Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: The characters of this fiction are borrowed and used as a tribute to the wonderful world created by J.K. Rowling. They're not mine, never were and never will be. No money is being made on this either.

Author's notes:

I'm so sorry. I'm so terribly sorry that this took a lot longer than you readers and I both had anticipated. The main problem was that this was such a boring chapter to write since it's a filler-chapter. Then as other responsibilities in life constantly got in the way made it even harder to take time with this.

Now, I have been receiving some complaints about grammar- and spelling-problems in my story. What I did find similarities with was that those comments always came from reviews of the first three chapters. I know that those first chapters are crap and I apologize for it. Some time in the future I will revise the whole story after it's finished. I'd appreciate to know from you how I'm doing now though, in case I have failed to improve as much as I think for myself that I have.

Again: thank you very much for the reviews. I hope you will at least take some kind of liking to this chapter. To tell you the truth: I'm a bit displeased with it, and unfortunately it is beyond my power to write it better.

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Harry was sitting alone in the Sixth-year Dormitory on his bed, unconsciously grinding his worry-balls, staring at an empty spot on the wall. He was numb all over, close to a state of shock. It was somehow amazing but yet an agonizing experience on how one moment of happiness can turn into another of total despair. Cho was gone. Just gone. It had only been about two days ago when she had been so full of life, with her whole life ahead of her. The next day she had suddenly taken some form of ill that was unexplainable and then the next morning… Cho was dead.
Harry couldn't help to wonder if he was somehow cursed, since everyone around him just ended up dead. Voldemort took his parents when they stood in his way in his attempt to kill him when he was just a baby … Wormtail had killed Cedric Diggory because of he had been dragged along into a trap meant for him… And Bellatrix Lestrange had killed his Godfather Sirius Black when he had come to Harry's aid…

All those occasions had some kind of connection back to Lord Voldemort, so Harry could easily put all the blame on him - but what about the incident with Cho? Was Voldemort somehow also responsible for her death? Truth to be told: Harry actually didn't think so. His oh-so-famous scar, the lightning-bolt shaped mark left behind by a failed curse that gave him a connection with his archenemy was still quiet. Not a single throb that gave a hint of the Dark Lords mode. Had he been behind Cho's death, he would now be gloating for once again inflicting the psychic pain into Harry's soul… but there was nothing.
Then what was responsible for Cho's death? Was it just a tragic accident? It certainly looked that way. Harry angrily clenched his hand that was holding the worry-balls. He wanted to blame someone - he wanted to inflict pain on the one who had taken Cho away from him! Now when he for once had been happy, having someone close to him that he could love and be loved from… He sighed in frustration. Why was life so cruel to him?

There was a soft knocking on the door, and then Ron stepped in. With careful steps he walked up to Harry so that he wouldn't startle him, while he looked at him with a worried expression.
'Harry?' he spoke softly. 'Lunch is over… I saved you some food… in case you were hungry…?' Harry didn't even acknowledge his friend. He sat still on his spot, staring on the spot on the wall, only grinding his worry-balls with an absent mind. Harry had been excused from classes for two days ahead, to deal with his loss of his girlfriend. But while he didn't attend classes, he didn't come down to eat either. It was Monday, Harry hadn't eaten since the dinner last Saturday, which had not been much back then either, and the rest of his class and the staff were worried that he would catch a case of malnutrition.
Ron sighed in defeat, left the food he'd brought beside Harry and quietly walked out. Harry had been totally oblivious to Ron's visit, just like he had been totally oblivious to everything ever since he'd received the terrible news the morning before… Cho Chang was dead.

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Ron walked down the stairs to the common room feeling totally depressed because he had no power what so ever to help his friend. He was greeted with the usual anxious expressions from the rest of the Gryffindor house when he left the last step.
'Is there any change at all?' Hermione asked him just as anxious as the rest, if not more. One of the only few good things that had come from Cho's death, although they both agreed that the price had been much too high, was that Ron and Hermione had totally forgotten about their quarrel. A silent agreement had been made between them to stop nagging at each other and bury their differences now that Harry needed both of them more than anything. If only he would let them.
'None what so ever.' Ron answered her miserably. 'He just sits there, won't answer to anything I'm saying.'

