Chapter 15: Christmas
The Hogwarts Express puffed into King's Cross. Petunia met Harry and Dudley on the concourse after they'd passed out of the barrier.
Dudley got a big hug, and Harry was surprised by her asking if Harry had had a nice term even though he didn't get a hug. To be honest, thought Harry, that would have just been weird.
"No Dad?" asked Dudley, looking round.
"No Sweetums," said Petunia, "He got a promotion at work last week. He's impressed the regional manager and he got some more accounts. His sales work means he's traveling around a bit more rather than local sales. This week he's in Cornwall. He'll be there til the 27th, then he's home for a day, then he's off up to Liverpool."
The boys digested this piece of information. On one hand, no Uncle Vernon, hurrah, but on the other, Harry knew Dudley was disappointed. He had a weird relationship with his father now, but Harry knew Dudley still wanted the man's approval.
"Come on, bring your things, we'll drop them off at home and then we'll go buy a Christmas tree," said Petunia brightly, "And you can choose all the Christmas chocolate."
Dudley's face brightened at that. Dudley had always liked Christmas.
Harry had been home two days and it had been weird. True to her word, Petunia dropped off their things, they'd had a bite to eat and then gone out to get a tree. Together. Every year previously, the Dursleys had left Harry at home, clearing a space in the corner of the living room ready for the tree. He'd then be relegated to his cupboard while it was decorated, and they would eat mince pies and Vernon and Petunia would have a mulled wine.
This year Harry had gone with Petunia and Dudley. The weird part was, it was as if the last decade hadn't happened, that there had been some warped rewrite of history. The three of them went for a tree as if the three of them did this every year. As usual, Dudley chose the tree, and as usual, Dudley was allowed to pick a new decoration for the tree. But, as if it were perfectly normal, so was Harry. He picked a simple silver bell with a working clapper. There was an awkward moment for Petunia at the checkout, as the man behind the counter recognised them from previous years and asked who Harry was. 'Oh, this is my nephew, he's home for Christmas this year'.
When they'd got home, all three of them made a space in the living room, Petunia went to heat mince pies and Harry and Dudley decorated the tree whilst carols played in the background. So very Little Whinging.
After dinner they'd driven round the neighborhood and decided which house had the best outside lights display (Number 49 was clearly the winner with the life size reindeer on the roof).
Next day, no-one had woken Harry up to make breakfast. When Harry woke, got dressed and went downstairs, Petunia wished him good morning while drinking her coffee at the kitchen table and indicated the cereal packet and bowl.
When Dudley got up, Petunia suggested they go do some shopping in Guildford. She said she hadn't been for months. It was the largest town around and there were some specialist shops she wanted to visit. If the boys got bored she'd abandon them at the cinema for a couple of hours while she shopped.
And so here Harry was, sitting on his bed that evening, finishing his Pick n Mix from the kiosk when he and Dudley watched Aladdin. It was messing with his head. Summer was what he expected. It'd been a bit forced and awkward but effort was being made, and to be honest, all of them were just waiting for Vernon to pop a blood vessel. But this, this was plain weird.
"Boys, dinner time!" called Petunia. Dudley made a noise like a baby elephant as he scrambled down the stairs for dinner.
Harry had just sat down in front of a plate of spaghetti and meatballs when the floo lit up. Harry went to see who it was.
"Hello, Harry, it's Remus, are you busy tomorrow?" he asked through the floo. Harry didn't know how to answer. He never knew what tomorrow looked like at Privet Drive, he was usually busy or not invited.
"Er…"
"Who is it?" asked Petunia.
"It's Mr Lupin," replied Harry, "He wants to know if I'm busy tomorrow."
"Do whatever you want!" called Petunia from the kitchen. "Your dinner's going cold."
"Oh, sorry, are you eating?" asked Remus apologetically, "I heard your aunt. I'll come round tomorrow at 10 if that's OK? I just wanted to chat, because, well, it's harder in a school setting."
"Er, sure," said Harry. Remus was gone. Harry went back into the kitchen to eat his dinner.
The floo flared to life and Remus stepped through. "Good morning, everyone!" he said, brightly.
"Morning, Mr Lupin," said Dudley. Petunia nodded at him.
