He couldn't stop thinking about the Aeons that whole day. He did his chores absentmindedly, although well enough that Aunt Petunia only yelled at him twice; he had been meaning to start researching for his History of Magic essay, but ended up staring into space, reliving the strange, surreal conversation with Shiva and Quetzalcoatl in the garden over and over again.
He wanted to go to sleep, wanted to go back to the garden. But even though he changed into his pajamas especially early, and lay down in bed, he couldn't drop off to sleep. It was his fifteenth birthday (though it had been spent mostly catering to the Dursleys), after all, and thus he stayed awake, waiting for his friends' owls. Even when he was trying not to.
So he lay, wide-eyed and wakeful, on his bed, absently counting the cracks in the ceiling until he heard the scritch-scritch of owl talons on his window. He leapt up and ran to his window, hurriedly opening it to let the owls in.
He saw Hedwig, his snowy owl, swoop inside with a package, followed by tiny excitable Pigwidgeon, and then by three more owls of varying size and color, all bearing packages. He quickly took the packages from the owls; two of them flew off immediately after. When he had given the rest of them a drink of water and an owl treat each, they left, leaving only Hedwig hooting contentedly in her cage.
He paused to fondly ruffle Hedwig's white feathers before turning to the packages on his bed. He opened what Hedwig had been bearing first. It was a letter from Hermione – written, somewhat oddly, on perfectly normal Muggle paper and in ballpoint pen rather than parchment and quill.
Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday! Hedwig, as usual, showed up today to remind me to send you your birthday present. I've become used to her serving as transportation for my birthday presents, you know?
You know – and you're the only one, since I'm not speaking to Ron right now, that insufferable git – that Victor invited me to Bulgaria to visit and that I didn't go, right? Well, my parents and I have gone abroad anyway, just not to Bulgaria. We've gone to Hawaii for our trip! It's gorgeous here, and the magic is quite different from ours; I found the local wizard enclave here, and I've picked up some really interesting books about how all their magic ties into nature…
The letter then proceeded – at great length – to explain the exact workings of the Hawaiian spells. Harry skimmed through quickly, drawing up short when he came across a most startling line.
And guess what! I'm learning to surf, too!
Harry goggled at that, trying to imagine his best friend, bookworm Hermione, surfing.
I hope you like your present. If you can believe it, I found it on the beach. Of course it was tarnished and dirty from the sand and seawater, but I brought it to an artificer here and he restored it. It's enchanted in some way, we ascertained that, but aside from knowing it's an enchantment of a protective nature, I don't know what it does. I hope you like it.
Hermione
Harry, his interest piqued, picked up the small brown package Hedwig had brought him and ripped the wrapping paper off. He lifted the lid of the box and gasped in sheer shock and pleasure as he beheld Hermione's gift to him. Nestled within a mass of white tissue-paper was a silver armguard. He lifted the hollow cylinder up, turning it over in his hands, examining it. The armguard was surprisingly light, practically weightless as he held it. The silver metal was odd, gleaming and smooth but peculiarly non-reflective. A small orb was inset into the metal, glimmering with shifting hues of blue, white and gold.
A brief effort made the armguard hinge open; Harry clicked it closed around his right arm. There was no sign of a seam. Harry moved his arm around experimentally, gauging how it felt. The armguard covered his right forearm from just above the wrist to below his elbow, and it felt like…like absolutely nothing. If he didn't know better, he'd've sworn that he had nothing on his arm.
It felt comfortable, not at all heavy or unbreathing like he'd expect armor to be, so he left it on as he moved onto the next package.
To his slight disappointment (but of course, he thought to himself hastily, anything from the Weasleys was good) this thin little packet contained nothing but chatty letters from nearly one-half of the Weasley family. In Ron's letter, he explained that since Errol was nearing the age where all good owls go to that big bird-house in the sky, and since Pig could only carry so much, they decided to just go with the letters. The presents, he said, would be given to him when next they met, so did he want to arrange to meet at Diagon Alley? Then he proceeded to rant about Hermione and the impropriety of her going to Bulgaria to visit with Victor. Harry could almost feel a headache coming on, as if he was listening to Ron actually sputter his indignation and not just reading the angrily-scribbled words on the parchment.
He'd promised Hermione not to tell – after all, she could have kept him in the dark too – but at times like this it was so tempting to scream at Ron 'she hasn't gone to Bulgaria, you prat, so stop complaining about it already!' It would probably be even worse when they saw each other face-to-face, and so despite how much he missed Ron and he did want those presents, Harry felt a little apprehension about meeting up with his red-haired friend.
There were other letters too, of course – a brief but surprisingly witty epistle from Ginny, greeting him a happy birthday. Harry laughed at the short story she penned about the twins and Percy and a dozen bespelled Chocolate Frogs.
