Author notes: hi, thanks to all those that read & reviewed this story and I would like to thank Imeden and crocket for helping along my ideas and for their support. We saw Melissa's 13th birthday last chapter. This one is of Harry's 13th birthday. R&R.

A night to remember

4, privet drive, surrey

A young boy was lying on his bed waiting for the clock to chime midnight. He had black hair, which struck every which way and made him look like he had just woken up, bright green eyes that any girl would sigh over, but were always overshadowed with a pair of hideous glasses that had a frames from the 70's, clothes that were faded and way too big for even a 16 year old so he looked much thinner and smaller than he really was. Actually, they were not big; they were huge, especially in width. Over all, he was an ordinary boy, with a skinny frame and maybe a little underfed air, that looked like he was stolen from the chapters of Oliver twist.

The reason that he like that was because he was many of those things and more.

For instance, he was neglected, starved, never had his own clothes or any other thing, did not have any family that showed him affection and was often belittled and berated. However, there was more to him under that entire guise, like how he was not normal in any way. This abnormal, neglected too small looking for his age, boy's name was Harry Potter.

Flashback

When he was much smaller and younger, he often wondered why he was not loved like his fat cousin, Dudley, or why his aunt and uncle never cared for him when he was sick, but most of all, why they called him freak and abnormal. However, the first and foremost rule at number four, privet drive was "don't ask questions". Therefore, he grew quieter, controlled his curiosity and obediently did what he was told. At night, when all the other kids were playing outside or listening to their parents reading them stories or teaching new things, he was laying in his cupboard, listening to his relatives laugh and talk and imagining having all the things that most kids his age took for granted, like having his parents. He imagined a world where he had his mother singing him lullaby at night, his father teaching him to ride a bicycle, and having many friends that would play with him and not mock him like that awful piers polkiss or dudly did to others.

After he turned six, he never tried to compare himself with other kids. He had soon learned that he could not be like other kids because of his penchance for getting in trouble, hence standing out amongst others. Standing out is normally considered a good thing, but not for him, because he finally understood that standing out brought everyone's attention on him and for him, getting attention, more often than not, meant hurt, ridicule, mocking from his fellow schoolmates or his relatives wrath, if they hear Dudley talk about his freaky ways and his showing Dudley up in front of the teachers. His relatives often locked him in his cupboard with little or no food in these instances. They made him do chores around the house, cook food, clean the house and the list that grew longer as he grew older. He never learned why all weird and unnatural things happened around him but he never gave up on his hope; hope for a better life, a better time, a better future…

So, by the time he was 10, he turned from a cheery and bright child to a smart but quiet kid, curious about almost everything but able to hide it, rebellious and courageous but restraining himself from doing anything he wanted in retaliation to things thrown his way, kind and understanding but far from assuming others to show the same curtsey, from an innocent child with wild imagination to a young man aware of the harsh realities of life. The one of the best things that came out of it was that having lived through this type of life gave him have a will stronger than most, a will to change his situation and future from always being like this, to something much more pleasant. That is why all of his qualities, intelligence, emotions and ambitions were carefully hidden from everyone else, and he began to show the face everyone expected him to. A meek, slower than his cousin, obedient, hard working and average in every way kind of person and he worked as hard on it as he could. But alas! He was never able make himself seem normal. He had somewhat contained his freakiness but sometimes he lost his rational reasoning and that is when things grew abnormal.

When he got his Hogwarts letter on his 11th birthday, his life took a new change, for better or worse he did not knew then, but as always he hoped for the best and prepared for the worst…

End flash back

Right now, he was watching the old, beaten and over worn clock that was showing half past 11. He remembered the same day, two years ago, when his life changed forever. He learned that he was a wizard, and the freaky things that always happened to him were because of his magic that was accidentally making them happen, when he lost control of his emotions. He got to know about his parents, their tragic death, of the dark and terrifying times back then, and a new enemy. An evil wizard, Voldemort, he-who-must-not-be-named, you-know-who, the Dark Lord, a monster and some other things, that many believed dead, many believed living in some other place, and some, a small percentage of the wizarding world believed weak and bodiless, hiding and biding his time to rise once again.

