When winter came, and with it the upcoming Christmas, Harry was worried about two things. The first was that he hadn't yet gotten around to finding out who Flamel was, too busy with exams, homework, and Quidditch team training. The second was that Draco Malfoy wasn't behaving like himself, as usual. Ever since that night after Slytherin's victory, the blond had woken up pretending that nothing had happened, but something in his attitude told Potter that he was wrong, very wrong, that things with Draco were different, and if someone asked him what he meant, he would simply say that he didn't know but that he could feel it.
Draco didn't avoid him, he didn't evade him, they chatted as always, they shared some meals and were a couple in all classes except Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, she continued giving him half of the box of sweets that his mother sent him every three days, she joked with him, they helped each other with their homework and they had even ventured into a couple of pranks on some of their classmates - mainly Hufflepuffs - and teachers - like Quirrell who seemed to be an easy target. However, and despite the fact that everything seemed exactly the same, Harry felt like he had lost something, something really important and he couldn't stop thinking about it; when Draco smiled at him in a friendly way, when he patted his shoulder, when he laughed at one of his jokes, when their eyes met across the Quidditch field while they trained or when they chatted in the middle of the night.
He knew it was stupid to miss something he had no idea what it was, but that was just the way things were for him and there was nothing he could have changed, and boy had he tried. He had tried to convince himself that it was nothing, at least at first, but as the days went by the emptiness of that "something" grew so much bigger that it made him feel anxious and nervous in the presence of Draco who either didn't notice anything or pretended very well that he didn't and Harry, on the verge of a mental breakdown, couldn't even put into words what he felt, so claiming or demanding anything was out of the question.
The only good thing in all that commotion was that at Hogwarts they had finally gotten used to seeing him in Slytherin, without them looking scared or anything, and that took an extra weight off his school life. It was as if, since his arrival, Slytherin had gained popularity for having the boy who lived among its ranks and that was something good, great and it didn't make him feel like a dark wizard or anything like that, but only like Harry, the little boy who had great expectations about his life since he had found out he was a wizard and the hat had been completely right when it had told him that only Slytherin could grant him all that greatness, when it had said that only in its ranks would he find people who would push him, and that person had turned out to be Draco Malfoy.
When the Christmas holidays came to an end, Harry decided to occupy his mind trying to find out as much about Flamel as he could, but the hundreds of books on great exponents of modern magic didn't help much. He knew he had heard that name somewhere, he remembered having read it, but his brain was so clouded by the subject of Malfoy that no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't remember it and it was frustrating because he had never, in his short life, forgotten even the smallest details of his readings, much less those related to the magical world, since knowing that he was a wizard had been a great motivation to investigate and learn. Not for nothing was he one of the best students in his class, in addition, of course, to the innate ability that everyone told him he possessed for magic.
"You're still here," said a voice, Draco's voice, who, suitcases and all, entered the empty library. "I didn't know you had left so much homework."
"I'm almost done," he lied. "Are you leaving?"
"Yes, my mother will pick me up from Hogsmeade and take me home…" he paused for a moment. "Are you sure you don't want to come? My parents were quite excited to meet you and you… well, you said you didn't want to go back to your muggle family. We could spend the holidays playing Quidditch in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, they're huge… I bet you'd really like that."
"I've already put my name on the list of students who will be staying," he smiled, "but maybe next year, I'll send you your present." Draco frowned, opened his mouth to say something but closed it immediately. Harry wanted to ask what was going on but didn't dare.
—Okay, Harry, then I... well, I'm off —he approached and leaned towards his face, across the wooden table. Potter, with his heart beating a thousand miles an hour, for the first time in his life, closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the kiss on the lips, but instead he simply received a peck on the cheek that left him disappointed?
Draco left with a small smile on his face and Harry stood there, completely stiff, looking towards the exit, feeling strangely happy for such a simple gesture as a kiss on the cheek. Yes, it hadn't been like the kiss on the lips but it was better than nothing... He shook his head, he didn't understand anything, he felt embarrassed, he felt overwhelmed, he felt good, but he also felt guilty. Throughout his life he had grown up surrounded by uncles who hated abnormal things, they hated him for being the son of wizards, they hated the neighbor for being a single mother and they hated the newspaper boy for being homosexual. Uncle Vernon never let any unpleasant comment pass for anyone who wasn't normal, for anyone who wasn't like them; a family made up of a working father, a mother who took care of the house and the upbringing of the child and finally the little one who would learn good manners from them and, although Harry didn't want to, it was true that some things had stuck with him.
That was why, when Draco had kissed him the first time, he had decided not to think about it and let it go. He had felt insecure, yes, but he hadn't made a fuss just because he hadn't been able to. The naturalness with which Malfoy had kissed him had completely thrown him off, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if it didn't matter to him at all, as if they weren't two boys. And then, when he had asked him why and received the answer "I do what I want because I'm Draco Malfoy" he couldn't help but think that it was just a game for him and once again he let it go. Maybe if he pretended it hadn't happened, or gave it little importance then the guilt of having kissed another boy would fade away and his uncle wouldn't be able to point him out again for being, in addition to being a wizard, a sissy.
