Three days had passed since he had sent Hedwig to Ginny, a curiously long time and there was still no sign of her.
“ARE’NT YOU DRESSED YET, BOY?!” hollered Uncle Vernon from the foot of the stairs.
“I’ll be right down!” responded Harry hotly as he moved away from the window he had been looking out of. Knowing he was fighting a losing battle he threw his fine-toothed comb onto his desk his attempts to get his hair to lay flat on his head were futile. The prior evening Aunt Petunia had received a phone call from Mrs. Prewett, Mafalda’s mother, inviting them all to dinner for the following night. Knowing how smitten Dudley was with Mafalda, Aunt Petunia readily agreed. Dudley had kept quiet all throughout dinner while his mother and father discussed the Prewett’s.
“Nice man that Joseph Prewett complimented my car the other day.”
“Ophelia Prewett came by yesterday during the soaps; we had a cup of tea.”
“They were the first to congratulate us after our lawn won as well!”
“I traded my lemon meringue pie recipe for her queen pudding; the secret is to add…”
“He’s a stockbroker, runs his own company…”
“…raspberry, strawberry, and plum…”
“…works in the new building across from Grunnings…”
“…jam!”
“ENOUGH!”
Dudley had jumped up, red faced, and angrily eyeing his parents.
“DO-NOT-EMBRASS-ME-TOMORROW!” he bellowed storming out of the kitchen and running up the stairs.
Aunt Petunia had mouthed wordlessly at Uncle Vernon completely in shock. Uncle Vernon’s eyebrows had recessed well into his hair line at Dudley’s outburst. Slow they had turned to Harry who was having difficulty keeping his face straight. Before they could say anything Harry had grabbed his plate still full of food and ran up the stairs to his room. It was a testament to their shock that they did not yell at him for taking the good china upstairs. Dudley had stayed in his room refusing any dinner. He had come out late that night to Harry’s room to ensure that he would be accompanying them to the Prewetts’ for dinner. Harry was forced to agree out of the fear of how his Aunt and Uncle would react if they learned that the Prewett’s were magical folk.
With one last look out the window Harry resigned himself to facing the Prewett’s without any aid Ginny might have given him. He threw his dress coat on and headed down the stairs. Aunt Petunia was tightly wrapping the dessert she prepared while Uncle Vernon waited apprehensively at the foot of the stairs.
“Aha…Erm…Dudley! Son! Time to get going.”
Dudley walked down the stairs and went straight to the front door. His cologne could be smelled from miles away and it looked as though he had tried to shave the non-existent hair off his face. He looked around as Harry, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon formed a line behind him before setting off across the street. Once they had reached their destination he gave a warning glance over his shoulders than knocked at the Prewetts’ front door.
“Welcome, welcome!” boomed Mr. Prewett opening the door wide and shaking their hands as they entered.
“So good to see you again Petunia,” Mrs. Prewett said and laced her arm ushering everyone into the living room.
In contrast with Uncle Vernon’s suit, Mr. Prewett wore pants and a sweater making him look incredibly homely and comforting. He was completely bald and wore small rimmed glasses that rested at the tip of his nose.
Mrs. Prewett held the tray to Harry, “Hors d'oeuvre dear?”
“Thank you,” he replied politely taking one. She wore a dress just like Aunt Petunia’s frilly one. She had high cheek bones, a wide forehead, pointy nose, and her long blond hair was fastened at the nape of her neck.
Looking around Harry felt a sense of relief. The furniture made no comments, the clock had numbers on it, and the appliances were plugged in and seemed to serve their correct function. He sat back into the comfy couch noting that the desk in the hall way had envelopes and a phone. Either the Prewett’s were brilliantly camouflaged, or they were really muggles. Maybe he hadn’t really needed to write to Ginny after all.
Dudley, whose eyes locked on the stairwell the moment they entered, suddenly stood up. They heard giggling as a pair of feet began to descend. Harry decided to follow suit and stood next to Dudley so he wouldn’t look like foolish.
Mr. Prewett cleared his throat and moved to the banister. Still smiling, he called up, “Come along than girls.”
Girls? He hadn’t realized that Mafalda had a sister. Mafalda made her way down the stairs. Her black hair was in a ponytail, she wore a mini-skirt, stockings and a t-shirt of a popular band that was artistically torn. Unlike her mother she had no delicate features, her lips were curled up into their usual sneer and her thick eyebrows made her look drowsy. As she caught her father’s eye she halted her eyebrows lifted under bangs as she attempted to look innocent. He in return gave her a knowing look over the top of his glasses and a smile broke out onto her face.
“She’ll be down once she finds her shoes,” she seemed to answer his unasked question.
“And they are…?”
Smiling more broadly, “They could have found their way into the shower.”
“Did you hear that, dear?” he yelled up the stairs.
“I’m on it!” a new, yet familiar voice shouted down.
It seemed Dudley’s little girlfriend also enjoyed picking on others and hiding their possessions. Mafalda walked into the living room, eyed Dudley up and down before turning her back on him and shook hands with his mother and father. Another girl appeared at the stairwell she was apparently having difficulty putting on her shoes. She jumped from one stair to the other on one foot while placing her heel on her right foot and then did the same for her left foot. The situation would have been amusing if Harry wasn’t worried about the possibility of the girl falling down the stairs. Finally when she had gotten her heels on, she walked normally down a couple stairs producing squelching sounds and stopped. Apparently the shower her shoes had been taken hostage in had been running.
A snort escaped Mafalda as another giggling fit overtook her. This seemed to strengthen her sister’s resolve however, because she marched right down the stairs pretending to be unaware of the squelching noises. Harry felt his stomach tighten but knew he it wasn’t because of hunger. This new girl was dressed more modestly than Mafalda; she was wearing a long khaki skirt. As she reached the last stair he saw a bright green blouse. Without realizing it he was patting down the hair on his head attempting one last time to get it to lie flat. Her long red hair fanned out behind her when she turned and looked directly at him. Harry swallowed hard. Ginny Weasley appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“Everyone, I would like you to meet my niece Ginny. She’s visiting us for a bit.” Mr. Prewett said as he introduced her to each of the Dursley’s in turn.
Harry reeled with shock. Ginny was his niece? Ginny was staying on Privet Drive? Ginny reached him hand outstretched and winked. Tight lipped he shook her hand. The Dursley’s must not know that these are not muggles he firmly reminded himself.
“Why don’t we move into the dining room?” Mrs. Prewett asked taking hold of Mafalda and leading everyone along another hallway.
He glanced at his Uncle and Aunt as they all made their way into the dining room to see if they had recognized her. Clearly, they had not. Ginny ended up sitting opposite of him apparently amused by his reaction. Mrs. Prewett took the cover off the platters and wonderful wafts of meatloaf, potatoes, gravy and sautéed mushrooms assailed his senses.
Mafalda sent up a funny prayer, “Good food, good meat, good God, lets eat,” and everyone ravenously attacked the food.