Chapter 6 - Christmas Time, Mistletoe and - mirrors?

As November came around the weather turned extremely cold. The mountains that surrounded the school became icy grey and the school lake chilled like steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid, the school gamekeeper, could be seen from upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long mole-skin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaverskin boots.

Many of the school was excited to hear that the Quidditch season had begun. Quidditch was the main sport in the wizarding world, with two teams of seven players playing on brooms, four balls (only one of which anyone could score repeatively with, and another that would end the game if caught), six goal posts and one hell of a lot of rules. Personally Harry, never having been one for sports, didn't see what was so interesting about it, especially since it was on brooms.

Every time he thought of his first and hopefully last experience with brooms, he shuddered had hated the site of them ever since. Granted, he may have become quite a good flyer is Malfoy hadn't cursed him to lose control the first time he went on a broom, but Draco hadn't known that he had cause a phobia of flying in the boy, had he? As if was, Harry had refused to go the flying lessons as it meant going near, and inevitably getting on, broomsticks.

But that wasn't the only good thing about November. By November Bernie the bat was better, and had the choice to leave, though she chose to stay with Harry most of the time. Harry was surprised that Dumbledore hadn't said anything about her since students were only allowed to have cats, owls or toads, but he supposed he wasn't especially strict on the pets rule, so long as no one brought in anything that could be classified as dangerous.

The Slytherin's first Quidditch match of the year, (which Harry managed to avoid going to, thankfully, by saying that he had too much research to do, not a total lie in itself, as he was trying to remember where he had heard of Nicholas Flammel and the Philosophers' Stone before) was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If the Gryffindorks won, they would move upto second in the house championship, if Slytherin won they would be in first place still.

Down in the library, away from the cheers and yells of the game, Harry put one book back and pulled out another under the watchful eye of Madam Pinch, the hawk-like librarian, who was probably wondering why he wasn't outside enjoying the game like the rest of the school.

The latest book, Alchemists of our Times, seemed to be very uninteresting and boring at first glance, and Harry began to wish that magical books had an index and contents page. Harry yawned quietly to himself as he turned a page, then his light lit up as he spotted what he had been looking for, on the first page as well.

'The Ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosophers' Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces to elixir of life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Philosophers' Stone over the centuries, but the only one currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicholas Flammel...'

Harry stopped reading there. He wasn't interested in what the rest of the book had to say. He had what he needed to know, so there was no point in it, except in the unlikely event that there was an alchemist called Fluffy that also happened to be a Cerberus. Harry allowed himself a quiet chuckle at that thought as he placed the book back on the shelf. They very thought was ridiculous. A Cerberus for an alchemist indeed.

Christmas was coming. One could tell, though not simply because that one morning every soul in the castle woke to find that several feet of snow had fallen and the lake frozen over. No, one could tell by the attitudes of the students and staff alike.

None could wait for the holidays to start. Classes would end, and many of the students would head home for the holidays. Most of the Slytherins would, at least, Harry being one of the few exceptions. Given the choice he had been between Hogwarts and the Dursleys, he would chose Hogwarts. He had had more than enough Christmas's at the Dursleys to last him a lifetime. So why would he want to stay with them unless he had to? They would treat him badly enough during the summer.

Several of the professors, like Professors Flitwick, Quirrel and Sprout, seemed to have given up the thought of teaching them anything so close to the holidays, whereas certain Professors (Snape, McGonagall and even Binns, who hadn't even let death stop his teaching) worked them until the bell rang.

Once the holidays began Harry, being only one of eight Slytherins staying behind, started to spend more and more time out of the common room and Slytherin territory. It started to be a common site to see him wandering around, Bernie on his shoulder as he searched for solitude. No where seemed to be quiet enough anymore, and he couldn't even concentrate on anything. It was starting to get on his nerves.

He usually ended up at the top of one of the towers, sitting or standing by one of the windows, staring out, nothing particular on his mind. It was... peaceful. Well, until Ed (the only to her first year) discovered his habit, and now wouldn't stop following him around. It was funny really. Back before the broomstick incident had taken place he had about considered him a friend, since then something had changed. Sure, the fact his father was a semi-famous muggle serial killer had interested him, but now he just seemed... boring and kind of immature. He found it quite phenomenal that they were the same age, though it appeared that all of the first years were the same; far too young mentally. In fact, the only one who seemed to be even close to him in maturity was Malfoy, but there was no way he would actually admit that, short of torture.

