Harry James Potter had never given himself a birthday present before. He justified this one by telling himself that his father would have approved. His mother might not have, but then again Aunt Petunia was her sister so maybe she would have understood.
Harry levitated his chest of meager possessions past the threshold and shut the door behind himself. The tacky purple paint was peeling off the door in long raintrail shaped strips.
"Happy 15th Birthday me" Harry's voice echoed around the spartan apartment. There was nothing in it yet, but a trip to Knockturn Alley's second hand shops would change that.