Christmas morning found Harry glad no one had remained in Slytherin House. He rolled over and slept in some more before finally forcing himself out of bed. As he got dressed, he recalled past Christmases with the Dursleys and he had a hard time pushing the depressing thoughts out of his mind. At least, no one would see him getting nothing for Christmas. He wandered down into the Common Room, thinking he should probably go to the library like Hermione had recommended.

He stopped short when he was met with a small pile of presents.

Glancing around the Common Room, he half expected to see a Slytherin who had stayed behind claiming the presents as theirs. When he was met with no one, he nervously approached the presents, only to see his name scrawled on some of them. Eyebrows flying up, he immediately checked to see who had sent him the gifts as he began to open them. There was a flute from Hagrid, a 50 pence coin, and some fudge and Chocolate frogs from Hermione. Grinning, he reached for the last present, only to see this one was unnamed, though the sender informed him the gift had once belonged to his father and he should "use it well". Inside was a beautiful cloak, but when he put it on he discovered it could turn him invisible.

A hundred ideas surfaced inside his mind at what he could use the cloak for. It took a while before he finally realized he could also use the cloak to access the restricted section of the library.

Once he'd moved all of his opened gifts to his trunk in his dorm, Harry decided to see what the rest of the castle was up to.

It was strange to be in the nearly empty castle. Even the ghosts were unusually quiet as he passed by several. He eventually arrived at the Great Hall to eat a late breakfast only to discover it empty. As he turned to leave, he nearly ran right into Professor Quirrell.

"Oh, P-Potter," the Professor gasped in surprise as Harry took a step back from him. "W-what are y-you doing?"

"I was going to eat," Harry answered then motioned to the empty Hall. "But it looks like no one is there."

He realized he shouldn't have pointed out how empty the Great Hall was. Quirrell glanced back the way he had come and Harry realized they were truly alone.

"But I'm supposed to be meeting up with Professor Snape anyways," Harry added, knowing the man could probably see through his lie. "I probably shouldn't keep him waiting."

"I s-see," Quirrell was eyeing Harry. All nervousness was gone and his eyes had taken on a dangerous glint to them. "P-perhaps we should g-get you some f-f-food first, eh, Potter?"

The stutter wasn't as obvious as it had been so far this year and Harry couldn't stop a shiver from ascending his spine.

"I really should go," Harry insisted as he stepped around the Professor and started backing up towards the entrance to the dungeons. "Professor Snape doesn't like waiting."

"Y-you're a growing young man," Quirrell objected, taking a step forward for every step Harry took backwards. "You shouldn't miss meals."

"I'll just eat a really big dinner," Harry feigned a smile, but it faltered on his lips. "Good day, Professor."

He darted down the steps before Quirrell could grab him and didn't stop running until he had burst into Professor Snape's office.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Potter?" Snape barked as he shot to his feet in alarm.

"Professor..." Harry gasped for air. "Quirrell!"

Snape's face became stony at the name and he waited for Harry to finish.

"Great Hall," Harry wheezed. "No one there. Just him."

"Spit it out, Potter," Snape growled, but his features held no anger.

"Not stuttering," Harry managed, pressing his hand to his side where it was aching. "Wanted me to go with him to...to...get food."

Snape stepped around his desk and shoved Harry into a seat with the command to remain where he was until Snape returned. Without further word, Snape left his office, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Harry focused on catching his breath and undoing the stitch in his side. He felt lightheaded from running on an empty stomach and pressed his forehead onto Snape's desk. He began to wonder exactly what it was Snape intended to do. Without more proof, there was no way Snape could properly approach Quirrell. Would he tell the rest of the staff? Harry groaned at the idea. What if he was wrong? They'd all think he was a troublemaker!

What felt like an hour passed before Snape finally returned.

He shut the door and locked it again before going around his desk and sitting down in his chair. After reorganizing the papers he'd nearly scattered when Harry had burst in, Snape leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and forming a steeple with his fingers.

"Professor Quirrell claims to have been in his office since breakfast grading papers."

"Sir, I..."

Snape held up his hand at Harry's protest.

"And we have no proof he was anywhere but." Snape's words made Harry's gut convulse and he looked down at his hands.

"I'm sorry, sir."

