The Marauders and the Prisoner of Azkaban

It was a bland, rainy summer day, down casting most everyone. No one was outside, instead everyone was sitting inside, finding a way to occupy themselves or not, the former not being Sirius Black.

"I'm bored," he said to his friends James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were staying over at James' house, sitting around in his room.

"Why don't you try reading a book?" suggested Remus, who was reading one himself, acting the most mature of the four sixteen year old boys.

"I don't want to. I know all that stuff. You can't read a book on a day like this. Prongs," said Sirius, referring to James. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, Padfoot. What do you want to do?" said James.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do, Wormtail?"

"I don't know," replied Peter.

"Well, now we're really getting some ideas," said Remus sarcastically.

Sirius sighed loudly. "I'm bored."

"We've heard," said Remus, getting annoyed. "If you ever have anything new to tell us, just mention it."

"Okay," said Sirius. "What about : the more bored I get, the crankier you get."

"I'm not getting cranky!"

"Yes you are."

"Oh, I'm going to eat some chocolate," said Remus, closing his book and taking a half eaten chocolate bar out of his pocket.

"You've had chocolate all along and you didn't tell us?" asked James loudly.

"Yes, I usually do have it with me."

"Oh, come on, give us some!" whined Sirius.

Now, nobody had been paying much attention to Peter, until about a second later when there was a thump, and Peter loudly said, 'ow!'

"Ow!" said Peter. "Something fell on my head!"

"You better hope it doesn't hurt your brain," said James.

"Prongs, have you been gluing things on your ceiling again?" asked Peter

"Er, no," said James.

Remus reached over for the object that had hit Peter on the head. "It's a book. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."

"Potter?" Peter asked. "Do you know him, Prongs?"

"No," said James. "I don't think there are any Harrys in my family."

"Give me that." Sirius took the book from Remus and looked at the cover. "Hmm. He looks just like you. Except for his eyes. And that weird scar on his forehead."

James looked intently at the boy called Harry. "He has my hair. Maybe he is related to me."

"Let's see what year it was written in," said Remus, taking the book back from Sirius. He flipped the book open to the copyright page. "Copyright 1999 by J. K. Rowling."

"1999?" repeated Sirius. "It can't be! This is 1976! Let me see." He took the book from Remus again and read the page. "1999. But that's like over twenty years from now!"

"I know! I've got it!" James exclaimed. "It's a book from the future!"

Peter began humming The Twilight Zone theme song. James and Sirius looked at him blankly.

"Muggle show," explained Peter.

"Come on!" said Sirius eagerly. "Let's read the future book!"

"I thought you didn't want to read any books," Remus commented.

"But we've got to read the future book!" whined Sirius. "Read it!"

"Yeah, Moony. Read it to us," said James.

"Please?" added Peter.

"Alright," said Remus. He took the book from Sirius and flipped to the first chapter. "Chapter One. Owl Post."

"Moony, can we eat your chocolate as you read to us?" Peter asked.

Remus sighed. "Oh, fine," he said and gave them the chocolate bar, then returned his attention to the book.

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.

"Sounds kind of like Moony!" said James.

"Arrooo!" howled Sirius.

"Guys..." said Remus.

"Oh, sorry," James said.

"Yeah," agreed Sirius.

For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of the year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard.

"Hey, do you think he goes to Hogwarts?" asked Peter.

"Probably," said Sirius.

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against a pillow.

"Gee," said Remus. "Sounds a bit like someone here." He pointed at Peter.

"Nuh uh!" Peter pointed at Sirius.

"No!" Sirius pointed at James.

James was going to point at Remus, but remembered Remus didn't do that type of thing. He pointed up. Sirius, Peter, and Remus all burst out laughing.

Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, "Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless- discuss."

The quill paused at the top of a likely looked paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read:

"Eh, skip that bit," said Sirius. "I don't want to learn. I bet it's about that weird Wendy or whatever her name is."

"As you wish. And her name was Wendelin the Weird, not 'weird Wendy'," said Remus.

