AUTHOR'S NOTES: The number thirteen has a long history of superstitions attached to it. Lots of people think it's bad luck, going so far as to SKIP the thirteenth floor when numbering the floors in a building. The Knights Templar were wiped out on Friday the 13th back in 1307. There were thirteen people at the Last Supper (and we know how that whole situation turned out for Jesus). The only good thing I can think of that is associated with the number thirteen is the term "a baker's dozen". We all know what bakers make...yummy delicious things like pies, pastries, and doughnuts. Thirteen doughnuts in a box doesn't sound bad to me! Mmmm...
Err...right...I had a point before I started thinking about delicious jelly- and cream-filled treats. The number thirteen is bad luck! THIS is the thirteenth chapter of this particular story! So, I'm going to blame the tardiness of this chapter on the number thirteen. I haven't been able to get back into my writing groove since my accident. Sitting for any length of time is still uncomfortable, so it's tough to sit and power through a chapter like I might have done in the past.
Also, I just couldn't get a handle on this one. I re-wrote the entire chapter three times. This was by far the best of the three. Of the other two, one featured a Hermione/Draco/Hagrid love triangle and the other featured McGonagall in a bikini. *shudder* Who would want to read either one of those?!
In any event, and without further ado, here it is...Chapter 13. Read it and (hopefully) enjoy!
THANKIES: Lots and lots of thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or placed this story (or me) on their alerts. I love getting feedback and I answer all your reviews. Special thanks, as always, to my beta-reader, CutewithAcapital-Q for helping me to make my chapters better...and especially for getting back to me quickly! I really appreciate it.
DISCLAIMER: JKR owns the lot.
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 13
"Reflection Direction"
When Ron Weasley began silently wishing for something…anything…to come along and interrupt the awkward and potentially disastrous moment taking place between himself and Hermione Granger, he never actually expected his wish to be granted.
He certainly never would have expected the wish to be fulfilled in the form of the Hogwarts headmaster, himself.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Hermione gasped, taking a step back from Ron, her cheeks coloring to a deep crimson.
"You're finally back!" Ron exclaimed, unable to hide the relief in his voice.
"Indeed I am, Mr. Weasley," the old wizard replied, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, "I understand – from Professor McGonagall – that you've been rather anxious to speak to me."
"You could say that," Ron said, nodding. He knew he couldn't openly discuss the matter out here in the hall, with Hermione present, but he was on the verge of being desperate to speak to the headmaster.
"Very well, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore answered, nodding his assent, "Come to my office tomorrow night at seven o'clock; I trust the matter we need to discuss can wait until then?"
"I reckon," Ron said, shrugging. He would have preferred going to Dumbledore's office immediately, but if he absolutely had to wait one more day, he could.
"Very well, then," the old wizard said with a smile, "I will bid you good night and allow you to resume your prefect rounds. Ronald…Miss Granger." He nodded to each of them in turn and then proceeded on his way.
"Good night, Professor," Hermione called after the headmaster as he walked down the corridor.
Dumbledore suddenly stopped and turned, a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, "Oh, and Ronald…good luck at the try-outs tomorrow."
"Err…thank you, sir," Ron said, caught off-guard by the professor's well-wishes.
Dumbledore began humming some tune Ron didn't recognize as he resumed his journey down the hallway before turning a corner and disappearing from sight. They watched him go, and once Dumbledore had disappeared from view, Ron turned to face Hermione.
"Let's get back to our patrol, yeah?" he didn't wait for her to respond before he started walking in the direction they'd been heading before their awkward conversation had begun earlier.
Several minutes passed without a single word being spoken between either of them. Hermione was trailing behind him, as Ron's longer legs allowed him to move faster. He didn't bother to slow down for fear of her rehashing their previous conversation. Hermione, however, must have had other plans.
"What do you need to discuss with Professor Dumbledore?" she asked as she started walking faster, trying to catch him up.
"What? Oh…err…nothing," Ron lied, picking up his pace, as if running from the question, even though he knew he couldn't get away from Hermione's curiosity.
"There you go again, being secretive," Hermione huffed, clearly frustrated, "Dumbledore is a very busy man with an important job and monumental responsibilities…he would not just summon you to his office for a chat about nothing."
