Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.
No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.
“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home.”
He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.
It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.
When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.
“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
“Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron.”
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to.”
Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.
“WEASLEY!”
Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.
“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”
“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you.”
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.
“I'll get him,” said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, “one of these days, I'll get him—”
“I hate them both,” said Harry, “Malfoy and Snape.”
“Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”
So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?”
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.
“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked.
“Just one,” said Hermione. “And that reminds me — Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”
“Oh yeah, you're right,” said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.
“The library?” said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?”
“Oh, we're not working,” Harry told him brightly. “Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is.”
“You what ?” Hagrid looked shocked. “Listen here — I've told yeh — drop it. It's nothin’ to you what that dog's guardin'.”
“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all,” said Hermione.
“Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added. “We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I've read his name somewhere.”
“I'm sayin’ nothin', said Hagrid flatly.
“Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time ; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.
“What are you looking for, boy?”
“Nothing,” said Harry.
Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.
“You'd better get out, then. Go on — out!”
Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.
Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.
Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.
“You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?” said Hermione. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”
“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. “It'd be safe to ask them.”
“Very safe, as they're both dentists,” said Hermione.
Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.
Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.
Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. “Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.”
On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.
“Merry Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.
“You, too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I've got some presents!”
“What did you expect, turnips?” said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.
Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it — it sounded a bit like an owl.
A second, very small parcel contained a note.
We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.
“That's friendly,” said Harry.
Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.
“Weird!” he said, “What a shape! This is money ?”
“You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. “Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?”
“I think I know who that one's from,” said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and — oh, no,” he groaned, “she's made you a Weasley sweater.”
Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.
“Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, “and mine's always maroon.”
“That's really nice of her,” said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.
His next present also contained candy — a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.
This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.
Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.
“I've heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. “If that's what I think it is — they're really rare, and really valuable.”
“What is it?”
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
“It's an invisibility cloak,” said Ron, a look of awe on his face. “I'm sure it is — try it on.”
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
“It is! Look down!”
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.
“There's a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!”
Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:
Your father left this in my possession before he died.
It is time it was returned to you.
Use it well.
A Very Merry Christmas to you.
There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.
“I'd give anything for one of these,” he said. “Anything. What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?
Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.
“Merry Christmas!”
“Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!”
Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.
“Harry's is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family.”
“Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm.”
“I hate maroon,” Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.
“You haven't got a letter on yours,” George observed. “I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge.”
“What's all this noise?”
Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.
“P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one.”
“I — don't — want — ” said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.
“And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family.”
They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.
Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.
Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.
When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.
Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.
After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.
It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.
Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.
His father's… this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.
He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.
Use it well.
Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.
Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back — his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wanted to use it alone.
He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.
“Who's there?” squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.
Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.
The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.
The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.
They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.
He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.
A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence — the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside — stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.
He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.
“You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section.”
Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, “The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them.”
Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him — the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.
He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.
It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.
It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.
He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.
But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.
There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?
He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror.
She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes — her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.
Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
“Mom?” he whispered. “Dad?”
They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.
How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, “I'll come back,” and hurried from the room.
“You could have woken me up,” said Ron, crossly.
“You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror.
“I'd like to see your mom and dad,” Ron said eagerly.
“And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone.”
“You can see them any old time,” said Ron. “Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?”
Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?
“Are you all right?” said Ron. “You look odd.”
What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.
“I'm freezing,” said Ron. “Let's forget it and go back.”
“No!” Harry hissed. I know it's here somewhere.”
They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.
“It's here — just here — yes!”
They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.
There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.
“See?” Harry whispered.
“I can't see anything.”
“Look! Look at them all… there are loads of them…”
“I can only see you.”
“Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am.”
Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.
Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.
“Look at me!” he said.
“Can you see all your family standing around you?”
“No — I'm alone — but I'm different — I look older — and I'm head boy!”
“What?”
“I am — I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to — and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup — I'm Quidditch captain, too.”
Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
“Do you think this mirror shows the future?”
“How can it? All my family are dead — let me have another look—”
“You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time.”
“You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents.”
“Don't push me—”
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 — 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.
