Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Characters, names and related indicia are trademarks and © of Warner Bros. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K. Rowling. We take no credit for inventing most of the things in this story.
A/N… a few of the characters may seem to be like people you know, perhaps they're based on those people. If not, then O well, have fun reading!
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The Average Birthday/center
Harry awoke to the sound of an owl tapping its beak against his window. With a soft groan Harry climbed out of bed to let the four owls into his room. The four owls swooped in and settled themselves in various places around the room. The minute owl, Pig, hooted from the headboard of Harry's bed until Harry took the letter from around his leg. Errol, the Weasley's elderly owl, collapsed on Harry's bedspread and stayed there until Harry picked him up and set him gently in Hedwig's cage. It appeared that a school owl had delivered a package as well; Harry supposed that its sender was Hagrid. Hermione used what appeared to be a post owl to send her gift. The last bird to fly in was perhaps the biggest owl that Harry had ever seen and it simply carried a letter. This big, dark owl settled itself on top of the broken TV in the corner and waited patiently for Harry to take care of the other birds in the room. Once all the animals were freed of their various burdens Harry sat on his bed to open them. The first gift was from the Weasley's. Harry loved getting presents from them; Mrs. Weasley was always sure to send some kind of snack to him. This year it happened to be a rich, gooey, chocolate cake coated in oozing chocolate frosting that would stick to the roof of your mouth and coat your tongue in a flavor that wouldn't leave you for hours after having taken the first bite. Which was quite a shame, because Hermione's cake was a fruitcake with bright red strawberries. Hagrid's gift was the usual rock cake, yet amazingly, it seemed that it would give if you tried to take a bite, or even lift it out of it's box. Perhaps Hagrid was taking cooking lessons; it would certainly do him a world of good.
Of course, there were other gifts as well… A new wizarding board game from Ron: uThe Great Race from Kopparbery/u. From the box it appeared that you raced across the board, through valleys of Dragons and mountains covered in leprechauns with shalaylie sticks, shouting "if you wanna be a shalaylie clap your hands!" (Which is very odd, considering leprechauns are Irish and the whole game appeared to take place in Sweden). The game seemed to rely more on speed then any true skill. Hermione's gift, predictably, was a new book ITop 10 Broom Sticks of the 20th Century./I
IDear Harry,
I send my condolences to you and on the death of Cedric Diggory. Remember Harry: it was not your fault, any of this. This is the result of a mind that is warped beyond compare. You had no say, none at all in what happened. I am proud of your actions in the face of such a great evil and twisted mind. Don't forget how many powerful wizards have fallen at his hands. You have done something that is worthy of the greatest heroes, in the greatest tales. This is something that has earned you an incredible respect from any wizard who has ever walked this earth, whether they are good or evil, wrong or right, proud or humble, peer or elder. Most importantly, you should remember that Dumbledore himself has shown pride in you, and that, my lad, is truly something rare.
I regret to say it but I am unable to send your gift to you on time. It's not that I didn't get you one, but simply that I it is impossible for me to give it to you at this time. I hope that you enjoy your gift when you receive it. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays.
Love,
S.B.
P.S. Your surprise should arrive later today./I
Harry read the letter three times, and when he was through, he tacked the letter to the inside of the lid of his trunk, so that he could always read it, and remind himself of Sirius, and all that he meant to him. This was a letter he would never lose, and never forget. It seemed to be shaping into what Harry had begun to think of as an average birthday, aside from the fact that Sirius' surprise would be a tad bit late, which in fact only heightened his expectations, and gave him something to look forward to at the end of the day, which was probably something that he would need, judging by Aunt Petunia's banging on the door, and demanding that he get up and take the Dursley's new dog, Shartuse, and English bulldog (who hated Harry) for a walk.
Grumbling and frustrated, Harry got up and got dressed then struggled to get the leash onto the ugly mutt properly. Unsurprisingly, the hound with the ridiculously wrinkly and squashed face (Harry suspected the stupid beast had gone chasing a parked car) didn't seem to want to go outside into the 45 degree rain (and that didn't include the wind-chill factor) and for once, Harry was inclined to agree with the little monster. It wasn't until it began gnawing on his pant leg that Harry gave the least a sharp tug, which made the brute yelp and set off into the murky pre-sunrise morning.
