Chapter 4 – The Summer House

After getting off the plane in Heathrow, Harry found that England wasn't quite so dreary as he'd expected – they'd arrived in the middle of a heatwave. Harry did feel like transition from Spanish sun and heat to the slightly weaker version of it in England would have been much smoother if there had been a swimming pool and air conditioning back at Privet Drive, however.

In the days leading up to Harry's birthday he occupied himself with his homework, which there seemed to be rather a lot more of than he'd thought at the end of the previous school year. He took some solace in the fact that it was less than he would be given at the end of the coming year with the addition of five new subjects, but even that small mercy couldn't change the veritable mountain of work his teachers had set in the subjects Harry already had.

He felt like the very concept of summer homework was unfair. Didn't the teachers have enough marking to do during the year without giving themselves more for the first day back?

Dudley had made himself scarce almost as soon as they'd all got back to Privet Drive, and Vernon went straight back to work on the following Monday, which left Harry alone in the house with Petunia. Petunia spent most of her time obsessively cleaning, and after a few days disappeared into the attic for days on end, which gave Harry the run of the house.

Not that there was anything especially fun to do in the house. Harry had called on Stevie a couple of times but his family had gone away on holiday, according to one of their neighbours. Harry had a look at Dudley's games but didn't know enough about how computer games worked to waste time with them, so he ended up staying in his room most of the time anyway.

Two days before his birthday Harry received a letter from Ernie to confirm his plans for visiting, his Hogwarts letter for the following year, and a welcome but unexpected letter from Sirius Black – delivered by an absurdly coloured exotic bird of a kind Harry had never seen before. Harry grabbed the letter eagerly, and offered the bird some rest and owl treats, although it didn't take them and instead flew away immediately. Thankfully, his aunt had been occupied in the attic doing God only knew what and hadn't seen the brightly coloured bird arrive or leave.

Owls were one thing, but whatever that bird had been would probably prove a bird too far.

Harry,

I won't say where I am in case this letter doesn't reach you untampered with, but what I will say is that it's full of sun, sea, and pleasantly fruity drinks. I wanted to thank you again for everything you did for me, and to let you know I'm safe and sound. The Ministry is looking for me still, but I've got my wand back and they aren't looking in the right places, so I don't rate their chances.

Have a great birthday and I'll see you when I see you.

Stay safe.

Sirius hadn't said much, but then Harry supposed it was about as much as he could safely say, and quite possibly the reference to the Ministry would be pushing it if they really were watching his letters. At least he was safe and somewhere much more pleasant than Azkaban.

Ernie's letter was a lot less cryptic, but no less welcome.

Harry, my friend –

We'll swing by Monday afternoon by Portkey (Dad had it arranged with the Ministry, so don't worry about that) to pick you and your things up. The Portkey will arrive in your back garden, I'm told, so make sure there's a nice bit of space.

Looking forward to your visit and of course the Quidditch World Cup! Remember to pack something muggle for the Cup matches! Have a good birthday (I haven't forgotten, so don't worry about that) and I'll see you Monday.

Yours in friendship,

Ernest Macmillan

Harry had more than enough suitable muggle clothes for the Cup, so that wouldn't be an issue at all. The Portkey into the garden might prove more difficult, as Dudley's old – almost never used – trampoline was sat in the middle of it, along with a set of garden chairs and a table, but Harry was sure he could work something out.

Harry scanned his Hogwarts letter for any changes from the previous year and saw that it was really only the five new subjects – Alchemy, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Divination, and Magizoology –that needed any new books and equipment. Aside from that, the only thing that required Harry's attention was permission from his guardians to attend Hogsmeade weekends, and he felt quite sure that either his aunt or his uncle would be happy to sign the parchment. It might take a little persuasion to get them to use a quill but given that muggle pens tended to tear the parchment, Harry thought he could manage that.

Harry was just happy Hogsmeade weekends were back on, as they'd been cancelled the previous year due to Sirius, and Harry hadn't been sure sightings abroad would be enough to bring them back.

Harry tucked his letters away in his bedroom's desk, except for the Hogwarts letter which he placed into his school trunk and returned to his homework. He wanted to get the bulk of it done before Ernie arrived so he could spend the rest of his summer relaxing and enjoying the World Cup.

By the time Harry's birthday came around, even a birthday dinner with Dudley, his aunt, and his uncle was a welcome break from the tedium of essays on spell synergies and medieval wizards and all the rest. He had thought to ask Stevie around, but his muggle friend was still on holiday with his family, and Harry didn't feel much like inviting his other friends from Stonewall to his dinner. He hadn't lacked for contact with friends, however, since he received a flock of owls bearing letters on the day of his birthday from essentially all his friends.

