Staff of Cybele

Chapter 11: THE TRUTH COMES OUT

"You're awake too?" called Harry through the morning sunlight.

It was the next morning and as Harry awoke in bed, he saw Cho's head moving.

"Yes," she replied groggily. "Woke up a minute ago."

"Oh. I woke up just a second ago."

Harry sat upright, as did Cho, picked up his glasses and put them on. Their bags from the mall from yesterday were sitting in a corner of the room and someone had washed the scarf with the picture of that strange Muggle named Daniel Radcliffe. Hedwig was back, hooting happily in her cage and pecking the door with her beak, obviously wanting to come out. Someone must had retrieved her and put her in her cage so she wouldn't disturb Harry or Cho. There were two letters sitting next to her cage and the last thing that Harry saw was that Raides was curled up like an extravagant rug, her head on her paws.

Careful not to trod on her, Harry opened Hedwig's cage, who immediately gave off a series of loud, happy hoots, enough to wake the dead and, consequently, Raides ("Damn bird").

"I guess now that your Aunt Marge knows, there's no need to hide anything from her," said Cho, grinning.

"Yep," Harry agreed as Hedwig fluttered onto his shoulder, nipping his neck affectionately. "Think one of these letters is from the Ministry?"

"Probably one from my parents, too," Cho said, grinning more.

"Hey, don't joke about that," said Harry, turning to Cho and giving her a stern look. "That could have turned out -- a lot worse."

Cho nodded gravely in agreement.

"Oh, no," said Harry, running a nervous hand through his hair. "This one's from Dumbledore. It's not good news. He has this amazing ability to make me feel either a lot better or a lot worse. I'll read it to you."

Dear Harry,

I got wind of your travels just this morning. While I am happy to hear that you're both safe, I must insist that you stay within the confines of the Dursley home until September the first.

See you then.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"That's it?" said Harry blankly. "That's all he has to say? It's the Dursley Dream. They want to keep me miserable. I'm going to be stuck here until they die and then Voldemort's going to get me."

"Is that really their dream?" said Cho suggestively.

"What do you mean?" Harry snapped.

"What is the Dursley Dream?" said Cho, sound just as suggestive.

Harry didn't understand what she meant at all. He put the letter down and then let out his frustrations by jamming his fist through the wall leading into Dudley's room. He acted like he did nothing more than break a pen in half.

"Harry -- you broke the wall," said Cho flatly.

"And?"

"You broke -- the wall," she repeated, looking at Harry like he was going to explode any minute.

"D'you want thirty points for Ravenclaw? Leave me alone."

He shrugged Hedwig off and went to lay on his stomach on his bed, holding himself up by his elbows and then clutched his pillow.

"What's going on up there?" he heard Uncle Vernon's muffled, angry voice shout from downstairs.

"Nothing!" Cho shouted back. She then rounded on Harry and said, "What're you doing, laying there? Fix the wall!"

"You fix the wall," said Harry dully.

"Harry, come on," she said pleadingly. "I know you're going through some very rough times and --"

"No you don't," Harry snapped.

"Fine," said Cho irritably. "What DO you want me to do then? I'm trying to help you get through everything, Harry. And what the hell is wrong with you!?" she shouted angrily. "You were perfectly fine just a few minutes ago!"

"Trying to help me get through what? You can help me by leaving me alone."

Cho stormed out of the room and he heard her voice saying, "Don't go in his room. He'll probably turn you into a beetle."

As Harry listened to Cho's footsteps die away descending the stairs, the strange spell of anger leaked out of him. He buried his head in his pillow, every fiber in him angry at himself, every part of him fighting back the impulse to shed a tear, every inch of him wishing he hadn't told Cho off. Every breath he exhaled seemed to get caught in his throat or was that him failing to stop himself from shedding a tear?

"Why did you blow up on her?" came the very concerned voice of Raides.

Harry really didn't feel like answering (he didn't know either) so he just continued to lay there, taking deep, calming breaths, sniffing occasionally, a total mess.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," said Raides wisely. "Or do you like her that much?"

Harry picked his head up and turned his neck to look at the elaborate rug on his floor, still clutching his pillow. Raides was facing the door. Harry guessed that she watched Cho leave.

"No, I hate her guts. Of course I like her!" he snapped.

Raides turned around and faced her beautiful head in Harry's direction, gazing up at him. They met each other's eyes.

"She makes me --" Harry went on slowly, "she makes me feel better."

Suspecting that Harry had gone temporarily soft, Raides said, "Go on, Harry, give me the details." She wanted to smile, but didn't think it would fit the mood.

Harry turned his attention to the floor just under Raides. If he was going to give the details, it had to at least look like there was no one else in the room if he was going to be honest with himself.

"Yesterday she bought a necklace that looked like this one," Harry kept going, picking up the Order of Merlin necklace -- and feeling very unhappy that it made him slightly calmer (and so he put it back down immediately) -- and showing it to Raides. "And when I grabbed it, it -- didn't do anything. I didn't feel bad -- I felt very good -- and that was the first time it didn't do anything when I -- you know."

