In the Cupboard

By HarryDude85

I don't own the characters.

Harry slipped down the staircase, careful not to make a sound. Just because nobody could see him that didn't mean they couldn't hear him.

He quietly entered the common room. It was still rather full. A lot of older students were doing homework around the room and Ron had finally given up playing chess in favor of actually doing some work.

Harry crept toward the portrait hole, knowing that when he opened it, someone will notice. He had to be fast about it.

Harry was up to the portrait now. Taking a deep breath, he quickly pushed it open, jumped out, and pushed it closed. He had thought that he heard someone say, "Did you just see that?" when the portrait closed.

"Hey! Who's there?" asked the Fat Lady, who was searching up and down the hallway for the person who had just opened her, but not finding anyone. Chalking it up to just some kids goofing around with her, she grumbled, "Damn twins."

Not believing his luck, Harry hurried down the corridor and then down the staircase, careful to make sure his feet weren't making any noise. He met a few teachers who were patrolling the corridors, searching for rule breakers, but Harry patiently waited until they were out of sight before continuing.

Finally, Harry had reached the second floor. Now all he had to do was find the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office.

The only problem was there seemed to be about three gargoyles per corridor.

Probably so it's harder to find, Harry concluded. He groaned at the inevitable long stretch of time this was going to take. Harry moved forward to start with the first one. Before he could take one step, however, a voice shouted though the silence, "Who's there!?"

Harry held back his gasp. His loud groan had obviously caught someone's attention. And it just so happened to be the last teacher Harry wanted to find him sneaking around at night.

Snape.

He was probably twenty feet away from Harry. His black eyes swept the corridor, looking for anything unusual.

As Snape moved forward, Harry pressed himself as close as possible to the wall, so that Snape wouldn't run into him.

Snape walked slowly down the corridor. "I know you're here, whoever you are," the professor said. "If you were a ghost or teacher, you would have presented yourself by now, so that means, you are someone who doesn't belong." Snape smiled a cruel smile. "And that's just perfect for me."

"Homenum Revelio," said Snape, holding up his wand. Its tip glowed red and Snape's smile grew wider.

"So, are you wearing something you shouldn't be, child?" said Snape, moving slowly towards Harry. "That can be simply rectified." Harry didn't know how, but Snape knew where he was. He guessed it had to do with that spell Snape cast. "Do you know of the Summoning Charm, child?" asked Snape to his powerless victim. He was purposely moving as slow as possible, so savor this moment. "It has the power to take anything I summon, whether it's mine or anyone else's, and give it to me. So, if you are wearing an Invisibility Cloak, like your dratted father wore, Potter," Harry had to bite his lips in order to keep from gasping, "it will be mine. As, of course, will you." Snape was now standing in front of Harry, about ten feet away.

Snape once again raised his wand and, with a victorious grin on his face, said "accio cloak."

Harry gripped his cloak as hard as possible, but it wasn't necessary. Nothing happened. The cloak didn't even flutter.

Snape looked seriously confused. "Accio invisibility cloak!" he tried again.

Still nothing.

Enraged, he tried one more time. "Accio Harry Potter's invisibility cloak."

It was like Harry wasn't even there. But now both men were extremely confused.

Having enough of this, Snape moved forward, hand outstretched, was about a foot away from touching the cloak and –

"Looky, looky. I've got a Snapey!" Peeves the poltergeist shot out of the wall directly above Harry.

"Peeves!" shouted Snape. "What are you doing here!?"

"I was just leaving sweet old Professor Burbage a nice surprise on her chair, oh severe Severus," cackled Peeves. "And I was in there hearing you shout so mean like at dear, little Harry Potty. Such mean things you were saying to."

Snape looked shocked.

"You mean," he gulped, "you were behind the wall the whole time?" Realization was dawning on his face. He kept looking from his wand, to Peeves, to the spot where Harry was.

"Yep! I was, Snape. Snape. Severus Snape. Snape. Snape. Severus Snape." Peeves began singing a made up tune, bobbing his head from side to side.

In the confusion, Harry slowly and quietly slid to the floor, trying to get as much space between him and the angry Potions professor as possible.

Just in time, too, because Snape shot his hand out to where Harry's head was seconds earlier.

