Chapter 2 – A Holiday Abroad
Harry had almost no time to sit back and relax as his aunt had seemingly planned out every day –down to the hour practically – right up until the whole family went on holiday. Petunia was able to go collect the passports on the Saturday after Harry's first week back from Hogwarts, and after that, the only permissible activity for anyone at Number Four appeared to be holiday preparation.
Even Dudley had been roped into it, as Petunia had planned several days of non-stop shopping in London for clothes. Harry had suggested to his aunt that he stop by Diagon Alley to get some money to pay for his own things, but his aunt had given him a look which suggested he shove his money somewhere deeply unpleasant and he didn't bring it up again after that. He supposed that was fair, since his aunt and uncle had always paid for his things before – with the one exception of tuition at Smeltings, which he knew now was because they knew he would one day go to Hogwarts. Even if they had made a big fuss about him not going when the time actually came.
Harry still didn't see why they had to spend every single day doing something that he thought could – and should – be able to get done in just one afternoon, though. He thought it might be to distract him from Quirrell and Wormtail. After their discussion the other morning, Harry's aunt had thrown herself into holiday preparation, spending almost a whole day flitting between travel agents in search of the perfect family holiday before she found what she was looking for.
He thought that she probably wanted to get Dudley under a watchful eye, too, since although she protested heavily whenever any accusations of wrongdoing were made against her 'darling Duddy', Harry knew she wasn't totally blind to it.
The neighbours talked far too much for that.
"Duddy, darling, what do you think of this shirt for Daddy?" said Petunia, holding up a plain white shirt. "For the evenings? Harry?"
"I don't care, Mum," whined Dudley.
"Looks like a work shirt," said Harry.
"I see what you mean," said Petunia. She put the shirt back and selected another one, this time with a little pattern on it. "Is this better?"
Harry shrugged.
"Yeah, it is a bit."
"Dudley, what do you think?" asked Petunia. "Nice for Daddy?"
"Yeah, whatever," said Dudley. He huffed, and looked set to say something more, but stopped when he saw the withering look his mother was giving him. Instead he sighed deeply. "He likes the yellow ones when he's off work," he said grudgingly.
"Well I'll get two of these and we'll see if there's anything in the next shop that would suit," said Petunia, selecting another shirt from the rack and then handing the two of them to Dudley to carry.
"Over to the boys' section now for the pair of you," said Petunia, although she paused. "Well, maybe you're both a little too old for the boys' things… we'll see when we get there. Come on, off we go," said Petunia. She took off at a breakneck speed towards the section with the clothes for boys, leaving Harry and Dudley to follow her.
"This is so fucking boring," complained Dudley as he followed Harry and his mother, his voice just low enough that Petunia wouldn't be able to hear the swearing. Swearing was, after all, one of the few things she regularly and consistently punished him for.
"It's not my ideal Saturday either," said Harry. "At least there's a holiday at the end of it."
"Yeah, I suppose," said Dudley.
Petunia stopped in the middle of the part of the shop where they kept all the boys' clothes and looked around at the signs, one hand cradling her chin and the other at her hip, shopping bags dangling from it.
"Harry, you need new jeans and new shorts—please try to find a nice pair, won't you? They're all over there. Bring them to me when you've found some you like and we can see if they're nice enough. Dudley, we need to get you new t-shirts and shirts and then we'll see where we are then. Maybe some new jeans, too. This way, darling."
Harry went off through the racks of clothes to go look for some jeans and shorts. He didn't really know what he was looking for, and he was absolutely certain that Petunia would decide he'd picked the wrong ones, but he made a good go of it anyway.
At least he didn't have his aunt looming over him criticising every choice he made right then and there like Dudley did. Harry felt thankful for the small mercies in life. As Harry picked through all of the clothes in search of something that he liked, and which he thought his aunt might like too, he realised he'd become so used to wearing robes that all the muggle clothes looked a bit strange.
