Chapter 3
Invitation
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Courage is never to let your actions be influenced by your fears.
Arthur Koestler
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The next morning dawned bright and early. Harry woke early, having only received three additional hours of sleep after his early morning wakening. Harry left his room, Hermione's letter in hand, and slowly stumbled down the steps, still half-asleep. When he reached the breakfast room, there were his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Harry could tell that Dudley was upstairs still, due to the loud snoring that emanated from his cousin's room. Uncle Vernon was sipping at coffee and reading the sport's page while Aunt Petunia was silently frying bacon on the stove. Harry new this was the best possible time to ask, seeing as how Uncle Vernon was in a good mood since his favorite soccer team was in the lead. Without a word, Harry walked over to his uncle and placed Hermione's letter next to Uncle Vernon and took a step back, waiting.
Uncle Vernon turned his eyes from the paper to look at Harry. Then at the letter. Then at Harry again. Harry could hear his own heart beating, as nervous as he was. Uncle Vernon slowly raised his hand, lifted the letter, and began to read. By this time, Aunt Petunia, still holding the bacon- filled skillet, had turned around and was staring at her husband and nephew. A few moments later, Uncle Vernon lowered the parchment and looked at Harry. The two of them locked gazes, daring the other to blink. Harry could feel his knees wobbling. Finally, it was Harry who spoke up.
"Well?" Harry asked simply.
"Well, what?" Uncle Vernon returned.
"Can I go?" Harry inquired.
Uncle Vernon said nothing. Instead he waved his hand, his eyes still on Harry, and beckoned Aunt Petunia to come over. Aunt Petunia walked over and Uncle Vernon handed her the letter. Petunia took it slowly and read the note quickly. When she finished, she joined Uncle Vernon, the both of them staring at Harry, who stared right back.
"Can I?" Harry asked once more.
"Well, of course you can," said Uncle Vernon.
"Really?" Harry exclaimed.
"No," said Uncle Vernon quickly.
"Why not?" said Harry, unable to control the raising of his voice.
Aunt Petunia answered this: "Do you really think we would allow this, especially after what happened to Dudley last time!" Dudley was still wary of toffees.
"That's why Hermione said that she should come pick me up instead of the Weasleys," said Harry, slowly clenching and unclenching his hands. "I haven't done anything wrong this summer, and I think I deserve this. Besides, Hermione's parent's are Muggles, so they can't use-"
Uncle Vernon eye's widened and Harry stopped. No one was allowed to use the word "magic" in the Dursley household, and Harry didn't want to make his predicament any worse.
"...well, they can't do that, and Hermione can't do it outside of school, so there's no way anything could happen."
Harry could see his aunt and uncle rolling the notion around inside their heads, looking for something to use in their defense. Harry decided that now was time to use his trump card.
"Or maybe," said Harry. "I could just have my godfather."
Harry watched in silent delight as the color drained away from Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's faces. His aunt and uncle were deathly afraid of Harry's legal godfather, whom his aunt and uncle new to be an escaped convict out on the run.
After several moments, Uncle Vernon's mouth began to work again. He cleared his throat violently, causing Harry to grimace.
"All right," said Uncle Vernon. "You can go see your little girlfriend. But when she and her parents come here, there better be no abnormalities, or it will come out of your rear."
Harry couldn't believe it. Harry ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to his small room. He threw opened the door and plopped down on his bead. A few seconds later, he jumped out of his bed and leapt to his desk and began writing a letter to Hermione
Dear Hermione,
My aunt and uncle say it is okay for me to visit. Write back to me as soon as possible because I need a time and date for you to come pick me up.
Sincerely,
Harry
Harry tied the letter onto Hedwig, and sent her out the window to deliver his message. Harry was so unbelievably happy, he dared anyone in the world to try to ruin his good mood. Of course someone would take him up on his challenge.
