A/N: EVERYTHING BUT THE "PLOT" BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter ONE: Birthday Presents
"Boy! You in there?" barked Vernon Dursley, tapping a daydreaming Harry Potter sharply on the head. He stuffed his purple
face into Harry's vision of the sunny yard outside and glared at him, reminding the black-haired boy largely of a rhinoceros.
"What?" replied Harry, frowning as he broke his gaze from the window.
"Your aunt just asked you to pull weeds. Do it! Now! And I don't want any argument!"
Harry slowly got up from his seat, deliberately taking a long time to push in his chair. Dudley was grinning at him
malevolently and as Harry walked by, the prodigiously fat boy tried to whack him across the shins with his Smeltings stick.
Harry, however, was too fast for him and skirted the intended blow easily. Dudley got up and began to menacingly lumber
toward the tall, skinny boy and brandished his stick under Harry's nose. Before anything else could happen, however, Uncle
Vernon interceded.
"Now, now, Dudders, we don't want to offend him, do we?" his face had gone slightly white and he looked edgy.
Harry relaxed. Dudley, however, wouldn't give up so easily, and began to whine loudly.
"But Dad!" he cried, his huge pasty face beginning to show the birth of a temper tantrum, "Just because of his stupid godfather
you're not going to let me give him a – "
Harry could feel a rage of his own starting at the mention of his godfather being horribly renamed, and he was about to holler at Dudley for it but . . . .
"Dudley!" said Uncle Vernon a little too loudly, "Why don't you go watch your TV show? I think it should be on by
now. And maybe later today we can go get you a new computer! How does that sound?"
Dudley glared at his father, obviously still not pleased. "I hope you give me an extra-special birthday this year, Dad."
Uncle Vernon looked intensely relieved. "Of course, Dudders, now why don't you go back into the kitchen and tell
your mother that I'll be right there."
As soon as Dudley was gone, Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry, his face getting redder every moment. "What do you
think you're playing at, boy? One more little trick like that and you're gone! I will not tolerate that in my house, do you hear
me?"
"I didn't even start it!" Harry yelled back, his own face starting to get hot. "Dudley – "
"Don't talk to me like that! You know how much it costs Petunia and I to keep you. So be grateful, you little brat! You and your kind are all alike. Filthy scum that aren't right in the mind. Your parents were the worst of the lot."
Harry couldn't help himself. "My parents were not filthy scum! My mum died trying to protect me, and you call that
cowardice? My godfather would risk his life for my sake and I don't consider him crazy, either."
Uncle Vernon seemed to snap out of his enraged rampage at the mention of the convicted murderer. He must have
swallowed his pride when he replied, going pale again, "Quite right, quite right. Er . . . . I must get back to the kitchen. But," he
said, his mood swinging for the third time, "I still want you to pull those weeds. Get to it!"
Harry grudgingly obeyed. As he dragged himself out the door then over to the garden and began to get his hands filthy, he thought about his godfather for the fiftieth time this summer. What was he doing right now? Where was he? Was he getting enough to eat? The last time Harry had seen Sirius was the end of the school year after his fourth encounter with Voldemort.
Speaking of the Dark Lord, was he rising to power? That thought had been bothering Harry the most. One of Harry's teachers, Professor Trelawny of divination, had predicted the new beginning of Voldemort's wrath two years ago. The forecast had almost fully come true, except for the last part, about Voldemort becoming more powerful than ever before.
Harry knew he was safe at the Dursley's house, but he was nonetheless worried. Not about himself, but about his
protectors. The Weasleys, Sirius, and even Hogwarts were all in danger. What if one of them was hurt? It would be all his
fault, just like Cedric's death had been. Cedric. It pained him to think that the good-looking boy could still be alive and
enjoying his summer holiday. But he shouldn't think about it like that. Cedric's parents had forgiven Harry for something that he
couldn't help. And yet he still felt guilty. If only . . . . .
As Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead, he glimpsed Dudley at the window watching him and eating an ice cream
cone. Harry ignored him and went back to work. Soon enough, though, he could hear the door opening and Dudley's grunts
as he worked to fit his bulk through the frame. When he had managed this difficult task, he walked over to where Harry was
throwing a mound of plants into the trash can. Harry could actually feel the sun being blocked out as Dudley stood in the way
of the heat.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, not looking up from what he was doing.
