Easter in Little Whinging
Ignoring the surreptitious stares of his aunt and uncle’s neighbours, Harry kicked down the side stand and leaned his bike into the kerb. He made sure that the machine was secure before letting go of the handlebars and swinging his leg over the seat. He then bent over and carefully examined the motorcycle.
‘Ginny, when you dismount, could you kick your foot peg up, please?’ he asked.
Ginny Weasley looked puzzled. Harry pointed to the footrest on the offside of the bike.
‘The kick-starter swings down there,’ he explained. ‘The first time I tried to start the bike, yesterday, that peg was in the way. I nearly broke my foot.’
‘You don’t actually need to start the bike like that, Harry,’ Ginny pointed out. ‘It doesn’t even need to make all that noise. You, Dad, Ron and George have spent a year rebuilding the thing, adding all sorts of magic, and yet you insist on riding it as if it was an ordinary Muggle machine.’
‘I’m trying to be inconspicuous, to blend in,’ said Harry, smiling. ‘We spend most of our time in the Muggle world, Ginny, so I want to be able to arrive at places looking like a Muggle.’
Harry’s girlfriend shrugged, stepped around the bike, and used her booted toe to kick the peg up.
‘Better?’ she asked.
‘Thanks.’ Harry grinned. He grabbed the handlebars in his left hand and the pillion grab bar in his right, put his right foot on the centre-stand and with an easy rocking motion rolled the bike back onto the main stand. Satisfied that the bike was stable, he kicked the side stand back in place and turned to his girlfriend.
‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked.
‘I prefer brooms,’ said Ginny, ‘I like being in control when I’m flying. But, I have to admit, there is one rather pleasant advantage.’
‘What’s that?’
Ginny grabbed Harry’s shoulder, turned him around, and stepped behind him.
‘This,’ she said, sliding her hands around his waist, under his jacket, and up onto his chest, ‘is a very comfortable riding position.’ She pulled herself close and rested her head on his back.
‘I enjoyed it too,’ Harry smiled over his shoulder. Ginny released him and he turned to face her.
‘What do we do with these things? She asked, holding up her helmet. Harry fumbled with the bike seat, lifted it and pointed to a small metal hook.
‘Hang them on there, use the helmet strap,’ he demonstrated.
Ginny copied him, and he dropped the seat back into place.
‘You’re crazy you know.’ Ginny shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’re as bad as Dad.’
‘I don’t think your dad is crazy,’ said Harry, sounding shocked. ‘He’s extremely enthusiastic about Muggle technology, but not crazy.’ He grinned as she chuckled. ‘Like I said, we need to be able to get about in the Muggle world without attracting attention. The bike is a good way to do it. Do you want me to tell you why we rebuilt it--again?’
Ginny sighed and looked up at her boyfriend, a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes.
‘It was Sirius’ bike, now it’s yours. It’s a Triumph, a British classic. It’s been rebuilt to the original specification. That was the easy part. It’s been re-registered in your name so you’re the legal owner. It’s got all of the relevant paperwork, just in case the Muggles want to check it. You got George to help you with most of the enchantments, not Dad. That’s why the invisibility booster actually works, though you’re much too polite to tell Dad that. The shield spell works properly too, and unlike Dad’s old car it flies smoothly.’
She clasped her hands behind her back and put on her most demure expression. ‘Have I passed?’ she asked innocently.
Harry laughed.
‘You were paying attention when I was talking to Ron yesterday! You surprise me, Chaser Weasley.’
Ginny raised an eyebrow.
‘I always pay attention. I like to know what you’re doing, Auror Potter. Full marks to me! Again! Where’s my prize?’
Harry leaned forward, slid his hand into her hair, pulled her gently towards him and kissed her. He was oblivious to the outrage that this public act of affection caused among the still watching residents of Privet Drive. Ginny gently pushed him away.
‘I’ll accept that as a partial payment, I’ll take the rest later,’ she said. Harry grinned, he was about to speak, but Ginny stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and gave him her best –Molly†glare.
