The Potter Timeline
Chapter 52 - Surprising Revelations and Birthday Cheer
"Fizzing Whizzbees," Harry uttered at the gargoyle.
The statue came to life and stepped to one side. The wall behind slid open, revealing the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster's office. Harry and Hermione headed toward it and once on the first step, the staircase swiveled upwards until they came to rest before the enormous oak door with its shiny griffin knocker. Harry knocked.
"Enter!" the headmaster spoke from within.
The pair did so and upon closing the door behind them, were surprised at the presence of even more of those whirring, clicking machines they remembered from previous visits. Most sat on small tables, several littered the floor, and a few even hovered in the air. The combination of sounds from these odd devices filled the room with a noise akin to a clanky, metallic orchestra warming up before a concerto, though the noise wasn't irritating or especially loud.
"Ah! Harry, Hermione. Come and have a seat," the old wizard uttered from behind his desk where he was busy writing on a sheet of parchment with several large books lying open before him.
"And welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss Granger. I hope your early return will be both beneficial and enjoyable," he stated without looking up from his writing.
"Thank you, sir," she replied.
They sat down in the chairs before the desk and gazed at the machines once more, watching as puffs of smoke or steam rose from several.
"I meant to ask you before, professor, but what are these things?" Harry inquired.
Dumbledore put down his quill and stared at his collection of strange contraptions.
"They're measuring devices, Harry," he said.
"What do they measure?" Hermione asked with furrowed brow.
"Magic."
The two teens were astonished.
"Magic?" Harry asked.
"Well, more specifically, they measure spells and charms. Any time one casts a spell or charm there are micro reactions that, though perhaps unseen by us, nevertheless effect the environment around them, sometimes in unexpected ways. I use these devices to measure those effects. For example, at this moment I am measuring the speed at which the locking spell, Colloportus, leaves the wand and affects the intended target, as well as any electro-magnetic reactions in the air between."
The two were amazed.
"Wow," Hermione uttered, "I have a book on Magical Theory which mentions this."
Dumbledore smiled.
"Are you doing this for a class?" Harry asked.
"Not quite. I'm writing my own book on the topic, one that I hope will aid teachers of the magical arts, of course, but also help our society at large better understand what impact our magic has on the world around us. The subject may not be as practical as my Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood research, but in the end I'm sure someone will find it helpful."
The two nodded and the headmaster leaned forward on his desk.
"Now, before we discuss the main topic for which I've asked you both here, I understand from Hagrid that you had a brush with the Dementors on the Wizard Express."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other with apprehension.
"Yes, sir. We were going to mention it ourselves," Harry said to the man, "especially as...Hagrid told us about Minister Fudge's decision to have the Dementors brought here."
Dumbledore nodded.
"I see. Well, I'm afraid it's true. Our minister believes strongly this is the best course of action and he informed me one reason for his doing so was for your wellbeing, Harry. Apparently, Sirius Black is searching for you in particular."
"Yes, sir. That's what James told me."
"Well, for the record, I objected to Fudge's decision and requested another contingent of Aurors be stationed at the school instead. As our students became used to their presence during last year's incident with the Chamber of Secrets, I felt they would be better suited. But alas, Cornelius refused. He told me his Aurors were busy scouring Britain for the convict as it was and could not be retained for duty here. However, he assured me the Dementors would not harass or interfere with our students or staff, that they would merely be guarding all known entrances into Hogwarts. But, on one point I was successful - I told our dear minister that I absolutely refuse to allow any Dementors inside the castle, period. He agreed to this and is to inform the Dementors."
Harry and Hermione nodded.
"As for your encounter on the train, that was most unfortunate and indicates to me that one cannot trust the Dementors, even if they agree to our stipulations."
"Exactly, professor," Harry said, "which is why we wanted to ask you something. James used the Patronus charm to ward them off. He told us it's one of the most effective means of protection against them. Could you teach us the charm, just in case?"
The headmaster sat back in his chair and stroked his beard in thought.
"Hmm. That's not a bad idea, Harry. However, the Patronus charm is advanced magic and requires significant magical power. Even mature wizards and witches have difficulty performing it correctly. And we normally do not teach the charm until your fifth year. I know of only a handful of our current students, some sixth and seventh years, who are able to successfully produce a Corporeal Patronus. Perhaps I might enlist them to be on alert while the Dementors haunt our school grounds. But as for the two of you, since you've already displayed some fine wandwork, according to Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and in the spirit of preparing for a certain...eventuality, perhaps some lessons might be in order."