On Christmas Eve Harry went to bed, not really looking forwards to the next day. Christmas had always meant food, and too much food at that. And whilst everyone would be perfectly fine eating it, and for a while after, in Harry's experience people were usually short-tempered and irritable about half an hour after eating too much. Also, what were the chance of him getting anything? He would never receive anything from the Dursleys, and who in their right mind at the school would give anything to him? Some of the first years may, but that was doubtful since he was always cold towards them, and tended to work alone whenever possible.

However, early the next morning when he awakened the first thing he saw was a few packages at the end of his bed. The second thing was that Ed was also waking up.

"Wassime issit?" Ed asked groggily, looking around blinking.

"Six-thirty," Harry said, in what probably seemed to the other boy as an annoyingly wide awake and cheerful voice.

"Meh, I'm goin' back t' slee'," Harry's dorm mate said grumpily.

"Oh... You have to be the first person I've met who would go back to sleep on Christmas rather than open their presents."

Ed was wide awake in half an instant.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Presents, presents, presents!"

Harry let out a rare laugh as he watched the boy then lay back down on the bed.

"Aren't you going to open your presents?" asked Ed as he noticed Harry's actions.

"Oh no, I'm going back to sleep," replied Harry. "I'd much rather go back to sleep than open presents."

As Harry closed his eyes he heard a growl, and then something soft hit him on the head.

"Thanks Ed! I needed another pillow."

"Potter! Get your arse up off of that bed this instant!"

"Why should I?"

Harry was hit with a shower of cold water, making him gasp and sit up instantly.

"That's why," Ed laughed. "So now that you're fully awake and soaking wet... Open your presents!"

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, reaching for the first package. "Geez, what is it with you and your presents?"

With the first package, one wrapped in silver paper with green snakes on it, was from Malfoy. The note read:

Harry,

I know you still probably haven't forgiven me for that curse yet, but I truly am sorry. I had no idea it would effect you so badly. I thought it would just give you a little bit of trouble with the broom. Please, accept this gift as another apology. I had to search a lot of places for it. It's quite old and valuable too, so please look after it. You should like it,

Yours in hopeful friendship

Draco Malfoy

Harry scowled at the wrapped package, not sure whether he wanted to open it. On the one and he wanted to see what the Malfoy heir had search so hard to find, but on the other, since it was from Malfoy, he didn't want to know. Still... Malfoy had said it was old, so that meant there was some history behind it, and maybe it was on something interesting.

He carried on staring at it for a moment too, totally being ignored by Ed who was too busy eating the present he had just opened (Jellybabies from his Mum) before coming to a decision. He would open it. If he liked what he got, he would consider becoming friends with Malfoy again, if he didn't he would carry on as if nothing had happened.

Tearing off the paper Harry looked at what was now sitting on his bed: a book. But it wasn't just any book entitled The Self-updating Encyclopaedia on Known Magical Serial Killers. Harry gasped, and picked it up gingerly. He had heard about this somewhere since he had arrived at Hogwarts, but it was too good to be true. Sure Draco wouldn't have wanted his friendship that badly.

Gulping, Harry opened the front cover and gasped even more. There, in spidery script though it was still as clear as day as to what it said, was the name Salazar Slytherin, his house's founder. A signed copy. He owned a signed copy of one of the rarest books in the wizarding world. It was almost too much to take in. He would almost definitely have to make up with Draco after this.

Still in a slight state of shock, Harry reached for another present, somehow not really thinking it could be up to the same par as Mal- Draco's gift. What could? He almost wished he had opened it last.

The next few gifts were several boxes of sweets, all from Slytherins who had decided that he needed a reward for not only not losing any points, but for also gaining a lot as well, or from a few of his admirers or fans around the school.

"How many more you gotta open?" called Ed from behind a mountain of wrapping paper, obviously having finished with opening his presents. Harry regarded the other boy with distain.

"Two," Harry said, his nose wrinkling with disgust as he reached for a package. The one he picked up was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery grey went slithering onto the bedclothes, where it lay in gleaming folds. Harry stared in shock; an invisibility cloak?

"What's the one you just opened?"

"Nothing, just more sweets," Harry said, sounding as though he was dismissing it. It wouldn't do to tell anyone about it before he had a chance to check his theory, and even then it wouldn't do him much good. Harry glanced down at a note that had come with his. No signature.

"What's the other one then?"

"I won't know until I open it, will I?" Harry replied scathingly, reaching for his last gift.

"Then hurry up!"

Harry growled, and grabbed his last package, obviously a cloak or something of the sort that had been wrapped in an apparent hurry. As he unwrapped it, something leathery fell to the floor. Ed looked over his wrapping paper fort at the light thud it made when Harry's present hit the ground and gasped in shock.

