The Mirror of Erised
Christmas was approaching quickly, and Hogwarts Castle seemed wrapped in an even deeper enchantment than usual. One mid-December morning, the students awoke to find the world outside their windows blanketed in over a meter of snow. The Black Lake had turned into a sheet of ice, and the Weasley twins, never short of ideas, found a way to entertain themselves despite the cold: they enchanted snowballs to chase Quirrell around, repeatedly bouncing off the back of his turban. Professor McGonagall punished them, but not before the entire school had a good laugh at the scene.
In the icy corridors, where drafts sneaked in from every corner, students shivered, holding their breath to avoid it forming into visible clouds. In Professor Snape's dungeon classrooms, the situation was no better: the cold was so intense that even the steaming cauldrons barely warmed the students' chilled hands. The aroma of herbs and bubbling potions was the only comforting note.
Despite everything, Christmas was in the air, and everyone eagerly awaited the holidays.
One evening in the Gryffindor common room, the students gathered near the fire. The crackling flames filled the room, and the warm glow illuminated the faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, and Lavender.
“So, what are you doing for the holidays?” Harry asked as he curled up in an armchair.
“Heading back to Ireland, of course,” Seamus replied enthusiastically. “My mom will do her usual Christmas cooking marathon, and believe me, you eat until you burst.”
Dean, sitting beside him, sighed. “I’m going back to London, but it won’t be the same without the West Ham match. They’re playing Aston Villa away, and the only way to follow it will be on the radio. Boxing Day ruined, thanks a lot.”
“Yeah, I feel you, Dean,” Harry chimed in. “I’ll be stuck with radio commentary too. Arsenal’s away at Luton… but hey, at least you’re spared from another humiliation for your team,” he added with a grin, earning a rude gesture from Dean.
''I can’t believe you’re still into football,” Ron commented, shaking his head. “A game without flying and only one ball? Boring.”
Neville smiled timidly. “I’ll be with my relatives, as usual. My gran organizes a big lunch and invites every family member possible.”
“Well, I’ll be spending the holidays with my parents,” Hermione chimed in. “They’ve planned a trip to the Natural History Museum, and then they promised we’d have a board game night.”
“Parvati?” Lavender asked, casting her a curious glance.
“Oh, some relatives from India are visiting. It’s always chaotic, but I love when the house fills with stories and scents that remind me of my family’s roots,” Parvati said with a nostalgic smile.
Lavender sighed. “I’m going to New York in the United States with my family for a week. Dad has a conference at MACUSA, so we’ll spend Christmas in a hotel. I can’t wait to shop.”
Dean raised an intrigued eyebrow. “MACUSA? Is that like an American Ministry of Magic?” Harry wasn’t surprised by his friend’s question; after all, Dean had grown up in a Muggle family, and without Sirius, he wouldn’t have known either. Hermione, ready to deliver a detailed explanation, was interrupted by Neville, who rarely spoke unless prompted. “Yes, exactly! It stands for Magical Congress of the United States of America. It’s like our Ministry, but organized a bit differently. They also have their own magical laws and lots of stories about how they separated from the European magical community.”
Dean looked fascinated. “I didn’t know something so different existed. I guess wands and magic work the same way, right?”
Hermione, who had been holding back, couldn’t resist jumping in. “Yes, but there are many cultural differences. For instance, Americans have had issues with their No-Mag representative in Congress for centuries. It’s interesting to see how they manage relations with non-magical people. They also have strict policies about interactions between wizards and No-Mags—that’s what they call Muggles.”
“Sounds complicated,” Ron remarked, looking at Lavender. “And what’s your dad doing there?”
“Oh, he’s an expert in international magical trade,” Lavender explained with a bored expression. “He’s negotiating something about the export of potion ingredients. I’ll just enjoy the shops and maybe some parties.”
Parvati looked just as enthusiastic. “Lavender, you have to tell us everything when you get back! I want to know what magic is like in the States.”
“If you let me talk without interrupting, sure,” Lavender replied, laughing, and the group burst into laughter with her.
“And you, Ron?” Neville asked. “What are you doing?”
Ron shrugged. “I’ll stay here with the twins and Percy. Mum, Dad, and Ginny are going to visit my brother Charlie in Romania. You know how it is; we can’t all go—it’d cost too much…”
Harry thought for a moment, watching his friend try to mask a note of disappointment. “Hey, why don’t you come with me? You could spend the holidays with Sirius.”
Ron stared at him, wide-eyed. “With Sirius? You really mean it?”
“Of course,” Harry said with a smile. “I’ll write to him tonight. I’m sure he’d love it.”
Ron couldn’t hide a grin. “Do you really think he’ll say yes?”
