Harry woke up to the sun shining brightly in his eyes. He moaned and pulled the covers over his head. Such a nice way to start my birthday.

That's when it hit him.

"Oy! Hedwig! Presents! It's like Christmas all over again," he yelled with glee. Hedwig hooted happily. Hey, that rhymes. Kinda.

"Keep it down, keep it down. Some people are still trying to sleep," his uncle cried, "Shut your bloody owl's trap!" Apparently, this birthday wasn't going to be any different than his other ones if it was up to Vernon. But it was different to him, if not his stupid bloody relatives.

Then it finally really hit him. "I'm 17! I'm 17! Whoo-hoo! I'm 17!" he shouted, doing the kind of dance around his room that someone would expect of a monkey. "And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it, you mean, old prick," he laughed down the hallway.

He turned around and looked at the floor. It was littered with wrapped boxes, little bags with fluffy paper, and of course birthday cards. Who's all this from? Why would so many people send me stuff? Do I know this many people?

Like he did every morning, even on his birthday, the first thing he did was to open the Quibbler- a reflex after fifth year, and a very entertaining, if not entirely true sometimes, wizarding magazine. He turned to the "Happy Birthday" article- the cover story. It read:

Dear Viewers,

Today is the 17th birthday of one of the most renown wizards alive.

No, I am not talking about Albus Dumbledore- he does not permit his

birthday to be published- but our dear Mr. Harry Potter, hero of the

wizard community. He lives in Little Whigging, with his aunt, uncle,

and cousin, who happen to oppose anything to do with the name of

wizard. Poor Harry is stuck there all alone until he takes his

apparation test a week after his birthday- orders of Dumbledore, must

stay with a family member for safety, yadda yadda and the usual stuff.

But Harry at least has some condolence- he can use his magic against

them. Not that he would, because he's a very nice wizard and would

never try and do permanent damage to anyone besides you-know-who.

So, people, the friends of Harry Potter have decided to ask you to

send him little gifts- make his day without the wizarding world just a

little bit brighter.

Friends of Harry Potter

Harry felt his face changing color from purple to white to red. Probably some sort of flag in some country somewhere. If a mediwizard had been there he/she would probably have said he needed to go to the hospital, to the poisonous bites section. Dragon bites were dangerous.

But no, Harry was not suffering from a poisonous bite, but from anger, fear, and embarrassment.

His complexion turned a shady grape, angry that his friends had infiltrated his desire to tone down his publicity. Like Dumbledore, he had his own inclinations of the press. He liked his privacy and they tended to respect his desires. Noticing that they had said to send gifts, he turned white. What if he was sent something he would usually find in Fred and George's joke shop under the "for use on enemies" section?

Then his face turned the Weasley style red, seemingly in-style this season. He was definitely embarrassed. Glancing over at the pile of presents, he noticed it was higher than it was a minute ago. And even higher. And much higher. That was why his face was strawberry colored. No one ever cared about him outside of the Weasley family and Hermione.

After being shunned in the wild world of magic for awhile, Harry had become mild acquaintances with people again. But he could have sworn that no one cared about him enough to something like this for him. And he wasn't think about the gifts scattered around the room. No, that article in the Quibbler- why would anyone do that kinda thing for me?

"Friends of Harry Potter" indeed. Strange. Harry, shaking his head in disbelief, decided to go back to the ripping and reading of the packages he had gotten from his friends- the ones sitting on his bed. Some of these he had received this very morning.

Dear Harry (the letter said),

Knowing you, you've already read the article in the Quibbler. (Harry

smiled. Must be Ron who did it then). I know what you're thinking, and

it wasn't me. No, I can't read your mind, but you're my best bud- I

know what you're thinking. I agree with them, though. Hope you've had

a nice summer. Hermione's been bugging the hell out of me to finish my

homework- I haven't started- but now and then I can get her to shut

up. Don't ask. Ginny's been a bit like Mum in a fit; cleaning up the

whole house to prepare for your visit. No new attacks, fortunately,

since the attack on Diagon Alley a month ago. Percival the Prat has

been strutting around the house like he owns the place since- get this-

he proposed to Penelope. Or "Penny" if you want. She said yes, of

course. Their wedding's at Christmas time. Well, hope you're having

one hell of a birthday. Because if you're not, I'm going to, as the

Americans say, "open a can of whoop-" on you.

Your friend,

Ron

Grinning like a maniac, Harry placed the card with his other gifts. Now, where was he...

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday to you on this wondrous day. Yes, I've read the

Quibbler; no, I'm not psychic and no it wasn't me. (Geez, are my

habits that obvious?) Yes, you're that obvious. I have officially known

you for seven years now which means I can legally say you are a

bit of a dunce sometimes, and I know Ginny agrees with me. Since

you're farther away from the owl post, it takes longer to get to you.

I got the Quibbler first. Ron's a bit mad at me because I've been bugging

him to do his schoolwork. But he obviously doesn't see that this is

the easiest way for me to get him to... oh, never mind. You're a guy.

Why am I telling you this? Please, though, Harry, try and get some

work done before you get here. You and Ron will be the death of me, I

swear. Percy's going around like a man on a mission- to make this

wedding the best ever. I guess writing articles about cauldron bottoms

and kissing the minister's robes (A little harsh there, 'Mione) pay off,

because he has a lot of money to blow on this. Ginny's really

happy that you're coming. I guess she has a reason... Ron and I haven't

exactly been paying her much attention, because, um... yea... Anyway,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Friends 4eva,

Hermione