Finding nothing but wall, Snape must have realized what a mistake he had made.

"…Severus Snape."

"Shut up!" shouted Snape.

"Severus?" a quiet yet firm voice said from the end of the hall. All three beings there turned too see Albus Dumbledore appear from his doorway, next to a stone gargoyle.

Well, Harry thought amused, not being able to help himself. That solves that.

"Dumbledore!" sang Peeves, throwing his arms up in mock surprise. He seemed absolutely delighted at the surprise newcomer. "Snape. Snape. Severus Snape. Dumbledore!"

"Headmaster!" said Snape. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I just thought I found Harry Potter out of bed. But it turned out to be only Peeves."

"Snape. Harry. Snape. Harry. Snape. Harry. Snape. Harry." Peeves was now using his hands as some kind of puppets moving back in forth as if arguing with each other

"That's enough Peeves," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Dumbledore!" Peeves shouted again, arms in the air. He gave the two teachers raspberries before flying off, still singing his song

"Do you still think that Harry is here, Severus," asked Dumbledore, giving him a piercing stare.

"No, headmaster, I don't" said Snape, as if every word was causing him pain.

"Then you should go off to bed. It's getting rather late," said Dumbledore with a warm smile.

Snape nodded, bade Dumbledore a goodnight, and walked out of sight.

And Harry, despite his anger at Dumbledore, couldn't help but be grateful for the headmaster for his unintentional help. But his relief turned to panic again as Dumbledore, tearing his gaze away from the staircase Snape just climbed, turned to Harry and said, "You can take that remarkable cloak off now, Harry. He's gone."

Harry knew that being caught by the headmaster was much worse than being caught by a teacher, no matter how angry they may be, but Harry couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't be in trouble now. He didn't know what made him feel that way. Maybe it was the twinkle of amusement in Dumbledore's eyes behind his half-moon glasses or his wide, sincere and friendly smile.

Harry didn't know what it was, but he did take off the cloak.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "How did you know I was here? Snape thought I was Peeves."

"I know how useful Peeves can be," said Dumbledore. "He may be rather overbearing, but he may once in a while be of benefit. Was he not now?"

"Yes, sir he was," said a smiling Harry.

"And, if I can have your trust you won't tell anyone this," said Dumbledore, "he can come up with some catchy and amusing tunes." He began humming the song Peeves had just made up, tapping his foot as it went along.

Harry started to laugh, and put his hands in his pockets to tap his foot along with the headmaster, but when his hands brushed the letter and Pettigrew card, the reason all of this took place, why he was down here so late, and why he wanted to see Dumbledore in the first place all came rushing back to him along with his anger.

"Sir," said Harry, with a little more force than any student, much less a first year that has only been at the school for a week, should have when addressing the headmaster.

"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore. The twinkle was still in his eyes and the smile was on his face, but he seemed to have noticed the tone of his student's voice.

"I was actually on my way to see you, when Snape caught me," said Harry.

"I see," said Dumbledore. He gestured Harry toward the gargoyle that had slid in front of Dumbledore's door. "Why don't we continue this in my office, Harry?"

Harry followed Dumbledore to the gargoyle, to which Dumbledore said "sugar quill." The gargoyle jumped to the side revealing a wall which then split in two. Harry followed Dumbledore onto a spiral staircase which began to rise like an escalator. When they reached the end, Harry saw a gleaming oak door, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

Dumbledore opened the door and gestured Harry inside. Harry entered.

Dumbledore's office was a large and beautiful circular room. Numerous silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. Covering the walls were portraits of old witches and wizards, all of them sleeping soundly. There was an enormous, claw-footed desk in the middle of the room and sitting on a shelf behind the desk was the Sorting Hat.

"Do you wish for a seat, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, indicating a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Harry took it. He noticed, as Dumbledore fiddled around with something, that next to Dumbledore's desk was a perch, and on that perch was a bird.

It was a beautiful red and gold bird, with plumes of feathers all over it and long gold tail feathers. The bird was staring at Harry unblinkingly.

"I see you have met Fawkes," said Dumbledore as he sat down at his desk.

"Fawkes?"

"Fawkes is my phoenix, Harry," said Dumbledore. He very gently pet Fawkes head. "Phoenix's are very loyal, Harry. Fiercely loyal. They have tremendous strength, their tears have healing powers, and produce heavenly music that can reach into the souls of the darkest men."

