Harry Potter trudged along behind the Dursleys, shivering in his thin shirt. Trying to conserve body heat, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. Just ahead, Dudley waddled along in his new winter coat, the garment so thick with puffy fiber insulation that the boy looked nearly as wide as he was tall. Behind Harry…

The dark-haired boy shivered with more than just the cold. He twisted his head around to stare over his left shoulder, then the other way to check over his right one. He'd had the weirdest feeling for the past two days that someone … or something … kept following him. Sometimes at the Dursleys', as he did his innumerable chores; sometimes at school, where he tried to focus on lessons while his classmates sneered at the audible rumbles coming from his empty stomach. And now – the unseen presence dogged his shivering footsteps from the Dursleys' car along the crowded sidewalk to the large London department store.

Dudley had whined and whined that he would absolutely DIE if he didn't get the latest fad toy for Christmas. Apparently, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had not yet bought this most recent object of Dudley's avarice, despite the forty or so gifts already stuffed beneath their Christmas tree and spilling across the rug in the lounge on Privet Drive. Thus, the family had headed off to the store on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, hoping to collect the toy before the store closed early for the holiday.

"Come along, boy!" ordered Vernon, directing a glare back at Harry. "You don't want to make Dudley miss getting his – his – whatsit."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry murmured, although it was immaterial to him whether Dudley got to the store before his heart's desire sold out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take Dudley to break it, and when he did, would there be anything left worth playing with, if Dudley decided to gift Harry with the ruined remains?

They crossed the street and Harry threw another piercing glance over his shoulder before they stepped up onto the far curb. Seconds later, he reveled in the warmth of the overcrowded store, full of golden light, frazzled faces, and the constant bumping of last-minute shoppers.

As small as he was, Harry found himself bumped farther and farther away from the Dursleys as his relatives headed off toward the colorful toy department. The crowd finally thinned a bit and he found himself in domestics, surrounded by an endless array of thick comforters – wouldn't they be snug in his chilly cupboard! – and useless decorative accessories – did anyone really NEED a monkey lamp constructed of glittering molded wire? – and enough china and crystal to supply Dudley's throwing tantrums for more than a year.

Harry began wandering among the displays, careful to keep his hands to himself. Although he was ten, he looked younger, and he'd learned long ago that sales associates took an exceedingly dim view of poorly-dressed children fondling the merchandise.

That prickling feeling returned as Harry strolled from domestics into housewares, and he quickly sidestepped into an aisle displaying small appliances. After taking several fast steps down the aisle, he whirled around, facing the way he'd come. A few seconds later, his breath caught in his throat. He could FEEL someone staring back at him from that end of the aisle, although he could see nothing except the shelves lining the wall beyond the cross-aisle. It felt as if … as if an invisible person were spying on him. He strained his eyes and ears … was that a quiet step? Shoe leather tapping on polished tile? At length, he let out his breath, for the prickling sensation had faded.

Turning away, he slowly walked the aisle, vaguely aware that he was passing coffee makers, four-slice toasters, stand mixers, and juice extractors. Suddenly, Harry froze. He couldn't believe his eyes! There – next to an electric teapot – was a CASTLE! Not even aware that he had moved, the boy drew near, his emerald eyes drinking in the familiar contours of the castle.

He'd seen it before, he realized. He must have! Though he couldn't recall when or where. Certainly, the Dursleys would never have taken him there on holiday. They would never have wasted a magnificent castle like that on him. Freaks didn't deserve holidays, and freaks didn't deserve castles. Yet … he KNEW he'd been there. As sure as sure could be.

Harry stared at the castle, confined within the dome of a sizeable snow globe. The clear dome measured about ten inches high, with an elongated diameter varying from maybe five to seven inches. The faintest swirl of miniscule snowflakes lingered, suspended around the castle, as if someone had shaken the snow globe shortly before Harry had spotted it. Even as he watched, the lazy swirl continued, sparkling flakes defying gravity, refusing to settle.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Harry tried to remember. But no image of the castle came to him. Just – just a feeling. A sensation. The castle made him feel … feel… He struggled to put a name to the sensation, for it wasn't one he readily recognized. Not from his daily life. But finally, it came to him. The castle … made him feel … safe. When he'd been there – whenever he'd been there – he'd felt safe.

Harry opened his eyes.

The castle was still there, by the electric teapot, the errant snowflakes continuing to circle the miniaturized edifice. The artist had painted the golden glow of light upon some of the windows, and Harry imagined how wonderful it must be to live in a castle, where one could feel safe behind the warmly-glowing windows as winter snow swirled in the freezing air outside.

How had the castle snow globe ended up here, he wondered. It was hardly an appliance. More of a Christmas-themed novelty, you'd expect it to be on display near the main entrance to the store, not stuck back here in housewares. Perhaps someone had picked it up elsewhere, planning to buy it, then set it down here after having a change of heart, or simply tiring of carrying it around.

Not wanting to break this connection to the castle he was feeling, Harry continued to stare at the snow globe, emptily wishing he could have it.

Just once, it would be nice to get a real present for Christmas.

Just once, it would be nice to feel safe.

Even if the feeling was only in his imagination.

Without warning, a blinding pain crashed into the left side of Harry's ribcage, sending him sprawling face down onto the tiled floor of the housewares department.

-:- -:- -:-

From a short distance, Severus Snape saw the abominable Dursley offspring crash into Potter, sending him sprawling painfully to the floor. But even before he could intervene, Potter was up and running, shoving the heavily-insulated kid hard enough to cause him to stagger sideways before he lumbered into pursuit.

"You're going to get it now, Potter!" shouted the spoiled spawn, but Potter had dodged away out of sight.

How many times had similar scenes been enacted over the past couple of days? Snape sneered in disgust as he followed the Dursley imbecile. Somehow, Potter managed to avoid being beaten to a pulp on a daily basis – usually – but only by virtue of the fact that he could outrun his larger cousin. If young Dursley managed to actually get his hands on Potter, however the smaller boy didn't stand much of a chance to escape an episode of rather brutal physical abuse. Even if the cousin didn't succeed in inflicting major violence, the uncle and aunt had their own ways of "punishing" Potter for "attacking" their precious Dudders or Diddykins.

Snape could not believe that Albus Dumbledore had waited this long to send someone – namely Snape – to check up on Potter's situation. But the Figg woman had reported that the Dursleys had not equipped Potter with appropriate winter attire this year, and that the boy had to spend hours working outdoors without a proper coat, hat, or gloves. Most times, he wasn't even bundled into a warm jumper, just a thin shirt. So, Dumbledore ordered Snape to Disillusion himself and spend a few days dogging Potter's small footsteps to see what was really happening behind the closed doors of Number 4 Privet Drive.

And what he'd seen had shocked Severus Snape to the core.

The over-privileged Dursleys treated the Potter boy like their own personal slave – worse than a house elf, even.

In a personal sense, Snape had been prepared to dislike the miniature Potter on sight. But then, he'd watched events unfold in the Dursley household, initially with disbelief, then with a growing disgust mingled with horror. That they would treat Lily's child so! That they would DARE to treat Harry Potter, the presumed savior of the Wizarding world, so … inhumanely. Time and time again, he forced himself not to intervene, since it was Dumbledore's wish that Snape merely observe and report. But repeatedly, his fingers itched to aim his wand…

…as Potter toiled before school, fixing breakfast for the Dursleys, but receiving none for himself because the conniving cousin had deliberately jostled the eggs Potter had carried from the refrigerator, causing one to fall and splatter rawly across the kitchen floor…

…as Potter made their beds after breakfast, his quick expertise obviously garnered from long years of experience, only to have that abominable lump of a cousin subsequently leap upon his parents' neat bed to deliberately rumple it, earning Potter a sharp smacking from his aunt for his "sloppiness"…

…as Potter spent more than an hour without a coat or gloves in near-freezing temperatures, raking the final leaves of the season into a neat pile near the rear gate, only to have the despicable spawn and his gang of miscreants purposely scatter the dry leaves back across the entire yard the moment Potter had gone indoors to warm up, resulting in Potter's uncle striking him twice with a leather belt and then locking him in the cupboard under the stairs…

That cupboard!

Potter LIVED in that cupboard!

While the Dursley dunderhead had two – TWO – bedrooms for his own!

Snape's wand hand had BURNED with fury when he'd discovered the truth about the cupboard. To coop up any child – and a magical child at that! – in such a tiny, unforgiving space… To deny a child food and decent clothing… To drill it into the child that he was a FREAK and therefore undeserving of life's most basic necessities, to the point that the child ACCEPTED such blatant psychological abuses as truisms…

It was all he could DO to keep from drawing his wand!

DAMN Dumbledore!

That twinkling idiot should have closely monitored Potter from the very moment he'd left the boy with his relatives, and removed the child at the first sign of abuse. Better still, Lily's boy should have been left with more competent guardians in the first place, particularly given her sister's long history of actively despising anything magical.