"Is that what I think it is?" the other boy asked. "Because if it is, someone must really like you for some reason."

Harry, not listening properly to his year mate, gingerly leaned over the edge of the bed and picked it up, finding it hard to believe he had been given what he thought he had been given. If it was... Gods, he could hardly believe it could be possible. Examining it closely, Harry began to look for anything that could disprove it's identity.

Judging by the softness of the material, Harry had to guess it was made from dragonhide, an Antipodean Opaleye, going by the way it shimmered. The collar was high enough to cover the neck of any one, and the clasp looked like a simple bead, but, upon closer inspection, it was made from - Harry gasped - a solidified phoenix tear. That was what did it for Harry. Nothing else would have a solid phoenix tear - nothing!

"It is," Harry breathed. "It's a-"

"Oh my God! I can't believe it! Did it come with a note?"

Harry blinks, and cast around, finally finding the piece of parchment it had come with, which was covered in delicate script spelling out the following words:

My Dearest Son,

As much as it pains me to write this note, I must. If you are receiving this at this point, something has happened to your father and I before I was able to pass this onto you. Therefore I am charming this to go to you on your first Christmas at Hogwarts.

The cloak, as you have most undoubtedly guessed by now, is one of the few of its kind ever made by Madam Malkins. It is amongst her finest work, and I was lucky to have gotten it. I urge you to wear it, my son. I placed additional spells on it after I bought it, these charms will protect you from most spells, and the clasp with heat up when you are in danger. They will not interfere with the original spells, so should you be hurts whilst wearing the cloak, the residual magic in the phoenix tear will heal you, though only so much.

Please stay safe, Harry, and allow nothing to get you down.

Mum

Harry glanced up, still in shock.

"Who sent it you?"

"My mum," Harry whispered. "My mum sent it me."

Ed fell asleep almost instantly that night, full of turkey and cake, but Harry couldn't. He learnt over the side of the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak from under it.

He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. it had been his father's, the note had said. He finally had something that had belonged to his parents. He had a cloak from each of his parents, both cloaks immensely rare and valuable.

Use it well, the note had also said. Harry got up out of bed. He had to use it that night, otherwise it would drive him insane. He wrapped the cloak around himself and looked down at his legs. He only saw moonlight and shadows. It was decidedly... odd to say the least.

Use it well. He intended to.

Suddenly Harry felt wide awake and rearing to explore the castle. He had never exactly been out of the common room when he should have been in bed. Who knew? Maybe the castle would be a more exciting place at night than it was by day.

Outside the common room, though, Harry began to think about what he was doing as he walked along the corridors. What could he do at night? He could go to the library, if he wanted, but as much as he liked the place he wasn't one to spend excessive amounts of time in there.

Having nothing better to do and energy to burn, Harry decided to just walk around the upper floors, a place until he felt tired enough to sleep. He didn't go up too often to the upper floors, except for classes, the dungeons being slightly more interesting and having more of a story behind them, such as the fact that they were once used for as a prison and torture facilities back before the school had first been formed.

Peering into one of the abandoned classrooms, Harry might have been curious as to why the school had so many disused classrooms if he had been someone else. He, however, had seen the extreme amount of mess one professor could make, so he thought it was most likely that a room would be used until it became too much of a mess, then they would use another classroom as it was easier than cleaning the old one.

Inside the room was something that made Harry gasp and enter. Inside was a magnificent mirror. as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved into the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry knew it in an instant. He had read about the famed mirror of Erised, and it was precisely how the books had described. Now just to see what his heart's desire was. Harry moved and positioned himself directly in front of the mirror and saw...

Just his reflection staring back. He scowled at it. There was nothing different about it. It just scowled back at him, and Harry began to wonder whether or not the mirror was the actual Erised Foror Rim as it was called in some circles.

When he finally got back to bed he noticed that the sun was slowly starting to rise on boxing day. Maybe he'd been wandering around the castle longer than he'd thought.

A/N: Okay... there's only really one thing I can add at this point before going onto the reveiw thanks, and that is: wow, over 3000 words, amazing.

Shadowface: How many mudbloodsdo we actually like? Beside Ed, of course, coz he's cool.

Lap: Yes, I named Bernie after a tree. Bernie is a cool name for both a bat and a tree. Yes, you may congratulate me on killing Hermione off. Harry got into serial killers mainly because of his family life and morbid curiosity. As to what he will do when faced with Voldemort, I'm not going to say just yet. That would spoil the entire future of this fic. I'm not too sure what triggered the alteration of the dream. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. I'll have to think about it though.