Having seen the thing he was and is, he could say that he understood their fear of even saying his name. Nevertheless, he was not a Gryffindor for nothing, courage and bravery was his most amazing qualities after all. He was not afraid of a silly name. A name that was not even original, but made up by Voldemort himself when he was still in school and wanted to get rid of the name of his filthy, muggle father.

Ah, Gryffindor, Hogwarts…. The first place he ever felt at home, the only place he had friends and even some admirers. No, he was not turning into Lockhart, but as child that was often on the, lower than others, standing, he secretly liked having liked or admired for once. Not the blatant favoritism or fans, but a sincere and honest respect of his peers.

His last two years were wonderful and terrible at the same time. His first year, the quirrel-mort attempting to steal the philosopher stone and killing unicorns was the stuff from nightmares. On the upside, he was best friends with Ron and Hermione, was on the quidditch team, and learned that his mother loved him so much that she gave her life for him (that confirms that his aunt was a lying and jealous cow). He even got a photo album, with his parent's pictures, from their Hogwarts years, of their wedding, their married life and even his photos, in which he was always smiling or laughing, with his parents making faces at him or rocking him in their arms. There was the proof that his parents not only loved him but they also doted on him (ha! Take that uncle Vernon), showering him with their attention and affection.

His second year, while not being as good as his first, he still had some very memorable times. Like, when Lockhart was knocked off the stage in the dueling club, his friends sticking with him even after he was revealed as a parcel mouth and was accused of being the heir of Slytherin, flying Mr. Weasley's car to Hogwarts (not so good memories with the whomping willow or Aragon however), and living to tell the tale after defeating tom riddle and his basilisk, while saving Ginny at the same time. After all, who can say that they lived through an adventure like that? Although, if it was not for Fawkes, then even he would not be able to say that. And finally, Hagrid, his first ever friend in the magical world, the one who told him about his parents (and gave dudley pigtail). The one who told him first about his fame and the reason of it. That Hagrid, was taken to Azkaban because a fool of a minister wanted to be seen doing something in front of the public (Who cares if he is innocent? The public have a right to be seen justice after all, even if it is flawed). Therefore, the highlight was of his clearing his first magical friend's name of the crime he was falsely convicted of. Ah, good times, good times…

After defeating the basilisk and destroying tom riddle's diary, he was happy to learn that Ginny will not become a slight on justice, like Hagrid. In addition, Lockhart, the idiot finally got what was coming for him for a long time. "Honestly. What was he thinking? Stealing credit for other's accomplishments and erasing their memories?" was Hermione's only response when they told her about Lockhart, she was so angry.

Before he could get any further, he was pulled out of his musings by some owls, flying his way in the night. He glanced at the old clock and saw that it was just five past twelve. He opened the window to let them all enter, trying to keep them from making noises and waking up his brute of an uncle.

Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Harry's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once — his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig's cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

Harry turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, and then flew across the room to join Errol.

Harry did not recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night. Harry sat down on his bed and grabbed Errol's package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and his first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the

Daily Prophet, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.

Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture did not show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Harry could not think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. He picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday!

Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted.

It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff.

I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year.

Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds.

We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?

Don't let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London,

Ron

P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.

Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.

Harry —

this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.

Bye —

Ron

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right.

I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you — what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.

There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.

Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!

Love,

Hermione

P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it.

Harry laughed as he put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells — but it wasn't. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading

Broomstick Servicing Kit.

"Wow, Hermione!" Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside. There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a

Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.

Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world — highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Harry's most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom.

Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws.

Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled. And out fell — a book. Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title: The Monster Book of Monsters

, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered.

The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it.

"Ouch!"

The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door.

Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he buckled tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!

Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you

. Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

All the best,

Hagrid

It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrid's card up next to Ron's and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.

Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. But how on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form?

He looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning. Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else — glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

AN: Hiya folks… sorry, but the plot starts moving from the next chapter. Had to borrow scene from HP and POA. I used to huff at authors claiming to have pc problems or writer's block. Guess now I am one of them, right? Broke the laptop. Sorry folks, but it was not my fault. I was sleepy and this laptop was on some magazines. When my cousin asked for them, I just pulled at them, and this laptop slipped. Couldn't even use some other pc or laptop cause half of this chapter was saved in It, so I had to rewrite most of it. Will try to post regularly in future,

Regards,

Sarah rose