"Harry, I was wondering if you'd like to go out somewhere? You and me? This last term I don't think we really had the chance to get to know each other. Stories about your father, yes, but I don't really know you. But only if you like," he added awkwardly, aware he was talking to in essence a stranger, and a minor at that.
"Yeah, I'd like that," said Harry, if for no other reason than to have a break from this surreal madness.
"I've had a look around the town. It's nice and there's a cafe on the high street. I was thinking a walk around the town, you can show me places, and then a mid-morning drink?" he asked, "I'll have him home before lunch?" he asked Petunia, open to her disagreeing with anything he'd just suggested.
"Take as long as you like," she said by way of acceptance. Harry gratefully stepped out of the house for a walk with Lupin.
They walked in semi awkward silence to the end of the road, frosty leaves crunching under their feet, the sun low and only giving off a semblance of warmth, and turned onto Wisteria Walk.
"I've thought about this conversation for years," said Remus, glancing sideways at Harry, "It was always just as awkward in my head. That night… I knew Dumbledore left you with your family. He said you'd be safe there, and your cousin was your age. I didn't know if your aunt and uncle would talk to you much about magic, or your parents, or any of it, or even whether Dumbledore would have input when you were young, but I trusted him to know best, after all, he's a headmaster."
Harry wondered where Remus was going, but didn't interrupt.
"I used to think about writing to you, or visiting, but Dumbledore made it very clear to anyone who asked in the early days that your location must remain a secret, and that made perfect sense, either because of vengeful followers of Voldemort or simply prying gawkers. So I never did."
"I wanted to tell you that I know you're your own person, Harry, that you're not James. I think there's a lot of people who see you as someone you're not, that you've got some special talent that kills dark lords, or that you'll grow up to be the next Minister for Magic, or that you're a child prodigy. I just wanted you to know that I know you're, well, you."
Harry relaxed and exhaled, so that was all it was.
"Thank you," said Harry, "Do you have any idea how awkward it is when people expect me to be a quidditch ace, just because my father was? Or the number of people your age who tell me I look like him. At least Snape worked me out, but that took a whole year!"
Remus chuckled, "About that, Severus didn't exactly get on with your father, or me for that matter, he's a bit of a special case."
"He hated me in first year, and the first weeks I was sorted into Slytherin, I was so nervous, but he's OK, he cares about his house."
"Severus does care, Harry, he's just got a really odd way of showing it, and he's really rigid about school rules."
"Yeah, noticed that," laughed Harry.
"I was best friends with your father, and friends with your mother throughout all our years in school. And after, even though there wasn't much after. But I know you're not them. I've mourned their deaths, and accepted they're gone. I can and will, if you wish, be a person who's here for you if you want, but I'm not parent material, and I'm too old to be a friend, but if you ever want a sounding board, or a person just to talk to who can give advice, and I'm not saying it'll always be good advice, I can be available."
"I'd like that a lot," said Harry after a few seconds' consideration, "Snape's a good head of house, but he's not a parent, and Petunia is just being weird."
"She seemed nice enough," said Remus, sounding surprised.
"Yeah, that's what's weird," replied Harry. "You know Dudley was always, and still is, the favourite child, right? I assume someone's told you why I moved from Gryffindor to Slytherin? You know me and them don't work, right?"
Remus pursed his lips at the casual way Harry had described the situation, both normal and accepting of it, "Yes, I'm aware," he said simply.
"Well last summer was quite nice, Vernon was his usual self, but more off with Dudley, which was a bit like egg shells all the time, and Petunia was clearly trying a bit harder to be nicer to me, but we were both finding a middle ground with each other. But this Christmas she's trying too hard. It's awkward. It's like I'm waiting for her to go back to being how she was."
"Did she ever hit you?" asked Remus with an underlying growl that spoke volumes.
"N… No, not like that," said Harry quickly, "It's just I'm not used to 'nice'."
"Where are we now?" asked Remus, realising the conversation had gone down a particular path. He knew Dumbledore, the Healer and Snape were dealing with it, he'd just had to ask for himself.