Harry nodded firmly. “Sirius would never say no to me.”
The next morning at breakfast, Hedwig appeared in the Great Hall with a letter in her talons. Harry read it with a growing smile and passed it to Ron.
“He says he’d love to have you join us and to bring your brothers too,” he explained. “And he says he’ll take you for a ride on his flying motorbike. Have you ever flown on a motorbike, Ron?”
Ron’s eyes widened. “Never! That’ll be amazing!”
The others laughed, sharing Ron’s excitement. The prospect of the Christmas holidays had everyone in high spirits. The Great Hall was a breathtaking sight, with its garlands of holly and mistletoe draped along the walls and a dozen Christmas trees decorated with sparkling icicles and hundreds of floating candles. The chatter of students filled the air while Professor Flitwick, perched on a stack of books, waved his wand to produce glittering garlands for a new tree.
Lavender and Parvati sat together, admiring the decorations, while Seamus and Dean laughed at yet another of Ron’s jokes. Hermione, however, was focused on a list of titles, scanning it with a determined expression.
“How many days until the holidays?” Hagrid asked, appearing behind them with a smile.
“Just one,” Hermione replied enthusiastically, then remembered something. “And that reminds me… guys, we need to go to the library!”
Ron groaned, slumping back. “Right now? Look, Flitwick’s making bubbles with magic! Hermione, can’t we relax a little?”
“It’s not for studying,” Harry intervened, standing up. “It’s about Nicolas Flamel.”
Hagrid’s eyes widened. “What? I’ve already told you… leave that alone! It’s none of your business!”
“We just want to know who he is,” Neville explained cautiously but firmly. “It’s not dangerous to know a name.”
“What’s the harm in telling us? It would save us a lot of time,” Dean added persuasively. “We’ve spent hours flipping through books.”
“My lips are sealed,” Hagrid declared, crossing his arms to emphasize his resolve.
Ron huffed. “Then we’ll manage on our own. Might as well get started.”
It was true that, ever since Hagrid let the name slip, they had been poring over books searching for it. How else could they figure out what Snape was trying to steal? The problem was, they didn’t know where to start, not knowing what Flamel might have done to be mentioned in a book. He wasn’t in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, nor in Notable Magical Figures of Our Time. He wasn’t mentioned in Important Magical Discoveries or Recent Developments in Magic. And then, of course, there was the issue of the library’s size: tens of thousands of volumes, thousands of shelves, hundreds of narrow aisles.
The group divided the work. Hermione distributed lists of topics and titles, while Neville and Parvati tackled the historical sections. Dean and Seamus explored books on magical discoveries, while Harry and Ron, with their usual nonchalance, grabbed books at random from the shelves. Lavender, initially more interested in the ribbons on the books than their content, eventually joined Parvati, flipping through carefully.
“Seamus, put down that book on explosive spells,” Hermione scolded. “It has nothing to do with Flamel.”
“Hey, you never know,” Seamus replied with a grin. “Maybe Flamel invented something that goes boom.”
Meanwhile, Harry wandered near the Restricted Section, feeling like he was wasting time. The chained books and ominous covers caught his attention, but he knew he couldn’t access them without permission.
As Harry complained to Ron, Madam Pince appeared behind him like a hawk. “What are you looking for, boy?”
“Nothing,” Harry lied, trying to look innocent.
“Then get out,” she snapped, waving her feather duster.
Harry left, waiting for the others to join him. One by one, they returned with discouraged expressions.
“We found nothing,” Neville said, shaking his head.
“Absolutely nothing,” Dean agreed.
“Well, at least we have the holidays,” Ron suggested. “Maybe someone can find something at home. I’ll talk to my brothers, and Harry can ask Sirius.”
“I could ask my dad when he has free time,” Lavender added.
“I’ll do the same,” Parvati said. “Seamus, your mom’s a really informed witch. Maybe she knows something?”
“It’s worth a shot,” Seamus replied, though he looked skeptical.
After a satisfying lunch, the group returned to the common room. Despite their lack of results, their spirits remained high. They were determined to uncover who Nicolas Flamel was, convinced he was the key to solving the mystery of the trapdoor and the three-headed dog.
But once the holidays started, Ron and Harry were having too much fun to think about Flamel.
As soon as they arrived at Sirius's house, Ron didn’t worry much when he realized he’d left Scabbers at school. He was sure the rat would still be there when they returned. Besides, they were too caught up in enjoying themselves: playing Muggle board games for hours on end in front of the fireplace in the Black family home, watching Muggle movies on VHS tapes that amazed all four of the Weasleys, and plotting elaborate schemes to get Malfoy expelled—plans that were entertaining to discuss even though they were unlikely to succeed.