"No, I don't know," said Raides, knowing perfectly well.

Harry took another deep breath and said, "It doesn't do anything when I'm feeling too sad but always does no matter how happy I am. There was just something that was right -- that I... didn't need it for."

"Unless I'm mistaken, dear old Dumbledore gave you some wise words on that necklace about this very thing," said Raides suggestively.

Harry didn't say them aloud at first but they came to him immediately. "I am afraid you will have to find the distinction between feelings battling each other and knowing when you are content with yourself on your own," Dumbledore had said. These words came to Harry during a long speech after Harry had found out what had happened to Sirius last year. After a full minute's silence, he did say them aloud.

"Now, why don't you tell Cho this?" Raides asked immediately after Harry finished, raising her scarlet tail in curiosity. Harry's eyes met Raides' again for a brief moment and then he suddenly became interested in a familiar pen on his desk.

"I can't," said Harry at once. "That would be like telling her that I --" but he abruptly stopped talking.

There was a pause, and then --

"That you what?" asked Raides.

"Never mind."

"That you what?" Raides repeated loudly. "Why can't you?"

"I said never mind," said Harry even more loudly.

Raides, not wanting to further upset Harry, gave up. She wagged her tail nervously a few times, not knowing what to expect next.

"So," she said, trying to spark a new conversation.

"What?" croaked Harry, feeling thoroughly horrible.

He sat up, crossed the room, picked up his wand, pointed it at the wall and shouted, "Paries Reparo!" then watched, a dull look in his eye, while the bits of smashed wood and paint chips climbed the wall and slid back into place.

"I'd write to someone but I don't know who," Harry said gloomily.

"Why write when she's just downstairs?" Raides said.

Raides was right, Harry wanted to talk to her but couldn't find the nerve. She was down there all right, and would be for all of the coming days leading to September first. Cho hadn't been speaking to Harry much since then and he figured she might as well go home. Raides told him, just a day later, that she asked Cho why she was still staying. While Raides wouldn't tell Harry why, he had the distinct feeling it had something to do with the breakfast that was sitting in his room for him each morning ever since that day.

Harry crossed off every day on his calendar until his return to Hogwarts, looking forward to leaving the confines of Privet Drive now more than ever. One week after that day, Cho could be heard saying good morning to Harry but beyond that, it was just a nod of the head or wave of a hand and that was the extent of her acknowledgement of him. Harry felt he deserved it for having exploded on her for no reason and what further upset him was that he didn't have any reason in particular for having done so.

One or two good things had come out of recent events. Aunt Marge, whether it be fear or having had a talk with Aunt Petunia (or more likely, Raides), ceased her torture of Harry. Instead, she did the best possible thing she could do: she ignored him completely. Realizing he was right in his assumption that Cho didn't hate him completely, he watched as Cho shot Aunt Marge dirty looks when none but he or Raides could see.

One night in particular, a very, very strange conversation for the inhabitants of Privet Drive, one Harry thought would never take place, had broken out over dinner and it would appear that Cho and Aunt Petunia had sparked it. While talking about Dudley and Smeltings, the school his parents had sent him to after he finished with the first few years of public school, the conversation had slipped onto --

"Hogwarts," said Raides.

She was sitting on Harry's side, peacefully sipping a bowl of fat free milk (even magical staves that can transform into animals have to watch their diet) and munching on a dead raccoon Hedwig had brought for her. Every now and then, one of the Dursleys or Aunt Marge would take a quick, nervous glance at her. While they seemed satisfied that she wasn't dangerous, being seven feet long didn't stop her from being intimidating.

Harry kept munching on his spaghetti and meatballs, hardly daring to believe his ears.

Aunt Marge took a big gulp of her tea, wiped her mouth with a shovel-like hand and said, "Where is this -- this school?"

"Far north," said Cho thickly, munching on a pepper. "North of Edinburgh. They take a train there. Takes just about all day."

For the first time in two weeks, Harry and Cho caught each other's eye and Harry nodded at Aunt Marge in agreement with Cho.

"I remember Har- -- you, boy, saying something about platform nine and three-quarters?" Uncle Vernon said, looking strained. Raides rolled her eyes each time Uncle Vernon referred to Harry as "the boy." That, and Harry noticed that his uncle had purposely held back from saying his name. "What was that about?"

Harry, smiled, dribbling pasta sauce down down his mouth. He wiped it with a napkin and said, "You have to walk through a wall -- it's not actually solid -- and when you do, it sort of -- sort of teleports you and you're at platform nine and three-quarters."

"It works something like a Portkey, Harry," Cho said to him.

"Oh?" Harry said, interested.

"Professor Flitwick covers charms like that one in the seventh year."

Harry opened his mouth, a silent "Ahh!" escaping it, nodding.

Uncle Vernon looked between the two of them and said, "That's the first time I've seen you two --"

"Why don't you tell them what happens when first year students get there, Harry?" said Raides loudly. "I'm sure Dudley would be interested -- seeing as his parents are thinking of sending him," she added, glancing sidelong at Aunt Petunia.

