Author's Note: The timing of this chapter's release is entirely accidental and not at all planned. I'm not pleased about posting it a year after I said it should be up and I don't expect you to be either. While I don't normally mix personal details in with my fan activities, something like this warrants explanation, particularly considering that I have the best lot of readers for this story that I ever could have hoped to attract.

The 'tl;dr' version is that the fallout of the real life issue mentioned in the note I added to the previous chapter is still going on. At this point it's only a financial problem, which I am trying to resolve (wish me luck, I've no idea what's going to happen), but for many months it was also tied in with a generous supply of negative emotions. There's been a lot of fear, stress and frustration over the last year and that's not always easy for me to filter out when I'm writing. For this reason, when I've had time for recreational writing the results have been more adult than what's appropriate for DaS.

In November I finally found the necessary happy thoughts again, partly thanks to the infectious childhood magic in youtube fanvids for the new movie Rise of the Guardians (particularly Shooting Star by ToothlessMI and Gold by YoungTitan213), but my time is constricted. For the past two weeks I've been trying to catch up on my fandebts even though I should really be paying more attention to other things. It just feels like if I don't put the time in now, I may not get the chance to later.

I want to thank you all for your patience and understanding, as well as your support of the story. I've been horribly lax in replying to reviews but I read and appreciate all of them. And a special thank you to Eilwynn, who has often offered feedback, assistance and critique, and has generally put up with way too much in her efforts to get updates.

An actual story note - The three chapters that make up A Very Dursley Christmas were written side by side and each installment only became complete within the last twenty-four hours. It originally started as one chapter and just grew to insane proportions.

Chapter 21: A Very Dursley Christmas

Red, red, red. Like Santa's hat and cardinal wings and holly berries. Harry's smile lit up as he watched the white light of his fingertips change to match the vision in his mind, darkening quickly to a deeper scarlet than what the artificial lights outside his window held. He was very good with red but when he let the will to change the light go it turned back to white as it always did.

Harry had come up with the goal of being able to imitate the Christmas lights before his Uncle Vernon took them back down at the end of the holiday season. Admiring their cheerful glow, blaring not only around Number 4 Privet Drive but wrapped all about the trees and houses on nearly every street they drove through, Harry had been struck by the desire to join in the silent, joyful language through his own illumination.

He closed his eyes and focused on green, green, green, his mind scattered over the greens he knew best, his mother's eyes and new spring leaves and the garland hanging on the stair railing in the hall. When he looked he saw that the light briefly tinged mint before he lost the color as he always did. He thought the trouble was that the shades he saw most vividly in his mind were all so different.

"Harry," his Aunt Tuna called from the hallway, "we should get started now if we hope to finish before dinner."

He instinctively hid his hands behind his back even though the door was closed, the glow already fading from his fingertips. "Okay! I'll be down in a minute, Aunt Tuna."

"Be quick," she scolded. "I'm doing this for you."

Harry wondered how it was that something which should have sounded nice, and probably would have if it were said by anyone else, instead came out as a sour accusation when his Aunt Tuna said it. He chalked it up as a Dursley mystery, something special in the way their voices worked which other people didn't have, like a bird call for a duck that wouldn't get an answer from a pigeon.

He still smiled to himself at the words in spite of her tone. It wasn't very long ago when Aunt Tuna would not have done anything for him, with a sour face or not.

"Grab your coat, Dudley," Vernon called to his son, "we've got an errand to run."

"Can't," Dudley said to the television, "busy."

His father came into the room and turned the telly off, keeping his cheer even in the face of the boy's fierce scowl. "None of that, now. This is important. You have the biggest responsibility of the whole year."

Dudley frowned, unimpressed with the promise of work whether it was important or not. "Make Harry do it."

"If Harry picks out our tree we'll end up with a rose bush," Vernon dryly refuted. "Now come on, get up. Your mother wants the tree to be up before your aunt gets here tomorrow night."