Ron also started teaching Harry how to play wizard chess. Sirius was mediocre at it and had never bothered to teach Harry. The rules were exactly like Muggle chess, except the pieces were alive, making it feel more like commanding troops in battle. Ron’s chess set was very old and battered. Like most of his belongings, it had once belonged to a family member—in this case, his grandfather. But playing with old pieces wasn’t a problem at all: Ron knew them so well that he had no trouble convincing them to do what he wanted.
On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed eagerly anticipating the treats and festivities of the next day, as well as the company of Remus and the Tonks family.
The next morning, Harry woke up early to the smell of cookies and coffee filling the house. Outside the window, snow blanketed the garden of Privet Drive in a brilliant white layer, and Christmas cheer seemed to fill every corner. He sat up in bed, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a pile of packages at the foot of the bed.
“Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed, jumping up to wake Ron.
Ron, still groggy, turned over in bed. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled before his eyes widened at the sight of his own presents. Harry and Ron raced downstairs to join the others in the decorated living room. Sirius’s Christmas tree, adorned with magical ornaments that sparkled and danced, stood in the center of the room. Enchanted candles floated in the air, casting a warm glow on everyone’s smiling faces.
Harry opened the first package, a rough but charming wooden flute from Hagrid. He blew into it, producing a sound like an owl’s hoot, and laughed. “Hagrid must’ve made this himself,” he said, showing the gift to Ron.
The second package, a card from the Dursleys with a half-penny attached, provoked a mix of laughter and disdain. “How thoughtful of them,” Harry said sarcastically, while Ron examined the coin with curiosity. “Weird shape! Are these really money?” Ron ended up keeping it as a souvenir.
Next, Harry unwrapped a large package wrapped in brown paper. Ron blushed slightly. “That’s probably from my mum. She always knits a Weasley sweater.”
Harry pulled out an emerald-green sweater and a box of homemade toffees. “It’s beautiful,” he said sincerely, putting it on immediately. Ron, who had received his usual maroon-colored sweater, groaned but put it on anyway.
When Harry opened another package and a flowing, silvery-gray fabric emerged, the room went still. Ron stared, breathless. “It’s an invisibility cloak,” he whispered reverently. Harry threw it over his shoulders, and Ron nearly shouted. “Look down!” he exclaimed, pointing at Harry’s invisible feet.
Harry approached the mirror, examining himself with curiosity. His reflection showed only his floating head. As he removed the cloak, a note fell to the floor. With trembling hands, he picked it up. The writing was elegant, narrow, and unfamiliar:
This was entrusted to me by your father before he died. It’s time it returns to you. Use it well. Merry Christmas.
Harry stood frozen, staring at the note, a whirlwind of emotions flooding his chest: gratitude, nostalgia, and a pang of sadness for a past he couldn’t remember. Sirius approached, noticing the look on Harry’s face.
“This… this was James’s cloak,” Sirius murmured, gently taking the fabric in his hands. His eyes grew misty for a moment. “Your dad loved this. It was always with him. We used it for all sorts of adventures.” Then he draped the cloak over Harry’s shoulders. “It belongs to you now, Harry. Use it as he would have: for good, and maybe a little bit of mischief… but not too much!”
The tension dissolved into laughter when Fred and George burst into the living room shouting, “Merry Christmas! Hey, look, Harry got a Weasley sweater too!”
After a quick breakfast in the kitchen, Sirius called everyone into the main hall. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the Christmas tree sparkled in the warm light of enchanted candles.
“Everyone, sit down—I’ve got a few surprises for you,” Sirius announced with a grin that promised mischief.
Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy exchanged curious glances as they settled on the couch and chairs around the fireplace. Sirius pulled out a large bag and began rummaging through it.
“Let’s start with you, Ron,” Sirius said, handing him a rather bulky package. “Harry told me you’re obsessed with a certain team.”
Ron tore open the package with trembling hands, and a cry of joy escaped his lips. “It’s a Chudley Cannons uniform! And… it’s signed by the captain!” He turned the jersey to show off the autograph. “Thank you, Sirius! This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me!”
Sirius laughed. “I thought you’d like it. Now, let’s see what your brothers think.”
He pulled out two identical packages and handed them to the twins. Fred and George pounced on them like hawks, ripping the paper open in seconds. From the boxes emerged two gleaming Beater bats with silver-inlaid details.
“Wow!” Fred exclaimed, swinging his bat in the air. “These are professional quality!”
George nodded in admiration. “Never seen anything like this! Sirius, you’re the best godfather Harry could have. Thanks a ton!”
