Birthday Girl
“What is your size?” a Slytherin girl, Brook, asked. I often help her with potions – she’s pretty good, but she wants to become a healer so she has to be better.
“Of what?” Was my instinctual question. “And why?” She snickered at the added question.
“For a surprise, Slytherin Heir. So, what is your size?”
“I doubt fucking purebloods know how big is an S or M.”
“Centimeters, please, you moron,” she rolled her eyes and almost sat at my legs. I curled them to my chest and saved them from possible fractures. “I didn’t know what book to buy and you have enough chocolate so I thought I would buy you clothes worth of the Slytherin and Potter heir.”
“There is never too much chocolate, bitch. And how the fuck am I supposed to know ‘my centimetres’, you cunt?! And I dress perfectly fine.”
“You don’t. Stand up! I brought a measuring tape especially for this!” I knew that look – Marie gets that shine in her eyes and I can never tell her no when that happens (unless I want to suffer). So I took off my lab coat on her insistence and tried to stand correctly enough that she wouldn’t yell, but also made it wrong enough so it would irritate her. “You are such a little brother,” she grumbled and poked me between my ribs. “Well, we are finished – and now you shall escort me to the Great Hall and I will pick what you eat. You look like a caricature with those spindly legs!”
“Wait, Strange! What do you want for those measurements?”
“I have money,” another Slytherin perked up and followed us – ten students ended up coming with us to the dinner and bribed Brook so they could have my measurements. It was creepy so I went to hide at the Griffindor table.
“What are you doing here?” I sneered at Daphne, who turned to me with a tight-lipped smile.
“Dinning, Henry. What happened that you gathered such a crowd?”
“Brook wants to buy my clothes for the ‘Slytherin heir’s Christmas gift’ and needed to know my size – and now all of them want to clothe me.”
“They wanted to do that last year too,” Luna leaned on my shoulder and exchanged her plate with mine, then, again, put food on her new plate.
“At least you’re going to look like a proper Heir.” Daphne looks too happy about this. “I should acquire her notes – I have a great idea what might suit you.”
“I’m scared already. I hate this tradition…”
“I would buy you a gift anyway, Henry. We are friends, aren’t we?”
“More of a bully and their poor victim,” I muttered and stabbed my dinner. “Wait, does that mean you want something from me?”
“Engagement gift, if you would.” Her smile looks like the one Marie uses on boys – I find it predatory with a hint of insanity. Why is my older sister on my mind today?
“What is the date?”
“December 15th,” Hermione chimed in. “Why?” Well, that makes sense, the weather is getting colder and my brain must have noticed the passing of time more than me. I should send Marie a howler, mum said something about her missing me. “Henry, answer me.”
“Marie has a birthday on the 18th,” I said with partially chewed vegetable still in my mouth and chewed loudly. Daphne stuck her fork in me but I only grinned at her.
“Do you have a gift for her?”
“We don’t give each other gifts – only If we find something interesting or want to prank each other. Usually the other – I was thinking about sending her a howler.”
“You could be nice and buy her something nice – and go with us, for once, to Hogsmeade,” Hermione smiled nicely. Too nicely. “You promised me we would search through the Shrieking Shack.”
“Why would you want to go there? It’s dirty,” Daphne wrinkled her dainty nose.
“That’s the best part, isn’t it?” I grinned widely and leaned closer to her. “You can go with us, I’m sure we could find some nice dark dirty corner where nobody would look for you.”
“No, thank you. If you want to take me to Hogsmeade, take me to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.” I never heard of it but I have a feeling I know what that would imply. I smeared mashed potatoes on her nose and ducked under the table, scurrying away through a forest of legs.
“HENRY!” she screeched and Gryffindors laughed, sometimes even moving their legs so I had more space to scrawl around until I found a free space.
“I hope you weren’t looking under my skirt,” a girl smiled sweetly when I pushed her leg out of the way.
“Why the fuck-“ I ducked my head down to save myself from a hex Daphne threw at me and climbed over the bench. She was on the other side of the table and wouldn’t walk over it to my side, so I had some advantage.