Harry paid attention to his surroundings, "Oh we're heading towards the park, it's a nice park, when I was little I fell off those swings over there. They seemed taller back then. Then, on the other side of the park is the library and then the high street. I like people-watching on the high street, it's a fun occupation. Everyone pretends to be best friends with everyone else, but you can see them comparing outfits and the contents of their shopping bags. The best days are when the woman with the German Shepherds is shopping. She comes from one of the farms in her muddy Land Rover and her wax jacket. All the posh people stare at her. One of them let her poodle too near the dogs. Ah, fun times," said Harry, clearly enjoying that memory.
"Yes, your street was full of curtain twitchers when we walked down it, I'm glad I'm dressed Muggle today. Your aunt would have had a fit if we'd walked down your street looking, ahem, out of place."
Harry laughed. Remus seemed nice. Today was the first time he'd really talked to him, but what started out as having the potential for being a thoroughly awkward morning, might actually turn out nice.
"Good afternoon, Remus, what can I do for you?" asked Healer Jones, answering the floo call.
"Have you spoken with Harry and Dudley recently?" asked Remus.
"I have organised a visit a couple of days after Christmas Day, why?" replied Jones.
"Oh, that's OK then, I just went to have a chat with Harry, he says it's a bit cloying and therefore odd," said Remus.
"Hmmm, maybe she's taking us seriously," said Jones.
"Us?" asked Remus.
"Just before summer holidays I went to visit, took someone with me, we spelled out what the wizarding world would think of Petunia and Vernon if they ever found out the Boy Who Lived hadn't grown up happy. I think that might have registered."
"She's taking it quite to heart," confirmed Remus, "It's confusing Harry."
"I suppose that's better than the alternative," said the Healer, "I'll talk to him about it when I visit. Thanks for the heads-up."
Next day, Harry and Dudley went to the park for a walk.
"It's driving you mad, isn't it?" asked Dudley, by way of an opener when they were sitting on the swings doing not much.
"What is?" asked Harry.
"You know, mum," said Dudley.
"Kind of," replied Harry, "It's just weird."
"She's trying her best, you know. She told me in summer that Jones and Snape had visited them before we came home. She's scared, Harry. She's scared of what could happen. You know how bloody nuts she gets over simple stuff like what Number 31 thinks of her flower bed? Well, she realised what if a load of angry wizards realised she didn't like you."
"So she's making up being nice?" asked Harry, dismayed, "She hates me?"
"No, no, no, no, sorry, that came out wrong," said Dudley, hurriedly, "She's not like Dad. I don't think Dad likes either of us any more." Dudley stared at nothing for a while before continuing, "I think she's guilty about how she didn't used to like you. I think she realised you're just a normal person, but she doesn't know what to do. It's like she's trying to make up for stuff, but doesn't know how. It's totally screwing with you though, isn't it? I can tell, you know, you're easy to read."
"Thanks for the positivity and the knowledge I'm readable like a book. Although for you, it'd only be short words, wouldn't it? With pictures?" asked Harry, half joking to keep the mood light, but in actuality annoyed that Dudley was a) right and b) knew what was going on more than Harry did.
"Sod off," said Dudley casually, "Just cos you can't work out your own head. I'm just saying, give mum time, that's all."
Harry grunted. They swung on the swings in silence for a bit.
"What's that over there?" asked Harry, pointing, "In the bushes."
Dudley looked over, "It's moving. Is it a cat?" he asked hopefully. Harry had noticed Dudley really liked Crookshanks. Dudley was obviously a 'cat person'. Which was odd given his propensity in childhood to abuse small creatures at every turn.
They got off the swings and slowly approached the bushes. The bushes whined.
"It's a dog!" exclaimed Harry. The dog whined some more, not approaching them, semi backing off and sort of hiding but not.
"Perhaps it's lost," suggested Dudley, "It's too friendly to be feral, one of those would've run off before we got near."
Harry extended his hand towards the quivering bushes, "Here boy, we're friendly," he said. There was a whine in response.
"We could call the RSPCA when we get home," said Dudley, less interested now that it was a dog not a cat.
"It might have run off by then," disagreed Harry, "If we can catch it, it might have a collar. There's a vets on the next street, we could leave it there. It might even be chipped." There was another whine.
