8. The Mirror of Erised
Christmas was coming. Hogwarts was now covered in several feet of snow, and the lake had frozen solid. No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the draughty corridors had become icy, and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them, and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.
"I do feel so sorry," Draco Malfoy said loudly, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."
He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.
Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them, while Hope sent the group of Slytherins a glare. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that Slytherin had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.
Hope sat with a small frown, stirring her potion absentmindedly. She had to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays herself since Christmas fell on a full moon, and with her father's condition, he thought it best she stayed at the school. And with her birthday being during the holiday, it would be her first without her father. At least she wouldn't be alone—the thought of spending it with Harry and the Weasley brothers brightened her mood slightly.
When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron," Hagrid nodded.
"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose? That hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."
Both Hope and Ron lunged at Malfoy. Harry barely had enough time to pull Hope back, but unfortunately for Ron, Snape came up the stairs just as he got his hands on Malfoy's robes.
"WEASLEY!" Snape snarled as Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.
"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid defended, sticking his huge, hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."
"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," Snape said silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.
"I'll get him," Ron muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at Malfoy's back. "One of these days, I'll get him—"
"I hate them both," Harry said. "Malfoy and Snape."
"Well, I happen to know that sooner rather than later, Snape's gonna get what's coming to him," Hope smirked.
Harry and Ron turned to her with furrowed brows.
"What's that mean?" Ron questioned.
Hope gave a small shrug and grinned. "All in time," she replied cryptically, as the boys exchanged puzzled looks.
"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," Hagrid said. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."
So Harry, Ron, Hope, and Hermione followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, would you?" McGonagall instructed.
The Hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.
"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.
"Just one," Hermione replied. "And that reminds me—Harry, Ron, Hope, we've got half an hour before lunch. We should be in the library," she added, turning to the three.
"Oh yeah, you're right," Ron said, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.
"The library?" Hagrid asked, following them out of the Hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"
"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel, we've been trying to find out who he is."
"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here—I've told yeh—drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."
"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," Hermione chimed in quickly.
"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already, and we can't find him anywhere—just give us a hint—I know I've read his name somewhere."
"I'm sayin' nothin'," Hagrid said flatly.
"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," Ron said as they left a disgruntled-looking Hagrid and hurried off to the library.
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time. Nor was he in Important Modern Magical Discoveries or A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library—tens of thousands of books, thousands of shelves, hundreds of narrow rows.
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search, while Ron and Harry strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Hope wandered over to the Restricted Section. That would explain why they had had no luck yet finding him. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and she knew she'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"What are you looking for?" Madam Pince questioned sharply.
"Nothing," Hope said hurriedly.
Madam Pince eyed her suspiciously and brandished a feather duster at her. "You'd better get out, then. Go on—out!"
Hope sighed, quickly leaving the Restricted Section, wishing she'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story.
She left the library, deciding it would be best not to ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to. She waited outside in the corridor to see if the others had found anything, but she wasn't holding her breath. They had been looking for a fortnight, after all, and only had odd moments between lessons—it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice, long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.
Five minutes later, Ron, Harry, and Hermione joined her, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.
"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" Hermione asked. "And send me an owl if you find anything."
"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," Ron added. "It'd be safe to ask them."
"Very safe, as they're both dentists," Hermione said with a laugh.
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Once the holidays had started, Ron, Harry, and Hope were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves, and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to claim the good armchairs by the fire. They spent hours eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork—bread, crumpets, marshmallows—and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled. The plans were more fun to talk about than actually try, but that didn't stop them from dreaming up wild ideas.
On the 27th, Hope woke up with a smile, quickly dressed, and rushed down to the common room, halting when she realized no one was there to greet her. She frowned slightly. She hadn't expected a party, but she had thought her friends would at least wish her happy birthday.
She made her way to the Great Hall, thinking surely they must be there, but when she arrived, they were nowhere to be found. McGonagall and Flitwick were seated at the teachers' table, and a few students were scattered around the tables of the other houses. However, the Gryffindor table was completely empty.
With a sigh, she sat down at the table, grabbing a piece of toast when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, startling her.
"Happy birthday!" She turned to see Harry and all the Weasley brothers cheering behind her. Her smile brightened.
"I almost thought you lot forgot," Hope chuckled.
"Not a chance." Ron grinned, sitting next to her, while Harry settled on her other side.
"Yeah, how could we forget little Lupin?" George teased as the others sat down at the table, each grabbing a plate of breakfast.
Just as they were getting settled, Markle flew over, dropping a small box and a letter onto the table before perching next to Hope's plate. She smiled and gave him a bit of toast.
"Woah, what do you think it is?" Ron asked, leaning forward.
"No clue." Hope shook her head as she opened the letter.