Ron continued walking at a brisk pace, refusing to acknowledge her statement, since he knew she was completely and totally right; it wasn't about nothing. Tomorrow's meeting with Dumbledore, in Ron's opinion, was about everything. Not that he could tell her that. He just wanted her to drop it. Why couldn't she just drop it?
"So, you're back to ignoring me, then?!" she snapped angrily, "You really are a prat, Ronald Weasley!"
"And you're too bloody nosy for your own good!" he snapped back at her, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her as his temper got the better of him…again, "I don't question you about your personal business, so stop bothering me about mine!"
"I knew this was all just an act," Hermione hissed, glaring at him, "You pretend to be nice to me…pretend that you want to be my friend…but in reality, you're just the same mean, spiteful boy you've always been!"
"And you…you're…you just…ah, bloody buggering Hell!" Ron shouted; not at Hermione, but at the situation he was in. He stepped up and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him, "Look, Hermione, I'd tell you if I could; believe me, it would make things so much easier if I could tell you."
"Then why don't you just tell me?" she squeaked, looking a bit frightened by the way he grabbed her, "I mean, if it would make things easier…"
Things would be so much easier…so much better with Hermione on his side. But even as that thought flitted across his brain, Ron could hear the words spoken by Dumbledore…his Dumbledore…at last year's Leaving Feast.
"Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort."
If he told Hermione, he'd be dragging her into a situation that could very well place her squarely in the path of You-Know-Who. He was there already; the only way out for him was to complete his mission. But Hermione didn't need to be placed in that kind of danger, just to make things easier on him.
"I…I can't tell you, Hermione," Ron said, letting go of her and turning away, "Because sometimes, you've gotta do what's right instead of what's easy. This is one of those times."
"So that's it, then?" Hermione asked quietly, "I'm to just go on about my business normally, and act as though you're not keeping some major secret that somehow involves the school's headmaster?"
"Let's just finish this bloody patrol," he said gruffly, ignoring her question and starting off down the hallway again, "Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and the sooner this is over, the better."
The remainder of the patrol was completed in silence. Ron hated himself for treating Hermione that way, but he couldn't tell her what she wanted to know. The more he talked to her, the more he wanted to reveal everything to her; and that was something he could not afford to do.
Friday dawned grey and cloudy which matched Ron's mood just fine. He was still beating himself up over his treatment of Hermione the night before, and to make matters worse, today he would have to deal with Keeper try-outs after the school-day ended.
The silver lining to the dark cloud that seemed to be hovering over him was that he'd finally get a chance to talk to Dumbledore again; he had much to discuss with the aged wizard. His recent discoveries had Ron convinced that he was very close to completing his mission for Dumbledore and being sent back home.
Once Harry Potter was out from under the spell of Tom Riddle's diary, surely he'd see the light and join up with Dumbledore against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. After all, Harry was a hero…even if this world's Harry didn't know it yet.
When it was all said-and-done, Ron hoped, he would be on his way back home. With any luck, he'd be home before the end of the month. He'd be back in time for the first Hogsmeade visit.
As he made his way down from his dorm he saw the flyer stuck to the notice board, reminding everyone about the day's Keeper tryouts; not that he needed reminding. Of course, considering he expected to be home before the Quidditch season even began, it didn't make much sense for him to try out for the team.
"What's the point?" he thought, exiting through the portrait hole on his way down to breakfast, "On the extreme off-chance that I make the team, I'll only be leaving them in the lurch to find a new Keeper once I'm gone. I'd much rather play for my own team back home."
He had very nearly made up his mind to skip the five o'clock tryouts, when a sobering thought popped into his head: he'd be here during the tryouts on his own world. He'd have to wait an entire year before he got another shot at playing on his house team.
If he tried out here and made the team – despite the odds being stacked against him – at least he would know what it's like to be a Gryffindor Quidditch player. Even if he only got to play part of a season…even if he only got to play one game…it would be better than not playing at all.
As he reached the Great Hall and took his usual spot by himself at the end of the Gryffindor table, Ron made up his mind. Despite everything that was going on, he decided that he would be at the tryouts, and he would do his best to earn a spot on the team. He just hoped his best was good enough.
Ron was so wrapped up in his nervous thoughts about the tryouts that he went through the entire school day in a daze. He was oblivious to the hateful glares of the Slytherins in Potions. He didn't notice the way Professor Umbridge sneered in a falsely perky way at him in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And he had no idea that Hermione hadn't looked his way once the entire day. Before he knew it, the school-day was over and he was slowly trudging toward the Quidditch pitch with his Cleansweep slung over his shoulder.
