Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the Harry Potter settings or plots, nor any of anything associated with Harry Potter. Only JK Rowling can say that she does.

A/N: I'm hoping eventually I'll have a respectable enough number of reviews that people will know that this story is all right. I'm trying to keep the quality and the grammar good, so if you see anything horrible or terribly wrong, please just drop me a note. I promise I won't attack you or anything. I'll probably actually post more if you do…

0000000000000000 Chapter 7: Birthday Ups 0000000000000000000

Harry jumped about three feet straight up when the lights went on, though his wand stayed in his hand. A curse was halfway out of his mouth before his brain caught up and stopped him from really hurting someone.

"SURPRISE!!!" over a dozen voices shouted. Harry thought perhaps he'd die of a heart attack right there and then. He did not need this, not when he had managed to convince himself that the house was overrun with death eaters. It wasn't good for him.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" someone else shouted. "SWEET SIXTEEN!" they or someone else went on. Harry blinked, and he heard laughter. Then, two redheads detached themselves from the throng. Bill and Charlie.

"You should see your face, mate," Bill said with a laugh. Harry glared.

"I thought the house was being taken over by death eaters," he told them with a glare. Charlie laughed.

"Oh come on, Harry. They would have made more noise than we did," he said. Harry glared at him.

"I could've had a heart attack right here in the doorway, for your information. And if I hadn't been watching too closely, I could've cursed you very painfully," he informed the red-haired man. Charlie smiled, but this time a little nervously.

"Really?" he asked. Harry nodded slowly.

"I've learned some pretty good ones, too," he said.

"Aw, lighten up, Harry," Bill chided. "It's your sixteenth birthday, and even if Ron couldn't be here, you do have a few Weasleys around. Enjoy it, all right?"

"Fine," he groused, still a little grouchy.

"You're just grumpy because we surprised you," Tonks spoke up. Harry glared at her.

"I was pretty sure you'd fallen down some stairs somewhere," he told her. "So I went ahead and ate breakfast."

"What breakfast?" she asked, a blank look on her face. Harry blanched.

"You—you mean you didn't—" he said weakly.

Tonks laughed. "Oh, that breakfast!" she said. Harry went red.

"I'm going to get you, Nymphadora!" he told her, purposely using her first name.

"Hey!" she squeaked.

"Let's start in on the gifts," Remus suggested. Harry looked around, seeing who all the guests were.

A lot of aurors, some he did recognize…and Dumbledore was here. Harry was glad to see the old wizard. He'd wanted to apologize for his behavior at the end of fifth year all summer, but he had wanted to do it in person. The two Weasley brothers, Remus, Tonks…no students he knew. All adults, but much better than sitting around doing nothing all day.

"Wow," he said. The dining table was covered in gifts. "This is really great," he said. "Thanks for doing all this for me…you didn't need to," he said.

"On the contrary," Dumbledore said with a smile, "your sixteenth birthday is nothing to sneeze at, Harry. After all, you only get to have a sixteenth birthday once."

Harry tried to figure that argument out for a bit, until he saw the small smile on the old man's face. "Very funny," he said.

"First of all," Dumbledore said. He produced an envelope with a flourish.

"My OWLs!" Harry cried. Dumbledore nodded.

"Hand delivered, no less," he said, handing them directly to Harry, who only hesitated a second before ripping them open.

'Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

We are pleased to inform you of your official OWL results. Please be sure to consult your school for their requirements for NEWT level classes, and note that all grades marked with '0' are high honors achieved by those scoring in the top one percent of all fifth year students:

'History of Magic: T

Charms: EE

Divination: O

Astronomy: P

Transfiguration: EE

Potions: O

Herbology: A

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O0

Care of Magical Creatures: O

'Good job on your OWLs, and we look forward to recording your NEWTs. Please be sure to follow the requirements needed for your intended field of study.'

"Wow." That was all Harry could say. He didn't bother reading the last few lines of the letter…just something about how proud they were of him, etc, etc, and then a few pompous-looking signatures.

"Well?" Tonks pressed. "Tell us!"

"I got a T in History of Magic," he told them. "Has anyone ever done that before?"

