Harry Potter once again stared out the window of the Dursley’s home in Number 4, Privet Drive. The day began normally in the Dursley home, which for Harry wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, where his Aunt Petunia was cooking the morning’s breakfast. With barely a glance in Harry’s direction, she continued in her task. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were already seated at the table, Uncle Vernon was reading the newspaper, and Dudley was waiting expectantly for his morning meal. As Harry sat down Dudley scooted over slightly, which was no mean feat for Dudley’s massive form. Harry suppressed a smile. Ever since the Tongue Toffee incident, Dudley had avoided Harry like the plague, and refused to eat any candy he had not seen bought himself. Just to put him at ease, his mother made Harry try one first, which Harry didn’t mind, because under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been allowed any candy at all.

Harry had it a lot easier these past couple of years in comparison to his past years of living with the Dursleys, but he still hated the summer. He hated having to return to the family he knew didn’t want him, and thought he was a freak. He longed to once again roam the corridors of Hogwarts, and felt like he may be the only person on earth who dreaded summer vacation. But Harry was no ordinary boy. He was a young wizard, and attended one of the most prestigious schools of witchcraft and wizardry...Hogwarts. That was not all that made Harry special. Underneath his naturally unkempt jet black hair was a jagged scar, shaped like a lightning bolt. This was no ordinary mark, something Harry discovered his first year as a wizard-in-training. For in the wizarding world, Harry was famous because of this mark, the evidence that a powerful and evil curse had touched him. And the man that had given him that mark when he was barely a year old, was Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard in the Wizard World. Harry’s parents hadn’t survived the confrontation, and Harry was given into the care of his Muggle (non magic) relatives.

Even now, there wasn’t a soul involved in magic that didn’t know his name. Even after four years, Harry wasn’t used to their reactions when they discovered who he was. Yet, though after all the events that had happened last term at Hogwarts, Harry’s biggest worry was having to spend his birthday with his un-wanting family. Each day Harry waited for the post, hoping for a letter from Ron telling him he could come back to the “Burrow,” or a letter from Sirius, asking him to join him. But as Harry’s birthday approached, he only received letters from his friends asking how he was, or if he had his homework done (this from Hermione, obviously). His hopes severely shot, Harry resolved himself to wait happily for the next letter from his friends. Hedwig had not returned from delivering his recent letters to Ron and Hermione, so she was probably going to be returning soon with their replies.

“Breakfast is ready!” Aunt Petunia cried, and cheerfully placed a plate in front of Uncle Vernon and her gigantic blob of a son, Dudley. The diet was now over, as Dudley had managed (somehow) to lose enough weight to fit into the largest size of uniform his school supplied. She turned back to the counter and grabbed Harry’s plate. “Here is yours,” his aunt said in an afterthought. With a loud ‘plop’ it landed in front of Harry’s setting, some of its contents spilling over and onto the table.

Harry ignored the obvious lack of caring, picked up a fork and began to eat. His portion, though nowhere near as large as Dudley’s, did somewhat fill him up. Not wanting to be around the Dursleys for longer than was absolutely necessary, he stood up, put his dish in the washer, and asked to be excused. With an uncaring wave from Uncle Vernon, Harry hurried up to his room to finish his history report on Iggo the Maleficent, and his downfall by the hands of Mortano the Fool.

The sun had set and Harry was nearly done with his Potions and Transfiguration reports (each a required two parchments) when Hedwig flew gracefully through the window. Attached to her leg were several letters all addressed to Harry. Harry relieved Hedwig of her burden, and affectionately stroked her feathers, before placing her in her cage to eat the food he had managed to get her. Excitedly eyeing the letters, he took the one at the very top, written in simple and neat script.