"Hagrid, the gameskeeper, sees them onto boats and they float across the river up towards the castle. When they --"

"There's a castle?" said Dudley excitedly.

He seemed to forget that he didn't really like wizards and witches and Aunt Petunia seemed to be fighting back the impulse to tell off Harry. Harry, wanting to keep Dudley's excitement up, plunged into the history of Hogwarts -- or at least what he could remember from what Hermione had told him.

"The castle's a thousand years old. It had four founders. Their names were Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw -- at least I think so on those last two, hardly anyone ever mentions them." He paused for a good minute and took the time to eat more of his dinner, waiting to see if anyone was going to object to his explanation. Harry couldn't tell if the Dursleys were keeping quiet because they were interested or Harry scared them silent.

"When they were alive," he went on after he finishing chewing, "they handpicked students to be in one of their Houses to be taught by them. All of them wanted to teach students with different qualities. For example, the people in Slytherin are very nasty and devious. People in Gryffindor are" -- and he turned slightly pinkish -- "supposed to be brave and courageous. There was a lot of rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Just before all of them died, Gryffindor enchanted his hat so it can pick for them. First year students put it on and it shouts the House the founders would have picked for them and they go into that House."

"What House are you two in?" Dudley asked.

"I graduated last year," said Cho, "I was in Ravenclaw. Harry's in Gryffindor." Ignoring everyone else's presence and why she was currently angry with him, she added, "And he's very brave, aren't you, Harry?" while giggling softly.

And he turned even more pink.

"What can they possibly teach there?" said Aunt Petunia. Harry was surprised to see that she looked mildly interested.

Harry swallowed the bit of meatball in his mouth and said, "Er -- they teach you all about magic and -- er -- our -- history." Aunt Marge looked at him funny. Being Muggles, the Dursleys had nothing to do with goblin rebellions or the culture of house elves. Harry, having a father who came from a long, long line of wizards, had come from what could only be described as a different world. "Magical creatures like trolls and hobgoglins --"

"Those really exist?" said Dudley, still sounding excited and shoving a bit of bread in his mouth with a pudgy finger.

"Yes," said Harry firmly, the pink color receding from his face. "They had dragons at the school three years ago as part of a tournament. In fact, they're having that tournament again this year," he added, grinning at Cho, who, he wasn't happy to see, didn't return it.

He couldn't figure out whether it was because she was mad at him again or she didn't want him to even think of participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Dudley was looking at Harry with an expression of awe and a twinkle in his eye that Harry never saw before. He could swear Dudley would be drooling if he wasn't rapidly chewing his food.

"They usually have an inter-house Quidditch Cup -- that's a sport for wizards -- but the tournament takes up so much time they have to cancel it," Harry explained. "Er -- Aunt Marge, when I said I was going to play Quidditch, well..."

She looked at him over the top of her tea glass and understood the clue. She knew now that Harry hadn't gone to play a new sport made up by St. Brutus', though Harry still wasn't sure she was interested in seeing a game of Quidditch... And then, quite suddenly, something dawned on Harry. He was talking at the dinner table with the Dursleys... about school! He had never done that in his life, it was like they were his -- no, they weren't. Why did I even think of that, he thought bitterly. Harry kept this little revelation to himself, to be revealed at a later time and answered yes to Dudley's question about whether Harry had entered the tournament last time.

"The thing is, I didn't want to," he explained.

"You didn't want to," said Uncle Vernon flatly, "but you did anyway." It was more of a statement then a question.

"I don't want to explain it," Harry said heavily, twirling the last mound of spaghetti in his plate on his fork. "You," he added to Cho. Harry put his fork down, took a sip of his drink and pushed his plate away. His throat had mysteriously stopped working.

"It's called the Triwizard Tournament," Cho began, shifting her eyes slowly between all of the Dursleys, not noticing she was staring extra hard when turning to Aunt Marge. "They stopped holding it about a hundred years ago because the death toll rose too high. Three years ago, Hogwarts hosted it and two other wizarding schools, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute sent their headmaster and a bunch of students. This cup called the Goblet of Fire is what they use to determine who's worthy enough to be in the tournament. They obviously don't want anyone to die so the goblet is supposed to pick the most adept people, one from each school. You put your name and school on a piece of paper, stick it in the goblet and when the date, set by magic, comes, the goblet spits out the pieces of paper, one from each school, of the student's name."

By the time Cho finished the first part of her story, the Dursleys had all forgotten about their dinner and were goggling at her.

"Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang all had their champions for the tournament selected. Someone had slipped Harry's name into the goblet because they were planning to" -- and she shot Harry a half nervous, half scared look "-- kill him," she finished dramatically.

Harry distinctly saw Aunt Petunia's hand move as if she were going to cover her mouth with it in horror but she was a horrible actor and her face became painted with a fitting expression.

Cho sighed and said, "Oh I might as well tell you everything, then, because I have to if you want to know who did it and why."

