Chapter 6, everybody! In which accusations are made and Harry disappears….Also, Hagrid shouldn't have said that.

Featuring the Frost King as a guest star as well. ;)

Harry Potter © JK Rowling

Harry brought up the issue of Professor Quirrell potentially wanting him dead to the one adult in Hogwarts he trusted implicitly.

"Now why would Professor Quirrell do a thing like tha'?" Hagrid asked.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione—with Snips in tow, of course—were visiting Hagrid for tea and had brought that issue up.

"I don't know," Harry said. "Fred and George thinks it's my grades, but I doubt it."

"But he was cursing your broom, no doubt," Hermione insisted. "I've read all about them—you have to maintain eye contact and Professor Quirrell wasn't blinking."

"And Snips attacked him—that's something," Ron pointed out.

Snips, meanwhile, was attempting to bite a rock cake with limited success, eventually giving up and climbing up Harry's arm to his usual spot.

"Snips pointed out Quirrell's bloody leg, too," Harry said, recalling. "And Quirrell knew I saw it, so he must have thought—I bet you anything he let that troll in on Halloween!"

"Why, though?" Ron asked.

"To distract everyone while he got past that three-headed dog!"

Hagrid dropped his rock cake.

"How do yeh know abou' Fluffy?" he asked.

The rest of them stared.

"That thing has a name?" Hermione asked.

"'Course 'e does—'e's onna mine," Hagrid said. "Bought 'im offa Greek chappie a few years back—loaned him to Dumbledore to protect the—I shouldn't 'ave said tha'."

"Protect the what?" Harry asked.

"Now, I can't tell yeh tha'—it's top secret, tha' is."

"Like what was in vault seven-hundred and thirteen was? That was official Hogwarts business?"

"Tha's right. And you three best not be botherin' with tha' business, either."

"But if Professor Quirrell is trying to kill Harry for knowing something—" Hermione began.

"Why would 'e, though? Professor Quirrell is one of the ones protecting the—I shouldn't 'ave said tha'."

"So there's more than just the dog," Harry said.

"And it's still none of you lot's business."

Snips started yipping at Hagrid.

"But it's something valuable enough for Quirrell to think he ought to kill me," Harry pointed out. "So whatever it is—"

"Is still none of your business, what's in there is only the concern of Dumbledore and Flamel—I shouldn't 'ave said tha'."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of Snips putting a claw-hand to his forehead and shaking his head.

Winter descended upon Hogwarts quite suddenly, leaving a blanket of snow coating the grounds, frosting the panes, and draping icicles from the trees. Harry was almost certain he saw something big, blue and antlered galloping away one morning, but when he had enough free time to go and search the snow for tracks, he found no trace.

The snow might have made the grounds beautiful, but it also made the castle cold, and everyone was bundled up tight when they ran to and fro to class. Peeves kept opening all the windows in the halls, and the Weasley twins were disciplined for hexing several snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around and bounce off his turban.

Snips, meanwhile, stayed firmly snuggled down in his spot between Harry's neck and his robes, shivering whenever a cold wind hit and rarely venturing out even during Potions class. Harry brought up the notion that maybe Snips needed a cozy or something as he tried to interest Snips in a spoonful of soup, which he eventually sipped at before ducking back into his little pocket of warmth.

"That's be an awfully tiny sweater, though," Ron pointed out, leaning a bit to see Snips—futile, since Snips was burrowed in deep with a fold of fabric pulled over him.

The Weasleys were staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, since their parents were visiting Ron's brother Charlie in Romania. Harry was also staying, not hesitating a second when he realized he could avoid the Dursleys for even longer—although that wasn't lost on Malfoy, who enjoyed the extra dig that Harry didn't have a welcome place back home.

Malfoy had obviously not taken Gryffindor beating Slytherin in Quidditch well.

But Harry was also looking forward to some extra time to scan the library—research on Snips was tabled temporarily as they searched for information on Flamel, who Harry swore he had heard of before. And since Hagrid had said Professor Quirrell had provided a means to protect whatever the three-headed dog was guarding, that meant that other teachers might have been in on it, and they couldn't ask about Flamel without raising suspicion.

"You can ask your parents, though," Ron told Hermione, who was going home for the Holidays. "They'd be safe."

"Very safe," Hermione agreed. "Seeing as they're both dentists."

The first day of the holidays marked the first day Snips ever ventured much past Harry in the common room, only because it was so quiet by comparison. Harry and Ron had claimed two of the best seats in the room, by the fireplace, and Snips sat on top of Harry's chair as they toasted everything they could spear on toasting forks.

Christmas morning dawned with Snips nipping Harry's chin.

"Ow!" Harry yelped, jerking up—

And then spotting what it was Snips was squeaking about.

"Ron! Ron! I've got presents!"

"Well what did you expect, turnips?" Ron asked blearily, struggling upright before brightening at his own pile, sitting at the foot of his bed. "Well go on then, Harry!"

