Treasure the Memories: A Birthday Story

The walls of Number 12 Grimauld Place-dark and dreary reflected how Harry felt on the inside. Being in Grimauld Place did not feel right. Not when his godfather couldn't be here. Every corner he took every room he entered a part of him thought that Sirius would be there. But he never was, and it broke Harry's heart every time. Sirius's presence hung in the air turning it stale. Everybody treated him differently, and he hated it. They treated him like he was delicate and that at any moment he would break. The worst though were the smiles. Everybody smiled at him assuring him everything would be alright, except in their eyes. The eyes always shed pity and pain. He knew they were only trying to help his grieving process but he didn't want to be treated differently. He just wanted to be…normal. He hated that house because Sirius used to hate this house.

Harry Potter sat alone on his bed engulfed by darkness of his bedroom. It was the eve if his sixteenth birthday. There was a party in the kitchen for him but he didn't feel much like going. Turning sixteen meant he was one year nearer to having to fight Voldemort, one year closer to fulfilling the destiny the prophecy chosen for him.

He groaned at the thought of the prophecy. He didn't want to think about, he had been thinking about it all summer. He had a headache now because of it.

He heard a heavy familiar creak from the hallway. It was Ron coming up the stairs.

Ron pushed open the bedroom door allowing a steam of light to surge in, illuminating the features on Harry's face.

“Are you coming down stairs, mate?” Ron moved into the room a little more. “Everybody is wondering where you are.”

“Tell them I'm sick.”

“Are you?”

“No…Yes,” Harry muttered. “…I don't know.”

Another creak echoed in from the hallway, and Hermione appeared at Ron's shoulder.

She pushed past him abrasively and flicked on the light. “Harry, what are you doing?” she asked hotly. “Everybody's wondering where you are.”

“Nothing,” he answered, shielding his eyes from the light.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “…Oh honestly… there is a party down stairs for you, you know.”

“I don't feel like going.”

“What?”

“I don't feel like going,” he repeated louder.

Hermione took three brisk strides before plopping down on his bed to next him and looking into his eyes. “Harry, I know you're hurting. You're my best friend, and I would do anything for you, you know that!” She shifted slightly her voice turning hoarse. “But I refuse to let you sit here and dwell on all the negativity in your life. So you're going to that party!”

“Hermione, I don't want to go.”

“C'mon mate, there's butterbeer and cake down there,” Ron added.

She bolted up and glared at him. “Harry get up! You are going to this party whether you like it or not. I am forcing you to go!” she began tugging at his arm. “A lot of people took time out of their busy schedules, and took time off of work to be here for you! HARRY POTTER YOU ARE GOING!”

Harry exhaled deeply, slightly annoyed knowing Hermione was right. He hated when she was right. Harry used all his weight to make himself heavy in spite of Hermione always being right. He was amused by the look of determination to make him attend this party gleaming in her eyes.

“Ron help me!” she grunted.

Ron rolled his eyes, and made an attempt move from his spot by the door, but stopped when Harry bolted up out of his bed.

“Alright!” Harry cried, feeling slightly annoyed. “I'll go!”

A small smile materialized on Hermione's face. “Good. I'll see you in the kitchen.”

Hermione exited the room with a flick of her hair, catching Harry's eye.

“Bloody mental she is!” Ron muttered a few moments later trotting down the old creaky stairs with Harry at his side. “Mum made the best cake…got Fire Whiskey in it! Mum reckons we're old enough for it. She made Fred and George wait `til they were seventeen but they're idiots though. Ginny's mad, mum says she can't try it `til next year.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbled, not really listening to his best friend.

They reached the kitchen door and Harry pushed it open. He was greeted by shrieks and yells of excitement from the Weasley twins followed by a loud CLANG!

“FRED! GEORGE!”

Harry's eyes fell onto the middle of the floor where he a broken bowl and Bertie Botts Flavored Beans scattered about. He looked over to Fred and George who were standing in the opposite corner looking at there mother with guiltless expressions.

“What do you two think you we're doing?” snapped Mrs. Weasley, standing over the broken bowl.