"Just watching," the porky boy said as he licked his ice cream loudly enough for Harry hear how delicious it must be.
Harry did not respond to the taunt, but pulled out weeds more vigorously.
It would only be a few more weeks until he went to Hogwarts, he kept telling himself. His birthday would go by
unnoticed, as usual, then there would be a month until September first. He would get to leave Dudley and his aunt and uncle
and Privet Drive for a whole year. If he just thought of that, he would be fine. Until then, he must live on letters from his friends
and the company of Hedwig.
Dudley soon got bored with Harry and squeezed himself back inside. Harry, in the mean time, finished with the
rosebushes, lilacs, and finally the daffodil beds. He went back inside, his spine aching, to meet a miffed Aunt Petunia. He was
about to walk past her to go upstairs to take a shower when she stopped him.
"Look!" she screeched, "Just look!"
"What am I doing? I just finished weeding like you asked," said Harry, annoyed that he couldn't even clean himself up
without being stopped.
"You're getting mud all over my spotless floor!" she moaned. "Get the mop right now and fix it."
Harry didn't even look at her, but stomped right past and up the stairs. He took a long, cold shower and went into his
room. The pounding at the door came much later than he had expected, probably because he was out buying Dudley's
computer, but Uncle Vernon did arrive, and even waited for Harry's answer before barging in.
His face was an eggplant color, as though he had been holding his breath and trying to keep his temper in check.
He spoke in a low, slightly quivering tone to Harry. "I think Aunt Petunia asked you to clean up downstairs, boy. Now I want
an explanation, and I want a good one. Then I want you to go scrub the floor cleaner then it has ever been, or you'll be out on
the street. Do you understand me?"
Harry nodded dully, not at all marred by Uncle Vernon's threat. But he did explain himself. "I was pulling weeds in the garden, like Aunt Petunia had asked me to, and then when I was done, I came inside and went to take a shower. That's all."
Uncle Vernon gave Harry what he must have thought looked like a piercing glare, then turned on his heel without
another word. Harry slowly rose from his bed, reluctant to start the floor downstairs. As he got to the door, he gazed sadly
at Hedwig's empty cage. It would be nice to have some company right now, but nothing could be done as she was out
delivering a letter to Sirius. It was depressing to not have anybody in the whole house that cared for him.
Harry made his way downstairs and got out the mop. By the time he was finished it was seven o' clock and the
Dursleys were watching a TV show in the living room. He could hear them laughing: Aunt Petunia's horse-like whinny, Uncle
Vernon's loud guffaws, and Dudley's piggish snorts. What a bunch they were; the most perfect examples of Muggles.
Harry trudged back upstairs and went into his room. Posted up against the wall was a homemade calendar that showed the days until his return to Hogwarts. He took a red pen and crossed out yet another one of the long 24 hour periods.
Tomorrow was his birthday. Harry hoped that he would get a card from Ron, but wondered if the freckled boy would even
remember.
He got in bed, having nothing better to do. Harry would just have to wait until the Dursleys were asleep until he got out his homework. He might snooze a little, because his day had been so hard. Just a little . . . . .
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Harry was awakened by a loud tapping noise on his window. Swooping impatiently outside was his snowy owl Hedwig. Harry
jumped excitedly out of bed, and only when he threw up the glass did he notice that she was carrying a package.
Hedwig soared silently inside and landed on Harry's bed, waiting with a regal attitude for him to untie the parcel from
her leg. After she was free from her burden, she nipped his finger affectionately and then flew to her open cage. Harry took the
box she had brought him with slightly trembling hands and began to unwrap the brown paper. He revealed a card from
Hermione and a book called QUIDDITCH IN BULGARIA. He quickly flipped through the book, which looked
quite interesting, and then eagerly opened the card.
Dear Harry,
I don't know if I told you or not, but I went to Bulgaria this summer to visit Victor. He has quite a lovely
home and his family is charming. I also did some research on the background of magic in Bulgaria, and had a very
fruitful outcome. If you want to know more, just send Hedwig.