‘I know what you’re doing, Harry,’ she scolded gently. ‘You’re trying to delay the inevitable. We’re here to visit your family--so let’s do it.’ She took his hand and led him up the drive towards the front door of number four Privet Drive.
‘This is it?’ she asked. ‘Your home, until you were seventeen?’
Harry shook his head in emphatic denial.
‘My home until I was eleven.’ He scowled as he spoke. ‘After that, Hogwarts--and the Burrow--were my homes. I had more happy times there than I ever did here.’
Ginny was shocked at the venom in his voice. Her boyfriend’s time at school had been difficult and dangerous, on occasions it had been close to fatal! But he thought that this place was worse. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze.
‘Was it really that bad?’ she asked gently.
Harry nodded. ‘I told you I’d be happy if I never saw them again. I was telling the truth. We had the Easter weekend to spend together, Ginny. Instead we’re here today, at The Burrow tomorrow, and visiting the Grangers on Easter Monday.’
‘They are your only relatives Harry,’ she reminded him. ‘We’re spending our three days off visiting our families.’
‘Unfortunately, mine hate me,’ Harry replied as they reached the front door. ‘I can guarantee that I’ll get a warmer welcome at The Burrow and at the Grangers place. There’s no car on the drive, they’re probably out for the day. Let’s just go.’
Ginny shook her head firmly, reached past Harry, and rang the doorbell.
‘You weren’t quite seventeen the last time you saw them, Harry,’ said Ginny. ‘You’ll be twenty-one this year. If it doesn’t work out, we need never come back, I promise.’ Harry looked into Ginny’s sparkling and earnestly pleading eyes. His heart melted.
She meant well, he knew that. Ginny came from a large, boisterous and loving family, a family he regarded as his own. His girlfriend simply could not comprehend his reluctance to visit Little Whinging. No matter how often he’d told her of the life he’d led before Hogwarts, she refused to believe that the Dursleys had no redeeming features.
There were times when the spectre of Harry’s childhood still haunted him. This visit, as Ginny had made him realise, was the only way to lay the ghost to rest. But no one came to the door.
‘No-one in.’ Harry said, turning to go. But Ginny rang the bell a second time.
‘Just a minute,’ an annoyed, and instantly recognisable, voice shrilled. Harry heard a security chain being put in place and the door being unlocked. Ginny pushed him forwards as the door opened a crack. A familiar, horsey, face peered through the gap.
‘Harry!’ said Aunt Petunia in a shocked whisper before collapsing on the hall floor in a faint.
Harry pushed at the door. The chain only allowed it to open a couple of inches, but as a fully trained and qualified Auror, a simple Muggle security device was no problem for him. Carefully hiding his actions from the neighbours he pulled his wand from his jeans and unfastened the chain.
Avoiding the crumpled figure of his aunt, Harry carefully pushed his way into the house. He looked down at the figure lying supine on the floor: apron, rubber gloves and cleaning cloth. Some things didn’t change Harry realised. But she was smaller than he remembered. She was taller than Ginny, but much smaller than he was, and so thin and bony. Harry knelt down beside his aunt, wondering what to do.
‘Carry her into the living room,’ Ginny instructed, as she stepped into the hall beside him and closed the front door. ‘Where is it?’
‘First door on the left,’ Harry told her.
Ginny strode past him and opened the living room door. Carry her? How? Harry panicked. He could not think of any time when he’d actually touched his Aunt Petunia, or vice versa. She had smacked him, pulled him, pushed him and shouted at him. Had there ever been any simple, human, contact?
He took a deep breath it doesn’t matter who it is, she needs my help he told himself. He put one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees; and stood. Petunia was no weight at all. Ginny was heavier, and he could carry her easily, provided she didn’t struggle; although it was usually more fun when she did. He smiled to himself before pushing memories of good times with Ginny from his mind. Carefully, Harry carried his aunt into the spotless living room. As he gently placed her on the sofa, she began to stir.
