Christmas at the Dursley Household

Harry woke with a start, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling of his small cupboard. It took him a second to remember where he was in the oily darkness that surrounded him.
Instinctively he felt for his glasses on the box beside his bed. He pushed them into place and stared around him, trying to figure out what had disturbed him.
It was then that he heard the noise. It wasn’t a particularly loud bang, but it was so unexpected that it made Harry jump, and he banged his head on the sloping ceiling.
As he massaged the top of his head he saw a flash of light through the vent in the cupboard door.
He froze.
Straining as hard as he could to try and pick up even the slightest noise, he could make out a faint rustling noise. Harry wasn’t sure what to do, his first thought was that it was burglars and that he should stay put, be quiet, and pray they didn’t find him, but curiosity got the better of him and he decided to try and find out exactly what was making the noise.

Very carefully, Harry slid out of bed and edged his way over to the door. He knelt down and tried to peer between the slats of the vent.
He couldn’t see anything but the occasional flash of light, usually accompanied by a thump and some rustling.
After what seemed like ages, he summoned all his courage and decided to go on. Slowly he put his hand on the doorknob and gently began to turn. He took great care to make as little noise as possible. When the door was slightly ajar, Harry stuck his head out and looked around the dark and empty hallway.

He decided that the sounds were definitely coming from the lounge. Gradually, and as silently as possible, he made his way across the hallway and pressed himself flat against the wall beside the lounge door.
For a moment he stood, barely daring to breath, let alone move. Then, still shaking like a leaf, he cautiously poked his head around the doorframe.
The scene that greeted Harry couldn’t have been further from what he’d imagined; on the floor lay piles of wrapping paper, under which he could just make out a few objects: some computer games, a CD player and a remote control car. Kneeling in the middle of all this was Dudley. Dressed in his favourite green pyjamas - which barely fitted - and with a torch at his side, he was tearing the wrapping off a box on the floor in front of him. Dudley, it seems, was opening his Christmas presents early.

Harry was so relieved he let out a big “sigh” before he could stop himself. Dudley, who must have been far more alert than usual (probably because he knew he was doing something wrong), heard it immediately. He grabbed the torch, spun round and pointed it in Harry’s direction. The light blinded Harry, forcing him to close his eyes.
‘Dudley,’ whispered Harry coarsely.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ whispered Dudley back. He lowered the torch.
‘What are you doing? You’re not supposed to open those until the morning.’
‘It is the morning.’
‘Fine, you tell Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia that when they see what you’ve done.’ Harry turned to leave.
A sudden realisation dawned on Dudley. He knew exactly what their response would be, and he didn’t like the thought of it one bit.
‘You have to help me,’ he hissed.
‘No way, you’re on your own.’
‘If you don’t I’ll…I’ll…’
‘You’ll what?’
‘…I’ll tell them…’
Harry could almost see Dudley’s brain straining to work.
‘…you did it.’
A sudden wave of fear shot through Harry. A ball of ice formed in his stomach, and his mouth instantly became dry. He swallowed hard.
‘Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll tell them you did it.’
‘You…You can’t,’ stammered Harry.
Dudley got up and stalked across the room, sending wrapping paper this way and that. As he reached the doorway Harry shifted positions to try and block his path.
‘No, you can’t do this.’
But Harry was no match for Dudley, not that Dudley was particularly strong, he was simply much heavier. He had no trouble in barging Harry out of his way.
Harry started after him.
‘Please Dudley, I’m begging you,’ said Harry, careful not to raise his voice. It was no use though; Dudley had already decided what he had to do. Harry tried to grab Dudley.
It was a mistake, and he knew it was the moment he did it.
Dudley shrugged him off, turned on him and drove both arms into Harry’s chest.
Harry flew into the lounge and ended up in a heap on the floor amid the piles of wrapping paper.

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