“Miss Greengrass-“ Flitwick yelled; however, he was ignored and Daphne sprinted in the same direction as me – the biggest difference between us was that I laughed like a maniac and she yelled my name a lot.
***
“Quick,” I grabbed the closest people to me by their forearms and dragged them behind me. “Minerva is trying to make me stay!”
“I thought you didn’t want to go,” giggled George with a grin. He was one of the people I was dragging along.
“Reverse psychology,” Hermione, the other person I grabbed, laughed. “So, where do you want to go first?”
“She won’t expect us in Shrieking Shack,” said George.
“I think she won’t follow us,” Luna said in her dreamy voice, so we slowed down. “She fears Sirius Black will try to kill you.”
“He attacked the Gryffindor tower – I doubt he would find me if I were screaming on top of my lungs ‘Come Black! I’m here!’”
“We can try it,” Fred threw a hand around George’s shoulders with a dry smirk. “I wonder how loud you could get.”
“I have good lungs, so I think I could cover Hogsmeade pretty easily.”
“You? Good lungs?”
“Ouch, Hermione,” I rubbed my ribs.
“You smoke like a chimney at least once a week.” She’s not wrong, but I never felt pain or discomfort while yelling at someone.
“Is it bad for your lungs?” Fred asked, suddenly looking paler than usual.
“Oh, very much so. The tar that is created by burning the tobacco – you breathe it in and it makes a black sticky substance in your lungs. If you look at dissected smokers, they have blackened lungs. It also heightens the probability of lung cancer, emphysema, or other lung problems. It also makes you visually age faster, yellows the teeth and fingers used for smoking – and so much more!” I raised my voice in fake enthusiasm.
“Thank you for the lecture – why do you smoke, then?”
“I like it.”
“…”
We went to the Shrieking Shack – it was a dilapidated building with most of its windows smashed. The wind whistled sharply through the creaking wooden boards when we snooped around. We couldn’t open the door with Alohomora – so we were looking for a key under rocks and behind loose boards, but our hands were turning red from the cold so we stopped and went to Hogsmeade like good little students. Daphne caught up with us in the sweets shop, grabbing me around the elbow. “How was the shack?”
“We couldn’t get in, without being obvious.”
“You could repair the door after breaking them.”
“I’m not particularly good at repairing,” I took a fistful of chocolate frogs. “Who's your friend?”
“Tracey Davis. Do you have an idea what you want to give your sister?” I raised an eyebrow at her quick diversion from talking about her friend but went with it.
“I want to send her a howler, I tell that everyone!”
“What is she like?”
“Hm?”
“What does she like? What is she like?”
“Sadistic demon who likes horrible music.”
“…I’ll ask Hermione,” she turned on her heel and went to the bushy-haired girl. I went to the cashier to pay for my chocolate, then stashed them in my deep pockets. I should have brought something thicker than my lab coat with just school robes over it – thankfully warming charms help. I wonder what will they think of – I hope it won’t be something so fucking stupid I would be forced to buy it just so Marie would yell at me. Like when Fridrich bought her vibrator and she then tried to quickly hide it from our younger siblings and our parents.
It was hilarious – mainly her red face. She bought him condoms as retribution. I would buy her something crude, but why would I do that when I won’t be there to enjoy her reaction? At least I know how she would react to a howler – she would be surprised at first and then she would either be angry or laugh.
I went out where Luna was looking at something. “What do you see?”
“There are Wrackspurts everywhere – it's like Valentine’s Day!”
“Anything but that,” I shivered at the fucking memory of Lockhart and blocked it off. “Any idea what they’ll try to force me to buy?”
“Jewellery, probably. You could make it useful with some runes.”
“Marie doesn’t wear jewellery. She used to wear a necklace but then she ripped it during some fucking sport so she stopped wearing it. And I won’t buy her clothes, I have no fucking idea what she likes.”
“You have perfect memory.”
“Tastes change.”