There had been a letter from Theodore, another from Susan Bones, letters from Millicent, and Tracey, and Daphne, along with a letter from Blaise, and even a letter sent by muggle post from Justin. Harry found himself given so many sweets and chocolates that he separated some from his gargantuan pile and set them aside to give to Dudley – the safer, more muggle-friendly varieties, at least.

Harry, Vernon, and Dudley sat in the living room watching the television waiting for the delivery driver to arrive with the takeaway for the evening. Harry had got to choose, so he'd gone with a nice Chinese restaurant since although the food at Hogwarts was brilliant, it wasn't especially diverse in its options. Petunia pottered about in the kitchen, setting the table and getting everything ready.

When the doorbell rang, Dudley shot up from his chair like a rocket.

"I'll get the door!" he declared and raced off to the door with the money for the meal. Takeaway deliveries were perhaps the only time Dudley ever voluntarily got the door – or showed anything approaching enthusiasm.

"That's the ticket," said Vernon as he pulled himself up out of his chair. "Can't let a good meal go cold, can we?"

Harry followed Vernon into the kitchen while they waited for Dudley to bring in the food and sat himself down in his usual place at the kitchen table. Petunia had already laid out all the plates and cutlery, and Harry could see a cardboard box sat on one of the kitchen counters that must have held a birthday cake.

"Dudders has gone to bring in the food, then?" Petunia said as Harry and Vernon sat down. "He does like a delivery, doesn't he," she said with a little smile.

Dudley barged through the kitchen door carrying a mid-sized cardboard box full of Chinese food. He dumped the box onto the kitchen counter and started to pull out the little boxes and containers. Petunia swatted him away.

"Sit down, darling; I'll dish up," she said.

Petunia portioned out the food—a selection of different dishes from all across the menu—onto the five plates and then sat down at the table with everyone else.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she said. "Well, eat up, before it gets cold."

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia," said Harry.

Nobody needed the advice to start eating, and Dudley and Vernon were already elbow-deep in food. Petunia, who never ate as much as anyone else at the table, kept up a light conversation while everyone else focused on eating, but eventually most of the food was gone, and the rest had been packed up into containers as leftovers to be finished off by Dudley the following morning, most likely.

Petunia cleared the plates away, and then placed Harry's birthday cake complete with fourteen candles onto the kitchen table. After a rather perfunctory rendition of 'Happy Birthday' from his aunt and uncle and a series of mumbles from Dudley, Harry blew out the candles.

"Happy birthday, boy," said Vernon. "Fourteen already!"

"Thanks, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "I almost can't believe it, either." With everything that had been thrown in his way, from Voldemort's attack on him as a baby to Voldemort's attack on him as a schoolboy – and with prophecies and all sorts of other nonsense as well thrown in for good measure – Harry was surprised to be sat around the kitchen table celebrating his birthday.

If things had gone differently, even by a little bit, he would have died.

Petunia got up from the table and took something out of one of the kitchen cabinets – a wrapped box no larger than a shoebox – and placed it onto the table in front of Harry.

"We didn't really know what to get you," she said, "since you never ask for anything… but I thought… well, when you asked about Lily when she was younger, I remembered that I had some of her things upstairs in the attic," Petunia said, "and I thought you might like to have some of them. Some of the photographs aren't the sort of thing we could have kept out when you were younger, but I just thought… Well, they're in the box."

Harry tore open the box and opened it to find a photo album with a collection of photographs, both muggle and magical, containing his mother and a variety of other people, most of whom he didn't recognise stacked next to a little tea set. He immediately recognised his muggle grandparents from the photographs Petunia kept around the house in quite a few of the photos. His grandparents were young in the muggle photos, and most of those contained his mother too, but as they aged, more and more of the photos were wizarding. For the first time ever, he saw his grandparents move as their photographic representations acted out the moments captured on film.

"I don't know who all of the people in the—the magical photographs are," said Petunia, "but I do know some of them…" She paused. "I kept some of the photos for myself, since they're only special to me, but… well, I gave you the rest. There are some with your father in them."

Harry flicked through the photos and saw a whole host of different people. In one of the magical photos he could see a young, healthy and smiling Sirius Black along with Harry's father and mother, and in another, he could see Lily, Petunia, and both of his grandparents smiling at the seaside. There were more photos with his mother and many people who Harry had never seen, but he assumed someone – Sirius, most likely – would know who they were.