"And then the presents will be put out?" Dudley reasoned with more excitement.

"Yes, of course. But no peeking this year!" he warned sternly. "If you do that again then whatever you've unwrapped early will go straight back to the store."

"I only unwrapped things a little. Just the corners," Dudley defended in a whine.

"Even just the corner. It was enough for you to tell what things were," Vernon grumbled.

Dudley rolled his eyes, lumbering into the hall to slip on his winter gear. His coat for the year was blue, to match the light blue mittens, scarf and hat one of his mother's friends had knitted for him. The scarf itched and the mittens were too large but his mother insisted that he wear them. One day, when he had defeated alien races, joined a rock band and become filthy rich, Dudley was going to move to a place where there was always sun just to get away from all the blasted itchy wool.

Harry came downstairs as he was putting his boots on. "Are you going out to play?" he asked, looking confused and a bit disappointed.

"We're going to find a tree," he corrected, standing taller and feeling important.

"Make sure it's very green," Harry advised in a sage tone.

Dudley gave him the 'you're crazy' look. It was an expression he wore at least eight times a day. "All the trees are green."

"Yes but some of them are more green than others." Harry frowned in thought as he considered that wasn't quite right. "A dark green," he corrected himself.

"We'll see what we can find," Uncle Vernon told him, standing in the doorway to the living room and regarding Harry with fond befuddlement. "Hem. Unless you'd like to come as well?" he offered awkwardly.

"I'm helping Aunt Tuna," Harry told him. He thought that his uncle probably already knew that but it was nice of him to pretend to offer him a say in the tree's selection anyway. Sort of. "Can we put a real star on the tree this year?" Harry asked, desperately hopeful. He'd heard of falling stars and surely someone collected them, which meant there had to be a place where people could buy them.

Uncle Vernon's eyes widened and he looked down the hall towards the kitchen, where Petunia was waiting for her nephew. He held up a hand to the boy and waved it downwards, trying to signal that he should keep his strange fantasies to himself. "No," he said firmly, voice quiet. "Stars are very large, very far away and all of them are on fire. It's impossible and if it were possible, the house would burn down. All of England would burn down," he amended thoughtfully. "The Sun is a star and you see how large that is, boy."

"It's the size of an orange, isn't it? When I hold one up outside I can't see it anymore."

Uncle Vernon gave him the 'you're crazy' look just as well as his son could. Harry wondered if Dudley had learned it from him or if it was the other way around.

"Yes, well. It looks that way because it's many, many kilometres away from here."

"How many?"

"Millions. Many millions. Ask your aunt. And it is so large, Harry, that it has it's own gravitational pull and all the rest of our solar system revoles around it."

"What?"

He observed his nephew's look of incomprehension as he buttoned his coat. "Ask your teacher. The point being, that the Sun is much larger than the Earth and -"

"How much larger?" Harry interrupted, stunned but fascinated.

"And," he said pointedly, ignoring the question he couldn't remember the answer to, "it's a star, which ought to show you that they're much too large for a person's Christmas tree, even if they would not ignite the whole neighborhood and burn everyone to a crisp. Let's go Dudley," he prompted, satisfied with the way he'd handled things.

"Then why do people want to put stars on their trees?"

Vernon pretended not to hear him.

"And where have you been?" Petunia asked when Harry walked through the door.

"Uncle Vernon was telling me about the Sun," he answered.

Every Dursley ever had mastered the art of giving him the odd eye. If a new one hatched from an egg the next day, it would contort its face just the same way as soon as he spoke to it.

"It's bigger than the Earth," he informed her.

"Over a hundred times larger, yes. Wash your hands so we can get started. We've a lot to get to. Don't think you'll be able to do a little and then wander off to leave the rest up to me," she warned him with a sharp look in her eyes.

Aunt Tuna didn't need to worry about that. Harry was looking forward to a day of playing chef, knowing that he was making things for his friends. He figured it would be like arts and crafts, only what he made would be edible, which Miss Beckett insisted glitter and paint were not.

