Easy - The Girl who Lived Forever (Harry Potter's Sister)

Generous Invitations

I woke up in a cold sweat, panting hard as though I had been running. I had awoken from a vivid dream with one hand pressed over my face, and the other on my neck. The old scar on my neck, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath my fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to my skin.

"Hey, you're okay," my red haired sister whispered to me from the bed across.

I sat up, one hand still on my scar, the other reaching out in the darkness for Ginny's hand. She gripped my sweaty hand and pulled me over to her bed, in for a hug, running her finger over the scar and making me wince.

"What was the dream about?" Ginny asked, setting herself up her pillow.

I thought hard, trying to recall what I had been dreaming about before I had awoken. It had seemed so real ... there had been two people I knew, and one I didn't ... I concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember ...

The dim picture of a darkened room came to him ... there had been a snake on a hearth-rug ... a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail ... and a cold, high voice ... the voice of Lord Voldemort.

"It was an old house," I began slowly, making my voice thick to hide the tremble. "With Pettigrew and You-Know-Who inside. They were talking about . . . some sort of plan. Some old muggle overheard, and they killed him."

Ginny's breath hitched, I could feel it, my head was on her chest. "What were they talking about?" she asked.

"Me . . . Harry . . . the Quidditch World Cup, weirdly enough . . . some woman, Bertha Jorkins, I think. I think they might've . . . she might be . . . " I trailed off, but there wasn't really room to wonder. It felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into my stomach at the very thought . . . 

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, but it was impossible ... all I knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung around, and I had seen what was sitting in it, I had felt a spasm of horror which had awoken me ... or had that been the pain in my scar?

And who had the old man been? There had definitely been an old man; I had watched him fall to the ground. It was all becoming confused; I buried my face in my hands, blocking out the bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as fast as I tried to hold on to them.

"Hey, you're okay," Ginny interrupted, mistaking my attempt of remembering as me overwhelmed by emotion. "Listen, he won't hurt you. Not as long as I'm here."

"My savior," I grinned, looking up at Ginny. 

A tap at the window interrupted us, and I looked to see a barn owl waiting outside with a fat large envelope tied to it's leg. Ginny got up, letting the owl come inside and untied the letter, chucking it at me to read while she got the owl fed and watered.

"What does it say?" she asked, flicking the light on and settling back in.

"Give me a sec, Gin," I ran my finger under the flap and pulled out a small letter. 

"Dear Weasley Family,

We managed to get Quidditch World Cup Final tickets for us and a few other families. We invite you to come stay with us for the duration of the World Cup. We are able to provide all accommodation. Please return your decision with Rhubarb -- "

" -- funny name for an owl --"

"as soon as possible, and we have enclosed tickets for you in case it doesn't make it in time.

Hope you are having a good holiday,

Bonnie, Charlotte and Savannah Wright"

Ginny squealed loudly, jumping into the air. She ran out of the room, yelling for Mum. I laughed, chasing after her.