Only muffled shouts could be heard underneath the tightly wrapped, jet black cloak, just above which Ron Weasley's wide eyes bore an expression of sheer terror. Panic took him, and as he writhed the golden braids tightened, and within a minute his face was turning an off-putting shade of blue.
Harry, at this point genuinely curious, spoke first.
"Excuse me, um…" He paused, not sure how to continue. "Excuse me, Cloak?"
The garment, which had been shifting in measured movement to keep tight constraint over Ron's throat and jaw, suddenly halted altogether.
"Thank you, er, Cloak. That was brilliant, actually. But would you mind releasing him so that we may hear his answer?"
At this, the impossibly black cloak fell reluctantly from Ron's shoulders, and (were it possible, with flourish) tumbled about as if stirred by a strong breeze toward Harry. A moment later, the cloak was clasped about him, clinging tightly to his shoulders. It's hem stirred with dangerous energy.
Ron, struck silent and for a moment befuddled altogether, suddenly remembered the chains, the wand shoved into his right cheek, and the witch to whom it belonged.
"Fuck." He exclaimed. "Bloody fucking hell. Please, Luna, don't kill me."
He gathered himself.
"It's me. It's Ron. I was just, you know, sort of showing off."
The shared sense of confusion sat heavy upon the room, and they all looked at him with furrowed brow.
"Shit. Okay, listen. I've been practicing, is all. I've been reading and practicing basically nonstop since Harry lent me that book. And I think I've got a knack for it. Er, wandless, non-verbal magic. You know, casting without words or wand?"
He hovered there, desperate, the last bit of color draining slowly from his face.
A toothy grin washed over Harry's features.
"Of course it's Ronniekins." Fred spoke casually.
George didn't miss a beat. "Who else could find himself in a mess like this?"
Luna narrowed her eyes, whispered in a dialect no one understood, and for a moment seemed to be reading Ron's face. Finally, she dropped her wand, returned it behind her right ear, pulled her arms behind her and bobbed on the balls of her feet. She returned her gaze to his panic-stricken eyes, and smiled warmly.
"Ron, I'm so proud of you."
At this, the golden braids relaxed, and Ron fell to the floor in a tumbled mess.
They laughed together for a full nine minutes, until suddenly the table shifted under the weight of bowls full of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and collard greens, alongside broad glass pitchers of iced sweet tea. Whatever remained of Ron's embarrassment was washed away by double-fisted portions.
As they pushed emptied plates away and gravitated to the drawing room, Harry shot a curious glance at Ron.
"I'm intrigued, Ron. Wandless, non-verbal magic. I don't know much about it, except that it isn't easy. But you picked it up in a day?"
"Er, well it isn't quite that simple." Ron's face went crimson for a moment, and he ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly. "See, I've been reading this book, which from the start is keen on wandless magic. At the time I was just trying to wrap my mind around it, on the other side of our conversation."
Luna smiled warmly, and he blushed again.
"Half of it I couldn't understand. And I kept thinking that I couldn't do this sort of thing with a million year's effort, right?" At this, a bashful smile broke.
"So I was sitting here, actually right here in this chair, reading about wandless, nonverbal casts. And I couldn't believe it was even possible, at least not for me. But — and I know you won't believe me but I'm not making it up — just then I turned the page and began reading about nonverbal, wandless leviosa."
He smiled. "This is not a joke. I caught some movement in the corner of my eye. Guys, the couch was floating."
And even as incredulous laughter shook them, Ron leveled his gaze, took a breath, and smirked. Suddenly the couch, upon which sat Harry, Hermione, and Luna, lifted four feet in the air.
Hermione, caught off guard, lost her composure and, for the briefest moment, squealed.
"Bloody hell." George exclaimed, with wide eyes and parted lips. "Do you know, brother, I think he may be good at this."
"Indeed, brother. I couldn't have called it in a thousand years." Fred's awestruck gaze passed across the room, finally settling on Ron. "Well done, brother. You'll have to teach us how."
Ron, whose shade of crimson darkened slightly, awaited a punch line that didn't come. Too late, he responded. "Oh. Yeah, of course."
And Harry, who knew his best mate better than anyone, couldn't have been happier.