"Now, I didn't want to let the cat out of the bag while we were still in the house," Vernon said with a conspiratory light in his eyes, "but we're not only searching for a tree."

Dudley regarded him with mild interest. "Are we going for ice cream?"

"It's December," his father responded incredulously.

"Hot fudge sundaes are better when it's cold," Dudley pointed out.

"Hmph. Perhaps. However it isn't ice cream we're looking for today."

"Is it aliens?" he asked boredly, already knowing not to expect anything that cool.

"Aliens don't exist, son. And you'd best not joke about them where your mother can hear."

"She's not here. Are you going to be like her and start a war against aliens too?"

"Since they do not exist," his father emphasized, "no, I will not be fighting over them. Surely you can think of better guesses than dessert and warfare."

Dudley leaned back against his seat, staring up at his limited view through the windshield. "Are we running away to another country?"

"A Dursley doesn't run, Dudley."

"Picking up Aunt Marge early," he guessed.

"Unfortunately not. We'll be doing some Christmas shopping."

Dudley shot up in his seat so quickly that he briefly gagged himself on the seatbelt. "I'm getting presents early?"

Vernon chuckled. "For your mother, my boy. I'm not going to let you pick out your own gifts!" He laughed quietly, smiling at his son's overexcitement.

"Oh." He sank back down, deflated.

"Is there anything you've had in mind?" Vernon prompted.

Dudley considered offering any of his ideas of what he should get for his mother but he didn't want another lecture on being polite and respectful towards the woman who had given him life, which his father seemed to think meant she was allowed to ruin it if she wanted to.

It had been almost a month since Malcolm's birthday party but Dudley was still seething over the realization that other children had birthday wishes - all of their friends did, he found out after Harry asked them - but not him. He was so sick of finding out that he wasn't normal when compared to the rest of the kids at school. No wizards or monsters on Petunia Dursley's television, oh no! No talking cats or time travelling either.

The Polkisses pitied him.

Why did his parents have to be so weird?

Malcolm's parents were amazing, even giving him a room just for his toys. When Dudley suggested that Aunt Marge's room should be a playroom for him and Harry, all of a sudden they were expecting her to come for Christmas. He'd much rather have the playroom than visits from his aunt, but his parents had both acted disappointed when he said as much.

Disappointed! In him! They were getting to be unbelievable.

But he wanted to receive presents that year, so he kept quiet about his thoughts and shook his head. His father probably wouldn't know where to buy a pet skunk or a bottle of poison or a tarantula anyway.

"That's alright," Vernon consoled, "I can help you with ideas. Pet loves anything rose scented," he listed, "and earrings are usually a safe bet. Of course if it's from you she'll love it no matter what it is."

"Mn," Dudley grunted in disinterest.

"How about Harry?" Vernon asked in a cautious tone.

Dudley was quiet as he imagined what his weird little cousin might get for his mother. He really hoped the idiot didn't try to give her a stick, calling it a magic wand, or glitter filched from school, calling it pixie dust. "I don't know what Harry's getting Mum," he admitted, and he was wondering if he wanted to know. "Maybe nothing." Hopefully nothing. Please God, let Harry never even think of it.

"Ah, I meant is there anything you'd like to get for him?"

Dudley stopped gazing up at the scenery and stared at his father.

"You've been closer to him since this summer," Vernon explained. "I just thought that perhaps you would want to give him something. The true joy of Christmas is in giving, not receiving, and while Harry's helping your mother make up little treats for all your friends, ah, it seems that you haven't found anyone at school who you want to do anything for. Which is perfectly normal at your age," he tacked on reassuringly.

"I have friends, Daddy," Dudley nearly snarled, feeling defensive. He was closer to Piers than Harry was and so what if he didn't want to bake his friends a cake or whatever Harry was doing? Kitchen stuff was for girls.