And now this –

Potter darted out from behind a display of fancy throw pillows as his panting cousin lunged at him. The Dursley dimwit crashed against fragile shelving, shattering the decorative plastic and trampling the satiny flood of pillows that spilled beneath the heavy tread of his winter boots. Snape could hear the dainty fabric ripping as sharp shards of shelving slashed into the pillows beneath the human steamroller's feet.

Snape's invisible reach was an inch too short and a second too slow to grab the flopping hood of Durley's thickly-squashy coat as the boy blundered past a rack of ready-made window treatments, snagging his puffy sleeve in a dangling swag, causing the rack to fall directly in Snape's path.

Hissing curses under his breath, Snape stumbled through the mess of fabrics and fallen racks on the floor. He looked up just in time to see Potter skid around the corner and down the small appliances aisle once more, his lout of a cousin in hot pursuit. By the time Snape reached the end of the aisle, the round dunderhead lay rolling helplessly on the floor, impeded from getting up by the sheer amount of insulation surrounding his girth, restricting his movements. Snape couldn't help smirking – Dudley Dursley resembled nothing so much as a gigantic, excessively-padded blue bowling ball with attached flailing legs.

As for Potter…

The boy vanished.

Right before Snape's eyes.

Right before his cousin's eyes, too, if the flailing boy's sudden screams were anything to go by.

One moment, Potter had been standing just there, about halfway down the aisle, his lips moving frantically as he seemingly implored – an electric teapot? And then he'd vanished.

Frowning, Snape drew his wand and stepped carefully past the screaming Dursley brat. Potter had been standing right here…

And then he saw it.

Hogwarts.

A Hogwarts snow globe.

Illegal for sale, even in the Wizarding world, due to certain … complications.

Snape sighed after running his Disillusioned wand carefully over the snow globe.

Dumbledore definitely wasn't going to like this.

-:- -:- -:-

Throughout Harry's frantic flight from Dudley – hiding, dodging, darting, desperately trying to stay out of arm's reach – one thought kept flashing in his mind: Safe! I want to be SAFE!

He'd finally managed to make a break for the small appliances aisle, and he'd run for the castle, not looking back even when he heard Dudley trip over his own fat feet and land with a padded thud on the floor.

One part of his mind screamed at him to keep on running, for he knew Dudley would blame him for the fall, resulting in more punishment from Uncle Vernon – and on Christmas Eve, at that.

But the other part of Harry's mind compelled him to run for the castle – to the SAFETY of the castle – no matter how illogical it seemed. He stood before the snow globe, his very breath fogging the clear dome where the snow still swirled, pleading frantically, "I want to be safe! I want to be safe! I want to be safe in the castle! Please please PLEASE let me be safe in the castle!" As footsteps approached, shoe leather tapping on the tiled floor, Harry implored once more, pouring his entire heart and soul into his desperate plea, "It's Christmas Eve! If I could have just one Christmas wish – PLEASE let me be safe in the castle for Christmas! Please!"

And the castle vanished.

In fact, the entire snow globe vanished.

Harry found himself standing inside a darkened room, devoid of any sound except his own frantic breathing.

For the longest moment, he just stood there, trembling with fear, trying to figure out what had happened. There'd been the strangest physical sensation … sort of a squeezing feel … and a terrible moment of vertigo just as things went dark. Had Uncle Vernon come up behind him then? Grabbed him in a bear hug until he'd passed out? But where had he taken Harry? This room was much larger than his cupboard, although – unlike his cupboard – it contained not a single object. Just a dark, empty room, with only the tiniest bit of filtered light drifting in through an open doorway to his far left.

Was this an orphanage?

The Dursleys had always threatened him with sending him to an orphanage. Aunt Marge always reinforced that idea every time she came to visit. Had Dudley's fall finally earned Harry a one-way trip to an orphanage? But this room was empty. Where were the other orphans? He couldn't hear the sound of other children's voices, nor laughter, nor sobs. And where were the adults?

Without a specific plan in place, Harry headed for the dim glimmer of light beyond the door, his footsteps echoing emptily against the walls. The doorway opened onto a corridor, and the corridor held light at one end. Following the light, Harry was amazed to find himself facing the grandest staircase he'd ever seen: many flights towered far above him, while a long expanse led downwards toward a tall door that stood slightly ajar, admitting a strong beam of brilliant light.

Running down the steps, Harry raced for this door, knowing that, somehow, all of the answers he sought lay in the light beyond.

The door stood just enough open for him to slip through…

It must have been the sudden shock of the world gone mad before his eyes which caused Harry's legs to buckle, and he sat down hard.

Out there, in the bright light, beyond a curving clear dome, stood Uncle Vernon – a GIGANTIC Uncle Vernon! – and just to the giant's right, an equally gigantic Aunt Petunia was bent over an unbelievably-puffy blue Dudley. An enormous sales lady stood pointing down at Dudley with one finger, and back along the aisle with another finger. Probably something to do with Dudley's mess in domestics, Harry mused.

As for his own situation –

Harry looked up, down, and all around, and the truth hit him like a delayed reaction.

He'd DONE it! He'd made it into the castle! Somehow, he realized, he was sitting on the top step in front of the magnificent castle's main entrance doors, with sparkling snowflakes gently floating past him. WOW! But wait – this was a snow globe! Didn't the snow normally swirl in water in snow globes? Why hadn't he drowned? How could he possibly breathe? Harry inhaled deeply a couple of times to test the air surrounding him, and yes, it was perfectly breathable. He sighed happily.

He was SAFE!

Safe in the castle!

Safe for Christmas!

Harry drew his knees up against his chest and smiled contentedly. He'd finally gotten a Christmas wish to come true, and this was the best wish ever!

He wouldn't have to watch Dudley opening fifty presents tomorrow, while Harry just got an unwashed pair of Dudley's old socks. The crumpled brown paper bag with a mustard stain outside and the pair of worn socks inside was already shoved behind the Dursleys' Christmas tree, Harry knew, for Dudley had repeatedly taunted him with that fact. To top it off, Harry wouldn't have to wear himself out fixing Christmas dinner for the Dursleys, all the while hoping to be able to get at least a sampling of each dish before Aunt Petunia dismissed him to his cupboard for the remainder of Christmas Day. Truth be told, Harry didn't mind the cooking so much, especially when it required repeated tasting to get the seasoning just right – he could taste and taste sufficiently to ingest a passably small meal – but he hated being overtly denied food, as was the Dursleys' frequent wont.

Harry frowned as a thought suddenly struck him. Was there food in this castle? What about water? The thought of water made him consider another need – what about a bathroom? If he really HAD to go, before he got out of the snow globe –

The blood drained from Harry's face.

COULD he get out of the snow globe?

He'd gotten in, after all. But he didn't really know HOW. You'd think it would simply be a matter of reversing the procedure, but Harry really didn't know what he'd DONE.

A cold chill of fear stole over him. He couldn't even take pleasure in watching the man, whose nametag proclaimed him as the store manager, angrily lambasting Uncle Vernon. After several tense moments, Vernon yanked a handful of bills from his thick wallet and shoved them in the manager's face. Harry's relatives then filed down the small appliances aisle, leaving the manager and the sales lady glaring darkly after them.

In the silence of the snow globe, Harry sighed in trepidation as the sparkling snow swirled soundlessly around him.

-:- -:- -:-

Blasted brat!

Severus Snape growled to himself. There was nothing for it but to buy the snow globe. Given the degree of magic emanating from the globe, he didn't dare disillusion it for fear of what damage the combined magics might inflict upon Potter. If Dumbledore could succeed in extracting Potter, the boy must not be harmed beforehand. For the same reason, Apparition was also out and, likewise, Floo Powder. The Hogwarts Express was scheduled to make a final run north on Christmas Eve, arriving at Hogsmeade just before midnight. He could just make the train.

Snape slipped into an unpopulated aisle beyond the scan of the nearest security camera and Finited the Disillusionment on himself. Pulling a plain wallet from the inside of his charcoal gray blazer, he returned to the snow globe and gently lifted it up to his eye level. There – just there upon the uppermost step before the main doors – there sat Potter, staring up at him with his jaw hanging down. The boy looked barely larger than a small ant. Snape hoped Potter had enough sense to get inside the castle and find something to hang onto, else he could be seriously knocked about by the slightest movement of the snow globe. In any case, this would prove a rough ride for the child, since Snape feared to combine even a stasis charm with the globe's magic.

Carefully, he walked toward the nearest checkout register to pay for the magical snow globe with Muggle money.

-:- -:- -:-

Not good! Not good!

Instinctively, Harry knew his situation had gone from uncertain to precarious when a new giant with the biggest nose he'd ever seen hoisted the snow globe and stared directly through the dome at him. How had this man known he was even there? But there was no mistaking it – this man's eyes had fixed themselves upon Harry, and the boy felt as if he'd fallen down a dark chute into a black pit.

Next thing he knew, the store aisles were flying past at warp speed, and Harry himself had tumbled halfway down the steps in front of the castle. Where was this man in the gray coat and black turtleneck taking Harry's snow globe? The boy gulped convulsively as an awful possibility occurred to him: the man was going to give the snow globe to the Dursleys, and all they'd have to do was break it open and crush him like an ant…

But no, the man set the snow globe down on a counter, and Harry saw the man hand huge sheets of currency to the cashier. He was BUYING the snow globe … and Harry along with it!

