Time slipped quietly by, and Merlin went through one pair of lace stockings after another.
That day, when Harry got up, he wished himself a happy birthday, then went downstairs in his mismatched pajamas.
At the breakfast table, he learned something.
He was going out with the Dursley family, leaving this place he loathed for the first time since the holidays had begun.
"Do we really have to take this freak with us?" Dudley muttered, looking thoroughly unwilling.
"Oh, darling." Mrs. Dursley piled Dudley's plate high with fried meat. "Didn't we agree on this? Your father and I are really worried. We don't want to come back and find even the house gone."
Harry brightened at this. In those few dozen seconds, he had already imagined having the house to himself, free to do as he pleased. Perhaps he could take out his Nimbus 2000 and enjoy himself, or perhaps leaf through his favorite magic books. Oh, why hadn't he found them so lovely back at school?
And so...
"I won't," Harry said at once. "I'll stay at home and behave. I definitely won't do anything to the house with magic..."
"Shut up!" Mr. Dursley barked. "We don't allow words about that sort of thing in this house!"
"I was only-"
"You were only what?" Mr. Dursley pounded the table, spraying spit into the plate in front of Harry.
"If Mrs. Figg weren't in hospital, I would never take you along! You could forget about setting one foot outside this house!"
"And I warned you, I will not tolerate you mentioning your abnormal powers in my house!"
"All right," Harry said. "All right..."
Mr. Dursley huffed like a rhinoceros struggling for breath. Only after some effort did he calm down and turn to his wife and son.
"Darlings, have you