STORY TITLE: Why Didn't I Die when the Augurey Cried?
CHAPTER TITLE: Happy Birthday Harry
WORD COUNT: 5,184
DISCLAIMER: I do not own HARRY POTTER none of the characters are mine, unless I make up a random Auror and other characters to fit the story. Don't worry, you'll notice if they don't belong in the HARRY POTTER universe. The story line—meaning the plot, the chapters, words, and ideas are all mine. Enjoy!
RATING: M = MATURE CONTENT EVENTUALLY (A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN Harry and Draco—DON'T LIKE THEN DON'T READ—the story will also contain other pairings possibly of the slash nature, however I and still deciding.)
CHAPTER ONE:
"Oh, give it up Harry! This is a big night, and we all want you to be happy, BLOODY HELL, you're turning twenty-one!" Ron exclaims, slapping down two more glasses of Firewhiskey in front of the unruly looking man. Not only would they be celebrating the man's birthday, but the unbelievable closing of a hard case they had been on. Ron and Harry had been ordered to bring down a death eater who had been flitting around the world, trying to escape capture. Only when they had been running through Venice, Italy had Ron finally managed to get a binding charm around the man's feet.
They sit in a tiny bar they had been coming to regularly since they happened upon it during a stroll through Diagon Alley with an exuberant Hermione. They can hear the bell on the door ringing ever so often as more people come in, packing the warm room with cheery drunks. Harry takes a sip from his glass, watching the red hue slowly leak further into Ron's cheeks. Not wanting to be outdone, Harry finishes off another glass. "Who's going to be there?" Harry asks timidly, always having disliked large groups. The tri-wizard tournament had been hell from the beginning, all the people talking shit about him behind his back. The idea of being surrounded by people causes the hair on the back of his neck to rise, and the inability of knowing an escape route scares him. He closes his eyes briefly, trying to calm his racing heart. Hopefully, the alcohol will keep me from hyperventilating around my friends.
"Honestly, I don't know, I invited a few because they were at the Ministry in our department, but Hermione, George, Luna, and Neville invited a ton more." Ron chuckles as he sees his friend's discomfort. "Don't worry, after they sing to you, serve the cake and everyone gets to talk to you at least once, the party will get going, and they won't even remember why they're there after the booze gets cracked out." Harry is calmed slightly by the words, hoping that Ron is right, but knowing his unluckiness, someone he won't want to see will show up.
"Thanks Ron," Harry murmurs, sipping another drink.
"You're welcome mate," Ron replies, knowing that his scarred friend is not thanking him for the night, or the party, but for caring so much about him and sticking with him all these years.
The two have grown up considerably since the war; Ron now stands at about 6' 4" with a firmer build, but still the lanky frame from before. His red hair still glows like embers and his blue eyes may have even gotten considerably lighter.
Harry has filled out, growing until he is almost as tall as Ron is, probably a few inches shorter, but he doesn't care about height anymore. Quidditch toned his muscles, almost like a swimmer's build, allowing the muscles under his skin to be quite firm to the touch. Emerald irises gleam brightly from behind the same round glasses, light bags underneath attesting to many sleepless nights. His ebony hair falls in a mess of light curls, untamed and uninhibited by anything Potter tries to do to it; though being a tad bit longer, and having the ability to hang slightly in front of his eyes, his locks haven't changed much. Harry had filled out, his jaw sharpening, and the last of the baby fat leaving his form.
Unthinkingly, Harry reaches up to trace the light scar on his forehead, and then slides down his face to rub over his mouth. His five o' clock shadow scratches his hand pleasingly as it moves over his face. Oh yes, he had grown into a man since his years in Hogwarts, his appearance always evoking a hard and serious atmosphere from people now.
Ron stumbles back from the bar with four tequila shots, making Harry grin as he awaits the true beginning of their night.
/
"Are you sureyah need anotherrr one?" Harry slurs, getting another shot placed in front of him.