Harry lingered over a photograph of his parents as they lounged across a sofa in a cosy little cottage. He'd seen his father before, of course – Petunia had a photo of his parents at her and Vernon's wedding – but never a magical photograph, and never one in such an intimate moment.

"You're in that one," said Petunia softly. "Lily's holding you—look." She gestured to the bundle held in his mother's arms. "It must have been taken just after you were born."

Harry stared. A picture of him with his parents. He'd never seen that before... His mother seemed so happy, and his father so carefree. Harry traced their figures with his finger.

"These are brilliant," said Harry quietly. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

Harry went for the tea set next, as it had to have been something special for his aunt to include it in the gift, but Petunia reached out to stop him.

"The cups turn into mice and then run away," she said. "They come back and turn back into cups, but it isn't—isn't appropriate for the table. It belonged to your mother—I'm not sure if she bought it, or made it, but I kept it…"

"Ugh, that bloody tea set," said Vernon. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, it did, the first time I saw it…"

"You've seen it before?" asked Harry. "When?"

Vernon shrugged.

"Must be at least, well… fifteen, sixteen—seventeen?—years ago when your mother lived with Pet and I that summer. Owls coming and going at every bloody hour, strange sounds coming from her bedroom…" He paused and looked at Harry. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, eh?" he said with a little chortle. "Do us a nice slice of cake, Pet, and I'll get out of your hair; I know you don't like lingerers when you do the washing up."

Petunia made a sceptical little sound but cut and plated up a piece of cake for Vernon, who gave her a kiss on the cheek and took it away to the living room. Dudley helped himself to a large slice of cake and then followed his father out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Petunia. Harry cut himself a small piece of cake and then went back to flicking through the photo album.

"Thanks again for these, Aunt Petunia," Harry said. "I mean it—these are amazing, really."

"I just put them all together, Harry," said Petunia. "That's all. They were yours already."

Harry ate his bit of cake and then put the album back into the box.

"I need to go finish packing my stuff away for when Ernie and his dad come to pick me up tomorrow. But… thank you, again," Harry said, before returning to his bedroom to finish up his packing.

Harry woke early the next morning and sent Agrippa off on his way to Cornwall after breakfast. He didn't know whether owls tolerated Portkeys, but even if they took it well, Harry thought that a nice flight would do Agrippa some good. He packed away all of his school books and equipment, and his robes and other bits and pieces, but left his muggle clothes – aside from the single outfit Ernie had told him to pack – in his bedroom wardrobe. He didn't think he would be needing them at Ernie's house, since as far as Harry knew the Macmillans were an old and traditional pureblood family and would wear the full range of robes while at home, and he certainly wouldn't need them back at Hogwarts.

Once he was sure he had everything packed and ready to go, Harry wrangled his trunk down the stairs and into the hallway by the back door ready to go. He'd put on a light summer robe which did make him feel out of place in Privet Drive, but he wouldn't be there too much longer anyway – and at least Vernon was at work and Dudley still in bed, so neither would be there to see him lounging about dressed as a wizard.

Harry was ready and waiting a bit too early, but it did give him time to move the trampoline and make sure Petunia's table and chairs were out of the way. At exactly five minutes past midday, Ernie and his father appeared in the garden holding a little metal ring. Harry opened the back door and went out to greet them.

"Harry! Good to see you!" said Ernie after he brushed himself down.

Ernie's father stuck the metal ring into his robe pocket and marched towards Harry.

"Algernon Macmillan," he said, and stuck his hand out for Harry to shake it. "But you can call me Algie, if you like. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter! Is your aunt or uncle available this afternoon? Only, I wouldn't feel quite right to just take you without seeing one of them, you understand. Not with Black on the loose, at any rate." He paused. "We've been briefed, so don't worry."

"Er—good to meet you, too, Mr Macmillan—Algie," said Harry. "You can just call me Harry, as well. I can go get my aunt, if you want, or we can just go inside for a bit? My aunt will probably want to make you a cup of tea..."

Algie took a little pocket watch from his robe pocket and peered at it before shaking his head.

"Can't take too much time, I'm afraid—the Portkey starts back up at ten past the hour! If you could fetch her that would be just marvellous."

"We should grab Harry's things, too, Dad," said Ernie.

"Oh, yeah, thanks—they're just inside the door," said Harry. "I'll go grab my aunt, hang on." He ducked back inside to go find his aunt, who would probably be in the kitchen.

"Aunt Petunia? My friend's dad just wants to see you before we go—in the garden, and only for a minute," said Harry after he opened the kitchen door.

