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SIYE Time:6:30 on 29th March 2024
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The Harry Potter Birthday Story
By Pigwidgeon11

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Category: Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Oliver Wood, Other, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley
Genres: Comedy, Fluff, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 8
Summary: It's Harry's twenty-first, and he's bored stiff. What will happen to make it more exciting???? This story is also known as 'A Magic He Knows Not.'
Hitcount: Story Total: 5696



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY! I hope this gets confirmed in time for the birthday of both Harry and Jo. This is MOST DECIDEDLY a one-shot and I think I'll cry if anyone asks for a sequel because I have so many other sequels to write and I can't decide which to write first.

Oh, and if you don't know it yet this is also known as 'A Magic He Knows Not.'




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“If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love."

"...in the light of Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."

-Albus Dumbledore




Harry Potter rubbed the back of his neck, gazing around the Burrow in desperation. He’d never known this kind of gnawing agony.

He was bored stiff.

At least at the Dursleys’ he’d known someone would come to yell at him after a little while. He moved the toaster an inch to the right.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he groaned, dropping in to a nearby chair. The entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, were all at work. Harry, who’d recently orchestrated the arrests of four Death Eaters, had been given three days vacation.

Now he found himself wishing he was at work. That didn’t last long, however.

And on top of all things, it was his twenty-first birthday.

After apologizing profusely, the Harry’s surrogate family had Flooed out one by one.

“Think about what color robes you’ll wear to my wedding, won’t you?” Ron Weasley had grinned, clapped Harry on the shoulder, and stepped into the flames after his fiancée, Hermione Granger.

Ginny had lingered but a moment longer. “I’ll try to come home early, OK?” she had whispered, kissing his cheek. “And please don’t charm my mirror again — I thought Mum would kill me when she heard what it was calling me.” With that, she’d wished him a very happy birthday and gone, calling her love back to him as she went.

Harry sighed. It had been at least seven hours. He’d flown a bit, tried to clean up the yard, washed some dishes and dirty laundry, but had finally given up on the Weasleys’ chores every being done.

Ginny’ll come soon, he assured himself.

As he thought of the redhead, he couldn’t help but smile. Just Ginny’s name made his heart grow warm.

He drew the small, black velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open as if to assure himself that the diamond-encrusted band was still there: he must have done this umpteen times. Tonight’s the night, he decided. If Ginny says yes, it’ll be the best birthday present anyone ever gave me.’ He slipped the ring back where it had come from.

“Harry?”

He yelped and knocked the chair over as he leapt — or rather, fell — off of it. Spinning around, he nearly sunk against the table with relief when he saw Ginny’s face, lit by immense mirth, hovering above the logs in the fireplace.

“Gin,” he sighed, sinking to his knees on the hearth.

“Hi, Harry,” she said brightly. “I’d give you a kiss, but I have a feeling that would be immensely awkward for you.” She pursed her fiery lips. “Anyway, McGonagall summoned me to Hogwarts about an hour ago — there’s some business about the Chamber: they want to make sure it’s never used for the same purpose again — and I was wondering if you wanted to pick me up and maybe just have a look around the castle. You know, for nostalgic purposes.”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry was already stuffing his wand into his back pocket — had Moody been there, he would have given Harry an earful — and checking the Burrow’s wards. He scrawled a quick note to the Weasleys and Hermione, then called to Ginny, “See you soon.”

Ginny Weasley’s head, resting in the fireplace, smirked in satisfaction as the door closed before spinning violently and disappearing in a spray of ash and sparks.



Harry Apparated to Hogsmeade with practiced ease, feeling an almost homesick tug as he took in the Three Broomsticks, Zonko’s, Honeyduke’s, and the Shrieking Shack sent against the golden sun. He didn’t have to look to know that the Hog’s Head would be just behind him, with Madam Puddifoot’s across the way.

Minerva McGonagall met him at the great oak front doors, eyes as stern and hair as grey as Harry remembered. They shook hands as equals.

“Headmistress,” Harry greeted her, bowing slightly.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Miss Weasley is in the second floor corridor, examining the bathroom of the ghost, Moaning Myrtle.”

Harry thanked her and wound his way up through the first floor and walked along the second until he saw Ginny emerge from the out-of-order bathroom, now infamous for housing the tubular entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Hey, happy birthday!” Ginny cried, preparing to throw her arms around him. Noticing the muck covering her skin, she grimaced at him and quickly Scourgified herself clean.

Harry grinned. “Such a clever witch. And all mine.” He wrapped his arms protectively around her waist.

“All yours?” Ginny frowned. “No, I definitely promised Dean this freckle would always belong to him. And I think there’s another freckle in a place unmentionable that Michael Corner claimed…”

“Witch,” Harry breathed, grinning.

“It’s not my fault you’re overly protective of me and jealous of all my ex-boyfriends!” But it was with a sincere tenderness that she kiss the tip of his nose and whispered, “Very happy birthday, Harry.”

“Let’s go home,” he murmured. “I have something I need to ask you, but —”

Ginny clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, gosh, Harry, I was upstairs taking a look around and I think I dropped the pouch you gave me, the one I keep all my coins in.”

Used to Ginny’s free-wheeling carelessness, Harry only smiled. “Let’s go get it, then.”

“Oh, I love you!” she cried, grabbing his hand, and pulling him away. “You know, all my ex-boyfriends would’ve told me to forget it.”

