Yeah wonderful fans, nice to see you back here. Can't believe we are already up to chapter twelve, so many things have been happening in my life that time has just flown. So Merry Christmas! Keep reading and please review.

– CHAPTER TWELVE –

The Mirror of Erised

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake frozen solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they would follow Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver post had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common-room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the draughty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry and Jay as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powered spine of lionfish and Jay, who was adding the last few finishing touches to his potion, both ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that Slytherin had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realised that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry and Jay about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry and Jay weren't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come round the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry and Jay had signed up at once. They didn't feel sorry for themselves at all; this would probably be the best Christmas they'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying too, because Mr and Mrs Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

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

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Jay just grabbed Ron before he dived on top of Malfoy. Snape came up the stairs.

"What is this? Fighting, you two?'

Jay let go of Ron.

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

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points each from Gryffindor, you two, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Too many."

"We've only got one left, Jay," said Hermione.

"Exactly, it's one too many."

"That reminds me, you three – we should be in the library, we've only got half an hour before lunch," said Hermione.

"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.

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

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

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

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

"Curiosity is second nature you know. Well it's actually first it's for me," said Jay.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundred of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I've read his name somewhere."

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

"Just have to find for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of selves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles that she and Jay had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books and he knew he'd never get one. 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?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

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

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Jay, 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.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for a fortnight, 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.

Five minutes later, Jay, 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."

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

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

But once the holidays had started, Jay, 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, crumpets, marshmallows – and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry and Jay 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, the old chessmen weren't drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had any trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

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 sent me there, can't you see his knight? Send him; we can afford to lose him."

Jay in the mean time was chess champion at their old school and Ron lost to him in a very embarrassing match.

"I let you win," said Ron with very pink ears.

On Christmas Eve, Harry and Jay went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but they were not expecting any presents at all. When they woke early the next morning, however, the first thing they saw at the foot of each of their beds was a small pile of packages.

"Merry Christmas, you two," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambles out of bed and pulled on his dressing-gown.

"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 or Jay's.

"If you grew up in our house, you would expect nothing better then that," said Jay unwrapping one of his packages. "Oh, how sweet, they got me a piece of gum."

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

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclosed your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Sticky taped to the note was a fifty-cent piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

"Yeah, when we go back there you can go out and buy another piece gum."

Ron was fascinated by the fifty cents.

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

"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, going a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mum. I told her you two weren't expecting any presents and – oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you both a Weasley jumper."

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

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

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

"Yeah, I really think red's my colour. It matches my eyes," said Jay trying on his jumper and taking a bite from his fudge. "And I must say your mum makes some great tasting fudge."

The next present Harry opened also contained sweets – a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

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

Something fluid and silvery-grey went slithering on the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavour Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is – they're really rare and really valuable."

"What is it?"

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

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

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell, while Jay whispered sweet.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they had gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in mid-air, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"Hey, Harry, there's a note," said Jay holding up a piece paper. "It was inside the wrapping."

Harry pulled off the cloak and took the letter from Jay. 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 and your brother. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Harry showed Jay the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter, Harry?"

"Nothing," said Harry, giving Jay a side ways glance. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to their 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. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look – Harry and Jay got a Weasley jumper, too!"

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

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

"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.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," said George observantly. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid – we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly come halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy jumper over his arm, which Fred seized.

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

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

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

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his jumper.

Neither Harry nor Jay had ever, in all their life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of fat chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic crackers were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats. 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. Up on the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet and was chuckling merrily at a joke Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. 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.

When Harry and Jay had finally left the table, they were laden down with a stack of things out of crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, dungbombs, luminous balloons, lots of sweets, a Grow-your-own-Warts kit and they both got their own wizards chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs Norris' Christmas dinner.

Harry, Jay and the Weasley spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight in the grounds. Then, cold, wet and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common-room, where Harry broke 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. But the rematch between Jay and Ron was much more entertaining. After a hard battle, Ron came out on top, with a sneaky play involving a few brave prawns and a rook.

After a tea of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been the brother's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging Harry in the back of the 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, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry lent over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's … this had been his and Jay's fathers. 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 funny feeling.

Use 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.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back – his father's cloak – his brother's fathers cloak.

Harry went over to Jay's bed.

"Jay," he whispered, as he poked his older brother.

"Yeah," he grunted to his pillow.

"Want to go for a night wonder?"

"What?" he said turned over. "Oh, under the cloak. Bring it on."

He climbed out of bed and put on his dressing-grow.

"Should we wake Ron?"

"Nah, he's fast asleep, let's not mess with a good thing."

Jay got under the cloak and they 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. Harry and Jay said nothing. They walked quickly down the corridor.

"Where should we go?" said Harry, his heart was racing as he thought.

"Let's go to Snape office and trash it."

"Or we could go to the Restricted Section in the library. We will be able to read as long as we want, as long as it takes to find out who Flamel is."

"How fun," said Jay sarcastically. "But ok, I guess we can trash Snape's office another time."

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

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope which separated these books from the rest of the library, Harry held up his lamp so they could read the titles.

