A/N: Once again, I have waited and procrastinated. Truly, I am sorry. As for this chapter, I hope it is not too confusing. Really, there are no notes, other than a great thanks to Milky Etoile for the long review. So, all review are welcome and greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: This story contains characters created and owned by, including but not limited to, J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. and AOL/Time Warner, Inc. No permission has been given and since no money is being made here, no infringement is intended.
Musical Magic
Written by: Shiruba Fokkusu
Harry's eyes locked onto Hermione's and he gulped.
"Harry James Potter," she said, menacingly quiet. Harry waited for the inevitable explosion. To his surprise, none came. Instead, Hermione lowered her head in resignation and she opened her mouth once or twice, trying to voice her thoughts, but was unable to. "I wish you would tell me what you are doing. What is it that you feel must be kept from us? Don't you trust me, or Ron?" she whispered with no reproach, reminding him that it was late at night. Somehow, her hurt words affected him more than her accusatory ones from earlier.
"I trust you guys!" he whispered back. He felt a twisting in his gut that argued otherwise.
Hermione shook her head sadly and grabbed his hand. "Whatever. Let's just get back to the dorms before we get in trouble." Harry silently agreed, and they walked through the hallways. He nervously wrung the invisibility cloak in his hands. After a while, he stopped using it and only carried it with him just in case. As they quietly padded their way back, Harry felt thankful yet disappointed. He had not expected Hermione to give up so easily. He suspected for a moment that she was tricking him into feeling guilty, but he quickly dismissed that suspicion once he actually looked at her. She looked genuinely sad, and however clever she was, Hermione was not the best actor. He felt a bit sick, looking at her worried and defeated expression. Hermione would never try to trick him, even though she probably would succeed.
The journey was quiet, but loud thoughts bombarded Harry's mind. He thought he would go crazy. After his conversation with Vivaldi, he thought maybe he should tell them. There was nothing stopping him, only his own stubbornness. Was it truly because he did not want to share his talent? Harry did not know. The last time, before Vivaldi, he had played for his uncle, and that did not turn out well. Harry shook his head to get rid of his stupid thoughts. His friends would never react like his uncle.
At the dorm, they still did not talk, save for the password. They parted at the stairs, and Harry felt her eyes on his back. He quietly walked into his room to find Ron sitting up.
"Harry," he acknowledged in a whisper, so that the others would not wake. Harry nodded. Ron did not answer, but just waved his hand. Harry took that as a signal to change. Once he was in his pajamas, he sat on his own bed.
At this point, Ron looked Harry in the eyes. "We are worried. You would…you would tell us if anything, you know, if there was anything, right?" he asked, tripping over his words. Harry looked at Ron. He saw a worried friend, one whose expression mirrored that of another he considered a friend.
Harry thought about it. If he were dying, he would tell them. However, he could not promise he would tell them everything. He said, "If it were important, I would tell you."
Ron continued to stare at him until he sighed. "I guess I will just have to trust you, Harry. Just don't do something stupid without me, okay?" he joked. Harry smiled at Ron's ability to lighten any mood.
He silently thanked his friend's understanding and slipped into bed. That night, he dreamed.
Harry yawned and stretched and he smiled about his dream. Throughout the dream, his mind had concentrated on Lily, and he completely disregarded the other man's presence. He looked over to the other beds and saw that not one person was awake yet. He thought about maybe visiting Vivaldi, but then his eyes caught sight of Ron. He felt the same gut wrenching feeling from the day before and decided to forego the visit until his free period. Sighing, he went back to sleep.
When his eyes opened again, they welcomed the sight of a happy-looking Ron. "Harry, come on! Breakfast is going to be over soon!" Harry was still groggy for a few seconds before comprehending Ron's words.
"Are you serious? You should have woken me sooner!" He said, changing as quickly as humanly possible.
Ron laughed, and said, "I thought you would need the sleep, considering your frequent late-night excursions."
Harry laughed too and joked, "Have you been reading the dictionary lately? Or perhaps a thesaurus?"
Ron playfully pushed him and again told him to hurry. In a few more minutes, Harry was messily sporting his robes and other clothes. Ron dragged him to the Great Hall and dropped onto his seat, taking Harry with him. In an instant, they had food piled on their plates. A few girls several seats down looked at the abundance of food in disgust, muttering about "black holes". Both ignored the comments and gratefully dug into their food. Hermione, sitting beside them, also had a disgusted look on her face.
