Harry Potter and the Secret Nurse

Chapter Nine
The House of Potter Part II
Party at the House of Black

Around supper time Hermione was being strangely elusive to Harry. She insisted on running ahead to the kitchen to “sort a few” things and left him come to supper alone. When he did, he heard something he had never heard not once before in his life. People he loved were singing "Happy Birthday" to him.
Half of the Order showed up and magicked the kitchen with banners, streamers, and magically driven lights that showered the room with colour. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall were present and joined in the singing. Tonks was holding arms with Lupin. Kingsley was almost overwhelming everyone with his powerful voice, and even Mundungus was there with a funny hat looking hilariously out of place. Mad Eye Moody was right into it, blowing a whistle and twirling a noise-maker and all.
There were presents, almost half as many as he had ever seen at one of Dudley’s birthday parties. Harry let himself be moved to tears, and would swear he could see Sirius conjuring up a flagons of butterbeers for all as he did when he cheerfully hosted gatherings the previous year. This was a party in his honour, like none other he had ever seen. Like a great relief swelling from him, he figured this is what it must have been like to have a family and be truly loved.

As Harry awed the decorations he asked, “How?- Where did you get all this?”

“From Fred and George Weasley’s new store,” said Tonks, “They donated, well, most of it. They’re upset you haven’t come to visit, Harry. You should see their store when they’re back from Scotland. It’s amazing.”

“Yes, they say they owe you something,” said Lupin, “And speaking of giving you something.”

All members of the Order took turns in handing Harry their presents. Tonks gave Harry a sweater that changed patterns and colours to your vocal commands. Moody commented it might come in as a handy bit of camouflage or disguise. Lupin gave Harry a brand knew knife that looked more like a muggle multitool. It was the next generation of knives made by the same company as the knife Harry received from Sirius. The present from McGonagall was given to him like a doting mother. It was a small talisman with a concave shape and a hole in the middle. It was made to look like the crest of Gryffindor.

“It’s to help you get a good night sleep Harry, when we get to Hogwarts,” said McGonagall, “You nail it to your bedpost and tap it before you go to bed, but be sure you get under the covers quickly. It is a powerful spell, and not often given to those under the seventh years.”

Harry thanked and saw that Dumbledore was glad to finally have his turn. He handed Harry a long box. When opened he saw, without overwhelming surprise, a collapsible brass telescope.

“What does it do?” asked Harry.

“Makes things far away look close up,” said Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had bought Harry a perfectly muggle scope, as he described not unlike the ones used by astronomers and discoverers long past who were accused of witchcraft and wizardry in their noble quest for the truth. Dumbledore often used muggle devices in exploration and he told Harry it gave him a “Fresh Perspective.” Next came Hermione’s turn, Harry was a little surprised by;

“A Remembral 2.0?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “An upgrade, this one actually tells you what you’ve forgotten. A little more useful, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry laughed and said he should buy one for Neville, if only they could magic the thing to remind him he’s left it somewhere behind. Moody hobbled his way up to Harry and handed him a wrapped frame. Harry was able to guess what it was.

“Wasn’t much trouble magicking it,” said Moody.

Harry looked at the portrait of his own home and felt almost a little teary eyed. He could see the trees swaying in the breeze. It almost looked real enough to walk into.

“I want to show you all something,” said Harry.

He took his laptop out of his wheelchair’s armrest and laid it onto the kitchen table with the screen up for all to see. In his personal folder Harry clicked on an AutoCAD file and it cued up a three dimensional image of architectural plans. Harry rotated the drawing until it slightly resembled the same angle seen in his home portrait, then Harry clicked on the program to add skin to the wire frame. Members of the Order looked astonished while observing muggle technology that most of them knew nothing about. What they saw was a 3-D representation of a near replica of Harry’s old home.

“I’ve been working on this from descriptions given to me by my parent’s portraits,” said Harry, “They helped me make this.”

“Is this magic?” asked Kingsley.