They didn't tell them much. Their peeling faded gold letters spelled words in languages neither Harry nor Jay could understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. 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.

"Well, here's a better spot then any. Let's get to work," whispered Jay

Harry nodded and set down his lamp carefully on the floor. Jay sat down and pulled a random book off the self and started to read. Harry scanned the bottom row of books for one that stuck out. 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, blood-curdling shriek split the silence – the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, ear-splitting note.

"Well that's just given as away," said Jay

Harry stumbled backwards and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Jay stood up, as he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside – stuffing the shrieking book on the shelf, Harry covered Jay under the cloak and they both ran for it. They passed Filch almost in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through them and they slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in Harry's ears.

They come to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armour. They had been so busy getting away from the library; they hadn't paid attention to where they were going. Perhaps because it was dark, Harry didn't recognise where they were at all. There was a suit of armour near the kitchens, he knew, but they must be five floors above there.

"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 and Jay were, Filch must know a short cut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to their horror, it was Snape who replied.

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

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

Harry felt a tugging on his sleeve. He was being pulled though a door that stood ajar to the left. He took a deep breath as he squeezed between the small gap. To his relief he managed to get inside the room after Jay, without them noticing anything. They walked straight past and Harry leant 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 Jay had pulled him into.

It looked like a disused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were pulled against the walls and there was an upturned waste-paper basket – but propped against the wall facing the two boys 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.

Harry's panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape. Harry and Jay exchanged puzzled looks under the cloak. Harry moved closer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He and Jay stepped in front of it.

Harry had to clap his hand to his mouth to stop himself screaming. He whirled around. 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.

But the room was empty except for himself and Jay. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he and his brother were, reflected in it, white and scared looking, and there, reflected behind them, 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 the mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

"Ok not that this isn't fun, but can we go now?" said Jay

"What? Can't you see them?"

"See who?"

"The people in the mirror."

"I see a blank mirror."

Harry looked closer at the mirror. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. 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 only felt air – she and the others existed only in the mirror.

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

Harry took a step forwards, the cloak fell off him. He continued to move closer so that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

"Are you alright Harry?"

Harry turned around, he said to the still invisible Jay, "I can see our Mum and Dad, Jay." Harry turned back to mirror, "I can see our whole family, there's someone with the same eyes as me and a nose and look, that guy got my knobbly knees."

Harry leant right up against mirror, hoping – prying that he could just fall straight though the glass.

"Harry, I think we need to get out of here."

"Jay, they're right there. Come here have a look."

Jay took off the Invisible Cloak and took up Harry's spot. Harry couldn't see his parent anymore.

"Can you see them, can you see our family."

But Jay didn't hear him; he was too transfixed on the mirror.

"Well?"

"I can see our Mum and Dad. Just our Mum and Dad. They are beckoning me forward. They're asking me to join them."

Jay reached up and put his hand on the mirror where he could see his mother's face.

Harry's mouth fell open. He stepped in front of the mirror. There was his whole family, at least ten of them.

"Are you sure you can't see the others."

"Are you sure you can see the others?" said Jay. "Come on, I don't like this mirror, Harry. Let's just try and find our way back to bed."

Harry tore his eyes away from his mother's face and whispered so that Jay couldn't hear him, "I'll come back."

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

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

"You can't go back tonight, Harry, I don't like that mirror."

"Come on Jay, don't be such a downer, I want to see your mum and dad," Ron said.

"Yeah and I wouldn't mind see your family Ron, 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. Or people you are close too. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, Harry, why aren't you eating anything?"

"Come on Harry, eat, forget that mirror and we can have a fresh start on Flamel tonight."

But Harry just shook his head. He wasn't hungry; he didn't care about Flamel anymore. He didn't seem important any more. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it? Nothing matter anymore, all Harry cared about was seeing his parents again.

"Are you alright, Harry?" said Ron. "You look odd."

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again and with Jay refusing to come and see the mirror again, he couldn't show them the way, which Harry knew he could do with out any trouble. So Harry and Ron tried for over an hour to find the room again, wandering around the dark passageways in the middle of the night.

"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, Harry spotted the suit of armour.

"It's here – just here – yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from round 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. Or can you only see my Mum and Dad, like Jay?"

"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 any more, just Ron in his paisley pyjamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image?"

"Look at me! He said.

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

"No – I'm alone – but 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!"

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

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

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

"You got to look at it last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me –"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realised 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 ages, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe – she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.

The snow still hadn't by the melted next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"We should all go down and visit Hagrid," said Jay

"You two can go."

"We know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror," said Jay

"Please Harry, don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I think Jay's right, there just something wrong about that mirror," said Ron. Harry continued to look into fire. "Anyway you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape and Mrs Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

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

"Please, Harry. Listen to us."

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and nether Jay or Ron were going to stop him.

That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast and 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 staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except –

"So – back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desk by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

"I – I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realised by now what it does?"

"It – well – it shows me my family –"

"As it does with your brother but shows your friend Ron himself as Head Boy."

"How did you know –"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is; he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want … what ever we want…"

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You and your bother, 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 nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

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

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.