Hermione let out a sad sigh. She wanted nothing more than to go up to him to sooth him and give him her condolences for his loss. True, Hermione had been extremely jealous with Cho, and had been unwilling to get along with her because of her acquaintance with Harry. She even had admittedly hated Cho because she'd caught Harry's heart before her - but she had definitely not wanted her dead. From Hermione's point of view, life was a very precious gift and it should not to be mistreated by disrespect or spilled by carelessness or by external violence. She believed in it so strongly that she had no respect for people who destroyed themselves by using drugs or tobacco, and after having read about what damage alcohol does to a human body, she had not much respect for drinkers either. She felt that those people wasted their health on something you can live perfectly well without. Therefore she had been extremely reluctant to Butterbeer the first time she ever went to Hogsmeade, but had a change of heart when Madam Rosmerta had assured her that Butterbeer did not have the properties that could affect humans. I only wish that that rule applied to House-elves as well. she thought with a sigh, remembering Winky down in the kitchen.

Now Cho's life had in one way or another been spilled, which Hermione felt sadness for, and she felt that Harry should accept help from his friends to get trough his grief and to help him straighten up or his life would soon waste away as well. But he would obviously not let them. Sometimes that boy was way to stubborn for his own good.

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The most annoying thing Harry had to cope with after his loss was the Daily Prophet, who did not hesitate to take pity on him, and they did it in a very disturbingly mushy manner. They had written about the two first deaths of course, but only as a note on page two. Now that Harry's girlfriend had died, they made it as the big headline on the front-page.

ANOTHER DISASTER FOR THE BOY-WHO-LIVED. GIRLFRIEND DEAD.

There seems to be no end to the tragedies that falls upon Harry Potter. The world thought that the Sixteen-year old hero, who as a baby temporarily robbed He-Who-Must-Be-Named of his power, had finally found the happiness he so richly deserved when he entered a relationship with the beautiful exotic girl Cho Chang. But the happiness came to an abrupt end during the weekend, in a most terrible way.
Cho Chang, who was attending her last year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was an expert flyer on a broomstick, and was a member of the Rawenclaw Quidditch-team in the said school. This weekend they played their last game before Christmas, and rumours stated that Harry Potter was to accompany her back to her hometown during the Holiday.
According to Madam Poppy Pomfrey, matron at Hogwarts, Cho Chang had taken some kind of ill on the day when the game was to take place and was in no shape to participate. Sadly she did this anyway, and after an hour into the game, she lost consciousness and fell off her broom, causing herself serious damage. Madam Pomfrey did everything in her power to save the unfortunate student, but confirms that Cho Chang died during the night.
The Daily Prophet wishes to give Harry Potter our heartbroken condolences for his loss, and prays that he will one day find happiness again.

There were more written that mostly took up the life Cho had lived, and even more condolences for Harry, but he refused to read anymore, he couldn't stand it.
After having read the article, the whole school threw concerned looks after him, expecting him to go into another tantrum, or maybe fall into another collapse. Everyone stayed away from him because of that, something that Harry actually was grateful for. Even most of the Slytherins seemed to give him a break, although everyone doubted that Draco Malfoy would be one of them. Sure enough, Malfoy was on his way to say something bad when Harry and him met in a corridor the Monday afternoon after Cho's death, the very fact of that he wanted to taunt him was expressed on his face. But once again: something came over him in the last second and he just walked away without saying a word.

After two days of given time of grief, Harry returned to his lessons. But during those times, it was like he was still not present. He only sat by himself away from the others, did his work although it was with apathy and would not speak up unless spoken to, and even then his answers were short and unemotional. The happy Harry was once again gone, replaced by the sullen and lonely person that they had become familiar with during the previous year.
Fortunately it was only going on for a few days. One and a half week later, the term ended for Christmas holiday. Hermione, Ginny and Harry, who was absentmindedly gazing into the fire, was sitting in the Gryffindor common room waiting for Ron to come back. He had been called to Professor McGonagall's office after their last lesson, and none of them could figure out what he'd done wrong. Hermione was thinking that when Ron came back, she would with the help of him and Ginny try to persuade Harry to go with the Weasley's to the Burrow during Christmas, to help him get his mind on something else and try to get over Cho's death.

Ron finally came back after a while, and Hermione noticed that he was upset over something. He didn't look furious, but he had an expression of some sort of an agitated 'so-be-it'-look. Hermione began to address him to ask him what the matter was, but Ron cut her off with a wave of his hand and marched up towards his dormitory.
'What's the matter with him now?' she asked Ginny, who could only shrug her shoulders in a negative response. Ron came back down shortly afterwards, this time with his arms full of books.
'Ron, what's up?' Ginny asked him.
'What's up? I'll tell you what's up! Can you guess what Professor McGonagall called me in for?'
The girls shook their heads.
'Snape; that greasy Git - He has just chucked me out of Potions!' Ron said in a rushed voice.
'He what?' Hermione gasped out. 'Oh, Ron… you failed to improve…'
'That was his motivation in his note to McGonagall.' Ron said aggravated. 'She says that I'm not welcome back there - ever! I bet I just made his Christmas.' He then took on a more resigned tone. 'But okay… I guess Potions never really was my thing. The truth is that I would probably never even have gotten this far if it weren't for your help, Hermione. And had I not been so stupid to botch up our friendship, I might have made it this time too.'
'Indeed.' Hermione agreed.
'This also means that I can never be an Auror,' Ron continued. ' - but I guess I'll find another career. At least I won't have to put up with Snape ever again.'

