Storm Clouds

Hogsmeade

**~**~**~**~**~**

The village of Hogsmeade lay under a blanket of sparkling frost, the first of the year. The sky, however, was a brilliant blue with not a cloud in sight. It was an ideal day for strolling the streets, lounging on the green, or sitting outside The Three Broomsticks with a warm butterbeer.

"So, what shall we do first?" Ron asked.

Harry made a move to glance at his watch before remembering he no longer had one. Even months later he hadn't broken himself of the habit. Of course he hadn't been able to replace it while with the Dursley's, but in the wizarding world, where galleons, sickles and knuts had value, he could well afford to do so.

"Let's find a shop where I can get a watch," he said. "Its been driving me crazy since my last one broke in the lake."

They made their way to Gladrags, the famous wizard wear shop. Hermione disappeared into the clothing racks and was shortly heard giggling with Lavender and Parvati. Ron shook his head as he walked off toward the section reserved for Quidditch gear, leaving Harry along at the jewelry counter.

"May I help you, young man?"

Harry started. The clerk at the counter was an older, matronly woman, with a pleasant smile and rosy red cheeks. He found himself smiling in return. "I'm looking for a watch," he said, stepping closer to the displays.

"Of course. Muggle or Wizard?"

Harry was surprised. "Do you have Muggle wristwatches?"

The clerk grinned. "We keep a small supply, especially for students who are Muggle-born. It takes some time to get used to the difference."

"Why not a hybrid?" another voice interjected.

Harry turned to the newcomer and felt his jaw drop. It was Pansy Parkinson, a snub-nosed Slytherin girl in his year. He couldn't ever remember seeing her more than five feet away from Malfoy, let alone talking to him in a mildly pleasant fashion. It made him suspicious.

"A hybrid?" he asked, careful to keep his voice steady.

Pansy nodded. "They're enchanted like a wizard's watch. But you can add ordinary Muggle hands to it so it can tell plain old time. You don't have to change the face, since you know where the numbers are supposed to be." She pushed up her sleeve and displayed the watch on her wrist. "Like this."

Harry looked closely at the watch. It had regular hands, including a second hand, and displayed the date. Around the face were phrases like Home, At School, At Work, In Peril, just like the wizard clock at The Burrow. Pansy's had only three special hands; Mum, Dad, and Patricia. All three pointed to At Home. Harry glanced up at her.

"Patricia?" he asked.

"My little sister. She'll be starting at Hogwarts next year."

"How did you. . .?"

"Know about these watches?" Pansy asked. She smiled slightly as she pulled her sleeve back down. "My father invented it. He took a regular Muggle watch and adapted it into this. With the full consent and knowledge of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, of course." She touched her wrist. "He often needs a basic watch in his job, but he likes to keep track of us." She shrugged. "Its no big deal."

"I think it is," Harry said, pleasantly surprised to find himself having a civilized conversation with Pansy. "What does your father do?" he asked.

"He's a mediwizard. Also a Muggle doctor."

Harry couldn't hide his surprise at that information, so he contented himself with a nod to Pansy. "I'll take one of the hybrid watches, please," he said to the clerk.

"Certainly, young man. And how many wizard hands do you need?"

"Ummmm. . ." Harry's voice faltered. He hadn't considered that point, but Pansy stepped in for him.

"Just two for now," she told the clerk before turning back to Harry. "You can add others on later. Its not hard; I can show you if you need help."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

"Not a problem." Pansy glanced around, looking a bit uneasy. "Well, see you," she said before walking off.

"Pansy?" She turned around. "Thank you."

She smiled and sketched a small salute and turned away, almost bumping into Ron and Hermione. She ducked her head and disappeared into the clothing racks.

"What did Pug Face Parkinson want?" Ron asked, watching after Pansy.

"She helped me choose a watch, that's all," Harry said. He thought for a moment. "She was actually quite nice about it."