Harry and Hermione grinned at one another. Dumbledore continued.
"However, I don't think I would be the best one to teach you. Rather, I will reserve that duty for your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"You've hired someone, professor?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, young lady. In the months since Mr. Lockhart lost his memory, I made inquiries among former professors and a few acquaintances of mine to see if any were interested in assuming the post. I also placed adverts in The Daily Prophet and a few other wizarding papers. But alas, no one responded to the latter, and I got the impression those I asked of the former were...too afraid to take the post for some reason. You can imagine then, that as our new term was quickly approaching, I nearly despaired of finding a replacement and was concerned that I myself might have to assume the Dark Arts class for the entire year. But most fortunately, a few days ago, just after the news about Sirius Black broke, I received an owl from someone greatly interested in the position."
"Who is that?" Harry asked.
"His name is Remus Lupin. He was a former student here at Hogwarts and a very bright one. In fact, he was a prefect of Gryffindor. I enabled young eleven-year-old Lupin to attend school after a...tragic event struck the boy. And he proved himself not only adept at magic but was possessed with good sense and decency as well. I think you'll find him to be an excellent teacher. Unfortunately, due to present circumstances, he won't be arriving until nearly the same day as the start-of-term banquet. But once here, I'll speak with him about your request to learn the Patronus charm. At the least, he may be able to assess whether the pair of you has what it takes to produce it effectively."
"Thank you, professor," Harry replied, both him and Hermione smiling at the man.
"Yes, well, despite my glowing report of Remus, I do have a couple of reservations about the man."
"What are those?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore gazed at them both with a squinty expression, as though weighing carefully what he wished to say. He then leaned forward on his desk.
"If I tell you something in confidence, will you promise not to reveal it to another soul?" he asked with a stern look.
The pair nodded, both very curious now.
"Very well. Remember, I am only relaying this information to you because I wish to aid an unfortunate soul whose lot in life has thrown him for a curve, and who has, despite that, remained good at heart. I would ask, in fact, that you help me in this endeavor, as I trust you both."
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, then looked back at the wizard.
"Certainly, sir," Harry replied, Hermione nodding in acknowledgment. The headmaster smiled.
"Lupin suffers from an affliction which will cause him to be away every now and again, in which case, I'll need to find a substitute for him when he can't teach."
"What affliction?" Hermione asked.
"Lycanthropy," the old man said flatly.
Harry's brow furrowed as he was unfamiliar with the term. Hermione, however, was stunned.
"He's a...werewolf?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes," Dumbledore answered.
Hermione and Harry stared at one another in astonishment. Now Harry understood.
"I won't go into the details of how Remus became a werewolf, but I will tell you that when he came to Hogwarts many years ago, I made arrangements for him to deal with his affliction without causing harm to others or alerting them to his condition. Those arrangements are still in place and with your help we might retain his excellent services and allow the poor man the ability to make a living. Lycanthropy causes tremendous disruptions in one's life, as you can imagine. Simply finding and keeping a job, for example, is made far more difficult. I wish therefore to help Lupin in this manner. Will you agree to aid me in this?"
The two looked at one another then nodded at the headmaster.
"Definitely, sir," Harry told him. Dumbledore smiled broadly.
"Excellent. Thank you," he replied with a single nod.
"What was the other reservation you had about him?" Hermione asked.
The headmaster sat back in thought.
"Perhaps it's not so much a reservation, but a curiosity. As I mentioned earlier, I received the owl from Remus the day after Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban was reported. A very curious bit of timing, I must say."
"Why is that?" Harry asked.
"I assume you know, Harry, that Black was a good friend of your father."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, as it turns out, Remus was also a very good friend of your father...and Sirius Black."
Hermione and Harry stared at one another slack-jawed. Dumbledore continued.
"Thick as thieves the three of them were, as I recall, and getting into trouble more than a few times. I couldn't begin to tell you how many times Mr. Filch complained to me about the boys' 'wicked misdeeds', as he put it, similar to the complaints he used to make about the Weasley twins. And there was a fourth boy that used to follow them around also. Oh, what was his name again? That squat little fellow with the matted hair. Something that begins with a 'P'. It escapes me at the moment, I'm afraid. Anyway, suffice it to say, the four of them were very close."
