42 Chapter 42: Cloak of Winter

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I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.

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25 December 1991, Hogwarts

The most surprising thing was that when Harry tried to activate his Arcane Hearing, he heard nothing from the cloak. Absolute silence. It was as if there was nothing there. Even normal objects had a spark of magic, no matter how small, but when the Potter scion looked at the artefact that his ancestors possessed, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the true power of a Deathly Hallow.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if theoretically, this cloak would make him invisible to magic in general, and not just to sight. The fact that the cloak was silent to his Arcane hearing was proof of that. Attempting to test it, Harry grabbed one of his enchanted quills. He opened up his ability and heard it thrum faintly when he focused on it.

The Potter scion then grabbed the cloak and put it over the quill and tried to sense it. He could feel absolutely nothing. It was as if there was nothing there, it was extremely disconcerting for Harry to put his hands up and grab something that for all his senses, shouldn't exist. He couldn't see it, he couldn't hear it, he couldn't sense it. It was as if anything underneath the cloak just stopped existing.

Harry tested the phenomenon with different enchanted artefacts, and it always worked. There was only one thing remaining and that was putting on the cloak himself. When he put it around himself, it felt like it was a second skin, and everything around was still visible and Harry could still hear the objects' magic using his Arcane Hearing. Did that mean that the cloak couldn't impede any casting from the inside?

Harry shrugged and took out his wand while being under the cloak and used a basic cast to see if a spell could travel outside of it. Alas, the spell was washed away when it touched the interior of the cloak, and yet the chair that was touching the exterior of the cloak was broken. Harry hadn't even aimed at the chair.

Curious about this phenomenon, Harry put some vases that he had gotten from one of the empty classrooms to practice some spells on, underneath the cloak and cast a stinging hex. The vase broke, but when he tried to do the same when there were clothes around the vase, it wasn't even touched, while the clothes were displaced by the spell.

Oh, so the cloak directed the spells towards its surface. Touching the cloak would mean being affected by the spell as well. It wasn't a new effect. Harry did notice the same with regular clothes, but the cloak was far more durable than them, probably even indestructible. That meant that Harry wasn't impervious to magic attacks when he was under the cloak.

It was why people could still be cursed even though the spells only hit their clothes and not them directly. But if they weren't directly touching the clothes, then they wouldn't be affected. Of course, it's far more complicated, where if you're touching something that's already touching the clothes, then you might be affected, which is what happens when someone is wearing multiple layers of clothes. However, the spell will only travel a certain distance before dissipating, which usually depends on the material of the object touched, the magical output of the spell and the nature of the spell itself. Alas, it wasn't the time to focus on such an advanced subject of spell creation.

Back to the cloak, it was such an amazing artefact, all things considered. Harry had decided to perform the final test, which was to try to sneak past the third floor corridor wards. One hour later, Harry found out that he was undetected. He was invisible to even the wards when he was underneath the cloak.

He had spent so long experimenting with the cloak that it was almost dinner time. He hadn't even eaten anything since he woke up. The cloak provided him with an opportunity to sneak anywhere he wanted without anyone knowing about it. Still, it was almost dinner time, and Harry regretted not being able to have the cloak with him at all times.

If only he could wear the cloak discretely, he pondered.

As soon as he finished this thought, the silver cloak morphed into a standard Slytherin cloak. Holy shit, it can shapeshift too?

Harry put on the cloak and willed himself to be invisible. It didn't seem to work until he put on the hood while willing the cloak to activate. Harry's entire frame became invisible to everything around him. Well, at least he could use it at a moment's notice.

Hearing his stomach growl, Harry decided to go down to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry had to admit that the hall looked like a marvel of Christmas. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls and no fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. Christmas decorations were everywhere on the four House tables. It was a very festive atmosphere.

On those tables, 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. The Weasleys were already sitting at the Gryffindor table, pulling on magical Christmas crackers that exploded.

At the high table, everyone seemed in a merry mood. Dumbledore was even wearing a flowered bonnet, and Flitwick had put on an elf hat. Harry almost burst into laughter when an obviously drunk Hagrid kissed Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who actually giggled and blushed, her top had lopsided.

Harry sat down and ate like a man possessed. Yeah, he really should have eaten something earlier. He was practically alone at the Slytherin table, so it wasn't as if there were other people that needed to eat. It was delicious, as always. The house elves really do go over and beyond during feasts. Harry would have called this a waste of food if it wasn't for preservation charms able to keep leftovers for months at a time. They were probably going to be eating leftovers from this feast until the end of the holidays.

Still, Harry's meal just had to be ruined by Ron Weasley, who walked towards Harry with a grin on his face. He was wearing a knitted maroon sweater with a big R on it. His mother had probably made it. The Potter scion ignored the redhead and continued eating while reading his book.