The clerk came back to the counter with Harry's new watch boxed and wrapped. "That'll be 10 Galleons, 3 Sickles."

**~**~**~**~**~**

By the time they made it to The Three Broomsticks Harry was more than ready for a hot butterbeer. The wind had shifted and was coming from the north, bringing threatening skies and a chill drizzle with it. Many students had gone back to the castle, but most lingered in the village. Nearly all those who remained were crowded inside the pub.

"I can't find an empty table," Ron called out above the din. "We'll have to double up with. . . There's Dean and Neville waving at us. Come on." He moved in that direction, one hand under Hermione's elbow. "Harry? Are you coming?"

Harry had just spotted Cho in the crowd, sitting alone at a small table almost behind the bar. There was an empty chair beside her that she was guarding with determined shakes of her head whenever someone approached. He didn't hesitate.

"I'll catch up with you later," he said to Ron and Hermione before pushing his way through the crowd. Cho was completely unaware of his approach.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked.

She gave an exasperated sigh. "How many times. . ." she began before looking up and meeting his eyes. "Oh! Harry!" She blushed. "Sit down, please."

He pulled the other chair out and sat, acutely conscious of how small the table was. He flushed slightly every time his knees bumped against Cho's. She was oblivious, however. She waved a hand toward the bar and Madame Rosmerta brought two warm butterbeers over. Harry wrapped his hands around his tankard, enjoying the tingle as the chill in his skin receded. When he took a sip he had to stifle a pleasurable sigh at the explosion of warmth in his stomach. He glanced up and saw Cho watching him, a slight smile playing about her lips.

He grinned. "Sorry. Its nice to feel the warmth, though."

"Has it gotten that cold outside?" Cho asked, glancing to the front windows of the pub. They were frosting over with condensation.

Harry nodded. "In the last hour especially." He looked at her with a quizzical expression. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"Almost an hour and an half," she admitted. "I wanted to make certain we could talk privately." She looked around at the crowd. "Your friends are watching us intently."

Harry looked over his shoulder and spotted Ron and Hermione, both of whom were studiously avoiding looking in his direction. Ron's face was nearly the same colour as his hair, a sure sign that he was feeling guilty about something. Harry shrugged. "Let them watch. You invited me, and we're friends. Is there something wrong with that?"

Cho frowned. "Some of my friends would say so. Particularly those in Hufflepuff."

Harry felt a lump form in his throat at the mention of that house. He couldn't fault any of them if they blamed Cedric's death on him. He didn't have to like or enjoy it, but he certainly wouldn't fault them. He took another sip of butterbeer. "You said you wanted us to talk privately. What about?"

Cho looked away from him, biting her lower lip. Her eyes darted about the pub, looking everywhere but at Harry. She was obviously uncomfortable, but determined.

"Cho?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "I need to ask you a favour, Harry. I'll understand if you can't help me, but its something I need to do. If I'm out of line just say so, and you'll never hear another word from me on the subject again."

Harry felt a chill chase down his spine. If he believed in divination he would have said it was a premonition. "Ask your favour," he said, his voice gruffer than usual.

"Tell me how Cedric died."

**~**~**~**~**~**

"What the heck could they be talking about?" Ron asked as soon as Dean and Neville left. "From the looks on both of their faces I'd guess its not Quidditch."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Whatever it is is none of our business. Besides," she said, opening one of their History of Magic texts, "Harry is allowed to have friends besides you and I."

"Hermione, we're not talking about a friend. We're talking about Cho Chang. Harry's had a crush on her since second year. And she was dating Diggory."

Hermione looked up from her book and rolled her eyes. "I don't see what that has to do with anything. They can still be friends."

Ron made a noise of disgust. "Like that will really happen. Besides, you don't actually believe that no one blames Harry for Cedric's death, do you? I bet some people think he killed Diggory himself."

