Harry awoke with a start, in a cold sweat. A high, cold laugh echoed in his mind and he pulled the blankets tighter around him, staring at the ceiling. On the other bed he could see Calla shaking a little in her sleep, curled up tightly under the covers. She seemed to be whispering something, but then he tried to listen and she stopped.
Blinking, Harry tried to recall the figments of his dream. In it there had been three men, two he knew, one he did not... and a snake, he thought. Their faces snapped into place and a shiver went down him, like ice plunging into his stomach. Voldemort... Tom Riddle... Wormtail... Peter Pettigrew.
He shivered, sitting upright and squinting in the darkness. It was just a dream, he told himself, eyes darting to his sleeping sister. But dreams didn't always feel so real as that did, and something twisting in his gut told him that it was not a mere dream.
Visions weren't exactly his territory, though hissings and whispered words from snakes had been. Still, his gaze went to Calla. He didn't want to wake her up, but this... He didn't know what to do with it, and it felt important.
Quietly, so as not to wake the Dursleys in the rest of the house, he crept out of bed and over to Calla. "Calla," he whispered, prodding her shoulder. She let out a small grunt, then rolled over a bit and went back to her regular breathing. "Calla," he said again, louder this time, but it did nothing. "Cal!"
Something about the urgency in his voice must have woken her, or gotten through somehow, for her eyes snapped open, and she frowned. "What?" she whispered into the silence. "It's still dark outside, what-" She broke off suddenly and sat bolt upright, staring at Harry. "What's happened?"
"I-" It felt a bit supid to say out loud, but if anyone was going to understand, it was Calla. "I just had a nightmare."
She furrowed her brow and clicked on the lamp between their beds. Her lips were narrowed into a thin line. "I've been dreaming, too," she said quietly. "What kind of nightmare?"
"Voldemort." His sister sighed.
"I thought you might."
"You thought or you saw?"
She ignored him. "Was Wormtail with him?" Harry nodded. "Damn. I had a vision a few days ago, and well, I've just had one tonight." She shivered, and when Harry's fingers tapped her arm, she was cold. "There was a graveyard, and then there was this house... He was there, I'm sure of it."
"They were in a house," Harry said quickly. "And there was this other man there, too. His name was Frank, I think." Calla regarded him curiously, the same way she often looked at tea leaves, crystal balls, or particularly confusing Ancient Runes work. "Can you stop looking at me like that?" he snapped.
Calla's face fell and she mumbled an apology that had Harry feeling instantly embarrassed and guilty. "This might sound like a silly question," she said, "but did it feel like it was happening, like it was going to happen, or that it had happened? I mean, did it feel like a memory?"
He stared, not quite sure how to answer that. It had felt like it was happening, but it was a dream, not a memory. "Like it was happening," he said slowly.
"Huh." She frowned. "See, my visions always happened feeling a bit like memories, even though they were in the future."
Before Harry could open his mouth to speak, she'd hopped out of her bed and crossed to her trunk, where she pulled out a handful of textbooks and scrolls, tossing them back on top of her bed sheets and sitting down next to them. She shot Harry a look he couldn't quite interpret. "You might as well sit down," she told him. From the Dursleys' room, Uncle Vernon gave a grunt and nerves shot through Harry. His eyes darted to the door. "Don't worry," Calla said breezily, "they'll sleep very deeply tonight. Uncle Vernon will even sleep through his alarm in the morning, and arrive at work twenty seven minutes late."
Gingerly, Harry sat down on the edge of Calla's bed. His sister could be a bit... Odd, at times. Not enough to scare him, but just enough to make him a bit uneasy.
She flipped through a textbook with a lilac cover, stopping at a page that she thrust under Harry's nose. "Visions of the future often present themselves as memories of a time not yet come, and have a tendency to pull one out of consciousness into subconsciousness, rather than to affect the current sub conscience and alter a dreamstate." She looked up at Harry expectantly, then frowned when he had no insight to offer. "It doesn't sound like a normal vision," was what she said flatly. "Which is weird. Plus, you've never shown any hints of prophecy before, and I know for a fact that Professor Trelawney thinks you made up everything you said in your Divination exam and every piece of homework I didn't help you with."
"Good to know."
She shrugged. "I'm just saying. But, I guess, I didn't have my first vision till almost the end of first year, in the forest on detention. Maybe something's triggered that reaction, or unlocked your Sight somehow, though I would have thought it'd at least present itself in Divination." She frowned. "Then again, you can't really force it, I've been trying but it's still hard to properly See at will, you know, and I can't stop my visions either, they kind of just control themselves. It is still possible that your visions affect you differently and present themselves in dreams, even if it is rare."
