In Hagrid's Company

Harry laughed and put more food on his plate for Fawkes to eat. "My owl does this too; I'm used to it and it's fine." He admired Fawkes' plumage. "My wand has a phoenix tail core."

"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled. "Phoenix tail cores can be a bit temperamental but they are very good to their wand wielders. Demonstrates strength of character." He leaned to the side and opened a drawer in his desk. "I have something for you."

Harry took the folded fabric from him. It was light and airy and it seemed to move under his touch. When he unfolded it, it became a large cloak. "Oh, you didn't have to give me anything Sir. I already appreciate being able to go to the kitchens and the talk."

"Actually, this belongs to you, so it is long overdue," Dumbledore said. "This was your father's invisibility cloak." He smiled when Harry's eyes widened. "It belonged to the Potters and therefore, it is yours. I was examining it when James… passed. I've held onto it all this time and I am happy I can return it to you."

Harry put the cloak around his shoulders and looked down. "I'm invisible!" he cried, seeing nothing but the stone floor beneath him.

"Now I am fairly certain that your father got into all sorts of uncaught trouble while using it so I am going to ask that you try not to do the same," Dumbledore smiled.

"I'll try Sir!" Harry took off the cloak and carefully folded it, hugging it to his chest. "Uhm, Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why my parents died?" He flushed red and looked down at the floor. "Hagrid told me they were killed by You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore's sigh was deep and heavy. "Voldemort," he said. "His name is Voldemort. Do not give him greater power by fearing to use his name," he said gently. "And, forgive me please, but I have an idea as to why but I do not think you are old enough yet. But I promise, one day, I will tell you what I know."

Harry nodded. A part of him desperately wanted to know why. Another part of him never did. "I understand. Thank you, Sir."

"You are very welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said. "May I continue to call you that?" He smiled warmly when Harry nodded easily. "Splendid. Now, let us continue to do full justice to your wonderful food before Fawkes eats it all." He gave the phoenix a look when Fawkes squawked at him indignantly. "Do not give me that. I have returned to empty biscuit bags and treat tins with you sitting there looking plump and surprised as to where things went."

Time passed pleasantly with Dumbledore telling more stories and Harry soaking the words up hungrily. Finally, they finished all the food, Fawkes getting the last of it, and Harry got up reluctantly. "Thank you so much. This was really nice."

"It was," Dumbledore agreed. "I will see when we can do this again. Unfortunately, time is a very valuable resource when you are Headmaster. Would you like for me to accompany you back to the tower? No? Very well then. Off you go. Have a good evening."

"Thank you, Sir. Have a good evening!"

Dumbledore watched Harry go and then sent the dishes and tray back to the kitchens. With a sigh he sat back and looked out the windows. He thought of the conversation he had with Harry and his thoughts were like the falling snow outdoors: unrelenting and too numerous to count.

"Are you sure this isn't bothering you?" Rubeus Hagrid asked worriedly. "You can tell me the truth now."

Harry shook his head. "Not at all. It doesn't bother you with me about, does it?"

"Not at all," Hagrid echoed. "I like it when you visit. Just that," he looked at the hanging boar carcass, at his dog Fang gnawing on some bones and offal, "this ain't exactly normal for little kids to be around, you know?"

"I'm not that little," Harry disputed. He looked up at the giant figure that was Hagrid with a wry smile when Hagrid snorted richly. "I mean, physically I am, but I know where meat comes from and I've been to the butcher before."

"Well, if you're sure," Hagrid said. He went back to butchering the large boar. His breath steamed in the freezing air as he broke the boar apart into primal cuts.

"One of the few things I watched on the telly was about breaking meat down. Uncle Vernon once had a program on about a slaughterhouse but he and Dudley couldn't keep watching it." Harry shrugged. "It was pretty gross but informative."

Probably couldn't stand to watch something that looked like them go through it, Hagrid thought unkindly. He still remembered how the Dursleys reacted to him, remembered how they treated Harry in front of him.

Hagrid had gone to Privet Drive after a few days of no reply from Harry for attending Hogwarts. His appearance had sent Petunia into hysterics and no number of threats from Vernon kept the big man from entering the house looking for Harry. When Hagrid learned that they treated Harry like a personal cook, treating him coldly and rudely, he had grown angry. His anger reached a peak when they said they convinced Harry to ignore the letter, saying that the school would prevent him from cooking and enjoying food and the like.