Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (56 page)

‘Hello,’ she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. ‘These are nice, did you put them up?’

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘it was Dobby the house-elf.’

‘Mistletoe,’ said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry’s head. He jumped out from under it. ‘Good thinking,’ said Luna very seriously. ‘It’s often infested with Nargles.’

Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles were by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.

‘Well,’ said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, ‘we’ve finally replaced you.’

‘Replaced me?’ said Harry blankly.

‘You and Fred and George,’ she said impatiently. ‘We’ve got another Seeker!’

‘Who?’ said Harry quickly.

‘Ginny Weasley,’ said Katie.

Harry gaped at her.

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, ‘but she’s pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,’ she said, throwing him a very dirty look, ‘but as we can’t have you …’

Harry bit back the retort he was longing to utter: did she imagine for a second that he did not regret his expulsion from the team a hundred times more than she did?

‘And what about the Beaters?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

‘Andrew Kirke,’ said Alicia without enthusiasm, ‘and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up …’

The arrival of Ron, Hermione and Neville brought this depressing discussion to an end, and within five minutes the room was full enough to prevent Harry seeing Angelina’s burning, reproachful looks.

‘OK,’ he said, calling them all to order. ‘I thought this evening we should just go over the things we’ve done so far, because it’s the last meeting before the holidays and there’s no point starting anything new right before a three-week break –’

‘We’re not doing anything new?’ said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. ‘If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come.’

‘We’re all really sorry Harry didn’t tell you, then,’ said Fred loudly.

Several people sniggered. Harry saw Cho laughing and felt the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs.

‘– we can practise in pairs,’ said Harry. ‘We’ll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again.’

They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of
‘Impedimenta!’
People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron and Hermione again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. When he passed Cho she beamed at him; he resisted the temptation to walk past her several more times.

After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practising Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over. Harry felt himself positively swelling with pride as he watched them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.

‘You’re getting really good,’ he said, beaming around at them. ‘When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff – maybe even Patronuses.’

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a ‘Happy Christmas’ as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. Ron and Hermione left before he did; he hung back a little, because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a ‘Merry Christmas’ from her.

‘No, you go on,’ he heard her say to her friend Marietta and his heart gave a jolt that seemed to take it into the region of his Adam’s apple.

He pretended to be straightening the cushion pile. He was quite sure they were alone now and waited for her to speak. Instead, he heard a hearty sniff.

He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face.

‘Wha—?’

He didn’t know what to do. She was simply standing there, crying silently.

‘What’s up?’ he said, feebly.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

‘I’m – sorry,’ she said thickly. ‘I suppose … it’s just … learning all this stuff … it just makes me … wonder whether … if
he’d
known it all … he’d still be alive.’

Harry’s heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric.

‘He did know this stuff,’ Harry said heavily. ‘He was really good at it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don’t stand a chance.’

She hiccoughed at the sound of Voldemort’s name, but stared at Harry without flinching.

‘You
survived when you were just a baby,’ she said quietly.

‘Yeah, well,’ said Harry wearily, moving towards the door, ‘I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it’s nothing to be proud of.’

‘Oh, don’t go!’ said Cho, sounding tearful again. ‘I’m really sorry to get all upset like this … I didn’t mean to …’

She hiccoughed again. She was very pretty even when her eyes were red and puffy. Harry felt thoroughly miserable. He’d have been so pleased with just a ‘Merry Christmas’.

‘I know it must be horrible for you,’ she said, mopping her eyes on her sleeve again. ‘Me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die … I suppose you just want to forget about it?’

Harry did not say anything to this; it was quite true, but he felt heartless saying it.

‘You’re a r-really good teacher, you know,’ said Cho, with a watery smile. ‘I’ve never been able to Stun anything before.’

‘Thanks,’ said Harry awkwardly.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet.

‘Mistletoe,’ said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. His mouth was very dry. ‘It’s probably full of Nargles, though.’

‘What are Nargles?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry. She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. ‘You’d have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean.’

Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was even nearer to him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose.

‘I really like you, Harry.’

He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading through him, paralysing his arms, legs and brain.