Ron opens his mouth to reply, but lets out a loud burp, which sends them both into fits of laughter. Harry consequently forgets what they were talking about, and tosses back the shot, enjoying the burn on the back of his throat.
An hour later and Ron is mumbling something about needing to get back to number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry assumes that is where they are hosting the party, and rolls his eyes. Leave it to Hermione to throw my birthday party in my own home. Harry tries to reassure Ron that they are leaving right now and won't be late, but they are too busy supporting each other to concentrate on anything else but walking. Ron continues mumbling about making it to the party on time, and Harry gets too sick of repeating himself and falls silent. He gets them out of Diagon Alley and to the muggle street, allowing them to be seen by those that are non-magical.
Harry hails a cab, unable to side-along apparate in their current intoxicated state. He gives the cab driver directions for the house next to Grimmauld Place, so used to no one knowing about the hidden magical house that resides between the oddly numbered 11 and 13 on either side. During the ride, Harry slumps against the window, enjoying the cold of the window against his cheek. Ron hums quietly, singing along to any song that comes on the radio. It takes them about twenty-five minutes to get home, but Harry soaks in every quiet minute before the true madhouse takes over. His vision is blurring and twisting, while the world doesn't seem to quit spinning. Smiling lightly, Harry runs another hand over his face.
The cab driver takes the money quietly, watching with interested eyes as the two of them stumble onto the sidewalk. Harry groans lightly as he tries to support Ron against a tree, the redhead buckling at the knees slightly. The ebony haired man quickly casts a spell to keep the man up, and glances behind him to see that the cab is just now pulling away.
He casts a muggle-repelling charm, not wanting any of them to see Grimmauld Place appearing out of nowhere. Harry waves his wand and watches the house grow in between the oddly numbered buildings on either side. Ron bursts out loudly with a rendition of Jennifer Warnes, (I've had) The Time Of My Life, "NOW I'VE HAD THE TIME OF MY LIFE, NO—I NEVER FELT LIKE THIS BEFORE—" Harry breaks off the drunken shouting with his loud laughing, the front door of his house opening to portray a disapproving Hermione Granger.
"Will you two please get in here before you wake up the whole neighborhood?" Hermione beckons, coming out of the dark doorway to help Harry with a stumbling Ron.
Before Harry can even ask himself why the lights are off, someone flicks the switch and a mass of people all squished in the front entry hallway and leading up the stairs are wishing him a Happy Birthday. Thankfully, when Harry had decided to move into his Godfather's house it had needed major renovations. Gathering the Weasley's help, he was able to use a spell to enlarge the inside of the house and many of the rooms. Now the entry way wasn't as narrow as when the order had been using it, Sirius and Regulas' floor that housed their rooms were left alone, and Harry moved onto the third floor where he made a moderately sized master bedroom with posh bathroom. Harry tended to take long baths in his claw foot tub or wash quickly in the shower with a rain head. As well, the kitchen's sidewall was pushed out further so the room wasn't so long and narrow, now it is almost a perfect square with warm colors to brighten the area and comfortable dining furniture. As well, Harry repainted most of the house so that it didn't feel like so much of a dungeon. He left all of the black family history where he found it (that included the room with the family tree and other places where things had been forged into the wall) not to mention he wasn't quite sure what was dark magic and what wasn't, he didn't need being transported to another time all because he wanted to move a mirror.
Thankfully, he made this changes, because as he looks around the enlarged entryway, he knows half of the people squished together, wouldn't have even fit before.
Smiling awkwardly, Harry moves through the crowd, led by Hermione, the determined party planner. Ron had been passed off into George's care, the two brothers talking happily, getting lost in the crowd somewhere. Harry greets everyone kindly, getting hugs and pats on the back and shoulder, but he is just happy to see that someone closed Mrs. Black's portrait curtain.
As if reading his mind Hermione turns to him, "Don't worry, I put a charm on it so it can't be opened, we don't need anything ruining tonight!" Her frown that had greeted them at the door is replaced with a nervous smile, and Harry is starting to relax.