My Dearest Hope,
Happy birthday, love. I'm sorry I can't be with you this year, but I know your friends are keeping you company and making sure you're well looked after. I hope you're having a wonderful day.
As you're halfway through your first year, I believe it's time for you to have this, just like she did in her first year. I hope it brings you a little bit of joy, having a piece of her with you, just like she would've wanted.
Even though I'm not there, I'm thinking of you and I'm always so proud of you.
Love,
Dad.
Hope smiled softly at the letter before moving to the small box. She quickly opened it, her eyes glistening as she pulled out an old silver necklace that held a small circular locket with intricate designs.
"It's pretty," Harry complimented, looking at the necklace in her hand. Ron nodded in agreement, though his words were muffled as he stuffed his face with food.
"It was my mum's," Hope said quietly, opening the locket to reveal a picture of her mother and father with a young Hope, who couldn't have been older than four. They were all laughing together, a memory of joy frozen in time.
Hope looked up from her necklace, hearing Fred and George motioning her over. She smiled and stood, moving to sit with them. Ron, on the other hand, had begun explaining wizard chess to Harry, who looked utterly lost but was clearly trying to keep up.
She slid into the seat next to the twins, who were eagerly eyeing the necklace in her hand. George raised an eyebrow.
"Did you get that for your birthday?" he asked.
Hope nodded, her fingers still tracing the intricate designs of the locket.
"Yeah, it was my mum's." As she said that, she tried to clasp the necklace around her neck but struggled a bit.
George noticed her frustration. "Need help?"
Hope nodded gratefully, moving her hair up so George could help her. With a quick and easy motion, he clasped it for her.
"Thanks," she smiled at him.
Fred, who had been waiting, leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Grease bombs are ready for operation S. How's the charm work coming along?"
Hope let out a small groan, leaning back slightly. "I've got the concealing charm down, but I'm still having trouble with the revealing. So far, I've only managed to get a couple of words to reappear."
"Little Lupin," Fred teased gently.
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Yeah, I know. Not exactly impressive."
"Dont worry Little Lupin, Theres still time left." George assured leaning forward, his voice lowering. "Once we're all set, we just have to pick a day and sneak into the dungeons."
"I'm just sad I won't be able to see the look on old Snape's face in person when they go off," Fred added with a wink.
They shared a high five, grinning with excitement at the thought of their plan finally coming together.
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Hope woke early Christmas morning, smiling brightly at the small pile of packages at the foot of her bed. She leaned over her bed, looking at all the different wrapped gifts. She had never had this many presents before.
She picked up the top parcel, wrapped in thick brown paper with her name scrawled across it in Hagrid's handwriting. Inside was a roughly cut wooden ring. It was clear that Hagrid had whittled it himself, and the top held Hope's initials carved into it. She smiled, slipping the ring onto her fingers until it finally fit on her pointer.
The second was a neatly wrapped parcel with a note on it that read, Love Dad. Inside was an assortment of chocolates. She opened the box, taking a few bites of chocolate, before moving on to the next package.
It was lumpy, wrapped in thin red paper. She tore it open to reveal a thick, hand-knitted sweater in maroon with a yellow H knit onto it. She grinned and quickly pulled it over her head. She had heard all about the famous Weasley sweaters and was thrilled to receive one.
Her next gift was from Hermione—Cinderella, a Muggle book Hermione had told her about. The last package was a small box from Zonko's Joke Shop, with a note attached:
Happy Christmas – Fred and George
She opened it to find a Sneakoscope, a small glass spinning top. Hope let out a laugh, then excitedly hopped out of bed and made a beeline for the boys' dormitory.
She entered to find only Ron awake.
"Hey, yours is maroon too," she pointed out, smiling at the matching Weasley sweater in his hands.
"Yeah," Ron mumbled, looking down at it with a frown.
"Where's Harry?" Hope asked, furrowing her brows.
Ron pointed to the empty space on Harry's bed, making Hope frown even more. Just then, Harry appeared out of nowhere, a fluid, silvery-grey cloak slipping from his shoulders and pooling onto the bed.
Hope gaped. "Is that—?" she started, pointing at the cloak.
Ron nodded, grinning.
"I can't believe you got an Invisibility Cloak, Harry! Those are really rare, you know." She picked it up, running her fingers over the material. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into fabric. "Who'd you get it from?" she asked, turning to Harry.
Harry shrugged, his face bright with excitement.
"No idea. The note just said, Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very Merry Christmas to you." He handed her the note, which was unsigned.
Before Hope could respond, the dormitory door was flung open, and Fred and George bounded in. Harry quickly grabbed the cloak from Hope's hands and stuffed it out of sight, not quite ready to share it with anyone else.
"Merry Christmas!" The twins cheered in unison.
"Hey, look – you two've got a Weasley jumper too!" Fred grinned, nodding toward Harry and Hope.