"So, do you think Remus's sudden interest in the Dark Arts post is related to Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban?" Harry inquired.
"I can't say for sure, Harry, but the timing seems...very coincidental, don't you think?"
The two nodded.
"As such, let us keep our eyes and ears open when our new Dark Arts professor arrives. I have trust in Lupin, but sometimes strong bonds of friendship can override one's sense of right at times, and cause one to do errant things for the sake of the friend."
Harry and Hermione nodded once more, then a brief silence came over the three. Harry then remembered something else.
"Professor, since we're on the subject, I was wondering what you could tell me about Black's betrayal of my parents and what exactly happened the night they were murdered."
Dumbledore sat back once again in thought. He gazed at Harry with a sad expression.
"Your parents, Harry, along with their friends Sirius and Remus, were members of an order I created, the Order of the Phoenix. The purpose of this order was to fight Lord Voldemort and his followers during the dark lord's rise to power around the time you were born. When it became apparent Voldemort was seeking you out, to...eliminate you because of a specific reason I will discuss with you another time, your parents took you into hiding. No one knew where the three of you were save for their close friend Sirius. I myself didn't even know where the Potters were hiding, but I was informed by them beforehand that they had made Black their Secret Keeper.
When I therefore heard what happened at Godric's Hollow, where it turned out your parents and you were hiding, I immediately set out for the place. When I arrived on the scene, all was chaos. I was astonished to find nearly half the street blown to pieces, including several houses and a few muggle automobiles. There were multiple body bags on the ground as well. The scene, my boy, was horrific. Barty Crouch Sr., who was head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, was there along with a contingent of his Aurors. They were attempting to piece together what happened while at the same time cooperate with several muggle constables who had appeared on the scene as twelve muggles in the vicinity had been killed by the blast. And there, on the ground, on his knees, his hands bound behind him as he sat between two Aurors, was your godfather, Sirius Black."
Harry felt ill at these words and his face saddened. Seeing this, Hermione took Harry's hand and warmly squeezed it. Dumbledore continued.
"The man looked an absolute wreck and kept muttering to himself '...it's my fault, I'm to blame, it's all my fault...'. Crouch then showed me something that sent a chill down my spine. He held a cloth in his hand and in that cloth was a single, bloody finger. He told me muggle eyewitnesses had seen Black arguing and shouting at someone just before the blast. That the person he was arguing with had shouted at Black 'You betrayed them! You betrayed James and Lily!'. Then suddenly everything exploded, and according to Crouch, that finger was all that remained of Black's accuser."
"Who was the accuser?" Harry asked, that ill feeling rising from the pit of his stomach.
"The boy who followed your father, Remus, and Sirius around, Harry. The one whose name escapes me at present..."
Dumbledore's face lit up suddenly.
"Pettigrew! That's the one! Pettigrew!" he exclaimed, "he was posthumously given the Order of Merlin for confronting Black, and Sirius was immediately sent to Azkaban for his crimes."
"Without a trial?" Hermione asked, her expression puzzled.
"Yes, Hermione, without a trial. You must understand that in those days of heightened paranoia and suspicion, over who was a supporter of the dark lord and who was not, Crouch, not without some controversy, empowered his Auror force to use excessive means to apprehend and immediately prosecute any known followers of Voldemort - Death Eaters, as they called themselves. The Aurors were even allowed to use the unforgivable curses if necessary.
In the case of Sirius Black, due to what the muggle eyewitnesses stated, as well as Black's muttering about it all being his fault, Crouch had the man sent to Azkaban straight away. But despite all appearances which suggested Sirius's guilt, I must confess I myself had doubts on the matter. I had already witnessed, as you both know, the tragic results of someone being punished without trial where it turned out the person was innocent all along."
"You mean...Hagrid," Hermione said.
"Yes, young lady," Dumbledore responded sadly.
But Harry was looking down at the floor, feeling both sad and horror-stricken by all this information. The headmaster continued.
"I realize all this is very heavy, Harry. But I feel you might as well hear it now. It is your right to know the truth about what happened to your parents, after all. But now you also know the sad story of Sirius Black and why Minister Fudge considers him to be so dangerous."
Harry looked up and nodded at the man, still feeling ill. But he also felt grateful...to know the truth. The headmaster sat up straighter in his chair.
"Now then, let's leave that unpleasant topic and discuss another, shall we?" he said.
They nodded.