"That may be a new record," Dumbledore admitted. "I will have your test framed for Professor Binns, perhaps," he mused. Harry hoped that Dumbledore was only joking.

"Uh…the rest are pretty good. Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration and Charms, and Outstandings in Potions, Divination, DADA, and Care of Magical Creatures. I got Average in Herbology," he summed it up. "I must have made up some really great stories on my Divination final."

"That may have more to do with the graders, rather than your skill, for that particular exam," Dumbledore commented. "And how many times you predicted meetings with red-eyed evil wizards." Harry laughed.

"I got a really high O in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said. "I think they really liked my Patronus," he explained. "I can't believe I got an 'O' in Potions, though."

"I had a small talk with Professor Snape about it, and though he was loathe to do so, he admitted that your grades were worthy of letting you into NEWT level potions this year," Dumbledore informed him. "Your graders were fairly impressed with your skill."

"I'm just glad I know what homework to do now," he said. "No more history of goblins and trolls."

"Good job on your grades, Harry," Remus said. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Remus," he said, feeling a little embarrassed. Tonks fidgeted impatiently.

"Well, come on," she broke in. "Presents!"

Harry laughed and headed over to the table, waiting until everyone had sat down before finding a seat between Remus and Dumbledore. A package was passed down to him, and he opened it quickly, interested to see what it was and who it was from.

Inside the package was a book. He picked it up, looking at the blank cover and the crumpled corners. "It's pretty old," Remus commented. "I figured since you're here, I'd find you something else for your birthday besides the glass lily. That was Sirius's, I think. Or your dad's. I haven't figured out the password on it yet, but you're welcome to try. It was in a bin of Lily and James's few belongings that were recovered from the house after—after it was destroyed."

Harry nodded. He set the book aside as Tonks put another package in his hands. "Thanks, Remus," he said.

"This is from me!" Tonks informed him excitedly. Harry opened the package quickly, tearing apart the bright snitch-covered wrapping paper. Inside was a red cloak. He picked it up, shaking it out, and saw that it was a very nice cloak with a golden clip on it. He'd never had any cloak except his black Hogwarts cloak. This seemed like something Dumbledore would wear. A real wizard's cloak.

"This is great," he told her. She smiled happily, stealing a glance at Remus, and Harry folded the cloak back up and set it aside. Dumbledore then handed him an envelope.

"This is for you, Harry," he said. "It is not really—open it. Then I will explain," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded and opened the envelope. Inside were adoption papers. They were filled out but not completely signed.

"Wow," he said, surprised. He looked up at Dumbledore for the explanation.

"These are not official, Harry, and won't be until I can sort a few things out with the Ministry. They quite often listen to what I have to say," he told Harry. The way his eyes were twinkling, Harry wanted to laugh. It was hilarious. "I cannot escape the fact that law will not let Remus adopt you, but I can take guardianship, and am quite willing to do so. Your relatives obviously were not a good decision on my part." The old man sobered.

"I'm fine," he assured him. "And I did provoke them a lot, really."

Dumbledore smiled again. "I would have guardianship, but Remus would have parental rights over you," he explained. Harry nodded.

"That sounds perfect," he said. Dumbledore smiled.

"Good," he said. "We'll talk about it more this evening…but for now, there are numerous boxes you must open!"

Harry turned back to the table, tucking the papers in with the book where they would be safe. The rest of the packages were all about the same size and wrapped in brown paper. He reached out to pull one closer, and was surprised at how heavy it was.

"Careful opening that," Remus warned. Harry frowned. Hopefully it wasn't a live animal of some sort…

"What is it?" he asked. Remus smiled evily.

"You'll see," he said. "It's not all great when you turn sixteen," he said cryptically. Harry stared at the man that he hoped would soon be his 'dad,' and then tore open the box.

"What?" he said stupidly. It was full of letters of all shapes and sizes. He stuck his hand in the box, and felt all the way down to the bottom. It was filled with letters, packed tight with them. He looked around, dazed. "And all the rest? They're letters too?" he asked. Remus nodded, as did the others.

"I'm afraid that we have something to tell you, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You see, up until now we've been able to legally withhold mail from you."

"You've been filtering my mail?" he asked, a little angry now. Dumbledore smiled, and Remus broke in nervously.

