Time passed quickly while Harry cooked a small mountain of food and slowed again as the boy was putting the laden plates on the table he had set whilst cooking. When the last plate slid into place heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs. The child quickly moved out of the way. A beefy man entered the room dwarfing it and lumbered towards the table. Before he sat a high pitched squeal came from the living room. “Mummy, Mummy, Santa’s been,” a child’s voice announced.

Petunia plastered a brilliant smile on her face and rose from her chair. “Good morning Popkin,” she said in a sickly sweet voice, “Come and have some breakfast then you can open your presents.”

“I don’t want breakfast. I want to open them now,” the child’s voice had turned petulant and whiney as he stomped into the room. The child’s size left both Snapes reeling. It was obvious whose child he was.

“But don’t you want to wait for Aunt Marge?” the man asked.

“Will she have more presents?”

“Of course she will. You are her favourite nephew after all,” the man said, “It’s a shame she can’t stay for more than a day but Ripper is unwell and she doesn’t want to leave him.”

Snape had seen Harry pale and tense up at the mention of Aunt Marge but he visibly relaxed when it was revealed that Ripper would not be accompanying her. He wondered who or what ‘Ripper’ was.

“Well he is her best breeder. Best in show four years running,” Petunia said as she coaxed her son into his seat.

The blond child seemed somewhat mollified with the assurance of more presents. He was soon wolfing down his breakfast, pausing only long enough to make demands for extra things like chocolate flavouring for his milk.

Harry was not welcomed at the table and was constantly back and forth fetching things from the kitchen. A few times he was deemed too slow and cuffed around the head as he apologised profusely.

The family were just finishing up as the doorbell rang. “Well get it boy,” the man snapped.

Harry hurried to obey and returned a few minutes later, “Sir?” a timid voice asked.

“What now?” his uncle demanded.

“Aunt Marge has asked if you would help with the gifts. She doesn’t want my grubby hands on them.”

“Vernon be a dear and come help me please,” a female voice called from the hall.

The beefy man, Vernon, threw down his table napkin and got to his feet. He shoved Harry out of his way as he passed him.

“Have you finished Duddykins?” Petunia asked while reaching over to wipe the obese boy’s face.

“Yes, Mummy.”

Petunia left her seat and taking her son’s hand helped him up before leading him into the family room. Realising that Harry was going to clean up after them, Snape followed.

The family had been joined by a female version of Vernon. She was currently fawning over her nephew. Soon the group settled and began to open their gifts. Severus watched as toy after toy was tossed on the growing pile next to the child. In comparison each adult had a modest pile mostly consisting of various bottles of expensive alcohol and equally expensive chocolates. Vernon had given his wife matching sapphire and diamond pendant and earrings that according to the gloating man was set in platinum. “It’s guaranteed one of a kind Pet.” 

When the last gift was opened Petunia suggested they should take their presents upstairs Dudley had insisted they take his things first so the freak couldn’t play with them. When the last armload of gifts was ready to go Vernon bellowed, “Freak get in here and clean up this mess.”

While Harry picked up the torn paper, ribbons, tags and various types of packaging Petunia bustled about the kitchen weighing and counting the food stuffs. After that she took a bottle of bleach from the cupboard and poured it over the scraps in the bin. Snape thought it was odd until his mother explained that Harry had not eaten anything while he cleaned the kitchen. She had seen the longing in his eyes but he had refrained. “Now she’s making sure he can’t even eat the scraps,” Eileen said sadly.

With the living room set to rights Petunia issued more orders to Harry before going upstairs to get herself and the others ready. Soon the Dursleys were gathered in the entrance hall dressed in their Sunday best. “Boy,” Petunia spat. Harry hurried to her side. She thrust a piece of paper at him. “We’re going to church,” she said pompously, “Get started with that list.”

The child took himself back to the kitchen and began dragging out everything that was needed to prepare and cook Christmas lunch for his family.

Time once more moved forward at a hurried pace and the Dursleys were walking back in the front door as Harry once again laid food the table. The small boy was denied any of the magnificent feast he had slaved over and was shoved into his cupboard for the rest of the day. He was released to clean up the mess the others had left behind.

Before retiring for the night Vernon Dursley had taken a thick leather belt to Harry’s back, bottom and legs before literally throwing him in the cupboard. “Merry Christmas Freak,” he spat out as he closed and locked the door.