Harry did so, happy at the fact that he had gotten presents—a wooden flute from Hagrid, a five-cent piece from the Dursleys (which he gave to Ron), a box of chocolate frogs from Hermione—

"Oh no, Mom gave you a Weasley sweater," Ron said, pointing at a lumpy parcel.

It was indeed, a lovely warm sweater in emerald green with a gold H on the front.

"Mom makes us one every year," Ron said, unwrapping his own. "And mine's always maroon."

Snips, meanwhile, had been pleased to find that Ron's mother had also knitted him a tiny scarf. It was striped pink, but Snips refused to take it off once it was on him, so he must not have minded the color too terribly.

That only left one more parcel, which—when opened—spilled out something silvery.

"What is it?" Harry wondered, picking it up and spreading it to examine it better.

"Woah," Ron gasped. "If that's what I think it is—that's really rare, if it is."

"It looks like some sort of cloak," Harry said, trying it on.

Snips started yipping in agitation.

"I was right!" Ron yelped, pointing. "Harry! Go look at yourself in the mirror!"

Harry started, turned to see—

Just his head floating in the mirror.

"My body's gone!" he yelped, looking down at where his body should be.

"I'm right! That's an invisibility cloak! Those are really rare!"

"Why did I get one?"

"I don't know—did it come with a note?"

Snips made several sharp yips, coming out from a pile of paper and holding up a note. Harry took it and read it.

"'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time I returned it to you. Use it well,'" Harry read.

"No name?" Ron asked.

"None," Harry confirmed, letting the cloak slide off. Snips—now that he was able to see what he was aiming at again—jumped to his shoulder and growled at the note.

And then Fred and George came in, and the topic of the invisibility cloak was suspended for the time being.

That night, Harry couldn't help but think of the invisibility cloak, enough that he couldn't sleep—he finally slid out of bed and retrieved it from under the bed, where he had kicked it when Fred and George had come in.

It felt strange, like water made into fabric, and when he put it on, he felt free—the whole of Hogwarts was open to him with this on.

Use it well.

Harry eagerly turned to leave—

YEEP!

Ah, but of course.

He looked back at his bed to see Snips running about his bedsheets in a panic, yipping frantically at having lost Harry in the middle of the night. Harry quickly tugged the cloak halfway off and ran back to his bed.

"It's all right, it's all right—I'm right here, see?" Harry said, quickly and quietly, hoping to calm Snips down before he woke the whole tower.

He succeeded in getting Snips to narrow his beady eyes at Harry and growl.

"I'm going to the library and searching for Flamel," Harry said. "You can either come or stay here with Ron."

Snips eyes narrowed further, but he jumped to Harry's shoulder all the same—and then nipped him on the jaw to properly express how much he disapproved of this venture. Harry winced but dropped the invisibility cloak back onto him, heading out and towards the library (without Snips' assistance, as Snips was once again being recalcitrant).

Snips' disapproval continued when it became clear that Harry was heading for the restricted section.

"It's the only place we haven't looked!" Harry quietly protested. Snips huffed and turned up his beak.

Snips' disapproval became justified when the first and only book Harry opened in the section screamed bloody murder, scaring him so badly that he slammed it shut, dropped it, and bolted out of the library, dodging away from Filch and down a side hall, finally coming to a halt in an unused classroom.

"That…was not…what is that?" Harry asked, peering at the other side of the room, where an ornate mirror rested against the wall. Snips crred worriedly, leaned back when Harry approached for a closer look….

Harry nearly leapt out of his skin when he looked into the mirror, spun around to an empty room, spun back—

Not only did the mirror show him, still under the invisibility cloak, but it also showed a dozen other people, so close he could have reached out and touched them—but when he tried, he could feel no one. They only existed in the mirror. One man looked like an older version of himself, while the redheaded woman next to him…she had Harry's eyes.

"Mum? Dad?" Harry breathed.

They nodded.

Harry stood, stunned, drinking in their appearances. Snips was equally taken with them, trying to reach for Harry's mom—Harry stepped up close to the mirror, not even realizing it, and Snips laid a tiny clawed hand on the mirror.

Harry's mom smiled at them both.

Snips, however, did not approve of taking Ron to find the mirror, nor did he approve of Harry continually sneaking out to look into it—the third night, Snips had gone to Ron's bed, despite his disdain for Ron's rat Scabbers (who, as far as Harry could tell, remained indifferent to Snips' existence).

The fourth night had Professor Dumbledore in the room, who told him that the mirror was called the Mirror of Erised, that it was dangerous, and that it was to be moved tomorrow and don't go looking for it again.

But Dumbledore's conversation had made Harry consider—he had said it didn't do to dwell on dreams, and Harry realized that he had been neglecting his friends to see echoes of the past.

He spent the next day playing wizard's chess with Ron while Snips watched, resolving to put the mirror far from his mind—but at the same time, also resolving to not forget the faces of his family.

It was probably the only time he'd ever see them, after all.