Chapter 11

Harry was so preoccupied with concerns over his "birthday party" that he tossed and turned most of the night. When he did sleep, his dreams were tangled and disturbed; more than once he woke up with a startled half-cry, heart pounding, unable to remember exactly what he'd dreamed.

Sometime around dawn, he finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He woke at nearly noon when Hedwig hooted reproachfully from her cage. As he stumbled sleepily over to let her out, he suddenly remembered what he'd forgotten to do: send his message to Dumbledore.

Bloody hell, Potter, what is wrong with you? Girls on the brain and nothing else, what sort of hopeless sod are you?

Sighing, he took Hedwig out of her cage and gently stroked her snowy feathers. Yes, he needed to tell Dumbledore about the pain in his scar. He couldn't recall any of his dreams from the night before clearly, yet he sensed they had involved Voldemort. But could he risk putting Hedwig's life in danger again?

He turned her loose with an admonishment to return quickly. Then he sat down at his desk and rubbed his forehead, turning the problem over and over again in his mind. Two owls had gone astray. He assumed Hermes, the Hogwarts owl Hagrid had sent, had returned safely to the school, or else Hagrid would have questioned what had happened. Still, Hedwig had been very ill after her last failed delivery attempt – suppose someone had intercepted his letter and poisoned her, hoping that whatever Voldemort was planning would be over before Harry marked her absence? Or suppose they were hoping to sever the one definitive link he had to the wizarding world while on Privet Drive?

A person could go crazy thinking about this…I hate being here, so far away from everyone else, it's like living on Mars…

Harry sighed again. He felt old and weary, not at all like a sixteen-year-old celebrating his birthday. How was it that Voldemort managed to steal the joy out of everything in his life?

Well, not everything. There's Hermione.

Quinn could do some stealing there, though…

Refusing to let his mind wander there, Harry reached out and casually toyed with the Gryffindor emblem on his robes; he'd laid them out to air, something Mrs. Weasley always did, so they wouldn't smell stale when he got on the train in a few weeks. His heart sped up with excitement as he realized how close the start of term was. His sixth year! He was nearly finished with school, really, once the N.E.W.T.s were over. He would work harder than he ever had, even for Snape, if it meant becoming an Auror. And this year he'd be with Hermione. Maybe he'd even be captain of the Quidditch team! Soon he'd be back on his broom, zooming through the crisp autumn air in search of the Snitch, and safely inside the Hogwarts halls where Dumbledore had everything under control, talking to his friends in the Gryffindor common room, stealing kisses from Hermione beside the fireplace –

And then the answer to his predicament came so unexpectedly that Harry almost slapped himself for not thinking of it sooner.

Fawkes.

Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes! When he'd been in real need during his second year, facing the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, he had called Fawkes to him. Now, when he was certain Voldemort was about to unleash some hideous new trick on the Order of the Phoenix, if he tried hard enough, could he summon Fawkes again? Summon him to carry a message safely back to Dumbledore?

No one could intercept Fawkes, I know it…If only I could do what I did before…

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Inexplicably, his mind seemed to know what to do, even if his consciousness didn't recognize it. As in his occlumency sessions, he cleared his mind, forcing out his worries about the upcoming evening with Quinn, his excitement over school starting, even his disappointment that the Dursleys seemed determined to not even acknowledge his birthday this year. Then he dropped deep inside of himself, concentrating first on Fawkes and then on Dumbledore, willing one of them to hear him…

"Aaahhh!"

He cried out when Hedwig nipped his finger. Disoriented, Harry glanced around the room and was surprised to find the shadows lengthening on his floor. Had he fallen asleep? He'd felt like he was really connecting with Fawkes – had it only been a dream?

"You want your letter, I suppose," he murmured worriedly to Hedwig. She hooted softly. He turned the letter over in his hands, trying to decide: Should he wait to see if Fawkes came, or should he send Hedwig out despite the peril?