Aunt Marge waved a hand, inviting her to go on and Cho plunged into the story about Voldemort when Harry was just a year old. She instinctively referred to Voldemort as "You-Know-Who" and winced when Harry had corrected her by saying the name and told them that this was Voldemort, the person who was causing all the deaths of Muggles and had done so so many years before, as well. She was keen on telling how people disappeared and all about the mass murders she had heard about and how all of this was fun to Voldemort and his followers. Cho then explained how Voldemort had been trying to rise to power again in Harry's fourth year and finally did during the fiasco of the Triwizard Cup. It then took her a good hour to explain last year's events and the story of Raides. When she finished, all of the Dursley's mouths were hanging open.

"Oooh, do I remember him," said Uncle Vernon fiercely, his face turning the usual purple. "Petunia, do you remember Charlie?"

"Charlie?" she said, her brow furrowed. "He disappeared a long time ago... Fiona said he went on vacation to Australia."

"For twenty years?" Uncle Vernon said as if his wife was stupid. "He's dead!"

That time, Aunt Petunia didn't hold her hand back from covering her mouth.

"Why don't they just kill him and get it over with?" Dudley suggested.

"Because we can't," Cho told him grimly, staring directly into Dudley's eyes and trying her very best to incite fear into him. "He's played around with being immortal. He should have died both times that curse failed on Harry. And no one knows why he wants to kill Harry or why he lived twice," she added before any words escaped Dudley's mouth.

"That's great," said Uncle Vernon angrily. "No one can kill him?"

"That's right," said Cho.

"Unless someone comes up with a miracle," Harry said, "we're stuck with him until all his follower's are caught and he's ripped from his body again. One of his followers is someone I really hate by the name of Lucius Malfoy... Most of them said Voldemort controlled them and got out of getting sent to the wizard prison, Azkaban, which, mind you, you don't even want to visit. It's that bad."

"Why not?" said Dudley disbelievingly.

"I you told you two about it, once," Harry said, looking between Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He felt his insides turn cold at the very thought. No sound escaped his throat anymore, yet his mouth was moving... Cho turned to look at him.

"It's guarded by creatures called dementors," Cho said, noticing Harry's difficulty and then turning her attention to the Dursleys. "Non-wizards can't see them but you'll still feel their effects. They make you feel like utter crap -- really bad -- and you can only remember anything bad that ever happened to you, nothing good."

And there Harry sat, sitting before the very people that helped make it possible for a dementor to cause Harry to go unconscious every time he got too near one of them.

"Can we -- er -- switch to a different subject," said Harry as a block of ice swam up and down his back.

"Ah, yes, well, it's getting late," said Uncle Vernon, looking at his watch.

Harry looked down at his golden watch and saw that it was half past eleven. Where had all the time gone?

Cho still hadn't come up to his room to sleep there. He had gotten the feeling she wanted him to say something but, not knowing the mind of a girl very well, he simply didn't know what. Harry had the crazy idea of talking to Aunt Petunia about the subject but thought, upon reflection, that part of the reason for the conversation that night was Raides sitting next to them all, keeping them utterly terrified about badmouthing Harry or, for that matter, wizards in general. He then thought about talking to Raides but forgot that she was just a staff and not a human girl by any means and writing to Hermione was just plain embarrassing. For all he knew, she was going to write to Cho's parents and tell them about it and he simply couldn't have that.

Chapter 12: MUGGLES IN DIAGON ALLEY

Another good thing came of this, though. Dudley had, to everyone's surprise, convinced the Dursleys to send him to Hogwarts. Oh, but just for a year, of course, and then not do it again the next year, no way... His aunt and uncle insisted it was because they had a money problem sending Dudley to college but Harry knew better: they certainly had no such problem, they just wanted to use Harry's gold. To further convince them, Harry offered to pay for Dudley's school supplies ("You better," snarled Uncle Vernon harshly).

Harry and Cho took Dudley to the Leaky Cauldron, Aunt Petunia having driven them there. The Leaky Cauldron was a pub, hidden by magic to Muggles who didn't know any better. The pub itself hid the entrance to Diagon Alley. One had to tap bricks in the correct order to get them to split to reveal Diagon Alley. Harry having forgotten, Raides roared at it and it opened. Cho insisted Harry take Raides with them, concealed under the Invisibility Cloak, and then let her out once they got into the Leaky Cauldron. Everyone in the pub had stopped what they were drinking, eating or talking about to look at Raides as she swept past them.

Upon entering Diagon Alley, Dudley's first instinct was to run right into the magical creatures shop and buy the first bat he saw. Harry told him to look down at his Hogwarts supplies list and point out that it said owl, cat or toad and not bat, rat or komodo dragon. Aunt Petunia cringed at the sight of the bats lining the ceiling of the shop, all sitting upside down, their small, leathery wings covering their sickly furry bodies.

