Some reviews asked why Harry didn't know about Snape if Petunia raised him in a loving home-Petunia is not a different person. She and Lily had the same problems that they do in the original series. Petunia simply chose to recognize her love and devotion to her sister when Harry came to live with her. Petunia doesn't know that Snape was a Death Eater. Lily didn't tell her. In addition, Harry's still eleven. He never asked and telling Harry about a random childhood friend of her sisters just didn't come up.

Now-on with the story!

In seemingly no time at all, Christmas was upon them.

One morning, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban (much to his annoyance).

"You know, I've never seen Quirrell get that animated before." Dean mused, watching the agitated young professor give quite the telling off to two very unrepentant Weaselys.

"If he keeps holding all that in, he's going to give himself a stroke." Ron said, though he was grinning rather widely.

"I'd almost rather be out there." Seamus said glumly, flipping a page in the dusty tome before him.

Since Harry's misadventure outside the staffroom, the boys had spent nearly every hour of their free time in the library. Harry was bound and determined to discover what the three-headed dog was guarding, and why Snape wanted it so badly. All they knew was that there was a three headed dog, most likely on the third floor ("That's why it's blocked off!" Dean had said, slapping himself on the forehead). So far, they hadn't made a whole lot of progress, but Ron (who was the self-declared cheerleader of the bunch) was sure that they would have a 'massive, massive' breakthrough any day now.

"Really, there's only so many things that it could be." He would say, leaning back in his chair, "How many fabulous ancient magical treasures could there be in the world?"

It turned out that there were quite a lot. Well over one thousand if you only counted the ones from the last two hundred years and didn't take into account the ones that were so old they were mostly legendary. They also had no idea if it even was a treasure, as Dean helpfully pointed out.

"It could be a poison, or a really rare animal." He'd said, hardly glancing up from the book he was reading.

"But where's the fun in that ?" Ron had whined.

None of them could answer.

There was also only so much research four active eleven year old boys could do before they went out of their minds. Their research was broken up by frequent bathroom breaks, food breaks, outside breaks, homework breaks, and (once) a paper airplane fight break (Madam Pince had nearly lost her head). All in all it was slow going and, as the Christmas holidays approached, Harry's friends became less and less willing to spend every free moment they had in the library.

Harry could hardly blame them. After all, none of their parents had been killed by an evil overlord only to have his servant teach them potions every week. They simply didn't have the motivation that he did. Harry decided that he couldn't blame them for that.

One Saturday afternoon, after several hours of reaching alone while his friends were off at a Quidditch match, Harry decided to go down and see Hagrid. He needed a break, his head was throbbing, and he was (if he was honest with himself) getting no closer to solving what was being guarded by the dog on the third floor.

With a sigh he closed his book and made his way out of the library and down to the grounds. He heard the shrieks and screams from the Quiddich pitch and he felt a twinge of something that felt like longing, but he pushed on through the snow towards Hagrid's hut.

As always, Hagrid was delighted to see him.

"Harry! What brings you down here by yer'self?" Hagrid asked, clapping Harry on the back with one, giant hand, and moving to get Harry a cup of rather thick looking tea, "Why aren't you at the game? I heard that Gryffindor was doing al'righ in the first half."

Harry rubbed his eyes, "I was researching in the library. Ron, Dean and Seamus are at the game."

Hagrid frowned down at him, "Now what could be so important that you miss one of the first matches of the year? Yer not fallin' behind on your studies now, are ya?"

"No." Harry shook his head and looked up at the cloudy sky, "I found out something about Professor Snape that bothered me and I've been looking into it." he told Hagrid honestly.

Hagrid frowned, "What's this now?"

"He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. I think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding on the third floor."

Hagrid dropped the teapot and stared at Harry, looking absolutely flabbergasted.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said sharply.

"Fluffy?" Harry asked, perking up. His heart fluttered and, for the first time in a while, his head didn't hurt at all, "You know about the dog?"

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-" Hagrid abruptly stopped, looking angry with himself.

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly, leaning forward. This was the breakthrough he had been searching for!

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!" Harry exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"Rubbish," Hagrid scoffed. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher; he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Then why did he try and get past the dog?" Harry said stubbornly, "I know he's up to something! I know he was a Death Eater!"

Hagrid paled, "Who told you that?"

"I'm not telling you!" Harry said petulantly, "All that matters is that he's up to something and it has to do with whatever is on the third floor!"

Hagrid sighed, "Harry I don' know what you've been told about Snape. Some of it's true , some of it's probably not. At the end of the day, Dumbledore trusts Snape. And Albus Dumbledore is one of the greatest wizards in history. I trust his judgment, and you shoul' to."

Hagrid leaned closer to Harry, "But yeh listen to me,-yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

As exciting as the new clue was, even Harry had to admit after a couple of weeks that it wasn't all that helpful. Though they scoured every book on contemporary wizards they could find, Nicolas Flamel didn't appear anywhere.

Christmas holidays were now only one day away. Dean and Seamus were leaving for the holidays. Harry suspected that Seamus, at least, was relieved that he wouldn't have to continue to research. The library wasn't really Seamus' thing. Ron, however, was staying over the holidays and Harry had elected to stay with him. Without the distraction of classes, he would have more time to devote to researching what was behind the third floor door.

He'd written Aunt Petunia and announced his intention to stay over Christmas. She had not been pleased and there was much back and forth on the subject. At the beginning of the year, Harry would have thought it unthinkable to miss Christmas with his family. But now, with an answer so close he could taste it, Harry couldn't bear to leave. Finally, after much beseeching, Aunt Petunia had relented. Harry had pulled the 'I feel closer to my parents' card, and it was very difficult for her to argue with him after that.