"Could you two please slow down?" she asked, flinching as a piece of bacon narrowly missed her head. She glared at the offending food and threw it back at Ron.
"I didn't shrow tha' a 'ou!" Ron shouted indignantly, between bites.
"Sorry, 'mione," Harry said. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.
"You are both incredibly immature," she said. She finished her toast and looked at her two friends.
"Would you love us otherwise?" Ron asked clearly, reloading his empty plate with more and more food. Harry laughed, and so did Hermione. Unfortunately, he was still chewing, and managed to choke a bit before swallowing what was in his mouth. He grabbed a nearby goblet and tilting his head, downed it.
"That was my juice!" Ron said, taking Harry's and drinking his.
"Hey!"
Both goblets immediately filled themselves, but neither boy noticed. They were too busy fighting. Hermione did not know how, but in a few minutes, the boys had a pumpkin juice-drinking contest. She shook her head as they drank and choked simultaneously. She smiled when other boys started egging them on, cheering and placing bets.
Hermione wondered how this had happened in the space of five minutes.
Severus skipped breakfast and canceled his morning class, saying he had a headache. It was true, though. He had an enormous migraine, and trying to get information into their stupid little brains would certainly not help. He opened the door of his closet to find Vivaldi happily humming a random tune.
He sat down on a soft chair with cream-colored cushions and sighed. He distanced his mind from the throbbing in his skull, and inspected the portrait in front of him. He only realized how a decade in a dusty closet could damage a portrait and its frame. His eyes ensnared the details of the frame, the dull of the wood, and the occasional chipping. He took his eyes off the frame and moved them to the curious ones of Vivaldi.
"Hello," Severus said amiably, or as amiably as Snape could get. Vivaldi gave him a bright smile in return, dismissing Severus's moment of inattention.
"How have you been, Gato?" he asked, pausing his humming to instead pluck at the strings on his violin.
"I have a headache, but other than that, I am fine," he answered, rubbing his temples with one hand.
Vivaldi nodded understandingly. "That is why you are here instead of teaching." He laughed and stopped his plucking. "Severus, that story you told me yesterday…I remember hearing something about it years ago, something about the tape used to record Jugson's arrest. Is it not somewhere here in Hogwarts?"
Severus nodded. "Indeed, it is. Actually, I do not know where it is anymore. I believe James Potter hid it somewhere around the Astronomy Tower."
"Did he now…" Vivaldi said. Severus sent a suspicious glance toward him, but the composer ignored it. "Anyway, let me hear some music. Your headache might go away if you hear something pleasant, instead of the jarring noise that Hogwarts can produce sometimes."
His cello floated to him, to Vivaldi's disapproval. Severus ignored the annoyed glances passing over him and summoned sheet music. He opened the book, a volume with songs well below the level he used to play before he stopped. He played a few notes before breaking into a fast-moving piece, his fingers dancing feverishly up and down the fingerboard. His bow ran across the instrument, expertly pulling the strings back and forth, touching them for only a second. It ran upon two strings at once, creating two harmonious notes in one stroke. In this way, he continued. He hit the occasional discordant double-stop, but furiously kept going. With a deep and final breath, he directed the bow to drag the string into a long, mournful note.
"You played very well, considering," Vivaldi said, obviously impressed. "If only students of today could do that well."
"Yes, well, the students of today are lazy and take everything for granted. Students cannot enjoy anything that is not violent or 'cool'. They cannot concentrate on anything like this for too long, or else their heads explode," he said with a teasing voice underlying complete seriousness.
Vivaldi chuckled at the familiar tone. "Indeed. But, should you find such a student, surely that student is not as useless as the ones you imagine."
Severus adopted a thoughtful look, turning pages in the book of music. "I suppose. Yes. Should I find such a student with enough discipline and enjoyment to learn an instrument to the expertise as say, Lily or myself, then I suppose he or she would not be useless."
He shifted his eyes to the composer and smirked. "I suppose you are thinking of this prodigy whose name I will never know."
Vivaldi looked scandalized, his mouth wide open and his eyebrows creased. "Of course you two will meet! I believe he just does not want you to know of him. I had been giving my student time."