“True… we can go to a shop Daddy showed me. They have interesting trinkets, maybe something will awake an interest in us,” she took my hand and lead me to a store tugged away in a dark alley. I wonder where the twins disappeared – I know Hermione and Daphne were still in the sweets shop. “What does she like, besides sports?”
“Biology and Chemistry. Boys, recently – but people in general. Fucking pop, cats…” I looked around the place, at different little knick-knacks that were laying on the dusty shelves. “She doesn’t like to read too much - a book must really catch her attention for her to finish it. And neither of us likes sci-fi as much as her, so we can’t pick a good one.” My eyes caught on a glass bauble dangling on a silver chain. It looked like a small terrarium, green moss covering the bottom and small white flowers springing from it. I didn’t recognize what species of plant it was – it looked similar to Sagina subulata.
“What is the plant called?” I asked the shopkeeper.
“What? That?” He came from behind the table a looked at me for too long, before turning his eyes at the bauble. “I believe it was created by some charms master. They don’t need to be watered, just let them soak in the sun and they are ok. I was told that breaking it would be what kills the flowers.”
“So the glass is what holds the charm,” I hummed and touched it lightly. The sun made it sparkle and the flowers looked unnaturally white. “How much?”
“Galleon, ten sickles if you want me to package it nicely for the lady,” he looked at Luna, who was looking at the books, dancing on her tippy-toes like a ballet dancer.
“It’s for my sister, idiot,” I rolled my eyes. “I take it, with packaging.” I watched how he cushioned the paper box with soft tissue paper and then cast cushioning spell on it.
“Can’t you use unbreaking spell?”
“I don’t want to mess up the charm.” He put the glass bauble in, covered it with another layer of paper, put the lid on and tied a bow on top of it with a charm. Then he put it in a small bag. “Galleon and ten sickles, Mr Potter.”
“Bundy, fucker,” I gave him the money and went to grab Luna. “Picked anything?”
“Just looking,” she smiled and grabbed my hand again. “I’m sure she’ll like it.”
“If she won’t, it’s mine,” I grinned widely. “It will look terrible next to the burned wall.”
***
“Are you excited to go home?” Uncle Remus asked with his typical soft smile.
“Neutral.”
“Excitement radiates off of you,” Remus snorted. “What did you do?”
“Nothing bad. Before I fucking forget to tell you – mum and dad want to invite you, if you have time on the 26th or 27th. They wanted to meet my uncle.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“One more person is nothing,” Henry waved his hand dismissively. “I believe they want to trade embarrassing information and/or photos. Just say the date and arrive before lunch – and when I say before fucking lunch, I hope you fucking know you’ll be another fucking dumpster for leftovers.”
Remus laughed at the obvious threat. “Don’t you like Christmas food?”
“Not four days in the row. So? Which date?”
“26th is fine with me.”
“You can Apparate to our garden, I’ll write the address down for you …”
***
Like any other ride home, we played chess and card games, chatting through any activity we picked up. “I wonder why we have to take the long rides to Hogwarts and back home – couldn’t we get transported using Portkeys or Floo?” Hermione muttered after she lost another game.
“It's good for creating connections,” Luna told her dreamily. “Most people met their first friends in the train.” She can’t argue against that, because she met me on the train.
“The way there – sure. It’s like the boat ride, to create a first impression. But why when going home?”
“Some Slytherins use other means of transport – the train is for families that like the tradition and for muggle-borns that can’t Floo to their home,” I chimed in. “Daphne went to Hogsmeade where her mum waited for her.”
“I wondered why she’s not here to try to sit in your lap,” Fred smirked. “I’m sure you miss her.”
“Fuck no. She even annoys me when I’m trying to take a nap in the Slytherin dorm room! Something about that she won’t marry someone who slept in so many beds?”
“Oh yes, Henry James Bundy-Potter, the biggest slut in all of Hogwarts,” George snorted and I kicked him as hard as I could in the knee. “Excited for your exams, raven?”
