“Well, happy birthday anyway.”
“Wow — that’s right, I forgot! I’m seventeen!”
Harry seized the wand lying beside his camp bed, pointed it at the cluttered desk where he had left his glasses, and said, “Accio Glasses!” although they were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom toward him, at least until they poked him in the eye.
“Slick,” snorted Ron.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – J.K. Rowling