SPOILER: If you haven't watched Hounds of Baskerville yet, please watch that first. If you have seen it but not in a long time, you're safe, but year, you've been warned.

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The snowy grounds of Hogwarts looked like something out of a dickens novel as Harry wandered the empty grounds. Within the past week, the majority of students had headed home. Sherlock and John had some last minute grading to do before they could leave, and apparently Hogwarts had a staff party after the students left which John, and surprisingly Sherlock, didn't want to miss.

"There is something odd about that man, Snape, and I do want to find out what the teachers have been hiding. It will be interesting to see how they act when the students aren't around." Sherlock said, looking towards the corridor before turning to Harry again. "You don't mind, do you? You'll have full, free reign of Hogwarts, and John and I will still be here. We can go explore." He said as John entered the room.

"I know it's not ideal, but we were here to be more then just teachers." John said to Harry. "Mrs. Hudson is going to have the flat decorated for Christmas, and we'll have our usual Christmas party. Everything will be just the same, just we won't be able to go home until a day later." John said, his face showing more concern that Harry wouldn't like that then Sherlock's did.

"Oh, and Mycroft will be picking us up outside of Hogsmeade in a helicopter, so there's that." Sherlock said casually, but a small smirk pulled at the man's lips.

Harry hadn't had the chance to ride in a helicopter yet, but he wanted to very badly. It had always been "When you're older." Growing up, but he was pretty sure that was mostly because Sherlock and John only really got to use Mycroft's personal helicopter when things were dangerous. Naturally all of this would have been fine to Harry even if the helicopter wasn't involved, but that just sealed the deal

This lead to Harry being alone as he walked around. The students had gone home, and all the teachers were grading assignments and exams. Originally someone said that Harry should have to be in the care of someone else, but in the end, that wasn't deemed necessary. Mainly by Sherlock and John who informed everyone that Harry was more mature for his age and wasn't particularly fond of getting into trouble. Snape tried to protest, but McGonagall vouched that Harry only seemed to get in trouble when he was helping someone, or others were involved. He didn't seem the type to want to be bothered with messy situations if they could be avoided. Left alone the boy usually just kept to himself.

Snape had been forced to concede. Even he had to admit Harry seemed to be rather fine to be on his own.

Ron and his brothers were also still at Hogwarts though, and that made everyone a lot more uneasy.

But Hagrid vowed to make sure none of them got in trouble, and that seemed to settle the matter.

Hagrid had been one of the best things about Hogwarts. The man had the most bizarre stories, but it was wonderful to hear about his life. Ron, Fred and George had also been magnificent discoveries. Ron had quickly turned into the brother he never had, which meant naturally the two older twins started treating Harry as family. Between being willing to stick up for Harry when others were being mean, to pranking him just as much as they did Ron, Harry felt his family had frown three fold that year. It was easy to look back on this year as the best of his life. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania for Christmas to visit their older son Charlie. John offered the kids a place to stay with them until the three's parents got back. Sherlock decided not to protest it, since Harry rarely had friends over, and it might be fun to have these three around.

As he was walking around, suddenly the very three he was thinking about caught up with him.

"Now where do you think you're going?" Fred asked, only identifiable to Harry by a small scar on his nose.

"Just going for a walk since everyone's busy." Harry said, but no sadness could be found in his voice. He actually seemed pleased about the alone time. "Did you have something you wanted to do instead?" Curiosity took over and Harry turned to them, raising an eyebrow.

"Well... George and I managed to make some friends in the kitchens."

"And we were thinking of sneaking some food up to the common room"

"And make a night of it. It is Christmas Eve after all."

The two twins smiled at him as Ron slung his arms around his shoulders.

"We're going to set up a tree in the common room, and we can tell scary stories and eat sweets until we're sick. What do you say?"

"You don't want me to tell you scary stories. I've been to crimes scenes, I've seen dead bodies. Not much phases me anymore, but I also know real things far scarier then any fantasy." Harry smirked, teasingly shrugging off Ron's arm.

"Sounds perfect!" Fred said, and Harry couldn't miss the excited and mischievous glint in the twins eyes. Seems actual murders were more interesting than some guy with a hook for a hand. Noted.

