Harry Potter was having the worst summer of his life. He spread himself on him bed with a sigh. He was unable to get Sirius's death off of him mind. His nightmares of the Department of Mysteries continued and Sirius disappearing through the curtain replayed again and again in his mind. The constant letters from Ron and Hermione could not take his mind off the matter either. It seemed as if just that was their goal.

Hedwig came through the window with a hoot closely followed by Pig and a barn owl. Hedwig dropped her rather large package onto the bed and flew into the night to hunt. Pig had trouble with the package from Ron and dipped lower and lower as his buzzing wings tried to make it to the bed. Harry grabbed him much like the snitches he caught in quidditch and fell on the bed holding the struggling package and Pig above his head. Once he had relieved Pig of his burden he let him go and Pig then got caught in the ceiling fan.

"Ruddy owl." Harry muttered to himself. "I don't understand why..." he stopped himself, for a moment he had forgotten that Sirius was gone and had wondered why he had picked Pig as the owl to give Ron. Feeling perfectly wretched he freed Pig of the fan and detached the package from the barn owl's leg. He once again sprawled on the bed the packages unopened around him. The cool night air breezed in the window and cool air was circulated around Harry's small room as he drifted into a light sleep.

Harry came awake with a start "SIRIUS!!" he cried. But Harry knew that Sirius was dead and had been for a month now. Harry shook all over. "Why is it that no loving adults stay in my life?" Harry asked himself out loud grumpily. Then Harry felt guilty, it was his fault Sirius Black was dead. Sirius had not chosen to spend so many years in Azkaban, the wizard prison. His parents had not chosen to be killed by Lord Voldemort so many years ago. The only reason he still lived with his aunt and uncle, the despicable muggles, was for the protection provided by his home being with a blood relative of his mother who had died for him. He had Lupin, Tonks, Hagrid, the Weasleys, and above all Dumbledore but none of them were his parents or the godfather whose loss haunted him. Tears welled up in Harry's eye as he looked around the room.

His watery eyes fell on the clock; he was now sixteen and had been for several hours. Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up in the bed. He ripped open Ron's package, it contained a birthday cake, made for him by Mrs. Weasley her handwriting looping across it with a smudged Happy Birthday. Harry set it aside, he had no appetite and hadn't all summer. Next he opened the package from Hermione also containing a birthday cake. From Hagrid Harry had received a third and most terrifying cake. Harry was not going to eat that one knowing full well that Hagrid's cooking was as good as the creatures he loved were cuddly.

Harry sat up feeling rather disappointed, it was true that until his eleventh birthday he had never had a cake and now he had three, none of the packages contained a present, a letter or even a short note.

Harry turned towards the wall the tears reforming in his eyes. He did not like feeling forgotten. He had always heard it was the thought that counted but thought would have included a note. They had been bombarding him with letters all summer to which he only wrote short replies. Harry felt as if he had frightened them all off. He fell into a fitful slumber in which he witnessed Sirius's death not once but seven times in a row.

When Harry awoke a few hours later, a breeze came in the window not cool like last night but stifling hot and rather sticky. Harry pulled himself out of bed a dutifully and went down to breakfast. The air outside of his room was cool and the house was dim. The curtains were pulled and the lights were off. Harry was starting to get scared; there was no sign of the Dursleys. When Harry entered the kitchen he found a note from Uncle Vernon.

"Gone to Marge's. There are meals in the refrigerator. Do not touch our stuff and stay in your room to mope."

Even Uncle Vernon seemed to be mocking Harry these days. The Dursleys were much nicer to him ever since the members of The Order of the Phoenix and given them a talking to. They didn't yell as much and they mostly avoided Harry. Even Dudley felt it was best to leave his morose mess of a cousin alone. Harry pulled half a grapefruit out and forced himself to swallow it. He was glad the Dursleys were gone, he was sick of the strange looks Dudley and Uncle Vernon gave him and the guilty acts of Aunt Petunia. He knew that if she had been here on his birthday he would have been even more miserable. Above all Harry was glad that Aunt Marge was not coming here. She refused to come to the Dursleys since the incident in which Harry had blown her up, though Harry was sure that the Ministry of Magic would have wiped her memory. He could not remember what Fudge, the minister of Magic had told him three years ago. It was for the better that Uncle Vernon's sister did not come here for she hated Harry and just the opposite of the Dursleys wanted him in her sight at all times.

Harry crossed to the living room and looked out the front window hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was on guard duty; he only saw one of Mrs. Figg's cats. Harry wondered how no one in the Order knew that his Aunt and Uncle were not home. Harry trudged back up the stairs and pulled out his Mum and Dad's old photo album. His parents waved cheerily back at him and Harry turned the page until he found the one of their wedding. Sirius, handsome and well groomed waved happily at him; the Sirius from the photo did not know that Harry had caused his death. He did not know that Harry had fallen for one of Lord Voldemort's tricks.

As Harry pulled his gangly knees to his chest the doorbell rang. Harry jumped off of his bed. He walked into one of the bedrooms facing the front of the house to look out the window but he could not see who had rung the doorbell. His aunt and uncle would be furious if he opened the door to one of their muggle neighbors as they all thought that Harry attended St. Brutus's and would complain that Petunia and Vernon had left him alone to terrorize the neighborhood. Harry crept silently down the steps—skipping the third one as it creaked, he did not want the visitor to know anyone was home. He carefully pulled the curtain a few centimeters and put his face up to the glass. Suddenly pressed to the glass appeared a very large, funny, and freckled face.