圣诞节快来临了。十二月中旬的一天早上，霍格瓦彻城地面覆盖了几英尺深的雪，结成冰的湖水被冻坚了，威斯里俩兄弟因为堆雪堆贪玩，受到惩罚，因此，他们只得整天地跟着屈拉。几只送信的猫头鹰奋力飞进暴风雪中，哈格力只得对它们进行悉心的照顾，不让其再往风雪里冲。
人们急切地盼望假期的到来。格林芬顿公共休息室和学校大厅里开始燃起了温暖的炉火。而外面通风的走廊变得冰冷，刺骨的寒风刮得教室的窗户格格作响。最糟糕要数史纳皮在地牢里的教室了，在里面，学生们呼出的气在面前形成了阵阵雾气，为了取暖，他们尽可能地靠近大汽锅。
"我觉得很遗憾，"药剂班的杰高。马尔夫说，"所有那些不得不留在学校过圣诞的人都是被家里遗弃的。"他一边说着，一边斜睨着哈利。克来伯和高尔在旁窃笑，而哈利在称量着狮子鱼骨末，根本不理睬他们。自从上次那场快迪斯比赛后，马尔夫显得比往常更加闷闷不乐。他对史林德林在比赛中的失败极为气愤，因为他本打算通过让人们看一只大嘴的树蛙怎样在下次比赛中替代哈利来娱乐观众。但是他发现没有人认为他的把戏有趣，人们都为哈利在比赛中尽力停留在扫帚上的"表演"所感动。又气又嫉妒的马尔夫，只得重新拿哈利没有家的事来嘲弄他。
哈利不回普里怀特街过圣诞的事是千真万确的。自上个星期开始，麦康娜教室便忙着登记留校度假的学生，哈利当时就立即报了名。他一点也不感到难过，相信他将会过一个有生以来最愉快的圣诞节。由于威斯里夫妇要到罗马尼亚探望查理，罗恩兄弟无处可去，所以他们也将留下。
药剂课结束后，他们离开地牢，发现前头走廊上一棵大冷杉挡住了去路。树的底部伸出两只巨脚，一个人喘着气告诉他们说，（是哈格力在后面）。
"你好，哈格力，要帮忙吗？"罗恩说着，把他的头伸进树枝丛中。
"哪，我很好呢，不用了。谢谢你，罗恩。"
"你们能让开一下吗？"马尔夫从后面用长腔调冰冷冷地说，"威斯里，想赚些零用钱吗？离开霍格瓦彻后想当个猎禽看守人吧。
哈格力的小木屋比起你家可算是一个小皇宫了。"听了这话，不等史纳皮走上楼梯，罗恩便向马尔夫扑过去。
"威斯里！"
罗恩松开马尔夫长袍的前襟。
"史纳皮教授，他被激怒了。"哈格力说着，从树后露出他毛茸茸的脸，"马尔夫正在侮辱罗恩的家庭。""不管怎样，哈格力，打架就是违反了霍格瓦彻的校规，"史纳皮油腔滑调地说，"扣格林芬顿的威斯里5分，你们应该感谢我没有扣得更多才对，全部给我滚！"马尔夫、克来伯和高尔三人粗鲁地从树枝丛穿过，得意地笑着，推推搡搡地把冷杉叶抖落了一地。
"等着瞧，我早晚要收拾那家伙。"罗恩望着马尔夫的背影，咬牙切齿地说。
"马尔夫和史纳皮那两个家伙真是讨厌。"哈利说。
"算了吧，高兴一点，就要到圣诞节了，"哈格力说，"跟我到大厅去吧，看看有什么惊喜。"哈利，罗恩和荷米恩紧跟着带着圣诞树的哈格力到大厅，麦康娜和弗立维克正在里面忙着布置圣诞节的装饰。
"啊，哈格力，我们正缺少一棵圣诞树呢。放在里头的墙角好吗？"大厅看起来壮观极了，墙的四面挂着冬青树枝和槲寄生的花朵，厅里布置了不止十二棵高大的圣诞树，这些圣诞树中有些挂着闪烁的冰柱，有些则闪耀着成百条点燃的蜡烛。
"距离我们的假期还有多少天？"哈格利问。
"只有一天，"荷米恩说，"噢，对了，离午餐时间还有半个钟头，哈利。罗恩，我们本应该在图书馆里才对。""图书馆？"哈格力跟着他们出7大厅，疑惑地说："快到圣诞节了，还泡在图书馆？""哦，反正我们没事做，"哈利聪明地说，"自从上次你提起尼可拉斯。弗兰马尔，我们就一直在调查他是谁？""什么？"哈格力显出十分惊讶的样子，"听着，我早就叫你忘了它，那只狗守卫着什么并不关你的事。""我们只是想知道谁是尼可拉斯。弗兰马尔。"荷米恩说。