"Of course. Perhaps you'll even invite those friends over sometime."

Mum's too embarrassing for that, Dudley retorted in his mind.

"It's only an offer, Dudley. You don't have to do anything at all. Your mother and I have already picked up a few things for your cousin that we think he'll like."

"I want to get him something," Dudley insisted. Afterall, a new toy for Harry was a new toy for Dudley to play with too since his cousin shared everything. It was just stunning to hear the offer.

It was still odd sometimes to see how much his parents had changed the way they treated Harry. He'd gathered at school that everyone else had gotten Christmas presents for as long as they could remember, except Piers who celebrated something similar for eight days, which Dudley hadn't been able to convince his parents to do. Something about Harry had been so terrible that he was the one kid in their whole class who had never been given a Christmas present, even though he was nicer than Amanda, didn't curse like Dennis and smelled better than Thomas.

It all made Dudley sure that Harry himself was the surest proof in the world that Santa wasn't real. His parents had decided Harry wasn't good enough, so he wasn't. If magic elves had been left to figure the Good List out, he didn't think they'd pass over Harry but approve of all the kids who he knew lied, cursed, shoved, stole and cheated at school. Dudley wouldn't make it on a magical Good List if Harry couldn't.

It would be nice if he could get his cousin a brain for Christmas so that he could stop ignoring the truth and give up his Santa talk.

Harry had expected the hardest part of cooking to be waiting for things to be finished in the oven but it turned out that most things went on top of the stove instead, a lot of time was spent waiting for things to chill and Aunt Tuna had packed their to-do list so fully that as soon as they were able to rest with one task, she was shuffling him off to another with more instructions. He wasn't allowed to handle knives or the stove but Aunt Tuna put him to use stirring, pounding, greasing, pouring and cleaning up their messes as they went along.

Harry was wearing his arm out stirring through batter, dough and frostings but whenever he'd stop too often, switching hands and shaking them out as he willed them to feel rested faster, Aunt Tuna would come take over. There were some mixtures Harry could barely move a spoon in but she was able to whip them through the bowl in a quick storm as though it was nothing, leaving Harry staring at her in disbelief.

He was fascinated by the task of making edible snowflakes. They were crafted from white chocolate, and Aunt Tuna let him hand her the candy bars that she was melting at the stove. He loved watching her pour the melted chocolate into the snowflake molds with a squeeze bottle, feeling it was a special kind of kitchen magic that the smooth liquid could be shaped and set into something new so easily. He waited eagerly while the first of them were in the refrigerator to set for twenty minutes, hardly believing the results when his aunt let him retrieve them. Who knew there could be snowflakes that began their lives with what Aunt Tuna called a double boiler, when the ones outside melted so easily?

The aromas floating through the kitchen were tantalizing, reassuring Harry that everything they were making, from the little fruit cakes to the peanut brittle, was going to taste delicious. They were still a long way from sorting things out into colored cellophane sheets to tie off with a ribbon and tag in little baskets for his friends but he was already feeling accomplished and proud, foreseeing their success.

It didn't hurt that some of the work was fun.

Peanut brittle was his favorite thing to help with so far. He got to grease the baking sheets, and anything which involved getting his hands covered in grease was officially alright with Harry, and then once Aunt Tuna determined that the mixture on the stove was finished she poured it onto the sheets and Harry waited for the best part, sitting at the table with another task while watching the candy harden. When it was ready Aunt Tuna handed him a small wooden mallet with a stern warning to take it easy and not go overboard while breaking it up. Whack smack crack! went the mallet and Harry considered that Dudley would be jealous if he knew.

The gingerbread they were making was also delicious.

"Stop eating them!" Aunt Tuna scolded. "Don't you at least want to decorate them first?"

Harry looked guilty and forced himself to nod, though really he could eat plain gingerbread all day, the way Dudley attacked nearly every snack placed in front of him. He savored the taste and closed his eyes in pleasure, kicking his feet under the table. Then he swallowed and tried to muster an apology. "It just tastes so good," he said instead of 'Sorry, Aunt Tuna.'

