Misunderstandings

Harry sat at the top of the stairs, watching through the gap in the banisters. On the doorstep stood Sally, with a 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' expression on her face.

"Hello," said Aunt Petunia, who had answered the door.

Sally beamed at her. "Good morning, Mrs Dursley," she said enthusiastically, not breaking the smile. Harry stuffed the end of his T-shirt into his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

Petunia looked Sally up and down. "Oh, you're Sally Mason, aren't you? Susan's little girl."

Harry knew that Sally would be affronted to be called anyone's 'little girl', but she merely nodded, still beaming.

Reassured that she was now talking to the 'right sort' of person, Petunia's entire attitude changed. She smiled, putting on the patronising drawl she usually reserved for Dudley and his friends. "Oh well, come in, come in," she said, ushering a still smiling Sally through to the living room.

Harry scrambled down the stairs, eager to see how the scene would pan out.

Sally, now perched on a plush armchair, was listening to Petunia's long spiel about how Sally used to come over when she was two and play in Dudley's paddling pool. Sally nodded and added a 'Really?' whenever appropriate. Finally, as Sally's expression was becoming slightly glazed, Petunia said 'But of course, you must be here to see Dudley. I'll go get him shall I?"

"Actually," said Sally, stopping Mrs Dursley in her tracks, "I'm here to see Harry."

Petunia could not have looked more surprised if Sally had suddenly produced a troupe of dancing leprechauns. She turned to Sally, slowly. "Harry?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," replied Sally, her fixed smile becoming one of genuine amusement. Before Petunia could say anything, Harry entered the room.

"Hi Sally," he said, grinning wryly. "You ready to go?"

Sally rose from her chair. "Yes, I think so." She turned to Petunia, who was still looking gobsmacked. "It was lovely to see you Mrs Dursley," she said.

As Harry and Sally left the house, both collapsed into fits of hysterical laughter. "The look on her face!" gasped Harry. He looked up. Sally wasn't laughing any more. She was looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

"There weren't any pictures of you in the house," she said quietly.

Harry stopped walking. Although she didn't elaborate, he knew exactly what she meant. Aware that she knew his relatives, Harry had tried to pass off the Dursleys' dislike for him as a running joke, not willing to discuss the details of his family life. But today, for the first time, she had had a small glimpse of the contempt with which Harry was held at Privet Drive.

Sally smiled at him sadly. "Let's go to the park," she said, ending the discussion, to Harry's visible relief.

A few days later, Harry and Sally decided to have a small picnic in Sally's back garden – mainly so that Sally could try cooking and Harry could come up with new and ingenious ways of pretending to eat it.

"So you're going to have to come over the day after tomorrow," said Sally, eating the chocolate icing off a burnt fairy cake, "because it's my…"

"I won't be here the day after tomorrow," interrupted Harry. "I'm going away tomorrow."

"Oh," said Sally, disappointed. "Well I'll see you when you get back then. Lucky for some, going on holiday."

Harry took a deep breath. He had been anticipating this. "Actually, I won't be back for a while. I probably won't see you for ages."

Sally's face fell. "Oh," she said again, looking downcast. "Well give me the address of where you're going. I'll write to you."

"Actually," said Harry, looking uncomfortable, "I can't really give you an address."

"What? Why?"

"Um…" Harry fished for an explanation. "It's…it's to do with my school…"

Sally narrowed her eyes. "You mean that place for the criminally insane?"

"NO!" said Harry, emphatically. "Do I look criminally insane?"

Sally laughed. "Well I did wonder…"

Harry punched her lightly on the arm. "Well I'm not. I don't go there. I go to…a boarding school. It's really remote. That's why we can't…get…post," he finished lamely.

Sally looked at him sceptically. Harry didn't blame her. It was probably the worst excuse he had ever come up with – and that included telling Filch that he needed to carry Dungbombs to use in Herbology.

Suddenly Harry had an idea. He got to his feet and stretched out his hand to help Sally up.

"Come with me," he said. "I want to show you something."

Sally looked at him anxiously. "Why?"

"Just come with me."

Sally gasped.

"It's beautiful! Can I stroke it?"

"It's a she," said Harry, carefully placing Hedwig on Sally's outstretched arm. Once he was sure that Sally was secure with the owl, he sat down next to her on the bed.

"Now this owl…my owl …well, she's very well trained. I mean…she can…she knows…" Harry trailed off. Listening to himself he now realised how ludicrous the idea of owl post would sound to a Muggle.

Sally looked at him expectantly. Sighing, Harry tried again.

"If you tie letters to her leg, I'll get them. I mean, she'll fly them to me. I mean…"

Sally nodded slowly. "Right," she said, looking slightly bemused. Looking around the room, Sally caught sight of Harry's school trunk.

"That's so cool!" She reached towards it. "What's inside it?"

"NO!" shouted Harry, smacking her arm away from it.

Sally looked at him, her eyes wide with alarm. Hurriedly she rose from the bed.

"Um, I have to go now, I'll catch up with you soon, okay?" she said quickly, as she left the room.

Harry stood up to go after her, but she had already gone. Groaning, he flopped back down on the bed.

Well that went well, he thought.