It's the same old, same old. Hermione was never a drinker, even when they had Gryffindor parties she only had a drink or two, and Harry can understand her anxiety. As he walks into the living room, he can barely believe his eyes. To his left where his small wet bar had been, there is a mountain of beverages ranging from vodka, Firewhiskey, scotch, to butterbeer.
However, his eyes quickly slide to the right, where his couch—that had been in front of the fireplace—is now a small Mt. Everest piled high with gifts. Boxes wrapped in birthday paper flow and spill out in a two-foot radius around the couch, and Harry almost gives a giddy laugh. He had never had a big birthday party; sure, he had been happy for just about anything (his friends sending him things, Hagrid getting him cake). Honestly, that was all he needed, but the idea that they went through all this for him—and everyone here is a friend of his—opens a warm pit of sunshine in his stomach.
"This is almost too much Herm," Harry mumbles, pulling her into a one armed hug, people are gathering around the large living room, forming a circle around them. All at once they start singing happy birthday to him, drinks are getting passed around, people are waving at him.
Harry's overwhelmed for a moment, trying to soak in all the faces, in a blur he notes Luna, Neville, George, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Dean, Seamus, Hagrid, Cho, Ginny, Shacklebolt, Lavender, McGonagall, Oliver, —He is pulled in another direction, someone handing him a glass of more Firewhiskey, and he downs it without complaint.
Slowly his vision blurs even more and the night (or rather, morning) ends in darkness—
/
"Filthy mudbloods, how DARE you litter on the floor like that. If PUREBLOODS rightfully owned this house there would be no such muck coating the interior," the shrieking wakes Harry from his doze amid the pile of presents given to him. He groans loudly, feeling his head pound every few seconds. The ebony haired male sticks his head up out of the fortress of presents and glances around the living room. He notes a few people waking as well from the sound of Mrs. Black's yelling, while others are so far gone that they don't even look bothered by the ruckus. Hermione is draped over the love-seat diagonal to the couch, her blouse fully unbuttoned and skirt pulled almost all the way up her thighs. Oliver Wood clings to her, his arms securely around her waist. Harry smiles lightly, happy that she had finally found someone to fill Ron's spot after his sudden break up with her. He hadn't been able to explain himself at the time, but Harry isn't really bothered by it, knowing Ron, it was probably a good reason.
Shuffling to his feet, Harry decides to take care of the yelling problem, quickly making his way to the entry way and shutting the curtain over Mrs. Black's outraged face.
"Serves yah right, you old hag." Harry grumbles, deciding a fresh cup of coffee, this morning's newspaper, and then a hot shower would hit the spot.
The kitchen is littered with food, wrappers, empty trays that had once held appetizers, and equally empty pitchers of water, margaritas, mimosas, and coke. Ignoring the mess, he steps over the bodies passed out on the floor and sets the coffee pot to make him a steaming new bowl. Swiping the counter clear next to the coffee pot, he hoists himself up to sit on the edge and waits.
At just about the same time as he is taking a sip of his mug of freshly brewed coffee, Ron comes stumbling in, still half asleep and equally hung-over. "Hey Ron," Harry nearly whispers, grinning madly when the redhead swats a lazy hand at him.
Harry easily offers the man a mug of coffee and the bottle of hangover potion Hermione had brewed a few nights before and stocked the fridge with. Harry liked to mix his with the coffee since the potion tasted something like vomit.
Ron ignored the taste and swallowed it down quickly, visibly relaxing as the pain seeps out of his head. "Merlin! I haven't had that bad of a hangover since our end of O.W.L.S testing sixth year."
Harry nods, considering he remembered what happened all those years ago, but he can't even grasp anything but a few memories of last night. Explaining how drunk he had gotten.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" Harry questions, thinking back to the last thing he remembers. He was taking shots with Oliver Wood and George.
"Nah, even after the bar I took you too, everything starts getting really blurry." Ron chuckles lightly leaning on the counter opposite Harry. "Harry you got so many presents!" Ron shares in the joy with Harry, both of them sitting quietly in the kitchen as they hear the door periodically open and close.