The man seemed to glare at Harry before picking up the snow globe once again – carefully, the boy noticed – and he moved away to a quiet corner of the store before setting it down once more. As Harry tried to right himself following this latest tumble, the man began scribbling something on the back of the sales receipt. After several moments, the man held the handwritten side of the paper up facing the snow globe, and Harry read with shock:

"Potter, get inside the castle and find something to hang on to securely. Do NOT let go until I tap three times against the dome. Acknowledge by waving your left arm three times."

His jaw dangling down for the second time in the past five minutes, Harry pulled himself together and waved his left arm up and down, up and down, up and down, before he scrambled all the way to the top of the steps and slipped past the partly-opened door into the dimness of the castle.

Desperately, he looked around, seeking a secure purchase. He rejected the door handle itself in favor of a stair railing with a space just large enough to slip his arm through and wrap it around an upright of the banister. Seated on the adjacent step, he had a tall, narrow view of the world beyond the dome. Harry realized that the man was giving him more than adequate time to find a handhold, for the dome did not move again for nearly a full minute after Harry had already secured himself.

Who WAS this strange man? And how had he known Harry's name?

The snow globe lurched into action once more, but Harry's elbow, tightly grasping the upright, held him in place. Through the narrow opening of the doorway, Harry saw the bright interior of the store vanish, replaced by the illuminated twilight of the city street. Within seconds, the view changed again, and Harry realized that the man must have settled into the back seat of a taxi – Harry could just see the mighty brim of the driver's cap.

After a timeless drive, during which Harry saw London pass sideways in a tall, narrow strip, like a runaway kaleidoscope, the taxi stopped, and a moment or two later, the man in the gray blazer emerged, carefully balancing the snow globe. Harry couldn't tell whether the man had done it on purpose, but the door of the castle faced forward at an angle that gave Harry a decent view of their route. They entered a tall building, which Harry soon realized was a train station, probably King's Cross. So, they were going to take a train?

But – NO! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO! AAAAAGGGHHH!

Harry's scream echoed up the tall castle staircase as the man rushed toward a solid brick wall! They were going to DIE!

And then – somehow – they were THROUGH the wall.

Harry sat gasping for air, his heart pounding like a pile driver.

-:- -:- -:-

Snape chuckled quietly to himself as he emerged onto Platform 9¾. He'd bet a few serious sickles that the little brat had screamed as they'd stepped onto the platform! Well, it was small enough payback for all the trouble this child was putting him to. Besides, people didn't end up inside snow globes ENTIRELY by accident.

The train's sharp whistle blew a warning as Snape paid the required galleons for his ticket, and he climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express mere seconds before the train lurched forward with a series of metallic clanks from the couplings between the cars.

Balancing the snowglobe against the sway of the car as the train moved out of the station and slowly picked up speed, Snape moved from one car to the next, finally settling into an empty compartment in the fourth car back. After warding the door shut, he quickly transfigured a handkerchief into a long, makeshift sling suspended from an overhead luggage rack. He carefully placed the snow globe in the sling, where it swung gently, softly absorbing the jerky movements of the train car.

After adjusting the globe so that the door of the castle faced the window of the train compartment, thereby situating the steps so that they swung gently forward and back rather than sideways, Snape quietly tapped the snow globe's dome three times with the tip of his quill. Although Snape himself could barely hear the tapping, inside the globe, Potter must hear it like an exceedingly loud knocking.

-:- -:- -:-

KLONK! KLONK! KLONK!

Harry winced at what was unmistakably the strange man's signal that he could finally let go and come out of the castle. Slowly, he eased his elbow's grip around the banister's upright, sliding his arm free. The castle seemed to be swaying slightly, but the motion felt far more gentle than when the man's bumpy stride had shaken the snow globe with every step. Cautiously, Harry pulled himself to his feet and approached the castle's outer door.

He was facing a window, he realized, but he couldn't see much of the outside scenery due to the mid-December early dusk, not to mention the interior lights reflecting off the glass. Occasionally, he'd see streetlamps or lit windows whizzing past the train's window, but he found the seated giant man of far greater interest to observe. Harry settled himself several steps down from the top so he could lean back as the castle swayed. The motion reminded him of a giant swing at a play park, and as he looked up past the clear dome, he realized the snow globe WAS swinging in some kind of hanging contraption. Meanwhile, the man appeared to be scribbling again, this time with … a FEATHER?

Before Harry could mull over that intriguing fact, the man waved a stick of some sort, and right before Harry's eyes, the huge sheet of paper he'd been writing on seemed to shrink, just as Harry had shrunk when he'd ended up in the snow globe. The man now held the small scrap of paper facing the side of the dome, and Harry could read, in what appeared to be a moderately large script:

"Potter, I am Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are trapped in an illegal snow globe of Hogwarts Castle. These snow globes were banned in the Wizarding World shortly after their invention about twenty years ago. How this snow globe ended up for sale in a Muggle store is unknown. There needs to be an investigation into the matter. However, the first priority is to extract you safely from the dome. I am taking you to Hogwarts' Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in our world. Hopefully, he will have the ability to free you quickly. In the meantime, do not attempt to work any further magic within the globe. We do not need to complicate matters beyond where they stand at present. Acknowledge by waving three times, as before."

Harry stared at the missive uncomprehendingly. A school of witchcraft and wizardry? A wizarding WORLD? Muggle store? A wizard Headmaster? All of that was weird enough, but the admonishment about not attempting to work any FURTHER magic – why, Harry hadn't worked any magic in the first place! One moment, he'd been standing next to the electric teapot, with Dudley flailing his legs a few feet away; the next moment, Harry'd opened his eyes inside the castle. HE hadn't done magic! If this WAS magic, it had BEEN DONE – TO HIM!

Utterly confused, the boy finally looked up at this Severus Snape, only to fall backwards against the steps as he found himself being scrutinized by a horridly-magnified eyeball. The forbidding giant was actually holding a humongous magnifying glass close to the dome, peering down at Harry as if it were Judgment Day and Harry had been found seriously lacking.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the sight of that merciless black eye, Harry tried not to sob aloud. This wasn't what he'd wanted for Christmas. He'd be glad to settle for a thrashing from Uncle Vernon and Dudley's dirty socks! Just let him get back to Privet Drive! He didn't want to go to this Hogwarts Castle! He didn't want to deal with the great Wizard Headmaster! He just wanted to wake up in his cupboard!

Maybe … maybe he WAS in his cupboard.

Maybe this was just a bad, BAD dream.

One, two, three – WAKE UP!

Harry opened his eyes very slowly, but even with the eyelids barely parted, through his lashes he could still see that obsidian orb looming over him, like a hideous black planet poised above a pockmarked alien landscape in the sci-fi/fantasy artwork which Dudley endlessly rhapsodized about.

It wasn't a dream, then.

Despite Uncle Vernon's declarations to the contrary, magic must be REAL.

And according to He-Of-The-Black-Eyeball, Harry had DONE magic. But he still couldn't understand how he could have DONE magic, when he didn't know HOW to do it at all. And if he'd done it without meaning to, how could he avoid doing FURTHER magic that would complicate matters even WORSE?

KLONK!

Harry flinched at the sound made by the tip of the feather pounding against the dome. The Snape man was wiggling the paper rather impatiently, still awaiting a response. Harry stared up at him, easier to take now that he'd lowered the magnifying glass for the quill. But up came the glass again, and the eyeball returned Harry's own scrutiny. The boy sighed deeply, then shrugged theatrically. He really didn't understand any of this. But when Snape wiggled the paper again, Harry gave a half-hearted wave of his left arm, followed by two more waves before drooping morosely upon the steps. He supposed he didn't have any choice in the matter.

Trapped.

In a stupid snow globe.

On a train to nowhere he'd ever heard of.

KLONK!

Too dejected to flinch this time, Harry raised his head, avoiding looking directly at the glittering eyeball and merely reading the new message instead:

"Do you have any questions?"

Was the man KIDDING? Of course, Harry had questions. Nothing BUT questions!

Against the swaying of the sling contraption, Harry stood up and shouted, "Is magic real?"

The black-haired giant frowned, then put a hand to his ear.

Harry tried again. "IS. MAGIC. REAL?"

To his dismay – and to Snape's obvious dismay as well – Harry's voice apparently could not be heard outside the snow globe's dome, if the frustrated expression on the man's face was any indication.

As Snape laid down his small magnifying glass and began scribbling with the feather once more, Harry had an idea. He moved down to a broad landing on the stairs, and when the man's eye returned to hover over him, Harry tried sketching out backwards letters with broad strokes of his arm in midair. The obsidian eyeball carefully watched every move he made.

-:- -:- -:-

Snape frowned in concern. The Auditory Enhancement Spell had done nothing to make Potter's voice audible. Fearful of casting any magic upon the snow globe, Snape had cast the spell upon himself after Silencing the entire compartment, so he would not be overwhelmed by extraneous external noises produced by the train or its other occupants. But even in the absolute Silence of the compartment, he could not make out Potter's obviously-shouted words.

