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Hogwarts : I AM NOT DEMON KING!
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Aunt Petunia's words carried a deep, hidden fear that Harry couldn't quite grasp.
But he understood one thing clearly enough: the wizarding world wasn't exactly safe.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
For his age, he was still small and skinny, though he'd grown a few inches this past year.
His jet-black hair was as untamable as ever—no matter what he did, it stuck up in every direction.
Behind his glasses, his eyes were bright green, and just visible beneath the fringe of messy hair was a thin scar shaped like a bolt of lightning.
Of all the strange things about Harry, that scar was the strangest.
It wasn't a souvenir from the car crash that supposedly killed his parents, like the Dursleys had claimed for ten years. Lily and James Potter hadn't died in any car accident.
They had been murdered—killed by the most terrifying Dark wizard of the century: Voldemort.
Harry had survived the attack, left with nothing but that lightning-shaped scar.
Voldemort's curse had rebounded, striking the caster instead.
The Dark Lord had fled, barely alive…
And Harry had faced him again at Hogwarts.
His thoughts turned, as they often did, to Sean.
Quiet Sean, always reading. Sean walking through Hogwarts at night with a bloodstained sword. Sean who had led them against Voldemort multiple times.
Harry lifted his head. Afternoon sunlight poured across the balcony.
Clouds drifted lazily across the sky. There wasn't a single star to be seen.
But Harry knew that when night fell and wizards looked up into the darkness, they could always find the stars.
They were always there—high above, shining steadily.
The doorbell rang.
Harry hurried downstairs and opened the door. The sun hung over the neat front garden, gleaming off the brass number 4 on the Dursleys' door and lighting the visitor's face.
"Mr. Potter."
Standing outside was a stern-looking woman wearing square glasses.
She wore an emerald-green cloak, her black hair pulled back into a tight bun.
There was a flicker of excitement in her expression, but mostly she showed the kind of gentle warmth Harry rarely saw from her.
"Professor McGonagall… I mean—how—"
Harry never would have expected Professor McGonagall to show up at Privet Drive.
His mind instantly rewound through every rule he might have broken, and his face tightened with nerves.
"I'm here with Mr. Green… delivering some invitations."
Ever the proper witch, McGonagall gave a subtle nod. Harry took the silver-embossed envelope from Sean's hand with careful politeness.
"What kind of invitation…?"
Harry was confused.
What could possibly require a professor to deliver it in person?
He glanced at Sean. The black-haired wizard looked just as puzzled.
Sean genuinely couldn't think of any major event coming up.
The two boys stared together at the elegant invitation with silver trim.
Dear Mr. Potter,
You are cordially invited to Sean Green's birthday party.
The celebration will be held on July 27th.
Harry's head snapped up.
"Sean—your birthday?!"
"My birthday?"
Sean blinked, a flicker of realization crossing his face.
"Oh, Sean…"
Harry stared at him for a long moment, speechless.
Until an owl landed on the windowsill beside them did he finally ask, very softly,
"You've never celebrated your own birthday before?"
Listening to their conversation, Minerva McGonagall felt an unexpected ache rise in her throat that refused to leave.
…
The night of July 26th.
Midnight.
The stars were brilliant.
The twenty-seventh owl swooped into the Ravenclaw Tower.
By now, Sean's room was already overflowing with gifts.
The Magic Mirror had revolutionized wizarding communication, and news of his birthday had spread like wildfire.
Sean had no idea who leaked it, but the entire alchemy community had flooded him with packages. Letters and gift boxes had also arrived from the countryside farm, London, and Hogwarts itself.
He opened the latest large box.
Inside was another carefully wrapped present, a greeting card, and a letter—from Hermione.
Dear Sean,
I hope you're doing well.
If you are…
The Magic Mirror on the desk shimmered. In the small frame that usually showed a miniature Professor McGonagall, Hermione's anxious face appeared.
"Good evening, Hermione," Sean said gently.
A soft breeze brushed through the stained-glass windows of the tower. On the desk sat a tray of chilled fruit—peaches, cherries, and melon visible through the cool green bean drink.
"You found your birthday, Sean…"
She managed those words before her voice failed her.
"Hagrid let me sneak a look at the Admissions Book," Sean said quietly.
"Happy birthday. I just… I needed to say it. No matter what, I had to tell you.
This is a wonderful day, and I'm celebrating it with all my heart. We all are.
Anyone who doesn't care about it is completely mad."
Hermione's voice came out thick and watery. Her face vanished from the rippling mirror surface.
In the final moment, Sean saw her shoulders trembling.
He stared at the empty mirror for a long time, eyes quiet and unfocused.
Then he opened her letter again and continued reading.
Sean,
I'm currently on holiday in France, but the moment I received the invitation I rushed straight back.
I wouldn't miss this for anything. Ever.
I bought your gift through owl-order. The Daily Prophet ran a notice about it (they deliver the paper here every day—it's wonderful being able to stay caught up with the wizarding world).
Did you see the photo of Ron and his family from a week ago? I bet he learned a ton.
I'm so jealous of him—ancient Egyptian magic is absolutely fascinating. There are some wonderful local wizarding history sites here too.
I've finished my History of Magic essay and included everything I discovered. I hope it's not too long—I went two extra rolls of parchment past what Professor Binns asked for.
How about yours?
I can't wait to see you, Sean. I miss you terribly. Let's meet on the 27th and celebrate properly!
With love,
Hermione
P.S. Ron says Percy has been made Head Boy. I imagine Percy is over the moon. Ron doesn't seem too thrilled about it.
Sean set Hermione's letter aside and picked up her gift.
It was heavy. Inside was a thick, imposing book filled with advanced spells and all the fascinating pieces of magical history Hermione had collected.
He slowly raised his head.
From the shadows of the castle tower, he gazed out at the soft, drifting white clouds and watched owls weave gracefully through the gentle wind.
The Forbidden Forest and the grassy slopes looked peaceful. The fields were damp and warm, carrying the sweet scent of blooming grass, clover, daisies, and rye.
The locust blossoms were beginning to fall.
The world was becoming more beautiful by the day.