"Dog knows wha is then," said Dudley with a chuckle. "You keep it company for a minute, I'll go to the bakery and get a sausage roll." The dog pricked its ears up at 'sausage'.
Dudley ran off, he was a lot lighter these days, and running wasn't a chore. He paused long enough on his way out of the park to say, "Hey lady, is that your dog?" to the incoming stranger with her little girl.
When Dudley got back, Harry had coaxed the dog out of the bushes. It was thin, and bedraggled, but was very keen to sniff out the sausage roll Dudley offered. Dudley gave the dog the sausage roll in bite size chunks one at a time. They didn't exactly touch the sides.
"What if we took him home with us," said Harry, "Put him in the garden til the RSPCA can pick him up. He'd at least get fed til then."
"Are you testing to see how far mum's 'being nice' will go?" asked Dudley, "Just imagine, one bark and she'll be looking to see which neighbour's curtain twitched. That is not a clever plan."
"I was thinking, you take the dog home," said Harry with a grin. "Look, the dog seems keen on that idea." The dog had sidled over to Dudley to look for more food. "I'm almost sure I saw this dog running round the park in summer too. It was fatter back then. I wonder if it's lost its owner. It seemed friendly then too."
"No, I'm a cat person," he replied, "Dogs smell." Perhaps you could get Lupin to take him when he's next here. You said he said he'd pop over Christmas Day morning."
The dog froze. Neither boy noticed. The dog edged out of both boys' immediate reach.
"I reckon we call the RSPCA, but I think we could try to drop him off at the, you know," said Harry meaningfully.
"Come on then, let's see if he'll follow us, Come on, Boy," said Dudley to the dog. Both boys headed to the town exit of the park.
On the way to the vet the dog seemed keen to be with them, but not keen to be in reach any more. Every time they passed a food shop it'd sniff in the doorway and drool.
"He's starving," said Harry. They reached the vet. The dog backed away.
"Damn, it knows," said Harry, unable to coax the dog inside.
Next door to the vet was the supermarket. It was late in the day and a couple of workers were throwing food out that they'd be unable to sell the next day.
"What about dumpster diving?" asked Dudley, "We leave the dog here with the lid off the bins and it can eat what I'm sure was still fresh meat that that guy put in the bin. Slip through the fence, lift the lid, leave the dog to it and call the RSPCA when we get home."
"That's a genius idea," agreed Harry. They waited til the workers had gone back in the building. Harry slipped through the fencing, the dog followed, and the boys left the scene with the dog happily chewing on a raw sirloin steak.
When they got home Harry rang the RSPCA and alerted them to the fact that there was a dog on the loose. He told them where they'd left it. He also mentioned he'd seen it in summer too, and he thought it was friendly enough to have an owner somewhere, and it just seemed lost.
Next day was Christmas Eve. Harry woke up with a start when there was a knock at his bedroom door. He reached for his glasses to see who it was.
"Get up quietly," whispered Petunia, "We're going out. Don't wake Dudley." Confused as usual, Harry complied. Petunia passed him a round of toast and jam while chivvying him out of the door. Harry was half asleep and had his coat buttons all askew.
After the car door had shut Petunia explained, "We're going to get Dudley's main Christmas gift." A bit of Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Normal had reasserted itself, Dudley was getting a Christmas gift and Harry wasn't. They drove to Greater Whinging. Petunia slowed down when they drove through a housing estate, looking for a particular house. Harry mentally corrected the word house to mansion. Greater Whinging was for the climbers who'd made it. They stopped outside a very correct house. Just the right amount of fairy lights outside to say 'loaded' instead of 'gaudy and trying too hard'.
"Sort yourself out," said Petunia, levelly, "Straighten your coat, wipe the crumbs off your face!"
Harry fixed his appearance. They walked through the black, wrought iron gates, up the gravel path to the front door. Of course there's an immaculate wreath on the door, thought Harry as Petunia pressed the doorbell.
A very well dressed lady answered the door. Not smart, or business attire, just neat, expensive clothing, "Good morning, Mrs Dursley!"
"Good morning, Mrs Stanhope!"
"Come on in, they're in the parlour."
Harry was now just going with the flow. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. Until they went into the parlour. In a box near the fire was the cutest pile of black kittens you'd ever seen.
