Forty Clues

1

For the longest time, Harry refused to believe it. After all, this day happened every year. It was as predictable as a Quartz movement, occurring every twelve months - on the dot - at the very end of July. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anybody that it was approaching fast, as the Summer drew on. It just didn't make any sense.

After all, they'd never forgotten Harry's birthday before ...

But as unthinkable as it was, it appeared that this was precisely what had happened.

It started on Monday morning. Harry was sat reading The Daily Prophet and enjoying his first strong coffee of the day. Hermione was double-checking that their daughter's school bags were properly packed. Sophie had Quidditch practice that day, so she had to have her special dragonhide gloves, while little Celesca had been chosen to help model the school uniform of Ethel Hallow's Witches Preparatory Academy, where she was always one of the best-turned out little witches. Celesca was so excited, so Hermione had charmed some pretty little bows for her to weave into her blonde hair, when the time came for her catwalk début later.

Harry watched it all and marvelled at how fortunate he was. He looked at his beautiful wife, his adorable children - the third of whom burped and babbled away in his high chair as if on cue - even their black-and-white kneazle, Mimi, who was pawing prissily at her little red bowl of milk in the corner of the kitchen. All in all, he had very much won at life in his opinion.

That's when things started to take a turn for the concerning.

Sophie kicked things off, by turning to Harry as she finished her cereal, and addressed her father seriously.

"Now, Daddy, you know how important a day it is on Saturday," she began. "So, I have to ask you a question."

Harry folded his paper and grinned at his eldest girl. What was she going to ask? What sort of present did he want? Would he prefer a new tie or nice pair of cufflinks? What flavour cake should they bake for his party?

But she didn't ask any of those things.

Instead she said, "Can I stay at Alison Longbottom's house? She's asked her Mum and she said it was okay."

Harry frowned at her slightly. "But don't you think that would be a bit inappropriate, considering what day it is? Wouldn't you rather be here with your old Dad?"

"No ... should I be?" Sophie queried, puzzled. "What's it got to do with you?"

"Well, I would have thought that was obvious!"

"Really? How has me and Alison buying our first training bras got anything to do with you?"

Harry nearly spat out his mouthful of coffee. "Excuse me? You're doing what?"

"Oh, Daddy, don't be such an old prude," Sophie cooed sympathetically. "It had to happen someday. So Ally and I decided we would do it this Saturday. It's not like there's anything else going on, is there?"

Harry coughed and spluttered and looked at his daughter, who simply fluttered her eyelashes sweetly and innocently back at him. Harry looked to Hermione in a desperate plea for support.

"Er, Mummy, back me up on this will you?" Harry begged. "This sort of thing is far too soon, isn't it?"

"What ... boobs and bras?" Hermione replied simply, which caused Celesca to erupt in little giggles at the breakfast table. "Of course not. Sophie is a growing girl. I had my first bra when I was eleven, and our little cherub isn't far off that herself now. I think it's a very grown-up thing to do."