The next day, Harry was sitting in his room, polishing up of his History of Magic Summer Essay. Harry had decided to write his as an account of the numerous occasions when the existence of wizards had almost become known worldwide. The world of wizards kept themselves quite secret, and entire sections of the Ministry of Magic were devoted to the simple matter of keeping it secret. Apparently, most of the more recent ones had been during the Cold War, while the Soviets were interrogating the entire Russian populace and keeping strict tabs on everyone. The government of Magic Russia had had numerous close-calls. Harry had become obsessed with the idea of how much effort was put into keeping such a colossal secret under wraps.
Harry was studying the details of goblin uprising in Siberia in 1973, when Dudley half-strolled, half-waddled into his room. Dudley had a wicked smile, the one he normally gave Harry when he was about to torture him for something.
"Well," said Dudley. "I hear you're going to be having some friend pick you up."
Harry didn't raise his head to acknowledge Dudley and instead kept his eyes firmly affixed on the pages of his book
"And she's a girl," Dudley said, putting emphasis on the last word.
Harry was now practically going through a mantra of the different significant dates of the uprising.
"Is she your guuuurlfriend?" asked Dudley, with such a moronic tone of voice that only he could accomplish.
And still Harry continued to ignore his cousin, which only made Dudley more eager.
"Oh, wait," said Dudley, pretending to slap his head. "This is you we're talking about. Who would want to be your girlfriend? I mean, really."
Harry had had enough. He shut his book and stared Dudley in the eyes which such an intensity that Dudley involuntarily took a step back.
"Well, at least I don't jiggle when I brush my teeth," said Harry. "Oh wait, that's right, you don't brush your teeth, do you?"
Dudley went red in the face. He raised his pudgy fist, as if to hit Harry. In response, Harry lifted his hand and began to wiggle his finger from side to side.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Harry. "You wouldn't want to have some other horrible charm cast on you, would you?"
At this, Dudley's beet-red face went pale. He vividly remembered having grown a pig tail(a gift from Hagrid), as well as the Ton-Tongue- Toffee that the Weasley twins had given him. Dudley slowly lowered his fist.
"Now there's a good boy," said Harry. He had no idea where he was getting the nerve to speak to Dudley like this, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. "Now, get out of my room."
Dudley spun around and waddled out of the room like a penguin. Harry couldn't help but let a small grin form on his lips as he remembered the shocked look on Dudley's face. However, Dudley's interruption had really broken Harry's train of thought. Try as he might, he could no longer keep his mind on the words in his book. In exasperation, Harry shut the book and curled up in his bed for a nap.
Harry's short respite was soon interrupted by a bellow from downstairs. Apparently, Dudley had gone and squeaked at his parents. Although Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were deathly afraid of both Harry and his godfather, they would not sit around and allow Harry to harass their son. And so they confined Harry to his room, only allowing for short bathroom breaks every few hours and small meals. For Harry, it seemed very reminiscent of the summer before his second year, before the Weasley brothers had busted Harry out. Harry had not expected the "jail break" that year. But this time things were quite different for Harry.
Harry began counting down the days until Hermione would arrive to rescue him. He sorely wished that they had set an earlier date. Instead, Harry would have to wait another two weeks in confinement.
He spent most of his time studying. Never much of a bookworm, Harry began to devour his old school books, analyzing the information they had never reached in school and reanalyzing the information they had. In fact, the only books he hadn't read again were all the books written by Gilderoy Lockhart, a phony whom Harry had unmasked in his second year. Harry had discovered that the pages from Lockhart's books made a good substitute for the old newsprint he normally put on the bottom of Hedwig's cage. And it was much more fulfilling.
Harry also spent his time writing to his friends, who were now his only source of information on news in the magical world, now that Harry no longer had a newspaper available to him. Ron made sure to keep Harry up to date on the International Quidditch World Cup(since this was the only section of the Daily Prophet that Ron read), and Hermione provided Harry with newspaper clippings of current events. Harry wrote letters back to both of them, but did not mention that he was a prefect.
Slowly the days ticked by the day came when Hermione would come to pick Harry up.