"Harry," said Petunia, "Which one do you think Dudders would like?"
Finally, that made sense, thought Harry.
"I can't interest you in two can I?" asked Mrs Stanhope hopefully, one each perhaps?"
"I think we can only manage the one pet in the house," replied Petunia, in tones that suggested she was sorry to disappoint.
"Oh, don't worry about it," said Mrs Stanhope, "There are plenty more people I can ask. I'll leave you to it. Now, I said on the phone I had a spare cat carrier. It's over there, so just pick your kitten and put it in the carrier. I'll just be in the kitchen making tea." She bustled out to sort out her family's breakfast.
"I hope you can help pick a kitten, Harry. To me they're just all the same, but Dudders has mentioned getting one often. He says that there's cat at school called Mrs Norris who has a pretty face."
Harry's jaw dropped. Mrs Norris. Pretty. Objectively, yes she was, but to notice this, Dudley would have to have been in the vicinity of Filch. Dudley needed to spend more time with Healer Jones!
Harry went over to the box of kittens and picked them up one by one. He eventually picked up one with green eyes and slightly longer fur. It wouldn't be a long haired cat, but the tufts on its ears reminded Harry of Mrs Norris.
"This one."
"Excellent. That one it is. Put it in the basket and I'll just talk to Mrs Stanhope for a minute, it's our week for church cleaning this week." That tidbit filled in another bit of the what's going on puzzle for Harry.
They arrived back at Privet Drive. "We need to keep the kitten a surprise. Put it in the garage, I'll leave the car on the drive. There's a cat basket and food bowls and some toys by the boiler. It'll be fine for the day. I've planned for us to go out to Diagon Alley. That'll get Dudders out of the house. If, in the evening, you hear meowing, your job is to sort out the kitten while I distract Dudley. Got it?"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry obediently.
Harry was nervous at the thought of Diagon Alley for the day, but at least the saving grace was that if it went wrong they were only a floo away from home, it wasn't like he had to listen to an hour of insults on the drive home.
Petunia sent Harry to the bank to change some money while Dudley took Petunia to browse around a couple of shops. Harry carefully looked at Petunia's face for signs of edginess when he returned, but she seemed fine.
They went into a number of shops. Dudley did his usual of demanding and getting pretty much anything he wanted. Petunia had to put her foot down in the Magical Menagerie when Dudley saw a poster advertising the sale of an imported miniature sphinx. Harry couldn't help but snigger at how fraught Petunia looked in the face of saying no to Dudley. Thankfully Dudley no longer had temper tantrums, but his ability to be demanding had not diminished.
After buying bags and bags of items for Dudley, so much so that a shopkeeper, on realising Petunia was a muggle, shrunk their purchases down and said they'd resize at 6pm that evening. Petunia gratefully thanked him. Harry and Petunia now only carried one bag each. Dudley had been carrying some things, but not many. When Dudley got excited he still tended to revert to selfish Dudley more often than not.
"Is there anything you want for Christmas, Harry?" asked Petunia, deliberately casually. Harry did an impression of a fish.
Something small and cheap, thought Harry's inner monologue. Small and cheap, small and cheap. He panicked. He had to say something, but didn't know how to answer.
"Didn't you want a new pair of quidditch gloves?" asked Dudley, noticing Harry's panic. "You were looking at Fred's catalogue and the pair of you were drooling over the new lightweight, extra warm Seeker pair for winter wear."
"I was not drooling!" said Harry, defensively, "And I couldn't possibly ask for those, they're hardly a small item."
"There was drool on the page!" said Dudley, deliberately being annoying towards Harry to give Petunia time to work out how to answer.
"Let's go and look at them, shall we?" she said.
Dudley led the way to the quidditch shop. There was a crowd outside looking through the window.
"I see the droolers are out in force today," commented Dudley, walking past the Firebolt with no interest. Harry would have stayed to drool longer if he'd been with anyone else.
"They're very nice gloves," Petunia was saying when Harry finally got through the crowd and into the shop, "Very soft and warm. So you'd like these?" she asked him.
"Y… y… yes please, Aunt Petunia. I can pick something else if you'd prefer," he said, eyeing the price tag. It wasn't an eye-watering price, but it wasn't what Harry would have picked to test out the concept of Petunia buying him a gift. He thought maybe a cheap quill or a pair of socks.
