Bloodlines

Chapter 3 - Festivities

The next few weeks flew by in what Harry thought was becoming his best summer vacation ever. Veruca, Glory and Chy had indeed shown up at Dudley's party, resplendent in ugly rayon dresses that his aunt fawned over. To his great surprise, his aunt found Glory and Chyron's outrageous hairstyles to be quite endearing. Harry couldn't help but feel bitter every time his aunt mentioned how much she thought the styles suited them - why had she never been so understanding about his own disobedient hair? Of course, he had to remember that his aunt had never been understanding of anything in Harry's life, ever. Also, the Dursleys were counting on Veruca to get them a good deal on advertising for Grunnings, Vernon's drill company.

The party had gone off almost hitchless. There was one of the smallest moments of panic when Dudley and Piers, his best friend, had been chasing Harry when they suddenly found themselves up to their knees in a mud puddle that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Harry had experienced a thrill of anxiety, worried that it had been his fault, when he saw Veruca quickly tucking something into her purse and giving him a wink. He sucked down his chortling and only let it out when he was safely along the wall at the side of the house. Glory had joined him seconds later, slumping to the ground in fits of laughter next to him.

Harry now spent almost every day at the house next door. After a few days, Veruca had gone to see the Dursleys about "hiring" Harry to clean the house and tend the gardens. Of course, as certified witches, none of the three girls needed to lift more than their wand hand to clean anything, but the Dursleys continued to be oblivious to this rather central fact. The girls still insisted that Harry follow the Decree for the Restriction of Under-Age Wizards to the letter, much to his dismay, but they had managed to sneak all of Harry's equipment out from his room. Harry left his window open one night, and Chyron had managed to quietly levitate the trunk containing all his school supplies, and Hedwig's cage, out and into their living room. Charm work, as it seemed, had always been her personal best. Veruca had proven herself to excel at Transfiguration, but Glory had by far the most powerful aptitude for any one subject, and that was Potions. Hedwig, now able to move about freely, was traveling almost daily, either to the Burrow or to the Grangers'. For the first time in his life, Harry was spending a pleasant summer. It was in the middle of July that things seemed to improve even further, though this seemed impossible.

"So, Harry, any plans for your birthday?" Chyron said casually. The response this elicted from Harry made them all giggle - he fumbled with his teacup and only nearly missed spilling the entire contents on the plush beige carpet.

"Plans? No..." Harry thought, finding this an incredibly odd question. He had never before in his life actually planned anything for his birthday. After all that had happened in his life, he had learned never to expect anything celebratory - this worked even better now, as he still got a marvelous surprise no matter how regularly Hagrid, Hermione, Sirius and the entire Weasley family had sent him gifts and cards. Birthday plans - dare he imagine, a birthday party - had never been an option. It had simply never crossed his mind.

"No parties? Wild shindigs? Small gatherings?" Harry shook his head no to each of these. "Not even a cake?"

"Oh, I get cake..." Harry mused. The girls looked relieved. "My friends usually owl me some." They all sat bolt upright.

"You mean to tell us," Glory said, speaking cautiously as though afraid of what the words meant, "that you have never, in your life, blown out birthday candles? Had a birthday party?" Harry shook his head again. "Had ANY sort of celebration whatsoever." Again, Harry gestured "no." "Lovely. I'm going to wring their necks," she said angrily.

"Well, Petunia's. You'll only be able to wring Vernon's neck if you can find it." Veruca said, looking up from the paperwork she was doing. Harry laughed. "But honestly, Harry, this is abysmal. Entirely unfair."

"It's not so bad," Harry said, not wanting to appear underprivileged, "I got used to it."

"That's not the point." Glory said. "How do they sleep at night?" she said, gesturing to the house next door with her wand, sending violent purple sparks out the end. Sheepishly, she put it down on the table.