"除非你能告诉我们，省得我们麻烦，"哈利说，"我们已翻阅了成百本书，就是不能找到他，给我们一个提示吧，我相信一定在某个地方看到过他的名字。""我是不会说的。"哈格力毅然地说。
"那么，我们只好自己找了。"罗恩说。他们急匆匆地向图书馆跑去，留下满脸不高兴的哈格力。
自从上次哈格力说漏了嘴后，哈利和罗恩就一直在书中寻找弗兰马尔这个名字，因为他们想知道史纳皮想偷些什么东西。但麻烦的是，不知道弗兰马尔被编在哪些书中，他们觉得无从着手。他既不在《二十世纪伟大巫师》中，也不在《当代著名魔法师》中；在《现代魔法重要发现》和《近代巫术发展研究》中也找不到他的踪影。然而，一个图书馆那么大，里面有成千上万本书，上千个的书柜，上百行的书架。
荷米恩拿出要搜查书目的一条单子，罗恩沿着一排排的书架闲逛，随意从书上面抽出书本翻翻，哈利漫步走向图书馆里的不完全开放区。他迟疑了一会，如果在那里也找不到这个名字，怎么办？
不幸的是，要查阅受限制阅读的书目要有老师的特别签名许可，而哈利认为要得到那样的一张条子是根本不可能的。不完全开放区中有关于超强黑巫术的书，这些巫法在霍格瓦彻从前教过，只有学习《黑巫术高级防御术》的高年级学生才读过。
"你在找什么，孩子？"
"没什么。"哈利说。
图书馆管理员宾西夫人对他挥动着鸡毛掸子，"你们最好给我滚出去，快滚…
…"
他逃也似地离开图书馆，三人原先一致同意最好不要问宾西夫人关于弗兰马尔的事，虽然他们知道从她那里可得到一些消息，但他们不能冒这个险，不能让史纳皮知道他们在忙什么。
哈利在外边的走廊上等着，期待着另外两个能发现一些新情况，但他却不抱很大的希望。别忘了，他们为此已搜寻了两个星期，但因为他们是在课间有限的时间里寻找的，所以一无所得也不足为奇。他们想要的只是，宾西夫人不要老是盯着他们，好让他们进行一次彻底的搜查。
五分钟后，罗恩和荷米恩走了出来，他们对哈利摇了摇头，表示无所收获。然后一起去吃午饭。
"我回家的时候，你们还会继续查的，是吗？"荷米恩说，"如果有什么情况，就放猫头鹰通知我。""可能你爸妈知道弗兰马尔是谁，你可以问他们，"罗恩说，"问他们是绝对没有危险的。""很安全，因为他们都是牙医。"荷米恩说。
假期开始之后，罗恩和哈利可更好地恩考更多关于弗兰马尔的问题。他们独享着一个宿舍，公共休息室的人也远远比平常少了，所以他们能够尽情地享受火炉边最温暖最舒服的背靠椅。他们连续几小时地坐在炉进，把钢叉放在烧烤架上，把能放到炉子上烧的食物都拿来烤着吃：面包、烤面饼、果汁软糖……他们设计着怎样把马尔夫赶出校门，这是他们闲聊时十分感兴趣的话题。
罗恩开始教哈利走魔法棋。除了棋子是活生生的外，这种棋其他方面都跟马格人的棋一样。使用活棋子，可以让下棋者感觉好似在战斗中指挥军队一样。罗恩的"棋子"是他祖父留给他的，又老又旧，就像他拥有的一切东西一样。然而老"棋手"对罗恩来说并不是一个缺憾，因为他是如此熟悉他们，可以随心所欲地指挥他们。
哈利的"棋子"是谢默斯借给他的，他们对哈利并不信任，而更要命的是他并不是一个好"军师"。"棋子"们老是给哈利～些令人费解的建议："别把我送到那里，你没有看见他的骑士在那里吗？
送他到那里吧，他死了对我们也无大妨碍。"圣诞前夕，哈利想到明天就将享受丰富的美餐和巨大的乐趣，早早地就上床睡觉了。第二天早上醒来，他一眼便看见他床脚下的一小堆礼物包裹。