"I imagine you are both curious to hear my decision regarding the ring."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, taking a deep breath and pushing the subject of Sirius Black aside.
The professor intertwined his fingers while placing his hands on top of the cluttered desk.
"Between the pair of us, Harry, we now possess certain objects that countless wizards or witches have spent their entire lives searching for. Fortunes have been lost, wars started, families split asunder, lives ruined, all in pursuit of a legend that supposedly offers a power many in our world would kill for - the potential weapon I spoke to you of earlier."
"The ring contains that power, sir?" Harry asked.
"The ring is but part of it. There are others, which is why I stated 'objects' plural."
"What are the others?" Hermione asked intently, "and what does the symbol on the ring refer to?"
Dumbledore's expression showed hesitance, however, as he stared at them both gravely. After a few moments thought, he finally spoke.
"Please forgive me if I do not tell you, presently. In fact, it's better you do not know for the time being. You are both still very young and still have much to learn. And you also have much more growing to do magically. But I assure you that one day, when you both are ready, I will tell you. Suffice it to say, I now understand better what your older self was telling us, Harry. I can see why my other self might have worn the ring, and it is very tempting for me even now. But, as I mentioned to you during our very first conversation of your first year, when things change, we must change with them. And so, I will heed your older self's advice and refrain from wearing the ring, even if the curse of the Horcrux has been removed from it. Instead, I will reserve the wearing of it for someone else, someone more worthy than I am, and upon whom I have great trust."
"Who is that, sir?" Harry asked. The headmaster smiled at him.
"I will also not tell you that, my boy, for the same reason I won't reveal the symbol's meaning. Not yet. However, there is one thing I will do. When Professor Flitwick arrives for first term, I will speak with him and ask that he reserve at least two hours per week to give you dueling lessons, Harry."
Harry and Hermione exchanged amazed looks. He continued.
"I understand the pair of you already began some rudimentary dueling in your special classroom."
They nodded back.
"Good. Well, now you can have a real expert teach you. And you may certainly join Harry in this, if you wish, Miss Granger."
Harry grinned at the girl and squeezed her hand. She grinned back. Harry looked at the headmaster.
"Is this to prepare me, us, for the confrontation with Voldemort?" he asked.
The man smiled.
"In part, yes. But there is another reason of which I will inform you in due course. For now, focus on your studies, and work hard at whatever Filius teaches you."
"Yes, sir," they both uttered at the same time.
"When the time is right, and you have attained proficient dueling skills for the specific task I have in mind, then we will discuss this subject once more and I will reveal what it's all about. Then, together, we will attempt something that no one in our world has been able to, until now."
They nodded, very curious at this last statement.
"Anything else you'd like to ask or discuss?" the wizard inquired.
They looked at one another.
"No, sir," Harry replied.
"Very well, you're dismissed," the headmaster said with a smile.
The two got up and headed out of the office. As the spiral staircase moved downwards, both were in deep thought over what they'd just heard.
"I hate to say it, Harry, but the fact that the headmaster didn't want to tell us what the ring signifies, or what power it possesses has me even more curious about it," Hermione said.
"Me too," he replied with a chuckle, "but the way he talked about it suggests it could be really dangerous to use, and if so many wizards and witches have been searching for it, it has to be really valuable too."
Hermione nodded.
"But I wonder what dueling task he was referring to," she said.
"No idea," Harry replied, "what does dueling have to do with the Gaunt ring to begin with?"
Hermione's face scrunched up in thought.
"I guess we'll have to wait and find out."
Harry nodded. But then his face soured as he thought of Dumbledore's description of what happened the night of his parents' murders.
"Are you thinking of what the professor said about Godric's Hollow?" Hermione asked him with a sorrowful look.
Harry nodded.
"It sounds horrible, Harry. I can't imagine what it would actually have been like to see it in person."
"Me neither," Harry responded with a frown.
Hermione took his hand in hers and drew closer to him. He gave her a slight smile.
"I'm really sorry," she told him softly, "hopefully, they can capture your godfather and make sure he doesn't escape from Azkaban this time."
But Harry simply grimaced, feeling like something was off.
"What's wrong?" the girl asked.
He shook his head.
"I don't know, exactly. Something about it bothers me, and I don't mean what happened to my parents or the muggles who were killed. Something...doesn't seem right about it all."
"Are you referring to what Dumbledore said about his doubts?"