"Did you see the booze mountain, there was almost nothing left this morning," George mumbles, wandering into the kitchen without a shirt on. Harry rolls his eyes suddenly remembering George grinding with almost everyone.
"I think between the three of us, we knocked quite a bit of the mountain down," Harry jokes, handing George an empty coffee mug, the man doesn't even ask for a hangover potion, and he barely even looks bothered by a headache or anything.
"Okay everyone! Get up!" Hermione scolds from the living room. Harry, Ron, and George all give each other a knowing look, each understanding that once Hermione was done clearing most everyone out, she would turn on them. None of them wanted to go around the house and pick anything up at the moment.
"Harry how 'bout we open some presents?" Ron suggests anything to get them out of clean up duty for another hour or two.
"Yeah, sounds like a good idea." George agrees, following the two of them into the living room. Oliver is slumped in the loveseat still, all the people that had been lying on the floor around the living room are gone, and Hermione's voice is echoing around the downstairs as she gives directions to hung-over and tired guests. Thankfully, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and any of the other more responsible adults went home early from the party, they hadn't seen any of the hard stuff going down.
Ron pushes Harry onto the only empty spot of the couch, and sits down in front of him on the floor. George sits next to Oliver on the loveseat, joking around with the sleepy man. Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean, Cho, Ginny, Charlie, Bill, and Fleur all slink into the room. Each in various states of dress and undress. Hermione wanders in with breakfast, Dobby and Kreacher following behind her with more trays of food and pitchers of orange juice and pumpkin juice floating behind them. Harry grins at her as he notices that she had fixed her clothing, Hermione's neat button down blouse fixed and tucked back in to her high-waisted pencil skirt that is now righted on her legs.
She blushes lightly, placing the food down on the clear coffee table. "Well Harry, it's now or never, might as well open some of your presents since everyone else is gone." George doesn't get up from the love seat, so Hermione places herself delicately on Oliver's lap.
Harry looks around helplessly, unsure of where to start on all the presents. Ron tosses the man one that had been near his own foot, deciding it was better to start somewhere. "There you go Harry, open that one, it's from me," Bill remarks, leaning against the wall next to the love seat.
The ebony-locked man rips into the tiny box smiling when he opens the bland cardboard box to find an ornate silver ring lying atop a small pillow. Bill had always been the one traveling all over the world, exploring wonderful places and finding his own eccentric sense of fashion—albeit a cool one. Now Harry can't help but smile as he pulls out the ring and slips it onto his left ring finger. Of course, he doesn't have a crush on Bill, and placing it on that exact finger where, normally a wedding ring would reside, could be considered odd, but after his break-up with Ginny and the sad excuse for dating afterwards, it's more of a promise to himself. More so, when he notes the phoenix depicted on the silver band, a trail of fire ringing the circle of metal. Phoenix's represent rebirth and Harry views his new age as a completely new beginning.
"This is wicked Bill…thanks!" Harry murmurs, admiring it for a few more moments before Ron leans closer to get a better look.
"Damn Bill, why don't you bring me cool stuff like that?" Ron grumbles good naturedly, shooting his older brother a broad grin.
"Because you're not cool enough to wear it," Bill jokes back, his sharp canines showing through his grin. Fleur smacks him playfully on the arm, wrapping her dainty hands around the man's waist.
"Ouch bro," Ron fakes hurt.
"Here Harry open mine next!" Cho exclaims, stepping forward to grab a shiny package off the pile.
"Sure…Cho," Harry replies awkwardly, not really sure why she had been one of the ones to stay. He receives the gift with a gracious smile, opening the package a little less rapidly. Inside is a large book of all the famous Quidditch stars for the last century. Harry thanks her kindly, having wanted this book to add to his set of the other centuries.
