8

The Weasleys stayed late and when Sirius woke up the next morning, he almost regretted promising Arthur to get Christmas presents for all his kids. It meant a trip to an overcrowded Diagon Alley.

'Do you think I should take Harry?' he asked Moony as they were preparing breakfast. Harry had not showed yet. 'I know he'll love it and he'll have fun picking out presents for them.'

'He still doesn't know the truth,' said Moony hesitantly. 'It's a risk. You'll get mobbed if someone recognises him, you know that?'

'Yeah, I know. I just thought… well, the cold is a good excuse to put him in a hat, right? Hide that bloody scar, and Harry won't even realise it.' He did not want to make Harry wear a disguise. He was already asking him to tell too many lies, not only about being magic but also Moony's furry little problem. For Merlin's sake, he was even at school under a false name – though he probably believed that this was so his aunt and uncle could not find him.

'Your call, Padfoot.'

Sirius kept pondering the dilemma over breakfast. Since Harry was chattering nonstop about the Weasley kids, Sirius decided that the benefits outweighed the risk. Harry would be introduced to Diagon Alley, he would get to give presents to his new friends and undergo his first venture into magical Britain. A hat and maybe a little Notice-Me-Not Charm should be enough to make sure he was not recognised.

When he suggested Harry accompanying him, he was instantly thrilled, unable to sit still for the rest of the meal. 'Can we get something for Bennie, too?'

'I'm not sure if we can find something at Diagon Alley for him, Harry. He mustn't know about magic. But I'm sure we can find something for him.'

Before leaving, Sirius made sure that Harry was wrapped up in a scarf and – more importantly – a hat. Harry seemed a little puzzled at being fussed over but did not comment on it.

'We'll probably be back a little after lunchtime,' Sirius informed Moony. 'We won't eat out. The Leaky Cauldron will be overflowing. Do you need anything?'

Moony shook his head. 'I'm all set. I think I'll lie down for a bit.'

'I'll make sure we have plenty of time.' The sun would be setting before four o'clock that day and Moony was in for more than sixteen hours as a wolf. They were both hoping that it would be quiet night, otherwise things could get very straining. Still, Harry did not need to know that. He waved a cheerful goodbye to Moony and Sirius apparated the both of them to London, across the street from the Leaky Cauldron.

'You stay close by, okay?' he reminded Harry. 'It'll be very crowded. It's probably best if you take my hand.' Harry getting lost was the worst-case scenario. It would probably get them a spot in the newspapers. He grabbed Sirius' hand obediently.

The pub was jam packed, dark and hot. Sirius focused on passing through, not bothering to check if he recognised anybody.

'Were they all magic?' asked Harry as they stepped out into the tiny yard with the dustbins.

'Yes, all of them. Well, there might have been a muggle here or there, but they can only enter if they are with a wizard or witch.' He drew his wand and after two failed attempts, located the correct brick he needed to tap for the gateway to Diagon Alley to open.

'Welcome to Diagon Alley,' said Sirius, grinning at the look on his godson's face. His mouth stood open.

At least half of magical Britain seemed to be about to buy last minutes gifts. Sirius took great care to keep hold of Harry's hand as they pushed their way through the crowd. The conditions were hardly ideal for a good first look at the place but Sirius was sure that the toyshop would make up for it.

'This is where you got my dragons,' noted Harry as they entered.

'Yeah, it is. Do you think Ron would like one?' They spent two highly enjoyable hours looking through all the shelves for good presents and finally left the shop with a bulging bag.

They had looked at magical dolls for Ginny but Harry had decided against it. 'She doesn't like girly stuff,' he had explained. 'She can throw a snowball harder than Ron but I didn't tell him that.' Sirius chuckled. Apparently, there was more to that girl than met the eye. Harry had decided to get her a set of seven multi-coloured self-spinning gyroscopes some of which even lit up or played music. Harry was fascinated by them and hoped that Ginny would share his enthusiasm. Sirius was optimistic.