Although Vivaldi probably did not realize it, he revealed even more about his mysterious student. The student was probably not Slytherin, because Severus was quite pleasant, or as pleasant as Snape could be, when it came to his Slytherins. Most Slytherins would jump at the chance to make Severus proud. That narrowed it to all males in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor.
Severus needed to dig deeper. "So has his magic improved?"
"Oh yes! Very much so! I know my student cannot tell as much, but my student's levels are much higher than when I first met him. I can tell," he winked. Severus was sure that Vivaldi only knew the boy's magic levels because he was a portrait. Had Antonio been a real person, Hogwarts would have certainly not told him of the boy's increasing magic. Without urging him, Vivaldi continued. "And my student has a wonderful aptitude for language! He reminds me of a young you."
Severus paused. He remembered himself when he had met Vivaldi. He was not a morally honest person back then. He still wasn't. Severus hoped the protégé was not like him, because one stubborn cynical genius was enough. Sighing, he asked, "In what way does he remind you of me?"
Vivaldi had a pensive look on his face, and he started tapping his index finger on his bottom lip in deep thought. "Well, my student is very talented. At first, my student did not consider having talent. I think my student still does not realize how incredibly talented he is. Like you. My student even looks a bit like you, in some ways. My student is sneaky but incredibly honorable. My student is very much like you, once I think about it."
Severus, hearing Antonio's constant referring to the boy as 'my student', grew annoyed. "Antonio, not to be rude, but I already know 'your student' is a boy. Have you not given him a name?" he asked. He knew Vivaldi would not tell him the student's name if he did not want to be found, but surely Vivaldi had given him a nickname. He gave names to everyone. He gave names to people he liked, to people he did not like, and random people he saw.
Antonio frowned. "You are right, Gato. I have been meeting with him for so long, and yet I still have not given him a name! I really should, but I just cannot think of anything."
Severus was surprised. Vivaldi, at a loss for words? Antonio always had a name for everything, and hearing this made him wonder what his student was like. "If you tell me more about him, I may be able to help you."
Vivaldi shook his head. "Gato, I hope you are not trying to pry information from me. I know how talkative I can be, and I really do not want to lose my student's trust."
"Yes, then I guess it cannot be helped. Well, good luck with 'your student'," Severus said, picking up his cello and bow. When Vivaldi did not respond, Severus played another piece, followed by another and another. He enjoyed Vivaldi's helpful comments and the magical enhancements of the closet to make it acoustic. By the time second period came around, his headache had lessened to a dull pulse rather than skull-cracking thuds.
Right as he was about to leave, a short word from Vivaldi stopped him. "My friend, I have something you will want to see, but I cannot show you."
"Antonio? What is it?"
"Don't ask why, but…are you free tonight?" Severus narrowed his eyes but otherwise had no outward show of suspicion.
"I will see."
Harry and Ron followed Hermione to their first class, but Harry's stomach felt extremely uncomfortable. He laughed when he saw that Ron had the same feeling and facial expression. "Wow, that was crazy," Ron moaned, holding his stomach. Harry silently agreed. He did not trust himself not to throw up if he opened his mouth.
"It's your own fault for drinking so much without stopping," Hermione criticized. Despite her words, she laughed a bit.
"Yeah, but you're supposed to stop us when we do something stupid," Ron said, falling into his seat and groaning.
Hermione rolled her eyes and decided not to remark on the numerous times she had told them to slow down throughout their contest. Harry smirked when Ron groaned again. This was great. His friends seemed casual around him again, and there were no accusations, false or otherwise.
The rest of the day was a careless imitation of a school day, because it seemed all three were happy and energetic at the end of it. Not even Snape, with his scathing comments, could bring them down. Harry visited Vivaldi during his first free period, happy and uncharacteristically giddy. "Hello, Antonio!"
Vivaldi blinked and grinned. "Oh, you seem happy today. Did something happen?"
"Do I need a reason to be happy?" he answered, eagerly taking out his violin. Vivaldi laughed and shook his head, making his white locks fly back and forth. "Of course not!"
Vivaldi observed Harry for a few minutes, until the boy took a second to change music. "A thought occurred to me earlier in the day. Have you noticed a change in your magic? At all?"