"Whatever," Sirius said.

Remus skipped over the extract from the textbook and continued reading.

Harry put his quill between his teeth and reached underneath his pillow for his ink bottle and roll of parchment.

"Odd. I like to keep cheese under my pillow," said Peter.

"Cheese?!" James laughed. "Ha ha ha!"

"Yeah, well, it's not like what's under your pillow is better. What's under your pillow?"

"A picture of Lily," replied James.

"Aww, and just what do you do with it?" grinned Sirius evilly.

"Moony, keep reading," said James quickly.

Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, he'd probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

"Child abuse!" yelled James. "They can't do that to my relative!"

"Actually, Prongs, even though they're not being very nice to him, they're not really abusing him," Remus pointed out.

"Still!" said James. "They can't- wait, who are these Dursleys? Where are his mum and dad? Keep reading."

The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays.

"You!" shouted James. "You Dursleys, you!"

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Harry's only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic.

Remus stopped reading and looked up at his friends. "You know what's odd...Lily told me that she has a sister named Petunia. And that Petunia hates magic. You don't think it's her?"

"No way," said Sirius. "That would be too weird."

"Padfoot, this was made in 1999."

"I don't get it," said Peter.

"Neither do I!" complained James. "Why is it that Lily talks and is friends with Moony, but just slaps me?"

"Prongs, maybe you should be more compassionate and understanding."

"I am!" said James. "I'm trying!"

"Compassion and understanding isn't done by taking off people's pants," said Remus simply.

"Well, you know, Snivellus had it coming."

"And it was so funny!" laughed Sirius.

"Yep!" laughed Peter. "But can we get back to the story?"

Harry's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys' roof.

"What?!" shouted James. "The poor guy's parents and dead and he doesn't even get to talk about them?"

For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him. To their fury, they had been unsuccessful.

"Ha!" said Sirius.

These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry's spell books, wand, cauldron and broomstick at the start of summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbors.

"Child abuse. That's all I have to say," muttered James.

This separation from his spell books had been a real problem for Harry, because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work.

"Oh, don't we know it," said Peter.

"I haven't even started mine," Sirius told them.

"Me neither," agreed James.

"I did a little," said Remus. "Maybe we should be doing our homework instead of reading this book."

There was a silence of consideration from all boys, and then-

"Nah," they all said.

One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month.

"No way," said James blankly.

"It can't be!" exclaimed Sirius. "Snivellus? A teacher?!"

"It sounds like him," said Peter. "I bet he'd give a detention."

"This is so strange," commented Remus. "The possibility that his Petunia is Lily's sister...Professor Snape...Harry Potter...this book could be telling the future as we know it!"

Don't stop now!" said Sirius. "I want to know what happens!"

"Harry had therefore seized his chance in the first week of holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too)-

"Showoffs," muttered Peter.

"Yeah," said James. "What a bunch of good for nothing showoffs."

"Er, Prongs," said Sirius. "You do show off with that Snitch."

"There's a difference."

"Suuuure there is."

Harry had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of his books, and hidden them in his bedroom. As long as he didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night.

"There's a good mischief maker!" said Peter, swinging his arm.

James pointed at the book. "That's my relative! Good job!"

Harry was particularly keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with him, all because he'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation.

"Ring ring!" said James, imitating a telephone.

"Hello?" asked Sirius, picking up an imaginary telephone.

"This is James Potter," said James, talking into an imaginary telephone.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to stop abusing my relative!"

"That's it! Now we're going to be in a bad mood with your relative! We're going to make him miserable!" Sirius fake-yelled and then hung up. James and Sirius broke out into laughter.

Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry's best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who answered the call.

"I knew it!" James yelled. "You're going to make my relative more miserable then he is! Just wait until I find you! I'll hurt you, you little piece of-"

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Ron's voice answer.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I-WANT-TO-TALK-TO-HARRY-POTTER!"