They bought a dragon each for Ron and Charlie – the latter had admired Harry's collection loudly and honestly. Charlie's favourite subject was Care of Magical Creatures, and a greater passion of his even than Quidditch, he had told them. It would be a toy for Ron and more of a trinket for Charlie but Sirius was confident that he would still like it.

Fred and George were easy. Sirius and Harry picked out a wide selection of little joke items for them, and Sirius felt just a little sorry for the rest of the family.

Percy and Bill were the only ones who would probably not revel at being given toys. Sirius decided to get Percy an owl, by way of compensation for his lost pet. They picked a small-ish dark grey female that even by owl standards looked very severe and dignified. Sirius supposed that Percy would admire those qualities in her. Bill would be getting a set of books on advanced curse breaking, something Sirius was sure would interest him and that he would not have had the gold to buy for himself. He also picked up Caught Between Scales and Fire, a set of biographies on famous dragon handlers which he was certain Charlie would enjoy – he had spent a substantial amount of the previous evening talking to Moony about the topic and had borrowed one of Moony's books on the history of attempted dragon taming. That one was titled Taming the Inferno; Bill had flicked through, too, and commented that 101 Delicious Ideas for Wizard Barbecue might have been a more fitting title. Molly had not been amused.

After they had bought all the presents for the Weasley kids, they took a quick detour into muggle London to find a gift for Ben. It was two o'clock when they got back home, a little later than Sirius had planned but not in itself a problem yet. He made lunch while Harry went upstairs to pack his overnight bag. They arrived at Ben's a just after three and received a warm welcome.

Sam invited Sirius in for a cuppa but he excused himself, telling him that they needed to get going. He hugged Harry goodbye. 'Have fun, yeah? And I'll pick you up tomorrow morning.'

Harry nodded. 'Bye, Sirius. See you tomorrow.'

Back at home, Sirius woke Moony and together they once more stripped the room. Sirius magically increased the volume of his alarm that he had set to a minute after sunrise and placed it just outside the door. He could not risk oversleeping.

Moony was restless, pawing at the bolted door for the first hour before pacing up and down the room nervously. Still, they eventually both fell asleep, to be woken again every few hours. It had to be expected. Nobody could sleep sixteen hours at once, certainly not a werewolf on a full moon but Moony did not injure himself, which was the whole point.

Both of them started when the alarm went off. Sirius instantly got to work and Moony managed to pull on pyjamas before collapsing on his bed.

Harry was happy and excited when Sirius picked him up.

'You look tired,' commented Sam when he saw him.

Sirius shrugged. 'I've looked worse.' He would not let the lack of sleep bother him. He had a lot planned.

After wishing everyone a happy Christmas, they set off into the nearby forest to look for a tree.

'Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have one made out of plastic,' Harry told him. 'It's decorated and everything. Uncle Vernon just gets it down from the attic every year and then Aunt Petunia just wipes the dust off.'

'Ah, well, we'll need to do the decorating ourselves.'

And that was what they did. Sirius supposed that some might say that they had gone overboard with tinsel but they both loved it. Lunch was a simple affair of sandwiches, as they would be having a proper Christmas Dinner later. They wrapped all the presents they had bought the previous day and after putting a Featherlight Charm on the sizable parcels, sent Mercury and the yet unnamed owl that would be Percy's on their way to make the delivery. Afterwards, they got to work cooking. Sirius was still no great chef but they would have to make do. Harry was a great help.

'Aunt Petunia makes me help all the time,' he told Sirius. Sirius felt guilty as he heard this but the feeling passed when Harry continued, 'But you don't shout at me all the time so this is much more fun. I like helping you a lot.'

They had Christmas carols playing all day on full volume after Sirius had soundproofed Moony's room. The only woke him when dinner was ready. He was tired but happy, and admired their decorative talents. They sat around eating, talking and playing for a while but nobody vetoed an early night, not even Harry. He could not have gotten much sleep at Ben's.

