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.

-:- -:- -:-