Harry was sitting on the bed his face pressed into his knee's his arms curled around his shins as he listened to the door open. "it's June thirteenth." Harry stated softly, anger suddenly gone, replaced with an awing depression and regret in his voice. "today is the...it's..." he shuddered a little. "June thirteenth...my parents, slaughtered by voldemort... June thirteenth, the dursleys, slaughtered by voldemort....june thirteenth, Lupin murdered by Fenrir, who was being controlled by voldemort through imperio, June thirteenth, the slaughter at Saint Mungo's... June thirteenth, the slaughter of the weasley clan....June thirteenth...happy fucking birthday to me..." harry whispered softly, not even willing to go into the details of his birthdays at the dursleys, which usually consisted of yelling, a beating or two, heavy chores, and more often than not, no dinner.