A corridor somewhere in Hogwarts.
The moonlight tonight was dim, barely lighting parts of the hallway.
Harry, wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak, wandered around in confusion.
He kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure Filch or his cat, Mrs. Norris, wasn't suddenly behind him.
Harry had just snuck into the Restricted Section of the library, hoping to find more clues about Nicolas Flamel.
But the moment he opened the first book, it had started screaming loudly!
Merlin's beard—Harry felt like the scream almost burst his eardrums!
Naturally, this drew Filch's attention, as he happened to be patrolling nearby.
So Harry had been forced into a heart-pounding game of hide-and-seek with the caretaker, who was always eager to catch rule-breaking young wizards.
After several twists and turns, he barely managed to shake Filch off for the moment.
However, in his panic, Harry had completely lost his sense of direction.
Looking down the corridor, unsure where he was, Harry couldn't help feeling a wave of regret.
This was his first real time using the Invisibility Cloak.
And this was the Invisibility Cloak left to him by his father.
Harry had thought that just this once—just for his very first time—he would use it alone. So he didn't call Lucien or Ron, choosing to go on a solo adventure.
But this first attempt had given him an extremely frightening thrill.
Harry thought that if Lucien were here, he would definitely be able to guide him back on the right path.
He didn't notice that atop a stone pillar nearby, a pair of dark green eyes flickered in the darkness.
Lucien, in his owl form, looked down at a particular spot below.
Hmm, fascinating.. Harry's Invisibility Cloak could hide the user's own magic curcuit.
Fortunately, earlier that day, when Lucien had patted Harry's shoulder, he had left a small mark.
The magic within it wasn't obscured by the cloak.
Indeed, even with the Invisibility Cloak on, one could still be affected by outside magic—so it clearly couldn't block or isolate all magical effects.
Harry should eventually walk into a certain room and discover the Mirror of Erised inside.
Heh, how could it really be such a coincidence?
Old Dumbledore was probably "watching" Harry the entire time.
Just waiting for him to enter the room before quickly placing the Mirror of Erised inside.
The vortex in the owl's eyes rotated subtly as Lucien continued tracking the magic mark on Harry's shoulder.
"No, I don't know why y-you want to meet here, Severus…"
Suddenly, Harry heard a faint voice coming from a corner of the corridor.
The voice was very familiar—especially the stammering.
Harry cautiously moved closer, using the dim moonlight to barely make out the path ahead.
"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."
Harry recognized this voice instantly.
Snape!
He knew Snape far too well; in every Potions class, Harry was the one Snape spoke to the most.
Though, of course, it was always in the form of being interrogated.
"I-I don't know you…"
"You know perfectly well what I mean."
"Your secrets, your schemes—I'm waiting."
"But, but I-I don't, don't…"
Harry shifted slowly, and he finally saw the two figures clearly.
It was indeed Snape, and the other was Quirrell, wrapped in his purple turban.
Harry saw Snape looming over Quirrell, threatening him.
"You'd better think carefully about whom your loyalties lie. Then we'll talk."
As Snape spoke, he suddenly turned his head, his dark, gloomy eyes staring straight toward a certain spot.
Even though that spot appeared empty.
Seeing Snape look in his direction, Harry quickly covered his mouth and nose, held his breath, and retreated step by step.
But Snape had already stretched out an arm—just barely missing Harry's Invisibility Cloak!
Harry bent back as far as he could, his heart thudding violently.
"Hoot!"
A loud owl hoot suddenly echoed through the corridor.
Moments later, Harry saw an ordinary-looking owl fly out from the darkness.
Sweeping in a curve, it dove toward Quirrell and sharply pecked him on the head.
"Ah!"
Quirrell jumped in shock, clutching his purple turban tightly.
Harry seized the chance to retreat several steps, moving completely out of reach of Snape's outstretched hand.
The owl brushed past Harry and flew straight ahead.
But in that brief moment, Harry noticed that the owl's eyes seemed to be a rare shade of green.
In such a short glimpse, he couldn't tell exactly what kind of green it was.
But instinctively, Harry felt that this owl was the same one from that morning.
He now shared Ron's firm belief: it was the Diricawl!
He had only walked a short distance when he ran into Filch again.
Seeing Filch coming toward him, Harry could only slip into a side corridor.
There was a door here—an old one.
But Harry quickly noticed there was a narrow gap he could slip through.
He carefully squeezed in sideways, trying not to touch the door itself.
Fortunately, he was small and thin; he almost didn't fit.
Harry actually felt a strange sense of gratitude—grateful that he hadn't eaten well at his aunt's house and ended up so small and skinny, allowing him to squeeze through this door, avoid Filch, and escape being caught and expelled for breaking school rules…
Once inside, Harry turned to look around the room.
It looked like an abandoned classroom.
There were many desks and chairs, but all of them were covered in dust.
There was also a… mirror?
A very ornate, grand mirror—something that looked completely out of place here.
Harry hadn't even examined the mirror closely when he caught sight of something terrifying.
In the reflection of the room… he wasn't alone.
Harry saw a group of figures standing directly behind him!
But when Harry turned around, there was no one; the room was still empty except for him.
Harry looked back at the mirror in confusion, and this time he forced himself to look carefully.
He saw a beautiful red-haired woman. Her eyes—Harry felt—were exactly like his own when he looked in a mirror.
He saw a tall, thin, dark-haired man wearing glasses, with a tuft of hair sticking up at the back of his head just like Harry's.
He saw other people—some with eyes like his, some with noses like his… Harry stared blankly at the group.
"You… who are you…?"
He didn't know how long he stood there watching until the distant sound of movement finally brought him back to his senses. Harry hurriedly slipped out of the room.
A few seconds later. An owl fluttered in, wings beating softly.
Its form shifted in mid-air, and Lucien landed lightly on the ground.
Lucien looked at the mirror.
Pfft, not a speck of dust—completely out of place in this room.
At his age, Dumbledore still had to run around moving mirrors in the middle of the night, lol.
Lucien saw an inscription carved at the top of the mirror:
"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."
Hmm, a mirror, a reflection—read it backward, and it should mean:
"I show not your face but your heart's desire."
Lucien's eyes dropped to the smooth surface of the mirror.
His own reflection did not appear.
Instead, countless pages fluttered, various overlapping characters and spells flickered in and out of view, brilliant or simple magic formed and dissolved, and cauldrons bubbled…
Lucien even caught sight of a mathematical problem.
"∭ E (x² + y²) dV, where the integration region E is bounded by the surface…"
"The answer in the mirror is wrong."
"Hmph. Boring."
Lucien shook his head. It couldn't even solve a math problem.
The Mirror of Erised would always be just that.
Lucien had no interest in looking at this magical mirror that merely reflected a person's inner desires, and he turned to leave.
Suddenly, he looked up at a spot near the classroom ceiling and chuckled softly:
"Headmaster, how is my Animagus Transfiguration?"
________
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