Harry looked at him through the corner of his eye and he flipped the book on the stand to a new page. "No, I have not. Why?"
"After all this time, I think your magic would have strengthened…hm. I wonder…"
Harry paused, holding his violin at a lower incline and his bow down. "What?" he asked, bconfused.
"I wonder, if I could help you discover your power. Surely, there is a quiet store within you, and you need to realize it! Come back tonight, and I will find a way to help you," he said, waving the back of his hand toward Harry in a quiet dismissal. Harry blinked and put the violin away. He rarely left the room before he needed to, so this was unexpected and new. However, the composer seemed to be deep in thought, wanting to be left alone. Quietly, he left, and found his friends in the library. They welcomed him heartily, but asked him nothing of where he had been. Out of everything, he felt this was the best they had done for him this year.
Severus came back to his closet that night to an excited composer. Vivaldi was practically bouncing off the edges of his frame, unaware of the scrutiny he received. Severus's attention lingered on the damaged frame and lackluster paint before moving and settling on why Vivaldi was so happy. "Did something happen today?" he asked, putting his expert fingers on the wooden frame.
"I spoke with my student!" he said, practically shouting in enthusiasm. Severus 'hmmed' and scratched at the sliver of wood that was starting to fall off. He frowned at it, and heard Antonio's impatient cough.
Severus raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, ignoring Antonio's questioning glance. "Yes, usually teachers do speak to their students at some point, if at least, to teach them. I had assumed you both had spoken to each other before." Vivaldi laughed at the sarcasm, forgetting Severus's peculiar behavior.
"I spoke with my student about his magic, and he says he has not noticed any change!"
"Yes…?"
"That means that something is blocking his magic! Think about it, Gato. If all the music my student has created has not affected him, the block must be extremely strong. He plays, at least, an hour every day! Why is there a block? Is it even a block? Maybe there is something else inhibiting it. So many questions. I suppose this might make you happy."
Severus sighed. He had no earthly idea how a block on Vivaldi's student would make him happy. However, as a man of intellect, he adored a challenge. He took a chair and regally sat down, staring the composer in the eye. "Do you care to elaborate?"
"I actually think that tonight will be a good night to meet him."
"Indeed?" Severus thought about it. It would satisfy his curiosity, for he had been thinking of the mystery student for the majority of the day since he spoke with Vivaldi in the morning. He was a bit disappointed, only because he didn't have the chance to break the identity of the mystery student himself and had to instead rely on Vivaldi to give him his answers.
"Yes, of course! As soon as possible!"
"Is this why you asked if I was free tonight? Antonio, it is almost ten in the evening, and I will not allow a student to break curfew. Is there any other time, maybe during the day or in the morning?"
"In the morning would be best. But I can have him meet you real late, so no other teachers will find him—"
"No, I will not support the breaking of the rules."
Vivaldi sighed, an unfamiliar action on his part. "Gato, then when can he meet you? I know you make students serve detentions until curfew every day this week, as you do every week, and my student is busy this weekend. His free periods do not coincide with any of your breaks!"
If this conversation continued in this fashion, Severus thought that he would not need to meet Vivaldi's student to know who he was. Vivaldi had given him an obvious clue, ruling out half of the student body. Coupled with the fact that it was not a Slytherin boy, it narrowed considerably. He needed more time to discover the student's identity, without the composer's help. Severus was quite sure that although Vivaldi's mindless clues were helpful, he could solve this on his own. Thinking this, he glanced once again at the derelict condition of the frame and the colors inside. "Antonio, how about this: I will meet him next week. I can cancel all detentions on Monday."
Vivaldi didn't seem happy about it, but accepted the proposition. "It will do—"
"However, I am quite sure that your student can survive without you for a few days."
"What?" Antonio asked, abandoning any manners he might have had. "Why would he have to?"
"Ten years in a dirty, dusty closet has not done anything good for your frame or your colors. Tonight, I am dropping you off at a man known for restoring priceless masterpieces. You are no less," he said, picking Vivaldi's portrait off the wall against his protests.
"My student!"
"Can wait, I am quite sure. Now, you'll be back by the end of the week. Probably."
