Harry and the Speaking Cake
All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.
For my son, Skippylonglong, for his eighth birthday!
Harry sat at the breakfast table in the Dursleys' kitchen, beaming with pride. 'I'm eight today and a really big boy,' he thought happily. 'Maybe I'll be better this year and not a freak anymore.' He looked up with interest, when Aunt Petunia placed a present in front of him, wrapped in yesterday's newspaper. Very carefully he unwrapped the first birthday present that he could ever remember receiving, revealing one of Dudley's old boots from last winter.
By the time Harry recovered from his disappointment at his present and glanced around to politely thank his aunt, the kitchen was empty. 'No cake, no birthday wishes, just like every other year,' he thought sadly and was just about to stand up and return to his cupboard, when the dirty, old boot in front of him all of a sudden changed into a cake. It looked like a cheese cake that was covered with countless small strawberries, looking absolutely delicious. Harry stared at the cake in complete delight that turned into disbelief, when the cake suddenly began to speak to him.
"Happy birthday, Harry," the cake said. "Your family will not be able to hear or see me. You can take me with you into your room."
Harry hesitantly picked up the cake that was sitting on a golden plate and carefully carried it into his cupboard. "Don't hesitate to eat a piece of me; I am delicious," the cake instructed him.
Feeling very hungry at the sight of the cake, Harry hesitantly complied, taking a tiny piece off. To his surprise, as soon as he took the first bite off the delicacy, the cake that was sitting next to him on his bed was complete and fully round again. 'How does that work? That's strange,' Harry mused as he devoured his piece of cake with gusto.
"I am a magical cake, and I am self-refilling. You can eat as much as you want, and I'll just become whole again," the cake explained.
"Magic?" Harry queried in shock, eyeing the cake with suspicion. "My aunt and uncle always say there is not such a thing like magic."
"Of course there is, and you are a wizard, Harry," the cake informed him in a soft voice. "By the way, if you have eaten enough, touch the strawberry in my middle, and I will transform into a plush cake, so that you can cuddle with me or use me as a pillow. I will still be able to speak with you, and you will be able to change me back into a cake by touching the strawberry again."
Harry spent the whole day in his cupboard, engaged in a very interesting conversation with his birthday cake. By the time his aunt called him to make dinner, he was much wiser and happier than he had ever been before, knowing that he was not a freak but just a normal wizard and that there was someone out there, who loved him enough to present him with such a wonderful new friend.
No one took notice of the tabby cat that had been sitting on the wall outside the kitchen the whole day. Taking a look into the birthday boy's happy face, the tabby cat smiled contentedly and slowly made her way out of the Dursleys' garden.
The title of this drabble was requested by Skippylonglong, and my brilliant beta Mushcorn was so kind and corrected my mistakes (Thank you, Musha!).