wizard's help...

Only a few days later, perhaps Aunt Marge had had too much wine. Her pudgy face had become a deep red. This time, she had been going on about Aunt Petunia's cooking and then turned the conversation quickly to "healthy-sized" boys, winking at Dudley. If Dudley was healthy-sized, Harry thought, then he was happy to be an unhealthy-sized boy. She turned to Harry and said that he had a runty look, comparing him to a dog she once had drowned.

At the time, Hermione sent Harry a handbook on broomstick care. He had been using it all during Aunt Marge's stay to calm himself but it was just not working at this point...

Aunt Marge continued to mention that Aunt Petunia's sister, inconveniently Lily Potter, was a "bad egg," and that she "ran off with a wastrel" and that Harry was the result. Harry tried dearly to put the Handhook in his mind but nothing would drown out Aunt Marge's booming voice.

Aunt Marge, suddenly remembering she had never been told what Mr. Potter did for a living, asked. Very quickly, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had a look of stress upon their faces. Dudley looked up from his pie to gape at them. Something bad was going to come of any answer, Harry knew it. Uncle Vernon had then said the unthinkable, that Mr. Potter was unemployed.

"As I expected!" Harry remembered clearly that Aunt Marge had said, "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who --" But Harry quickly burst out that his dad was nothing of the sort.

Uncle Vernon had gone as white as his shirt and there was nothing but silence to be heard. Desperate, Uncle Vernon tried to pour more brandy into Aunt Marge's glass and ordered Harry to go to his room. Harry would have done so -- and very happily -- but Aunt Marge told him to stay, taunting that he was proud of his parents. She had mentioned they died in a car crash and that she expected them to be drunk...

Then, Harry would have been glad to spill the entire story.

On his feet, he burst out they didn't die in a car crash. Aunt Marge, who had entered a tirade, swelled with anger, calling him ungrateful among other things -- except the swelling didn't stop. Harry had magically enlarged her until he had ran away from the house, Hedwig's cage, his trunk and all his school things with him. He now vowed to never let Aunt Marge do that -- ever again.

"You - had - better - keep her in line," said Harry to Uncle Vernon angrily. "I've been given permission to use magic this summer. You want to see the letter?" And before he even finished speaking, Harry started towards his room, going to grab the letter Dumbledore had given him. In truth, he had been, but it was only necessary magic. Blowing up Aunt Marge would not count as necessary magic. It was a white lie, he assured himself, a necessary one.

At once, Uncle Vernon had muttered something that sounded like "fine." His voice had come through and he added, "And you're to behave, boy. And I don't want you wearing any of that -- that jewelry -- that ruddy necklace and bracelet, especially the bracelet -- during her visit, either."

Harry laughed to himself. The Phoenix Bracelet was as far from being Muggle-like as was possible. The Dursleys were just as unnerved at their first glance at it as they were of the Staff of Cybele. His mom's Phoenix Bracelet was silver, but that was where the similarities stopped. Fire swirled around the band, looking like it was engulfed in flames but it didn't burn the wearer or anything else for that matter.

It was then that Harry got a great idea. "I'll behave -- or at least try to, you know Aunt Marge -- if you let me have someone stay, too," he said, thinking of Cho. He only really wanted her to come for a day but Aunt Marge, who was apparently looking for a new house... who knows how long she would be staying... !

Uncle Vernon shot a nervous glance at Aunt Petunia. Harry knew they didn't like the idea of another wizard in the house. But they more than didn't like it, it was almost an unspeakable rule to not ask such a thing. To make matters worse, Harry had not once ever mentioned Cho. They had never, ever let Harry have someone over at the house, even when he didn't know he was a wizard (or was that because he didn't have any friends to have over?)

"Absolutely not!" growled Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia looked ready to burst out laughing at what Harry has asked.

"You don't want a repeat of her last visit, do you?" said Harry angrily. Looking at his uncle's great, purple face for an answer, he couldn't immediately tell if the workings of his uncle's brain was considering the offer.

"If there's a repeat of her last visit, there's going to be trouble, boy," said Uncle Vernon threateningly. His face turned an ugly puce color and Harry would have to think of something else to say.

What was there? What would be so terrible, so horrifying and so disgusting to the Dursleys that they just couldn't live with it?

Ah! Harry then realized. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner! "Magical Reversal only came that time because it was a bad experience for her," he went on. "They won't come if I just... oh, just show her I'm a wizard," he added, putting on an innocent grimace.

At once, it had the effect he wanted. Aunt Petunia looked simply horrified. Uncle Vernon's eyes became teeny slits of rage and Harry could swear he couldn't see out of them. But Uncle Vernon wasn't about to burst out at Harry for then Harry would surely... and they could never live with that. Instead, Harry noticed that his face had become slightly white and curled into something that was supposed to be a neutral look and not one someone gives when getting a good smell of the trash. It wasn't worth the effort either because it was painful for Uncle Vernon to keep his face like that. And his lower lip was twitching.