As if she'd been falling, Calla caught herself and sat upright, looking at her brother. "Wait, what was the vision again?"
"You're calling them visions now?" Harry asked, a bit numbly.
"Unless that makes you uncomfortable."
She was rifling through another textbook again, this one with a lime green cover and bright orange stripes on the spine. "Okay, yeah, this one basically confirms that." She grinned up at Harry, eyes bright. "So, what are the odds on two Seers in the family?"
He almost laughed. "I think Trelawney would dispute my Seer status, somehow."
Calla giggled. "Maybe. Still, this has to mean something." She looked down, twisting her lips and thinking. "Did anything else happen around the dream? Like, anything that gave you any clues as to when it happened?"
Harry shook his head. "Apart from it was dark outside, so it was night, no." He considered for a moment, before adding, "My scar hurt."
The effect this had on Calla was immediate and apparent. Her face paled and her book was immediately abandoned as she scooted closer to Harry's side. "Harry," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around her shoulder. "Do you... The last time that happened he was there, wasn't he?"
Harry didn't have to ask to know who Calla meant by 'he'. He nodded firmly. "But he can't be here now." He looked to Calla nervously. "Can he?"
Calla's eyes darted nervously to the window, but she didn't exactly look keen on opening the curtains and checking for herself. The thought of Voldemort standing outside their window, watching, maybe waiting... His stomach gave a painful, terrifying twist.
"He's not," Calla said, but her voice was shaking. "Maybe that happens sometimes. Mine hurts occasionally, it twinges a bit, usually when I've had a vision. It's... Well, you know it's been hurting more now." His sister had been complaining of headaches a lot of time throughout the Summer, he knew, though she'd never agreed to tell anyone, insistent that it just happened. Now things were the other way about, she seemed a lot more worried. She looked at him. "Do you think we ought to tell someone?"
Briefly, Harry imagined what the rest of their friends would say. Hermione would insist on writing to Dumbledore, and read every book she could get her hands on about twitching curse scars. "It's not like I can write to Dumbledore," he said aloud. "What would I even say. Oh, hi Professor, hope you're having a great holiday, by the way my scar twitched. You wouldn't write that."
If he wrote Ron, he'd probably ask his dad, and then the whole Weasley clan would know. Mrs Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred and George would tease him forever. Daphne, on the other hand, might know something about the dark magic involved, but he didn't exactly want to ask her and make her dwell on that; he didn't know details but it did seem to be a bit of an uncomfortable point. And Padma would likely react the same way as Hermione, except with a list of things to read that she hadn't yet looked into herself and likely never would, or she'd say it would be fine and to rest and have plenty of water. Plus, she'd tell her sister Parvati, who'd tell her best friend, Lavender Brown, who'd tell the whole of Gryffindor House and the entire school while she was at it.
No, they needed an adult to help, someone they trusted - so not the Dursleys, who would never help them with anything - and someone who had dealt with dark magic before. "We could always ask Remus," Calla said, "once the moon's over and done with, of course."
Harry bit his tongue. He'd been about to suggest writing to Sirius, his own godfather, but he didn't know how well that would go down with Calla. She wasn't wary of him so much as she was upset, upset that he'd wanted Harry to go and live with him when her own godfather had never been allowed to take care of them as a legal guardian, due to the fact that he was a werewolf. She'd been more upset that Harry had considered it, too, and had, in her eyes at least, betrayed Remus, who'd looked out for them for years before Sirius broke out of Azkaban.
He didn't want to upset her about it, not when she was his only source of real fun at Number Four, Privet Drive. "We could," he agreed, then, though he must have hesitated too long, for Calla frowned.
"You were thinking of writing to Sirius, weren't you?" she asked shrewdly.
Briefly, Harry considered lying, but he could rarely get a lie past his sister. "Yes," he admitted, not meeting her eyes. "But I want to write to Uncle Remus, too, I know he can help and he'll want to." But he was only Calla's godfather, he wanted to add, not Harry's. Even if he'd been there for him for so long, it was nice to have someone else in his corner, too.
"I don't mind if you write to him, you know," Calla sighed, eventually. "He is still your godfather, even if Remus has basically raised you." That didn't really make it sound like she didn't mind. "Besides, it can't hurt to get an extra opinion."
In return, Harry smiled and leaned into his sister's side. "Yeah," he said. "You don't think Remus'll mind?"
Calla hesitated for a long moment before she spoke. "No," she said slowly. "No, he'll be fine. We'll see him soon enough anyway, won't we? You can talk to him about all of this in person."
Uncle Remus had written to them a few days before the moon, saying that he'd been in touch with Arthur Weasley, their best friend Ron's dad, and that they'd arranged for them to go to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys and Hermione Granger. He'd also promised that Calla and Harry could stay with him and Sirius for the remainder of the summer, wherever Sirius had managed to get set up, before going back to Hogwarts.
