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Chapter Text

Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way along the path beside Hagrid, leaves crunching lightly beneath their feet as they walked.  

Hagrid snorted. “Nonsense! Why would Snape put a curse on Harry’s broom?” 

Harry looked up at him, frowning. “Who knows? Why was he trying to get past that three headed dog on Halloween?” 

“Ohh, they’re investigating Harry’s theory.” Sirius fixes a focused gaze at the projection, trying to follow the kid’s lead. 

“I don’t think it was Severus…” Lily says, troubled. “Why would he be doing this?” 

In the projection, Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face them, eyes narrowing suspiciously beneath his shaggy brows. “Who told yeh about Fluffy?” 

“Fluffy?” Ron echoed, incredulous. 

Hermione stared at Hagrid. “That thing has a name?” 

Hagrid huffed, folding his arms as though bracing for a fight. “Well, o’ course he’s got a name.” He grumbled. “He’s mine. I bought him off an Irish feller I met down at the pub last year. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the–” 

“Yes?” Harry pressed, leaning forward. 

Hagrid froze. His expression shifted instantly, realization, then panic. “–Shouldn’t have said that.” He muttered, turning away with a shake of his head. “No more questions! Don’t ask any more questions. That’s top secret, that is.” 

“Hagrid…” Dumbledore murmures, caressing his beard. 

“Uh… Sorry, Headmaster.” Hagrid apologizes, unsure if it was the right call. 

In the Slytherin table, Regulus whispers silently to Barty and Evan. “It is the Philosopher’s Stone the dog is guarding. I’m certain of it.” 

“Makes sense.” Evan nods, suspicious. “But guarding it from who?”  

“Could it really be from Snape?” Barty asks, doubtful. 

Harry leaned in, voice firm. “But, Hagrid, whatever Fluffy’s guarding, Snape is trying to steal it.” 

“Codswallop.” Hagrid said immediately, waving a hand as if to swat the idea out of the air. “Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher.” 

“Hogwarts teacher or not.” Hermione cut in sharply. “I know a spell when I see one. I’ve read all about them. You have to maintain eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking.” 

Harry nodded once, decisive. “Exactly.” 

Hagrid let out a long, worried sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Now, you listen to me, all three of yeh. Yer meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. It’s dangerous. What that dog is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed with curiosity. He glanced at Ron, then back at Hagrid. “Nicholas Flamel?” 

Hagrid mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should not have said that.” 

“Nicholas Flamel invented the Philosopher's Stone.” Remus stated, sure of his facts. “I just wonder why it would be at Hogwarts of all places…” 

“That’s shady.” Sirius murmurs, a worried look crossing his eyes. 

Hagrid trudged off down the path, muttering to himself. “I should not have said that.” 

Harry stood frozen for a moment, repeating the name under his breath. “Nicholas Flamel.” He turned to Hermione, eyes wide with curiosity. “Who’s Nicholas Flamel?” 

Hermione shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know.” 

“First time she doesn’t know something.” A Slytherin cracked mischievously with his colleagues. 

In the projection, snowflakes drifted lazily around Hogwarts, blanketing the grounds in white as Hagrid struggled to drag a massive Christmas tree toward the castle. The ghosts floated nearby, their ethereal voices carrying through the chilly air. 

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Ring the Hogwarts bell. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas…” They sang, weaving their melodies around the crisp winter air. 

“How I love Christmas.” James looks fondly at the decorations and cold climate. 

Hermione adjusted her scarf and carried her luggage toward the Great Hall, pausing briefly to admire the enormous tree. Flitwick flitted near the tree, using his wand to delicately attach another sparkling ornament. 

Inside, Harry and Ron were hunched over a chessboard, their concentration intense. “Knight to E5.” Harry announced, moving his piece with precision. Hermione stepped closer, watching over his shoulder. 

A smug grin spread across Ron’s face as he countered. “Queen to E5.” His queen swooped over Harry’s knight, whacking it decisively with her chair. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, her shock evident. “That’s totally barbaric!” She exclaimed, aghast at the ruthless efficiency of Ron’s move.  
 
Ron leaned back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “That’s wizard’s chess.” He said casually, glancing at Hermione. “I see you’ve packed.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “I see you haven’t.” 

