A Conversation

By, Joni

I am standing on Platform 9 ¾, but I feel nothing but pain. It’s too bad, really. I usually love being on my way to Hogwarts for a new school year. I love going there, learning magic, and becoming a witch. Now, Hogwarts and anything to do with it only reminds me of him.

Even standing here on this platform is hard. I was suppose to meet him here, right under the wrought iron gate where I am standing now. We had planned it all at the end of last year. We knew we probably wouldn’t see each other over the summer so I was going to meet him before boarding the train so we could sit together and talk. I didn’t see him over the summer and I’ll never see him again.

Was I in love with him? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. I’ll never have the chance to find out now what could have been and it’s best not to dwell on it. But he was my friend, and a good one. I can’t forget him. I won’t forget him. I just wish the pain of loosing him would go away.

I look around the platform now and wish I could be like all the other happy, smiling students. My heart just isn’t in it. My parents have been worried about me all summer. They wanted to come with me to the platform, but I made them stay behind at King’s Cross. As much as their love, comfort, and closeness helps me, I am sixteen now and I feel like I need to learn how to face these things on my own.

Biting back the tears, which are threatening to overwhelm me for the millionth time since I lost him, I start my way toward the train to board. I am about halfway there when I see Harry ahead of me and I stop dead in my tracks. I hadn’t even thought of what it would be like to see him again. The hurt is rising and a fresh wave of grief is descending over me. This year at Hogwarts will probably be harder then I already thought it would be. Part of me never wants to see Harry again; just seeing him brings back too many painful memories. The other part of me wants to run to him and talk to him. Maybe we can heal together. I remember how troubled he looked at the end of last year and I know he must be suffering like me. Harry can also answer questions I have that no one else would know how to answer. However, is it fair for me to put him through that pain? Somehow I can’t bring myself to pull Harry through my personal hell. I’m not ready to see him and thankfully, he doesn’t see me. He boards the train and disappears within.

I start moving again, walking down the platform to the other end of the train. In just a short while I’m seated by a window watching the scenery pass by in a compartment filled with friends.

My friends. They talk and laugh and try their best to cheer my up. It’s not helping. It’s as if I can see the eggshells they are tiptoeing on around me even though they are trying to act like they are at ease with me. The longer I sit here the harder it is becoming for me to stop the tears from flowing. I can’t cry now. My friends aren’t ready to know the pain I am going through and they wouldn’t know how to help me. I need someone to talk to, but these aren’t the people I want to confide in. There is only one person I know that I can talk to right now, even though I know it is against my better judgment to bother him with my sadness.

Determined to go through with it, I suddenly stand up. My friends all stop talking and watch me, confused, as I leave the compartment without saying a word. I’m glad none of them come after me; I need to do this alone.

I start down the train, peeking carefully into each compartment, looking for him. As I make my way through the train, my heart beats more uncomfortably in my chest and my hands start shaking. When I do find him, what am I going to say? I have no idea. All I know is that I need to see him and talk to him somehow.

Finally, I reach the last compartment at the very end of the train. I know he must be in there, I’ve checked everywhere else already, but I peek carefully inside just to make sure. He is there, sitting by the window just as I had been, talking quietly to two of his friends. Before I can change my mind and stop myself from going through with it, I slide open the door all the way and step inside.

All three of them stop talking at once and turn to stare at me with eyes wide in surprise. I look straight back at Harry as if the other two aren’t even there and it is only then that I realize the kind of suffering he must be going through. A disturbing pained look clouds his face the moment he sees me and I suddenly know this will probably be harder on him then it is on me.

Nobody says anything for a few seconds. I have this incredible urge to run back out of the door now but my feet are rooted on the spot, so I just keep gazing at Harry, biting my bottom lip nervously. His friends, Ron and Hermione, keep looking between him, me, and each other, obviously at a loss for what to do or say.

“Cho…” Harry says finally. His voice is quiet, but I can hear the surprise and nervousness in it. “…Hi.”

