Better Be Slytherin!

professor's hands. Biting his lip briefly, Harry said, 'You've got to enlarge it first. Sorry; it's not much. Happy Christmas, Professor.' Then he fled back to his dorm so he could get properly dressed before spending some quality time with his new things, especially the book from the professor, since the man had hinted that he should at least check out the index and chapter one before lessons tomorrow.

When he opened Keating's book, however, he was sidetracked by another discovery: Snape had left two pictures of Harry's Mum tucked into the index. Two pictures of his very own, that he could look at whenever he wanted. Whenever he needed to. He felt that odd, clogged-throat sensation again, and had to swallow hard a few times to make it go away. Meanwhile, in one of the photographs, Lily sat on a bench below a hawthorn tree, and watched him with her bright green eyes, waving to him with a somewhat wistful smile.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

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. These 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 a Fourth Year from Hufflepuff, 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. One of the Weasleys nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. All of the Weasleys had stayed at Hogwarts this holiday, and Harry had heard it was because their Mum and Dad were visiting an older brother of theirs in Romania, one who worked with dragons.

During dinner, Harry tried to talk to Ron Weasley a couple times, seeing as how they were the youngest ones at school right now. He figured that, for the next two weeks at least, maybe they could hang out a bit, without any need for posturing for their Housemates. He had liked the redhead alright when they'd ridden the Hogwarts Express together, and though Weasley had been a bit of a prat to him after he'd been sorted into Slytherin, Harry was willing to let bygones be bygones. Finally, Ron agreed to pull a cracker with him, and this one spat out a wizard chess set as well as a goldfish in a bowl. Laughing as Harry tried to catch the fishbowl without spilling any water -- or fish -- Ron had asked him if he'd like to play a game of wizard chess later on, and Harry had happily agreed.

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 new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry, the Hufflepuff and all the Weasleys -- except the one who was a Prefect -- spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the Great Hall and sat near the large hearth with its warm, crackling fire, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron.

The worst part of the match, though, was when Professor Snape had come up behind Harry while they were playing, and then Snape and Ron had exchanged barbs, with Gryffindor losing a bunch of points as a result. Harry had been mortified by the whole thing, and after Ron had stomped off, he stared at the chessboard for another few minutes, letting the silence of the Great Hall wash over him. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed again.

Thanks a lot, Snape, he thought.

But that wasn't really fair. Harry himself, at the start of the confrontation between the two, had been astounded that Snape would take up Harry's side against Weasley's taunting. Maybe the professor had wanted to be . . . kind? No, not kind, but . . . loyal? Perhaps, and maybe Snape didn't know quite how to go about it without raising the other person's ire. Of course, Ron's ire was pretty easily raised by all accounts. Even George and Fred Weasley had said so, during the snowball fight earlier. They'd insisted that Harry and Ron be on the same team, so Ron wouldn't accuse Harry of cheating or anything and they could build a sense of camaraderie. The twins seemed to think it would be good for both boys if they were friends.

Too bad they couldn't have come to Ron's rescue in here.

After another few minutes, Harry put his chess pieces away and set off for the Slytherin dorms. Maybe Snape could teach him how to play wizard's chess better, so he could play against Ron without having to listen to insults at the same time.

And maybe pigs would fly over Hagrid's hut on the next full moon.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Despite the scene in the Great Hall, 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.

Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. His father's, the note had said . . . this had been his father's. James Potter had probably worn it, right here in this school! He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had instructed him. But who had sent this cloak? And why give it to him now? Why not when he had first arrived at Hogwarts? Or years ago, after his father had died? He would have loved to have something of his father's during the last ten years, something to remind him that once upon a time, he had been someone's son.

Remembering that morning, Harry recalled the odd look he'd caught in Snape's eyes when the professor had seen him wearing the cloak. Obviously, Snape had seen it before, probably in James Potter's possession, and those memories were not fond ones. Maybe Harry's father had used the cloak to play pranks on Snape. That would make sense, given Snape's instructions to not be foolish with it.

Harry 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.

He wished he could go exploring now, just put on the cloak and go around Hogwarts without worrying about anyone seeing him or getting in his way. Without anyone ambushing him in the halls. If only Snape didn't have the dorms alarmed to tell him if Slytherins went out after curfew, Harry could do so right now. He could --

'I was wondering when he would give that cloak to you, Harry Potter.'