Although robes were only required during lessons, everyone in Slytherin wore robes full-time, and wore the full range of them. Harry had noticed that quite a few of the students – mostly the muggleborns, but some half-bloods too – in the other Houses wore a mish-mash of muggle and wizarding clothes after lessons and at the weekends, but Harry had gone along with what his peers in Slytherin did, and that meant robes, robes, robes.
The shorts all looked as if his legs would be cold, compared with the longer robes he would usually wear, but Harry supposed that Spain would be warmer than northern Scotland. The only issue with muggle clothes, shorts especially, is that he didn't have anywhere to stick his wand. He wasn't allowed to use it willy-nilly, but Harry felt safer with his wand within reach. The problem was that all of the pockets were too small to fit a twelve inch bit of wood in them, and he wasn't allowed to use – and didn't know regardless - the spells required to enlarge them.
Harry decided that he would think about what to do with his wand later. He knew he was going to take it with him to Spain – no matter what either Petunia or Vernon said, Harry was a wizard and intended to take his wand with him just in case – and he could figure out where to keep it afterwards.
Harry picked out some shorts he thought looked nice, and then went to look at the jeans. He was still looking when Petunia came back over with Dudley.
"Have you chosen? I want you both to go try these on while I look for sundresses," said Petunia. "Come on, we've got lots to do."
Petunia herded Harry and Dudley into the changing area and then went off to the side to look for her dresses. The rest of the day went mostly the same way, with Harry and Dudley being taken to one shop after another to choose from selections of clothing that, to Harry at least, all seemed very much the same. By the end of the day, Harry had only managed to acquire one pair of shorts and a single, solitary t-shirt despite the frankly absurd number he'd picked out – and Dudley hadn't fared much better.
"We'll just have to come back in tomorrow," declared Petunia on the way back to Privet Drive. "There's lots to do before we go."
"What do I even need new clothes for anyway?" complained Dudley. "I've got loads."
"Some of your old clothes don't fit," said Petunia carefully, "and we've never been abroad before so there are some things you don't have. And most of Harry's clothes aren't … suitable … so we've all got to get new ones. Even me and your father." She paused. "And don't complain. Some children don't get anything at all."
The next few days went by in exactly the same fashion until eventually Petunia was satisfied everyone had everything necessary for the holiday, and her preparations started to focus on packing and other things that fortunately didn't require Harry or Dudley's participation.
Harry's Daily Prophet subscription had started to arrive by then, so Harry scoured it for any news relevant to him over breakfast every morning. The official story of what had happened at the end of the year had 'leaked' to the press somehow, of course, so several columnists had managed to put out inches and inches of words about that. Most of them seemed obsessed with the idea that Peter Pettigrew – or at least, someone impersonating him, as the prevailing theory seemed to be – had been working with Quirrell all year in a plot to kill Harry, although some seemed to think it had been Sirius pretending to be his murdered friend in some mad plan.
But the idea that Peter Pettigrew was alive and well, and up to no good, was at least out. Harry could be happy with that for the time being. Most of the rest of the paper was boring, at least to Harry, so he usually ended up leaving it at the breakfast table when he was done.
He'd noticed, after a few days of that, that Vernon had started reading it whenever he thought no one was looking.
In the time his aunt spent in her furious planning for the holiday Harry managed to send off a letter to Ernie to confirm when Harry was able to stay over, and he'd even received a letter from Tracey suggesting that they meet up on one of their days in Spain so that she and her parents could take Harry to the wizarding enclave in Barcelona. He'd already got the permission to leave for most of August from Petunia, but he hadn't thought to ask about visiting Tracey in Spain. He brought the topic up the day before Tracey's family was due to leave so that Agrippa would have the time to deliver his reply.
"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked one afternoon while his aunt was packing and repacking their suitcases. "My friend Tracey from school will be in Spain while we're there and we're going to near the same place, and I was just wondering if on one of the days I could go on a day trip to the wizards' village in Barcelona? It's a good opportunity to see how foreign wizards live…"
Petunia stopped packing and then turned around the look at Harry.
