The map unfolded across the polished desk like a living thing, ink spreading through the ancient parchment's veins, revealing Hogwarts Castle in all its labyrinthine glory. Chris leaned forward, his eyes following the countless tiny footprints that danced across the surface, each labeled with the name of its owner. Somewhere in that intricate web of motion, Harry Potter moved through his day, unaware that his every step was being catalogued by the white-haired boy hunched over the Marauder's Map in the impossible space of a magical trunk.
"There you are," Chris murmured, finger hovering above a tiny dot labeled 'Harry Potter' currently seated in the Great Hall between 'Ronald Weasley' and 'Hermione Granger.' January 15th marked the third day since he'd acquired the map, but the first dedicated entirely to tracking his primary target.
The golden glow from the enchanted lamps in his trunk's study warmed the parchment, casting subtle shadows across the miniature corridors and staircases. Chris had positioned a small journal beside the map, its pages already containing meticulous notes on Dumbledore's movements and the patrol patterns of prefects and professors. Today's entry would focus exclusively on The Boy Who Lived, or more specifically, on the Deathly Hallow currently in his possession.
Chris watched as Harry finished breakfast and moved with his classmates toward the Transfiguration classroom. McGonagall's dot remained stationary at the front of the room while twenty-some first-year dots arranged themselves in neat rows before her. Harry's position, third row and slightly off-center, remained consistent with previous observations.
"Creature of habit, aren't you?" Chris noted, jotting down the observation. Predictable patterns made for vulnerable targets.
Over the next several hours, he tracked Harry's progression through classes, bathroom breaks, lunch, and afternoon lessons. The boy's movements matched the standard Gryffindor first-year schedule, with one notable deviation, a fifteen-minute detour to the library between Charms and dinner, too brief for serious research but perfect for checking out or returning a book.
As evening fell across the castle, indicated by the shifting patterns of the dots as students returned to common rooms, Chris observed Harry, Ron, and Hermione settling into what appeared to be their usual corner of Gryffindor Tower. The three dots remained close together until nearly nine o'clock, when Harry's separated and moved toward the dormitory stairs.
"Invisibility cloak likely stored in his trunk," Chris noted in his journal. "Too valuable to carry constantly."
The following days established a clearer pattern. Each morning, Harry followed his class schedule with consistency. Evenings showed more variation: sometimes he remained in the common room until curfew, sometimes he retired early to the dormitory. Twice, the trio ventured to the library for longer research sessions, their dots barely moving for hours at tables near the Restricted Section.
On January 18th, Chris noticed a new pattern emerging. Harry's dot separated from his friends after dinner and travelled alone to the Astronomy Tower, despite having no scheduled class there. The visit lasted approximately forty minutes before he returned to Gryffindor Tower.
"Interesting," Chris murmured, making a note. "Seeking solitude? Or perhaps practicing magic away from prying eyes?"
January 19th and 20th confirmed the pattern, Harry visited the Astronomy Tower alone on both evenings, always taking the same route through the castle, always spending roughly the same amount of time there before returning to his dormitory.
By January 21st, Chris had compiled a comprehensive log of Harry's movements. The boy was remarkably consistent in his habits, making him an easy target, but timing remained crucial. The Invisibility Cloak would almost certainly be with him during these solo excursions to the tower, why else would a first-year risk being caught out after hours?
That evening, Chris activated the map earlier than usual, watching Harry's progress through dinner. Instead of heading directly to the Astronomy Tower afterward, the boy detoured to the library, his dot remaining stationary at a table for nearly an hour. Hermione and Ron's dots appeared briefly before departing, leaving Harry alone.
"Researching Flamel," Chris surmised, recalling the timeline from his previous knowledge. "They're getting closer to discovering the Philosopher's Stone."
After the library, Harry's dot moved predictably toward the Astronomy Tower, taking a specific path through the seventh-floor corridor, passing a portrait of a snoring knight that Chris recalled from his own explorations. The corridor was rarely travelled in the evening, offering both privacy and limited escape routes.
Perfect.
January 22nd would be the day. Chris spread the map wider across his desk, studying the seventh-floor corridor with intense focus. The path Harry took passed through a particularly isolated stretch where the corridor narrowed, with the snoring knight's portrait concealing a small alcove, ideal for an ambush.
Chris opened his desk drawer and removed a carefully folded bundle of silvery fabric. The replica Invisibility Cloak he'd commissioned from a specialist in magical artifacts through Gringotts was a masterwork of enchantment, nearly indistinguishable from the original to anyone but the most discerning eye. Its magic would eventually fade, unlike the true Deathly Hallow, but Harry wouldn't notice the difference for years, if ever.
