July 31st, 1991:
Harry James Potter sat in the smallest room of the Potter manor. This room had a cold feel to it. Whether it was a lack of emotion from the eleven-year-old or the lack of personal items that most eleven-year-old boys would have, one couldn't say.
The room was set up in simple earth tones; it had a desk, twin bed, a wardrobe, and one wall lined with nothing but books. All the furniture was made with mahogany wood. There was a small, simple bathroom attached to the room. This room, unlike his families, was located on the topmost floor, whereas the other occupants and two guest rooms were on the second floor.
Harry was at his desk reading while listening to the sounds of boisterous laughter, music, children, and general delight coming from the lowest floor and yard. See today was his birthday; however, like every other Wrong boy-who-lived story, it was his twin who received the party. The gifts. Love. While Harry once more was pushed to the side.
Years ago, his godfather, Sirius Black, and uncle, Remus Lupin, had remembered his birthday and brought him gifts. Now, however, after his brother's training began, he was once more forgotten. Thus he cut himself off from feeling most of the time and has perfected a blank mask that no child should be capable of. Earlier in the morning, the twins both received their Hogwarts letters. Harry had once again been reminded of who was indeed in the heart of his parents.
Harry awoke as usual before his brother and father, but right after his mother. Getting cleaned up and dressed, he headed downstairs; Today, he was wearing black slacks, a white buttoned-down, and an emerald green robe with silver embroidery that had been a cast-off of his brothers. Muttering to himself a quick "happy birthday." He made his way downstairs and walked through the kitchen doors, just as his mother finished setting the table.
Lily Potter looked up and grimaced at her youngest's choice in clothing. "Today is your brother's birthday, don't ruin it. Your father and I have worked hard on making sure everything is perfect." She gave a pointed look at him before bustling off to wake her family up.
Harry felt his heart quiver; never in the past did his mother forget his birthday. Quickly burying any feelings, he sat at the table and served himself.
His father strode in with all the arrogance in the world, soon followed by his mini-me. Harry muttered a "good morning, father, and happy birthday brother." Which he regrets when his father's happy, arrogant disposition changed to a cold, hateful, and displeased one.
Sneering at his youngest, "I thought I made myself clear last time. We're potters, not Malfoys, so stop wearing those bloody colors, boy," changing his attention back to his older son, James' demeanor went back to normal like a switch being flipped. After everyone tucked in, two owls flew through the kitchen and dropped two letters—one for Harry and the other for James jr. James sr. and Lily happily watch their oldest rip open and read his letter. They congratulate him, then as if an afterthought Lily turns to Harry.
"Well, what does it say?"
"I've been accepted."
Frowning, "I see, I suppose it shouldn't be surprising. However, your father and I will be busy with both our work. So tomorrow is the only day we can take James. After tomorrow I will give you your trust funds key, and you will have to go alone."
"Yes, mother, may I be excused?"
Only receiving curt nods, Harry retreated to his room.
Looking at the muggle clock, one his godfather got him once, on his desk, Harry frowns. It was 3 o'clock, and the party was still going on. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him of his lost lunch. Harry sighed. What a happy birthday, he thought.