"Just for one day?" she said eventually.
"Just for the day," Harry confirmed. "Tracey said one of her parents will come and get me and then drop me off back at our hotel. I've met her parents before and they're really nice."
"Well, I suppose that would be fine," said Petunia. "Did your other friend write back to you? About going to that—that World Cup you mentioned before?"
"That's brilliant! Thanks, Aunt Petunia!" said Harry. "I'll have to let Tracey know right away! Ernie hasn't answered to my letter yet, but I said which dates were okay, and he'll probably send the letter before we get back."
"Run along, then," said Petunia. "I've got a lot to do."
Harry nodded and left the room to send Tracey his reply.
Within the fortnight, Petunia and Vernon bundled Harry and Dudley and their suitcases into the car early in the morning – long before it was even a decent time to be awake – for Heathrow Airport, and it was time for Harry's first experience of muggle flying.
As it turned out, Harry found airports boring, and altogether far too busy for his liking. Heathrow was meant to be a particularly busy airport, he knew, but even so, the number of people milling about was insane. Just in the time that the Dursleys and Harry had been at the airport, Harry reckoned that at least twice as many people had come and gone than there were wizards in all of Britain and Ireland. Although he did think that was maybe more of a statement on how few wizards there were, it was still a lot of people to come and go from a place in just a couple of hours.
The scale of the airport was massive, and it was all dedicated to something wizards could do using broomsticks. On top of that most wizards didn't even use broomsticks to travel internationally, preferring instead to use international Portkeys. Flying was mostly for pleasure or sport, with some domestic travel included.
Harry just couldn't see how flying in a big metal tube could ever compare to flying on a broomstick. Not in convenience and certainly not in the thrill of it.
They'd arrived at the airport with more than enough time to get everything done, including check-in after a long queue, but that meant they had another hour or so of just waiting around until it was time to get on the plane. Vernon had slipped Dudley some money so he could go play arcade games and keep himself out of the way while Vernon sat at a bar having a few pints – with Petunia watching him like a hawk to ensure he didn't overindulge – but Harry hadn't wanted to join Dudley in playing games. Dudley didn't share well, and video games had never been Harry's cup of tea.
Instead, Harry wandered around the lounge looking through the various shops at all of the things, most of which seemed utterly pointless.
Who needs to buy a new suitcase before getting on a plane? he wondered after passing a baggage shop. He spent a good bit of time stood at the windows to watch the planes take off and land. It was impressive, Harry supposed, that a massive bit of metal could get up off the ground and fly people places without using any magic at all. He left the windows after a little while, already bored of watching planes come and go, and went back to dipping in and out of the various departure lounge shops.
"Now boarding flight…" called out the announcer, and Harry thought she had called out the number of his flight. He regretted not memorising the flight number, as it hadn't been long or overly complicated.
Harry stopped what he was doing – browsing the Muggle fiction books at a WHSmith outlet – Harry pushed his way through the throngs of people in the departures lounge to find his aunt and uncle so they could board the plane. Rather disappointingly, boarding took an absolute age as well, as the long queue moved at a glacial pace.
By the time the Dursleys and Harry reached the front of the queue, Harry was well and truly bored of Heathrow Airport. The attendant gave only a cursory glance at each passport before waving the relevant person forward.
After having seen what passed for a procedure, Harry wondered why it was taking so long.
"Dursley, Vernon," said the boarding attendant, and she gestured for Vernon to move forward. "Dursley, Dudley, Dursley, Petunia," she said next, and then waved the two of them on. "Potter, Harry. Have a lovely flight," she finished in a dull monotone, and then called on the next group.
The most exciting part of the whole process as far as Harry was concerned was crossing over to the plane on a weird little connector box, and that was only if he was being overly generous, and even then only because it had been a little bit bouncy.
"Have a wonderful flight!" said the smiling, perfectly coiffured stewardess in a smooth, practised tone whenever a passenger passed her by. "Thank you for choosing to fly with us today!"
