Ron Weasley X Reader 1 | A Wild World, A Wad of Wizards, And A Wonderful Weasley

Chapter 30

It wasn't long before the three of us—Harry, Ron, and I—went up to the dorm room for bed. I honestly thought I would pass out right away with how tired I was, but something about Harry's posture was. . .

Well, it was sort of off-putting. I kind of figured something was up with him.

For a moment, I was kind of peeved by how well I knew him, because if I didn't know him well enough to know by his posture when something was up, I'd have been sleeping happily in Seamus's bed.

Ron, however, was living my dream and had started snoring the second he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster bed. Having just met Harry this year, it made sense that he didn't know him quite as well as I did. That fact almost made me proud, even if it was annoying how well I knew him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry leaning over the edge of his bed to grab something. I couldn't see what he was grabbing, but when he glanced up, he saw me.

Then, he climbed out of his bed and popped whatever he was holding over his head. And he was gone.

The invisibility cloak—so that's what had been bugging him. It was our father's. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been thinking about it, too. It was our father's.

His hand poked out of nowhere, extended toward me.

I hadn't touched the cloak yet. That thought suddenly occurred to me. It was weird. I'd be touching something my father had touched. Part of that sounded exciting to me, but it also sort of freaked me out.

He was dead. But that had once been his. A dead man had touched that, had owned it.

Now, it was ours because he was dead.

Death had stolen our father and given us an invisibility cloak instead, like some sort of sick trade.

I wished we could trade it back. An invisibility cloak for a father.

I wondered what he'd used the cloak for. I wondered what Harry wanted to use it for. I wondered what I would use it for.

That was weird, too. The thought of being invisible.

I'm not sure I would've gone for it—not right away, at least—but Harry was holding his hand out for mine and I didn't have the heart to refuse him, even though it all felt a bit odd to me.

This was our father's. Our dad's.

I still hadn't touched it yet.

And then Harry tossed it over my head.

It was sort of like touching my father, in a way. Or it was in my head, at least. He'd touched the cloak and now the cloak was touching me.

I don't know. It was stupid, but it felt special.

Though, I thought it would've felt more special than this. It did feel like something but not quite what I'd imagined.

My dad would hug warmer. He'd hold tighter. He'd have that suffocating sort of hug, I just knew it.

I didn't even care where Harry was pulling me along to or that the Fat Lady had gotten startled by the fact that her door opened with seemingly no one climbing out of it.

I didn't even care that this was breaking about a dozen rules or that Ron would totally be jealous or that Hermione would be infuriated.

All I could think about was my father—or what I imagined him to be like—and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd be disappointed the way I was now with the cloak when I found out what he was truly like.

I wondered if he wouldn't feel as special as he did in my head after I found out how he truly was. I hoped not. I hoped he'd still be as wonderful as I'd dreamed.