Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to

bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains

of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and

pulled the cloak out from under it.

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 moonlight

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

common 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

ping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the

rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters

spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no

title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly

like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe

he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering

was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there

who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the

floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interestinglooking

book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it

out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it

on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence -- the book

was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and

on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward

and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he

heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside -- stuffing the

shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in

the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him,

and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off

up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He

had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid

attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he

didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor

near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone

was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library

Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was,

Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was

getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied,

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around

the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a

narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right

into him -- the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to

his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding

his brea