The fallout from the incident on Halloween was felt throughout Hogwarts in the days following, with gossip and rumours - each one more ridiculous than the last - flying around the school quicker than most racing brooms on the market.

Evidently some students had written home to parents and guardians who were understandably less than thrilled to hear that their children could potentially have been exposed to such a dangerous creature. Clearly unsatisfied with the written response they had received from the Headmistress of Hogwarts, they then reached out to the Office for Educational Standards. Although Hogwarts maintains a board of governors who directly oversees the appointment of the headmaster and approves or disapproves their nominated classes, the school is a state owned institution, and as such any concerns regarding student safety reflect negatively upon the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry's Public Relations team - unwilling to speculate on any rumours at this time - similarly rebuffed any concerns that were raised.

A small handful of parents, unhappy with being given the runaround, took it upon themselves to make sure their voices could not be ignored and so four days after Halloween the Cardiff Chronicle ran an article beneath the headline "Ministry Silent as Troll Runs Amok in Hogwarts."

With no actual evidence or witnesses to back this up, they were forced to run a retraction the very next day, but by that point the damage had been done and other media outlets were now questioning the strange rumours coming out of the castle regarding the events of Halloween.

The Ministry vehemently denied that there was any evidence at all that such an event had even occurred, and maintained that the rumours were exactly that: rumours. A full week after Halloween, an article in the Daily Prophet questioned the intention of the families that had been quoted in other publications, and raised their own concerns about providing a platform to a vocal minority who clearly had an anti-national agenda.

Harry, who knew all full well what had transpired that evening, was unable to believe the complete turn of events. Ernie, to whom Harry had confessed the full story to as soon as he was released on the morning after Halloween, told him with a dark expression that there was a difference between what occurred and what was reported, confessing that his own family had their reasons for disliking the Daily Prophet.

In hushed tones, he told Harry that the popular News Paper was quietly believed to be little more than a mouthpiece for Minister Umbridge's administration, a lesson that was learned the hard way by several prominent families who had challenged the current administration on various issues in recent years.

Harry, not wanting to believe in such blatant corruption, was at a loss for what to do; the damage to the first floor bathroom and corridor had been completely repaired by the morning after the incident, and the small number of teaching staff who witnessed the event remained suspiciously tight lipped. When he approached Professor McGonagall about the issue, she immediately cut them off. Warning them not to raise the matter any further for risk of creating panic amongst the student body, she sent them on their way.

"So much for being able to come to her for any issue if I need to" Harry scowled as he and Neville stepped off the spiral staircase from the Headmistress's office.

"I know what you mean," Neville muttered quietly. "Gran was so angry when I told her what happened that she sent both McGonagall and me a Howler."

If there was one positive thing that had happened as a result of Halloween, it was that he and Neville had begun spending time together. Harry was thrilled at the prospect of a fellow introvert joining his small social circle and the two boys had become fast friends, quickly bonding over a shared interest in non-fiction. He had introduced Harry to a weekly magazine that ran a number of short comics.

Neville was particularly fond of one comic that was centred around a Curse Breaker who was searching for the Timeless Tulip - a flower capable of granting eternal life and that was rumoured to be found in a secret temple in Nepal, guarded by a cult of Vampire Monks. Ernie would often join them, and it was not uncommon to find the three boys together in one of the courtyards during lunch breaks, huddled around the newest edition of the comic-zine before they would inevitably need to part ways to get to their respective lessons in time.

If Neville found it odd that they'd forged such a close friendship on the back of such a dangerous situation, he didn't let it show. It was, Harry reasoned, an odd school and so this was probably par for the course. Still, he reflected as he transfigured his matchstick into a snuff box and then back again, despite the strangeness of the situation, perhaps he'd been hasty in thinking that only one good thing had come out of the troll incident.

Whilst Harry's success with the Lumos charm against the troll had not exactly catapulted him to the top of the class rankings, it had served as a perfect example of focusing on the results and not overthinking the process. The fact that he now knew beyond any level of doubt that he was capable of magic also helped his confidence a great deal.