After getting some money from Harry's vault at Gringott's, the wizard bank, enough for both Harry and Dudley, Aunt Petunia needed to sit for a good fifteen minutes outside on a bench to get rid of the putrid boogey color in her face. Harry knew that the carts you used to get around the vaults in Gringott's made Hagrid sick, too. Returning to the Magical Menagerie, Dudley chose a small frog that reminded Harry of a sickly green one that had contracted a deadly disease that was shown on the Discovery Channel. Dudley blessed the sickly green frog with the name Prince.

Dudley was particularly not keen on the measuring tape used in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It measured one's body all by itself. Madam Malkin said she had never had a customer as wide as Dudley and needed to get out her extra-large measuring tape as the usual one wasn't long enough. Dudley insisted he be given a different colored cloak than everyone else as black wasn't his favorite color. Harry watched, laughing silently to himself with Cho as Aunt Petunia pleaded with Madam Malkin but she said no very firmly once and that was the end of the bickering. Dudley walked out of the shop all sulky.

Harry allowed himself to be measured up for some new robes as well and then, needing dress robes for the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, pulled a Mrs. Weasley and got ones the same color she had gotten him: the green color of his eyes. The champions for each school started the dancing on the floor with their partners and then, shortly after, the rest of the students were allowed to get up and dance. Harry had asked Cho, but she had already been asked by Cedric Diggory, which left a one way road of bad feelings from Harry to him.

Harry would have happily bought Ron robes, too, but he would never let Harry spend money on him. Ron had been forced to wear frilly maroon robes that resembled a dress. He tried to trim them but did so messily, leaving the ends frayed. Dudley sniggered while Madam Malkin fitted Harry up for his new ones.

"And just so you know, anyone under fourth year isn't allowed to go unless they get a partner fourth year or up," Harry told Dudley, smiling.

"And who are you going to go with?" Dudley sneered, forgetting about Cho, who was in Harry's view, but standing behind Dudley so he couldn't see her. Harry's view automatically shifted towards her but somehow he didn't think he'd be allowed to ask her to the ball since she didn't go to Hogwarts anymore. The smile slowly melted off his face; he would certainly have to ask when the time came.

As soon as he had the dress robes safely away in a bag, Harry immediately went to buy quills, ink and parchment. Seeing as how all his quills were old and dirty, a very nice, eye-catching phoenix-feather quill caught his eye.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said the shop-keeper in a misty voice, immediately recognizing him by the lightning scar on his forehead which unnerved Aunt Petunia, "an excellent choice."

He paid the seven sickles for it and the shop-keeper (on purpose, Harry realized, as they all exited the shop) had given him another one for free, stuffing it in the bag without him seeing.

Harry's aunt was not too happy about buying potion ingredients.

"Who d'you reckon is going to be the professor for Potions?" Harry asked Cho as they stepped inside the Apothecary.

"No idea," Cho replied. "Hope it's someone nice even though I'm no longer there. I still have nightmares about Snape's classes."

Peering down, Harry saw that his list consisted of dragon toenails and a gross item that reminded him of what you get when you mix swirly brown stuff with grease from Snape's hair and smelling twice as nasty. The witch running the shop put on a gas mask, ordered them to hold their fingers over their noses, opened the big container and dumped the thick glop into a jar and sealed it with a top and Odor-Occluder Charm. Harry could still smell it, his fingers pressed so tightly over his nose it felt like he was flattening it like a pancake.

When the witch closed the container, she pointed her wand up, shouted, "Fragrodorus!" and a misty, pink cloud flew out of it. Immediately, the room smelled better and she told everyone to uncover their noses. Aunt Petunia took extra large breaths, apparently liking the new fragrance. Harry would be sure to remember this spell in case it ever came in handy and with such a potion ingredient, he didn't doubt whether he would have been stupid not to.

Mr. Ollivander, the owner of a shop by the same name, greeted Harry with a handshake but looked ready to faint at the sight of Raides. Aunt Petunia stood outside for a minute, however, gazing up at the sign saying this store had been established in 382 B.C.

"O-oh m-my!" he croaked, staring at Raides' beautiful, golden fur.

Raides launched herself onto a table and rested her head on a paw.

"You've heard of Animagi... but not Anistaffi?" she said, grinning.

Yet Mr. Ollivander kept staring at her, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes darting to a quill and piece of parchment, going through a great internal struggle. For a ridiculous second, Harry thought Mr. Ollivander wanted Raides' autograph. Aunt Petunia then walked in and seated herself on a nearby creaky chair.

"Want to me see as a staff, then?" said Raides, reading his mind.

Mr. Ollivander's pale eyes turned paler and he smiled weakly. He had spoken to Harry about the Staff of Cybele to him very fervently just last year but, like other wizards, didn't believe it existed. And now here it was, talking to him. It was like watching a baby who'd had a first taste of chocolate. Or like Ron after he had gotten an autograph from Victor Krum.

Raides stood up on the table and launched herself at Harry, turning into the enormous Staff of Cybele in mid-flight. Harry had become quite adept at catching her when she did this.

