Chapter Twelve

Scene: Three days later. The Sensational Six are prowling around under a tree, near the Lake. They appear to be searching for something.

Filius: And you're sure this was the last place you saw it, Mona?

Pomona: Absolutely. I was digging One Hundred and One Fun Things to Do With Carnivorous Plants out of my bag, and I know I saw the Sorcerer's Stone book in there! When I put the Carnivorous Plants book away, I didn't notice the other one – but I wasn't really looking for it. I mean, where would it have gone? But that was three days ago and I haven't been able to find it, since!

Alastor: Did anyone come by, or speak to you, while you were reading?

Pomona: A couple of my Housemates walked by and waved, but they weren't close enough to take anything from my bag, even if they'd wanted to!

Minerva: Well, it didn't just crawl out of your bag and walk away!

Robert: Actually, there have been cases of magical books that...

(Suddenly a huge tentacle rears up out of the water, perhaps twenty feet out from shore. It hurls something toward the group.)

Alastor: DUCK!

(The others throw themselves to the ground. Xiomara, however, leaps about three feet in the air and intercepts the pass.)

Sound-of-Someone-Catching-a-Very-Wet-Book-Traveling-Fast: SPLAT!

Alastor: ARE YOU MAD, GIRL?! THAT COULD HAVE BEEN ANYTHING!!!

Minerva: What is it?

Xiomara: It looks like a copy of... "Hazy Splatter and the Sorcerer's Blur."

Alastor: Ah-HAH!

Pomona: I didn't even know the Giant Squid could read!

Minerva: Here, put it down and let me see what I can do with it. (She pulls out her wand and points it at the book.) Aridus!

(The book flies open and the wet pages begin to separate from each other and blow back and forth, as if in a constantly shifting wind. The air around the book begins to shimmer as if hot, and after a minute, steam begins to rise. The kids watch, clearly approving Minerva's skill.)

Robert: I think it's nearly dry. (Pause.) Minna, ease up! It's starting to scorch!

(Minerva finishes the spell with a last flourish of her wand, and the book lies open on the grass, bone dry, faintly scorched around the edges but still mostly legible.)

Alastor: Next time, keep your bag tied shut.

Pomona: Unless the Squid knows how to undo lacings!

Xiomara: Well, if it ever tries to undo your robes, run! Unless, of course, you like that sort of thing.

Pomona: XIA!!!

Filius: Ahem! Well, since we have it back, shall we have a chapter or two?

(General agreement. They all settle on the grass.)

Pomona: Whose turn is it to read?

Alastor: Mine, I think. (He pulls out his wand and runs it over the book. When no warning spells are activated, he picks it up.) Chapter Twelve: The Mirror of Erised.

Christmas was coming.

Pomona: ... the goose was getting fat?

One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow.

The lake froze solid

Xiomara: And Alastor Moody had to escort Arachne Malfoy to the next ball.

Alastor: No, Xia, I said that would happen when Hell froze solid, not just the lake.

Xiomara: Oh. Right.

and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

Robert: Ooh, good one!

(He and Minerva look speculatively at each other.)

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

Pomona: That's why I stopped sending Christmas cards.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty 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,

Pomona: That's one good thing about wizard's robes – you can wear winter woolens under them and nobody knows.

Filius: (trying to leer and only managing to look cute and cuddly) Oooh? Do tell, my dear, do tell.

Xiomara: Winter woolens excite you, Flirt – I mean, Flit?

Pomona: (blushing) Xia!

Minerva: In a Highland winter, we all lust after woolens!

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," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class,

Robert: ...for having been born a Malfoy. How may I atone for the sins of my forebears?

"for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

Minerva: (snorts) As if any Malfoy ever felt sorry for anyone!

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke.

Xiomara: Bit of a shocker if he up and invited Harry to come home with him!

Alastor: If he does, Harry'd better run for it.

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them.

Robert: Smart boy.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next.

Xiomara: Right, now that was funny!

Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny,

Xiomara: I stand corrected.

because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick.

Pomona: Ride 'em, Harry! (The others look at her oddly.) What? It's an American expression! Haven't you lot ever read any of the American novelists?

So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas.

Robert: It was also true that he was very, very happy about this.

Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had.

Minerva: Those are the ones I feel sorry for.

Robert: The ones that have a better time staying at school than they would going home?

Minerva: Right – and there are one or two in almost every year.

Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

Minerva: ... having decided that a Christmas spent among dragons would be more peaceful than another Christmas with the twins.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead.

Robert: Right. Own up, you lot. Who dropped a pinecone with all that magic lying around?

Pomona: I don't think you can say "pinecone" if it grew into a fir tree, Robbie.

Robert: Fir-cone?

Pomona: Ah-hah! Someone had been playing "Pooh-sticks"!

Minerva: What?

Pomona: Winnie-the-Pooh.

Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

Alastor: Ah-hah! So he's the culprit!

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

Xiomara: How much help could an eleven-year-old offer a half-giant?

Filius: What, you haven't heard the fable of the lion and the weasel?

Pomona: I thought it was a mouse.

Robert: Not in the wizarding world – all the mice got changed into something else.

(There is a frozen moment where everyone tries to keep a straight face and not to look at Filius.)

Filius: (pretending not to notice) Weasels are more resilient.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them.

Minerva: Why, Draco? Don't you like climbing trees?

Robert: (as Draco) Malfoys don't like anything in our way, Peasant!

Pomona: Pheasant? I hear they taste like chicken.

"Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose –

Pomona: It might not be a bad job, actually.

Filius: I'm not sure you'd like it, Mona. Too many animals, not enough plants.

that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Filius: If young Malfoy's ever been in either building, I'll eat my hat!

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Xiomara: Bellow that loud enough and about twelve different people will answer.

Alastor: Only twelve? I'd like to know where the rest are hiding. And why?

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

Robert: And not even very imaginatively!

Minerva: Talk about adding insult to injury!

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Filius: I'm letting you off easy because it's nearly Christmas.

Pomona: Bah, humbug.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

Pomona: Until a dryad leaned out from the branches and kicked the one bringing up the rear! And in the rear, too!

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get

him – "

Xiomara (as Draco): Professor, Weasley's chewing on me!

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

Robert: Well, at least he doesn't discriminate.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

Alastor: Careful! It could be a trick!

Filius: I think you're at least one holiday behind, Al.

So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

Filius: And the Great Hall looked magnificent – we both have such excellent taste, after all!

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular.

Minerva: You were right, again, Flit!

Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

Pomona: Minna was involved, and there was no tartan?

Robert: Hold me, I'm scared!

Minerva: Oh, sod off, or I'll turn you into something!

Xiomara: Have you heard about the witch who bit a chap on the ear while he was driving, and he turned into a motel?

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

Robert: Er... excuse me, but don't you work at Hogwarts? Shouldn't you know that?

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me – Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

Xiomara: (as Hermione) Harry, Ron, we've got three hours after lunch, two hours after dinner, and eight hours after breakfast. We really should be in the library.

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, 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.

Filius: Oh, I like the sound of that!

Xiomara: I bet I could come up with enough innuendo for that paragraph to paint Mona's face red for the rest of her life!

Filius: No need, Xia. Sometimes golden balls are... just golden balls.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

(Everyone stares at Minerva, who turns up her nose at the lot of them.)

"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."

Alastor: For Merlin's sake, boy – you don't tell them you're looking!

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

Minerva: If it's guarding some of the "G"s Hagrid's dropped over the years, he should ask for them back!

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"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 –

Pomona: Is it bigger than a breadbox?

I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

Alastor: Maybe he's finally learning!

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron,

Minerva: That is the best way to learn.

and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

Robert: Wait – were they disgruntled, or just Hagrid?

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?

Pomona: When they found out what Snape was going to "steel," they planned to report it to a "Copper." See? I can do bad puns, too!

Xiomara: And in all their adventures, Harry "lead" the way.

Robert: I'm sure they can "iron" out any problems they encounter.

Minerva: You have the "brass" to make that claim?

Xiomara: Well, we all know I'm a bit of an "ore."

Filius: Enough! You've all proven your "metal."

Alastor: "Alloy," there, Mates! (Everyone groans.) One question – what's a "Copper"?

Pomona: "Copper" is a slang word for "Policeman," which is basically a Muggle Auror. And by the way, that last pun really "smelt"!

The trouble was, it was very hard 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; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry.

Minerva: I haven't read any of those. I wish they'd hurry up and get written!

And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books, thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Minerva: (sighs dreamily)

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random.

Filius: A personality test in miniature!

Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section.

Minerva (proudly): Yes, that's our Harry!

He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there.

Pomona: And if so, did he have permission?

Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to looks in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one.