Having successfully achieved and reversed this newest transfiguration by the second week of December, Harry could confidently state that he was now somewhere around the middle of his class in terms of the speed at which he had completed this assignment. Considering that Professor Prewett had informed them that succeeding in this would be an important stepping stone towards one of the tasks on the end of first year examination, he was particularly happy with his progress.

Similarly, he was making great strides in both Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and his increased confidence had only boosted his already strong results in Potions. He had been surprised to learn that Neville had something of a green thumb when it came to Herbology, and Harry's continued improvement in Professor Sprout's class was in no small way due to advice that he'd received while studying with his new friend.

It was during Defence Against the Dark Arts, on a cold December afternoon, that Harry found his attention straying. Currently, the class was quietly reading a chapter on the theory behind the Knockback Jinx; a useful self defence spell that Professor Quirrell had promised they would get to attempt during the last lesson before classes finished ahead of the upcoming holidays.

Christmas, or Yule, as Harry had learned that wizards called it, was just under a week away now, and although the Hogwarts Express would be transporting students back to Kings Cross Station on the 20th, Harry would not be joining them.

He had received a letter from his Aunt and Uncle just that morning confirming that not only would they be spending the holiday with Uncle Vernon's sister at her home in Gloucester, but that Dudley would not be with them, having elected to stay at Smeltings with his new friends over the break.

Not having any real desire to spend his time off in the country with Aunt Marge and her twelve bulldogs, the confirmation that Dudley would not be there either was all the incentive Harry Needed to send one of the school owls back to his Aunt and Uncle, politely requesting to also remain at Hogwarts.

Both Ernie and Neville would be spending Yule at home with their families, but despite the prospect of spending the break alone, Harry was excited to experience the festivities at Hogwarts.

Yule, as Ernie had described it to Harry, was a twelve day long celebration; beginning on December twenty first and ending on New Years Day. Symbolising the emergence of light after the darkest point in the year, the Winter Solstice, he had learned, was just one single day and the exact date of varied slightly from year to year due to the modern calendar.

This year the solstice was set to be celebrated on December 22nd, and it would be prior to that evening that gifts would be exchanged before everyone sat down to a great feast. Traditionally, gifts would often be simple things that took inspiration from the natural environment, however, Ernie informed him with a giant grin, the ever increasing commercialisation of the holiday meant that these days nothing was off limits and that receiving a brand new Nimbus 2000 racing broom was very much on the cards for him.

Ernie and Harry weren't the only ones getting into the holiday spirit; with the castle being decorated with birch, ivy and boughs of holly, Neville, as a Herbology enthusiast, was in his element. During one particularly cold lunch hour where the three boys had elected to remain inside the castle rather than sitting in their usual spot in the courtyard, Neville excitedly explained through chattering teeth that Professor Sprout had asked him to assist her and a small selection of other students in harvesting more mistletoe; apparently some of the boys in upper years had taken to relocating the existing decorations to more favourable (and pre-planned) sections of the castle.

Neville confessed he had no idea why the older students would be interested in the parasitic plant, perhaps they were simply running low on potion supplies; the berries, although poisonous, are used in a number of common antidotes. Whatever the reason, Neville was clearly just happy to have the opportunity to spend more time in the Hogwarts greenhouses.

Upon overhearing Neville's theory, a group of nearby third year girls rolled their eyes at the three boys before walking away, the sound of tittering echoing back behind them. Uncertain as to what their problem was, the first years simply looked at each other before shrugging their shoulders and continuing on their way, lest the enchanted snow that was slowly falling from the ceiling cover them too deeply.

Harry awoke on the morning of the twenty second to an empty dormitory; he was the only first year Hufflepuff to have signed up to stay at the castle for the holiday. Taking a moment to stretch and rub the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, Harry pulled the covers off himself and swung his feet out of the bed, his toes immediately protesting at sudden exposure to the cold surface.

Slippers now found, Harry who was now very awake stood up and smiled immediately upon noticing the modest pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Remembering that unlike with Christmas he was not supposed to open these gifts until after lunch at the absolute earliest, he wandered over to the bathroom to begin his morning ritual. With the necessities taken care of, Harry dressed and prepared to head down to the Great Hall.