Yes, it was an average birthday indeed. Aunt Petunia was yelling, Dudley snorting and Harry working his ass off for no reason other then his cousin was both too fat and too lazy to do chores. As Shartuse and Harry were working on their third trip around the block (Dumbledore had forbidden Harry to venture any further) Shartuse went running after a car, dragging Harry after him by the leash. As Harry's grip on the leash slipped he let out a frustrated groan and scrambled to his feet after the gray blur that was Shartuse. It took several minutes of frantic chasing before he was able to retrieve the least again. It was several more annoyingly long minutes before Shartuse was quiet enough for Harry to realize he was well outside the boundaries Dumbledore had set. As quickly as Shartuse would allow, Harry sped back to Privet Drive, half expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him as he ran. Upon reaching number 4, Privet Drive, he was thoroughly scolded for taking Shartuse out in the rain.
Harry quickly released the dog, went to the table to grab a sausage or two (Dudley's vegetarian diet long since abandoned.) He then raced up the stairs to the sanctuary of his room, where he reread the letters from his friends and ticked off yet another day on his countdown to Hogwarts.
Harry spent the remainder of the day on his bed attempting to catch up on sleep, and neglected homework, but his mind kept wandering to the end of the last school term; to the day Cedric Diggory had been killed. Harry couldn't seem to get the image out of his mind: that bright green flash of light and the dead body that was Cedric. Voldemort had simply waved his hand and said i"kill the spare."/i The traitor, as Harry had come to think of Wormtail, took his wand and said those two unforgivable words: i"Avada Kedavra"/i
Harry slammed his book shut and sat up. Before swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Harry took a calming breath to steady his ringing nerves and took the time to wipe the cold sweat from his brow. Quickly, he threw on some running clothes, clamored down the stairs, and rushed out the front door. Harry had taken to running, hoping to physically exhaust himself so he could no longer dwell on Voldemort. Harry's mind wandered to school. What would school be like next term now that Voldemort was back? The greatest reason Harry Felt for returning to school next term was to be near Dumbledore again. Somehow, Harry was certain he wouldn't feel safe again until he was with Dumbledore. Near the beginning of summer Harry had ordered a subscription to uThe Daily Prophet/u in hopes of gaining some information on Voldemort's activities. Alas, it appeared that the ministry still resolutely refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return, despite frequent reports of missing witches and wizards, as well as attacks on muggles. Harry had no qualms in assuming Fudge was at the heart of the ministry's denial. So far there were nearly a dozen ministry officials reported missing and still Fudge refused to admit to Voldemort's return, in fact he refused to admit to anything out of the ordinary at all. Fudge insisted that everything was going smoothly in a vain effort to keep an increasingly apprehensive world calm. iDamn! This isn't working/i, Harry thought as he sat on the grass to stretch after his run.
Upon finishing his stretches Harry hurried back into the house and to the bathroom. Perhaps he could drown his worries in the shower. It seemed like it'd been forever since he'd taken a shower. Harry adjusted the water temperature and stripped down and stepped into the stream. As he washed up , he couldn't keep his mind from wandering to Cho Chang. His days may have been spent waiting for Hogwarts to come around the corner, worrying about Voldemort, and cursing Cornelius Fudge's idiocy, yet his nights were overtly occupied with thoughts of Cho. Although the shower's 'massaging pulse' showerhead (One of Dudley's gifts last Christmas) idid/i have its own strange way of diverting his attention. Just as Harry's mind started to drift down, he heard a rude banging on the door, followed by a shriek from a muffled Aunt Petunia "Hey! Are you going to stay in there all day? Other people need to use the loo."
Groaning, Harry turned off the steaming water and stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat, dried himself with a towel then wrapped it around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.
Only it wasn't Aunt Petunia outside the door. It was someone completely different. And very large.