He unfurled the replica cloak, checking its refraction properties under the study's light. The shimmer was perfect. Most importantly, the subtle monitoring charms he'd added would alert him if anyone attempted to examine the cloak's magical properties too closely.
"Today, Harry," Chris said to the dot now seated in the Great Hall for dinner, "you'll unknowingly contribute to saving countless lives."
He practiced the necessary spell sequence one final time, a perfectly silent Stunning Spell, the physical exchange of cloaks, a controlled Reviving Spell that would leave Harry confused but not alarmed, and a swift retreat under his own concealment charms.
The clock on the study wall showed quarter past seven. Harry would be finishing dinner soon, likely heading to the library before his Astronomy Tower visit around eight thirty. That gave Chris just enough time to position himself in the seventh-floor alcove.
"Mischief managed," he whispered, tapping the map with his wand. The ink vanished, leaving behind ordinary parchment that he folded carefully and slipped into his robe pocket. The replica cloak went into his pocket with the expansion charm, and he drew his wand in preparation for the evening's mission.
As Chris climbed the stairs out of his trunk, a flutter of anticipation warmed his chest. The Invisibility Cloak represented more than just a powerful magical artifact, it was the first of the three Deathly Hallows, pieces in a puzzle that might ultimately grant him power beyond even what his second chance at life had provided.
The portrait of Sir Cadogan's cousin, a portly knight known for his perpetual snoring rather than valiant deeds, concealed an alcove just deep enough for a slender first-year to press himself against the cold stone wall. Chris stood motionless in the shadows, the replica Invisibility Cloak draped over his shoulders while a perfectly executed Silencing Charm muffled even his breathing. The Marauder's Map lay open in his hands, illuminated by the faintest Lumos charm he could manage, just enough to track the tiny dot labelled "Harry Potter" making its way through the Gryffindor common room and toward the seventh-floor corridor.
Eight thirty-five. Almost precisely on schedule. Chris's eyes narrowed as he watched Harry's dot navigate the moving staircases, pausing briefly to let Peeves pass overhead, then continuing toward the Astronomy Tower. The dot moved alone, Weasley and Granger had remained behind in Gryffindor Tower, exactly as his week of observation had suggested they would.
Chris extinguished his wandlight with a silent "Nox" as Harry's dot approached the corridor. The torches along the stone walls cast flickering shadows that danced across the worn flagstones, creating pockets of darkness perfect for concealment. He folded the Map, tucking it into an inner pocket without taking his eyes from the corridor's entrance.
His heart maintained its steady rhythm, the product of mental exercises practiced in both his lives. Excitement without anxiety, anticipation without fear, the perfect state for complex magic.
Footsteps echoed from the adjoining corridor, light and somewhat hurried. Chris pressed deeper into the alcove, confirming his positioning behind the portrait. The replica cloak's magic blended with his own concealment charms, rendering him virtually undetectable to even the most observant eyes.
Harry Potter rounded the corner, walking with the slightly hunched posture of someone accustomed to ducking attention. His school bag hung from one shoulder, bulging with books and, Chris knew, the silvery mass of the true Invisibility Cloak. Under his opposite arm, Harry carried a collapsible telescope for the evening's apparent astronomy practice. His untidy black hair stuck out in all directions, and his round glasses caught the torchlight as he passed, throwing momentary gleams against the stone walls.
The boy moved with purpose but also caution, his eyes darting occasionally to shadows as if expecting someone to emerge from them. He had nearly passed the snoring knight's portrait when Chris made his move.
With a precisely controlled movement, Chris withdrew his wand from its holster and aimed it through a gap in the replica cloak. The nonverbal spell had become second nature after hitting the Weasley Twins.
'Stupefy,' he thought, channelling his magic with perfect focus.
A jet of red light shot from his wand, striking Harry squarely between the shoulder blades. The boy's body went instantly rigid, then crumpled forward, his telescope clattering across the flagstones as he collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor. The school bag slipped from his shoulder, its contents partially spilling onto the stone floor.
Chris moved with swift efficiency, emerging from behind the portrait and kneeling beside Harry's stunned form. Thirty seconds, he'd calculated. Thirty seconds was all he needed, and all he could risk.
He opened Harry's bag fully, immediately spotting the distinctive shimmer of the true Invisibility Cloak among textbooks and crumpled parchment. The fabric seemed to flow like liquid silver as he carefully extracted it, leaving behind not a single wrinkle or disturbance in the bag's other contents.
