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A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion.
They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.
"Quick!"
Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris
came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the
same thing -- did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she
turned and left.
"This isn't safe -- she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us.
Come on."
And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.
The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.
"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.
"No."
"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"
"No... you go..."
"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back
tonight."
"Why not?"
"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it -- and anyway, you've had
too many close shaves already. 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."
But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in
front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.
That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was
walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he
didn't meet anyone.
And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of
his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in
front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all
night with his family. Nothing at all.
Except --
"So -- back again, Harry?"
Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind
him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus
Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to
get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.
" -- I didn't see you, sir."
"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore,
and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.
"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with
Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of
the Mirror of Erised."
"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."
"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"
"It -- well -- it shows me my family --"
"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."
"How did you know --?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently.
"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...
whatever we want..."
"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less
than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have
never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley,
who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing
alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us
neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by
what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is
real or even possible.
"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 thick, 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.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NICOLAS FLAMEL
Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of
Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the
invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry
wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he
couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed
about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high
voice cackled with laughter.
"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said
Ron, when Harry told him about these drearns.
Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different
view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being
out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had
caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who
Nicolas Flamel was.