Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own.

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, 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. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home." Malfoy said during one Potions class. He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Serena was going home, but Thomas and Phoebe were staying. Thomas said his father had come down with something and Phoebe informed them that she wanted to avoid the orphanage as long as possible.

After Potions, they followed Hagrid to the Great Hall where he was delivering another tree so they could see the decorations.

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one." Serena informed him.

"And that reminds me. We've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library." Phoebe said pointedly, giving Hagrid a fake smile.

"The library? Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working." Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here. I've told yeh: drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all." Thomas held his hands in mock surrender, even though they wanted to know much more than that.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere. Just give us a hint. I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin" Hagrid told him flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then." Phoebe sang mock-innocently and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time. He was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Thomas had a scribbled list of books he wanted to look in, a list made during History of Magic class. Serena had one bookshelf she was working on from the bottom up. Phoebe randomly pulled books off shelves in hopes of stumbling across the right one. 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 are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing." Harry said quickly, perhaps too quickly. Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on. Out!" Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library.

The four of them had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, the other three joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" Serena asked as they walked towards the Great Hall. "And send me an owl if you find anything." They all nodded their agreement, too discouraged and hungry to bother with actual words.

As Phoebe and Thomas walked into the Great Hall, Serena caught the sleeve of Harry's robes and pulled him back. She was looking rather disappointed herself, but Harry thought it had more to do with leaving for the holidays than Flamel. She was invested in the investigation, as she knew now just how nasty Snape could be, but she wasn't as hard-core as they were about it.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me? Mum says you're welcome there. You wouldn't have to go to the Dursley's; we have a pull-out couch." She put on her most hopeful expression but Harry shook his head at her.

"I want to stay here." He assured her and he really did. With Thomas and Phoebe staying, he was bound to have fun. Besides, Hogwarts, despite it's weirdness, felt more like home that Privet Drive did.

"Well, alright." She dropped his arm and brushed her hair back. "If you're sure..."

"I am."

"Alright." She repeated, but Harry could tell he'd hurt her feelings a bit. He tried to remember a Christmas they hadn't spent together in some way or another, but came up blank. They'd known each other since nursery school, after all, and had stuck close in the years since.

"See you in January." He said cheerfully, realizing perhaps that wasn't comforting, and hurried into the Great Hall before he could dig himself any deeper.

Once the holidays had started, Harry, Thomas and Phoebe were having too good a time to think much about Flamel or anything else of real importance. The three of them had their dormitories to themselves. Boys couldn't get up to the girls' dormitory due to a protective spell, but girls could get up to the boys'. Phoebe usually ended up crashing in their dormitory at day's end in Neville's vacated bed. Thomas only got a bloody nose once for teasing her about having a stuffed dog that she always slept with.

The common room was also far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. That became their usual spot over the holidays while they gathered up anything they could spear on a toasting fork: bread, English muffins, marshmallows... Nearly one of Phoebe's training bras as she insisted it was some sort of rite of passage for crazy people...

Thomas also started teaching Harry and Phoebe wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Thomas's set was old and battered, having belonged to his father and friends before him. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Thomas knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. Harry and Phoebe played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent them and they didn't trust Harry 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."

Phoebe, on the other hand, was an excellent player. She had an eye for strategy and no regard for the safety of her semi-sentient pieces so long as she won the game. And, as long as she had her queen, she did win nearly every game. Even Thomas, who had years of practice over both of them, could rarely outsmart her. Harry stood no chance at all, but he had fun watching Phoebe and Thomas hurl insults at each other as they played:

"Oh, you mother hugger... I needed that rook!"

"You son of monkey, don't you take... What did I just say?!"

"Don't you... don't you... Oh, you little psychopath!"

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day of food and fun, but not expecting any presents. When he woke up the next morning, though, the first thing he saw was a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. His heart leaped into his throat; someone had given him presents!

He jumped off his bed, nearly tripping over the curtain surrounding it, and jumped onto the nearest bed, which happened to be Phoebe's. There was a small pile of presents at the end of her bed as well, just waiting to get ripped in.

"Phoebe, wake up, we've got-." Phoebe woke up with a start and shoved Harry off the bed so he landed hard on the floor. It didn't put a damper on his excitement and he ran to wake up Thomas, who woke up slower, but less violently.

"I have presents?" Phoebe looked completely dumbstruck as she climbed out of bed to examine the pile.

"What did you expect? Coal?" Thomas asked as he scrambled to the foot of his bed to grab at his pile.

Harry ran back to his pile and picked up the first package. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was:

To Harry, from Hagrid.

Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute that Hagrid had obviously whittled himself. Harry blew it; it sounded a bit like an owl.

Phoebe was examining a set of fancy-looking quills she'd received. When Harry asked who had sent them to her, she replied, a bit smugly, that they were from Professor McGonagall. By the time Phoebe and Harry had unwrapped one of their presents, Thomas had torn through all of his. Judging by the objects scattered on his bed, he had new books, a whittled bear figurine obviously from Hagrid and an unhealthy amount of chocolate.

Phoebe unwrapped a small parcel and found a whittled dog figurine from Hagrid that looked as though it had been modeled after Fang.

As for Harry, a second, very small parcel contained a note:

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present.

From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly." Harry muttered, though it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever gotten from them.

From Thomas's father, Remus, Harry received his very own copy of Quidditch Through The Ages and Phoebe got a Spell-Of-The-Day calendar. From Ms. Larkin, all three of them got thick, warm jackets and a tin of cookies. Serena got them all candy from Diagon Alley and, all at once, they realized that they hadn't gotten her anything. They agreed they would make it up to her however they could when she returned to school.

There was one parcel left for Harry. He picked it up and felt it, finding that it was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Thomas made a sound of surprise and hurried over. Phoebe crept nearer as well, holding an eagle-feather quill out like a sword pointed towards the object.

"What is it?" Harry asked, reaching down to grab it. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's a cloak... It can't be... Put it on." Thomas urged.

Harry threw it around his shoulders and his friends yelled in surprise, pointing at his legs. 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." Phoebe pointed with her quill at the letter that had fallen out of the cloak and onto the floor. 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 while his friends examined the cloak.

"I wonder how tough this is. Like, is it non-flammable? Is it washing machine safe? Would it turn the washing machine invisible?" Thomas was wondering aloud.

"Imagine the places you could get in with this. The things you could steal. The people you could screw with." Phoebe looked delighted with it.

Harry felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? Before he could ponder on it too long, Thomas was complaining about being hungry. So they cleaned up the wrapping paper, stowed the cloak away in Harry's trunk and hurried down to the Great Hall.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. 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.

The fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Thomas and it didn't just bang, it 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.

Up at 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.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. A couple students nearly broke their teeth on a silver sickle embedded in the slices. He watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit and his own new wizard chess set. He decided to give the chess set to Phoebe as a Christmas present to her and earned himself a kiss on the cheek that made him redden with embarrassment.

Harry, his friends and the Weasley boys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room and played wizard's chess and exploding snap.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy Weasley chase Fred, George and Phoebe all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge. They continued tossing it around to keep it just out of Percy's reach, ducking under tables and jumping over chairs whenever he got too close.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it. Thomas, 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. Phoebe had fallen asleep in her own dormitory, with Percy's prefect badge safe with her as boys couldn't enter the girl's dormitory.

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

He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling. Use it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Thomas mumbled something about chocolate in his sleep. Harry wondered if he should wake his friend. Something held him back; it was his father's cloak. He felt that this time, the first time, he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" The Fat Lady squawked, but Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor. Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.