Hey people, how's things. To all my fellow Aussies, I hope you enjoyed your Aussie Day, despite the dodgy weather. This chapter comes with a bonus, which I wrote the other night. I decided that you don't get to see enough of Dudley in this story, so, his section is quite new. Enjoy! Also, sorry for the lateness, I tried to upload yesterday, but it wouldn't let me. :(

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PRESENTS

Four days after the train ride home from Hogwarts, Harrison sat beside his brother, staring up at the Christmas tree that they'd decorated the day he'd arrived home. Present lay scattered beneath the boughs, and both boys were impatient to open the gifts awaiting them.

Petunia entered the room, Santa hat jauntily atop her head, camera in hand.

"Aww, mum!" both boys complained on seeing the camera.

"It's tradition," she insisted.

The boys sighed simultaneously, and rolled their eyes. They turned to face their mum who set up the camera on a tripod and set the timer. She raced behind the boys, dropped a Santa hat on top of each head, and knelt between her two sons.

The boys grinned for the camera, despite their reluctance, they would comply with their mother's wish for Christmas.

The flash went off, and Petunia clapped excitedly. "Alright boys, Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, mum," Harrison and Dudley replied.

"Alright, Dudley, if you could do the honours, please?"

Dudley grinned and dived towards the presents. He whooped with delight as the first one he pulled out was for himself. He shook it gently until Harrison gave him a shove.

"Keep going!"

Dudley rolled his eyes, but set the gift aside.

"Alright, this one's for mum," Dudley said, handing her the scruffily wrapped box. Petunia took it with a smile and read the name tags scrawling writing. Harrison's penmanship always had been atrocious.

"Thank you Harrison," she said.

Harrison grinned. "Welcome!"

Dudley kept handing out the gifts until each of the Evans sat with a pile of goodies in front of them

"Alright, let's go," Petunia said.

The boys dived into their gifts, wrapping paper flying everywhere.

"Sweet!" "Awesome!"

"Thanks mum!"

"That one's from Santa!" "MUM! Santa? Really?"

"Ohhh, shiny!"

"Aw, man. Socks and underwear?"

"Heh, new bandanas!" "Yours are really starting to smell." "Gross." "Precisely."

Amidst the laughter and the sounds of paper being ripped, the Evans managed to run through all of the gifts beneath the tree. A new video player for the boys to share, as well as a few movies on tape had been their main gift. Petunia was finding it harder to buy for her sons now that they were of an age when toys were no longer appreciated quite so much. The new Lego sets and Transformers were appreciated.

Petunia's gift from Harrison was an assortment of wizarding sweets that he'd asked the Weasley twins to pick up in Hogsmeade village for him. There was also a scarf in Gryffindor colours, and a set of bananas for her from both boys.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Petunia cried, and shot to her feet. She hurried from the room, and came back holding a parcel wrapped in silky silver material.

"This came for Harrison, via owl. It must be from one of your new friends," Petunia said.

Harrison took it gently, and read the attached card.

"Harry. Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well."

"Use it well? That's a weird thing to say about a cloak," Dudley said.

Harrison shrugged. The writing was the same as had been on his initial Hogwarts invitation. None of the professors called him Harry, so he wondered if perhaps it had come from Headmaster Dumbledore. Having never had a conversation with the man, he had no idea if the wizard would address him by his birth name, or by his chosen name.

"Put it on, then," Petunia insisted. "I'll get a picture of you in it."

Harrison shrugged, but gamely stood up and slung the cloak around his shoulders. He was met with gasps and a choking sound from his brother. He looked down at himself, only to find his body seemed to have vanished!

"I'm invisible!" he cried.

"Holy shit!"

"Dudley!" Petunia scolded. "Language."

"Sorry, but...holy smoke!"

Harrison lifted the cloak above his head, and enjoyed the feeling of knowing that he couldn't be seen. He crept up behind his mother and blew a cold breath onto her neck, jumping back when she swatted at the invasion. He laughed and pulled the cloak off.

"This is awesome!" Harrison enthused. "Think of all the trouble I could get into."

Petunia scowled. She could well imagine the sort of trouble her son could get himself into with a cloak that made him invisible. What kind of person gave an eleven year old an invisibility cloak? She sighed unhappily.

"This belonged to my father?" Harrison re-read. "Wow...this is...well, the first thing I've ever had of his."

Petunia sighed softly. It wasn't often that Harrison brought up his birth parents. She'd tried to tell him as much about Lily as she could, but, having never met James Potter, it had been hard to teach him anything about the man.

"Mum...I've been meaning to ask, but, I didn't really know how to bring it up. Did you know that I'm famous in the wizarding world?" Harrison asked. "I mean...not, me, exactly, but Harry Potter is a household name."

