The Spiteful Sorting Hat

Through the trapdoor 2

After dinner, the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. At least, Harry was nervous. Blaise looked as if he hadn't a care in the world. He was busy casting lazy charms at the fireplace, making the flames change color and give off different aromas. Millie had retreated to an armchair not far from them, busily scribbling on a roll of parchment she kept handy for when she felt bored. Harry envied them. He thought about practicing a few more grabs with the snitch, as he would need every ounce of skill he possessed to get past Flitwick's charm tonight, but all he could do was stare at the blue flames conjured by Blaise, trying to be braver than he felt. After all, this was his idea. He had to be the leader.

Miraculously, no one bothered them. A few second year girls giggled and drew closer as Blaise charmed the flames to a rosy pink with a light, flowery scent. But they scooted away again when he flipped them to a sickly green that smelled of boiled cabbage. Harry felt his own stomach roil at the smell and hissed at Blaise, "Will you stop doing that? The changing smells are starting to make me nauseous."

"Oh sorry!" Blaise apologized, "I didn't realize I was doing it."

The flames resumed their normal orange-yellow hue and began to waft the scent of burning wood through the room once again. Blaise leaned his back against the couch he shared with Harry, twiddling his wand between his fingers and betraying the first sign of his own anxiety. They didn't talk. Neither did Millie, but then she had never been much of a talker. It was impossible to know what she was thinking as she distracted herself with drawing.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

Finally, Millie spoke, "Better get the cloak."

Harry reached under his robes and realized with a sinking feeling that the cloak wasn't there. He'd left it in the dormitory, folded neatly in his satchel along with used quills and a few textbooks. He told the others he would grab it, and walked quickly up the stairs. He moved quietly to avoid waking his sleeping roommates, though he was sure he'd never be heard over the sound of Goyle's raucous snoring. He had just pulled out the cloak when his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy, thinking that it was almost as if Hagrid had given him permission to embark on this task, having provided the very thing Harry would use to get past his dog.

As he turned to run back down to the common room, he heard a quiet voice whisper behind him, "Potter?"

Harry's blood turned to ice. He already knew whose voice it was, but still he glanced over his shoulder to see Malfoy sitting up in bed, rubbing his eye sleepily.

"What are you doing?" he asked through a yawn.

"Go back to sleep, Malfoy." Harry hissed through his teeth.

But Malfoy had seen the cloak in Harry's hand. He couldn't possibly know that it was an invisibility cloak, but his eyes grew large all the same. He was suddenly wide awake.

"Are you going out? At this hour? What are you up to?"

"It's none of your business, Malfoy," Harry whispered urgently, certain that at any moment Malfoy's rising volume would wake Crabbe and Goyle, and then he would really be in trouble. "Now go back to sleep."

Harry turned to go and began walking down the stairs, but behind him he could hear Malfoy throwing off his bed-covers.

"I'm coming with you."

"No. You are not."

"If you don't let me come with you then I'll tell my father..."

"You can tell your father where he can stuff it, for all I care!" Harry said angrily, "If you know what's good for you you'll butt out!"