"Fine," said Uncle Vernon, barely moving his lips. "Who is it that you want?"

"You've never met her," said Harry. "Her name's Cho." Met was probably not the appropriate word as the Dursleys had had many encounters with wizards but were never properly introduced.

"A girl?" Aunt Petunia asked, making sure she had heard correctly. "You mean you've actually MET someone?" she added disbelievingly.

Harry felt a stab of annoyance. It just wouldn't feel right to ask Ron or Hermione to stay. Furthermore, it was embarrassing enough without anyone asking odd questions.

"Yes," Harry affirmed. And then, thinking he might as well try to start a decent conversation, he added, "We met three years ago. Spend most of our free time together. We like each other a lot and just last term, we..."

Neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia looking remotely interested, he stopped himself from going on about the three dates they went on. His aunt and uncle were horrified at the thought of having another wizard in the house, be it male or female. Normally, they would have never even considered it, but the Staff of Cybele was just sitting up in Harry's bedroom and that was the last thing they needed Aunt Marge to find out about.

Harry began to simply glow thinking about Cho. This must have shown on his face because Uncle Vernon then asked, "How can this -- this girl -- "

"Cho," said Harry automatically.

"-- get here?" Uncle Vernon finished as if Harry never spoke. It was a great conflict for Uncle Vernon. He liked to keep Harry unhappy but he couldn't live if Aunt Marge ever found out that Harry was a wizard.

That was a good question. Harry hadn't thought of that. The last time a wizard had traveled by their usual means of travel -- by fire -- the Dursleys had been most upset. However, it still brought tears of joy to Harry's eyes and made Dudley clamp his hands around his fat bottom. Dudley's first encounter with a wizard had left him with a pig tail's sticking out of his trousers and the experience had never left him.

"I'll have to write her and ask. She might want to come by Floo Powder," said Harry, smiling again. "You know, the fireplace. I don't know if she wants to come, though. I never asked," he added, suddenly feeling horrible and almost regretting he had ever mentioned it in the first place.

What if she said no? What if she felt too awkward and never wanted to see him again? What if her dad did something terrible? He would be responsible.

"On second thought," said Harry, making himself a bowl of cereal, getting ready to go back to his room, "I'll let you know later."

All of the diets the Smelting's school nurse had requested Dudley go on had failed. Aunt Petunia had since given up on trying to make him lose weight and the school has been forced to special-order Dudley's clothing. One of the side benefits of these failed diets was that Harry was able to eat slightly more. He still had his birthday cakes and so even without proper meals, he wouldn't go hungry like he had only two years before. During that summer, Aunt Petunia, to raise Dudley's morale, made sure that Dudley got more to eat than Harry.

For now, Harry tried to go back to his room but Aunt Petunia told him to eat in the kitchen because she was afraid he'd spill something on his floor. After eating, he finally got out, feeling slightly disheartened.

"You're to come down to greet her as soon as she arrives!" Aunt Petunia called to Harry's back.

Harry still did like the idea -- Sirius gave it to him -- but he was now worried that Cho would say no. Asking her to stay -- overnight -- for a so-far undetermined amount of days? What was he thinking? Even if she just stayed for an hour... And it would have been like celebrating his birthday all over again like he had last year at a Fire Quidditch game. This year's, with Voldemort lurking around, had been postponed. Madam Hooch told Harry he would get a letter telling him the date if he wished to play and he quickly told her there was no question that he would want to play again. Harry was looking forward to it, despite the fact that it's, well, a very dangerous version of Quidditch.

The enhanced version of the most popular sport in the wizarding world attracted half a million wizards and witches worldwide last summer, most of whom just wanted to see Harry play. The International Ministry of Quidditch thought it would be a nice birthday present to make the game Harry was to play in on the thirty-first of July -- his birthday. Fire Quidditch was exactly like normal Quidditch except the Bludgers get replaced by speeding fireballs, the Quaffle gets bewitched to gain unnatural speed when thrown, capable of reaching the sound barrier of about seven hundred miles per hour and the Golden Snitch, renamed the Spiked Snitch, is laden with sharp knives. It's the Seeker's responsibility to prevent his or herself from getting gored.

Year to year for a long time, the rules went under constant change to prevent deaths. Only two teams ever competed in Fire Quidditch: England and the United States. It seemed that the United States' players were just crazier and so for one hundred years, England did not stand a chance against them. It took Harry, during a game two years ago, to beat the United States.

At one point, Fire Quidditch, due to it's high death count, had been banned worldwide but was brought back due to popular demand. It wasn't until last year when not a single person was injured that the rules weren't changed from the previous year. Harry had an itching feeling they were going to change them this year to make it more dangerous.

