Rescued by Santa

~ by Healer Pomfrey ~

All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.

Petunia Dursley hammered at the door of the small cupboard under the stairs. "Get up, you lazybones. Hurry up, we're leaving in ten minutes," she shouted.

Harry lazily dragged himself out of bed and hurriedly dressed in his warmest clothes. Nevertheless, he was still shivering violently. During the last few days, he had been suffering from a sore throat, a headache and the chills, and on the previous day, his school teacher had sent him home earlier after noticing that he felt very hot to the touch. However, as usual his aunt chose to completely ignore his ailments.

'I wonder where we're going,' Harry mused. 'I thought it was Saturday.' He felt so miserable that he wished nothing more than to remain in bed. However, the situation at his relatives' home was not so easy. He slowly left his cupboard, wearily holding his hand to the wall to steady himself as dizziness overcame him.

"Mrs. Figg doesn't have time to take you today," Petunia said in an upset tone. "So we have to put up with you freak."

"But Mum I don't want him to come!" Dudley shouted, stomping his foot on the ground. "What if Santa sees him and realises that he belongs to us?"

"It's all right, Duddykins, Mummy will keep the freak away from you," Petunia reassured her son. "Dad had to go to the company this morning, but we're going to meet him in town later on." With that she ushered the two six-year-olds out of the house, hissing at Harry that he should hurry up. "Don't fall asleep walking," she said, seeing that he was slowly dragging himself behind them. "Santa will only be in town during the day and not over night."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry croaked, feverishly trying to prevent his teeth from chattering as he tried to move faster.

They arrived at the bus stop just at the same time as the bus, which was very crowded. Petunia and Dudley somehow managed to get hold of seats, while Harry was forced to stand in the bus until they reached their aim fifty minutes later. By the time they got out of the bus, his ears felt strangely clogged up, and the street in front of his feet was moving from the right to the left side and back.

'What is happening with me?' he thought in shock. 'Am I going to die?'

"Why don't we just leave the freak here? We can collect him on the way back," he heard Dudley suggest to his mother, but he couldn't care less.

'I just want to sit or lie down somewhere,' he thought in desperation, not even noticing the beautiful Christmas decorations on both sides of the street.

"It's all right, Dudley. We're there," Petunia replied, glaring at Harry.

'Photographs with Santa!' a huge plate in the entrance of the department store announced. 'On the first floor – only today from nine to twelve.'

Petunia pulled Dudley into a corner that was decorated with Christmas trees and Christmas ornaments. It held a huge red armchair, in which Santa was sitting, taking small children onto his lap, so that a woman, who was disguised as a reindeer, could take photos and sell them to the child's parents. While Dudley stood in the queue, angrily shouting at the children in front of him to let him through, Harry hesitantly let himself sink onto the floor in a corner, sensing that he wouldn't be able to keep himself on his feet any longer.

Leaning his achy head against the wall, Harry longingly observed how Santa questioned the children if they had already sent their wish list to himself and what they would like to get for Christmas. Finally, it was Dudley's turn, and while his cousin listed up all the many presents he assumed to receive for Christmas, Harry noticed wearily that Santa's expression became stern. Finally, Dudley climbed down from Santa's lap, and Santa slowly raised his right hand to stop the next child from climbing.

"Wait a moment, please," he said gently and waved Harry over. "Come here, please. I wish to speak with you as well."

"No, not him," Petunia replied quickly, throwing Harry a warning look.

"Why not?" Santa queried, smiling at Harry, who was sitting on the floor in his baggy, old clothes. "Please come here for a moment, my boy."

Harry slowly stumbled over to where Santa was sitting, and the old white bearded man carefully lifted him onto his lap.

"What do you wish for Christmas, my boy?" he asked gently.

"I never receive a present for Christmas," Harry replied hesitantly.

"And why is that?" Santa asked friendly.

"Because I'm a freak and a burden and not a good boy," Harry whispered hoarsely.

"I don't think that you're a freak," Santa said firmly. "What would you like to wish?"

Harry remind pensive for a moment, unaware of his aunt's furious expression. "Maybe some medicine to make me feel better," he whispered anxiously, causing Santa to turn him around so that he was facing him.

"You're Harry, aren't you?" Santa asked, causing Harry to nod. "Yes sir," he whispered, ending up in a coughing fit.

"And you seem to be very ill. Did your aunt not take you to a doctor?" Santa asked in apparent concern, carefully placing an ice-cold hand on Harry's forehead, noticing that the child was running a very high fever. Seeing Harry slightly shake his head, he spoke up aloud.

"I'm going to take this boy to heaven with me for my angels to look after him, because he is very ill. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." With that he carefully laid his hands around Harry and whispered something that Harry couldn't understand.

All of a sudden, Harry felt a strange pull behind his navel, and the world turned around even faster than earlier, before all of a sudden everything turned black in front of his eyes.

By the time his mind turned back to awareness, he found himself in a very bright room with several white beds on his left side. Santa was standing next to his bed together with three angels. One of them was white, one green and one black. 'How strange,' Harry wondered. 'I thought all angels were white.'

Suddenly, Santa pulled his red hat from his head, revealing long white hair. He looked at the green angel. "I'm sorry, Minerva. I should have listened to you five years ago and raise the child here at Hogwarts. Thank God I accepted that position as Santa today. Harry will have his first Christmas this year."

"Thank God," the green angel replied and pulled Santa into a long kiss, leaving Harry to wonder if he was dead or not.

The End.