Harry crawled into Sirius' bed sometime in the middle of the night without even waking him up. When he asked later, Harry said that he could not remember why he had come. Sirius did not pry. Harry did not often come to him in the night, maybe once or twice a fortnight, usually after he had had a nightmare and could not go back to sleep.

Harry was reading when Sirius woke up, something that surprised him. He had assumed that Harry would wake him early, eager for presents. There did not seem to be anything wrong with him, though. He smiled at Sirius cheerfully and wished him a good morning.

'Have you heard Moony yet?' asked Sirius with a yawn and a look at his alarm. It was not even eight yet and still pitch-black outside.

'No.'

'How long have you been up?'

'Half an hour or so. I've been reading. There's this girl, Lucy, and she found a forest in a wardrobe. Are there really forests in wardrobes?'

'Forests in wardrobes?' repeated Sirius, rubbing his eyes and trying to get his brain to work. 'No idea. I've never seen one but you never know – there's all sorts of stuff around.' He yawned again. 'Come on, let's wake up Moony.'

Harry jumped out of bed eagerly and ran ahead. By the time Sirius got to Moony's room, the latter had pulled Harry onto his bed. 'Five more minutes,' he growled, holding the child trapped against his chest. Harry giggled.

'It's Christmas, Moony,' said Sirius. 'Come on. I want to open my presents!'

Moony sighed and let Harry go. 'What makes you think you get presents?' he teased.

'I've been good,' Sirius protested. 'Harry, have I been good?'

Harry nodded obediently.

'He'll say yes to everything you say,' commented Moony dismissively, getting out of bed.

Sirius snorted. 'Harry, has Moony been a big, bad wolf who will not get any presents if he keeps being mean?'

'He gets a present from me,' said Harry diplomatically as they started down the stairs.

Moony chuckled and ruffled his hair. 'Good boy,' he praised.

They let Harry go first, and Sirius indicated for him to open the door to the sitting room. Usually, it stood open. Harry turned the handle and pushed. Then, he remained motionless.

The room was rather a sight. The Christmas tree they had decorated the day before glittered in gold, silver and red. The fire in the fireplace was burning, warming up the room. And under the tree lay one rather sizable pile of presents, along with two considerably smaller ones.

'Merry Christmas,' said Sirius with a grin, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry remained rigid for another few seconds and then looked up at him.

'Are they for me?' he asked.

'Of course.'

'From you?'

Sirius hesitated, wondering whether to credit Father Christmas but decided that this question was probably a serious one. He nodded. 'From me and from Moony.'

Harry's eyes darted back and forth between him and the tree a few times. Sirius was unable to read his face. He could not possibly be disappointed, could he? Usually, he was happy about any present, even if it was just a chocolate frog. Had he expected more?

Sirius had asked him to write a Christmas list twice but he had not done so. Sirius had not spent too much time mulling this over – it was obviously just one more thing to do with the bloody Dursleys – but in the end, there had been nothing that he could have done about it. Besides, even without a list, he had still found enough things that he thought Harry would like. And how could Harry be disappointed when he had not even unwrapped a single one? Although… there had been talk of a bicycle that was obviously not there. Sirius had not wanted to buy one as a surprise. He did not know anything about them. Instead, he had been planning to take Harry to pick one himself when the weather got warmer.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Harry burst into tears. Sirius picked him up and carried him over to the couch where he sat down with the child in his lap. He stroked his back. 'Do you want to tell me?' he asked.

There was no answer but the fact that Harry's fists clutched the fabric of his pyjama top was a little relieving. He did not seem to be angry with him. Sirius looked to Moony, silently asking his opinion. He shrugged helplessly.

Sirius sighed and pulled Harry close, running a hand up and down his back, comforting him. After several minutes, Harry gurgled a strained 'I'm sorry' between his sobs.

'I have no idea what you would need to be sorry for,' answered Sirius, rocking him back and forth. There was nothing else to do in this situation – he knew that from experience but it still pained him. He wanted to help Harry, to make him hurt less, but he could not. He could only sit and wait for him to calm down.

