The office was dark and shadowed, the candles extinguished, and the curtains drawn - the only light came from the far back of the office where Harry knew Dumbledore’s chambers were. He had been about to pull the cloak from over his head, when the sound of soft snoring drifted into his ears: the portraits. He hadn’t even considered them. He inched cautiously into the room and peered up at the portraits on the wall and found all of them asleep, snoring softly with their heads on their shoulders. Keeping the cloak on sounded like a good idea - the last thing he needed was for them to rat him out.