Ron shrugged, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Change of plans. My parents decided to go to Romania to visit my brother, Charlie. He’s studying dragons there.” 

Hermione’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes were sharp. “Good. You can help Harry, then. He’s going to go and look in the library for information on Nicholas Flamel.” 

Ron groaned. “We’ve looked a hundred times!” 

Leaning closer over the chessboard, Hermione’s voice was quiet but firm. “Not in the restricted section. Happy Christmas.” 

“Haven’t I told you that I like this girl?” Sirius pointed at the image of the kids while nodding with approval. 

“Why don’t they just leave it to the professors?” Lily sighs deeply, shaking her head. 

“Well, to be honest, I know myself.” James began to say, looking sheepish. “I would like to discover this mystery as well, in their place.”  

Ron leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing at Harry with a sheepish expression. “I think we’ve had a bad influence on her.” 

Some chuckles could be heard around the Great Hall at this, students commenting on the chaotic trio. 

In the projection, it is now Christmas’ morning.  Ron’s voice echoed from downstairs, eager and insistent. “Harry, wake up! Come on, Harry, wake up!” 

Groaning, Harry scrambled out of bed, fumbling for his glasses before running to the stairs. At the bottom, Ron grinned up at him, his bright eyes sparkling. “Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

“Happy Christmas, Ron.” Harry replied, noticing the bright, slightly garish sweater Ron was wearing. “What are you wearing?” 

Ron looked down at his sweater sheepishly, then back up at Harry. “Oh. My mum made it. Looks like you’ve got one too.” 

Harry blinked, his heart skipping a beat at the thought. “I– I’ve got presents?” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Euphemia whispers softly. 

“His surprised expression… I hate this.” James’ face fell, saddened. 

“Where am I in this?” Sirius says, disappointed in himself. “I’m supposed to be the cool uncle, aren’t I?” 

In the projection, Ron nodded eagerly. “Yeah!” 

Harry practically flew down the staircase, eyes wide as he reached the pile of presents waiting for him. His gaze landed on a particular package with a note attached. He tore it open carefully, scanning the handwriting. “‘Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.’” 

“What?” James’ brows rise up in surprise. “What is it?” 

Harry carefully unfolded the remaining present, revealing a fabric that shimmered slightly as he pulled it out. It was soft and smooth, almost like a blanket. 

Ron leaned in, curiosity written all over his face. “What is it?” 

Harry looked down at the object in his hands, turning it over slowly. “It’s some kind of cloak.” He said, a mixture of awe and puzzlement in his voice. 

“No way!” James bounces in his seat, understatement coming to his face. 

“Ah, yes.” Fleamont nods with a laugh. 

“That’s crazy.” Peter exclaims in excitement, a grin taking over his face. 

“It’s weird seeing it in Harry’s hands, isn’t it?” Remus muses, smiling softly. “When we were just handling it yesterday.” 

“What are you idiots talking about?” Severus’ attention is completely focused on the projection, trying to discover the Marauder’s secrets. 

Ron’s eyes widened as he leaned closer, excitement bubbling in his voice. “Well, let’s see, then. Put it on.” 

Harry draped the cloak over his shoulders, and almost instantly, his body vanished from view. He glanced down, astonishment breaking across his face. “Whoa! My body’s gone!” 

Ron grinned, recognition lighting up his features. “I know what that is. That’s an invisibility cloak!” 

Gasps tore through the Great Hall. 

“What?!” Hufflepuff students whisper. 

“Unbelievable.” Professor McGonagall shakes her head slowly. “That’s your little secret, boys?” 

At this, the Marauders freeze.  

“Uh, Minnie…” Sirius gives a weak laugh. “Actually, I’ve never seen this before. Have you seen this, Peter?” 

“No.” Peter shakes his head. “Never.” 

“Great, now our cover is gone.” Remus whispers quietly, keeping it just between them. 

“Worth it, though. To see Harry like this, using it.” James whispers back, a soft look in his eyes. “I don’t really care if more secrets are exposed. I think it’s for the best, really.” 

“I don’t see how.” Peter looks at James with a confused expression. 

“Well, Pete, just think like this.” James shuffles closer to them. “If magic is showing this to us, it means something. And if it chooses to reveal whoever secrets it is, then I think it’s necessary, somehow.” 