"Don't think of using her, though," Harry warned Mr. Ollivander, grinning. "She gets testy."

"She doesn't want anyone but ancients using her, correct?" said Mr. Ollivander and then he started muttering soundlessly to himself.

"Yes," said Harry.

"It's just a staff," said Aunt Petunia and then everyone stared at her.

Mr. Ollivander's attention was quickly diverted to the Staff of Cybele, though, as the crystal disappeared from the lion's mouth and Raides began speaking, the tiny little mouthing moving just as her bigger one did.

"Hun, you only wish you had fur that looked this good," she growled looking at Aunt Petunia like she was a piece of nature that was way beneath her. "I look this good at over five thousand years old. And you're what, sixty?" Aunt Petunia looked outraged and Harry and Cho were giggling. Raides sighed. "It's not all good. It's a real pain to clean all this fur... And don't you dare think of giving me a sponge bath."

Harry held Raides on her end, upright. She was easily at least two feet taller than him and would make quite a good weapon even if he wasn't going to use magic.

"Doesn't that hurt?" said Cho, looking at how Raides' tail was supporting her.

"Oh, I don't feel any pain," Raides informed her. "Ahem. Enough about me. This boy needs a wand, yes?"

"Right, right," muttered Mr. Ollivander and he swept into the back room.

Harry clutched Raides with both hands and pulled her close to his face, leaning on her. His feet were tired from walking around all day. Dudley spent forever goggling at Harry's stockpile of gold back at Gringott's and Aunt Petunia had given him a tirade on how he failed to mention he was hiding a mountain of gold from them. It was finally when Griphook, the goblin that brought them down, screamed at them to get going, saying that others were waiting to get to their vaults that they stopped at once. Aunt Petunia instinctively walked very close to Raides and Harry when she saw the first goblin inside the bank...

Mr. Ollivander returned with an armful of boxes of wands and opened one. The wand inside was a tintish of red with a purely wooden-colored handle. Short, about ten inches. He stuck it in Dudley's hand and told him to wave it. Dudley, feeling very stupid, waved it like one waves their finger in front of a television to get that stupid see-my-finger-one-hundred-times effect and was very upset to see that nothing had happened.

Mr. Ollivander opened wand after wand, stuffing sticks of wood ranging from nine inches to enormous wands that looked more like the size of a small staff, weighing in at fifteen inches. One time when Dudley waved a rosewood wand containing the hair of a veela, very beautiful women who had the strange effect on men of making them swoon, something behind Mr. Ollivander fell. Dudley thought it was his prowess at magic but it was just that, in his haste to grab as many wand boxes as possible, Mr. Ollivander had not realized that one was about to fall off of it's shelf. Aunt Petunia grabbed the wand from her son's hand, shook it violently, muttering, "stupid wood," and dropped it immediately when green and silver sparks erupted from it's tip. Harry grinned; those were the colors of Slytherin House.

"Ah," said Mr. Ollivander dramatically, "you might consider attending Hogwarts! After all, it would appear that you do have the gift -"

"No, thank you," Aunt Petunia replied shortly, sitting back down in her chair and ignoring the stifled sniggers from Harry and Cho.

After a half hour, Mr. Ollivander picked up a staff sitting on a chair, waved it at the open boxes of wands, none of them having worked for Dudley and muttered something. Instantly, all of the wands flew into their appropriate boxes and he magicked them back onto the proper shelves. Despite the fact that after what had to be fifty wands failed, Mr. Ollivander looked excited as ever, quite like he had been when Harry had been put through the same ordeal. His pale eyes glittering with delight, Mr. Ollivander strode back into the back room and out of sight.

"How long are we going to be here!" whined a hungry Dudley. "My stomach's growling and my feet hurt."

"He put me through the same thing," Harry told his cousin, stilling leaning on Raides like she were a soft, furry pole. He noticed that she had been very straight. Harry looked down and saw that her tail was keeping her perfectly still even when Harry's balance tried to tip her towards him so that they both fell over.

"So... anyone heard that one about the hag, the vampire and the phantom?" said Raides, breaking the boring silence.

Mr. Ollivander returned with another armful of boxes of wands.

Dudley spent ten minutes trying out wands before Mr. Ollivander took everyone by surprise and called him a stupid Muggle boy and showed him how to wave a wand properly. Harry had a feeling Dudley was worse than a Squib, a person born into a wizarding family with not a drop of wizard blood in them. Neville Longbottom, a boy in Harry's year blessed with a horrible memory, was one of Harry's friends and nearly a Squib. The Hogwarts caretaker, Argus Filch was completely a Squib. He couldn't do magic if you shouted "MUGGLE!" in his ear and gave him a staff.

Finally, after another ten minutes, one wand, a very strange one that Mr. Ollivander took the time to point out that no one had ever tried, let Dudley emit blue and red sparks from. It was short at eight inches, very dark-brown and made of birchwood. Only a few of them were ever made, because it's core, a dragon's eye, was a mighty hard ingredient to convince someone to use for a wand.