“Hi, Harry,” I reply in that same quiet voice. “Can I talk to you, please?” Then I look at his friends uncertainly as I add, “Alone?”

Harry nods in silence. Hermione stands up and smiles at me kindly. “We’ll leave,” she says as she grabs Ron by the arm and starts tugging him in the direction of the door.

“Oh…right,” Ron says as he stands up as well. Hermione smiles at me again as she passes by. I try to smile back, but I know it must look more like a grimace. Harry turns to stare out the window blankly as his friends leave the compartment and I hear the door slide shut behind me.

I just stand there, like an idiot, for a few more moments. I still don’t know what to say. Harry continues to stare out the window and I notice his hands are gripped together so tightly that his knuckles are white. Slowly, I walk to the end of the compartment and sit down directly across from him. He glances at me for a second and then looks out the window again.

I look out the window, too. Just from that short look Harry gave me, I could tell that he knows what I want. I could also see by the expression on his face that he’s not sure he wants to talk about it with me. Quickly I remind myself that it has only been a couple of months since he supposedly survived a face-to-face encounter with the Dark Lord. I need to be careful; I don’t want to cause him any more pain then what he has already gone through.

I also realize at that moment that I don’t want him to answer my questions, that I don’t want him to ease my pain. But maybe I can help him to feel better. I actually feel slightly better just being here, and I haven’t even really talked to him yet. I still don’t know what to say so I just say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How…how was your summer?”

Harry looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. That was a stupid thing for me to ask him, I could just kick myself.

“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I…I’ve heard about those Muggles you live with.” Then I mutter, more to myself then to him, “Of course your summer wouldn’t have been all that great.”

Harry smiles vaguely and says, “It’s okay, my summer wasn’t too bad, or as bad as it could have been.” He changes his expression to one of concern as he then asks me, “How was yours?”

I gulp quickly and involuntarily. There’s no use lying. “Terrible,” I tell him honestly.

Harry nods his head in understanding and simply states, “I’m sorry.”

Now we just sit looking at each other uncomfortably in the awkward silence.

Harry sighs and leans back in his seat still eyeing me. “You…you want to ask me about…Cedric…don’t you?” he asks me slowly.

I knew that he knew, but now I don’t want to talk about it so I shake me head and deny it.

He looks at me strangely. “You don’t?”

“I did when I first came in here,” I admit. “Now that I’m here, though, it doesn’t seem to matter. I don’t know what I want now.”

Harry just sits there looking at me now with an unreadable expression. I wish he would say something. I start to fidget in my seat and I feel incredibly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I choke out suddenly. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll leave now.” I jump out of my seat to run out the door.

Harry jumps to his feet, too. “No,” he says as he grabs my arm to keep me from dashing away. “Don’t leave. Please, sit down and stay.”

“Why?” I ask him. “This is very uncomfortable.” Great, now I’m turning red…I hate that.

“I know, but your being here makes me feel at least a little better. Please, just stay?” Harry is turning red, too.

I’m relieved he doesn’t want me to leave, although I’m still not sure what I’m going to do or say to him. He releases my arm and we both sit down again.

We look out the window again for a few minutes, neither of us looking at the other. Finally I ask him, “Why is my being here making you feel better?”

Harry looks at the floor now. “I thought you…hated me. But if you are here, it means you don’t and that makes me feel better.”

“Why would I hate you?” I ask in shock.

“Because of what happened to Cedric…I thought maybe you would blame me.”

His pain is much deeper then I realized. It sounds to me like he blames himself for what happened. No wonder he looks so sad. I feel sorry for him so I try to reassure him the best I can. “I never blamed you, Harry. What happened to Cedric wasn’t your fault.”

“I suppose not,” he says as he looks out the window again. He really doesn’t sound all that convinced and there probably isn’t much I can say to change his mind about blaming himself. I decide to change the subject to see if I can help him to feel better.

“Cedric thought very highly of you, Harry,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Harry looks at me with a perplexed look. “He did?”