Up in his bedroom, Harry heard the front door of the number four open and then close. Uncle Vernon would be returning with Aunt Marge soon enough. He rummaged around his room, stuffing his Order of Merlin necklace and the Phoenix Bracelet (which his mom had once owned) into a drawer, looking for a quill and parchment. Should he ask Cho right out? Should he sent a letter to Ron or Hermione first, asking if he should even bother? Or should he just forget it altogether and sit, bored, waiting for Aunt Marge's return?

Harry grabbed the parchment and eagle-feather quill and sat at his desk, thinking of who best to send a letter to first. Ron, Hermione, Cho... Ron, Hermione, Cho... he just couldn't think straight. How had he gotten himself into this mess in the first place?

He banged his right fist on the desk, quill in hand, resting his chin on his other palm. No fantastic ideas coming to him, he stared at his calendar where he crossed off days waiting for his return to Hogwarts for his final year. He wasn't very excited about leaving: where would he go? Would Harry stay at Privet Drive until someone could get him a job and a house somewhere else? He shook his head, letting that thought fall out of it and then wrote Dear Cho without thinking. Noticing his mistake, he scribbled out Cho's name and wrote Hermione next to it -- also without thinking. Fine, it would go to Hermione.

Taking several, long minutes to write, rewrite, cross out and edit his letter, he finally marveled at it and read it all back to himself:

Dear Hermione,

I got myself in a predicament and I thought you could give me some advice. My Aunt Marge is coming to stay. You remember her, the one I blew up? She's looking for a new house because her old one, she says, is too old. Rather, she's afraid Voldemort will turn up and kill her so she's staying here at Privet Drive and I don't know for how long.

Anyway, I made a deal with my uncle that I'd try to behave if I could have someone stay, too. They weren't to keen on the idea at first, mind you, but they agreed to it after I threatened to blow her up again. The first person that came my mind, no offense, was Cho. I didn't ask her beforehand and I'm afraid to send her a letter mostly because I have this feeling she'll say no or feel too awkward or something and never want to speak to or see me again. And I don't want that.

I don't know what else I want but I just know that if I'm forced to stay under the same roof as Aunt Marge for another month, you should expect to not see me at Hogwarts in September because I just might blow her up again. I'll be known as Harry "Blew His Aunt Up Twice" Potter.

Help.

Very distressed,

Harry

Satisfied, he turned to Hedwig, who looked up at Harry importantly.

"I need you to send this to Hermione for me," he said to her.

Harry opened Hedwig's cage and she fluttered pleasantly onto his desk, sticking her leg out so he could attach the letter to it.

"Aunt Marge is coming again," he went on. "I reckon you're going to have to disappear again but I don't know how long this time." At this, he saw a distinct, unhappy droop to her tail feathers. "I'm going to miss you more than you're going to miss me, Hedwig," he assured her.

Harry attached the letter to her leg with a small bit of string he conveniently kept in his desk. She flew onto his arm, staring at the closed window.

"Come right back here once you've given it to her. I might be able to convince them to let you stay."

Harry walked towards the window and opened it then watched with a dull look on his face as the sky became Hedwig-less. Not a moment later had the front door opened and closed again, indicating Aunt Marge's timely arrival.

"Petunia!" she boomed happily. Her voice carried all the way from the front door up to Harry's room, through his closed door. "How nice to see you again!"

"Here we go again," said Harry darkly to himself as he stuffed the Staff of Cybele under his bed. He half wanted it to spring to life on it's own and transform into a lion so it could horrify Aunt Marge but the thought of seeing Cho suppressed the urge. That, and the staff didn't spring to life until he held it... He started down the stairs and as soon as he reached the bottom, he was pulled aside by Uncle Vernon.

"She saw your ruddy owl leaving your room when we got back!" he hissed, spit flying from his mouth (all of which missed Harry by inches). "What did I tell you!"

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack," said Harry coolly, already having an excuse for her in his head. "What did she think it was?"

"A stray! You get rid of that owl while she's here, you hear me?"

"So tell her it was a stray. The big deal is... ?"

Anything Uncle Vernon was going to say was cut short -- Aunt Marge spotted Harry. She forcefully thrust her bags into his arms, clearly wanting to knock him back. Strangely, for so much force behind it -- and it surely would have done so had this odd something not have happened -- Harry did not budge. Rather, he stood as rigid as a statue.

Harry didn't try to do it, he was just aware that it happened. It wasn't the first time; once before had something like that happened: Harry had seen that Sirius was lying in a hospital bed, almost completely soul-less. Dumbledore tried desperately to hide this from Harry and upon first seeing, Harry stood just as stiff with shock and horror as he had just a moment ago. They could not move him at all until someone managed to slip a Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion, down his throat.

No one trying to notice this, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat loudly and said, "Marge, dear! Where have you been looking!" And Aunt Petunia's eyes thinned in disgust as she caught sight of one of Aunt Marge's dogs. Namely, Ripper. Not that she didn't like the episode where Ripper chased Harry up a tree, it was that she didn't like animals. Hedwig was certainly no exception to this rule, nor, mind, would be a seven foot lion.

