Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros, etc. I'm just playing with them for awhile.
Harry started awake. Wincing, he grabbed his scar. The lightening shaped scar was currently aching and sending dull shards of pain throughout his head. Sitting up, Harry swung his feet from the bed to floor. He sat there, waiting for the pain to lessen. Images from his dream swirled around repeatedly in his mind. Harry didn't completely remember much of this particular dream, a fact that he was profoundly thankful of. Harry stood up, reasoning that he was not going to get anymore sleep this night. A loud snore echoed briefly from down the hall. Not only did Dudley resemble a pig, he did an excellent imitation of a snorting hog while asleep. Harry envied the innocent sleep that his cousin was enjoying. Not that 'innocent' could ever really be used to describe Dudley. But despite his horrid personality, Dudley certainly had no problems dropping into the sleep of the innocent.
Harry ambled over to the window, where the orange lights from the street cast an amber shadow on the room. Sighing, he leaned his head against the window pane. The cool glass helped to ease the pain in his head. Now only if something could be found to ease the ache in my heart, Harry thought.
The summer had not gone well for Harry. He had returned to number four, Privet Drive, following Dumbledore's insistence that he spend some time with his relatives. The Dursleys had apparently decided that maybe if they ignored Harry, he would cease to exist. Their silence and chilly stares had a dampening effect on Harry. He in no way wanted to unburden his soul to his relatives, but his melancholy state certainly wasn't helped by the fact that his relatives did their dead level best to ignore him.
Harry knew intellectually that he would feel better about the aftermath of the Tri-Wizard Championship if he could talk to someone that actually cared and understood. Harry didn't want to burden his friends; Ron sounded too worried about things already, and Hermione was visiting relatives in France for the summer. Harry had owled Sirius a few times. His godfather was running important errands for Dumbledore and Harry felt bad about dumping all his problems on him. Harry knew that Sirius wouldn't mind being a caring ear to his troubles, but Harry wanted Sirius to be completely concentrating on staying alive and out of Azkaban. Harry didn't think that he could bear it if something were to happen to Sirius. Besides, a niggling little voice told him that Sirius had a lot more important things to do that listen to his own nagging fears.
Harry had spent the summer trying not to dwell on those nagging fears, with marginal success. The only bright spot of his summer was the letters that he had received. Other than the 'how are you doing' ones that he got periodically from Ron and Hermione, Sirius had owled a few times. He wasn't able to owl much. Apparently Dumbledore was keeping him hopping around the country on important business. Harry was expecting another one soon, however. Sirius had promised in his last one that he would owl on his birthday, which was tomorrow.
Harry forced himself away from the coolness of the window and walked back to bed. Pulling the sheets up, he comforted himself that tomorrow he would certainly hear from his godfather and his friends. Harry was looking forward to those letters. Anything has to be better than moping all day, he thought while he yawned widely. Snuggling down, Harry gave himself up to sleep.
It was almost midnight. In a few minutes Harry would be fifteen. He stood at his open window, watching the night sky. The stars were particularly bright tonight, and the moon was full in its luminous glory. Harry was content to just watch the night sky while he periodically scanned for incoming owls. The promise of letters was the only thing that kept Harry from going crazy all day. Having decided at the beginning of the summer that being ignored was little fun, Harry spent most of his time in his room. Today he stayed at his desk, working on the Potions essay that he had been avoiding the whole summer. It had taken all his willpower not to throw down his quill, but he had finished it just as the Dursleys had settled in for the night. Waiting patiently for midnight, Harry was rereading Flying with the Cannons. Growing bored, he had tossed it aside and was now staring out the window, enjoying the welcome breeze that occasionally caressed his face and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.
Harry's slowly roving eyes landed on a misshapen figure flying in his direction. Correctly guessing that the odd bundle included his own owl Hedwig, he backed away from the window. Moments later, several owls flew in and landed on his bed. There was Hedwig, carrying a large package, Pig and another owl that he didn't recognize. Harry smiled. Finally, he thought as he ran to catch the loudly hooting Pig before he woke up the entire house. Grabbing the little fluff-ball, Harry quickly relieved him of Ron's letter. After pushing Pig off into Hedwig's cage, Harry turned to the other owls. In a few minutes, Hedwig was drinking in her cage, ignoring Pig, and the strange owl was swooping away on silent wings. Harry sat in the middle of the bed and picked up Ron's letter.
Dear Harry,
Here's another birthday mate! Sorry there's no present with this one. You'll have to wait and get it when you get here tomorrow. Mum owled Dumbledore and he's given the okay. That means no more time spent with those Muggle relatives of yours. We'll be there to get you around noon. And don't worry- the twins won't be there this time. It'll just be me and dad. See you then mate!