He knew they'd been to see Dumbledore recently to discuss the matter, and Dumbledore had refused to budge on the issue, insisting that Calla and Harry had to stay at the Dursleys. Sirius had said they'd deal with that well enough, and spoken in a way that said he wouldn't just let it go no matter what Dumbledore said. They didn't know when it would be solved, but Harry and Calla both hoped it would be solved soon.
At least they'd be seeing them soon. Calla wasn't sure when they would be leaving to go to the Quidditch World Cup (or how long it would last either, as apparently the Cup could last for weeks, which Calla was sure she would hate) but afterwards they would be not be going back to Dursleys' house, but to Sirius and Remus'.
"Come on," Calla said quietly to Harry. "You should try and get back to sleep. You can write to Sirius in the morning when you've cleared your thoughts a bit better." She yawned, though her own dream still nagged at her. Even when Harry turned over and lay down on his bed, she scribbled down the foggy memories of her dream. Her little dream journal was getting fuller now; she'd have to get another one. Calla gnawed tiredly on the end of her pen. There were so many things she was still trying to figure out... So many things she didn't think she could ever understand.
Those were things for another time. For now, she just wanted to sleep.
After a tense breakfast of grapefruit, which Calla had hated, she and her brother had gone back upstairs. She'd started packing a little bit, knowing they would be leaving soon even if they didn't know when, but Harry seemed very relaxed about everything. Having put some of her books back into her trunk, along with the essays she'd completed, Calla went to read on her bed, being about halfway through Rebecca by now. Harry was hard at work on homework, and his side of the room was an absolute mess as a result.
"Got anything I can put in my essay for Trelawney?" Harry asked, sprawled on his bed with rolls of parchment across the bedspread. Calla glanced up from her book.
"I'm using my visions to my own advantage, thank you very much." She still hadn't quite told him everything she'd seen, or how much it had unnerved her, but after writing to Sirius, Harry seemed a lot more calm about the events of last night.
"You're the worst," he declared at her refusal, flopping onto his front and smushing his cheek against the duvet.
"No, you just need to learn to do your own homework." She gave him a pointed look. "Without me or Hermione."
"How do you even get visions during the summer anyway?"
"The same as I get them in winter."
"You know what I mean," Harry grumbled. "How come the trace isn't activated?"
She shrugged in response. She'd thought about it before but never come to a definite conclusion. "I think it's because I don't do it consciously. It's like accidental magic when you're younger, you know? Or because it focuses on the mind and knowledge of events and the world, rather than the manipulation of it. It's not normal spellwork, and I don't even know if it can be used like that." She frowned, unsure of herself. She'd always thought her visions had something to do with Voldemort too, but she didn't really like to voice that out loud, and she thought Harry had probably figure it out for himself anyway. "Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Harry mused quietly. He munched on a sugar quill which he appeared to have swapped out for his normal ink one. "Can I write that for my essay?"
"What, that divination's knowledge of the world rather than the manipulation of it?" Calla laughed. "You could but it wouldn't answer the question we were given."
"I'd get points for effort."
"She'd know I said it."
"No she wouldn't."
"Trelawney's smarter than you give her credit for, Harry." Calla grinned. "She'd sooner believe Ron's a secret seer."
At that, Harry gave a laugh. "You might be right, though I don't think anyone could believe that." Calla hid her smirk. She and Padma had had that exact discussion earlier in the year. "Fancy going out for lunch tomorrow? I'm really bored of grapefruit."
"Me too," Calla groaned. They'd set aside some muggle money after the events of last summer, converted from galleons, just in case tthey ever needed to get some financial independence from the Dursleys. While they weren't exactly at an emergency point, grapefruit was a pretty rubbish diet. "There's a new fish and chip shop near Stonewall."
Harry wrinkled his nose. Neither of them still particularly liked the sound of the school after the memory of Harry's elephant uniform, but fish and chips wasn't something that could easily be turned down. "Okay," he said, just as the door bell rang downstairs. "Fish and chips it is."
Not a moment later, Uncle Vernon's voice bellowed up the stairs. "POTTERS!"
They exchanged nervous glances. "This can't be good," said Harry, getting wearily to his feet. "Come on."
Calla memorised the page number and put her copy of 'Rebecca' down mournfully on her pillow, heading down the stairs after her brother. Uncle Vernon was glaring up at them from the foot of the stairs, looking rather purple in the face and brandishing what looked like a letter. "I've got a letter!" he said, stating the obvious. "About you two!"
