Does Your Question Invite Answers that Might Help You?
This answer does not settle the question you're asking. Instead, it challenges the notion that RAW answers are ever truly possible for questions of this form. Namely, RAW cannot settle questions about how specific elements of monster mythology work in a perfectly general sense. To do so would be tantamount to defining elements of vampirism in terms of the real world fundamental laws of physics. This would not be a fun way to play role-playing games or participate in collaborative story-telling. I do give some specific advice at the end.
The only useful answer will be contextualized to your specific goals. In other words, what would be fun for the players in your game, what would make a more interesting story, and so on. Any other answer is hopelessly arbitrary and will bear unsatisfying loop holes in various contexts.
Indeed! This is true of many "how do monsters work...?" questions. For example, why don't zombies fall apart in the first month of the apocalypse (weather conditions, bugs, animals, clumsiness, difficult terrain, and so on).
I suspect these kinds of questions are impossible to answer meaningfully in a vacuum, because the magical laws that bind mythical creatures are hopelessly inconsistent, and resolving this often dooms them to boredom. That's no surprise. After all, monster rules are about creating a creepy feeling or communicating a deep metaphor about an aspect of human life, or in the context of game rules, to furnish some engaging player interactions. So...universal generalization is not really a sensible goal during their creation.
To demonstrate this of vampires specifically, consider the following thought experiments:
Edge Cases for RAW
(An owner spontaneously arrives) A vampire enters an abandoned shack. No one owns it or lives there. Back in town, an adventurer purchases the deed. It is now their house. What happens to the vampire? Is he launched out or destroyed by the expansion of an "invisible barrier"? Is he free to stay, but not to re-enter? Can he even leave?
(The house consumes the vampire) A vampire is walking along when a person's house without floor settles around him Wizard of Oz style. The occupant's are still inside, transported by the magic tornado. They do not want any vampires to join them. What happens to the vampire?
(The vampire is redirected by magical means) A vampire walks through a way-gate pointed at his castle. It's like a Slider's style gate, and while the vampire is en route, someone points the tunnel's destination at a house instead. What happens to the vampire?
We could develop arbitrary resolutions for these, and probably even we could develop arbitrary loopholes between them so that they produced different arbitrary answers in different contexts. But why? Monster mythologies express very specific metaphors and ideas. They are not part of the furniture of fundamental physics, so they do not make any sense in the general way that such things do. They only make any sense at all in specific contexts that are compatible with the specific, narrow range of things they are meant to communicate. No published material or errata could really fix this. How could they?
The only way to adjudicate these scenarios is to first decide your goals as a story teller, since it is only from the story-teller's perspective that the rules are sensible. For example, see the list of vampire weaknesses as applied in popular fiction. Notice how inconsistently the many vampire traits are applied, even among hugely influential touchstone works? For example, neither Nosferatu nor Interview with the Vampire keep the only-when-invited rule. That's because those story-tellers didn't have anything to say about entrances, or this bit of lore conflicted with what they did want to say.
So in order to play the game with vampires, you'll have to ask yourself what you want to say about vampires. This might be impossible at this point. What you want to say probably depends on how your players are responding to a situation, and this conversation is external and peremptory of any actual game. Here are some examples of how I might decide to apply this rule:
Lets take RAI in the most general way. Something like has been suggested in other answers: if a vampire would find themselves by any means physically located inside of a house without invitation by its occupants, the vampire is ejected. Note that there are many other RAI we could take as a starting point.
Even still there remain all sorts of open questions. Maybe it's like Pleasantville, wherein the vampire just appears back outside the front door of the house, and no one can understand how. This sounds like it could be fun. Maybe your rowdy barbarian will be disoriented by the sudden vampire's disappearance. Maybe so is the vampire!
Maybe the vampire is instantly destroyed. Is there any way for this outcome to be fun for your players? Do they have access to a means of moving a house or tricking the vampire, as for example by purchasing the house in secret?
But "what would be most fun right this second?" isn't the only lens through which we could view this. Are you telling a story that explores the gravity and complexity of consent? Then maybe the way this plays out should be super complicated and nuanced. Or maybe you should invite your players to reflect on how it works. Or maybe it should work in subtly different way for every vampire in the game.
Are you playing with young children? Maybe this vampire element is part of a cautionary tale about interacting with strangers. Then the lines can be super cartoonish and clear (as in the invisible wall interpretation).
Monster myth rules cannot be applied consistently in a fully general sense. To do so would violate the spirit of monster myths, and be generally no fun. It would be impossible to use monsters metaphorically, and would hugely constrain the bounds of play.
Instead, ask what you or your players want to say about monsters, or what experience they'd most like to have. Apply all rules in a way that is consistent with those goals.
Regarding vampire entrances specifically, it's probably easiest to ignore the special cases. The implications of taking it more seriously would be very bizarre. Most popular vampire fiction throws away at least some of the rules for exactly this reason, as demonstrated by several goofy thought-experiments.