She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes …

*

He returned to the common room half an hour later to find Hermione and Ron in the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Hermione was writing a very long letter; she had already filled half a roll of parchment, which was dangling from the edge of the table. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.

‘What kept you?’ he asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione’s.

Harry didn’t answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave.

‘Are you all right, Harry?’ Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn’t know whether he was all right or not.

‘What’s up?’ said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. ‘What’s happened?’

Harry didn’t quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn’t sure whether he wanted to. Just as he had decided not to say anything, Hermione took matters out of his hands.

‘Is it Cho?’ she asked in a businesslike way. ‘Did she corner you after the meeting?’

Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.

‘So – er – what did she want?’ he asked in a mock casual voice.

‘She –’ Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘She – er –’

‘Did you kiss?’ asked Hermione briskly.

Ron sat up so fast he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry.

‘Well?’ he demanded.

Harry looked from Ron’s expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione’s slight frown, and nodded.

‘HA!’

Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry’s face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug. Hermione gave Ron a look of deep disgust and returned to her letter.

‘Well?’ Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. ‘How was it?’

Harry considered for a moment.

‘Wet,’ he said truthfully.

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

‘Because she was crying,’ Harry continued heavily.

‘Oh,’ said Ron, his smile fading slightly. ‘Are you that bad at kissing?’

‘Dunno,’ said Harry, who hadn’t considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. ‘Maybe I am.’

‘Of course you’re not,’ said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter.

‘How do you know?’ said Ron very sharply.

‘Because Cho spends half her time crying these days,’ said Hermione vaguely. ‘She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.’

‘You’d think a bit of kissing would cheer her up,’ said Ron, grinning.

‘Ron,’ said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her inkpot, ‘you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Ron indignantly. ‘What sort of person cries while someone’s kissing them?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, slightly desperately, ‘who does?’

Hermione looked at the pair of them with an almost pitying expression on her face.

‘Don’t you understand how Cho’s feeling at the moment?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Harry and Ron together.

Hermione sighed and laid down her quill.

‘Well, obviously, she’s feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she’s feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can’t work out who she likes best. Then she’ll be feeling guilty, thinking it’s an insult to Cedric’s memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she’ll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can’t work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that’s all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she’s afraid she’s going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she’s been flying so badly.’

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, ‘One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.’

‘Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have,’ said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill again.

‘She was the one who started it,’ said Harry. ‘I wouldn’t’ve – she just sort of came at me – and next thing she’s crying all over me – I didn’t know what to do –’

‘Don’t blame you, mate,’ said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought.

‘You just had to be nice to her,’ said Hermione, looking up anxiously. ‘You were, weren’t you?’

‘Well,’ said Harry, an unpleasant heat creeping up his face, ‘I sort of – patted her on the back a bit.’

Hermione looked as though she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty.

‘Well, I suppose it could have been worse,’ she said. ‘Are you going to see her again?’

‘I’ll have to, won’t I?’ said Harry. ‘We’ve got DA meetings, haven’t we?’

‘You know what I mean,’ said Hermione impatiently.

Harry said nothing. Hermione’s words opened up a whole new vista of frightening possibilities. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho – Hogsmeade, perhaps – and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened … the thought made his stomach clench painfully.

‘Oh well,’ said Hermione distantly, buried in her letter once more, ‘you’ll have plenty of opportunities to ask her.’

‘What if he doesn’t want to ask her?’ said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Hermione vaguely, ‘Harry’s liked her for ages, haven’t you, Harry?’

He did not answer. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

‘Who’re you writing the novel to, anyway?’ Ron asked Hermione, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight.

‘Viktor.’

‘Krum?’

‘How many other Viktors do we know?’

Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes, Ron finishing his Transfiguration essay with many snorts of impatience and crossings-out, Hermione writing steadily to the very end of the parchment, rolling it up carefully and sealing it, and Harry staring into the fire, wishing more than anything that Sirius’s head would appear there and give him some advice about girls. But the fire merely crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers crumbled into ash and, looking around, Harry saw that they were, yet again, the last ones in the common room.