"Who from?" Calla asked breezily, hopping down the last couple of steps. She was sure she already knew anyway.
"From - from your sort!" She raised her eyebrows and Uncle Vernon blustered. "Just - the two of you, get in the living room! Now!"
He seemed angry enough to lash out, so Calla did as she was told, darting into the living room. Dudley looked at her and Harry curiously as they entered, followed by his father. "So," he said, pacing by the fireplace. "So."
Calla really wanted to say, "So what," but that wouldn't have helped the situation at all. She flicked her nails between one another, staring at them nervously.
"This letter's arrived," Uncle Vernon said, and she nodded. He held it out - the writing paper was bright purple. "A letter. About you."
"Yes," Calla said nervously. She knew it wasn't from Hogwarts, at least, so nothing bad had happened there. And Remus would have probably just shown up if he had anything to say to the Dursleys; so she thought it was probably from the Weasleys, writing about the Quidditch World Cup. Which meant they'd tried to send a letter by the Muggle post. The idea made her giggle and Uncle Vernon glared at her.
"You think this is funny girl?" he asked in a growl, and she shut her mouth tightly, shaking her head.
"No."
He glared at her for a long and tense moment before straightening up and striding around the room. "You know what this letter says?" Neither Calla nor Harry spoke. "Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley. We have never been introduced but I am sure you will have heard a lot from Harry and Calla about my son Ron." So it was from the Weasleys; she was right. "As Remus Lupin or the children may have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup is to take place on Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Ministry of Magic with the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
"I do hope you will allow us to take Harry and Calla to the match, as this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Britain hasn't hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are very hard to come by. We have already discussed this with Harry and Calla's godfathers who have agreed, and I know that Remus Lupin and Sirius Black - whom I believe you have met by now - have offered to take Harry and Calla in for the remainder of the holidays after the Quidditch World Cup, and of course we would see them there safely, too.
"It would be best for Harry or Calla to send the reply as quickly as possible through the normal means of communication, as I do not believe the Muggle postman has ever visited our house, nor does he know where it is. We hope to see you soon.
"Yours sincerely,
"Mrs Molly Weasley
"P.S. I do hope I've put enough stamps on, Arthur and I weren't sure."
Uncle Vernon finished reading with a glare and took something out of his breast pocket. He waved it about furiously and Calla frowned trying to get a stable look.
"This was the envelope it came in."
He stopped waving the envelope and Calla found herself trying very hard not to laugh; she was unsuccessful. "I'd say that's enough stamps," she said, giggling, and Harry grinned at her. Uncle Vernon did not.
"The postman noticed," he growled. "He was very interested to know where this letter came from, as a matter of fact. Seemed to think it was funny."
"Well, it is a bit funny," Calla said hesitantly, and Vernon glared at her, face going purple.
"It is not - funny!" he spat. "This is - this is your sort! Being... freakish!"
"They didn't know," Calla said quietly. "The postman's the only one who saw and he probably doesn't even care that much."
"Probably?" Uncle Vernon spat, looking like a vein was about to pop in his forehead. "Probably?"
"But can we go?" Harry interceded sharply before Vernon got to yelling anything else. "Only Remus and Sirius have both agreed and we talked about it ages ago."
She could see Uncle Vernon thinking. He surely didn't want them to go anywhere they'd enjoy themselves, but he also wanted them out of the house as soon as possible; and likely knew that if he tried to stop them going, he'd have Remus and Sirius showing up to protest and cause a commotion even worse than the postman laughing at the envelope's stamps.
"Who is this woman?" he demanded.
"Mrs Weasley. Ron's mum. The one whose house we went to when it was our birthday."
"You've seen her," Harry added. "She met Ron off of the Hog- the school train at the end of the last term, remember?"
"Dumpy sort of woman?" he asked. "Lots of children with red hair?"
"She's not dumpy," Calla muttered. "But yes, lots of children with red hair."
"Right." Uncle Vernon looked again at the letter. "What is this - this Quidditch rubbish?"
"It's a sport," Harry said, grinning. "It's played on broomsticks."
"Alright, alright! That's enough of that - that unnaturalness!" Calla was sure that vein in Uncle Vernon's forehead was going to pop at any second. "What does she mean, the usual way?"
"Owls," Calla said cheerfully. "You know, like Moony and Hedwig."
"That's what's normal for wizards-"
"Enough!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, looking outraged at the very mention of the word. He was positively shaking with fury, and looked out the window worriedly, as though he thought the neighbours had heard and were queueing up with their pitchforks. "How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that unnaturalness under my roof," he hissed. "You stand there, in the clothes Petunia and I have put on your ungrateful backs-"
"After Dudley finished with them," Harry muttered.
"Enough! I will not be spoken to like that in my own house!"