Aunt Marge seized Dudley in a one armed hug, only to have Aunt Petunia shove a twenty-pound note in Dudley's fat fist when they separated. His mom and dad paid him for this, as they didn't want Aunt Marge to think both of the children in their household were vile. Nevertheless, Aunt Marge treated Dudley like a king next to Harry.

Upon being able to escape to his room, Hedwig had not yet returned and he disliked the fact that he would be forced to have the first of many dinners with Aunt Marge.

"Doing good in school, are you, Dudley?" boomed Aunt Marge that afternoon.

Dudley nodded, beaming. Harry groaned silently.

"Just finished his last year at Smeltings," said Aunt Petunia in such a proud voice that it made Harry feel sick.

"I'm going to Surrey Community College in September," said Dudley.

Aunt Marge smiled pleasantly, grabbing her glass of wine and taking a swig from it. Then she rounded on Harry. Hermione's letter, he assured himself, is going to tell you exactly how to ask Cho.

"And you," Aunt Marge snarled. "Where is it you go again?"

"Saint something," said Harry, pretending to forget so he could put Uncle Vernon on the spot.

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," Uncle Vernon said quickly.

"On my last year," said Harry trying to sound pleasant. "They gave Aunt Petunia a seven foot-long cane. You should see it. It's under my bed --"

"And he's had steady progress since your last visit," said Aunt Petunia hastily. Uncle Vernon looked at Harry, looking almost ready to scream. Harry was accomplishing what he wanted. He was hoping that if he could put enough pressure on them, he wouldn't have to be in Aunt Marge's presence so often.

"Get him through that school, Petunia," said Aunt Marge while still looking at Harry, who avoided her gaze, "and send him off. He doesn't need to stay here anymore afterwards. You're bad news, you know that, boy."

Harry, who had been tending solely to his dinner looking down at it, flicked his eyes up and looked at Aunt Marge through the top of his round glasses without moving his head. He would have dearly loved to say "This family is bad news, the whole lot of you, just because I'm a wizard. I had a nice family but they were so viciously taken from me," but a loud bang that sounded like it had come from his room averted everyone's attention. While Aunt Marge turned to look in the direction of the staircase, Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stared at Harry.

"Excuse me," said Harry at once, wiping his lips with a napkin and swiftly rising from his seat.

"Sit down, boy," snarled Aunt Marge. "I'm not finished with you!"

"Yes, but I'm finished with you," said Harry angrily, surprised by own his words. "Bye."

As Aunt Marge lifted herself from her seat, Harry turned around to see what she was doing and then started towards the stairs again.

"I said come back!" roared Aunt Marge. Harry stopped walking, only a few feet from the stairs, and started to feel himself shaking with anger.

He tried to stop his fists from clenching. Dudley dropped his fork. Aunt Petunia looked mortified.

"You ungrateful, insolent little -" boomed Aunt Marge.

Instantly, Uncle Vernon, who had gone so white it looked like someone had bleached his face, broke into nervous laughter, saying, "Marge, dear, let the boy go! St. Brutus' suggests to let them do their own thing sometimes! It works to your advantage!"

There was a nasty silence. Harry continued to stare at the staircase and was still not moving. Dudley, who no one could see, had his mouth hanging open, a bit of drool on his bottom lip.

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon," Harry heard himself saying listlessly, staring blankly at the stairs. He swept up the stairs towards his room, his anger coming with him.

Some of the color managed to find it's way back into Uncle Vernon's face. Aunt Petunia swallowed. The two of them knew perfectly well that they had narrowly avoided a very serious disaster.

Up in his room, at once he found out what the sound was. Hedwig was just outside his closed window, tapping it with her beak. Harry hurried over and opened it. Hedwig flew in and managed to make it to his bed before falling, bottom side up, out of the air onto it. She looked very tired. Harry then turned Hedwig upright, fixing the feathers that were sticking up in the wrong direction. It looked like she flew as fast as she could, recognizing the urgency of the situation.

Harry bit his lip and removed the letter tied to Hedwig's leg. Nervously, he unfolded it and read.

Harry,

Hedwig was more than happy to send a letter to Cho for me so if she's a little tired, that's why. She came back with a reply very quickly, mind you.

Anyway, just as I did, Cho thought it was cute that you didn't want to ask her directly.

Harry's ears went pink.

I asked for you because I know you, you won't ask for at least a week and you need to do something or you might just be known as Harry "Blew His Aunt Up Twice" Potter. Cho's dad was none to happy about it but in the end he agreed. I think it was a good idea I asked because her dad now has the impression you're shy and that you're not such a bad guy after all. At least that's what I got from her letter. She said that he was about to scream but suddenly stopped and said "He was too embarrassed to ask directly?"

Then they went a nice, light shade of red.

I'm so glad for you two, you know that. As far as how long she can stay, her mom happens to trust that you're a nice boy and won't treat her bad. That and I'm pretty sure she wants to be able to say her daughter's boyfriend is Harry Potter.