After more than half an hour, Harry's sobs died down. Sirius kept holding him. If Harry wanted to talk, he would, and if he did not, there was nothing to be gained by pushing.

Sirius had to strain his ears to make out the whispered sentence. 'Father Christmas doesn't bring presents for freaks.'

Sirius' chest clenched painfully. He looked up in time to catch a murderous expression in Moony's eyes. He got to his feet. 'I'll be back in a bit,' he said. 'Something to do.' Sirius did not have to ask to know what said something was. Had he not been scared of the consequences, he would have torn Vernon and Petunia Dursley limb from limb weeks ago.

'Make sure you come back,' he answered. Azkaban was a horrible place and creeps like the Dursleys were not worth Moony even spending a single hour there. Moony nodded silently and after he left the room, Sirius returned his full attention to Harry.

'Father Christmas is not real,' he said, stroking his head. 'And you are not a freak. On the contrary, you're the best kid I've ever met.'

Harry remained silent for a minute until he spoke again. 'I cost a lot of hard-earned money. I should be grateful that someone is feeding me at all. I'm not worth giving presents to.'

Sirius saw red for a second. He wanted to go after Moony, and screw Azkaban, screw everything. They were monsters, filthy, dirty, little creeps, lowlifes. He was going to… But no. Harry needed him. Harry had just trusted him with something very delicate. He needed to stay, he needed to be strong. They should pay but Harry was more important.

'Firstly, my money is not hard-earned…' he began, staying with his strategy to calmly deny all the lies the Dursleys had always told Harry. His voice was shaking with supressed anger. He took a deep breath to calm himself. '…and you don't cost a lot of it. I love you, so of course I will give you everything you need. What I want most is to see you happy. And you are so worth giving presents to, Harry.'

Harry waited again until he spoke. 'Dudley is a good boy, he gets presents. I should be grateful I'm not outside in the cold.'

'Dudley is not a good boy. I think he's a very mean boy. And I'm here to look after you. You don't have to be afraid of being outside in the cold. I'll make sure that never happens. Okay?'

Harry nodded but his face remained hidden. Sirius waited for more confessions. He was not naïve enough to believe that this had been all the painful lies of the Dursleys' that had wormed their way into Harry's head. They would only have been the most pressing ones.

'Sirius?'

He looked down to the head that was still buried in his soaked shoulder. 'Yeah?'

'I love you.'

Sirius' heart skipped a beat and for a moment, he did not quite believe his ears. Then, soothing warmth spread across his chest, pushing back the anger. 'And I love you, Harry. I love you more than anything.'

They still sat on the sofa like this when Moony returned a few minutes later. 'Are you okay?' he asked.

Sirius nodded. 'Yeah, we're good, aren't we, Harry?'

Harry finally looked up. His eyes were still red and puffy but he was smiling. 'Yeah, I'm good.'

Moony smiled at them.

'Come on then,' said Sirius, letting Harry slide off his lap. 'Presents. Who'll go first?'

'Harry,' said Moony promptly. They settled on the floor in front of the tree and after an encouraging nod from Sirius, Harry hesitantly grabbed the first little parcel at the top of his pile. He was very careful when unwrapping it and Sirius got the uncomfortable feeling that he had never torn off wrapping paper before. Still, that was in the past now.

When Harry had neatly removed all the paper, he grinned up at Sirius. He was holding a Peruvian Vipertooth, the last dragon species missing in his collection. 'Thank you.' He woke the dragon by nudging its snout with his index finger. It instantly took off and after a brief look about the room settled on one of the higher branches of the tree.

Sirius smiled back. 'You're welcome.' He then indicated for Moony to open his first present. It was a novel that he had read reviews of in the Daily Prophet.

'Thanks, Padfoot. I've been wanting to read this.' He set it aside. 'Now you.'

Sirius grabbed his first parcel. It was large and heavy. He tore off the paper, too impatient to do it as neatly as Moony and Harry had. It revealed a book as well, bound in handsome leather.

'Harry and I made it together,' explained Moony.