Ron
Ps- Hermione'll be here too.
Harry smiled. This was possibly the best news that he had heard all summer. He could get away from the Dursleys. He felt better already. He no longer felt that he either had to spend the day in his room or that he had to sit there while they ignored him. Spirits lifted somewhat, Harry turned to another letter: this one from Hermione.
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday! I suppose that you have already heard the good news from Ron. That's almost a present in and of itself, isn't it? I didn't send my present either. I figured that you would want it tomorrow along with all the others. I'll be at the Burrow as well, but suspect that Ron has told you that too. I was nearly afraid that we wouldn't make it back from France in time, but we managed to escape from our relatives in time. One of my aunts kept asking what the hurry was all about, but somehow I didn't think she was ready to know that the reason was because I had to make it to a wizard's house within the next few days. Things would be so much easier if we could Apparate already. Oh well. I'll see you at the Burrow!
Love from
Hermione
Harry laughed. He suspected that Hermione would never change. Even in a birthday letter she was bemoaning the restrictions placed on them as younger wizards. Harry had no doubt that if given little time, Hermione could pass the test to Apparate now with no trouble.
The letters put aside, Harry turned to the bundle that Hedwig had carried. The parcel was light and squarish in shape. Harry grabbed the letter first.
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday, godson. I am sorry that I couldn't be there in person, but today finds me still roaming the countryside for Dumbledore. It's not everyday that a boy turns fifteen, Harry. It is a special day, and as usual, I feel as if I am letting you down. While this present isn't as big as the Firebolt, hopefully it'll help lessen the fact that I can't be there. Go ahead and open it Harry.
Curious, Harry set the letter down and turned to the package. He ripped into the brown paper wrapping and found himself holding a burgundy book. Bound in handsome leather, it was a weighty tome and looked to be well used. Picking up the letter, Harry continued to read.
It looks a bit worn, Harry, but that is as it should be. It's one of the few things that have survived over the years. Everything of value was seized by the Ministry, but they missed this one. When we were in Dumbledore's office after the end of the Tri-Wizard Championship, I spied this sitting on one of Dumbledore's shelves. He returned it to me, and I am giving it to you. This is one of my most treasured possessions, and I now want you to have it. It's something that James gave to me before we left Hogwarts. Inside this book are pictures of the Marauders, little notes that we had written to each other, and various other little things from our time at Hogwarts. I think it will help you understand what kind of man your father was, Harry. Enjoy it Harry. I'll write soon.
Sirius
Wow, was all that Harry could think. Reverently he opened the book. It was as Sirius had said. There were pictures of the Marauders throughout their years at Hogwarts. Harry paused to study one. He recognized the place as the Gryffindor common room. Seated around one of the tables was a pair of laughing teenagers. One of the boys Harry instantly knew. There was his father, laughing at the camera, his arm wrapped around the neck of another boy. This boy was squirming, trying to escape the hand that was relentlessly mussing his hair. It was Sirius. Harry looked at his godfather. This Sirius had long, shoulder length black hair and laughing brown eyes that fairly sparkled with mischief. Harry watched as Sirius wriggled out of James' grasp, and promptly returned the favor. James was now punching Sirius in the arm, his glasses askew and his untidy hair was now even more mussed than before.
Turning the pages, Harry saw countless pictures of the Marauders. Professor Lupin was there, looking wan as usual but grinning broadly. There were few pictures of Pettigrew, a fact for which Harry was glad. He didn't want see his father goofing off with his betrayer. The book also contained little notes as well as some lists. Harry grinned openly when he spotted one such list utter devoted to the number of pranks played on one Severus Snape. His eyes widened as he read down the list. From the looks of things, even the twins on their worst day couldn't hold a candle to the mischief that the Marauders got into. No wonder Snape loathed Sirius. Most of the pranks were fiendishly ingenious. Fred and George would give their eyeteeth to see some of the pranks, spells and charms that were in this book.
Harry reluctantly closed the book. He wanted to peruse it for the rest of the night, but knew that he should get some sleep so he could be up bright and early to get ready to go the Burrow. Reaching for his quill and ink, he wrote a reply to Ron telling him that he would be ready by lunchtime and waiting to be picked up. A reply to Sirius would have to wait. Harry was so overcome that he didn't think he was able to pen a letter of thanks great enough for his present. He prepared for bed, taking his glasses off and shutting off his lamp. Harry stared at the book, unwilling to let even this link to his father out of his sight, afraid that it was a dream. Harry fell into a dreamless sleep.