Harry stood, unzipped his dragonskin motorcycle jacket and threw it onto one of the armchairs. It created a pleasing clutter in the antiseptic cleanliness of his aunt and uncle’s living room. Ginny took her cue from Harry and did the same. The short, low cut, bright yellow top she was wearing under her jacket revealed her stomach, shoulders and arms. She looked in interest at Harry’s shirt. It was a replica International Quidditch shirt with –England†written across the front and –Weasley Chaser†written on the back.
‘Those shirts don’t go on sale for another week,’ she observed.
‘I have contacts.’ Harry smiled. ‘Do you want one?’
‘I think they’ll give me the real thing before the game,’ said Ginny.
‘It would be more of a distraction to the opposition if they didn’t,’ said Harry, straight-faced. Ginny laughed.
‘I don’t think that my boyfriend would approve,’ she told him.
‘You’re right, he wouldn’t,’ Harry agreed. They grinned at each other.
His aunt sighed; he crouched down in front of her, still unsure of what to do. If it was anyone I knew, I’d be comforting them by now. That thought brought him up sharply. Anyone he knew! This was the woman whose house he’d lived in for half of his life, yet he didn’t know her at all. Petunia sobbed.
‘Aunt Petunia,’ Harry said softly. ‘How are you?’
‘I’ll go and get a glass of water,’ Ginny said. ‘Kitchen?’
‘Turn left in the hall, the door’s straight ahead,’ replied Harry. ‘Thanks, Ginny.’
‘Aunt Petunia?’ Harry asked again. ‘Are you all right now?’
‘Harry,’ Petunia whispered, and burst into tears. Harry was horrified. He stood, reached into the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a clean handkerchief. He again crouched down in front of his aunt and pressed the handkerchief into her hands. Petunia took it and dabbed her tears daintily. She was beginning to regain control when Ginny re-entered the room, carrying a glass of water. Petunia looked her disdainfully up and down and gave her the glare she usually used for the most stubborn of stains.
‘Aunt Petunia,’ Harry said, ‘this is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, she’s brought you a glass of water. Ginny, this is my Aunt Petunia.’ Petunia reluctantly held out her hand to take the glass.
‘Hello, Aunt Petunia,’ Ginny smiled politely, handing her the water. Petunia glowered at Ginny, then at Harry, but did not reply. She sat, sipping water in silence, and dabbing at her face with Harry’s handkerchief. The uneasy silence seemed as if it would never end, but eventually, Petunia spoke.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded.
Harry could feel his temper rising. Why had he bothered coming?
‘Sorry,’ he said to Ginny.
‘It’s not your fault, Harry,’ Ginny said. She folded her arms under her breasts, turned, and glared into Petunia Dursley’s face. Harry watched as his aunt quailed under the blazing gaze of his petite tigress.
‘Harry is here because I insisted that he bring me. We’ve been going out for almost five years, and I’ve never really met you. You are the only family he has. He told me that you wouldn’t be pleased to see him, I didn’t believe him. Apparently I was wrong. After I’ve met the rest of your family we can leave and never come back, if that’s what you want.’
Petunia set her jaw and silently pondered Ginny’s offer.
‘Where are Uncle Vernon and Dudley?’ asked Harry.
‘Not here,’ said Petunia unhelpfully.
Ginny calmly changed tactics and tried again. ‘I realise that it’s a bit of a shock us turning up unannounced like this,’ she said. ‘But, I would like to meet your family. Harry knows mine, and I don’t know his, it seemed a little unfair to me.’ Ginny looked carefully at Petunia, ‘Your sister was Harry’s mum, right?’
Petunia nodded and Ginny continued to try to charm Harry’s aunt.
‘So you and your son are Harry’s only blood relatives.’ Ginny gave Petunia her best smile, the one that could persuade Harry to do anything, ‘I’d like to meet Dudley, is he here?’
