The Birthday

The ballroom of the Dursley Mansion buzzed with warmth and life, every corner adorned with magical decorations that both Harry and Vernon had spent the day decorating. The chandelier sparkled with blinking stars, enchanted to gently hum a festive tune. A banner floated elegantly above the main table, its letters shimmering as they spelled out "Harry Birthday, Abigail!" They had also set up multiple couches and armchairs for everyone. There was also a large dinning table that Harry had moved from the fourth floor dining hall. It was large enough to sit up to 40 people at once so he had figured that it would be perfect. 

Harry was finishing up some last minute surprise, as the first guests started to arrive. The Granger family was the first to arrive with Hermione and both of her parents. They came through the Floo. Hermione spotted Abigail and handed her a neatly wrapped gift, "Happy Birthday, Abigail!" she said brightly. 

"Thanks, Hermione!" Abigail replied brightly. Petunia welcomed Mr. and Mrs. Granger warmly and led them into the party hall. 

Soon after, the Weasley family arrived followed by Neville and his grandmother. Then one by one the professors arrived. First came Dumbledore, followed by McGonagall. Then after a few moments Snape, Flitwick and Remus came by, followed by Sinistra, Vector, Babbling, Kettleburn and Hagrid. 

Finally as Harry was about to head out of the living room, Sirius came followed by the one person Harry didn't think he would see. Amelia Bones. She walked in behind Sirius with almost a meek expression. 

"Harry," Sirius began, "I don't believe you've met Amelia."

Amelia Bones, stepped forward, chuckling and pulled Sirius's ear, "Forgive this fool, Mr. Potter. It's nice to see you again." 

Harry was frozen in place, his expression carefully neutral, though his mind was racing. All the planning he had gone through to keep an eye on Amelia wasn't even necessary cause his bloody godfather had been dating her all along. 

"Harry?" Sirius's voice broke through his thoughts.

Harry blinked, his practiced smile snapping into place. "Sorry, just… surprised."

"Surprised I could land someone like her?" Sirius quipped with a wink.

"Surprised you have not been dumped yet." Harry said sarcastically. 

Sirius clutched his chest theatrically. "Ouch, Harry! Right in the ego. You wound me."

Amelia rolled her eyes but smirked. "It's a valid question, Mr. Potter. I've asked myself the same thing a few times."

Harry let out a chuckle despite the whirlwind in his mind. "I can imagine."

"So," Sirius said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder, "aren't you going to say hello properly? You look like you've seen a Dementor."

"Ah, yes, forgive me." Harry replied extending his arm towards Amelia. "Minister Bones, it's a pleasure to see you here." 

Amelia shook his hand, her grip firm. "Please, call me Amelia. You make me sound old, Mr. Potter."

"Only if you call me Harry," he countered. 

"Done," she said with a small laugh.

The party carried on with lively chatter and laughter filling the ballroom. Harry moved among the guests, ensuring everyone was comfortable and enjoying themselves. Abigail was at the center of attention, beaming as she opened the gifts one by one, after the cake cutting.

Hermione stepped forward first, carrying a neatly wrapped box alongside her parents. "Happy Birthday, Abigail," she said brightly. 

Abigail opened the package to reveal a collection of classic Muggle novels. She ran her fingers over the titles, her smile widening. 

"Thank you! I love stories," Abigail said sincerely.

"We thought you might enjoy discovering new worlds through these," Mr. Granger added with a warm smile.

After that Neville approached hesitantly, clutching a small potted plant, which Harry recognised as the Moonlight Orchid. 

"This is a Moonlight Orchid," Neville said handing the pot to Abigail. "It blooms under moonlight and is said to bring good luck."

Abigail gently touched the shimmering petals. "It's beautiful, Neville. Thank you so much."

Harry smiled, "It's a rare plant, Abby. Take good care of it."

Next the Weasleys stepped forward, each bearing a unique gift. 

"Here you go, dear," Molly said, handing over a soft, hand-knitted scarf. "I though something cozy might suit you."

Fred and George followed with a brightly colored box that had the words, 'Magic Pavilion Box' engraved on it. "A collection of our finest and latest joke products. Moreover the box itself serves as a small subspace item that you can store multiple things in."

