Chapter Six
“Harry,” whispered a voice. He felt someone shaking him. “Harry, you awake?”
“I am now,” grumbled Harry. He sat up, bleary-eyed and reluctantly stood to get in a proper stretch. “I was actually having a good dream, you know!” Suddenly, something hard hit him in the knees with a high-pitched squeal.
“Aarghh!” Harry shouted, and fell back with his knees bound. Somehow, in his uncoordinated efforts, he managed to land on the same abused spot as yesterday.
“Mr. Harry Potter, Sir!” said a small green creature with protuberant eyes and over-large ears. “It’s Dobby, Sir! Mr. Dumbledore is letting Dobby see Harry Potter on his birthday! Dobby has been waiting all summer-“
“Wh- what?” said Harry as he stood again, rubbing his bruise.
“None-too-bright for someone who’s supposed to be one year wiser today,” snickered Ron.
“Oh. I . . . I forgot it was my birthday,” said Harry. He finally got a chance to look at exactly who had was lingering around his bed.
Dobby’s eyes peered at him from all of two inches away. Harry was quite glad he made the elf promise not to wake him up by hovering over him a few years ago. Ron sat at the end of Harry’s bed, looking highly amused. “Now you have a bruise on your bum to match your eye,” he said.
“No, my bed already took care of that, too,” said Harry, as he felt around for his glasses. He found them and they took up their usual place on his nose.
“Come in, everyone! He’s awake!”
Hearing Ron’s great foghorn of a voice, a small group came stumbling into the room. Molly counted down and they all began to sing the wizard birthday song:
“Happy Birthday to you,
We don’t love anyone as much as you,
We’re going to celebrate the day away,
Oh, Harry, Happy Birthday.”
Then the Weasley children added, “By the way! Look at that! You’re a prat!”
Harry laughed. It was the first time he would celebrate his birthday with people who actually cared about him. Before, he was always stuck at the Dursleys and all they would do was stick a dirty sock under his door. He would then spend the day hoping for birthday post from the people standing right before him. For once, Harry felt lucky.
While he was happy, he also felt quite uncomfortable having everyone stare at him when he had just woken up. “Er . . . thanks. I’m glad you’re all here with me.”
Mrs. Weasley caught the embarrassed look in his eye and quickly deduced the source of his discomfort. “All right, Harry. As a treat you may have a lazy morning. We can make plans for the day when you come downstairs,” she said, and gently ushered the others out of the room. When she had gone only Ron and Dobby were left.
Harry felt a tugging on his pajama pants. “Harry Potter, Sir? Dobby has a gift for you!”
He looked at the little house elf with wide eyes. When Harry first met Dobby he had been a definite hazard to Harry’s health, but the elf and The-Boy-Who-Lived had been through a lot over the years. Dobby had even helped him out of a few tough situations, namely at the Triwizard Tournament. One thing about Dobby is, on occasions such as these, he tended to give gifts that were . . . interesting. Last year, he had given Harry an interpretation of a portrait. It was a source of great mirth among the Weasley children.
“All right. Let’s see it then,” Harry replied. A misshapen package was thrust into his waiting hands. A growing feeling of dread was occurring somewhere around his middle. Feeling reluctant, but not trying to show it, he unwrapped the package.
“Dobby knows how much students is needing these, Sir. The house elves is always finding letters about them.”
Ron looked fit to burst. “So, uh, Harry. These should cushion your falls a bit, eh?”
Harry held up a pair of knitted underpants up to the light and watched as bits of it peeped through the tiny holes. “Dobby knit them himself, Sir. They will keep you warm in the winter,” Dobby paused, looking uncertain. “Does Harry Potter like Dobby’s present?”
Harry tried to catch his reaction, but some of it must have shown through. He recovered and replied, “Oh, no Dobby. They’re- er- nice,” he smiled.
Dobby squeaked with delight. “Thank you, Sir! Dobby must be going, now. The house elves have much to do still!” With that the little elf snapped his fingers and, with a loud crack, disappeared from the room.
When he was gone Harry turned to see Ron staring intently at him. “What?” he snapped rudely.
“You know, they do bring out the colour of your eyes.”
He punched him in the shoulder. “These are going straight to the bottom of the trunk, where they belong!” he said as he chucked them away.
He could have sworn he heard a snicker from the empty portrait.
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Rather than head downstairs right away, the two decided to play a bit of Wizard Chess. Neither felt like getting ready for the day anyway. They had already discussed the possibilities for the Quidditch team that year when the subject fell onto the older Weasley brothers.
“So, Ron, what ever happened to Percy?”
A dark look flooded over Ron’s face.
In an attempt to regain their comfortable companionship he hurriedly said, “Er- never mind, you don’t have-“
“Fudge was fired, and so was Percy by association. All we know is that he left the country. Mum thinks it was to get away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The rest of us know he couldn’t get over himself enough to admit he was wrong. So rather than be a man about it, he ran away, him and his stupid pride!” Ron was visibly angry, with his hands balled up and his face rapidly turning red.
Harry felt sympathetic, but didn’t want to egg him on. “He’s always had a lot of pride, but he always comes around when it counts. He’ll be back.”
“You’d better be right, or Mum’ll pass a stone,” he said grumpily, but he seemed to have been placated a bit. “So what’re we going to do today, Birthday Boy? Check!” he said as he took out one of Harry’s knights.