He sighed and scribbled:

"Wait until we reach Hogwarts. The journey will take approximately another seven hours."

Before he could hold it up, however, he realized that Potter had taken the initiative. Raising the magnifying glass to his eye, Snape studied the precise movements that Potter described with his tiny hand. Letters, he deduced.

I … S… A pause. M … A … G … I … C… Another pause. A backwards R, followed by E … A … L… And an attempt at a question mark, with a sharp forward thrust beneath the lion's-mane curve to indicate the dot below.

Is magic real? Could the boy truly not know? Granted, no magical topics had been discussed during the two and a half days that he had observed Potter's interaction with the Dursleys, but did that really mean that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had no knowledge whatsoever of his birth family's Wizarding heritage?

Inside the snow globe, the ant-sized Potter stood waiting expectantly.

Slowly, Snape nodded, noting the boy's rather shocked expression. Unable to repress a smirk, Snape laid down the magnifying glass and scribbled, "I am a Wizard." After a pause, he added, "So are you."

He held the paper up to the dome, watching as Potter's knees buckled in reaction.

The boy had had no clue.

Wait until Dumbledore heard this! Through their silence, those disgusting Dursleys had denied Potter his very birthright! Snape continued to closely observe the boy, wondering what – if anything – Snape could do if the child reacted adversely to learning the truth about himself.

Inside the snow globe, Harry sat shaking on the castle steps. A wizard? This man said he was a WIZARD? But … how was that possible? And magic was REAL? Had he really done magic without meaning to and ended up in the snow globe somehow? He'd only been fantasizing, just like he did in his cupboard, wishing things were different, wishing so hard that he could change things. He'd always fantasized, because fantasy made it easier to deal with reality. He could pretend, and if he pretended hard enough, he could almost feel things change. He could transport himself elsewhere, be someone besides the freak in the cupboard, be … happier.

That's all he'd wanted. Just a fantasy. Just pretend to get into the castle to be safe. If his mind was safe in the castle, then he could handle the inevitable thrashing from Uncle Vernon. He'd just … drift away into the fantasy, and he wasn't really getting thrashed, because that was somebody else feeling the blows. Fantasy was the only thing Harry had to fall back on. Fantasy was the only gift he could give himself. Nobody could take away his imagination – not Dudley, not Aunt Petunia, not Uncle Vernon and his leather belt. Being safe in the castle was just Harry's fantasy.

Until it became real.

Harry looked up at the huge black eye again. Did it look slightly sympathetic? Hard to tell, really. But it didn't seem to be glaring down at him right now.

Magic? Could Harry REALLY do magic? Even if he didn't mean to? He began to think about some of the weird things that the Dursleys had always blamed him for. Things that he could not possibly have done, like suddenly turning his teacher's hair blue. He'd never been able to figure out why the Dursleys held him responsible for that fiasco. But was that magic, too? And had he somehow done it? He'd certainly never meant to do magic. As far as he'd known at that moment in time, there was No Such Thing as magic. Uncle Vernon had always said so. But – if Uncle Vernon seemed so determined to make Harry believe in the absence of magic, did that mean that Uncle Vernon knew that magic was actually real? That he'd been lying all along?

Harry took a deep breath and climbed to his feet again. The eye watched him closely.

W… H… Y… [pause] A… M… [pause] I… [pause] A… [pause] W… I… Z… A… R… D… Followed by a sweeping curve with a sharp punch below.

Snape's lips twitched slightly, and he laid down the glass to scribble with the feather again. Harry sat down, patiently waiting for the response. A few moments later, Snape held up the paper for Harry to read:

"Your mother, Lily, was a witch, and your father, James, was a wizard. You get your magical ability from them. Both of them were students at Hogwarts, where you will also receive magical training next year, after you have turned eleven."

Harry's eyes popped. His parents were a witch and a wizard? But why had his relatives never said? Aunt Petunia was his mother's own sister – surely she must have known! Especially if his mum had gone to this Hogwarts school. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet and thought for a moment, wondering how much he could abbreviate his messages and still be understood by this giant of a man outside the snow globe.

D… O… [pause] M… Y… [pause] R… E… L… A… T… I… V… E… S… [pause] K… N… O… W… ?

Snape nodded, and he scribbled once more:

"The Headmaster himself placed you with the Dursleys after your parents [something had been marked through here rather heavily, Harry noticed] died when you were a baby. They were to look after you until you were ready to come to Hogwarts to study. Petunia had known that Lily was a witch ever since they were girls. Petunia herself was not born with the gift of magic, and she was envious of your mother's ability. Possibly, that's why you were never told of your parents' background. Petunia would not have wanted to deal with another magical person, when she herself couldn't do magic."

Harry stood frowning, considering. Aunt Petunia must have told Uncle Vernon. And Dudley must have picked up on it somewhere. Great … just great. Harry was the ONLY one who DIDN'T know that he was a wizard! But it certainly explained a lot. Not just about the bizarre things that had happened through the years, and about being blamed for them, but also about the way the Dursleys had always treated him. And why. Especially why.

He wondered what else to ask. Snape had said this snow globe was a Hogwarts one, an illegal one. And what was that word he'd used? Like getting mugged? Muggle! That was it.

W… H… A… T… [pause] I… S… [pause] M… U… G… G… L… E… ?

"A Muggle is the Wizarding term for a non-magical person. Your relatives are Muggles."

Harry giggled! Oh, wouldn't it be great to taunt Dudley with a word that his pudgy cousin didn't understand? Muggle-Muggle-Muggle! "Dudley is a Muggle, Dudley is a Muggle!" Harry chanted quietly in a sing-song voice. But first, he'd have to get out of this snow globe.

H… O… W… [pause] I… [pause] I… N… [pause] G… L… O… B… E…?

"To my knowledge, these snow globes were banned precisely because witches and wizards in years past managed to WISH themselves into the globes. Whether the designer had intended that effect is unknown, but after several tragedies, the Hogwarts snow globes were removed from wizarding retail stores and banned as Dark objects. Can you recall if you were wishing specifically to get into the snow globe before you were … transported, for lack of a better term?"

Harry nodded vigorously.

Snape sighed deeply, shaking his head very slightly, his long black hair drifting with the motion.

"We must trust the Headmaster to extract you safely."

Something Snape had said bothered Harry. He spelt out: T… R… A… G… E… D… I… E… S…?

The giant man's thin lips seemed to press together more tightly. For once, he set down the magnifying glass and frowned seriously for many long moments. Obviously, he was considering how much to explain to Harry about those tragedies. Not wanting to cause the man to decide against telling him anything, Harry quietly sat on the castle steps, looking now at the cluster of village lights passing by outside the darkened window of the train's closed compartment. He idly wondered in which direction they were traveling, where this Hogwarts castle was located in real life. And would the Headmaster really be able to get him out? What if he couldn't? Would Harry himself become another "tragedy"? He looked up at Snape as the man began scribbling, the feathery plume bouncing with every stroke. FEATHERS! Did all wizards write with feathers, Harry wondered, or just this dark man?

"A small number of people died after wishing themselves into the snow globes and not being able to get out on their own. The snow globe itself does not kill; however, there is no food or water available, and these individuals died of dehydration. I do know that several people DID manage to get out of the globes successfully, but I don't know any details. I do not wish to use any magic upon the snow globe myself, leaving the method of extracting you up to the Headmaster. I believe he is cognizant of an appropriate means."

C… O… G… ?

"Dumbledore knows what he's doing. Usually."

Harry hmphhed. That last word wasn't as reassuring as the rest of the message.

B… R… E… A… K… [pause] G… L… O… B… E… ?

"No. The unfortunate two who had that method foisted upon them discovered that they were permanently shrunken to your present size. No magical means, including potions, were ever effective in restoring them to their normal state."

Not good. Definitely not good.

Harry stood, balancing himself against the rhythmic swaying. He was actually quite adept at maintaining his balance, he'd discovered, and he wondered if they really did have to break the snow globe to get him out, maybe he could be a one-man ant-sized circus? His abnormally small size would probably terrify Muggles, and Muggles were famous for killing what they couldn't understand, but maybe wizards would find him entertaining? Especially if he could learn some tricks. Like climbing up a length of sewing thread as if it were a rope… Maybe he could ride an insect a bit larger than himself, balancing upon its back? At any rate, it would be more appealing than dying of dehydration and starvation. At least he'd have a chance to survive. Maybe they'd let him keep this castle for his own home? He could live upon someone's mantelpiece – this castle wouldn't take up too much room. He might even be able to have wizard friends.

Y… O… U… [pause] K… N… E… W… [pause] M… U… M… ?

Snape paused for quite a long time this time, and Harry seated himself to wait for the answer. The man's long, pale face took on a faraway look, his black eyes gazing at the dark train window as if he could see some scene projected upon the plain background, like in a cinema. Harry drew his knees up to his chest and leaned back against the wall bordering the steps, letting the swaying motion gently rock him like a babe in a cradle. At long last, Snape took up the quill and began to write.