“We were trying to bewitch the green ones to taste like Dragon Dung!” Fred replied.

Mrs. Weasley groaned and began muttering under her breath. With a swish of her wand, the bowl was fixed and the Bertie Botts Bean had disappeared. She looked up and saw Harry watching her. “Hello Harry dear!”

“Hi.” he replied.

“Harry's here,” Mrs. Weasley announced to the room.

“Hello Harry!” Mr. Lupin said. “Happy Birthday.”

“Er - thanks.”

“Happy Birthday eve, Harry” Tonks and Ginny giggled in unison.

“Harry, come blow out your candles,” Hermione insisted, placing the cake on the table.

Harry made his way through the crowd of people who came for his birthday. Among them were the Weasley family, and many of the members from the Order. Some of them wishing Harry a Happy Birthday as he passed. Harry made is way over to the spot where Hermione stood.

“Make a wish,” Hermione grinned

Harry thought for a moment. What was it that he wanted wished for? He wished he didn't have to be at this party - but that wasn't it. He wished the Dursley's would be transformed into some grotesque species of insect and leave him alone. He had to admit to himself that one was good but he didn't want to waste a birthday wish on it. He knew what he wanted to wish for. He wished that Voldemort didn't exist. He wished the prophecy had never been made. He wished his mum and dad were still alive. He wished he could for once in his life he could be…normal. That was it, he wanted to be normal. He leaned forward and blew out the candles. Cheers and applause from everybody filled the room. Harry looked up and met Dumbledore's eyes. He bowed and winked at Harry over his half-moon spectacles with a mystical smile.

Several hours and several pieces of Mrs. Weasley Double Chocolate Fire Whisky cake later Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed for the stairs feeling a little tipsy. Harry was glad the party was over. He had spent the evening receiving the standard `pity and pain' look from members of the Order. The party got better near the end when Fred and George started talking about the up coming Quidditch World Cup.

This year it was Russia against America. Harry would have loved to see an American team play Quidditch. Mr. Weasley had broke the bad news to him early on in summer when he informed Harry that he sadly couldn't get them tickets this year. This was the worst summer of Harry's life.

“Harry?”

The tipsy trio was already half way up the first flight of stairs when they turned to see Professor Dumbledore smiling up at them.

“Yes?”

“Treasure the memories,” Dumbledore said softly. “Happy Birthday.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each wearing the same puzzled expression. With a loud pop they looked down the stairs to see Professor Dumbledore had apparated away.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron asked, waiting for Hermione to answer.

“I have no idea!” Hermione answered, still wearing her puzzled face.

“I really think he lost it this time, Harry,” Ron said, still watching where Dumbledore stood moments ago. “He's definitely a nutter!”

“…Yeah,” Harry replied.

“There's too much Fire Whiskey in my system at the moment to think, and I am tired. See you in the morning,” Hermione announced, bouncing up the stairs towards her bedroom.

Harry liked Hermione's thinking. He was also very tired. Too tired to try to figure out what Dumbledore said, but he couldn't help it. Why would Dumbledore unexpectedly say something like that for no reason? Maybe Ron was right, maybe Dumbledore had really lost it.

Harry dragged his feet up the stairs and into his bedroom he shared with Ron and collapsed on his bed, and within minutes heard Ron's forceful snoring. Soon Harry was drifting away from reality. Seconds before he spun away into a peaceful slumber, a small whisper crept into his head.

“Treasure the memories.”

***

Harry felt a rush, as if he was being pulled at high-speed through a tunnel. His eyes surged open, and bright sun light filtered the room. He did not see the dark dreary walls of Number Twelve Grimauld Place, instead he saw a bright taupe colored room, with blue trim. The room was cheerful compared to Grimauld Place.

Startled, Harry sat up instantaneously. He looked around the room; he didn't know where he was. Where was he? How did he get here? Was he dreaming?

“Harry?”

Harry twisted in the bed, and saw Ron sitting up on a cot behind him. A small amount of relief came over him; at least he had a friend there with him.

“Ron!” Harry said. “Where are we?”