Minerva: That shows a lack of imagination, Harry.

These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

Pomona: It's not "Boy." It's "Boy-Who-Lived"!

"Nothing," said Harry.

Filius: He should have said, "I'm not sure. I just hope I'll know it when I find it."

Alastor: Really? I'll be keeping my eye on you, laddie.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on – out!"

Minerva: (dangerously) Never chase me away from a book!

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story,

Robert: Yes, Harry, what happened?

Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not 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.

Minerva: Shouldn't a librarian be like a Healer? Keep things absolutely confidential?

Filius: It's a good idea, Minna, but I'm not sure it works that way.

Xiomara: Wasn't there a "Pince" at the sorting this year?

Robert: Irma. One of mine. Poor little kid looks like a malnourished vulture chick. Do you think it could be the same person?

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they 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.

Alastor: Or circling above them?

Filius: That would make it hard to focus! Speaking of vultures, did I ever tell you lot about the time an eagle tried to carry me off?

Pomona: (shudders) Yes, and don't tell us again! That story gave me nightmares!

Robert: Anyway, I think the dreaded Vulture Librarian only eats dead poets.

Filius: Oh, you've met the library ghosts? The Dead Poets' Society.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

Pomona: Even if it takes ill? That's not very nice.

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

Alastor: Are you sure about that?

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

Pomona: That explains a lot about Hermione!

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry 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 get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork – bread, English muffins, marshmallows –

Pomona: What? No sausages?

and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family – in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Filius: Old chessmen never die!

Xiomara: They just get "mated" less often!

Pomona: Flit, how could you hand her a straight-line like that?

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

Pomona: Must make him feel so loved!

Robert: The chessman, or Harry?

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all.

Filius: He was just glad of his "presence" at Hogwarts.

(Groans)

Pomona: "... but, oh, Father Christmas, if you love me at all,

Send me a big, red India-rubber ball!

When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

Alastor: Makes a good object lesson. If they can leave presents, they can leave worse.

Robert: Hippogriff heads!

Xiomara: Better than the whole Hippogriff!

Minerva: Try getting one of those down the chimney!

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Robert: For Harry, turnips would be an improvement.

Minerva: I hope Ron appreciates how fortunate he is.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself.

Robert: And Harry began to play, and Scabbers and all his little friends came running!

Harry blew it – it sounded a bit like an owl.

Pomona: Inspiring him to compose the Owl Concerto in the key of G-Minor, beginning his illustrious career as... (Sees them all looking at her.) Well, it could happen!

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

Pomona: Not bad. He could take a friend to the Cinema with that, and still have a bit left over for a snack.

Filius: Unless the way prices seem to have gone up in the 90's is true for the Muggle world too.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Alastor: As friendly as a Dementor's Kiss!

Minerva: For those Muggles, it was!

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, "What a shape! This is money?"

Pomona: Exactly what I said, the first time I saw a Sickle!

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle – so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents

Minerva: Well that's a bit embarrassing for Harry, isn't it?

and – oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

All: Awwwww!

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

Filius: Maroon? With bright red hair? I think Dudley's Smeltings uniform was in better taste!

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Robert: Didn't they say the Minister of Magic is someone named Fudge?

Xiomara: I wonder if he's tasty.

His next present also contained candy – a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

Minerva: I wonder what he got them?

This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Alastor: Get back! Don't let it touch you!

Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione.

Pomona: A dentist's child giving her friends candy. Sublimation in action.

Filius: Sub-what?

Pomona: Er, I'll explain later.

"If that's what I think it is – they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Robert: Well, it's a safe bet it's not a Sorcerer's Stone.

Harry picked the shining silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

Filius: Well, you'd never have to worry about getting it wet!

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Minerva: You're joking!

Robert: An Invisibility Cloak?

Xiomara: Harry's got a wealthy friend, somewhere!

Alastor: The question is, who is this person and why are they sending expensive gifts in secret, instead of coming forward and sponsoring him openly?

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone.

Alastor: Invisibility Cloak, or discorporation cape? I've got a bad feeling about this.

Xiomara: You always have a bad feeling about things, Al.

Alastor: And I'm usually right!

He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible.

Xiomara: How to get a head in the world!

Others: Boooo!

He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

Robert: And suddenly Ron felt strangely alone...

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

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.

There was no signature.

Alastor: Arrgh! Get that thing tested thoroughly before you wear it any more, Harry! Mysterious cloaks from anonymous givers... (winds down to a grumble.)