Harry opens package after package, George got him some of the newest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products that aren't even on the shelf yet (including a basic blaze box, a rocket in case Harry ever needs one), Ginny got him a new pair of Quidditch gloves since his last pair were practically frayed off his hands. Neville got Harry a rare magical version of a Venus Fly Trap that survives longer and eats anything from cockroaches to butterflies. Luna gave Harry a special pair of glasses that are able to track magical signatures as long as the person had walked there in the last two hours. Seamus and Dean chipped in together to get him the next Quidditch cup tickets (two of them). Fleur, oddly enough, got him something; a magical cologne that changed to fit perfectly with someone's body type and enhance their natural smell in different ways. Charlie got Harry a miniature Hungarian Horntail dragon, much like the one Harry pulled out of the bag during the Triwizard Tournament (however, this one had taken a much better liking to Harry than the other one). Oliver got tickets for Harry to his next Quidditch game, so Harry could come watch the game and then hang out afterwards with the team in the dressing room. Not only did he get these wonderful things, but Harry is reduced to blushing quite a few times as he opens gifts from random girls who sent him edible panties, love potion tainted chocolate, condoms, and the new lube out on the market by the Weasley's who has decided to take the idea of The Elixir of Life and make a parody of it. Now they were not only selling little bottles of love potion and gag gifts (not to mention the whole ADULT section in the back of the store), but a surprisingly popular lube called The Elixir of Life. Harry chuckles lightly as he picks up the large glass bottle out of the shiny bag it had been placed in.
Of course, due to its popularity the price had sky rocketed thanks to the demand for it. Harry's eyes nearly bug as he does the math in his head for the large glass bottle of the lube, "damn the girl nearly spent one-hundred dollars!" George had tweaked the lube to make it magical, now who ever used it, them and their partner were able to feel the most insane tingling all over their system. While not only making it even more pleasurable for both people, it smells and tastes nice and is a magical alternative to condoms.
"Bloody hell, she wants you to use that on her!" Seamus exclaims eyeing up the large bottle. Harry couldn't help but run his hands over the pleasing shape of the bottle, he had made sure that the bottle was crown shaped, with the tallest cross shape being the stopper for the bottle. The sides are lined with a painted gold metal and filled with glass to keep the contents in.
/
Everyone entertained themselves with food, talking, and light teasing while Harry opened gift after gift, slowly but surely making his way through the massive pile. Ron draws Harry's attention when the redhead perks up at a gift Harry has pulled into his lap. "Those two are from me and Herm, we chipped in for it." Ron explains, glancing between Hermione and Harry with excitement.
Even Hermione, who is usually the most calm, looks excited for Harry's reaction. He reaches for the small rectangular object about the size of a book, and knowing Hermione, it probably is one. Harry rips off the paper, rolling his eyes lovingly as he reads the title of the book aloud, "Potion Brewing for even the most troubled Aurors. Thanks Herm, you know how much trouble I went through to certify to be an Auror, and my potion brewing is STILL awful!"
"Honestly Harry, I think you're just exceptionally bad at it—"
"Come on Harry, get on with it!" Ron cuts off Hermione, eagerly leaning forward as Harry starts pulling the wrapping paper of a long rectangular object. Harry quirks an eyebrow, wondering what to possibly expect as everyone seems to be highly excited for his reaction.
Anti-climatic is when Harry pulls off the paper to find a nondescript white box, but chuckling lightly he persists and opens one end of the long box. His jaw must have detached and fell on the floor, because suddenly he didn't have any control over his facial expressions. Inside the box was the newest Firebolt out on the market, the Firebolt 2.0. Ever since the Whomping Willow had wrecked his first Firebolt, his replacement broom hadn't been the same. Not to mention, he got considerably busy for quite a while and the idea of getting another Firebolt just flew right out of his mind.
Hermione looks about ready to burst into tears at his reaction, Ron grinning broadly from his spot on the floor.
"So, whaddya think mate?" He questions happily, already knowing how giddy the ebony-haired man must feel.
"…It's…too amazing for words—Thanks guys!...Thanks," Harry murmurs appreciatively, albeit a bit awkward.