Petunia purchased the gloves and then Dudley suggested the ice cream parlour. Dudley got an enormous sundae. While Harry could have had the same, Petunia did offer, she said they could both order whatever they liked, he picked a chocolate coated cornet instead. Weirdly he preferred it. It just didn't feel normal to have extravagant things bought by Petunia voluntarily.
They got home in time for dinner, and Petunia asked Dudley to set the table and gave Harry a meaningful look. Harry slipped into the garage to check on the kitten, which was perfectly fine. It was asleep in the fluffy cat bed Petunia had bought. It opened one eye, stared at him and went back to sleep. Harry didn't get cats.
Hogwarts was quiet over Christmas. This year there were a few students, but less than usual. Information had got out that Umbridge would be staying at the castle for the holidays.
On Christmas Eve, Umbridge was sitting in her office writing what was ostensibly anti werewolf legislation, but since working at Hogwarts she'd expanded her ideas into anti everything not witch or wizard. If she could have added muggleborns she would, but even she knew that'd never get traction.
She was researching access to wolfbane ingredients when there was a tapping at the window. She let in an owl. It was an impressive owl, clearly belonging to someone important. It offered its leg imperiously and she detached its letter.
Unfolding the letter, she read the name at the bottom. Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Her heart fluttered in self-importance. At last! Recognition!
Dear Madam Umbridge,
This letter will burn itself out when you have finished reading it. It contains sensitive information that I do not want to fall into anyone else's hands. I have total confidence in your abilities, but I do not trust those you are with.
I have been Minister for Magic for three years. I have always known that Albus Dumbledore wanted to replace Bagnold, yet it was I who was voted into the position. I believe, after much deliberation, that for the past three years, Dumbledore has been trying to subvert the will of the people and take control himself. He has spent an inordinate amount of energy injecting himself into affairs in which he doesn't belong. Just look at the Potter Dursley incident in summer as an example! Something so minor, yet there he is.
I have, as you know, a strong sense of justice, and now, more than ever, with Black on the loose, I need full trust in all who work in the ministry, yet I believe I do not have it. There are many who Albus must have subverted to his cause. I do not know who those people are, but as you can imagine, I need to find out. For the good of the people.
This is where I need you. I made a decision in August to place you at Hogwarts where you can be most useful to me. I had to make that decision when it came up. I apologise that I did not consult you, but I hope you can see I had to act quickly.
Now that you are there, and have become accepted, hopefully trusted, I need you to act for the security of the Ministry. I need to know who Albus has in his pocket. He must communicate with them. I need you to monitor his post, his floo, and his interactions with other staff. He could be using them as pawns. Many of them seem weak and compliant to his will. Are you able to search his office?
I realise I am asking a lot of you, but needs must, and once again, I have complete confidence in you. I'm sure that it will take time to infiltrate Albus' communications, so I do not require regular reports, or expect fast results. I recommend you plan any action over the Christmas break and implement them when the students return.
The integrity of the Ministry lies with you,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister for Magic.
Delores Umbridge positivity glowed in the light of the letter smoldering into ash in her hand. Her response the the Minister, understanding the need for secrecy, simply said:
Dear Minister,
Your most obedient servant,
Delores Umbridge
Harry woke on Christmas Day with a feeling of hopefulness. He was beginning to believe him and Petunia were coming to some sort of cordial arrangement. Harry would never genuinely like Petunia, there was too much in the past for that to ever be a thing. But he could see that if she wanted to move forward positively, he could move forward with her.
At the end of his bed were presents that Hegwig had brought in the night. He'd sent Ron a present and letter yesterday morning confirming that everything was fine, and Hegwig hadn't come back. Harry guessed it was so that Hegwig could bring back Christmas gifts. The Weasley owl wasn't exactly up to it.
Harry's door burst open.
"Come on, bring that lot downstairs, we can open stuff together!" exclaimed Dudley excitedly, grabbing an armful of Harry's presents and taking them downstairs. Harry got dressed quickly and grabbed the remaining gifts, one feeling distinctly like a sweater, and went downstairs. Dudley had put the presents under the tree and was just about managing to wait for Harry.