"All harmless," George added, "well, mostly."

Abigail chuckled as she had come to know about the standard of harmless of the twins. 

Bill handed a small velvet box. Inside was a delicate pendant shaped like a crescent moon. 

"It's charmed for protection," he explained. "A little extra safeguard for your adventures considering you are Harrys sister."

Abigail chuckled and Harry protested causing everyone to laugh.

Percy handed a wand maintaining kit to Abigail, "This will help you keep you wand at its best condition."

Abigail was delighted by the gift, "Thanks, Percy."

Ron and Ginny both handed over a two boxes of assorted treats from Honeydukes, which Abigail was too delighted to take. Mr. Weasley had given Abigail a wand holder that attaches to the wrist and also had the function of launching the wand to her palm if she flicks her hand.

Just like this the professors gave her various gifts, from quill that will write perfect no matter how fast she writes or what surface she writes on, to glass baubles that were enchanted to play music.

The remainder of the party flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, lively conversations, and a warm camaraderie that seemed to envelop everyone present. As the meal was served—a grand feast prepared by Petunia and the house-elves—Harry stood to deliver his surprise. With a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation, the entire ballroom transformed into a breathtaking cherry blossom grove.

The walls melted away, replaced by soft pink petals gently fluttering to the ground, as though carried by an invisible breeze. The ceiling shimmered, mirroring a serene twilight sky, and the scent of cherry blossoms filled the air. It was as if they were not in the ballroom anymore, but were sitting in under cherry blossom trees under the night sky.

Gasps of amazement echoed through the room as the guests marveled at the enchanted scenery. Abigail, in particular, was wide-eyed with delight, twirling in place to take in the beauty. Even the usually reserved Snape allowed himself an appreciative glance at the spectacle.

"It's like stepping into a dream," Mrs. Granger whispered, her voice filled with awe.

"Blimey, Harry," Amelia said, looking around in amazement, "you really know how to throw a party."

Harry smiled modestly. "Just thought it would make the evening a bit more magical."

 Guests lingered in the magical grove, savoring the last of the desserts and engaging in warm conversations. Laughter echoed softly, blending harmoniously with the serene atmosphere Harry had created. One by one, the attendees began to bid their farewells, each expressing their gratitude for the unforgettable evening. Abigail, her face glowing with happiness, clung to Harry in a tight hug, whispering her thanks for the best birthday she had ever had.

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July 30th, 9:24 PM.

Harry sat on the plush couch in his room, his brow furrowed as he flipped through the intricate diagrams and dense explanation in Foundations of Spacial Manipulation. So far his understanding of spacial magic was less than 1 percent.

The days leading up to this moment had been a whirlwind of activity. On July 23rd, Harry had taken Abigail on a shopping spree to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade for her birthday present. She bought a lot of things which Harry was more than happy to pay for. 

The rest of the days passed in a blur of a routine, Harry would train others during the day and try to learn spacial magic during the night. The biggest face-slap was that he was perhaps the only person who could apparate completely soundless, yet he wasn't even able to do a spell like making the inside of a pouch bigger, the most basic spacial magic. 

"Focus," Harry muttered to himself, adjusting his position on the couch and squinting at the book. The theory of making the inside space of any object bigger, shimmered on the page in an elegant script, but it made about as much sense to him as magic did when he was in his past life. 

Despite his frustration, Harry refused to give up. He knew there was something he was missing, something fundamental—and his pride wouldn't let him admit defeat. As the clock ticked toward midnight, the room grew quieter. 

His eyelids felt heavier than usual, a strange lethargy creeping over him. Harry blinked and shook his head, trying to fight off the sudden wave of exhaustion. It wasn't like him to tire so easily, especially when immersed in his studies. Well he thought it might be the constant routine he had been following for the past week. Keeping the book on the couch Harry walked towards his bed and jumped in. As soon as he was on the bed, he fell asleep. 

What Harry didn't know was that his lethargy was anything but normal. After about half an hour since he fell asleep, his eyes opened again. But it wasn't exactly his eyes, since these pair of eyes were red instead of his usual brilliant emerald. 