"Oh and our other present to you is that we put up a spell on the house to record everything that happened last night, you'll be able to view it at any time you wish, like a constant memory of your twenty-first birthday." Hermione explains, blushing lightly at the warm, amazed smile Harry is giving her.
"I don't know what to say…" Harry had never been good with words, and now they are tripping him up even more.
"None needed bud," Ron mumbles, awkwardly trying to handle the emotion choking them all as well. "Well, Harry might as well finish off the presents with that last one on the side table over there." The redhead changes the topic swiftly, pointing towards the large wooden box sitting on the end table on the right side of the couch. This looks to be the last present, and Harry breathes a sigh of relief, his fingers almost to the point of bleeding with all the paper cuts littering his hands. However, he swiftly walks around the wooden box and frowns.
"How do I open it?" Harry questions, looking around the room to see if anyone knew who had given him the strange object.
They shrug lightly, everyone suddenly moving closer to get a good look at the mysterious box.
"There doesn't look to be any sort of handles or latches. Just this crisscrossing crochet wooden cube pattern." There are several tiny gaps between the three-inch squares on the box, however none of them allows him to peak in and possibly see the object on the inside. He runs his fingers over the fine wood, tracing the pattern along the side, and his action causes the box to suddenly shudder. Harry withdraws his fingers, watching with fascination as the box withdraws into itself, systematically breaking down from the top and sinking down to the bottom cube. It takes Harry a moment to tear his eyes away from the now unmoving three-inch cube left on the table. It is the only thing left of the box that had been four feet tall and three feet wide.
"Blimey…" Ron breaths throatily, causing Harry to glance towards the redhead and follow his line of sight. What the box had been holding now rests on the table elegantly. His emerald eyes widen slightly, tracing the figure of a likewise, emerald bird. "…that's an Augurey Harry!" Ron mutters, taking a big step back.
"A what?" Harry questions dumbly, being the only one in the group to take a step forward. The bird regards him lightly, preening its feathers with cold precision. It rests atop a gold stand ornately decorated with ancient rune symbols. He blindly reaches out to stroke the feathers, watching silently as the bird processes the movement and reaches out to nibble experimentally at Harry's fingers. Finding no food there, the Augurey resumes preening itself. Harry strokes the green and black feathers adorning the spine of the magnificent creature.
"It's a bird that legend has it's mournful cry foretells death to any who hear. Because of that, people have a natural aversion to it." Hermione supplies casually, but the worry is building in her eyes. George steps forward, reaching out to touch the bird as well, but it snaps at his fingers, causing the redhead to curse and give a slight chuckle.
"It looks like you have another admirer Harry," George jokes unwilling to try again.
"Does anyone know who gave this to him?" Hermione asks thoughtfully, looking around at the dumb-founded faces.
"It arrived with the other presents in the bottomless bag we stuck them in to transport them over here." Luna supplies helpfully. "Before that people were just randomly dropping them off at Ron's desk at the ministry, at your desk Hermione, at Hogwarts with Neville, and so on."
Harry moves closer to the bird, fingering the tiny paper tag tied loosely around the bird's leg. He flips it over, smirking lightly as he notes the elegant handwriting, Happy Birthday Chosen One.
It could be any number of people with a grudge against him, an Augurey given as a gift to most people would be taken as an insult, but Harry doesn't think that way. The bird easily personifies the man; people had put him on a pedestal and then refused to come near him for fear of dying.
"I want to keep him," Harry states absently, but the conviction in his voice leaves no room for questions.
Hermione looks about ready to complain, not understanding why Harry would want to keep something that is so closely associated to death, but then her face falls.
Harry had died, if for a short period of time, doesn't change the fact that he had seen things no one else would ever be able to understand. "At least have him checked over for dangerous spells," she concedes.
Hermione glances over her excited friend, having grown up a lot since their time in Hogwarts she watches him with different eyes, the eyes that had seen pure grief. Instead of the untamed curls that had caused her hair to be so frizzy, a magical shampoo turned them into soft wisps of curls that rest across her forehead and over her shoulders.