Still, Harry did have other things on his mind. Nicholas Flamel. None of the people he asked knew anything about him, and if they did, they were keeping it very secret. He didn't ask the teachers, but he had asked the occasional staff member. Nothing came up. He promised Hermione before she left to try and keep looking. He had to make it to the library. Last time he tried to look in the restricted section, and the librarian barred him from looking. He'd need another plan. Still, now didn't seem to be a good time. He'd talk to John and Sherlock about it when they got home.

The group did exactly as planned, getting sweets and other delicious foods as well as a whole pot of hot chocolate and set up the common room with a tree and set up areas to sleep. The four of them played some games, and Harry showed them some of the crime scene photos Sherlock gave him. They all had a morbid curiosity, and Harry started the evening telling them lighthearted tales of he and his fathers' antics.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family -- in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. Harry played with chessmen

Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. Still, he quickly showed he knew what he was doing when it came to chess, since he played with his father all the time. By the end they seemed excited to play with someone good. He guessed Seamus had a stronger tendency to lose at chess then he did.

After this, however, was when the stories started. Fred and George went first, and Ron had been quite scared of their tale of a ghost that had been teared from limb to limb in life, and now, if anyone finds one of his bones, the same fate will happen to them, and they will be cursed to the same fate as he, doomed to haunt the earth for all eternity. Now that Harry knew ghosts were real, he was a little more ready to believe it, but he could tell that this was a false story pretty easily.

"Harry, your turn! Tell us something pretty frightening." George egged him on.

He told them of the Hounds of Baskerville. The case John and Sherlock went on.

"Twenty years ago, Henry Knight witnessed the horrific and gruesome death of his father. According to him, his father had been torn limb from limb by a terrifying, humongous hound. After years of therapy, Henry visited the site again, only to see evidence of the hound again, prompting him to come to my fathers and ask for their help. The rumours were that a government testing site called Baskerville had been messing with nature. Altering animals for their own gain, or for military use, no one knows."

The boys already seemed drawn in, and so Harry leaned closer, continuing the tale.

"As they arrive in Dartmoor, a local tells them of his and his buddy's experiences. One of them was brought to the testing site. Said he saw rats the size of dogs, and dogs the size of horses." Ron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the mental picture.

"They use my uncle's access card and access the lab supposedly behind the animal alterations. When they arrive, all goes relatively uninterestingly, until they almost get caught. However, a scientist working there by the name Bob Franklin pretends to know them and verify his identity. The man turns out to be an old friend of Henry's, and promises to help them should they need it."

"That night, they venture out to the forest, where the hound is said to wait for unsuspecting victims, and there, deep in the forest, they see it. Dark as the night, with glowing red eyes, the hound. Snarling it's teeth and circling it's prey, my dads and Henry run for their lives, the unshakable Sherlock Holmes left trembling."

He paused, as the group looked so hard at him they could burn a hole through his head.

"The time finally comes for them to investigate the lab. They split ways, Sherlock goes to investigate the scientists, while John goes to investigate the lab." Harry continued, using their real names to differentiate between the two. "As my dad is investigating the lab, he checks everywhere, including the room studying the common cold, when suddenly, his access card stops working, the lights start malfunctioning, an alarm goes off, and then... everything shuts down. Dad is alone, in the dark, and as he's investigating, he notices one of the cages is broken. Instantly concerned something big and dangerous escaped, he tries to get back into the side room, but his card won't work. He tries calling Sherlock, but he doesn't get through. So, he makes his way to the other doors he hasn't tried yet, hoping this one is working..."

The three are at the edge of their seats.

"And then, from behind him, a deep, guttural growl echoes through the lab. He covers his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop all noise. He darts for an open cage, locking himself in. Sherlock calls him, and all John can do is beg for Sherlock to come, he's terrified. Sherlock is asking if he can see it and he can't. He look and looks... and then there it is... He sees it, and it sees him. It's circling the cage, growling and snarling. And then..."

Harry pauses again, and the twins are nearly falling off their shared couch, leaning forward, the anticipation clear in their bodies. It was as if for a moment they forgot they saw John earlier that day.