"Well, you see, Harry, these aren't letters from anyone you know," he explained. Harry was perplexed.

"Then who in the bloody world would send me letters?" he asked. "There aren't any from second year in here, are there?" he asked, suspicious. Remus put a hand on his arm, stopping him from going through the box.

"No, at least not what you're thinking of," Remus said. He smiled weakly. "They're fan mail."

"WHAT?!" Harry yelped. "What fans?"

"Duh, Harry, remember—you're famous!" Tonks told him. He frowned.

"I never wondered why I didn't get letters after articles were published in the Prophet," he mused. "Hermione got howlers fourth year, I guess. I just figured no one would be writing me. I mean, why?"

"Well, I guess you'll find out," Remus said. "We can't legally hold your mail after you turn sixteen, and anyway, we figured you're old enough to sort through your own mail. Save us a bloody lot of time."

"How many letters are there?" he asked, alarmed. "And what do they want?"

"Hmm…I'd say about ten, twenty letters a day…so probably close to ten thousand letters now. Of course, we filtered out the cursed ones and the junk mail and the likes," Remus told him. "Most of them seem to be just letters thanking you for various things, although I've only ever read a couple. We didn't want to pry into what's rightfully yours."

"I don't want it!" he said. "You can keep them, burn them, send them back!" There was no way he was going to be like Lockhart, answering fan mail. Remus laughed.

"You'd better get used to it, Harry," he said. "When the school year starts—"

"Oh, no way," he said. "Nuh, uh. Don't tell me—they're going to start coming in the Great Hall at breakfast!" Remus nodded, smiling a little less happily now. Harry groaned. "I'll never live this down," he groaned. "Everyone will laugh at me."

"We will have to go through it all, as well, in order to check for any dangerous mail," Dumbledore added. Harry glanced at him.

"Dangerous mail?" he echoed.

"Cursed letters, nasty howlers, the like," Dumbledore said, like it as nothing big.

"How often do I get that kind of mail?" he squeaked. It was Kingsley Shaklebolt that spoke up.

"Seventy-five over your fifth year," he said.

"Seventy-five?!" Harry exclaimed, appalled. Kingsley smiled grimly.

"About half were howlers shouting about how you should be locked up, and most of the rest were from silent supporters of Voldemort—they were letters with simple hexes or curses on them. Mostly threats and the like," he told Harry, who gaped.

"B—but who would? I mean," he floundered. Bill took pity on him.

"You may have fans, mate, but you've also got plenty of enemies," he said gently. Harry sat down with a thump, barely realizing that he'd stood up.

"Well, what'd I do to them?" he asked stupidly. He recovered. "No, don't answer that," he said wearily. Charlie closed his mouth. "How'm I supposed to read through all of this?" he wondered. An auror he didn't know leaned over the table and took a letter off the top of the pile. He pulled out a short knife and slit it open and pulled out the letter.

Before Harry could protest, the man had unfolded the letter and held it up to read. "Dear Harry Potter," the auror read out loud, "My name is Julie Thomas, and I'm ten years old. In school we're doing a project on you, and my mom said I could send you a letter. Did you really kill You-Know-Who? Do you have an owl? Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Now wait a minute!" Harry protested. The auror just grinned, cleared his throat, and continued.

"I know you're just twelve, Harry, but I think I'd be a great girlfriend. You're so cute, and I really know a whole lot about you. Would you like to come to my school and visit? My teacher told me if you responded you could come. I sent you a picture just in case," the man said. He fished a small photograph out of the envelope and flicked it over to Harry, who picked it up and blanched.

"She's probably ten!" he protested.

"She did write this when you were twelve," Tonks pointed out. She smiled at the other auror. "Come on, Jakes, finish it up," she told him.

The auror read ahead a bit and laughed a few times. Harry blushed red and took a swipe at the letter. Jakes just pulled it out of reach. "All the girls in my school started a Harry Potter fanclub, and we'd really like to actually meet you," the man went on, barely able to read through his laughing. "One girl says her mom even saw you one day at Diagon Alley! Anyway, I hope you write back, though everyone says you never do, and I hope you don't have a girlfriend by the time I come to Hogwarts! Love, Julie."