My family and I have recently returned from our vacation to Bulgaria. It was very amazing Harry! I bought several books on how to ward off Darks Spells! I also found a wonderful book on the history of the Wizarding World, with a detailed analysis on the foundations of all magic schools, and passages that helped me finish my reports. My parents have agreed to let me spend the rest of the summer with the Weasley’s again, thanks to Mrs. Weasley’s insistence! Isn’t that wonderful? Since you are on the way to The Burrow from where I am, I was wondering if you wanted a ride there. My parents don’t mind, and I wrote the Weasleys and Professor Dumbledore. Neither have a slight problem with you spending the rest of the summer with Ron’s family, and I must admit it would be better than spending it with your Aunt and Uncle. Send us your reply by Saturday because we leave on Sunday. We would probably arrive at your house around noon. Take care Harry,

Harry’s face broke out in a smile of relief. He had hoped that he would somehow make it to Ron’s. He felt much more at home there, than at Privet Drive. Anxious at the confrontation he would have with his uncle, Harry opened the next letter, written in Ron’s muddled scrawl.

Guess what? Mum says you are coming here for the summer! Hermione is coming too and I think she said she would be offering you a ride. If not, Dad could always come get you using the Floo powder again...though I don’t know how your Muggles will take it. How is Dudley’s tongue anyway? Ha! Well, things have been exciting here! Bill has just been promoted again, and Mum and Dad are planning a party for him. You should be here before it happens so no worries. Percy has been working on some report for his new boss, some Mr. Fledgly, or something like that. From the way Percy talks, his new boss is the embodiment of greatness. Should be fun messing with the git, now won’t it? Anyway, be sure to tell us if you are coming. Oh, and just so you know, Fred and George have created some new joke treat, and say you should be the first to try it, so beware! I don’t know what is wrong with them, but they bought me a dress robe for some reason. Every day I check it for one of their tricks. Well, hope to see you soon Harry,

Harry smiled. He knew why Fred and George were being so adamant about him trying their new treat, and why they had bought Ron his new robe. Last year, when Harry had won the Triwizarding Tournament, he received the thousand galleons prize. But the win was overshadowed by the loss of a late Hogwarts student, Cedric Diggory. They had won the tournament together, only to be transported by a port-key to face Voldemort. Unfortunately, Cedric had not survived the confrontation, and with Harry’s blood, Voldemort returned with a body, at full strength. After succeeding in temporarily distracting Voldemort, Harry risked his life to bring the dead body of his schoolmate back where he belonged. The money seemed hollow to Harry, so he gave it to the twins, Fred and George, who would put it to good use. The twins’ dreams might actually come true now; thanks to that money...they would own their own joke shop one day.

Harry turned to the last letter, one with familiar handwriting.

I have spoken to Professor Dumbledore, and have been sent away on an important mission. I may not be able to write to you in the coming weeks, but Dumbledore has assured me that you will be in safe hands with the Weasleys. Make sure those Muggles are treating you right Harry. If you feel anything or see anything out of the ordinary, be sure to contact Dumbledore, and he will pass the word to me. If I am unavailable on your birthday, than I want to wish you a Happy Birthday. Be safe Harry, and trust only the ones you know.

Harry frowned. He was deeply curious as to what this ‘important mission’ was, but his greatest concern was not being able to write to his godfather for a while. Sirius was the reason Harry got so much leeway over the past couple of years. But Harry knew there had to be a good reason for Sirius to be sent away, especially since he was still wanted for crimes he didn’t commit. As he put his letters away under the loose floorboard under his bed he realized something really important. It was Wednesday. If Hermione wanted her reply by Saturday he had to send Hedwig back with it straight away. Harry resolved himself to wait to tell his relatives the next morning.

The next day, after breakfast Harry sat up in his room, pondering on the right time to ask his uncle for permission. It occurred to him that there probably wasn’t any right time, so with a heavy sigh, Harry walked out of his room.

Below, in the kitchen, he heard his uncle blither on and on about something he had read in the paper. Harry sighed. He felt his insides tighten in anticipation of the confrontation to come. Harry at least had the knowledge that no matter what happened, he had two aces up his sleeve: he was leaving once again earlier than the Dursley’s could have hoped for and Harry’s godfather, Sirius. Since the end of Harry’s third year the Dursleys had known that Harry had an escaped convict godfather wanted for murder. Harry just didn’t bother to tell them that Sirius was innocent.

Harry headed down the stairs, a panicky Dudley who had begun walking up the stairs immediately descended and moved aside. When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs he turned to enter the kitchen. Harry almost laughed out loud as Dudley squeezed himself against the wall, hoping to disappear. Unfortunately for Dudley, who was slowly reaching the point of maximum density, this was an impossible feat. He only managed to narrow the corridor and forced Harry to squeeze past him to get to the kitchen. Dudley immediately ran up the stairs to hide in his room.

