Harry Potter and the Dinner Party

The door slammed shut behind the boy, leaving him once again alone in the small backyard of number four, Private Drive. Harry's uncle had found him and his cousin standing over the smashed remains of Aunt Petunia's favourite vase. Dudley, as always, immediately placed the blame on his cousin while stepping away from his handiwork. Harry could barely speak, let alone plead his innocence before he was roughly pushed outside to suffer his punishment. He heard the lock click and knew he was in for one of his longer visits.

Though being outside did not bother the boy as much as it would his pampered cousin, he had forgotten to make lunch; only remembering when his stomach growled loudly. With a sigh, Harry slumped down onto the small step outside the door and waited for the door to open once more. To his delight, he was not alone for long. After hearing the beautiful song of a bird up in a nearby tree, Harry looked up to find his neighbours' cat lurking a branch across from the songbird.
"Mr. Paws, what do you think you are doing?" He called, a smile stretching across his lips. The cat made a final attempt at the bird as it flew away in shock and then, if Harry was not mistaken, Mr. Paws fixed him with a glare as he climbed down the tree. He landed softly in the Dursley's backyard and slinked over to where Harry sat, sitting beside him silently.

"Oh, so now you're going to be mad at me? It's not like you were going to eat her? I know for a fact that Mrs Figg feeds you often enough," Harry sighed, stroking his fingers across the soft fur of Mr. Paws' head.
"That's not the point!" a soft voice came from beside him. Harry smirked.
"Did I injure your pride?" the young boy asked. Mr. Paws scoffed leaning into Harry's hand.
"What are you doing out here anyway?" Mr. Paws asked, purring lightly as they sat together.
"Dudley broke a vase..." Harry sighed softly, his eyes staring, unfocused, at a small patch of the hedge at the end of the yard.
"Do you want me to leave a dead rat on his doorstep again?" Mr. Paws asked, smiling as much as a cat can.
"Are you sure you could catch one?" Harry joked and laughed as the cat swiped at his hand softly, a small hiss escaping its mouth. "Sorry, sorry. I mean, no thank you, Mr. Paws."

The door behind Harry opened suddenly, lurching Harry backwards as he was leaning on it, and he fell inside. Uncle Vernon stood over him, a scowl etched on his chubby face.
"Get off the floor, boy!" He snapped as Harry scrambled to his feet. "Come inside and get cleaned up, we're going to have company." And with that Harry's Uncle walked away. Harry turned to say goodbye to Mr. Paws as Vernon yelled, "Now!"
"Bye," he smiled sadly.
"When will you be visiting Mama Figg next?" Mr. Paws asked quickly, standing on the threshold so the door could not close.
"I don't know, but Dudley's birthday is next week; so, hopefully then," Harry quickly replied, and closed the door before he got into any more trouble.

In the kitchen, Petunia stood by the sink, happily washing dishes. As she glanced out the window she saw Mr. Paws scurrying over the fence and her face twisted up in disgust.
"Vernon!" She called, glancing over her shoulder. From the lounge, her husband replied, "What, love?"
"Mrs Figg's cats are in our backyard again. Should you talk to her again about those unruly creatures?"
"I'll do it tomorrow, dear." Petunia did not seem too relieved by this, and found herself out there later that night, disinfecting the yard.

Harry quickly washed his hands and face, changing his shirt to a slightly less baggy and less hole-y one. The Dursleys very rarely had company, and when they did Harry was supposed to make himself scarce — something must be very different with these people. Harry opened the door of his cupboard and slipped out, as he already heard voices coming from the living room. He let out a gasp as a cold hand wrapped around his arm.
"Be good, and stay quiet." Harry looked up to see Aunt Petunia standing over him, her newly pink lips popping out of her face. With a quick nod of his head, Harry followed his aunt into the living room where he was met with the overwhelming stench of perfume, musk, and sweat.

