Title: A Christmas Wish

Author: Jane Delight

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise does not belong to me

Summary: One-shot. Little Harry Potter writes a letter to Santa Claus. Will his wish be granted?

AN: I know it's not Christmas. Yet

A Christmas Wish

Part One

He had stolen the piece of paper from Dudley's desk. The crayon he had found a few weeks ago beneath the sofa. Now, he was writing a letter; a letter to Santa Claus. He knew Dudley had send of a huge list, wishing for a new bike, his own computer and a few other things Harry couldn't be bothered to remember.

Harry didn't much care for stuff like computers and television. He would give up the last bit of chocolate he had left over from the weekend, when Dudley had thrown a not even half eaten chocolate bar into the bin, for his wish to come true.

His wish? A family who loved him. Someone who cared for him. He may only be nine years old, but he realised that the Dursleys didn't much care for him.

So he was writing a letter to Santa, stating his wish. He would never get to send it, of course, but he could hope, couldn't he? That's all he really had left – hope.

He hoped that his writing was legible. It wasn't easy to write in the dark, Harry discovered. The fact that he could barely move in his cupboard didn't help matters either.

When he was done, he folded the paper as neatly as he could, and put it beneath his mattress. He would've put it beneath his cushion, had he had one, but he supposed his mattress would do fine. Just as long as the Dursleys didn't find it – if they did, he could forget the coat hanger or socks or whatever they were planning to give him for Christmas this year. In fact, he could forget things like food and like daylight too.

With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes and once again imagined how his life would change for the better come Christmas Day.

You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town.

It was cold. Cold and dark. He was shivering. The ragged blanket covering him wasn't succeeding in keeping out the cold. He swore if it had been light he would have been able to see his breath.

But it was dark. Dark and cold. The early hours of the morning. Christmas Day. He knew Dudley would be getting up around 6 am. It was the only day of the year he'd get out of bed that early, because even the Dursleys, as cold and mean and evil as they were, celebrated Christmas and shared the joy and love between themselves, as a family. A family little Harry didn't belong to.

He hadn't forgotten the letter he'd written a few weeks ago. The hope that he'd be rescued, however, had been fading every day. Today was the last day for hope. Afterwards, he would probably never hope for anything ever again. Unless he was rescued by some distant relative. Or even better, by his parents. But he knew that would never happen. They were dead; the only thing the Dursleys didn't mind telling him about them.

He hadn't even seen the Christmas tree this year. He knew, however, from the Dursely's conversations, that it was even bigger than last year's and that it barely fit into the house. He hoped he'd get to see it today, when receiving his present – they couldn't just not get him anything, could they? It would make him happy, seeing the tree. He would then be able to imagine that same tree standing in some cosy living room, with him and his parents sitting next to it on a squishy sofa.

The minutes felt like hours for little Harry, as he lay waiting in his cupboard for something – anything – to happen.

And then it did.

The sound of soft footsteps made him sit upright. The Dursleys would never be so quiet. Not even his Aunt Petunia, whose steps weren't quite as heavy as those of the male family members.

Suddenly, he heard the locks on his cupboard being unlocked, and soon a small yet bright light caused him to close his eyes, the sudden brightness blinding him. He soon opened his eyes again, though, curious and slightly worried about the intruder.

Thankfully, the light had been dimmed and he could make out soft brown eyes with a golden touch to them looking at him. The rest of the face he could see too: greying brown hair, a few scars which Harry supposed could be interpreted as frightening, and a mouth which had just opened to speak.

"Hello Harry. My name's Remus Lupin and I've come to take you to Hogwarts, should you wish to come."

Harry stared at the man. He would rather spend his Christmas anywhere but with the Dursleys. The man seemed kind, even though he must've broken into the house to get to him. Harry's curiosity got the better of him and he answered the man.

"Uhm… Sure."

The man smiled at him and retreated slightly, giving Harry room to step out of the cupboard. Then, he gently took his hand and together they walked out of the front door and away from the Durselys.

Part Two

Huge snow flakes fell down from the black void that was the night sky. The ground was white and sparkling, deep prints marked that there had been people there recently. Well that, and the noise coming from up ahead.

Harry trudged towards the laughter and music and the voices he had learned to recognise in the few days he'd been at the castle.

He had trouble believing how much his life had changed in the past few days. The Christmas he'd spent at Hogwarts – a school for witches and wizards, according to Remus, who happened to be a friend of his parents – was undoubtedly the best one he'd ever, ever experienced.

Remus had brought him to the castle that was Hogwarts – such an odd name for a school, Harry thought – where he'd been introduced to the headmaster, Albus Dumbeldore, and various other members of staff.

He'd also met his godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius had until recently been locked up in some prison, for a crime he didn't commit. Just the day before his arrival, the real offender had been caught, and Sirius had been released.

Harry had been curious to know what exactly Sirius had been accused of, but he was assured that he would be told later – after the festivities were over – as it would ruin the cheerful mood in the castle.

He'd have plenty of time to talk about it – he was also looking forward to hearing about his parents from Sirius and Remus – as Sirius was his godfather, meaning that – and this was by far the best part – he could live with him. Forever. No more Dursleys. Ever.

The smile he was wearing turned into a fully fledged grin, like it always did at the thought.

He was getting closer to the gathering of people – he could make out faces already.

It was New Years Eve and all the Hogwarts professors were getting ready to watch some fireworks once the clock struck midnight.

Harry smiled up at Professor McGonagall as he passed her and made sure to avoid the sour Potions Master who disliked him for no apparent reason. Soon he'd found Remus and Sirius, who grinned down at him, before each putting an arm around him.

He had never felt so loved, Harry mused, and he was perfectly content to just lean into the two men and listen to them talking and laughing.

Then, huge multicoloured numbers appeared in the air, counting down from ten. Harry realised the numbers must've been created by magic – he'd seen a lot of it over the past days, but was still amazed by it.

Once the countdown had reached zero, the most brilliant fireworks appeared out of nowhere. Harry watched the display in awe, not realising that Remus and Sirius were smiling down at him, bemused by his fascination.

The fireworks, Harry thought, were the perfect start to the new life he was about to start – away from the Dursleys, with people who cared for him.

His wish had been granted.

The End.