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. I found it hilarious. 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, 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 ignored them. Draco 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 Draco, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family. I hated Draco for doing that, but I didn't say anything about it. Nobody knew about my life before Hogwarts and I hope it stays that way.
Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and I had signed up at once. This would probably be the best Christmas I'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Harry was staying too.
When we left the dungeons at the end of Potions, we found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a large puffing sound told us that Hagrid was behind it.
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
"Nah, I'm all right, thanks."
"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Draco's cold drawl from behind us. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to become gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's probably 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 four of us 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, Y/N, 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," I 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 Harry.
"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" I 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 we left Hagrid and hurried off to the library.
We had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were we 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 Magical Modern Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Development in Wizardry.
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron and I strode off down the rows of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. The books in the restricted section contained powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.
We gave up and 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.
"We will keep looking 'mione," I told her, not noticing the slight blush on her cheek.
Once the holidays had started, Ron, Harry, and I were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. We had the dormitories to ourselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so we were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. We sat by the hour eating anything we could spear on a toasting fork – bread, English muffins, marshmallows.
Ron also started teaching us 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.
On Christmas Eve, I went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun. We woke early in the morning, however, the first thing we saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of our beds.
"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. "Come on, let's bring them down to the common room so we can open them in front of the fire."
Harry, Ron, and I piled the presents up in our arms and brought them all down to the common room. We dropped our presents beside the fire and started to open them together.
I picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Y/N, from Hagrid. Inside was a green creature. While we were visiting hagrid's hut I fell in love with Marlow. Marlow was a male Bowtruckle that was kept by Newt Scamander as a pet and when Newt came to visit Hagrid he gifted him, Marlow.
Harry, opened a very small parcel containing 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, joining me by laughing at how pleased Ron was.
"I got a gift from Hagrid look!" I said showing them my new pet. " Who is this present from?"
"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater. It looked like she's made you one, too, Harry."
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.
"This fudge is delicious," I said in my dark green Weasley sweater, stuffing a piece of fudge into my mouth.
My next present also contained candy – a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. She also had bought me a Kodak CCD camera. My grandma bought me two other hoodies.
This only left one left present and it was Harry's. 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?" I asked
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor.
"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!"
I watched in amazement. "That's wicked! 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 handwriting 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. Ron and I were admiring the cloak.
"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron said. "Anything. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Harry.
Before I could say anything else, the door from the boy's dormitory was flung open and Fred and George bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight.
"Merry Christmas!"
"Hey, look – they've got Weasley sweaters, too!"
Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large letter 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 perfect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Y/N 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.
I never in all my life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roasted 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. 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. I watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to our amazement, giggled and blushed.
Harry, me, and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, we returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. I suspected Harry wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.
After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifles, 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.
I heard someone walk out of our dorm. I walked down the stairs and met Harry.
"Where are you going Har?"
"The Restricted Section in the library. Want to join?"
"Of course," I said excitedly.
We got under the cloth and went to the library. The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see our way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry's arm was supporting it.
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 the lamp to read the titles.
We had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, Harry looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume seemed to interest him. He pulled it out with difficulty, it was very heavy.
"Don't open t..." before I could finish my sentence Harry opened the book.
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 the lamp, which went out at once. We heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside – stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, we ran for it. We passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looking straight through us, and Harry and I slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in my ears.
We came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. We didn't recognize where we were at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, but we 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."
Where ever we were, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to our horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
Harry and I stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see us, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into us – the cloak didn't stop us from being solid.
We backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to our left. It was the only hope. We squeezed through it, Harry was holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to our relief, we managed to get inside the room without them noticing anything. We walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away.
"That was close, very close, way too close," I told Harry and he just nodded.
The room 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 us 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.
Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.
He clapped his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around.
"What's wrong Har?"
"There is a whole crowd of people standing right behind me," he said turning slowly back to the mirror.
Harry looked over his shoulder again. He was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
"What do you mean Har?"
"Look Y/N it's my parents!" he said jumping up and down.
"I can only see you, Har," I said.
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."
"I only see me and Hermione together talking holding hands," I said blushing a bit.
"Oh... um, maybe Ron will be able to see them," he said sitting down in front of the mirror.
How long he stood there, I don't know, but I let him have his time. He tore his eyes away from the mirror and, whispered, "I'll come back," and we 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 families, all the Weasleys, all the Winters. Ron, you'll be able to show me your older 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?"
Me and Ron exchange looks and he spoke up.
"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."
With Ron and I covered in the cloak, we had to walk much more slowly this night. We tried retracing our 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," I agreed.
"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."
We passed a 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 and I spotted the suit of armor.
"It's here – just here – yes!"
We pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.
"See?" Harry whispered.
"I can't see anything," Ron confessed.
"Look! Look at them all...there are loads of them...."
"I can only see you, Harry," Ron said.
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."
Harry stepped aside and Ron stepped forward, 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 that splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry and me.
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"
"How can it?" Harry asked. "All my family are dead."
"I don't think it shows the future," I said
"Let me have another look, Ron," Harry insisted.
"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."
"I think we'd better leave," I whispered. "This mirror's making you both mad."
But they ignored me.
"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 the corridor put an end to their discussion. The two hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.
"Quick!"
Ron threw the cloak back over us as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron, Harry, and I stood quite still, all 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. Harry, Ron, we can't come back again. That mirror's getting to your heads. Come on."
And I pulled Ron and 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," I said
"Why not?"
"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it. We wouldn't have ever left it if Y/N hadn't pulled us away – 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?" said Ron
"You sound like Hermione."
"I'm serious, Harry, don't go," I said.
The next morning Harry woke me up and only said one thing.
"The mirror shows your biggest desire, and for you, it showed Hermione and you," Harry said with a smirk.
"Shut up Harry, I don't know if I feel anything yet. Don't tell anyone yet not even Ron okay?"
"Alright Y/N, but you have to tell me when you know if you like her okay?"
"Okay har."
Hope you enjoyed have a great week <3