It was as if a dam had burst. Petunia started talking very quickly.
‘No, he didn’t come back--stayed at university--up there--even managed to get a summer job last year--he only came back for his birthday. We hardly ever see him. My baby’s gone!’
Ginny knelt down in front of Petunia and held her hands. To Harry’s amazement, Petunia didn’t pull away.
‘That’s what happens,’ said Ginny in a low and comforting voice, ‘My eldest brother is married with a baby daughter, the second lives in Romania, the third and fourth have flats in London but Percy will be moving back to Devon soon, because he’s getting married.’ Ginny paused and watched Petunia consider her words.
‘Harry lives with my brother, Ron, and I live in a terraced house in Beaumaris.’ Ginny grinned at Harry as she said this. While technically correct, in fact Ron spent most of his time at Hermione’s flat and Ginny stayed with Harry whenever her training schedule would allow. ‘My Mum and Dad have no kids at home now, either. But we’ll see them tomorrow. We visit them regularly.’
‘D-D-Dudley doesn’t visit,’ Petunia said, and she began crying again.
Ginny stood and looked at Harry.
‘You try,’ she whispered. ‘Just talk to her.’ She then spoke normally, ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Aunt Petunia?’
Petunia nodded.
‘I’ll go and make one for us, shall I?’ Ginny walked out of the living room leaving Harry, once again, alone with his aunt.
‘Is--is there anything I can do to help, Aunt Petunia?’ He asked. There was no reply.
‘Where is Dudley? Could you give me his address? I could go and talk to him. I don’t even know where the Order took you…’ Harry stopped suddenly--because I didn’t ask, he realised--I didn’t care.
‘North,’ Petunia spat the word venomously. ‘Newcastle--horrible place--nosey neighbours--Dudley’s still there. It’s all gone wrong, and it’s your fault.’
‘But Hestia and Daedalus kept you safe for nine months. They brought you back here, after--after the battle. They set things up as if you’d never been away. Tonks set up the world cruise story the day after you left. She even arranged things so that Uncle Vernon would be able to keep his job.’
After the battle, Harry had spoken at length to both Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle. They had kept the Dursleys safe, and had suffered constant complaints from them while doing so. Dedalus in particular had been persistently harangued and insulted by Uncle Vernon. Despite providing the Dursleys with a pleasant house, and managing to get Dudley enrolled in the local private school, the only thanks the two had ever received had been from Harry.
It was his discussions with Hestia, some weeks after the final battle, which had made Harry decide not to get back in touch with his family. Hestia had been more forthright than Dedalus, who could not, it seemed, be impolite about anyone. Harry had resolved to wait until the Dursley’s contacted him. They hadn’t.
There was a creak as the front door open.
‘Petunia,’ Uncle Vernon bellowed from the hall. ‘The neighbours were all watching me, and there’s a ruddy great motorbike parked on the road outside--WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?’
Harry was on his feet the second Uncle Vernon’s initial shout transformed into ear-shattering apoplectic rage. He pulled open the living room door and stepped into the hall in front of Vernon. Harry’s uncle had been striding down the hall towards Ginny, who was carrying a tray from the kitchen. Vernon’s face, which had already reached red when Harry stepped into the hall, deepened to an unpleasant shade of puce when he saw his nephew.
‘Hello, Uncle Vernon,’ said Harry. As he placed himself between Ginny and his uncle, his heart was thundering in his chest. ‘This is my girlfriend, Ginny, and that’s my bike outside. We thought that we’d come and visit.’
‘YOU!’ Vernon yelled, ‘OUT! GET OUT NOW! How dare you--motorbike--girlfriend! Hah, she’s one of YOUR LOT isn’t she? Like those FREAKS you sent us away with! Will you never leave us alone? We don’t want your type around here.’
Harry found himself backing away from his uncle, being pushed backwards into the kitchen by the force of Vernon’s anger. He held up his hands, palms facing Vernon Dursley. As he backed through the kitchen door he looked around to see Ginny putting the tray down on the worktop.
