3. The Invitation

Two Grey Owls

By the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the three Dursleys were already seated around the table. None of them looked up as he entered or sat down. Uncle Vernon's large red face was hidden behind the morning's Daily Mail, and Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into quarters, her lips pursed over her horse-like teeth.

Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself. When Aunt Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto Dudley's plate with a tremulous "There you are, Diddy darling," Dudley glowered at her. His life had taken a most unpleasant turn since he had come home for the summer with his end-of-year report.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual: Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didn't understand him, while Uncle Vernon maintained that "he didn't want some swotty little nancy boy for a son anyway." They also skated over the accusations of bullying in the report - "He's a boisterous little boy, but he wouldn't hurt a fly!" Aunt Petunia had said tearfully.

However, at the bottom of the report there were a few well-chosen comments from the school nurse that not even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could explain away. No matter how much Aunt Petunia wailed that Dudley was big-boned, and that his poundage was really puppy fat, and that he was a growing boy who needed plenty of food, the fact remained that the school outfitters didn't stock knickerbockers big enough for him anymore. The school nurse had seen what Aunt Petunia's eyes - so sharp when it came to spotting fingerprints on her gleaming walls, and in observing the comings and goings of the neighbors - simply refused to see: that far from needing extra nourishment, Dudley had reached roughly the size and weight of a young killer whale.

So - after many tantrums, after arguments that shook Harry's bedroom floor, and many tears from Aunt Petunia - the new regime had begun. The diet sheet that had been sent by the Smeltings school nurse had been taped to the fridge, which had been emptied of all Dudley's favorite things - fizzy drinks and cakes, chocolate bars and burgers and filled instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called "rabbit food." To make Dudley feel better about it all, Aunt Petunia had insisted that the whole family follow the diet too. She now passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed that it was a lot smaller than Dudley's. Aunt Petunia seemed to feet that the best way to keep up Dudley's morale was to make sure that he did, at least, get more to eat than Harry.

But Aunt Petunia didn't know what was hidden under the loose floorboard upstairs. She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help, and they had risen to the occasion magnificently. Hedwig had returned from Hermione's house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. (Hermione's parents were dentists.) Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn't touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid's cooking.) Teddy and Lillica Black has sent some French cookies shaped like cats called Le Chat, which Harry had soon realised should have been called whatever the French word for 'delicious' was, because they were nothing short of that. Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies. Poor Errol, who was elderly and feeble, had needed a full five days to recover from the journey. And then on Harry's birthday (which the Dursleys had completely ignored) he had received five superb birthday cakes, one each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, the Black twins and their parents, and Sirius. Harry still had two of them left, and so, looking forward to a real breakfast when he got back upstairs, he ate his grapefruit without complaint.

Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of disapproval and looked down at his own grapefruit quarter.

"Is this it?" he said grumpily to Aunt Petunia.

Aunt Petunia gave him a severe look, and then nodded pointedly at Dudley, who had already finished his own grapefruit quarter and was eyeing Harry's with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes.

Uncle Vernon gave a great sigh, which ruffled his large, bushy mustache, and picked up his spoon.

The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair and set off down the hall. Quick as a flash, while his mother was occupied with the kettle, Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernon's grapefruit.

Harry heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and Uncle Vernon answering curtly. Then the front door closed, and the sound of ripping paper came from the hall.

Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and looked curiously around to see where Uncle Vernon had got to. She didn't have to wait long to find out; after about a minute, he was back. He looked livid.

"You," he barked at Harry. "In the living room. Now."

Bewildered, wondering what on earth he was supposed to have done this time, Harry got up and followed Uncle Vernon out of the kitchen and into the next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply behind both of them.

"So," he said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Harry as though he were about to pronounce him under arrest. "So."

Harry would have dearly loved to have said, "So what?" but he didn't feel that Uncle Vernon's temper should be tested this early in the morning, especially when it was already under severe strain from lack of food. He therefore settled for looking politely puzzled.

"This just arrived," said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of purple writing paper at Harry. "A letter. About you."

Harry's confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the postman?

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then looked down at the letter and began to read aloud:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron.

As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school.

It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is.

Hoping to see Harry soon,

Yours sincerely,

Molly Weasley

P.S. I do hope we've put enough stamps on.

Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast pocket, and drew out something else.

"Look at this," he growled.

He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley's letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in minute writing.

"She did put enough stamps on, then," said Harry, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley's was a mistake anyone could make. His uncle's eyes flashed.