"圣诞快乐。"哈利从床上爬起，披上晨衣，罗恩睡眼蓬松地对他说。
"圣诞快乐。"哈利说，"看啊，我收到一些礼物！""你想要什么？大头菜？"罗恩说着，看着他自己的那堆礼物——比哈利的大得多了。
哈利拿起最上面的包裹，是用棕色厚纸包装的，上面潦草地写着，"献给哈利——哈格力。"里面是一支做得有点粗糙的木质长笛，显然是哈格力亲手用刀削制的。哈利对着长笛吹了一下，那声音有点像猫头鹰叫。
另外一个很小的包裹里装着一纸条，写着："我们收到你的消息，现在送上你的圣诞礼物——维能姨丈和帕尤妮亚姨妈。"纸条上用透明的胶带粘着一枚50便士的硬币。
"真是太好了。"哈利说。
罗恩对这枚50便士的硬币喜欢得不得了。
"奇怪？"他说，"是一枚硬币。"
"给你吧，"哈利看着罗恩的高兴劲大笑说，"哈格力，我的姨妈和姨丈，还有谁送这些礼物呢？""我想我知道是谁，"罗恩的脸微红了一下，指着一个大包裹说，"这个是我妈送的。我告诉她你不要任何礼物，哦……，"他抱怨说，"她给你织了一件紧身的威斯里套衫。"哈利拆开包裹，里面是一件翡翠绿色的手织厚套衫和一大盒家制软糖。
"她每年都给我们套衫，"罗恩拆着他自己的礼物说，"而我的总是褐红色的。""她真是太好了。"哈利嚼着那十分可口的软糖说。
他的另一个礼物也是糖果——一大盒荷米恩送的朱古力青蛙糖。
只剩下最后一件礼物了，哈利拿起它，感到轻轻的，他拆开礼物。
一件银灰白的柔滑东西滑下来，重叠在地上，闪闪发光。罗恩惊奇地喘着气。
"我曾听说过，"他小声地说，扔下荷米恩送给他的"青蛙糖"，"这如果是我想象中的东西的话——那真是太稀有，太珍贵了。""是什么？"
哈利从地上捡起那件闪亮的银白色布匹，觉得它质感非常奇怪，好像是用水织成的一样柔软。
"我敢保证，这是一件隐形披风，"罗恩脸上现出无比的敬畏，"快试一试。
哈利把披风往肩上一技，罗恩便大声喊道："快往下看！"哈利往他的脚下一看，发现他的双脚没有了。他向镜子前冲去，千真万确，在镜子里只看见他的头悬浮在半空中，而他的整个身子则完全看不见了。他把披风拉到头上，整个人都消失了。
"有张纸条，有张纸条掉出来……"罗恩突然说。
哈利卸下被风，接住纸条。上面用又细又圆的似曾相识的字体写着："你父亲去世的时候留给我这件披风，现在是把它交给你的时候了，好好地使用它，祝你圣诞快乐。"上面没有署名，哈利注视着纸条，罗恩则在旁对被风啧啧称赞。
"我愿拿任何东西作交换，怎么样？"他说。
"没门，"哈利说。他满头雾水，"是谁把它送给我的？它真的曾经属于我爸妈吗？"他还没好好地思考一下，也没来得及说什么。这时，弗来德和乔治猛然从外面推开宿舍门，跳了进来。哈利迅速把技风塞到身上藏起来。他可不想让别人一起分享他的宝物。
"圣诞快乐！"
"喂，快来瞧瞧，哈利也有一件威斯里套衫！"费莱德和乔治穿着蓝色的套衫，一个上面写着个大大的黄色"F "，另一个写着大大的黄色"G "。
"哈利的套衫比我们的好。"弗来德拿着哈利的套衫说。
"虽然你不是我家人，但她显然在你的套衫上面花了更大的工夫。""为什么你们不穿上呢，罗思？"乔治问道，"来吧，穿上它，多好看多温暖呀。""我不喜欢褐红色。"罗恩把套衫套上头，无精打采地咕咬着。
"你的套衫上没有字母，"乔治发现，"我猜她认为你们不会忘记自己的名字。
但我们也不是傻瓜——至少我们知道自己叫乔莱德和弗治。""你们吵吵嚷嚷的干什么？"
伯希从门外伸进头来，显出不以为然的样子。他显然也是正拆着他的礼物，因为他肩上搭着一件上面有疙瘩的套衫。
