Harry Potter: The Blogger of Hogwarts

I put on the cloak and much to my shock I found I had become invisible! Now this was some powerful magic! Very powerful magic. Probably not the sort of thing you'd just give an eleven year old. Maybe I misjudged Dumbledore. He may be senile and old and have a weird body odor and be obsessed with handing lemon drops to people, but maybe he's not as bad as he appears.

"It would certainly be terrible if you used it to get to mischief," he said, wagging his finger in my face mischievously. "Why, I remember all the things your father used to get up to. Ah, James was a true scallywag. It's truly horrible when good people are taken from us before our time." He looked like he was about to cry for a few seconds, then composed himself. "Well, in any event, I certainly hope we don't see you hanging around the third floor corridor, Harry."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" I pointed out. "Not with this thing."

He stared at me like I'd suddenly started speaking in tongues and I was absolutely terrified I might have lapsed into Parseltongue. But then he laughed uproariously. "Too true, Harry, my boy! Too true." He stared at me unwaveringly, trying his best to get me to meet his eyes. Which I wouldn't. I don't like eye contact. Never have, never will.

"I'm just going to get going…" I stammered and then quickly went into the common room.

Needless to say, if Dumbledore wanted me to use the cloak, I wanted the exact opposite. Giving it away to one of my friends seemed like the best option, but then I'd have to choose which one would get it and that would make the other mad. So I decided on the next best option! Unfortunately, Dumbledore didn't like that option. Not at all.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MAGIC ARE YOU DOING?!" he screamed at me the next day as put a poster on the bulletin board in the Great Hall, announcing that I was raffling off my invisibility cloak, with all the proceeds going to St. Mungo's.

For the life of me, I couldn't understand what got him so upset. "Sir, for the life of me, I can't understand what's got you so upset."

"You cannot just raffle off the invisibility cloak!" Dumbledore shrieked. I was seriously worried he might have a stroke or a heart attack given how upset he was.

"Of course not, sir, my mistake," I said as politely as I could. I still didn't see why, but as much as Dumbledore disturbed me, I wasn't about to let him die, which I really did feel might happen. "If I may, sir, could I please know what rule I broke so I can be sure not to do it again?"

This just seemed to get Dumbledore even angrier. Maybe he felt I was being sarcastic. In his defense, I'm sarcastic, like, all the time, so it was a pretty reasonable assumption. This time I really meant it, though. "It is one of the Deathly Hollows!"

I did not let out a little shriek at that and any rumors to the contrary are just being spread by Malfoy and his ilk; that's my story and I'm sticking to it. "It's deadly?! I feel like I should be told these things!"

By this point, a crowd of teachers and students had assembled around us. Good news for my raffle plans if somehow I managed to persuade Dumbledore to let me go ahead with them. Not that this seemed likely – by this point, it seemed like even odds he'd even leave the room alive. "Mr. Potter, the Deathly Hallows are a myth," McGonagall explained. "Three extraordinary artifacts – the Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak – that if combined, make one the Master of Death."

I laughed uproariously. "The Master of Death! Oh, that's a good one. Professor McGonagall, are there any rules against me raffling off the cloak?"

She pursed her lips as if she'd eaten something sour. "Not as such, Mr. Potter, but I regard it as extraordinary crass to just raffle off an heirloom that belonged to your father and has been in the family for centuries."

My jaw dropped open. How was I supposed to have known that? "Now, see, headmaster, you should have led with that instead of ranting about fairytales." I tore down the poster. McGonagall was right, of course. I wasn't about to give away basically the only tangible link I had to my dad. "Sorry, folks. Raffle's off."

Everyone trudged away, disappointed. Dumbledore grabbed my arm. "Who are you?!" he screamed, fear and confusion lining his features. "What do you want? Why are you taunting me like this? Why do you CONFOUND me so?!"

"In order, Harry Potter, fish and chips shop, I didn't mean to, and I suspect you have mental problems," I said glibly, counting the points on my fingers as I went.

Dumbledore basically frog-marched me out of the hall and over to an empty classroom. "Someone get Professor Sinistra!" I shouted at McGonagall as I went past her. She nodded at me.

.....

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