Aunt Marge barged past Harry, knocking him off his feet. He'd completely forgotten about Aunt Marge's visit. It left him shocked enough to gape openly at Aunt Marge's existence, looking much like a fish gaping in surprise as the worm he bit tugged him out of the water into someone's boat. He sat staring at Marge until she glared back at him and said "What are you staring at?" She looked as if she was going to say more but then she looked down and uttered a surprised gasp, with good reason, as Harry quickly realized. When Marge knocked him over, he lost his grip on his towel, and it currently lay flat open underneath him, exposing for everyone to see- Aunt Marge, in particular, who stood riveted to the spot, her eyes not moving a bit.
Harry felt himself turn red, and noticed a general increase in his body temperature. There was a short period where they both were stock-still before they simultaneously reacted. Marge turned and entered the bathroom, while Harry gathered up his towel around him again and rushed into his room where he quickly slammed the door shut and locked it.
Flopping down on the bed Harry stare at the ceiling and mouthed "Dear god! I can't believe that just happened! What'll she say next? Will she talk to the Dursley's about it? Suggest that they castrate me because incurably criminal boys should never be allowed to have babies? How can she even really complain seeing as it was she that knocked me over? I can't believe that just happened… I can't believe that just happened. What am I going to do? I can't face her now. I. Can't. Believe. That. Just. Happened!"
Harry stopped and took a deep breath, realizing he was hyperventilating. It felt like hours before Harry was calm enough to dress himself properly (pants off head and onto his legs, button buttoned, zipper zipped. shirt over head, not on feet, arms and head in the correct holes, etc.) and run a comb through his hair. Before leaving the room he glanced at the mirrors and realized with a start that he needed to start shaving. Amusedly, Harry toyed with the idea of allowing it to grow long and full, nearly brushing the floor as he walked, much like Dumbledore's. Laughing at the prospect brought color back to his face and he was able to gather the courage to walk out of his room and to the kitchen for supper. However, he'd only reached the door to his room when he heard a knock at the front door. He heard Uncle Vernon gruffly answer the door.
"Yes, who is it?"
"Hello, my name is Sirius Black. I'm here to see Harry."
A/N… a few of the characters may seem to be like people you know, perhaps they're based on those people. If not, then O well, have fun reading!
center~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Average Birthday/center
Harry awoke to the sound of an owl tapping its beak against his window. With a soft groan Harry climbed out of bed to let the four owls into his room. The four owls swooped in and settled themselves in various places around the room. The minute owl, Pig, hooted from the headboard of Harry's bed until Harry took the letter from around his leg. Errol, the Weasley's elderly owl, collapsed on Harry's bedspread and stayed there until Harry picked him up and set him gently in Hedwig's cage. It appeared that a school owl had delivered a package as well; Harry supposed that its sender was Hagrid. Hermione used what appeared to be a post owl to send her gift. The last bird to fly in was perhaps the biggest owl that Harry had ever seen and it simply carried a letter. This big, dark owl settled itself on top of the broken TV in the corner and waited patiently for Harry to take care of the other birds in the room. Once all the animals were freed of their various burdens Harry sat on his bed to open them. The first gift was from the Weasley's. Harry loved getting presents from them; Mrs. Weasley was always sure to send some kind of snack to him. This year it happened to be a rich, gooey, chocolate cake coated in oozing chocolate frosting that would stick to the roof of your mouth and coat your tongue in a flavor that wouldn't leave you for hours after having taken the first bite. Which was quite a shame, because Hermione's cake was a fruitcake with bright red strawberries. Hagrid's gift was the usual rock cake, yet amazingly, it seemed that it would give if you tried to take a bite, or even lift it out of it's box. Perhaps Hagrid was taking cooking lessons; it would certainly do him a world of good.