Dragon eye wands, Mr. Ollivander explained, were for those wizards who would otherwise have been declared Squibs. They had to squeeze the eyes to fit into the wand core and making it even harder to use as a core, the wand-maker had to prevent the juice from going anywhere but inside the wand. Further increasing difficulty was the careful Charm placed on the wand to prevent the dragon eye juice from destroying the wood. Dragon eyes had other uses, particularly potions. Harry had several dragon eyes.

"Neville's going to be happy," Harry whispered to Cho as they left Mr. Ollivander's shop.

Dudley tried to complain about his feet hurting, seeing as how Harry had been leaning on Raides the entire time in the wand shop, and seemed to be trying to convince Raides to let him ride on her back. She slapped him forcefully on the lower leg with her very powerful scarlet tail and told him to lose some weight again.

Harry peered down at his Hogwarts letter and saw that he needed a few new books and, most depressing, he needed three new ones for Divination.

A Cloudy Future by Claire Pordent

Runes As Limns Lucy Rucid

Elucidating the Myrrh by Meredith Rucid

"Lets get your books, Dudley," said Harry.

They headed towards Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore in Diagon Alley and upon entering --

"Ron!" said Harry, picking up his pace a little. "Hey!"

"Oh, hey, Harry!" Ron called back.

"Get a load of your Divination list?" Harry said, frowning, now inside the bookshop and glancing between his list and Ron's, which was exactly the same.

"Yeah," said Ron, frowning even more. "And there's a bit of a problem."

Ron, very suddenly, took his list out of view of Harry and walked over to his mother, Molly Weasley. Harry stood there for a second, watching them talk to each other so low that he couldn't make out a word of it, her patting him on the back a few times. It looked like they were almost having an argument. Mrs. Weasley noticed Harry and she looked in his direction, smiling and waving, before turning back to Ron and going back to a very serious face.

Concerned, Harry finally dropped the arm that was still holding his list up, pointed Aunt Petunia and Dudley to the first years' book section and walked over to Ron and Mrs. Weasley who abruptly stopped talking as if they didn't want Harry to hear.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry simply.

"Oh," said Ron, avoiding Harry's gaze, "nothing."

Mrs. Weasley looked sharply at Ron, put her fists on her hips, cocked her head and sighed deeply, looking at Harry. Harry blinked. She tutted.

"It's just what with the cost of getting Fire Quidditch tickets, Arthur working overtime, the expense for him traveling all around the country" -- and she sighed again and Harry understood without her finishing -- "we happen to be in a spot of trouble where money is concerned... And you know, grade seven books are usually quite expensive."

The Weasleys, having seven children, two in Hogwarts, had been strapped for money for as long as Harry knew them. Ron had been given hand-me-downs ever since he entered Hogwarts, as had Ginny, and Ron was always very uncomfortable talking about it. He knew well, though, that Harry would happily split his fortune, sitting in Gringotts, with the Weasleys but they would never accept it.

"I thought they let you go for free like they did last year and the year before?" Harry asked, confused.

Being part of the game and going with the Weasleys, the Ministry of Magic had let the Weasleys go to the game for free.

"This year," said Ron heavily, "they wouldn't because of Vol -- er -- You-Know-Who. Mr. Fudge says the Ministry's strapped for cash, too. Dad's boss is such a --"

Mrs. Weasley tugged on his arm.

"Ron!" she hissed. "Don't say such things about Cornelius! Wait 'till we get home! Don't you remember me telling you this? Then no one can quote you on it!"

Harry tried hard to stop himself from laughing. Mrs. Weasley obviously agreed the once at least partially-approachable Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had turned slightly mean in the wake of Voldemort.

"Look," Harry said, "here..."

Harry took his money bag out of his pocket, pulled out enough golden Galleons to buy both Ginny's and Ron's sets of books, put the bag back in his pocket, opened Ron's forcibly closed fist, ignored Mrs. Weasley's gaping, stuffed the money in Ron's hand and said, "Take it."

"Harry, dear --" started Mrs. Weasley nervously...

"Take it," Harry repeated firmly. "I owe you a lot, Mrs. Weasley. Almost every summer... it's the least I could do. And you don't have to pay me back."

Mrs. Weasley laughed nervously. "I insist we do," she said.

Harry then went around with Ron, buying their books. Cho hesitantly agreed to escort Dudley around to get his books. After paying, Mrs. Weasley said they had to make their way back to the Burrow as soon as possible but they didn't fool Harry. It was obvious that both of them were still feeling quite awkward, having had Harry force them to take money from him. He wished he could do it more often as he had a lot of repaying to do for the Weasleys for all the time he had spent at their house... it was, after all, the least he could do.

After splitting up with the Weasleys, Harry, Cho, Dudley, Aunt Petunia and Raides, Dudley whimpering of sore feet, they walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron, covered Raides with the Invisibility Cloak and then drove all the way back to number four, Privet Drive. Harry, Raides and Cho all agreed they had a great time in Diagon Alley. Dudley and Aunt Petunia strongly disagreed.