"But," added Dumbledore, looking straight at Harry, "I don't think you sought me out at this late hour and incurred the wrath of my potions professor just to discuss my pets, did you Harry?"

When Harry shook his head, Dumbledore said, "Then, my boy, why don't you share with me what is on your mind."

Harry wanted to jump into some kind of furious tirade, demanding Dumbledore answer all of his questions here and now, but he didn't think that was the best approach.

So instead, while still managing to sound serious, Harry said, "Sir, I have a few very important questions I need to ask. They have been bugging me for sometime and I think, no, I know that you are the only one who can answer me."

"Ask away," said Dumbledore calmly, although his stare, while still full of that curious twinkle, was focused hard on Harry.

"Well," Harry began. He had intended to ask one question at a time, but before he could stop himself, he was asking every thing that had been bugging him for a while. "I think I deserve an answer as to why I had to live with the Dursley's all my life. I know that they're my family and everything, but it's clear they can't stand me. And you can't say that you didn't know about there hatred and mistreatment of me, because it said on my Hogwarts envelope and in the letter that you wrote that you knew I was living in a cupboard. A cupboard! How could you let them treat me like that? And why didn't you tell me the truth about Vol – I mean, You-Know-Who and my parents? You could have told me in the letter and let me know why people would gawk at me all over Diagon Alley. And you knew that was going to happen, because you sent me that scar-covering tape. And why did my scar burn in Professor Quirrell's classroom? It never happened before, but one week in Hogwarts and it's all of a sudden felt like some one was sticking fire onto it. Who were Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black and did they really know my dad, and if they did, why did Sirius become a traitor? I really have to know this. I have the right to know, Professor."

During this long string of questions, Dumbledore's reaction did not change nor did he try to interrupt him. He just sat there with his elbows resting on his chair, hands together, his blue eyes peering at Harry from over his long fingers.

There was no answer for a few seconds. Then, Dumbledore said, "Before I answer your many natural questions Harry, and yes I certainly have every intention to answer them." he added when he saw Harry's shocked face. Harry clearly didn't expect Dumbledore to take that kind of questioning from a student this calmly. "Let me begin by first instructing you, for this is a school after all." The corner of Dumbledore's mouth raised a little, hoping Harry might follow suit, but he soon realized that wasn't going to happen and moved on.

"In the middle of your questioning, you referred to the murderer of your parents as 'You-Know-Who'. I realize that you were initially going to call him by the name he chose for himself, but you changed it in mid word, in order to spare my feelings. And while I admire your thoughts greatly, let me say that for future reference, don't be afraid to call him by what he truly is: Voldemort. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"Wait," said Harry. "You just said there, to call Voldemort 'by the name he chose for himself'. Was 'Voldemort' not his real name?"

Dumbledore smiled again. "Caught that, did you? Good for you? No, Voldemort is not the name he had gone by all his life. For the first 15 or 16 years of his life he went by the name he was christened with at birth, Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Now, since we have gotten that aspect out of the way, I think you have just asked some very intriguing questions to which you want the answers to. Am I right?" said Dumbledore.

"Yes," said Harry, fighting to keep his eyes from rolling. He wasn't in the mood for Dumbledore's antics. "You're right sir."

"Well, I say the fairest way to go would be to start from the beginning."

Harry leaned forward in his chair with keen interest.

"You asked me why I left you with your aunt and uncle. Why not give you to another wizarding family? They would have been honored to have you and to raise you as a son. You see, it was because of your mother, Harry."

"My mother?" repeated Harry.

"Your mother, Harry. On the night your parents were murdered, Voldemort arrived at your house, he killed your father and then moved on to you and your mother. And then he did something he had never done before, Harry."

"What did he do?" asked Harry.

"He offered her life," said Dumbledore. "He told her that he would let her live if she allowed him to kill you."

"He wanted to kill me?" a bewildered Harry asked.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. But before Harry could ask why, Dumbledore had continued. "When Lily refused to step aside, Voldemort killed her. She sacrificed herself for you Harry. And in doing so, made sure that no curse or spell from Voldemort or his followers would ever be able to do you harm."

