Harry threw his head back on the pillow in his small bedroom. It would be his birthday in ten minutes. Harry knew he had to stay awake, he knew his friends would be sending him their well wishes in the middle of the night, but he couldn’t sit anymore. Harry just needed to rest his eyes for a minute. Harry had made a comment to his Uncle Vernon and had been sitting quietly awake in his room for many hours.
Harry shut his eyes. The breeze coming from Harry’s open window helped cool his sweltering room, lulling him closer to sleep. Harry did not normally fall asleep with the window open, not since two months ago, when he had seen Lord Voldemort regain his powers. Harry was careful where he went and who was around him, the Death Eaters (Lord Voldemort’s followers) were waiting for a chance to take him down.
Harry, however, was not thinking about Lord Voldemort. His dreams remained haunted but Harry was in the strange point of sleep and awake where we can control what we see. Harry was picturing a lovely Ravenclaw, with wonderful smooth skin and blonde hair. . .
“Cho. . .” Harry murmured as he turned his face to the cool breeze. Harry’s hands rested happily on his stomach, fingers crossed. Harry mumbled a few incomprehensible words and fell into a nice sleep. It was the first sleep he had had since the Triwizard Tournament that did not begin with the words Avada Kedavra, two if you count the dreamless sleep directly after the incident but that had been potioned away.
Harry’s bliss with his Cho Chang fantasy did not last very long. Instead there was another girl, her hair was light red and blonde, she had it thrown up in a bun. It was not a bun he was used to seeing. It was loose and looked as though this girl’s hair would fall easily back into its natural place, not like Professor McGonagall’s tight bun. Harry’s dream girl was not thin like Cho instead she was heavier, not fat, but muscular.
Harry shifted positions in his sleep and grunted. The girl in his dreams had tall black boots on; she wore a short-pleated, red plaid skirt with thin black suspenders. Her shirt was a white ladies’ fitted t-shirt with a v-shaped neck. In his dream there was no sound which was freaking Harry out. ‘Who are you?’ he tried to call out to this woman in his dream. She was the most interestingly dressed person Harry had seen since a wizard in a dress at the Quidditch World Cup last summer. She moved in an interesting way it looked as though she was trying to dance and her mouth was moving. Harry tried to read her lips Pre. Pre . . . t . . . e. Pre-te? What was pre-te?
Harry walked a little closer when suddenly a striking pain went through Harry’s head. His scar, Voldemort, his window was still open, was someone trying to get him? Harry shot straight up. His body was alert and ready but his mind was not. Harry’s hand quickly went to his scar. To his surprise that was not the side of his head that hurt. He heard a playful hoot. Harry looked at his bedside table. There sat Pig, Ron’s midget owl, though Harry was thinking he looked a bit bigger since the last time he’d seen Pig.
Harry looked around, a parcel with a dented edge sat overthrown on the floor. Harry quickly grabbed it. Harry realized Ron’s gift had been ‘lovingly’ bounced off his head to wake him up. Harry was now 15 years old, he felt as though he had only been asleep for a couple minutes but 20 had passed on the clock.
Harry ripped the paper back from his gift. A piece of folded parchment sat upon another wrapped box which rested on a small cake. Harry opened the letter.
Mom and Dad are trying to convince Dumbledore to let you come to our house for this last month of summer holidays. I think he’s finally going to crack. We’ll know for sure soon. Things have been so crazy around here since. . .
Fred and George, finally, got the money from Bagman and got me knew dress robes! I’ve been really cautious about what I do around them. I don’t know why they did it, knowing them there will be strings attached.Hope you like your gift!
There was hardly a gift Harry got that he didn’t like. He opened the box on top the cake box. It was a book recapping the Quidditch World Cup. It was velvet lined with a golden snitch emobossed above a golden cup. Harry shuddered, the Golden Cup reminded him of the Triwizard cup. Harry’s heart sank as he recalled everything that had happened when he laid his hand with Cedric’s to grab the cup together. Harry fingered the Golden Snitch longingly it had been more than a year since he last played Quidditch. Cautiously, Harry let his fingers go to the golden cup; he felt around the shape of the cup the smooth velvet brushing up against one side of his finger. It took a quizzical hoot from Pig before Harry snapped back into reality. Harry opened the gorgeous book and noticed another piece of parchment that lay on the first page “page 19” was all Ron’s second note said.
Harry quickly flipped through pages of text and pictures until he got to the recommended page of nineteen. What he saw was the top box, where Harry and Hermione had joined the Weasleys (Except Molly) for the Cup. In the picture was all those who had sat in the top box for the game. Harry knew that Ron was trying to point out that they made it into books (not a new feat for Harry), but Harry couldn’t help but try to see if he could see Bart Crouch hidden in his invisibility cloak.
Another owl had joined the room it was a Tawny post owl from Hermione. Hermione’s owl was carrying a letter. Harry imagined what it would have looked like if Pig and this Post Owl had come in at the same time. A pint sized Pig carry a large package while, the Tawny owl carried only a letter. Harry took the letter off of the owl’s leg and gave the owl a treat. The larger owl went into Hedwig’s (Harry’s Snow Owl) cage and took some water before going out Harry’s window.
Harry looked over the envelope before opening his letter.
I got you a subscription to the Daily Prophet for your birthday! This way you won’t be so clueless about things that are going on in the wizarding world. I think it’s very important for you to know, considering . . . everything.