And then Harry's entire face went scarlet.

So yes, she can stay with you up until September. For now, Cho wants you to write to her telling her when she can come (tomorrow even, if you like). She can get close to your house by Floo Powder and they have a friend in your neighborhood that can drive her the rest of the way so your aunt and uncle don't get upset, not to mention Aunt Marge.

Hope you have a great summer,

Hermione

Looking not unlike a freshly picked apple, Harry was so happy to hear this excellent news that if he could Disapparate, he would go to Hermione's house and kiss her. He was excited. He'd never had a friend over. He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Chapter 4: THE LATENT WIZARD

Harry's happy thoughts were then brought back to Earth with an unpleasant thump.

"YOU WHAT!" boomed Aunt Marge from downstairs.

Harry guessed that Aunt Petunia had told her she was allowing him to have a friend over. Did she tell Aunt Marge it was a girl?

"AND WHERE EXACTLY DID HE MEET THIS GIRL?" he heard Aunt Marge yelling. "COME DOWN HERE, BOY!"

Smiling, Harry quickly stuffed Hedwig in her cage and hid her in the closet and then shoved Hermione's letter into his drawer. Still feeling the effects of Hermione, he strode happily downstairs, saying, "I have a name, you know. It's Harry."

"I don't like your tone, boy --" Aunt Marge snarled but Harry corrected her again.

"Harry," he said coolly, stopping at the bottom stair. Aunt Marge was a foot in front of him, looking at Harry like he was gum on her great big shoes.

"And don't you talk back to me," she growled, spit flying from her mouth. "You've not improved much, I see. It's a surprise to me any girl could ever like you."

Behind Aunt Marge, Aunt Petunia watched as Harry's face went from smiling to angry in less time than it took you to say "crap." Aunt Petunia was giving a look of distress -- even she knew Aunt Marge had gone too far. Harry liked Cho very much and it bordered on... something else. He put his hands behind his back so no one could watch his fists clench. A surge of anger rising made it very painful to keep a straight face. An unfortunate side effect was that he stopped blinking, giving him a threatening look.

"We like each other a lot," Harry replied, trying for dear life to hide his anger. He didn't care much for what Aunt Marge would say back to him and so then he said, "And I don't want you to touch her, she might catch something."

Aunt Marge's hand was shaking as if she wanted to use it but something seemed to be suppressing the movement. For a wild moment, Harry thought the Memory Charm placed on her had failed but then she would have known that Harry doesn't attend St. Brutus'.

Aunt Petunia was turning blue as she held her breath. Dudley had now successfully drooled on the table. Uncle Vernon was the color of sour milk.

Harry finally dropped his menacing look, finally blinked and tried to sound at least slightly more pleasant. "I have to call her," he lied. It wasn't a total lie; he had to send her a letter. "A family friend will be driving her here."

Immediately, Harry took note of Aunt Marge's hair being ruffled as Aunt Petunia exhaled. Her face turned a deep red as fresh blood entered it. The only thing keeping Harry from bursting was Cho and it wasn't going to last much longer if this kept up.

"Go on then, boy. Call her now," Aunt Marge demanded. "I want to hear this!"

Harry's shoulders tensed up, he suddenly felt very hot and Aunt Petunia's face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. What Aunt Marge didn't know, and the Dursleys could easily guess, was that Harry didn't have a telephone number for Cho. Aunt Petunia, who obviously suspected something like this, didn't stop her magical facial color changes and went as white as Uncle Vernon.

"I -- er --" Harry stammered. He just didn't know what to say

"Well? You want her to come, don't you?" spat Aunt Marge.

Aunt Petunia, sensing more danger, said quickly, "St. Brutus' also suggests to give them some room. Better for their minds. Allows them to relax." Aunt Marge, too thick to see through it, bought Aunt Petunia's very noticeably fake smile. "Come, Marge, I'll help you get into your room."

Was it possible, thanks to Sirius, that Aunt Petunia was on the verge of -- or at least at showing signs of -- becoming slightly, minutely, perhaps a teensy bit like a real aunt?

"Nah," Harry thought aloud dismissively when he reached his room.

"Lock the door," Aunt Petunia hissed quietly when Aunt Marge was preoccupied.

Harry had no objections. He then pulled out his eagle-feather quill and two pieces of parchment, loaded up his quill with ink and wrote quickly.

Hermione,

Thank you so much, you have no idea how happy that letter made me. I really owe you one. Aunt Marge insulted both me and Cho, going on about how she wonders no girl could ever like me. Just when I was about to blow her up again, my real aunt came to my rescue which was very strange.

I'm sending Cho a letter, too. Hedwig's going to carry both for me and I hope she's up to going again. If not, I'll send them in the morning. Just do me one last favor and don't read the letter to her?