Invitation
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Courage is never to let your actions be influenced by your fears.
Arthur Koestler
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
The next morning dawned bright and early. Harry woke early, having only received three additional hours of sleep after his early morning wakening. Harry left his room, Hermione's letter in hand, and slowly stumbled down the steps, still half-asleep. When he reached the breakfast room, there were his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Harry could tell that Dudley was upstairs still, due to the loud snoring that emanated from his cousin's room. Uncle Vernon was sipping at coffee and reading the sport's page while Aunt Petunia was silently frying bacon on the stove. Harry new this was the best possible time to ask, seeing as how Uncle Vernon was in a good mood since his favorite soccer team was in the lead. Without a word, Harry walked over to his uncle and placed Hermione's letter next to Uncle Vernon and took a step back, waiting.
Uncle Vernon turned his eyes from the paper to look at Harry. Then at the letter. Then at Harry again. Harry could hear his own heart beating, as nervous as he was. Uncle Vernon slowly raised his hand, lifted the letter, and began to read. By this time, Aunt Petunia, still holding the bacon- filled skillet, had turned around and was staring at her husband and nephew. A few moments later, Uncle Vernon lowered the parchment and looked at Harry. The two of them locked gazes, daring the other to blink. Harry could feel his knees wobbling. Finally, it was Harry who spoke up.
"Well?" Harry asked simply.
"Well, what?" Uncle Vernon returned.
"Can I go?" Harry inquired.
Uncle Vernon said nothing. Instead he waved his hand, his eyes still on Harry, and beckoned Aunt Petunia to come over. Aunt Petunia walked over and Uncle Vernon handed her the letter. Petunia took it slowly and read the note quickly. When she finished, she joined Uncle Vernon, the both of them staring at Harry, who stared right back.
"Can I?" Harry asked once more.
"Well, of course you can," said Uncle Vernon.
"Really?" Harry exclaimed.
"No," said Uncle Vernon quickly.
"Why not?" said Harry, unable to control the raising of his voice.
Aunt Petunia answered this: "Do you really think we would allow this, especially after what happened to Dudley last time!" Dudley was still wary of toffees.
"That's why Hermione said that she should come pick me up instead of the Weasleys," said Harry, slowly clenching and unclenching his hands. "I haven't done anything wrong this summer, and I think I deserve this. Besides, Hermione's parent's are Muggles, so they can't use-"
Uncle Vernon eye's widened and Harry stopped. No one was allowed to use the word "magic" in the Dursley household, and Harry didn't want to make his predicament any worse.
"...well, they can't do that, and Hermione can't do it outside of school, so there's no way anything could happen."
Harry could see his aunt and uncle rolling the notion around inside their heads, looking for something to use in their defense. Harry decided that now was time to use his trump card.
"Or maybe," said Harry. "I could just have my godfather."
Harry watched in silent delight as the color drained away from Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's faces. His aunt and uncle were deathly afraid of Harry's legal godfather, whom his aunt and uncle new to be an escaped convict out on the run.
After several moments, Uncle Vernon's mouth began to work again. He cleared his throat violently, causing Harry to grimace.
"All right," said Uncle Vernon. "You can go see your little girlfriend. But when she and her parents come here, there better be no abnormalities, or it will come out of your rear."
Harry couldn't believe it. Harry ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to his small room. He threw opened the door and plopped down on his bead. A few seconds later, he jumped out of his bed and leapt to his desk and began writing a letter to Hermione
Dear Hermione,
My aunt and uncle say it is okay for me to visit. Write back to me as soon as possible because I need a time and date for you to come pick me up.
Sincerely,
Harry
Harry tied the letter onto Hedwig, and sent her out the window to deliver his message. Harry was so unbelievably happy, he dared anyone in the world to try to ruin his good mood. Of course someone would take him up on his challenge.