Taking his usual seat at the Hufflepuff table and helping himself to some eggs and bacon, Harry took the time to glance around the students who had already made the pilgrimage for breakfast despite the relatively early hour. Most of the faculty were already seated, as were many of the usual early birds at the house tables with the exception of the Gryffindor table which was bereft of any students at all and stood as a testament to the wide spread trait of sleeping in that was found amongst members of Godric's house.

Based on his observations from the previous day, Harry guessed that maybe ten percent of the student body had remained within the castle walls for Yule, a fact that made the hallways seem particularly empty when you considered the more than eleven hundred students who attended the school.

After finishing his cup of tea, Harry made his way back to the common room with the intention of settling down with his current paperback novel, only for two second year boys to approach him about joining them in a snowball fight out on the grounds. Promising to do so, the boys went on for their own breakfast as Harry unhurriedly went back up to his dormitory to change into more appropriate clothing for the upcoming activity.

What started as Harry and a couple of second year Hufflepuffs quickly expanded to around fifteen students from the youngest three years across every house, and by the time anyone had bothered to look at a watch, it was time for a late lunch.

Lunch was deliberately light considering the feast that was planned for that night, and Harry, who wasn't particularly hungry in the first place, quickly retired to the Hufflepuff Common Room to finally read a bit more of his book. It wasn't to be though; with students having little else more exciting to do than sit in the Common Room, inevitably some of them began opening gifts. Harry managed to ignore it for a little over an hour, but eventually the lure of presents was just too strong and so putting away his book, he retreated to his dormitory to open his own in private.

From his Aunt and Uncle - and Dudley, according to the card - he received a new pair of jeans as well as some socks, underpants and a box of chocolates. The chocolate notwithstanding, he received far less practical and far more interesting gifts from his two friends. Neville got him a two month subscription to the weekly comic magazine that he had grown so fond of, and from Ernie he received a Pride of Portree supporters starter pack, which included a poster, as well as a scarf and a beanie, both of which were deep purple and bore a large embroidered golden star.

Harry also received a gift accompanied by an elegant envelope bearing a rather formal wax seal which turned out to contain a card from Augusta Longbottom - Neville's Grandmother. Thanking him for his role in protecting her Grandson from the troll on Halloween, she wished him a happy Solstice. The gift, as it turned out, was a wand holder made of polished English Oak, and which Harry immediately placed on his bedside table, pleased with the new addition to his meagre furnishings.

Intending to send her an owl back thanking her for the thoughtful gift, Harry was acutely aware that there was, however, still one present remaining at the foot of his bed. Knowing that with the exception of the Longbottom Matriarch, he had received a present for each person he himself had sent one to, and so dearly hoping he wasn't forgetting someone, he picked up the rather light and non-descript parcel from the floor and opened it.

Harry's hands were met with a material so fluid and flowing he could have confused it for a liquid if not for the fact that it found purchase in his hands. Silvery grey in colour, the light seemed to almost bend around the cloak rather than reflect off its many creases and folds.

Something flittered in Harry's peripheral vision, catching his attention. He turned just in time to see a piece of parchment settle onto the ground. Bending to pick it up, he immediately ruled out the narrow looping handwriting as belonging to anyone he knew.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very merry Yuletide to you.

Frowning at the lack of a signature, Harry placed the note next to his recently acquired wand holder as he puzzled over the meaning of the words - how exactly was he supposed to use a cloak well? It either kept him warm or it didn't, and based on looks alone, it wasn't exactly the sort that he'd be taking with him for the next snowball fight.

It would be nice to have another reminder of his parent's though; Aunt Petunia wasn't shy in showing Harry old photographs and heirlooms, but they were mostly of his Mother and this was something connecting him to his Father. Plus, Harry admitted, the cloak certainly did look quite handsome; maybe he'd get a chance to show it off when the weather warmed up a bit.

Throwing the cloak around his shoulders, the material clung tightly to him almost like a second skin. Confident in his assessment that this would not be a winter garment, Harry made to walk over to a mirror and check his appearance, but stopped after only a few steps when he realised he was unable to see his feet. His legs too were conspicuously absent, as was every part of him currently covered by the cloak.

