HP Parallel World

(I'm too sleepy, so I'll go to bed first and talk in the morning.) "Just arrived," Uncle Vernon said, waving a piece of purple writing paper at Harry, "a letter. It concerns you."

Harry was even more confused. Who would write to Uncle Vernon about him? Who among the people he knew would ask the postman to deliver a letter?

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

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley:

We've never met, but I'm sure you've heard a lot about my son Ron from Harry.

Perhaps Harry has told you that the Quidditch World Cup will be held on Monday night, and my husband Arthur, through his connections in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, managed to get some of the best tickets.

I really hope you will allow Harry to go to the game. This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain has been without a trophy for thirty years and tickets are hard to come by. Of course, we would love to have Harry stay.

Stay until the end of the summer vacation and send him back to school safely by train.

It's best to let Harry deliver your reply to us as soon as possible through normal means, because the Muggle postman has never delivered a letter to our home, and he probably doesn't even know where our home is.

Hope to see Harry soon.

Yours faithfully

Molly Weasley

I hope we put enough stamps on it. And in time.

When Uncle Vernon finished reading, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out something.

"Look at this," he said angrily.

He held up the envelope that contained Mrs. Weasley's letter. Harry tried his best to hold back his laughter. The envelope was covered with stamps, leaving only a small one-inch square area on the front.

, Mrs. Weasley filled in the address of the Dursley family densely in very small characters.

"She certainly has enough stamps," Harry said, trying to sound calm, as if Mrs. Weasley had just made a mistake that everyone could make. His uncle's eyes burst into anger.

"The postman noticed it," he gritted his teeth, his voice coming out from between his teeth. "He was very curious and wanted to know where the letter came from, so he rang the doorbell. He probably thought it was a bit weird.

."

Harry said nothing. Others might not understand why Uncle Vernon made such a fuss about a few extra stamps. But Harry had lived with the Dursleys for so long and knew that they were

They are particularly sensitive to anything even slightly out of the norm. What they worry about most is that someone discovers that they have a connection with someone like Mrs. Weasley (no matter how distant the connection).

Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry fiercely. Harry tried his best to pretend to be stupid. As long as he didn't do stupid things or say stupid things, he might be able to participate in a once-in-a-century major event. He was waiting.

Harry asked Uncle Vernon to say something, but his uncle just stared at him fiercely. Harry decided to break the silence.

"So - can I go?" he asked.

Uncle Vernon's big purple face twitched slightly, and his beard stood up straight. Harry felt as if he could see what was thinking in the head behind the beard: Uncle Vernon's two most basic intuitions

A conflict occurred. Allowing Harry to watch the game would make Harry happy, which Uncle Vernon had been unwilling to do for thirteen years. On the other hand, allowing Harry to spend the summer at the Weasleys would make Harry happier than before.

He was looking forward to getting rid of Harry two weeks earlier, and Uncle Vernon particularly hated Harry staying at home. Perhaps to give himself some time to think, Uncle Vernon lowered his head to read Mrs. Weasley's letter.

"Who is this woman?" he asked, staring at the signature with disgust.

"You've met her," said Harry. "She's my friend Ron's mother. She came to Hogg at the end of last term - she picked him up on the school train."

He almost said "Hogwarts Express", which would have made his uncle furious. No one in the Dursley family had ever mentioned the name of Harry's school out loud.

Uncle Vernon's big, plump face wrinkled into a ball, as if he was trying desperately to recall a very unpleasant incident.

"That fat woman?" he asked gruffly at last, "with a lot of red-haired children?"

Harry frowned. He thought it was so funny that Uncle Vernon would actually call someone "fat", after knowing that his biological son Dudley had finally accomplished what they had forced him to accomplish since he was three years old -

He has now turned into a fat, wide and round boy.

Uncle Vernon was reading the letter again.

"Quidditch," he muttered silently, "Quidditch—what the hell is this?"

Harry felt irritable again.

"It's a sport," he was willing to say more. "It's played on a broomstick—"

"Okay, okay!" Uncle Vernon said loudly. Harry saw with some satisfaction that his uncle looked a little nervous. Apparently, his nerves couldn't bear the word "broomstick" ringing in his living room. In order to

Seeking refuge, he looked down at the letter again. Harry saw that his mouth was saying "Your reply... will be delivered by normal means". He frowned.

"'By normal means,' what does that mean?" he asked sharply.

"Our normal way," Harry said, and before his uncle could stop him, he continued, "You know, sending an owl to deliver messages, that's what wizards usually do."

Uncle Vernon looked as irritated as if Harry had said a treasonous curse word. He was shaking with rage and glanced nervously toward the window, as if he was worried that the neighbors would press their ears against the glass.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention these weird things in my house!" He said through gritted teeth, his face turning purple, like a ripe plum. "You are wearing the clothes Petunia and I gave you.

Standing there, not knowing how to be grateful——"

"Dudley gave me those clothes when he no longer wore them." Harry said coldly. Indeed, the collarless long-sleeved sweatshirt he was wearing was so bulky that he had to roll up the sleeves five times to expose it.

With both hands, the hem of the clothes has been dragged down to the knees of the extremely baggy jeans...

"You're talking to me like that!" Uncle Vernon was furious and trembling all over.

But Harry wasn't willing to stand it any longer. Gone were the days when he had been forced to follow every stupid Dursley's rule. He didn't follow Dudley's diet, and he didn't want Uncle Vernon to lose weight.

Prevent him from watching the Quidditch World Cup - as long as there is a way, he must fight for it. Harry took a deep breath, stabilized his emotions, and then said: "Okay, I can't watch the World Cup. So.

