Harry felt twinges of exhaustion and a migraine begin but he mustered his strength and called forth the shadows once more. It was best he left as quickly as possible. He was grateful that wizards relied on soft candles and not bright fluorescents. There were very few places in the castle where Harry could not utilize the shadows. He draped himself in their darkness and shifted through it, landing in a dark corner near the Transfiguration classroom. Safely hidden for the moment, he murmured a long spell in Latin.
A sensation came into focus as though his glasses had gone foggy for a moment and he was just regaining his vision. A mental door accessing Hogwarts' expansive flock of ravens and vultures clicked open. Through the bird's eyes, he followed his prey and saw Voldemort deep within the Forbidden Forest. He peered into the Great Hall and heard the loud murmur of chatter and the tapping of plates and cutlery. None of the Professors were wise to the fading screams coming from outdoors.
Harry shook his head, canceling the spell. He straightened his robes, put on an innocent face, and hurried down to dinner.
Quirrell's body was found the next morning when his first class walked in on the odd sight before them and the telltale stink of Dark magic in the air around the scene. At dinner, Dumbledore stood and announced that Quirrell had suffered an accident while practicing a spell. He rambled on a bit about how magic should always be taken seriously and that their DADA classes were temporarily canceled until a substitute professor could be found. The staff meeting that evening was full of arguing and confusion. The plans for the defense of the Sorcerer's Stone were quickly scrapped and rebuilt stronger than ever, but there was no need.
The first-years found Fluffy, of course. Tell a bunch of kids to not go near a suddenly forbidden corridor, and you will discover that said forbidden corridor becomes a hotspot. Hermione and Ron were much too preoccupied to notice any suspicious trapdoors, however, on account of Harry desperately trying to pet the big doggy. When they had finally dragged him from the room by his feet, (his hands were busy rubbing the face of one of the doggy's heads) Harry had given them a look of such sadness that they both found themselves apologizing profusely, despite the fact that Harry was an idiot. Ron was horrified that he had somehow befriended another Hagrid, and Hermione had to agree to visit the owlery with him so he could have pet something less deadly. Harry had to leave behind his large entourage of woodland critters he'd befriended at home (mama had put her foot down about a pet) and it was truly awful, to be separated from fuzzy animals.
It only solidified their friendship further, as the saner two declared their need to keep Harry from running straight into the forest to try his hand and befriending a werewolf or a centaur.
...
There was a small brush of excitement at Christmas. Harry and Alabasandria did not celebrate in the traditional manner but the winter weather lent a power boost to their Dark magic. There was an abundance of ancient rituals to perform. Harry's favorite was one where they both cut down a tree, set it on fire, bled over the flames, and received a powerful insight into the upcoming year. For Harry, he saw a large snake. On Christmas itself, he was pleased to see a large mountain of presents at the foot of his bed. From his mama, he received his very own broomstick (McGonagall had finally convinced her to let Harry join the Quidditch team) and a stack of books. He received a number of thoughtful gifts from his friends as well. He was particularly happy that Hagrid had sent him a photo album of his parents. Photos could be used in a variety of rituals to speak with the dead, and he had wanted to summon his parents for years now.
But the oddest of all, and the thing that truly made their Christmas exciting was the small package from an unknown person sitting at the bottom of his pile. Alabasandria had nearly foamed at the mouth when he joyously showed her the Invisibility Cloak.
"It says it was your father's? That cannot be the Peverell Cloak. I had assumed one of the older brothers, but for you to be descended from the third?" She gaped at him, flabbergasted as she gingerly touched one corner of the shimmering fabric. It sparkled and rippled under her hand.
"Harry, this is a priceless artifact. One-third of the Hallows! I'd always thought the desire for them was a bit of a copout for hard work and honest necromancy, only sought by those not powerful enough to accomplish anything on their own, but merciful Hades - The power that radiates from this thing! It is a gift from Death itself, a mark that you are an honored and treasured necromancer in Death's eyes." Harry was intrigued. From the very second he'd put it on, he'd felt warm and tingly like he was submerged in a hot bath. Gentle rolls of Dark magic radiated out of the fabric, vibrating as it bounced off the two necromancer's energy. It felt soothing and comforting, as though the Cloak was a living thing, choosing to work for Harry because it liked him.
"Imagine if you had all three," his mama whispered. "You'd be unstoppable. Not even Dumbledore or Voldemort would stand a chance against you." She gave him a warm smile. "My little apprentice, soon to be the most powerful mage in all of Europe!"
Harry shrugged, bashful.
"It's very neat. And I do really like its Dark energy, but I can already hide with my shadows, so what use is this thing, really? I don't need to turn invisible."
"Harry!" She sighed. "This is the Cloak, from the Tale of the Three Brothers . It can hide you from anything, including Death itself. Do you not understand? Shadows are fickle things in comparison. It will keep you from being summoned, scryed, or located while it's yours. Even if you don't use it much, the prestige and power from simply owning it would be enough to certify you as a Dark Lord if you wanted! And again, for it to arrive here, no matter that it was sent to you by someone, means that it accepts you as its master. It is a gift from the Death Gods, one that you should respect and appreciate."
Harry shrugged again. He didn't really understand a lot of the esoteric parts of necromancy, like his mama's insistence that Death was real, but he supposed it had to be a big deal for a powerful artifact like this to show up randomly at his house. It could be useful to pull pranks or sneak off to the library. He wasn't allowed to tell Luna or Hermione or Ron about his necromancy, so he couldn't travel via shadow around them anyway. And it felt nice and sort of sentient, like he had gained another friend. Harry decided he did like it.
He felt the Cloak warm under his hands as though it was pleased with his acceptance.