Fortune Cookie
By Dark Chakram

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Summary: Harry finally gets his Christmas wish.

Takes place before Philosopher’s Stone.

Author’s Note: I am a Snape/Lily shipper. And even though this is not a Snape/Lily fic, it has very heavy Snape/Lily undertones.


Harry Potter couldn’t believe his luck. He was having quite possibly the best Christmas ever. Of course, being seven years old he could remember less than a handful of Christmases but they had been some of the worst days of his life. The Dursley’s always spent Christmas in Cokeworth, either at Uncle Vernon’s parents’ house of his sister, Marjorie’s home. Harry was unwelcomed but tolerated, for Vernon’s sake, at both places.

Harry was forced to endure cooking worse than Aunt Petunia’s and was made to watch Dudley open all of the presents that his relations lavished on him, which was a lot considering he was the only grandchild and nephew. Harry considered himself lucky if he scored a new pair of pajamas. That’s what he’d asked for this year, his old pajamas (really Dudley’s old pajamas) were getting so short that they looked more like capri pants. Usually Harry didn’t put much faith in Father Christmas, Uncle Vernon had said that all those Christmas stories were nothing but a bunch of magical codswallop, anyhow. But this year, Harry felt that there was something magical in the air.

Things had taken a decidedly delightful turn as soon as they’d woken up. Uncle Vernon had forgotten to pack his shaving cream. He griped and moaned that he couldn’t possible go to his parent’s house sporting a five o’clock shadow for Christmas dinner. He sent Harry to the front desk to see it the Railview Hotel had any complimentary toiletries.

It had snowed overnight. The ground was blanketed by a thin layer of white fluff. Icicles hung from the eaves and glinted in the early morning sun. Harry had zipped his jacket all the way up and had tucked his ungloved little hands into his pockets. The desk clerk had given Harry not only a tiny bottle of foamy shave cream but had also given Harry a candy cane and told him Merry Christmas. Harry had hastily torn the plastic off the confection and started licking it right away. He knew if he’d waited until he got back to the hotel room, the Dursleys would make him give the candy to Dudley.

It hadn’t surprised Harry, then, that when he had returned to the motel room, Aunt Petunia had told him what a naughty boy he’d been for not offering to share with Dudley. And, Uncle Vernon made him throw the rest of the stick in the rubbish bin. Still, Harry had been delighted. The candy cane was the best Christmas present he’d ever received. That was until Christmas dinner.

Christmas at the Dursley’s started out in the usual way with Dudley’s relations fawning all over him and showering him with Christmas gifts. Harry had found a comfortable spot in an armchair next to the fireplace and had watched the flames dance behind the grate. He had decided that he’d best get comfortable since he was always made to take his dinner in the parlor while the family ate in the formal dining room.

The commotion had started when the family moved into the dining room. Harry had been waiting expectantly for Aunt Marjie’s horribly dry turkey but instead he heard shrieking coming from the kitchen area. Aunt Marjie’s bulldogs had beaten the Dursley’s to Christmas dinner, which was a feat in and of itself, hardly anyone ever beat the Dursley’s to a meal. Aunt Petunia had done her best to console her sister-in-law but nothing was working. After an hour of crying and bickering, it had been decided that Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, and to Vernon’s extreme dislike, Harry, would head back to Privet Drive.

Harry hadn’t exactly been enthused about returning to Privet Drive so early but it was better than putting up with the rest of the Dursleys, so, he certainly didn’t complain. Not that it would have mattered if he had. It was on their way back to Privet Drive that Harry decided that he was having the best Christmas ever.

Dudley and Harry rode in the back seat. Snow was falling in the dark afternoon sky. Harry shivered, the car’s heater didn’t seem to circulate throughout the whole cary. Dudley didn’t seem to notice as he clashed together two of the action figures he’d gotten from his grandparents.

“Well, we can’t drive all the way back to Privet Drive on empty stomachs, can we?” Harry heard Aunt Petunia whisper.

“It’s Christmas, everything will be closed.”

“Surely there’s a Chinese place open,” Petunia encouraged.

“Chinese! You know it doesn’t sit well on my stomach.” Vernon snapped.

“Well, you’ll be hard pressed to find anywhere else,” Petunia rarely argued with her husband but she knew, as they all did, how Dudley reacted when he realized he was hungry. Aunt Petunia kept checking over her shoulder to see that Dudley was preoccupied. Finally, Vernon caught her drift.

“Fine. Noodles and rice it is, then. Can you think of any places?”

“Yes, that little restaurant on the corner of Spinner’s End.”

“Spinner’s End. Are you mad?”

“It’s on the way out of town, Vernon. We won’t be more than thirty minutes.”

