"The Florid Postern?" Kane stared in shock at the mirror, where a bizarre, ornate gate stood directly behind his reflection.
In the Constant, death is never the end. The gateway that brings the fallen back is the Florid Postern. No matter how grueso the demise, as long as the soul returns to that gate, rebirth is guaranteed.
Kane looked behind him, heart racing. If the Florid Postern had actually manifested in Dumbledore's office, infinite respawns aside, this world would be...
Wait, where did it go?
Kane frowned, staring at the perfectly ordinary bookshelf behind him. He looked back into the mirror. There it was: the marble pillars wrapped in shifting shadows, and that massive, black eye atop the gate staring right back at him. There was no mistaking it. It was the Florid Postern—visible only within the glass.
"What is wrong with this mirror?" Kane muttered.
"Well, to be honest, no one in the magical world can fully explain the theory behind it. However, what it does is quite well-docunted." Dumbledore had appeared in the office without Kane noticing, watching from a short distance as the boy fluctuated between shock and confusion.
"You really need to make so noise when you walk," Kane said, jumping slightly. He pointed a finger at the mirror. "This thing? What is it?"
Dumbledore stepped forward, his hand lightly brushing the surface of the glass. "The Mirror of Erised. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. If a perfect man were to look into it, it would be a re sheet of glass."
"But if an ordinary man like myself looks into it," Dumbledore continued, "he will see himself behaving quite... foolishly."
"Deepest desires?" Kane raised an eyebrow, looking back at the gate in the mirror.
So, what did he truly want? The familiar, brutal rules of the Constant that he knew like the back of his hand? The safety of infinite resurrections? Or was the gate just a manifestation of his yearning for a "ho" that was no longer reachable?
"Yes. My own desires often make look quite pathetic," Dumbledore repeated softly.
"Yeah, I definitely felt like a fool just now," Kane admitted, his face heating up as he rembered his frantic double-taking.
"No, Kane. You were not being a fool. I don't know what you saw, but in a single instant, you were able to distinguish reality from illusion. That kind of clarity in front of this mirror is a rare and precious thing." Dumbledore patted Kane's shoulder, his gaze drifting toward the mirror with a heavy sigh.
In Dumbledore's mind, perhaps standing there for hours, unable to pull his eyes away from the glass, was the "pathetic" behavior he spoke of.
"Hmm. It's supposed to be your heart's desire, but your eyes are full of sadness," Kane noted. "I don't think you should call yourself pathetic. To , you look... more like you're just lonely. Or piteous... ugh... sorry... I was trying to comfort you... I'm really bad at this."
Kane genuinely wanted to offer so solace, but halfway through, he realized his words were veering into awkward, potentially offensive territory. He felt like slapping himself. Just as he was about to retreat, Dumbledore gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.
"I appreciate it, Kane. Your bedside manner might need work, but... thank you. It helps."
"Anyway, try not to be so sad... maybe you need a Christmas present?" Kane looked at the lingering sorrow in the Headmaster's eyes and decided not to hide his gift under the tree like a secret agent.
Shadow tentacles extended from beneath Kane's feet, snaking across the floor to grab a wrapped parcel from under the tree and hand it to Dumbledore. "I hope this makes you feel a bit better. A return gift for the ring."
"May I open it now?" Dumbledore asked with a small smile.
"Go ahead. I'm heading out." Kane started for the door. He didn't think a handmade Pan Flute would actually impress the Great Albus Dumbledore. He'd rather leave now than stay and watch the Headmaster "politely" pretend to be excited.
"Actually, Kane, I'm afraid this gift isn't quite... appropriate."
Dumbledore's voice rose behind him, causing Kane to turn back in surprise. Well, not that surprised. Dumbledore isn't exactly a stickler for rules... but...
"I'm still here. Want to swap it for sothing else?" Kane shrugged.
"Perhaps you could make a version that plays itself? Sothing to help fall asleep? Every ti I try to repot those Mandrakes... well, the little things are so lively, it's quite adorable." Dumbledore offered an apologetic grin.
"And yet you still sleep like a log every night."
"That is exactly why I'm apologizing." Dumbledore chuckled and sat back in his chair. "I'm joking. I truly love the gift. To be honest, I think I'm more sincere than you. You promised to fra your acceptance letter, and I've yet to see it. But I fully intend to wear this flute around my neck."
True to his word, Dumbledore produced a chain, threaded it through the Pan Flute, and hung it over his robes.
"I'll go fra it tomorrow," Kane promised, raising an eyebrow.
"It's about ti! Oh, and Kane, would you mind doing a small favor tonight? I'm moving this mirror to an abandoned classroom on the third floor. I'd like you to lead Harry there. Tell ... what do you think Harry desires most?"
"Probably his parents. But doing this... isn't it a bit cruel?" Kane asked.
"Is it? To go your whole life without even knowing what your parents looked like—that is the true cruelty, isn't it? Of course, if Harry's deepest desire isn't love... well, that would be understandable too, given how little of it he's felt."
Dumbledore started getting sentintal again. Kane couldn't take it anymore. Christmas was supposed to be happy, but Dumbledore was turning it into a Greek tragedy.
"I'll do it. Not just Harry—I'll bring Ron too, if I can wake him up." With that, Kane slipped out of the office.
"That would be for the best," Dumbledore murmured to himself. He took the Pan Flute from his neck and set it on the desk. He pulled a tin of wood wax from a drawer, carefully coated every inch of the instrunt until it shone, and then put it back on.
Late that night...
Kane led the way through the dark corridors, with Harry and Ron whispering behind him.
"If whatever you're showing us isn't cool, we're exercising our supre Dormitory Voting Rights," Ron whispered. "We'll vote to make you cook us three days' worth of atball feasts for free."
"Whatever. I make great atballs anyway. But you're going to lose that vote—this thing is genuinely cool."
Kane stopped in front of a disused classroom. He pushed the door open, revealing the Mirror of Erised standing alone in the moonlight.
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