Chapter 2: A Very Happy Birthday

It had been a long day.

Long and Lonely.

Something about it being a matter of hours until his fifteenth birthday made time stretch, isolation dragging on and on.

As the shadows darkened, Harry's mood darkened as well, thoughts turning somber and cold.

For as long as he could remember, he had stayed up until midnight on his birthday. He remembered long nights in his cupboard, staring at the tiny numbers on his too-big watch, waiting for another year to pass. Sometimes, he had wished that, as a birthday gift, someone would come for him.

He had ached for someone, anyone, to love him.

Those feelings were less intense than they'd been when he was young, but they were still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

In some ways, he was very different from that boy in the cupboard. In other, truer, ways he was much the same. On days like birthdays and holidays, Harry felt the sting of being an orphan at its sharpest. These were the days that were meant to be filled with the very things he didn't have.

Brushing away his depressing thoughts, Harry turned back to the Ancient Runes notes he'd been reading, trying to understand the advantages of using Limestone in the creation of Warding Runes. Hermione's explanation was terribly long, and Harry kept getting lost in the weeds of her wordiness.

Hermione took the most detailed notes Harry had ever seen. Sometimes he wondered if she was even human. She seemed to be able to move her quill quicker and more neatly than a human being should've been able to.

He finally flipped to the last page of the notes, letting out a sigh of relief. This topic had been a slog to get through.

He was about to set the stack of parchment aside when he noticed that she'd left him a message. In the margin at the very bottom of the page were the words "Happy Reading, Harry!" and a tiny drawing of a Snitch.

Harry stared at the note, suddenly overcome by a wave of fondness for his friend.

Things may be terrible here on Privet Drive, but he had friends. He had amazing friends.

It was at that very moment that the clock struck midnight, his still-broken watch silent for the first time in years.

A sudden movement caught Harry's eye, drawing his attention to the window. He could just make out a dark shape on the horizon, watching as it zoomed through the trees.

He spotted a flash of white, a smile splitting his face as he realized that his first friend was flying back to him.

Sure enough, Hedwig landed on his window sill. She preened as he opened the window and drew her inside, gently stroking her silky head.

Before he could close the window, he noticed the other owls that had accompanied Hedwig. Pig, who appeared tiny next to the package he was carrying, came racing into the room like a feathery bullet, followed more sedately by two generic barn owls.

How the owls had known to come right at midnight and all together, Harry would never know. If he had to guess, he would say it was magic.

He hurried to untie the packages from each of the birds. The two barn owls simply took drinks from Hedwig's water dish before flying back the way they had come. Pig, on the other hand, had taken to zooming about Harry's room like a demented Snitch. Harry, not wanting to wake the Dursleys, had no choice but to grab the tiny bird as if he really were a Snitch. Pig was not at all fazed by being grabbed. In fact, it seemed to further delight him. Harry, who thought the bird might be clinically insane, simply tossed Pig out his window. The tiny creature quickly gained his bearings, hooting gleefully before disappearing into the night.

After lovingly stroking Hedwig's head in thanks, Harry turned to his pile of gifts. He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling the first package into his lap. It was rectangular but quite tall. It felt like books. Harry couldn't help but grin. Books were just what he needed. He immediately recognized Sirius' handwriting on the envelope, hurrying to open it.

Harry,

I found these notebooks when I was going through some old stuff. These are all the notes your father took while we were trying to become Animagi. Since he was the Transfiguration whiz, he's the one who wrote everything down. I thought you might enjoy them. Since it's illegal and stupidly dangerous to try to become an unregistered Animagus, I know you won't do it. That being said, if you find yourself with any hypothetical questions about hypothetically learning to transform, you can ask me, hypothetically (wink wink).

Happy Birthday,

Snuffles

Harry snorted at Sirius' serious lack of subtlety. Of course he wanted to become an Animagus! It was a link to both his father and Sirius, and it would probably be a great trick to have up his sleeve when he faced Voldemort again.

He reverently unwrapped the gift, staring at the unfamiliar handwriting on the notebooks, knowing that it was his father's.

For a moment, Harry could swear his heart stopped.

His father had held these books.

His father had written these words.