‘Fine, we’ll go,’ he told Vernon angrily. ‘We’ll leave now. C’mon Ginny, let’s get out of here.’
Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and held it tightly.
‘Harry, you’re a trained and qualified Auror; you’re the bravest person I know. Why are you letting this overweight and self-opinionated old fool bully you?’
Vernon stopped at Ginny’s words.
‘What did you just say?’ he bellowed. His jowls quivering like blackcurrant jelly, Vernon rounded on Ginny and raised an admonishing finger.
Harry released Ginny’s hand and stepped forwards, once again interposing himself between Vernon and Ginny. He was now almost toe to toe with his uncle and was surprised to discover that they were about the same height. He glared at Vernon, their faces only inches apart. Dumbfounded, Vernon closed his mouth with a snap.
‘Uncle Vernon,’ said Harry in a menacingly quiet voice. ‘Shut up and listen.’
‘I’m twenty years old, I’m an adult. I have Ginny, I have lots of friends and I’m happy,’ he announced. ‘You can’t bully me, not now.’
As he spoke, Harry realised the truth of his own words. This sudden insight amazed him. He smiled at his uncle. It had been worth the visit for this moment. Vernon glared in disgust and incomprehension at Harry. He sneered.
‘Friends …’ Vernon began dismissively. For a second Harry was confused; then he remembered who he was talking to. Friends and happiness meant nothing to Vernon, money, that’s what he understands Harry remembered. He interrupted his uncle and tried again.
‘I was left a lot of money by my parents and even more by my godfather. I live in my own house, with a servant, and I have a well paid job. I’m wealthy and happy,’ Harry told his uncle. Vernon was so surprised that he fell silent.
As the colour drained from his uncle’s face, Harry examined him closely. Vernon Dursley looked ill. His hair and moustache were greying and unkempt, his flabby purple veined jowls were badly shaved, his eyes were watery and his breathing laboured. This wasn’t the massive malevolent monster who had bullied and terrorised young Harry; this was a pathetic, ill, old man. How old was he, Harry wondered; fifty? He was unlikely to be much more than that, but he looked at least ten years older.
‘You can’t take Ginny or my friends from me; and you can’t frighten me, not anymore.’ Harry said calmly.
Vernon took a step backwards.
‘You don’t know Ginny, so you have no reason to insult her.’ Harry took a step forwards. ‘If you want us to leave, just ask us, but please do it politely,’ he continued. The sudden change in the situation was making him lightheaded. ‘I would like to finish my conversation with Aunt Petunia before we leave. Is that okay? She and Dudley are my only blood relatives.’
Uncle Vernon took another step back, away from Harry. He seemed cowed by Harry’s changed attitude and gave a curt nod, as if he couldn’t trust himself to speak.
‘Let’s go into the living room.’ Harry said politely. ‘Would you like some tea? It might help you calm down.’
Uncle Vernon nodded again. Harry wondered how long this new Vernon would last. Minutes at most, he suspected.
‘I’ll get another cup,’ said Ginny brightly as Harry followed his uncle out of the kitchen.
Vernon sat down on the sofa beside his wife and, to Harry’s astonishment, put his arm around her. Harry sat down in the empty armchair.
‘So,’ Harry began ‘Where is Dudley? Is he still in Newcastle?’
‘Yes,’ Petunia said quietly. She looked at her husband and was about to speak when Ginny came into the room, a tray in her hand.
‘I’ve brought milk and sugar, as I didn’t know how you like your tea,’ she said politely to Vernon and Petunia. ‘Will you help yourselves, or do you want me to pour?’
‘I will do it, thank you,’ replied Petunia, almost choking on the last two words. Ginny nodded and picked up the two cups she’d already poured.
‘Tea, strong, milky, no sugar,’ she announced, handing Harry a cup. She glanced at the second armchair, which contained their jackets, decided not to move them and instead sat on Harry’s knee.