A fair number of Gryffindors had turned out for the tryout, and Ron felt fairly confident that the chances of him making the team were slim at best. Several students were also sprinkled throughout the bleachers, apparently having nothing better to do with their Friday evening than to watch Angelina Johnson try to find her team a Keeper.
Ron hadn't expected an audience; that just made him even more nervous. Worse still, the rest of the Gryffindor team was there as well…or, rather, most of the team. Fred and George – the team's Beaters – were there, scowling at him, and Angelina's fellow Chasers, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, were present as well. There was no sign, however, of the team's Seeker…What's-His-Name.
"Potential Keepers," Angelina called out, drawing Ron out of his thoughts, "We're going to run through some basic flying drills first, so I can get an idea of your broom-handling ability."
"Or lack thereof," Fred quipped, making George, Katie, and Alicia laugh. This drew an angry glare from Angelina that quelled her team very quickly.
"Once I've put you through your paces," Angelina continued, "You'll each get a turn defending the rings from me and the other Chasers. I'm warning you now…we will not go easy on you."
Ron swallowed nervously. He was absolutely certain he was going to stuff this up.
Angelina blew a whistle and yelled, "Mount your brooms and take off on my signal…go!"
To say that Ron was the best flyer out there would have been a completely farfetched exaggeration of his abilities. However, even Ron could see, despite his poor view of his own self-worth, that he wasn't the worst flyer, either.
Ron was able to take a bit of a break, though he wasn't able to relax, when the time came for each prospective Keeper to take a turn defending the goal hoops. His nerves kept him on edge as he waited for his turn to come.
In almost no time, it seemed, Angelina Johnson was blowing her whistle and yelling Ron's name, signifying that it was now time for him to mount his broom and demonstrate his Keeper ability.
Each of the Chasers took five shots on the rings and it was all Ron could do to stay on his broom the entire time. He failed to stop the first four Quaffles and only just managed to stop the fifth. Ron had never worked so hard in his life as he did trying to stop the remaining ten Quaffles.
When all was said-and-done, Ron let in eight Quaffles, managing to block seven. He felt as though he might vomit when his turn was finally over and he sat on the bench watching the remaining two potential Keepers try out.
He wasn't the best, but again, he wasn't the worst. A fourth year girl – Vicky Frobisher – had managed to block more shots than he had, but only two more. The second and third year Gryffindors who tried out all blocked fewer Quaffles than Ron, so at least he had that going for him.
Half-an-hour later, the tryouts were over. Judging by the performance of the other prospective players, Ron figured it was probably down to a choice between him, Vicky Frobisher, and some seventh year bloke named Geoffrey Hooper, who had blocked the same amount of goals as Ron but was an overall better flyer. Ron knew there was no way he would be made Keeper.
"I want to thank everyone for trying out," Angelina Johnson said once it was all over, "I'm going to talk things over with the rest of the team and make my decision tonight. I'll post the name of Gryffindor's new Keeper on the common room notice board tomorrow morning."
With that, everyone was dismissed and began making their way back to the castle. Ron was exhausted as well as famished. Now that the ordeal was over and his nerves were gone, his appetite came back with a vengeance. He only hoped dinner was still being served.
"You did really well, Ronald."
Ron looked up to see that Luna Lovegood was now walking beside him with a bright smile on her face.
"Thanks, Luna," he replied sullenly, having made peace with the fact that he just wasn't going to be chosen.
"I'm certain you'll make the team," she said, seemingly oblivious to Ron's melancholy state, "No one else was quite so entertaining when they tried out."
"Entertaining?" he asked, looking confused.
"Oh, yes," she said, laughing gaily, "The way you wobbled around and flipped upside-down, acting as though you were going to fall off your broomstick…very funny, Ronald!"
"Yeah, well…" he looked away and scowled. None of that had been intentional; he had almost fallen off his broom…several times.
"When will you find out if you're on the team?" Luna asked as they ascended the steps and passed through the huge double doors into the castle.
"Tomorrow morning," Ron replied, moving through the entrance hall, intent on grabbing something to eat in the Great Hall before his meeting with Dumbledore, "The new Keeper's name will be posted in my common room."
"It's going to be you," Luna said, patting him on the arm, "I just know it."
