"But where was he going?"

The five of them – since Hermione had been battle-bonded into their group – were huddled around a table in a corner of the library, finally discussing what they had seen Snape doing on Halloween.

"That's one of the ways up to Gryffindor Tower from the first floor," Ron suggested.

"It also goes right by the forbidden corridor," Hermione added.

"That's the more likely answer," said Harry, "especially since Professor Snape doesn't like Gryffindor. But why is that corridor forbidden? Does anyone know?"

All the others shook their heads. "I asked Fred and George," Ron offered, "and they said it wasn't forbidden before this year, just empty."

"If it was empty before, it's obviously not now," said Draco, "but that begs the question: what did they put there? What's the Headmaster hiding?"

They all looked at each other. Then Neville said, "Maybe whatever someone tried to steal from his Gringotts vault."

"What?"

"Someone tried to steal from Gringotts?"

"The Headmaster's vault?"

"Yeah, it happened over the summer, right after my birthday," the boy said, "My gran sat in on the investigator's report – they said that the vault had been broken into by an unknown Dark wizard, but it had actually been emptied earlier that same day."

"I remember hearing about that," Draco added, "There was an article in the Prophet. I didn't know the vault belonged to Professor Dumbledore, though."

"Yeah, him and some other guy – Nicolas Flamel?"

"Who's that?"

None of them knew, not until weeks later when Neville sprinted up to Harry and shoved a chocolate frog card in his hands before doubling over, panting.

It was Dumbledore's card. Harry read the caption, then gasped and read it aloud for the benefit of the others. "-twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!"

"Good job, Neville!" said Ron, and the other boy beamed.

That led to a flurry of research on alchemy. Ultimately, a passing comment from Draco led Hermione to the right book. She let the massive tome thump down on the table between them all and cracked it open, all of the others rising to get a better look. "I knew it!" she crowed in a whisper, "I knew it! Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"The what?" said the others together.

She read the passage aloud to them, emphasizing the characteristics of the Stone and how old Flamel really was (six hundred and sixty-five) thanks to the Elixir of Immortality.

"No wonder we couldn't find him in anything more recent," said Ron, "He wouldn't exactly be in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry if he's over six hundred, now would he?"

That solved the problem of the 'what' and also the 'why'; even Neville openly admitted that the Stone was definitely worth stealing, if it was possible.

But then the Christmas holidays came, and everyone but Ron went home to their families.

Harry didn't realize how much he actually missed Hannibal, Will, and Abigail until he saw them waiting for him on the platform. Almost immediately, his heart clenched and tears filled his eyes, but he kept his composure long enough to disembark with all his school stuff, before getting swept up in one of his sister's fierce hugs. He squeezed back as hard as he could with his weaker human muscles, before being handed off to his fathers.

Will held him for several long minutes, Hannibal's arms wrapped around them both, before he put the boy back on his feet. Harry quickly wiped his eyes and composed himself enough to introduce his family to Hermione's parents and Neville's grandmother, and to accept Draco's invitation to the Malfoys' Yule Ball.

It was even better – or perhaps worse? – at home. He had grown used to rooming with the other boys, but it was nice to be back in familiar territory, his own room with at least a modicum of privacy. He put his trunk at the end of his bed but only unpacked his clothes and what he needed for homework, so he didn't have to re-pack everything at the end of the holiday.

Hannibal's feast put everything at Hogwarts to shame, even if only by elegance and richness. Over dinner, they all heard more detail about Abigail's experience at college – she was actually rooming with a werewolf! Upon sniffing out what she actually was, the werewolf – a young man by the name of David Kessler – begged for her help in controlling his feral self, which resulted in a werewolf following a High Wendigo around an ancient wood not too far from campus when the moon was full.

"I'm sure there's something in the magical world that could help, if you want me to look into it," Harry offered.

"I'll ask when I get back, but the answer will probably be yes."

Then it was Harry's turn. He told them about the school, about Professor Snape and their history and – well, not peace but at least ceasefire, about what he was learning in all his classes, even if he wasn't allowed to show them – no magic outside of Hogwarts until he came of age. He also gave more detail about the fiasco with the troll, as well as the third floor corridor.

Hannibal frowned sharply at that. "I was under the impression that this was a school."

"It is."

"Then why is this Sorcerer's Stone in a school full of curious children? Why not in the middle of a deserted location, somewhere where no one else knows where it is? What kind of protections are in place to stop students wandering into this corridor despite the Headmaster's warning? Do these protections differentiate between mistaken students and true thieves? What protections does the school have to stop said thieves from just walking in and killing everyone in their way? –"

He would have continued had Will not laid a hand on his thigh. "We're concerned," said the younger man.

A couple of those things had occurred to Harry and he said as much, and also said that he and his friends avoided the area for those exact reasons. He hadn't heard of anyone trying to force their way in – yet.

An invisibility cloak.

An unknown individual had sent him an invisibility cloak for Christmas, one that had belonged to his father according to the note that came with it. Harry briefly wondered if he would find it listed among the magical artifacts in the audit of his accounts (which were more extensive than either he or the goblins had first thought – the audit still wasn't finished). But it hadn't taken an ounce of Ravenclaw wisdom or Slytherin cleverness to guess that Dumbledore was the one who sent it – but for what purpose? Obviously to be used, Harry mused as he let the silvery fabric slide between his fingers, but how? Was Dumbledore expecting him to become foolish and think he couldn't be caught?

Hannibal had already said he wasn't to wear it in the house, even though every single other resident (dogs included) would be able to hear and smell him coming.

"Maybe I should just leave it with you all. It would make your hunts easier."