弗来德抓住他的套衫："P '伯希的英文名"Percy "的编写代表'完美'，伯希，快穿上它，我们都穿着呢，甚至连哈利也有一件。""我——不——要。"伯希含糊不清地说。
弗来德兄弟俩强迫着把套衫套进他的头，由于用力过猛，把他的眼镜都推歪到一边。
哈利可说一生都没有吃过这样丰盛的一顿圣诞大餐，一百只烤肥火鸡，堆成山的马铃薯，一盘盘的小肥香肠，好几海碗和着黄油的豌豆，几大银船形碟于营养丰富的肉汁越橘沙司，堆成几英尺高的神奇魔法炮竹，这些神奇的炮竹，并不像杜斯利通常买的那种，它们里面有各种小塑料玩具和薄纸帽。哈利和弗来德掰开一个魔法炮竹，炮竹并不是像平常"啦"的一声裂开，而是发出一声爆炸似的巨响，并散发出一阵蓝色的烟幕。然后从里面迸出一项海军上将的帽子和好几只栩栩如生的白色小老鼠。丹伯多戴着用他的尖魔法帽跟人换得的一顶花圆帽，费兰维克教授给他讲了一个笑话，逗得他忍俊不禁地笑了起来。
火鸡吃完之后，跟着上场的是粉红色的圣诞布了，伯希几乎被藏在他那份布了里的镰刀币磕掉牙齿。而一边的哈格力继续喝着白酒，哈利发现他的脸变得越来越红，最后他竟然醉得吻了一下麦康娜的脸颊。更使哈利惊讶的是，麦康娜并没有生气，而是红着脸，咯咯地笑得帽子都斜到一边。
当哈利最后离开餐桌，他身上装满了一大堆从炮竹里得来的东西，包括一包不会爆的闪亮气球，一套白长疣药水和自己的一套新魔法棋。而他得到的那些白老鼠却不见了，哈利有种恶心的感觉，那些白老鼠会不会最终变成诺丽丝夫人的晚餐呢？
哈利和威斯里兄弟在雪地上打了一场激烈的雪仗，度过了一个快乐的下午。然后，又冷又湿的他们，上气不接下气地回到格林芬顿的公共休息室烤火，哈利和罗思下了一盘棋，输得很惨。他怀疑，如果不是伯希在旁煤蝶不休乱出主意的话，他是不会输得这么惨的。
吃过火鸡三明治，烤面饼，松糕点心和圣诞蛋糕的茶点后，大家都觉得很饱而且很渴睡了，都坐在那里，看伯希来回追赶着弗来德和乔治俩兄弟，因为他们两个偷了他的班长徽章。
这是哈利有生以来过得最好的一个圣诞节。但是他内心里却整天记挂着一件事。
直到他上了床才有时间来好好地想一想；那件隐形披风到底是谁送给他的。
罗恩的肚子里塞满了火鸡和蛋糕，又没有什么神秘的事情扰乱思想，他拉上窗帘，倒在床上便睡着了。哈利却靠在他的床边，从床底下拿出那件神奇的披风。
他的爸爸……，这件披风曾经是他的爸爸的。哈利想着，让这件被风从他手上滑过，它的质地比丝绸还柔滑，像空气一样轻，"好好地使用它，"哈利记得纸条上这样说。
他下了床，把被风披在身上。哈利朝下看了看他的脚，而见到的只是月光与影子。哈利感到奇妙极了。
"好好地使用它。"
突然，哈利感到十分清醒。穿着被风，他觉得整个霍格瓦彻都在向他敞开着。
他站在寂静的黑暗中，全身洋溢着兴奋的感觉，现在，他可以到任何地方去，而弗驰不会知道。
罗恩在打着呼嗜，要叫醒他吗？哈利被某种念头制止住了，这是他爸爸的披风，他觉得这一次——也是第一次，他想自己行动。
他偷偷地走出了宿舍，走下楼梯，穿过公共休息室，爬过胖大婶肖像洞。
"谁？"胖大婶。哈利没有作答，迅速地走过走廊。
该去哪儿呢？哈利停下脚步，心蹦蹦直跳，脑筋开始转动。对了，去图书馆的不完全开放区。在那里，他可以随意地阅读，可以找出谁是弗兰马尔。他开始行动，把身上的隐形披风拉紧。
图书馆里一片漆黑，阴森恐怖。哈利点了一盏油灯，在书架间穿行。虽然他觉得他手里握着灯炉，但因为现在他是隐形的，油灯看起来在半空中自己飘浮移动着，那情景真令人毛骨悚然。