George moved between them, swinging an arm over each of their shoulders. "Looks like you're officially Weasleys now," he said with a grin. He was sporting a blue jumper with a large yellow G, which matched Fred's, whose sweater had a yellow F.
"Harry's is better than ours, though," Fred said, holding up Harry's jumper. "Hope's too. She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family," he added with a smirk, nodding at her.
"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."
"I hate maroon," Ron moaned half-heartedly as he pulled it over his head.
"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid—we know we're called Gred and Forge."
Before anyone could respond, another voice cut through the room.
"What's all this noise?"
Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking thoroughly disapproving. He had clearly come halfway through unwrapping his presents, as he, too, carried a lumpy jumper over his arm.
Fred immediately seized it. "P for Prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours. Even Harry and Hope got one."
"I—don't—want—" Percy sighed thickly as the twins forced the jumper over his head, knocking his glasses askew.
"And you're not sitting with the Prefects today either," George added firmly. "Christmas is a time for family."
With that, the twins frog-marched Percy out of the room, his arms pinned to his sides by the jumper.
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Hope loved Christmas with her dad. It was small—the two of them usually having a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and chocolates for dessert. She never minded that it was simple, always just enjoying spending the holiday with him. But she had to admit, the Christmas spread in front of her now was incredible.
There were a hundred fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of fat chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.
Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.
Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Hope watched as Hagrid, growing redder and redder in the face, called for more wine—until he finally kissed Professor McGonagall on the cheek. To Hope's surprise, McGonagall giggled and blushed, her top hat knocked slightly askew.
Hope, Harry, and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight in the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Hope found it incredibly entertaining, though Harry swore he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.
After a tea of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, Hope—along with everyone else—felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.
As the night wound down, Hope lay in bed, feeling incredibly pleased and full. The warmth of the day's festivities lingered as she closed her eyes, and within moments, she drifted off into a blissful sleep.
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"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly, as Harry explained to him and Hope what he had seen in the mirror.
"You can come tonight, both of you. I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror," Harry said.
"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ron nodded eagerly.
"Me too," Hope agreed with a smile.
"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys. You'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone," Harry said excitedly. "And your parents," he added, turning to Hope. Hope's eyes gleamed at the idea of seeing her mum.
"You can see them any old time. Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though," Ron rambled, stuffing his face. "Have some bacon or something. Why aren't you eating anything?" he asked, eyeing Harry's untouched plate.
But Hope understood. Her stomach was doing summersaults at the mere idea of seeing her mother. She could hardly focus on anything else—food, Snape, Flamel—all fell by the wayside.
"Are you all right?" Ron asked. He then turned to Hope, who had barely touched her food. "Hope, you've hardly eaten anything."
Hope managed to give a small, distracted smile, her thoughts still on the mirror.
Later that evening, Harry led Hope and Ron down the hall, the three crammed underneath the Invisibility Cloak. Walking slowly, they retraced Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.
"I'm freezing. Let's forget it and go back," Ron whined.
"No!" Hope hissed hurriedly.
"I know it's here somewhere," Harry whispered, determinedly.
They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead from the cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.
"It's here—just here—yes!" Harry smiled.
They pushed the door open, and Harry dropped the Cloak from around his shoulders, running to the mirror. It was tall, almost as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. Hope stood slightly behind them, hesitantly, as the two boys rushed up to the mirror. A worry started creeping in as she thought maybe she wouldn't see her mother.
"See?" Harry whispered, excitedly.
"I can't see anything," Ron muttered, squinting his eyes as if that would make the Potters suddenly appear.
"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them..." Harry insisted.
"I can only see you," Ron said, shrugging.
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am," Harry stepped aside, gently pushing Ron to stand in front of the mirror. Harry blinked as, once he moved, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas. Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.
"Look at me!" Ron exclaimed.
"Can you see all your family standing around you?" Harry asked.
"No—I'm alone—but I'm different. I look older—and I'm Head Boy!" Ron smiled.
"What?" Harry said, furrowing his brows. Hope watched from behind curiously. What exactly was this mirror? She thought.
"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 said, looking at the mirror in awe. He tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?" Ron asked, brightly.
"How can it? All my family are dead," Harry frowned. He then turned to Hope, ushering her forward. "What do you see?" he asked.
Hope gulped, slowly stepping forward. After what Ron had seen, her hopes of seeing her mother had sunk even further. With a deep breath, she stood in front of the mirror. Her eyes widened as her mouth parted. "Mum?" she whispered, her voice shaking. She glanced behind her to see nothing there. She looked back at the mirror. There stood a woman with striking blue-green eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners as she smiled down at Hope. Silky dark brown hair flowed to her shoulders in waves, and she stood a few inches taller than Hope with a bright smile, much like her own. She was beautiful.
