THE CLOCK STRUCK ELEVEN and somewhere in Surrey, Harry Potter was still awake. His Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley had gone to bed an hour prior after stuffing themselves with dessert and enjoying a nice evening by the fire. And while Harry felt a bit tired, he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. Between an uneventful Christmas that left much to be desired and an empty stomach, what child was able to rest easy? No, Harry wasn't looking forward to sleep, he was looking for the right opportunity to make his way out of the cupboard under the stairs and enjoy what he considered a proper Christmas dinner.

Waiting for the house to become completely still and quiet, Harry cautiously opened the little door to what was considered his bedroom. It squeaked slightly, echoing near the staircase and he waited to hear movement come from upstairs. When he heard nothing, he slid out through the small opening and tiptoed towards the kitchen area.

The house was mostly dark with the exception of the small fire that was left to die during the night in the fireplace. Harry made his way into the kitchen, hurrying over towards the refrigerator where Aunt Petunia had put away the majority of the leftovers from the Christmas meal. He pulled out the large platter that contained the roast and the bowl of mashed potatoes. He didn't care if they were cold, he was absolutely starving.

At seven years old, Harry was considered scrawny and quite gangly looking, as he was slightly underweight for his age. It made his head appear larger on his body and top of it, he was blessed with the messiest black hair anyone had ever seen. His image was not helped by the oversized clothing he was given, passed down from his rather overweight cousin.

He looked like someone straight out of an Oliver Twist production, it was only ironic that he was somewhat of an orphan. His parents had died in a car crash when he was only a little over one year old. He didn't really know what they looked like or remember any memories with them. But when his aunt and uncle were angry with him, they liked to remind Harry just how much he looked like his parents. Somehow that was meant to be an insult.

Just that afternoon when the family had been gathered around the Christmas tree opening gifts, Harry was told he was very much like his father. A proud little git that was ungrateful, simply because Harry dared to question why Dudley had gotten toys for Christmas while he had only been given socks and some of Dudley's old clothing again. He watched as Uncle Vernon's face turned a deep purple, making the large man resemble an overgrown grape.

And a minute later after being scolded for not being thankful for what was given to him, Harry was sent to his "room." When dinner was served, he didn't get to taste any of the roast that he had been smelling all day, instead, he was given old, cold porridge. He tried to stomach it, but the goopy texture was enough to make him nearly gag, and when Aunt Petunia saw that he didn't eat it, she gave him another scolding. And Harry was told that until he ate the porridge, he wouldn't be given anything else.

The joke was on them though as Harry tore off a few slices of the roast. Just enough that they wouldn't suspect him sneaking in a late-night meal. He took a few spoonfuls of potatoes as well, and one of the rolls of bread. All the while he was eating, Harry kept a listening ear out to make sure no one was coming downstairs.

After stuffing his face as much as possible, Harry let out a content sigh as he reached a full state. It would be the Christmas gift to himself since he wouldn't be getting anything else. Earlier, he had been telling himself what he said every year, that Father Christmas had merely forgotten about him again. But his time would come or so he thought until Dudley overheard him and rudely told Harry that Father Christmas wasn't real and even if he was, he wouldn't come to visit someone like Harry.

Just thinking about it again left Harry in a sour mood.

He was just about to start putting all the food away when he suddenly heard a tapping sound. Immediately, Harry whipped around, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from so he could stop it. He didn't want anyone upstairs to become alert. Even if Uncle Vernon snored like a wild beast into the night, there was always the possibility of Dudley or Aunt Petunia hearing him and then he would definitely be in for it.

The tapping sound seemed to be coming from the window that overlooked the kitchen sink and as he hurried over, he quickly came to a halt when he spotted an owl.

In the glow of the refrigerator light, Harry squinted his eyes to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. His eyesight was terrible but he could still make out the shape of the owl and as he grew closer, he could see it was carrying an envelope in its beak.

Looking over his shoulder, Harry was in absolute awe and couldn't figure out what else to do but carefully open the window. As soon as he did, the owl dropped the envelope and remained perched on the windowsill. And as any other child would, Harry snatched up the letter in curiosity, only to see that it was addressed to him.

Harry J. Potter

"That's me!" he said in an excited whisper. "I'm Harry Potter!"

