Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and ideas are the whole intellectual property of Ms. J.K. Rowling and are hers alone to sell. I do not receive, nor would I accept any compensation for any of the owned intellectual property of Ms. Rowling (nor that which she has licensed to WB etc.). What follows is just a wacky little ditty I wanted to get out of my brain. It only got there because I so love that which Ms. Rowling created. No copyright infringement is intended.

At the International Confederation of Wizards Convention…

Harry knew that as soon as they got back he'd be asked about what being at the ICW Convention was like. He knew that the Weasley's would think it was some kind of really exciting event – that it must be really cool to be around all these powerful witches and wizards.

But actually, the isolated island seemed to be under a permanent cold fog, and there was no way to contact his friends. He'd had to leave his owl behind at Hogwarts, where Hagrid was taking care of her – his Dad had said that the journey would be too hard for the animal for something as simple as post – and there were no active floos… Even if he were old enough and knew how, he couldn't even have apparated as there were several layers of anti-apparition wards in effect. In fact, the only way on or off of the island was by portkey, with the only safe transport point being heavily guarded until the end of the conference.

In fact, because of his age, Harry was expected to be accompanied by his father or one of the other Hogwarts professors at all times, which meant that he couldn't wander, or find things to amuse himself – he couldn't even just sleep in while his father attended lectures! Mostly he just tagged along with Severus, mostly ignoring the speaker to work on his own holiday work (which had to be not only done, but done to his father's satisfaction if he was to be allowed to finish the holidays with Ron and his family).

For the most part anyway. A couple of lectures he got to attend with his father were quite interesting: Ones that discussed new curses that Severus promised to wallop Harry to within an inch of his life if he ever tried… ones that discussed potions that Harry knew his father was just dieing to try the instant they got home… and Severus' talk about his advances in improving his own invention: veritaserum.

That had been cool, though Harry knew that Ron wouldn't have been interested.

It had been on Harry's birthday. They'd gotten up early, and in spite of Harry's protestations that his father didn't need to do anything – so he could focus on his talk that morning – Severus had arranged for a breakfast gathering of himself, Albus, Minerva and Filius, who would all also be joining them for a special supper that evening, so that Harry could at least begin and end his birthday with familiar faces – even if he couldn't be with friends his own age.

He'd been very excited for his father as the crowd began to gather for his discussion later that morning. He'd gotten a seat reserved for him right at the front, with the rest of the Hogwarts contingent – all of whom had come directly to the lecture theatre from Harry's birthday breakfast. As the professors mingled a little Harry settled into his seat, hardly able to contain his excitement. He knew how much this meant to his father to have his hard work recognized, and he couldn't be happier for him. He knew how much the man put into his research, he knew how much joy he received from finding new ways to brew potions, or discovering new potions altogether. He'd discovered veritaserum before Harry had been with him, but Harry had witnessed first-hand how much effort Severus had put into making it a more useful tool…

'Good heavens…' The voice beside him distracted Harry. 'You're Harry Potter, aren't you?'

'Yes.' Harry was used to being asked this whenever he went out in public. Though he hadn't been bothered much at this conference until now…

'What are you doing at such a boring old talk like this?' the large, bald man demanded, obviously thinking he was being amusing.

'It's my Dad's talk,' Harry replied, a little icily.

'Oh, right, sorry.' He didn't sound sorry to Harry, but he would have been willing to just let it go if he hadn't kept talking. 'Still don't know what possessed the ministry to allow someone like that,' he motioned to Severus who was chatting with the discussion facilitator near the podium. 'To adopt any child, much less you… Albus! How are you old man?' he ended jovially as Dumbledore, came to stand beside Harry, who was now fuming.

'I'm well, Donovan.' His voice was arctic, and he made no attempt to return the greeting.

Harry looked up at him, trying to convey his desire to be saved from having to sit next to this man, or hear any more of his thoughts. Taking the hint, but deciding to take matters into his own hands first, Dumbledore rested his hand on Harry's shoulder and spoke again to the portly wizard.

'Can't wait to hear about Severus' new advances with his veritaserum. What he's shared with me about his work at Hogwarts sounds very promising. If only more of us were as gifted in potions as he is – there would be far fewer accidents in which children were accidentally adversely affected by potions gone awry…' The man blushed furiously at this, and Dumbledore took the opportunity to quietly lead Harry several seats away from him.

'Thank-you, sir.' Harry said appreciatively. He was very curious about what kind of potions mishap the man had been embarrassed about when Dumbledore had made his comment, but decided that he wouldn't ask just now.

'What did he say to you Harry? You looked ready to start hexing him.'

Slumping heavily into his chair with a huff, Harry, growled once before answering. 'He said,' Harry quoted angrily. 'That he didn't know what possessed the ministry to allow someone like Dad to adopt anyone, much less me…. Stupid old…' Harry muttered several descriptors under his breath before looking back up at the headmaster. 'Why do people think it's ok to say things like that about him?' he asked, a slight quaver in his voice. 'At all? Much less to me?'

