People Watching.

Chapter Three.

Harry set the gift aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: This was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly— as though it had jaws.
Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.
Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Harry reached from the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled.
And out fell— a book? Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered.
The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it.
"Ouch!"
The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it. In the room next door, James' soft snores came to a halt.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Lily called out sleepily.

"Just— fine!" Harry grunted, putting his weight on the book. 

"...All right," Lily said. "Get to bed soon. You've got a party today and I can't imagine you'd want to be tired for it."

"Yes, Mum," Harry answered.

"Good night! I love you!"

"I love you," he said back.
Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he buckled around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card.

Dear Harry,
Happy birthday!
Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't
say no more here. Tell you when I see you.
Hope you're having a good summer.
All the best,
Hagrid

It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrid's card up next to Ron's, Hermione's, and (Y/n)'s, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was one letter from Hogwarts left.
Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within and read:

Dear Mr. Potter,
Please note that the new school year will begin on Septem-
ber the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross
station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.
Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade
on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form
to your parent or guardian to sign.
A list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. it would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. Would his parents agree to sign it? Probably. They went to Hogsmeade and would understand the desire to go.
He looked over at the alarm clock. It was not two o'clock in the morning.
Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, eyes open, facing his four birthday cards.
Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else— glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.
Right as he settled comfortably into bed, Effie started scratching on his door, requesting to be let in. Harry groaned, reluctantly getting out of bed to let the cat in.
"You're lucky you're (Y/n)'s cat," he told the purring cat, picking her up and bringing her to his bed after shutting his door.