“Yes. He used to talk to me about you sometimes.” I wasn’t making this up. Cedric really did talk to me about Harry. I’m just hoping it’s not wrong of me to bring it up now.

“What about?” Harry asks curiously.

“For one thing, Cedric thought you were a great Quidditch player. He felt bad about beating you that one year. He didn’t think it was a fair game because…because of those dementors.”

Harry shudders, I suppose at the thought of the dementors. Can’t blame him there. I continue on, “Cedric was relieved that Gryffindor won the cup. I think he would have blamed himself if you had lost.”

“It wasn’t Cedric’s fault,” Harry states.

“No, it wasn’t,” I reply, hoping Harry might see the connection.

“There’s more,” I continue as Harry looks at me silently, but with interest. “He told me that at the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament he suspected you of cheating to get in as the forth champion, but that after the first task he knew you hadn’t entered. I don’t know why he changed his mind, he never said, but he always felt bad for thinking you had cheated at all. You didn’t enter the Tournament, did you?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “I didn’t enter.”

“I wonder what made Cedric change his mind?” I question out loud.

“I helped him with the first task.”

“You did? Why? Isn’t that cheating?”

“Not really in this case. At least I didn’t think it was cheating. You see,” he explains, “I accidentally found out about the dragons before the first task. I also found out that Madame Maxime and Karkaroff knew about the dragons, too. I was positive they would tell their champions what was coming. I didn’t think it was fair that we all knew about the dragons except Cedric, so I told him to make it fair.”

“I understand,” I say while nodding. “Did you know it was because of Cedric that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stopped picking on you after the first task?”

Harry nods his head. “I suspected he had something to do with that.”

“He was very persuasive and people listened to him. He felt really bad about everyone teasing you. He couldn’t do anything about the Slytherins, though.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what they say anyway.” We both almost smile.

I continue on. Somehow telling Harry these things about Cedric is helping me feel much better, I hope it’s helping Harry, too. “Cedric really admired what you did in the second task. He wouldn’t stop talking about it for a long time. He thought you deserved more points.”

Now Harry smiles at me just slightly. A brief smile, but I saw it. “Cedric told me that…during the third task. But Cedric helped me figure out what to do in the second task, you know, to pay me back for helping him with the first task. I just got lucky in the second task…I was the only one thick enough to take that song the egg sang seriously. I really thought everyone would be ‘lost’ if we took too long. I should have known better.”

“No,” I tell him. “It just shows you care about people. I think that’s why Cedric was so impressed with it. He thought it showed again that you cared more about people then earning points and winning the Tournament.

“Harry,” I ask carefully, “What happened during the third task? We couldn’t really see anything up in the Quidditch stands…” I trail off seeing that horrible pained look cloud over Harry’s face again. I must have brought up something too close to Cedric’s death. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I apologize quickly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Harry sighs deeply, but says firmly, “It’s okay. I’ll tell you a little about it.” Harry describes how he saw Krum putting the Cruciatus Curse on Cedric somewhere in the middle of the task. “I stunned Krum from behind to stop him. Later, I found out that Krum had only been acting like that because someone else had him under the Imperius Curse, but it was really shocking to both Cedric and I.” He then describes how he and Cedric parted, going their separate ways in the maze. Harry then tells me how he finally reached the middle of the maze and saw the Triwizard Cup. “I was running toward it and then Cedric appeared in the path ahead of me. He could run faster and was going to get there first, but there was one more obstacle that he didn’t see.” He then explains how a huge spider was guarding the center of the maze and how he warned Cedric about it. Together, Harry and Cedric managed to stun the spider, but Harry had been hurt.

“When the spider picked me up, it pinched my leg. Then it dropped me from pretty high and I sprained my ankle. I couldn’t walk and Cedric was right next to the cup, practically. He…he wouldn’t take it. He walked away from the cup and told me to take it.”