“I dunno,” Ron answered, in a fearful tone. “I was gunna ask you the same thing!”

Harry's thoughts shifted to Hermione. Was she somewhere here too? Was she alone and scared? “Would Hermione be here?”

The two boys eyed each other, knowing what each other was thinking. Harry whipped the covers off his legs, and shoved his hand in his pocket in search for his wand to find it missing. “My wand?”

“It's on the table…I think,” Ron said, spotting Harry's wand plunging his hand into his own pocket to find his wand right where it was supposed to be.

Harry spun around and found his wand sitting on what appeared to be some kind of wand holder. He reached forward to pick up his wand and found something odd scribed on the wooden wand holder.

`Harry's Wand'.

“This is weird…this is REALLY weird!” exclaimed Harry.

“Very!” Ron agreed.

Harry took a moment to take everything in, the room seemed very well decorated. Quidditch posters plastered the walls which seekers zoomed in and out of. A large collection of Gryffindor memorabilia littered the room. Clothes were thrown about the floor.

He shook his head and turned to Ron. “Come on, we have to see if Hermione is here somewhere!” he said urgently.

Harry kicked a few articles of clothing out of his path as he reached for the doorknob. They came face to face with an empty hallway with pearly white walls and royal blue carpeting. Several white closed doors with silver knobs lined the walls. Everything still appeared to be still and cheerful.

Not knowing what to do Ron whispered, `Hermione?”

Harry turned and whacked Ron with his wand. “Shhh! You don't know where we are. This could be a trap, don't do that.”

“Sorry,” Ron replied. “But have any other ideas?”

Harry didn't answer but continued to slowly pace around. He was looking for something to let him know what was going on or what to do next.

A door at the end of the hallway opened and closed again with a firm clap. Footsteps rushed down the hall and before Harry knew it a pair arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. He stumbled back a few steps before realizing it was Hermione.

He exhaled with relief, and hugged her back. “Hermione!”

“Oh, god, I have been scared out of my wits. I have been awake for an hour not knowing where I am. Thank god you're here. I heard you two murmuring.” Hermione gasped, as she turned to throw her arms around Ron. “Where are we? What's going on?”

“I don't know,” Harry answered.

“This couldn't be a trap from Voldemort could it?” Hermione whispered, her mind in deep thought.

“Oh don't say th—“

Ron was interrupted when a soft voice traveled in from the other end of the hall. All three of them glared at each other nervously, unsure of what to do next. They heard the soft voice again, and the three of began to creep towards a white banister. Together they crouched down peered down into a kitchen through the banister posts and saw the source of the soft voice. A woman with flaming red hair was sorting through a bowl of chocolate chips humming the tune to `Happy Birthday'.

Together the trio watched more closely and intently. The woman flicked her wand and a stack of pancakes floated across the room and landed beside her. She picked up the bowl of chocolate chips and began sprinkling them on the pancakes…she was spelling something. Within moments, she moved the stack of pancakes aside and the message written upon them was clearly visible from where the trio was placed.

`HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY'

Harry gasped and covered his mouth with his hand. Harry turned to Hermione, and she turned to him. She saw perplexity, and alarm written on his face. She could feel it for him.

“W-what?” he struggled with a dry throat.

Hermione looked from the woman back to Harry. She licked her lips and gripped the posts. She felt very apprehensive; it was clearly inscribed on her face. “Harry, I don't know what's going here…” She glanced back down at the fiery haired woman and back up at Harry. “But, I think that's your mother down there!”

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Harry's eyes widened and traveled back between Hermione and the woman with red hair. He could not believe what Hermione had just told him. There had to be an explanation for what was going on. Harry's mum was dead and dead people cannot come back from the grave and make pancakes.

“No!” Harry spat sharply.

Harry dashed back into the room he woke up in. He paced the room quickly, tears building up in his green eyes. He heard the door open and knew Ron and Hermione were watching him. He wiped away his teary eyes with his hand, and turned to face them.

“Harry,” Ron said. “You okay mate?”

“I don't know!” he answered quickly. “This has to be Voldemort!”