Harry was excited. He’d never tried Chinese food before. But he liked noodles and rice, so he figured he’d like it alright.

They parked on the street. Even Harry, who hadn’t seen much of the world outside of Privet Drive could tell that they weren’t in the best part of town. He noticed that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking nervously down the street. The restaurant sat in the corner space of a row of old brick buildings. Harry marvelled at the foreign writing and the red paper lanterns.

A pretty hostess sat them in a booth near the front window. Harry read the placemat which told all about the Chinese Zodiac. “Look, I’m the year of the Monkey,”

“Nonsense,” Vernon spat.

Harry wanted to ask what year his parents were born but decided against it.

The restaurant was empty as far as Harry could see, except for one other customer who sat in the back next to the sign for the loo. The sign gave Harry an idea. He wanted to look at the pretty paintings on the wall but he knew his uncle would never allow it.

“I need the loo,” he lied.

Aunt Petunia sidled out of the booth to let Harry go take care of his business.

Harry walked as slowly as he could, looking at all the paintings and folding fans that spread out across the wall. He went into the bathroom and counted to sixty. Then, he washed his hands and dried them before heading back to the table.

As he was walking back to the booth, Harry walked past the solitary customer who sat near the loo. Harry couldn’t make out his features for his greasy black hair that curtained most of his face. But his black eyes were unmistakable because they stared rudely at Harry’s scar. It was only so noticeable because Aunt Petunia had insisted on cropping his hair short for Christmas at the Dursleys.

Instinctively, Harry’s hand went to his scar and quickened his steps toward the booth. He could almost feel the man’s stare burning a hole in his back as he walked away.

The food had arrived by the time that Harry made it back to the table. Harry was delighted to find that there was so much more to Chinese food than noodles and rice. Aunt Petunia had ordered and egg roll for each of them. Harry devoured his. And his eyes nearly popped out of his head when the waiter brought out the Sweet and Sour Chicken. Harry decided that he didn’t just like Chinese food, he loved it.

Then to his utter delight, the waiter brought four funny shaped cookies wrapped in clear plastic that read fortune cookie.

“What’s this?” Dudley asked.

“More hogwash,” Vernon grumbled.

Harry was just about to tear into his fortune when Uncle Vernon’s fat paw grabbed the cookie and crushed it into a million pieces. “Everyone knows what your future holds. You’ll grow up to be a . .. . a . . .fre. . .well, you’ll be just like your mother!” Vernon’s voice was loud and it carried across the restaurant.

Harry saw the strange, dark-haired customer’s back go stiff. He turned his head slightly their way but still Harry couldn’t really make out his face because of his hair. He reached into his pocket. For a moment, Harry feared he was going to pull a gun on them, there was definitely something pointy in his pocket. But then he settled back down into his seat.

No sooner had Harry relaxed than the strangest thing happened. The crumbled up bits of cookie rose high into the air and began to spin as if caught in some mysterious vortex. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia jumped from the booth and moved toward the kitchen. Dudley had no choice but to follow because Aunt Petunia dragged him along. Harry sat transfixed watching the magic. Was this Father Christmas’ doing? It had to be! The cookie reformed into a perfect fortune cookie then sat itself gingerly on the table right in front of Harry. The little white paper fortune peaked out, begging to be read.

Harry cracked the cookie into two pieces and took out the paper. In red ink, “Your mother was not a freak, your mother was love.”

Harry smiled and put the paper in his pocket. He gobbled up the cookie and sat in the booth alone looking too satisfied for Uncle Vernon’s tastes. Uncle Vernon marched over to the table. “I don’t know how you did that but you will give that paper here, this instant.”

“I didn’t do anything and I will not give you the paper.”

“Why you insolent little. . .” Vernon grabbed at Harry but Harry pulled away. He came at Harry again but before he could get to him, a half-full bowl of noodle soup that Aunt Petunia hadn’t finished, levitated into the air, tipped over, and doused Uncle Vernon in chicken fat and long stringy noodles.

It was then that Aunt Petunia seemed to notice the other restaurant patron. “You!”

Then she turned back to Vernon. “We need to go, now.”


“But. . .”

“No buts, leave the money on the table. The boys and I will be in the car. Give me the keys.”

Harry had never seen Aunt Petunia so forceful. He didn’t dare argue with her.

As his aunt ushered him out the Chinese restaurant, Harry was fairly certain that the dark man had enjoyed the little show, he was grinning ear to ear.

The rest of the ride back to Privet Drive was cold, quiet, and smelled of chicken broth. But Harry didn’t care. It was still the best Christmas ever. Someone had given him hope that his mother had once loved him. It was the only thing he’d ever truly wanted for Christmas, to know his mother’s love.