"So when Voldemort tried to kill me," said Harry, "the curse rebounded off of me and struck him."

"Yes. That is what happened," said Dumbledore.

"But what does that have to do with the Dursley's," asked Harry.

"I am getting to that Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "I am getting to that."

"Now, as I said before, why not give you to another wizarding family? They would have protected you and raised you just fine. But, you see Harry, I was concerned for your safety. I was probably the only wizards at the time who knew that you were in more danger than anyone in the country. I knew when I placed you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep, that even though Voldemort had fallen hours before hand, that his followers, some of whom were as powerful and ruthless as he was, were still at large. And I knew Voldemort. I knew he wasn't gone for good and that one day he would be back. When that day will come, only time will tell."

"He isn't dead?" asked Harry. "But how?"

"That I do not know Harry," said Dumbledore.

"That how do you know he's still alive," asked Harry.

"Because when I went to your house after your parents had been murdered and you had been taken to safety, Voldemort's body was not there. No other dark wizard had been there to claim it so it wasn't stolen. It just wasn't there. No, my guess is that when his curse rebounded off of you, Harry, his body was destroyed and he was just reduced to his soul."

"Like a ghost?" asked Harry.

"No, not like a ghost. A ghost is an imprint of an individual who wished not to die when there time came. He or she has everything one needs to survive, other than a body. A soul, all by itself with no body, cannot do anything other than exist and move."

Harry's mind was moving a mile a minute, trying to absorb everything he was being told. "But sir, the Dursley's."

"Yes, we keep getting sidetracked off that, don't we," chuckled Dumbledore. "Well, as I have just told you Harry, I knew that one day Voldemort would return. I don't know when it will happen. Maybe in ten years. Maybe in twenty or fifty years. All I knew was that I needed to protect you for when that happened."

"And so, I sent you to live in the one place where you would be absolutely safe from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Death Eaters is the name of his followers, Harry," Dumbledore added.

Harry ignored that last part. "You wanted to protect me, so you sent me to a bunch of muggles who hate me?" Harry couldn't believe that.

"When Voldemort killed your mother, he created a bond between you and her that he is unable to break," said Dumbledore. "This bond not only extends to your mother, but to anybody who shares her blood."

"You mean Aunt Petunia?" asked a shocked Harry.

"Yes. I mean your mother's sister," said Dumbledore. "When she took you in –"

"She doesn't care about me," cut Harry. "She doesn't give a damn about me."

"She may have taken you grudgingly, unwillingly, and with great regret, but she took you none-the-less," said Dumbledore. "And when she accepted you into her family, she sealed the bond that your mother created. As long as you can call home the place in which your mother's blood dwells neither Voldemort nor his supporters can touch you there."

"Okay," said Harry, one of his questions answered. "But that still doesn't explain why you let them treat me the way they did. How you knew I was being used as a slave and not do anything. You obviously have a lot of power. Why didn't you tell them to treat me better or something? Why didn't you help me?"

Dumbledore now actually looked ashamed. "I am truly sorry Harry. By putting you where I did, I knew that you would be abused and mistreated. I knew that you would suffer ten years of torment and no reason of mine will ever make up for it."

"Well try," said Harry hotly, not really caring if he was being rude at the moment.

Dumbledore looked at Harry gravely. "Yes, I knew that your family was not treating you the way I had hoped. I knew that your mother and her sister had had a falling out a few years before you were born. But I thought that after learning of her sister's death and of your dependence on her, your aunt would overlook whatever meaningless argument the two sisters had. I was mistaken."

"It is true, I could have done something to appease the situation," confessed Dumbledore. "I could have met with your aunt and uncle, told them or threatened them into treating you fairly, but I didn't think that a wizard threatening them would make them more likely to accept you. But mostly, I also wanted you completely cut off from the wizarding world until the time was right. Until you received your letter and came to Hogwarts."

"But why? Why did you not want me to know who I am and the truth about Voldemort and my parents," asked Harry. "I would have accepted it. I would have loved it."

"I'm sure you would have," said Dumbledore. "But I was trying to protect you."

"From what? Voldemort?" asked a confused Harry, wondering how Voldemort could possibly be involved with this.

"No, Harry. Not Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "I was trying to save you from yourself."

That was the last thing Harry had expected Dumbledore to say.