"Okay, fine," Calla said. "But Remus and Sirius will be very disappointed if we can't leave this Summer. We haven't seen them since our birthday - Harry, didn't you say you were in the middle of writing Sirius a letter, too?"
No matter what Uncle Vernon thought of their unnaturalness, Calla knew that he loathed the idea of Sirius Black, someone who had once been convicted of mass murder and had his face all over the news after escaping from prison, coming up the garden path to confront him about a Quidditch World Cup. She could see him thinking hard.
"Fine!" he spluttered eventually, slamming the envelope down on the coffee table. Calla grinned. When she wasn't expected to do any of the flying, she did rather enjoy watching Quidditch. "You can go to this ruddy... This stupid... This World Cup thing! You write and you tell these Weasleys they're to pick you up, mind, or get Remus to do it, I don't have the one to be going up and down the country dropping you off! And you can spend the rest of the Summer with Lupin and this - this Sirius Black!" He clenched his jaw. "Tell them you're going."
Calla spent the next day packing and finishing off her Potions essay before she put it into her trunk with the rest of her books. They'd be leaving on the Sunday. She had to pack; and she had to speak to Mairi.
She'd avoided mentioning it all day, but when the time came for her to leave and pack before the Weasleys arrived, Calla knew the subject was unavoidable. Thing was, she didn't know how to tell Mairi that she was leaving, and that she might never actually come back, but didn't know because Dumbledore still wasn't giving up on the issue of custody.
"Thought I'd say, by the way," Calla said tentatively, as she was about to leave, "Harry and I are heading off tomorrow. Our friend Ron - I've told you about Ron - he's invited us to stay for a few days, and then we're off to stay with our godfathers the rest of the holidays."
"Oh." Mairi's face fell for a moment and Calla's stomach churned. "I mean, that's great! At least you'll get some proper food."
"I can't wait," Calla laughed nervously. "I'm so tired of grapefruit and bananas."
Mhairi giggled. "You'll have to phone me," she told Calla.
"Oh. I... School's really strict," she said. "We don't really get to phone anywhere, or to write much either." She didn't think there was a phone anywhere within a five mile radius of Hogwarts, and she thought Mairi would have a few questions about an owl showing up on her doorstep. But she desperately wished they could stay in touch. "I'll - I'll do my best though. And if I don't see you for Christmas, I'll probably be back next Summer."
"That's ten months away," said Mairi quietly, frowning. "And - you have to stay over Christmas?"
"Well, it's - we don't have to, but the Dursleys rather we don't come back, so we either stay at school or go to my godfathers'."
"Then you could come visit for a day!" Mhairi said. "Where does he live?"
That was a tricky question. She didn't actually know yet, not for certain, since they hadn't been told yet. She thought maybe London. She said as much, hoping Mairi wouldn't question it.
"That isn't too far! Even if you can't stay at the Dursleys, Mum and Dad would be more than happy to have you here."
"That's sweet of you," Calla said awkwardly. "I'll... See what's happening."
"Right." Mairi smiled bracingly. "Well then. I guess... I'll see you at some point." She looked like she was going to say something else, face flushed, but then stopped and bit her lip. Then she launched herself off the doorstep and tackled Calla in a tight, bracing hug. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered into her hair. "You're my best friend here."
"You'll be alright," Calla told her gently. "Don't worry. Everyone'll love you, promise."
Mairi laughed wryly. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just... Try and keep in touch, Yeah?"
Then she stepped back, eyes a bit pink. Calla found unexpectedly that she had a lump in her throat. It felt like there were words stuck in her throat, waiting to be said, but she didn't know what they were yet. "I'll do my best," was all she said. Then she nodded, and stepped back onto the path. "I'll miss you too."
"Yeah." Mairi smiled wistfully. "Bye, Calla."
She tweaked her mouth into a smile that didn't feel whole enough. "Bye, Mairi."
Xx
Number Four, Privet Drive, had rarely been so tense as it was the day the Weasleys were meant to arrive. Uncle Vernon had put on his best suit, not that Calla thought Mr and Mrs Weasley would care at all, and he kept trying to puff his chest up in an effort at intimidating Mr Weasley, despite them not being due to arrive until teatime. Dudley, meanwhile, had been pale all day, and kept clutching his bottom. "They're not going to jinx you," Calla told him shortly when she caught him doing that for the umpteenth time.
He just stared at her, quivering a little and she huffed before going up to her room to double check she had everything in her trunk. Her copy of Rebecca was still lying on her pillow so she put it in, but other than, everything seemed to be in order. Her overnight bag was all packed, too, complete with her favourite robes for the occasion of the Quidditch World Cup, and she made sure that Harry's bag was packed too before she went downstairs ten minutes or so before the Weasleys were due to arrive.
