I do not own any of the characters, the world, the magic or any of it. Please enjoy

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"Well? What's the matter? Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Aunt Marge stared at nine-year-old Harry, who had dutifully joined the family in the sitting room to open Christmas presents. The current gift – one of three he had been given this holiday – hung limply from his hand.

"Thank you for the socks, Aunt Marge."

She frowned. "I don't like that tone of voice young man. But in the interests of a civil Christmas, I shall refrain from comment."

In the interests of maintaining the likelihood of getting some Christmas dinner, Harry likewise held his tongue. Merry Christmas to him.