"Yes. I haven't known Dumbledore's instincts to be wrong since I met the man. What if he's right this time too? What if...Black really isn't to blame? It seems like authority figures in our world are quick to accuse and punish someone without trial if it suits their interests at the moment, whether the person is innocent or guilty. I mean, look what happened to Hagrid. Maybe the same thing happened to my godfather."
"But Harry, according to Dumbledore, Sirius Black and Pettigrew were the only two wizards at the Hollow after Voldemort killed your parents. One of them had to cause the explosion. And since they only found a finger from Pettigrew, it's obvious Black was the one to do it."
"But is it really that obvious, Hermione? The professor said Black kept going on about how it was all his fault, sounding like he was really sorry for what happened. Does that sound like a cold-blooded killer or a loyal servant of Voldemort to you?"
Hermione frowned and shook her head.
"No, it doesn't."
"And why would Sirius be anywhere near the scene of the crime, or Pettigrew for that matter?"
"I don't know. Maybe Sirius simply felt remorse for what he'd done. That's not impossible."
Harry nodded.
"Perhaps so. It's hard to know, really. But one thing I plan on doing."
"What's that?"
"When Professor Lupin arrives, I want to ask him about it. I want to know what his take on it is and what he thinks of his friend Sirius. I think Lupin will have much better insight into this than Professor Dumbledore."
Hermione nodded now.
"Agreed," she said while squeezing his hand and wrapping her free hand around his arm.
~HP~
Harry awoke the following morning, staring up at the ceiling of his four-poster. The headmaster's sad tale of Sirius Black still lingered in his mind from yesterday, and he kept going over the details of that tale in his mind, trying to better understand it. But then a cheery thought took over, and a grin appeared on the now thirteen-year-old's face.
It was July 31st. His birthday had arrived once more.
Putting the Black matter out of mind, he hopped out of bed, dressed, and went down to the common room to meet Hermione and then head with her to the Great Hall for breakfast. But when he arrived in the room, he was surprised to find the curtains drawn, no fire in the fireplace, and the room completely dark, save for bits of sunlight leaking into the room from behind the closed curtains.
Puzzled, Harry slowly and cautiously moved forward, trying to determine what was going on. But then, light suddenly flooded the room and Harry jumped back startled.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" several voices all shouted at once.
Finally registering what was happening, he grinned from ear to ear.
Hermione, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, and Hagrid were standing behind the study table all smiling back at him. Sir Nicholas then suddenly appeared from behind a wall, a huge grin on his lopsided head. Even Crookshanks was present and walked along the top of the sofa, staring at Harry as though he knew it was the boy's birthday too.
On the table before the five were several wrapped presents on either side of a birthday cake. The cake was coated in white icing, which looked slightly melted, and in purple icing words were written.
Happee
Birthdae
Harry
Harry held back a snicker, suspecting who had written them. But the sight of his friends and teachers made him feel warm inside. This was the first time in his life someone was actually celebrating his birthday. He walked toward the table. But before he could get two steps, Hermione rushed forward and gave him a tight hug. Harry chuckled while embracing her in return. She let go and took his hand in hers.
"A very happy thirteenth, my boy!" Dumbledore said, "and I hope your coming year will be an amazing one."
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, still grinning.
"I heartily concur, headmaster," Nick uttered, "a very happy birthday to you, Harry!"
"Thanks, Sir Nicholas."
"And it's about time you had a proper celebration, don't you think, Harry?" McGonagall said while throwing a frown at Dumbledore.
The headmaster simply smiled back, understanding her meaning.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said with a chuckle at the two.
Hagrid cleared his throat.
"I don' s'ppose yeh remember two years ago, when I brought yeh a cake and told yeh you were a wizard."
"Of course, I do, Hagrid," Harry said with a smile at his big friend, "I couldn't forget something like that."
Hagrid nodded, his cheeks a bit flush.
"Right. Well, I figured yeh might like another, so I made this one meself, like last time. O' course, the House Elves weren't too happy with me fumblin' around in their kitchen. But, there yeh are anyway. Happy birthday, Harry!"
"Thanks!" the thirteen-year-old replied.
"Well, how about opening your gifts, then we'll have some of Hagrid's cake...for breakfast, I suppose," McGonagall said wryly.
Everyone chuckled. Harry then opened the presents.
From Professor McGonagall, he received a magically coated, water and windproof Quidditch robe, maroon with the Gryffindor emblem on it.