The next day, Harry was sitting in his room, polishing up of his History of Magic Summer Essay. Harry had decided to write his as an account of the numerous occasions when the existence of wizards had almost become known worldwide. The world of wizards kept themselves quite secret, and entire sections of the Ministry of Magic were devoted to the simple matter of keeping it secret. Apparently, most of the more recent ones had been during the Cold War, while the Soviets were interrogating the entire Russian populace and keeping strict tabs on everyone. The government of Magic Russia had had numerous close-calls. Harry had become obsessed with the idea of how much effort was put into keeping such a colossal secret under wraps.
Harry was studying the details of goblin uprising in Siberia in 1973, when Dudley half-strolled, half-waddled into his room. Dudley had a wicked smile, the one he normally gave Harry when he was about to torture him for something.
"Well," said Dudley. "I hear you're going to be having some friend pick you up."
Harry didn't raise his head to acknowledge Dudley and instead kept his eyes firmly affixed on the pages of his book
"And she's a girl," Dudley said, putting emphasis on the last word.
Harry was now practically going through a mantra of the different significant dates of the uprising.
"Is she your guuuurlfriend?" asked Dudley, with such a moronic tone of voice that only he could accomplish.
And still Harry continued to ignore his cousin, which only made Dudley more eager.
"Oh, wait," said Dudley, pretending to slap his head. "This is you we're talking about. Who would want to be your girlfriend? I mean, really."
Harry had had enough. He shut his book and stared Dudley in the eyes which such an intensity that Dudley involuntarily took a step back.
"Well, at least I don't jiggle when I brush my teeth," said Harry. "Oh wait, that's right, you don't brush your teeth, do you?"
Dudley went red in the face. He raised his pudgy fist, as if to hit Harry. In response, Harry lifted his hand and began to wiggle his finger from side to side.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Harry. "You wouldn't want to have some other horrible charm cast on you, would you?"
At this, Dudley's beet-red face went pale. He vividly remembered having grown a pig tail(a gift from Hagrid), as well as the Ton-Tongue- Toffee that the Weasley twins had given him. Dudley slowly lowered his fist.
"Now there's a good boy," said Harry. He had no idea where he was getting the nerve to speak to Dudley like this, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. "Now, get out of my room."
Dudley spun around and waddled out of the room like a penguin. Harry couldn't help but let a small grin form on his lips as he remembered the shocked look on Dudley's face. However, Dudley's interruption had really broken Harry's train of thought. Try as he might, he could no longer keep his mind on the words in his book. In exasperation, Harry shut the book and curled up in his bed for a nap.
Harry's short respite was soon interrupted by a bellow from downstairs. Apparently, Dudley had gone and squeaked at his parents. Although Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were deathly afraid of both Harry and his godfather, they would not sit around and allow Harry to harass their son. And so they confined Harry to his room, only allowing for short bathroom breaks every few hours and small meals. For Harry, it seemed very reminiscent of the summer before his second year, before the Weasley brothers had busted Harry out. Harry had not expected the "jail break" that year. But this time things were quite different for Harry.
Harry began counting down the days until Hermione would arrive to rescue him. He sorely wished that they had set an earlier date. Instead, Harry would have to wait another two weeks in confinement.
He spent most of his time studying. Never much of a bookworm, Harry began to devour his old school books, analyzing the information they had never reached in school and reanalyzing the information they had. In fact, the only books he hadn't read again were all the books written by Gilderoy Lockhart, a phony whom Harry had unmasked in his second year. Harry had discovered that the pages from Lockhart's books made a good substitute for the old newsprint he normally put on the bottom of Hedwig's cage. And it was much more fulfilling.
Harry also spent his time writing to his friends, who were now his only source of information on news in the magical world, now that Harry no longer had a newspaper available to him. Ron made sure to keep Harry up to date on the International Quidditch World Cup(since this was the only section of the Daily Prophet that Ron read), and Hermione provided Harry with newspaper clippings of current events. Harry wrote letters back to both of them, but did not mention that he was a prefect.
Slowly the days ticked by the day came when Hermione would come to pick Harry up.