Harry,

I hate that you're having trouble information in the library for the project that you wish to do. Magical History is one of my favorite subjects, even if Professor Binns' voice is a better lullaby than any I've ever heard. All I know of Nichols Flamel is that he is the only known alchemist to successfully create a philosopher's stone, which has the supposed power to create an elixir for life everlasting. He was born in France and educated at Bobaton's Academy of Magical Learning. I'm sorry I do not have more in depth information for you, but I will look through my books and mail you anything else I find.

I'm pleased that you are having such a wonderful time at school, and that the winter isn't getting to you too badly. I am also glad you decided to come home for Christmas, but I must ask again if you're sure you actually wish to come home or if you're just feeling sorry for your poor lonely uncle. You can stay at the castle if you wish, I know your friends and the Quidditch team would love for you to be there. I'll be happy as long as you are.

All my love,
Uncle Remus

"Well?" Ron ask, trying to peak over Harry's shoulder, as Hermione eyed them both from across the table. "Did he know anything?"

"Doesn't he always?" Harry retorted, prompting Hermione to look at both boys, a bit confused.

"Remus, Harry's Uncle/Adoptive Father is a genius. He knows nearly everything. And if he doesn't, he always finds out." Ron explained.

"He said that Flamel made a philosopher's stone, which can make people immortal." Harry said. "Reckon that's what Fluffy's hiding under her trap door?" He looked to both his friends. "Is the philosopher's stone what Snape is after?"

"Well, who wouldn't want something that could do that?" Ron ask, taking a bit from a chicken leg on his plate.

"We need to talk to Dumbledore!" Hermione piped up. Harry glanced toward the staff table, where the Headmaster's seat was empty, which wasn't too uncommon for lunch, as many teachers elected to take the meal in their offices to catch up on any work that needed to be completed.

"After Christmas, I think." Harry said. "We all need the break. We've been up late reading, searching for this information. I don't know why I didn't write home sooner. Between quidditch, regular homework, this- I'm exhausted. I know the two of you are as well. Plus- Hermione, you need to see your parents. Tell them all about the school and magic. I'm sure they'll love it. And Ron- Romania sounds amazing, don't miss out." Harry smiled in a reassuring way at the two.

"Are you going to tell your Uncle about the troll?" Hermione ask, her voice as cautious as if she were trying to avoid Remus hearing her even now, hundreds of miles away from the man's home. Harry nodded.

"Of course, I have to." He replied. "He knows when I'm lying. Apparently I lie like my father, which he was his best friend. He'll write to the school if I don't tell him."

"But he may tell my mum!" Ron whined loudly, again making Hermione confused. Harry made a mental note to have her over during the summer and introduce her to everyone, so that when he and Ron spoke, she knew all the people they were talking about.

"THAT I can't help you with, mate." Harry laughed. "Maybe its been long enough since it happened to not worry?"

"Ha." Ron mocked. "Like any amount of time is enough. I could steal a cookie and wait a hundred years to tell her and she'd flog me the same."

"Glad to be home?" Remus ask as he handed Harry a cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, careful not to get in front of the tele, where Harry was watching Christmas specials under his favorite blanket Molly had made him.

"Mmm." Harry hummed into the cup.

"How was school? Anything like I remember it?" Remus ask again, trying to engage the young boy in conversation.

"Mhmm." Harry replied again. Remus narrowed his eyes as he thought, watching Harry closely. Harry hadn't said much since he'd gotten off the train the day before, and Remus was a bit worried. He'd taught the boy a love of reading, but now it seemed that Harry would rather hold up in Remus' study than call over to the Burrow to play in the snow or go sledding on their own property. It had the werewolf worried, that he was so closed up since starting to school. Before, they had not had secrets from one another.

"Anything new?" Remus ask, offering over a plate of biscuits Molly had brought by the day before. Harry glanced at the plate, took a green sprinkled biscuit and shrugged.

"Not really." He said, leaning his head to watch around Remus at the television. This really caught Remus off guard, as Harry had never been disrespectful in such a way before, even if it was fairly minor.

"Harry James." Remus said, his voice deep, a bit raised and firm. It was this same voice Remus had used throughout his entire childhood, one that commanded his complete attention. His green eyes snapped up and unclouded.

"Sir?" He ask quietly, swallowing nervously.

"What on Merlin's icy Earth has gotten into you?" He ask, his brow furrowed. "I expected you to come home and talk my ear off. Tell me about Quidditch, about homework, the ghosts, the food... Anything! But for heavens sake, do talk to me!" Remus pleaded. "You're too young for teen angst."

"I'm sorry Uncle Remus." Harry said sheepishly. "I just haven't felt my best, that's all." This, Remus knew to be a lie. If there was any sickness in the boy at all, he'd have smelled it. However, he tried to be as normal as possible for Harry, and to keep the lycanthropy out of conversation as often as possible, so he did not admit this.

"Why don't you go lay down?" Remus said, in a tone that let Harry know this was not a suggestion. He wrapped his blanket closely around his shoulders and trudged upstairs without argument, Remus watching after him and shaking his head.

"What's that?" Remus ask, sitting back into his chair, pointing past the Christmas tree to the corner. He looked genuinely curious, as he and Harry had both opened what Remus thought were all their presents, from one another and from the Weasley family. Harry crawled through the branches of the heavily decorated tree and retreated the package.

"It's for me." Harry said, looking to his uncle for any clue about what it may be. Remus shrugged, equally curious as to what it might be. "There's a note. 'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It's time it was returned to you. Use it well.' This isn't from you?" Harry ask, looking a bit afraid. Remus shook his head.

"No, I haven't got a clue what it could be, sorry." He said, sitting forward. "Open it." Harry tore at the package and brought forth a cloak, holding it forward for Remus to look at, but when Harry looked up from the cloak to his Uncle's face, he say his eyes were misty and an old, sentimental smile on his face.

"That's it, Harry." Remus said, taking the old fabric in his hands, and Harry didn't know how to help when a tear escaped his eyes and slid down his cheek. He stood and slung the cloak over Harry, causing his body to disappear up to the neck.

"The invisibility cloak?!" Harry ask excitedly. Remus nodded.

"I had wondered where it had gotten off to." He explained. "I still don't know, of course. But it is where it belongs now." He tightened around the boy closer, Harry beaming.

"It's brilliant!" He said. "Can I show Ron?" Remus laughed.

"Perhaps after Boxing Day, you know how much Molly loves it." Remus reminded Harry.

"Alright!" He said, twirling around again, laughing at how he appeared to be a disembodied head. Remus couldn't help but join in on the laughter, then the two settled in so that Remus could tell Harry stories including the cloak.

Harry held on just a little longer and a bit tighter when he was about to board the train to return to Hogwarts, not that Remus minded. He was a bit saddened by Harry growing up, and knew to take his hugs when offered; yet he couldn't help but worry about the boy- if there was something more that he needed to know. Something that was going on with the boy, but that he couldn't quite place. He knew that he had to simply trust that if Harry really needed him, that he would come to him. When he let go and ran over to a young girl with a large mane of hair, he waved them onto the train and left with his hands in his pockets, heart still a bit heavy with worry and the added stress he knew he'd have given that Harry was his father's son and now had the cloak.

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