"The postman noticed," he said through gritted teeth. "Very interested to know where this letter came from, he was. That's why he rang the doorbell. Seemed to think it was funny."

Harry didn't say anything. Other people might not understand why Uncle Vernon was making a fuss about too many stamps, but Harry had lived with the Dursleys too long not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected (however distantly) with people like Mrs. Weasley.

Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to keep his expression neutral. If he didn't do or say anything stupid, he might just be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to say something, but he merely continued to glare. Harry decided to break the silence.

"So - can I go then?" he asked.

A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon's large purple face. The mustache bristled. Harry thought he knew what was going on behind the mustache: a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon's most fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allowing Harry to go would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other hand, allowing Harry to disappear to the Weasleys' for the rest of the summer would get rid of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house. To give himself thinking time, it seemed, he looked down at Mrs. Weasley's letter again.

"Who is this woman?" he said, staring at the signature with distaste.

"You've seen her," said Harry. "She's my friend Ron's mother, she was meeting him off the Hog - off the school train at the end of last term."

He had almost said "Hogwarts Express," and that was a sure way to get his uncle's temper up. Nobody ever mentioned the name of Harry's school aloud in the Dursley household.

Uncle Vernon screwed up his enormous face as though trying to remember something very unpleasant.

"Dumpy sort of woman?" he growled finally. "Load of children with red hair?"

Harry frowned. He thought it was a bit rich of Uncle Vernon to call anyone "dumpy," when his own son, Dudley, had finally achieved what he'd been threatening to do since the age of three, and become wider than he was tall.

Uncle Vernon was perusing the letter again.

"Quidditch," he muttered under his breath. "Quidditch - what is this rubbish?"

Harry felt a second stab of annoyance.

"It's a sport," he said shortly. "Played on broom-"

"All right, all right!" said Uncle Vernon loudly. Harry saw, with some satisfaction, that his uncle looked vaguely panicky. Apparently his nerves couldn't stand the sound of the word "broomsticks" in his living room. He took refuge in perusing the letter again. Harry saw his lips form the words "send us your answer...in the normal way." He scowled.

"What does she mean, 'the normal way'?" he spat.

"Normal for us," said Harry, and before his uncle could stop him, he added, "you know, owl post. That's what's normal for wizards."

Uncle Vernon looked as outraged as if Harry had just uttered a disgusting swearword. Shaking with anger, he shot a nervous look through the window, as though expecting to see some of the neighbors with their ears pressed against the glass.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that unnaturalness under my roof?" he hissed, his face now a rich plum color. "You stand there, in the clothes Petunia and I have put on your ungrateful back -"

"Only after Dudley finished with them," said Harry coldly, and indeed, he was dressed in a sweatshirt so large for him that he had had to roll back the sleeves five times so as to be able to use his hands, and which fell past the knees of his extremely baggy jeans.

"I will not be spoken to like that!" said Uncle Vernon, trembling with rage.

But Harry wasn't going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys' stupid rules. He wasn't following Dudley's diet, and he wasn't going to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup, not if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath and then said, "Okay, I can't see the World Cup. Can I go now, then? Only I've got a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know - my godfather."

He had done it, he had said the magic words. Now he watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon's face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream.

"You're - you're writing to him, are you?" said Uncle Vernon, in a would-be calm voice - but Harry had seen the pupils of his tiny eyes contract with sudden fear.

"Well - yeah," said Harry, casually. "It's been a while since he heard from me, and, you know, if he doesn't he might start thinking something's wrong."

He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. He could almost see the cogs working under Uncle Vernon's thick, dark, neatly parted hair. If he tried to stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn't go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and tell Sirius, who would know Harry was being mistreated. There was only one thing for Uncle Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion forming in his uncle's mind as though the great mustached face were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as blank as possible.

"Just...just him?" Uncle Vernon said unexpectedly.

"Well, him and my godmother," Harry shrugged. He hadn't actually mentioned Emma to the Dursleys yet, but he might as well. "They go back as well, Sirius and Emma..."

Uncle Vernon froze.

In contrast, there was a high-pitched crash from the kitchen - it sounded like Aunt Petunia had just dropped a vase.

Harry began to wonder if the Dursleys had met Emma before, and what had happened to make them react this way, as if she too were a convicted murderer...

Then...

"Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy...this stupid...this World Cup thing. You write and tell these - these Weasleys they're to pick you up, mind. I haven't got time to go dropping you off all over the country. And you can spend the rest of the summer there. And you can tell your - your godparents...tell them...tell them you're going."