Uncle Vernon kept muttering things like, "blasted wizards" and "show 'em who's boss" under his breath, pacing the room, while Dudley had returned to holding his bottom nervously in a corner and Aunt Petunia was compulsively straighteneing the couch cushions. "You think they're a little nervous?" Calla whispered to Harry, who grinned.
"Maybe just a tad."
Uncle Vernon was now muttering, "They had better not expect anything from us, oh no, it'll be straight in and straight out."
Calla hid her laugh. "Is it bad I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens?"
"Nope," Harry sang happily.
"It's going to be chaos."
"I can't wait." They grinned at one another, and Calla sat on the back of the sofa, swinging her legs over the edge, just to see Aunt Petunia's nervous, tight-lipped frown. Uncle Vernon didn't even seem to notice her, still pacing in front of the window.
"These - These Weasleys," he ground out. "They got a car?"
"Yeah," Calla chirped, fully anticipating his annoyance but wondering how far she could go. "But Harry flew it into a tree a few years ago and now it roams the forest like a feral animal."
Uncle Vernon's eyes bugged. "Right. Well. They'd - they'd better pick you up fast as they can and not cause a scene, understand? They'll do as that godfather of yours does and - and show up and bugger off, alright?"
"Course," she said, tapping her feet on the ground.
When it got to five minutes to five and the room was fit to bursting with the tension, she and Harry made a tactical retreat to the stairs in the hall, from which they could watch the front door. "I can't believe you told him about the car," Harry said. "Did you see his face?"
"It was quite funny, wasn't it?" She giggled. "And he can't very well go off on us for anything right now, can he?"
"Suppose not, no." Harry craned his neck to get a look at the wall hanging in the living room. "They'll be here soon. I can't wait to be out of here."
"Me neither," Calla said, huffing. "Actually, I can't wait to wear my robes. They're much nicer than my hand-me-downs." Though it could be very interesting to push her aunt and uncle's buttons at times, she knew that wearing witch's robes as everyday wear about the house would be a really big step too far and Aunt Petunia had been upset enough on their birthday.
"I've been reading up on the two teams," Harry said. "Sirius said its Ireland versus Bulgaria; he thinks Ireland will win, but he's rooting for Bulgaria. I don't know who to root for."
"I'm going with Ireland," she said. "That's who Daphne's rooting for, and I wrote Izzy and mentioned it and she says she always roots for Ireland first in anything Scotland isn't in."
"I'll root for Bulgaria then," said Harry, and she elbowed him gently in the side, grinning.
Uncle Vernon came out of the living room right as the clock chimed five o'clock and wrenched the door open, peering outside to scour the street, and then slammed it shut. "They're late," he informed Calla and Harry.
"Maybe the traffic's bad."
"Yeah," Calla whispered to Harry, "there might be loads of birds."
He snorted awkwardly as Uncle Vernon glared at them and went to sit back down in the living room, reading a newspaper tensely. "They are coming?" Harry wondered anxiously aloud.
"Don't be silly, of course they're coming."
Calla kept her eyes on the living room while Harry had his trained on the front door, ready to spring up and answer. The clock crept steadily closer to quarter past five and the Dursleys began to get more and more annoyed.
"No consideration whatsoever, these people."
"We might've had an engagement."
"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."
"Well they certainly won't," said Uncle Vernon sharply. He stood up, pacing the room, and Dudley shuffled around by the wall, still clutching his bottom. Calla raised her eyebrows at him. "They'll take the brats and go, there'll be no hanging about here. That's if they're even coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. At least that godfather of the girl turns up when he says he will; I dare say the rest of their lot don't set much stock by punctuality. Either that or they all drive some... Some tin-pot car that-" He was cut off by the sound of some scraping and yelling from the fireplace, and Calla jumped up as he yelled. The Dursleys scrambled across the room and Dudley came waddling out of the room as fast as he could, still clutching his bottom.
"Bloody hell," she muttered, hauling Harry to his feet as she ran back down the stairs and popped her head into the living room. There was no way they'd Flooed - the Dursleys weren't on the network, were they? She grinned. "What's all this then?"
"What is it?" Aunt Petunia said, backing up against a wall, looking quite white and trembling. "Vernon, what's happening?"
"Ouch!" said Mr Weasley's voice. "No, Fred, go back - I said go back, there's been some kind of mistake, tell George not to - OUCH!" Calla tried not to giggle as she hurried over to the fireplace. "No, go on back quickly and tell Ron-"
"Mr Weasley?" Calla called into the fire, and the noise stopped. "Um, it's Calla, can you hear me?"