The twins themselves sent Harry a long, lively letter. They told him about what they had done with the thousand Galleons he'd given them, explaining that since he was a primary partner in the venture, he was entitled to know what they were doing, after all. So Harry laughed over Cheering Chocolates (forced the eater to do cheers about the first thing they saw, complete with cheerleader moves and clothes transfigured to cheerleader outfits), the Incredible Singing Wand, Hula Hoops (bracelets charmed to make the wearer break into dance when someone said Hula) and more.
There was one from Mrs Weasley, a very motherly-sounding letter full of 'dears' and reminders of proper hygiene. There was one, surprisingly, from Charlie Weasley, just a short 'happy birthday and best wishes' on a card decorated with little dragons.
And then onto the next package. It had no letter, just a small card tied onto it that said, 'From a friend.' Harry stared at it, more than a trifle bemused. Should he open it? What if it were from Voldemort? But then, Dumbledore had explained to him that he had so many wards on his house that nothing, animal, vegetable or mineral, could enter with any ill-will towards him in their soul.
'Except the Dursleys – they live here already.'
So the present was probably safe – and he had gotten some of his most prized possessions anonymously – the Firebolt and the Invisibility Cloak came to mind. Perhaps it was from Dumbledore, or Sirius, or one of his other friends who couldn't risk – at the moment – signing their name…He opened the box inside the wrapping. The thin gift-wrap crinkled as he tore it off, tossed carelessly aside in favor of the shallow white box within its folds. He lifted the lid off…
And stared at the jacket lying neatly-folded inside the box. He lifted the garment out of the box, holding it by the collar. After the mysterious card and Hermione's preceding gift, somehow he had been expecting something a little more…magical.
It was nothing more, nothing less, than a perfectly Muggle jacket – black leather, thin almost like cloth. Oh well, it was a very nice jacket – warm too, as Harry confirmed when he pulled it on. Though he'd hardly seen jackets in the wizarding world, robes and cloaks being preferred, he (Muggle-raised after all) found a jacket more convenient. It was also nice to have a piece of clothing that fit him.
Still wearing the jacket, he took another package. This one was from Hogwarts – Harry glanced over the traditional welcoming letter and list of supplies, laying aside the list for later use at Diagon Alley. He noted with some surprise that there were several extra scrolls and small wrapped items in the package he'd been sent. There was, of course, the usual letter of welcome from Hogwarts, his list of school supplies, and his ticket for the Hogwarts express.
There was a letter from Hagrid, greeting him a happy birthday and best wishes. He said he was abroad at the moment, and was therefore sending his letter care of Headmaster Dumbledore – Harry suspected he was on a goodwill mission to the giants.
Hagrid had sent Harry a small flute, made of some hard shiny wood. Harry wanted to try it out – he'd learnt how to play the recorder in Muggle school, and this didn't look much different – but was afraid of awakening the Dursleys. He set it aside to play with later.
There was a scroll, surprisingly, from Professor Flitwick – a note congratulating him on his adept use of various charms and curses during the Triwizard Tournament.
'Your Accio charm' penned the diminutive head of Ravenclaw House, 'is one of the best executed I've ever seen. The speed with which your summoned materials come to you is nothing short of remarkable. And as for your dueling skills – they are excellent. I sincerely hope you will continue in this vein, for if you do you shall easily equal your mother – who was one of my best students, and a pleasure to teach. I look forward to seeing your progress in my class next term.'
Harry flushed with pleasure upon reading the scroll. He resolved to go over his Charms homework and double-check it and make sure it was one of the best homework assignments he'd ever turned in. Was this how Hermione felt when teachers complimented her all the time? Maybe there was something to be said about applying yourself wholeheartedly to study.
The Charms teacher had even sent him a present – a book on Charms, somewhat unsurprisingly. This book, however, specialized in charms used in Dueling, and was much more interesting than Harry's regular Charms textbook.
There was an unsigned scroll (although Harry knew very well it was from Dumbledore, since it was just like the note from Harry's first year, when he'd been given his father's Invisibility Cloak) This one also wished him a happy birthday, and was attached to a package which Harry found contained several packages of sweets – both wizarding and Muggle candy. There was also, oddly enough, a small silver key. Harry picked it up and squinted at it. He noticed that a new block of writing slowly appeared on the scroll when he picked up the key. The new text read:
That is a key to Vault 5 at Gringott's. Your father had more than one vault – he just chose not to rely on his inheritance and to build up his own fortune.Part of that fortune he placed in a trust-fund for you, which is in the vault you already have access to. I believe you are mature enough to see what other legacies your father left you. I advise you not to tell anyone of this. Be well, Harry.
Harry gaped. Another vault? And what did he mean, 'other legacies'?
He came to the final scroll. As he unrolled it, he wondered who it was from. Professor McGonagall, maybe?