Shaking off his reverie, Harry set the stack of notebooks aside to devour later.

He moved on to the next package, gently pulling a letter off the brown paper wrappings. He recognized the handwriting on the envelope immediately, remembering it from his Defense assignments in third year. This present was from Professor Lupin.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! First, let me apologize for my lack of communication over the past year. I was out of the country trying to sway the Werewolf packs away from the influence of Voldemort. Unfortunately, this left me in a position where I was not able to write freely. Now that I have returned, I want to help you in any way I can. I loved getting to know you in the year I taught you, and I would like to continue to be a friend to you if you'll let me.

I found this book when I was cleaning out an old trunk. It belonged to your mother. She liked to write advice and new ideas for Potions in the margins of her books. I thought you might enjoy learning from her. This book saved my life during OWLs. That's why she gave it to me. I know she would want you to have it. Use it well.

All my best,

Remus

Harry felt a smile split his face as he read the letter. He was ridiculously glad that his professor had simply been unable to write. Harry had feared that Remus had seen the same thing in him that the Dursleys had, realizing that he wasn't worth knowing.

Harry tore the wrappings off the book, staring in awe at the worn cover of the Potions book. He touched the cover reverently, wondering how many times his Mother had touched this very same spot.

It was like being back in front of the Mirror of Erised, ghostly images flickering in his head. He could almost see the reflection of his family floating in the air before him, nearly reaching out to touch his Mother's face before remembering that they were just a dream.

He shook his head to clear away the grief, shaking away the cloying sadness of the past.

He turned to the next parcel, smiling at the note that was very obviously from Hermione.

Harry,

I hope your summer is going alright. I worry about you left alone with your relatives. At least you have a lot of time to do your summer homework. Have you read my notes yet? I hope they have enough detail for you. Sometimes I just can't write everything down in time. Anyway, if you like Arithmancy, you'll love this book. It's a bit advanced, but I know you're smarter than you let on. I hope to see you soon.

Happy Birthday,

Hermione

Typical Hermione. As if her notes weren't the most detailed notes in the history of Hogwarts.

He carefully unwrapped the book. It was Making Your Own Magic: An Introduction to Spell-Crafting. Harry beamed at the book. This was exactly what he needed.

The next gift was weirdly lumpy. The scrawled note on top practically screamed Ron.

Harry,

How are you, mate? Are the muggles treating you alright? I know Hermione's sending you a book, so I figured you could use something fun for a change. Happy Birthday!

Cheers,

Ron

P.S: George included his gift in with mine. Be careful, it might explode.

Harry chuckled at Ron's attitude, wishing his friend could be here with him.

He opened the package to reveal a hearty collection of Wizarding Candy: Bertie Bott's, Chocolate Frogs, and Sugar Quills.

The gift was simple, but considering the summer he'd had, food was probably the best present he could receive.

Nestled in the pile of candy was a much smaller box which Harry assumed was the aforementioned gift from George.

For some reason, he got a weird fluttery feeling in his chest at the idea that George had gotten him a gift.

He carefully opened the package, picking up the tiny scrap of paper inside.

Harry,

I saw this and thought of you.

Happy Birthday,

George.

Harry moved the note aside to reveal a small green stone. It was a simple oval shape, fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand, cold and smooth to the touch. A tiny pamphlet underneath the stone proclaimed it to be a Stone of Serenity. Harry read that these stones were imbued with a type of calming magic. When squeezed, they released scents that the person in question found comforting.

Harry squeezed the stone, eyes widening in shock as he was engulfed in the smell of treacle tart, broomstick polish, and what he thought might be the smell of the sky.

It did indeed calm him down, easing the tension in his chest.

In his fascination with the stone's magic, Harry never noticed that the stone was the exact same shade of green as his eyes. It was a match so perfect, so precise, that it could only have been found by someone who had spent quite a bit of time staring at his eyes, committing their color to memory.

He set the gift carefully on his desk, feeling a rush of gratitude toward everyone who put up with him.

After delicately placing his gifts into the space under the loose floorboard, Harry settled into bed, the green stone gripped tightly in his hand.

With the scents of calm surrounding him, Harry slept through the night for the first time that summer.