Sirius opened it to the first page. It bore a picture of him and Harry on the beach, taken just a week after Harry had moved in with them. He quickly skimmed through the pages. The book was full of pictures, all taken within the last three months. Thinking about it, he could remember Moony having a camera from time to time. There were descriptions under many of the photos in Harry's handwriting as well as decorations drawn between them.

'Do you like it?' asked Harry. 'Moony got the pictures and the book and we stuck them in together.'

'I love it,' said Sirius honestly. He kissed a beaming Harry's forehead and pulled Moony into a brief one-armed hug. 'Thank you, Harry. Thanks, Moony.'

Harry's next present was from Moony. He had spent quite a few evenings over the course of the past weeks whittling, making a small dog, wolf and stag that he had then painted and charmed to move. 'He looks like you, Sirius,' noted Harry and picked the dog up.

Moony smiled. 'It's us. Sirius, your dad and me.'

'You made them?' asked Harry.

'Yes. I'm sorry – I didn't have that much money to buy things, like Sirius did, but…'

'Oh, but I like them,' interrupted Harry. 'I didn't know you could make things.' He scooted over to Moony and sat himself on his lap. 'Thank you.'

Moony smiled contentedly and slung an arm around Harry. 'You're very welcome.'

Sirius once more admired how Harry seemed to have a knack to say what Moony needed to hear. He knew that Harry did not mind that Moony's present was not worth a lot of gold. Moony had put time and effort into it, and Harry had recognised that.

They continued unwrapping presents for a while yet. Harry had most by far of course, and most from Sirius, some picked with Moony's help. There were quite a few books and some clothes but the majority were toys, both muggle and magic ones. Sirius had bought a number of Lego boxes since they were Ben and Harry's favourite thing to play with together. There was also a small set to make a car from Ben that Sam had passed to Sirius the previous morning when Harry had not been looking.

Sirius had bought Moony a large box of chocolates and some new clothes. He knew the latter was a rather lame gift but one he most definitely needed – some of his robes consisted of more patches than original fabric. In turn, Moony had gotten him a holster for his wand that could be strapped to the forearm.

'For you paranoia,' he had explained with a smile. He was right, too, but Sirius would never forget that Prongs had died without a wand in his hand. Had he and Lily had their wands, they might have stood a chance if not necessarily to win, at least to flee. He quickly shook off those thoughts – not at Christmas, he reminded himself – and thanked Moony.

All three of them had received similar parcels from the Weasleys. They had arrived by owl the previous evening, each containing a tin of biscuits and a hand-knitted scarf. Harry's was green (to match his eyes, said the note that had been attached), Sirius' blue and Moony's a dark orange. Harry had also received a sparkling ornament and a card, made by Ron and Ginny. The ornament was given a place of honour on the tree. The card featured a drawing of a group of kids, involved in a passionate snowball fight. Harry ran his finger over his own likeness (the only child without the vibrantly red hair) and smiled contentedly.

When Harry stayed behind in the sitting room and Sirius and Moony were in the kitchen preparing breakfast, Sirius finally had a chance to ask the question he had been burning to ask all morning. 'What did you do?'

Moony smiled contritely. 'Well, I may have dumped a pile of coal in their front garden.'

Sirius laughed. 'Coal? As in, nice kids get presents and naughty kids get charcoal?'

'Yeah, I thought it would send a message. And it's hardly illegal. I made sure not to break anything.'

'A prank, then. They deserve much worse, of course, but it should bug them.'

'It should. He won't be able to move his car until he's moved about three cubic metres of the stuff.'

Sirius laughed loudly at them image of Vernon Dursley swearing and sweating, his face covered in soot as he shovelled coal under the judging eyes of his nosey neighbours.

The day was quiet and Harry happy after the admittedly rocky start. Moony did most of the cooking, producing a delicious roast turkey with all the trimmings. They talked and played all day, testing most of Harry's presents. The fire was warm, the sitting room was cosy, the food was good. They had biscuits and lots of hot chocolate until their stomachs ached. All was as it should be.