“It is,” said Dumbledore, cutting in and patting Harry on the shoulder, “It’s the magic of hard work, coupled with muggle ingenuity.”

Harry marvelled them all as he rotated through the perspective of the interior of the house. Lupin, again and again, commented on how it looked just like the way he remembered it from his own visits. Contacting the probate took a little effort, but Harry did confirm the land would be his when he turned 18.

“These are actual architectural drawings,” said Harry, “There’s still a lot of refinements to be made, but I should have time to do them. When I inherit the land, I will hand the plans to a contractor and pay him to rebuild The House of Potter.”

A round of applause came up in the room, which cued McGonagall to levitate in the cake. It had an image painted in frosting of Harry, scar and all, conjuring a Patronus. The bright blue figof Pof Prongs was layered thick enough to be a solid inch of frosting on top of cake. Leaning over the table, Harryw ouw out all the candles and began serving up cake all around. He joked the only thing he hated about a birthday like this was he was the last who got to eat a piece of his own cake.
Standing off to the side, Moody spoke to Dumbledore as he held a slice of cake and ate.

“You know, if Harry wants that house back we can magic it back for him,” he said.

“No,” said Dumbledore, “This is Harry’s project. We should just let him do it his way.”

“It won’t be the same, you know,” said Moody, “No matter how good the plans are, there’s going to be flaws. Minor ones, maybe. We can use magic to put it back exactly the way it was before.”

“It will never be they it was before, not exactly,” said Dumbledore, “What Harry is doing is a labour of love. No magic can replicate that.”

“You have a thing for muggle labour, don’t you, Dumbledore?” asked Moody.

“Anything worth working hard for, is worth doing,” said Dumbledore, “Magic should never be thought of as a shortcut, but a tool of accomplishment.”

“Some would say that philosophy is mad,” said Moody, “But I’m convinced it’s what made you such a great wizard, and a teacher.”

The last present Harry opened was one he got in the mail from the Weasley family. It was a heavy pot full of floo powder. Hermione commented it should be enough to last the whochoochool term. On the side of the pot was a note wishing Harry a happy birthday and to use the powder to pay the Burrow a visit some time.

Hermione stood by the burning fireplace and asked, “So what’s it like to travel by floo powder?”

“After a few trips you’ll be really grateful we have a good bath to wash up in,” said Harry.

“What about the fire?” asked Hermione, “What if it’s lit, like it is now?”

“I think it should be out if you’re leaving,” said Harry, “I’m sure there must some sort of magical protection if you arrive somewhere where they have a fire burning. I saw Cornelius Fudge’s head appear in a fire once when it was burning at the Burrow. He was fine.”

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets as he contemplated the logistics of the floo network. Then he came across something he forgot about. Slowly he removed the two pieces of Umbridge’s wand that he had broken himself. He looked over them as Moody hobbled up to him.

“That must have been a nice birthday surprise, eh Potter?” he asked, “I bet it felt good to leave Umbridge to the elements like a muggle.”

“No, it didn’t,” said Harry.

He took the two pieces and chucked them into the fire. Some green coloured burning ash was mixed in the embers as it burned.

“That felt good,” said Harry, “I just want to put it behind me. I’ve got a lot to build this year. I don’t want to be remembered as someone who busted things or burned things down. That’s what Umbridge or Voldemort took pleasure from and wanted in their legacy, I want to be as opposite of them as I can get.”

Butter beers and chocolate treats filled the night until Harry was dizzy. It felt so natural only when it was winding down did Harry feel dazed over seeing McGonagall act so openly cheerful. Not even at the Tri Wizarding Ball did he see her let her hair down as much. He had a laugh when he said he couldn’t possibly get all these presents home to the Dursley’s place. It was at that moment the reality of it hit him, this was his home. He wasn’t just staying or visiting, this was his home, and when he was through with his sixth year there was just no reason to go back to the Dursley’s. The thought of that alone made him feel like he could conjure a Patronus to repel every Dementor in the world.