“Use them well,” Sirius replied with a smirk. “But not too well against Slytherin, or they’ll accuse you of cheating.”
Percy cleared his throat, trying to appear indifferent, but it was clear he was eagerly waiting for his turn. Sirius handed him a smaller package, watching him with a sly smile.
“For you, Percy. Something I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”
Percy unwrapped the package carefully. Inside was a leather-bound planner with an elegant brass clasp and a set of stylish quills. Percy blushed slightly but couldn’t hide a satisfied smile.
“Very… very practical. Thank you, Mr. Black. They’re perfect for… my academic pursuits.”
“I thought so, and don’t you dare call me Mr. Black again—I’m only thirty-two, for Merlin’s sake,” Sirius replied, stifling a laugh. “I didn’t want you to feel left out.”
Percy stared at him, still a bit stunned, but gave him a polite smile.
Finally, Sirius turned to Harry. “And now it’s your turn, godson.” He pulled out a smaller but elegantly wrapped package. “This one’s special, Harry. I hope you like it.”
Harry took the package and unwrapped it carefully. When he saw the autographed Montrose Magpies jersey, he was speechless. His eyes filled with tears as he ran his fingers over the fabric.
“Sirius… this is incredible,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Sirius replied, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re part of my family, Harry. It’s what any family would do.”
The Weasleys, sitting around, exchanged awkward glances. Percy was the first to speak. “Sirius, these gifts are really… too much. We can’t accept such expensive things, especially since we showed up at your house with so little notice…”
“Speak for yourself,” Fred whispered to George, who nodded vigorously.
Sirius shook his head with a warm smile. “Don’t start that talk. I don’t have kids of my own, and you’re like family to Harry, which makes you family to me. Giving gifts at Christmas is my way of thanking you for being here.”
Ron looked at Sirius with a dreamy expression. “Well, in that case… thank you so much! This jersey is a dream come true.”
As the clock in the main hall struck noon, the sound of the doorbell interrupted the merry chatter and laughter. Sirius stood up with a mischievous grin. “Ah, they’re here. Get ready, everyone—the real show is about to start.”
Harry glanced curiously at Ron, who shrugged. Sirius opened the door, and a lively group entered the house.
The first to catch attention was a young woman with short, bright pink hair that shifted slightly in color whenever she laughed. She wore a long coat covered in colorful pins and carried a precariously stacked box of sweets that looked like it might topple at any moment. Behind her, a sturdy man with slightly graying brown hair and a welcoming smile helped organize packages and bags. Next to him was an elegant woman with refined features, long wavy brown hair, and eyes that resembled Sirius’s but were warmer.
“Harry!” the young woman exclaimed, running toward him. The box slipped from her hands but hovered in midair thanks to a quick spell from her father. “Oops! That was close, huh?” Harry found himself enveloped in a warm, slightly clumsy hug.
It was Nymphadora Tonks—or just Tonks, as she insisted everyone call her. Harry had met her and her family during previous Christmases spent with Sirius. Tonks had become like an older sister to him: her carefree attitude and Metamorphmagus talent made her irresistible, capable of bringing a smile to anyone’s face. Her father, Ted, a Muggle-born full of curiosity and kindness, was one of the few people who could discuss magical and Muggle topics with equal passion. Andromeda, Tonks’s mother and Sirius’s cousin, was a maternal figure to Harry, with a reassuring, practical demeanor, though her aristocratic grace betrayed her Black family origins.
Tonks turned to the twins. “Fred and George Weasley, still causing trouble at Hogwarts?”
“We try,” they replied in unison, with theatrical bows.
Shortly after, another knock on the door announced the arrival of Remus Lupin. Harry stood up quickly to greet him. Lupin, wrapped in a worn but warm coat, entered with a gentle smile, carrying a small box tied with a red ribbon.
“Merry Christmas, Harry,” he said in a quiet tone, shaking his hand and giving him a pat on the shoulder. Lupin, with his calm demeanor and the wisdom that shone through every gesture, was a father figure to Harry and a bridge to the past he shared with Sirius.
With everyone present, Sirius clapped his hands. “Now that we’re all here, I’d say it’s time to eat. And no protests: there’s enough food to feed a dragon.”
The table was a vision of abundance: a perfectly golden turkey took center stage, surrounded by roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, peas, and stewed carrots, along with a magical Christmas cake that sparkled slightly. The dishes passed themselves along the table, propelled by small spells.
“Tonks, please don’t spill anything else,” Sirius teased as she tried to grab a jug of pumpkin juice.
“Too late!” she replied, spilling part of it on the table, while Fred and George burst out laughing. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without a bit of chaos, right?”
