Harry's birthday began uneventfully. Hedwig arrived in the evening bearing
a small package from Hermione, and Pig, with the assistance of several
larger owls, bore a larger package from Ron and the Weasleys.
Harry was just about to shut his bedroom window when, strangely enough, a rather large bat whizzed in. It was carrying a package not wrapped in typical brown parchment, but in chartreuse wrapping paper. Harry goggled at the bat and the package for several seconds, until the bat began a high pitch screech demanding Harry to untie the package. Harry quickly untied it and launched the bat out the window, shutting it firmly as the bat winged unsteadily into the distance.
Harry returned to his presents. Desperate to dispose of the chartreuse paper, he decided to open that one first. He quickly cut the twine and ripped off the paper. Inside lay a letter, and a tarnished silver mirror decorated in runes - and roses. "Ugh!" thought Harry, "Who would send this?" He looked at the letter - it was from Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw girl - nice, but a bit batty. Looney Lovegood was her not so flattering nickname. The letter read:
"Dear Harry,
I saw the Weasley twins in Diagon Alley, and they said you're birthday was coming up, and that you had rotten relatives who probably won't get you anything, so I thought I'd send something. Someone gave this to Daddy in exchange for a favor - it was discovered in Ireland - at Blarney, Daddy said. It's very old, but it still works - it's a scrying mirror. It's supposed to show you anything you want to see - only you can't see the past, or the future, only the present. Daddy doesn't know how to work it, and neither do I, but maybe you'll be able to figure it out. Anyway, Happy Birthday.
Love, Luna Lovegood
P.S. I added the flowers myself - it was just too drab with all those old runes no one can read anymore."
Harry sighed. Another useless token from Luna. It was probably just an old mirror, and the roses.
Harry was about to open Hermione's gift when, suddenly, the hall outside his bedroom door was flooded with the barely distinguishable tune of "Happy Birthday!" sung by Aunt Petunia, in a nasally, shrill soprano, Uncle Vernon in a booming baritone, and Dudley, in an elegant falsetto which would have made his school friends howl. Harry had just enough time to stash his presents under the bed before the Dursleys burst in, Aunt Petunia bearing a large lemon cake with sixteen candles and "Happy Birthday, Harrykins!" written in pink frosting. Harry was, too say the least, taken aback, but he forced a grin and blew out the candles in one breath, wishing that the Dursleys would seek some emotional help.
"Oh Harry!" cried Aunt Petunia, "How does it feel to be sixteen?"
"Uhhh. cool," said Harry, who couldn't decide whether to tell them this was the weirdest experience of his life, or whether to tell them he really didn't feel any different, physically. Aunt Petunia flashed a fake smile and began distributing cake. She gave Dudley an especially small slice, which he glowered at mournfully. Vernon left the room, and promptly returned, carrying a parcel of clothing, and a small, rectangular box.
"Well, my boy," said Vernon, "This year we decided to get you something real special. We want you to look real sharp when you go back to that. that school of yours." Vernon's attempt to sound casual fell a little short of convincing. He handed Harry the package with the kind of smile typical of someone who he being stretched on the rack. Harry accepted them, trying to look gracious instead of woefully confused.
The first package - the small, rectangular one, held a new pair of glasses. They were square - "the height of London fashion," Aunt Petunia assured him - and green - "to bring out the color of your eyes." Harry was surprised she had even noticed the color of his eyes, but kept silent. He tried the glasses on and inspected himself in a handheld mirror which Petunia provided him with. Dudley snickered. Harry couldn't blame him, looking at his reflection. He nearly gagged at the sight of those heavy emerald frames (set on his nose like a cauldron might balance on a teaspoon), but he managed a strained, "Thank you," and ate a mouthful of cake to buy some time to think.
The Dursleys seemed to find "thank you," thanks enough, and presented him with the clothing parcel. It contained further horrors - a tweed blazer, tweed slacks, a green scarf (the perfect Slytherin shade too, but how could they have known that?), and, to top it all off, a tweed hat. Aunt Petunia made him try it on. So Harry, with a brittle smile, tromped off to the bathroom laden with tweed.
As he put the hat on and caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, Harry wondered if the Dursleys were deriving some sick satisfaction out of dressing him up like Sherlock Holmes. Harry felt confident that Aunt Petunia would never force such attire on Dudley. Adjusting his face muscles in an attempt at a smile, Harry returned to his bedroom - it was quiet. The Dursleys were not there.