Pomona: After all, look what happened to the Princess of Corinth! ^{* 1}

Alastor: What?

Pomona: Don't ask!

Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything.

Alastor: Uh-oh. Now we know his price!

What's the matter?"

Minerva: Goodness, I don't know. I've just received a very rare and valuable gift from an anonymous giver and told that it once belonged to the dead father I never knew. Why would I have anything on my mind?

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight.

Alastor: Always good to have an edge they don't know about. Let's just hope Ron keeps his mouth shut.

Filius: I don't think the Weasley twins count as enemies, Al.

Alastor: Are you sure enough to bet Harry's life?

He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

Pomona: Happy Chanukah!

"Hey, look – Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

Alastor: But I'll bet they weren't wearing the right ones.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

Alastor: Maybe Harry should run a few tests on that sweater, too. How much does he really know about Ron's mother – or even if the sweater really came from Ron's mother! It's obviously no secret that the woman makes them for her own children every year – anyone could have made one in the same style, enchanted it to do who-knows-what to the boy and just slipped the package in with the others! Fred even said it's better made – maybe by someone who was a little better at knitting?

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

Pomona: She always forgets he hates maroon, she always forgets he hates corned beef...

Alastor: She's up to something, that Weasley woman!

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed.

Minerva: ...so there's no reason you and Harry can't simply trade.

"I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid – we know we're called Gred and Forge."

Xiomara: (glares at Robert & Minerva) If you two start calling yourselves Mobbie and Rinna, there's going to be trouble!

"What's all this noise?" Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving.

Robert: It's called "fun." Ever hear of it?

He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

Alastor: Convenient that the sweaters are already lumpy. He could hide just about anything under it, and no one would look twice.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I – don't – want – " said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

Minerva: Can't he just shrink it, the way Harry did with Dudley's sweater?

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

Robert: Or in this case, a time to prank family members unmercifully.

They frog-marched

Pomona: Chocolate-frog-marched?

Minerva: I toad you we were rubbing off on her!

Filius: Don't say I am-phibian, when I'm not!

Percy from the room; his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas;

Alastor: Aren't those the South American goat-sucking things?

Robert: No that's "Chupacabras", Al.

tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce –

Pomona: Someone, pass me a napkin. I'm starting to drool.

and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside.

Minerva: Wait – they're wearing their brand-new sweaters to eat in? I hope they're up on their stain-removing spells!

Filius: If they aren't, the Hogwarts house-elves will be.

Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice.

Pomona: What shall I call

My dear little dormouse?

His eyes are small,

But his tail is e-nor-mouse.

Minerva: (Licks her lips absentmindedly.)

Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet,

(They all stare at each other, for a moment, and then, explode into laughter.)

and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas pudding followed the turkey.

Robert: Uh-oh! Should someone warn the turkey that it's being followed, Al?

Alastor: Sod off.

Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

Minerva: Right. It's not me.

Robert: Are you sure, Minna?

Xiomara: Well, let's test it. Flit, Robbie, Al, all three of you take turns kissing Minna and we'll see if she blushes.

Minerva: Xia, if you want to be finding salamanders in your broom-bristles from now till the day you graduate...!

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set.

Filius: So, no one will know the rules, then?

The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Xiomara: Which reminds me – what did he give Hedwig?

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on 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. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

Minerva: Please, don't let this boy grow up to be Minister of Magic!

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake,

Pomona: I wonder how hurt my parents would be if I stayed at school over next Christmas.

everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower

Xiomara: Mooooviiing... verrrrry... slooowwwwly.

because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him,

Minerva: ... except why his mother could never remember that he disliked corned beef and maroon...

fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's... this had been his father's.

Alastor: You'll take the word of an anonymous letter, lad?

He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Xiomara: Yes, we caught that part.

Alastor: I'd like to know what this anonymous letter-writer considers using it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Alastor: Careful there, lad. Many a good wizard's been brought down by overconfidence!

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back – his father's cloak – he felt that this time – the first time – he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady.

Xiomara (as Harry): Sorry, didn't mean to put my hand there.

Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked,

Minerva: Rapture!

Robert: I couldn't agree more!

as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

Pomona: Levio Lux!

Filius: I think that would be Levio Lumen, actually.

Pomona: Really? Well, no wonder I can never get the lamp to hover while I'm working on Night-Blooming Dragons' Teeth!