He quickly tore open the top of the envelope and pulled out the letter to try and read it over. However, he could only read some of it by himself.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are alright and I hope you had a nice Christmas. My name is Charlus Potter, I'm your father's brother, which makes me your uncle. I'm sorry we haven't met sooner but I was sick for some time but now I'm better. I haven't seen you since you were a baby but I'm hoping to see you very soon. I'm sorry that we couldn't spend Christmas together, but I promise we'll have the next one. I hope the Dursleys are treating you well. I hope you're happy, I hope you're safe. I just wanted to let you know, that I love you. I miss you and we'll see each other very soon.

Your uncle,

Charlus.

P.S. If you can, write me a letter and give it to the owl, she'll make sure to bring it to me.

It took Harry what felt like forever to sound out some of the words so he could actually make out what the letter was saying. He would never claim to be an advance reader for his age but he was able to get the idea of what was written down.

He had another uncle outside of Uncle Vernon and it was his father's brother. And he wanted to see him! He said he loved and missed him, and Harry couldn't remember the last time he had heard such kind things being said in his direction. Unfortunately, it seemed his uncle had a warped idea of how the Dursleys really were, if he thought for a moment that they treated Harry well.

But Harry focused on a couple of things mentioned in the letter. One, his uncle claimed to have been sick and now he was better, and two, he wanted to see Harry again. He claimed they would see each other very soon. Just from a small paragraph alone, he sounded kinder than the Dursleys and Harry wanted to cry because he didn't want to be around the Dursleys anymore, he wanted to be around this other person that wished good things upon him.

However, if he made the letter out correctly, all Harry had to do was write something back and the owl would take it back. It seemed something out of a fantasy, but if Harry was willing to believe in Father Christmas, he was willing to believe in anything. An owl delivering the post was all fine and dandy with him.

Quickly, he went in search of a pencil to write something back. But in the midst of his search, Harry stopped and frowned. Part of him wondered if it was a trick. He wouldn't put it past his currently family to pull something so cruel.

The last time Aunt Marge had visited, Harry had been sitting in the living room, minding his own business when the doorbell rang. Harry had been instructed by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley to only answer the door when he was told to do so by them. However, Aunt Marge expected him to answer it right away even though she sat closer to the door.

When Harry didn't move, Aunt Marge cleared her throat loudly to grab his attention. "You better answer that door, boy. Who knows, maybe your parents are standing out there, waiting on you."

A horrible prank played an equally horrible woman. She had watched him with a smile as his face lit up at such a possibility and hurried over to answer the door. When he flung the door open, he yelled out "Mum!" and "Dad!" only to be disappointed when it was the neighbours.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were absolutely furious as they tried to keep Harry's interactions as limited as possible with the outside world. They didn't want people to know who they were raising in their home. When they learned that Harry had called the neighbours 'mum' and 'dad,' Vernon wasted no time in telling the poor little five-year-old that his parents were dead. Killed in a car crash and they were never coming back for him.

Such a blow had taken all the wind out of Harry's sail, leaving him down and out for weeks afterwards. And being shown a little glimmer of hope again, Harry was afraid of the consequences. However, Aunt Marge wasn't there and everyone else was asleep, so maybe, maybe he could hold onto to hope one more time.

Finding a pencil on Vernon's desk, Harry made his way back to the letter that looked to be written on the same type of paper that Harry envisioned treasure maps being drawn on. He flipped it over and concentrated to write his own message back.

Pleese halp me. Com get me. Pleese.

Love,

Harry.

He folded up the paper to the best of his abilities and handed it over to the owl. Swiftly, the owl snatched it up from his hand and took off into the night. Harry leaned over the basin of the sink and looked out the window, watching until the owl completely disappeared from his sight.

"Please hurry."

Charlus had fallen asleep long before the owl he sent off returned. He didn't hear the owl tapping feverishly at the glass of the window, but he didn't need to as Moose pounced onto the bed, scaring him and Sirius awake. While Sirius took to scolding the dog, Charlus caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw that Maeve's owl had returned. He jumped out of bed quickly and hurried over to see that a letter had been returned.

"Sirius, look, he wrote something back!" Charlus said with a happy cry. Only, his happiness faded right away as he read over Harry's letter. Seconds later, Charlus' hand dropped down to his side and Sirius made his way over, gently taking the letter from him.

He read over the short sentences for himself. No matter how it was spelt, Harry's message was clear.

"We can't wait any longer," Charlus said, " Harry needs us now."

"So, what's the plan?" Sirius asked as he stood in front of Charlus.

"We're going to Hogwarts tomorrow and I'm not leaving until I see Dumbledore. I want to know where Harry is and I want to show him this letter. Because if Harry is writing something like this, he's not happy and he's certainly not safe!"