'So what's with the books?' Ginny asked, indicated to the bunch Ron was holding. 'Do you plan to plough through those to see what other career you can take?'
'These? These are my complete set of Potions-books. Now that Potions is out of my life, I never ever want to see these books again!' And then: to Hermione's horrified expression and Ginny's shocked face, Ron hurled the books into the fireplace.
'Ron, what are you doing?!' Ginny yelled. Hermione was totally speechless, looking aghast. To burn books was in her mind just as a horrible crime as committing murder.
'Bye bye. Good riddance.' Ron said to the books as the fire consumed them and turned them into ashes.
'You idiot!!' Ginny barked in a shrilly voice.
'Will you stop jumping down my throat?' Ron barked back. 'I didn't need them anymore!'
'No, but Mum and Dad could have sold those books to a second-hand book-dealer to get some money back on them!' Ginny told him angrily. 'And furthermore: I'm good at Potions; I could have used that N.E.W.T. level book you just burned for my studies next year! I recall that that book was expensive!!'
Ron propped his knuckle into his mouth when he realised how stupid his actions were.

'Wouldn't want to be in your shoes when we get back home.' Ginny said under her breath. 'Mum is going to have a fit when she finds out.'
'Bloody hell…' Ron groaned through his fist that was plucked between his teeth. 'I think I prefer a Howler…'
Hermione bit back her own remark of Ron's foul behaviour - Ginny had already made the point. And it wasn't worth risking their friendship again. Instead she went on with the original plan.
'Uhm… Harry?' she said carefully.
Harry grunted to show that he was listening, but he didn't turn away from the fire.
'You know… You don't need to… - you shouldn't stay here at Hogwarts by yourself during Christmas.' Hermione spoke in a slow, sympathetic voice to keep things friendly. 'Why don't you go with Ron and Ginny to the Burrow?'
'Yes, come with us.' Ron quickly agreed. 'Mum and Dad will be happy to have you there.'
'You know that you are always welcome there.' Ginny cut in. 'It'll be a blast comparable to staying here when everyone else is gone.'
'I wasn't planning to stay here anyhow…' Harry muttered, still not turning around.
'You didn't? What did you have in mind?' Ginny asked him.
'That what I had planned for months: I'm spending my holiday with Cho in her hometown.'

Harry's statement made all three of them exchange very frightful glances between them. They couldn't help but to wonder if Harry had gone mad - like if he in his mind had been in total denial about Cho's death that he had started to believe that her demise had been a lie. Or worse: his sorrow had driven him to a suicidal mode.
'B-but Harry…' Ron said with a quavering voice. 'Cho is… is… y-you know…?'
'Dead?' Harry finished for him in a flat tone. 'It's not like you have to remind me.'
'Then… then why are you going?' Hermione asked incredulously.
'Because I never got to say goodbye.' He answered, looking into the fire. 'I'm going to visit her grave to pay her my final respect and bid her farewell. Maybe after that will I be able to go on with my life.'
Harry had delivered that with a tone that although it had been flat; it had been filled with such a forceful determination that left no room for argument. Harry had made up his mind and nothing would make him change it. With one last miserable glance passed between the three others, the subject was dropped.

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The Hogwarts Express was filled with almost every student from the school, only a couple of second-year Slytherins and Justin Finch-Fletchley stayed behind this year. The others had had enough of the deaths that had occurred during the term that they only wanted to get away for a while and spend some time with their families. Cho Chang's death had really rattled everyone up, because the ride on the train had never been so quiet and calm as it was this time. There was no running around, so all the Prefects could just sit down and relax. Not even Draco Malfoy and his cronies went around to stir up trouble this time, least of all around Harry. None of the friends believed it was because Malfoy somehow respected Harry for his loss; it was probably more because of his unexplainable behaviour that he'd had lately that made him stay away from the Boy-who-Lived.
During the whole ride, Harry wasn't uttering a single word. He was in a world of his own, most likely tormented by memories and feeling uneasy with going to a strange town he knew nothing about to visit a grave. None of the friends who accompanied him in the compartment tried to speak to him. It was if they were afraid that they would accidentally say something that would upset Harry even more, a risk they did not dare to take at this time.