Dashing over to the nearest mirror, Harry's mouth fell open at what he saw, or more accurately, what he didn't. Testing the cloak further, he fully covered his head and body with the ethereal material until his visage vanished fully from the reflective surface.

Harry stood for several more minutes, staring at his non-existent reflection in the mirror before slowly taking it off and watching as his visage appeared once again. Letting out a slow breath, Harry walked back to his bed and sat down on it, his eyes never leaving the incredible piece of clothing he held in his hands.

As the minutes ticked by, Harry's stupor was gradually replaced by a growing grin, one that stretched, seemingly content to expand until the sides of his face hurt from pure happiness. Letting out a giddy laugh, Harry repeatedly thanked whoever had sent him such an amazing gift. The school would remain mostly empty until students returned on New Year's day, and he had just barely scratched the surface of the castle's many secrets and hidden passageways.

Yes, Harry thought to himself. He would use this cloak very well, indeed.

If Harry had thought that he had already seen Hogwarts at its most magnificent, then he was in for a shock when he made his way to the feast that night. The Great Hall which only that morning had been bedecked with festive wreaths, enchanted snow, and held countless small fairies flitting about above their heads - their shimmering wings reflecting the light in a kaleidoscopic pattern of colours - were all gone. As were the house and staff tables.

A single, long table dominated the centre of the Great Hall. The soft, flickering glow cast by dozens of small bonfires scattered around the hall gave the impression that the polished surface of the table would stretch on forever before becoming lost in the absolute darkness that held vigil at the edges of the room.

The brightest light shone from the great hearth at the side of the hall; the Yule Log - which had been merrily crackling over enchanted flames these last two days - showed no sign of fading, and, if anything, burned stronger in the absence of so many lights.

It was to this scene that Harry entered the Great Hall. An enchanted candle waited for him upon his entrance; hovering at head height, it would guide both him and the handful of students who had entered alongside him to their places at the table.

As Harry took his seat, he noticed how many others were already filled and came to the realisation that he was amongst the last to arrive. It was only a few moments later that the last of the students entered the Great Hall, the double doors closing behind them with a sense of finality, the darkness seemingly becoming all encompassing as they took their seats, and the flames began to dim.

A shadow stood at the head of the table; a flicker of light threw Professor McGonagall's features into sharp relief before the darkness claimed them again. As the Headmistress paused for a moment to observe those seated before her, the last vestiges of conversation faded. With the hall now silent but for the crackling of the flames, she began to speak.

"Hogwarts welcomes you on this Mid Winter Night. Throughout the centuries, our ancestors have celebrated the Solstices as a turning point, a time to renew their spirits and to strengthen their resolve. Tonight, We, too, gather not only to celebrate the emergence of light in deepest night but also to honour those who have come before us, and the traditions they left behind; traditions which bind us together as one people."

"As the shortest day gives way to the longest night, let us take a moment to reflect on the cycle of nature, where the old makes way for the new and life is reborn from the ashes. Do not fear change, yet, also take solace that in the coldest part of winter, warmth can be found not only at the hearth but in the familiarity we share with one another."

She extended her hand towards the table that stretched through the hall. "This communal table represents our unity, whereby people of all Houses and backgrounds come together as one, in the spirit of harmony and friendship, to walk together, even when surrounded by darkness."

"Tonight, we give thanks for the lights that shine in our lives, for the friendships that warm our hearts, and for the hope that carries us through the long night and into the coming morning. As we enjoy this feast, and the company we keep, may it remind us of the strength we find in one another and the enduring magic of camaraderie."

With a nod, Professor McGonagall sat down. As though waiting for this very signal, food of all kinds filled the table and the previously dimming flames roared back to life. Hundreds of candles field the air directly above their heads, and cast a warm glow down upon the table. Harry, who was captivated by everything going on, couldn't help but notice that for all the light that had just returned to the hall, it lit up the table and those seated at it, but no further. The darkness that blanketed the majority of the hall, broken only by the many scattered bonfires, remained as a symbol of what this night meant.

