THE MIRROR OF ERISED
His father’s . . . this had been his father’s. He let the material
flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the
note had said.
He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the
cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moon-
light and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.
Use it well.
Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was
open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he
stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this,
anywhere, and Filch would never know.
Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something
held him back — his father’s cloak — he felt that this time — the
first time — he wanted to use it alone.
He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the com-
mon room, and climbed through the portrait hole.
“Who’s there?” squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He
walked quickly down the corridor.
Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought.
And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library.
He’d be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out
who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight
around him as he walked.
The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to
see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was
floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm
supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.
The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Step-
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