Ron shuddered.

“Harry, I don't think it is,” Hermione said calmly.

“But you j—“

“I know what I just said, Harry. But think… how could he get all three of us here in one place?” Hermione asked them.

“Portkey,” Harry answered. “He did it before.”

“No. Voldemort cannot get into Grimauld Place, its under the Fidelius Charm, remember?” Hermione informed them. “Dumbledore is the Secret-Keeper. He would die before giving away the location of the Order, and your whereabouts!' she said turning to Harry. “You know that?”

“Maybe another member of the Order did it?” Harry stated. “Somebody could be under the imperious curse!”

“No! Shacklebolt cast detection spells all over the house at the beginning of the summer they would have been detected,” she said.

“Who knows? This probably isn't even real!” Harry shouted. “This probably Voldemort fucking with my mind again. He's just waiting to - OUCH! FUCK HERMIONE, WHY DID YOU PINCH ME?”

“To show you you're not dreaming!” she retaliated. “And stop using that foul language.”

“How can this be real?” Ron asked. “How can we go to bed one place and wake up some place completely different with no memory of getting there?”

“Not sure…” Hermione said, pacing the length of the room. She was in deep thought, as the boys watched her. “Dumbledore?”

“What?” asked Harry.

“Dumbledore, he said something to us last night,” she said. “What was it? I don't remember much because of the Fire Whiskey.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, screwing up his face as he struggled to remember. “Gosh…it was something about memories. Right?”

“Yeah…er…shoot what was it?” Harry struggled to remember.

“TREASURE THE MEMORIES!” Ron shouted. “That was it!”

“Yes!' Hermione replied. She looked at them excitedly immediately followed by a frown. “But how could that send us here? It's not a spell!”

Harry paced over to the window and collapsed on the bed watching intently outside. He noticed the houses lining the street practically identical to each other in their neat little rows. It reminded him a lot of Privet Drive, except this street had an air of pleasantness to it, making much more enjoyable. He decided he liked this place much better than Privet Drive, even if Voldemort had some how brought him here.

He could hear Ron and Hermione murmuring as they discussed the situation. Harry found the whole situation surreal, it almost made him feel. Had he really just seen his mother making breakfast in the kitchen? His dead mother he may add. The whole thing was just unbelievably strange. Then something inside his mind clicked…his birthday wish! He had wished to be normal! Then Dumbledore had given him that peculiar smile.

“I know how we got here,” Harry stated, interrupting Ron and Hermione's argument.

“How, Harry?” Hermione asked him.

“It was my birthday wish,” he replied, staring out the window.

“You wished for this?” Ron asked looking baffled.

Harry lifted his eyes from the window and turned to look at his two best friends. “I wished to be normal,” he said wistfully. “I wished for things to be the way they were supposed to be.” He turned to the window again and scanned the genial neighborhood. “And this is it,” he finished. “This is a world without Voldemort.”

“Bloody hell!”

“After I blew out the candles I looked up at Dumbledore and he gave me a really weird smile,” Harry told them. “A smile I have never seen before.”

“Well there's our answer right there,” Hermione replied. “Professor Dumbledore cast the Befathalus Charm. It's a very complicated charm; we don't learn it until 7^th year.”

Ron met Harry's gaze and rolled his eyes. “Care to tell us a little more about that Charm?” Ron goaded.

Hermione groaned. “Don't you two ever read?” A aggravated Hermione asked. “There was a brief paragraph about it in `Guide to Charms and Bewitchments'. Chapter thirty-nine, subsection fifteen!”

“Um…let me think,” Ron riposted. “…NO!”

“ANYWAY…” Harry interrupted. “What is it, Hermione?”

“The Befathalus Charm is a charm to make a wish come true. It's very old type of magic, that's why I didn't think of it at first. It's a combination of mixing a potion using ingredients of a rare foliage which is nearly extinct and chanting in the tongue of ancient goblin while you stick the bark of dying oak tree between your toes.” Hermione explained. “The user drinks the potion and then later is then able to grant a wish by chanting it in ancient goblin. Dumbledore obviously chose to use to do this non-verbally. This makes sense consider that ancient Goblin is a dying language, which only few know. So if the Order caught Dumbledore chanting it out loud, they would think he'd lost it and toss him in St. Mungo's.