After what had felt like their longest trip ever on the Hogwarts Express, they finally arrived at King's Cross. In a bit of an undisciplined manner, the students hurried through the hidden exit out to the muggle world to rejoin with their respective families. Hermione's parents were waiting for her there, together with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
'Well Harry…' Hermione said lowly, turning to her friend. 'I… I'd like to wish you a happy Christmas, but… I would be lying. Oh Harry, it shouldn't be this way!'
'That's what I've been saying all the time…' Harry said unemotionally.
'Is your mind totally made up? You won't go with the Weasley's? You know … you can come with me, if you want? I'll talk to my parents, I'm sure they will…'
'No. I appreciate the offer, but I'm in no mood to celebrate Christmas at all, and I wouldn't want to ruin your time with your parents. I'm going to Cho's hometown.'
'Very well.' She sighed and then gave him a gentle hug. 'I'll see you after New Year then.' She then gave Ginny and Ron a hug each, wished the senior Weasley's a Happy Christmas and went to join her parents. Harry couldn't help but to envy her when he saw her father greeting his daughter with a bone-crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek from her mother.

Harry didn't have time to reflect any more about it before he himself was in a bone-crushing hug by Mrs. Weasley.
'Oh Harry, dear boy. I am so sorry for what happened to you.' Molly Weasley said with an almost broken voice.
'T-thank you, Mrs. Weasley.' Harry managed to squeak out as his ribs groaned in protest. He had never imagined her being able to pull such strength in an emotional state as she was.
'Ginny wrote to us and told us of your plans.' Molly said as she let go of him, but held her hands on his shoulders. 'Are you sure this is what you want to do? You are very welcome to come home with us and have a real Christmas…'
Biting back his annoyance of having to repeat himself, Harry calmly explained again that his mind was made up, and although the Weasley's were reluctant to let Harry go with this, they knew better then to try to convince him otherwise. But they would not leave until they'd made sure Harry got on the right train, and he surrendered to their help.

It turned out that Harry would have to wait until the next day until there was any point of departing. As Cho had explained, only two trains a day went to her hometown, and that was with a private line that was located somewhere in the middle of the country. As the woman behind the Information desk explained to Mr. Weasley, Harry would have to take a train from King's Cross in the morning, travel half a day to the point where the railroad hooked up with the private line to catch the train that departed in the afternoon. He would never make it to the morning train if he departed now, as it would leave him deserted in the middle of nowhere for almost a day.
The Weasley's therefore dropped off Harry at the Leaky Cauldron so that he could spend the night there. Although Harry was in a gloomy mood, he wished everybody a happy Christmas and both Mrs. Weasley and Ginny kissed his cheeks. Ron and Mr. Weasley settled with giving him a handshake.

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The next day was the most boring one in Harry's life, not even the days when he was locked up in the Cupboard back at Dursley's could be compared with this one. In the Cupboard he at least had some personal (but broken) stuff that he could preoccupy his time with. On the train he had nothing, because he neglected to bring stuff with him, as he didn't think he would make use of them anyway.
He began to wonder how Cho could stand making this trip every year before he remembered that she always used the Floo-network to get to Diagon-alley. The reason to why they had planned to travel by train was because Cho had wanted them to spend a long time for themselves and snog while they travelled. Harry had loved the idea at the time, and the lost opportunity tormented his mind. Never would he kiss her again. Harry yawned with boredom for how many times he didn't know. He lost the count a long time ago. He really wished he could travel by Floo instead of sitting here, but he had no idea what Cho's house was called, and it wouldn't be proper anyway to suddenly drop in unannounced on top of a grieving family.

Finally after what seemed forever in Harry's mind, the conductor told him that it was time for him to step off. Grateful for getting out and stretch his legs, he stepped out into the cold winter-air - and found himself in the middle of nowhere. He was beginning to think that there had been some mistake somewhere before he spotted the train he was supposed to get on next. His mouth dropped. It was an old Steam Engine. It wasn't that he had anything against Steam Engines; the Hogwarts Express was after all one. But this one was old and battered, and the two passenger cars and one transport wagon it pulled was something Harry had only seen in Western-movies the few times he'd got the opportunity to watch TV. He'd never thought such old train-cars were still in existence, let alone still in use!
The area wasn't thankfully as totally unoccupied as it looked. There was a small shack built beside the tracks where the Station Master was working. Harry went over there, hoping there would be something there to eat. The Station Master offered him sandwiches that looked about a week old, but he was so hungry that he bought one anyway, happy that he thought about visiting Gringotts and exchanged some gold into muggle-money while he was at Diagon Alley.