"Err…thanks, Luna," Ron said, smiling awkwardly.
His smile turned to a scowl, however, when he saw Draco Malfoy swaggering towards them with a smirk on his face and his two goons right behind him.
"Well, well, well, Weaselbee," Malfoy drawled, causing Crabbe and Goyle to already begin chuckling, "Tried out for Keeper, have you?"
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron growled.
"Calm down, Weasel," Malfoy chuckled, "Everyone in Slytherin is rooting for you to be chosen as Keeper. With you guarding the rings, our team will find it even easier to beat Gryffindor for the Cup this year."
The three Slytherins laughed viciously while Ron stood there, seething. Their laughter was only broken up when Luna spoke up.
"Won't it be difficult for your team to win without a Seeker?" the young Ravenclaw asked, looking at Draco unblinkingly, "Or have you found someone to replace Harry Potter?"
"What?" Ron looked more confused than usual when Luna Lovegood spoke.
"Shut up, you…freak!" Malfoy snapped at Luna, "That's none of your business!"
"Harry's not on the team anymore?" Ron asked Luna, ignoring Malfoy and his two troll-like bodyguards.
"Oh, yes," she replied, nodding, "I overheard Cho Chang telling Roger Davies that she heard Harry Potter quit the team after the first Slytherin practice was announced. She was very excited since she always had trouble playing against Harry Potter…I think, perhaps, she's allergic to people who wear glasses."
"That doesn't matter!" Draco yelled, glaring at Luna before turning his angry look towards Ron, "We could still beat your pathetic team, Weasley, with no Seeker, one Beater, and a blind Chaser! Rest assured, we will beat you!"
Before another word could be spoken, Malfoy turned and stormed off, muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle, prompting the two oafish thugs to nod vigorously as they rushed off towards the dungeons.
"I can't believe Harry quit the team," Ron said incredulously as he watched the Slytherins leave, "He loves Quidditch! This just proves that Harry's been possessed."
"Has he?" Luna asked, looking up at Ron with dreamy eyes, "Was he possessed by a Banded-Bottom Greefsnort? They can be quite difficult to get rid of. My father told me about a tribe of goblins near Brighton who had run afoul of a nest of Greefsnorts…the whole tribe wound up drowning when they all started believing they were actually merpeople and attempted to move to a new village underwater."
"Err…" Ron wasn't really sure what to say. He had no idea what a Banded-Bottom Greefsnort was, if it was even something real. He hadn't meant to say out loud what he was thinking about Harry, especially to this strange girl he seemed to keep running into.
"If there's a Greefsnort about, you really should be careful, Ronald," Luna said, sounding completely serious, "They like to lurk in dark corners. But if you keep your fingers in your ears like this," she said, demonstrating by placing her index fingers in her ears, "They can't sneak into your brain and possess you."
"I'll keep that in mind," Ron said, fighting the urge to smirk at her.
"Good," she nodded, with her fingers still in her ears, "I'm going to see if there's any pudding left now…do you want some?"
"Err…no," he said, shaking his head. The truth was he did want something to eat, but it was very nearly time to meet with Dumbledore and he didn't want to be late. "I…erm…I need to take care of something important."
"Alright then. Remember to watch out for Greefsnorts!"
Without another word, Luna turned and skipped off to the Great Hall, fingers still wedged in her ears, leaving Ron standing in the entrance hall shaking his head.
"She really is an odd bird," he thought, making sure that he kept his thoughts to himself this time. He watched Luna until she disappeared into the Great Hall and then he turned and made his way towards the marble staircase. He took the steps two at a time as one thought echoed in his mind, "I really need to talk to Dumbledore."
"Enter, Mr. Weasley."
Ron hadn't even knocked on the door to his office before Dumbledore invited him into the room. He walked in, still carrying his broom and dressed in the clothes he wore for the tryouts. He looked around the office, remembering how it had looked at the end of Second Year when he and Harry were summoned to explain what happened in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Have a seat, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a smile, motioning towards the comfortable-looking chair in front of his desk, "I trust the Keeper tryouts went well?"
"I didn't fall off my broom," Ron said acerbically, sitting in the proffered chair, "So, I suppose that counts as 'going well'."
"You'll do fine, I'm sure," the old wizard said with a twinkle in his eye.