Harry's body sat up slowly. The moonlight steaming through the window, made the room into an eerie environment. His red eyes glimmered as he scanned the room. 

Standing, he walked to the full length wardrobe inside the closet. As he walked the lights in the wardrobe turned on themselves. He stood before the mirror staring at his reflection. His face was the same, but the red eyes held a chilling intensity, devoid of the warmth and determination that usually defined them. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk curved his lips.

"It seems it was a good idea to keep him in that world..." Harry's mouth opened but the voice that came out of it was anything but his. It sounded almost like an ancient whisper. "Strong. But unrefined. Well he is still a child after all..."

Raising a hand, Harry—or rather, the entity controlling him—inspected his palm. With a small flick of his fingers, a shimmering blade of magic materialized, glowing faintly in the dark. Without hesitation, he drew the blade across his palm, not deep enough to cause harm but enough to draw blood. 

The blood that trickled out was not ordinary. Streaks of black, silver and gold shimmered within it. The figure tilted his head, watching the strange mixture with an inscrutable expression.

"As expected," the voice mused. "So many domains... It seems waiting for a millennia wasn't in vain."

The entities red eyes shone for a moment, then the blood that trickled out flowed back into the wound and the wound closed itself, as if it was never there. 

"Well... as expected of my incarnation. He is destined to rule after all." the entity spoke before turning back and walking back into the room. He reached the couch and saw the book on spacial magic laying there. He picked it up and went through the pages. 

"Hmmm... which idiot wrote this book?" the entity spoke as he looked at the back of the book for the author's name. "Ah," he said with mock amusement, "that explains everything." His tone dripped with sarcasm, as if the mere mention of the author had solidified his low opinion. 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the book toward the couch. Before it could land, it erupted into flames mid-air, the fire consuming it entirely. Not even ashes remained as the last remnants of the book vanished into nothingness. 

"Good riddance," he said. 

The entity raised his hand again, palm facing upward, and the air shimmered before him. A new book materialized out of thin air, its cover a gleaming black embossed with golden letters that spelled out the title: The Continuum: Space and Time. It exuded an aura of power and knowledge, as if the book itself held secrets beyond mortal comprehension.

He placed it carefully on the couch, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Let's see if he can manage to grasp this," the entity murmured to himself, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Well he should... after all he is me and I am him..." 

The entity lingered for a moment, "For now, this will suffice," he murmured as he walked back towards the bed. "You are not ready," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. "Not yet. But when the time comes, you will understand."

The entity lingered for a moment, letting his crimson eyes wander across the room as if searching for something unseen. A flicker of curiosity crossed his face, and he closed his eyes, reaching deeper into Harry's memories. What he found caused his eyes to snap open in surprise.

"Twice," he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet laced with a mixture of astonishment and intrigue. "He has faced death twice already... and returned."

The entity moved to the center of the room, standing still as the faintest of smirks appeared on his lips. "I hadn't expected it to happen so soon. But this changes everything.

"That boy," he said softly, "he will awaken far sooner than I anticipated. His soul has already tasted the boundaries of life and death. Well... we still have to see if you will survive the awakening or not." A low chuckle escaped his lips, carrying a strange combination of pride and forewarning. "You've done more than I could even imagine. When the time comes, you will remember your true identity."

With that, he climbed into the bed, letting Harry's body settle.

The crimson hue of his eyes faded entirely, replaced by the familiar emerald green as the entity allowed his consciousness to retreat deep within the recesses of Harry's mind.

Harry's breathing evened out, a peaceful rhythm overtaking him as his body entered a deep, unbroken sleep. All signs of the entity's presence vanished, leaving no trace of its existence—for now. 

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Harry was blissfully unaware of the world as sunlight streamed through the curtains, gently warming his face. He rolled over with a groggy groan as he free hand instinctively extended towards the ceiling as he shot a Glacius spell at it. Content with the, now icy temperature, Harry buried himself into the covers to steal a few more minutes of sleep. Just as he buried his head deeper into the pillow, a sudden war cry shattered the peaceful silence. 