Forcing down the dry sandwich, Harry took place on the train. The wooden benches were quite uncomfortable to sit on, he knew that he was going to be soar on his buttocks only after an hour, and the train wouldn't leave until after two hours. And worse still, the trip was to take all night!
Only a very few more people took place on the train until the two hours were up, Harry figured that most passengers probably took the night train and slept on that, so that when they were refreshed could take the morning train when comfortability was not a necessary issue anymore since regular trains had all that in their service. To sleep on the wooden benches was not anything Harry was prepared to try, so he resigned himself to a very uncomfortable trip.
'All aboard!' The conductor finally shouted, signalling its departure. The train got into motion, barely filled with people. Strange that Cho had said that the tickets had been hard to come by, she must've been exaggerating. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep. He gave up on his attempts after a while. The train rocked roughly while moving along its tracks and was quite noisy, making it impossible to stay in a comfortable position.
Harry sighed again. This is going to be a long trip!

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'Last stop! Everybody off!' Harry actually blessed the conductor when he said that. Travelling a whole night on an uncomfortable train sitting on wooden benches and not getting any kind of sleep was definitely not Harry's idea of Christmas holiday. He wondered how he would have liked this even if Cho had been with him. When the train finally stopped, Harry was first off. In fact, he was the only one off. The other passengers had disembarked at earlier stops. He groaned not only from his protesting muscles in his soar body, but also from the thought of having to travel on this train again when he was going back.
Harry was disappointed at the sight that met him. The sun had still to rise, but he could see that he was in the middle of nowhere again! Only a shack that the Station Master occupied spoke of some kind of civilisation, but there was no sign of any town. Shivering from the cold, he was beginning to fear that he'd gone off at the wrong station, but the conductor had told him when he had checked his ticket that he was to travel all the way to the last stop. So where was he suppose to go from here?

Harry finally decided to go and ask the Station Master for directions. When he plodded through the snow towards the shack, he saw a big sleigh that was strapped to two Reindeers waiting outside of it. A man was sitting on the coach-box of the sleigh, dressed in a brown fur-coat. His old-looking earmuffs where partly covered by his big cap that looked somewhat moth-eaten. His thick moustaches seemed to be constantly twitching, but that was because he was chewing on something.
'Well blow me down, and drag me on my behind.' The coachman exclaimed when he spied Harry. 'Wonders never cease ta 'appen, after all. Aint no one us'ally coming ta dis part of th' world. Ya ain't lost, are ya kid?'
'As far as I'm told, I shouldn't be.' Harry answered carefully. 'Although I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go from here. I was under the impression that there should be a town around these parts.'
'Well, dat's what me and my girls are here for.' The coachman said, indicating to his animals. 'We're here ta pick up travellers or supplies dat's coming ta our little town. Gotta admit though, us'ally never expect any travellers. Our little town aint exactly attracting tourists, and dat's 'cause none knows it exists; save for us locals and those kids t'at was born 'ere who choose ta live in th' big cities.'

'Then, you'll give me a ride?' Harry asked. The coachman spit out a disgusting lump of tobacco he'd been chewing on, it landed in the snow next to Harry.
'Sure kid, if ya pay th' fee. Gotta keep the girls fed, ya know?' The coachman said, once again indicating the Reindeers. The price he then demanded though seemed a little much, but Harry was in no mood for argument as tired and hungry as he was. Besides, he didn't have any problems with money considering the amount of gold inhabiting his vault under Gringotts, so he paid and climbed aboard the sleigh.
Harry wasn't in any mood for chitchat during the ride, but the coachman seemed happy with doing most of the talking.
'How much do ya really know 'bout our little town, kid?' he asked, taking another bite of his tobacco and chewed on it with distasteful smacking sounds.
'Only that's it called 'The town time had forgotten'.' Harry answered gloomily.
'Right ya are.' The coachman said, not picking up Harry's tone. 'Ain't no single watt of electric's 'ere. Never 'ad any need for it, we do well with our paraffin lamps, oil heaters an' ol' wood stoves. Our only contact wit' th' outside world is through our telegraph. We 'ave no need for any so called modern stuff 'ere, there ain't no automobiles spewing out poisons, and no silly television t'at will turn th' 'eads up side down for our youths. Our parents, grandparents, great grandparents and their ancestors before lived like this, and t'at's 'ow we can live as well. Ain't nothing like living as it was before, yessire!'