Petunia looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Harry Potter. His name is almost...well, I hate to use the comparison, especially on Christmas day and all, but he's a bit like Jesus."

"Dude, that's a little extreme," Dudley said.

"I know! But that's what it's like there. They practically worship the name. They call him the Boy-Who-Lived."

Dudley snorted with laughter. "What a dumbass name."

Harrison grinned. At least he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Why do they call you...him that?" Petunia asked.

"Well, you remember the wizarding war? The one my birth parents died in. Anyway, according to all the stories, this really evil wizard Voldemort came to kill the Potters. He killed Aunt Lily and my dad, and then he tried to kill me. But something happened. Instead of killing me, it destroyed him, and I was left with the lightning bolt scar. Everyone knows about the scar, and everyone thinks that Harry Potter is a hero or something."

Petunia felt breathless, taking in her sons' story. It seemed implausible, but she remembered something that she'd been warned about a decade ago.

"Wait here," she whispered, and left the boys beside the brightly decorated Christmas tree.

She returned moments later with a shoe-box, the edges tattered and fraying. She opened the lid and took out an old blue blanket. Harrison reached for it, running his fingers over the embroidery sewn into the top right corner. It was a family crest that read 'Potter' in old-fashioned script.

Petunia pulled out a bundle of letters and found the first of them.

"This was left with you, when you first came to me," Petunia said.

Harrison took it with shaking hands. He recognised the writing to be the same as from the note with the invisibility cloak.

"'Dear Petunia,

I write to you to ask that you take this boy, your sister's son, into your home to raise as you would your own. Terrible events have taken place in your sister's world that have left young Lily, and her husband James dead. Harry is the last in the line of Potter's, and already his name is being heralded as the saviour of the wizarding world. I fear that raising him amongst his own kind will only hinder him in the long run.

Raise him away from the hype, and away from the fame that will surely run wild for years to come. Raise him with love, and with humility, and with a strong sense of right and wrong. He must be kept from this world until it is his time to attend Hogwarts. The name Harry Potter will be on every wizard's tongue for decades to come. It is no way for a child to be raised. I can only hope that you will give him the home and family that his own parents no longer can.

Yours, Albus Dumbledore.'"

"That's all he ever really said," Petunia said. "That you would be famous. Harrison...I wish I'd thought to tell you. Ten years ago, Dumbledore thought that you would be famous. It's one of the many reasons that I changed your name. When you were accepted to Hogwarts, it never occurred to me that Harry Potter would still be famous. Because you aren't 'Harry Potter' to me."

"Nor to me," Harrison said. "Only Hermione and Neville even know the truth. I'm just Harrison to everyone else. They want to worship the Boy-Who-Lived as the messiah, and I just want to finish First Year."

"Harrison, you can be whoever you want to be," Petunia said. "If you want to tell people that you were born Harry Potter, then that's up to you."

Harrison shook his head. "My name is Harrison Evans," he replied firmly. "You raised me as your son, and I'm not about to throw that away to use a name that doesn't mean anything to me."

Petunia hugged her son fiercely. Dudley held back for a moment, before he shrugged and tackled his brother and mother in a combined hug. Petunia kissed both her sons' yellow-clad heads.

"Come on...who wants Christmas lunch?"

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Dudley Evans never really looked forward to Boxing Day. He'd much rather be spending the day with his family, playing video games with Harrison, or eating leftovers with his mum, rather than having to sit through a formal lunch with his Aunt Marge, and his father Vernon Dursley.

Sitting at the table, which had been colour co-ordinated to a gold and silver theme this year, Dudley yanked impatiently at the tie surrounding his neck. He scowled unhappily. Harrison didn't have to wear a tie. And he got to go and visit his friend, Hermione.

Meanwhile, Dudley had to sit through his father bad-mouthing Harrison, and his mum.

"Can't believe that you're at that dreadful school. Stonewall Academy, isn't it?" Marge asked.

Dudley nodded. "It's a great school. I'm doing really well in classes."

"Great school, my eye," Vernon huffed. "You should have been at Smeltings, like I was."

This was a familiar argument from his father.

"Well, we never know how many weeks I'll get to attend, dad," Dudley said. "We're better off saving the money for bills and stuff then sending me to Smeltings."

Vernon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And how is your 'treatment' going?"

Dudley forced himself not to roll his eyes.

"It's fine dad. The doctors are saying that I'm doing really well. I've been in remission for nearly six months now."

"All thanks to that good for nothing donor of yours, I take it."

"If you're talking about Harrison-"

"Hah! Harrison, indeed. His parents didn't name him anything quite so fancy. Petunia only changed it because she was so ashamed at how common it sounded," Marge interjected.

