The Best Birthday Ever: A Short Story

This is a short story for Octa's birthday! Happy birthday Octa! 


This isn't a part of the plot of the main story in any way.

The Best Birthday Ever

Professor Ambrosius woke up, in a very surprised manner. Surprised on one half, because he had awoken so early in the day (by checking his watch, he made it nearly four in the morning) but mostly surprised because he had awoken on the top of a tree. Muttering to himself, he brushed branches out of his beard, and slowly drifted down to the ground of the Forbidden Forest, using his wand to steady his fall. At was at this point that Ambrosius realised something, when Flitwick had approached him in request to fulfill his duties at Hogwarts, he was wrong to have thought that it would be a mundane task. In fact, it was far from it. Despite being ‘full of wise at wit’ he found the Ravenclaws quite a bunch to handle. A small few were good and quiet, and yes, peaceful. However, a much larger proportion seemed to be intent on wreaking as much havoc as possible until Flitwick’s return… or his demise. Whichever came first. 

“On my birthday too,” he muttered sadly, wandering back to the castle, the wintry wind catching his cloak. He made his way up the staircase, very nearly rapped the knocker rather than giving it the answer to a particularly difficult puzzle- too difficult for four in the morning. 

“GOOD MORNING PROFESSOR AMBROSIUS!” came a familiarly chirpy voice from the common room.

“Morning, Gwen,” he said, humphing slightly.

“Have a good night sleep, Professor A?”

“If you could call it that. And what are you doing up at this hour?”

“Why, I’m cleaning my china cat collection!”

“Gwen. You don’t have a china cat collection.

“Nor do I clean. Ask my house elves.”

“You have your own house elves?”

“I’ve been told not to answer that question.”

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that either.”

"Why not?"

"Because my lawyer hasn't ironed out all the problems yet."

“You have a lawyer?”

“Not allowed to talk about it.”

“Very well,” he sighed as he trundled up to bed.

“Professor Ambrosius? Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, Miss McKee.”

“Oh come on! Spill, Professor!”

“It’s my birthday today, Miss McKee. And it started at four o clock at the top of a tree.”

“OH HAPPY BIRTHDAY PROFESSOR A!” She latched onto him in a tight hug.

“There there, Gwen.”

“I’m going to make this THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!”

“Oh dear.” And he was quite right.

It began at breakfast time, when his usual toast with honey was replaced with a giant singing and dancing cupcake. Yes, the cupcake grew legs and sung and dance. It was quite a shock, to be honest.

“What do you think, Professor A? It was all Ari’s work, she’s ace at charms,” Gwen babbled, beaming at him. 

Dumbledore looked up from his poached egg covered in season-all and smiled softly. "Very impressive. Give my congratulations to Arianna, Gwen. Oh, and happy birthday Octaboona." And with that he went back to his egg. Professor Ambrosius flinched. He may not be a Divination teacher, but even he could predict what was coming next.

"OCTABOONA?" Gwen screeched. "YOUR NAME IS OCTABOONA?"

"Yes." Octaboona sighed. "That is indeed my name. Every person has to have a name, and that is mine."

"That is so SUPERSPECIALCHOCOLATEYFUDGECOATEDAWSOME!"

"Quite."

"Can I call you Octa for short?"

"No Gwen, you can't."

Gwen's face fell. "But you call me Gwen!"

"That is true, but everyone calls you Gwen. You even introduced yourself to me as Gwen on my first day here, along with a hug, if I remember correctly. I'm sure there's something against that in the school rules, and if there isn't there should be; according to Professor Snape as well as myself."

"I was just being friendly..." Gwen pouted.

"But while you are called Gwen by everyone, I am a teacher, and I am supposed to be adressed with at least a certain amount of respect." Professor Ambrosius concluded.

Gwen paused for a moment. "So Octaboona instead of Octa?"

"Not quite. Try a little more."

"Professor Octaboona?"

Octa almost smiled as he imagined someone called McGonagall 'Professor Minerva', or, and Merlin save anyone who tried - 'Professor Severus'. "Nearly there. Try again."

She thought again, then clicked her fingers as her eyes lit up. "PROFESSOR OCTABOONA SIR!"

He sighed.

His charms lesson wasn’t much better. Streamers exploded out of every drawer, balloons emerged from beneath the desks and the chalk kept writing ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY PROFESSOR OCTA SIR!’ whenever his back was turned. At one point, all the ghosts drifted through the floor singing happy birthday. Every ten minutes, a present would descend from the ceiling and land on a student’s desk, which prompted an outburst of cries for him to open it. Within the space of his first 2 lessons he had received an assortment of sweets from Honeydukes, two bottles of Butterbeer, a broomstick servicing kit (even though he didn’t own a broomstick), a notebook, a new quill and ink pot, a wand cover, a Ravenclaw scarf, a wheel of norwegian cheese, a packet of glass eyes (he didn’t quite understand that one), a make your own pitta bread kit and a mountain goat. However, he was dreading lesson three, because that was a fifth form lesson, and god forbid, it included Gwen. 

“PROFESSOR OCTABOONA SIR!” she ran up and gave him a big hug. 

“That’s enough now, Gwen, hush,” he tried in vain to shoo her away.

“HAVE YOU HAD A GOOD BIRTHDAY SO FAR PROF?”

“Yes. Fantastic,” he said, with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Gwen,” Arianna hissed from the second bench, “Gwen! Come back here.”

She finally released her grip and scurried back to her seat. 

“Today class-”

“IT’S PROFESSOR’S BIRTHDAY! EVERYBODY SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The class reluctantly started to sing happy birthday, save a few Slytherins smirking on the back bench. Gwen stood up and started conducting, and soon enough a couple of students burst through the door, wheeling in a giant cake, covered in purple icing. 

Someone set the gramaphone playing, and charmed the walls to flash different coloured lights, and soon enough there was a party in the classroom.

Unfortunately, the first song to play was We No Speak Americano, and the entire class practically forced the professor to dance to it. Shame about his dancing.

The second one was a slowdance, and as the class began to pair up, he saw Gwen approaching him. “Professor Octa Sir? Would you save me this dance?”

Luckily, Ari reached them just in time, “Gwen! Malfoy looks lonely, doesn’t he? You should join him!” And she pushed the two of them together into a slightly awkward dance. They both resisted, but after a small amount of hair pulling and flicking with a little reminder of ‘I know about your snail,’ they got there. “Ah, young love.”

“Thanks, Ari,” he smiled gratefully.

“No problemo, Professor A!” She glanced to the cake, and noticed Crabbe and Goyle stuffing themselves, and ran off to give them a good telling off. No sooner had Arianna turned her back did Gwen stop attempting to bite Draco Malfoy’s nose, and begin to walk toward Octa, grinning. He backed away, slowly edging into the corner of the classroom.

He looked left, then right. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. And the slowdance music seemed never ending. He began to cower, and he saw Gwen reaching out to him. “Nooooooooooo,” he thought, in slow motion, no less. 

DINGALINGALING! Saved by the bell. He closed his eyes for a moment, and suddenly everything was back to normal. Last he saw was Arianna flicking the back of Gwen’s ear. He looked at the pile of presents, and thought of the party he’d just had, and wondered what was to come. Slumping in his big leather chair, he muttered to himself, “best birthday ever?” Then paused, and with a slight grin, nodded, “yes.”