"Sherlock yanks the cage open, the hound is gone without a trace, but John knows what he saw. Sherlock asks if John saw everything, the red eyes, the dark fur, how it glows. John says yes. But... It turns out... Sherlock lied. It didn't glow. Sherlock's discovered it. They've been drugged. They've all been drugged."

He can see the sheer surprise on the three boys face, and Harry has to fight back his glee.

"After some digging, everything comes to light. Hound, the word Henry used to describe the creature. It's not a real hound, it's the first initial of the last name of five scientists, five scientists working on a drug. A drug that induces paranoia and hallucinations, but it was shut down when longterm exposure caused subjects to lash out violently. Someone has been illegally continuing the experiments, and that someone is Bob Franklin, Henry's friend and the man who helped Sherlock at the beginning." The boys all gasp in surprise and Harry can't help but smirk.

"It's almost too late though. In the drug induced haze, Henry's already attacked and almost hurt his therapist. Upon receiving the news, my dads spring into action. They know he's losing control, and they know where he'll go, to the place it all started. They find him with the gun, ready to take his own life, when Sherlock confronts him. He's figured it out. It wasn't a hound that killed Henry's father... It was a man. A man who needed to keep Henry quiet. To stop Henry from telling others what really happened. He was just a kid at the time. He had to rationalize what really happened. But as he got older, he started to remember, and that man needed to keep him quiet, keep him drugged."

"Bob Franklin!" George yells, and Harry has to stop himself from laughing.

"But then! They see it, they see it circling, and mangy body, and red glowing eyes. They try to deny it, but they all see it. But it's the drug, it's just the drug. It's just a normal dog."

"It turns out, Bob Franklin had been involved in some very bad stuff, and when Henry's dad found out, Bob killed him. To keep Henry from telling, he had to not only trick him, but discredit everything he had ever seen. The poor man was driven to near death, all because one man wanted to make a drug. As they were about to catch him, Bob ran, but ended up in the mine field protecting Baskerville. He stepped on a mine, and in one second, came to terms with his life, and ended in a fiery explosion." Harry said, his voice more bleak. He hoped the story wasn't too much for the boys.

"That was terrifying... It was brilliant!" Ron said excitedly. "You have to tell us more stories!" Harry laughed.

"I'll tell you all sorts, maybe Sherlock and John will even share some, when we get to my flat, but it's late, we should get some sleep tonight... if you can." Harry chuckled, but sure enough, it wasn't long until they all went to bed

Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all, as he figured along with the christmas party, Harry would get his presents at home too. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a massive pile of packages under their makeshift Christmas tree.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled up and looked over the lot.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? We've got presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to the tree, and even he scrambled up when he saw how large it was.

"I was expecting my dads to wait until we were home. I didn't think they even had time to shop with everything going on. They'd get Mrs. Hudson or Mycroft to do it and I'd get them back home. I wasn't expecting this!" Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl. Harry was pretty touched that the man got him something. He noticed a similar present was given to Ron.

The next present he opened was from Sherlock and he laughed when he saw it, putting it on as Fred and George woke from the commotion.

"Harry, what is that god awful thing on your head?" Fred asked.

"It's a Deerstalker and I love it." He said proudly, before chuckling to himself. Ron opened a gift and it was the same hat, from Sherlock, which only made Harry laugh harder. "Look! I think we all got one!" He smiled with joy at all this.

"We can make a club! The Deerstalkers!" George joked. Harry laughed.

"We could make secret clues around the castle, if others discover them and solve them they can join the club." Harry suggested.

"Brilliant!"

By the time that conversation was over, Deerstalkers were on all of the four boy's heads. John had given each boy a book fitting for them. Harry was a book of unsolved mysteries, Ron's was a quidditch book, and George and Fred both got different prank and joke books from the muggle world, which they adored. They also each received some muggle candies, and Harry received a new violin. They also received some muggle foam dart guns which Fred and George instantly started shooting each other with.

"Your dads are the best Harry!"

"We should spend Christmas with you every year!"

Harry laughed, and even though the sentiment sounded almost gold digging, Harry knew that wasn't the only reason they felt that way. They were a family now. Nothing would stop that. It was then and there that he realized he would do anything for them. A feeling that for a brief moment concerned Harry, but then he realized, they'd probably be the same for him.