"In a big, massive bed, swaddled in their own sense of self-adulation." Chyron said, shrugging. "Well, no matter. Harry, you're having a party. I won't hear any argument," she added, when Harry opened his mouth to protest that it really wasn't necessary, "you deserve it." Harry said nothing, only shook his head in disbelief.

"You three..." he began, then opted for a grateful smile instead. Glory hopped to her feet enthusiastically, rubbing her hands together.

"Seeeeexcellent," she said, an expression Harry had heard from her before but still never failed to amuse him. "Erwin!" she called, and a large screech owl flew into the room and alighted on her shoulder. "Harry, this is Erwin. Obviously. Now, you go write to all your friends - don't hold back, you'd be shocked how many people this place can handle - and Erwin will... well, you know how owls work." She affectionately stroked the feathers under the owl's chin, and he hooted softly. Harry nodded and grabbed some parchment from his trunk, a quill and a tumbler of ink. As he settled in the bright light coming through the window, his eye caught something that made his blood run cold.

His Aunt Petunia was staring through her window, directly at him, an inquisitive look on her face. He swore loudly and fell to the ground.

"Harry, what is it?" Veruca said, concerned as she got up from the desk to run over to him.

"My aunt. She spies, it's her hobby. She can see everything!!!" he exclaimed, breathing heavily. To his shock, all three girls relaxed, and Chyron laughed. "What's so funny about my Aunt swinging at me with a frying pan? I don't think there's anything amusing about that."

"No, it's just... Harry, the windows are all illusioned. Every last one. No one can see inside this house, particularly not any one of the Dursleys. All they see is us chatting, or working, or what have you - Muggle stuff." Chyron explained. Harry slowly stood up.

"So... she can't see a thing that goes on in here?" he asked slowly. The three girls shook their heads. Harry stood up and calculatedly strolled over to the window and, without pause, made a very rude hand gesture at his aunt. "Up yours, you horrible old bat," he said, noting with some amusement that her expression didn't change in the slightest. He turned to the girls and grinned, sighing. "Now that felt good."

"Sexcellent. Now. Letters. Invitations. Get down to it!" Glory clapped him on the shoulder with great enthusiasm. He sat down on crossed legs by the coffee table, munching periodically on the fishbowl of beans and drafting an invitation. After about ten minutes, he realized he was hopeless at it - having never either sent nor received an invitation to anything in his entire life, he hadn't the slightest idea how one should look or be phrased. Eventually, he threw his quill down in exasperation.

"What's up?" Chyron asked.

"I don't know how to do this. This is worse than Potions!" he yelled in frustration and dropped his head on the table. Immediately, he sprung up, clutching his forehead in pain. For a moment, he thought he had just hit his head harder than he'd imagined, but then realized the pain was focused in an area that was all too familiar a root source of agony. His scar throbbed as though it was being carved there, and thought trying to stifle the scream that threatened to escape from his throat, he couldn't help a small whimper that escaped. Chyron held onto his shoulders to steady him as he jumped to his feet.

"Okay, uh, what?"

"My... nothing. I hit my head too hard." Chryon looked at him oddly. Glory came in with a glass of water for him, sitting on the couch on his other side.

"Funny, most people don't look terrified when they hit their head. Spill," she said, still eyeing him and holding his shoulders. Harry shrugged her off.

"It's fine... I'm okay, really. Don't worry about me." He sat back down and looked at the page, now only thinking about writing to someone, anyone who would understand about his scar without... his thoughts trailed off as he heard something. A soft whimper of... what was that? Harry scanned the room. Glory and Chyron still sat beside him, Veruca was resting her head on her hand as she continued to write - No. She's not moving. Confirming his worst suspicions, she made the same whimper. The whimper of pain Harry'd heard from himself only a few minutes ago. He leapt over the coffee table and stood at her side, touching her shoulder softly. She jolted up, looking around herself in a panic.

"Where are they? Where did they go?" she said urgently. She gripped Harry's shirt tightly, staring up at him desperately. He hadn't the faintest idea what to do. He caught her eyes and they shared a moment, reflecting the fear in each others' eyes.

