Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The winter holidays had come again, to the enjoyment and amazement of many young school children. Yet; one young child dreaded the upcoming holidays. Miserable and lonely, the young child trudged through the snow on his way home. He had no jacket and his clothing was threadbare and thin. His small body shivered in the cold winter. Darkness began to descend.
He could see through the windows into each house he past; parents and children preparing for the Christmas holiday, eating supper, playing games. He wishes for a family like this but knows deep down it'll never happen. He shivers the rags doing nothing to shield him from the cold. Lights slowly turn off as he finally makes it to his house, only to find the door locked. He huddles outside the door, cold and weary.
Desperate and about to die, the boy reaches inside himself and a flame dances upon his palm. The heat warms his freezing body, he felt like he was sitting next to the heater. The feeling slowly leaves as the boy struggles to keep the fire lit and soon it dies out leaving him to the cold. With nothing left to loss the child tries again as another fire comes to life, this time as he tries to warm himself by the fire he sees a large Christmas tree with presents underneath for him. He sees a large dinner and the smell wafts over to him, but before he could move closer his flame dies upon his palm. Having had nothing to eat since breakfast, and with hypothermia rapidly setting in, the child gathers everything he has left and creates one last flame.
In this flame he sees a red haired woman and a man with black hair reaching out their arms towards him. The boy smiles as he takes their hands unaware his fire has burnt out.
When daylight finally comes, and the newspaperman discovers a child with messy black hair, green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar, the police will investigate. The child was dead, hope was lost, but Harry Potter was home at last.