Harry must have fallen asleep before Snape finished writing, for it took a couple of KLONKS to awaken him. He stretched, rubbing his eyes a bit, then sat forward to see the giant's proffered missive.

"I knew your mother from the time we were children. We started school at Hogwarts together, and she was quite eager to go. I was the one who first told her she was a witch, although she did not appreciate my calling her that, to begin with. She initially found it insulting. [Harry grinned, imagining his mum as a little girl and being called a witch, not knowing that magic was real.] For many years, she was my very best friend, even though we had been Sorted into different Houses at school. [Harry frowned a bit.] Hogwarts is divided into four Houses, and I had been Sorted into Slytherin, while your mother was Sorted into Gryffindor. The two remaining Houses are Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. [Harry chuckled at the fanciful names.]

"As we progressed through our years of study, your mother proved herself to be especially gifted in Charms, which are various types of magical spells. We both enjoyed Potions, which later became my specialty and which I teach today. Other courses which we shared included Transfiguration, which involves transforming inanimate objects and even living creatures into other forms. For example, I transfigured my handkerchief into the sling which is supporting your snow globe at the moment. [Harry squinted upwards at the top of the clear dome, trying to see if the sling resembled a handkerchief, but he found it difficult to make out clear details.]

We also studied the History of Magic, with a teacher who died during our Fourth Year but who continued teaching as a ghost. [Harry's jaw dropped. No WAY! This guy was putting him on! How could a ghost teach anything? Ghosts weren't real! But then again … magic itself hadn't been real until today. So … maybe a ghost … was … also … real?] Lily also enjoyed Herbology, which involves the study of magical plants, as well as other non-magical plants which prove useful as Potions ingredients."

G… H… O… S… T… [pause] R… E… A… L… ?

Snape nodded, seeming amused at Harry's query.

Harry continued reading:

"Lily also excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a course designed to help students learn to fight against the Dark magical forces in our world. Not all magic is good, Potter, as you will learn. And Lily enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures, especially working with unicorns and kneazles. Kneazles closely resemble housecats, but they possess magical qualities and extremely high intelligence."

U… N… I… [pause] R… E… A… L… ?

Snape nodded again, smiling a bit ruefully. Lily's son had SO much to learn. And it would be like Lily herself, learning of the magical world from scratch.

M… Y… [pause] D… A… D… ?

Hesitating for a moment, Snape finally wrote:

"James Potter was my classmate, but we were never friends. We shared classes together for seven years, and he was an accomplished wizard when we graduated, but like most students, we associated primarily with students from our respective Houses. Lily's and my close friendship seemed unusual to most people for that very reason."

Snape gave a silent sigh of relief when Potter seemed to accept his explanation without question. As much as he'd despised James Potter, this was absolutely not the time or place to get into recounting that long, painful history. In fact, he had to wonder why he had even been so forthcoming about his long-ago friendship with Lily. It was hardly characteristic of him to run off at the mouth. Or the quill, in this case. But then again, this was Lily's child, and if those dastardly Durlseys hadn't even told Potter that he was a wizard, it seemed unlikely that they would have spoken well of his mother … if they bothered to speak of her at all. Someone needed to represent her truthfully to her son. Lily would have wanted that. For … Harry.

As far as Harry himself was concerned, it made perfect sense that Severus Snape and James Potter had never been friends. Look at the kids in Harry's primary school – thanks to Dudley, Harry had never really had any friends, even though he'd gone to school with those same classmates for the past five years. Still, it would have been nice to have one good friend, like Snape had had his mum, he thought. Maybe … maybe he could have a friend when he went to school at Hogwarts next year. Maybe, if nobody knew Dudley and Dudley couldn't threaten anyone who wanted to be Harry's friend … maybe it would really happen!

Harry was still smiling to himself at that thought when he saw Snape launch himself violently toward the ceiling, causing Harry to duck reflexively. Actually, he realized a couple of seconds later, Snape had merely stood up. But he was so BIG! Curious, Harry observed his gigantic traveling companion as the man waved his stick – he'd have to ask about that – and he gasped loudly as Snape's gray blazer and black turtleneck vanished, replaced by the most magnificent costume Harry had ever seen! Why, Snape looked like a KING!

Resembling a regal figure from an elegant chess set, Snape wore a long black robe which cascaded past a knee-length ebony coat sporting too many buttons to count. Before Harry could take it all in, the man waved his stick again and a brilliant silvery light spewed forth, looking almost solid, as if light itself had taken a physical form. The light escaped the compartment, seeming to pass effortlessly through solid glass, and Harry gawped as the figure of a silvery doe paused just outside the speeding train's window. The doe turned her head to peer back at Snape for a second or two, then bounded lightly away in mid-air, vanishing a moment later into the darkness of the unseen countryside.

Now, Harry had MORE questions, and he bounced up and down, waving both of his arms, trying to get Snape's attention. When the man finally settled once again, sweeping his robes around himself as if to keep warm, he took up the magnifying glass, and Harry immediately began spelling out his questions.

Y… O… U… R… [pause] S… T… I… C… K… ?

"My wand."

A WAND! Harry stared at the dark length of wood with envious admiration. Could he have one, too, he wondered, when he came to Hogwarts next year?

C… L… O… T… H… E… S… ?

"My customary attire. I had changed the appearance of my clothing earlier to appear like a Muggle, when I needed to interact with Muggles in London."

D… E… E… R… ? [pause] W… O… W… !

"My Patronus. It can perform various functions. In this case, I used it to send a message on to Dumbledore, letting him know of your situation and that we shall be arriving at the castle quite late tonight."

Without warning, Harry got hit by a tremendous yawn.

"Perhaps you should get some sleep, Potter. We still have nearly six more hours to journey north."

N… O… R… T… H… ?

"Hogwarts is located in northern Scotland."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. He'd never traveled so far before! Well, not that he could remember. The Dursleys had never allowed him to accompany them on holiday, leaving him instead with Mrs. Figg and her cats.

S… L… E… E… P… [pause] N… O… W…

"Are you warm enough, Potter?"

Harry shrugged when he read that question. The temperature inside the snow globe seemed pleasant enough, and the persistently-drifting snowflakes certainly weren't real, so he felt rather comfortable.

O… K… A… Y… [pause] N… O… T… [pause] C… O… L… D…

"Sleep, then. I shall wake you when we reach the town of Hogsmeade, where we shall disembark."

Harry waved up at the black orb – not so terrifying now – and tucked himself into a corner of the landing, where he did not risk falling down the steps in his sleep.

Severus Snape laid down the magnifying glass and his quill, and he settled back onto the upholstered bench seat. The sight of the gently-rocking snow globe slowly lulled him into closing his own eyes, slumbering as the Hogwarts Express steamed steadily through the night.

-:- -:- -:-

KLONK! KLONK! KLONK!

Harry jerked violently in his sleep, then realized that the klonking noise meant it was time to wake up. They had arrived! His glasses had slipped down his nose as he slept, so he pushed them back into position before reading Snape's message to get back into the castle and hang on securely.

But that meant he'd miss out on catching his first glimpse of the real castle! Harry balked, standing up, his legs spread wide for balance as he shook his head at Snape's magnified eye. Nope. Not doing it. Not a chance. In your dreams, Snape.

The Potions Master SCOWLED.

Harry nearly wet himself at the ferocity of expression on Snape's face. He could almost hear "FEE-FI-FO-FUM" sounding from beyond the clear dome. When Snape's stained finger pointed emphatically at the miniature of Hogwarts, Harry cringed and worked his way slowly up the steps, never turning his back on Snape. Harry paused at the castle's open door, but when he saw the finger jabbing toward him again, he slipped into the darkened interior. He retained enough sense of rebellion to forsake his original post by the banister in favor of hanging onto the door handle on one of the main doors. At least he'd have something of a view, he thought, and he'd be able to see far more while clinging to the door than he could from way back inside the castle.

Outside the dome, Snape rolled his eyes. The little idiot would be lucky indeed if the tall door didn't swing shut on him somewhere while en route to the real Hogwarts. Deciding to utilize the sling to suspend the snow globe as he walked, Snape carefully unhooked it from the luggage rack and waved his wand to unlock the compartment door. A few moments later, he stepped off the train, his robes trailing behind him through the layer of powdery new snow on the Hogsmeade platform.

"Severus! You've arrived."

"Obviously." Even after all these years, Snape could never quite get over Albus Dumbledore's penchant for overstating the obvious. Therefore, he frequently – well, as frequently as he felt he could get away with it – responded by pointing out the obviousness of the obvious.

As usual, Dumbledore merely chuckled.

"And the dear boy is here as well?"

Snape grimaced and fished around in his coat pocket for the magnifier, which he handed to Dumbledore.