Getting back to Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon didn't even want to look at Dudley's new things. Aunt Marge wasn't remotely interested. But Harry was happy. September the first was only a week away and the entire time, Dudley became increasingly friendly towards Harry, a side-effect that Harry himself would probably never get used to.

September the first did come and for the first time ever, Privet Drive was awake at the crack of dawn for two of their number to head off to King's Cross and platform nine and three-quarters.

"DUDLEY, YOU BETTER HAVE PACKED THOSE EXTRA PAIRS OF SOCKS I BOUGHT FOR YOU YESTERDAY!" wailed Aunt Petunia from the laundry room to her son who was in the kitchen eating his breakfast.

"I DID, MOM!" he roared back.

Harry was keen on taking a familiar pen that was on his desk, even though at Hogwarts, you used quills and bottles of ink. It was a memento, Harry told himself for the hundredth time as he looked at it and then at Cho, knowing he would be without her for a good ten months, a memento of Cho...

"AND IF ANY OF THOSE FREAKS TRY TO GET YOU TO COME BACK NEXT YEAR, YOU REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU, SON!" thundered Uncle Vernon from the bathroom to his son who was now licking his plate clean.

"I WILL, DAD!" he shouted back.

Cho had been helping Harry pack the last of his things and in general, make sure he was ready to catch the train in time. While the Dursleys helped Dudley to get ready, Harry was left on his own to make sure not to forget anything, to pack every last bit of clothing (Cho made sure he didn't forget the clothes they bought at the mall), made sure he actually had breakfast and then made sure Raides wasn't torturing Aunt Marge.

"You do realize we're not all going to fit in the car," Harry told Cho.

"We'll manage," she assured him. "Dudley takes up three seats. We can all just sit on his lap. Either that or Raides will show you a new Reduction Charm," she said, letting out a short lived giggle.

Harry did, too. They both sighed at Dudley's expense and found themselves staring each other in the eye. Harry blinked.

"I'm gonna miss you, you know," he said.

"Oh, don't get all soppy on me," said Cho. "It's just not you. One year left and we can decide from there. You don't want to stay here the rest of your life do you?"

"Ha!" Harry said as he turned around and ushered Hedwig into her cage. "Of course not."

"You know, I've been thinking about that -- that night. The one where you..." Harry grunted to show he understood. Cho was referring to the night she said three little words to him. "I really did mean it, you know, because I do..."

Harry felt like his body was starting to freeze up again. The words echoed like a distant memory in his head. "I love you," she said to him. It was like a brick wall forming around him. His brain just couldn't accept what had reached his ears that night and it didn't look like it was any more ready to process it now, either.

"Look, if you can't tell me you do, at least show me," Cho said, grabbing Harry's arm and turning him around. "It's important to me..."

There was a slightly depressing expression on her face as she cocked her head to the side and looked unblinkingly at him.

It would have been better if she asked him to do that before bringing that other night up. His body was locked again. His mouth wasn't moving. He had become numb. And he still had no idea why other than becoming flooded with a sense of emotions... and he hated himself for it. Harry wasn't at all helped by the salt water showing itself at the edge of Cho's eyes.

Her bottom lip quivered and Harry felt her warmth before she even did it. She held him tight and he had just enough of his own strength to drop the scarf in his hand and hug her back.

It was these very actions from her that made him feel things he never normally felt but it still left him wanting. Holding her close to himself, his eyes closed and he didn't really care if she never let go. Harry quickly recalled the time he could ever recall a similar feeling. Mrs. Weasley had hugged him in his fourth year just after he had witnessed Voldemort rising after his first downfall.

His mother's face, the voice of his father, the sight of Cedric Diggory spread-eagled on the ground, dead... all of it wanted to come out and he screwed his face up in an effort to stem the waterworks. He didn't think if such a thing ever happened again that he would be so successful, until Cho said it again --

"You stupid prat!" she said, dripping tears on Harry's shoulder as she rested her chin on it. "I still love you!"

Harry broke apart from her so quickly it was rude. He picked up the scarf from the floor, put it in the trunk and shut it. In the few seconds terrible silence, he truly feared what Cho was going to say. He just hoped she would understand but he doubted that she would... Harry's eyes moved lazily from his closed trunk to Hedwig's open cage.

Cho drew in a breath and said heavily, "Fine," as she exhaled. "I don't get you! Why?"

Why, why, why did he had to freeze up!

"Fine," she said crossly. "But I'm only coming in the car with you because my Aunt Blossom is meeting me at King's Cross."

Harry picked up his trunk and turned around and saw her staring at him like a hawk. He didn't catch her eye -- he didn't even catch her head -- and walked out of the room.

Within the next ten minutes, everyone had eaten, both Harry and Dudley had packed their trunks, Dudley had put Prince in a container, complete with holes for breathing and Hedwig's cage door was closed. Cho was clearly upset and there wasn't a thing Harry could do. Though he very much wanted to say the words back to her, his mouth wouldn't contort itself to even say the first one.