I smile at hearing this. In amazement I realize it’s the first time I’ve smiled while thinking of Cedric since he died. Harry is looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind so I tell him, “That…what you just said, it sounds just like something Cedric would do. He had some pretty strong ideas about fair play.”

Harry smiles slightly again and nods. “Cedric was Cedric right up to the end,” he states quietly.

“So, did you take the cup?”

“No. Some of Cedric’s sense of fair play must have worn off on me because I wouldn’t take it either. He kept insisting, saying that I helped him twice in the third task and I deserved it more then him. I couldn’t take it though so I suggested we both take it at the same time.”

I smile again at hearing this. “Oh, a double Hogwarts win. Cedric must have liked that idea, I’m sure of it.”

Harry nods at me, but he isn’t smiling. “He did like the idea and it cost him his life.”

All I can do is stare at Harry in shock and confusion. I don’t get it. He doesn’t say anything to me, just watches as I struggle mentally with what he just said. Finally I ask, “What do you mean?”

“The cup,” he says quietly and with great struggle, “it was a portkey. When we both grabbed it, it took us to where Voldemort—“

He can’t finish. I’ve gasped at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name and my hands covered my mouth with a loud smack. My heart is racing and my breathing feels out of control. I put my hands down to rub my chest and exclaim, “You said the Dark Lord’s name!”

“Sorry,” Harry says quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I’d rather say his name then call him ‘You-Know-Who’ all of the time. Dumbledore once told me that to fear a name increases the fear of the thing itself and, well, I can’t argue with Dumbledore.”

“You’re not afraid of the Dark Lord?” I ask, looking at Harry suspiciously.

“Of course I’m afraid of him,” Harry responds. “I’m just not afraid of his name, that’s all.”

I knew Harry was brave but I really had no idea. After a few seconds, trying to calm myself more, I say, “Go on…about the cup…it was a portkey?”

“Yeah. It was a trap for me. I was suppose to touch it first, alone, and it would take me to…Voldemort.” He says that name again, but gently and looking at me carefully, pausing to make sure he hasn’t frightened me again. I only flinch slightly this time now that I know what to expect. “Cedric wasn’t suppose to be with me, and he was killed almost right after we got there.”

So that explains it, for the most part. No one ever bothered to really tell me in detail what happened, and I feel grateful to Harry for explaining this much to me. We sit for a while, both of us staring out the window in contemplative silence. I wonder to myself how Harry had managed to get away, but there is no way I’m going to ask him about that. I’ve already made him go through too much pain. I decide that he’s told me enough and it’s about time I left him alone.

Before I can say anything Harry turns to me and says, quite earnestly, “I’m sorry, Cho, about what happened to Cedric. I know you two were…friends. I didn’t know him very well, but I liked him. He was always nice to me. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“Thanks, Harry. I’m sorry, too, for all that you had to go through. I can’t…even imagine.”

Harry looks at me for a second and then stares back out the window. I really should leave him alone, so I stand up to leave. He looks up at me in surprise.

“I ought to leave you alone now,” I explain. “Thanks for talking to me, Harry. It really has helped me feel better.”

A funny expression crosses his face. “I feel better, too,” he says more to himself then to me, looking slightly bewildered.

“I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I guess?” I ask awkwardly, as I start to move toward the door.

Harry nods at me and smiles weakly. “See you.”

I turn and walk to the door and as I place my hand on the handle to open it, I hear his voice again, sounding slightly uncertain. “Cho?”

I stop and turn around to face him again, looking at him with a questioning expression.

Harry seizes a deck of cards that had been lying on the seat next to him and says, “Will you stay and play Exploding Snap with me? I don’t really feel like being alone.”

Slowly, a huge grin forms on my face that I can’t prevent. To my surprise, Harry smiles genuinely back at me, the first real smile he’s had since I started talking to him. Without saying a word I sit back down and we start to play the game. Eventually, we are laughing together and talking about less painful subjects like Quidditch and school.

Maybe this year at Hogwarts won’t be as bad as I thought.