Note: This was written to Vera Lynn's The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot.

I don't own HP.


Little Mr. Potter was sitting in the front garden on Christmas Morning. Miss Figg watched him from her sitting room window.

She was sipping tea and petting her cat, Mr. Tibbles, as she watched out her window at the charming little boy who lived across the road.

He was playing in the flowerbed, it looked it, but Miss Figg knew better. Mr. Potter wasn't the playing type. He was to sort to do what his Aunt said or get a sound whacking on his bottom. He was doing garden work on this chilly holiday morning.

It was just another day to this little boy.

No doubt, Miss Figg thought, that horrid Dursley boy, who always tripped her with that remote car, was sitting inside next to the fire, surrounded by presents and being fawned over by his parents.

Miss Figg shook her head. Couldn't those lousy Muggles shell out even a few pounds for their darling nephew?

She remembered something he'd told her a few weeks ago when he'd been sent to her house while his relatives went out for dinner.

"I really want some toy soldiers for Christmas. Uncle Vernon gave some of his from when he was a kid to Dudley. They looked really nice, but Dudley hasn't touched them since. I'd play with mine everyday and not let them get broken like Dudley did." Miss Figg had smiled and pat Harry's head when he told her that.

"I'm sure your uncle will give you some lovely toy soldiers for Christmas, Harry dear. You've been a wonderful boy this year."

Harry looked at her oddly when she had said that. But he shrugged it off and so did she. They both knew Harry wouldn't be getting anything for Christmas. But it was still nice to hope.

After washing her cup and placing it back in the cupboard, Miss Figg noticed the Dursley boy had made his way outside, waddling his way out of the home in new winter clothes. Harry was still working in the flowerbed and seemed to quicken his pace when the door opened.

Dudley had what looked like a plastic sword in his chubby hands. As soon as the door was shut and his parents weren't watching, he began his routine of making Harry's life hell.

He started tapping the boy's head and whacking his fingers. He swiped at newly planted flowers and threw dirt around the garden.

Miss Figg knew Harry would be getting a whipping for that.

But it was just another day for Harry so what difference did it make that it was Christmas Day and he was outside alone doing chores while his family spend the day inside with cocoa and cookies and family?

Miss Figg shook her head. In just two years the poor dear would be getting the best present he could ever hope for. Hogwarts would give the boy a home and a family who cared for him.

He just had to survive until then.