Chris ran his fingers along the ancient magical garment, feeling a subtle vibration of power entirely absent from even the finest regular invisibility cloaks. This was indeed the Deathly Hallow of legend, passed down from Ignotus Peverell through the generations to James Potter and now to Harry, a perfect counter to Death's searching eyes.
Quickly, Chris removed his replica from his shoulders and arranged it exactly as the original had been in Harry's bag, copying the casual fold and position with perfect precision. He cast a quick detection charm, confirming his suspicion that Dumbledore had indeed placed monitoring charms on the cloak, likely to track Harry's movement when using it.
A swift transfer spell moved these monitoring charms from the true cloak to the replica, leaving the Deathly Hallow clean of magical surveillance. Chris folded the true cloak and tucked it into his own inner pocket, then carefully arranged Harry's bag to appear undisturbed. Finally, he positioned the boy's body to look as though he had simply slid down to rest against the wall, the telescope placed within easy reach beside him.
Chris backed away several steps, raised his wand, and whispered, "Rennervate."
The counter-spell struck Harry gently, designed to return consciousness without the jarring awakening that might trigger suspicion. Chris slipped back behind the portrait, renewed his concealment Charms, and watched as Harry's eyelids fluttered.
The boy blinked several times, a confused expression crossing his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He glanced around the empty corridor, frowning slightly before checking his watch. His hand moved to his head, rubbing the spot where it had connected with the stone wall during his fall.
"Must've dozed off," Harry muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. He gathered his telescope, checked that his bag was secure, and continued toward the Astronomy Tower with only the slightest hesitation in his step.
Chris waited until Harry's footsteps had faded completely before consulting the Marauder's Map once more. The dot labeled "Harry Potter" moved steadily up the spiral staircase to the tower platform, while nearby, Filch and Mrs. Norris patrolled the fifth floor, well away from Chris's position.
The route back to Hufflepuff territory required careful navigation, but the Map revealed a hidden passage behind a tapestry depicting the Goblin Rebellion that would allow him to bypass two flights of stairs and the main corridors entirely. Chris traced the path with his finger, memorizing the turns before whispering, "Mischief managed."
He moved silently through the castle, the true Invisibility Cloak now secure in his pocket, its weight almost imperceptible yet somehow significant against his chest. The hidden passage proved narrow but efficient, depositing him just one corridor away from the Hufflepuff common room entrance. No prefects patrolled this area at present, according to the Map, but Chris maintained his concealment spells until he reached the stack of barrels that marked the entrance.
The common room was dimly lit and nearly empty when he entered, most students already retired to their dormitories or bent over late homework at the far tables. Chris nodded politely to a seventh-year who glanced up at his entrance, then made his way to his private room, closing the door behind him with practiced casualness.
Once alone, he withdrew the silver chain from beneath his shirt, enlarging his magical trunk with a tap of his wand. "Ambrosia Sanctum," he whispered, and the lid swung open to reveal the wooden staircase descending into golden light.
Chris climbed down quickly, the Invisibility Cloak clutched in his hand, triumph burning in his chest with an intensity that nearly matched his magical core. The first Deathly Hallow was his, and with it, the next phase of his plan could begin.
The study's lamplight caught the Invisibility Cloak's silvery fabric as Chris spread it across his desk, the material flowing like water between his fingers. Unlike ordinary invisibility cloaks that felt rough with the residue of Demiguise hair and faded after repeated use, this garment remained perfect after centuries of existence, its enchantment as pristine as the day Death herself, if the legends were to be believed, had crafted it for Ignotus Peverell. Chris allowed himself a moment of pure wonder, running his palm across the surface that rippled with an inner light, cool to the touch yet somehow warm with magic.
"The first Hallow," he murmured, his voice reverent in the quiet study.
He withdrew his wand and cast a detection spell, more complex than the one he'd used in the corridor. Golden light spilled from his wandtip, hovering over the cloak in intricate patterns that revealed its magical properties without disturbing them. As expected, the fabric showed no residual charms from Dumbledore or anyone else, Chris had successfully transferred those monitoring spells to his replica.
What remained was pure Deathly Hallow magic, a signature unlike any other magical artifact he'd encountered. Where most magical objects broadcast their enchantments like beacons to those who knew how to look, the cloak's magic folded inward, concealing itself from detection just as effectively as it concealed its wearer from sight.
