Chapter 6

Harry was woken from his sleep by a bucket of cold water being poured over him in the morning. He woke up instantly, spluttering with rage and confusion. He hazily made out a shape in front of him before he heard Ron's voice.

"Happy birthday, mate! Now get up, 'Mione has already made plans for the whole day, and she says that if you're not down in ten minutes, you're not getting any breakfast."

Harry looked around, searching for his glasses, before a grinning Ron pushed them into his hand. He sleepily muttered, "Thanks," and started getting up.

He didn't get very far before he spotted the pile of birthday presents at the base of his bed. He noticed that it was considerably bigger than last year.

Ron noticed his gaze, and if possible, started grinning even harder.

"Big, isn't it? I daresay you've gotten more popular this year, what with your fan club and all."

Harry blushed, embarrassed, and threw his pillow towards Ron.

"Stop being such a prick, Ron!"

Ron laughed, enjoying Harry's discomfort. Even though Harry had seen much more than what others had seen, one thing of his that hadn't changed was his innocence. He had lived through the killing curse, but he still couldn't stand it if anybody made fun of him. Ron hoped that Harry retained this quality of his, no matter what happens. In those times, such innocence was hard to come by…

"…so what do you think?"

Mentally berating himself, Ron realized that he had completely zoned out while Harry was speaking.

He sheepishly asked, "What do I think about what?"

Harry repeated himself patiently, "I asked you what 'Mione was planning on doing for today. Do you have any idea?"

Ron groaned. "No. But I sincerely hope she's not going to drag us down to the bookshop again. Last time she did that, we were stuck in there for hours."

Harry laughed, remembering the time when, last year, Hermione had dragged them to the bookstore on their Hogsmeade trip, claiming that she needed to buy a few books. They ended up spending half their day there, waiting for Hermione to finish.

Ron looked at Harry and suddenly started laughing.

"What?" Harry asked, unable to figure out why Ron was laughing.

"Nothing. Just go and get ready. 'Mione is waiting downstairs." Chuckling to himself, Ron started down the stairs, leaving Harry alone to get ready.

As he opened the door to the kitchen, he caught the aroma of coffee. He also heard some voices coming out of the kitchen.

"Vernon, please. This is not the time to discuss this…"

"You stay out of this, Petunia. I've put up with the freak ever since he was dumped on our doorstep. I even allowed him to stay here, and put up with his freakiness. But not any more. One owl I can handle, but five? Five damn owls in broad daylight! What will people say?"

Ron decided that he had heard enough, and quietly stepped in. He saw Hermione glaring at Harry's uncle; five scraps of paper in one hand, while Petunia and Vernon were glaring at the five owls that were perched on the kitchen table.

Hermione had just opened her mouth to say something back, but just then Ron spoke, "What seems to be the problem here?"

It was amazing how fast Uncle Vernon turned his head to glare at Ron instead. "Every goddamn thing! I will not tolerate five owls in my house!"

"And just exactly how do you plan on stopping them?" came another voice, from just near the door.

"Harry? Happy birthday! I'm so glad that you're finally of age! Congratulations." Hermione beamed.

Harry smiled at Hermione, and said, "Thanks. So am I." He then turned his gaze back at his uncle.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Harry repeated.

"Wh-What? You… How dare you talk to me like that! I've put up with you for all these years, you lit-," Mr. Dursley stuttered.

'Yeah, yeah, I know. You little ungrateful wretch and all that," Harry interrupted, with a sudden gleam in his eye.

"Right, well, you know what? I've had enough to. We've been through this before. I know you hate me, and you're not my most favourite people on earth either. You don't need to worry anymore, because-," Harry took out his wand and summoned his trunk, which he had packed the night before, "- I'm leaving!" he said as his trunk flew down the stairs and stopped at the front door with a 'clunk!'

He strode to the front door, saying, "Come on Ron, Hermione, We're leaving. I've had enough of this place."

"Umm, Harry?" said Hermione a little nervously when they had gone down the drive of no. 4, Privet Drive, and were on the road.

"Yeah?"

"Here," she said, thrusting two envelopes into his hand. "These are for you. For your birthday!" she added seeing his mystified face.

"Oh. Right. Thanks. Who're they from?" he asked quizzically, taking them from her. "And what about the other three envelopes?" he added, spying them in Hermione's hand.

"Oh, they're not for you! They're nothing, don't worry," she said hurriedly, a bit flustered and blushing slightly as though she was hiding something.

"Okay, if you say so …"

Harry opened the first envelope, which was addressed to him in a familiar, untidy scrawl.

'Dear Harry,' it said.

'A very Happy Birthday to you! Haven't heard from you for a while hope the muggles aren't troubling you too much. If they are, you can always curse them, now that you've come of age!

I'll most probably seeing you soon. Say hi to Ron and Hermione for me,

Love Hagrid.'

Harry grinned, but then frowned, puzzled. 'What does he mean by "I'll most probably meet you soon?"' he thought, but then realized Hagrid must mean Bill and Fleur's wedding.

He opened the second envelope, which was addressed to him in an unfamiliar handwriting, neat and tidy with a curve. Out fell a piece of parchment with a somewhat formal air. It said -

'Dear Mr. Potter

You are cordially invited to the coming-of-age party of Master Harry James Potter at The Burrow, on the 31st of July. Please be there by 12 Noon sharp to attend to the festivities.

Yours,

R. J. Lupin.'

"Lupin?" said Harry wonderingly, eyes wide with astonishment. "You mean, this is what you were planning, Hermione? A birthday party? Y-you…I-I… Thanks, guys." he said weakly.

"You're welcome, Harry!" His two best friends chorused.

"We're glad you're happy, Harry!" added Hermione, her eyes shining.