He sighed tiredly, it had been a long time since he had thought about the Dursleys and doing so gave him a headache, it was incredible that even thousands of miles away from them he couldn't get them out of his hair, with their criticisms and prejudices. That was why he hadn't returned home for Christmas and if it had been up to him, he wouldn't even return during the summer, but he knew he couldn't - he had already asked McGonagall about it - and all he had to do was take advantage of the time away from those he hated so much for having made his life miserable, lying about his parents, always making him believe that he was a good-for-nothing, a useless man like his father who had never been such a thing. Hogwarts had become his new home, with a real family like Hermione, Draco and Ron, there he had found his place and not just any place, there in the magical world he was someone, he was an outstanding wizard even among boys his age, there he was not a weakling who couldn't defend himself, there he was Harry James POTTER, the victor of Voldemort, star Quidditch player, one of the most respected members of Slytherin and the entire school.
He tried to get back to his reading while trying to forget how hard it would be to go back to the muggle world, how hard it would be to go back to his past life and have to endure those situations he hated so much and the worst thing? That he had discovered that he couldn't do magic outside of school, so turning Duddley into a piglet was completely off the list.
Hermione arrived a moment later to help him search before leaving, Ron followed and the three of them set about the task of discovering what the hell it was that Dumbledore was hiding in the trapdoor beneath Fluffy. Eventually Hermione left and he and Ron were left alone, the redhead bored to death and the redhead extremely tired so, with a mutual agreement to search again the next day, they both returned to their dormitories.
The room without Draco didn't feel the same.
During the holidays, Ron and Harry had plenty of time to think about Flamel. They had the whole castle to themselves and although their common rooms were much emptier than usual, neither of them dared to take the other to their respective rooms, so they chose neutral places like the dining room which, by now, was completely decorated with a Christmas theme. They stayed there eating everything they could stick on a toasting fork (bread, fritters, marshmallows) and looking over every book they could get their hands on. Harry, of course, had been tempted to look in the restricted section, but for that he needed special permission, one he wasn't going to get. He thought that if Draco were there he would have already helped him come up with the perfect plan to sneak in, and not that Ron didn't like breaking the rules, but he was definitely not as clever as the blond.
Sometimes Harry and Ron would spend time playing wizard chess. It was just like Muggle chess, except the pieces were alive, which made it a lot like leading an army into battle. Ron's set was very old and worn out. Like everything he owned, it had belonged to someone in his family, in this case his grandfather. However, the old chess pieces were no handicap. Ron knew them so well that he never had any trouble making them do what he wanted. Unlike Harry, who never obeyed him, making him doubt his leadership ability, one that Draco had told him was important to develop. He wasn't very good at it yet, and the pieces would give him different advice and confuse him, saying, for example, "Don't send me. Don't you see the knight? Move it, we can afford to lose it." And it drove him crazy, he hated not being in control.
Finally on Christmas Eve Harry went to bed, tired of reading books that were of no use to what he wanted to find and not expecting anything as a gift that wasn't from Draco or Hermione, first of all because he knew that Ron wouldn't have money to give him something even if he wanted to and second because his uncles usually sent him nothing or something completely useless that only made him feel worse when he woke up and looked at the mountain of gifts from his cousin among which were the newest toys and state of the art electronic devices that would end up in the trash when Duddley discovered that he didn't know how to use them and slammed them against the floor, frustrated. That's why, when he woke up and found at the foot of his bed a pile of gifts he couldn't help but feel visible, like part of the world.
He had received from his uncles fifty pence and a brief note that said practically nothing, a box of chocolate frogs from Hermione, an emerald green sweater and homemade chocolate cake from Mrs. Weasley, a bottle green winter cloak from Draco, with his initials embroidered in silver thread and finally a package that had no return address, only a note that said:
"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time for it to be returned to you. Use it well.
A very Merry Christmas to you."
Hallucinating as he was to have received something that had belonged to his father, he unwrapped the gift only to find a thin silver cloth, to the touch it felt like water and that was truly strange. But when Harry put it on and discovered that it was an invisibility cloak he could not help but exclaim in amazement. Possessing a cloak like that changed things a lot, he could sneak into the restricted section without being discovered, he could even follow Snape if necessary. But he knew that he had to wait, that he had to plan everything, calmly, he was a Slytherin, by Merlin, he could not simply throw himself into nothingness and improvise on the spot. So with that thought he took a shower and went in search of Ron, even wearing the Weasley brand sweater that matched his eyes so well.