From his vantage point in the doorway, Harry suddenly found himself being closely scrutinized by a twinkling blue eye peering at him through both the magnifying glass and the half-moon lens of a pair of spectacles. He glared suspiciously up at this newcomer. It wasn't as if he were a laboratory specimen, after all! But the silver-haired giant with the waterfall beard soon returned the glass to Snape, leaving Harry to wonder exactly what the two men were saying about him as their breath frosted in the air beside the motionless train. Harry's own breath didn't frost, he discovered, and he felt relieved that the snow globe seemed to insulate him from the obvious cold of a Scottish December night.

Before long, the men moved off and eventually climbed into a closed carriage of some sort. Moments later, the carriage lurched into motion, causing the sling to swing so abruptly that Harry was knocked off his feet. Only his death grip on the door handle prevented him from being painfully flung hither and yon. They traveled for a while, the interior of the carriage in near darkness, until Snape unexpectedly turned the sling so that Harry's castle door faced the carriage window.

Harry let out a shout of astonishment.

The castle! The REAL castle! Hogwarts castle!

The edifice loomed ahead in the moonlight, larger than he ever could have imagined – even when he'd still been big – with windows of liquid gold warmly lighting the frigid night.

Oh! So BEAUTIFUL!

Harry clung to the door handle, his eyes drinking in the sight of his heart's desire. And suddenly, it all made sense. His parents had gone to school here. And they must have brought him here, sometime after he was born. He'd been here before, he was certain. And THAT'S why the castle in the snow globe had seemed so familiar. Where he'd felt safe. Safe in the castle, in his parents' arms. His throat closed up with emotion.

And now, for some inexplicable reason, Harry actually felt as if he were coming home. Home to Hogwarts.

The carriage stopped at the foot of the main steps leading up to the tall entrance doors. Harry watched in bemusement as Snape and the older man – a wizard! – climbed the same steps that Harry had become so familiar with in miniature. And the doors! The same doors as the ones to which Harry now clung for support. The experience felt surreal, almost as if he were in two places at the same time!

His emerald eyes widening so as not to miss a single detail, Harry looked right and left, up and down, noting that the inside of the real castle was not identical to the barren hulk in which he was currently trapped. The real Hogwarts boasted sumptuous window hangings, colorful wall tapestries, and countless paintings and portraits whose subjects seemed to be … MOVING! Gasping in awe, Harry feasted his eyes upon a vast collection of enchanted artwork as the two men climbed flight after flight after flight of a fabulous staircase. Peering upwards from his doorway through the top of the swinging dome, Harry could even see parts of the stairs well above them seeming to move sideways of their own accord. This must be MAGIC, he thought. The entire castle must be MAGIC! And next year…

Snape and the other man had finally reached the top of the marble staircase, and after traveling the length of a corridor, they stopped before what appeared to be a stone gargoyle. Before Harry could examine it closely, the gargoyle sprang to life, leaping aside to reveal a hidden circular staircase. To Harry's shock, the men stepped onto the solid stone lowest step and RODE smoothly upwards! And then they entered a large, round room, with Snape closing the door behind them. Finally, the snow globe stopped moving, for the first time since they'd left London, as Snape placed it carefully upon a massive, polished desk.

Cautiously, Harry let go of the door handle, staggering slightly in the absence of the perpetual swaying motion to which he'd grown accustomed. Like a sailor newly on shore leave, he thought with a giggle. Slowly, he emerged from his snow globe castle to face Snape and the silver wizard.

The two men conversed briefly, then Snape quickly scribbled a note with his familiar quill:

"Potter, this is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will pay careful attention to his instructions and obey them completely."

Without waiting to be told, Harry immediately waved his left arm up and down three times as the men each focused magnifying glasses upon his tiny figure.

Dumbledore now held up his own note.

"Harry, in order to reverse the magic which drew you into the snow globe, we need to know EXACTLY what you wished for. Think back to that moment. Take your time. But be as specific as you possibly can."

Harry sat down on the top step, closing his eyes, trying to get his mind to revisit that moment in the small appliances aisle. So MUCH had happened since then! It was hard to remember…

Dudley had been chasing him, wreaking havoc throughout the domestics department… Harry had fled back into housewares… Down that aisle… Hearing Dudley's feet thumping along behind him… Fleeing to the castle… To the safety of the castle… Hearing Dudley fall sprawling on the tiled floor… Wanting a Christmas wish to come true… Wanting to be safe from Dudley's fists and Uncle Vernon's belt… Willing himself into the fantasy of being safe within the castle… It was Christmas Eve…

Harry stood up, ready to spell.

A twinkling blue eye and an impenetrable black orb surveyed him intently.

I… [pause] W… I… S… H… E… D… [pause] T… O… [pause] B… E… [pause] S… A… F… E… [pause] I… N… [pause] T… H… E… [pause] C… A… S… T… L… E… [pause] F… O… R… [pause] C… H… R… I… S… T… M… A… S…

Harry let his arm fall to his side, indicating that he'd finished.

Dumbledore nodded an acknowledgment, slowly lowering his glass.

"Your thoughts, Headmaster?"

The elderly wizard stroked the length of his beard, considering carefully before responding. "These snow globes have a history of interpreting wishes quite literally, Severus. Previous experiences of a similar nature have borne out that theory. The fact that Harry specifically wished to be safe in the castle for Christmas means that it is unlikely that the castle will release him just yet, since it is still Christmas Eve."

Snape's frown deepened dramatically. "Are you certain?"

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore replied, not sounding too perturbed. "I believe we need only to wait until a bit after midnight before attempting to coach Harry through freeing himself." His gnarled forefinger tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. "At the very latest, he could be released just after midnight tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow! But that's another twenty-four hours without water or food."

"Quite," agreed Dumbledore. "Which is precisely why we shall attempt to get Harry out of the snow globe after midnight tonight. It's barely ninety minutes from now, Severus. We'll give Harry a chance to recuperate from his journey in the meantime."

Snape shook his head, an expression of frustration crossing his features, clearly visible to Harry, although he could not discern what the men had been discussing.

"Would you like to tell him, Headmaster, or shall I?"

"Oh, I think I'll leave it up to you, Severus. You seem to have developed a rapport with young Harry."

Barely repressing a sneer, Snape snatched up his quill and scribbled a quick note to the boy about the reason for the delay, and through the magnifying glass, he watched as disappointment crossed Harry's features, followed by reluctant acquiescence.

Harry withdrew into the castle to think things over in private. He felt that he needed a break from being stared at by enlarged eyeballs, and the castle had laid some sort of claim upon him, after all. Besides, this might be his only chance to explore this miniature version of Hogwarts. He hoped so, anyway!

Having seen the grand staircase in the real castle, Harry began climbing the one inside the snow globe, noticing how empty the blank walls seemed, compared to the framed paintings which rubbed elbows with their neighbors several floors below Dumbledore's office. This staircase seemed complete, though none of the flights actually moved, and Harry felt slightly winded by the time he'd reached the very top floor. The corridor was there, the same one they'd traveled, but the poor imitation of the gargoyle remained stationary when he stopped in front of it. Harry could not access the hidden spiral staircase to the office, so he wandered on, pausing to look out of the few window openings he passed. Each one gave him a view of some part of Dumbledore's real-life office, and he saw that the men had settled into armchairs to wait out the remainder of Christmas Eve.

They seemed to be drinking tea, and that realization suddenly made Harry very aware of his own thirst. He hadn't had anything to drink since the Dursleys had driven him away from Privet Drive – how many hours ago? And once he began thinking about something to drink, he began to feel another urge… But where to go? Surely this model of the castle didn't have working bathrooms! Quickly, he descended the main staircase, desperately searching for relief, only to find that door after door was simply molded into the wall, incapable of being opened. Oh-oh. Harry pressed on, looking for ANY suitable … opening. Reminding himself that he didn't want to have the castle dripping on him from above. And what if he DID end up having to live in here? He didn't want to move in with a pre-existing mess!

Finally, after reaching the main level, he found an open doorway toward the rear of the castle and carefully explored the nearly-dark room beyond. Wonder of wonders, he came across some sort of hole in the side wall, possibly left by the manufacturing process, and he took careful aim. Relieved at last, he breathed more easily as he returned to the front entrance of the castle. Overall, the snow globe version of Hogwarts had proved disappointing, with very few actual rooms available for use. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to live here permanently, as magnificent as it had appeared from the outside!

Harry settled on the grand staircase, waiting as patiently as he could for the moment when he would be freed from the snow globe's trap.

-:- -:- -:-

He must have drifted off to sleep again, because a familiar KLONK! KLONK! KLONK! woke him. Stiffly, he rose to his feet, stretched, then made his way through the tall entrance doorway.

Snape and Dumbledore were waiting, magnifiers in hand, eyeballs already in place.

Lovely, Harry thought. Just what everyone wants to see the moment they wake up. But he stepped forward onto the top step, looking gamely up at the two wizards, ready to obey their instructions, knowing if they failed to get him out of the snow globe in his original form, he'd be ant-sized forever.