“Even about…” Sirius looks rapidly at Remus, a knowing expression taking the Marauders' faces. “That furry problem?” 

“I think…” James breathes deeply. “If it gets to this point, then maybe, yes.” 

Remus drums his fingers onto the table, looking grim. “I see what you’re saying, James. If it’s meant to be… Then it’ll be.” 

Sirius looks at his boyfriend worryingly, but shakes himself into trusting magic to judge the necessity for it. 

“I’m invisible?” Harry twirled in place, staring at the empty space where his body should have been.  

Ron peered over at him, eyes wide with awe. “They’re really rare.” He glanced down at the note in Harry’s hand. “I wonder who gave it to you.” 

Harry looked down at the parchment, curiosity mixed with wonder. There was no signature, no hint of a sender, just the words, “Use it well.” 

Late that night, a faint lantern bobbed through the shadowed stacks of the library, its light dancing across towering shelves. A hand reached forward, pulling back the heavy folds of a cloak, and from beneath it, Harry emerged, stepping carefully into the Restricted Section. He crouched between the shelves, scanning the rows of ancient, leather bound tomes, his eyes glinting with determination as he began his secret search. 

“Hell yeah!” James cheered excitedly, seeing his son using the cloak. 

“Oh, this is going to be so good.” Sirius chucked a little at the image being displayed. 

“Restricted section, Mister Potter?!” Minerva could be heard, already in her professor's voice. “Seeing this, now things make much more sense.” 

Harry’s eyes darted across the spines of the Forbidden tomes, muttering under his breath. “Famous fire eaters… 15th-Century Fiends… Flamel… Nicholas Flamel… Where are you?” He pulled a thick, dusty book from the shelf and opened it, only for a face to spring from the pages, screaming in a mad, ear-splitting wail. Harry yelped, slamming the book shut and shoving it back into place. 

“Who’s there?!” Filch’s gruff voice cut through the shadows. Harry whipped around, yanking the cloak around his shoulders, and the lantern slipped from his hands, shattering with a crash. “I know you’re in there! You can’t hide! Who is it? Show yourself!” 

“Oh no, pup.” Sirius cringes. “Hide.” 

Harry bolted from the library, chest heaving and breaths coming in sharp gasps. He skidded into the hallway, only to hear the soft meow of Mrs. Norris as she slinked behind him, eyes glowing in the dim light. Harry swerved around a corner– and froze. Snape and Quirrell blocked his path, the air thick with tension. 

Quirrell stammered, barely able to catch his breath. “Severus, I– I thought…” 

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and with a swift shove, he slammed Quirrell against the stone wall. “You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell.” 

Gasps. 

“Snape?” Students start to whisper, attentive to the scene. 

“I knew it.” James points at it, showing the obviousness of the situation. “Harry’s been right all along.” 

Quirrell’s eyes widened, trembling as he tried to form words. “I don’t know w-what you m-mean.” 

Snape’s gaze bore into him, sharp and unrelenting. “You know perfectly well what I mean.” He paused, sensing something that made Harry freeze mid-breath, his chest tightening. Snape’s hand twitched as if to seize it, then retracted. With a swift, deliberate motion, he whipped his finger back in front of Quirrell’s face. 

“We’ll have another chat soon.” Snape said, his voice cold and measured. “When you’ve had time to decide where your loyalties lie.” 

“Could this mean…” Whispers overtake the Slytherin table. 

“Snape just can’t help being an idiot, can he?” Sirius huffs in disgust. 

Filch stomped into the hall, dragging the shattered remnants of the lantern behind him. “Oh, Professors. I found this in the Restricted Section. It’s still hot. That means there’s a student out of bed.” 

The words hit like a bell. Snape and Quirrell exchanged a glance, and without a second thought, they vanished down the corridor, their footsteps fading into the shadows. Filch muttered to himself, shaking his head at the chaos, while Harry pressed himself against the wall, heart hammering. 

“At least Harry wasn’t caught.” Lily murmurs so softly that no one around her listens, her mind reeling with information. 

In the projection, a door creaked open and then silently swung shut behind him. Beyond it lay a vast, empty chamber, the air still and heavy, dominated by a single, imposing mirror at its center. Harry stepped forward cautiously, drawn by an invisible pull. As he came closer, his reflection shimmered, and then changed. 