Even finding their seats was less convenient than Harry thought it could be, as the tickets specified which seats everyone had to take, but people were let onto the plane in whatever random order they'd arrived at the boarding desk.
At least Harry got to sit by the window, as Vernon and Dudley chose two seats together on one side of the plane, with a third and fourth in the same row on the opposite side of the aisle being reserved for Harry and Petunia. The remaining seats eventually got filled in by strangers, but Harry didn't think he would need to get up during the flight anyway, so he didn't mind being penned in. He could, however, hear Dudley complaining to Vernon about someone being in the way. Not that it got him anywhere, since everyone had their seat numbers printed on their tickets and the plane was full.
Take off took longer than Harry had expected, with a sequence of safety announcements and demonstrations that went on forever. When take-off finally happened, except for a brief few moments where Harry could feel the plane move, it was less exciting than sitting in the car. Once the plane got high enough, it didn't feel like flying at all.
"Is that it?" Harry mumbled to himself. Maybe he should have just arranged an international Portkey for everyone...
The one saving grace of muggle flying was that there was still a view visible – sort of – out of the tiny little windows. And it wasn't windy, at least. By the time the flight had taken off it was mid-morning, and Harry watched the tiny little views pass by.
It was almost like looking at little paintings.
Halfway through the flight the stewards came around with little lunches for everyone, and Harry had yet another disappointment.
Harry glanced down at the little plastic container. Little compartments were filled with what Harry supposed was meant to be all the makings of a traditional English breakfast. The pieces were all there, after a fashion, so Harry dug in with only a little hesitation.
He found it soggy not very tasty either. He ate it all, because it was the only breakfast he'd get, but felt inexplicably sad afterwards. Breakfast did at least mark the halfway point of the journey, so that was something.
At least when the plane landed, and everyone had finally been able to get off it and into Spain, the weather was nice and it was still the early afternoon.
Harry perked up a bit as they managed to pass through passport control, keen to get out of the airport. Unfortunately all that passing through customs meant was that they got to mill about in the baggage claim area with all the other sweaty holidaymakers waiting to get their luggage. Dudley had slept on the plane, so was full of energy, but stood slouched against a wall sighing loudly. To her credit, Petunia simply ignored him.
"Once Daddy—your uncle Vernon—gets the suitcases we need to head right on out to get the bus they've put on for us to get us to the hotel," said Petunia. "Then once we've checked in, the both of you can go swimming or take a look around the resort. Doesn't that sound fun?"
It did sound a bit fun to Harry, at least all the bits after the bus journey and check in. Harry hadn't been swimming in well over a year, and his aunt had chosen quite a nice hotel for the holiday, so he thought there would be more than enough to be getting on with, even if he had to do it all with Dudley in one of his week-long moods.
"And there's a waterpark across the road from the hotel," continued Petunia, "so we can go there one of the days, and I was thinking that we could probably get in a couple of day trips as well."
Harry didn't know about that – Vernon had been quite insistent that he would spend his entire holiday at the edge of the pool doing absolutely nothing at all, and Harry didn't think he would make an exception for day trips.
No matter how culturally enriching.
"How far is it to the hotel, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked.
"About half an hour by bus, the brochure said," replied Petunia, "but there will be some stop offs before us, so perhaps a little longer."
Harry nodded.
"Dad's got the suitcases," said Dudley, moving from where he slouched against the wall with a sudden burst of activity. "Come on, let's go."
"Harry, go help your uncle find a trolley for the suitcases; I can't for the life of me think why he didn't get one first…" said Petunia.
Harry went to find an unattended trolley, although he felt sure the one he took had been claimed already. No one had said anything, so he didn't care, and presented it to his sweaty, struggling, uncle. Harry helped him put the two heavy suitcases onto it and then re-joined Petunia and Dudley as they waited to board their transfer bus.
"Let's be off, then," said Vernon.
Vernon wheeled the trolley with the suitcases on it towards the arrivals lounge exit, with Harry, Petunia, and Dudley following. As soon as Harry stepped outside a strong wave of heat hit him. He hadn't expected it to be quite so warm! It felt almost like standing in front of the fire in the Slytherin Common Room.
