On Sunday morning, Harry made his way into the kitchen to make breakfast for the Dursleys at the first sign of his relatives getting up. Before anyone could hold him back, he left the house and slowly dragged himself over to Mrs. Figg’s house. ‘I just hope she’ll leave me in peace and won’t notice how ill I feel,’ he mused on his way through the snow that was still covering Little Whinging.

However, Harry wasn’t able to fool Mrs. Figg. As soon as she let him into the living room and got a good look at him, she asked worriedly, “Harry, you’re feeling even worse than on Friday, aren’t you?”

Harry let out a long sigh. “I don’t feel too well, but it’s all right. Do you think Father Christmas will come to see me today?” Harry returned the question that had been bothering him for two days and nights.

“At least he promised that he’d come and visit you here, sweetie. Why don’t you lie down here on the sofa, until he arrives? I’ll wake you up in case you fall asleep,” Mrs. Figg promised, gently covering the shivering child with a warm blanket.

Harry drifted in and out of sleep until suddenly the fireplace flared green and Father Christmas stepped out. He looked exactly like Harry had always imagined him to be. He was dressed in huge red robes with a matching red hat, and he had a long white beard.

“Are you... are you Father Christmas?” Harry croaked, quickly sitting up on the sofa.

“I’m a many times great grandchild of Father Christmas,” the man, who looked as if he had just escaped out of a fairy book, replied in a very gentle voice. “I assume that you’re Harry?”

“Yes sir,” Harry replied hoarsely, ending up coughing.

“You’re a very good boy and an extremely modest child,” Father Christmas began to speak thoughtfully. “Most children asked me for a lot of toys and other presents, but you asked me for medical help.”

“Yes sir,” Harry whispered, shivering.

“Very well, Harry. However, since I’m neither a doctor nor a nurse I brought a good friend with me. Her name is Poppy, and she is a very good Healer. I’d like her to check on you and see if she can do something for you. Is that all right with you, Harry?”

“Yes sir,” Harry replied anxiously.

Suddenly, a woman dressed in white robes appeared out of nothing, causing Harry to blink a few times in confusion, before he helplessly put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it fiercely. ‘Am I delirious?’ he mused, horrified.

“Hello Harry, I’m Poppy,” the lady addressed him in a soft voice, throwing him a warm smile.

“Hello,” Harry whispered shyly, sliding his hands under his legs.

“Harry, you must not be afraid. Poppy is a witch, and she will use her wand to help you with your eyes and your other problem,” Father Christmas explained softly, taking a seat next to Harry on the sofa.

“Kay,” Harry mumbled frightened, shivering slightly as a cool breeze hit his face.

Poppy gently waved her wand at him, muttering to herself, and finally pointed her wand at his head, before she sighed in exasperation.

“Father Christmas, Harry is suffering from lung infection. I should take him with me and nurse him back to health, before I can even try to mend his eyes. He is very ill with a high fever.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Poppy, but I can’t go with you. I have to go back to my relatives and cook Christmas dinner for them,” Harry threw in hoarsely, shivering violently as the Poppy lady put a cool hand on his forehead.

“Harry, did you tell your aunt that you feel ill?” Father Christmas enquired softly, causing Harry to shrug helplessly.

‘What am I supposed to tell?’ he mused, before he decided to say the truth. “No,” he admitted. “If I had told her, she’d have locked me into my cupboard right away, and I wouldn’t have been able to get away to meet you.”

“But she would have given you medicine,” Father Christmas replied gently.

“No, I’m only a freak and not worth of medicine,” Harry explained in a hardly audible voice, causing the people in the room to gasp.

“Harry, did your aunt tell you that?” Poppy enquired in a very upset voice that caused Harry to shiver violently in spite of knowing that the anger wasn’t directed towards him.

“Yes,” he breathed, before he let out a few coughs.

“Harry, may I ask you something?” Father Christmas once more turned to the small boy. “In your letter, you wrote something about ‘your cupboard.’ What exactly did you mean with that?”

Harry let out a small sigh. “I live in the cupboard under the stairs, sir,” he admitted in a small voice.

“Father Christmas, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Harry is in dire need of medical treatment,” the Poppy lady threw in, causing the man to rise from the sofa. The Healer sat next to Harry and pressed a small phial containing a light green liquid to his lips. “Please drink, Harry, it’s a fever reducer and will make you feel a bit better,” she explained gently.

Harry complied and sighed in relief as he felt the effects of the potion immediately. He threw the kind lady a grateful smile, before he turned to Father Christmas. “Excuse me, Father Christmas, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course my boy,” the old man replied with a merry twinkle in his eyes.

“Why is this the first time that you come to me? Have I been such a bad boy all these years?” Harry queried softly, causing the twinkle in the blue eyes to stop.

“It might be that I somehow missed you, my boy, but I’m sure that you have always been a good boy,” Father Christmas told the child in a grave voice. “Now Harry, would you like to come with us for the time being? I told you that I’m a many times great grandchild of Father Christmas; however, Poppy and I both live in a huge castle, which is a magical school for small wizards and witches. We’d like you to come with us.”

“Magic?” Harry enquired, throwing the man an excited look. “Is magic real?”

“Yes Harry, magic is real, and you’re a wizard just like me.”

“I’d love to come with you, sir, but I’m a freak and a good for nothing burden,” Harry admitted in a small voice, causing Father Christmas to throw him a horrified look.

“No Harry, you’re definitely not a freak neither a burden to anyone, but a very fine little boy,” Poppy returned firmly. “I suggest that I take you with me, while Father Christmas visits your aunt and tells her that we’re going to take you with us to nurse you back to health.”

When Harry agreed, Poppy took his right hand, frowning at the heat he radiated, and made him touch a golden ring, which she wore on her ring finger. “You’ll feel a slight pull behind your navel, and then the world will turn around; this is a method of magical transportation and the fastest and easiest way to take you with me,” she explained gently, causing Harry to give her a frightened nod. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll be with you the whole time,” she added soothingly, before she spoke the activating password.

HP HEALER POMFREY HP

A few minutes later, Harry found himself lying in a crispy white bed in the hospital wing, where Poppy waved her wand at him several times, before she made him drink a few strangely tasting liquids, which she called ‘potions.’ Before he knew what was happening, he drifted off into a potions induced sleep, during which he dreamed of Father Christmas with his twinkling blue eyes, who was waving a wand at him, causing him to feel much cooler and better.

When he woke up a few hours later, it was already dark outside, and he couldn’t see anything but a faint moon light outside the huge windows surrounding the hospital wing. However, he saw that the lights were on in the office, in which he had arrived together with the Poppy lady, and that several people were sitting in the office, apparently animatedly talking to each other, although he couldn’t hear a sound. He noticed Poppy and a man, who resembled Father Christmas, but there were two other ladies and two more men in the office, and all of them were wearing the same strange kind of robes, which Father Christmas and Poppy had been wearing in the morning.

‘Is this what Mrs. Figg was talking about when she told me that someone would come to take me away, so that I could meet other freaks? Well, since it was Father Christmas, who decided to take me here, it can’t be bad, and it definitely won’t be worse than at the Dursleys’ home,’ Harry mused, feeling too exhausted and ill to worry about what was happening.