Six year old Harry Potter crouched in his cupboard. He was locked in again, like he was every Christmas. He could hear the Dursleys laughing in the kitchen as they ate their Christmas feast. The tantalising scent of turkey and mashed potatoes wafted into his cupboard, making his mouth water. He closed his eyes, pretending that he, too, was at the table enjoying Christmas dinner with his family. Uncle Vernon's raucous laughter broke the illusion, and Harry opened his eyes to find himself back in the cupboard.
With a sigh, Harry curled up on his mattress. Happy Christmas, Harry, he thought.