Ginny perused over the old photographs slanted upon the tables of the Chang’s living room. Hermione and Luna were chattering delightfully away as they caught up on one another’s lives. Ginny had joined in their conversation but grew more curious as she glanced over the small objects of the room. She and all the guests who had arrived to spend dinner at the Chang household were pleased to see Luna, and especially glad to notice she was now Co-Editor of The Quibbler, her father’s newspaper. The women were even more surprised to learn that Neville – who was the new Herbology teacher at Hogwarts after the last Professor had retired – and she had been dating for several years.

“The Quibbler has been doing fantastic,” Luna stated happily before taking another sip of her tea. Hermione grinned.

Though her smile turned to a frown when she heard Ron mutter under his breath, “The articles are still filled with rubbish on snargles and short-snapped-whatever-you-call its.”

Ginny, who’d seen Dean chuckle at her brother’s idiotic comment, gave both boys a menacing glare; indicating them to hush, they sat and resumed to finish their game of Wizard’s Chess.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Chang were arguing at the dining table over whether the Bulgarians would beat the Irish for the third consecutive time at the World Cup taking place in a few, upcoming months while their wives exchanged tips on what ingredients go wonderfully with what meal as they cooked jubilantly in the kitchen. 

Still browsing at the picture frames, Ginny stopped at one particular photo that caught her eye. Observing the moving image more closely, her curiosity increased as she wondered about the Changs’ lives. Ginny stared at the smiling beauty in the photograph with flowing, silky black hair, light creamy skin, and a kind, comforting face; the woman she recognized as Cho. As well in the picture were two small girls that bore her resemblance, one seeming to be a few years older than the other. They must be her daughters, Ginny thought as she lightly brushed their grinning faces with her hand. Who was the father? Perhaps, Michael Corner?  It could have possibly been anyone. She had clearly remembered Cho being quite popular among the boys at Hogwarts, especially since she had dated so many

Moments later, Ginny’s mother and Mrs. Chang called everyone to the dining room. The bunch were greeted by a burgundy wooden table, lavished with various dishes that spurned their taste buds and sparked their senses as each individual inhaled the blending odors emitting from the trays of food. As everyone sat, they all cheerfully commented on Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Chang’s cooking as they ate without a care in the world. After a while, the company wondered where Mrs. Chang’s other guests could be, and what time they would arrive; Ron especially wondered for he hoped he could quickly get seconds of every course before they came.

“Where is your daughter and grandchildren you’ve avidly talked about,” Mrs. Weasley asked, before swatting Ron’s hand as he reached for his fifth chicken leg.

Mrs. Chang returned her new friend’s question with a smile, dismissing her husband’s unhopeful stare. Five crackling pops that echoed from the hallways could be heard from a distance. As everyone focused their gaze to the individuals in the hallway, no one could believe their eyes. Ginny, standing quite still, glared at the now grown man who had broke her heart so many years ago.


                Neville, who was dusting off powder off his coat, shook his head in dismay.

“I really do prefer apparating.”

“Sorry,” Cho sympathized as she set down her suitcase. “The girls are still not very fond of the strange, twisting of apparation yet.”

                A small child with bright brown eyes in a small plaid sweater, similar to Cho’s, set down her mother’s bag.

“I want to learn how to apparate,” she exclaimed gleefully.  

“Charlotte,” Harry told the bouncing little girl, “You will in time.” He lightly patted her head but his daughter squirmed, crossing her arms in frustration over what small amount of things she could do being only seven years old.  

“I like Floo,” the smaller girl in Harry’s arm cheered. Cho grinned at the child as she took her from Harry’s grasp. “Oh, Claire.”

Leaning against the wall, Harry looked back at his wife with eyebrows raised. "Did your mother threaten Luna to come for dinner, too?”

“I bet she did,” Neville quickly interrupted.

Harry almost laughed. “A spit fire, my mother-in-law is.”

“Spit fire,” Charlotte repeated while removing her shoes. “What’s a spit fire, mommy?”

Cho, beginning to angrily scowl at the two men burning red, sarcastically proclaimed as she turned toward Harry, “Well daddy, what is a spit fire?” 
“Uh…” he hesitated. “It’s a …” Harry looked toward Neville, “A plant.”

“A plant?” Charlotte asked, still quite confused.

“Yes, Neville,” Harry stammered while turning to his best mate. “Remember, you showed me one once.”

“Ahh…” Neville answered as he noticed his friend’s tone to play along. “Yes, the Hungarian Spit fire. It’s a …uh… kind of Venus fly trap, very rare species bred in the northern area of … err …China. They only feed on … eh … cheese! When they’re not given enough at each meal, they –“

“Spit fire!” Harry loudly intercepted. Now trying desperately to hide the anxiety triggering his sweaty face, he gawked at his daughters in hopes they believed Neville’s outrageous tale. Charlotte and Claire both peered at their father strangely.

“How strange,” Charlotte commented as she hung her sweater on the coat rack.

“Likewise,” Cho agreed while setting down Claire, now turning her gaze to both of her young daughters. “Charlotte, honey, why don’t you bring along Claire upstairs to go and play? I’ll tell Grandma you said hello then bring you two something to eat.”

                Charlotte nodded then grasped her sister’s small hand. They party caringly watched the girls scramble their way up the stairs. When they were immediately out of sight, an angry expression took over Cho’s face as she smacked the side of Harry’s arm.

“A plant!” she snarled, now hitting Neville’s arm side. “My mother isn’t a plant!”

“Ouch!” Both men rubbed their growing bruises in pain.

“Bred in China?!” she growled even louder.

“Cho, I didn’t know what to say. Neville was the one who called her a Venus Fly Trap.”

Neville, who seemed to be distracted from the fighting pair, seemed stunned as he looked back at the nearly nine set of eyes staring back at them.


“Honestly, you need to watch what you say in front of them. You’re their father; they listen to every blasted thing coming out of your mouth.”

“Err…you guys?”

“What’s idiotic are you, along with your mother, insisting you all four have matching clothes! The girls aren’t miniature figures of you so stop treating them as dress up dolls!”

Cho, breathing heavily, placed her hands on her hips in outrage. Harry couldn’t help but grow more aggravated by the second. 

“Cho?”  Neville continued.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“How am I unbelievable? Neville said spit fires ate frogs and were Brazilian or something.”

“He said cheese! And that they were Hungarian, Harry!”

Neville, still trying to catch their attention, scratched his head nervously. “Umm…you two need to …uh..."


The fighting couple focused their attention on their nervous friend. As Harry looked where Neville was gaping, his eyes grew in disbelief as he saw people he hadn’t seen in ten years.

Quick Note -- It's nice to read everyone's comments. I know many of you have many questions but I am choosing not to answer many of them for they will give away big things as the story continues. But I'll tell you one thing; don't be too quick to judge Cho and automatically think she's cheating on her hustband. It may seem like that but'll see. :).Keep reading and you'll find out. Please don’t forget to review.

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