"This bloody heat!" complained Vernon. "It's enough to give a man a heart attack…"
"The coach will be air-conditioned, darling," said Petunia. "We just need to find it. I've got the number written down, let me just take a look…" She started to search through her over-filled handbag for all the documentation she'd written out the previous night until she found what she was looking for. Once she had it in her hand she strode off towards a bus, leaving everyone else to follow her.
They reached the bus and the driver loaded the suitcases onto the luggage area while Petunia, Harry, and Dudley found seats on the coach. Petunia sat behind the two boys, and Dudley chose to sit in the aisle seat to be out of the sun's glare. As soon as they'd sat down, Dudley had turned in his seat to pester Petunia for his Gameboy, which she had in her handbag.
Once all the passengers and their luggage had been loaded onto the coach it pulled out of the airport's bus station, and the representative from the holiday company stood up to make a few announcements.
"Okay, everyone! Welcome to beautiful Catalonia! My name is Christine, and I'll be your rep today! I hope everyone is suitably excited to be here! Okay, we have three stops to make today and it should take us about forty-five minutes to get you all sent off to where you need to go. The local time is…" said the rep in an overly excited tone at breakneck speed. Harry tuned her out, and instead gazed out the window at the places they passed in the bus. He didn't feel like talking to Dudley – and Dudley was more interested in his Gameboy anyway – and Harry found the views interesting.
Everything looked so different from England and wizarding Scotland – different plants, different kinds of buildings – and he wanted to see more of it. Even his aunt's allusion to day trips started to sound interesting, and that was with the knowledge that she would have picked something neither Harry nor Dudley would have chosen to do themselves. Just being somewhere new, somewhere more interesting than Surrey, was enough for Harry.
Despite the painfully slow and horribly inconvenient muggle travel methods, Harry thought the holiday was shaping up to be really rather nice.
After about an hour, rather than the thirty minutes Petunia had quoted, the bus pulled up in front of a tall, gleaming-white building with signage indicating it was their hotel. A white-washed wall surrounded the grounds of the hotel, extending quite far in either direction as far as Harry could see. As well as signs of additional buildings – small villas mainly – Harry could see trees and other bits of greenery.
Not bad, he thought.
Vernon had Dudley and Harry help him into the hotel reception area with the suitcases. Inside everything with shiny white marble and polished metal, stylish but perhaps a bit gaudier than Harry had been expecting.
The three Dursleys and Harry were the only people checking in so the process went by quickly enough. After check-in and quickly dumping all the travel things in the room – one of the little villas with its own patio area set back from the main building – Harry and Dudley were sent off to explore without Petunia or Vernon, who had claimed a small area near one of the hotel's swimming pools to lounge around. Harry wouldn't have ordinarily chosen to spend his afternoon with Dudley – and he knew Dudley wouldn't have chosen to spend it with Harry, either – but as neither of them knew anyone at the hotel, they settled into a holiday truce. Dudley would endeavour to be more or less pleasant, and Harry would try his very best not to make any rude comments, and perhaps they could manage to enjoy each other's company.
Or that was the theory; Harry did worry about the execution.
They spent a little while playing with a beach ball in the pool until Dudley got bored and wanted to get out of sight of his parents.
"Let's go see what there is to do," Dudley said to Harry. "That rep said something about a cinema and go-karts, didn't she?"
Harry shrugged.
"Dunno. I wasn't listening."
"Yeah, she did," said Dudley. "I know because my Gameboy ran out of battery and Mum packed them in the suitcases so I had to listen. Let's go get money from Mum and Dad and have a look about." He swam away from Harry, leaving Harry to fetch the beach ball and follow him. By the time Harry got back to where his aunt and uncle were camped, Dudley was already drying himself off.
"Me and Harry need some money to go have a look about," said Dudley. "You know, at all the things."