“Neutral.” I knew I had done everything to do my best – except the fucking Patronus charm. I hate that fucking sentimental thing with a passion of thousand fucking suns. I knew that If I used something sentimental I might do it easily – that one instance told me exactly that – but I don’t want to use something like that! It’s so disgusting to have my happiest memory be so… mundane. Sweet.
Bleh.
“You’ll do great and we will only wallow in jealousy when we get normal grades in comparison,” Fred joked and ruffled my hair. I pushed his hand away.
“You’ll do great too – the OWLs are fucking easy. Hermione, will you try to do them with twins?”
“I forgot to tell you I registered?” she turned red. “I sent it to ministry two weeks ago and they agreed that I can take the test with the fifth years.”
“Yay! Someone we can cheat off of!” twins yelled together in victory, hands balled up and raised towards the ceiling – Hermione sent stinging hex to their ribs, which they laughed off.
“Come on,”
“Hermione,”
“We’ll help you in practicals?”
“I don’t need your help!”
I tucked myself into the corner, away from stinging hexes and much more painful elbows. Luna leaned into my personal space with a small giggle at their yelling. “Is this what having siblings is like?”
“Partially,” I shrugged.
“I saw how yours acted but never felt these emotions – probably because I was only the viewer and not part of the group.”
“We can switch – I’m sure a summer with your dad would be much more intriguing.” It didn’t take long for them to calm down and we started another game soon after that – I claimed most wins after Luna, who had the best luck in cards. I personally think she’s just a great cheater, especially with her sixth sense. Better cheater than me, at least. Counting cards is a child’s game.
The arrival at the station was as wild as ever but better than the beginning of the summer holidays when much more students try to get out of the train (at the same time, of course). We waited as per usual and only after that came out. Luna’s dad welcomed us; his patchwork robes as wild as the last one’s I saw. He apparated with his daughter after quick goodbye’s. Weasleys were the second family we met – Arthur gave me back a book I sent to him recently, a volume describing the physics of engines. It was a small, but thorough book that I took from Fridrich. His wife ignored me.
The last friend on my side was Hermione when we went out to meet our muggle families (What would happen to them if they tried to enter the platform? Would they just collide with the wall?). They were talking, as expected. Dad was wildly gesturing while talking with Hermione’s mother – I worry what makes him so animated. It can’t be anything good.
“Harry!” Mum called and went for a hug that I tried to evade, but she managed to catch me after Hermione made me stumble into the hug.
“Traitor,” I hissed.
“Oh, you grow so fast!” mum exclaimed and pushed me slightly back. I was around her heigh, maybe slightly taller, which isn’t the biggest achievement. She’s one of the shorter adults I know (it feels weird to look at her without raising my chin). “I wonder if you outgrow Fridrich.”
“I doubt that,” I shrugged. “From what I gathered, Lilly and James were of average height.” Fridrich and Marie gained their tall gene from dad, who is over one hundred and ninety centimetres. “As the Healer said, I’ll just reach my height limit sooner than others.”
“My little baby, growing so fast, without me seeing every centimetre,” she hugged me again. What a sentimental being – she would make Patronus on her first try. I glared at Hermione who was trying to stifle her giggles.
“Fuck off.”
“It’s cute,” she cooed, before getting engulfed in a joined hug from both of her parents.
“We missed you, darling,” her dad kissed her hair. “Who would think four months are such a long time?”
“I missed you too, daddy.”
Dad just put an arm on my shoulder, the only being who understands personal space at least slightly. “Excited for the holidays?”
“Why is everybody asking?” I rolled my eyes and let mum hold my hand while we went to the car, after wishing Grangers happy holidays. “I worry how many owls will come tomorrow.”
“Oh? Another batch of gifts for Slytherin heir?”
“I told them I’m not the heir but they believe that my talent to talk to snakes and my personality are clear traits of Slytherin heir. And this year some of them decided to clothe me.”
“That should be fun,” mum snickered. “I wonder if they’ll pick some popular types of robes – I really liked the yellow ones we saw during the last trip.”