'Arrogant, stupid old…' Dumbledore muttered several much more colourful descriptors under his breath, shooting a glare in the man's direction before turning a kind gaze back to Harry. 'I'm sorry, Harry. That was a horrible thing for him to say. He hasn't been a student of mine in nearly forty years, but if I could, I'd have him under the cane for a remark like that…' He smirked, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry couldn't help himself – the image of Dumbledore taking a cane to the fat old (to Harry's way of thinking anyway) man, elicited a soft chuckle. 'Good man,' Dumbledore patted Harry's back a few times when he saw Harry's mood lighten. 'Don't let people like that get to you Harry.'

As Harry smiled, catching his father's eye and waving briefly, Dumbledore got up and spoke briefly with Minerva. She scowled at the man who had spoken to Harry before coming over to take the seat that Dumbledore had vacated. By the time the facilitator called the group to attention, Filius Flitwick had seated himself on Harry's other side, and Dumbledore sat himself next to Minerva, directly next to a now distinctly uncomfortable looking Donovan.

The discussion was a complete success, with Severus letting his joy in his work show through during the question and answer session after his initial speech, and Harry was pleased to join the others in applause at the end of the presentation.

'You were brilliant Dad!' Harry was still beaming as the five of them sat down to eat lunch that afternoon. 'Even that jerk-face was impressed by the end!'

'Donovan Logan,' Dumbledore explained to Severus' quizzical look. 'Stupid ass said something ignorant to Harry…'

'What did he say?' Severus demanded in a low growl.

'Nothing intelligent,' Dumbledore began, but seeing from the look on his face that Severus did not intend to let it go, he explained: 'He made a stupid crack about you adopting Harry. I spotted Harry about to remove his head from his shoulders, and stepped in.'

'Uncle Albus was brilliant, Dad,' Harry chuckled again. 'He told him that if more people were as good at potions as you there'd be less accidents… Did he have a really bad potions accident Uncle Albus?' Harry asked. 'Because he sure looked embarrassed when you mentioned adverse reactions…'

'He once overdosed on a Virtus Engorgio  potion…' Everyone at the table choked at this, Severus laughing outright.

Only Harry looked confused. 'I don't know that potion? What's it do?'

Dumbledore smiled mischievously at Harry's question, Filius looked determinedly at his plate, and Minerva blushed scarlet. Severus cleared his throat and, though he looked distinctly uncomfortable, finally managed to answer. 'It is an illicit potion that you will not worry about… nor make… it – uh, can lead to a very embarrassing situation for young men who attempt it… argh…' he groaned, shooting a glare at Albus for bringing it up when Harry looked at him, still confused.

'It – er –' He leaned in, whispering so that no one else could hear. 'It causes a certain part of the male anatomy to get larger. It is only ever attempted by young men with less brains than self-confidence, because the possible side-effects are said to be quite uncomfortable.' Harry could feel his face burning as he finally understood, and would have loved to crawl under a rock if their server hadn't chosen that moment to arrive with their meals.

'What talk are we going to see this afternoon?' Harry asked his father in an attempt to change the subject.

'This afternoon is the general assembly,' Minerva answered for him. 'Everyone is expected to attend, but between you and me, Harry, it is incredibly boring, so I recommend bringing either a book to read or some parchment to doodle on.'

She'd been right. It had been the most boring part of the convention yet – that is right up until one of the wizards up at the front had announced that today was Harry Potter's birthday and that they were lucky to have Harry in the audience today, and would he come forward so that they all could extend their best wishes?  Harry had sat, frozen in horror in his seat until Dumbledore had risen and motioned for their entire group: himself, Minerva, Filius, Severus and Harry to all step forward.

Still, even leaning against his father for support, and with the other Hogwarts professors standing with him, he dearly wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole as the room of fifty-odd witches and wizards chorused "For he's a jolly good fellow".

He very shyly thanked the chairman when he wished him many happy returns and handed him a gift from the whole ICW of a book entitled "Famous witches and wizards of the twentieth century" bookmarked at the page that held his own entry. Returning to his seat as soon as politely possible, Harry was certain that his face was redder than Ron's hair.

But worst of all, was on his way back to his seat, he noticed a Daily Prophet photographer putting his camera away.  Terrific he thought. That's all I need is for this to make it into the paper…

His birthday dinner that evening with his father and the Hogwarts teachers was far more satisfactory.  As were the gifts – It was an all Quidditch theme: Books, gloves, pads and even a very nice broomstick-care kit from his father – Remus had given him his gift before he'd left his flat (about a tonne and a half of chocolates and sweets).

'I have to wonder at the propriety though…' Filius said as they all sat sipping their after dinner tea. 'I mean – the heads of Ravenclaw and Slytherin giving Gryffindor's star seeker Quidditch supplies. How do you think that would sit with our alums Severus?' He'd said it with a completely straight face, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away a moment before his face broke into a grin.

The professors, and even Harry himself were still laughing about the irony of it all when Severus finally sent Harry off to bed as the hour neared midnight.

'Good-night all, 'night Dad – you were brilliant today.' Harry said over a yawn after thanking them all for his gifts.

As he slowly drifted off, to the muffled murmuring of the adults voices in the other room, and the sight of his birthday gifts on the nightstand, Harry's last thought was that even though his birthday had turned out much differently than he'd been hoping only a few weeks ago, it was still a great day. He was twelve years old – and though they still had a week and a half left at the convention, as soon as he got home, he'd have a week and a half – partly at home, partly at Hogwarts before he went to stay at Rons to spend almost entirely up on his broom, flying…

TBC