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; 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 party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Blaise and it didn't just bang, it went off with a cannon like blast and engulfed them all in a cloud of purple smoke, while from the inside exploded a Viking helmet and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. 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 finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, and a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit. He also got a chess set, but since he had already having the one he ordered, he trade it for a toy broom stick that when you threw it, it would keep flying until it something then reappear in the owners hand. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and Blaise spent a peaceful afternoon with their gifts and new books. After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much except sit and watch the eldest Weasley chase Fred and George all over Great Hall because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

After making there way back to the common room Harry broke in his new chess set by losing to Rebecca in a harsh manner, as most of her pieces worshiped her as a goddess and would cuss and scream at Harry.

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.

Blaise, with a book grasp in his arms, and with nothing mysterious to bother him, 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. 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.

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. He could waltz right into the Great Hall and no one would know.

His mind erupted in thoughts and plans. Mostly about Snake in the grass, some about silly pranks , but right now he thought about Flamel. Blaise rolled over causing his book to fall to the floor. 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 common room. Rebecca had fallen asleep on the corner sofa, her cat nuzzled into her lap. As he made his way to the entrance he saw Marcus Flint asleep in a reclining chair. Harry knew that the chair shouldn't be facing the direction it was in. It was facing the corner that Rebecca had fallen asleep in.

Harry shrugged it off and made his way out of the dudgeons. 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, 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.

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

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.

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.

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! 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. 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.

"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." 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.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, 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.

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. 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 to his mouth to stop himself from 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. 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.

He looked in the mirror again. 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 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, 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.

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

"Mom." he whispered. "Dad." 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. 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.

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.

"It would have been alright if you had woken me up," said Blaise.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror" Harry said. "I want to see all your family". Harry was so excited he missed the flash of shame across Blasie's face.

"Shame that you didn't find anything about Flamel. Just imagine what we can do now, Weasley will never no what hit him." Blaise said in a joyful tone. "Are you going to finish your bacon or shall I?" Blaise asked as he forked more hash browns. "Why aren't you eating anything".

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

"Are you sure you're all right." said Blaise. "You seem upset." What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Blaise 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.

"It's here, just here, yes!" 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 don't see anything." Blaise said standing next to Harry. He pulled his sweater closer to his chest.

"Look! Look at them all. There's loads of them" Harry said as he looked around at the family in the mirror

"I can only see you." Blaise said sounding a little defeated.

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am." Harry stepped aside, but with Blaise in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Blaise in his cotton pajamas.

Blaise, though, was staring transfixed at his image. He almost looked afraid.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?" Harry asked excited.

"No." Blaise said eyes still staring straight ahead. He started to look a little pale.

"What." Harry said frowning. If the mirror didn't show Blaise his family, but Harry it did, then what did it mean.

"Then what do you see?" Harry asked a little impatient.

Blaise still had not looked away, nor had he moved an inch. "I see my Father" he said, his voice climbing.

Harry now realized the effect the mirror was having on Blaise. "Blaise are you ok?" Harry asked sounding very worried.

"Harry, my Father, I never knew this man. He died when my mother was still pregnant with me" Blaise said.

There was a small noise from the corridor. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking. "Quick!" Harry threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Harry and Blaise stood quite still, both thinking the same thing. 'Did the cloak work on cats'?

After what seemed an age, she turned and left. "This isn't safe, she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on." And Harry pulled Blaise out of the room.