Harry had found something of an unexpected ally in Hermione Granger.

It turned out being knocked unconscious from blunt trauma wasn't that hard to fix, in the wizarding world, and many young wizards got far more severe injuries treated overnight just from playing Quidditch. This, Harry discovered from Hermione after she came to thank him and was easily sidetracked by even the smallest of questions placed in front of her.

From this, Harry deduced, he'd probably like to have some other weapon against wizards. Viral-enhanced strength was fine, but something that cut or pierced would probably be better, it seemed. Magic was always an option… But wizards were inherently better at fighting with magic. No, best to hit them in a weak spot.

Hermione hadn't even stopped talking as Harry drifted off into his own thoughts about his ideas for the future, something he was grateful for- If she would be easy to distract, that made keeping the secret he wasn't exactly an ordinary child all the easier.

He didn't trust her, of course- He didn't trust anyone, and she'd not actually done anything to earn that trust. Well, that wasn't exactly true… She'd collaborated his story once awake in the hospital wing (The adults had deemed it an extremely rare case of accidental magic still manifesting after he'd gotten his wand, allowing him to slow down the troll), and she was acting very helpful.

Maybe more then helpful. Desperate. He'd seen her around- She spent more time in the library then he did, judging from how often she was already there when he arrived. Unlike him, who picked his books based on information he judged useful for potential future options, she seemed unable to not take whatever text caught her interest, and often ended up with a huge pile of books at her table.

He absently assumed she was a Ravenclaw. After all, how could she NOT be?

But, Ravenclaw or not, it was clear books were the closet friends she had. He'd gotten the reason why she was in the bathroom with the troll, and it was obvious even to him that she was as alone as he'd been before taking the guise of his cousin. It still vaguely rankled to have such a perfect life swept away from him, but the benefits of being Harry Potter seemed to be stacking up…

Until he could find a way to ensure her silence, he wouldn't trust her, though. Or at least, ensure her loyalty. There had to be some way to do so- Either with magic, or with his abilities- But he'd never experimented with such things in the past, as he'd never had to. Something to look into…

At the time, though, he simply made his excuses and left. He had a feeling she'd be persistent in her attempts to aid, though…

After that, not much of interest happened. He became rather annoyingly good at potions, due to his interest in the subject, and found he had something of a natural affinity to it. This infuriated the sour teacher to no end, which wasn't helped when he showed up to class one day with a limp.

There were a number of ways he could have gotten it- Potions accident, secret life as a quidditch star, spending time in the forbidden Forrest looking for ingredients and being attacked by one of the many interesting beasts inside (Harry fully intended to make time to head inside one night and see what he could find), or possibly an encounter with the Cerberus on the third floor.

But as it happened, Harry simply didn't care enough about what the greasy man did with his spare time enough to look into it.

His other classes, he mostly passed in, not having anything else to spend his time on. History was exceptionally boring, but even it had the occasional use, and he at least tried to pay attention whenever a new species was brought up- From the many, many goblin rebellions (Which Harry had read between the lines to assume succeeded, or otherwise wizards wouldn't let them hoard all of their money), to legislation regarding proper men-person habitation and zoning laws, and so on.

Everything else was so relatively uninteresting- Designed to teach first years the basics of their courses, and to teach them fundamentals of casting magic more then anything else, as far as he could tell- That the only really interesting thing came towards Christmas.

Harry watched the burly fifth year sail across the room and hit a wall with mild interest.

As it happened, students were in fact allowed to cast protection spells and wards over their belongings, within reason and regulation. That had been one of the regulation spells… Significantly overpowered, since Harry added magic to it every night, as he had no ward-stone to anchor something more permanent down.

Said student would go off to cry to their head of house- Snape- And probably be told that Harry had technically done nothing wrong, same as the last three people who'd tried to sabotage his bed since the start of term. Draco had been either the first or the second, he didn't remember.

He pulled the curtains closed around his bed, and looked over the christmas present he'd gotten with interest. The other student was trying to sabotage him on general principal, but if he'd seen the note, Harry was sure he'd be far more interested in it: An invisibility cloak.

Harry, however, frowned at it. Invisibility cloaks were woven from Demiguise hair, and faded with age- The main reason he'd known about them was his research into magical creatures. He fully intended to consume a demiguise at some point.

This cloak, on the other hand, was made from kind of shining, silvery cloth, instead, and the note implied it had belonged to his father- James Potter. After that kind of age, a regular invisibility cloak would probably only make the wearer half transparent instead of invisible.

So what was it?

He reached out a hand to consume it, and stopped. It certainly acted like an invisibility cloak, but it wasn't a regular one, and as a matter of fact he had no idea what he'd be inviting into his body if he did consume it. He'd have to find some kind of… magical artifact specialist. Maybe he'd ask the charms teacher first.

Until then, he'd carry it on him. As it happened, he had some very, very deep pockets in his 'robes'…

He put it to good use.

He had, unfortunately, not brought it to Professor Flitwick, and the reason was simple: Invisibility cloaks were almost certainly against the rules for first years to possess, and he didn't want to give away an advantage he might have, if it was indeed an advantaged and not, say, cursed. For all he knew, a particularly cunning elder snake might have gifted it to him.

So, he tried it out, using it as sparingly as possible and trying to stay tuned to any negative side effects. Some things were worth a level of risk, and invisibility was one of them, though Harry felt he'd still prefer to consume a Demiguise.

There was something inside him hungry for a living source of power.

However, with the option open to him, he decided to set off to the library. The restricted section wouldn't be guarded so late at night…

Or so he'd thought. The books themselves were spelled- They screamed when he tried to read them without proper permission. He had no choice but to don the cloak and escape- And change course when teachers came to investigate, so that he wouldn't collide with them.

One benefit did come from the brief setback, though: He found a mirror. A very interesting mirror.

Well, interesting for a few moments, at least. After gazing into it for a few seconds, Harry turned around and left.

He already knew his greatest ambitions, of course. He didn't need some sort of enchanted furniture to tell him how to consume the most interesting magical creatures and murder all his potential enemies.

He went back to bed, and enjoyed a few peaceful days of study before Hermione Granger sought him out again about some kind of plot involving the third corridor, and some kind of stone that Dumbledore had hidden there.