Throughout the meal, laughter was constant. Ted shared hilarious anecdotes from the past year, while Andromeda corrected him, shaking her head affectionately. Lupin was drawn into an animated discussion with Percy about ancient defense spells, and Tonks nearly choked on her laughter at Fred and George’s puns.
Harry, watching it all from his spot, felt overwhelmed by a sense of warmth and belonging. His Christmases with Sirius had always been joyful, full of laughter and company, but this one surpassed them all. It wasn’t just the abundance of food or the decorated tree: it was the genuine affection that filled every corner of the room. Harry smiled, picking up a piece of cake and looking up at Sirius.
The day after Christmas, Harry and Ron decided to take a walk to stretch their legs after two days of celebrations. The streets of Privet Drive were quiet, with a few Christmas decorations still hanging in the corners of windows. As they walked, chatting about Quidditch and the gifts they’d received, they suddenly ran into the Dursleys. Vernon and Petunia had just arrived in the driveway of their house.
At the sight of Harry, Vernon stiffened, his face purple with anger, while Petunia gave him a look of pure disgust.
“Well, look who it is—the ungrateful brat…” Vernon growled, staring at Harry as if he were a piece of trash left on the sidewalk. “And I see you’ve found another freak…”
Ron was already turning red with anger, but Harry shot him a quick look, as if to say he’d handle it.
“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied with a sarcastic smile. “This is Ron Weasley, one of my best friends. You know, it’s amazing how kind people can be… unlike you two and that lump of lard you call your son…”
Vernon gritted his teeth. “Normal people? You don’t even know what it means to be normal, boy. And that school… that ridiculous school of yours. You’ve become even more… strange.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. “Strange, you say? Well, I’d rather be strange than spend my life whining like you do, Vernon. Have you ever wondered why no one here on Privet Drive can stand you? Or maybe you’re too busy being a pompous blowhard to notice?”
Petunia let out a scandalized gasp. “Vernon! Don’t listen to him! Let’s go inside immediately!” She tugged her husband by the arm, but not before Vernon snarled, “Insolent! You’ll never amount to anything, Harry Potter!”
Harry chuckled softly. “Well, that’s already an improvement over living with you. You know, I can honestly say Christmas is my favorite time of year. Because I don’t have to deal with you jerks!”
The Dursleys turned, outraged, and stormed toward their house. But just as they reached the driveway, another familiar figure appeared: Dudley, bigger and more arrogant than ever, accompanied by Piers Polkiss. The two were strutting around, with Dudley holding an enormous chocolate bar in his hand.
Dudley stopped when he saw Harry, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Look at this, Polkiss—my freak of a cousin found a friend. Did they escape from their school to ruin our neighborhood?”
Piers laughed, echoing Dudley’s tone. “Yeah, Dud, you’re right. Look how ridiculous they are in those weird clothes.”
Ron stepped forward, his ears red with anger. “You wanna say something, fatso?” he snapped, clenching his fists. Harry, however, held him back, placing a hand on his arm.
“Let it go, Ron. Dudley’s not worth the effort. His brain is probably too busy digesting all that chocolate.”
Dudley scowled, but before he could respond, two figures emerged out of nowhere. Fred and George had appeared at the edge of the driveway, mischievous grins lighting up their faces.
“Well, look at this, George,” said Fred, feigning surprise. “What’s this gelatinous blob I see in front of me? A pig fattened up for slaughter?”
George nodded theatrically. “I’d say so, Fred. And it’s poorly dressed too. Maybe we can improve things a bit.”
Before Dudley could react, Fred and George pulled out a Dungbomb from their bags and threw it with perfect aim. The stinking explosion hit Dudley squarely, making him stagger backward as an unbearable stench filled the air.
“Help!” Dudley screamed, his eyes watering. “Piers, do something!”
But Piers was already running away. Dudley turned abruptly and fled into the house, crying and sobbing, with a look of pure horror on his face.
The twins laughed hysterically, and even Ron and Harry couldn’t hold back their laughter.
“Now I see why you hate them so much… if all Muggles are like them, my dad would have a fit,” Ron said, still laughing as the four of them walked away from the scene.
“I don’t know how you managed to survive here all these years.”
Harry shrugged, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well, thanks to Sirius—and now thanks to all of you. And that changes everything.”
Christmas holidays at Sirius’s house with the Weasleys as guests turned out to be an unforgettable time.
After the unpleasant encounter with the Dursleys, Harry and his friends spent the following days immersed in games, conversations, and moments of pure fun. One of the most memorable days was when they listened to the radio broadcast of the Quidditch match between the Chudley Cannons and the Montrose Magpies. Harry and Ron settled by the fireplace wearing their respective team jerseys, Ron fully absorbed in cheering for the Cannons, and Harry, while supporting the Magpies, finding his friend’s reactions to every action of his favorite team absolutely hilarious.