Petunia rose from the kitchen table, left her mug of tea behind, and followed Harry out to the back door. She didn't actually enter the garden, and instead waited in the doorway.

"Ah! Delightful to meet you, Mrs—Mrs—oh, terribly sorry, but I don't seem to know your name!" said Algie once Petunia had arrived. He stepped forward and took Petunia's hand and kissed it.

"Mrs Dursley," said Petunia stiffly. "Petunia," she added after a few moments and, to Harry's surprise, didn't jerk her hand back.

"Lovely, lovely," said Algie. "Algernon Macmillan here. I won't take up too much of your time—just wanted to check that everything is in order before I take young Harry here away for the rest of the summer. We'll be keeping him until the boys go off to school, yes? It's not a problem at all for us—our elf will just adore having someone new to fuss over—but it's always better to check, I feel. After all, you wouldn't want your nephew to just go absent without leave, eh?"

"Oh, yes—Harry did explain his plans. Off to watch some sort of sport and then see out the rest of the summer before school starts up," said Petunia. "It's really no trouble at all?" She took her hand back, although Harry felt she'd already left it there more than long enough.

"None at all, my dear woman!" declared Algie. "It'll all be perfectly safe—we've no need for Aurors 'round our way because of all the enchantments on our house, but Harry'll be as safe there as he is here!"

"Well, that does give me peace of mind, Algernon," said Petunia eventually. Of course, Petunia knew full well that there was no danger from Sirius Black anymore – that there never had been – but Algernon and the Ministry didn't, so Harry still had Aurors tailing him when at Privet Drive.

Aurors who were, at least, unobtrusive enough that Vernon had stopped noticing them.

"Now, by my reckoning we've got another minute until the Portkey reactivates, so that should be long enough to say your goodbyes." He pulled the little metal ring from his pocket and looked again at his watch before nodding. "Yes, just a little over a minute." Algernon stepped back from the doorway to give Harry a little space.

"Er—I suppose I won't be back until Christmas," said Harry. "So… thank you again for yesterday, and—and… Goodbye, Aunt Petunia. Er, tell Dudley I said goodbye and that I hope he has a good year at school. Oh, and Uncle Vernon, too."

"Of course, Harry. Well, do remember to be polite, and always say please and thank you, and wear your nice … robes …" said Petunia, although her tone left Harry unconvinced she thought there was such a thing as nice robes. "And… and remember to enjoy yourself, as well," said Petunia, almost as an afterthought. "Perhaps we'll see you at Christmas and remember you are allowed to send letters, if you'd like. I know you don't have phones at school—and God knows it's a pain to get Dudley to use the ones he has anyway—but letters are perfectly fine." She stepped back from the door.

"Excellent, excellent," said Algie. "Right, Harry, have you travelled by Portkey before? You just grab the Portkey—this little ring here—and it does all the hard work. Keep a tight grip on your trunk, of course; don't want it getting left behind or lost in transit, eh!"

"I've used one before," confirmed Harry. He moved to stand next to Ernie and Algie, and then grabbed his trunk handle tightly in one hand, and the metal ring with his other hand.

"Wonderful!" said Algie. He kept an eye on his watch, and then started to count down. "Ten seconds! It was a pleasure to meet you, madam! Perhaps we'll meet again someday, eh? Four! Three! Two! One!"

As Algie reached the end of his countdown, the Portkey magic yanked Harry around his middle into a spinning vortex, and the last thing he heard before being spat out the other end was Petunia's shocked shout.

Harry wobbled at the other end but managed to remain standing after the Portkey journey, which he counted as a win. He was getting better at this whole Portkey business.

Neither Ernie nor his father seemed fazed by the journey, which Harry supposed wasn't too surprising as they probably took Portkeys quite often. At the other end – somewhere in Cornwall, although Harry was unsure exactly where – the sun was shining and soft music spilled out of the windows of the pretty and relatively compact country house.

"Welcome to the summer house, Harry," said Ernie. "You can leave your trunk there—Blippy will see to it." He turned to his father. "Dad, are we good to go?"

"Yes, yes," said Algie. "Run along, the both of you! Show Harry around but steer clear of the kitchens—don't want to spoil your dinner, do you?"