, can I go now? I'm writing a letter to Sirius and I haven't finished it yet. You know - he is my godfather."

"Are you - are you writing to him?" said Uncle Vernon, trying to keep his tone calm, but Harry saw the pupils of his little eyes suddenly narrow with fear.

"Oh - yes," Harry said casually, "He hasn't heard from me for a while, you know, if he doesn't get a letter from me, he'll think something has happened to me."

He stopped talking and admired the effect of his words. He could almost see Uncle Vernon's thoughts under his neatly combed thick black hair, and see how those gears worked. If his uncle stopped Harry

Write to Sirius and Sirius will think that Harry is being abused. If his uncle tells Harry that he cannot go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry will tell Sirius and Sirius will know that Harry is indeed being abused.

Abuse. In this way, Uncle Vernon had no choice but one way to go. Harry could clearly see the decision gradually forming in his uncle's mind, as if the big bearded face was transparent. Ha.

Lee tried his best to hold back his laughter and keep his face from showing any expression. Then——

"Well, okay. You can go watch this damn... this stupid... this so-called broken World Cup. You write and tell the - the Weasleys, by them

Come to pick you up, remember. I don't have time to send you back and forth. You can stay there and spend the whole summer. You might as well tell your - your godfather... tell him.

.....Tell him you are going."

"Okay." Harry said happily.

He turned and walked towards the door of the living room, resisting the urge to cheer. He was leaving... to the Weasley house, to watch the Quidditch World Cup!

In the hall outside, he almost bumped into Dudley. Dudley had been hiding behind the door just now, obviously hoping to hear Harry being taught a lesson. He couldn't help but see Harry grinning happily.

Very shocked.

"What a lovely breakfast, isn't it?" Harry asked. "I'm so full, how about you?"

Harry laughed at the frightened expression on Dudley's face as he ran up the stairs in three steps at a time and rushed into his bedroom.

He saw at a glance that Hedwig had returned. She was squatting in the cage, staring at Harry with her huge amber eyes, and at the same time making a clicking sound with her mouth, which usually meant that she was annoyed with something. Almost at the same time

, the thing that annoys it appears.

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, and something like a small gray tennis ball with feathers slammed into his head. Harry angrily rubbed the painful area, looked up, and saw a

A very, very small owl, so small that he could hold it in the palm of his hand. It was so excited that it flew around the room like a burning firework. Only then did Harry realize that this owl had just been there.

A letter was dropped at his feet. Harry bent down, recognized Ron's smile, and tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily written message.

Harry - Dad got the tickets - Ireland v Bulgaria. Monday night. Mum is writing to the Muggles, inviting you to come and stay with us. They must have received the letter, I don't know how fast the Muggles deliver it.

How fast. I think no matter what, I will send Piggy to deliver this letter to you.

Harry stared at the word "piggy" in a daze, and then looked up at the little owl flying around the light tube on the ceiling. He had never seen anything less like a pig.

.Maybe Ron’s handwriting was too sloppy and he didn’t see it clearly. He continued to read the letter:

Whether the Muggles like it or not, we are coming to pick you up. You must not miss the World Cup, but Mum and Dad think it is best to pretend to ask their opinions first. If they agree, please send a piggy to send a letter as soon as possible. We

I'll pick you up at five o'clock on Sunday.

Hermione arrives this afternoon. Percy starts work - in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. While you're here, don't mention anything to do with "foreign countries" unless you want to be annoyed by him.

Hope to meet you soon.

Ron

"Be quiet!" Harry said. The little owl swooped down and flew over his head, chirping non-stop. Harry could only guess that it was because it delivered the letter to the recipient accurately.

Li, couldn't restrain his inner pride. "Come here, I want you to take my reply back!"

The owl flapped its wings and landed on the top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig raised her head and looked at it coldly, as if asking it if it dared to take another step closer.

Harry picked up the quill again, grabbed another piece of clean parchment, and wrote:

Ron, everything is fine. Muggles said I can come. See you at five o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I can't wait.

Harry

He folded the letter very small, and the little owl jumped up and down excitedly. It took a lot of effort for Harry to tie the letter to its leg. As soon as the letter was tied, the owl set off.

.It flew out of the window and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Harry turned to look at Hedwig.

"Do you think you can do a long flight?" he asked Hedwig.

Hedwig chirped in a noble manner.

"Can you deliver this letter to Sirius for me?" he said, picking up the letter he had just written. "Wait a minute...I haven't finished it yet."

He unfolded the parchment and hastily added a few words.

If you want to contact me, I'm spending the summer at my friend Ron Weasley's house. His dad got us tickets to the Quidditch World Cup!

After finishing the letter, Harry tied it to Hedwig's leg. Hedwig remained motionless and surprisingly steady, as if determined to show Harry what a real owl messenger should do.

"I'll be at Ron's house when you come back, understand?" Harry said to it.

Hedwig bit his finger lovingly, then spread out her huge wings, made a gentle whooshing sound, and flew out of the open window lightly.

Harry watched it disappear into the air, turned around and got under the bed, pried open the loose floorboard, and took out a large piece of birthday cake. He sat down on the floor and ate it, enjoying it to his heart's content.

His heart was filled with joy. He had cake and Dudley had nothing but grapefruit; it was a bright, sunny summer's day, and he was leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, and his scar was completely back to normal, and

He also had to go watch the Quidditch World Cup. At a moment like this, it was hard to be upset about anything - not even Voldemort could ruin his joy.