“I can’t believe it!” Ron shouted every time the Magpies scored a point. “Harry, they’re too strong. Maybe they should play without a Seeker to make it at least a bit fair.”
Harry laughed, leaning back with an amused expression. “Or maybe the Cannons are just too bad.”
In the end, the Magpies won, but Ron took the defeat in stride, thanks in part to Andromeda’s cake, which arrived just in time to sweeten the situation.
The first day back at Hogwarts, Harry spent the entire day trying to suppress a thought that had been troubling him. Only when he climbed into bed did he feel free to reflect on it: it was about the Invisibility Cloak and the person who had sent it to him.
Ron, full of turkey and cake and without a single worry on his mind, fell asleep almost immediately after closing the curtains of his four-poster bed. Harry leaned to the side and pulled the cloak out from under the bed.
His father… that cloak had belonged to his father.
He let the fabric slip through his fingers, softer than silk, lighter than air. Use it well, the note had said.
He had to try it, and right away. Sliding out of bed, he wrapped himself in the cloak. Looking down at his legs, all he saw was moonlight and shadows. It was a strange feeling. Use it well.
The night was silent, the castle shrouded in darkness broken only by the light of torches illuminating the corridors. Harry, cloaked in invisibility, moved stealthily toward the library, his heart pounding. He had decided to explore the Restricted Section, driven by curiosity and the desire to learn more about the mysteries of Hogwarts. With the cloak, it was easy to avoid the gazes of portraits and ghosts, but he knew Filch was no opponent to underestimate.
Reaching the library, he slipped between the shelves into the Restricted Section. The heavy chains securing some books creaked slightly, and the air was heavy with an oppressive silence. Harry chose a random volume, an ancient book with a worn black cover, and opened it. A low, unsettling voice began whispering from the pages, and Harry froze, quickly closing it.
The sound of distant footsteps made him jump: Filch was nearby.
Heart pounding, Harry shoved the book back onto the shelf and started running, trying to avoid the caretaker. He heard Mrs. Norris meow not too far away and quickened his pace, searching for a hiding spot. He climbed a flight of stairs, crossed a long corridor, and finally slipped into a slightly open door. Closing it quietly behind him, he held his breath.
When he turned around, his eyes were drawn to an imposing object in the center of the room: a massive mirror, framed with intricate golden carvings that seemed to glimmer faintly in the dim light. Harry cautiously approached, drawn by the mysterious glow it emitted.
When he stood before the mirror, what he saw made him gasp. He wasn’t alone. Reflected beside him were two figures he recognized immediately: his mother and father. Lily was smiling sweetly, and James looked at him with pride; they both seemed ten years older. Behind them stood Sirius, laughing conspiratorially, and Remus, with his usual calm smile.
Harry felt overwhelmed by emotion. He stepped closer, reaching out toward the glass, but all he felt was the cold surface.
“Dad… Mum…” he whispered, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe.
How long he stood there, he didn’t know. The reflections didn’t fade, and he kept watching them for a long time until a distant noise brought him back to reality. He couldn’t stay there; he had to find his way back to bed.
Forcing himself to look away from his mother’s face, he whispered, “I’ll come back,” and quickly left the room.
“You could have woken me up,” Ron said grumpily the next morning.
“You can come tonight. I’m planning to go back—I want to show you the mirror.”
“I’d love to meet your mum and dad,” Ron said curiously.
“And I’d like to meet your entire Weasley family. You could introduce me to all your brothers.”
“You can see them anytime,” Ron replied. “Just come visit me at home this summer. But maybe the mirror only shows dead people. Too bad we haven’t found Flamel… Come on, have some bacon or something. Why aren’t you eating this morning?”
Harry’s stomach was tight. He had met his parents, and he would see them again that night. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. The thought didn’t seem so interesting anymore. What did it matter what the dog was guarding? What did it matter, really, if Snape stole it?
“You feeling okay?” Ron asked. “You look strange.”
What Harry feared most was not being able to find the room with the mirror again.
The following night, with Ron also under the cloak, they had to walk much more slowly. Trying to retrace the route Harry had taken from the library, they wandered through the dark corridors for about an hour.
“I’m freezing,” Ron complained eventually. “Let’s just give up and go back.”
“No!” Harry hissed. “I know it’s here, somewhere.”
They passed the ghost of a tall, thin witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron began complaining about his frozen feet again, Harry spotted the suit of armor.
“Here… right here… yes!”
They opened the door. Harry let the cloak fall from his shoulders and ran toward the mirror.