不完全开放区在图书馆的正后方。哈利小心地跨过隔离绳子，高举油灯看书架上的书目。
没有什么发现。那些快，褪色的金色字体是用哈利不懂的语言写的。有些根本没有书目。一本书上有一个黑色的污迹，看起来像血迹。哈利后脑皮的头发直竖。
也许是幻觉，哈利觉得从书本中发出微弱的沙沙声，好像它们知道哈利在那儿一样。
哈利开始寻找。他把灯小心地放在地板上，在书架的底部里找那本有趣的书。
一本黑银色的书本映入他的眼帘，他吃力地把这本很重的书抽出，然后蹲下，把它平衡着放在膝上，打开。
一声刺耳，使人心惊胆战的尖叫刺破了黑夜的寂静——这本书在尖叫哈利"啦"的一声猛地合上书，但尖叫声仍然继续着，很刺耳，而且一声比一声高。哈利听得后退了一大步，绊倒在地上，被碰翻的油灯立即就熄了。这时，走廊那边传来脚步声，他慌忙地把会尖叫的书塞回书架，拼命逃出图书馆。在出门的时候，他差点撞上迎面而来的费驰。费驰面色苍白，睁得老大的眼睛直直地向哈利的方向望来，哈利从他伸展开的胳膊下溜过去，飞快地跑进走廊，那本书可怕的尖叫声似乎还在他的耳中回荡。
哈利来到一处挂着一件高大盔甲的地方，突然停住。他在慌乱之中逃出图书馆，竟没有注意向哪个方向跑。也许是太黑了，他根本无法确定身在何处。他知道在厨房的附近摆着一套盔甲，但他觉得自己应在厨房以上的第五层才对。
"教授，你说如果有人在校园里闲逛或是闯进图书馆的不完全开放区就直接来找你。"哈利觉得自己一定是吓得脸无人色。不管他身在何处，费驰一定有某条捷径，因为他低声油滑的声音愈来愈近。而更使他胆战心惊的是，跟他在一起的是史纳皮。
"不完全开放区？哦，好吧，他们不可能走远的，快抓住他们。"当费驰和史纳皮走到前面拐角处的时候，哈利像生根似的笔直站在原地。当然，他们看不到哈利，但是走廊很窄，哈利的披风可使他隐形，却不能消去他固体的身躯，如果他们再向前走的话，就要和地撞个正着了。
他害怕地向后退，尽量不发出任何声音。左边有一扇门半开着，这是他唯一的希望了。他屏住呼吸，蟋缩着身子从半开的门挤进去。幸好，他成功了，没有碰到门，也没有引起他们的警觉。他们一直向前走，而哈利则紧贴往墙壁，听到他们的脚步声消失后，才深深地猛吸几口气。太险了，真是太险了！哈利过了一会才镇静下来，开始注意他藏身的地方。
这好像是一间废弃的教室。课桌和椅子被推到墙角，现出一大堆黑影，地上有一个倒放的废纸篓——他对面倚靠在墙上的是一件好像是本不属于那里的东西，而是暂时不用放在那儿的。
那是一面壮丽的，有着华丽装饰的金色边框的镜子。向上直挂到天花板，放置在两只爪形脚上，在镜子的上部刻着这样的铭文：Ensed stra ehru ayt cafru Oyton wohsi.费驰和史纳皮走远了。哈利的恐怖感渐渐消失，他走近那面镜子，想看一下自己，但照样看不到他在镜子中的反射。他走到镜子的正前面。
哈利吓得双手捂住嘴巴，差点没叫出声来。他转过身，向四周张望。此时，他的心比刚才听到书尖叫时跳动得更加激烈——因为在镜子里，他不仅看到他自己，而且看到他背后站着一大群人。
镜子里的他，脸色苍白，神情惊慌，在他的背后站着至少10个人，哈利侧过头去看了看，依然是没有人，难道他们跟他一样也是隐形的？难道这间屋子里实际上站满了许多隐形的人，而这面镜子能够辨别他们是否是隐形的？
他再次看了一下镜子，站在他右后面的是一个妇女，微笑着向他挥着手，他伸出手向后一摸，镜子里的他仍然清晰，如果她真的在后面的话，他是可以碰到她的，但是哈利的手所能碰到的只是空气——那个妇女和其他人只是存在镜子里面。