Hermione looked shocked but didn't argue. She shut her book and hunched over the table as if in pain. When she did finally speak her voice was a shadow of its usual self. "That's horrible! How could anyone think that? I mean, Harry, of all people. . ." Her words tapered off as she glanced toward the corner where Harry and Cho sat. "How can anyone think that?"

Ron was pained by the anguish in her voice and without thinking reached across the table and took her hand. "Don't worry, 'Mione. Everyone that matters knows the truth." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but when he tried to pull away she gripped his hand tight. He looked up and met her eyes.

And felt a sudden wrench in his stomach, almost as if he was travelling by Portkey. How come he had never before noticed how soft and warm her brown eyes were? Or how smooth her skin was. He slowly rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand and was rewarded with a smile.

"Hermione. . ." he began.

She shook her head, still smiling. "I know. Me too."

Ron grinned and squeezed her hand again. "This is crazy, you know that."

"Maybe. At least we can have some fun finding out."

Ron laughed and reluctantly removed his hand from hers to take a sip of his drink. Movement outside the pub caught his eye and he nearly spewed butterbeer across the table.

"What? What's the matter?" Hermione asked, her voice anxious.

"Ginny," Ron replied. "She'll go bonkers when she sees Harry with Cho."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione grumbled. "She will not. She and Harry have become friends, Ron. True and honest friends. You should be happy about that, not trying to shield her from some long-dead schoolgirl crush."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Take a look at Harry and Cho for yourself."

Hermione glanced toward the corner and felt her jaw drop. "Maybe you do have a point."

**~**~**~**~**~**

Harry swallowed hard against what felt like a boulder lodged in his throat. Some instinct had told him what to expect from the moment Cho had said she wanted to talk to him, but he hadn't been prepared for this. Especially the memory that floated to the surface of his mind. It was not the memory of Cedric's death.

Harry. . . take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents. . . .

I will.*

"Please, Harry. I need to know, and no one has told me anything. Cedric's parents won't even talk to me anymore, and Professor Flitwick just pats my hand and mumbles sympathetically when I mention it." Cho lifted Harry's hand from where it rested on the table and pressed it between both of hers. "You're the only one I can ask."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out the vivid image of a flash of green light and the words Avada Kedavra. His heart was pounding, just as it had done that night. His mouth was dry as fear swelled in his heart, but when he opened his eyes all he saw was Cho, her eyes pleading with him.

She needs this, he thought to himself. And maybe I can help myself at the same time.

"He was killed at Voldemort's command," he heard himself say, his voice echoing as from a great distance. "Another spoke the words and wielded the wand, but it was Voldemort's doing."

"Then it's true? You-Know-Who has returned?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't so hard for everyone to accept, but it is true. I saw it happen."

Cho blinked rapidly, forcing back tears. "So what Dumbledore said at the Leaving Feast last year was also true? About how we will all have to make hard choices in the future?"

Harry could only nod. His throat felt tight.

"Well, I know what my choice will be," Cho said. "If its time to fight then I'll fight. I know it can't bring Cedric back, but I can't just sit and watch." She met Harry's eyes an in a moment of realization asked the only question that remained. "How did you come to bring Cedric's body back with you?"

"He asked me to." He went on to describe, in the fewest words he could, the connection created between his and Voldemort's wands, and the shades that had issued forth. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks when he described Diggory's last request.

"I knew I was right to trust you, Harry. I knew that you would be honest with me. He trusted you as well." She released his hands then and sat back in her chair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." As Harry spoke the words he became aware of sounds coming from outside. They had formed a vague backdrop to their conversation, but now that he could open his mind again the noises became more pronounced. Crashes, running feet, the sound of breaking glass. . . .

A high, clear scream split the air. Everyone inside The Three Broomsticks froze in place, looking warily toward the large window. Harry scarcely hesitated at all. He jumped to his feet and dashed to the door, bursting out into the chilly, grey day. It wasn't long before he felt others at his shoulders; Ron and Hermione were beside him, as always. Ginny and the twins were as well. Cho joined the small group, fear written clearly on her face. With wands out the group ran towards the sounds of the commotion.