The main purpose of this note is to wish you a very happy birthday, especially because I know how terrible the
Muggles are to you. Don't worry. Before you know it, you'll be back at Hogwarts.
I also wondered if you'd realized that the Gryffindor team is now without a captain. Have you considered it?
I think you'd make a great leader!
Your Friend,
Hermione
Harry had just finished reading the letter when two new owls came through the open window. One was an elegant
tawny, obviously from Hogwarts. The other was a tiny ball of fluff that zoomed around Harry's head with about five times
more energy than was normal for an owl. Harry recognized it as Pigwidgeon, Ron's pet. He caught Pig in his hand and set the
tiny creature on his bed, where it remained hooting excitedly. The other owl, who had perched himself importantly on Harry's
set of drawers, held his head high and let out a soft but important-sounding call for attention. Harry went from trying to keep
Pig silent to the great tawny and unwrapped its leg. The latter immediately left in a flurry of wide-spread wings out into the
moonlit night.
Pig was still squalling to be noticed, so instead of opening the package right away, Harry tiptoed back over to him,
retrieving a tiny cube of a present. He didn't mind that Ron's gift was small; it was the thought that counted. Harry ripped off
the outer layer to find a minuscule folded piece of parchment and a rock. He stared at the stone blankly, wondering if Ron had
played a joke on him, but then thought to look at the messy scrawl that was untidily written on the paper.
Dear Harry,
Don't think I cheated you out of a birthday present. Dad enchanted the rock to give off a strong protection
charm to its owner. It'll work really well if Crabbe or Goyle tries to get in our way this year. It's also had a Heating
Charm put on it, so if you get really cold in the dungeons, you just tap it with your wand to activate it. I don't
know why anybody's never thought of it before.
Percy thought you should be kept informed on what's happening in the Wizarding World. Ever since he got
appointed the Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation because of what happened to Crouch,
he's been strutting around like he owns the world (more than usual, I mean). Anyway, Dad's running for the
Minister of Magic, and Dumbledore's on his side because Fudge didn't, well, want to cooperate at the end of last
term. Apparently Fudge thinks the whole thing about You-Know-Who coming back is rubbish. Too scared to face the
facts, I guess. So Dad will try to replace him, even though Lucius Malfoy'll do anything to keep that from
happening. But we'll see.
Anyhow, I hope you have a great birthday and forget the Muggles for a while. Maybe you can come and stay
with us for the rest of holiday. We could go get our school things together and practice some Quidditch on your
Firebolt. You could finally try out the Wronski Feint!
Happy Birthday,
Ron
P.S. Have you heard from Hermione? I haven't talked to her all summer!
P.P.S. Chudley Cannons rule!
Harry smiled at the last sentiment of Ron's about the Chudley Cannons, but immediately after wondered why Hermione would not have sent the boy a letter. He could only remember the two being in a couple of fights before. That had been worked out a long time ago, however, so this problem was definitely not one that Harry knew about. He set down the letter, though, and promising to come back to the responses of his friends later, moved on to his last birthday present.
He took the heavy parcel in his hands and unwrapped it, uncovering two envelopes and a bag of what looked like
Hagrid's rockcakes. The first letter he opened contained his new books needed for school. The second, though, was short but
sincere. It read:
Dear Harry,
Hope you have a great birthday and don't forget that I've got a new suprize for you at Hogwarts when you come back.
Tell me if that Dursley Careacter tries anything funnee,
Hagrid
Harry smiled almost ruefully at the mention of Hagrid's "surprise" for him. It was probably something like having
dragons at the gates of Hogwarts. Harry set down the greeting and picked up Pig from his bed, setting the fluffy creature beside Hedwig on her perch. The snowy owl turned her head and scooted away from the still-hooting animal, a look of disgust in her features. Harry, however, was already searching under the loose floorboard that he hid his school things under, and didn't notice.