They were all there. His mother and father radiated happiness at seeing him.
“See?” Harry whispered.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Look! Look here…”
“I only see you.”
“No, look closer! Stand where I’m standing.”
Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he could no longer see his family—just Ron in his polka-dotted pajamas.
But Ron was staring at his reflection as if petrified. “Hey, that’s me!” he exclaimed.
“And do you see your whole family around you?”
“No… I’m alone… But it’s different… I look older… I’ve become Head Boy!”
“What?”
“I… I’ve got the badge, like the one Bill used to wear… and I’m holding the House Cup, and the Quidditch Cup… I’m the Quidditch team captain too!”
Ron forcibly tore his gaze away from the astonishing vision and looked at Harry, excited.
“What do you think? Does this mirror show the future?”
“How could it? My parents are dead… Let me look again.”
“Hey, you had it all to yourself last night. Let me look a bit longer!”
“But all you see is yourself holding the Quidditch Cup! What’s so interesting about that? I want to see my parents!”
“Hey, don’t push me!”
A sudden noise from outside the corridor ended their argument. They hadn’t realized they’d been speaking very loudly.
“Quick!”
Harry managed to cover himself and Ron with the cloak just as the glowing eyes of Mrs. Norris appeared at the door. The two boys froze. They both had the same thought: did the cloak work on cats?
After what felt like an eternity, the cat turned and left.
“We’re not safe… she might have gone to fetch Filch. I’m sure she heard us. Let’s get out of here!”
And Ron pushed Harry out of the room.
In the following days, Harry decided to share his discovery with the other Gryffindors.
During a study session in the common room, he told them about the mirror. Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity, and Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati were immediately intrigued.
"It shows what we want most?" Hermione asked, skeptical but fascinated. "Harry, we have to see it."
That evening, Harry led them one by one to the room.
When Harry brought his friends to the mirror room, the excitement was palpable. One by one, they approached the golden surface, each reacting with different emotions.
Hermione, the first to look, stood motionless for several minutes. When she turned away, her eyes were shining. "It's incredible," she murmured. "There was an audience… famous wizards, scholars, and I was at the center, holding a stack of books… and they were applauding my discoveries."
Neville went next. He approached the mirror hesitantly, but after a few moments, his face lit up. "I… I see myself strong," he said quietly. "Like a great wizard. Powerful. Confident." There was a note of awe in his voice, and when he stepped back, he seemed taller, as if the mirror had given him new confidence. But Harry was sure Neville hadn’t told the whole truth and chose to respect his silence.
Dean stared at the mirror for a long time without speaking. When he finally turned, he wore a thoughtful expression. "I see someone," he said slowly. "A man… I think it's my father. We're hugging; I’ve never met him." Harry noticed Dean’s voice trembled slightly but said nothing.
Then it was Seamus's turn. He approached with his usual swagger, but after a moment, he smiled with a slightly strained expression. "Easy," he said. "I’m swimming in gold galleons. Endless fortune." Yet Harry couldn’t help noticing a detail Seamus hadn’t mentioned. When he got close, Harry had glimpsed a different image: Seamus was with a blonde woman with perfectly styled hair, and four small children were laughing around them. Harry realized Seamus was lying, perhaps to hide something too personal or too far from his usual jokester persona.
Parvati approached with curiosity, her face lighting up as she looked at the mirror. "I’m everywhere!" she exclaimed, enchanted. "Behind me is… the Taj Mahal! And now the Eiffel Tower! Oh, now a temple in Thailand!" She turned to the others, her eyes sparkling. "I’m traveling all over the world. It’s incredible."
Lavender giggled. "I saw myself dressed like a queen," she confessed. "And there was a crowd of people admiring me." Her tone was frivolous, but Harry noticed her gaze was distant, as if reflecting on how much being admired meant to her.
The next morning, Harry woke with the mirror heavy on his mind. As the snow continued to fall gently outside the castle windows, his friends gathered in the common room to plan the day. Ron, noticing Harry’s distracted air, decided to be direct.
"Harry, want to play chess?" he asked, trying to distract him.
"No," Harry replied, shaking his head.
"What about visiting Hagrid?" Ron pressed.
"No… you go," Harry replied, not even looking up.
Ron crossed his arms. "I know what you’re thinking about: that mirror. But I’m telling you this—don’t go back tonight."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"I’ve got a bad feeling, that’s all," Ron said, shrugging. "And besides, Harry, you can’t keep taking risks like this. Filch, Snape, Mrs. Norris… do you really think you’re safe just because you have the cloak? What if someone bumps into you? Or if you knock something over? You won’t always get away with it."