Focusing his attention on the food and drink in front of him, Harry soon put such serious thoughts out of his mind. Consumed by roast turkey, baked potatoes and eventually pudding with butterscotch sauce, Harry didn't realise how much time had passed until after he was dragged into an argument between several Ravenclaw First Years about whether a straw has one hole, or two.

Unimpressed that he had managed to lose ten whole minutes to the inane discussion - one which was still continuing on now without him - Harry surreptitiously looked around the table, and, noticing a number of now vacant seats, surmised that they had reached an acceptable point in the evening where one could politely excuse themselves from the table.

Upon standing, one of the candles flying overhead zipped down towards him as though sensing his intention. As it had done previously, it guided him between table and doorway, ensuring that no matter how dark it got, Hogwarts would always be standing by, ready to provide its students with a source of light.

It was a little after two in the morning when Harry stepped over the rope that separated the general access area from the restricted section of the library. In all honesty, he'd had every intention of leaving the Common Room closer to midnight, however, in the process of trying to stay awake he'd somehow managed the opposite. It was only when he'd turned in his sleep and knocked the book he had fallen asleep reading onto the floor, that he realised what had happened.

Still, Harry thought to himself as a slight blush dusted his cheeks, that was then, and this was now. Justin, who had been obsessed with finding out more about giant three headed dogs ever since their run in with the cerberus, had bragged loudly in the dormitory about making it into the restricted section of the library twice without getting caught, and even claimed to have plans to go back again in the New Year. Wanting to see what all the fuss was about, this was a logical first test of his newest present.

With his father's cloak covering the entirety of his body, traversing the castle was child's play. The first time a teacher had passed him in the corridor only to continue on their way, the adrenaline and anticipation that coursed through his body had been like nothing he had ever felt before. He decided then and there that if he could ever find a way to turn sneaking around on adventures into a full time job when he left Hogwarts, he'd do it.

The transformation from the well-lit, neatly organised shelves of the library to the dark and foreboding recesses of the restricted section was immediate. Shelf upon shelf of dusty tomes stood in various stages of disrepair, their contents - arcane or otherwise - just waiting to be read.

As Harry journeyed further into the Restricted Section, the sparsely positioned candles grew even further apart, and several times Harry had needed to stop, peering through his glasses for any small glimmer of light. Finally growing frustrated with the lack of visibility, Harry threw caution to the wind, and so, with a whispered "Lumos," he continued on his way.

Now able to better make out the covers of the books he passed, Harry was disappointed to find that that didn't help him much. Discoloured images, titles that vanished when you looked at them and text written entirely in what appeared to be Norse symbols. The further he journeyed, the heavier the air seemed to weigh on him, as though the very library itself knew he shouldn't be there. Winding his way down a spiral staircase that was built into an old bookcase, Harry was starting to get impatient; he'd been in the restricted section for over twenty minutes and no one book had really captured his attention.

Feeling as though he might as well start somewhere, Harry grabbed a thin, black book from the shelf next to him. Appearing to be a diary, it had no discernable markings on its cover and after flicking through it Harry could confidently say its pages were blank. Upon closer inspection, Harry found that the only words that appeared anywhere in the book at all were the initials 'T. ' which had been written in smudged ink on the inside of the front cover. Unimpressed with his first find, Harry placed the diary back on the shelf and moved on.

It was a further five minutes of walking before Harry stumbled upon the first book to

truly catch his eye. Its cover was a captivating mix of blues and greens, seemingly rolling and blending together like the sea, never truly committing to one shade for long before changing again. The faint sound of the crashing waves reached his ears as his eyes roved over the Iron shackles that bound the book tightly, crisscrossing in a mess of chains before meeting at a rusted padlock in the centre.

Captivated, Harry reached to pick it up. As his hand neared the book, the sound of churning water intensified and the surface of the cover appeared to slowly spin; its colour progressively darkening until it became a blue-grey maelstrom of deep ocean. Harry gasped as the frigid water met exposed skin, sending agonising needles of ice lancing into his bone. His head went under; once twice, and then a final time before the sea spat him out. Gasping for breath, his hands scratched at the waves, clawing for purchase at the floating debris that was once his ship. Lightning crashed around him, thunder roared, and in the distance, somebody screamed.