This went on for a good minute, and the redhead tried to get his attention by clearing his throat. Finally, the boy had enough and rudely closed down Harry's book. The young Slytherin looked up with a raised eyebrow, "That was awfully rude, Ronald Weasley."

The boy blushed at him using his full name before stiffening, "Well, you weren't paying attention to me."

"And why would I pay attention to you?" Harry asked with a very dry tone.

"Because I was trying to talk to you," the redhead exclaimed loudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just so engrossed by my book. The curse breaker Dresden was just about to fight some giant crocodile in an ancient tomb, very exciting. You see…"

Weasley interrupted his little monologue, "I don't want to know about your stupid book, Potter!"

"Then why did you mention it, then?"

"I didn't mention it, you did," the boy proclaimed.

Harry simply shrugged, "Perhaps I did, and perhaps I didn't. We'll never know for sure."

"No, I actually know for sure because you're the one who talked about it…"

"Then let's just agree to disagree, young Whitley," Harry responded.

"My name isn't Whitley!!!" Ron shouted with his face as red as his hair.

Harry was doing his best not to burst into laughter, "It isn't? I thought your name was Ronald Whitley."

"No, it isn't. My name is Ron Weasley," the boy was practically foaming from the mouth.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ron Weasley. I'm Harry Potter. I hope we can get along," Harry responded.

"You know me, Potter, we don't get along," the redhead growled back.

Harry just let out a shrug, "That's a shame, you seem like a fine young man."

"Stop looking down on me!" the Gryffindor shouted.

"How am I looking down on you, young man," Harry answered with a teasing tone.

"Stop it, just stop it. You're doing it again," the boy yelled.

Harry was almost going to burst into laughter. It was so easy to revert to his past experience as a teacher in his old life, "Then perhaps you could tell me what you wanted to say to me. After all, you were the one who went all this way from his house table to mine just to speak."

"I did?" the boy wondered while frowning, "Oh, that's right, I did. I was here to ask if you got any Christmas gifts. You certainly don't deserve any, the slimy snake that you are."

The redhead was smiling victoriously as if he had won something. Harry rolled his eyes, "Well, I'm sorry to tell you, that in fact, I did receive gifts this Christmas. And for your information, snakes aren't really slimy. I've never touched one, but from what I read, they're quite smooth."

"And who would even get you gifts," the boy sneered back, "maybe it was just your parents. Oh, wait, you don't have any…"

Harry suppressed the urge to punch the boy in the face. He went too far, and the Slytherin had no issue in retaliating. Instead of shouting and cursing the boy, Harry simply shook his head and put a sad expression on his face.

"Well, that was rather rude, Weasley. Here I am minding my own business and you throw my parents' death to my face for no reason. What a cruel thing to do. Perhaps you would have done well in Slytherin," Harry answered.

Oddly enough, the boy paled, "No, I wouldn't have. I'm a Gryffindor to the bone."

Harry grinned at the reaction, "Oh, I think you would have. The hat did see it too, didn't he? All that ambition, to be respected, become more than your brothers. After all, one's a very talented curse breaker, one is already making waves in Romania as a Dragon Handler. Percy will obviously be rising in the ministry soon enough, and the Twins will probably have their own joke shop by the time they graduate. They all have their talents, and their strengths. But you, you're just there, unremarkable, talentless, forgotten. You barely get a secondhand wand, which is stopping you from reaching your potential, while the others get new things. The forgotten Weasley, isn't that, right?"

The boy looked teary, "No, I'm not."

"But you are. I can see it. You wanted to rise above it, not struggle with money anymore, to buy new things, and that the entire world would remember your name. The hat saw it, didn't he? He saw this ambition and almost sent you to the house you hated, but you pleaded to be with your family, to be with your idol, Neville Longbottom. Even now, you're barely more than the friend of the boy who lived, and that's all everyone will ever know you by. Maybe if you had chosen Slytherin, that wouldn't have been the case," Harry answered with a small smile on his face.

The boy was shaken, and his eyes watered. Did Harry go too far? He did scratch at Weasley's insecurities, and somehow Harry knew how to dig in further. Alas, the redhead pulled out his wand and yelled out, "NEVER!!"

The Potter scion ducked, letting the slug vomiting spell go over him. Of course, the staff ran towards the boy. Professor McGonagall ran towards the young Gryffindor with her wand raised and disarmed him, "Mr Weasley, in all my years as a professor, I have never seen such behaviour, at Christmas of all days…"

Harry suppressed the grin as the redhead got over two weeks of punishment for starting a fight. But the Potter scion didn't even care. After all, he was planning on sneaking into the restricted section using his new cloak. After all, he did need to get started learning the mind arts, and wouldn't that be a good place to start?

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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.