Chapter 121. The Weasleys' Invitation
With Adrian Wesson's intervention, the Dursleys grudgingly agreed to let Harry study with Wesson during the day and send him back in the evenings.
Once Harry stepped out of that stifling house with Wesson, summer sunlight poured over the neat streets of Privet Drive, and even the air felt fresher.
Though he still had to return there at night, this was already tremendous news.
"By the way," Wesson slowed his pace and looked at Harry, asking curiously, "why did they lock you up this time? What did you do?"
Harry curled his lip and kicked a pebble by the kerb.
"Dudley nicked my Hair-Raising Potion," he said hotly. "That greedy lump… I warned him it wasn't a drink."
"Hair-Raising Potion?" Wesson asked off-handedly. "You brewed it yourself?"
Harry nodded, embarrassed, the tips of his ears reddening. "Mm… Hermione said I could try changing my hairstyle now and then, so I looked up the brewing method in a book."
"But," he sighed, and went on, "maybe I messed up the recipe. That bottle of Hair-Raising Potion made a whole clump of chrysanthemums sprout on Dudley's head, tangled up with his hair."
"Probably some impurities drifted in."
Wesson's mouth twitched despite himself.
That scene must have been very funny.
Afterwards, Wesson glanced thoughtfully at Harry's perpetually messy hair; it truly needed a proper sorting-out.
Maybe he could recommend Gilderoy Lockhart's Occamy egg yolk shampoo.
With Wesson's help, Harry's life changed in subtle ways.
Now he could stride out of the Dursleys' front door every morning in broad daylight, no more sneaking about as before.
So long as the clock's hands reached the appointed time, he could sprint to Wesson for magic training.
Even though the lessons were strict, he could clearly feel his spellwork improving day by day.
Of course, to maintain the protective magic Lily left, he still needed to spend a full day with the Dursleys now and then.
For Harry now, that was sheer torment.
It was really hard to bear…
The last day of July—today was Harry's birthday.
Harry had been keeping Hedwig at Wesson's house, so all incoming and outgoing post went through there daily.
That day, Harry sat on the sofa in Wesson's shop unwrapping parcels—recently Wesson had removed some shelves and replaced them with a comfortable sofa set.
He'd found there were no customers coming to his shop.
After all, Muggles couldn't find it, and witches and wizards seldom came to the Muggle world.
Of course, that didn't matter; Wesson hadn't opened the place to do business—this was just his residence.
Harry received cards and birthday presents from Ron and Hermione.
And there was Wesson's gift as well: at Harry's request, Wesson had given him another protective amulet.
Wesson's craftsmanship with amulets had grown ever more deft lately; this time he had again used wood cut from thunder-struck timber.
He had tried other materials, but their effects were unsatisfactory.
This kind of amulet could, at a critical moment, absorb one spell attack—but unfortunately only if the spell struck the amulet or the space around it.
Besides these, Harry received a letter from the Weasleys.
In it, the Weasley family invited Harry to visit The Burrow; if he wished, he could stay with them for a few days.
Harry was already looking forward to it.
Only… Wesson's holiday plan for him…
Looking at Harry gazing at him with pleading eyes, Wesson agreed.
Amid Harry's whoop of delight, Wesson doused him with a bucket of cold water: "Don't forget Hogwarts holiday homework—you've only one month left."
Only then did Harry realise that, with the intensive training, he hadn't written a single line of his summer assignments.
Hogwarts holiday homework was a great deal; nearly every professor set a lot of essays.
But Harry didn't care; he was still caught up in the joy of going to the Weasleys'.
"How are you getting to The Burrow?" Wesson asked. "Floo? Or shall I Apparate you there?"
"No need," Harry shook his head. "Ron said they'll come for me at dawn tomorrow—he says there's something interesting."
The next day, Wesson finally learned what the "something interesting" was in Harry's mouth.
Normally, Wesson slept in the bedroom on the shop's second floor at night.
In the small hours that day, a sound like a car engine came from outside the window.
At first Wesson thought it was a car passing by, but soon—
"Professor Wesson!"
A familiar voice reached his ears.
Puzzled, Wesson climbed out of bed, took his wand from the bedside, pointed it at the clothes on the stand in the corner by the door, and they flew to him and dressed him by themselves.
Then he strode to the window and pulled back the curtains; blinding headlights shone straight in, making him squint.
When his eyes adjusted, he saw the scene outside.
A flying Ford Anglia was hovering lopsidedly less than three feet from his window; Harry had half his body out the driver's window, his hair a wind-tossed mess in the night air.
"Professor!" Harry shouted excitedly. "Ron, and George and Fred, came to get me!"
Wesson couldn't help glancing back at the clock on the wall; the hour hand pointed to two o'clock.
As expected… children did have boundless energy.
Then Wesson looked at the driver—should be George? Or Fred?
He couldn't tell them apart anyway.
"Sorry to disturb you, Professor Wesson," said the George-or-Fred at the wheel, "but Harry insisted on saying goodbye to you before leaving."
Wesson nodded and waved to Harry. "Well then, goodbye—have fun."
The car windows rolled up, it rose a few feet, then suddenly banked and swung back again.
The window cranked down once more, and one of the twins stuck his head out.
"Wait! Almost forgot!" he said. "Mum told us specially to pass this on—she hopes you'll come to The Burrow as a guest, Professor Wesson!"
An invitation from the Weasleys?
Wesson nodded. "Thank you for the invitation—give my regards to Mr Weasley. I'll come by Floo tomorrow."
He was quite willing, only he preferred the fireplace.
Not a flying car.
Flying from here to The Burrow might take several hours; he'd rather spend that time resting.
"See you tomorrow then, Professor!" Harry waved.
"We'll have Mum lift the restriction on the fireplace tomorrow morning," Ron added.
Their voices drifted away as the car suddenly accelerated.
The car traced a perilous arc through the air, nearly colliding with a lamppost, before wobbling off into the night.
Wesson was certain the twins didn't have driving licences.
Mr Weasley's Flying Ford Anglia was indeed a marvellous magical contraption; he was quite interested. Perhaps he could later ask Mr Weasley about the magic needed to make the car fly.
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