"Yeah, mate!" Ron agreed.

Harry turned to Ron. "You knew about this, you git! You said you didn't know what Hermione's surprise was!"

"Yeah, well, she wanted to surprise you personally," Ron replied, grinning.

"We need to get to The Burrow in time for the party! Not to mention, we need to get everything ready before that. If we don't hurry we'll get late! It's already 10:00 A.M!" Hermione chided them, looking at the watch on her wrist.

"How are we going to get there?" asked Ron, curious. Hermione hadn't mentioned their mode of travel.

'We'll be going by the Knight Bus," replied Hermione.

"Oh no! Again?" groaned the redhead.

"As I recall, it was a certain Ronald Weasley who wanted to ride the Knight Bus two years ago." retorted Hermione.

"That was then, and this is now! I hadn't ridden that mental bus before, with it's even more mental driver! How was I supposed to know it was going to be that horrible?"

"Yes, well, we all know that it is a bit of a rough ride."

"A bit rough? I think you've addled your brains from reading so much, 'Mione," exclaimed Ron, ducking and dodging away as a much-offended and indignant Hermione swung out a fist at him.

Harry smiled at his friends' antics. It was good to be back with them again. Best of all, he didn't have to return to the Dursleys', ever, if he didn't want to. But now that the protection of his mother's love at his relatives home was gone, it was all the more easier for Voldemort to get him. He would just have to destroy all the horcruxes, and then go for the last bit left in Voldemort's body before he had a chance to come after Harry himself.

Harry had an advantage there; he doubted if Voldemort knew that anyone but he himself knew about the horcruxes. But the problem was that he had no idea where to look. He'd just have to start from the beginning, where his chances were just as good as anybody else's.

Harry started as, with a 'bang', the Knight Bus appeared before him and his friends. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed Ron fling out his right arm.

They were now on Magnolia Street, close to where Harry had first glimpsed Sirius as the huge, black dog he turned into in his animagus form. With a pang of longing, Harry remembered all the times he had spent with Sirius. It still hurt to think about him. He was gone. Gone. And he wasn't coming back. But he wouldn't have wanted Harry to mope and pine. He would have wanted Harry to move on, to keep living his life.

"Harry, come on! The Bus will leave without you!"

He was again startled out of his reverie by Hermione tugging at his sleeve, urging him to get on.

"What? Oh, right. Sorry!" he replied as he climbed on to the bus with his trunk.

"'Ere! Look 'oo it is, Ern! It's 'Arry Potter!" a familiar voice called out. It was Stan Shunpike. So the Ministry has released him, Harry though with a grin.

"Hello, Stan! I see those gits at the ministry let you out, eh?" Harry grinned.

"Aye, they let me out, after a while. I couldn't believe me eyes when the Minister 'imself came to bail me out. That Azkaban, even without 'em dementors, it's still a scary place." said Stan Shunpike, paling at the memory.

Harry's face took on a grim look at the though of the old, battle-scarred ex-auror, Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister for Magic. He was at least better than Cornelius Fudge, who had scorned both Harry's and Dumbledore's every effort to prove that Voldemort was alive and once again a threat.

Though Scrimgeour wasn't much better.

He went around trying to prove to the wizarding public that everything was under control, which was far from the truth. He doubted that anyone would really believe that everything was alright, now that Dumbledore was dead.

"Harry, mate, come on, let's go take a seat," Ron pulled him down the aisle on the bus to where Hermione was sitting. Harry put his trunk in a rack above and sat down in-between the two.

They were sitting in the fifth row from the front.

In front of them was sitting a witch with long, spiky dark green hair in long ringlets. Her face was pierced in three places.

Across the aisle from them was a wizard with a long beard and a bowler hat. He was wearing long, silver spangled robes that reminded Harry of Luna Lovegood, whose father was the owner of the wizarding magazine 'The Quibbler'.

Harry sighed, and looked out of the window.

They were off on another adventure, without knowing where the wind would take them this time. Or rather, in their case, without knowing where their hunt would lead them.

Despite the dangerous times, and the disastrous situation, Harry felt strangely at peace. He felt, somewhere within him, that this was where he was supposed to be; that this is what he was supposed to do. Seated between his two friends, he vowed to make the most of each day, and take everything as it came, no matter what it is.

He heard Stan give out a warning, and with another 'bang', they were off, ready to face their future together. Bonds of friendship are very strong; theirs was an example of that.

With time, it would get stretched to its utmost limit, and they would have to undergo several tests as well, in which they were required to emerge victorious, not only for their sake, but also for the sake of the entire world. But Harry was certain that they would not fail; they could not afford to fail.

But at that point, he decided to just let things go. Whatever happens, will happen. For now, he decided to enjoy being with his friends, their only worry being the upcoming party, and the marriage.

He smiled at them both, just before with another 'bang' they were thrown off their seats and onto the floor.

Righting himself, he heard Ron mutter, "This is just bloody brilliant! A lunatic murderer is on our tail, and I'm more worried about surviving this stupid bus!"

"So, Harry, what have you been doing during your holidays?" Hermione inquired, after they had managed to sit up straight in their seats.

"Nothing much, just trying to get news of Voldemort and his lackeys. Pretty much like last year," he replied, somewhat off-handedly. Ron suppressed a shudder at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"Ron! Get over it already!" Hermione said exasperatedly, noticing his discomfort.

"Hey! It's not my fault!" Ron replied, indignant.

'Oh, really? Then whose fault is it? After all, Dumbledore himself said that fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself," came the reply.

Harry drifted to sleep as his friends continued to bicker between them; unable to keep his eyes open for much longer. Soon, they would be reaching the Burrow…it would be nice to take a short nap before than.