How about shutting up for a change? Harry thought to himself, getting annoyed of the coachman's rambling. Still, he could understand from the information he was given as to why Cho's wizard parents choose to live here. The wizard world never used any kinds of electricity either, so by living here, that meant there would be no confusions with any modern stuff that they often had.
The sun was on its way up from the horizon when the sleigh arrived to the town. Harry thought that it really was a town time had forgotten, because the houses where nowhere near the modern appearances Harry was used to. It was actually more like going into another incarnation of Hogsmeade. He was no historian, so he couldn't tell which epoch the stone- and wood-mixed houses heritage from. His best guess was that they were from somewhere in the late Middle Ages, a fact that was encouraged from the ruins of an old castle that was resting on a high mound outside of town. He began to wonder where in the world he's ended up as it suddenly hit him that the name of this town had somehow eluded him.
The coachman stopped the sleigh outside a bigger building that Harry took for the local pub. A wooden sign that swayed in the wind said: 'The Laughing Swan Inn'. To laugh was the last thing on Harry's mind right now.

'Here ya go kid.' The coachman said, stepping of the sleigh. 'Unless ya already got a place ta nap, t'is is where visitors ar' recommended. Good food an' warm cots. 'Course, its still little early, wonder if ol' Mac and sweet Lissy got some fresh bread done? How's 'bout we find out kid?'
Harry had preferred not to follow this man anywhere, but if this was the only Inn in town, he didn't have much of a choice. The coachman had just opened the door and was about to enter when a woman's voice was heard. 'Spit out the ghastly stuff in your mouth before crossing my doorstep, Nick!'
Nick the coachman spit out the tobacco in the snow and entered the door. 'Ya know me too well, Lissy.' He said with a smirk.
'That I should!' the woman's voice answered. 'We go through this procedure every day!'
Harry's first impression had been correct that this was a pub. The bottom floor of this building reminded him of the saloons that he'd seen in old Western-movies, only this was cosier. Reindeer skins and crowns decorated the walls, giving the space a warmer environment. A woman was working at the oil heater. She was a small and plump as Mrs. Weasley, her grey hair was put up in a tight bun atop of her head. Her face gave hints of her being worn out of the hard-laboured life that came with living in an old-fashioned town like this, but she had a pleasant expression on her face anyhow. Harry assumed that this was Lissy.

'Oh, what a surprise.' She said gently as she looked up. 'Another visitor. It doesn't happen very often, least of all around Christmas.'
'Welcome to The Laughing Swan, stranger.' Another voice said. Harry took an involuntary step back, but quickly composed himself. This man who had emerged from a doorway to a kitchen, probably the one named Mac, was an almost look-alike to Uncle Vernon, only with a kind face rather than the grumpy-looking one his uncle usually wore. It was kind of spooky to look at him because of it, Harry wondered for a moment if Vernon Dursley had a twin-brother he never spoke of.
'Something wrong?' Mac asked uncertainly.
'No.' Harry quickly answered. 'You startled me, that's all.'
'No need for that kind of reaction, young man. I'm completely harmless.' Mac said with a smile.
'Yeah. He's quite 'armless as long as ya pay for th' service he's giving ya.' Nick broke in, grinning.
'Nick, don't scare the young man away.' Lissy scolded the coachman. 'Do you need a room, young man?'
'Yes, thank you.' Harry answered as politely as he could, but it was hard because he was so tired after the long train-trip and he was haunted by memories.

'Come now boy, ya should not look so grumpy.' Nick slapped a cheerful hand on Harry's back. 'It's Christmas tomorrow, that cause for celebration, don't you agree?'
'Are you here to visit somebody, young man?' Mac asked.
'Yes. My… girlfriend.' Harry replied gloomily. He regretted that he said those words.
'Aah, young love.' Lissy said with a nostalgic grin.
'Lucky you.' Nick also grinned and again slapped a cheerful hand on Harry's back. 'Then what's with th' grumpy mood? Who's th' fortunate young lass who will 'ave th' best Christmas of her life then?'
'You don't understand. She's dead.' The smiles of the three locals dropped instantly. 'She died two weeks ago. I'm here to pay my final respects.'
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Nick spoke again. 'The Chang's lass. Am I right?' Harry nodded.
'Oh, god.' Lissy wiped a tear from her eye.
'Poor girl. We all knew her, of course.' Mac said sadly. 'She always had these strange ideas and could sometimes be a little rebellious - but over all she was a sweet child.'
'Oh, poor Lynn and Joshua.' Lissy sobbed. Harry assumed that she was talking about Cho's parents.