When Sirius tucked Harry in that night, Harry slung his arms around him extra tightly. 'Thank you, Sirius,' he said. 'That was the best Christmas ever.'

Sirius chuckled and ruffled his hair. 'I know. I liked it, too. It was definitely better than my last seven ones. And I bet Moony's, too.'

'It was,' said Moony from the door, smiling. 'I wanted to say goodnight.'

Harry freed an arm and as Moony approached, he pulled him in so that he was hugging both men. There was a great sense of unity in that moment, despite the fact that Sirius' body was uncomfortably twisted to make space for Moony.

It took Sirius a moment to place the sensation. It felt like a distant memory, a feeling he remembered from… from Hogwarts, and James's house. Like happiness and safety and friends, only stronger… Family. It felt like family.

This surprised Sirius. He had never had an easy relationship to the concept. He had grown to resent his biological family quite early on. Then, Prongs had been his family, Fleamont and Euphemia his surrogate parents. When the two of them had died, he had been left with Prongs. The family had grown again, with Lily and then Harry but after Prongs' death…

Sirius had not expected to find something like this again. Yet, here it was. Moony was his best friend now. They were not as close as he had been with Prongs and they would probably never be – at least, not in the same way – but he knew that he would never find anybody who would understand him better than Moony. They shared a history, had experienced the same adolescence, jokes and friends but also the same loss and loneliness. They made a good team.

And then there was Harry, of course. Sirius had not quite understood what Prongs had meant when Harry had been born, when he had said, "It's like everything depends on him now. I'd do anything for him." He had not felt it then. Sure, he had felt protective and distinctly warm toward the little pink creature but that was nothing compared to how important Harry was now. He wanted him to stay just as safe and warm and happy as he was now, whatever the cost.

They remained put until Harry had fallen asleep which did not take long – it was late and Harry had had an exciting day. Sirius planted another kiss on his forehead. Harry had told him that he loved him. That was big, very big. He told Moony about it when they went back downstairs. Moony just smiled knowingly.

-oOo-

Meanwhile, the Dursleys' had already retired into their respective rooms after a straining day.

In fact, it had been a straining few months. The rumour mill in Little Whinging had begun to spin almost as soon as Sirius had taken charge of his godson. It had not escaped people's notice that little Harry Potter had vanished from one day to the next.

According to what Mrs Dursley had to say on the matter, he had gone to live with his godfather. Not few had seen the man, the handsome one, the one with the dark hair, the leather jacket and the motorcycle. He had been spotted with the boy, had been the one to pick him up from school just a few days before the child had last been seen.

When questioned, Mrs Dursley did her best to relay that she was glad to be shot of her unruly nephew but she had not accounted for the secretary with a passion for gossip who had witnessed the last encounter between her and the boy. She described a heart-breaking scene in which two men, the one with the haunted eyes and the one with the scarred face, had comforted the crying child after Mrs Dursley had been cold and vindictive towards him.

There was many a debate at the school gates as to which version was more believable. The secretary's credibility was furthered by the fact that all the various misdeeds that had always been attributed to Harry Potter continued even though the boy was gone. It seemed that he had not been the troublemaker he had been made out to be.

Mrs Dursley was faced with increasingly cold looks as more and more people realised this. She had always insisted that it had been her nephew who had been terrorising the neighbour kids – when in fact it now looked as though it was her own son whom she would not hear a word against.

Dudley Dursley's life had unexpectedly also taken a turn for the worse, after the initial elation that his useless cousin was gone. He had lost his favourite victim and more importantly, his most reliable scapegoat. The latter also bothered Mr Dursley. He had gotten rather used to being able to blame everything that went wrong on his nephew. Snapping at his wife for burned bacon did not go down as well so he had to learn to keep his moods in check if he wanted to keep the peace at home.

So, all in all, the past months had not been enjoyable. It all paled however in comparison with Christmas Morning.