He thought he saw her lips twitch up before she frowned at him. "They'll taste better with frosting and candies on them. If you keep eating them plain then the only finished gingerbread men will be for the baskets going to other sugar-craving children. And executives," she muttered the last part to herself.

"I'll stop," he promised, though he intended to sneak more if he could. Perhaps if a cookie became accidentally broken. Or accidentally-on-purpose broken. "Do you do the other ones every year?"

"For your uncle's associates at work and their families, yes."

"So they're friends?"

She paused and got the look which meant she was going to try to explain something without giving Harry any ideas she wouldn't want him to have. He rarely recieved answers from her without that particular wrinkle between her eyebrows and pursing of her lips.

"An associate," Aunt Tuna said at last, "is a person to whom one is connected in a less personal capacity. Perhaps you can think of someone at school who you know and exchange pleasantries with but who is not actually your friend?"

"I try to be nice to everybody," Harry answered, watching her attentively.

"However you are not friends with everyone, are you?"

That wasn't a very nice thought. He stilled for a moment as he considered his entire class at school. Should he be friends with everyone? Well, he wasn't. Which suddenly seemed like something to be disappointed over but at least it meant there were only four baskets of goodies to prepare for Christmas - he couldn't imagine his Aunt Tuna agreeing to help him with fourteen of them.

"No," he finally admitted a bit sadly.

"You couldn't possibly be," she dismissed. "No one could," she added, trying to take the sting out of the truth. "Friends spend time together and care for each other's welfare. It would be impossible to maintain so many friendships at once. Time-consuming beyond all reason."

Harry silently added it to his list of 'impossible' things to do. It was placed after 'glow orange' and 'learn to fly.'

"However that doesn't mean we can't be pleasant with the people who we don't know as well as our friends. It's very important to have the good opinion of those around you. Particularly anyone who may affect your circumstances."

He looked at her blankly, bewildered.

Aunt Tuna took pity on him. "It's good to be nice to the people in charge of things," she restated as simply as possible. Then she smiled the way she did when greeting neighbors who she only pretended to like and went back to affixing sugared rosettes on a gingerbread girl's skirt with a satisfied smirk.

Considering her words, Harry thought that perhaps he should find a present for his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Tuna.

"There are a lot of baskets and tins," he observed.

"All in a season's work," she dismissed.

"But they'll be here until tomorrow night at least, right?" All of those pretty sweets, trapped in a house with Dudley. That didn't sound so good.

"Yes, I'll be passing them along all day tomorrow and the last of them will be delivered to your little friends when we go carolling."

"Dudley still doesn't want to go," he admitted.

"He might change his mind yet."

Harry seriously doubted that. He knew from past efforts that convincing his cousin to do anything he was already set against was a rough struggle to get into.

He had been pleasantly surprised when Aunt Tuna got off the phone one afternoon a few days before and announced that she and Linda's mother, Mrs. Spears, had just arranged to meet up for carolling with a group of neighbors. She even looked excited about it, as though refusing to tramp through the snow in the dead of winter would never even cross her mind.

He wasn't as surprised when Dudley declined to join them in favor of watching television.

"But Duddydumdrops," Aunt Tuna had pleaded, "your friends will be there. Don't you want to spend time with them?"

"Not outside," he denied her in a monotone, still staring at the screen.

"You play outside with Harry," she reminded him, gesturing towards the windows and the legion of snow angels the boys had left all across their lawn.

"Different."

"How?"

"Mummy, telly," Dudley had scolded in annoyance, batting his hand in a shooing motion.

Petunia sighed. "Perhaps you'll change your mind. You've a few days to consider it."

"Shhh!"

Harry had observed the warning look in his Aunt Tuna's eyes which hinted that although she wasn't saying anything, she was considering some mild retribution for the slight.