To be honest, he did feel bad about missing Christmas. He did miss his family. But he felt that finding the answer to the mystery of the third floor was something he had to do. So he stayed.

Dean and Seamus left the next morning. Before he left Dean pulled Harry aside.

"Harry, try and enjoy yourself, ok?"

"Yeah, alright Dean."

"I'm serious Harry." Dean said, grabbing him firmly by the shoulder, "Don't spend all your time in the library. Also, go find a teacher for those headaches. They are only getting worse."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Alright, Mum."

Dean smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and then he and Seamus were off. Though Harry had promised Dean he would take some time to enjoy the Christmas holidays, he hadn't stated when that time would be. As soon as he was done with dinner Harry dragged Ron, once again, to the library.

After another three hours of unfruitful searching, Harry could tell that Ron was reaching the end of his rope. His friend had gotten up from their shared corner of the library and was now wandering the shelves, pulling books out at random.

Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. What he really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks. Unfortunately, she was always in the library. Harry suspected she lived there.

"What are you doing?"

Harry turned. Hermione Granger was standing behind him, a very large book clutched to her chest, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Er-nothing." Harry said, turning away from the Restricted Section and back towards his table.

"You can't go in there." Hermione said, looking very pleased with herself, "That's the Restricted Section."

"Yeah. I know. I can read." Harry said shortly, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He hadn't really seen Hermione up close since the troll incident. He still felt vaguely guilty about the whole thing (even though they had saved her) and was not keen to have a close encounter with her. Hermione, however, did not seem deterred by his attitude.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, drawing closer to their table, "I see you in here all the time- and you're in Gryffindor. What are you trying to look up?"

Harry could see that Hermione's habit of asking questions carried over into her personal life as well.

"Well-"

"S'not really any of your business, is it?" Ron had returned from his shelf-wandering and was now staring at Hermione with one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.

Hermione flushed a deep red, but drew back from the table.

"If you're doing something against the rules-"

"Still wouldn't be any of your business." Ron said.

For a moment, Hermione looked like she was about to argue. Harry thought he might have seen a flash of hurt across her expression before she turned on her heel and strode away to the other side of the library.

Harry looked at Ron, "You didn't have to be so mean."

Ron shrugged, "We don't know her. Why do you care? She was trying to stick her nose where it doesn't belong. Come on, I found another book that we can try."

Harry allowed himself to be led to the other side of the library. He glanced over his shoulder. Hermione was hunched over her book, her face pinched and her brows drawn together.

"I think she was just trying to make friends, Ron." Harry said quietly.

Ron shook his head, "I heard from Michael Corner that she sticks her nose into everything and tries to get everyone in trouble. Besides," he lowered his voice, "She still freaks me out because of that troll thing. I don't want to risk it."

Harry snorted, "Ron, she's not going to suddenly remember. Besides, we saved her life! She wouldn't tell on us."

"She tells on everyone." Ron said sagely, "Best ignore her."

He shoved another volume under Harry's nose. Harry flipped it open to the chapter index and tried not to think about the lonely girl sitting in the corner.

When Harry woke early in Christmas morning, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. Harry grinned. Aunt Petunia had apparently forgiven him for not coming home. A very large package wrapped in her signature green Santa paper was sitting on the top of the pile.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. He picked up the top parcel in the green Santa paper. On the top of it, Aunt Petunia had taped a letter. Harry opened it.

Harry, the note started;

Dudley and I were sad to hear that you couldn't make it home for Christmas. Home just isn't the same without you. We miss you very much, and cannot wait to have you home for your break in the spring.

Below Aunt Petunia's neat handwriting Dudley had scrawled a note;

Miss you Harry. Come home when you can.

Harry smiled and gently traced the letters on the note. He did miss them, especially at Christmas. He pulled the green package onto his lap and tore into the paper. Inside was a small leather bound book with blank pages, an entire box of rather expensive chocolates, and a copy of The Little Prince, one of Harry's favorite stories. Harry smiled, his aunt always knew him best. He set the presents aside and reached for the next package in the pile. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry smiled, it was kind of Hagrid to think of him on Christmas. Harry blew the whistle -it sounded a bit like an owl.

There was another box of chocolates from Dean and a very nice chess set from Seamus.

Ron snorted, "Now you can finally play with us."

Harry grinned and reached for the final package. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Seamus. "If that's what I think it is - they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

Harry greeted the twins and stuffed his parcel further under his comforter, trying not to wonder about his mysterious new friend

The rest of the day was spent in the Common Room trying to learn wizard chess with Ron. Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had bought him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing.

"Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner as he had that night. Aunt Petunia had never been able to afford such finery. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. Though the display was fantastic, Harry couldn't help the pang in his chest that he felt when he looked at it.

Though the food was incredible and the party favors were amazing (they went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice) Harry almost wished he was at home with Aunt Petunia and Dudley in their boring muggle hats sat around their tiny turkey. Ron noticed his passivity and nudged him, pointing toward the High Table.

Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him. Harry smiled, putting his family out of his mind for the moment and digging into the pudding that had just been served.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. But Harry remained awake. He leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's... this had been his father's. Aunt Petunia had never been able to tell him much about his father. She had only met him twice; once at her own wedding and once when he had showed up at her parent's house to take Lily out on a date. She hadn't been at his parent's wedding. All she had been able to tell Harry was that he was very loud and very funny and that Harry looked very much like him.

He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

Suddenly Harry thought of the Restricted Section. He smiled and wrapped the cloak around himself. He would use it well.