After fishing around for a while he retrieved a quill, ink, and some parchment. He sat down at his desk, trying not to make a noise, and began to scratch away his responses by the light of the moon coming from the window. Harry wrote to all three of his friends, telling Hermione to send some history of Bulgaria, to Hagrid that he was looking forward to coming back (not mentioning the "surprise"), and finally to Ron. He began to scribble down the letter a little faster to his best friend, excited
that he would soon be back at he Burrow.
Dear Ron,
Thanks for the rock. I can't wait to show it off to Malfoy and not have to get hit back! So do you
think we should try it right away or save it until we need it and surprise him?
That's really wonderful about your dad. For once Percy was right; I was happy to hear what's
going on outside the Muggle world. You don't know how lonely it is only being able to talk to the
Dursleys!
I can't wait until I can get over to your house. I'll ask the Muggles about it tomorrow morning and
it's not like they can say no.
And last but not least yes, I've talked to Hermione. In fact, she just sent me a birthday card that
said she was in Bulgaria visiting Krum. As always, she's learning loads and wants to share the information.
All for Now and See You Soon,
Harry
Harry finished signing his name and folded up the pieces of parchment for Hedwig to take in the morning when she was rested. He got into bed after propping his birthday cards on his chest of drawers and waited. He didn't know what he was anticipating, but something was missing and he couldn't describe his feeling of uneasiness. He went through his friends......
Hagrid, Hermione, and Ron had all sent him something; who else was he expecting?
Harry sat bolt upright in bed. It was Sirius. If his godfather hadn't written to him it could mean one of three things:
one, that he was in trouble, two that he had forgotten it was Harry's birthday, or three that he was unable to communicate at
this time. Harry decided to reason with himself and not jump to conclusions. He mentally crossed out the second possibility.
Sirius wouldn't forget a day that was even slightly important to Harry. And the first idea was wrong too. Ron would have
mentioned something about Sirius' capture if it had happened. Harry sighed and fell back on his pillow. He just needed to relax.
He would send Sirius an inquiry tomorrow and if there was still no reply, then he would
have a reason to worry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT. SORRY ABOUT THE GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. PLEASE BE GENTLE WHEN YOU REVIEW (FOR THAT MATTER, PLEASE REVIEW). IT'S MY FIRST FANFIC. THANKS!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter ONE: Birthday Presents
"Boy! You in there?" barked Vernon Dursley, tapping a daydreaming Harry Potter sharply on the head. He stuffed his purple
face into Harry's vision of the sunny yard outside and glared at him, reminding the black-haired boy largely of a rhinoceros.
"What?" replied Harry, frowning as he broke his gaze from the window.
"Your aunt just asked you to pull weeds. Do it! Now! And I don't want any argument!"
Harry slowly got up from his seat, deliberately taking a long time to push in his chair. Dudley was grinning at him
malevolently and as Harry walked by, the prodigiously fat boy tried to whack him across the shins with his Smeltings stick.
Harry, however, was too fast for him and skirted the intended blow easily. Dudley got up and began to menacingly lumber
toward the tall, skinny boy and brandished his stick under Harry's nose. Before anything else could happen, however, Uncle
Vernon interceded.
"Now, now, Dudders, we don't want to offend him, do we?" his face had gone slightly white and he looked edgy.
Harry relaxed. Dudley, however, wouldn't give up so easily, and began to whine loudly.
"But Dad!" he cried, his huge pasty face beginning to show the birth of a temper tantrum, "Just because of his stupid godfather
you're not going to let me give him a – "
Harry could feel a rage of his own starting at the mention of his godfather being horribly renamed, and he was about to holler at Dudley for it but . . . .
"Dudley!" said Uncle Vernon a little too loudly, "Why don't you go watch your TV show? I think it should be on by
now. And maybe later today we can go get you a new computer! How does that sound?"
Dudley glared at his father, obviously still not pleased. "I hope you give me an extra-special birthday this year, Dad."
Uncle Vernon looked intensely relieved. "Of course, Dudders, now why don't you go back into the kitchen and tell
your mother that I'll be right there."
As soon as Dudley was gone, Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry, his face getting redder every moment. "What do you
think you're playing at, boy? One more little trick like that and you're gone! I will not tolerate that in my house, do you hear
me?"
