There's a party and you're not invited
Halloween came.
Neville asked Harry nervously at breakfast how he felt.
"What?" asked Harry.
"Well, today's the anniversary of You-know-who killing you parents" said Neville.
"The parents I don't remember at all, who I didn't know the names of till I read it in a history book?" asked Harry. "I've never even seen a picture of them."
"Er" said Neville, looking away. Harry shrugged. "Herbology first thing, you like that, don't you?"
Neville nodded.
"Well, see you at lunch" said Harry.
"There's going to be a feast for dinner" said Ron enthusiastically.
"With sweets and stuff?" asked Harry.
"More than usual" said one of the red-haired twins.
"Well, Granger will miss it on principle" said Harry, "Dentist's kid."
His words proved eerily prescient. Granger wasn't there, and then weird Professor Quirrell came in with news of a Troll in the dungeons, and fainted.
Harry was glad he went upstairs to the Gryffindor tower.
Much later, the prefects worked out Granger was missing.
"Because Ron was rude to her in Herbology" said one of the little first year girls.
"She was crying in a girls toilet on the first floor" said another girl.
This was interesting to Harry. Granger had no friends; that was simple to work out, but she apparently wanted some. Harry'd got that out of his system years ago. Mostly.
A worried looking Professor McGonagall arrived in the common room, crowded with children an hour or two later, her hair unevenly dusted with white dust and little chunks of green paint.
"Miss Granger had been attacked by the troll. Can anyone tell me why she was not at the feast?" she asked sternly.
"Because Ron bullied her in Herbology, and she spent the day crying the girls toilet" said Harry "Lots of the girls knew and did nothing."
"Thank you, Mister Potter, for that… concise summary" said Professor McGonagall. "Prefects, I expect this to be dealt with" she said and left the room through the portrait hole.
Harry didn't sleep well. Bruises prohibited that. Nobody in Gryffindor, it appeared liked a snitch.
The voice in his head kept saying they should all die for that. Harry tried to ignore it.
Classes were okay. Hermione Granger was fairly good to study with once she got out of Hospital, and Harry helped her with her bag. She still had a bit of a limp, from having both legs and her pelvis smashed. Harry's bruises slowed him down for the first few days.
She confided in Harry that her parents planned to move her to the French school for magic over Christmas. It was called Boobatons or something.
"Good luck" said Harry.
"Would you leave?" asked the bushy-haired girl, who was a lot less bossy, and jumped at loud noises.
"I've got relatives, not family. They don't care. I tried leaving on the first day, but I'm told that the followers of the guy that killed my parents, they need magic to stop. So I have to stay, and study harder than everyone else" said Harry grimly.
"You're very brave" said Hermione wistfully. "I wish you'd been my friend."
"I'm not brave" said Harry "I have to. One of the Slytherins will get me otherwise."
Hermione looked upset at that. Shame really, in hindsight having a friend was pretty good.
At Christmas, Harry joined the one table of people staying over, and they had really huge magical Christmas crackers. Harry got a bag of what he was told by a Weasley, were Gobstones. They looked like marbles. Harry took them back to his trunk and left them there. You apparently played gobstones with friends.
Somehow, he'd got a present on his bed, a silvery cloak. It had a note but no name.
"Your father loaned me this, I thought you should have it."
When he put it on and tipped the hood down, he became invisible. It was sort of see-through from the inside. And far too big. Harry started exploring, and trying to read books from the library restricted section. Unfortunately, they were all a bit hard to understand. Some of the advanced Defence stuff about curses was spine-chilling. Harry liked reading it. It was educational, and he could stop if he got too frightened, and read something else any-time he wanted to. And no Dudley.
Harry overheard some other first years complaining about missing their parents and being sad, and one of them said to the other, that you just "Go to madam Pomfrey and she gives you a cheering draught." Which meant looking up what that did. It looked really interesting. Being cheerful would be novel, Harry supposed. He went to Madam Pomfrey, sniffled and acted and got given a draft. Ten minutes later he felt… odd. The lingering cloud of anger and annoyance Harry lived under lifted. Perhaps not every adult in the castle was almost useless.
One night, out exploring he found an abandoned classroom totally emptied out, except for a large ornate mirror, as tall as the giant hairy groundskeeper.
Harry wandered in, looking for threats, and seeing nothing, he looked at what was clearly a magical mirror. There was even a mysterious inscription around the mirror. Cor.
Harry, being invisible, saw nothing, so he took off the hood; and saw his head in the mirror… and piles of dead wizards on the bottom of the mirror… Harry took off the cloak and saw in the mirror, himself, a bit older, standing on a pile of dead enemies. His older self had a look of calm satisfaction. Total, utter revenge on that wizards' followers. What a beautiful thing to see.
"Ahem" said someone behind Harry.
Harry turned quickly, and Headmaster Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room, taking form. He'd probably been there all along, thought Harry.
"Tell me Harry, what do you see in the mirror of Erised?" asked the Headmaster.
Harry was relieved, the Headmaster hadn't seen, and thought for a second… "My parents" he replied. That's what adults wanted to hear. Something soppy and stupid. Harry couldn't see his parents; He had no memory of them, or even a feeling of them. The History textbook had told him their names, after all. He still had no idea what they even looked like.
"Many wizards have wasted away in front of the Mirror of Erised" said the Headmaster "They see their deepest, most earnest desire, and forget to live."
"What do you see in the Mirror, Headmaster?" asked Harry.
"I see myself with a nice pair of socks" said the Headmaster "People always give me books, and what I really want is nice pair of warm socks. I am quite old, and my feet really feel the cold."
Harry felt that the Headmaster was lying his arse off. It was a really long answer, and lies, from watching Dudley, tended to be longer than the truth. A really good short lie, that was the ticket.
"Now take that very marvellous invisibility cloak and run along back to...the Gryffindor dormitory and go to sleep, Harry" said Headmaster Dumbledore, smiling and twinkling like a supermarket Santa-Claus.
So Dumbledore had been the one with the cloak, thought Harry.
Harry put the cloak back on, flipped up the hood and walked carefully away, holding up the cloak which was really adult-sized, not Harry-sized.
As he walked, Harry thought that if his parents, even one had hidden under this cloak, he'd have had one parent, at least. That had Harry thinking that it was about time for another cheering draught.
Term restarted, and Hermione Granger had managed her escape act. Harry felt oddly pleased, and a warm feeling in his chest at that. It was, he wondered, like that girl had become his friend, and he was happy she was somewhere else, probably safer. Madam Pomfrey gave him another cheering draught, but looked at him a bit much, like she was going to criticise him, but once he'd 'cheered up', he left the infirmary un-scolded.
Harry worked really hard out of class to learn all the spells in the first year textbook. With nobody to talk to, and no hobbies except exploring, he made rapid progress. The recipe for cheering draughts wasn't that hard, and it worked on animals, so Harry could test it on cats. Or Ron Weasley's rat. The rat was amazingly clever for all it's laziness and refused to lick Harry's home-made cheering draught.
Some idiot broke into the Groundskeepers hut and got viciously bitten by a baby dragon. The Groundskeeper was fired, and narrowly missed out on prison, according to Percy Weasley, the Red-haired know-it-all of Gryffindor. Harry found Percy really useful, as you could ask him a question, and he'd tell you what book you should have read instead of telling you an answer. It was terrifically educational, if a bit annoying. The voice in his head as he slept suggested torturing Percy with knives. Harry, as usual, ignored the high-pitched voice.