"Brilliant! Come on, Harry—let me show you around!" Ernie pulled Harry away from the house's front garden and into the house itself. A small entrance hall occupied the space directly after the front door, with two staircases leading upstairs, and a single door opening into a hallway between them. "This place used to belong to a muggle if you can believe it," he said once they were inside the house, "but he died, and it went to his grand-niece, who was a witch. Then she died, and my grandfather bought the house. It's had a bit of work done since then, of course. Let's go upstairs and I can show you to your room, and then show you my room, and the bathrooms, of course, and then we can have a look at the solar, and then the lounge and the tea room…"

Ernie took Harry on a whistle-stop tour of the summer house, which turned out to be rather a lot larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Almost all of the rooms had windows in them, even the ones which Harry thought were right in the middle of the house and not against any exterior wall. Room after room – many of which had such narrowly defined purposes Harry was sure it would be a struggle to ever need to use them – filled the house, and eventually Harry started to forget their names and purposes.

"…it's a bit smaller than our proper house, of course," said Ernie, "but it does for the summer, you know. So, what do you think?"

"Ernie, this place has rooms bigger than my whole house," said Harry. "What do you even use them all for?"

Ernie looked around as if to check no one was listening, and then leaned in closer to Harry.

"To be honest with you mate, we almost never use half of them at least. But my grandfather was a proper and traditional kind of wizard and the house just had to have all the right rooms." Ernie glanced around again. "And I think he was a bit embarrassed it was a proper muggle house, so he went a bit overboard with the renovations…"

Harry laughed.

"Well, it's definitely got all the rooms! And I've never seen a muggle house like it so I don't think he's got anything to worry about." Although to be perfectly fair, Harry hadn't seen all that many muggle houses. None of them had taken at least an hour to look through and had rooms that were displaced from normal space, though. "How do you manage not to get lost?"

"I've been coming here since I was a baby," said Ernie. "You get used to it. And none of the rooms move about unless you ask them to, so it's alright, really. Back at home, the drawing room never stays in one place. It's a bloody nightmare to find, especially on Thursdays." Ernie shrugged. "It's just how those old houses are, you know. Anyway, want to go see the back garden? We've got a hedge maze out there where the hedges move about, it's a right bastard to finish and it learns but I know a trick…"

"Er—yeah, alright," said Harry.

"Brilliant!" said Ernie. "It's this way!" He took off through the interior corridors of the house and they eventually emerged into the back garden, which Harry thought was a rather dysphemistic name. A vast expanse of land stretched out from the house, the hedge maze just one part of a network of little gardens and other bits and pieces of landscaping that seemed to go on without end.

"Mate, this isn't a back garden, it's a… it's an… it's massive," Harry said. He could see the hedge maze, what looked to be a little garden full of exotic plants, and a vegetable garden, as well as an area of perfectly manicured lawns.

"It's not that big," said Ernie. "It used to be just a couple of fields. It looks bigger than it is, I promise. Let's go do the maze—I haven't run it this year, so now is a good time."

Harry nodded and followed Ernie into the maze. Rather disconcertingly, the hedges moved around to block the exit as soon as they'd stepped over the threshold. Harry couldn't say his ideal afternoon pastime was trying to outthink an enchanted hedge maze that got better after anyone used it, but Ernie seemed to think he knew a trick, and it wasn't as if Harry had anything else to do, either.

After an hour of running around the maze to no success, Harry felt like giving up. There was no set, defined route through the maze, and it was impossible for them to ever retrace their steps because the hedges rearranged themselves whenever they felt like it. To Harry, the whole enterprise seemed impossible – some sort of strange wizard game that no one could ever win. Ernie, however, still thought he knew a way through the maze, and refused to give up.

"No, look, I've done this maze dozens of times, Harry my friend, and I think if we just go left up ahead, and then do two rights, and go back on ourselves and ignore when the maze tries to trick us with a shortcut, we'll get to the inner maze area, and then the fun really starts…" said Ernie.

"What if the maze is cheating?" asked Harry. "I mean, if it can just change all the ways through, why doesn't it just make sure there's never any way through?"

"The maze can't cheat!" scoffed Ernie. "That defeats the point! There has to be a route out. That's the rule. But the maze does learn from everyone who does it, and it is allowed to trick us into going the wrong way, so it gets harder every time…" He shrugged. "Look, if we really do get lost I can just call Blippy to pop us out, but…"

Harry sighed.

"Okay, fine. Tell me your trick, again, while we go?"

Ernie launched into an explanation of his 'trick' to get through the maze while the two boys attempted to navigate the shifting rows of hedges to get inside the inner part of the maze, although Harry still thought the trick was pointless and obviously not getting them anywhere. After another hour or so, they managed to breach the central part of the maze, and about an hour after that they found the exact centre where there was a little pavilion with some seating.