‘Thanks, Ginny,’ said Harry. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed it gently. Her smile told him that she understood the gesture; she knew he wasn’t simply thanking her for the tea. Harry was also grateful that she was there. Her presence was both calming and reassuring him.
The two couples watched each other in suspicious silence. Petunia, Harry sensed, was on the verge of saying something, he simply needed to wait. Taking a sip of tea, he sat in silence. When Ginny began to fidget, he exchanged a glance with her. She did not speak, but silently acknowledged the fact that she knew he was waiting for Petunia to fill the silence by stroking the knuckle of his middle finger. Finally, Petunia spoke.
‘Dudley will be twenty-one this year,’ she said.
Harry nodded. ‘Me too,’ he replied.
Petunia dismissed this unimportant information with a wave of her hand.
‘We want to organise a party for him,’ she continued.
Vernon nodded in agreement. Harry watched in fascination. His uncle’s chins continued to quiver long after his head had stopped moving.
‘Dudley wanted us to invite you,’ Petunia announced. ‘He seems to think that we treated you badly when you were little.’
Harry’s forehead wrinkled in surprise.
‘Nonsense, of course,’ Vernon explained dismissively. ‘It’s that university. He’s been listening to those hippy types.’
‘You wouldn’t want to come, would you?’ Petunia asked hopefully. ‘If we told him you’d visited, that we’d asked and you didn’t want to come; then that would be all right and we could organise his party.’
‘I’m always up for a party,’ said Ginny. ‘I’ll take any opportunity to drag Harry onto a dance floor.’ She ruffled his hair affectionately. Petunia went pale.
‘I would like to see Dudley,’ Harry said.
‘At least,’ he added honestly. ‘Ginny would like to meet him. Do you have his address, or a phone number? I could visit, or telephone him.’
Petunia looked uncertain.
‘I could try and persuade him to let you organise a party for him,’ Harry offered. Petunia’s expression changed to one of hope.
‘I doubt that we’d be able to go. It will depend on my work, and Ginny’s fixture list, she’s made the England squad,’ he told them proudly. His aunt and uncle weren’t impressed by Ginny’s achievement, but Petunia was partially satisfied by Harry’s apparent reluctance to attend. She looked at her husband, who said nothing but nodded grimly.
‘All right,’ Petunia said.
Vernon stared at Harry, his face contorted into an expression of thoughtful cunning. Harry watched in fascination as his uncle schemed. Finally, a triumphant leer lit up Vernon’s face.
‘You can speak to him now,’ Vernon announced, ‘I’ll dial the number for you.’ He stood hurriedly and marched out into the hall.
Harry immediately realised what was happening. His uncle’s plan was simple. Vernon would dial, and if Dudley was out, Harry would hear no more about the offer. If he was at home, then Vernon and Petunia would be able to hear the conversation. Ginny realised too; she stood quickly, took Harry’s cup and watched her boyfriend follow Vernon into the hall.
‘Hullo,’ Harry heard Vernon say. ‘Who’s that?’
Vernon harrumphed disapprovingly.
‘Is Dudley there? It’s his father.’
There was silence for a minute.
‘Hello son, it’s about your birthday,’ there was a long silence. Harry could not hear what Dudley was saying.
‘He’s here.
‘Yes, here! Standing next to me, called in to see us, unannounced, on a ruddy great motorbike. No thought for what the neighbours might think.
‘IT’S NOT FUNNY!
‘Why? He can’t go, we’ve asked him.
‘You don’t need to. I’ve just told you what he said.
‘There’s no need to be like that, Dudley.
‘No, I am NOT lying.’
Vernon sighed and glared at his nephew. His expression was familiar to Harry, although he hadn’t seen it for years. Hatred and contempt were contorting Vernon’s face, making him look even more porcine than usual. He reluctantly handed Harry the telephone.
‘Here,’ Harry’s uncle grumbled. ‘Be quick.’
Harry gingerly took the phone.
‘Dudley?’ he asked.
