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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐲- 𝐭𝐰𝐨
𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬
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.....
After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry anymore, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it.
Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.
Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.
"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy -- he didn't feel much like singing.
"You guys! Why do run towards danger?" America asked.
"Ask him," Hermione and Ron pointed toward Harry.
Harry shrugged, "I've no fucking clue."
He ran back down to the common room.
"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -"