"Well," she said with a bright fake smile, "Harry and I can go and have a splendid time of it then, while you stay home with your father and Aunt Marge."

Dudley just grunted.

"How does that sound, Harry?" she asked rather loudly.

"Great," he had chimed up perkily. Not only would he get to see his friends and explore the neighborhood but he'd get to take a break from both his cousin's sour Santa-hating and his nasty Aunt Marge.

Aunt Tuna gave Dudley a pointed look, frowning when she saw that he wasn't even paying attention.

Days later, her bids for him to come along were no more successful.

"We should make him something special, too," Harry suggested as he eyed the goodies which were piling up. If Dudley was going to be in the same house as all the treats for over a day, they were in serious danger of being eaten before they could be delivered.

Petunia's face lit up in a rare moment of real pleasure in her nephew's company. "That's a very good idea, Harry. I'm sure Duddy Dumpkins will be happy to have such a nice surprise when he comes home. How thoughtful of you," she praised. It did not matter that she already had the same plans - she always appreciated seeing others treat her Duddydumdrops with especial care. If only the whole world could see him as the little prince he was.

"Perhaps you could come with me tomorrow and pick out something extra special to give to Duddy for Christmas," she ventured. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

Harry sat up very straight, chin up with pride. "I've gotten him a gift already."

Her cheer frayed away and her smile twisted into a grimace as she prayed, Please, don't let him be stealing. The embarrassment might kill me. "Oh?" she prompted, trying to hold on to the hope that everything was fine and Harry was a good boy, most of the time - well, at least a better boy than she'd always feared he was.

"A pack of gum. I traded two whole frogs for it," he said with the same smugness one would use when announcing how much their new luxury car was worth.

Petunia was speechless for a moment. This was not an economic system she was prepared to understand but she assumed from the look on her nephew's face that this was considered a good trade. She decided to be magnanimous and not belittle the gift Harry had sacrificed two whole frogs for, much as she would rather he not handle any amphibious creatures at all. "How nice of you," she managed, straining to smile politely.

Certainly, it was better than hearing he had traded a frog and a half.

Vernon and Dudley returned in the evening, Dudley going ahead to open the door and announce their triumph as his father marched the tree into the house. Petunia turned off the news and rose to see how they had fared, hearing Harry come trotting down the stairs to meet them.

"I picked it out," Dudley trumpeted to his mother and cousin, puffing up like a pigeon.

"Well done, Duddydimples, it's a lovely tree," she cooed. If he had brought home a barren stump she would have said the same, with him standing there looking so accomplished. "We can decorate it after dinner."

"I helped make it," Harry announced, rocking on his heels as he observed the tree Vernon was attempting to wrestle into the waiting stand. It was a little taller than his uncle, its branches bright and trembling as it was settled into the corner of their living room.

"Did you?" Vernon queried, looking to his wife for reassurance that this wasn't true.

Petunia shrugged carelessly. "Willing hands are not to be wasted."

"I suppose," he agreed reluctantly.

"Harry was an excellent helper," Petunia defended tiredly. She'd been surprised by his willingness to see his commitment through without whinging about boredom or becoming frustrated.

Vernon fixed the tree and stepped back, letting the boys admire it as he drew Petunia to the side. "How bad was it?" he asked in a low murmur, speaking close to her ear so the boys wouldn't hear.

"Not at all," Petunia maintained, sounding impressed that she could say as much. She too had been expecting the attempt to be a harried disaster. "There were no complaints or broken dishes. He made a bit of a mess out of everything and ate almost as much gingerbread as he baked but all children do such things. Although for some reason he spent the first hour asking astronomy questions," she said with a note of confusion, looking to her husband for any possible answer.

"Ah. Well. Much better than something less scientific," he said meaningfully.

Her lips drew into a straight line. "Much."

"Perhaps he'll be an astronaut," Vernon joked, earning a reluctant smile from his wife as she rolled her eyes at the thought.

"God willing," she muttered.