"Ah, a newcomer to the telephone," said Peter. "It's so much fun to watch them be idiots."

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

"Hey, Moony made one of those faces when he thought the chocolate pudding at Hogwarts didn't taste right!" said James.

"Yeah! You kept ranting about how they had contaminated the flavor or something!" laughed Sirius.

"Well, they did!" replied Remus indignantly. "They weren't giving the chocolate its proper, luscious flavor!"

"You and the chocolate," laughed Peter. "Do you ever not have chocolate with you?"

"Er...no...not really," said Remus. "Only a few times. Never mind, let's keep reading."

"WHO IS THIS?" he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON-WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field."

"Didn't one of your last conversations with Lily go something like that?" Sirius asked, looking at James. "You two were yelling really loud."

James nodded sheepishly. "I asked her out...and then she yelled at me for taking off Snivelly's pants, then asking her out. And I kind of yelled back. And she yelled louder."

"I couldn't even hear my jazz music," Remus added.

"That was an improvement," said Peter.

"Hey! I like my jazz music!"

"I was just joking."

"I'M-A-FRIEND-OF-HARRY'S-FROM SCHOOL-"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot."

"Really?" asked Sirius. "You mean he became like a tree and got planted to the ground?"

"No, stupid, it's an expression," explained Remus.

"I'm not stupid, I'm just not as smart as you are. It's not nice to call people names."

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!" he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode.

James considered that sentence. "You know...that's a good idea."

"Exploding telephones," said Sirius. "I like it."

Remus rolled his eyes, and then looked at the book at said, "Oh, thanks a lot."

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider.

"I bet he has loads of friends," said Peter sarcastically.

The fight that followed had been one of the worst ever.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE- PEOPLE LIKE YOU!" Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit.

"So now you're making my relative miserable, ruining his social life and getting germs all over him! Just wait until I find you!" James yelled at the book.

Ron had obviously realized that he'd gotten Harry into trouble, because he hadn't called again. Harry's other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either. Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harry's year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one.

"The last one?!" roared James at the book. "What did you do to my relative then?! Hmm? What?!"

"Prongs, calm down!" said Sirius, pushing James down before he could attack the book. "He'll probably be better when he goes back to Hogwarts. And he won't have to see them. And everything will be okay."

"I doubt it."

There was just one very small improvement- after swearing that he wouldn't use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of all the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time.

"Kind of like Moony," said Peter. "Before we started going to Hogsmeade at night, you just kept howling and shrieking in the Shrieking Shack."

"Oh, thanks for the comparison," said Remus sarcastically. "And I might remind you that you're an Animagus, so you don't have to deal with monthly forced transformations."

"But you were loud."

Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting, snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley.

"Aha! And that's like you, Wormtail!" said Sirius.

"What?" Peter asked.

"You snore in your sleep!" said Sirius triumphantly.

"So?" he asked.

"It's loud. And annoying," Sirius said simply.

It must be very late, Harry thought. His eyes were itching with tiredness. Perhaps he'd finish this essay tomorrow night...

He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillow case from under his bed; put the flashlight, A History of Magic, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed.

"Under the bed," repeated James. "I find that a great place to hide things you don't want anyone else to know about."

"Wicked. I'll go look under it when we get back at Hogwarts for our sixth year," said Sirius casually.

"Wait a minute! I didn't say that I hide things under the bed! Just that it's a good place to hide things!" James hurriedly added.

Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table.

It was one o' clock in the morning. Harry's stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour.

"Happy birthday, my dear relative!" said James happily.

Yet another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays. He had never received a birthday card in his life. The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose that they would remember this one.

James gasped. "My poor, poor relative! You know what this means, don't you?"

"That his relatives are very cruel, uncaring people, and his friends should have sent him birthday cards if they were really his friends?" suggested Remus.

"No!" said James. "We're going to have to sing to him 'Happy Birthday'!"

"We're going to what?" Sirius asked.

"Come on! It's my relative we're talking about! Sing!"