"Remarkable," Chris whispered, cancelling his detection charm with a flick of his wrist. "It doesn't just block visual perception, it actively resists all magical detection."
Ordinary invisibility cloaks could be revealed by simple revealment spells, their enchantments unravelled by counter-charms taught to senior Aurors and curse-breakers. This cloak, however, existed in defiance of such mundane limitations, its power eternal and unchanging.
Chris lifted the cloak from the desk, holding it up to catch the light. The fabric was impossibly light, weighing almost nothing in his hands despite its generous dimensions. Curiously, though it appeared delicate as gossamer, he could feel strength in the weave, a resilience that had protected its wearers through countless dangers over generations.
He swept the cloak around his shoulders in a smooth motion, the fabric settling like a whisper against his skin. Immediately, his body disappeared from the chest down, leaving only his head floating disconcertingly above the floor. Chris moved to the full-length mirror beside his bookshelf, examining the effect with critical eyes.
"Perfect invisibility," he confirmed, lifting the hood over his head.
His reflection vanished entirely. Not the slight distortion of a Disillusionment Charm or the watery translucence of lesser invisibility cloaks, but complete and utter absence. Chris raised his hand before his face, seeing nothing where flesh and bone should be. Even knowing exactly where his body stood, his eyes slid past the spot, refusing to register anything but the bookshelf behind him.
He moved around the room, testing the cloak's properties in motion. Unlike Disillusionment Charms that could waver when the subject moved quickly, the cloak's magic remained flawless regardless of his speed or abruptness. He stomped his foot hard against the wooden floor, producing a sharp crack that seemed to come from empty air. Sound would still betray him, a limitation to remember.
Chris removed the cloak and folded it carefully before picking it up again, this time draping it over a chair. The furniture vanished instantly beneath the silvery fabric, confirming another property he'd suspected: the cloak could conceal objects as effectively as people.
"This will be perfect for the Stone retrieval," he said, thinking aloud as he often did in the privacy of his trunk. "And afterward, once I have all the Hallows, for testing the Hallow-merging theories."
He'd read several creative theories in his previous life about the true power of the united Deathly Hallows. Some suggested they could grant immortality beyond even what the Philosopher's Stone offered. Others proposed control over death itself, or the ability to bring back the truly dead, not merely the echo-shades produced by Resurrection Stone. Most intriguing to Chris were the theories that the united Hallows might grant their master the power to travel between worlds or dimensions, a power that resonated with his own journey between lives.
Chris shook the fanciful thoughts away, returning to methodical testing. He needed to confirm one more property before storing the cloak.
"Jilly," he called softly, summoning his house elf with the mental connection they shared.
The elf appeared with a soft pop, her amber eyes widening slightly at the sight of the cloak draped across Chris's arm. "Master called Jilly?"
"I need your assistance with a quick test," Chris explained, holding out the cloak. "Please stand beside me."
Jilly complied, moving to Chris's side with dignified posture. Chris swept the cloak around both of them, confirming what he'd suspected, the fabric expanded ever so slightly, accommodating multiple beings beneath its protection. In the mirror, the study appeared empty once more, with no trace of boy or elf.
"Thank you, Jilly," Chris said, removing the cloak. "That's all I needed."
Eventually, once Susan and Hannah mastered the Occlumency techniques from the books he'd given them for Christmas, he might share this treasure with them. The ability to move unseen through Hogwarts as a group would make their years more enjoyable.
For now, though, the cloak would remain his secret, along with the Marauder's Map and his growing collection of ritual materials. The drawer in his desk that already housed the map slid open at his touch, its interior expanded with undetectable extension charms to accommodate his most valuable possessions. Chris placed the folded cloak inside, beside the map, and sealed the drawer with both mechanical lock and magical wards.
Two items acquired, many more steps to go. His finger traced the invisible checklist in his mind: Map, check. Cloak, check. Next would be the Philosopher's Stone, followed by the extraction of Voldemort's soul fragment from Harry's scar.
Chris closed the drawer with a soft click, a sound that carried a peculiar finality. With each acquisition, each careful step forward in his plan, the future diverged further from the timeline he remembered. Lives would be saved, suffering prevented, a better world crafted from the ashes of what might have been.
He stood from the desk, stretching muscles tense from the evening's mission. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, maintaining his cover as an ordinary first-year, monitoring Harry for any sign that he'd noticed the switch, proceeding with his studies of the third-floor corridor's defences. But tonight, he would sleep with the satisfaction of progress, the first Deathly Hallow successfully claimed.