Of course, there were other gifts as well… A new wizarding board game from Ron: uThe Great Race from Kopparbery/u. From the box it appeared that you raced across the board, through valleys of Dragons and mountains covered in leprechauns with shalaylie sticks, shouting "if you wanna be a shalaylie clap your hands!" (Which is very odd, considering leprechauns are Irish and the whole game appeared to take place in Sweden). The game seemed to rely more on speed then any true skill. Hermione's gift, predictably, was a new book ITop 10 Broom Sticks of the 20th Century./I
IDear Harry,
I send my condolences to you and on the death of Cedric Diggory. Remember Harry: it was not your fault, any of this. This is the result of a mind that is warped beyond compare. You had no say, none at all in what happened. I am proud of your actions in the face of such a great evil and twisted mind. Don't forget how many powerful wizards have fallen at his hands. You have done something that is worthy of the greatest heroes, in the greatest tales. This is something that has earned you an incredible respect from any wizard who has ever walked this earth, whether they are good or evil, wrong or right, proud or humble, peer or elder. Most importantly, you should remember that Dumbledore himself has shown pride in you, and that, my lad, is truly something rare.
I regret to say it but I am unable to send your gift to you on time. It's not that I didn't get you one, but simply that I it is impossible for me to give it to you at this time. I hope that you enjoy your gift when you receive it. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays.
Love,
S.B.
P.S. Your surprise should arrive later today./I
Harry read the letter three times, and when he was through, he tacked the letter to the inside of the lid of his trunk, so that he could always read it, and remind himself of Sirius, and all that he meant to him. This was a letter he would never lose, and never forget. It seemed to be shaping into what Harry had begun to think of as an average birthday, aside from the fact that Sirius' surprise would be a tad bit late, which in fact only heightened his expectations, and gave him something to look forward to at the end of the day, which was probably something that he would need, judging by Aunt Petunia's banging on the door, and demanding that he get up and take the Dursley's new dog, Shartuse, and English bulldog (who hated Harry) for a walk.
Grumbling and frustrated, Harry got up and got dressed then struggled to get the leash onto the ugly mutt properly. Unsurprisingly, the hound with the ridiculously wrinkly and squashed face (Harry suspected the stupid beast had gone chasing a parked car) didn't seem to want to go outside into the 45 degree rain (and that didn't include the wind-chill factor) and for once, Harry was inclined to agree with the little monster. It wasn't until it began gnawing on his pant leg that Harry gave the least a sharp tug, which made the brute yelp and set off into the murky pre-sunrise morning.
Yes, it was an average birthday indeed. Aunt Petunia was yelling, Dudley snorting and Harry working his ass off for no reason other then his cousin was both too fat and too lazy to do chores. As Shartuse and Harry were working on their third trip around the block (Dumbledore had forbidden Harry to venture any further) Shartuse went running after a car, dragging Harry after him by the leash. As Harry's grip on the leash slipped he let out a frustrated groan and scrambled to his feet after the gray blur that was Shartuse. It took several minutes of frantic chasing before he was able to retrieve the least again. It was several more annoyingly long minutes before Shartuse was quiet enough for Harry to realize he was well outside the boundaries Dumbledore had set. As quickly as Shartuse would allow, Harry sped back to Privet Drive, half expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him as he ran. Upon reaching number 4, Privet Drive, he was thoroughly scolded for taking Shartuse out in the rain.
Harry quickly released the dog, went to the table to grab a sausage or two (Dudley's vegetarian diet long since abandoned.) He then raced up the stairs to the sanctuary of his room, where he reread the letters from his friends and ticked off yet another day on his countdown to Hogwarts.
