Harry Potter was cold. It was Christmas Eve, and he was locked outside of the house, as usual. He knew the Dursleys, his only living relatives, hated him, but did they really have to lock him outside of the house every Christmas so he didn't infect them with his freakishness?

Harry sighed and shivered, bringing his arms closer to his chest for warmth. He was only four years old, and he had already given up belief in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. Why? He never received any Christmas presents; freaks don't deserve gifts. He was never allowed to participate in egg hunts on Easter; freaks don't deserve treats. He never received a 50 pence coin for a lost tooth; freaks don't deserve money. The cruel words of his aunt and uncle echoed in his head. Harry shivered again, remembering what Aunt Petunia had told his cousin, Dudley, the day before.

"Bundle up, Dudders, it's a cold day! You don't want Jack Frost nipping at your nose!"

"Who's Jack Frost, Mummy?" Dudley asked.

"Oh, honey, Jack Frost isn't a real person. That's just an expression!" Aunt Petunia laughed.

"But Santa's real, right? And he'll bring lots and lots of presents for me, right?"

"Of course, Dudders! You've been such a good boy all year long; of course Santa is going to bring you lots of presents. Now, have fun playing; don't leave the front yard!"

"Yes, Mummy."

Harry was jolted back to the present when a gust of cold wind hit him. He looked up at the sky to see snowflakes starting to gently float down to earth.

"I know Santa's not real, 'cause if he were, he'd bring presents to everyone. And the Easter Bunny's not real, 'cause if he were, he'd give eggs to everyone. And the Tooth Fairy's not real, 'cause if she were, she'd take care of everyone's teeth. But snow comes to everyone…so Jack Frost must be real. He must be. He takes care of everyone…" Harry whispered to the wind.

"He said…You said…You believe in Jack Frost…You believe in me," a disbelieving voice came from behind Harry.

Harry yelped and turned around to see a white-haired teen clutching a wooden staff. Harry's eyes widened. "Jack Frost?" he whispered.

The teen's jaw dropped. "You…You see me? You hear me?"

Harry nodded.

The teen, Jack Frost, let out a joyful laugh and did a backflip. "You see me! No one's ever seen me before, aside from the other immortals, I mean. But you see me!"

"Why wouldn't I see you?" Harry asked, confused.

"Only people who believe in me can see me," Jack Frost explained. "I don't know why, but that's how it is for the other immortals, too."

"What other immortals?"

"You know, the Sandman –"

"Who's that?" Harry interrupted.

"You haven't heard of the Sandman?" Jack Frost asked, amazed. When Harry shook his head, Jack explained, "He's the Guardian that brings good dreams to all the children of the world with his Dreamsand. That's why he's called the Sandman. Well, and there's the fact that he's made of actual sand…" Jack trailed off.

"He sounds nice," Harry said. "I get good dreams sometimes. I'll believe in him, too, now. But what did you mean, Guardian?"

"You're pretty sharp, kiddo, for remembering that. How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm four, Mister Frost," Harry said.

"Hey, none of that, just call me Jack. What's your name?" Jack grinned.

"Harry."

"Good name, Harry. Well, the Guardians are the protectors of childhood. The Sandman's all right, but the others are kind of stuck-up. They're Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy."

Harry stared at Jack. "But they don't exist."

Jack blinked. "Wait…you believe in me, but you don't believe in Santa?"

"Why should I? He's never brought me anything. None of them have. If they're protectors, they don't do a very good job." Harry crossed his arms. Then he shivered again.

Jack was at a loss. He sat down beside Harry, removing his brown cloak and draping it over the child's shoulders. "Listen, Snowflake…I don't know what's happened, but it seems like the Guardians have somehow overlooked you. Except the Sandman, but he's always been the cleverest of the bunch. But the Guardians do exist."

"So…they're all real, but they all forgot about me, except for the Sandman?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"I can try to talk to them about it," Jack offered. "They don't like me much, but I can –"

"No," Harry said softly. "It wouldn't be the same. If they have to be told about me…then they'll bring things because they have to, not because they want to. Thank you anyway, Jack."

Jack wrapped an arm around the small child beside him. "You're pretty wise and well-spoken for a four year old, Snowflake," he said.

"Snowflake?" Harry asked.

"Well, yeah," Jack said, a faint blue blush creeping into his cheeks. "I mean, you're small, and unique, and we're sitting in the snow…"

"I like it," Harry told him. "No one's ever given me a nickname before. Well, except for the Dursleys, but I don't think 'Freak' counts."

"What do you mean, 'Freak?' And who are the Dursleys?" Jack asked, concerned.

"They're my Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley. I live with them, but they don't like me," Harry explained. "Uncle Vernon says I'm a freak and a waste of space, and that's why I don't deserve nice things."

Jack looked angry. "Do they hit you?" he asked seriously.

"No. They just lock me in my cupboard if I do something freakish. I don't mind, though. I like the dark, and the spiders are friendly."

"Snowflake, that's not normal. No one should lock you in a cupboard," Jack said, hugging the child closer.

"I don't mind," Harry repeated. "It's better than an orphanage."

"But…they locked you outside! On Christmas Eve!" Jack spluttered.

"It's okay. They did it last year, too. It's not as if they'll give me any presents."

"Well, I'm going to give you a present," Jack declared strongly. He wrapped the brown cloak more securely around Harry's shoulders. "This cloak, it's yours now. And since it's coming from me, no one will be able to see it or feel it –"

"–So the Dursleys won't be able to take it away," Harry finished in awe. "Are you sure, Jack? Won't you get cold without it?"

"Nah," Jack laughed, ruffling Harry's already-messy hair. "I'm a winter spirit; I don't get cold. See," he said, wiggling his toes, "I don't even wear shoes!"

"Well, thank you," Harry said, cuddling further into the cloak. "It's nice to get a present. I don't have anything for you, though," he realized, looking devastated.

"You've already given me the greatest present I could ever get," Jack reassured the boy. "You're the first person to see me in almost three hundred years. That itself is a present to last a lifetime."

The smile on Harry's face that followed that declaration was blinding. "Does that make us friends?" he asked.

"You bet it does, Snowflake," Jack said, returning Harry's smile.

"I've never had a friend before," Harry confessed softly.

"Neither have I," Jack told him. "All the other immortals hate me. But that's probably because I like to have snowball fights and make frost patterns, and they're all stuck-ups who stick to a schedule. No sense of fun at all."

Harry giggled. "That sounds like Aunt Petunia. She doesn't have a sense of fun, either."

Jack grinned mischievously. "Is she stuck-up?"

"Yes!" Harry proclaimed, and they both dissolved into laughter.

Just then, the door to 4 Privet Drive opened, and a large, beefy man was silhouetted in the doorway. Harry stopped laughing immediately.

"All right, boy, you can come back inside," Uncle Vernon called. "It's straight to the cupboard with you, and don't get any clever ideas about sneaking out and stealing presents."

Harry hung his head and stood up, pulling the cloak tightly around his shoulders. "I have to go now. Goodbye, Jack," he whispered, knowing he couldn't give the winter spirit a hug without his uncle getting suspicious.

Jack has no such problem, though, giving Harry a quick but tight hug. "Goodbye for now, Snowflake. Happy Christmas. I'll come visit as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay," Harry whispered, then trudged into the house. Uncle Vernon closed the door harshly behind him.

Jack stood in the yard for a moment, wishing there was something more he could do for his new friend. At last he looked to the sky.

"Take me away, Wind," he called, and was swept up into the air to spread winter to the rest of the world. He silently vowed to return to Privet Drive as soon as he had the chance. He wasn't going to abandon his Snowflake.