Dudley winced, and he felt an aggravated tic twitch his right eye.

"My brother saved my life," Dudley defended.

"He is not your brother!" Vernon yelled.

Dudley flew out of his seat, not even caring as the backing hit the floor. He planted his hands on the table and stared defiantly at his father.

"If it wasn't for Harrison, I would be dead."

"He could have infected you with that magical namby pamby of his," Vernon argued.

"I wish he had!" Dudley cried.

Vernon fell silent, and he stared at his son in disbelief. "What?"

Dudley gathered up his courage and kept his eyes on his father. "I wish that's how it worked," he said. "I wish his blood had made me magical. I wish I could be at Hogwarts with him."

Vernon turned roughly the colour of a tomato, and he stared incredulously at his son.

He'd known the instant that Harry Potter had been found on the Dursley's doorstep that taking him in would ruin their family. Every problem he'd had in the last ten years stemmed from that decision. His family had fallen apart, his marriage had disintegrated, and things at work were going poorly. He was certain that he'd have been offered the promotion if he'd had a wife and child at home to brag about to his bosses.

Harry Potter was the bane of his existence. And his son wanted to be like him.

"You don't know what it's like," Dudley said. "Being the one who's sick all the time. Being the one who has to rely on everyone else for even the simplest things. Some days it's all I can do to get out of bed. And other days are great. This is the best I've felt in years, and I know in my gut that it's because of Harrison. So, you can hate him all you like, but he is my brother, and I wish I could do what he can. I wish I was magical."

Vernon's eyes seemed to get rounded at each of Dudley's proclamations. Marge stared at the boy as though he were a particularly ugly alien that had landed in the living room.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes I do," Dudley replied. "I know exactly what I'm saying. I wish my life could be like his."

"Well it can't," Marge said cruelly.

"I know," Dudley replied. "And mostly I'm okay with that. But I hate being the one left behind. I only get two weeks with my brother, and I have to waste a day of it here.

Vernon and Marge were shocked speechless by the suggestion that their company was undesirable.

"In that case, I think we should call it a day. I'll call your mother, and arrange for her to pick you up," Marge said, hoping to get a rise out of Dudley, and have him beg to be allowed to stay.

Dudley smiled. "That'd be great." He held out a slip of paper with a phone number on it that Harrison had given him. 'Just in case.' "This is the number."

00000000000000000

An hour later, Harrison, Hermione and Dudley were seated cross-legged on Hermione's bedroom floor. A Monopoly board was stretched between them, and Dudley was gleefully counting the pile of money at his feet. Harrison apprehensively rolled the dice and moved the race car around the board. He groaned dramatically as he landed on Park Lane.

Dudley gleefully informed him of how much rent he had to pay, and Harrison put together the fee, handing it over with a sense of resignation.

"I told you, there's no beating Dudley at this game," Harrison said.

Hermione stared at the board, not entirely certain how Dudley had become so rich in such a short space of time. She'd bought a lot of properties herself, but Dudley had traded with the other two for properties that had seemed worthless, but that had completed his collection of colours. He'd invested in houses, and then hotels, and had managed to own the entire home-stretch leading to the 'Go' square.

Every time either Harrison or Hermione's pieces went around the final corner, Dudley became richer.

Hermione took her turn, and thankfully landed on one of her own properties. She took the time to buy a few hotels, and to try to bargain with Dudley for the final card that would complete the set of red properties she owned. Dudley was steadfast in his refusal.

After the next few turns it was clear that Dudley was well ahead, and that neither Harrison nor Hermione could make any type of comeback. Dudley was crowned winner, and the trio moved on to a game of Scrabble.

Needless to say, Hermione beat the pants off the Evans' brothers.

By the time it came for the boys to return home, Dudley had forgotten about the confrontation with his father. Boxing Day had finally become something that he could remember without cringing, and he'd even managed to beat his brother fair and square in front of his brother's girlfriend. Dudley smirked. Getting Harrison to blush bright red was not only fun, it was funny as well. He scored himself bonus points if his comments could make Hermione turn pink as well.

All in all, Dudley thought, it was a day well spent.

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A/N: So, this was mostly written on Christmas Eve of 2011. I'd been stalled on this chapter for weeks, but it seems all I needed was a bit of Christmas spirit. And hanging out at mum's with no internet connection. Hence, writing.

Dudley's half was written exactly a month after Christmas day. What is it about the 24th/25th of a month that is so good for writing?

Anyway, if all goes well this weekend, I should be going to see the Harry Potter Exhibition at the Sydney Powerhouse Museum. Squee! *ahem*