Christmastime at Hogwarts was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced. Golden bubbles had been charmed as ornaments to line the hallways, the great hall was decorated in rich Christmas colors and everyone was pleasantly surprised to find Professor Flitwick's classroom dressed in cool Christmas silver and blue the last day before break.

Harry was also glad of the opportunity to have Hogwarts to himself without having to worry about vengeful Gryffindors.

Ever since the Quidditch match, the Gryffindors had been terrible to him. Ron was impossible. At lunch the day after the match, Harry had walked past the Gryffindor table to his own and Ron yelled loudly after him, "There goes the purest Slytherin you'll find!"

Harry turned around slowly to look at Ron. Ron was smirking at him, no regret, as though daring him to say something. Harry grew very red. He could feel his face burning as he stared Ron down. 'Why am I acting like I'm the guilty one?' Harry thought. 'He's the one who's being the jerk.'

"He's jealous. They're all jealous, said the voice. You're greater, more powerful than they can ever hope to be."

Harry had started at the thought, breaking eye contact with Ron…admitting his guilt. Ron smiled, and turned to his brothers, who gave him triumphant back slaps for his win. Neville and Padma began focusing on the tabletop with wilted faces as their fellow Gryffindors began doing "Potter Impressions".

The experience had been the first of many bad ones. Seamus didn't talk to Harry. The Hufflepuffs had stopped associating with him as much, and the Ravenclaws sided with the Gryffindors as usual.

And, of course, Sean was unbearable. Harry never would have figured him for the grudging type, before. But, then, he hadn't exactly expected Sean to be happy that he had helped give the Slytherins another boasting point. Harry had hoped Olga and Patricia would see past it, but they seemed to follow Sean's lead.

So, with Christmas break approaching, Sean, Patricia and Olga all going home to their families and almost the rest of the school with them, Harry made plans.

Harry entered his common room, looked around, and let out a whoop.
He was alone. Utterly alone…and utterly happy.

The Slytherin common room had emptied out two days ago. Harry had had the school virtually to himself ever since, and he realized, now, just how badly he needed the alone time.

Harry had noticed how much he changed himself for the people around him. It felt like he had many Harrys that he labeled in his head. 'Gryffindor Harry', 'Slytherin Harry', 'Quidditch Harry', 'Sean Harry'…
And, now, he was just… Harry Harry. Harry. And Harry had some questions.

He hadn't noticed all the strange things in his life that he had been forced to put on hold throughout the hubbub of Quidditch, classes and his social life. Now that those were out of the picture (although he did have some rather nasty essays for Transfigurations and Potions), he decided it was time to take a little initiative in his life. His first mission? Find out who the cloaked man was.

Harry hadn't forgotten that day in the hospital wing when he had looked out the window…and someone had looked back, causing a shooting pain in his scar. He also thought he knew where to look. It didn't make any real sense, beyond the logic that hatred can lead to the irrational. But Snape…well, it didn't get much more hateful than that.

Harry wasn't sure how he was going to go about finding out what Snape had to do with his scar. He figured it was some kind of spell…but he didn't know enough about magic yet to say what kind of spell would do that and what it's purpose was. He was hoping to talk to Snape…as unpleasant as that would be. He hoped if he could possibly make the oily old professor uncomfortable enough then he could worm a few answers out of him. Only problem was…well, that plan could work both ways, now, couldn't it? And when it came to matching his poker face with Snape's, Harry thought he might be on the short end.

So Harry contemplated his situation all day, as he moved from Hagrid's, sipping tea, to the library (now what was wolfbane again?), and eventually back to his common room, where he slept peacefully all night…for the first time since coming to Hogwarts.

Of course, he had forgotten one very important thing about that night.

He had forgotten to stay up and listen for bells and hooves.

After all…Santa was coming.

Harry woke up, and felt something weighing heavily at the end of his sheets as he made to kick them off. He opened his eyes fully, slightly reluctantly (the covers were splendidly warm, after all) and saw, at the end of his bed, several brightly colored packages, wrapped in bows and bells.