"Come on, slow coach! Mum! Which can I open first?" Dudley asked.
Petunia came into the room with a plate of mince pies and a cup of coffee.
"There's a gift for you that's not under the tree, Dudley, but anything with blue paper is yours," she said, "Harry, anything with green paper is yours."
Harry looked under the tree. A quarter of the floor under it contained presents in green paper. There were twelve. Petunia had got him presents. Not just a present. Presents. Plural. Dudley threw a present at his head. His quick reflexes brought him back to reality.
"Thank you, Aunt Petunia."
"That one I picked," said Dudley, nodding at the gift in Harry's hands.
"Then in that case, open the gift with your name on that's wrapped in red paper from the ones you brought downstairs," said Harry, glad he'd decided to buy Dudley and Petunia a gift each. He'd thought about not doing, but on balance, keeping whatever semblance of peace was going on seemed more important.
Harry opened a set of Potions utensils. Everything from a silver paring knife to a stasis vial.
"Wow! Dudley!"
"There must be something in there that will improve your Potion making. With Snape as your Head of House you're going to need to get good Potions grades."
Dudley opened a set of quills and parchments designed to aid privacy. Every style of paper possible. Self-immolating, invisible ink, parchment that could be tuned to the reader, and various quills with different inks.
"I thought you and the twins would get caught less if you had better raw materials. I know the three of you write stuff down, I've seen you, but if anyone ever gets hold of your journals, you are screwed."
"Thanks, Harry," said Dudley, genuinely impressed with his gift.
"Aunt Petunia, this is for you," said Harry, passing Petunia a gift wrapped box.
"Harry, you shouldn't have," she said, meaning every word. She was taken aback, confused and to be honest, unable to deal with Harry getting her a present. For obvious reasons.
She unwrapped it. Harry had bought her a small porcelain wren to go with the other porcelain birds in her collection. She had tears in her eyes when she said thank you.
Harry and Dudley opened presents for the next hour. This year Dudley had less presents than usual but they were more meaningful. Harry got a beautiful leather-bound writing folder from Hermione, a box of chocolate frogs from Ron, and a box from the twins that said, "Open at Hogwarts". He gingerly put that down.
There was one present left in the room. Harry assumed it was for Dudley. It was big and wrapped in gold paper.
"One moment, Sweetums," said Petunia. She went outside and came back carrying an item that had a piece of wrapping paper over all sides bar one - the side Dudley couldn't see. "That present is for Harry, it came by owl yesterday evening. This present is for you."
Harry gaped in surprise. Dudley's wrapping paper said "Mew!"
There was a certain level of euphoria in Number 4 Privet Drive for the rest of the day. Harry over the moon about his new broom, and Dudley over the moon over his pet cat.
"Thanks Mum, he's beautiful," said Dudley, "I'm going to call him Loki."
"Loki was a real wizard, did you know that?" said Harry, "Hermione went on at me at length one day after I hadn't been paying attention in one of Binns' classes."
"Yeah, I think I got the same rant," said Dudley, "But the mischievousness was real. I love his ear tufts, they're so cute."
"I picked him for those," said Harry, "I hope I picked right, but he's from your mum, I just picked him out of the litter," he added hurriedly.
"He's beautiful," confirmed Dudley. "So, you really don't know who the Firebolt is from?"
"Nope. In First Year, my broom was from McGonagall, but there's no way she'd buy this, either cost, or she's already bought one, and anyway, I'm now on the Slytherin team. I can't see it being Snape. Or Lupin, I don't think Lupin has much money. And while my cloak was given to me by Dumbledore, that was mine anyway in a way, so no, no idea."
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," said Dudley, "While I have no interest in them, I've seen enough pictures in magazines around the common room to know It Flies."
"Definitely," said Harry.
"Lunch, boys!" interrupted Petunia.
Christmas dinner was as you'd expect. Turkey with all the trimmings.
After lunch, after they'd all eaten more than was good for them, Petunia suggested they go for a walk around the park to walk off dinner. The boys agreed. They'd told Petunia about the stray dog the other day, and Harry asked if he could put some turkey in his pocket in case they saw it again. Petunia didn't look over the moon at this request but said yes. Dudley took the opportunity to steal some turkey for his kitten, who was fast becoming his best friend.