"If I make the team," Ron replied, frowning, "Which is doubtful."
"Nonsense, Ronald," Dumbledore replied with a knowing smile, "I have a very good feeling about you being made Gryffindor's new Keeper."
"Well, if I make the team," Ron quipped, smirking, "Then, maybe you should teach Divination instead of Professor Trelawney."
"I'm glad to see you're maintaining your sense of humor," Dumbledore chuckled. The old wizard then slid a silver dish towards Ron, "Sherbet lemon?"
Ron had been too nervous and anxious about the tryouts to eat dinner, and his stomach was growling fairly loudly. He grabbed two of the small yellow confections out of the dish and popped them in his mouth, "Thanks."
Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgment before popping one of the candies in his own mouth, "Now, Mr. Weasley, would you like to tell me what you needed to discuss?"
"Okay, well, I've been doing my best to keep an eye on Harry over the last few days; of course, I only have a couple of classes with him," Ron began, leaning forward in his chair as he started recounting his activities during the week, "But, from what I've seen, I think Harry's been possessed by Tom Riddle's diary."
"Are you certain?" Dumbledore asked, looking grave.
"Fairly certain, yeah," Ron nodded, "I remember seeing Riddle's diary come into Harry's possession when you showed me the other Ron's memories. Harry started acting weird after that."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers beneath his bearded chin.
"When I saw Harry in class this week," Ron went on, "His eyes flashed red for just a split second. I saw the same thing happen in the memories when Harry first touched the diary. Also, I followed Harry one day after class, and I know for a fact that he's been spending time down in the Chamber of Secrets."
"You followed Mr. Potter into the Chamber of Secrets?" Dumbledore asked, looking concerned.
"No…I was following him at a distance so he wouldn't notice me," Ron explained, "And by the time I reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Harry'd already gone down into the Chamber and the entrance was sealed."
"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in a bathroom?" Dumbledore looked nonplussed, "The castle has been searched countless times over the years, and the Chamber has never been discovered; to think that the entrance has been hiding in someplace as seemingly innocuous as the girls' lavatory is simply astounding."
"I take it Harry didn't tell you where the Chamber was?" Ron asked, "Back when he supposedly killed the basilisk?"
"After his experience down in the Chamber, Mr. Potter claimed the entrance was behind a mirror on the fourth floor and that it had collapsed as he was leaving. I did, however, suspect that he was lying," Dumbledore said, frowning.
"And you didn't think to use Veritaserum on him or something?" Ron asked, shocked that the wizened old headmaster would take a Slytherin at their word.
"We are not in the habit of using such methods on our students, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said gravely, "And since the attacks on the students had stopped, it was agreed to let the matter drop."
Ron thought that seemed a bit stupid, ignoring a massive threat somewhere in the castle just because it was supposedly stopped by one of the students. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time. Fifty-odd years ago, when the Chamber had been opened by Tom Riddle, almost the same thing happened. Once Riddle claimed to have stopped the monster, it was all just sort of swept under the rug and ignored.
"Well, I can tell you for certain that the entrance to the Chamber is hidden in the second floor girls' bathroom; the one Moaning Myrtle likes to haunt," Ron reiterated, "There's a sink with a little snake engraved on the tap…you need to speak Parseltongue to get it to open."
"That does make it difficult to enter," Dumbledore nodded.
"Right, well, hopefully we won't need to enter," Ron replied, "If we can just get our hands on Riddle's diary and stab the bloody book, Harry should be freed from Riddle's control."
Dumbledore arched an eyebrow at Ron, and the redhead got the distinct feeling that the old headmaster wasn't telling him something. "It may not be as simple as you think, Mr. Weasley; however, I do believe that you are correct in your assumption that you must destroy the diary of Tom Riddle."
"Right…now I just need to find it," Ron said, wondering what the old wizard might possibly be keeping from him. Ron got up and started pacing back and forth as he spoke, "He'd want to keep the diary someplace safe, so I think he might be keeping it in his dorm."
"A distinct possibility," Dumbledore replied, nodding.
"I'd have to sneak into the Slytherin dungeons to search for it," Ron said, more thinking out loud than actually speaking to the headmaster, "We used Polyjuice Potion to do it back in Second Year, but it takes a month to brew…and Hermione was the only one of us skilled enough at Potions to do it."