"Do you see your parents?" Harry asked.
Hope nodded, not looking away from the mirror. It wasn't just her mum. Standing right next to her was her father, but he was different. His eyes still shone with their usual kindness, but they lacked their usual tiredness. His robes weren't tattered. He stood tall, shoulders free of the exhaustion that had once slumped them. The scars on his face were gone, and then it hit her. This version of her father wasn't a werewolf.
"Let me have another look," Harry said, stepping forward.
"You had it to yourself all last night. Give me another go," Ron insisted, also stepping forward.
"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup. What's interesting about that? I want to see my mum," Hope argued, not wanting to move.
"Don't push me," Ron said to Harry as all three tried to claim the spot.
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 around the door. Ron, Hope, and Harry stood still, all thinking the same thing—did the Cloak work on cats? After what seemed like an age, she turned and left.
"This isn't safe. She might have gone for Filch. I bet she heard us. Come on," Ron said, pulling Harry and Hope out of the room.
The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.
"Want to play chess, Harry?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry replied.
"What about you, Hope?" Ron asked, turning to her.
She shook her head. "I'm okay."
"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" Ron suggested.
"No... you go..." Harry said, while Hope merely shook her head again.
"I know what you two are thinking about, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."
"Why not?" Harry asked, dejectedly.
"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?" Ron said.
"You sound like Hermione," Hope sighed.
"I'm serious, don't go," Ron stressed.
But it was no use. The two only had one thought in their heads: to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop them.
That third night, Harry and Hope found their way to the Mirror of Erised much more quickly than before, the two moving hurriedly through the dark corridors.
And there they stood, taking turns in front of the mirror.
Hope saw the perfect version of her family. Her mother, alive and well, smiling brightly. Her father, curse-free and healthy. They were together, both beaming down at Hope—the perfect little family.
Harry, meanwhile, saw his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. A warmth spread through his chest as he sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror.
There was nothing stopping them from staying all night with their families. Nothing at all. Except—
"So—back again, Harry, Miss Lupin?"
Hope paled, turning around sharply with a gulp, and 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, perched comfortably as if he'd been there for a while. Hope's mouth hung open. How had they missed him? They must have walked straight past him without even noticing, too desperate to reach the mirror.
"I—I didn't see you, sir," Harry stammered, while Hope nodded nervously.
"Strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore said softly.
Harry and Hope let out relieved sighs when they saw that he was smiling.
"So," Dumbledore began, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor beside Harry. Hope moved from her spot at the side to sit next to him as well. "You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
"I didn't know it was called that, sir," Harry said.
"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?" Dumbledore asked knowingly.
Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "It—well—it shows me my family. Same as Hope—"
"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy," Dumbledore continued.
Hope blinked in surprise. "How did you know—?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore said gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"
Harry shook his head. Dumbledore then turned to Hope.
"It shows us what we want more than anything," Hope answered, glancing back at the mirror. The image of her parents was still fresh in her mind.
Dumbledore nodded, a twinkle in his eye. "Right you are, Miss Lupin. You see, 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."
He looked between the two with a small smile. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, Harry, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. And you, Hope, who wishes nothing more than to right the unfortunate circumstances around your family. 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 nor 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."
Dumbledore's tone was pointed as he continued, "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 and Hope nodded solemnly, standing up.
"Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"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?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore considered him for a moment before replying, "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."
Harry stared, and Hope tilted her head, giving him a puzzled look.
"One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone, and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books," Dumbledore said, standing as he left the room.
Once Harry and Hope slipped back under the cloak, they were silent on their way back to the dormitory, the only sound being the small taps of their footsteps.
Once inside, Harry folded up the Invisibility Cloak as Hope headed toward the girls' dormitory.
"Hope?" Harry called out.
She turned back to him.
"What happened to your mom?" he asked slowly.
She stilled.
"Sorry, you don't have to tell me anything," Harry added hurriedly.
"It's okay," Hope said softly, moving to sit on the couch across from the fireplace. Harry hesitated, then sat next to her. Hope took a deep breath before turning to him.
"It happened when I was five. I actually don't remember much from that day. I think I had gone on errands with her, maybe—" she squinted into the fire as she tried to recall the memory. "But I do remember coming home. She was in a rush, like she was worried about something. Dad wasn't home. I remember her telling me to go to my room, and then—there was a loud bang. I hid under my bed, and I just remember a lot of shouting and sparks. And then... she was gone. It was a Dark wizard."
Harry looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
"It's okay," she nodded, still staring into the fire.
"Did they ever find him?" Harry asked gently.
Hope shook her head. A silence settled between them.
"I'm sorry about your parents too," she murmured.
Harry nodded. The two sat there for a while, offering each other silent comfort, both understanding the pain the other carried.