1 Chapter 22

2 The Snow Globe

And

Back to the Beginning



Harry didn't know how long he had been lying in the sewing room, clutching the battered body of Draco, not believing that he is dead, and at the same time wishing that it wasn't true. The body in his hands couldn't be the body of Draco Malfoy!

Finally, someone found him, drawn by the shouts. Harry and Draco were both taken to the hospital wing, but there was nothing more they could do for one of them.

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There was something warm pressing to Harry's lips, parting them. A hot liquid spilled inside, and it took him a while to realize it was chicken soup. His eyes slowly opened, and then focused on the image of Dumbledore before him, sitting quietly in a wooden-backed chair, eyes wise and glazed over with thought.

" Dumbledore?" Harry whispered, his throat hoarse. The hot liquid was being bored down his throat again.

" You have done a great thing, Harry. You and Draco Malfoy have destroyed Voldemort." Dumbledore said, softly. " You need to rest, you are very battered, emotionally and physically."

" How is he?" Harry mumbled, through numb lips, as another gulp of hot chicken soup was poured into his mouth. It soothed him, he had to admit. The salty, warm liquid rolled smoothly down into his stomach and heated his insides up nicely.

" Do you mean Draco?" Dumbledore asked, his wise eyes focusing on Harry, his fingers combing through his white beard as he spoke, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Harry nodded.

" Madame Pomfrey is trying to stitch him up - he lost a lot of blood, and he's looking awful. We can't let others see him - his body - until he's fixed up."

" Is he dead?" Harry asked, a chill running down his spine.

Dumbledore looked away. " Yes."

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Harry had always doubted miracles, but that night he had a dream. In his dream, he was sitting inside a snow globe. It was empty other then for himself inside of it, and the snow around him was falling. He reached out to taste it, then realized it was made of phoenix tears - healing tears. He wondered what it meant. The swirls of the snowflakes danced around him, and he was lulled with the feeling of comfort that surrounded him in his dream.

When Harry woke up, Hermione was sitting by his bed, crying, her head down in her hands.

" Hermione." Harry said, slowly sitting up.

She looked up, her eyes wet with tears. After greeting him through her tears, she told him: "Oh, Harry, everyone's in a shock. Nobody can speak of anything but of what happened." She put her hands around him, hugging him close. Then, she pulled away, her eyes shimmering.

" Hermione, do you still have the snow globe from Rebecca?" Harry asked. " Or. . . Voldemort, however you call it?"

" Yes, I do." She nodded curtly.

" Bring it to me. I had a dream - it told me that - oh, I'll explain later." Harry said, then hugged her cold fingers inside his hands. " Go bring the snow globe."

" Are you sure?" She asked.

" Yes." Harry replied.

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While Hermione was away, Harry saw a swarm of reporters, and dozens of people from the Ministry, all wanting to speak to him about what had happened. They wanted photos for the front page of the Boy Who Lived, Twice!

Harry himself turned his eyes away from the camera, so they wouldn't see his tears. The real hero was the one who had died - he might have lived, if not for how he destroyed the locket.

An hour passed, or about an hour at least, and Hermione was back, holding the snow globe. The white flakes inside danced cheerily as she placed it on the hospital bed. " Here you go, Harry." She said.

Harry got up, looking inside. His eyes widened - now he saw something inside, a figure of Draco. " Look." Harry exclaimed, pointing inside the globe.

She looked. " Weird! What happened?"

" I think - I think you received this snow globe for a purpose. I think this is the other part of Voldemort's power. He had been fearful, he put his power inside two inanimate objects so even if something were to happen to him physically, he'd still be powerful, his spirit would overtake those who bore the objects." Harry didn't know how he knew this, but all of a sudden nothing made more sense. " Hermione, we have to open the globe! We have to pour the flakes inside onto Draco! Don't you see? It's not normal fake snow, it's the tonic that Voldemort made, to keep himself alive." Harry exclaimed. " He had you hold the snow globe, and me the locket, so . . ."

" Harry, you're babbling. What are you talking about?" Hermione exclaimed.

" Watch." He slowly cracked open the globe. The image of Draco inside was gone, and the 'snow' settled on the base of the glass dome that made up the top of the snow globe. " This . . . this was what Voldemort took in, to keep himself alive. It was made from the Whitescale he stole off of Charlie." Harry suddenly asked: "How is Charlie, anyway?"

Hermione replied: " Ever since what happened, all traces of what Charlie had been going through are gone."