'Aye. Quite a shock when th' train brought th' coffin in.' Nick grunted. 'No fun being a coachman at some times. Had ta take the coffin first to th' church an' then ta th' graveyard where they put her in th' crypt. A sad day, t'at was.'
'What happened to her?' Lissy asked Harry.
'What did they tell you?' Harry asked, careful not to give away anything about the wizard-world.
'That she suddenly took some ill at the boarding school she attended a-and… f-fell down the stairs.'
The gut in Harry's body wrenched, but he found it to be a good explanation to stick to. 'That's exactly what we all was told. The staff didn't want to give us any more information than that.' Harry sighed. 'If you excuse me… this… is quite painful to talk about. Could I just have a room and rest for a while before I go to the graveyard? It's been a long trip.'
'Of course.' Mac said. 'We have a room prepared, second door from the top of the stairs. Just don't go into the first room, we have another visitor there who's been up all night and needs his sleep.'
'Thank you.' Harry said and went for the stairs. He could almost feel the local's follow him with their eyes and he knew that there would be a lot of talk about him during the day when other people would come in. But he didn't care. He didn't even want to eat, because he had no appetite. All that was on Harry's mind now was to get some sleep.

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Harry slept longer than he had intended. When he'd arrived to the town which name he had still to learn, the sun had been on it's way up. Glancing out the window he saw that it was dark outside again. Consulting his watch, he saw that it was very late evening; only a few hours remained until midnight and Christmas day. He had definitely not planned to visit Cho's grave in the middle of the night, but there was no way he could get back to sleep now. Besides, his growling stomach urged him to get out of bed and fill it. There was after all a delicious aroma of some sort of stew coming from downstairs.
He was met with stares from many people when he came down, but at least these wasn't stares of wonder that his scar always attracted. These people were only curious; Harry had to remember that this town never had many visitors. He hoped though that Cho's parents weren't among them.

'I was wondering which one of our two guests would be first up.' Mac chuckled when he saw him.
'Got any stew left?' Harry asked. 'I couldn't help notice the smell.'
'Coming right up. Lissy dear, bring some stew for our young guest.' He called out to the kitchen. Lissy quickly came out with the food and a pint of milk. The other people in the pub had quickly lost interest in him and went back to their own business. Some were even leaving as it was close to closing time.
'Which way is it to the graveyard?' Harry asked after a while when he was nearly finished with his meal.
'It's about 20 minutes walk south-west from the town.' Mac explained. 'You'll be able to see it in broad daylight tomorrow.'
'Well the moon will have to suffice.' Harry said vaguely. He hadn't expected though that that would cause a lot of heads to turn his way.

'What do you mean?' Mac asked him. 'You're not going out tonight are you?'
'Yes. Why?'
'Y-you can't go outside of town now!' one of the local's said.
'Why not?' Harry didn't like to once again being told what he could and could not do. The people in the pub glanced nervously around at each other. 'Well? Why not?' Harry asked again, aggravated.
'It's dangerous.' Another man said.
'Danger has many forms.' Harry said impatiently. 'Now what's so dangerous about going out to the graveyard tonight? Are there ghosts there or what?'
'That's what some of us believe.' Another said, Harry didn't see who it was.
'Did you just say that you have trouble with some kind of ghost here?' Although Harry was used to the ghosts back at Hogwarts, he found the idea ludicrous.

'Some believe there are some kinds of ghosts involved, the rest of us thinks there are some maniacs out there who does satanic rituals.' Mac reluctantly explained. 'Two weeks ago there were some horrible stuff going on around here, always at night. Our cattle were slaughtered in a weird way and people begun to get sick. One has even disappeared. The other stranger upstairs showed up about a week ago telling us that he'd discovered a supernatural activity around in these parts and has promised us that he would rid us of the problem. He only demanded of us to stay indoors at night and let him work alone.'
'He seems to be doing a good job about it too.' Lissy went on. 'Ever since he came here the strange things stopped happening and he promised us that the problem would soon be gone.'
'Sounds like a hoax in my ears.' Said Harry. 'If he demands payment, I suggest you think twice before giving him any. Now if you excuse me, I'm going to spend some time with my girlfriend.' And with that, Harry walked out without looking back and he ignored the people's pleas to stay inside.

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As far as Harry was concerned, all that talk about what the townspeople referred to either as satanic rituals or ghosts was superstitious drivel. He didn't know what to make of the horrible stuff that's happened to them, but he was positive that the other stranger that were in town most likely had something to do with it. But that was completely their problem, not Harry's.
The moon stood high in the cloudless dark sky, illuminating his way. It was almost full, only the edge was still blurred by a shadow. But Harry didn't take notice of this; not even the biting cold disrupted his sole focus, which was the graveyard outside of town. He arrived there after twenty minutes walk, and with a heavy heart he entered through a large wrought-iron gate that led onto the field of tombstones. Thanks to the chatterbox Nick the Coachman, Harry didn't have to search stone by stone after Cho's grave, he only had to look at the crypts.