It was from Professor McGonagall, but it wasn't to greet him a 'happy birthday'. She was writing in her capacity as Deputy Headmistress to tell him that…
"I've been selected as a prefect?" Harry whispered in complete shock. Still not fully registering it, he reread the parchment with the Hogwarts crest prominent at the top.
Dear Mr. Potter,
It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to serve as a prefect for your house, Gryffindor. You have been considered for this position due to your repeated demonstrations of bravery, resourcefulness and honor. I hope that you will bear the responsibility and privilege of being a prefect with dignity and good comportment.
Due to extenuating circumstances, the duties and privileges of prefects have been modified this year. Therefore, there will be a general prefect meeting to discuss certain changes in protocol. As a new prefect, you will be required to arrive an hour before the others in order to receive orientation. Please be at the Leaky Cauldron at 10:00 AM on August 24. You will be met there by this year's Head Boy and Girl, who will take you and your fellow new prefects to Hogwarts for the meeting.
You are recommended not to purchase school supplies until you have attended the meeting.
Sincerely yours,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Head of Gryffindor House
Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts
Harry could feel his jaw hanging open in sheer shock. Were they completely mad? He was Harry Potter, for crying out loud! He was the one who lost his House a hundred-and-fifty points at a go; he was the one who broke school rules right and left; he wasn't even top of his class! Still, his father had apparently broken more rules than he did, and he'd become Head Boy…
He shook his head. He didn't want to admit it, but the letter brought him a feeling of happiness just like Professor Flitwick's had. He was…proud…of himself. Wonder what Sirius would say if he knew?
Sirius! Harry remembered the last package. Was it from Sirius? He pounced on the package still lying atop his bed, putting the letter telling him of his new status as prefect on top of his list of school supplies.
He unrolled the parchment, reading with unabashed delight his godfather's words.
Hey there pup!
Harry thought about that for a moment, a grin slowly coming to his face. Not counting 'the Boy-Who-Lived' (which Harry didn't) he'd never had a nickname in his life. He rather thought he liked this one.
I can't believe it's your fifteenth birthday already. I was there for your first one, you know – me and Prongs, pacing the delivery room on opposite circuits. When they came to tell us Lils had given birth, they didn't know exactly who to give the news to until Prongs gave out a whoop that startled everyone in the same, I dunno, the same shire? He then jumped up in the air and raced down the hall past some astonished nurses. Of course, I was two steps behind.
Harry grinned again, though this one was a little tinged with wistfulness. A dad…
I want to say I'm very proud of you, Harry. You've taken the past year's events very well, and I don't know if anyone could have been as composed and clear-headed as you in that situation.
I wish I could be with you, Harry, that I could really act like the godfather your dad meant me to be – me and you in our own place, and ol' Moony would room with us too, of course. I'm across the Channel right now. I'll try to go back as soon as possible, but you know it would be a little difficult.
Until I get there, take this birthday present as a sign that I miss you.
Yours affectionately,
Snuffles
Harry sniffed a little bit, trying not to admit to himself that he, a fifteen-year-old boy who had faced off to Dark Lords and minions and very nasty school-rivals, was crying.
He looked at the small box that had come with the scroll. It was a pale blue, and could be held easily within the palm of his hand. He hefted its weight in his palm, shaking it a little and trying to figure it out. Finally, consumed by curiosity, he opened it.
The box held within it a small figurine of a stag. The note inside the box explained that the figurine was made of erihalcon – a gold-colored element found only in the South American region. Unlike its much more expensive cousin, orihalcon, erihalcon did not have any rare or particularly formidable abilities like magic-focusing or Inner-Sight-enhancing. It did, however, have the most convenient ability to store pictures and such – sort of like the wizarding world's equivalent of a digital camera. All Harry had to do, it was explained, was hold the figurine in his hand and cast the Graphis spell while looking at whatever he wanted to 'snapshot'. To see the pictures, he had to hold the figurine and cast Revelasio.What if Sirius had already put some pictures in? Harry squeezed the erihalcon stag and said, "Revelasio!" He knew that something that just activated an existing enchantment wasn't monitored by the Ministry – if they did, they'd be forever going out to arrest young witches and wizards who flew brooms or played wizard chess or Exploding Snap.
The stag's eyes glowed, and Harry jumped slightly as beams of multi-colored light shot out from them. They formed a picture in the air, like a reel projecting onto a movie screen – only there was no screen. And for the rest of the night, Harry sat in his room and looked at the dozens of photos of the Marauders in their Hogwarts years that Sirius had loaded into the stag-figurine.
***
The next day he didn't regret it (much) even if his eyes did keep drooping closed. He slogged through his chores, eating his meals mechanically. He completed mowing the lawn – his last chore – in record time despite his tiredness and went straight to bed. He was asleep and snoring before six-thirty in the evening, foregoing supper. Dudley ate his cousin's portion.
***