DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

By the time Harry had arrived in the Kitchen that morning all three Dursleys were already seated around the table. Petunia having just placed breakfast on the table. Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of disappointment and looked down at the grapefruit quarter placed in front of him. The household had been forced to eat healthily since Dudley had received his end of year report. A diet sheet had been sent by Dudley's school nurse and the regime had began.

Although, Harry certainly wasn't following it. He had sent out a cry for help from his friends. A care package had been sent by Ron and Neville and even Seamus and Dean had given him a few goodies. But it had been his Godfather who had saved the day, by giving him regular deliveries of cooked meats and delicious foods. Harry had grown over three inches and put on some well deserved weight, since the start of summer. Harry looked extremely healthy for a boy who used to live under the stairs. So he happily dug into his grapefruit quarter, knowing he had a proper breakfast waiting for him upstairs.

Uncle Vernon gave a great sight which ruffled his large bushy mustache, and picked up his spoon. The doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon heaved himself up out of the chair. Quick as a flash Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernon's grapefruit. Harry heard talking at the door, someone laughed and then the front door closed. After about a minute he was back. He looked livid, "YOU" he barked at Harry. "In the living room, now!" Harry followed, confused as to what he could have possibly done wrong. Uncle Vernon slammed the door behind them sharply and turned on Harry with an accusing stare.

"So!" he said brandishing a letter in his left hand. Harry was sick of being treated like this. Like he was a criminal, the dirt on his uncles shoes. Harry had done things. Heroic things. His parents had been heroes, not freaks. He didn't deserve this life.

"This just arrived" said Uncle Vernon, not noticing Harry's fowl temper. He thrust the letter into Harry's hand. "A letter. About you" Who could possibly be writing to Uncle Vernon about Harry? Uncle Vernon's glare burned into his skull as Harry read.

Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley

We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron. As Harry might have take you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place next Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the Cup for the thirty years and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry to stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school. It would be best of Harry to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is. Hoping to see Harry soon, Yours Sincerely,

Molly Weasley

Harry didn't say a word, he just continued to stare at the ticket to his freedom. Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who was attempting to keep his expression neutral. Harry decided to break the silence. "So-can I go, then?"

Uncle Vernon's face spasmed, a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon's fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allow Harry to be happy, or get stuck with him for the rest of the summer. Uncle Vernon was perusing the letter again.

"Quidditch, what is this rubbish?" Harry felt a stab of annoyance at Vernon's ignorance.

"Its a sport" he said shortly and to rub it in his face he addded. "Playes on broomsticks" really highlighting the laast word.

"Alright! Alright!" Boomed unlce Vernon, Harry saw with great satisfaction that he looked extremely outraged at his explanation. "How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that unnaturalness under my roof!" he hissed, balling his great fat sausage fingers into fists. Harry could see what was coming, but gone were the days he would just sit back and take the abuse. Everything had changed.

"Can I go now? Only I've got a letter to Sirius I need to write, you know, my Godfather. He's been hinting that he wants to visit. If I can't go to the Quidditch World Cup"-Harry shrugged casually-"I might just have to say yes". He had done it. He'd said the magic words (so to speak). Harry sat back and watched happily as his words sunk in. If Vernon told Harry he couldn't go to the World Cup, a 'murderous raving lunatic' might just show up on their doorstep.

And if Harry told his Godfather about how he's beenm treated over the years something much worse then Dudley's curly pig tail could occur. There was only one conclusion to this situation. Harry tried not to smiule, to his face blank, starring down his uncle. Daring him to say no. And then-

"Well, all right then. You can go to this stupid World Cup thing. But I don't want to hear a peep from you for the rest of the year. Nothing you hear! You leave that door you don't come back!"

"Okay then" Harry said brightly, Vernon caving like a house of cards. He turned a nearly skipped towards the living room door, he swung it open and the took the staircase three steps at a time. He practically hurled himself into his room. Upon entering the room a small feathery object flew into the side of his head and bounced backwards onto the bed. Harry then realised that it was a minute owl and it had dropped a letter on his bed.

Harry,

DAD GOT THE TICKETS - Ireland vs Bulgaria, Monday night. Its all set! Mum wrote a letter to the muggles to be polite but no matter what we're coming to get you. If they say yes send your answer back pronto and we'll cine get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, we'll still come get you. Hermione and Neville are arriving this afternoon. Nevilles' Grandmother was over the moon to hear Harry Potter had invited her Grandson. I thought she was going to wet herself when I saw her in Diagon Alley. So get your stuff together Golden Boy, we're coming for you. See you soon.

Ron.

"Calm down!" Harry said, as the small owl twittering madly with what Harry could only assumewas pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here, I need youto take my answer back!" The owl fluttered down ontop of Hedwigs cage, and grabbed a fresh piece of parchment.

Ron,

Its all ok, the muggles say I can come. Wouldn't have stopped me anyway. Its going to be brilliant. I can't wait. The Gryffindor boys together again! See you at five o'clock tomorrow.

Harry, a.k.a Golden Boy

He folded the note up very small and, with immense difficulty tied it to the tiny owls leg, as it hopped on one spot excitedly. The moment the note was secure it was off like a shot, zooming out of the window. Harry watched it fly into the distance, a tiny spec on the horizon. He hadn't mentioned anything about Hermione coming, maybe she'd realised why he'd done what he did?