Uncle Vernon still sat at the table barking to his wife in his loud way. “Look at this Petunia, another murder happened yesterday. ‘Artifact collector Auguste Marcus was murdered in his own home yesterday evening around nine o’clock. The perpetrator entered Marcus’ home by way of the front door. Though no evidence of forced entry has been found, people are still warned to lock all doors and windows. The London police had no comment, but the Prime Minister assures the public that a thorough investigation will be given. Since the attacks began two months ago, there have been nine casualties, each marked by a strange symbol on their doors.’ Hear that! I knew we should have gotten that new alarm system. Some maniac,” Vernon said, looking pointedly at Harry, “Could enter our home and murder us in our sleep!”

Aunt Petunia gasped and put her hands against her flushed face. She then turned and noticed Harry standing by the door. Her horse-like face twisted in an annoyed scowl. “What do you want?”

Harry took a step forward, but stopped as his aunt scooted away from him. “I wanted to ask Uncle Vernon’s permission for something.”

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shared curious and fearfully worried glances. When Harry remained silent, Uncle Vernon yelled, “Well speak up boy, I haven’t got all morning!”

Harry hesitated, then muttered, “I got a letter from my friends inviting me to stay over at the Weasley home for the rest of the summer. I wanted to ask your permission to go.”

Uncle Vernon’s red face seemed to turn a funny purple color, while Aunt Petunia paled several shades.

“Weasley? The same Weasleys the blew up our chimney and almost killed Dudley?” Uncle Vernon roared.

“They fixed the chimney and Dudley’s tongue,” Harry replied, his voice rising in defense for the kind-hearted Weasley family.

“I forbid it!” Uncle Vernon cried. “You will no longer associate with that riffraff as long as you live under my roof!”

“The Weasleys are not riffraff,” Harry yelled back angrily. “My friend Hermione Granger and her parents will be picking me up here in their car on Sunday around noon. And besides,” Harry continued, his voice calming down, “My godfather says he thinks it is a great idea.”

It was Uncle Vernon’s turn to pale. “Your...your g-godfather?” he stammered. “Ah, yes. You have been keeping in contact with this godfather of yours, eh?”

Harry nodded politely, barely succeeding in not smirking or grinning. “He thinks it would be nice for me to spend the rest of the summer with my friends. He said he was sure you would agree."

Uncle Vernon shifted slightly in his seat. His face was slowing returning to it’s blotchy red color. Harry could see his uncle’s mind racing with possibilities. The Dursleys would never wish any happiness for Harry, and tried, for the most part to stop any happiness from even entering his life. Harry could see the precise moment his uncle realized he couldn’t say no. Vernon moved in his seat, and rolled his eyes like a mad dog. “Fine then boy. You have my permission to go. But I want to hear nothing from you or those,” Vernon paused, the next word was filled with disgust and loathing, “people for the whole of the summer. You are in their care. I will not take responsibility.”

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry said dutifully. He walked out of the kitchen and his face broke out in the grin he had suppressed for the past few minutes. He hurried upstairs, past Dudley’s door that immediately slammed shut when Harry ran past it. Once in his own room, Harry took out a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled a letter to Hermione.

My relatives have given me permission to go with you to the Burrow. I will be waiting on Sunday. Thanks for your help, and I will see you then,

He then wrote another letter to Ron, telling him that he was coming and wrapped them together with secure string.

Moving to Hedwig’s cage, Harry stroked her feathers lovingly, and whispered to her. “Take these letters to Hermione and Ron, Hedwig. Stay at Ron’s when you are done, I’ll be there soon.” He carefully extracted the snowy owl from her cage, and attached the letters to her leg. Opening the window, he held out his hand. Hedwig opened her wings, and in a blur of feathers, was gone.

Harry turned back to his room, and began gathering supplies. He opened his Hogwarts trunk and began filling it with his school things. He looked his Potions kit, and realized he need to refill it. He would also need to get new books from Diagon Alley. This would all be done in time. Humming to himself, Harry continued packing his belongings, blissfully aware that his birthday wish was coming true.

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