Fraudsters - ✨ The Philosopher's Stone ✨

CHAPTER III - Restricted Correspondent

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies,"

George R. R. Martin

~ Amazement was a tad lesser word than what Harry had felt when he had found presents littering the foot of his four-poster bed. He'd opened most of them, of course, by the time Hermione had stepped into the room. Only one was left. Harry ignored his friends' continuous bickering and removed the wrappers, only to reveal escaping air and a slight 'oof' on the bed. Harry looked wildly around for the gift but could see only what had been there before. 

"Oi!" said Ron. Harry looked up to see the redhead pointing at his lap. Harry looked down too; he couldn't see anything. He tilted his head a little - that's when the substance caught light and shimmered. "It's an Invisibility Cloak!" Ron's voice was awed. "They're incredibly rare ... Wonder who gave it to you!" 

Hermione, too, was impressed. But only a little note without a signature had fallen from the wrappers besides the Cloak. Harry read it out loud:

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 as though it would spit it out. Ron and Hermione were admiring the cloak. 

"I'd give anything for one of these - what's the matter, Harry?" asked Ron. 

Before Harry could answer, the door opened and the Weasley twins bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak under the bed; he didn't feel like sharing it just yet. 

"Merry Christmas!" they chorused. 

As Fred and George frog-marched Percy out of the dorm, Ron following close behind, Harry took out the Cloak again. Who had sent it? Had it really been his father's?

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"Come ON, Severus!" moaned Draco, sitting with his chin on the edge of a steaming cup of hot chocolate, inhaling the fumes through his reddened nose. He was sitting draped in a black blanket and on a comfortable couch that looked like it was usually used for sleeping, judging by the scattered pillows and comforters. Severus came out of the small kitchen, smirking as he read a letter. Draco had been moaning to go to Christmas dinner, but Severus had strict instructions from the former's father NOT to take him out until he was cured. 

"Look at this," said Severus, handing Draco the letter. Draco took it with a scowl and read it.

Sev -

Sorry, I can't come back this year, that bastard dumped his son on my doorstep! I'll have to train him; he seems an energetic one, but I guess I'll be back 'til Harry's fourth year. Oh, and do come to meet the boy, and bring Draco with you. Severina too. Lucius as well. 

The boss is creating problems. That Dumbledore person is billions of years younger than me and he's right, I'm not. 

Anyways, 

Zane. 

Draco scanned the letter and handed it back to Severus. 

"Wasn't Zachar--" he started musing. 

"Don't!" exclaimed Severus, staring at the door. His eyes burnt red, and then back to black. He sighed and told a non-plussed blonde "Don't say his name here. He is a gifted one, whether Zane realises it yet or not. Severina saw it, she told me. Zacharias Blacke is a very special Sorcerer. Very special. 

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Harry leaned his ear toward the odd noise. Apparently, he was not the only one clad in an Invisibility Cloak and snuck into the library. Harry followed the odd, chirping noises and found himself at the end of the rows of shelves. There was a space with desks set at intervals here, and windows for fresh air. All of the windows were closed except one, through which a sliver of moonlight crept in, illuminating the nearest shelf atop which sat the source of the noise and the reason Harry's breath caught in his oesophagus. 

A bird that looked suspiciously like a vulture, though Harry could not be sure: it did not have wings. It didn't even have skin or flesh, come to that. Only a skeleton. But it was alive and was cleaning its wings, an action that would have been more satisfying if it had them. 

But then there was a crumple of parchment. Harry's gaze spun to the part of the room where the light could not reach. A shadowed figure stood there, its hands raised as though reading something. Even as Harry watched, the figure moved toward the light and its face was illuminated, making Harry gasp. 

Severus Snape was smirking, satisfied. He put the paper on a desk and took out a quill from thin air, and began to write. It was no use, though, as he wasn't using ink, Harry thought. 

And then Snape raised the parchment to the light, the better to read. 

It was written in blood. 

Snape opened his mouth and spoke in a language Harry knew not:

"Ye le jao aur apne malik ko de dena," 

The Vulture swept down upon him and took the parchment in its skeletal claws. As it flew out the window, Snape said, "It does not do to sneak into libraries at night times, Mr Potter," 

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"a language that Harry knew not" but I did. It means, "Take this and give it to your master/owner," 

The Vulture - yeah, capitalized - is this Zane's. Whoever he is 🤷🏻‍♀️

Oh, and give me suggestions for songs.