Before him, in the glass, two figures appeared. James and Lily Potter, smiling warmly, their eyes full of love and pride. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with a mixture of awe, joy, and longing. For the first time, he felt the echo of the family he had lost, standing before him, impossible yet achingly real. 

Gasps took over the Great Hall. 

“How is this possible?” A ravenclaw asked, in awe. 

“Are they inside the mirror?” Another student questioned. 

Chaos started to slowly erupt between the students and parents, eager to understand what was happening. 

“The Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore began, shushing the majority of whispers. “Shows us what our heart most desperately desires.” 

“Oh, Harry.” Lily pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling emotion crash over her. 

“That’s… horrible.” James mumbles, too shocked to speak clearly. 

“Isn’t this dangerous, somehow?” Sirius asks, afflicted by the morbid and, at the same time, lovely image. 

Harry’s voice trembled as he whispered. “Mum?” Lily’s reflection nodded, her smile soft and radiant, filling the cold room with warmth. “Dad?” He asked next, his gaze shifting to James, who nodded in return, his grin both familiar and comforting. 

Harry reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing only the smooth, cold surface of the mirror. A pang of disappointment struck him, but then Lily’s hand appeared, resting gently on his shoulder. Harry mirrored the gesture on himself, fingertips pressing against his own shoulders, as if trying to feel the warmth of her presence through the glass.  

“I can’t watch this.” Lily gasped, her voice thick and wet, burying her face in her hands. Mary wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. 

James just looks, transfixed by the image. The little boy, Harry, standing there in awe, looking at a version of James and Lily beside him. A vision of what it could’ve been. This doesn’t affect just Harry, but James too. Greatly. To see the three of them together like that, almost in a picture pose, made him realize that what they were seeing was the future. This happens, some years from now, and James will die. And Lily will die. And their son will be alone in the world, without their support. 

It breaks his heart. 

In the projection, Harry came whipping into the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, still invisible, his voice urgent and breathless. “Ron, you’ve really got to see this! Ron, you’ve got to see this!” He yanked back the covers, startling Ron awake. “Ron, Ron, come on, get out of bed!” 

Ron, rubbing his eyes and clearly half asleep, muttered. “Why?” 

“There’s something you’ve got to see. Now, come on!” Harry insisted, impatience edging his words. 

Moments later, the two boys appeared in the room as if by magic, Harry darting toward the Mirror of Erised with excitement. “Come on! Come! Come look, it’s my parents!” 

Ron squinted at the reflection. “I only see us.” 

“Look in properly. Go on, stand there. There. You see them, don’t you? That’s my dad.” Harry’s voice wavered with awe. 

Ron’s eyes widened as he took in his own reflection. “That’s me! Only I’m Head Boy. And I’m holding the Quidditch Cup. And bloody hell! I’m Quidditch Captain too! I look good. Harry, do you think this mirror shows the future?” 

“Sweetheart...” Euphemia’s voice sounds so soft and so sad, it makes it even harder to continue to watch it. 

The Great Hall is silent. Not one whisper or laugh, just sad contemplation. 

Harry’s voice trembled with quiet sorrow as he stared into the Mirror of Erised. “How can it? Both my parents are dead.” A small, sad smile flickered across his face, fleeting and fragile. 

The next night, he returned to the same empty room, drawn by a longing he couldn’t shake. He stood before the mirror once more, gazing at the reflection where his parents smiled at him, their presence warm and impossible. Far behind him, Dumbledore’s figure emerged silently, watching over the boy with a mixture of curiosity and gentle concern. 

Harry turned around, startled, as Dumbledore’s calm voice filled the room. “Back again, Harry?” The boy straightened, trying to appear composed. 

“I see that you, like so many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. “I trust by now you realize what it does. Let me give you a clue. The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the words. “So then, it shows us what we want. Whatever we want.” 

“Yes. And no.” Dumbledore said softly, turning his gaze back to the mirror. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. Now, you, Harry, who have never known your family, you see them standing beside you. But remember this, Harry. This mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it… even gone mad. That is why tomorrow it will be moved to a new home. And I must ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.”