Harry jolted up, threw back his covers and plopped on top of them, staring transfixed at the gifts. All he could do for a while was stare. They. Were. Beautiful. Harry had never had a proper Christmas gift before. He almost didn't know what to do. He finally reached out for one of the gifts, handling it gently, preciously, turning it over, examining the paper. This one was from…Olga! Harry smiled widely, his teeth sparkling. So, they weren't mad at him. At least he hadn't bought them gifts in vain! He was afraid they would never forgive him!

Harry peeled back the paper gently, and found himself staring at a small box, unlabeled with a single warning: Do Not Open In Crowded Area. That was more than enough to get his attention. Casting a deft look across the room, he pulled open the box and threw it forward.

Nothing happened.

Harry reached out for the box, took it gently, and looked inside. Inside the box, struggling to get free, fastened to the bottom by a bit of red ribbon was…

"A snitch!" exclaimed Harry in breathless awe. "She got me a snitch! I hope she isn't too disappointed with the hat and scarf I got her!"

Harry was so stunned, he almost forgot he had other gifts. Finally, closing the box lid and setting it aside, he reached for another gift. This one was wrapped in dark red paper, and was tied with a strip of black ribbon…

"Oh," he said as he read the tag.

It was from Patricia. Of course. She'd been going through…a phase. He chuckled a little. It was strange to watch sweet, plump little Patricia stressing over whether or not her VERY liberal gobs of mascara were running.

He unwrapped the gift, a little more excited now. He smiled when he saw what it was. Honeydukes sweets. A whole big box of chocolate frogs and ever-flavor beans and ever-blowing bubble gum.

Next, he unwrapped a conspicuously green gift with a silver bow. Sean's, Harry saw with a smile. Of course. He would try for that touch of irony. Harry unwrapped the gift slowly, slightly awkwardly. The gift was a perfect sphere, and Sean had managed to wrap it seamlessly…probably some sort of spell. 'I have to learn that one,' Harry thought as his fingers fumbled with the paper.

At last, he managed to dig his fingernail under a bit of the paper and rip it. The gift rolled out of the paper, now, and what he saw…it took Harry's breath away.

It was a beautiful, perfect orb of emerald glass. Harry stared into the ball, transfixed. What was it? Harry searched the wrappings for an explanation, but none was to be found. Harry didn't know what it was, but it was stunning.

Harry set his three friends' gifts aside. He had two left. He took a rectangular parcel wrapped in…pink? Who did Harry know that would wrap a gift in pink? He looked the package over, looking for a tag. Nothing. Cuatiously, Harry unwrapped the package and opened the box. Sitting atop the tissue paper was a note written in very thick, curly writing.

I thought you could use some winning colors.

Hope you like it!
Parvati

Harry set the note aside, glad that no one else was in the room as his cheeks flushed. He pushed aside the tissue paper and saw something red and gold inside. He lifted it out, and discovered it was a beautiful knit turtleneck sweater. 'I didn't get her anything!' though Harry frantically. 'I'll have to remember to send her something when she got back from break.

He reached for the last gift. A somewhat lumpy package, wrapped in gold. He opened it, and a silvery liquid slithered out. Harry stared at it, thinking for a wild moment that somehow someone had sent him a package of mercury. When he reached out to touch it, though, he felt a cloth between his fingers, smoother than silk. When he lifted the cloth, a slip of paper fell out. In a very tall, loopy handwriting, someone had written him a note…

Harry,

It was left in my possession when your father died, use it well.

Merry Christmas

Harry picked up the cloth and draped it around himself. He felt as though he had dipped into a pool of warm water, even though the cloth was cool to the touch. Harry looked down to examine how it looked on him…but there was no him to see! His body had disappeared! Harry threw the fabric aside in horror, afraid he might still not see himself again. But, as soon as he tossed the cloth away, he reappeared. Harry picked it up again, and swung it around his shoulders…and this time noticed a clasp at his throat. It was a cloak…

Harry did up the cloak, and pulled the hood over his head, which draped all the way down in front of his face.

Suddenly, Harry knew exactly how he was going to find everything out…