Jakes tossed the letter across the table and Harry snatched it up before tearing it into little pieces. "That—are they all like that?" he asked. "Are there really fan clubs?"

"Don't let it go to your head, son," Jakes said, still laughing. Harry groaned, falling back in his chair.

"This is a disaster. I liked not knowing people watched me all the time! I liked not knowing that Julie Brown or James or Thomes or whatever her name was trying to be my girlfriend when I was TWELVE! For all I know, she's at Hogwarts now—what, in fourth year this year?"

Dumbledore smiled and opened his mouth. Harry groaned again. "She's a fourth year Hufflepuff," Dumbledore told him. Harry clapped his hands over his ears.

"No way," he griped. "No way can this be possible," he said out loud. "So she's at school, probably watching me or something. With her FAN CLUB!!"

"Oh, I don't think it's that bad," Tonks said with a grin. "But I wouldn't change in a room that you haven't checked the perimeters of," she warned him. Harry gaped. That hadn't occurred to him.

"B—but w-what w-would…?" he got out. Tonks laughed.

"Oh, come on," she said. "Young man, not terrible to look at—not that I'm looking, Harry," Tonks added quickly, glancing at Remus again. Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at this. Tonks had such a big crush on Remus…it was disgusting, almost. "But you are famous, Harry, and cute, and lots of girls would just love to be your girlfriend. And girls can be pretty ingenious."

"They'd try to sneak peeks at me changing?" he asked, horrified. "Why?" Tonks giggled.

"There was this really cute guy in Ravenclaw..," she started.

Harry slammed his hands back over his ears and hunched over in his seat. "I do not want to hear this!" he said loudly. "I'll just change under my sheets from now on, and I'll keep clean with a washrag and wash my hair in the sink!" he declared.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It isn't that terrible at Hogwarts, is it? And I can assure you, Harry, that the boy's bathrooms are perfectly safe," he said reassuringly. Harry glanced at him.

"Really?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded seriously. But then his eyes twinkled again.

"I cannot say the same for the locker rooms, though…some of the young witches are rather ingenious when it comes to finding ways to spy on the locker rooms," he admitted. Harry sighed.

"Why does life have to get even more difficult? I'd rather anything than this," he said. Remus patted his shoulder.

"I'm sure you can get Hermione, Ron, and some of the others to help you out," he said. "Perhaps you can find a few spells that will sort these letters out for you."

"Wow. What a wonderful birthday present," he said out loud, very, very, very sarcastically. Remus laughed.

"It was more of a birthday not-so-present," Remus admitted. "But it's your responsibility now. You'll have to get used to it, because it's not going to stop anytime soon."

"What if I changed my name?" he asked quickly. "Then they couldn't deliver the damn letters!"

"Very funny, Harry," Remus said, rolling his eyes. Somewhere, a clock chimed.

Jakes stood up. "We have to be going," he admitted. "Business," he explained. Dumbledore waved a hand.

"Of course," he agreed. "Thank you for stopping by," he added. The man nodded and smiled.

"I'm glad I had the chance," Jakes replied. He left, followed by all of the other strange aurors and Kingsley Shaklebolt. Harry turned to Dumbledore.

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why were they here?" he asked. Dumbledore smiled.

"Another part of getting older," he explained. "Politics. Most of them are rather new aurors, and we'd like to have them on our side. Lewis Jakes is their boss, primarily, and his request was that he get to meet you and speak with you."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "I'm asking this a lot, but why me?"

"Because you're sort of the figurehead for the light side. Not to sound demeaning, but you're the mascot to everyone who does not know why Voldemort is after you. Mr. Jakes needed to know what you were like. I think you won him over," Dumbledore explained. Harry sighed, looking away.

"I'm starting to get tired of being a celebrity," he stated. "Why can't someone else do it?" he asked rhetorically. Dumbledore stood up.

"We need to speak about a few things," he said. "Remus, if you would? Tonks, could you please make some late lunch?" he asked.

Harry and Remus followed Dumbledore out of the room, and into the back sitting room. There was a fire lit in the darkly lit room, and several large stuffed chairs around a low coffee table. Harry checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was indeed getting late—in a few hours, it would be time for dinner.