"It's a bloody all-inclusive holiday," complained Vernon. "What do you need money for?"
"Not for drinks and food, Dad," said Dudley slowly, as if he were speaking to – well, Dudley. "For the cinema and go-karts and stuff like that, that you have to pay for. Just in case we want to do it."
Vernon grumbled something unintelligible and then rolled over on his sun bed.
"Pet, give the lads some pesetas, would you? Not too many, though."
Petunia took some money out of her big 'holiday bag' and handed it to Harry, who had by then dried off and put on a t-shirt.
"Don't lose it," she said, and then after a few moments, "and have fun, both of you."
"Thanks, Mum!" said Dudley. "Come on, Harry. Let's go!"
Dudley raced off and left Harry to follow him. He didn't seem to know where he was going, and of course he didn't stop to look at any of the maps placed here and there around the hotel complex, so the two boys got nowhere fast. Harry didn't mind so much – it was a good idea to figure out where everything in the hotel was, and it was better than skulking around parks in Little Whinging at any rate.
In Spain – muggle Spain – it didn't matter that Harry had a ghostly Dark Lord out for his blood; it didn't matter that he'd been kidnapped and that he'd killed a teacher; didn't even matter that he was a wizard. He was just Harry.
On their way to nowhere the two boys passed a tennis court, a football pitch, and a crazy golf area. Harry didn't think Dudley would enjoy playing tennis at all, although he could maybe be persuaded to have a bit of a kick-around on the football pitch if in the right mood. Harry made a note of its location for later on and continued to follow Dudley, who was dead set on finding the cinema and go-karts. Quite why Dudley would want to sit around inside watching films was beyond Harry, but if it kept him in good spirits Harry would put up with it.
When they eventually found the go-karts, it turned out that guests all needed to book a slot, so Dudley left Harry to do that while he stood around watching people drive around the track. Harry handed over the money, when he realised that he had no idea what any of the notes meant, and booked himself and Dudley into the next available slot for go-karting.
"That's done," said Harry. "Do you still want to go find the cinema?"
"Nah," said Dudley. "Let's go get something to eat and drink. There's a snack bar near here, isn't there? I saw on the map…"
Harry didn't know, but he would usually bet on Dudley knowing where to find food, so he followed after him anyway.
After the first day, Harry settled into an easy holiday routine. He would get up early for breakfast in the mornings with his aunt, since neither Dudley nor Vernon got up in time for that, and he spent his days alternating between swimming, the occasional kick-about with Dudley, and the various other activities available at the hotel. On the fourth day of the holiday Petunia booked a trip to see 'Spanish dancers' in the evening, which wasn't Harry's cup of tea but turned out to be a nice night out anyway.
On the fifth day, a discreet owl arrived for Harry just after breakfast. Not Tracey's usual owl, but a rental, he assumed.
Harry,
Mam's coming to pick you up later at 11:45 (in the morning!) so be ready then! She can do Side-Along with you so don't eat just before! If you've never done it before it might make you sick. You'll need to fetch your wand but won't need anything else.
Tracey
"Can I run back to the room to fetch my wand, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked quietly after the owl had gone. "My friend's mum is coming to get me later to take me into Barcelona, and I need to bring it with me."
They had agreed, in the end, on a compromise regarding Harry's wand – he could bring it with him, and whenever they left the hotel he could take it, but while inside the complex, it would stay in the room. Harry thought that was probably as good as he was going to get, even if he thought he should at least be allowed to have it in Petunia's holiday bag. What use was a wand he couldn't get to, after all?
Petunia nodded and then gave Harry the keys to the room.
"Remember to lock the door after you," she said.
Harry left the pool area and headed back through the little 'village' area and back to their villa to obtain his wand, and once he had his wand in hand, he felt much better. Safer, even. He felt much more like a wizard with a wand in his hand, even wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt complete with flip-flops. He rummaged around in his and Dudley's suitcase for the summer robe that he'd packed – or rather, that his aunt had packed after Harry persuaded her it needed to come with them – and then rolled it up so it looked like a towel. He wasn't completely sure what the Spanish wizards customarily wore, but he wanted to have a light robe with him just in case he'd stick out otherwise dressed completely muggle. Reluctantly, he slipped his wand into the rolled up robe so the muggles at the hotel didn't see it.