“You wouldn’t be able to button it over your chest, dear,” dad laughed and held a car door open for her.
“I would wear it like a cardigan!”
I never imagined my mother would want to steal from my wardrobe… but if someone decided that I would look good in bright yellow, I would throw it at her (after finding out the fucker who made such a poor decision).
They asked me more questions about school, little things that I would never write into my letters. Small things about classes, what I did with my group of friends, if anyone gave me problems.
Mum tried to tease me about Daphne and how they exchanged several letters about the eggnog and other sweets. I told her that she just annoys me, and dad took that as a sign that he can start teasing me about young love and how boys never acknowledge that they are in love.
I ran out of the car because they ended up cooing at each other about how they fell in love.
“Ah, you were so sweet – you weren’t like other boys who would fall over their feet! Your dad came to me with flowers when he asked me on our first date! In high school! My boyfriend before him just came to me and told me, but no – Gregor asked like a proper gentleman!”
When it ended, it was too late to save me from this torture. The worst thing – I will never forget it. Ludvik opened the door for us – I was surprised at how tall HE became. And he lost some roundness that I link with his face. “Hello Henry!” he smiled brightly and hugged me.
“Get off, cunt.”
“I won a competition called ‘Young Physicist’! Would you like to see the experiment I did?”
“Sure, why not.” Anything is better than the pasta art I was forced to look at several years back. I ran up, unshrunk my trunk and then went back down, to look at Ludvik’s experiment.
“We had a task to make egg fall without it breaking! And so, I made a little parachute for it – but I also remembered what you showed me and so I put it into vinegar so it turned rubbery!” He showed me a little parachute with a plastic cup fastened to it and then a photo of a big yellow-ish egg compared to a perfectly white one that was smaller.
“Which one won?”
“The second one surprised the teachers, but they said that both ideas were genius!” he lit up happily. “The second place just boiled his egg.” We made a similar sour expression.
“Simpleton.”
“Yeah, but not everybody can be a genius.”
“True. What did you win?”
“A medal and coupon to the ice cream place!” he grinned widely and looked at me like he expected something. I narrowed my eyes in thought and his smile grew impossibly wider.
“Social cue needed if you want something from me.”
“TELL HIM HE DID A GOOD JOB OR THAT YOU ARE PROUD OF HIM!” Screamed mum and we jumped in unison.
“Er… good job?”
“Thanks,” he giggled. “Just to give you heads-up, Marie is going to break your ribs.”
“What?” I did send her a howler with the gift but that can’t be that, right? Did she hate the gift? “Where is she?” I turned my head in paranoia. Where should I hide?
“She went out with her friends and Fridrich.”
“They said we should expect them around dinner.” Ok, that’s enough time to hide. Where to hide? I went to my room, took out a pack of cigarettes and crawled onto the window sill, trying to figure out if I could survive climbing down in the direst situation. I lit a cancer stick, craving it after the long ride and opened the window so my room wouldn’t smell too much. I wonder if my parents just ignore it like my swearing. They usually notice changes in their children – and I’m sure my smell changed, even though I think I hide it pretty well.
I looked out and managed to lose myself in my mind, rewinding all the practical DADA lessons I went through these past few months. I hate the formal stance and etiquette around duelling, that I have to know it for some reason. I went through four cigs while being so deep in my thoughts.
That’s why I almost fell out of the window when my older sister burst into my room. Then I remembered the warning and almost jumped willingly but she was quicker. She gripped me in a tight hug, pushing all smoke out of my lungs and leaving me gasping for air. I’m getting close to her height, I noticed. I wonder if she will grow some more or this is the height she will stay at. She’s fifteen, after all. Girls don’t grow much after reaching that age.
“You are my favourite brother!” she lifted me by bending her back backwards.
“What are you – Wait, why am I your favourite brother?!” I said, shocked, then added: “Let go of me, bitch!”
“Who picket the bauble, then? Hermione? Luna?”
I frowned. “Me.”
“See? Favourite brother!”