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

Alastor: Great Merlin! They still haven't improved the security in that section?

Minerva/Robert: And after we went to all the trouble of pointing out its lapses, too!

Pomona: You're doing it, again.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all.

Alastor: Nine times out of ten, that's a trap. Your curiosity gets the better of you, you open the book to see what it is... and you're never the same again. If you don't disappear altogether.

One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood.

Alastor: Case in point.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

Alastor: Get out of there, boy! Get out, now!

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence – the book was screaming!

Minerva: YOU'RE DOG-EARING MY PAGES, YOU BRUTE! WHAT KIND OF BOOK DO YOU THINK I AM?

Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside – stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor.

Robert: Climb in, Harry! He'll never think to look for you there!

Alastor: He will if he's had any proper Auror training.

Xiomara: Al, how many school caretakers have had Auror training?

Alastor: Maybe more of them should.

He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

Xiomara: Which explained why this suit of armor looked so much thinner than the other one.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library – Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Pomona: Filch has a greasy voice, Snape has greasy hair... honestly, you could fry dinner for six on these two!

Filius: Somehow, I don't think anyone would want to eat it, Mona.

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him – the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

Alastor: So it wasn't a discorporation cape, after all.

Pomona: Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt....

Alastor: Careful what you wish for, lassie. There are some potions that can do that!

Pomona: Bleagh!

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left.

Xiomara: Well, which was it? A door, or a jar?

Pomona: Another jar? Hermione must have left it behind.

It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it,

Robert: Trying not to move his breath?

and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

Alastor: And why was the door left open?

Pomona: Well, you can't expect anyone to roam all over the castle and check every single door, can you?

Alastor: It's exactly that kind of lax attitude that leaves holes in security, lass.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, 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.

Xiomara: Well the same to you, you rude piece of glass!

Minerva: Why do I feel as though I almost know what that means?

Filius: Actually, I think I do know.

Pomona: Well? Tell! Tell!

Filius: Read it backwards.

Pomona: "Ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo... " Er, is this Japanese?

Minerva: Of course! "I show not your face, but your heart's desire!" You have to change the spacing in the letters, too!

Robert: So this mirror shows people their heart's desire?

Alastor: What's the good of that, unless they can reach in and grab it?

Pomona: Well, it could be useful if you're trying to decide what you want out of life.

(Robert glances briefly at Minerva, who doesn't notice.)

Pomona: You don't suppose it's in the castle, now, do you?

(All six kids look at each other.)

His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands

Pomona: ...to show he believed in fairies?

Filius: Er, what?

Pomona: Peter Pan.

Xiomara: Which House is he in?

Pomona: Never mind.

to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around.

Filius: Proving, once again, that reflection leads to revolution.

(Groans)

His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed – for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

Robert: Hurry it up, lad, there's a line for the mirror!

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder – but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

Alastor: And they wonder why I'm paranoid!

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving.

Xiomara: Lucky boy!

He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air – she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought,

Filius: A Tiresian ^{* 2} Mirror, showing Harry what he would look like if he were female?

Minerva: He'd have red hair?

Pomona: Weird! Who'd make something like that?

Alastor: You'd be surprised...

Minerva: In China, there's a very tragic story of the Spring of the Drowned Maiden...

Robert: I thought we'd already established that this thing shows people their heart's desire. If Harry's heart's desire is to be a woman, this is the first we've heard of it!

Xiomara: It might improve his life, though.

edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green – exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Pomona: Now, it's starting to make sense!

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

Pomona: That'd be my best guess.

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees – Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

Alastor: If it's showing him all his blood relatives, then Petunia and Dudley should be in there somewhere too.

Xiomara: So much for that joyous reunion!

Minerva: It could be just his direct ancestors.

Robert: Or if it's showing his heart's desire, that wouldn't include those two.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

Minerva: (wryly) My family has that effect on me, sometimes.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

* * *

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.

Pomona: And your sisters, and your cousins, and your aunts! ^{* 3}

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though.

Filius: If they wanted to find him badly enough, would he show up in the Mirror?

Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight.

Pomona: Eat, Harry! Or your parents will want to know why you're so thin!

He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

Minerva: That's a rather odd attitude to take all of a sudden.

Alastor: It's that mirror! It was enchanted!

Robert: Well, we knew that.

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

Minerva: Well, that's one way to get your exercise?

"I'm freezing." Said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

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 with cold,

Robert: Will they be ghosts, too?