Harry hesitated just inside the room. "Harry?" Remus asked.

"Er—could I talk with Professor Dumbledore alone for a bit?" he asked. Remus nodded and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Harry waited as Dumbledore turned towards him.

"Is there something you wished to speak about privately, Harry? I planned to talk with both you and Remus about your vision, but if you didn't want him here…" Dumbledore offered. Harry shook his head.

"No, no," he said. "I—I wanted to apologize for how I behaved at the end of the school year,' he said quickly. "I shouldn't have shouted at you like that, and I shouldn't have destroyed all of your possessions like I did."

Harry expected—well, he wasn't sure what he expected. But when he'd gathered enough courage to look up, Dumbledore was smiling at him. "Harry, I don't know why you think you must apologize for that, but I will certainly accept it. I understand why you were upset, and in your place I too would have been angry. I made my own mistakes last year as well, Harry. I never thought your anger was undeserved."

"But—but I said some really terrible things!" he protested. "I—I didn't mean them, though. I was just upset, and—"

"Harry, my dear boy…young man, everyone is entitled to a few rash words. Even Remus had a few strong words for me when he spoke with me that night," Dumbledore said placatingly. "I fear that many of my mistakes stemmed from the fact that I do not want to see you hurt, Harry. It makes me willing to risk others for you."

Harry was horrified. "Don't do that!" he protested. Dumbledore sighed.

"I didn't mean to say that to make you feel guilty, Harry," Dumbledore said. "What I'm trying to say is that I want to do what's best for you, Harry, and sometimes that makes me blind to what you really want. Sometimes what's best for a person is not what they need the most."

"I—I never listened, and I lied about taking Occlumency from Professor Snape after he threw me out, and—" Harry rambled. For some inane reason he felt determined to make sure that Dumbledore knew that he was at fault.

"Harry, I know you've made mistakes in your life. You are a child, just sixteen now. You're allowed to make as many mistakes as you want. I make mistakes too, despite my age, as does Professor Snape, Remus, everyone," Dumbledore said. He moved closer, and Harry had to look away as Dumbledore put his hands on his shoulders and tried to look him in the eye. "Harry, I am proud of you, and there is not a day that goes by that I don't wish you were my grandson."

"What?!" Harry asked, looking up in surprise. Dumbledore smiled at him as their eyes met.

"I have missed having a family, Harry…my efforts against Grindewauld left me little time to pursue family. If I had had a grandson, I would imagine he would be something like you," Dumbledore explained. "Ever since you were one, and I had to leave you with the Dursleys…"

"But—but I'm not—I don't have—why would—" Harry was again floundering around for words. Why in bloody hell would Dumbledore even want to imagine that Harry could be his grandson? Wasn't he burden enough? His own relatives couldn't even stand the thought that he was related to them. They'd rather he just up and died one day and didn't come back…

"Harry, I think you underestimate how much people care for you," Dumbledore said gently. "Do not ever think that you are unwanted, Harry."

"But—" he started to protest.

"No objections, Harry," Dumbledore said sternly. "Now, I think it's time Remus came in so we could discuss these visions of yours…and perhaps you can tell me why Professor Snape reported to me today with a black eye?"

00000000000000000000000000000000

A/N: I just thought that this was a hilarious place to end the chapter. I tried to make this chapter a little more humorous than others, so this is what you get. The next should continue in the same way…well, except for…hmm, I'll just leave you to guess. That'll come in the next chapter…or perhaps the one after. It depends how long Harry and Remus feel like chatting with Dumbledore. And if Tonks actually manages to bring them something to eat without dropping anything…now I'm rambling.

In response to a review I got: This isn't going to be a super-Harry fic. He just wants to learn a few useful skills…but don't expect them to come easily to him. And as for the Dursley's, I think they just reached their breaking point. I really didn't mean for them to be quite so abusive, but as Harry just kept on yelling at them and such they got a little more upset than I meant. I kind of imagined their perspective being that they have a deranged teen in the house who has already made their only son a wreck. Why wouldn't they be really really mad? And Vernon's already proved that he can cause physical harm to Harry when sufficiently upset.

Oh! Please Review! --Miss Laine