‘Harry?’ the voice at the other end said. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Yes me, Harry Potter, your cousin,’ Harry babbled. He’d never had a telephone conversation with Dudley, he realised. He didn’t know what to say.
‘Why didn’t you get back in touch with us, after we got home?’ Dudley asked.
‘When you all left, I got the impression that I wouldn’t be welcomed back.’
There was a short sarcastic laugh. ‘You’re probably right,’ Dudley said. ‘How are you?’
‘Very well, thanks, you?’
‘Good. You’ll have to come and visit me some time. You can tell me why you can’t make my twenty-first party.’
‘Yes, that’s right, I’ll be very busy.’
‘Dad’s listening isn’t he?’
‘Certainly.’
‘You should’ve come and seen me instead.’
‘I didn’t know that you weren’t here. Ginny wanted to meet my family, so I brought her over.’
‘Ginny?’ Dudley asked.
‘My girlfriend,’ Harry replied. He had an idea. ‘How far is it to Newcastle from here?’
‘From Mum and Dad’s to here? Dudley asked. ‘About five hours by train, six if the connections are bad.’
‘How far is it in miles, in a straight line?’ Harry asked.
‘Dunno. Around three hundred, I think,’ Dudley replied.
‘Give me your address. I’ll be there in less than three hours.’ Harry glanced at Ginny, who smiled and nodded. Uncle Vernon scowled.
‘Great, you can meet my girlfriend and housemates. It’s 298 Tosson Hill Terrace, Newcastle.’ Dudley said. He gave Harry his phone number.
Harry repeated the address and phone number, which Ginny quickly wrote down.
‘Dad will try to persuade you not to come, and he’ll want to ask me why I invited you.’ Dudley said, ‘You’d better give him the phone. See you later, Harry.’
‘I’ll put your Dad back on then,’ Harry said, checking his watch. ‘See you at about four o’clock, Dudley, ‘bye.’
He handed the phone back to Vernon Dursley.
‘Why?’ Uncle Vernon began. But it seemed that Dudley had shut him up. Vernon listened in silence for a few minutes.
‘Well, if that’s what you want,’ Vernon said in a defeated voice.
‘Dudley says that he’ll be expecting you.’ Uncle Vernon said as he hung up the receiver. ‘He says he’s going to try to persuade you to come to his party.’
Vernon glared at Harry, his moustache quivering, ‘But you’re not going to go, are you? I don’t want you there, spoiling my son’s twenty first.’
Harry didn’t reply. He wasn’t going to give a definite answer until after he’d met Dudley. There was a small pad and a pen next to the telephone, Harry picked up the pen and quickly wrote on the pad. He tore off the top sheet, pushed past Vernon, walked back into the living room and handed his aunt the note.
‘Aunt Petunia, I’ll leave you an address and phone number to contact me. Letters to this address, twelve Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, will reach me. If you ever decided to visit,’--Petunia looked horrified at the thought--‘let me know in advance. If you don’t, you won’t be able to find the house. You can leave a message on this telephone number, too. But don’t expect to be able to talk to me.’
‘Why would we want to?’ grumbled Vernon. Harry ignored him and spoke to Ginny.
‘I’m going to Newcastle to visit Dudley. It should take about two-and-a-half hours to get there, if my estimate of the bikes top speed is right. Are you coming?’
‘I wanted to meet your family.’ Ginny nodded, smiling. ‘Two down, one to go.’
‘Two-and-a-half hours!’ Vernon spat, his face reddening. ‘Ridiculous. It will take six or seven, at least.’
Harry stared coolly into his uncle’s face.
‘Remember the flying motorbike I once told you I’d dreamt about, Uncle Vernon?’ he asked. ‘It’s parked outside.’
With that announcement, Uncle Vernon looked as though he was about to explode. Harry decided that it was time to leave. ‘Do you mind if we go now?’ he asked politely. ‘We wouldn’t want to outstay our welcome.’