Harry crashed into the bookshelf opposite, his body landed heavily in a soaking mess of clothing, his knee bouncing off the hard wooden shelving. Drenched from head to foot and shivering uncontrollably, Harry grabbed his cloak and his wand and ran for all he was worth. Bumping into shelves as he hightailed it out of the library, slipping in puddles of his own creation along the way, Harry ran, heedless of the noise he was making until finally, out of breath he crashed through a doorway and into an unused classroom. Slamming the door shut behind him, Harry pressed his back against the hard surface and slid down its wooden frame until he was sat hunched over, hugging his legs for warmth as his teeth chattered despite his clenched jaw.

What felt like hours later, but which was in truth only fifteen minutes, Harry's awareness returned to him. Vehemently promising himself then and there that if he was ever faced with the opportunity to turn sneaking around on adventures into a full time job when he left Hogwarts, that he'd never do it.

Harry wiggled his fingers and toes; sensation had returned to his extremities. Despite the late hour and the time of year, the classrooms themselves were kept quite warm. It wouldn't be until he needed to return to the draughty corridors outside the classroom door that he'd be quickly reminded of the season.

Harry stood up, paying attention to the room itself for the first time since he had entered it, and immediately noticed something that didn't belong; 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 body far warmer now and his breathing under control, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to assess how bruised and battered he looked after the night's adventure.

For the second time in twenty four hours, the reflection of a mirror gave Harry pause. Perhaps it was because he'd already experienced the shock of attempting to look at himself with the cloak on, or maybe he had simply run out of things capable of surprising him for the night. Eitherway, when Harry saw himself reflected back on the surface of the mirror, surrounded by his friends and family, Harry didn't cry out. Neither did he turn to look behind him, for he knew they would not be there.

A short, pretty woman with dark red hair stood right behind his own reflection, smiling at him and waving. He recognised her eyes from the photographs his Aunt kept at Privet Drive, as well as from every time he had stared into a mirror.

A lean, dark haired man stood alongside with his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his messy hair jutted out at familiar angles. He too, could be found in a picture frame that hung proudly on a wall in the Dursley's living room.

Next to his parents were his Aunt and Uncle, as well as a man who could only be an adult version of his cousin Dudley; the resemblance to Uncle Vernon was just too similar for him to be anyone else. If this man was a grown up Dudley, then it only made sense that the other two men happily waving back at him were his friends. A closer inspection confirmed it; one man bore Ernie's effortlessly stylish looks, the other had Neville's cowlick and sharp chin.

It was the final person he saw in the mirror that gave him pause. Stood next to his own reflection, she stared back at him, her blue eyes dancing with curiosity. Her blonde hair was tied back in an elegant braid behind her neck, her expression a look of polite indifference that made him instantly envious of her composure. She turned away from him to glance up at his future self; a single look shared between the two that conveyed more emotion than any number of words ever could, and their countenance never faltered.

Turning his head away from her, Harry's adult reflection stared confidently back at him, and in that moment, he knew that he wanted what this man had. He didn't just ooze conviction, he WAS conviction. He WAS confidence, he WAS certainty, and above all, he WAS safety.

Harry knew that if he could only become this man, he would never need to worry about his capabilities again. He would never need to fear for himself, or for his friends and family. He would never lose anyone ever again; he would be able to save them all. His children would grow up knowing their parents.

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring into the mirror, but as the sun rose, and the first rays of light made their way through the window and into the classroom, Harry made a promise to himself: no matter how hard and how long he had to work for it, he would become this man.

Harry returned to the mirror the next night, and then again every after night for the following week. Initially he had struggled to relocate the classroom, but by his third nocturnal excursion he had worked out the shortest route to it from Hufflepuff Common Room.

Far more carefully now than the first night, Harry slipped into the unused classroom and closed the door, conscious of the need to not make any more noise than was strictly necessary. At the soft sound of the door shutting firmly in place, Harry tore the cloak off himself and strode quickly towards the mirror, settling himself cross legged on the floor, directly in front of it. He remained this way, uninterrupted for several minutes until a voice broke through the silence.

"You've returned once again then, I see, Harry?"