Dumbledore held up a note:

"Harry, it is now after midnight, just into Christmas Day. I want you to concentrate very hard, sending your heartfelt thanks to the snow globe for sharing its hospitality with you. [HUH? Was Dumbledore MENTAL? The snow globe had ABDUCTED him! And now the silver wizard wanted Harry to THANK the snow globe for its hospitality? The man must be completely cracked…] These snow globes can sense emotion and desires, and they seem to be triggered by sincere wishes. When you first wished to enter the castle to be safe for Christmas, the snow globe fulfilled your heartfelt wish simply because you DID wish with all of your heart. That same degree of emotion and desire must be present for the snow globe to release you, else you shall remain trapped within. [Harry felt himself reel slightly – Dumbledore really believed what he was saying, didn't he?] Just think of the snow globe as a very dear friend who has kept you as a houseguest for the past few hours, but it is now time for you to take your leave. Thank the snow globe with all of your heart for helping you, but it is now Christmas and you have experienced being safe in the castle, so your sojourn is over. You MUST emphasize that you have felt safe in the castle on Christmas, and thank the snow globe very sincerely for making that possible, because it was your most important Christmas wish. Can you do that, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly, realizing that what Dumbledore was saying made sense, sort of. In a really weird way. He could understand it, but he wasn't sure that he could really make this work. Wouldn't he have to return to his original mindset, the one of absolute desperation? That's what had triggered the degree of his original emotion, and even if he'd considered it just a desperate fantasy, the snow globe had accepted it as some sort of reality. Essentially, that's what Dumbledore seemed to be explaining.

Deciding he'd better sit down in order to concentrate better, Harry slowly lowered himself to the top step. He fancied that he was beginning to develop a relationship with that step, as many times as he'd sat on it already. And suddenly, Harry FELT that connection. As if the step itself was actually alive. Was THIS what Dumbledore had been referring to? Was this how the snow globe had originally connected with him? Was this how Harry could reconnect with the snow globe, get it to release him? But – oh, CRAP! He'd PEED in that hole in the castle room! Harry cringed mentally, hoping that the snow globe wouldn't hold it against him. He'd really HAD to go, after all.

Knowing that Snape and Dumbledore were watching closely, Harry allowed his eyelids to drift shut, blocking out the distracting sight of their magnified gaze. He reached out his hand, slowly stroking the top step, feeling that connection, slight at first, then growing stronger the longer he stroked it. He'd always wanted a friend, or a pet, but he'd had neither. Nobody had ever taken his wishes seriously – until the snow globe. The snow globe was like a friend. The snow globe had tried to help him. The snow globe had made him feel safe in the castle! Safe in the castle for Christmas! Harry could remember his absolute joy at realizing he was safe in the castle, even while the snow globe sat on the shelf in the housewares department. That was only Christmas Eve, but now it was really Christmas, and the snow globe had made his Christmas wish come true.

"Thank you," he whispered in the darkness behind his closed eyelids. "Thank you so much for making my wish come true. That was the very first time I've ever had a Christmas wish come true. Nobody else ever cared. But you made it happen for me. I was so happy and amazed to find out that my wish to be safe in the castle for Christmas had really come true. I remember sitting there – right HERE, on the top step! – so thrilled to finally have a wish come true. Thank you so much for that." He continued to stroke the step, feeling the surface warming beneath his touch.

"I know I've been confused a lot since then," he whispered, sighing, "but it was only because I didn't understand a lot of things. I didn't know that magic was real, or how I could even BE in a snow globe. I didn't even know that I was a wizard. I hope you won't hold my confusion against me. I was just… Well, I finally understand now. Dumbledore has helped me understand what a wonderful friend you've been to me and how much you've helped me, and how much you've made me feel at home, like I'm a valued guest in YOUR home. I really appreciate it, snow globe. From the bottom of my heart, I will never forget how you made my dearest wish come true. It was the best wish EVER! Thank you so much, snow globe." He caressed the top step, astonished to feel the step almost move beneath his fingertips, like a preening pet.

"Thank you for everything, but it's Christmas now. I really need to get back to the real world, now that I've felt safe here in the castle for Christmas. Can you help me go back? I've never had such a wonderful gift as the safety of this castle, but I'd really appreciate your helping me go back now. Please?" Harry kept stroking, stroking, stroking the warm step upon which he sat, but the snow globe didn't seem inclined to take action.

Was there something else Harry needed to do? Did he have to initiate the action himself? He didn't seem to remember doing anything besides begging the snow globe when it was in the department store. The snow globe had done it all. But then, Snape's initial assessment was that Harry himself must have worked some sort of magic, even if by accident. But WHAT? What had he done, and what could he do now, to activate the snow globe?

He'd been desperate…

Desperate to escape from Dudley … and Uncle Vernon's wrath…

And wasn't he desperate now, desperate to go back to the real world?

The oddest thought popped into Harry's head, brought on by thinking of Dudley. Dudley and his sci-fi passion.

Giving the top step one final, loving stroke, Harry shouted, "Beam me out, Scotty!"

With a deafening WHOOOOOSH, Harry tumbled through infinity and landed in a sprawling heap on Dumbledore's Oriental rug.

"Harry! My dear boy! You DID it!"

A wizened hand grasped Harry's thin bicep and helped steady him as he climbed shakily to his feet. The world – Dumbledore's office, that was – seemed to whirl like a colorful spinning wheel. Harry grabbed for the nearest solid support, namely the massive antique desk upon which the Hogwarts snow globe sat. Harry stared at it, hardly believing he was now on the outside of the clear dome. The sparkling snowflakes still circled lazily around the castle, and Harry leaned forward to whisper, "Thank you, snow globe," his breath fogging the surface. "Thank you for everything!"

And then he turned slowly to look at Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore for the first time in real life. Both men were markedly taller than Harry, but it was normally tall, not giant. Best of all, their eyes were normal sized. Harry extended his hand to each man in turn, saying, "Thank you both so much for all of your help." After they'd shaken hands all around, he added, "By the way, I'm Harry. Harry Potter. I know you know, but introductions are still important, aren't they, sir?" His emerald eyes flicked from one man to the other and back again.

"Yes, indeed, Harry," agreed Dumbledore. "Welcome to Hogwarts! And Happy Christmas, as well."

Harry grinned. "It certainly is now!"

Snape's mouth twitched at the corners. "I believe Potter would like to have something to eat and drink, Headmaster. And if he's staying for Christmas, we might as well have Madam Pomfrey check him out and put him up for the night. Tomorrow will be soon enough for him to meet the rest of the staff in residence."

Harry frowned. "Who is Madam Pomfrey, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "She is our school nurse, Harry. And given that you've had a rather unexpected adventure, I believe it would be wise for her to check you out to make absolutely certain that you have not suffered any ill effects from your experience in the snow globe. But first – "

He clapped his hands, and a house elf popped into the office. "Flizzy, young Mr. Potter would like to have a late meal. You may serve a variety of foods, and please bring plenty of beverages, for our young friend may be suffering some degree of dehydration."

"Yes, Headmaster." The female elf bowed deeply. "Flizzy is bringing it right away." And she popped away.

Harry's own eyes had bugged out. "Um … sir, what WAS that?"

"Flizzy is one of Hogwarts' house elves, Harry. She will serve your supper in just a… Ah, here she is." Dumbledore guided Harry to a low chair, next to a table where Flizzy had set out sandwiches, a plate of broiled seasoned chicken with vegetables, a bowl of steaming thick potato soup, a basket of fresh fruit, and slices of frosted chocolate cake and treacle tart. Tall pitchers of crystal clear water and some sort of orangey liquid that didn't look like orange juice stood guard over an ornate goblet which would have looked at home in Aunt Petunia's curio cabinet.

"This … this is for me?" Harry said questioningly. "ALL for me?" His eyes searched Dumbledore's.

At the Headmaster's nod, Harry collapsed into the chair, his eyes filling with tears. He'd wanted to be safe in the castle. He hadn't thought beyond the fantasy of that feeling. But here he'd been welcomed, and he was staring at more food than he'd normally eat in a week at the Dursleys. "Th-Thank you, sir," he whispered, his throat thick with emotion.

"Eat up, Harry, and then we'll let Madam Pomfrey poke and prod you. That should liven up her Christmas."

Snape snorted, seating himself in the armchair he'd previously occupied. "Don't worry, Potter. She seldom pokes and prods. She uses her wand to magically scan you. You won't feel a thing."

Harry laughed aloud and dove into the treacle tart, deciding that life was just too short to put dessert last. Being trapped in a snow globe could certainly change one's perception of things.

"Really, Potter. You should go for the protein," admonished Snape. He'd seen the food deprivation that the boy's relatives had subjected him to, and he wished the child would eat more sensibly.

Nodding vigorously, Harry downed the tart, then tried the orangey beverage, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Pumpkin juice, Harry."

And then there was chicken, and a few spoonfuls of soup, and a couple of bites of each type of vegetable. Harry wasn't a picky eater, but he couldn't hold it all, so he settled for sampling bit of everything on Flizzy's tray.

Afterward, both men walked Harry down multiple flights of stairs to the hospital wing, and Harry got another surprise when he discovered that the paintings not only moved but TALKED!

Still later, after submitting to Madam Pomfrey's magical scan and being tucked securely into a comfortable bed in the hospital wing, Harry was slowly drifting off when he realized rather drowsily that he'd never felt so safe in his life. Safe in the castle … for Christmas.