"HA-PPY BIRTHDAY, BROTHER!"

Before he could react, something—or rather someone—launched onto him with the force of a Bludger. Harry let out an undignified yelp as the air was knocked clean out of his lungs. 

"Abby—!" he wheezed, flailing under the weight of his sister, who was now gleefully bouncing on his stomach like it was a trampoline. 

"Get up! It's your birthday!" she declared with far too much enthusiasm for such an early hour. Her auburn curls bounced with every jump, and her grin was wide as the Great Hall itself. 

"Get—off—me!" Harry croaked, attempting to wriggle free, but Abigail was relentless.

"Oh no you don't!" she said, dramatically flinging her arms wide to keep her balance as she perched on his chest. "It's tradition! Birthday boy gets a wake-up pounce. You're lucky I didn't bring water balloons this time!"

"Water balloons?!" Harry managed to gasp, horrified at the very thought.

"Well, I wanted to, but Mum said no. Something about ruining the sheets," Abigail said matter-of-factly, still bouncing slightly.

Harry groaned, rubbing his ribs as he finally sat up, causing Abigail to tumble unceremoniously into his lap. She didn't seem to mind in the slightest and instead threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

"Happy Birthday, brother!" she said again, softer this time but just as excited. "You're officially one year older—and still just as scrawny!" 

"Thanks," Harry said dryly, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "This is definitely how I wanted to start my day—choked out by my sister."

Abigail pulled back with a triumphant grin. "You're welcome! Now hurry up! Everyone's waiting downstairs." 

With that, she jumped off the bed and bolted for the door, leaving Harry sitting there with a mix of exasperation and amusement. He ruffled his already-messy hair, muttering to himself, "This family is going to be the death of me."

Still, he couldn't help but smile as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and prepared to face whatever chaos awaited him downstairs. 

Harry stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck and his hair damp from the shower. The cool morning air brushed against his skin, leaving him feeling refreshed and ready to face the day—or as ready as one could be after being tackled awake by Abigail. 

 He headed to his closet, humming under his breath. Birthdays usually meant, good food, laughs, and gifts. He tugged the closet door open and walked in, as he looked through the selection of clothing to choose from, but froze mid-motion. 

"Wait... what?" 

Harry blinked, leaning in closer. His clothes, which had always been the epitome of luxury thanks to the Dursleys' and Sirius' opulent tastes, now seemed... transformed. Each piece radiated an understated elegance, their fabrics shimmering faintly as though enchanted. His favourite green shirt, for example, now had an almost magical sheen to it, its stitching impossibly intricate. The black coat hanging beside it, seemed to exude an aura of refinement. 

"How is this even possible?" Harry muttered, running a hand over the fabric. It felt soft—softer than it ever had before, like it was woven from magic itself.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he grabbed a white shirt and black jeans, slipping them on quickly. The clothes fit him to the T. Yes, they fit him before, but now it felt as if they had been made for him specifically. 

As he buttoned the shirt, something else caught his eye—or rather, his reflection did. He turned to the full-length mirror in the corner of his room, and his jaw nearly dropped.

"What the..."

Harry's body had... changed. He was still lean, but his frame was now more defined, his shoulders slightly broader, his arms subtly toned. His skin seemed healthier, almost glowing, as if he'd spent weeks at a luxurious spa.

Then there was his hair. It had always been a chaotic mess that refused to obey the laws of gravity or combs. Now, though, the chaos seemed purposeful—artful, even. Each strand seemed to catch the light just right, giving him an effortlessly ethereal look.

But the most startling change was his eyes. Leaning closer to the mirror, Harry stared into them, his breath catching. They were still their familiar vivid green, but now there was an otherworldly brilliance to them, as if they held an entire universe within.

"Okay... either I'm drunk which I'm not or this is the weirdest day of my life..." Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair. It felt the same as always, but the way it fell back into place was anything but normal.

As he stepped back, his mind raced. Something had clearly happened—something beyond his understanding. But what? Why now? He couldn't recall doing anything that might explain this.

Harry shook his head, still processing the bizarre morning as he stepped out of his room. Walking down five floors seemed like a waste of time, so he disapparated mid-step, reappearing just outside the living room.