The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach; the surprise at being caught was quickly overcome by the nauseating expectation of consequences. Slowly, he turned his head and peered over his shoulder. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was an ancient looking man with half moon glasses and a long white beard. Harry immediately recognised him as the professor who had charged past him in the hallway on Halloween.

"I… I'm sorry sir, I didn't see you there. "

"Indeed, if you had I imagine you would not have been quite so quick to disavail yourself of that marvellous cloak of yours" said the man, who to Harry's immense relief was smiling.

"So," the professor continued, apparently deciding that the silence between them had lasted long enough, he crossed the room and took a seat on the floor next to Harry.

"You, like so many before you, have discovered how mesmerising the Mirror of Erised can be.

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

"Perhaps not, but I rather expect you've become familiar with what it does?"

"I, well… I see…"

"You see your family" the professor stated without a hint of uncertainty.

Smiling softly at Harry's shocked expression, he answered the unasked question. "I do not need to be able to read minds in order to speculate as to what a young man who grew up never knowing his parents may see in this wretched mirror."

"Wretched, sir?" Harry was taken aback, not only by the choice of wording, but by the expression on the professor's face, which now, as he studied the man's face more closely, his smile looked less genial and more bitter sweet.

"But it shows me my family - all of them. Together!"

"Indeed, it does" The professor replied with a far away look in his eyes that Harry couldn't place.

"It may pretend to show us surrounded by our families, but even at your young age you know that such a thing is impossible; there is no magic that can return the dead to us - not truly, and certainly not in any manner that they would approve of. No, what this mirror shows is nothing more, or less, than our most fervent desires."

"That is why we may see in its reflection those who are already lost to us. Rationality, and coherence, are seldomly of any importance to the heart. It is for this very reason that better men than I have wasted their lives away in front of this mirror; eschewing sleep, food and even water in the blind hope of holding onto impossible dreams."

"I will be relocating the Mirror tonight, Harry, and I would ask you to not seek it out again. However, should the day come to pass that you find yourself in front of it once more, you will now be prepared."

An easy silence settled between them, disturbed only by the shuffling of the professor as he climbed to his feet. Recognising the dismissal for what it was, Harry quickly did the same before turning towards the door, stopping only to pick up his cloak as he walked.

As his hand grasped the cool metal of the handle, a thought flashed across his mind, reminding him of something left unsaid.

"Professor… ah"

"Dumbledore" the wizened professor supplied.

"Sorry sir, I wasn't sure that's all and… well, I just wanted to thank you for what you did. On Halloween, I mean" Harry amended quickly.

"Not to worry, my boy, but in any case, you are very welcome. I would gladly do the same again for any student under Hogwarts' care" Professor Dumbledore said with a kind smile. "And do not trouble yourself for not knowing every last professor who teaches here at the castle. The two of us have hardly met previously, and in case, I rather find myself wishing that more people were unaware of who I am" he finished, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"Now, unless you have any further questions, I would suggest you put that brilliant cloak of yours to use again before you leave the room - Mr Filch is patrolling the halls tonight and he does not appear to be getting into the spirit of Yule quite as much as the rest of us."

In a moment of pure impulse, the familiarity Harry had felt over the last half an hour overcame any sense of propriety he held.

"You said the mirror shows us surrounded by our families. Is that what you see then too, sir?"

As soon as the words left his mouth Harry regretted them. Expecting to see anger at being asked something so personal, Harry was both relieved and concerned to see a look of melancholy on the professor's face.

"James Potter was one of the most wonderful people that I have ever had the privilege of teaching," the professor admitted softly, letting out a deep sigh as he spoke. "Although, for all of his charm and ability, even he would admit that no one would ever confuse him for being particularly perceptive."

"You may have inherited your father's looks, but it gladdens this old man to see that your mother lives on in you, beyond simply the colour of your eyes."

"Good night, Mr Potter."

"Good night, Sir."

Before someone brings it up, yes, Yule in this story is likely very different to how it is celebrated in the real world. That is intentional, mostly because I don't pretend to know much about Yule or the solstices beyond what I can find on the internet, but also because I do need the holiday to work for my own storytelling purposes too.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the reviews/comments.