The Terrible Birthday
Today was Harry's birthday. And as usual, the Dursleys had ignored it.
At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."
Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.
"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.
Harry went back to his toast. Of course , he thought bitterly, Uncle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party.
He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).
"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be -?"
"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."
"Good, good. And Dudley?"
"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.
"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry. "And you?"
"I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly.
"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight-fifteen--"
"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.
"And, Dudley, you'll say--"
"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.
"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.
"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully.
"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"
"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason... Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason..."
"Perfect... Dudley?"
"How about - 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you .'"
This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn't see him laughing.
"And you, boy?"
Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," he said.
"Too right, you will." said Uncle Vernon forcefully.
"The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way.
When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills.
With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten and we'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time to morrow."
Harry couldn't feel too excited. Like hell the Dursleys would take him in Majorca. He'll most likely be left behind with Mrs Figg.
Still, that was better than being with the Dursleys.
"Right - I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And you ," he snarled at Harry. "You stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."
Harry left through the back door. It was a bright (too bright), sunny day.
He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath:
"Happy birthday to me... happy birthday to me..."
No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist.
He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely.
Harry was truly missing his friends.
They, however, didn't seem to be missing him at all. Neither of them had written to him all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come and stay.
Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig's cage by magic and sending her to Ron, Crystalline and Hermione with a letter, but it wasn't worth the risk.
Underage wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside of school.
Harry hadn't told the Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking him in the cupboard under the stairs with his wand and trunk
For the first couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him.
But the long silence from hiss frieds had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal - and now they had forgotten his birthday.
What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream...
Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun.
He and his friends had been excluded and avoided by all their peers. And he had come face-to-face with none other than Voldemort......
Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench.
He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge - and the hedge was staring back . Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.
Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.
"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him.
The huge eyes blinked and vanished.
"What?" said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.
"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.
"Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."
"Today's your birthday ," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"
"Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said Harry coolly.
Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.
"Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.
"Just thinking about the best way to set it on fire", and to emphasise his point, had a few sparks shoot out from his finger, small enough to be undetectable by the trace.
"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house. "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"
Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun.
As neither Dudley nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really gone by his threat, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his head with the soapy frying pan.
Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.
While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench.
The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Sciu- no Hermione's (he wouldn't think of them by their nicknames. He was too hurt) tendency for getting revenge had rubbed off on him.
It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, he heard Aunt Petunia calling him.
"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"
Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen.
On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table.
She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.
Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. "Upstairs! Hurry!"
As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties (The boy ties barely visible underneath their multiple chins) and dinner jackets.
He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the door bell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.
"Remember, boy - one sound--"
Harry crossed to his bedroom as silently as he could. He didn't want another beating.
Yes, the only reason he had fought before going to Hogwarts was for his own pride, but after that, his willpower his strength were his friends.
But now, now that they had forgotten him, he had lost any will to keep on fighting.
He made his way to his bedroom, but there was already someone there.