"Okay then," said Harry brightly.

He turned and walked toward the living room door, fighting the urge to jump into the air and whoop. He was going...he was going to the Weasleys', he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup!

Outside in the hall he nearly ran into Dudley, who had been lurking behind the door, clearly hoping to overhear Harry being told off. He looked shocked to see the broad grin on Harry's face.

"That was an excellent breakfast, wasn't it?" said Harry. "I feel really full, don't you?"

Laughing at the astonished look on Dudley's face, Harry took the stairs three at a time, and hurled himself back into his bedroom.

The first thing he saw was that Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Harry with her enormous amber eyes, and clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed about something. Exactly what was annoying her became apparent almost at once.

"OUCH!" said Harry as what appeared to be a small, gray, feathery tennis ball collided with the side of his head. Harry massaged the spot furiously, looking up to see what had hit him, and saw a minute owl, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, whizzing excitedly around the room like a loose firework. Harry then realized that the owl had dropped a letter at his feet. Harry bent down, recognized Ron's handwriting, then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily scribbled note.

Harry - DAD GOT THE TICKETS - Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig anyway.

Harry stared at the word "Pig," then looked up at the tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. He had never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe he couldn't read Ron's writing. He went back to the letter:

We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can't miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway.

Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work - the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you.

See you soon -

Ron.

"Calm down!" Harry said as the small owl flew low over his head, twittering madly with what Harry could only assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here, I need you to take my answer back!"

A second, slightly larger grey owl that Harry hadn't noticed before suddenly shot straight at Ron's owl, and collided with him in midair; but, it got the job done, and Ron's owl calmed down.

They fluttered down on top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig looked coldly up at them both, as though daring them to try and come any closer.

Harry knew this second, grey owl - it was Haphazard II, Lillica and Teddy's owl. He, too, had a letter and, when Harry looked at it, he recognised who had written what not only from the two distinct sets of handwriting but also from the writing styles and what they each had to say.

Dear Harry,

Hermione wrote us and said Ron has invited you and her to the Quidditch World Cup. You must be so excited!

Don't worry about us not being there. I know it's sudden, but, we're in Bali!

We've been here for a couple of weeks, actually. I think Mum's enjoying taking some time off of work, even though she only just went back. Now that she's able to use her Patronus Charm again, she feels a little more comfortable venturing back into the tropics. If a Lethifold does decide to attack us, then, I may even get to see her Patronus for myself!

That was definitely from Teddy, as she had yet to see Emma's Patronus - a highly advanced charm that could repel various dark creatures, including whatever a Lethifold was - although Harry, Hermione, and Lillica had all been lucky enough to witness it firsthand just a few months ago.

We've been immersing ourselves into the culture of these Indonesian wizards and it's really something. Although, Dad's getting a bit annoyed because the local men - wizards and muggles alike - are overly friendly with us girls. Mum says it's just the way men are in Bali. My sister finds it funny.

Well, I hope you have a great time at the Quidditch World Cup - I expect a play-by-play recount when we see each other on the train in two weeks time!

'Hati – hati di jalan dan semoga perjalananmu menyenangkan!'

That means 'be careful and have a safe trip'. I've been practicing my Indonesian - Hermione said she'd quiz me on it when we see her next - but I haven't told her that it's easier for me to talk to the local snakes, since Paraletongue is the same no matter where you go. I find that incredible.

Teddy.

Harry had to smile. Like him, Teddy had the rare ability to talk to snakes - which was called being a Parslemouth - and she shared this trait with her mum and sister.

Harry then read what Lillica had to say.

Hiya Harry,

I do hope that this letter reaches you AFTER you've heard from Ron because, according to Fred and George, he's inviting you (and Hermione) to go to the Quidditch World Cup finals. So, if I've spoiled the surprise for you, I'm sorry.

Harry grinned. That was typical of Lillica, to worry about something like that but go ahead and do it regardless. He kept on reading.

If we weren't in Bali right now then I'd probably feel a bit more jealous - just imagine all of the cool Quidditch tips that you'll pick up! You'll have to tell us all about it, alright?

Oh, by the way, Mum wants to know how you are. She knows that you're safe because she's seen your letters to my sister and me, but would you maybe please write to her specifically and at least let her know how things are going? I think that she wants to do the whole 'godmother-y' thing, but she's a bit worried.

DON'T tell her that I told you that.