“I think we’re due for a little Hogsmeade-“
“Great idea! It’d be great to get some chocolate frogs-“
“And practice a bit of Quidditch-“
“Yeah, I’ve got some new techniques to show you! Checkmate!”
Harry and Ron changed into their clothing for the day, and then tried to untangle their equally messy coifs of hair. As they only had a poor excuse of a comb they weren’t successful and decided that the rough look was more stylish anyway. They then bounded downstairs to eat breakfast.
Only a portion of the Weasley family was present in the kitchen that morning. Ginny was nibbling on toast, while Mrs. Weasley was bewitching eggs to scramble themselves. “Good morning Ron, Harry,” she said, kissing each in turn on the forehead. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“Well, I think it might be nice to go to Hogsmeade-“ he stopped as he saw the corners of her mouth tilt downward.
“Well, that’s a great idea. But I don’t know if it’s safe to take you-“ she paused as Harry’s disappointment became evident. “Oh . . . I suppose it’ll be fine. Yes, we can go!” she said cheerily, though clearly worried. “But Harry, you’ll need to wear your invisibility cloak.”
“Great! I’ll go get it!” he said, and ran up the stairs.
“I suppose it would be ok for you to go as well, Ron, but we can’t take you, Ginny dear.”
“Mum! I want to go-“
“No. Your father and I need to focus on two people already. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
She stormed off to her room in a rant. Harry heard her pass by his door, and felt bad for her. She had been stuck in the house as surely as he had. But she would be safer at Grimmauld Place, he knew.
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Floo powder was their transportation method of choice and soon Ron, Harry, Molly and Arthur arrived in The Three Broomsticks. All were covered in dust from the fireplace, and stood for a minute, wiping themselves clear of the pesky substance. For safety, the boys’ arrival was sandwiched by the adults, who had immediately scanned the room for potential danger. All seemed clear, because all, including Harry in his invisibility cloak, went to sit down at a nearby table.
The Three Broomsticks was bustling with activity. Madam Rosmerta stood behind the bar, attending to the customers. When she caught sight of Molly and Arthur, she scurried over to their table. “Well if it isn’t the famous Weasleys. We haven’t seen you two in here for some time! What can I get for you lot?”
“Could we have eight butterbeers, please?” asked Arthur.
“Eight?” she responded suspiciously.
“Er- I’m really thirsty,” Ron blurted.
“All right. Eight coming up!” she called, and rushed off.
Two and a half sweet drinks later, the conversation was moving along swimmingly. Harry had already told the story of his retrieval from Privet Drive and Ron talked about Hermione’s visit after their holiday began. Just when Harry was becoming suspicious that Ron was leaving some crucial information out, Molly interrupted. “- So, Harry, how was your summer?” she asked gently.
Arthur had fallen silent while Ron had suddenly taken a keen interest in the grain of the table. Harry didn’t want to lie to them and he didn’t want an uncomfortable silence to follow him whenever the topic was broached. Mostly, he didn’t always want to be stuck in a place of misery and loneliness. He didn’t think Sirius would want that either. Harry realized it was time to talk.
Fortunately, the clamour of the other customers covered their conversation. Harry described Voldemort’s nightly, mental games, which received a collective shudder from his listeners, and his days of self-imposed exclusion. He conveniently left out the parts portraying him as a weepy little girl. Plus, he didn’t really want Molly to hug him and blow his cover. Hugging would make the situation worse. It did feel good, somehow, to talk about the whole ordeal to his best friend and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
“Ron, Arthur, would you get some Chamotarts, please. Thank you, Dears.” Molly requested as Harry finished his tale. He grudgingly left the table as Mrs. Weasley leaned forward.
“Harry, darling, you’ll always miss him. He touched all of our lives. The important thing to remember is that he is still with us. Especially you,” she added. “There are times when I swear it is Sirius speaking through you.”
“Really?” asked Harry.
“You haven’t noticed you both have a tendency to be a little- er- hard- headed? Hot-headed? Mischievous? Sometimes I think we let him have a little too much influence on you,” she smiled.
Harry felt a little lighter. Mrs. Weasley continued, “Besides, Harry, you know we will always be here for you. You’re like a son to me. You know that.” She paused, with a twinge of sorrow. “I would do anything for you; just like my own children.”
Harry was grateful to hear such a thing, but was glad when Ron came back. He wanted to wake up without sadness. He knew he would see Sirius again someday. Hadn’t Luna said that the last night at Hogwarts? For now, he had things to do until he could see Sirius again.
Ron, who could tell he walked in on something private, sought an escape. “Let’s go look around Hogsmeade. I’ve got some chocolate frogs to taste.”
They visited Honeydukes and Zonko’s Joke Shop, amongst others. Soon, Mrs. Weasley’s arms had a few bags in them. It was obvious she was buying presents. Harry, who was unused to all the birthday attention, was rather enjoying his time. He found he liked thinking about trivial and happier matters.
A few offensive jokes from Ron - and a few scoldings from Molly - later, the group arrived back in front of The Three Broomsticks. “Well, I expect there’s a lot to be going on with before dinner tonight, so shall we get back?”
Everyone quickly agreed and soon Harry was flying through flames, eager to take a swift ride on his most prized possession.