"I thought my Seeker could use that this year, to keep him warm and dry when playing in the cold or rain," she told him.
Harry smiled as he held up the robe.
"Definitely. Thank you, professor," he said. With this and the gloves Hermione gave him Christmas of first year, he would feel nice and cozy flying even in the coldest weather.
From Professor Dumbledore, he received a curious object: a small glass ball containing a clear liquid of some kind. And in the liquid floated a shiny gold, metal disc with rune markings on it. As he held it in his palm, the disc rotated back and forth like a small compass.
"What exactly is this, professor?" he asked while squinting at the runes on the disc.
"That I shall let you figure out yourself, Harry. And with your bright mind, I've no doubt it won't take long. But I will give you a hint. If you're ever uncertain which way to go, that globe will guide you in the right direction," Dumbledore told him.
Harry nodded.
"Thanks, professor," he replied, curious exactly how the object worked. But he would examine it later.
Next, he picked up Hagrid's gift. It was long and thin, and instead of being covered in wrapping paper, was covered with a tartan-patterned cloth. Harry unwrapped it to find it was a walking stick made of deep brown, gnarled wood. It was also heavy and smooth to the touch.
"I was rummaging through me ol' shack the other day when I came across that, Harry," the half-giant informed him, "thought yeh might like teh have it, especially if yeh ever take walks in the Forbidden Forest at night. That should help."
Dumbledore and McGonagall both threw a stern look at Hagrid whose cheeks went pink momentarily, as he tried not to look them in the eye.
"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, "but...how will it help me in the forest at night?"
"Why, just tap the end o' the stick on the ground twice," he said as though Harry should have known this.
Harry tapped it two times on the common room floor. Nearly everyone was startled when the end glowed a bright white, much stronger than using the light spell from a wand.
"Wow!" Harry uttered. Hagrid continued.
"Now, just tap it two more times teh turn it off."
Harry did so and the light went out. He smiled at his big friend who smiled and winked back.
"That's great!" he said while placing the stick back on the table.
Harry then picked up the smaller of the two presents Hermione had given him. As he unwrapped it, the girl moved in close with an eager grin, excited to see him open it. Inside a pasteboard box was a carnival mask: a silver face with a swath of purple streaking across its forehead and down one cheek. He gave the girl a curious look.
"I bought that at a souvenir shop in Venice," she said, "it turns out the shopkeeper was a wizard. He showed me a special collection of souvenirs he had especially for wizarding tourists. I bought this one and one for myself too. He told me they have magical properties of some sort, though he didn't explain what they were."
"Great," Harry replied while holding the mask up, "we can try them out later."
Hermione nodded. Harry placed it back in the box and then picked up the final present from Hermione. It was rectangular and quite heavy. For a half second, he amusingly thought that it was a large textbook. But upon removing the wrapping paper, his eyes went wide in astonishment. It was a leather-bound box with a single side flap. Silver words were emblazoned on its top.
Broomstick Servicing Kit
"Wow! Thanks, Hermione!" he uttered, throwing her a huge smile.
She beamed back at him.
"You're welcome! I saw that in Quality Quidditch Supplies with my parents and thought it would be perfect."
"Definitely!" he said back while eagerly opening the case.
The other five, smiling at Harry's cheer, now leaned in to view the kit with him. A sizable handbook, the Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare, sat atop the contents. Harry picked it up and gazed at its cover which had an illustration of a boy and girl each smiling at their brooms which gleamed in their hands. Putting this aside, he found the box contained a jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of silver Tail-Twig Clippers, several black cleaning cloths, and finally, a tiny brass compass with a brass clip for placing on the end of a broom.
"Wow," he said once more while shaking his head.
"Thank you! Thank you all!" he uttered at the group before him.
"Well, how about some cake, then?" Professor Dumbledore said, seeming eager to try out Hagrid's concoction.
Everyone nodded.
"I suppose that's my cue," Nearly Headless Nick said with a frown, "I'll let you living folk enjoy your food. I need to find Filch anyway. He's refusing to celebrate his Deathday this year and needs some convincing, I'm afraid. But happy birthday anyway, Harry!"
"Thanks!' Harry replied.
The ghost turned and disappeared through the common room wall. The professors, Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid then each had a slice of cake.
As Harry ate his slice, which was actually not bad for the half-giant's second attempt, his expression revealed the deep gratitude he felt for his "family's" kindness this day.
Indeed, it was the best birthday of his life.