-:- -:- -:-

The next morning, brilliant sunlight greeted Harry the very moment he opened his eyes, so different from waking in his cupboard.

Something bumped his feet through the covers, and he sat up, squinting at the foot of his bed. Once his glasses went on, he realized there were gaily-wrapped gifts piled across the bottom of his blanket. What on earth?

He sat up abruptly, pulling his bare feet up cross-legged beneath him, and leaned forward to examine the boxes and bags, which must have been mistakenly put there while he slept. But the gift tags said otherwise: "To Harry Potter from Minerva McGonagall", "To Harry Potter from Poppy Pomfrey", "To Harry from Hagrid", "To Mr. Potter from Severus Snape", "To Harry Potter from Filius Flitwick", and "To Harry Potter from Pomona Sprout". A huge basket of sweets sat on the bedside chair, with "To Harry from Albus Dumbledore" hanging from the sturdy handle.

Harry's jaw dropped at hitting such an unexpected jackpot, half of it from people he didn't even know!

"Rise and shine, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, whisking aside the curtains surrounding his bed. "And don't let me catch you eating a single sweet from that basket before you have a proper breakfast, young man."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said obediently, figuring it was advisable to fall into the familiar routine of agreeing with whatever she said, since she represented Authority, like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

"Here are some clean clothes – "

"But those aren't mine," Harry protested.

"They are now," the nurse informed him. "Molly Weasley sent them over before daylight."

Whoever Molly Weasley was.

"You'll need to get dressed before going down to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, climbing out of bed. "Um … I'm just wondering, when might I open my gifts? And who are they from, anyway? The people I don't know, I mean. I only know you and Mr. Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore."

"The other Heads of House have sent gifts, along with our gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, and Molly Weasley, a friend of your parents."

"Oh." Harry really didn't know what to say.

Madam Pomfrey pointed out the bathroom again and walked away to her office, calling over her shoulder, "I would suggest that you wait until everyone who sent a gift can be present to watch you open it."

"Yes, ma'am."

And Harry set about getting ready for the most interesting Christmas day he'd ever had.

He met the other Heads of House over breakfast in the Great Hall, which he'd reached in Dumbledore's company. The very sight of the decorations festooning the cathedral-sized room took his breath away, causing him to lose focus on the people waiting to meet him. There were actually twelve Christmas trees! TWELVE! All towering high overhead, making Aunt Petunia's designer tree look as insignificant as a toothpick! And fully decorated from tip to toe. WOW! And Dumbledore had said the lights were really fairies. FAIRIES! And the ornaments – some modern, some ancient, all made by witches and wizards through the past couple of centuries.

Harry shook his head, trying to refocus enough to sit down at the breakfast table.

He shyly greeted the other adults sitting there, along with the few students who had stayed over the holiday. Professor McGonagall, who turned out to have been Harry's parents' Head of House – Gryffindor – told him that, normally, there would be four long tables in the Great Hall, one for each House, but that they did not stand on formality during the Christmas break, when students and staff ate at the same table.

After everyone had finished plowing their way through platters of bacon, eggs, sausages, pancakes, kippers, porridge, and the like, accompanied by pots full of fragrant tea and steaming coffee, and various juices, the residents of Hogwarts gathered around one of the trees, where presents had been piled beneath it. Harry recognized the gifts which had been on his bed earlier that morning, and at Dumbledore's invitation he sat down on a plump crimson cushion with gold braid laid upon the stone floor of the Hall. The other students each had a cushion in their House colors, while the adults sat in comfortable chairs before the blazing fire in the large fireplace adjacent to the tree.

As Harry and the other students opened their gifts, he couldn't bring himself to rip open the paper as they did. Instead, he savored the fact that each gift had been given to him, by people he didn't even know, and he carefully unwrapped each item in turn. From McGonagall, he received a thick, warm coat which fit him perfectly, along with a fuzzy knitted hat, earmuffs, and snug gloves. Flitwick had given him a book on wand lore, which included information about the various woods used in constructing wands, as well as the materials forming their cores. Sprout's gift was a small potted plant, which produced a filling, nutritious fruit once every twenty-four hours, rain or shine, indoors or outdoors, all year long.

Snape had gifted him with a book on basic potions which did not require magical ingredients. Harry could practice making simple household potions without benefit of a cauldron, even, since the easily-obtainable ingredients could be simmered in an ordinary saucepan. Harry thanked him sincerely, although he could not imagine Aunt Petunia ever allowing him to use any of her saucepans for such a purpose. He didn't say so, however, not wanting to spoil Snape's generosity.

Hagrid turned out to be more than a gamekeeper. More like two people rolled into one, he was so tall. This must be a real giant, Harry thought, not realizing how close he was to the actual truth. "I r'member yeh, 'Arry. Jes' a tiny tyke, yeh were. Yer mum sat yeh upon a unicorn the last time they came to visit me, and yeh looked like yeh wanted t' go gallopin' off into th' fores', yeh did." He smiled at Harry's awe when he opened the fully-illustrated book of magical creatures. "There's a whole chapter 'bout unicorns, 'Arry. Hope yeh like it."

"Oh, I do, Mr. Hagrid! Thank you so much!" Harry hugged the thick volume to his thin chest. "Thank you indeed!"

Madam Pomfrey had provided a deck of Exploding Snap cards, and Dumbledore himself had gone all out, lavishing upon Harry a deluxe edition of Wizarding Chess, which included an animated instruction manual along with the game board and tempermental playing pieces.

The other students left the Great Hall eventually, returning to their Common Rooms with their arms loaded down with holiday plunder.

Just as Harry was finishing up his own gift-opening session, a sturdy woman with flying red curls practically ran the length of the Great Hall, leaning down to grab up Harry in a tight, warm hug that went on and on. "I just finished this, Harry dear," she said, smiling down at him fondly, despite the tears creeping down her soft cheeks. "Do try it on! I remember Lily's eyes, and I thought this yarn would make a good match to yours." All the while, she kept tugging a thick jumper over Harry's messy black hair. When his head emerged from the top of the neckhole, he looked down to see an "H" emblazoned in yellow yarn across his chest.

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said, wondering who this impulsive lady was. Women didn't normally just up and knit an entire jumper in a single morning, did they? Was that even possible? Or had she just put the "H" on it for his sake?

"I'm Molly Weasley, dear. Your parents were two of my dearest friends. I have a son, Ron, who will be in your year at school. He can't wait to meet you, but he had a cold today, so he had to stay home."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, for lack of anything more original to contribute. "I'll look forward to meeting him." Well, this Ron could hardly be worse than Dudley, could he? "And thank you again for the nice warm jumper!"

"You're very welcome, Harry dear."

Dumbledore rose and walked forward to place his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've an announcement to make," he said rather formally. "Harry Potter shall remain at Hogwarts for the next few days, until we can investigate his home situation. Severus' report, following an alert by Arabella Figg, has given me cause to determine whether Harry should be returned to his relatives until he is ready to come to school next year. During the remainder of his stay here, I hope that each of you will continue to provide company and support to this growing lad."

The teachers all murmured their assent, but it was Harry who looked up at Dumbledore with shimmering eyes.

"I can stay here? At Hogwarts? At least for a little while?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled down at him. "Certainly through the New Year, Harry."

Harry's heart beat fast with eager anticipation. "Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you so much! This is the best Christmas wish I've ever had come true – for REAL, this time! I'm in the castle for Christmas! Oh, thank you!"

He didn't say "safe", but he knew Dumbledore would fill in the blank. A certain sadness lurked behind the twinkle in those blue eyes. Harry didn't know what Snape had told him – or even Mrs. Figg … and how did SHE know about Dumbledore anyway? – but if it kept him away from the Dursleys over the holidays, that was fine with Harry.

"Potter."

"Yes, sir?" Harry looked at Severus Snape, wondering what he would say, especially in this company.

"You should not waste your time sitting idly around. You may come to the Potions classroom each day while you are here, and you will be able to put your new potions book to good use."

"You mean I get to BREW potions, sir?"

Snape nodded, a tiny smirk hidden just in the corner of his mouth. "Under my supervision, Potter. I will not allow you to run amok with my cauldrons."

Harry giggled.

He looked at the array of gifts from the people who had made this Christmas so very special. Suddenly, he thought of something. "I don't have anything to give any of you," he said softly.

"There's no need, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Just knowing that you're here with us is gift enough."

"But … but if I did ever get you something, what would you like, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry's emerald eyes looked seriously into the twinkling blue ones above the half-moon spectacles.

"Socks, Harry," said the Headmaster. "One can never have too many socks."

Harry looked at the man, wondering if Dumbledore were teasing him. And then … Harry burst out laughing.

"Something amuses you, Potter?" asked Snape, his brows drawn together speculatively.

"Oh, if only you knew!" laughed Harry, thinking of the crumpled paper bag with a mustard stain outside and Dudley's dirty socks inside, stashed behind the Dursleys' Christmas tree, with nobody there to open it.