They reached the seventh floor and Ginny led him down a side corridor. “Here…somewhere…” Ginny mumbled, pacing back and forth, forehead crinkling with concentration.

That was when Harry noticed the particularly unique tapestry hanging opposite the wall Ginny was walking past: it depicted a plump wizard attempting to teach trolls to dance.

“Gin-” he began, but just then a door appeared on the blank wall.

Ginny bit her lip to stop from grinning.

“So, where’s this pouch of yours?” He leaned close, knowing that his breath, hot on her skin, would drive her crazy.

“It’s in there,” she whispered, eyes wide.

“Really?” Harry turned slowly on the spot, eyeing up the plain wooden door. “Well, shall we?”

And he turned the handle and stepped through.





For a moment, Harry thought he was being suffocated.

Then he realized that the brightly colored masses squishing in around him were balloons.

He took another step, hearing Ginny close the door behind her, and emerged into the Room of Requirement.

The room, once small, was now larger and more festively decorated than Harry had ever seen it.

“Ginny, what-” he started to ask, but was drowned out by a roar of noise.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!”

Waves of people were popping up from behind couches, from under tables, from adjacent rooms, all shouting or blowing horns.

“Wait — this is for me?” he gasped.

“A little slow,” said Fred Weasley.

“But we love him still,” George finished with a roguish grin.

Harry could do nothing but stare. Never in his entire life had anyone thrown him a surprise party. And here, before him, stood all the people he cared about, and then some: the entire Weasley family, Mrs. Weasley’s eyes glittering with tears; Hermione, and — to the bushy-haired girl’s annoyance — willowy Fleur; Lupin and Tonks; Dean and Seamus; Neville and Luna, arm in arm; Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, and the Patil twins; Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet; half the Hogwarts staff; Dobby the house-elf; a few blokes from Diagon Alley whom Harry had met at Fred and George’s shop; and even the owners of Honeyduke’s. And, standing in a car-off corner, being held back tightly by his parents, was —

“Dudley?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” his cousin mumbled, a blush rising on his neck.

Harry grinned. “Wow.” Everyone laughed, even Dudley. “I — I don’t know what to say. This is absolutely amazing.”

“And you haven’t even opened your presents yet!” yelled Ron from somewhere in the pack of people. Hermione scolded him angrily, but the awkward moment was broken, and everyone began to mingle freely.

“Did you plan all this?” Harry asked Ginny, who was hovering by his elbow and bobbing her head in time to the lively music amplified throughout the room.

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

Harry shook his head, grinning. “And that’s all I’ll get out of you.”

Ginny shrugged again, eyes twinkling. “Well, after some birthday cake and kisses stolen in corners, you never know.”

Harry laughed. “I love you so much.”

Standing on tiptoe, Ginny brushed her lips invitingly across his and murmured, “Happy birthday. Now come on, Potter, let’s cut this birthday cake of yours before you lose control and Ron yells at you for snogging his baby sister in public.”



Three hours, twelve cups of punch, and thirty unwrapped gifts later, Harry was relieved to see that the party was winding down. He thanked everyone for their presence and their presents and watched them trickle out, shoving through the giant wall of balloons obscuring the door.

“So you’re twenty-one now.” It was Fred.

“And a real man, too.” And George.

“And we know you love our little sister —”

“But she’s only twenty.”

“And she can Bat Bogie Hex you into tomorrow,” Ginny added, appearing out of nowhere.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” the twins yelled over their shoulders as they escaped through the door.

Ginny smeared a glob of icing onto Harry’s nose. “Now you’re the most handsome wizard in Britain.”

He laughed. “If you walk with me, I’ll let you lick it off.”

Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “You have a deal.”



They reached the Quidditch pitch as the first stars appeared. Harry led Ginny out to the circle in the middle of the field.

“I had so much fun tonight,” he told her. “I can’t thank you enough.” He cleared his throat. No better time than the present. “I wanted to do this where we first kissed, but seeing as how there was the possibility of an intrusion by an innocent house elf, I chose the next best thing.” Harry looked up to see Ginny’s eyes shining with anticipation. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world?” he whispered, drawing out the small black box.

Ginny’s eyes shone with tears. “Oh Harry…” She hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “Yes, yes, Harry, I will.”

Grinning, Harry knelt and flicked open the box. “You’ll marry me, Ginny Weasley?”

Ginny bit her lip. “Oh, Harry, I thought you were breaking up with me.”

He stared at her. “WHAT?”

Then suddenly she was laughing, and immense, glorious relief swept over him. “Yes, you gullible prat. I will most definitely marry you.”

“You’re so cruel,” he smiled, slipping the ring onto her fingers. He could feel her trembling and knew without looking up that she was crying.

“And yet you love me still.”

“Yes. Because you’re magical.”

She slapped his chest. “Oh, that’s cheesy!”

But as they strolled hand in hand around the moonlit grounds, both the birthday boy and bride-to-be knew they had a stronger magic than any Dark wizard had ever known, and in that they found their strength.



A/N: Hopefully the story wasn't as cheesy as Harry's last line. Just a little one-shot in honor of Harry's 27th and Jo's something or other birthday. It would be rude to ask her age. Wait...I'm looking it up on Wikipedia...OK Happy 42nd Jo! Anyway, here are my usual author's notes:

I'm taking a random poll: which of my uncompleted stories are you most looking forward to the sequel?

And do you want to beta read for me? I don't have a reader, and I figure it can't hurt. Just ask via review - I read them daily. :)

Reviews 8
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