When Harry went to the Room that night, he was surprised to find a blank wall where a portrait usually hung. He swiveled around the room, looking for Vivaldi's portrait. He frowned, and thought of needing the composer now. He grinned when he saw a framed picture appeared on the blank wall. "Vivaldi! Where were you?" he asked, looking at the portrait. It continued to stare ahead, not answering. He paused for a second, looking at the picture critically. "What is this?" he asked no one, putting a finger on the portrait.
"Vivaldi?" Harry started to worry. "Hey! What's going on?" he looked at the medium, and saw no paint. Even the frame was different, this being a light-colored wood of meager quality. The actual picture seemed a print copy, like a photograph…but even wizarding photographs spoke! Over the next hour, he tried different things, from asking the room (several times) for Vivaldi, to leaving the room and coming back seconds later to find the printed copy. He eventually gave up, not practicing at all.
Once outrageous theories started circulating through his troubled mind, he could not concentrate on the notes. The week continued in the same way, Harry checking the room every chance he could, only playing for a few minutes before the worry for Vivaldi set in.
At the end of the week, Harry was thankful and surprised to find Vivaldi at his old place in the room. The unexpected absence had unnerved him so very much, and he was a little angry that he had no forewarning. He was also wondering what happened, and whether he should be worried about the portrait's wellbeing. Harry stood in the doorway for a few minutes in silent annoyance before deciding that, even though he didn't want to sound impatient, waiting for Vivaldi to say something was too boring. He opened the violin case, unzipping and unbuttoning in fast jerky movements, but before he could pick up his violin, Vivaldi interrupted him. "How you do you go around the school without being seen?" he asked curiously. Harry supposed Vivaldi knew how annoyed he was, so swept his anger to the side to focus on the composer's curious question instead.
"I have a cloak that makes me invisible, and a map that shows everyone in the castle," Harry said without caution.
Vivaldi looked thoughtful before asking to see the map. Harry took the map, a constant companion, and said the necessary words to make it reveal the castle. When it unfurled, Antonio gasped quietly.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, looking at the map critically. Nothing seemed worthy of Vivaldi's surprise.
Vivaldi merely brushed it off. "Never mind, continue playing." He was obviously still interested, because he was still looking at the map, now on a desk that had appeared, with a thoughtful face.
After a few fast sloppy, etudes, Antonio impatiently told him to stop. "Why?" Harry asked. The command from Vivaldi was not so impatient, as it was anxious, so he supposed it did not have to do with why his notes and rhythm were so inaccurate and his tone deafeningly amateurish.
"Just come here," he answered, not explaining himself further. Harry shrugged and gently put the violin in its case. He walked over to Vivaldi, noticing the bareness of the previously cluttered room.
"Did something happen?" Harry asked, wondering what could have set him off. Vivaldi shook his head, and looked up at Harry through the corner of his eye. Antonio wrung his hands fretfully around his frilly sleeves, making them wrinkled beyond the repair of muggle means. His eye twitched again toward Harry, and he sighed. Harry approached cautiously, wondering what had happened to make Vivaldi, this Vivaldi, so nerve-wrecked.
"Harry, I want to help you, but I cannot help you myself. May I ask for your assistance?" he asked, the perfect picture of helplessness with a tinge of excitement. Harry bit his own lip in apprehension. What could the task be? What did Vivaldi think could help Harry?
"You see, you have this map, and I must ask that you leave it here, only for tonight. You will have it tomorrow, I promise. You can even clear it, to make sure no one who comes into the room will use it." Harry looked at him, worried.
He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Do you need it?" He asked.
Vivaldi paused, as if carefully choosing and picking his words. "I—Harry, I need you to find something for me, because there are no portraits there, and I have no means of getting there anyway. Go to the Astronomy Tower, and there you will find what you need."
Harry started nodding, taking in every word. "But why do I need to leave my map?" He asked. After all, going around at night, especially to the Astronomy Tower, where teachers particularly patrolled looking for snogging teenagers, was like a suicide mission to him without his map to warn him of other people.
"The map will interfere. Trust me on this, Harry. You leave the map to find what you need."
Harry thought of how ludicrous the idea sounded. However, he could tell how incredibly fretful Vivaldi acted, and did not want to make his worried condition any worse. Vivaldi seemed to like the idea that Harry would have to relinquish the map as much as Harry himself did. So, with a sigh, he cleared the map and laid it on the table.
