Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

the sound of ripping paper came from the hall.
    Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and looked curiously around to see where Uncle Vernon had got to. She didn’t have to wait long to find out; after about a minute, he was back. He looked livid.
    ‘You,’ he barked at Harry. ‘In the living room. Now.’
    Bewildered, wondering what on earth he was supposed to have done this time, Harry got up and followed Uncle Vernon out of the kitchen and into the next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply behind both of them.
    ‘So,’ he said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Harry as though he was about to pronounce him under arrest. ‘So.’
    Harry would have dearly loved to have said ‘So what?’, but he didn’t feel that Uncle Vernon’s temper should be tested this early in the morning, especially when it was already under severe strain from lack of food. He therefore settled for looking politely puzzled.
    ‘This just arrived,’ said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of purple writing paper at Harry. ‘A letter. About you.’
    Harry’s confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the postman?
    Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then looked down at the letter, and began to read aloud:
     
    Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley,
    We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron.
    As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place next Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
    I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn’t hosted the Cup for thirty years and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry to stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school.
    It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is.
    Hoping to see Harry soon,
    Yours sincerely,
    Molly Weasley
    P.S. I do hope we’ve put enough stamps on.
     
    Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast pocket, and drew out something else.
    ‘Look at this,’ he growled.
    He held up the envelope in which Mrs Weasley’s letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys’ address in minute writing.
    ‘She did put enough stamps on, then,’ said Harry, trying to sound as though Mrs Weasley’s was a mistake anyone could make. His uncle’s eyes flashed.
    ‘The postman noticed,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Very interested to know where this letter came from, he was. That’s why he rang the doorbell. Seemed to think it was funny. ’
    Harry didn’t say anything. Other people might not understand why Uncle Vernon was making a fuss about too many stamps, but Harry had lived with the Dursleys too long not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that anyone would find out that they were connected (however distantly) with people like Mrs Weasley.
    Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to keep his expression neutral. If he didn’t do or say anything stupid, he might just be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to say something, but he merely continued to glare. Harry decided to break the silence.
    ‘So – can I go, then?’ he asked.
    A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon’s large, purple face. The moustache bristled. Harry thought he knew what was going on behind the moustache: a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon’s most fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allowing Harry to go would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other hand, allowing Harry to disappear to the Weasleys’ for the rest of the summer would get rid of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house. To give himself thinking time, it seemed, he looked down at Mrs Weasley’s letter again.
    ‘Who is this woman?’ he said, staring at the signature with