They got to the park and the dog wasn't there. "Perhaps the RSPCA managed to catch him," said Harry hopefully. He didn't want the dog to be starving.
"Possibly," said Dudley, "We could walk down to the far end of the high street and see if it's where we left it," he added. They extended their walk, giving Petunia much more opportunity to stare into people's houses on their way past. A walk with Petunia was an education in middle class climbing.
"There it is!" said Dudley. The dog came bounding towards them when it recognised them. Harry gave it the turkey he'd brought. "Hey boy, you seem happier, I take it the supermarket rubbish bins had some good stuff in them!" The dog gave a couple of happy yaps.
Dudley turned to Petunia. "No," she said.
Dudley changed his question, "Can we take him to the park and throw some sticks then? We might manage to persuade him to stay in one place long enough for someone to pick him up." Petunia nodded. The dog wasn't totally scruffy, and was clearly better quality than Mrs Rumbold's poodle.
They spent some time in the park throwing sticks for the dog.
"So mum," said Dudley.
"No," said Petunia, "You have a kitten."
"No, not that. I was thinking that tomorrow we could go up to the downs and Harry could take his broom. There won't be anyone there, and maybe I could test out some of the Dervish and Bangs daytime fireworks you got me."
"That'd be awesome," agreed Harry. Both boys looked hopefully at Petunia, the dog barked for the stick to be thrown.
"I suppose we can, but just for an hour, it'll get cold otherwise. Which bit do you think has least chance of people?"
"We can go up to Norbury Park, the Crabtree Lane entrance, by the cake shop," said Dudley, "And maybe have some cake and a hot chocolate afterwards, to keep us warm, because like you said, it'll be cold."
"Quick thinking there, Dudley," said Harry.
"Well, you know me," said Dudley.
"Fine, yes, we can do that,"said Petunia, "And yes, elevensies at the cake shop cafe too. Be prepared to get up early, there'll be less people if we get there for 9. I'm sure most people want a lie-in on Boxing Day. The dog barked for the stick again."
Petunia screamed.
"It's ok mum," said Dudley, "That's normal, that's not even a dangerous one," he said, as Harry corkscrewed towards the ground with a beaming grin on his face.
"Make him stop!" said Petunia. Harry wasn't her child, and even though up to recently she hadn't really appreciated him, that was just reckless.
Dudley whistled loudly and Harry flew over.
"The look on mum's face wants you to slow down a bit," he said. Harry looked at Petunia. Oops.
"Sorry!"
After that he toned it down a bit, but still tested its very capable turning capacity, but a bit higher up in the air. Dudley kept a look out for people, but to be honest, Harry would see them miles away first from up there. There was no chance of them being spotted. After half an hour, Harry came down and offered Dudley a ride, but one look at Petunia's face made Dudley politely decline. Then they let off some fireworks. Some were labeled 'For when your elderly relatives come round. Pet safe.' Petunia thought they were beautiful, and to be fair, they were. The nice bit about magical fireworks was that they went up, down, round and round and were more like an art show than the up and bang of muggle ones.
When they'd finished letting off the 'safe' ones they walked back off the moor to the cafe and had hot chocolate and cake. Even Petunia had some Victoria Sponge. It'd been a nice morning.
It went a bit wrong when they got back to the car. There was a note under one of the windscreen wipers. Petunia read it then passed it to Harry. Dudley read it over Harry's shoulder.
'I'm glad you like the Firebolt, Harry.'
They all looked round. There was no-one in sight.
"Did you see anyone while you were up there?" asked Dudley.
"Nope."
"Are you sure?" insisted Petunia.
"Yes. Whoever wrote this note isn't a muggle though. They recognise a Firebolt," said Harry.
"Surely it's the same person who gave Harry the broom," reasoned Dudley.
"Well they could have said, instead of the stalker vibe," snapped Petunia, a bit upset.
"At least it wasn't a muggle," said Dudley, "Else we'd be screwed about the Statute of Secrecy."
"But we were spied on," said Petunia. "I don't like it, let's go home."
They got back in the car and drove home. None of them saw the man hiding in the trees, watching them go.