"I didn't even start it!" Harry yelled back, his own face starting to get hot. "Dudley – "
"Don't talk to me like that! You know how much it costs Petunia and I to keep you. So be grateful, you little brat! You and your kind are all alike. Filthy scum that aren't right in the mind. Your parents were the worst of the lot."
Harry couldn't help himself. "My parents were not filthy scum! My mum died trying to protect me, and you call that
cowardice? My godfather would risk his life for my sake and I don't consider him crazy, either."
Uncle Vernon seemed to snap out of his enraged rampage at the mention of the convicted murderer. He must have
swallowed his pride when he replied, going pale again, "Quite right, quite right. Er . . . . I must get back to the kitchen. But," he
said, his mood swinging for the third time, "I still want you to pull those weeds. Get to it!"
Harry grudgingly obeyed. As he dragged himself out the door then over to the garden and began to get his hands filthy, he thought about his godfather for the fiftieth time this summer. What was he doing right now? Where was he? Was he getting enough to eat? The last time Harry had seen Sirius was the end of the school year after his fourth encounter with Voldemort.
Speaking of the Dark Lord, was he rising to power? That thought had been bothering Harry the most. One of Harry's teachers, Professor Trelawny of divination, had predicted the new beginning of Voldemort's wrath two years ago. The forecast had almost fully come true, except for the last part, about Voldemort becoming more powerful than ever before.
Harry knew he was safe at the Dursley's house, but he was nonetheless worried. Not about himself, but about his
protectors. The Weasleys, Sirius, and even Hogwarts were all in danger. What if one of them was hurt? It would be all his
fault, just like Cedric's death had been. Cedric. It pained him to think that the good-looking boy could still be alive and
enjoying his summer holiday. But he shouldn't think about it like that. Cedric's parents had forgiven Harry for something that he
couldn't help. And yet he still felt guilty. If only . . . . .
As Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead, he glimpsed Dudley at the window watching him and eating an ice cream
cone. Harry ignored him and went back to work. Soon enough, though, he could hear the door opening and Dudley's grunts
as he worked to fit his bulk through the frame. When he had managed this difficult task, he walked over to where Harry was
throwing a mound of plants into the trash can. Harry could actually feel the sun being blocked out as Dudley stood in the way
of the heat.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, not looking up from what he was doing.
"Just watching," the porky boy said as he licked his ice cream loudly enough for Harry hear how delicious it must be.
Harry did not respond to the taunt, but pulled out weeds more vigorously.
It would only be a few more weeks until he went to Hogwarts, he kept telling himself. His birthday would go by
unnoticed, as usual, then there would be a month until September first. He would get to leave Dudley and his aunt and uncle
and Privet Drive for a whole year. If he just thought of that, he would be fine. Until then, he must live on letters from his friends
and the company of Hedwig.
Dudley soon got bored with Harry and squeezed himself back inside. Harry, in the mean time, finished with the
rosebushes, lilacs, and finally the daffodil beds. He went back inside, his spine aching, to meet a miffed Aunt Petunia. He was
about to walk past her to go upstairs to take a shower when she stopped him.
"Look!" she screeched, "Just look!"
"What am I doing? I just finished weeding like you asked," said Harry, annoyed that he couldn't even clean himself up
without being stopped.
"You're getting mud all over my spotless floor!" she moaned. "Get the mop right now and fix it."
Harry didn't even look at her, but stomped right past and up the stairs. He took a long, cold shower and went into his
room. The pounding at the door came much later than he had expected, probably because he was out buying Dudley's
computer, but Uncle Vernon did arrive, and even waited for Harry's answer before barging in.
His face was an eggplant color, as though he had been holding his breath and trying to keep his temper in check.
He spoke in a low, slightly quivering tone to Harry. "I think Aunt Petunia asked you to clean up downstairs, boy. Now I want
an explanation, and I want a good one. Then I want you to go scrub the floor cleaner then it has ever been, or you'll be out on
the street. Do you understand me?"
Harry nodded dully, not at all marred by Uncle Vernon's threat. But he did explain himself. "I was pulling weeds in the garden, like Aunt Petunia had asked me to, and then when I was done, I came inside and went to take a shower. That's all."