"Too easy," Will replied, carefully brushing out Toast's fur, "Your father and I are more capable than that, and have no desire to breed laziness. Thanks for offering, though."

Applesauce and Pancake wandered over to sniff at the unusual cloth, before Pancake burrowed under it and came up looking like half a dog, then shook it off. Then Oreo seemed to think it was time to have some fun, because he pounced on Pancake, and all three of them raced off.

At his request, Abigail had given him Universe: The Definitive Visual Guide and a number of other textbooks from the college bookstore, because while interesting, his Astronomy textbook was terribly out of date and included almost nothing on Muggle discoveries. There was nothing on discoveries by space probes, asteroids beyond Vesta and Juno, the Shoemaker-Levy 9 impacts, the dwarf planets past Pluto and Pluto's own downgraded status, other star systems and galaxies… the list went on. While he didn't want to start anything with Professor Sinistra, he did want to have the most up-to-date education possible. If that meant relying on the Muggle world and making inferences from their work, it was no skin off his nose; he was no prejudiced pureblood.

His fathers had gotten him several gifts as well, most notably a difficult potion to correct his vision. Harry had carefully read the instructions that came with the bottle and followed them to the letter. His eyes were still prickling, but his vision was growing clearer by the minute, his glasses folded on the end table next to him.

His friends had sent him an assortment of gifts, and he, them: sweets, books, toys, and baubles. Once his vision was fixed, Harry planned on reading the book Lucius Malfoy had sent him. Although technically illegal to even own, it gave an overview of the history of wizarding traditions, the days of power, and methods for rituals. It was quite thick – probably could have been broken up into two or even three books – and he was looking forward to reading it. Of course, since it was illegal, he would have to leave it at home during the school year. That made him antsy to get started, so he could get through as much of it as possible.

He was fortunate in that the children weren't expected to dance at the Malfoys' Ball but instead socialized amongst themselves. In the process, Harry was reintroduced to many of the people he'd met on the train, plus more – mostly adults, via Lucius. A subtle power play, he knew, a deflection of suspicion – "My son and I have befriended the Boy-Who-Lived; we couldn't possibly be Dark wizards."

Harry found that he didn't mind; socializing like this wasn't very different from Hannibal's fancy dinner parties. And in the process he made some very useful contacts, including the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge. Although their conversation was very brief, Harry was very careful to make a good impression on the Minister, making sure that the man would remember him as more than just his title.

He spent the rest of the ball observing Will keeping Hannibal on an incredibly short leash, and talking with the Slytherins about their history and culture. Once they found out that he was genuine in his interest, they nearly talked his ears off about the world he now shared with them.

According to Ron, who'd stayed behind, nothing had happened over Christmas break. Snape had stuck to the dungeons, and no one had even approached the forbidden corridor while the boy was watching.

The very first night Harry went out wandering with the invisibility cloak, he went straight to the restricted section to browse the books. As he was sure there had to be protections in place to prevent them from being read without permission, for the time being he was scribbling down titles of things that looked interesting, hoping he would be able to mail-order them, either from Diagon or somewhere else. Occlumency especially; from the subtitles of a few of the books, he gathered that it was a magical version of his father's mind palace. Perhaps the books would have some tips for all of them.

On his way back to Ravenclaw Tower, he was forced to duck into an unused classroom to avoid Argus Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris. Harry paused and hovered just beyond the door, waiting with baited breath until the sound of Filch's footsteps retreating reached his ears. Then he gave the classroom a quick glance before – stopping, and looking around again.

In one corner of the room was a tall, gilt-framed mirror that shimmered strangely in the moonlight coming from the windows. Harry drew his wand and hesitantly approached the mirror, only to let his hand fall.

The mirror showed the image of a massive library somewhere, full of shelves and shelves and shelves of books, Dark and Light, legal and not. At the heart of the library was a fireplace of white stone, gilded with gold filigree and surrounded by tables, armchairs, and couches.

His family was there, but not just Hannibal, Will, and Abigail – there were two other people who must have been his parents, Lily and James Potter. The former was poring over a stack of books and parchment with Hannibal, the two of them deep in discussion while James, Will, and Abigail threw tennis balls down the rows for the dogs.

But standing front and center was himself, older, taller, graceful, elegant, long dark hair pulled away from his face and green eyes nearly glowing with power. He was holding some books to his chest, and Harry got a glimpse of the title of the first: A Comprehensive History of Wizarding Traditions and Culture for Muggles and Muggle-Borns, Volume 1.

By Harry Potter.

There was another book behind it: Biology and Genetics for Witches and Wizards, or Why You Shouldn't Marry Your Cousins, also by Harry Potter. And a third and a fourth whose titles he couldn't see.

His older self smiled slightly, and Harry had to blink back tears.

"Back again, Harry?"

The boy jumped to his feet as the Headmaster entered the room, clutching his invisibility cloak to his chest. He had been watching the other him work with Hannibal and his mother over a pile of parchments of varying ages, writing notes in a journal of some sort, and so he hadn't heard the man approaching. He said as much – the last part, at least.

Dumbledore just smiled and said, "So you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"Is that what it's called, sir?"

"Indeed. Do you understand what it does?"

"'I show not your face, but your heart's desire,'" Harry quoted.

"Indeed," the older wizard said with a smile, coming over to stand next to the younger, before his face fell. "Men have wasted away before the Mirror, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"I know my desire's impossible. Part of it, anyway – my parents are dead."

"It is good that you understand that. Even magic cannot bridge the gap between life and death," the Headmaster said solemnly, "The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. But, if you ever do run across it, now you will be prepared."