"So…I'll be back tomorrow for the map," he said, with a small smile. He didn't want Vivaldi to feel guilty at all. Vivaldi breathed a small sigh of relief and Harry's smile widened when he saw how much lighter the portrait's subject seemed to be. He didn't feel like spoiling it to ask why he had been missing for more than a week, so he walked away with his unanswered questions. He found he didn't mind.
That same night, Harry nervously scouted the area around, wondering for the umpteenth time why he had not asked his friends to come with him. Sure, he did not want them in trouble, but he also did not want to do this alone. He growled when he remembered why he was there in the first place.
He crept around a corner, making sure there was no one there. Assuring himself, he stepped away from the wall and walked more openly with his cloak draped closely on him. He tried to walk quietly, but Harry could swear he could hear every echoing step against the stone floor.
He was on one of the higher floors, far above a quick escape route to Gryffindor tower. Harry was thinking about giving up. It was a stupid idea in the first place. He remembered that Vivaldi never specifically told him what to look for, and when he went back to ask him, the composer was gone. He even tried to remember the alternate route Vivaldi once told him of, but he could not remember it at all. He ended up wandering the Astronomy Tower, dodging couples and teachers looking for couples.
Harry started to wonder how the map could be an impediment. Was there a person that Vivaldi did not want him to meet, if Harry had seen the name on the map? Surely, if Pettigrew or something like that showed up, Harry would instantly go there to attack the person. Or maybe there was someone who Vivaldi wanted him to meet, that Harry would not usually want to meet.
He dodged another couple, stunned when he saw a Gryffindor scarf on the floor of the girl, and a Malfoy practically eating her face. He had heard rumors of Draco's talent with the ladies, but had never seen it firsthand. He could feel himself blush for finding such a scene worthy of major controversy, and moved on, desperate to leave as soon as possible. If he at least went through the entire tower, he could honestly tell Vivaldi that he had tried his best. He finally reached the top, and started heading down.
Relieved that he could go back now, he was too shocked to do anything when his cloak was pulled completely off his head.
Severus Snape had infinite patience when he called for it, which was mostly never. After placing the new, clean and grime-free portrait on the wall, Vivaldi would not say a word. Severus even apologized. He apologized! Severus Snape never apologizes! He cursed Vivaldi for being a stubborn mule, childish as any first year. He was an immature ten-year-old in the body of a man, at least twenty-five.
With his slightly annoyed thoughts, he flew through the halls in his cat form, just to make sure no one would notice him. It was significantly easier to run through the halls quietly as a cat than a human. Once he reached the base of the tower, he slowed down, taking the chance to find anyone in the wrong. He would enjoy this night, even if he spent most of it looking for something that might not even be there.
He caught two pairs snogging already, and he felt happier, or least less annoyed, than before. Each person caught lost twenty points and he gave each a detention with Filch to make it worse. He slunk through the corridors, a small black shadow beneath the torchlights.
Even though the light of the torches lit the corridors, his lithe form was invisible to mortal eyes under the shadows. He pawed across the stone, growing bored with each minute that passed. He felt a growl in his throat when he saw Draco, his godson, consorting with a Gryffindor. House pride on the side, Severus knew this was dangerous. He could not just leave them be, but he also could not take points from his own great house. He would have to confront Draco, because, thinking back on other times, this was not the first time he found the boy snogging in the Astronomy Tower. Last time, it was a seventh year Ravenclaw who he found crying during his class the next day. He had little sympathy for her, because most girls knew how much of a player Draco loved to be.
He transformed and made sure his boots made enough noise to scare the teenagers away. He heard gasps and the rustle of cloaks. "Draco—"
"Shut up!"
And with that, he changed into his cat form to see them scurrying off to their respective dorms. Satisfied with that outcome, he continued his usual route, pausing before he reached the top. He heard a rustle, a quiet, sneaky rustle. It, in no way, resembled the rustle of Draco's cloak. He couldn't be completely sure, and he hoped Draco had not come back for something. Severus did not fancy having to lecture his godson, but really! The boy was so careless these days.
He paused when he heard the rustle, seemingly by his ear. He turned abruptly, but saw nothing. Severus growled low in his throat. Potter! And changing into his human form for the second, and hopefully last, time that day, grabbed that dratted invisibility cloak right off the shoulders of the little brat.
