Dumbledore recalled what Professor McGonagall had once said to him about Harry’s personality resembling Lily's.
“By rlin’s beard! This child’s first reaction upon seeing Severus was to draw his wand. There’s no doubt—he’s Jas reborn!”
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. When he looked at Harry again, he noticed that the boy had already aid his wand at "Severus."
Monts later, Harry’s lips moved silently, and a transford statue registered the impact of a spell.
Silent casting?
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. This child...
...is indeed remarkable.
This reinforced his belief that Harry's character should be put to the test.
The Mirror of Erised could reveal the deepest desires of anyone's heart, regardless of age.
With this thought, Dumbledore manipulated the statue, making it wave its sleeve and turn toward Harry and Ron.
Harry was surprised his spell hadn’t worked.
Ron, on the other hand, was visibly unnerved. Having endured Snape’s venomous remarks in Potions class many tis, he already harbored a psychological shadow.
As the "Professor Snape" statue turned its gaze toward them and began stepping closer, Ron tugged at Harry’s sleeve, his voice trembling in despair.
“Harry…”
What do we do now?
Harry frowned. Using a harmless jinx on a professor for discovering them sneaking around seed excessive.
Especially since Snape had once gifted him a vial of Felix Felicis. Regardless of the circumstances, Harry couldn’t bring himself to attack a professor who had helped him.
Since the Confundus Charm hadn’t worked, their best option was to escape.
He pulled Ron along, but as the "Professor Snape" figure blocked most exits, only one empty classroom was accessible. Before Harry could formulate another plan, Ron yanked him inside.
Once they had entered, the sound of the "Professor Snape" statue's footsteps gradually faded away.
“Let’s go, Ron,” Harry said.
“Wait, Harry…” Ron murmured, his eyes fixated on a strange mirror, his face glowing with fascination.
It was an elaborate mirror, towering up to the ceiling and frad by an ornate golden border. At its base, claw-shaped feet supported its weight.
Carved at the top of the mirror was an inscription:
“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.”
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.
“I—I see myself wearing one of Bill’s old Head Boy badges. I’m holding both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup—and there’s a box of drumsticks behind ! Haha! I’m also Quidditch Captain!”
Ron reluctantly tore his gaze away from the brilliant vision. Turning to Harry, he exclaid, “Harry, do you think this is a prophetic mirror? Could it an I’ll beco Head Boy and Quidditch Captain soday?”
“Of course, Ron. I believe in you,” Harry replied, placing a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But this mirror isn’t prophetic. Look—its inscription seems to be reversed. We should try reading it another way…”
“See? If you reverse ‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’ and rephrase it, it becos ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire.’” Harry explained. “This mirror reveals the deepest desires of one’s heart.”
“So… that’s what it ans?” Ron scratched his head. “No wonder…”
Harry lifted his gaze to the mirror. It had been brought back from outside by Veratia during their fifth year and stored in the Room of Requirent.
Back then, mbers of the Order of the Phoenix had eagerly crowded around the mirror to see their heart’s desires. Most had left looking delighted—except Cassandra.
She had stared at Harry briefly, then stomped away, seemingly annoyed.
Later, during Christmas at Nurngard, Veratia had shared that Cassandra had returned to the mirror several tis, sitting before it for hours.
The last ti Harry looked into this mirror, he had seen his parents.
Now, as he gazed at the inscription, Harry wondered who had moved the mirror here—and why.
“What about you, Harry? What do you see?” Ron asked.
Harry turned to the mirror. Instead of the empty classroom, the reflection showed the Room of Requirent.
A long table appeared, with his parents seated behind it, smiling gently at him.
Behind them, the rest of the Potter family was bustling about, decorating a Christmas tree or arranging furniture. Noticing Harry’s gaze, they all turned and smiled warmly at him.
“I see my parents and my family,” Harry said softly.
His eyes drifted to his mother’s side, where soone was sitting, and another figure stood behind her.
Seated next to Lily was Veratia, knitting sothing with flying needles while chatting with his mother. Her violet eyes fixed intently on him.
Standing behind Lily was Cassandra. Her usual disdain was absent, replaced by an uncharacteristic warmth.
Why is Cassandra there? Harry wondered. He appreciated her guidance over the years, but to yearn to live with her? That seed utterly nonsensical—or maybe so kind of strange affliction.
“Harry, how do you know this mirror shows your heart’s desire?” Ron asked again.
“I just know,” Harry said cryptically.
At that mont, footsteps echoed from the doorway.
Before Harry and Ron could reapply the Invisibility Cloak, Professor Dumbledore appeared.
“Harry, Ron,” he greeted them with a smile, wiggling his fingers in acknowledgnt.
“Professor,” the two replied.
“Harry, few young wizards your age demonstrate such sharp insight,” Dumbledore said kindly. “As you’ve pointed out, this mirror reveals one’s true heart’s desire. So, Harry, what is your deepest desire?”
Harry avoided Dumbledore’s gaze and turned back to the mirror.
In the reflection, Veratia smiled warmly, holding up a pair of woolen socks and waving them at him.
“I see my parents, my family, and…”
“And what?” Dumbledore prompted.
Harry saw Veratia nodding encouragingly. He chose his words carefully.
“And woolen socks,” he said.
Dumbledore: ......
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