"Miss Granger is, indeed, a uniquely talented young witch," Dumbledore said with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, "Together, you, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger must make quite the formidable team."
"You don't know the half of it," Ron replied quickly, turning to face Dumbledore and shooting him a meaningful look, "I could really use her brains here…"
"Mr. Weasley…Ronald…you know it is imperative that you keep your mission a secret," Dumbledore said sternly, "Enough people already know the delicate nature of your presence here…there is already a danger of the truth being revealed, thereby placing you in harm's way."
"I'm already in harm's way!" Ron exclaimed hotly, waving his hands about frantically, "You already lost one Ron Weasley, remember?"
"Ronald, please calm down," Dumbledore said, his voice soft and soothing, "Need I remind you that this particular Miss Granger is not the one you know. She may not be as trusting and accepting as the one you're used to."
"She's got no reason to trust me!" Ron shot back, "I keep lying to her, don't I?"
"You are deceiving her for the greater good, Ronald."
"That's bollocks!" Ron shouted, "I'm deceiving her because you told me to keep this whole situation quiet; but that hasn't stopped you from telling everybody you meet about it!"
"Mr. Weasley…"
"Snape knows; Professor McGonagall knows…how many more people know the truth?" Ron snapped, "Meanwhile, I've got to keep pretending I'm someone that I'm not; do you have any idea how hard it is to live a lie?!"
"I do have some experience, yes," Dumbledore replied, "Now, please take a seat and calm yourself, Ronald. Professors Snape and McGonagall were told of your situation…as were several other key members of the Order…so that we may better protect you while you are here."
"Like Snape gives a troll's nose-hair about my safety," Ron scoffed, dropping back into his chair heavily.
"I trust Professor Snape with my life, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said sternly, giving Ron a very serious, no-nonsense look.
"Right, but now you're trusting him with my life!" Ron yelled, "He's been making our lives miserable for years!"
"Professor Snape's trustworthiness is not an issue here, Ronald," the old wizard said, his voice still stern, his blue eyes steely, "And I will broach no more discussion about it. I have revealed the truth of your mission only to those people for whom I felt it absolutely necessary: the Weasleys and select members of the Order of the Phoenix. Your mission here is an important one, Ronald, and I think perhaps you should concentrate on that instead of your relationship with Miss Granger."
"And I'm telling you, Professor, in order to complete my mission I'm going to need help," Ron said, doing his best to calm down, "Hermione is cleverer than anybody I know; she's a bloody genius! She'd figure a way for me to get into the Slytherin dungeon in no time."
"I agree the Miss Granger is, as you say, a bloody genius," Dumbledore said, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to tug at his lips, "But I don't think you will need her help to enter the Slytherin dungeon in search of Tom Riddle's diary."
"Right," Ron nodded, "You can just tell Snape to get it for me, since he's in on the whole thing."
Dumbledore frowned again at Ron's continued lack of respect for the Potions Master, "Professor Snape will be busy teaching classes during the day, Mr. Weasley. No, I'm afraid it will be up to you to retrieve the book. However, I do have something that could be of use to you."
Ron gave the headmaster a questioning look. Of course it would have to be him that retrieved the book. Every risk involved in this mission of his would seem to be his and his alone. Still, the old wizard said he had something that could help.
"What is it, Professor?"
Dumbledore stood up and slowly made his way to an antique-looking cabinet. He tapped his wand on the closed door and with an audible click it opened. The aged wizard retrieved a parcel out of the cabinet, closing and locking the door once more with his wand before returning to his desk.
"Several years ago, I borrowed this from a dear friend of mine," Dumbledore explained, "It has very special properties, you see, and I wanted to study it. Unfortunately, my friend died before I could return it to him. I had planned to pass it on to my friend's son when he was old enough; however, extenuating circumstances led me to hold onto it a bit longer…"
"What is it, Professor?" Ron asked again.
The headmaster passed Ron the parcel and when he took it, he couldn't believe his eyes. The material seemed fluid and was a silvery gray as it lay in glittering folds in Ron's arms.
"Bloody, Hell! It's Harry's invisibility cloak!"
AUTHOR'S END NOTES: Well, there ya' go. Chapter 13 is done. I haven't even begun the next chapter yet, so I'm not going to be cocky and say it'll be out in two weeks like it normally should be. Until I get back into my writing groove, I'm afraid the chapters will come when they come. I apologize in advance for any future delay.