The day had started pleasantly enough. Marge was visiting and the absence of the Potter boy put her in very high spirits. She had spent the previous evening reminiscing in the boy's numerous misdemeanours and praising Vernon and Petunia for kind-heartedly putting up with him for as long as they had. Vernon rather agreed.

Dudley was unwrapping presents, the adults were chatting and taking photographs. They were eating sweets, listening to Christmas music, having tea. Everything was wonderful until Marge stepped out the front door with her latest dog, Ripper.

'Vernon,' she shouted. 'Would you look at that!'

Vernon had reluctantly left his armchair and his newly unwrapped tie to investigate. The sight had made his blood boil. A large amount of charcoal had been dumped in his driveway, blocking his car. Not one lump of it was blocking the pavement and it sat only an inch from the back of the car as though someone had taken great care not to cause any actual damage.

'Someone's been naughty, ey?' a neighbour and fellow dog owner called over as he stepped back into his house across the street. He was laughing.

'Vernon, what's going on?' asked Petunia, appearing at his shoulder. She paled when she saw. 'Vernon, the neighbours…'

'I know,' he growled back. There actually was a sort of card sitting on top, a small white rectangle. He picked it up and read.

We know what you did. Be glad it's just coals this year.

He crumpled up the piece of paper and stuffed it in his pocket before anybody else saw. He did not want to explain himself to his sister.

'Now, who would have done that?' enquired Marge from the lawn where the dog was relieving itself against the agapanthus that Petunia took pride in. She pursed her lips further and gave Vernon a pointed look to say something which he completely missed.

'How the blazes would I know,' he barked. 'Petunia, you don't think that they…'

Petunia's lip trembled.

Vernon swore. That bloody boy all the freakishness that had come with him. Who else would have had a reason to attempt to humiliate their family? They were a perfectly normal part of the neighbourhood. And besides, had this heap of coal been delivered the normal way, it would have needed a lorry or at least a very large car and several workers with shovels to deposit it as neatly. They would have been heard.

'Ought to call the police,' he muttered. 'Ought to have them prosecuted…'

But Petunia shook her head. 'Don't draw more attention to it. Just move it, put it somewhere else.'

Vernon grumbled. She was right, of course. What were the police going to say? Nothing had been damaged, nothing had been stolen. They would probably laugh. 'Useless,' he said under his breath.

He picked up the phone and tried to arrange for anybody to come over and pick up the unwanted gift. All of his calls either remained unanswered or he was hung up on amongst loud laughter.

In the end, he had to do it himself. On Christmas Morning, with a wheelbarrow and a shovel, sweating in his dressing gown and in full view of all of the neighbours' windows. Dudley had eventually come to investigate as well but had refused his father's order to give him a hand in favour of playing with his new toys. Petunia had retired to the kitchen – which at least meant he would have a good breakfast waiting for him when he was done but that hardly cheered him. Marge kept him company for a while but her rant about vandals and the youth of today did little to improve his mood, as did the bloody dog that kept getting in his way and eventually almost made him trip over. Marge had finally left him then after seeing the expression on his face.

It took him almost two hours to shift the lot to the back garden. He even fetched the hose to wash away the last traces. When he had finally re-entered the house, Petunia had told him with a sharp look that he was not welcome in her kitchen in his state – sooty, smelly and with a thunderous expression on his face. He gave in and had a shower first. He heard his wife vacuum the hall while he towelled himself dry. When he finally sat down for his breakfast, it was cold and Dudley had stolen his bacon.

The mood remained strained for the whole day. Petunia kept hiding her face in her hands, muttering: 'The neighbours. What will they say…'

Vernon eventually ended up snapping at Dudley, his nerves being too strained to take his continuous demand for attention. That made Dudley kick off in an almighty tantrum that almost overturned the Christmas tree. The dog chewed on the sofa and Petunia blamed her husband for allowing her sister to bring the animal. Marge drank most of the expensive whiskey she had gifted her brother herself and fell asleep in the sitting room just after a tense and mostly silent dinner.

All in all, they had a miserable time. And all because of that bloody boy and his freakish lot.