And so the boys began singing 'Happy Birthday' as they looked at the book, James being the most enthusiastic about this song.

"Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday dear Harry!

Happy Birthday to you!"

"Great," said Peter. "Now we've sung like idiots to a book. I don't even think it heard us."

"It's the thought that counts," James pointed out.

Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwig's large, empty cage, to the open window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now.

"Maybe someone ate her!" said Peter.

"Arrroooo!" howled Sirius again.

Remus frowned. "Will you please stop it with the werewolf jokes? They're not funny."

"Sorry."

Harry wasn't worried about her: she'd been gone this long before. But he hoped she'd be back soon- she was the only living creature in this house who didn't flinch at the sight of him.

Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however was just as it always had been- stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it.

"Just like Prongs!" said Sirius excitedly.

The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

"Not...like...Prongs," said Sirius, loosing his excitement.

Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry's parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash.

Remus stopped reading and looked at the sentence again.

"Merlin's Beard!" yelled James, louder than he had ever yelled before in that room. "Read it again!"

Remus obliged.

It was not as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry's parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash.

"Wow!" James shouted, and started talking very quickly. "Harry is my son! I married Lily! Woo hoo! Yeah!"

"Are you sure it's Lily?" Peter asked. "I can't see her marrying you."

"But, it did say that Harry has green eyes," said Sirius slowly.

"And Lily has green eyes!" exclaimed James gleefully. "This is great! I married Lily! I married Lily! And this book is about my son!"

Remus had been smiling at James' excitement, also wondering why Lily would marry him, and then his eyes flicked to the next sentence, and the smile disappeared. "Um...Prongs...I think you'd better hear the next line."

"What is it?" said James, sitting back down, for he had stood up and started jumping crazy.

They 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's curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled...

Remus looked up at his friends, and the following comments came from them.

"Don't say his name!" said Peter.

"Wow!" said Sirius in awe.

"I'm dead?!" said a thunderstruck James.

"I'm sorry," said Remus.

"And this is a future book, right?" said James. "It means...it means I die? That's just not fair!"

"Well...at least you got to marry Lily!" said Sirius, clearly looking for a bright side.

"And just look at your cool son!" said Peter.

"Yeah...I just can't stand thinking that he has to live with these Dursleys during the summer. They're so mean! Where were you guys? Why didn't one of you take care of him?"

"I don't know...the future is a very strange thing," said Remus. "And I doubt that Divination works. I hate Divination. Too many crystal orbs."

"Well...let's read on, then," said James.

"But Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday."

"I'm not sure whether to be upset that Harry has had to more than once encounter the guy who murdered me, or be proud that he was brave and got passed it," said James tonelessly.

"Let's go with proud," said Sirius.

He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to him with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise.

"I find that to be personal!" said Peter. "What if that dead mouse was me?"

"Are you that stupid?" asked Sirius. "What would you be doing spending your time as a rat?"

"I don't know," replied Peter.

Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realized what he was seeing.

"He was seeing his father resurrected from the dead!" Sirius brightly said.

"That's not really helping," said James.

Silhouetted against the golden moon-

"The question is, is it full or not?" said Sirius.

"Padfoot..." began Remus.

"Sorry!"

- and growing larger every moment was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harry'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 street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, realizing what it was, leapt aside.

"Because it was his mother resurrected from the dead!" said Sirius.

"You're really not helping now," said James plainly.

"I think I'll take that chocolate back," said Remus.

"No, no! Wormtail, help me! Don't let him get it!"

"Give me," said Remus. "You've gotten high enough."

"No!"

"Padfoot, give him the chocolate," said James, still looking at the book in a sort of sad way.

"Oh, fine. Here Moony," he said and gave Remus the chocolate.

Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Harry's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once- his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family.

"Not Arthur Weasley?" asked Peter. "He's not in school anymore, but he graduated sometime when we were in school."

"I don't know," said James. "Is everyone in this book? This is too weird."

Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig's cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

"Because I am your friend who is high off chocolate, I will try and refrain myself from saying who that reminded me off," said Sirius.

"Good," Remus said. "Because we don't want to know."

Harry turned to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely please with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

Harry didn't recognize the third 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.

"Why?" asked James loudly. "What has my son done now? Why has Hogwarts sent him a letter? How could my son do this to me and get in trouble?!"

"Er...Prongs...it's probably his letter for his new school supplies that he needs to get, and reminding him that term begins on September 1^st," said Remus. "And he's probably getting his permission slip for Hogsmeade."

"Oh yeah..."

When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night.

"Show off," muttered Sirius.

Harry 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.

"My son has a great friend!" said James happily. "Really. Thirteen years and he never got a single birthday card? That's sad."

Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out- a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving.

"I see moving people!" said Peter, obviously thinking this was very funny.

"I just don't think I'll ask," Sirius said.

Harry 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.

"Woah!" said Sirius. "Five? And then there other son isn't there. That's six kids! Who would want six kids?"

"The Weasleys," said Peter.

Harry 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.

"Seven! That's seven kids!" said Sirius. "It's like...what's that Muggle fairy tale about that girl and the midgets?"

"You mean 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, that one. I wonder if they all have personalities like that. Like Grumpy...and Happy...and Doofy."

"It was Dopey," corrected Remus.

"Oh, right. I knew that."

Harry 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.

"That's my son!" said James excitedly. "He's such a good son! He cares about his friend getting gold and is happy for him!"

He picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it.

'Dear Harry,

Happy birthday!

Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I ask Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted.'

"Really?" said Peter sarcastically.

'It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us all around 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.'

"Wicked!" said Sirius. "I want to see that!"

'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.'

Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old want had snapped. It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds."

"What?!" yelled James. "Why did my son fly a car to Hogwarts?! What's wrong with the train?! And they crashed into a tree! How stupid can he get?!"

Remus looked up at James yelling. James angry face had softened into a light expression after his yelling, and he said softly, "My son rocks." Sirius, Remus and Peter started laughing.

'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. Any chance of meeting you there?

Don't let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London.

Ron

P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.'

Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking perfectly smug.

"Moony, if you become Head Boy, you better not get that attitude with us," Sirius said.

"Of course I won't," said Remus. "Besides, I don't think I'll get it. I'm horrible at being a prefect as it is. I'm always letting you guys get away with things."

"Isn't it great?" grinned Sirius.

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.

Harry 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.

'Harry- 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.'

"Great," said Peter sadly. "I had one of those. But I threw it away because I thought it didn't work properly."

"We'll get you one for Christmas," said James. "Anyway, that was a great idea. At school, let's put beetles in Snivellus' soup!"

"Yeah!" said Sirius.

Remus glared at the book. "You're really becoming such a bad influence."

Harry 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 Hermione.

"Hmm. Why is it that my son gets his presents from his friends this year? What about the other years they were friends?" James mumbled.

'Dear Harry,

Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right.

I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how to send this to you- what if they'd opened it at customs?- but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change.'

"Did I mention that my son's owl rocks too?" said James.

'I bought your present by owl-order; their 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 really 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 you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really 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 really please. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it'.

"She sounds annoying," stated Peter.

"But very clever," said Remus.

"Annoyingly clever," Sirius settled.

"What's this 'love from'?" James asked. "Does my son have a girlfriend already?"

"No, I think it said that she was just his friend," said Remus.

"That's what they all say," James pointed out. "It says that they're just friends. But really, they're more than friends."

"I guess that's why nothing is going on between you and Lily, is there?" Sirius teased.

"Shut it!"

Harry 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 of very difficult spells- but it wasn't. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit.

"Wow, Hermione!" Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.

"Now that's what I need!" said James, marveling at what his son had received for his birthday. "How come you guys never got me one of those for my birthday?"

"Because I got you that huge package of 1000+ items of pranks to use, and that was a lot of money," said Sirius.

"Because I helped buy the same thing," said Peter.

