This time it is not for the Language Club at TGS, but for Wizarding Languages at Hogwarts, because the prompt was 'Language Barrier' and come on.

Word Count: 646

knock on the door

The next morning, Harry got up and prepared breakfast for Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley before his aunt even had a chance to ask him to.

He hadn't been able to sleep long as he just could not wait to see Ameline again. And the earlier he got up, the faster he would be done with his chores. There were only so many Petunia and Vernon could give him—not to forget that they always tended to give him less if they liked the way Harry behaved. Which usually meant not speaking unless asked a question, doing everything he is told to do, and spending as little time as possible in the Dursley's presence.

The last one wasn't even a challenge. It was something he would have done anyways. The thought of receiving any positive attention from them had been scrapped years ago.

He wasn't dumb, he knew that they didn't see him as family. It wasn't like they tried to hide it, or anything. No, they made it more than obvious.

And they weren't Harry's family either. No one ever thought so, so why should he think it? He just called them Aunt and Uncle when speaking to them, because this was such an avoidable reason for them to get mad and there was no point in provoking them.

At least not for this. There were things were it was worth it, but this wasn't one of them.

Anyway, the point being that Harry behaved like an obedient servant all morning, but not quite enough so that Petunia and Vernon would know he was up to something. He made sure that he never was too good or too bad at a time. Mostly, he tried to be somewhere in the middle, so that neither being very good nor very bad was too weird.

It worked out almost always. Today was not one of those days were it failed. Petunia just told Harry to handle the laundry once they were all done with breakfast. He could do that. That was easy.

There was a knock on the door before Harry was done. He moved to the hall to open the door, but apparently Petunia was expecting someone, because she actually moved towards it and silently ordered Harry to get back to work.

And he was going to do that, really, he was. He had to get done quickly, after all.

But then, he heard the voice at the door.

"Bonjour, Madame! Harry peut-il sortir et jouer?"

It was Ameline's voice.

Oh, this could end very bad if Harry knew Petunia at all. Which he did.

"I am sorry," Petunia replied. Harry could practically see the annoyed and disgusted expression on her face. "I can't seem to understand you."

Understand was one of the words that they had covered yesterday, so he could imagine the recognition on her face as she clutched Tobie the lapin.

"Je demandais si Harry pouvait jouer avec moi," she said, more than likely with a wide smile on her face.

"What are you saying?" Petunia, questioned. She sounded annoyed enough that she'd likely make a comment that Harry really didn't want his new friend to her.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. "She is asking if I can play with her."

"Bonjour, Harry!" Ameline waved at him, moving her body enough that her pigtails were moving.

As much as Harry wanted to focus on her, he couldn't. He had to keep his eyes on Petunia to see what she would do. He wasn't sure what to expect. More than that, he didn't dare to exclude anything. She could decide that her — and Vernon — not wanting Dudley association with the Trottiers — even by proxy — was more important, or that Harry being out of her sight was better for her.

Somehow, it ended up being the latter, much to Harry's delight.