"See!" said Ernie. "I told you there was always a way through! We just had to find it. The maze nearly had us, I will admit, but it was a stroke of genius from you to ignore every second archway. Really, it was."

"Thanks," said Harry. "So, do we just walk out, or…?"

"Well, not exactly…" said Ernie. "Now we have to find our way back out."

Harry sank into the one of the chairs under the pavilion and sighed deeply.

"I'm not doing it," he said. "This isn't a game, it's a torture device. We could be in here for days."

"Well, ancient wizards did use these to keep the ways to their houses free from invaders, you know, back before Unplottability and all that," said Ernie, "but this is only a toy version, really…"

Harry glared at him.

"Fine, fine… I'll call Blippy," said Ernie. "It's nearly time for dinner, anyway, and we wouldn't want to be late… Blippy!"

A short, squat, little being with massive ears and over-sized eyes wearing a neat little towel in the form of a toga popped into the space next to Ernie. It did an absurdly low bow to Ernie and then to Harry before speaking in a high pitched, almost whiny, voice.

"Master Ernest! And Master Ernest's friend! What can Blippy be doing for yous today?"

"We'd like to be popped out of the maze, please," said Ernie.

"Blippy can be doing that," confirmed the elf. She reached out to touch both Harry and Ernie, and instantly all three of them reappeared at the back door of the house. Travelling by elf was much less jarring than Apparition or Portkey - Harry thought it barely felt like anything at all.

"Thanks, Blippy," said Ernie. "Would you run us baths, please? Harry's in the guest suite, of course."

The elf bowed deeply again and then disappeared with a pop.

"Right—we'd better go get ready for dinner," said Ernie. "You'll be fine to wear a standard casual robe to dinner, and I'll come grab you when it's time to go down, so you don't get lost."

Mercifully, upstairs didn't have quite so many rooms as the rest of the house, and the guest suite was only a short walk down the landing from Ernie's bedroom, so Harry remembered where to go from the top of the stairs. Harry left Ernie at the stairs and made his way to the guest suite, which was even larger than he'd remembered.

Wizards really did have it made when it came to space – the outward size of a thing didn't have to match, in any way, the interior dimensions. Harry's suite contained a bedroom, a little area with seating, and its own bathroom tucked away inside the upper portion of a house that most muggles would pay millions to own. Harry thought back to Number Four, with its four rooms all crammed into the upstairs of the house and wondered if wizards even realised how fortunate they were to be able to just ignore the constraints of spatial reality.

Light pastel wallpapers with faint patterns lined the walls, and a plush carpet covered the floors. The décor was a bit girly for Harry's liking, but he supposed it didn't really matter for the rest of the month. Blippy had placed Harry's trunk at the end of his bed, but it was empty. Instead, all of Harry's belongings had been moved to an appropriate place – his school books inside a bookcase in the sitting room, his parchment and quills and other equipment at a desk, and his clothes inside the wardrobe and chest of drawers in the bedroom. Even his Invisibility Cloak had been placed securely inside the wardrobe, presumably all accomplished in moments using elf magic.

The idea of house elves unnerved Harry still, but he couldn't fault their convenience or practical utility.

Harry made his way to the bathroom and found a room larger than the family bathroom back at Privet Drive, and decorated in polished brass and marble, with a Victorian-style claw-footed bath sat in the centre of the room filled with water – although there weren't any pipes Harry could see.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered. "This house is ridiculous." He'd known Ernie's family had money -and although according to Witch Weekly Harry had more, he owned essentially nothing – but he hadn't realised what that actually meant. Money, it seemed, got people all sorts of nice things, even in the wizarding world. He wondered idly what that meant for Draco, whose father was the richest wizard in Britain after the man who could literally magic up gold. No wonder he complained about Hogwarts, if he lived in a palace and ended up having to slum it in just a castle.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and got ready for dinner. The bath was nice, but in the end just a bath, even if it had been and stayed at the perfect temperature throughout. He chose a set of his nicer casual robes for dinner, one of the ones he'd only rarely worn at Hogwarts through lack of opportunity and went to lounge in the sitting room of his suite until Ernie came to fetch him for dinner.

Ernie knocked on the guest suite door a little before six o'clock, jerking Harry out of the book he'd been reading. He left the book on his chair and got up to answer the door, and found Ernie dressed in robes not too dissimilar from Harry's own, which meant at least Harry wouldn't turn up to dinner under or overdressed.

"Your suite was all okay, wasn't it?" asked Ernie. "If not we can get Blippy to change it up for you… and the bath was okay?"