Harry spent the remainder of the day on his bed attempting to catch up on sleep, and neglected homework, but his mind kept wandering to the end of the last school term; to the day Cedric Diggory had been killed. Harry couldn't seem to get the image out of his mind: that bright green flash of light and the dead body that was Cedric. Voldemort had simply waved his hand and said i"kill the spare."/i The traitor, as Harry had come to think of Wormtail, took his wand and said those two unforgivable words: i"Avada Kedavra"/i
Harry slammed his book shut and sat up. Before swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Harry took a calming breath to steady his ringing nerves and took the time to wipe the cold sweat from his brow. Quickly, he threw on some running clothes, clamored down the stairs, and rushed out the front door. Harry had taken to running, hoping to physically exhaust himself so he could no longer dwell on Voldemort. Harry's mind wandered to school. What would school be like next term now that Voldemort was back? The greatest reason Harry Felt for returning to school next term was to be near Dumbledore again. Somehow, Harry was certain he wouldn't feel safe again until he was with Dumbledore. Near the beginning of summer Harry had ordered a subscription to uThe Daily Prophet/u in hopes of gaining some information on Voldemort's activities. Alas, it appeared that the ministry still resolutely refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return, despite frequent reports of missing witches and wizards, as well as attacks on muggles. Harry had no qualms in assuming Fudge was at the heart of the ministry's denial. So far there were nearly a dozen ministry officials reported missing and still Fudge refused to admit to Voldemort's return, in fact he refused to admit to anything out of the ordinary at all. Fudge insisted that everything was going smoothly in a vain effort to keep an increasingly apprehensive world calm. iDamn! This isn't working/i, Harry thought as he sat on the grass to stretch after his run.
Upon finishing his stretches Harry hurried back into the house and to the bathroom. Perhaps he could drown his worries in the shower. It seemed like it'd been forever since he'd taken a shower. Harry adjusted the water temperature and stripped down and stepped into the stream. As he washed up , he couldn't keep his mind from wandering to Cho Chang. His days may have been spent waiting for Hogwarts to come around the corner, worrying about Voldemort, and cursing Cornelius Fudge's idiocy, yet his nights were overtly occupied with thoughts of Cho. Although the shower's 'massaging pulse' showerhead (One of Dudley's gifts last Christmas) idid/i have its own strange way of diverting his attention. Just as Harry's mind started to drift down, he heard a rude banging on the door, followed by a shriek from a muffled Aunt Petunia "Hey! Are you going to stay in there all day? Other people need to use the loo."
Groaning, Harry turned off the steaming water and stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat, dried himself with a towel then wrapped it around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.
Only it wasn't Aunt Petunia outside the door. It was someone completely different. And very large.
Aunt Marge barged past Harry, knocking him off his feet. He'd completely forgotten about Aunt Marge's visit. It left him shocked enough to gape openly at Aunt Marge's existence, looking much like a fish gaping in surprise as the worm he bit tugged him out of the water into someone's boat. He sat staring at Marge until she glared back at him and said "What are you staring at?" She looked as if she was going to say more but then she looked down and uttered a surprised gasp, with good reason, as Harry quickly realized. When Marge knocked him over, he lost his grip on his towel, and it currently lay flat open underneath him, exposing for everyone to see- Aunt Marge, in particular, who stood riveted to the spot, her eyes not moving a bit.
Harry felt himself turn red, and noticed a general increase in his body temperature. There was a short period where they both were stock-still before they simultaneously reacted. Marge turned and entered the bathroom, while Harry gathered up his towel around him again and rushed into his room where he quickly slammed the door shut and locked it.
Flopping down on the bed Harry stare at the ceiling and mouthed "Dear god! I can't believe that just happened! What'll she say next? Will she talk to the Dursley's about it? Suggest that they castrate me because incurably criminal boys should never be allowed to have babies? How can she even really complain seeing as it was she that knocked me over? I can't believe that just happened… I can't believe that just happened. What am I going to do? I can't face her now. I. Can't. Believe. That. Just. Happened!"
Harry stopped and took a deep breath, realizing he was hyperventilating. It felt like hours before Harry was calm enough to dress himself properly (pants off head and onto his legs, button buttoned, zipper zipped. shirt over head, not on feet, arms and head in the correct holes, etc.) and run a comb through his hair. Before leaving the room he glanced at the mirrors and realized with a start that he needed to start shaving. Amusedly, Harry toyed with the idea of allowing it to grow long and full, nearly brushing the floor as he walked, much like Dumbledore's. Laughing at the prospect brought color back to his face and he was able to gather the courage to walk out of his room and to the kitchen for supper. However, he'd only reached the door to his room when he heard a knock at the front door. He heard Uncle Vernon gruffly answer the door.
"Yes, who is it?"
"Hello, my name is Sirius Black. I'm here to see Harry."