While in the room Harry swapped his flip-flops for a pair of trainers, since he thought there would probably be a bit of walking to do, took out the small pouch of Galleons he'd packed for the day, and then left the room more or less as he'd found it. He wasn't sure if Spanish wizards used the same money as the British and Irish wizards, but gold was gold and he felt like he could probably get it exchanged if not.
Harry made his way back to the bit of the pool where his aunt and uncle intended to spend their day to give his aunt back the room keys.
"Thanks, Aunt Petunia," he said as he dropped the keys on her sun bed. "My friend's mum is getting a Portkey over—there's a designated spot near here, apparently, Tracey said in her letter last week—then she'll come get me and we'll Apparate in to Barcelona. Shouldn't be too long now. Then I'll be back in time for dinner!"
"How lovely," said Petunia, although Harry could tell it was strained. His aunt never seemed to know quite what to say when Harry spoke directly about magical things. She was, however, much more comfortable with matters of etiquette. "Do be polite, and remember to say please and thank you, and make sure to say you appreciate her going so far out of her way to pick you up." She looked Harry up and down. "That's what you're wearing?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, I've got a light summer robe rolled up here," he said. "I'll put it on over this once we've got there. It's a nice robe—the witch in the shop picked it out for me, and she knows wizard styles, you see… so it should be fine."
"Hmm." Harry could tell his aunt wasn't totally convinced, but as she was even more ignorant of wizarding styles than Harry, Harry assumed she had to let it go. "Well, remember to enjoy yourself. Oh, and say thank you to your friend's mother—Mrs Davis, was it?—for me, please."
"I will, Aunt Petunia."
"Wonderful," she said. Petunia brushed her hair from her face, adjusted her sun hat, and returned to reading her romance novel in the shade.
Harry leaned back on his sunbed and enjoyed the sun for a while, since he still had some time to fill before Tracey's mum came to get him. When the time came for Harry to leave, Vernon and Dudley had only just down to the pool.
"I'll see you later," said Harry. "I need to go meet my friend's mum."
Vernon grunted.
"Remember what I said," cautioned Petunia.
"What time will you be back, do you know?" asked Dudley. "I thought we could do go-karts again later, but if you're not here I'll go the cinema instead."
Harry shrugged.
"I don't really know what we're doing or where we're going. I'll definitely be back for dinner, though."
"Yeah, alright," said Dudley. "See you later."
Harry gathered his robe and wand, checked for his money pouch in his pocket, then made his way to the place he'd arranged to meet Tracey's mum. He didn't have to go far – it was an out of the way spot just outside the hotel and not too far from one of the Spanish Ministry's designated Portkey stops.
He recognised Tracey's mother immediately from the time he'd seen her at the train station, but even if he hadn't, she was wearing a women's summer robe that only sort of looked like a muggle dress and had a wand in her hand.
Harry walked towards her and gave a little wave.
"Mrs Davis? It's me, Harry."
She peered out at him through her dark sunglasses, then waved him forward.
"None of that 'Mrs Davis', Harry—we're on holiday! You can call me Gwenllian. Or, well, maybe you can't, so try Gwen instead," said Mrs Davis – Gwen – once Harry had reached her. "Awful place for a Portkey stop, but what can you do? At least now I've been here once I can Apparate us away. Portkeys are such a pain, aren't they?"
Harry, who had never travelled by Portkey before, didn't know, but nodded along with her.
"All ready to go? Got your wand, some robes?"
Harry nodded.
"Okay, then grab my arm, my lovely, and we'll get right to it. Tracey's been dying to see you, you know." Gwen stuck out her arm, and Harry took it. Within moments the world spun around him and he got sucked into the swirling vortex and spat out somewhere in Barcelona.