It was Dudley's birthday today, and Harry Potter was up early - as usual. He was trying to cook a fabulous breakfast for the birthday boy (although he didn't give himself good odds of actually succeeding. After all, he wasn't allowed to use more ... anything, really... than usual). He turned the bacon out and onto the serving dish, giving a triumphant grin as he saw that it was just the perfect amount of crispness. Harry pulled the crumpets and scones out of the oven, and had them neatly sitting on the table, when Aunt Petunia looked up from her book in the living room. "Dudley! Happy Birthday!" She called, and Dudley said, "Coming mum!" Within three minutes, he was clomping down the stairs, his enormous bulk making the stairs creak noisily. Not much for sneaking him. He dashed through the kitchen, grabbing a rasher of bacon and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth.
Harry Potter stood at attention in the doorway of the living room, as Dudley's greasy hands started to paw through his presents. Despite the brand new bicycle and Gameboy, Dudley wasn't happy. He began to squeal and yell, throwing a mighty tantrum at the idea of not getting enough presents. Not wanting to be the target of his cousins' misplaced rage (or, more likely, Uncle Vernon's guilttrip about how it was all Harry Potter's fault that Dudley didn't get enough presents).
Harry went upstairs, starting to clean Dudley's room, looking jealously at the wide array of toys. Dudley's birthdays were a sort of birthday for Harry as well (he wasn't quite sure when his own birthdate was - the Dursleys didn't celebrate it, and nobody seemed to care that he wrote February 29th as his birthdate - Harry figured that was the least likely date, but hmph.), because Dudley would toss some of his old broken or worn out toys in Harry's general direction. Dudley seemed to not really realize that the toys he had "got rid of" didn't actually leave with the trash. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, seemed to actually approve. Handmedowns were what she thought Harry Potter ought to have. Uncle Vernon was entirely too self-absorbed (and infrequently home) to really bother with Harry - which was fine by him.
Harry Potter heard the telephone ring, and he stood at the edge of Dudley's room, shamelessly eavesdropping. Because, really, why shouldn't he? They'd expect him to know it all without telling him, so why shouldn't he learn while he could? "Oh, how awful! I can't believe your Siamese has distemper!" That would be Mrs. Figg, of course. Aunt Petunia's wrinkling nose says she's not actually sympathetic, more thinking how this will rebound on her. "Of course you've got to keep the poor dear company. No, I perfectly understand! We'll just have to take the hellion to the zoo ourselves." Wow, for my Aunt that was almost kind... Wait - they don't mean...? I'm going to the zoo?
In a flash, Harry was downstairs, hurriedly stuffing two scones into his pockets. It's not like they'll bother to feed me, so I'd better get something while there's something to be got. "Mum! Harry's eating before everyone again!" Dudley cried out, having spotted Harry stuffing his pockets.
Aunt Petunia looked up, and Harry tried out his most disarming expression, to zero effect. "He doesn't seem to be eating a thing, dear. Hurry up and eat your breakfast, and then we can go to the zoo. Won't that be fun?"
"But MOOOM! Look at his pockets!" Dudley said.
Uncle Vernon looked up. Harry froze, letting his expression return to true neutral. "Your pockets, boy."
Harry hesitantly showed the two scones, and Uncle Vernon said sternly, "No supper for you. You can keep your illgotten gains, but apologize to your cousin. He's a growing boy and needs to eat well."
"I'm sorry, Dudley," Harry said, schooling his voice to a sincerity that he didn't really feel. He wanted to make a face at the chubby boy, but Harry never got what he wanted, and was rather resigned to that fate.
[a/n: Yawn. Slight deviations are entirely Harry's fault. No other characters have been modified... so far.
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