The High Street was a scene of complete pandemonium. Shop windows were shattered; glass glittered in the weak sunlight. People lay injured on the narrow sidewalks, unattended. The uninjured were scattered about in confusion, many desperate to seek shelter. All but three. They stood at the end of the High, cloaked and masked. Harry felt a coldness drop from his throat down to his stomach, and he shuddered involuntarily.

Death Eaters. Death Eaters were in Hogsmeade. And they weren't alone.

The chill in his stomach began to spread; pervasive and unnatural. He knew what it was even before he looked to his left. Four dementors stood there, just outside the door of Gladrags. One of them bent down and lifted a slumped figure to her feet. She wore the cloak of a Hogwarts student, and when the hood fell back Harry almost choked on a cry of surprise.

It was Pansy Parkinson, and she was about to suffer the Dementor's Kiss.

Without another thought Harry snapped into action. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he cried, leveling his wand at the creatures. The silver stag burst from his wand and charged the Dementors down, scattering them. He heard his incantation echoed from other parts of the street as the citizens of Hogsmeade began to fight back. The Dementors were trapped, surrounded by the hastily conjured Patroni and unable to free themselves.

The Death Eaters were another matter entirely. A shout of Crucio rang out and an older witch fell to her knees, writhing in pain. A Patronus flickered and disappeared, giving the Dementors new life. They began to actively struggle against their captors, and the other Patroni began to fade. Harry was about to gather his power back to him for another attempt at the Patronus when he heard a sound that instantly dispelled the chill of the Dementors and strengthened his will.

It was the cry of a phoenix. Harry looked about, expecting to see Fawkes appear, but could not find the source of the sound. The cry sounded again, and the Death Eaters began to look nervously about. The trio turned almost against their will to face the road that led out of the village. Harry felt a hand painfully grip his arm and he looked down to see Ginny, her face set in an odd, almost-smile, pointing in the same direction.

Standing in the road, in full view and defying the Death Eaters, was Professor Morgan Griffith. She wore her trademark wine-coloured robes and black boots; the wind stirred the fabric and created the illusion of wings behind her. There was no wand in her hand, but the aura of power that encircled her rippled through the air. She raised one hand.

"Expelliarmus!"

The Death Eaters' wands flew from their hands and burst into flames in midair. The force of Morgan's magic made Harry and his friends stagger, struggling to stay on their feet. When the wave passed Harry was amazed to find his own wand still in his hand. He had feared it would suffer the same fate as the others. He looked up just in time to see the three dark wizards disapparate one right after the other. He heard a sigh beside him, and looked down into Cho's relieved face.

"Its not over yet."

The Dementors had fought themselves free of the Patroni that had surrounded them. The seemed briefly disoriented at the sudden disappearance of their guides, but it didn't last long. In unison they turned their shadowed, faceless forms in Morgan's direction.

Harry raised his wand and was on the verge of conjuring his Patronus a second time when the phoenix cry sounded again. It was followed by a blinding burst of light and a wave of sound that blew out more windows and knocked everyone in the street off of their feet. He felt a sharp pain as his shoulder hit the hard cobbles, and he shut his eyes tightly against the dazzling light.

The shockwave passed, and silence descended on the High Street. The groans of the injured quickly cut into the quiet, and Harry opened his eyes, blinking against the orange spots that blurred his vision. He looked toward where the light had come from and caught his breath in surprise.

All that remained of the Dementors was a pile of ash; a sickly, greenish-grey ash from which wafted a stench reminiscent of decay.

And in the exact spot where Morgan had stood was a phoenix. A phoenix with steely grey feathers and midnight blue eyes.

Morgan's eyes.

*Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, U.S. Hardcover edition, p. 668