‘WELCOME!’ Vernon shouted, pulling violently at his moustache. Ginny was having difficulty preventing herself from laughing.
‘I’ll get our jackets,’ she said, while Harry quickly drank the last of his tea and put the cup back on the tray.
Ginny stepped between Harry’s aunt and uncle, the bike jackets in her arms. She handed Harry his jacket and began to put on her own. Vernon and Petunia watched in silence.
‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Ginny said politely. ‘I do hope that we can meet again.’
Vernon and Petunia stood silently in the hallway. Vernon was seething and confused. Harry recognised the problem; his uncle was in a quandary. He desperately wanted Harry gone, but he didn’t want him to visit Dudley.
Harry opened the front door and allowed Ginny to leave first. He stepped outside before turning to his aunt and uncle.
‘Bye, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon,’ he said. ‘See you again soon I expect.’
‘Bye Mr and Mrs…’ Ginny stopped in mid-sentence. Vernon had slammed the front door in Harry’s face.
‘Well …’ Ginny began.
‘That went better than I expected.’ Harry interrupted her. Ginny snorted with laughter, then stopped and looked at him carefully.
‘You mean that, don’t you?’ she asked.
Harry nodded. ‘I did try to warn you, Ginny,’ he said. ‘They’d have been happier if they’d never seen me again.’
‘Ron and George told me that, too, but I didn’t believe them, either. What’s Dudley going to be like?’ she asked.
Harry shrugged; ‘I’ve no idea, he was becoming a bit more human the last time I saw him. He even made me a cup of tea once, and he wished me luck when they left. He seemed quite pleased to hear from me when I spoke to him, too. Who knows?’
‘Your uncle’s neighbours are watching us,’ Ginny observed.
Vernon’s noisy slamming of the door had obviously attracted their attention. Harry looked around and waved at the staring faces, and the neighbours looked away in embarrassment.
‘Let’s go.’ Harry said, leading Ginny past Vernon’s car. When they reached the bike Harry unlocked the seat and handed Ginny her helmet.
‘They’re really unhappy, aren’t they?’ observed Ginny, looking back at the house. ‘Have they ever done anything spontaneous, enjoyed themselves?’
Harry shook his head.
‘Not that I can remember.’
‘How sad,’ Ginny observed. ‘They aren’t happy, so they don’t see why anyone else should be, either.’
‘I’d never thought of it that way,’ Harry admitted. ‘But, you may be right. There’s nothing I can do for them. I’m happy to leave them to enjoy their misery.’
‘That almost made sense,’ Ginny laughed, she put her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoe and kissed him slowly and passionately. Harry slid his arms down her back and cupped her muscular backside in his hands; she twitched her gluteus maximi under his hands, and he squeezed. When they broke apart Harry glimpsed a purple faced Uncle Vernon glaring at them from the living room window. He pretended not to notice, pulled on his helmet, fastened it, and helped Ginny to fasten hers.
After pushing the bike off the centre stand, he kicked the side stand down and flicked out the kick starter. He jumped up, kicked down hard, and the bike roared into life. Reaching down, he pulled out Ginny’s footpeg, kicked up the sidestand, and nodded to her. As he held the bike steady she stepped onto a peg, swung her leg over the bike and sat behind him.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Ginny slid her hands around his waist, under his jacket and onto his chest. She slid as far forwards as she could, Harry felt her chest pressed against his back, her inner thighs gripping tightly against his buttocks. There certainly were advantages to riding the bike, he thought.
‘Let’s go.’ She was forced to shout over the noise of the engine, and Harry wondered how easy it would be to put a communication charm on the helmets.
Pulling in the clutch, Harry kicked the bike into first gear, gave a cheery wave to Uncle Vernon, and roared off down the road. As soon as the road was clear, he turned on the invisibility booster, pulled the bike into the air, and reduced the engine noise to a magical ticking. As they soared above the streets of Little Whinging Harry looked down in delight, the bike was working perfectly. He checked the compass and began heading due north.