IT WAS ONE o'clock in the morning. (Y/N)'s stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour.
(Y/N) walked across the dark room, past (P/N)'s large cage, to the open window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face.
(Y/N), though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His dark brown hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. His eyes were bright blue.
Of all the unusual things about (Y/N), his role to Harry was the most extraordinary of all. It was because, at the age of one, he had to protect Harry after Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemort'scurse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled...
But Harry, alongside (Y/N), had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, (Y/N) had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday.
Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before (Y/N) realized what he was seeing.
Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in (Y/N)'s direction. He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second, he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether to slam it shut. But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the shops of Diagon Alley, and (Y/N), realizing what it was, leapt aside.
Through the window soared four owls, three of them holding up the fourth, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump! on (Y/N)'s bed, and the middle owl, which was large and grey, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.
(Y/N) recognized the unconscious owl at once — his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. (Y/N) dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to (P/N)'s cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.
(Y/N) turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was Hedwig, who belonged to Harry. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. As he removed her burden, she flew across the room to join Errol.
The third owl eagerly flew to his shoulder. (Y/N) recognized it as his family's owl, Archimedes. He gave (Y/N) an affectionate nip with his beak as he removed the long, thin and small, poorly wrapped package, then flew out of the room.
(Y/N) didn't recognize the fourth owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from because, in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When (Y/N) relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night.
(Y/N) sat down on his bed and grabbed Errol's package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and his first-ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping.
The clipping had come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. (Y/N) picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read:
MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.
A delighted Mr Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."
The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.
(Y/N) scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs Weasley; tall, balding Mr Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.
(Y/N) couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. He picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it.
Dear (Y/N),
Happy birthday!
It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff.
I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year.
(Y/N) remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car the three of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds.
We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Can we meet?
Don't let the Muggles get you down!
Ron
P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.
(Y/N) glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.
(Y/N) now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.
(Y/N) — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.
Bye —
Ron
(Y/N) put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought.
Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Harry.
(Y/N) — this is a Mood Ring. It's a Muggle item, the crystal's supposed to reflect your mood. I have one myself and it's rubbish because it wasn't accurate. But I figured it would be nice to see each other frustrated at the incorrect reflection.
Bye —
Harry
(Y/N) laughed as he put Harry's letter aside and picked up his present. Inside was a small ring and a piece of paper, slipping the ring on, he noticed it turn bright purple. Picking up the piece of paper, he read to find out just how rubbish it was.
(Y/N) shrugged when it gave a fairly accurate reflection of his mood. Perhaps Harry just got unlucky. Either way, he was extremely happy with the gift. He then picked up one of the presents Archimedes had brought.
There was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.
And there it was again, that heart-pounding rush. (Y/N) had yet to understand the meaning of it. Ron and Harry had sent him presents, so why did he feel this way whenever he read, heard, or even see Hermione?
Dear (Y/N),
I do hope you're all right.
I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you — what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then this owl turned up! I think he wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.
There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.
Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can I meet you? I hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!
Love from Hermione
P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it.
(Y/N) laughed as he put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells — but it wasn't. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper. While it was a large book, it was He Flew Like a Madman, a biography about his favourite Caerphilly Catapults player, David 'Dangerous Dai' Llewellyn.
"Wow, Hermione!" (Y/N) whispered, opening the book to look inside.
There was everything from the different risks he took during a match, to his unfortunate death as he was eaten by a Chimaera while on holiday in Mykonos, Greece, and finally, the honour of the creation of the Dangerous Dai Llewellyn Commemorative Medal.
(Y/N) put the book aside and picked up the long, thin package. He knew immediately what was inside and who it was from. It was a broomstick from his parents.
Apart from his friends, the thing that (Y/N) missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world — highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. (Y/N) happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams, other than Harry. One of (Y/n)'s most prized possessions was his Nimbus 2000 and Nimbus 2001 racing brooms.
According to his parents, this state-of-the-art racing broom sports a streamlined superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broom tail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The firebolt has an acceleration of 150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable Braking Charm.
(Y/N) carefully placed the broom against his wall before picking up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and out fell four books. Quickly picking them up, he read the titles.
The first book was Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Bilshen. The second and third books were Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms and Rune Dictionary, both made by unknown authors. The final book was Spellman's Syllabary by Spellman. Placing the stack of books on his desk, (Y/N) reached for Hagrid's card.
Dear (Y/N),
Happy Birthday!
Think you might find this useful for next year.
Hope you are doing all right.
All the best,
Hagrid
(Y/N) figured Hagrid had taken the courtesy of buying his books for the Study of Ancient Runes, which he was grateful for. He put Hagrid's card up next to Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.
Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, (Y/N) slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:
Dear Mr Wyllt,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.
Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.
A list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
(Y/N) pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. But how on earth was he going to send his parents the form? True, he could use an owl, but the distance between the countries was immensely far, and no normal owl could make it there without collapsing.
He looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning.
Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, (Y/N) got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he lay down; eyes open, facing his four birthday cards.
Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment (Y/N) Wyllt felt just like everyone else — glad that it was his birthday.