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8 pages, ebook
Published August 4, 2016
So Harry very sensibly didn’t mind, he didn’t, except every single bloody time his birthday came round, he woke up with the clear sharp knowledge that it was his birthday, and once again he wasn’t going to get anything and no one was going to remember or care, and it sent him right back to the Dursleys, to the cupboard, to being the unloved scrap beneath the stairs, especially after a few years there when he’d learned to hope for more.
“No one seems to care anymore,” Harry said, before he could help himself.
“Yes, you’re all too busy saving the world. Take a bloody weekend off once in a while.”