Sitting on the couches with the rest of the Dursley family was an elderly looking man and a woman with an unnaturally stretched face. By her feet was one of the fluffiest dogs Harry had ever seen. His face twisted into a small smile as he sat in the most uncomfortable chair in the room, wondering why the couple and their pet had come to the Dursleys household.
"Harvey, Sandra," Uncle Vernon said in his most sickly sweet voice, a fake smile on his face, "this is my wife, Petunia — and my nephew." Vernon looked at Harry, giving him a warning look before smiling, "Petunia - Harvey and Sandra Winkle."
"It's a pleasure to meet you!" She smiled and instantly offered refreshments, forgetting about Harry as she took the orders. Harry did not mind, as the faster their guests forgot about him, the faster he could slip away. He noticed his aunts continual glances at the furry creature by their visitors feet. The woman, Sandra, noticed as well.

"Petunia, this is Kibbles," she smiled, picking up the dog and cuddling her to her chest. "I hope she's not bothering you."
"No! Not at all," Petunia smiled, though it seemed quite forced. Sandra smiled as well, "I hope so," she softly pursed her lips as she placed Kibbles back on the floor.
"She's lying," a soft voice chuckled, causing Harry to smirk. He looked down at Kibble — who shook her body, her ears flapping against her skull.

Throughout the rest of the night, Harry sat near Kibbles, trying to keep his face reasonably straight as the dog meticulously made fun of her owner and the rest of the Dursleys. Petunia had offered Kibbles some chicken she cooked for the night, and with a few sniffs, Kibbles accepted. Realising her mistake just too late, the dog tried to evacuate the food from her mouth, spluttering and growling at the 'devil food' she had just been served. Harry felt sympathetic and knew what it was like to draw the short straw when it came to his Aunts' cooking. So he slipped out of the party and rummaged through the pantry for something to give the small dog. He heard her padded feet patter into the room before she announced her presence with a soft bark.
"Human, you have found your way to some edible food... gimme!" Harry smiled down at her as he reached into the fridge and pulled out the excess mince from the previous nights' dinner, and sat before her.
"Kibbles, do you sit?" He asked, trying to keep pretences that he could not understand the dog.
"You want me to sit?" She asked, huffing as she complied, "I have never been so offended in another home." Harry placed the bag of mince in front of her and softly scruffed her ears, before saying, "Enjoy!" As he walked from the room he heard a small, "Thank you," and with a smirk, replied, "You're welcome."

He entered the other room to hear a small yelp from the kitchen and a few minutes later the dog rushed in, looking straight at Harry.
"Can he hear me? No, of course not... that would be crazy?!" The small dog began discussing with herself as she returned to her place beside Mrs Winkle.

Finally, it came time for the Winkles to leave, but Kibbles still had the small problem that she had not completely figured out if Harry could understand her, and Harry was not making it easy.
"Human! The human with the glasses!" The small dog tried as she all but dragged to the door. "Can you understand me!?" Harry smiled as he waited down the hall. Kibbles struggled against her leash, much to Petunia's despair. Mrs Winkle apologised as she dragged the yelping dog from the house. Just as the adults were exchanging goodbyes, Harry appeared behind Vernon and said, soft enough for the humans to pay no mind:
"It was nice talking to you Kibbles."
"Talking. Bah!" Kibbles exclaimed, "You did very little of that, boy."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, maybe another time we can share a true conversation over my Aunt's 'devil food'?" Harry smirked as he moved from the door. The shock of his answer had stunned the small dog enough that Mrs Winkle was able to quickly pick up Kibbles and stuff her into their car.

"Well wasn't that nice, Petunia?" Vernon asked as he made his way back into the kitchen, helping himself to a fourth serving of Petunia's chicken and the leftover Sheppard's pie from the night before. Petunia, however, was distracted staring at her nephew. She had always thought he was a strange child, but his actions tonight had solidified her thoughts.
"Harry, finish the dishes and get to your room."
"Did I embarrass you?" Harry asked, almost sure he had made it through the night without deserving some sort of punishment.
"Just go."

Harry left his Aunt and Uncle and did as he was told, muttering softly to himself as he did. He watched the yard outside, smiling as he saw a small cat dart from one side to the other.

A/N:

This story was written from an idea by Aleka Victoire.