"Furthermore, Professor," Harry said, turning to Dumbledore, "I don't believe leaving this mirror here is wise. Not every student at Hogwarts would have Ron's resolve to step away from something that offers such… persuasive illusions."
Ron straightened immediately, attempting to look dignified.
Harry continued carefully:
"If a young wizard became obsessed with what he saw and refused to accept that it was only fantasy, the consequences could be serious."
Dumbledore fell silent.
Those were precisely the words he himself had intended to say.
And yet Harry had said them first.
The Headmaster studied him.
There was something bright about the boy — not arrogance, but steadiness.
Perhaps, Dumbledore thought, I have underestimated him.
"I must admit, Harry, your observation is quite sensible," Dumbledore said gently. "I shall arrange for the mirror to be removed."
"Thank you, Professor. Ron and I were just leaving. Good night."
As they turned away, Ron suddenly asked:
"Headmaster… what did you see in the mirror?"
Dumbledore blinked.
For a fleeting instant, melancholy crossed his face.
Then he smiled.
"Why, I see myself holding a pair of thick woollen socks."
Harry noticed he added nothing more.
And somehow, the answer was both incomplete — and entirely truthful.
Hermione's Return
When Hermione returned, she listened intently.
"I don't think Professor Dumbledore meant any harm," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he wanted to see how you would react. The Mirror of Erised can trap a person for hours. It may have been a test."
Ron nodded.
"It did feel staged, though."
Harry spun his quill absently.
It burst, splattering blue ink directly across Draco Malfoy's face.
"Sorry," Harry said at once.
Draco wiped his cheek slowly.
His eyes were unnaturally cold.
Without a word, he walked away.
"He didn't threaten to tell his father," Ron muttered.
Hermione frowned.
"There was something strange about him."
The Slytherin Common Room
Later, in the dungeons, Draco sat in a shadowed corner. Crabbe and Goyle stood guard nearby.
He opened the notebook.
The ink he wrote faded slowly into the page.
"You promised to teach me spells to deal with Potter. We are back at school. Keep your word."
Elegant handwriting appeared in reply.
"Patience, my young friend. A truly great wizard never breaks a promise."
"I don't want patience. I want revenge."
For a moment, Draco hesitated.
Why was his anger so sharp?
The ink rippled faintly beneath his hand.
A warmth spread through his fingers.
"Tell me what to do."
The response came instantly.
"If you wish to surpass Harry Potter… have you ever heard of the Heir of Slytherin?"
"The Heir?"
"Yes… my descendant."
The writing seemed darker now.
"There is a chamber within Hogwarts — hidden, ancient. There lies a power that could change this school forever."
The handwriting trembled.
Vanished.
Then reappeared — shakier, less elegant.
"You… wish to know more?"
The air felt colder.
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