Disclaimer: Yes…I am JK Rowling and own Harry Potter…whatever you say…that is why I am writing fanfiction and am making no money…whatever you say…
When: Pre-Hogwarts. Harry is six in this piece.
Where: Number four, Privet Drive.
Characters: Harry and the Dursleys
Category: Angst, I suppose…
AN: What?!? You're still here? Wow… I marvel at your patience to bother to read all of these crappy stories…not that I'm complaining or anything! Ummm….oh, by the way, I had a list of characters that I thought I'd be able to write about, and picked ten randomly, one by one. That is the order they are in now. This one took me just under half an hour and I hope you enjoy it!
CHRISTMAS VARIETY BOX
Happy Christmas, Harry
The fate of love is that it always seems too little, or too much.
Anonymous.
Darkness
Cold.
"Happy Christmas, Dudley!"
"Here we are, Duddykins, look at all your presents! I love you Dudley, you make me so proud!"
"Mu-um!"
A six-year-old Harry Potter listened to his relations joyfully talking on Christmas morning. He leaned right up against the cupboard door so he could hear them better.
"Wow! Cool! I've wanted this game for ages! Thanks mum."
"Oh, anything for you, Dudley."
Harry peered through the cracks in the door, but he couldn't see the Christmas tree. He was never allowed to see it. Every year, he was forbidden to see the tree and for all of Christmas day, he stayed in his cupboard. Presents were not for freaks.
"Dad, don't you think we should give Harry his present?"
Harry pricked up his ears. A present! For him?
"Ah yes, Dudders." Harry could hear Uncle Vernon chuckle mirthlessly. "We wouldn't want him to miss out, would we?"
"No, dad." Dudley laughed.
"Boy!" Harry started at the sound of his name.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry heard the sound of several bolts being unlatched, and the cupboard door opened to reveal Uncle Vernon's ruddy face.
"Come out here to get your present." When Harry didn't move, he said impatiently, "Come along, we haven't got all day." Harry stepped out of his little sanctuary, blinking in the light. Aunt Petunia brought out a parcel, quite a big one, and handed it to him. Harry stared at it confusedly for a moment.
"Go on, scarhead, open it, then!" Dudley sighed, exasperatedly. Harry ripped off the wrapping paper very slowly, savouring the moment. His first present…He wondered what it would be? It couldn't be like any of the presents that Dudley got; he didn't have a computer or a television and he wasn't allowed out of the house, so a bike would be out of the question…so what would it be?
His fingers trembled slightly, as the wrapping paper tore off in his hands. He braced himself and looked. It was another layer of wrapping paper. Confused, he looked at his Aunt and Uncle. "Well, it's a present, isn't it boy?" said Uncle Vernon, nastily. "What do you do with presents?"
You unwrap them…thought Harry to himself, but didn't voice this out loud. This was the type of question that didn't need an answer. His small fingers pulled off this second layer of wrapping paper, and under this was another layer.
Harry was very confused, but since he had never received a present before, brushed the feeling aside. This is probably what all presents are like, he thought. But, said a nasty little voice in his head, why does Dudley manage to open his so quickly, then? Harry ignored it, and started on the third layer of his parcel. Under this was another layer. And another under that one.
When Harry reached the twelfth layer, he had tears in his eyes. It was a joke. Of course, freaks don't get Christmas presents… He removed this final layer of paper and stared at the thing in his hand. A stone.
All the Dursleys were laughing; Uncle Vernon shoved him back in the cupboard and he heard the bolts click.
Harry sat in the dark, cradling the stone. His first Christmas present…He threw it to the side angrily. This wasn't what Christmas was meant to be like. What would it have been like if his parents were alive? They probably would have hated me too…
There was silence for a long while: Harry could no longer hear the Dursleys, as they'd shut the door; and he was lost in thought.
He took a deep breath.
"Happy Christmas, Harry."
AN: Sniff…poor little Harry. Hope you enjoyed this one because I enjoyed writing it. The quotation doesn't quite fit though…I spent hours (literally) searching for one, but couldn't get it quite right… :( Sorry…