«What?»
«I am—I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to—and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup—I'm Quidditch captain, too.
Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
«Do you think this mirror shows the future?»
«How can it? All my family are dead—let me have another look —»
«You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time.»
«You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents.»
«Don't push me —»
A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.
«Quick!»
Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same thing—did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.
«This isn't safe—she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on.»
And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.
The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.
«Want to play chess, Harry?» said Ron.
«No.»
«Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?»
«No... you go...»
«I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight.»
«Why not?»
«I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it—and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?»
«You sound like Hermione.»
«I'm serious, Harry, don't go.»
But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.
That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.
And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.
Except —
«So—back again, Harry?»
Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.
«—I didn't see you, sir.»
«Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,» said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.
«So,» said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, «you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.»
«I didn't know it was called that, Sir.»
«But I expect you've realized by now what it does?»
«It—well—it shows me my family —»
«And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy.»
«How did you know —?»
«I don't need a cloak to become invisible,» said Dumbledore gently. «Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?»
Harry shook his head.
«Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?»
Harry thought. Then he said slowly, «It shows us what we want... whatever we want...»
«Yes and no,» said Dumbledore quietly. «It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.
«The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?»
Harry stood up.
«Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?»
«Obviously, you've just done so,» Dumbledore smiled. «You may ask me one more thing, however.»
«What do you see when you look in the mirror?»
«I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.»
Harry stared.
«One can never have enough socks,» said Dumbledore. «Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.»
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NICOLAS FLAMEL
Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.
«You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad,» said Ron, when Harry told him about these drearns.
Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row («If Filch had caught you!»), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.
They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.
Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.
Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.
«Will you stop messing around!» he yelled. «That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!»
George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.
«Snape's refereeing?» he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. «When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin.»
The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.
«It's not my fault,» said Wood. «We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us.»
Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch...
The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.
«Don't talk to me for a moment,» said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, «I need to concen —» He caught sight of Harry's face. «What's the matter with you? You look terrible.»
Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
«Don't play,» said Hermione at once.
«Say you're ill,» said Ron.
«Pretend to break your leg,» Hermione suggested.
«Really break your leg,» said Ron.
«I can't,» said Harry. «There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all.»
At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.
Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. «What happened?» Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.
«Malfoy,» said Neville shakily. «I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on.»
«Go to Professor McGonagall!» Hermione urged Neville. «Report him!»
Neville shook his head.