"Because I also helped buy the thing, and besides, I'm not about to buy you anything with silver in it," said Remus.

"Oh...right. Sorry."

"It's alright," said Remus.

Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world- highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry 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. One of Harry's most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom.

"I LOVE MY SON!" James declared. "Not only has he gotten my love for Quidditch and my talent on a broomstick, he's the youngest Quidditch player in a century! And he's got a great broom, even though I've never heard of it yet! But it's bound to be good. I bet you guys don't have a son as cool as mine! Harry, you rock. I am so proud to be your father."

"You only love your son so much now because he likes Quidditch and is good at it," Sirius pointed out.

"So?" James asked.

Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper.

"Hey, it's Hagrid!" said Peter. "He's the gamekeeper at school right now!"

He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly- as though it had jaws.

"It's a miniature werewolf!" shouted Sirius.

"Padfoot!" yelled Remus.

"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Besides, it was described nothing like a werewolf. Are werewolves green and leathery?!"

"Er...no. Unless they-"

"Stop! I'm just going to keep reading."

Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

"Woah! I didn't know he did all that stuff!" said Peter. "What's wrong with his head?"

"I don't know," said James. "Guess it resembles yours."

"Hey!"

Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again.

"Guys...I'm kind of scared," said Peter. I wonder what it is?"

"Yeah! What did this Hagrid send my son?!"

Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised I over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled.

And out fell- a book.

Sirius pointed at Peter and started laughing. "A book! A book! You were scared of a book!"

"That's not just any book!" said Peter defensively. "It's like a man eating book!"

Harry had just enough time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered.

The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in a dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it.

"Go son, go!" cheered James.

"Ouch!"

The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatter it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door.

Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he bucked tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card.

"Hooray for my son, Harry!" said James, who seemed to have gotten over the fact that he would be dying, since he realized how cool his son would be. "He just stopped that monster book from attacking him!"

'Dear Harry

Happy Birthday!

Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you.

Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

All the best,

Hagrid'

It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrid's card up next to Ron and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than ever.

"You know what, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid also rock," James decided. "Look how happy they've made my son!"

"Does anyone else have the feeling that the only other sound we'll hear besides Moony reading, is Prongs talking about his son?" Sirius asked.

"Yep," said Peter.

Remus nodded.

"But I love my son!" protested James.

"We know you do," said Remus. "But we're trying to read a book. We've got a long way to go."

"Alright, I'll try and keep quiet. Promise."

Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.

Noticing that it was rather thicker than unusual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

'Dear Mr. Potter,

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'

Harry 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 persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form?

"YOU MEAN THAT RUDDY AUNT AND UNCLE OF HIS WOULDN'T LET HIM GO TO HOGSMEADE?!" James yelled angrily.

"Knew his promise wouldn't last," said Sirius sourly.

"Prongs, do you think you could be a little quieter?" Remus asked.

"But- but, my son! He doesn't think they'll sign the form, which means that they're horrible guardians!"

"There's nothing we can do about it," said Remus. "He'll be out of there soon enough."

"Can't wait," said James.

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, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, facing his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment, Harry Potter felt just like everyone else- glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

"How sweet!" said James. "But sad! This is the only time my son is happy it's his birthday!"

"That's the end of chapter one," said Remus.

"Read the next one!" said James eagerly. "I want to hear more about my son!"

"My son this, my son that," Sirius mocked.

"Don't mock me, Padfoot!" said James. "If you found a strange future book about your son who you never knew you had, wouldn't you want to read it and know all about him?"

"Well, yeah," said Sirius. "But more importantly, I'd want to know who the hot chick I had him with was."

"Okay," said Peter slowly. "That was pleasant to hear. Now Moony, would you read the next chapter?"

"In a minute, I want some of my chocolate," said Remus, and he began to eat it.

And then, once Remus was done, he opened the book to the next chapter, and Sirius, James and Peter sat beside him, highly anticipating what came next to the boy called Harry Potter.