Thanks a bunch,

Harry

He folded it up, and to make it very obvious that it was for Hermione, wrote HERMIONE, OPEN THIS ONE FIRST on it. He didn't know what he was going to put in Cho's but he would just rather it was solely between her and himself.

All he wrote was Dear Cho and then stopped. Maybe it would have been easier if he wrote to her first, but with the thought of her thinking it was "cute" that he was too shy to write to her first, his hand just didn't want to seem to write "Thank you."

Aunt Marge booming about buying Dudley presents for his birthday present, which he heatedly reminded her that she forgot about, was not helping. Dudley was also going on about graduation presents. Smeltings held a huge graduation party at a nearby football field. Harry was forced to spend the entire two hours on his feet as all of the chairs were taken. It was no help that it was held outside in the sweltering heat.

And for once, he was dressed in clothing that fit him perfectly. Aunt Petunia had rented a suit for Harry -- the cheapest one she could find. She didn't want it to happen, but Harry ended up being in plenty of pictures and she couldn't live with herself if he looked like a wild animal in horrible home-made clothing... That and the only thing Dudley had that would even remotely fit Harry would make him look like he had lost fifty pounds in one day.

During Dudley's graduation ceremony, Harry's feet started to hurt beyond the threshold and he could no longer restrain himself: he began to float a barely noticeable amount off the ground, relieving his feet greatly. The only point at which someone noticed something was when a rather thick spider walked under him.

Harry spent good half hour of writing his letter to Cho and crossing things out so not a word that he didn't want her to see could be deciphered. For some reason, his hand was shaking. Was it because Aunt Marge was in the same house as him again or was it because he felt nervous, for some reason or another, writing to Cho? Perhaps the latter because his face was red the entire time. When Harry thought he was finished, he read the letter back to himself.

Cho,

Thanks.

A lot.

So, how about Monday? I need a few days to tell my aunt and uncle everything they need to know, whatever that is. I'm going to make up a story about both our parents just in case Aunt Marge gets curious again and try to stick it as close to what they all really do as I can so it's not so crazy. I'll tell you all about it when you get here. Let me know if Monday is okay.

Thanks again,

Harry

He didn't care for not sounding like a hopeless romantic -- Hermione had already done a good job of giving that impression to Cho's parents. But then he suddenly realized he would have to consult Aunt Petunia on the day Cho could come. Harry crumpled the note in his hand and without throwing it out, opened the door and looked around for Aunt Petunia. Her voice came to his ears and it sounded strangely like her and Uncle Vernon were in the cupboard under the stairs.

He walked down for a better listen. They weren't in the cupboard and in fact his ears had horribly deceived him: they were just outside the patio door. When Uncle Vernon had said something that sounded a lot like "Secret-Keeper," Harry stopped dead for a better listen.

"And that is?" growled Uncle Vernon.

"It's why they don't want him staying anywhere else over summer vacation," Aunt Petunia snapped. "If he does, then that Voldemort person will be able to find him. Goodness knows I wish they didn't dump him on our doorstep but I don't want him dead."

"Then why don't they mind it when we send him to someone else's house?" Uncle Vernon growled again.

"Voldemort wasn't living, that's why. Now that he is, we can't - send - him - anywhere!"

"And how did you find this out?"

Harry moved as close as he could without being seen.

"Read this," said Aunt Petunia, almost as a whisper. There was a few moment's silence, and then --

"OH, PETUNIA!" shrieked Uncle Vernon.

"Yes!" she shouted, irritated. "That was my reaction! Dudley! Our son! He said that... that I had it but it just never showed. Dudley caught it."

"What are we questioning? It's simple. He's not going to that - that..."

"They think it's a good idea if he just went for a year --"

"No! Petunia, one is enough. What do you keep telling me you thought of your sister?" Uncle Vernon spat. Aunt Petunia didn't reply. "Did you tell him?" said Uncle Vernon, breaking the silence.

"How can you even think I want Dudley going?" said Aunt Petunia, slightly calmer. "He doesn't know and neither does Harry."

Harry grinned.

"I don't understand. They want Dudley to go for a year just to see if he... LIKES IT?"

"They already know he finished normal school and he's supposed to attend college in September."

"Why are we even having this conversation!" said Uncle Vernon suddenly. "No! No! NO!"

Thinking quickly, Harry made himself seen and ignoring the horrified looks on their faces, he said, "Dudley got a letter, eh?"

"What's it to you?" snarled Uncle Vernon, his beady eyes fixed maliciously on Harry.

"Dudley's not going to be able to control it unless he's taught how to," said Harry grimly. "He has been doing random things like I used to be, hasn't?"

Uncle Vernon, if possible, looked even more strained. As all supposed-Muggles did before they knew they were a witch or wizard, Dudley had no doubt been unable to control himself and perhaps randomly showed a display of magic.

"A teacher of his was showing him a paper he got back," said Uncle Vernon, "and he turned the grade of one into one-hundred before her eyes -- without a pen or pencil. She sent him home saying he was playing with magic tricks!"