Harry shoots her a calm grin, but she can still see that devastation lurking at the corner of his eyes. He has teetered on the edge of sanity ever since the war, but she and Ron have never said anything. They know he wakes up every night screaming, afraid someone has come to kill him.
"Happy Birthday Harry," She murmurs with a touch of melancholy. The ebony haired man barely even notes her tone as he again runs his fingers along the bird's spine.
/
"What should I name you?" Harry whispers towards the bird as he lies on his bed. He immediately set up the perch near the window so that the bird might fly in and out at will, but so far, it had just continued to stare at Harry as if waiting for something. Hermione had taken the Augurey to the Ministry of Magic and had it thoroughly tested for dark magic, but nothing was flagged, and so the bird was returned to Harry, who received it happily.
The wind whistles in through the open window, and the Augurey unfolds it's large wings to feel the air rushing through his feathers.
"How about Bris? It's Norwegian for Breeze…" Harry mumbles towards the bird. It raises it's head sharply, craning to give Harry a serious look. "What? You like Bris?" The Augurey opens it's beak suddenly, giving a light musical squawk. "Bris it is then." Harry rolls onto his side, facing the magnificent bird framed by the moonlight coming in through the open window. His eyelids droop slightly as Bris opens his beak again and starts singing a tune Harry had never heard before. The tune is beautiful, floating through the air like magic. With a sigh, the golden boy drops into a restful sleep.
WOW, I am sorry for how long this is! I meant it to be shorter, but I had to get everything in that I needed to.
Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter, it's setting up for a lot of things in the future, so bear with me if you don't quite understand some of the gifts or the reason I decided to give Harry a magical bird (that by the way DOES exist in the Harry Potter universe!).
HERE IS A PICTURE OF THE LUBE, IMAGINE THERE IS A GLASS STRUCTURE ON THE INSIDE TO KEEP THE LUBE IN:
(TAKE ALLLLLL THE SPACES OUT)
http : / instring . com / wp-content / uploads / 2009 / 06 / british-crown-most-expensive-perfume-in-the-world . jpg
I did not make up the Augurey, nor did I make up the title, which was actually a book written by a wizard. However, since there is not much known about the Augurey, I'm taking some creative liberties with the animal, so bear with me. :)
Also, sorry if it's confusing for Harry referring to the Weasleys in the plural form when talking about Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Harry just doesn't think of only George for that shop, even though Fred is dead. So, he will continue to refer to them in the plural when talking about the store.
Uhm…OH, yeah so basically I am writing this story in a weird way. I took all the letters of the alphabet and then went to the Harry Potter Wiki and hit the shuffle button and wrote down all the words for the letters that came up. I then picked a random letter generator and it picked which letter I should start the story with. (It happened to be F: Firewhiskey) Anyway, that is how I am doing this story.
HERE ARE ALL THE LETTERS:
A / Auror
B / Basic Blaze Box (made by the Weasleys)
C / Cauldron cakes (a sweet)
D / Daily Prophet (the newspaper)
E / Elixir of life (the elixir made from the sorcerer's stone, but I'm changing it into a parody which is a brand of lube made by the Weasleys)
F / Firewhiskey
G / Greenhouse
H / Healing spell
I / Inferius (the dead bodies in the water from the sixth book)
J / July 31 (Harry Potter's B-day)
K / King's Cross Station
L / Love
M / Marauder's Map
N / Nonverbal Spells
O / Owl Shop
P / Pepperup Potion
Q / Quidditch
R / Revealer (a bright red eraser that reveals hidden ink)
S / Solution 125 (not quite sure what I'm going to do with this, might make it into a love potion)
T / Twelve (12) Grimmauld Place
U / (Gregory's) Unctuous Unction (potion that makes the drinker believe that whomever gave it to them is their best friend)
V / Veritaserum
W / Wizard's Chess
(I omitted X, Y, Z because I couldn't find anything for them, but if you have suggestions I am all ears!)
COMMENTS ARE WONDERFUL.
-Alex