"Where did who go?" he said quietly. She shivered.

"There were... ugh." She grimaced. "Spiders." Harry's eyes widened. Veruca dropped her hands from his shirt, looking at her hands. "Dreams. I get them sometimes."

"Yeah, me too," Harry said simply. They stayed there for a moment, before Chyron came up behind him and steered him away.

"Look, Harry," she said, "are you okay with going back to Captain Neckless and the Horrible Old Bat for the rest of the day? Veruca's... we need to talk about some things." Harry wanted to inquire, to learn more about his friend, about his OWN dreams, but one look and Chyron's set, serious face and he nodded. As he walked to the door, Glory called out to him.

"Don't forget those invitations, Harry." She sounded far more somber than he'd ever heard. Tossing an affirmative response over his shoulder, he left the house, his mind still reeling.

* * *

Ignoring Petunia's dirty glance in his direction and Dudley's missed punch aimed at his shoulder, Harry raced up to his room and grabbed the spare parchment, quill and ink pot he kept hidden under his bed. His mind anywhere but invitations, he tore a small part off the top and jotted down a quick list that read:

Sirius

Hermione

Ron

Dumbledore?

He was unsure about the last one. Dumbledore had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to owl him the second anything seemed amiss, but he wasn't entirely sure... surely, Veruca's dreams were cause enough, but at the same time he paused. Of course, he imagined, a number of people must dream about spiders. He had no idea if her dreams were the same as his, no way of knowing... but still, he felt something, there was some comprehension he had found, somehow, in his moment of connection with her, he had KNOWN. He shook his head in an effort to clear it, but it seemed to only muddy his thoughts further. Sighing, he sat down to start the easier letters first.

Dear Hermione,

Veruca, Chy and Glory offered to throw a birthday party for me. As I haven't the faintest how to write invitations, could you do me a favour and owl a bunch of people for me? I definitely want all the boys in our year there - Seamus, Dean and Neville. I'll owl Ron and his family and invite all of them separately. Think I should invite Parvati and Lavendar? I think Angelina's on tour with the Cannons about now, but if you could owl her and the rest of the original team as well, that'd be smashing. I'm wondering if there's anyone from any other houses I should invite. I guess if you could send one along to Cho - I don't even really know if I'll see her again, as she's graduated. Thanks, Hermione. I owe you one.

Oh, and it obviously goes without saying, you're invited too. You can bring your parents if you're so inclined. Again, thanks.

Love, Harry

He eyed the letter. It seemed like a massive request, but he could just imagine Hermione's eagerness to help him. He smiled, envisioning her face when she found out he was going to get a birthday party for once. Folding up the parchment and writing her name on the back, he set it aside and moved to the next letter.

Dear Ron,

So, here's a laugh. Chy decided today that the three of them are going to throw me a birthday something-or-other, and I am to invite ALL my friends, which of course means you and your entire clan. I've got some big stuff to tell you and Hermione when you get here, too... but that's later. So, your mum and dad are invited, Ginny, Gred and Forge if they can spare the time (Weasleys Wizard Wheezes sounds to be picking up nicely, by the by), you (obviously), and any of your other brothers if they can spare the time. Percy sounds to be lightening up a bit, which is nice - think he'll want to come to a party full of seventeen-year-olds? I can't imagine. Still, he's invited too, and Bill and Charlie if they can make it. I can't wait.

Love, Harry

Harry folded this note up too, and (addressing it) yawned slightly. The day's confusion had drained him significantly, and he decided to set the letter to Sirius aside until he felt as though his mind was less filled with cotton batting. He removed his glasses and changed into his pajamas, calling downstairs to his aunt that he was going to bed early today ("Lazy boy! Work tire you out? No endurance, none at all!") and finally laying his head down on his bed, drifting off immediately despite the still present, waning light of the day.