Hermione, who was flipping through a book on a nearby sofa, looked up with a stern expression. "Ron’s right, Harry. The mirror is dangerous. It’s consuming you. There’s no point in staring at something you can’t have."
Neville nodded timidly. "Maybe you should listen to them. Sometimes what we want most isn’t what we need."
Harry scoffed. "You sound like Hermione!" he said to Ron, ignoring Hermione’s silent approval. "I know what I’m doing."
Ron stood abruptly, frustrated. "I’m serious, Harry! Don’t go!"
But Harry had already made up his mind. The mirror kept calling to him, and nothing would stop him. That night, he donned the Invisibility Cloak and left the dormitory. By now, he knew the way, and this time it took him much less time to reach the room. He walked quickly, making more noise than usual, but his mind was too preoccupied with the desire to see his family again to worry about the risks.
When he entered the room, his heart stopped for a moment. There, in the mirror, were his mother and father once more, smiling sweetly at him. Behind them, Sirius and Remus looked at him with affection. This time, one of his grandfathers was also there, nodding cheerfully at him. Harry slid to the floor, sitting in front of the mirror, unable to look away.
"Nothing will stop me from staying here all night with my family," he thought.
Harry sat on the floor in front of the mirror, his gaze fixed on his parents’ smiling faces. The warmth of their reflected presence enveloped him like a blanket, easing a deep sense of emptiness. He thought he could stay there all night, unmoving, until a calm, familiar voice broke the silence.
"So… back again, Harry?"
Harry started, his heart racing. He turned quickly and saw Albus Dumbledore sitting on one of the desks against the wall. He must have passed him unnoticed, so absorbed had he been in his desire to see the mirror.
"I… I didn’t see you, sir," Harry stammered, his face flushing.
"Strange: being invisible makes one blind!" Dumbledore observed with a gentle smile. Harry felt a wave of relief at the sight of his kind expression.
Dumbledore slid off the desk and sat on the floor beside Harry. "You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
Harry stared at him, confused. "I didn’t know it was called that, sir."
"I suppose you’ve realized by now what it does."
"Yes… well, I see my family," Harry said slowly.
"And your friends see different things. For instance, your friend Ronald sees himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain," Dumbledore added with an enigmatic smile.
Harry looked at him in surprise. "And how do you know that…?"
Dumbledore replied gently, "I don’t need a cloak to become invisible." Then he fixed Harry with bright eyes. "Do you understand now what we all see in the Mirror of Erised?"
Harry shook his head. "Not entirely, sir."
Dumbledore folded his hands, reflecting for a moment. "Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would look into the Mirror of Erised and see himself exactly as he is. Do you begin to understand?"
Harry was silent, deep in thought, then said slowly, "We see in it what we want… the things we long for…"
"Yes and no," Dumbledore replied calmly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. You, who have never known your parents, see yourself surrounded by family. Ronald Weasley, who has always lived in his brothers’ shadow, sees himself as the best of them all. And yet this mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. There are men who have wasted away in front of it, entranced by what they have seen, or driven mad because they didn’t know if what it shows is real or even possible."
Harry was silent for a moment, then lowered his gaze. "My friends… they warned me not to come back here. They said it was dangerous."
Dumbledore watched him with a warm, slightly amused expression. "You have wise friends, Harry. You’re lucky. Cherish those friendships; you have no idea how many pleasant surprises they can hold for you. A group of true friends is one of the greatest treasures you’ll ever have."
Harry nodded slowly, Dumbledore’s words resonating deeply within him.
"Tomorrow, the Mirror of Erised will be moved to a new home, Harry, and I ask you not to seek it out again. If you ever come across it again, you’ll be prepared. Remember: it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." He stood, extending a hand to Harry. "Now, why don’t you put on that marvelous cloak and head back to bed?"
Harry stood, draped the cloak over his shoulders, and prepared to leave, but paused at the door, hesitating.
"Sir… Professor Dumbledore… May I ask you a question?"
"Certainly! You’ve just done so!" Dumbledore replied with a smile. "But you may ask me another."
Harry hesitated, then asked, "What do you see when you look in that mirror?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Me? I see myself holding a pair of thick woolen socks."
Harry stared at him incredulously. "Socks?"
"Socks are always useful," Dumbledore said lightly. "Another Christmas has come and gone, and I didn’t get a single pair. People seem to insist on giving me books."
Only when he was back in bed did Harry realize that Dumbledore probably hadn’t told the truth. But he thought perhaps his question had been too personal. He looked at Ron, sleeping peacefully in the bed beside him, and felt grateful for the group of friends he had. For the first time, he fell asleep with the awareness that he had more than the mirror could ever show him.