The Potions Master didn't speak at first as he watched Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff have been notified of my suspicions," Snape finally informed Harry. "But until such a time as we have proof Professor Quirrell is a threat we cannot remove him."

Harry could only nod.

"And I want you to never give him reason to attack you," Snape demanded. "Never wander around alone. Never provoke him. If you find you are alone with him, you are to go to the nearest staff member. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Understood?"

Harry lifted his gaze at the tone and saw the seriousness of Snape's face. His lips were thin and his skin had paled slightly.

"I understand, sir," Harry told him. "I won't give Professor Quirrell any reason to attack me."

"Good," Snape stood from his seat. "Then I will escort you to your common room where you will remain until..."

"Can I go to the library, sir?" Harry questioned as he got up. "To study? Madam Pince is always there."

Snape considered this for only a moment before consenting to escort Harry to gather his books from the Slytherin dormitory and then taking him up to the library.

"But under one condition," Snape snarled. "You will not leave the library, except with Madam Pince to attend dinner."

"Yes, sir."

With that, Snape led Harry out of his office.

At Christmas dinner, Harry sat as close to Professor Snape and as far from Professor Quirrell as he could get. As there were other students, none of the teachers broached the topic of Quirrell, but Harry did notice the suspicious glances McGonagall and Flitwick sent the man's direction. When dinner ended, Harry didn't want to go and was actually grateful when the Headmaster asked to speak with Harry alone.

Quirrell stood at the door, looking apprehensive, but McGonagall approached him and encouraged the D.A.D.A. Professor along. The two left together.

"Harry," Dumbledore said as he caught the boy's attention. "I must ask you to be very careful."

"Professor Snape has already asked I not go anywhere alone."

"Anywhere," Dumbledore agreed. "Even if you believe no one will see you."

Harry's brows shot up as the Headmaster's eyes twinkled.

"Professor Snape will escort you back to your dormitory."

Harry turned and walked over to the Potions Master and the two of them exited the Great Hall.

As they descended down into the dungeons, Harry could feel a question bubbling up and try as he might to keep from blurting it out he inevitably did.

"Who is Nicolas Flamel?"

Snape didn't even stiffen as he continued to lead Harry towards the dormitory.

"I suggest you stop asking such questions, Potter," Snape admonished him, but his tone wasn't particularly harsh. "Meddling in such affairs is a very Gryffindor thing to do."

Harry mulled this over and then stated, "The Hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor too. And Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but then it chose Slytherin."

Silence followed, broken only by the sound of their shoes on the stone and a distant dripping.

"And how does that make you feel, Potter?"

Harry thought about how Ron's attitude towards him had changed and how those in Slytherin House treated him.

"I think I figured out the truth about other people," Harry finally admitted. "But I don't know myself any better."

"Explain."

"Weasley was nice to me on the train, but he's not nice to me anymore. Malfoy was nice until I told him I wouldn't be friends with him. He's still...not really nice."

"He doesn't appear to be mean towards you."

"He's not my friend."

"He never will be."

"I see."

"Malfoy is the type to only have allies, not friends," Snape clarified.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say in response, so kept quiet.

"But you never did say how you feel about being sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor."

Harry frowned and stopped, causing Snape to finally halt and face him.

"I feel really alone," Harry admitted, staring up at Snape's cold features. "Like that no one will ever really be my friend. It's as if being put into Slytherin cut me off from ever having any real friends."

"And this upsets you?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm kind of used to it, sir."

Snape didn't reply to this and Harry fidgeted under the chilly stare he was receiving.

"I'm just scared," Harry confessed. "Everyone told me all the dark wizards come from Slytherin and then I was put in Slytherin."

Snape gave a derisive snort at this.

"While admittedly many of the Dark Wizards and Witches of the past have come from Slytherin, that does not mean every single person in Slytherin is going to turn into a dark wizard or witch, Potter."

"I know," Harry blurted, speaking faster than was probably necessary. "But I think that's what everyone now thinks I'm going to be."

"Then prove them wrong."

Harry opened his mouth with a retort ready, but found he couldn't say it. He closed his mouth as he realized his Professor was absolutely right.

"Come, Potter," Snape stated as he turned around. "It is getting late."

Without further conversation, Harry followed Snape to his dormitory.