Ron wrinkled his nose up. “Weird!” he said.

“Very!” Hermione agreed with a swift nod of her head. “It was invented by a rogue clan of Goblin's who lived in Northern Poland in the year 869. They would steal, kill, and eat the cattle of local farmers. They were fierce people; they lived rough lives, and would dress themselves in the skin of those who double-crossed them. They spent thirteen days before a full moon fasting on mildew, gross! Oh they also believed a boulder they dubbed Mervvy would take them to the afterlife on the wings of light!”

“Mervvy?” Ron snorted.

“Yep,” Hermione confirmed.

“As enlightening as it is to learn about a stupid clan of Goblins,” Harry spat. “We have a bigger problem. My mother…my dead mother…is in the kitchen right now making birthday pancakes!” he shouted. “Do you think we can concentrate on that for more then five minutes?”

“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione said. “You know how I am with facts.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, and rubbed his shoulder supportively and smiled. Harry could feel a calmness spreading through him.

“We'll get through this,” she whispered in his ear. “I promise.”

He smiled weakly back at her.

“Is this permanent?” Harry asked.

“No,” Hermione said. “This is just a glimpse of what your life would be like without Voldemort. It will probably only be for this one day.”

“Oh.”

“HARWEE!” came a small squeal from the hallway.

The trio's eyes landed on the closed door, then eyed each other suspiciously.

“Who was that?” Ron asked nervously.

“HARWEE!” the voice squealed again.

“I don't know,” Harry replied staring at the door. He got up from the bed and approached the door despite Hermione's protests of waiting. He turned the doorknob and pulled the door open to reveal a small girl about the age of three with long ginger hair, cute freckles, and a large toothy grin.

“HARWEE!” the little girl squealed beaming up.

“Er…hi,” Harry replied slowly.

The little girl looked around Harry's tall form and peered at Ron, who was looking thunderstruck at her.

“WONNY!” she giggled.

Ron didn't respond but took a few steps back turned to Hermione for some kind of answer to this situation.

“Oh honestly, Ron!” Hermione barked, reading the nervous features on Ron's face. “She's a child, not a blast-ended skrewt!”

“MEENIE!” the little girl squealed excitedly. She ran past Harry and Ron and leaped onto Hermione's lap. “HIYA!” she giggled.

“Hi!” Hermione beamed excitedly at the red haired girl sitting in her lap. “Well aren't you just a little bundle of cuteness!”

The little girl giggled and began playing with Hermione's brown curls. Hermione looked up at the boys and grinned at how adorable the little girl was.

“Harwee!” the girl said, turning on Hermione's lap. “Mummy's in da kitchen…and…and I like…yeah - pancakes weee!” she shrieked excitedly.

“SARA POTTER!” a voice shouted up from down the stairs. “I ASKED YOU TO LEAVE HARRY ALONE. WHY DO I HEAR YOU BUGGING HIM?”

“Uh oh, mummy!” the girl called Sara said. She slid off Hermione's lap and ran out the door.

“Was that…?” Harry asked looking back at Hermione.

Hermione beamed up at him. “You're sister! And she is so cute!”

“HARRY, HERMIONE, RON!” yelled Lily Potter from the kitchen. “BREAKFAST IS READY!”

Hermione glanced up at Harry apprehensively. “Are you ready for this?” she asked him.

Harry gulped nervously, and nodded. “Yeah I think so,” he replied.

***

Harry, Ron, and Hermione slowly exited the bedroom and collected themselves at the top of the stairs. They stood huddled together watching Lily Potter bustle around the kitchen setting the table with her wand as she placed a giggling Sara in her high chair. She spun around and for the first time Harry laid his eyes on his mother.

He gasped.

Lily beamed at him. “Happy birthday, Harry,” she said sweetly. “Now come on down you three before your breakfast gets cold.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Ron muttered to Hermione.