Harry was just about to shut his bedroom window when, strangely enough, a rather large bat whizzed in. It was carrying a package not wrapped in typical brown parchment, but in chartreuse wrapping paper. Harry goggled at the bat and the package for several seconds, until the bat began a high pitch screech demanding Harry to untie the package. Harry quickly untied it and launched the bat out the window, shutting it firmly as the bat winged unsteadily into the distance.
Harry returned to his presents. Desperate to dispose of the chartreuse paper, he decided to open that one first. He quickly cut the twine and ripped off the paper. Inside lay a letter, and a tarnished silver mirror decorated in runes - and roses. "Ugh!" thought Harry, "Who would send this?" He looked at the letter - it was from Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw girl - nice, but a bit batty. Looney Lovegood was her not so flattering nickname. The letter read:
"Dear Harry,
I saw the Weasley twins in Diagon Alley, and they said you're birthday was coming up, and that you had rotten relatives who probably won't get you anything, so I thought I'd send something. Someone gave this to Daddy in exchange for a favor - it was discovered in Ireland - at Blarney, Daddy said. It's very old, but it still works - it's a scrying mirror. It's supposed to show you anything you want to see - only you can't see the past, or the future, only the present. Daddy doesn't know how to work it, and neither do I, but maybe you'll be able to figure it out. Anyway, Happy Birthday.
Love, Luna Lovegood
P.S. I added the flowers myself - it was just too drab with all those old runes no one can read anymore."
Harry sighed. Another useless token from Luna. It was probably just an old mirror, and the roses.
Harry was about to open Hermione's gift when, suddenly, the hall outside his bedroom door was flooded with the barely distinguishable tune of "Happy Birthday!" sung by Aunt Petunia, in a nasally, shrill soprano, Uncle Vernon in a booming baritone, and Dudley, in an elegant falsetto which would have made his school friends howl. Harry had just enough time to stash his presents under the bed before the Dursleys burst in, Aunt Petunia bearing a large lemon cake with sixteen candles and "Happy Birthday, Harrykins!" written in pink frosting. Harry was, too say the least, taken aback, but he forced a grin and blew out the candles in one breath, wishing that the Dursleys would seek some emotional help.
"Oh Harry!" cried Aunt Petunia, "How does it feel to be sixteen?"
"Uhhh. cool," said Harry, who couldn't decide whether to tell them this was the weirdest experience of his life, or whether to tell them he really didn't feel any different, physically. Aunt Petunia flashed a fake smile and began distributing cake. She gave Dudley an especially small slice, which he glowered at mournfully. Vernon left the room, and promptly returned, carrying a parcel of clothing, and a small, rectangular box.
"Well, my boy," said Vernon, "This year we decided to get you something real special. We want you to look real sharp when you go back to that. that school of yours." Vernon's attempt to sound casual fell a little short of convincing. He handed Harry the package with the kind of smile typical of someone who he being stretched on the rack. Harry accepted them, trying to look gracious instead of woefully confused.
The first package - the small, rectangular one, held a new pair of glasses. They were square - "the height of London fashion," Aunt Petunia assured him - and green - "to bring out the color of your eyes." Harry was surprised she had even noticed the color of his eyes, but kept silent. He tried the glasses on and inspected himself in a handheld mirror which Petunia provided him with. Dudley snickered. Harry couldn't blame him, looking at his reflection. He nearly gagged at the sight of those heavy emerald frames (set on his nose like a cauldron might balance on a teaspoon), but he managed a strained, "Thank you," and ate a mouthful of cake to buy some time to think.
The Dursleys seemed to find "thank you," thanks enough, and presented him with the clothing parcel. It contained further horrors - a tweed blazer, tweed slacks, a green scarf (the perfect Slytherin shade too, but how could they have known that?), and, to top it all off, a tweed hat. Aunt Petunia made him try it on. So Harry, with a brittle smile, tromped off to the bathroom laden with tweed.
As he put the hat on and caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, Harry wondered if the Dursleys were deriving some sick satisfaction out of dressing him up like Sherlock Holmes. Harry felt confident that Aunt Petunia would never force such attire on Dudley. Adjusting his face muscles in an attempt at a smile, Harry returned to his bedroom - it was quiet. The Dursleys were not there.