Inside, he could hear muffled voices, the sound of Abigail giggling, and Sirius grumbling something about "spoiling surprises." Harry smirked and pushed open the door.

"Surprise!"

"Happy birthday, Harry!" the voices rang out in unison.

Harry blinked in surprise as colorful confetti burst into the air, raining down on him. Standing in the center of the room, arms spread wide, was Sirius, grinning from ear to ear. Abigail perched on the couch, bouncing excitedly, while Petunia and Vernon stood nearby with warm smiles. 

"Well, don't just stand there, come in!" Sirius called, waving him forward.

As Harry stepped into the room, something strange happened. The chatter quieted, and the energy shifted. Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment, their eyes locking on him as if they were seeing him for the first time.

It was Petunia who broke the silence, first. "Oh my," she breathed her eyes wide with astonishment. 

Vernon gave a low whistle, clearly stunned but recovering faster than the others. "Looking sharp, son," he said, his tone impressed. 

Abigail, meanwhile, was gaping openly. "Harry! You look—wait, why do you look like a prince?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.

Sirius grinned, though his gray eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. "Blimey, pup, did you grow overnight? And... is it just me, or do you look like you stepped out of a wizarding fashion magazine?" 

Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious under their stares. "I don't know what you're all on about. It's just me. Same old Harry," he said, though he knew deep down that wasn't entirely true. Their had been changes, but the problem was he didn't do them so he couldn't tell them that. 

Abigail hopped off the couch and marched up to him, placing her hands on her hips. "No way this is 'same old Harry.' You're different!" she declared, poking his arm for emphasis. "You're taller and... and shiny!"

"Shiny?" Harry raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"You know what I mean!" Abigail huffed. "And your hair is all... cool now! And your eyes—ugh, whatever, you're just weird." She crossed her arms with a dramatic pout, though her face was lit with a playful grin.

Sirius laughed, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Well, whatever's happened, you're definitely the star of the show now, kid. Happy birthday!"

Harry chuckled at Sirius's comment, his discomfort easing as the atmosphere grew lighter. "Thanks, Sirius," he said, trying to shake off the lingering questions about his sudden transformation.

"Come on, birthday boy!" Abigail grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dining room. "The house-elves have gone crazy in the kitchen! They said they made all your favorites!"

The moment Harry stepped into the dining room, his mouth watered. The long mahogany table was laden with an incredible spread that could rival the Great Hall at Hogwarts during a feast. The aroma of freshly baked bread, sizzling bacon, and rich chocolate wafted through the air, making his stomach rumble in anticipation.

At the center of the table was a golden platter of fluffy pancakes, stacked high and dripping with maple syrup and butter. Bowls of scrambled eggs and crispy sausages sat alongside a tray of perfectly golden hash browns. A basket overflowing with croissants and pastries—some stuffed with chocolate, others with fruit—beckoned to him.

On one side of the table, there was a platter of fresh fruit, artfully arranged in a rainbow of colors, from juicy watermelon slices to vibrant berries and tangy oranges. Beside it, a carafe of pumpkin juice glowed amber in the sunlight, while another held freshly squeezed orange juice.

Harry's eyes lit up when he spotted a plate of smoked salmon with cream cheese and bagels, a rare treat that he loved but didn't often get to enjoy. There were also several dishes clearly meant for Sirius and Vernon, like the hearty steak and kidney pies and an enormous platter of roast ham glazed with honey.

"Oh wow," Harry said, grinning as he took it all in. "They've really outdone themselves this time."

"Only the best for you, Harry!" Petunia declared proudly.

"Dig in!" Vernon exclaimed, already halfway through a sausage.

As they settled down, the sound of clinking cutlery and cheerful chatter filled the room. Harry served himself a little bit of everything, his plate quickly filling up. Each bite was better than the last, the flavors rich and perfectly balanced. He couldn't help but sigh contentedly as he bit into a warm, buttery croissant.

As breakfast wound down, Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling full and content. Whatever was happening to him—his changes, the odd looks—he'd figure it out later. For now, he was determined to enjoy his birthday.