It took Harry a longer time to find the particular crypt than he'd thought though. When he finally spotted the Chang's family-crypt, it was only fifteen minutes left to midnight. Harry looked sadly at the cold-looking stone building. There were three nametags on the door: based on the dates of birth to dates of death, Harry saw that the first two names most likely belonged to Cho's grandparents. The third name was the newest: it belonged of course to Cho. He stared at the nametag for a long time, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. His insides were wringing itself so much of grief that it gave him an uncomfortable tingling in the back of his mind. But it was unimportant. Right now, everything else seemed just unimportant to him, as he stood unmoving, transfixed on the nametag of his dead girlfriend.

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Back at The Laughing Swan inn, Mac the innkeeper had just sent the last costumer out and was cleaning up the last of the mess before he would go to bed. Mac was one of the few people in the world that could work tirelessly for a whole day and be ready for a new day with just a few hours sleep. Of course, he hoped that Christmas the next day would be a little calmer, spending a glorifying day as that alone with his loved ones was what anyone would wish for from time to time.
A sound from his the stairs made him turning his head. He was quite surprised to find the other guest that was occupying one of his rooms upstairs finally coming down, tucking a case under his arm.
'I thought you had already gone out for tonight?' Mac said to him.
'I overslept.' The man said weakly. 'This is a bad time of the year for me.'
'I can see that, you don't look so good. Maybe you should stay indoors this time?'
'I can't. This is something that needs to be done. I'm too close to let it be ruined now just because I'm sick. I only need two… maybe three more nights… then it should be over.'
'Exactly what is it that plagues us?' Mac asked curiously. He had asked that question many times before, and he hoped he would finally get an answer this time.
'I'm sorry my friend.' Said the man shaking his head. 'This is still something that you're better of knowing nothing about just yet. Just trust me, I'm dealing with it. Now, I hope you don't mind serving me some food before I head out?'

There was no stew left, so all Mac could serve at the moment was some leftover bread and Reindeer milk. But his guest was not complaining, he ate it without saying anything.
'By the way Mr… whatever your name was.' Mac spoke up. 'When you're going out tonight, keep your eyes out for a boy out there. He's another guest that arrived this morning that probably has nothing to do with… whatever it is you're dealing with.'
The man looked up with annoyance. 'What boy? Not another one of those young fools that gets a kick out of being in the middle of danger I hope?'
'No, not this one.' Mac shook his head. 'He didn't seem to be that type.'
'What's he doing out there tonight? Didn't you tell him that I want people to stay indoors while I deal with this?'
'I told him that! But he wouldn't listen… all that was on his mind was to spend some time over the Chang's crypt…'

The man spat out the milk he'd been drinking from his pint. 'The Chang's Crypt?!' he exclaimed. 'W-who is the boy? What's he look like?'
'He never said his name actually.' Mac said shrugging his shoulders. 'But he's black-haired and wearing glasses. The most odd thing was the funny-looking mark on his temple. Looked like a lightning-bolt…'
'NOOOOOO!!'
The man bolted out of his chair and stormed out through the door he violently threw open, giving no regard of caution for the materials. Bewildered, Mac quickly followed him outside and tracked him with his gaze as the man ran out into the darkness that almost instantly swallowed him. During his whole lifetime, Mac could not recall ever seeing anyone running so fast before.

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It felt like Harry had spent a lot longer time than he actually had just standing staring at the crypt. But he finally looked at his watch… If it was accurately set, the time was just striking midnight, going over to December the 25:th: Christmas day. Harry let out a deep sigh and began to speak aloud…
'Oh Cho… today would have been a special day for both of us. I wonder what your reaction would have been had I still had the chance to ask your parents a very special question… asking them for your hand. Telling them that I wanted to marry you after we'd both graduated… What would they have said? What would you say?'

'Oh Harry. I always knew you were so romantic…'

Harry spun around towards the voice that he thought he had heard. It must have been his imagination, because he could have sworn that the voice belonged to…
Harry's eyes opened so widely that it actually hurt… Leaning against a tree that stood behind him were Cho Chang, looking very much alive and smiling warmly at him…

Author's notes:

Bet you're confused now. (Snicker…) Wait 'til the next chapter…

As far as in my knowledge, the town I'm describing or any similar to it does not exist. That's why I'm avoiding describing locations or names. It also makes it more necessary to do that since I'm a foreigner to England, and I didn't want to screw up anything. If anyone does not like my course of action, then I'm sorry. But sometimes you have to do this kind of things to make the story work.

Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up faster. We shall see…