"You were trying to save me, from me," repeated a flabbergasted Harry. "What does that even mean?"

Dumbledore sighed. He stood up from his desk and walked over to his window overlooking what Harry knew to be the Quidditch Pitch. He looked out at the night's sky before saying, in a much more serious voice than he had been previously using, without looking at Harry, "I am going to tell you a story Harry. This will be a rather frightening story, much more so than any story that should be told to an eleven year old. It is a very important story and will, I hope, satisfactorily answer your reasonable questions. I ask only that you do not interrupt me until I am finished. After which, if you have any more questions, I will be more than delighted to answer them. Do you agree to this Harry?" Dumbledore turned his gaze away from the sky and looked at Harry.

Harry quietly gulped and nodded, noticing that every painting on the wall that had been fast asleep five minutes ago was now wide awake, paying rapt attention to the conversation.

"This story goes back a long time Harry," began Dumbledore, his attention now back out the window. "Long before either of us, or any of the people we hold dear, were even thought of.

"It begins here, at Hogwarts. Or, to be more precise, before Hogwarts. Four of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever known gathered together with the goal of teaching children how to do magic. This was a time of much muggle persecution, so the four decided to build the school somewhere safe and away.

"The four were vastly different as it was possible. There was the beautiful and smartest of the four, Rowena Ravenclaw. The most noble and friendliest was Helga Hufflepuff. Godric Gryffindor was the bravest and strongest, while Salazar Slytherin was the most cunning and ambitious. But while their differences separated them, the also united them, for they were able to learn about their own flaws and failures from the successes and different personalities from the other three. These four saw that the world needed a place to allow there young to learn and grow away from there protective parents.

"So they started Hogwarts and trained their own selected students. These chosen students would soon become the first to separate into the houses that divides Hogwarts today.

"For the first decade or so, everything was fine. But then Slytherin, always the most aggressive and picky of the four started to become more selective of the students that came to Hogwarts. He wanted only those of wizarding families to be taught and let the muggleborns fend for themselves.

"But the other founders did not agree with Slytherin's views. After a massive fight between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Slytherin left the school.

"And so it began. Every Slytherin house from that point forward has been full of students who fully believe the "Pureblood is superior" idea. And since Gryffindor's, Ravenclaw's, and Hufflepuff's on whole do not agree with this theory, there has always been a major rift between the four houses.

"While that it is true that over the centuries numbers of Dark wizards have tried to get their claim of power, they all were rather weak and easily defeated.

"Then, in the summer of 1938, I was assigned to fetch a boy who had been raised in a muggle orphanage. I was only transfiguration teacher at that point and that was one of my duties. The boy was a half-blood, though neither of us knew it at the time.

"My meeting with the boy was… disquieting. He seemed to have some idea of his power already, for he had used it to make things happen at that point. And while most underage children use accidental magic and have no control over what they do with it, Tom was quite different. He had used his magic to hurt his fellow orphans, to steal from them, and to kill animals. Already, at the age of 11, the child proved powerful and dangerous.

"But when he came to Hogwarts he was the perfect student. He was handsome, charming, got on well with the teachers. He even made prefect and Head Boy. But not everything was as my fellow teachers thought they were.

In Tom Riddles fifth year, a girl was killed at Hogwarts. We caught the person who was accused for the death, but everyone could see that it was an accident. The boy was expelled, but nothing more. And while everyone else was convinced, I knew better. I knew, or at least I made a highly educated guess, that Tom was the one actually behind the girls death, and that it was murder, not an accident. But I had no evidence. I could do nothing.

"Many decades passed by, in which Tom Riddle had left Hogwarts and gone deep underground. He learned from and consorted with the very worst of our kind, but when he finally emerged, he was the worst of them.

"Lord Voldemort, he called himself. And with his new power and devoted Death Eaters at his side, he declared open war against the Ministry of Magic, muggleborns and muggles. And while he did despise muggleborns and muggles, getting rid of them was only part of hi mission. He wanted power, pure and simple. He was obsessed with becoming as powerful as possible.

"And so, it was war. While your parents and their friends enjoyed themselves at Hogwarts, Voldemort was on the move. Every year he grew more powerful, wiping out everyone in his way as he went.