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you were stuck here because of your dads-- oh, no," he groaned,

"She's made you a Weasley sweater." Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. This only left one parcel.

Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavour Beans he'd gotten from Hermione.

"If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is -- try it on." Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. "It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you."

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

"Could it be from you father? Sherlock?" George asked curiously. Harry shook his head.

"No, I don't recognize the writing. It's none of my family, at least none that I know of. Mycroft is the only person I could think of getting me something like this, but he's already told me that he wants to give me his gift in person, and that this isn't his writing, or the writing of any of his assistants. No, this is someone who knew my birth father. Still, it's very strange." He said nodding.

After their fun, they all got dressed, and marched downstairs, proudly wearing their Deerstalkers. When he saw his dads at the teacher table, he smiled, especially since Sherlock was wearing one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen. Clearly the Deerstalkers were amusing to him. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred 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. Sherlock's was quite a spiffy bowler hat, and John ended up with a flower crown, which was quite funny too.

Fred and George both stacked theirs over their deerstalkers, smiling like idiots. Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Ron nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. John and Sherlock then gave each other a look, nodding, before grabbing their plates and wine and scurrying down to the group. They joined the newly formed Deerskalkers Club, and the group chatted on about how the evening before went.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own 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 and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by gracefully and magnificently beating the pants off Ron.

Harry might have missed Christmas day with Lestrade and Molly, and Mrs. Hudson and Uncle Mycroft, but this was quite fun too. The Newly formed Deerstalkers club was one of the best ideas ever in his opinion, and he couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun. Not to mention the group seemed to have the same sort of morbid curiosities he did.

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.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air.

Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He 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. Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back -- his father's cloak -- he felt that this time -- the first time -- he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

At first Harry thought of the restricted section in the library, but he figured there would be magic guarding it. If it was important no one save those meant to could read it, he doubted they would leave it unguarded. No, Harry knew exactly where he wanted to go. The Hogwarts staff Christmas party should be well underway, and if Sherlock was using this as a chance to investigate, then he wanted to be there.

After a bit of wandering, Harry found the space. A room full of merriment and laughter. The professors swapping gifts, drinks and more as other told of their adventures, and John and Sherlock were in the mix, laughing and talking, but he could see on Sherlock's face the man's emotions were a bit forced. This wasn't happy fun Sherlock, this was Case to do Sherlock. The version of him where he will do and act however he needs to in order to get the job done, even as Professor Sprout jokingly held some mistletoe over the two. Sherlock rolled his eyes a bit and kissed John right on the forehead. John, being mildly tipsy, blushed and giggled as Sherlocks big lips squashed against his forehead.

"Sherlock, you're not helping convince everyone we're not gay." John slurred slightly.

"I think we lost that front when you decided to sit on my lap." Sherlock teased, and John laughed some more before resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder, promptly falling asleep. Harry was really struggling hard not to laugh at that one.

"Is he always like this?" Sprout asked giggling herself.

"His inebriation varies depending on the event and the company." Sherlock jested.

"Seems to be a bit of a handful." Snape spoke in his usual disapproving tone. Though it didn't seem disapproving of the relationship, just maybe intoxication all together.

"The ones we love usually are." Sherlock shrugged. Harry had never heard Sherlock say he loved John before. He wasn't sure if the man meant platonic or romantic, but he knew he was fine with either, just surprised really.

"Like that boy of yours." Snape scoffed.

"You mean that 'boy' who nearly fell off his broom because someone was using a charm?" Sherlock said straightforward, as no one was really listening anymore. Sprout had gone to tease some of the other professors.

"You noticed that too?" Snape said surprised.

"I notice everything. Tell me Snape, what were you saying as Harry was being flung about on his broom?" Snape seemed caught off guard, but hid it somewhat well.

"A counter spell, to prevent Harry from falling to his death. I wouldn't be a very good teacher if I allowed a student to fall to his death." Snape said with an icy glare. Harry could see the protective part of Sherlock kicking in, wanting to grill Snape, but this wasn't the time.

"Do you have any theories as to who did it?" Sherlock asked, and Snape relaxed a small bit.

"I do, but I do not wish to speak of it in such... mixed company." Snape admitted. "Furthermore, I want to investigate my claims a bit further first.