"Er, yeah, it was great," said Harry. "Really nice."

"Good, good," said Ernie. "You'll get to meet my mum at dinner, as well. She's nice but she can be a bit dippy, so don't mind that. We'll be eating in the formal dining room which is unusual but I wouldn't worry about that since it isn't the one we use for dinner parties or events—we probably won't use the full set of utensils, and if we do, just copy what I'm doing. I think—to be honest—Dad's trying to impress you," said Ernie, "so just remember that and you'll be fine."

"Right," said Harry. Dinner with Ernie's family suddenly felt far more complex than it had done earlier that afternoon, but Harry took some comfort in the fact that Ernie thought it would be fine even if he did feel uncomfortable at the thought that Ernie's dad wanted to impress him.

Ernie led Harry back down the stairs and through the warren of corridors on the ground floor to find the formal dining room. Once there, Ernie knocked the door and waited to be called in before entering.

"Enter!" called out Algie after waiting a few moments.

The sturdy oak door swung itself open to allow Harry and Ernie entry, and once inside, Harry felt some of his unease dissipate. The formal dining room had a number of chattering portraits lining the walls, but wasn't overly large or lavishly decorated.

A grand dining table in some sort of hardwood sat in the centre of the room, and although all the plates and other accoutrements looked to be of the highest quality, Harry wasn't especially intimated and the room seemed like the sort of place a family – a very wealthy family admittedly –would eat on special occasions. Harry wasn't quite sure that a visit from him counted as a special occasion, exactly, but he supposed that if he owned such a nice dining room, he'd make up excuses to use it, too.

"Ah, welcome to dinner, boys," said Algie. "Any longer and we'd have had to send a search party! Hah!"

"Oh, leave them alone, Algie, darling," said Ernie's mother from across the table. "Sit down, Harry; Algie's only teasing!"

Ernie directed Harry to his seat and then took his own directly opposite Harry and in between both of his parents.

"It's lovely to meet you, Harry," said Ernie's mum, a tall and thin witch with long, flowing blonde hair that had flowers woven through it. "I don't know if Ernest has told you already, but my name is Mairi. It would be remiss of me not to formally welcome you into our home for the summer, and we're so pleased it could be arranged with your guardians. Do let your aunt know it's a pleasure to have you here! You may call me Mairi, of course; 'Mrs Macmillan' was my mother in law! How are you finding your stay so far?"

"Er—it's been lovely," Harry said after a few moments spent thinking of how to answer. "I've never been to a house quite like it."

"Oh, how marvellous," said Mairi. "You know, it was Ernest's grandfather's—Algie's dear father's—great projet, and he would be ever so delighted to hear you say that! Have you seen our hedge maze? Devilishly tricky and a very good example of the genre, even if I do say so myself!"

"We got lost in it earlier," admitted Harry. "It took us hours and, in the end, your elf—erm, Blippy—had to fetch us."

"The maze was much harder than usual," complained Ernie. "I've never seen it like that. Who's been going through it?"

"I've been teaching it some new tricks, darling," said Mairi. "Esmerelda Happenstance is visiting next week and she always goes on about her dancing rose garden, and I wanted to show her something really impressive. Anyone can teach a rose bush to dance—it takes a real artiste to train a hedge maze up in the way that we've done here."

"My lovely wife teaches at Wandwright's, you see, Harry," said Algie. "I don't know if you've heard of it before, but it's a sort of art school. Very selective, very … particular about who attends, and rather alternative in its practices, you know."

"Er, I think I have heard of it before," said Harry, "but I don't know much about it. What do you teach, Mairi?"

"I am a student and practitioner of floramancy, Harry—it's an ancient, traditional magical art involving all sorts of things to do with plants. Nothing so pedestrian as regular herbology, of course—floramancy is a true creative art," said Mairi, "as you have no doubt guessed from our hedge maze."

"So it's like charms and herbology and art all together?" Harry asked, although as soon as he'd said it the look on Mairi's face told him it was completely the wrong thing to say. Before she could say anything, however, Algie slammed his hand down on the table and guffawed.

"Hah! Now you've done it, Harry, lad! You couldn't know, of course, but that's what I've been saying all these years!" said Algie through raucous laughter. "Of course, I am only joking," he added after a disgusted look from Mairi, "and young Harry here—being so new to all this—spoke from a place of ignorance, I'm sure, my dear. It would behove us to help him learn, I should think."

Harry nodded vigorously.