她是一个非常漂亮的女人，有着一头深红色的头发，——她的眼睛和我的是如此相似，哈利想。他向镜子靠前一些。她的眼睛是亮绿的，而形状几乎和他的一模一样。哈利发现她在那里又哭又笑。在她旁边站着的那个高瘦、黑发的男子伸开双手抱着她，他戴着眼镜，头发很凌乱，和哈利的一样向后竖起。
哈利是如此地贴近镜子，还差点碰到了镜中的自己。
"妈妈？"他低声说，"爸爸？"
他们只是微笑着看着他。哈利慢慢地望向镜子里的其他人，他们有跟他很相似的眼睛，相似的鼻子，一个矮小的老人甚至跟哈利一样长着膝盖给节——哈利意识到这是他人生的第一次见到他的家人。
波特一家微笑地看向哈利，招着手，哈利渴望地凝视着他们，双手接在镜子上，希望他们能够穿过镜子来跟他相会。他内心里一半是欢喜，又一半是极端的忧伤，痛苦极了。
哈利不知自己在镜子前站了多久，镜子里面的人也好像没有消失。他只是看呀看，直到远处传来吵闹声才回过神来。他不能再站在那里，他得回去睡觉了。他依依不舍地把目光从妈妈的睑移开，小声地说："我会回来的。"急忙地走出了课堂。
回去后，哈利把他的奇遇告诉罗恩。"你本应该叫醒我的。"罗恩生气地说。
"你可以今晚去，到时我会带你去看那块镜子。""我想看看你的爸爸和妈妈。"罗恩渴望地说。
"我也想看看你的全家人，你可以把你其他兄弟和亲戚指给我看。""你可以随时见到他们的，"罗恩说，"夏天到我们家里来，至少可以看到死的人，没有找到弗兰马尔真是丢脸，哈利，吃些熏肉吧，为什么你一点东西都不吃呢？"哈利根本一点胃口也没有，他见到了他的爸爸妈妈，并且今晚将会再次见到他们，弗兰马尔的事对他来说已经不重要了，他早已将其抛到九霄云外去了。谁在乎那个三头狗在守着什么？就是史纳皮偷去了它又怎么样呢？
"你没事吧，怪兮兮的。"罗恩说。
哈利现在最担心的是再也找不到那间放镜子的教堂了。和现在披风里多了一个罗恩，他们的行动会更加慢。他们在哈利昨晚走过的路上摸索着，在黑暗的走廊上徘徊了差不多有一个多钟头。
"太冷了，"罗恩说，"算了吧，我们回去啦。""不广哈利嘶声叫着说，"我知道应该就在这里附近。"他们通过一个向相反方向滑行的高女巫的痕迹，但却没有看见其他的人。正当罗恩又开始呻吟着抱怨脚差不多冻僵了的时候，哈利发现了昨晚看到的那套盔甲。
"就是这儿，就是这儿。"
他们推开门，哈利从肩膀上把披风卸下来，跑到镜子的前面。
看到了，他的爸爸和妈妈微笑着映入了他的眼帘。
"看见了吗？"哈利小声问。
"什么也没有啊。"
"看！看看他们……，很多人啊……"
"我只看到你在里面。"
"站在我这里，继续好好地看一下。"
哈利走开去，让罗恩站在镜子的前面，奇怪的是，站在旁边的哈利再也看不到他的家人了，只有看到穿着涡漩花纹睡衣的罗恩。
罗恩惊愣地盯看着自己的形象。
"看着我。"他说。
"你能看见你的家人们站在你的周围吗？"
"不能，我只看到我自己。但是我好像有点不同，老了一点，我像是一个领袖。""什么？"
"我……我现在戴着比尔的徽章，拿着豪斯快迪斯比赛奖杯，而且我是快迪斯比赛的队长！"罗恩依依不舍地从镜子里自己威武的形象移开目光，兴奋地看着哈利。
"你认为通过这面镜子能看到我们的未来吗？""怎么可能？我的家人都已经死了，让我再看一下。""昨晚你已经独自享受这面镜子了，还是让我再享受一下吧。""你就只记挂着你的快迪斯赛杯，那有什么有趣的？我想看看我的爸妈。""不要推我……"
突然，从走廊外传来吵闹声，他们才意识到刚才太大声讲话了，急忙停止争吵。
"快！"