Uncle Vernon gave Harry what he must have thought looked like a piercing glare, then turned on his heel without
another word. Harry slowly rose from his bed, reluctant to start the floor downstairs. As he got to the door, he gazed sadly
at Hedwig's empty cage. It would be nice to have some company right now, but nothing could be done as she was out
delivering a letter to Sirius. It was depressing to not have anybody in the whole house that cared for him.
Harry made his way downstairs and got out the mop. By the time he was finished it was seven o' clock and the
Dursleys were watching a TV show in the living room. He could hear them laughing: Aunt Petunia's horse-like whinny, Uncle
Vernon's loud guffaws, and Dudley's piggish snorts. What a bunch they were; the most perfect examples of Muggles.
Harry trudged back upstairs and went into his room. Posted up against the wall was a homemade calendar that showed the days until his return to Hogwarts. He took a red pen and crossed out yet another one of the long 24 hour periods.
Tomorrow was his birthday. Harry hoped that he would get a card from Ron, but wondered if the freckled boy would even
remember.
He got in bed, having nothing better to do. Harry would just have to wait until the Dursleys were asleep until he got out his homework. He might snooze a little, because his day had been so hard. Just a little . . . . .
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Harry was awakened by a loud tapping noise on his window. Swooping impatiently outside was his snowy owl Hedwig. Harry
jumped excitedly out of bed, and only when he threw up the glass did he notice that she was carrying a package.
Hedwig soared silently inside and landed on Harry's bed, waiting with a regal attitude for him to untie the parcel from
her leg. After she was free from her burden, she nipped his finger affectionately and then flew to her open cage. Harry took the
box she had brought him with slightly trembling hands and began to unwrap the brown paper. He revealed a card from
Hermione and a book called QUIDDITCH IN BULGARIA. He quickly flipped through the book, which looked
quite interesting, and then eagerly opened the card.
Dear Harry,
I don't know if I told you or not, but I went to Bulgaria this summer to visit Victor. He has quite a lovely
home and his family is charming. I also did some research on the background of magic in Bulgaria, and had a very
fruitful outcome. If you want to know more, just send Hedwig.
The main purpose of this note is to wish you a very happy birthday, especially because I know how terrible the
Muggles are to you. Don't worry. Before you know it, you'll be back at Hogwarts.
I also wondered if you'd realized that the Gryffindor team is now without a captain. Have you considered it?
I think you'd make a great leader!
Your Friend,
Hermione
Harry had just finished reading the letter when two new owls came through the open window. One was an elegant
tawny, obviously from Hogwarts. The other was a tiny ball of fluff that zoomed around Harry's head with about five times
more energy than was normal for an owl. Harry recognized it as Pigwidgeon, Ron's pet. He caught Pig in his hand and set the
tiny creature on his bed, where it remained hooting excitedly. The other owl, who had perched himself importantly on Harry's
set of drawers, held his head high and let out a soft but important-sounding call for attention. Harry went from trying to keep
Pig silent to the great tawny and unwrapped its leg. The latter immediately left in a flurry of wide-spread wings out into the
moonlit night.
Pig was still squalling to be noticed, so instead of opening the package right away, Harry tiptoed back over to him,
retrieving a tiny cube of a present. He didn't mind that Ron's gift was small; it was the thought that counted. Harry ripped off
the outer layer to find a minuscule folded piece of parchment and a rock. He stared at the stone blankly, wondering if Ron had
played a joke on him, but then thought to look at the messy scrawl that was untidily written on the paper.
Dear Harry,
Don't think I cheated you out of a birthday present. Dad enchanted the rock to give off a strong protection
charm to its owner. It'll work really well if Crabbe or Goyle tries to get in our way this year. It's also had a Heating
Charm put on it, so if you get really cold in the dungeons, you just tap it with your wand to activate it. I don't
know why anybody's never thought of it before.
Percy thought you should be kept informed on what's happening in the Wizarding World. Ever since he got
appointed the Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation because of what happened to Crouch,
he's been strutting around like he owns the world (more than usual, I mean). Anyway, Dad's running for the
Minister of Magic, and Dumbledore's on his side because Fudge didn't, well, want to cooperate at the end of last
term. Apparently Fudge thinks the whole thing about You-Know-Who coming back is rubbish. Too scared to face the
facts, I guess. So Dad will try to replace him, even though Lucius Malfoy'll do anything to keep that from
happening. But we'll see.