“Yes, I assure you its fine!” she replied.

Ron slowly led his way down the stairs followed by Hermione and behind her Harry. The kitchen was remarkably white with beautiful Italian tiles, white picturesque walls with beautiful scenic paintings. A wrap around counter top was littered with all sorts of breakfast foods that made Ron's mouth water.

Harry stopped in his tracks when his feet touched the cool kitchen floor. His mother, only standing a few feet turned to him after attending to Sara again.

“Harry…” Lily said slowly approaching him.

“M-mum?”

She closed her arms around him tightly. “Oh I can't believe my baby boy is already sixteen,” she whispered into his ear. “Where has the time gone?”

“Oh Lils, the last thing a sixteen year boy wants on his birthday is his mum gushing all over him!” said a dark haired man who had just entered the room. “Release him.”

Harry wheeled around in his mothers arms and saw a tall man with dark unmanageable hair, glasses, and warm hazel eyes beaming down at him. “Happy birthday son!” James roared excitedly, pulling Harry into a gigantic bear hug. “How does it feel to be sixteen?”

“Er…” Harry said unable to form words, as his mind was in a daze

“The boy hasn't had time to let it sink yet!” James bellowed with laughter.

“Mummy bwekfast!” Sara said, waiting patiently.

“Yes, honey, it's coming,” she said to her daughter.

“I agree with the little one,” James said, jokingly poking Ron in the ribs. “Let's eat!”

“Here here!” Ron replied excitedly following James to the table.

“Just sit anywhere,” Lily instructed as she piled all the food onto the table.

James took a seat at the far end of the table. Lily took a seat opposite him closest to Sara so she could feed her. Harry stood glued to the floor in a stupor as he took in the sight of his parents. He didn't realize he was gawking until he felt Hermione hands tugging on his arm.

At the kitchen table, Harry and Hermione sat next to each other, and Ron on the opposite side of the table scanning the food that lay on the table with a glazed look.

“Where is that girl?” Lily said, eyeing the empty chair next to Ron.

James groaned and rolled his eyes. “KATE GET DOWN HERE YOUR BREAKFAST IS GETTING COLD!” he shouted loudly.

“I'll be down in a sec…” replied a female voice.

“NO, YOUNG LADY,” James shouted again. “YOUR MOTHER WORKED HARD ON THIS MEAL AND YOU ARE GOING TO COME DOWN AND ENJOY IT…NOW!”

The female voice groaned loudly. “Fine!” A few thumps were heard from up stairs followed by slamming of a door and heavy footstep down the stairs. A girl with long black hair like Harry's and hazel eyes entered the kitchen and plopped down in the empty chair next to Harry.

Ron stared at her with an open mouth. For a second he completely forgot about all the food.

“Kate, are you wearing make-up?” Lily asked.

“Yes.”

“We told you you're too young for make-up,” James said.

“But I'm fourteen!” Kate cried.

“Exactly!” James said, biting the egg off the end of his fork and waving it at Kate. “Far too young to wear make-up. You'll wash it off after breakfast.”

“Fine!” Kate groaned again. She jabbed her fork into a stack of pancakes and placed them on her plate. She looked up and caught sight of Harry who was watching her confoundly. “Happy birthday, dung-face,” she smirked.

“Er…thanks?”

Kate looked up at him and scrunched up her face in confusion. “You're not going to dignify me with a comeback?” she asked. “Come on man, I am your sister!”

Harry blinked rapidly a few times before he understood what she was talking about. He had seen the way the Weasley siblings teased and called each other names, he figure he and Kate would do the same thing.

“You didn't give me a chance to finish,” he said, tying to sound confident. “Thanks…beetle brain!”

“Enough you two,” Lily said. She glanced up at Harry and moved her gaze quickly over Ron and Hermione. “You three will want to hurry up and get ready after breakfasts we're going out.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asked calmly.

“We're going to see Sirius!” he replied.

Harry choked on his pancakes, and dropped his fork on the ground which landed with a loud clang. He reached for his pumpkin juice and took a large gulp.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Lily asked looking concerned.

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “More than alright!”

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