当诺丽丝夫人看过门这边来的时候，罗恩忙把被风罩在他和哈利的身上，他们静静地站在那儿，心里想着同一件事——这件披风遇上猫能起作用吗？时间好像过了一年那么长，她才转身离去。
"这里不安全，她可能叫费驰来，我敢肯定她一定听到我们说话了，我们还是快点吧。"哈利拉着哈利走出教室。
第二天早上，雪还没有融化。
"想下棋吗，哈利？"罗恩问。
"不想！"
"我们到下面看一下哈格力吧？"
"不去……你去吧……"
"哈利，我知道你在想那块镜子的事儿，今晚不要再去了。""为什么？"
"我也不知道，我有一种不祥的预感。你有太多次死里逃生了。
费驰、史纳皮和诺丽丝都在外面游荡着，他们看不见你又怎样呢？
要是他们撞上你怎么办？要是你撞倒了东西怎么办？""你跟荷米恩一样?嗦。"
"我是认真的，哈利，不要去。"
现在，哈利在脑里想着如何才能回到那块镜子的前面去，而不会受到罗恩的阻止。
第二晚，哈利比以前更容易，更快找到那间教室了。他走得很快，以致弄出很大声音，但庆幸的是没有遇到任何人。
他的爸妈又在镜中对他笑了，他的祖父高兴地对他点头。哈利在镜子前面的地板上坐下来。现在没有什么能够阻止他跟他的家人在一起。除非……
"又回来啦，哈利？"
哈利觉得全身上下一阵冰冻。他向后看了看，艾伯斯。丹伯多正坐在墙边的一张课桌上。哈利一定是径直走进教室，迫不及待地走到镜子前，所以根本没有注意到他在那里。
"我……我没有看到你，先生。"
"真奇怪，隐形使你的视力也降低了。"丹伯多说，哈利看见他脸上带着微笑，心中那块悬着的石头放了下来。
丹伯多从课桌上滑下来，和哈利并肩坐在地上，"现在，你像以前几百人一样，发现了魔法之镜的秘密。""我并不知道它是魔法之镜。"
"现在我想你已知道它的妙处了吧？"
"它……它能显示出我的家人。"
"而对你的朋友罗恩，显示的则是一队人的领袖。""你是怎样知道的？"
"我并不需要借助披风来隐形。"丹伯多温柔地说："现在，你知道魔法之镜能够做些什么了吗？"哈利摇了摇头。
"我解释给你听吧，对于世界上最快乐幸福的人，它只是一面普通的镜子，也就是说，他在镜子中看到的是他真实的自己，你现在懂了吗？"哈利想了想，慢慢地说："它显示出我们想要的一切东西……""是，也不尽是。"丹伯多平静地说，"它能显示出我们心中最深的，最想得到的渴望。你从来没有见过你的家人，所以你看到他们站在你的周围，罗恩。威斯里总是笼罩在他兄弟们的阴影之下，所以他看到自己站在那里，成为兄弟们中的狡狡者。然而，这面镜子既不告诉我们真相，又不增长我们的知识。人们在它的面前变得很脆弱，沉迷于他们所见到的，甚至变疯了，但不知他们所看见的是真还是假。""明天，这面镜子将被移到另外的地方去了，哈利，我要你不要再去找它了。
如果你真的对它着迷，你现在就要做好准备。记住，只是生活在梦境中是没有用的，现在，何不披上你那件被风回去睡觉呢？"哈利站起身。
"先生——丹伯多教授？我能问你一些问题吗？""你现在不正在问着问题吗？"丹伯多微笑着说，"不过你可以再问的。""当你望着自己在镜子里的时候，你看到了什么呢？""我？我看见自己拿着一对很厚的羊毛短袜。"哈利疑惑地睁大了眼睛。
"每个人都想要更多的短袜，"丹伯多说，"圣诞节来了，又过去了，而我始终没有得到过一双短袜。人们老是送书给我。"当哈利回到床上时他才醒悟过来，丹伯多的话可能不是真的。
他把斯卡伯斯推离他的枕头，想想看，也难怪，那可是个很私人的问题。
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