Just then a tap on his window made Harry jump. For a split second he thought joyously that Fawkes had come, but when he rushed to the window he saw it was only a tawny owl, waiting impatiently to deliver its package. After paying for the delivery, Harry carried the small, wrapped package over to his desk and read the attached letter:

Harry,

Happy birthday! I had an owl from Ron and he told me about Hedwig. I hope she's better now. Was she able to deliver your letter to Dumbledore? Ron didn't mention it. Ugh, I hate not being able to talk to you! I miss you so much.

Anyway, Mum and Dad are doing all right. I didn't think the services would ever end. Is that mean to say? I loved Grandma, but this was all so sad, and it seemed to go on forever. I'll be so glad to get back to school, and to see you again. Mostly to see you again.

Well, enjoy your present. I hope you have a nice birthday, in spite of the Dursleys. We'll celebrate properly at Ron's. Mum is taking me up to London the day after tomorrow, so I'll meet you and the Weasleys there. Be careful, Harry.

Yours,

Hermione

He reread the letter a half-dozen times, unable to stop himself from grinning ear-to-ear. She missed him! She couldn't wait to see him! She'd remembered his birthday, even with her gran passing away!

Feeling almost ridiculously happy, he unwrapped his package and then felt truly ridiculously happy. Of course it was a book – Hermione rarely seemed capable of giving anything but, really – but it was a book chosen, he knew, with exquisite care: "The Apprentice Auror: A Guide to Becoming A Dark Knight."

He had barely started leafing through the book when more owls started to arrive. In spite of himself, Harry felt his ego swelling as gifts and cards arrived not only from the usual sources – Hagrid had already sent his gift, Ron sent a box of wizard gags from Fred and George's joke shop, Mrs. Weasley sent a delicious cake – but also from several members of the Dark Arts club. Even Cho sent him a card. And Luna Loovegood sent him a receipt for a year's free subscription to her father's tabloid, which he found oddly touching.

By the time he finished opening all of his gifts and reading all of his cards, Harry heard his uncle stomping around downstairs and muttering loudly about those "bloody birds" coming to the upstairs window all day. He smiled to himself. Let the Dursleys stew in their own juices – if they wouldn't celebrate his birthday, his friends damn well would!

The evening was coming on in earnest. With a hitch of panic in his chest, Harry realized it was nearly eight o'clock. Almost time for his "party" at Quinn's.

What if she tries to kiss me?

Don't kiss back. Turn away. Tell her you're with Hermione.

Okay, but…

"But what if I want her to kiss me?" he murmured aloud to his silent room. He felt sick just saying it, but there it was, what he was really afraid of – wanting to cheat on Hermione. Every time he thought about Quinn, he seemed so mixed-up inside he couldn't decide what he wanted, although he was fairly certain who he wanted, and it was not Quinn.

That should be all that matters, he told himself stubbornly.

Should be is a long way from what is, his inner voice piped up nastily.

Well, in any case, he couldn't stand Quinn up. Resignedly, he changed out of his rumpled pajamas and into jeans and a black tee-shirt – no, dammit, I am not dressing nice for her – and had his hand on the knob of his bedroom door when he recalled the letter to Dumbledore, unsent on his desk.

He glanced at Hedwig dozing in her cage. Did he have a choice? Could he risk Voldemort getting one up on the Order because he was worried about his owl?

Hedwig's more than an owl. She's my friend. She trusts me…

Before he could make up his mind one way or the other, a soft chirp at the window brought his head up and his heart into his throat. It seemed he'd been doing more than dreaming this afternoon after all; Fawkes was at his window, gazing in wisely at him as if the brightly-colored bird knew he'd arrived just in time to save Harry from a very difficult decision.

"Fawkes!" Harry opened the window and the phoenix flew straight to his desk. He slipped the letter onto the bird's leg. "You're brilliant, Fawkes, you really are. But be careful – I think someone wants to keep this message from Dumbledore."

Although the bird only blinked at him, Harry could have sworn Fawkes gave a small nod in reply. The next moment, he was off into the darkening sky, his motley wings catching the last glorious rays of the sunset.

Everything will be okay now, he thought, hurrying down the Dursleys' steps with a new bounce in his step. Fawkes will deliver that message, I know it. And Dumbledore will know what to do. Everything's going to be just fine.

And he really almost believed it.