"I really didn't mean anything by it, I'm sorry," said Harry. "I was just trying to understand, that's all, since Hogwarts doesn't teach us anything about, erm, floramancy, and all that." He thought that was probably the right thing to say, and it had the benefit of being true, as well.

"Well, I've been saying for years the curriculum at that school needs updating," said Mairi. "Of course, when we were there it was the same then, wasn't it, Algie? Now you know, at least, Harry, that floramancy is an ancient magical art passed down from our earliest ancestors, with a fine and distinguished pedigree and relevance even today. If you like I could give you an overview of what we do at Wandwright's, maybe a little taster—"

Blippy popped into the room at just that moment and announced the beginning of dinner, which Harry thought was excellent timing, as he didn't much feel like getting extra homework to do and in subjects he'd never heard of before on his very first day staying at Ernie's house.

"Mistress and Masters, dinner is now being served," said Blippy with a deep bow. "Which is being the carrots and coriander soup taken from the vegetable gardens!" she announced. She popped away, and as she did so, bowls filled with hot soup appeared on the table. Harry waited until Ernie started eating so that he could copy the utensils the other boy used.

After a minute or so Blippy popped back into the room and again bowed deeply.

"Blippy is being so sorry, Mistress and Masters!" she said. "Blippy is forgetting the bread!" At her words warm bread buns appeared on small plates next to each of the bowls of soup, and the elf disappeared once more.

Thankfully, as far as Harry was concerned, conversation moved swiftly on from the topic of floramancy and the strange subjects studied at Wandwright's to something rather closer to home, and much more interesting to Harry – Hogwarts and the upcoming school year.

"You know, boys, I do envy you this year! After all the fuss last year, this will be a good thing, of course, I wouldn't say otherwise—but it's the first time it's come to Hogwarts in, well, generations!" said Algie. "And neither of you suspects a bloody thing! Hah!"

"What's coming to Hogwarts, Dad?" asked Ernie. "Is this why we've got to bring dress robes this year? We didn't last year, but my letter this year said we were supposed to."

"Yes, yes, dress robes," said Algie, "and the rest!"

"Oh, Algie, stop teasing!" admonished Mairi. "If you're going to tell the boys, just tell them!"

"Well, it's the Triwizard Tournament, isn't it?" said Algie. "And I hear this time, it's a real corker of an event! Safer, too, they say. The three usual suspects, of course, but my sources say this time it's going to be a true festival of sports and skill. I've heard tell it's going to be a real showcase! You'll want to get involved., definitely! It's a shame there'll be no Quidditch this year, of course, but I should think what is on offer will be more than satisfactory, eh!"

"There won't be any Quidditch this year?" blurted out Harry. "I was going to try out for the team! I've got a Firebolt ordered and everything…"

"A Firebolt?" said Ernie. "You kept that one quiet!"

Harry went a bit red and then shrugged.

"It was a gift, you know, from… well… I didn't order myself one, anyway," said Harry. That didn't matter. "But if there's no Quidditch because of this Triwizard Tournament, what is it?"

"Ah, of course! You wouldn't know," said Algie. "Frightfully sorry! It's a competition between the three premier magical academies in Europe—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Three champions are chosen and put through a devilish set of tasks, and then the winner is, well, the best of the best. Awfully prestigious title to win, although of course the two of you lads are much too young to compete in the main competition."

"Well, that's a bit boring," said Ernie. "So, we just have to stand around and watch three other wizards have all the fun?"

"Ah, not quite, Ernest, my boy," said Algie. "There's a flying and duelling competition open to younger students, and possibly something else as well—it's not all finalised yet, is it, you see. But three main competitions—you know, it's the Triwizard Tournament, so there's a very strong theme. All very hush-hush, so don't go spreading it about."

"Well, a flying competition sounds alright," said Harry reluctantly. It wasn't quite Quidditch, but it was still flying, and it would be against the top students from two other schools rather than just the other students at Hogwarts. And duelling did sound appealing and would be a great way of getting some practise in before Voldemort attacked again, and a great way of learning some actually useful spells… although Harry pushed that thought to one side, since he was on holiday and didn't want to think of Voldemort just yet.

"That's the spirit, lad!" said Algie. "We'll get the both of you up and ready to go with just a wee bit of practise this month, eh?" He paused. "Well, after we make some time for the World Cup, eh?"

The rest of the dinnertime conversation revolved around the World Cup and the matches that Harry, Ernie, and Algernon had booked to see, and although Harry did participate, he couldn't help but go back to thinking about flying on his new Firebolt against the top students of two other schools. By the time Harry sank into the ludicrously comfortable bed in his bedroom, it was still all he could think about.