"Talking to a fireplace," Uncle Vernon muttered, though he still looked entirely terrified. "What's going on?"
"They'd tried to travel by Floo Powder, I think," Calla said, trying very hard not to giggle, though her voice went up a few pitches at the end of her sentence. "But the fireplace is blocked up. This is why Remus apparates us, I don't know how they've connected it to the network- Mr Weasley? I'm sorry, the fireplace is blocked."
"Blocked?" Mr Weasley asked.
"It's electric."
"Erklectic?" She could hear the excitement in his voice.
"Er, yes," Harry said, joining her.
"With a plug? Oh, I really must see that! Oh, ouch, Ron!"
"What's going on?" Ron's voice asked. "Where are we? Has something gone wrong?"
"No, Ron, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."
"Yeah, we're all really having the time of our lives here," George's muffled voice said.
"Boys, boys."
"Um, Mr Weasley? Is there any way you know to get through?"
"Er, I'm trying to think... Yes, sorry, it's the only way. Calla, Harry, would you two step away for me?"
"What's he going to do?" Uncle Vernon demanded as Calla and Harry scooted out of the way. They knew better than to stand in the way of what was probably going to be a spell. Oh, she could imagine the chaos if he blasted the fireplace apart. It was something she could see a wizard doing, too. "What are you-"
He didn't get to finish asking. There was a very loud bang as the electric fire flew across the room, narrowly missing Dudley, who had come back in to see the commotion. A cloud of white dust settled over the living room and Calla felt like she was about to scream with laughter at the sight of everyone's faces, standing there completely gobsmacked.
Mr Weasley was standing in the fireplace, brushing himself down as he stepped out. "Ah, sorry about that," he said. "But that's much better. Ah, you must be the Potters' aunt and uncle! I did wonder when we might meet!"
He held his hand out warmly to Uncle Vernon, who shuddered and backed away, refusing to take it. His suit was completely covered in white dust, which Calla found quite hilarious. "Ah, yes, sorry about the fireplace," Mr Weasley said sheepishly, looking over his shoulder at the mess he'd created. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we might not be able to get out the other side. I'd had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, just for an afternoon of course, so that we could collect Harry and Calla. Muggle fireplaces aren't really supposed to be connected to the Floo Network, strictly speaking, but I've got a friend at the Floo Regulation Panel who got it all set up for me. I can put this right in a jiffy though, don't you worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys and Calla back and then fix this before I Disapparate and no harm's done!"
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both looked like they thought an awful lot of harm had been done, but neither seemed brave enough to say anything about it. They were both just still gaping at Mr Weasley.
"Hello, Harry, Calla!" Mr Weasley said cheerfully as if he hadn't noticed the Dursleys' reactions. "Got all your things ready?"
"They're upstairs," said Harry, grinning.
"We'll get it," said Fred. "Calla, can you show us?"
She knew they were probably looking for a glimpse of Dudley, who had now probably hidden himself in the hall again, likely still holding his buttocks. Calla grinned and gestured for the boys to follow her. "Hey, Ron!" she called as she left, and he grinned back at her.
"Our room's just at the top of the stairs," she said, leading them up. "It's usually a mess but I made sure Harry was packed so there's not much in it."
Fred was looking at the lights above them. "Are those eklectric, then?" he asked, pointing.
"Yeah," Calla said breezily. "You switch them on at the wall. This is it."
She swept the door open and ushered the boys in. Matilda hopped up into her arms, purring, as Calla grabbed Moony and Hedwig's cage. "Got the map?" Fred asked knowingly.
"In my pocket," Calla replied with a grin. "Couldn't just leave it lying about, could I?"
"She's got it," George said with a smile. "Although... We're still determined to turn you into a mischief manager."
She laughed. "Let's just try and see the chaos in the living room, first. I haven't seen the Dursleys so speechless in years."
Fred snickered as they went downstairs, trunks clattering on the stairs. She glimpsed Dudley scurrying out of the kitchen and winked at Fred, nodding down to him. "What's he walking like that for?" George whispered, and she couldn't stop herself from laughing.
"Long story short, thank Hagrid for giving him a pig's tail."
"Our hero," Fred chuckled, as they dragged the trunks into the living room. His and George's faces had both cracked into identical grins, which Calla was sure could only mean one thing; they were up to something and they'd decided Dudley would be involved in their chaos.
"Ah, right," Mr Weasley said, rolling up his sleeves. Calla exchanged a grin with Harry and Ron, who were both watching the scene amusedly. "Better get cracking then."
