Harry was disappointed that Draco's walk out idea hadn't forced the Ministry to drop the case against Professor Snape immediately, but he supposed it made sense. These things took time, and they were trying to make sure no one tried to kill him again, after all. He should be happy that they were taking the incident seriously enough to investigate it at all.
The Dursleys would have laughed him off and then punished him for being dramatic.
Professor Snape seemed happier, though.
Harry was glad. Professor Snape had been nothing but supportive towards him since the moment they'd met, and Harry was willing to spend the rest of his life repaying the man for that kindness, if that's what it took. He was a hero.
Harry had other problems to think about, though, and not just that someone else, probably Professor Quirrell, still wanted him dead.
Dobby's warning over the Christmas break was bothering him. Harry knew the little elf was odd, that he saw the world in a unique way, but when he had pulled Harry aside and confided to him that Master Draco was a bad wizard, and that Master Lucius was even worse, Harry didn't know what to think.
Draco loved Dobby. Dobby was Draco's favorite elf, and was constantly bragging about the elf's flying courses and cooking skills. He ordered Dobby around, sure, but always in a way to make Dobby included in whatever activity he was currently excited about.
He saw Dobby as a friend, Harry was sure of that.
Mr. Malfoy was another story. He was stiff and curt with his elves, but Harry had never seen him act out of malice towards them. He supposed it was possible that he had merely been on his best behaviour during Harry's visit, like Harry had to be when Aunt Marge came to stay with the Dursleys, but Harry had seen no evidence of that.
It didn't make any sense. The house elves were so cheerful, and they did wonderful work. Harry had seen them more as friends than as servants while he'd been visiting, and they'd seemed to genuinely care about Draco and his family.
Harry didn't like it when the Dursleys ordered him around much, but that was more about their tone, and the way they unfairly punished him, than about the fact that they gave him chores.
Dudley was spoiled. Draco was too, even if he wasn't rotten about it, but to Harry having to work for a family in exchange for food, shelter, and belonging seemed natural and fair. Wasn't it?
He wished that the Dursleys were nicer to him, and maybe even cared for him a little bit, but he'd never begrudged them for insisting that he not be a freeloader.
It seemed like a horrible thing to be.
He wanted to prove his worth and carry his own weight, no matter who he was with, or what he was doing.
Dobby didn't seem like a lazy freeloader either, though. He wasn't begging for sympathy so he could lie about and do nothing, while stealing the other elves candy and new toys. He didn't seemed concerned about himself at all, really, but for Harry.
And the punishment he'd given himself.
That had scared Harry more than anything else in his entire life, even falling from the quidditch stands.
The little elf had been so violent against himself as he'd bashed his own head against the wall over and over again.
Harry had eventually gotten him to stop, but Dobby had insisted that he needed to punish himself for being a bad elf, for sharing his Master's secrets when he'd been ordered not to.
It had made Harry feel sick.
What kind of sicko ordered someone to punish themselves by hurting themselves?!
Certainly not Mr. Malfoy. Harry knew that for a fact, if nothing else.
Mr. Malfoy would never be so cruel.
So what, then? Was Dobby just crazy? Had he had a previous Master who had been like that, and Dobby had gotten confused? All of the Malfoys commented on how eccentric and odd Dobby was, but they said it more fondly than anything else.
Was Dobby a liar?
Harry didn't know.
He wanted to forget about it, to let it go and focus on school, but he couldn't.
Dobby was his friend.
He needed help, and Harry didn't know how to give it to him.
Draco didn't know, either.
Harry had explained the gist to him, leaving out the parts that Harry thought might get Dobby into trouble, and Draco had seemed sad and upset on the elf's behalf.
Harry was sure that Draco loved Dobby, and neither one of them knew what to do for their elf friend.
He'd even asked Lofty what he thought, but Lofty hadn't been very helpful. He'd called Dobby mean names for the things he'd said and done, and claimed that it was unnatural for an elf to act that way, but hadn't known what to do to help Dobby. He'd seemed baffled that Harry would even want to try, which made Harry a bit sad.
He decided he would pay more attention to the House Elves, both at Hogwarts and at Malfoy Manner, to see how to help them without offending them or getting them into trouble in the process.
Surely there was a way.
Other than Dobby, and about almost being killed, Harry's largest concern at the moment was the amount of mail he was getting.
Ever since his public appearances of Christmas, and his little stunt posing with Professor Snape at Draco's walk out event, Harry had been inundated with correspondence requests, apprenticeship offers, unsolicited advice, and even a couple of howlers.
Those had been embarrassing, but Professor Snape had taken great pleasure in incinerating them after recording their messages and the names of their senders, so legal action could be taken in the future, if required.
It made Harry nervous when he realized that anyone who knew he was at Hogwarts could send him anything they wanted in the mail.
If Hogwarts had wards against dangerous mail, it certainly didn't extend to protecting him against mean words or potentially dangerous offers.
He'd never received anything that could physically hurt him yet, but Harry was not convinced that he was entirely safe against the possibility.
There were ways to circumvent wards, even if they did exist.
He'd need to brush up on his protection charms, and maybe begin carrying a few vials of common antidote potions with him at all times too, just in case.
He wished he could do something to help himself learn faster. There was still so much about magic that he didn't know!
So much about the world that he didn't know, and he needed to know it all, or he was going to accidentally get someone hurt.
Ignorance was dangerous when it came to both magic and politics.
Like the invisibility cloak Harry had found suspiciously lying on his bed when he'd returned from the hols.
It had come with a cryptic note, and seemed very expensive, but Harry didn't trust it for a second.
He'd taken it straight to Professor Snape, and the look the professor had made when he'd seen it confirmed to Harry that he'd been right to distrust it.
The note had claimed that the cloak had belonged to his father, but it looked brand new. Harry may not know everything, but he knew enough about charms to know that invisibility spells faded over time. They frayed, just as the fabric they were woven into frayed.
If the cloak was his father's, then it was something unnatural.
Snape had immediately made Harry promise that he wouldn't use it to go sneaking around the castle after curfew.
Harry had almost laughed in the man's face. He'd nearly been murdered a couple of months back! There was no way he was going to be sneaking around anywhere. Besides, he had too much to learn, and needed too much sleep for his brain to function properly on his studies for him to waste the night time hours on pointless adventuring.
The castle was interesting, sure, but there was plenty enough to explore during the daytime with his friends.
The Slytherin buddy-system was still firmly in place for a reason, and Harry took it very seriously. He didn't want anybody getting hurt.
No, the suspicious cloak was packed carefully and deliberately at the bottom Harry's trunk, where it couldn't cause any trouble.
If it really was his dad's, then he wouldn't want to get it ruined or confiscated by using it for rule-breaking purposes, anyways.
Honestly, who gave an eleven-year-old an invisibility cloak in a castle full of moving staircases, ancient unpredictable magic, and active murder investigations?
It was baffling and daft.
Or worse, it was a trap.
Harry was done falling into traps.