"I, as well as the Ministry of course, was working tirelessly against Voldemort. I had set up my own organization dedicated to defeating Voldemort, but it was no use. Voldemort was far too powerful.

"People pleaded with me to stop him. They thought I was their only hope, for I had defeated another powerful dark wizard before and I was the only one whose power could rival Voldemort's. But I knew that even my most powerful charms and enchantments were no match against his. We met in duels, was, but they always ended in draws or with him fleeing. I could not stop him.

Dumbledore was now pacing back-and-forth behind his desk. "So, for ten years, Voldemort cut his way across the country, gathering supporters and killing innocents. He exterminated hundreds of muggles and destroyed dozens of wizarding families that had been around for centuries. Things had never looked bleaker.

"By the time that the 1980's had arrived, the wizarding world had nothing to look forward to but ten more years of a never ending war. For nothing had stopped Voldemort before, what could stop him now?

"And then, he was gone. It was over. The war that had cost thousands of lives, muggles and magic alike, the war that had torn our world apart with fear and suspicion was over and nobody knew why.

"But when word got out that their savior was a one-year old now orphaned boy, the craze had never been greater. People were in the streets praising you, Harry. You had brought hope back to a world that had long since given hope up for lost.

"So when I say that I was saving you from yourself, Harry, I truly mean it. If you were left with a family of wizards who treated you as a hero and not as a son, or I came to you and brought you t this world when you were four or five, I had great fear that it would turn your head. I was worried that you would turn into an arrogant, self-absorbed child. And you may scoff and say that that never would have happened, but a five year old child's mind is shaped much easily than a ten year olds.

"There you have it, Harry," said Dumbledore, who had finally sat down behind his desk again. "Those are my reasons, and the thoughts that made up said reasons. I hope you find them satisfactory."

Harry couldn't say anything. He was to dumbstruck.

When he had left Gryffindor tower, with every intention to shout and get in Dumbledore's face, Harry had no idea that he would be left this speechless.

How come he never thought of it this way? When he had learned about his past, he expected some kind of reaction from the other students, but now that he thought about it, they were only kids. At the time Voldemort had fallen they were only 7 or 8. They had no serious grasp or concept as to what Voldemort's defeat meant. But there parents did.

Harry's mind shot all the way back to Diagon Alley. He had his scar covered so nobody knew who he was, but every time some one saw him, like Tom the bartender or Madam Malkin, Harry could now clearly see the build up of tears in there eyes.

And while that might all seem extreme and not necessary now, if Harry had been five and gotten that reaction just for walking into a building, would it have turned his head?

Dumbledore seemed to have sensed Harry's confusion, for he then said, "I know that I have given you a lot of information, Harry, at right now you are probably wondering what to do with it. So, I shall make a suggestion." Dumbledore took out what looked like a pocket watch and looked at it. "It is getting rather late. And we both need our sleep. So, why don't we put a metaphorical bookmark in our discussion and we shall continue this tomorrow, picking up right where we left off. Does that sound reasonable?"

Before Harry could answer, he let out a large yawn.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. Dumbledore just beamed at him.

"Tiredness is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," said Dumbledore. "But I believe that you have just given me your answer."

"I guess I did," said Harry. He got up and headed for the door. "So I can come back tomorrow?" asked Harry as he grabbed the door handle.

"So you can come back tomorrow," said Dumbledore. "And you might want to slip that cloak on. Good night, Harry."

"I will. Good night sir," said Harry. He left the office.

Well, that was much longer than I imagined it would be. I finally decided to split it into a two night discussion in order to cut it down.

Notice that even though Dumbledore is being honest with Harry that he still is keeping quite about some things. He didn't tell Harry about the piece of soul that attached itself to Harry, even though he described everything else that happened. He's a sly, that Dumbledore.

And let me just say, for those who think I plan a lot of this out, which for the most part I do, but the entire first section with Snape I made up as I went along.

I was sitting there typing when I thought, "Hey maybe Snape should catch him." Then I thought "Why not have him try and summon the cloak, but he can't cause it's a freakin' deathly hallow." Then, just for kicks and to give this chapter some humor, I threw in Peeves doing the Potter Puppet Pals. Cause that's the sort of song Peeves would come up with on his own, don't you think?

Anyway, that's all for now.

Later.