That Christmas was the best of his life. In the company of Ron, Fred, George and even Percy, they ate until bursting and filled themselves with little Christmas surprises that the teachers had handed out to the students who had stayed behind. They played in the snow, drank chocolate and at the end of the day, the lions had decided that Harry was already part of the clan and had invited him to the common room where, of course, he had to cover his ears so as not to hear the password. They played chess and ate more sweets to finally end the day alone again, in his room, wondering if Draco had had as much fun as he had. He doubted that at Malfoy Manor things were as informal as they were with the Weasleys.
It was Harry's best Christmas day yet. But something was nagging at the back of his mind. As soon as he got into bed, he was free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and who had sent it to him.
From his father... This had been his father's. He let the fabric flow through his hands, softer than silk, light as air. Use well, the note said. He had to try it. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around him. He looked down and saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a curious sensation. Use well. Suddenly, Harry felt very awake. With that cloak, all of Hogwarts was open to him. As he stood there in the darkness and silence, excitement took hold of him. He couldn't wait any longer; he needed to go in search of information in the restricted section.
The library was dark and eerie. Harry turned on a lamp to look at the row of books. The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the others, Harry lifted the lamp to read the titles. They didn't mean much to him. The gold letters spelled out words in languages Harry didn't know. Some had no titles. One book had a black stain on it that looked like blood. The hairs on Harry's neck stood up, he was fascinated, he had never been so close to such strange volumes, he had never felt so drawn to a book as he was at that moment. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought there was a murmur coming from the books, as if they knew there was someone who shouldn't be there and he smiled. He had to start somewhere. He carefully set the lamp down and looked through a bookshelf for an interesting looking book. A large, black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, for it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knees, he opened it. A piercing, frightful scream cut through the silence. The book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the howl continued, in a high, unbroken note.
He stepped back and collided with the lamp, which went out immediately. Terrified, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and he shoved the volume back on the shelf and ran out. He passed Filch almost at the door, and the porter's eyes, wide, stared through Harry. Harry ducked under Filch's arm and continued down the corridor, the howls of the book ringing in his ears. He stopped suddenly in front of some suits of armour. He had been so busy escaping the library that he hadn't paid attention to the way. Perhaps it was because it was dark, but he didn't recognise where he was. There were suits of armour near the kitchen, he knew that, but they must have been five floors up.
"You asked me to tell you directly, Professor, if anyone was prowling around during the night, and someone was in the library, in the Restricted Section." Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Filch must have known a shortcut to where he was, because the murmur of his voice was getting closer and closer, and to his horror, it was Snape who answered.
"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them." Harry froze as Filch and Snape approached. They couldn't see him, of course, but the corridor was narrow, and if they got too close, they were going to crash into him. The cloak didn't hide its physicality.
He backed away as quietly as he could. To the left was a door ajar. It was his only hope. He crept through, holding his breath and trying not to make a sound. To his relief, he entered the room unnoticed. They passed him by and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, as he listened to the receding footsteps. They had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed the room that had hidden him. It looked like a disused classroom. The shadows of chairs and desks piled against the walls, a wastepaper basket turned upside down and leaning against the opposite wall.
There was something that didn't seem to belong there, as if it had been left to be put out of the way. It was a magnificent mirror, high to the ceiling, with an elaborate gilt frame, supported by claw-like supports. It had an inscription engraved on the top:Erisedlenozarocutedonisaracutseonotse. He could no longer hear Filch or Snape, and Harry was no longer afraid. He walked over to the mirror, wanting to look out so as not to find his own reflection. He stopped in front of it. He had to put his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. He spun around. His heart was beating more furiously than when the book had screamed... Because not only had he seen himself in the mirror, but there were many people behind him. But the room was empty. Breathing heavily, he looked back at the mirror.
He couldn't believe it, there in front of him were his parents, as young as the photographs in the books where they appeared showed them and not only that, he also recognized the Potters there with him, smiling and greeting him, he had seen them in an old illustrated book of pureblood family lines, he knew each and every one of them, they were his family.
He took a breath, not knowing what to think. Was that real? No, it couldn't be. His parents were dead, his whole family was. The mirror couldn't tell him the future, that was clear, but then what was that he was looking at? He didn't have much time to think about it, because suddenly, making his way through the Potters, Draco appeared, looking haughty and smiling. What was Malfoy doing there, among his family? That soon stopped mattering. The blond approached his reflection, took him by the face and kissed him, but not like the other times, this one had lasted longer.
He blushed up to his ears as his parents looked at them, well, not at him, at the reflection and he didn't understand anything but the peace of having seen his parents evaporated with that gesture. Would his father be furious? He looked at him, he didn't seem to be bothered that hi little eleven year old son was sharing kisses with another boy. He looked at his mother, she just seemed touched and he didn't understand, this was supposed to be wrong, abnormal, why weren't they angry or disappointed? Draco kissed him again and again and the reflection Harry seemed happy with it, but he, the real one, felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Finally he left the classroom, not very sure about returning the next day to try to find out what he saw reflected in the mirror.
A/N Hello my furry friends hope your ejoying this so far. Don't forget to review