Chapter Two - Invitation
Harry stared at the envelope. It couldn't be from Malfoy. Or could it? Questions buzzed inside Harry's head until he had to close his eyes and sit back. First of all, Draco never once asked for his address. Second - well why on Earth would one of Harry's enemies start sending him letters?
Hello Potter,
I can't say how fucking mad I am at you for landing my father in so much shit, so be careful around me and the rest of Slytherin from now on or you'll find yourself hexed all next term.
I also wrote to ask you a favour. This pains me deeply because I would never want help from you, Weasley and that filthy little mudblood. However, I wish for you to come to the Malfoy Manor in a few days time.
You'll find out why I need you if you come along.
Draco Malfoy.
Fuming with rage at Malfoy for being so horrible to Hermione, and at his own confusion, Harry took a piece of parchment from his trunk and began to write back.
Malfoy,
First - don't insult my friends. You want my help; you treat my friends with respect, ok?
Second - How in hell did you get my address? Is the amazing bouncing ferret a stalker of mine now?
Third - Why should I help you. We've hated each other for how long? Almost six years.
Until you tell me some answers, there is no way I'm dropping off at Malfoy Manor for some tea and crumpets to discuss your problems.
Harry Potter.
Feeling satisfied with the reply, Harry called over Hedwig and tied the letter to her leg. She gazed at him and waited for some orders, but Harry was lost in a train of thought. Hedwig nipped his fingers affectionately to bring him back down to earth. Harry jumped, but then he grabbed the torn envelope and looked for a return address. There was nothing other than the family crest.
"Hedwig," Harry began. "See this family crest? Belongs to the Malfoys. I need you to find the Malfoy Manor and deliver this to the puny little ... to the boy of the house. Okay?"
Hedwig hooted quietly and set off once again, leaving Harry to watch her glide away into the moonlight. Finally, he could open his presents. Just to be sure he wasn't interrupted anymore, Harry went to close the window. Errol and Pig hooted noisily, flapping their wings about powerfully and nipping at Harry's fingers until he could get the chance to let them out. As he close the window, Harry prayed they hadn't disturbed Uncle Vernon. They had.
"BOY!" Uncle Vernon yelled, getting out of bed.
Swinging around, Harry glanced at his presents and his open school trunk. So much mess, so little time. He shoved it all messily under the broken floorboard and jumped back onto the bed just as Uncle Vernon stomped into the room.
"What the ruddy hell was that noise? How many bloody pigeons do you have now?" Uncle Vernon spat.
"It was my friend's owls! Hedwig's not here. Look, they're gone now. No more noise, I promise," Harry said nervously.
But Uncle Vernon had stopped looking so mad. In fact, even though his face was a deep shade of purple, Harry could see that he was slightly nervous.
"You ... you're keeping in touch with this Order thing?" he swallowed, taking a step back.
Harry grinned to himself and sat up, his bedcovers falling off him slightly, revealing his naked chest. Surrey was hot at night, and even then Harry could feel steady drips of sweat trickle down his body.
"That's right. They want to see how I'm doing, to keep an eye on me," Harry said.
Laughing nervously, Uncle Vernon made an excuse about working early in the morning and left Harry alone. Leaning back in his bed, Harry felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Nobody had sent him letters, until now, and even then the letters would only consist of 'Happy Birthday' and 'Congratulations'.
Fumbling for the floorboard again, Harry brought out his presents and placed them on his bed. He opened up the first letter, from Ron.
Harry,
How are you, mate? Happy Birthday. Thanks for the letter. Mum wants you to know she's always thinking about you.
I can't tell you much right now ("Surprise, surprise," Harry thought bitterly), but if you wanted to come to The Burrow in a few days time, we can arrange something.
I know you're probably annoyed that no one can tell you anything, you're probably pissed off at all of us really. But it's not our fault. Hermione is in hysterics about you. She really does care. Don't take it out on her, whatever you do.
Anyway, enjoy your present. I picked it up at Quality Quidditch Supplies when we went with dad for a check up from the incident last term. Bill paid for it.
Ron.
Harry reeled back in surprise. Was he already that obvious? Was everyone expecting him to yell at them for nothing? He chucked the letter aside angrily and snatched up the present. On opening it, he found a Firebolt alarm clock. He set it on his bedside table and smiled, forgetting his recent anger at Ron. Watching it thoughtfully, Harry saw the Firebolt spin and zoom on top of the clock, its plastic rider hanging on for dear life. He picked up the letter from Hermione and opened it up, wondering if she was going to tell him anything.
Harry!
I've been so worried!
How are you? Happy Birthday! Ron showed me the letter you sent him. I can't tell you anything now, although I would like to. We have to take precautions; these letters can be read by anyone.
Come to The Burrow for the rest of the summer! It will be like old times. We need to talk to you, anyway. We can answer your questions then.
Lots of love,
Hermione xxx
Cheering up slightly at the prospect of going to The Burrow and hanging out with his two best friends, Harry forgot all about Malfoy until he spotted the letter once again, his heart sinking like a stone. Malfoy still wanted Harry to come around, and Harry was curious as to what his problem was. He couldn't make a date for The Burrow if he didn't know when Malfoy wanted to see him. Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and quickly scribbled to Ron and Hermione. Hedwig could send the letter later.
Ron and Hermione,
I can't wait to come to The Burrow. But there's something I'm going to do first, and I don't have the date for that yet. When it's over, I'll let you know. I can't tell you about it, sorry.
Harry felt guilty for not telling them, they deserved to know. He didn't want them to stir things up, however. For some unknown reason, Harry wanted to see Malfoy. Alone. He opened up Hermione's present and saw she had got him a book called 101 hexes and curses, which bore the subtitle: 'show your enemy what you're REALLY made of!'
Flicking through it excitedly, Harry made a sudden mental note to read through a few before setting off to Malfoy Manor. If he did go. He picked up his quill and continued to write;
Thanks for the presents, they're brilliant. Hermione - thanks for the book. It'll come in handy for the next school term...
Ron, thanks for the clock. It's awesome. I'll have to hide it from Dudley, he might sit on it.
See you soon.
Harry.
He put the letter in his drawer and turned to his remaining presents. There were the usual rock cakes from Hagrid that Harry hid under the bed - maybe he could tease Dieting Dudley later. His last present was from someone he didn't know. He opened it up and found an old leather book with fine detail along the spine and the borders. When he opened it, he discovered it was a photograph album - one of Sirius. Sirius as a baby, a toddler, a kid, Sirius starting Hogwarts, Sirius returning back from school and bragging to his mother, Sirius as a teenager, with his friends... one of whom was Harry's father. Harry stared at his almost perfect reflection and remembered he saw him when he was in Professor Snape's pensieve, and that he hadn't really liked who his father had been in school. These were photos of Sirius' life. Harry hugged it to his chest and placed it along with his other presents. It must have been from the Order. He stared at the presents happily before placing them back under the floorboard, wishing with all his heart that he could display them proudly like everyone else. When he glanced at the clock, he saw it was three in the morning. Lying back in bed, Harry wished Hedwig would be back soon.
He wanted to hear from Malfoy.