Dudley didn’t even stop to see what had happened to Harry, let alone care. He was already on his way up the stairs.
Harry got up and listened intently to Dudley’s footsteps as they clumped up the stairs, across the landing, and into Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s room.
Harry heard a muffled noise that sounded like “what.” He knew it must have come from Uncle Vernon. It was quickly followed by footsteps that sounded more like small explosions rocking through the house.
Harry’s mind raced, he was imagining Uncle Vernon’s reaction. Then he imagined all the punishments he would inflict on Harry; each one worse than the last.
The footsteps were slowly getting louder and louder. Harry started to shake uncontrollably.
As the footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs Harry heard Dudley saying, ‘I found him when I came down for a glass of water.’
Harry knew that Dudley had never drunk a glass of water in his life without having it forced down him, but that wouldn’t do him much good now.
He saw the silhouetted figures appear in the doorway. The one that must have been Uncle Vernon reached for the light switch.
Harry screwed his eyes closed as tight as he could. He tried to prepare himself for the impending outburst.
There came a ‘click’ as the light was turned on.
Then nothing.
Harry didn’t dare move, but slowly, carefully, opened his eyes.
Before him stood Uncle Vernon, dressed in navy blue pyjamas and tartan slippers. He was scanning the room with his beady eyes. Behind Uncle Vernon stood Aunt Petunia; dressed in a pink dressing gown with a frilly collar, pink slippers, and with rollers in her hair, she looked like a bird of prey as she craned her head back and forth, looking for evidence.
It was Dudley’s face that would remain forever imprinted on Harry’s brain; his eyes were wide open and his mouth wider still.
After a few seconds Harry relaxed a bit and started to look around the room, trying to figure out what they were looking for.

The first thing he noticed was the floor; there wasn’t any wrapping paper in sight, no presents either. Slowly he turned around, and to his amazement all he could see below the tree was a neatly stacked pile of presents, all perfectly wrapped.

It was Uncle Vernon who broke the silence, ‘Well, what’s all this about unwrapped presents?’
Harry turned back to face Uncle Vernon. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Uncle.’
Uncle Vernon looked down at Dudley. Dudley looked up, his mouth still agape.
After a few moments staring at each other, Uncle Vernon said, ‘Get to bed, both of you. And if I hear a sound from either of you before morning, there’ll be no presents for anyone.’
‘But…But…,’ stuttered Dudley.
‘Bed. Now!’

Harry was still thinking about the incident on Christmas day afternoon. They had indeed made it till morning without further incident, although it had taken quite some time before Harry had drifted off to sleep. Then they’d opened the presents, or rather Dudley had. He even opened Harry’s – which turned out to be a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks. Needless to say Harry wasn’t wearing them, he would have needed a belt on each sock just to hold them up. Not that Harry minded, all he could think about were the presents. How had they re-wrapped themselves? It was just amazing, and just a touch strange.

Little did he know what was to come…

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