Anyhow, I hope you have a great birthday and forget the Muggles for a while. Maybe you can come and stay
with us for the rest of holiday. We could go get our school things together and practice some Quidditch on your
Firebolt. You could finally try out the Wronski Feint!
Happy Birthday,
Ron
P.S. Have you heard from Hermione? I haven't talked to her all summer!
P.P.S. Chudley Cannons rule!
Harry smiled at the last sentiment of Ron's about the Chudley Cannons, but immediately after wondered why Hermione would not have sent the boy a letter. He could only remember the two being in a couple of fights before. That had been worked out a long time ago, however, so this problem was definitely not one that Harry knew about. He set down the letter, though, and promising to come back to the responses of his friends later, moved on to his last birthday present.
He took the heavy parcel in his hands and unwrapped it, uncovering two envelopes and a bag of what looked like
Hagrid's rockcakes. The first letter he opened contained his new books needed for school. The second, though, was short but
sincere. It read:
Dear Harry,
Hope you have a great birthday and don't forget that I've got a new suprize for you at Hogwarts when you come back.
Tell me if that Dursley Careacter tries anything funnee,
Hagrid
Harry smiled almost ruefully at the mention of Hagrid's "surprise" for him. It was probably something like having
dragons at the gates of Hogwarts. Harry set down the greeting and picked up Pig from his bed, setting the fluffy creature beside Hedwig on her perch. The snowy owl turned her head and scooted away from the still-hooting animal, a look of disgust in her features. Harry, however, was already searching under the loose floorboard that he hid his school things under, and didn't notice.
After fishing around for a while he retrieved a quill, ink, and some parchment. He sat down at his desk, trying not to make a noise, and began to scratch away his responses by the light of the moon coming from the window. Harry wrote to all three of his friends, telling Hermione to send some history of Bulgaria, to Hagrid that he was looking forward to coming back (not mentioning the "surprise"), and finally to Ron. He began to scribble down the letter a little faster to his best friend, excited
that he would soon be back at he Burrow.
Dear Ron,
Thanks for the rock. I can't wait to show it off to Malfoy and not have to get hit back! So do you
think we should try it right away or save it until we need it and surprise him?
That's really wonderful about your dad. For once Percy was right; I was happy to hear what's
going on outside the Muggle world. You don't know how lonely it is only being able to talk to the
Dursleys!
I can't wait until I can get over to your house. I'll ask the Muggles about it tomorrow morning and
it's not like they can say no.
And last but not least yes, I've talked to Hermione. In fact, she just sent me a birthday card that
said she was in Bulgaria visiting Krum. As always, she's learning loads and wants to share the information.
All for Now and See You Soon,
Harry
Harry finished signing his name and folded up the pieces of parchment for Hedwig to take in the morning when she was rested. He got into bed after propping his birthday cards on his chest of drawers and waited. He didn't know what he was anticipating, but something was missing and he couldn't describe his feeling of uneasiness. He went through his friends......
Hagrid, Hermione, and Ron had all sent him something; who else was he expecting?
Harry sat bolt upright in bed. It was Sirius. If his godfather hadn't written to him it could mean one of three things:
one, that he was in trouble, two that he had forgotten it was Harry's birthday, or three that he was unable to communicate at
this time. Harry decided to reason with himself and not jump to conclusions. He mentally crossed out the second possibility.
Sirius wouldn't forget a day that was even slightly important to Harry. And the first idea was wrong too. Ron would have
mentioned something about Sirius' capture if it had happened. Harry sighed and fell back on his pillow. He just needed to relax.
He would send Sirius an inquiry tomorrow and if there was still no reply, then he would
have a reason to worry.
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A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT. SORRY ABOUT THE GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. PLEASE BE GENTLE WHEN YOU REVIEW (FOR THAT MATTER, PLEASE REVIEW). IT'S MY FIRST FANFIC. THANKS!