That was also typical of Lillica, to want to try and fix everyone's problems for them, even if she had to be blunt about it.

Well, I'm sure that you're going to have fun at the World Cup, even without us.

Try and stay out of trouble!

Lillica.

Harry seized his eagle-feather quill once more, grabbed a fresh piece of parchment, and wrote his reply to Ron first.

Ron, it's all okay, the Muggles say I can come. See you five o'clock tomorrow. Can't wait.

Harry.

He folded this note up very small, and with immense difficulty, tied it to the tiny owl's leg as it hopped on the spot with excitement. The moment the note was secure, the owl was off again; it zoomed out of the window and out of sight.

He then paused, before taking out another sheet of parchment, and writing to his godmother.

Hi, Emma,

I heard you're in Bali at the moment. I hope you're having a good time. What's it like there?

Harry was pretty sure that Indonesia was a tropical place, and found it ironic that his godparents - though in different places, because he felt for certain that Sirius was not in Indonesia - were both somewhere warm and tropical right now.

And, then, an idea came to him. He would tell Emma about the dream, but not about his scar hurting - that way, he could keep her up to date but it still wouldn't look as if he were worrying too much. He also had a feeling that she might be able to help him understand it a bit better.

He paused for a moment. Then again, with everything that she had to worry about at the moment - how was she still working for the Ministry Of Magic from a completely different continent, anyway? - it might be better to tell her as little as possible.

I know you must be busy, in between being back at work and dealing with Balinese men, so I hope that you haven't been worrying about me. I've been fine, although I DID have a strange dream last night that I can't quite figure out. I can tell you about it some time, maybe you can make sense of it?

Anyway, I don't know if the twins have told you, but I'll be staying at Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer, as his dad got us tickets for the Quidditch World Cup finals. It would have been great if you could have come as well.

Though he knew that Mr. Black was a wizard, Harry couldn't picture what Lillica and Teddy's father must be like; Harry had never met him and, even though he knew the twins quite well, they rarely ever talked about their family, although they'd started to when it was revealed that their mother was Harry's godmother. In fact, the most that Harry seemed to know was that he had been good at flying before some kind of an accident had injured him, he too had attended Hogwarts in the past, and he was slightly overprotective of his wife and two daughters.

Oh, and he shared the same last name as Sirius.

It struck Harry as a strange coincidence that Lillica and Teddy's last name was Black, the same as Sirius'. But, that's all that it was - a coincidence. He felt for certain that, if Sirius was related to them, then Emma would have mentioned that fact. So, Harry supposed that whoever Mr. Black was, he just happened to share the same last name as his wife's best friend.

But, I'm sure that the four of you are having fun in Bali. So, please don't worry about me, I'm fine. Really.

I'll let both you and Sirius know if something is wrong, okay?

Harry.

There, that should do it. Then...

Harry thought of something, and quickly added a postscript.

I was wondering if you'd ever met my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon before, by the way. When I mentioned your name and that you were my godmother, they seemed to know who you are.

There was no need to mention their reactions, Harry decided.

He quickly reread the letter but, as he retrieved Happy from bouncing up and down on his bed, folded the letter up and tied it onto the owl's leg, he wondered how such a small creature felt about having to fly halfway around the world with a piece of parchment that was twice the length of his body.

As he watched the small grey bundle fly away, he wondered vaguely if the owls knew a secret shortcut or something.

Harry turned to Hedwig.

"Also feeling up to a long journey?" He asked her.

Hedwig hooted in a dignified sort of a way.

"Can you take this to Sirius for me?" he said, picking up his letter. "Hang on...I just want to finish it."

He unfolded the parchment and hastily added a postscript.

If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets for the Quidditch World Cup! Lillica and Teddy are disappointed that they'll miss it, but their parents took them abroad, so we're going to all swap stories when we see each other on the Hogwarts Express.

The letter finished, he tied it to Hedwig's leg; she kept unusually still, as though determined to show him how a real post owl should behave.

"I'll be at Ron's when you get back, all right?" Harry told her.

She nipped his finger affectionately, then, with a soft swooshing noise, spread her enormous wings and soared out of the open window.

Harry watched her out of sight, then crawled under his bed, wrenched up the loose floorboard, and pulled out a large chunk of birthday cake. He sat there on the floor eating it, savoring the happiness that was flooding through him. He had cake, and Dudley had nothing but grapefruit; it was a bright summer's day, he would be leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, his scar felt perfectly normal again, and he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It was hard, just now, to feel worried about anything - even Lord Voldemort.