Dudley had chosen to order the most expensive meal from the menu, which turned out to be some sort of crab cake. It certainly looked good to Harry, but wasn't nearly as sweet and savory as his pancakes. Harry happily swallowed another bite of his breakfast, enjoying the taste that spread through his mouth.
"'Scuse me?" asked a voice from behind them. The four Dursley's turned around to find a middle-aged blonde woman holding a rather familiar looking envelope.
"Would one of you happen to be Mr. Harry Potter?" she asked, holding up the letter, "We got 'round a hundred of these at our desk."
Before Harry could react, Uncle Vernon shot out of his seat, following the woman to the front desk.
Harry groaned, suddenly forgetting the bliss his pancakes had given him.
A small wooden boat slowly made its way towards a floating rock in the ocean, just barely making its way through the treacherous waters. Within the boat were the three Dursleys and Harry, the youngest two currently under the impression that the elder half of the family had gone mad.
"He's mad, he is." Harry muttered, something which was heard by Dudley. It was a testament to how much Dudley agreed that he, for once in his life, didn't immediately start claiming Harry to be lying, or begin antagonizing him.
Or perhaps he's afraid of the storm. I dunno what Uncle Vernon's playing at.
After another half hour of rowing their boat, the four eventually arrived upon the large rock that Uncle Vernon had seen earlier. Upon the rock was a dilapidated shack that reeked of seaweed. The rock itself was slippery and covered in moss.
Harry slowly got up from the wooden row boat, trying desperately not to fall. The slippery stone floor, combined with water covering his glasses, made the task much more difficult than it might have seemed. He eventually made his way into the shack where he was not surprised to see was just as unappealing on the inside as it appeared from the outside.
"Best of luck with those letters, eh?" said Vernon cheerfully, before he pulled out some food for them all.
"There's no television here!" Dudley complained, "Why are we on some shack in the middle of a storm in the ocean?"
That's probably the most intelligent question he's ever asked in his life.
After they had finished their rations (Harry's being much smaller than the other's), they finally prepared for bed. How they might fall asleep, Harry had no idea; the storm outside was loud and vicious. Harry wouldn't even be surprised if the storm killed them all while they slept.
The Dursleys had managed to find a bed in the upper portion of the shack, which they would be sleeping in. Dudley would be sleeping in a pull out bed that was found on the first floor, while Harry himself would be sleeping on the floor, using a few thin sheets.
Regardless of all that, Harry was still in a good mood. In just a few minutes, he would be turning eleven. It wasn't as though anyone else would care, but it was still something that excited Harry a bit. After all, it wasn't everyday that you turned eleven.
Seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. Happy birthday to -
Boom.
An hour later, Harry fell asleep feeling happier than he ever had in his life. He was a wizard, he was special, people really did care about him. His mother and father had loved him very much, they had died for him. Harry had never felt so happy before, so loved.
Outside the shack, the storm calmed ever so slightly.