CHAPTER TWELVE
On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the
next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents
at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing
he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.
“Merry Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of
bed and pulled on his bathrobe.
“You, too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some pre-
sents!”
“What did you expect, turnips?” said Ron, turning to his own
pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry’s.
Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown
paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was
a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it him-
self. Harry blew it — it sounded a bit like an owl.
A second, very small parcel contained a note.
We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence
piece.
“That’s friendly,” said Harry.
Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.
“Weird !” he said, “What a shape! This is money?”
“You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was.
“Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?”
“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, turning a bit
pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mom. I told her
you didn’t expect any presents and — oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s
made you a Weasley sweater.”
Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted
sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.
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