" Incredible." Harry dipped his finger into the powder in the snow globe. " Voldemort knew that if he hid his power, his secrets, into things that his enemies would treasure. . . that they'd be preserved."

" So you're saying that the powder in there can virtually bring people back to life?" Hermione was catching onto Harry's plan.

Suddenly, Harry shot off from his bed, running in his bare feet through the hospital ward. He stumbled, fell down to his knees beside the bed on which Madame Pomfrey was stitching Draco on. Harry stared at the face, the body of his friend that he'd known only a while - truly known, that is.

Then, Harry turned the dome of the snow globe upside down. The white powder sprinkled down into Draco's slightly opened mouth, onto the open wound on Draco's body.

The powder shimmered, glowed, then grew dull again.

" It . . . it didn't work." Harry whispered.

Draco lay before them, lifeless as ever.

Then, slowly, Harry stood up, shaking his head. " I thought. . . I could have sworn. . ."

" I guess you were wrong, Harry." Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder. " Let's go. . . this is too depressing for you, isn't it?"

Harry nodded to himself, then suddenly said: " I wish that I had given Ron's sweater to Draco, instead of saving it for myself. . . I'd worn it, when I went to fight Voldemort, you know?"

" Harry, don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known." Hermione said, softly.

" But. . . I feel so horrible." Harry said. "It feels as if it was my fault. I shouldn't have dragged Draco into this. Just when his life was. . . was going good."

" Harry, don't you dare blame yourself." Hermione simply said.

" Yeah. . . listen to . . . Mudblood . . ." A slow drawling voice filled the air. Two pairs of eyes suddenly darted around.

Draco's eyes had opened.

" It worked!" Harry could only say, shocked beyond belief. " So it was true, Whitescales do heal. . ."

Madame Pomfrey ran into the room, and she stared at Draco, eyes open, living, and she looked ready to pass out. " What is going on here? How - - how is this possible?"

Draco's eyes slowly moved to Harry. " What. . . what happened?" Draco asked. He couldn't remember anything since when he 'died' after all.

" Honey! Honey, don't exert yourself, I'm sure Harry Potter will explain everything. From the very beginning." Madame Pomfrey said, sitting herself down beside Draco. She stared in wonder. " I must tell Dumbledore!"

Then she ran from the room, exclaiming about a miracle.

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A few weeks passed, February rolled in. Draco Malfoy had been on the verge of the death the whole time, revived only back to life, but not healed at all by the Whitescale powder - from the bones and scales, a mixture of it.

Draco was being slowly healed every day. The best wizard doctors came to work on him, paid by Lucius Malfoy. For once, Lucius was actually a bit proud of his son, at least to the camera of the reporters that swarmed the Malfoy estate now, wishing to have a piece about the 'hero'.

Madame Pomfrey, a busy woman anyhow, still didn't believe what happened. Dumbledore also had a hard time comprehending how it was all possible.

So, one day, a few days before Valentine's Day (Ginny and Draco's day, Harry hoped), there was an assembly of Hogwarts students called.

Everyone waited in awed silence as Harry stepped up to the front of the room, to tell the story, to explain what happened, how it all fit together, and how the mystery was solved. Workers from the Ministry of Magic were invited to listen in as Harry began.

" It all started. . . when I woke up . . . you see . . ."

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"A searing, red-hot pain flashed through Harry's scar, a pain he had never before felt. It had been a similar pain before, but now it was absolutely awful. His eyes flew open, the simple bedroom of his coming into view, the ratty white sheets fluttered off of him as he sat up."

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A/N: Recognize the line? First lines of my story! Yeah that's how it ends, Harry is telling his story again. Now I know, I'm never good at endings, and I'm a sucker for happy ones. The ending was supposed to be tragic and happy and Draco wasn't supposed to live but then I realized that Draco fans would kill me. ^_^ So yeah there it is. Now I'm taking a break, which I sorely need, since my fingers are honestly tired.

P.S. Draco recovers, as you can see, and Charlie is okay, everything somehow came together. This was how I planned to end it since I began, and if you hate the ending then I'm sorry. ::sob:: I hope you liked reading as much as I liked writing this.

P.P.S. this is the first real story I wrote, and my first crack at mystery, and a good mystery requires reading a story again to see what had been missed, what clues. I had mentioned a few times that Rebecca had those black leather shoes with gold shoelaces, for instance, and then also small details like how the locket was counterfeit since it said LP. Yes, it was all on purpose, folks.

P.P.P.S. Draco Malfoy in the story later on records all that happened inside the diary he received from Harry. I thought I'd add that, for the heck of it.