"This wouldn't happen to also have anything to do with the rumours of Dumbledor hiding something in the school, would it?" Snape stiffened at that.

"That is none of your concern. You shouldn't even know anything about that."

"Yes well, rumours travel quickly in a place like this." Sherlock shrugged casually. "I personally couldn't care less what Dumbledor is hiding, I just care that my son isn't in danger because of it." Sherlock said firmly. Snape relaxed a bit.

"Not here, perhaps if the two of us find anything... we can... discuss it." Snape suggested, though not seeming tremendously open to the idea. Sherlock nodded, before John's arm shot up in the air.

"Long live the King and down with his enemies!" He yelled in his sleep, before curling up to Sherlock again, leading to Harry laughing and nearly falling over. In doing so however, he bumped into Professor Hooch.

"Who's there!" The professor whipped around only to see nothing. Harry nervous he may have blown his cover, ran off to try and escape before he was too noticed.

He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the nights' events still playing in his mind.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close.

It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in. It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket -- but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

His anxiety instantly vanished as he examined the strange mirror. Harry moved nearer to the glass, wanting to look at himself but saw no reflection. He stepped in front of it.

Before him was his family, new and old, Sherlock and John standing behind him, Ron and the twins beside him, all wearing Deerstalkers, Mycroft, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, but there were two others there two. Two that he only ever saw from a photograph. A longing grew in his chest that he never felt before. A longing to know where he came from, who his birth parents were and what his life would have been if they hadn't died. He sat down in front of it, very confused.

He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If anyone was really there, he'd touch someone, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air -- as if they existed only in the mirror.

"I see you've found a secret, Harry."

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

" -- I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling. "So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry,

"you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It -- well -- it shows me my family —"

"And it shows many people many things" Dumbledor added. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

"That's the thing Professor, what I want most... I get tomorrow. My family. The only part I don't get is knowing my birth parents, but I can see that this mirror isn't going to give me that." Harry said calmly.

"Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared. "One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Harry laughed. "I'll pass it on to my dads and keep that in mind for next year sir." Harry chuckled.

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.

When Harry, Ron and the twins woke the following morning. John and Sherlock lead them out to Hogsmeade. They stopped at a little shop called Honeydukes and picked up some gifts from Harry and the boys for those who knew about Harry's magic, and also stopped for breakfast at the Three Broomsticks as something different.

When the Weasleys saw the helicopter, their jaws dropped.

"We get to ride in that thing?!" Ron said excitedly, and Harry nodded with equal enthusiasm.

"Hold on to your Deerstalkers boys!" Sherlock yelled over the sound of the propeller as it landed, and Mycroft came out, smiling at Harry. Harry knew the man wasn't always fond of hugs, but he gave him one anyways.

"Are you boys ready?" Mycroft asked and the three nodded excitedly, before they were brought in and strapped into their seats, given headsets that protected their ears and let them talk, and before long they were up in the air.

The boys peered out the window as the ground beneath them shrank, and they flew over Hogwarts. While the muggle pilot saw nothing but the ruins of an old castle, the boys, and the three knowing adults looked down to see Dumbledor waving up at them, smiling. Best Christmas Ever.

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Okay! Finally got this one finished! I don't think I kept a ton from the original version of this chapter, but the more I wrote it, the more I realized our Harry wouldn't do the same things, and the changes I made, some were personal, some were for fun. Changing that Percy wasn't there was a bit of a logistics thing, but changing that everyone slept downstairs and told scary stories, that was just fun. I really hope you guys liked it, and the next chapter isn't going to be from the books. It's going to be totally original, which is Ron, Fred and George in the muggle world, and some adventures there. I really am having a lot more fun now.

I also want the twins to have a larger part to the story, so I figured by making the Deerstalkers club, kind of the new Marauders, it would be kind of a cool way to drag them in a bit more.

I hope you guys liked it, and I also had fun writing the Drunk John parts. I hope you Johnlock fans appreciate what I've done for you here (Saying this as someone who doesn't ship Johnlock, but I kinda ship them in my own story, is that weird?)

Anyways, I hope to have the next chapter up faster, but I really hope you guys liked it :)