Xiomara: Beware the spectral feet of... Ron? Doesn't sound very ominous, somehow.

Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here – just here – yes!"

Xiomara: Oh, what I could do with that line!

Pomona: Don't bother.

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all...there are loads of them..."

Xiomara: They're as bad as the Weasleys!

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Filius: Which – fond though he was of Ron – was not his heart's desire!

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

Pomona: "Who's the fairest of them all?"

Alastor: And where did you read that nasty bit of Wizarding history, lass? I know Binns doesn't get into it with the fifth years!

Pomona: No, but you'd be surprised what can turn up in Muggle children's stories!

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No – I'm alone – but I'm different –

Robert: For a Weasley, being alone would be different!

I look older – and I'm Head Boy!"

"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!"

Minerva: Where would he get the time for all that??

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

Minerva: In which, Harry's relatives all return from the dead?

Robert: That could get ugly.

"How can it? All my family are dead – let me have another look – "

"You had it all to yourself last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that?

Xiomara: "What's interesting about that?" Are you mad?

I want to see my parents."

Robert: (sings) I want to see my lass, who lives in Hexhamshire!

Minerva: And what lass would this be, eh?

Robert: The one who lives in Hexhamshire! Weren't you listening?

"Don't push me – "

Minerva: How rude!

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.

Robert: I wonder what Mrs. Norris would see in the mirror?

Minerva: Mice!

Pomona: You don't think she'd see Filch transformed into a handsome tomcat?

Alastor: That... was a mental image I didn't need, lass.

"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.

Xiomara: Does it ever, between Christmas and New Year's?

"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,

Alastor: Ah-hah! So Ron is an Occlumens! And how exactly did he acquire that skill at such a young age?

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.

Robert: ...for someone who hasn't even got whiskers, yet.

Minerva: He's got that right!

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."

Filius: Wait till his voice changes.

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

But Harry only had one thought in his head,

Pomona: Chocolate! Oh, wait, that's me.

which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.

Minerva: Then who is?

That third night he found his way more quickly than before.

Pomona: You know, some Muggle scientists are finding that if you put a rat in the same maze over and over, it learns to find its way to the cheese faster every time.

Alastor: That comparison may be a bit too apt, lass.

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.

Minerva: Wouldn't that get rather frustrating? Just smiling and waving?

Robert: Like waving from shipboard, or through a train window.

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.

Alastor: Foolish boy.

"I – I didn't see you, sir."

Robert: We never would have guessed!

"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."

Minerva: Didn't you ever work out what the words meant, Harry?

Filius: Since Harry found that thing, I don't think he's been working much of anything out.

"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.

Robert: That's our Dumbles!

Minerva: Professor? Are you here now?

(There is a soft sound that might be a chuckle or might simply be wind in the trees. The six all look at each other – then shrug and shake their heads.)

All: Nah.

"Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

Xiomara: Whatever you don't have enough of?

"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.

Filius: What would be my deepest desire? Unlimited knowledge? True love? A few extra inches? In height, Xia. A chance to do a lot of good in the world?

Xiomara (with no hesitation or doubt): Wings!

Pomona (dreamily): Acres and acres of fertile soil and a thousand different kinds of seeds and bulbs... And some big hunks of exotic cheese.

Robert: (Looks at Minerva silently. She either doesn't get the point or doesn't choose to.)

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.

Alastor: Damn dangerous weapon, in the wrong hands.

Pomona: What happens if two people stand right side-by-side?

Filius: Didn't Ron and Harry already try that?

Minerva: Maybe it's a very narrow mirror?

Pomona: What use would that be?

"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?"

Filius: (as Dumbledore) I see a whole school full of students and every single one of them in bed at the proper time, HARRY.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

Pomona: He may have a point. Wasn't Ron moaning about cold feet, earlier?

"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."

Minerva: And you're complaining? Ron's right, Professor, you're mad!

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.

Xiomara: It certainly was!

Alastor: I'd've wondered why the lad was so keen to know, if I'd been old Dumbles!

Minerva: I wonder if we'll ever see what Hermione's deepest desire is.

Robert: I know what mine would be if I looked right now.

Others: What?

Robert: Another chapter!

^{* 1} http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1852241896/002-6726463-8194430?v=glance&n=283155

^{* 2} http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~loxias/tiresias.htm

^{* 3} Slightly paraphrased from "H.M.S. Pinafore" by Gilbert and Sullivan