"One of the first things they do at my school is show you how to keep it under control," said Harry, grinning broadly. He tutted loudly as Hermione would and gave them a very noticeably fake sigh while turning to go back to his room.

"He's not going!" Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs.

"Who's not going where?" boomed Aunt Marge.

"Nothing, Marge, nothing."

Having almost completely forgotten about Cho in Dudley's drama, Harry doubled back downstairs.

"When's the earliest Cho can come?" he asked Aunt Petunia.

"She's coming by car, you said?" she asked, glancing sidelong, suspiciously, at Harry.

"Yes," Harry replied pleasantly, hoping to get the answer he wanted ("whenever you want").

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth as if to say something, let out a grumble, then closed it.

"Whenever you want," said Aunt Petunia.

Overcome with joy, Harry surprised himself by hugging Aunt Petunia and then striding happily back up the stairs. She stood frozen for a moment, watching him go. Upon reaching his room, Harry unfolded the parchment still clutched in his hand. He pulled put a fresh piece and copied it so he could send it -- he didn't want Cho to think he was sloppy.

"Hedwig?" he said, opening the closet. She was resting her head under a wing. "Feeling up to another journey?"

She turned to look at him and gave a low hoot that clearly said "not yet."

"Want some cake? It still tastes good. I don't have any bacon for you, maybe tomorrow."

Hedwig nodded and Harry opened the loose floor boards under his bed where he hid most of his important things, namely his supply of food. He dug a hand into it, pulling out just enough for Hedwig to be able to finish and put it onto a tissue. Hedwig fluttered down onto the floor and Harry set the cake and tissue on the floor for her to eat.

It was then that Harry realized every one of his friends had been so kind to him since the end of the last term. He just hoped that he would get to say thank you to Dumbledore for killing Voldemort this year. But, being Wednesday evening, Harry wanted Monday to come as fast as possible.

The next morning, Hedwig felt ready to go deliver Hermione's and Cho's letter and so after waiting until dark, giving her a strip of bacon and checking that Aunt Marge wasn't outside, she was off. Harry quickly set out to make up stories for his and Cho's family in case Aunt Marge happened to ask.

He decided that both his mom and dad worked at a hospital as doctors and Cho's dad was policeman, her mom, a shopowner. It fit... mostly. Harry informed his aunt (the real one), uncle and cousin of this as soon as he could and they quickly agreed to stick to it.

Time seemed to have a bad habit of going an order of magnitude slower when someone wanted it to speed up. The hours on Thursday seemed like entire days and it had been an entire week since Hedwig returned with a letter from Cho and someone else. He happened to pull off Cho's note first.

Harry,

No problem, really. I've been waiting to get out of the house all summer. I'll be there a little after two on Monday, going to eat lunch first. My Aunt Blossom is driving me. She's a witch but she's very good at disguising herself as a Muggle.

My parents wouldn't let me go anywhere because of You-Know-Who. Did you hear about those five Muggles who got killed in a shopping center? How horrible. I'm starting to see how bad it was when he first was in power. And Harry, you're not thinking of going after him, are you?

See you soon,

Cho

Harry never had any thoughts of going after Voldemort by himself because that would be just like throwing himself in front of a large, three-headed dog, Hagrid the Hogwarts gamekeeper, once owned. This vicious beast had been christened Fluffy and had taken a large chunk out of Hagrid's leg just last year. Harry had come to the rescue by killing it and repairing the damage on Hagrid's leg with his mother's Phoenix Bracelet, a bracelet that happened to be able to heal severe wounds.

Harry opened the second letter and read it.

Potter,

This year's Fire Quidditch game is again being held in the same place as usual. I've been given the date of August the fifteenth. Some rules have been changed this year and they are as follows:

There are now four Bludgers

You can disable them however you want and obviously, you have to

There are now two Spiked Snitches and both must be caught

The team with the most points when both are caught wins

You can disable the spikes on the Snitches however you want (bat, club, wand, hand, whatever, though we prefer not your hand as the medic witches can only repair so much damage and, needless to say, it will hurt as those blades spin very fast)

There will be a fifteen minute intermission when the first Spiked Snitch is caught

Catching the Snitch is still worth one hundred and fifty points

It seems they felt last year's game wasn't dangerous enough and it must be because of you that there are two Snitches and both must be caught. Do try to keep your extravagance down this time. Arthur Weasley is going to pick you up by car (yes, we know your adoring Aunt Marge is there) on the thirteenth. Miss Chang, obviously, can come, too.

I think the only reason this game can be held is because of the Staff of Cybele. Please bring it along with you.

The United States beat Germany and so England is playing them. The United States is a push-over this year. We're going to win.

Cheers,

Madam Hooch

Grinning, Harry told Hedwig to clear off to Ron's, giving her another letter. Harry then brought Madam Hooch's letter to his aunt and uncle when Aunt Marge was busy booming about her dogs that she had to leave with Colonel Fubster to Dudley. The only reason Dudley listened to this speech was because he knew he would be getting a twenty pound note when she was finished.

