Hello, my delightful, deloverly readers! I originally wrote this in January for a friend, and so I happily dedicate this to her--twilightm0on! Now, I'm posting it so much later for two reasons-- (a) Harry's birthday is fast approaching, and (b) come July 26th, I myself will be 18! woo hoo!

Enjoy.

It was July 31st, the hottest day of the year, and also Harry Potter's birthday. At the moment, the boy in question was lying down on his bed, stomach-up and staring blankly at the ceiling above him. It was just too hot to move. Downstairs he could hear the T.V. blasting, the weatherman droning on about never-ending droughts and heat waves.

Harry was just drifting off to sleep when his half-lidded eyes caught sight of a dilapidated red and green…something, floating outside the window. Struggling up from his comfortable resting place, Harry squinted out the glass panes. The colored object was bobbing about in the air bizarrely. It took Harry a full two minutes to realize that what he was looking at was a pair of brightly colored balloons, weighed down by a suffering Hedwig struggling to keep a steady flight.

Harry immediately pushed open the window to let his bird in. As Hedwig attempted a soaring dive into the room, the balloons attached pulled upwards against the bird's light weight. Hedwig's wings were instantly entangled in the ribbons. With a squawk of agitation, the bird dangled helplessly in the air outside Harry's room, suspended by the helium balloons.

Harry was at a loss of what to do. His arm alone wouldn't reach the bird. He glanced about his room, scanning the bare dresser and bed for a means of rescuing Hedwig. Of course he didn't find anything. He leaned out the window.

"Hold on, Hedwig, I'll be right back!" he called. The owl gave a defeated sort of twitter and glared forlornly down at him. Harry left and, quietly opening his door, crept down the hallway to the closet. He swiftly retrieved a broom—a real one, not an enchanted one—and hurried back to his room.

Leaning out his window, Harry stretched his arm out, shoving the broom handle toward Hedwig, who clawed at it desperately until her talons dug into the wood. Harry gently pulled her downward toward him.

Disentangling the bird from the mass of ribbons, Harry had just time enough to snatch the letter off of Hedwig's leg before the miffed owl took off out the window and soared out of sight. Harry shrugged and read the letter.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday! There are more presents on the way; the balloons were Ron's idea. I do hope Hedwig is alright. Hope your summer's going well.

-Hermione and Ron

Harry was torn between a grin and a grimace. Sending the balloons was definitely not beneficial to Hedwig's health, though he was thankful they had sent his bird and not Ron's. Pig just wouldn't have stood a chance against the balloons. Either way, Harry was as grateful to receive the presents as ever. He glanced at the balloons, blinking in surprise at what he saw.

The magically enchanted balloons, much like enchanted pictures, had objects and figures moving about their shiny surfaces.

Ron's, red and yellow fireworks exploding silently in the background, read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY! –Ron" in shimmering red letters.

If a balloon could be described as intricate, Hermione's certainly was. The background was the perfect picture of a quidditch pitch. Fourteen players zipped around the balloon, green and silver versus red and gold. Harry saw the distinct form of himself take a nose dive toward the ground, hand outstretched. He watched, fascinated, as the character caught a sparkling simulation of the Snitch. The center of the balloon read in gold, curving letters, "Have a Wonderful Birthday, Harry! –Hermione." Harry grinned broadly.

Harry was just reveling in how superb his friends were when a dull pounding sounded from the other side of Harry's door. Harry turned about, trying to find a hiding spot for his magical balloons to no avail. In any case, the knocker didn't seem to care if Harry answered or not, and Dudley promptly opened the door, hefting his body through the frame.

"Err.." said Harry, not sure what to say. Why was Dudley here?

"I saw it, outside. Your bird had somethin' shiny. Wha' was it?" asked Dudley thickly, eyes shifting about the room. They passed over the balloons a couple times before Dudley identified them. His beady eyes widened to the size of slightly bigger beads at the sight of the magicked balloons.

"I'm tellin' dad you did magic!" He thundered thickly.

"No! Dudley, don't! I didn't do anything!" Jeez, thought Harry, I am so tired of going through this scenario. He caught Dudley squinting at something. "Err, are you okay?" he asked questioningly. Dudley took a step forward, his massive foot shaking the floor and jarring Harry.

"Whatsit say?" he asked. Harry stared. Was it possible…? Could Dudley really be so stupid as to be illiterate?

"Happy…Birthday?" Harry translated. Dudley squinted harder.