Calla found this very funny considering he'd just cracked the fireplace open, and she had to turn around to Fred and George to stop Uncle Vernon from seeing her break into laughter. "Incendio!" Mr Weasley said, and Calla had to glance at the Dursleys then to see their reaction to magic in their living room. As they were all pressed right up against the wall, shaking and white, Calla guesses they didn't like it at all.
Flames crackled happily in the fireplace - real flames, not electric ones - and Mr Weasley smiled cheerfully as he dropped the dark Floo Powder into them. The flames turned an emerald green and Calla heard Aunt Petunia whimper as they roared louder than ever. "On you go then, Fred," said Mr Weasley, gesturing for him to go forwards.
"Coming," Fred called. "Oh, no, hang on-"
Sweets had just spilled out of his pocket; he scrambled about trying to grab them all, scooping the lot into his pocket. Calla noted Dudley eyeing them greedily. Fred smiled cheerfully once he'd crammed his sweets back into his pocket, and went over to the fireplace, holding Calla's trunk tightly. "The Burrow!" he called, and was a moment later engulfed in emerald flames. Aunt Petunia shrieked, shrinking back against the wall.
George took Harry's trunk and did the same, grinning at Calla as he disappeared. "Right, Ron, you next," said Mr Weasley.
"See you," he said brightly to the Dursleys, and then gave a cheerful wave to Harry and Calla before he too disappeared off into the Floo Network.
It was just Calla and Harry left with Mr Weasley now. "Well," Harry said awkwardly to the Dursleys. "Bye then."
The Dursleys didn't speak. Calla just rolled her eyes; she didn't know what she had expected. Matilda hissed at them though, and Aunt Petunia glared at the kitten. "Let's go," she said to Harry, making her way over to the fireplace.
"Your nephew just said goodbye to you," Mr Weasley said to the Dursleys loudly. "And he and your niece aren't going to be returning until next Summer. Surely you're going to say goodbye?"
"Probably not," Calla muttered.
But Uncle Vernon's face was working furiously. He was clearly weighing his options, not enjoying being taught manners by a wizard who had just blasted his fireplace open and covered his family and living room in white plaster dust. But his eyes darted to Mr Weasley's wand, which was still in his hand, and clearly he made the terrible decision.
"Bye then," he said in a surly tone.
"See you," Harry said, stepping into the fire. At that moment, though, there was a loud strangled sort of yelling and Calla whipped around to see Dudley kneeling beside the coffee table, gagging and spluttering. Something purple was protruding from his mouth- no way, Calla thought. It was his tongue. But it must have been a foot long.
"Dudley!" Calla said, astonished. Her eyes bugged out.
"Did you do this?" Uncle Vernon demanded, face furious and purple as Aunt Petunia rushed over to fuss about Dudley. Matilda let out a yelp and leapt out of Calla's arms, running over to see the commotion, and Aunt Petunia batted her away, flapping hysterically.
"No!" Calla yelled back, running over to Matilda. "And don't hurt my cat!"
"Not to worry," Mr Weasley was shouting, "I can sort him out!"
"It's huge!" Calla cried, grabbing Matilda and holding her securely in her arms.
Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever, lunging in front of Dudley and almost knocking Calla back in her haste. "No, really!" Mr Weasley was insisting. "He'll be quite alright, I can assure you! It's just a simple Engorgement Charm, it was the toffee, my son Fred - he's a bit of a prankster, he's harmless really - I'm sure it's just an Engorgement Charm, if you'd just let me fix it!"
That only seemed to make the Dursleys more horrified. Calla scrambled away from Dudley and the flapping Aunt Petunia, holding Matilda as tightly as she could to stop her from squirming away. Aunt Petunia kept pulling at Dudley's tongue, as if that was going to solve the problem, and Uncle Vernon seemed to have lost it, grabbing a china cup from the mantel and chucking it with full force at Mr Weasley's head. He and Calla both ducked out of the way, leaving it to shatter against the destroyed fireplace.
"Now, really!" Mr Weasley cried, brandishing his wand furiously. "I am trying to help!"
Bellowing awfully, Uncle Vernon snatched up another ornament. "Harry, Calla, the two of you, go!" Mr Weasley shouted, turning his wand towards Uncle Vernon. "I'll deal with this."
Matilda started shrieking, and Harry disappeared in the flames. Calla rushed over too, stepping into the warm flames and chucking the Floo Powder down. "The Burrow!" she yelled, holding Matilda tightly as they span in the heat and the still shrieking Dursleys disappeared from view.
Author's Note: So this is an early update but I am going out of my mind with boredom here being cooped up inside with no work or studying to do and it seems the only thing for it is to write! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, as the Goblet Of Fire section gets truly underway, and thank you all so so much for your comments on the most recent chapter, they all made me smile so much despite everything that's going on at the moment! Stay safe, y'all!