Aunt Petunia was happy to hear that she would be rid of Harry and Cho for three days as was Uncle Vernon. They would explain the situation to Aunt Marge that Harry was on a sports team for St. Brutus'. Aunt Marge didn't believe it. When Harry threatened to get his sports equipment (namely, his Dragonback and Quidditch robes, which thankfully, were the same color as England's Fire Quidditch robes), Uncle Vernon hastily said that he once went to a game and found it interesting. Feeling Harry pinch him in the side and trying to keep his face smiling, he somewhat proudly added that Harry was the star player. She didn't believe it.

The evening before Cho's grand arrival came. Aunt Marge had sent Ripper to go play with Dudley, who had finished his dinner very, very fast. Harry thought that he couldn't stand any more talk of Cho and had the crazy idea that Dudley hadn't talked to any girls. It wasn't much surprise. Who would like someone who had once achieved what they've threatened to do since they were little and become wider than they were tall?

"This girl -- what's her name again? -- what's she like?" Aunt Marge asked curiously. For once, Harry had no problems talking to Aunt Marge. Rather, he was glad the conversation wasn't clearly going to find a way to insult him.

"Cho and she's smart, popular and I like her a lot," said Harry proudly. "She's coming to watch me play."

"I see," said Aunt Marge, narrowing her eyes. Harry could honestly not see where she was going. "And where did you two meet?" she asked as if Cho was nothing more than an imaginary friend.

"We -- er -- met at a... a game. Two years ago." Harry made a mental note to tell Cho this tomorrow. "Been seeing each other every summer ever since..." he added, staring at Uncle Vernon, then Aunt Petunia, both of whom nodded to accept the story.

Monday morning arrived and Harry had woken up to see that the sun had not fully come up yet. The walls of his bedroom were a shade of orange, the sky, a dull pinkish. He groped around for his glasses and put them on and sat up, forgetting about the notion of getting any more sleep. Harry took a minute to assess his current situation and decided it wasn't that bad, especially when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't had that awful dream since his birthday.

Feeling an overpowering urge to wear the Order of Merlin necklace, he had an idea so that Aunt Marge would never know what it really was. He crawled off his bed and grabbed the Staff of Cybele. It sprang to life, the crystal disappearing, and immediately he heard the familiar, soft voice speak in his head.

"Well, hello there."

"I think it's about time I see how powerful you really are," Harry said in his head.

"Oh? What is it?"

Harry pulled the staff out from under his bed and locked his door then held up the Order of Merlin necklace.

"This," he said. "Is it -- er -- possible you can take the plaque off and later be able to stick it back on without damaging it at all?"

"Of course! I specialize in defacing -- er, sorry -- modifying jewelry. Hold it up and point me at it."

Harry did as he was told and was shocked at what had happened. The crystal, which had reappeared and was glowing a soft white, emitted one, thick ring of white light that widened, extending down the length of the staff until it looked like the entire staff was glowing. A soft, deep hum seemed to be produced by the white glow. The glow then rose up the staff, bunching up at the crystal, forming a huge ball. As soon as none of the glow remained on the staff except at the crystal, the white ball escaped the crystal and hit the plaque, which then fell to the ground, looking like it had never been attached in the first place.

"Wow," said Harry aloud, amazed at not only that it worked but the cool special effects of his staff.

"You'll get used to it after a while," said the staff in his head. "Just hold both of them in your hand and tell me when you want to reattach it. Have a good time with Cho," it added, the lion's mouth grinning broadly, the crystal having disappeared again.

"Hey!" said Harry, turning red. "How did you know? You don't come to life until I hold you!"

"I can see it in your eye," said the staff, laughing. "Why else would you feel like holding that plaque?"

Harry, feeling slightly guilty, said, "Well, thanks. Sorry about having to keep you under the bed, but..."

"It's all right. I quite like bed bugs." Harry couldn't help but laugh quietly. "You just watch yourself during that Fire Quidditch game. It's a good thing Dumbledore suggested you bring me along. Goodness knows Lord Voldemort wouldn't dare touch you with me around, especially when I'm morphed into a lion."

"I don't think -- anyone -- would dare touch me with a seven foot lion breathing down their neck," said Harry, giggling.

He sighed and looked around his room again; the orange was slowly fading into white.

"Time for you to go, Raides," Harry told his staff and it went lifeless. He stuffed the Staff of Cybele under his bed and out of sight then got dressed and tried fruitlessly to make his untidy hair lie flat. A comb didn't work and so forgetting about the notion of grooming himself, he sat in bed until breakfast came, thinking of what he could possibly do for a month with Cho. This tragic reality hadn't occurred to him and the most they could do inside the house was sit in his room and talk. The mere thought terrified him...

Maybe they could think of ways to convince Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon of sending Dudley to Hogwarts?