I’m sure you haven’t heard but Hogwarts is participating in an exchange program! I was picked to represent Hogwarts by the Ministry of Magic! I’m afraid; Professor Dumbledore does not think it is a good idea for me to be away from Hogwarts for a whole year. Though this is an opportunity of a lifetime, I must agree with him, it’s dangerous. I had to decline. I’m not sure who is replacing me.
Hogwarts will have students of course. I am not positive all the schools participating in the exchange. Each school will have at least one exchange student in each year, and they won’t all be from the same school! This is going to be so wonderful! Let’s just hope there’s not another veela!
P.S. Your Daily Prophet will be delivered before sun rise, everyday.
“Must be why they call it daily” Harry said aloud to no one in particular, he then noticed Pig still sitting on his bedside table. “Whatever are you still here for?” Pig gave a small hurt hoot and flutter into Hedwig’s cage for food and water.
By four o’clock in the morning Harry had received all of his presents. Hagrid had sent him some fudge and his Care of Magical Creatures textbook (something Hagrid had done since Hagrid had become the teacher). Sirius, Harry’s godfather, had sent him a case of butterbeer and a book. The book was of counter-curses.
Harry looked over his gifts each accompanied by its own letter. Hedwig had returned (carrying Sirius’ package) to chase Pig out of her cage. Pig, who seemed to be waiting for something, sat back onto Harry’s table.
“What!?” Harry huffed, and then he realized Pig was waiting for something. Harry hadn’t given Pig anything for delivering his package. “Oh. Sorry.” Harry gave him two treats and patted his head. Hedwig gave a very loud, angry hoot at this sight. “Not you too!”
Harry was offset. He had received four letters. Every single one of them was filled with babble and danced around what had happened in June. Harry wasn’t delicate, he didn’t like remembering, but this was more upsetting to him. Harry had noticed that Pig had left and was going to shut his window when he noticed another owl coming.
He stepped back as the owl delicately landed on the window sill. Harry was awe struck by its beauty. It was a snowy owl much like Hedwig but it was older and seemed to have silver feathers instead of plain white ones. Harry looked back at his own owl she was a bit awed as well. The owl stuck out its foot with the letter on it which Harry mindlessly untied and then extended a handful of treats. The owl picked one or two and then fluttered to Hedwig’s cage. Hedwig gave a surprised hoot as the owl took a few sips of water and flutter out of Harry’s open bedroom window.
Harry closed his window and watched as the bird flew farther and farther into the night. When the silver owl was out of sight, Harry thought of the letter it had brought. Harry looked at who it was addressed to.
Mr. Harry Potter
That was all, though he thought he recognized the handwriting. Harry opened the letter.
I hope that Arumus gets this letter to you. I’m not sure why I am writing exactly. I heard that today was your birthday and I wanted to say happy birthday.
Well, I guess I’m just going to have to come out and say it. I don’t know if you have heard or not but Hogwarts is participating in a Student Exchange Program, organized by the Ministry of Magic. I have been chosen to represent Hogwarts sixth years at the school in the United States!
I know I have other obligations, being seeker for Ravenclaw and I even heard they’d like to make me the captain. Though these aspects in themselves would normally bring me back, I don’t think I can look at Hogwarts again. Not so soon after Cedric died. So I have
decided to go to America. I won’t be seeing you, but know that you are in my thoughts.
I don’t blame you for Cedric’s death. There is no way to counter act the Killing Curse. Please keep safe, Harry. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will surely try everything to kill you, too.
You’re one hell of a seeker.
Harry couldn’t believe he was holding a letter from Cho Chang in his hand and she had been the one to say what no one else would. Cho had talked, though briefly, of what had happened in June. Harry’s leg fell out from underneath him and he threw his hands out to catch himself. Cho’s letter fell to the ground in front of him. Was it because Cho had written to him or because he was seeing in writing what everyone had known, Voldemort would try everything to get to Harry and kill him.
Harry slammed his fist onto the floor and hung his head. Why did Voldemort want to kill Harry so badly? Harry’s mother had died to protect him Voldemort wouldn’t have killed her if she hadn’t. Harry slammed his fist again. It just didn’t make sense Harry had been only a year old. Harry slammed his fist again, this time much harder. Not knowing was so frustrating, three people were dead because they knew Harry, his father, mother and Cedric Diggory. Harry had tears in his eyes. He had been pounding the floor the entire time he had been in thought Harry hadn’t noticed. There was a pain in the side of his hand and it throbbed.
There was a loud pounding on Harry’s door, his heart leapt.
“What in the confounds are you doing in there?!” Uncle Vernon’s voice boomed through the door. Harry ignored the pain in his hand as he threw all of the paper and packages underneath his bed and wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks.
Harry opened the door a crack.
“Nothing,” Harry replied.
“Well nothing sure is causing a racket. Some of us have important things to do in the morning!”
“As well you should be. Now go to sleep, boy!” Uncle Vernon pulled the door shut as he left the hallway to his own bedroom.
Harry threw himself face first onto his bed, it was then he noticed how badly his hand really hurt. He thought back of the false pain in his scar. Harry turned onto his side why couldn’t he have a day without Voldemort? A least one dream without Voldemort? His dream from earlier in the night came flooding back to him. He had a dream without Voldemort; he just didn’t know who she was.
Harry closed his eyes trying to remember the details of the dream. Pre-te. Harry didn’t know the word. Perhaps it was meant to be spoken quicker. Prete. Was it an incantation? He’d have to ask Ron or better yet Hermione. He remembered what she looked like. She must have been a couple years older then him, at least a couple years. Harry started to drift into sleep as he thought about the dream. His sleep was that of exhaustion and thus he had no further dreams that night.
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