"I can' read it." He stepped closer and closer to the balloons. "There, tha's better." Harry raised an eyebrow. Dudley was shortsighted? Oh, how devastated Aunt Petunia would be to find her perfect little Diddykins had the same defect as Harry. He suppressed a smirk.

"Uh, Dudley, I think you need glasses," said Harry, who couldn't help but let some of his humor slip into his voice. Dudley processed this for a moment before looking horrified.

"Do not!" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes you…oh nevermind. Look." He took up a piece of parchment and scrawled stupid in large letters across it. "Read this," he said, stepping backwards. Dudley squinted. And squinted. And it finally got to the point where he squinted so hard his eyes shut.

"You can't read it, can you?" Harry stated more than asked. Dudley shook his head. "Yep, you need glasses, Dudley". Dudley scowled.

"I don' want 'em! And….oh, yeah!" he ran out of the room. "Dad! Harry's done magic again!"

Oh, brother, thought Harry, bracing himself. Here we go.

Vernon came storming up the stairs. Harry could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I thought I told you that I will not have magic in. this. house!" he roared. Harry watched him idly, wondering what Hermione and Ron were going to send him besides balloons. He sure hoped it was a repellent charm. What he wouldn't give to keep Vernon's Nazi of a son out of his room.

He tuned back in to his uncle, who was exclaiming over the balloons, seemingly frustrated. Harry walked over to get a better view around Mount Vernon. He found his uncle's hands furiously stabbing at his balloons with a pin. Harry opened his mouth to protest, when he noticed that every time the needle struck the balloon, the metal bent as if made of rubber. He grinned, at the same time noticing the scene on Hermione's balloon changing.

"Wait," said Harry, attempting to stop his uncle for a minute. Vernon ignored him and kept right on stabbing, bead of sweat forming on his forehead. It took a few minutes, but eventually the big man ran out of energy and released the balloon, panting heavily. He rounded on Harry.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he wheezed.

"The balloon is trying to say something," said Harry, purposely misinterpreting his uncle's question. Vernon's mouth dropped open, and he turned to glare at the floating bane of his existence. He shrank away as he saw curling, black letters formed magically onto Hermione's balloon. It read:

Dear Vernon Dursley, the Diabolic Duo kindly asks you to keep your abnormally large rump out of dear Harry's business. These balloons are unpoppable, so go waste your energy on something useful, like beating up that lump of playdough you call a son. How is his tongue by the way? Benevolently yours, the Weasley Twins.

Harry watched as Uncle Vernon's face faded from stark white, to beet red, to finally settling on a greenish pink tinge. Harry backed up, fearing a jet of vomit might be headed his way. Vernon didn't even say anything to Harry, just turned suddenly and stormed out of the room, slamming and locking Harry's door behind him. Harry shrugged. It could've been worse. He lay back on his bed again, grinning slightly in remembrance of the scene. He smiled more broadly when he remembered Dudley's sight problem. Maybe, with glasses, Dudley would be marginally less stupid than he was currently. Maybe.

By the end of the day, though he had been stuck inside, Harry was thoroughly satisfied. An exhausted Hedwig, who had been ferrying presents to him all afternoon, snoozed lazily in her cage. Harry petted her softly before reaching down to grab another chocolate from the box Mrs. Weasley had sent him. Ron had gotten him a magical Polaroid camera, one that let the people in the pictures move about, and Hermione had gotten him Merlin's Quotations: Wizards Through the Ages, Eleventh Edition. Harry leafed through it, grinning at the first one, "In Paris they just stared at me when I spoke French; I never could get those idiots to understand their own language." He could relate to that. The number of times he tried to understand Fleur. The number of times he laughed as Ron failed miserably to converse with her. Harry smiled happily. Yes, this had indeed been a very excellent birthday.

Several days later, Harry found himself looking dolefully at his dilapidated balloons, which had started to sag. The magic was wearing off, and the scenes were suffering. Harry watched his simulated self divebomb over and over into the ground, the bludgers rolling about the ground like demented soccer balls. He winced as one rolled over his head. Ron's balloon was just as bad off. The flashing letters of "Happy Birthday Harry!" had deformed somehow to form "¿Have a Hairy Birthday?" It would've been humorous except for the unpoppable feature, which prevented him from discarding the balloons. Harry reached for his new camera, snapped a photo and wrote on the back, "A little help?" The Weasleys would know what to do.

Thanks for reading! Now be nice and leave a review--it's almost my birthday!

Love always,

TheEvilBanana