As the days of Christmas break progressed, the system started to feel increasingly ill. At first, it was simply that odd, thick-headed feeling you get right before a cold or a bout of the flu. Then the aches and pains came, sinking rusty-edged teeth into Harry's joints and making him feel like a creaky old man when he got out of bed or a low-slung armchair. The chills occurred on Christmas Eve, enough for Harry to wrap up tightly in all of his ragged sweaters in an effort to keep warm. Nobody paid much attention to it, attributing it all to a cold. Unpleasant, but not life-threatening.

Besides, nothing could keep them from Christmas.

It was an excited Lily who woke up Christmas morning. For once, she did not have to censor her childish exclamations or stifle the shout of surprise she gave upon seeing the small, awkward pile of wrapped presents at the foot of the bed. Presents! They had presents! Just like Dudley, she thought and beamed, scrambling to open them in a burst of energy that swamped even the chills, pains, and low-grade fever. Tom had ensured they got their friends gifts, even Millicent and Draco (although it pained him to give Malfoy a present), but they hadn't been expecting much for themselves.

But presents they surely were, and addressed to "Harry Potter," no less. From his position inside, Tom cast a few discreet spells to ensure nothing was dangerous (he was not a Slytherin for nothing, after all), and let Lily have at it.

They got a book from Hermione. Of course. It was a book on the lineage of magic, and was quite interesting to Raven, although Lily found it boring and set it aside after a few moments. Tom could see Raven's fingers itching to pick it up and skim through it, and he consoled her to wait until Lily was done. She'd had precious few gifts, after all.

From Hagrid, strangely enough, they got a roughly carved wooden flute. Lily blew a few, out-of-tune notes on it and giggled at the raucous sound, clapping her hands and setting it on their pillow with more reverence. Theo had gotten them a very large box of Chocolate Frogs, and Blaise had selected a quill-and-ink set that was quite fancy, even by Tom's standards. The ink was poison green, and delightfully befitting Slytherin House.

Draco had sent them a generic-looking House scarf. Lily's nose wrinkled in distaste as she pushed it aside with her foot into the pile of crumpled wrapping paper. Tom couldn't hide his internal snort. It was something, however, and a gesture from Malfoy that spoke volumes. If even he was willing to send the Boy Who Lived a Christmas gift...

The Weasley twins had put together a very interesting-looking box full of school-boy pranks, and Jay nearly shoved Lily aside in his attempt to front and check them out before Tom once again rebuked him. Lily paid no attention, too interested in the last package, at the bottom of the pile (if you did not count the Dursleys' pathetic attempt at a present of a fifty-pence piece taped to an index card. No thanks.) It was fairly large and squashy, but there was no note attached to the outside.

Finally, Lily attacked it with childish exuberance, ripping off the paper and spilling what looked like a cloak made of starlight and water into her lap.

"Ooooh," she gasped, her eyes rounded in surprise and delight. "Pretty!" She held it up, shaking a bit, and a note fell out of the folds. Picking it up, she read: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. The writing was oddly curlicued, completely unrecognisable, and there was no signature.

"What's this?" Lily questioned the empty room. She bounded to her feet and twirled the cloak around, pulling it around her shoulders and giggling at the feel of it against her skin. It was an oddly watery, floaty texture that gave her chills. It wasn't until she happened to skip past the mirror that she realised and skidded to a stop.

Everywhere the cloak covered, her reflection vanished.

"You can't see me!" Lily gasped and pulled it completely over her head, peeking out at the mirror through the fabric. She'd vanished.

Inside, Tom was wobbly with shock. That's an invisibility cloak! he finally croaked out. Who had given them a bloody invisibility cloak? Tom finally coaxed Lily back in, with the promise of time spent out in the evening with her dolls and several chocolate frogs if she were good, and took control of the front himself. It was definitely an invisibility cloak, he thought, stroking the fabric and carefully folding it back up, stowing it in their trunk for the time being, beneath several layers of Dursley rags.

Your father left this in my possession before he died... James Potter had owned an invisibility cloak? Who would he have given it to? More importantly, who thought giving something as valuable as this to an eleven-year-old was a good idea? Tom kept as best of reins as he could on the system, but they were still impulsive, brash, hasty. Prone to making stupid decisions. Just like any other first year. There was an enormous chance they'd tear it, lose it, get it stolen...any manner of things. So why give them the cloak now?

He couldn't help but think it was part of some greater manipulation, but on whose part, he couldn't tell. Dumbledore's? But would the Headmaster actually give a child an invisibility cloak, Boy Who Lived or not? Tom would like to think the old git wouldn't, but he knew from personal experience how ill-conceived the man's plans could be, all in the name of "the greater good." It was possible.

Snape? No, that was a laugh. Snape would sooner pull out his own eyeball than give a first year an item that had such great potential for misuse. It was a puzzle, and Tom didn't like puzzles. Not like this. There was no denying the cloak could come in handy (particularly when allowing certain alters more freedom!), but its overall purpose in their Christmas presents was still a mystery.

No matter, he shook off the feelings and returned to properly getting dressed. A package that had fallen to the floor by accident revealed a very thick green wool sweater, apparently from the Weasley family matriarch, and he pulled it on with thanks. Being friends with the twins had its advantages, even if their younger brother was an utter twit, he thought with faint humour, collecting the small box full of keepsake keys for Millicent. They'd noticed ages ago that she liked to collect such things, and he'd thought it more fitting to hand her their present himself, rather than sending it by owl.

Millie was seated by the fire in the common room when he approached, her feet tucked up under her and a gloomy expression on her face. She had one of her spare blankets pulled round her shoulders. Tom sat down next to her, watching her start with surprise and look up at him.

"Sorry," he looked guilty. "Didn't mean to frighten you. You all right?"

"I suppose," she said, looking at the floor. "You?"

"Best Christmas ever," his mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Got your Christmas present here," he added and proffered the wrapped box. Her mouth fell open in shock.

"You did? Oh, blast, I'm sorry, I didn't get anything for you," she babbled apologies, fumbling for a chocolate frog out of her pocket. He waved it off.

"It's all right," Tom smiled. "Just wanted to get you something, is all. Go on, open it!"

For a moment, he thought she was going to burst into tears when she saw the antique keys laid out in the small velvety box. Her eyes were certainly a bit watery, and her smile trembled.

But she managed a thank you, and gently tucked away the box, her fingers lingering on the edges with a soft sweetness that made Tom smile. Made all of them smile, really.

"I noticed you collected keys," he offered, a bit awkwardly. "Saw those and well, I had to."

Millie smiled again, more genuinely, and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"I wasn't really okay," she said abruptly. "My mum-my mum and I don't get along. Never have. Never will. She doesn't think I'm girly enough. Not feminine enough for her tastes. You know? Apparently her best Christmas idea was to send me a giant box of makeup and fripperies and tell me if I don't learn how to be a proper girl, I might as well not bother calling myself her daughter." Now the tears overflowed, spilling down her cheeks in salty runnels, and before Tom could think about it, Blue had slipped out and was pulling the girl into a clumsy hug.

"I'm sorry," Blue said earnestly. "That's really wrong of your mum. You're a girl no matter if you wear makeup or not! And I...I'll always be your friend, if you'd like me to."

"I'd like that very much," Millie said, and smiled again.

It might not be the most traditional Christmas, Tom thought as the two girls settled into a proper chatting session, one of the house elves bringing them cups of hot chocolate. But it was certainly a good one. And they still had Christmas dinner to go!