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“Chapter Twelve: The Mirror of Erised” Ginny read and Harry frowned as he remembered the mirror.

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.

“Haha, that was so perfect!” Fred laughed and George grinned.

Harry was laughing as well, though he was thinking about what Fred and George had really been hitting with those snowballs.

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.

“Poor owls,” Luna said sympathetically

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.

“Would it really be so bad to light a fire down there?” Ron asked aloud.

“Yes Mr. Weasley it would be since most of the ingredients are highly reactive.” Snape sneered.

"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.

“Well since they let a ferret join the team I don’t see why not,” Hermione said and everyone was shocked at her outburst.

Harry and Ron however, were remembering Hermione hitting Malfoy in third year and both grinned.

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.

“It was,” Harry affirmed.

Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

“That was so much fun,” Ginny said, interrupting her own reading.

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."

“Oi!” All the Weasley’s yelled and even Percy looked indignant.

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.
"WEASLEY!"
Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

“At least I got one hit that year,” Ron sighed.

"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."

“The feeling is mutual,” Snape snarled under his breath.

"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.

“That was cool,” Harry said with a smile.

“Thank you Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall and Flitwick answered.

"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."

“The library?” Fred and George echoed, looking shocked.

"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?"

“See? Hagrid agrees with us!”

"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."

“Well…I suppose we can let that one slide.”

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here -- I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

“That will only peak their curiosity even more,” McGonagall sighed.

"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."

“Yeah, it does seem familiar,” most of the students agreed while the teachers frowned, knowing who Flamel was, but trying to figure out how Harry knew.

“Oh you have read it before,” Remus said cheerfully, knowing exactly where Harry had read it.

“Well how was I supposed to remember that?” Harry grumbled.

"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.

“And you’ve read them all haven’t you Hermione?” Ron asked.

“No I have not because I’ve been spending so much time helping you two,” she retorted. “Besides, that would be impossible.”

“No, you would just need to have quite a fair amount of free time on your hands,” Remus pointed out. “I’m sure one of the ghosts has done it.”

“But how can they read?” Harry asked. “I mean, they aren’t solid right?”

Remus shrugged. “I’ve seen them in the library reading, but I don’t know how they do it. You’ll have to ask Nick sometime.”

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.

“Lockhart!” Ron coughed and Hermione blushed.

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!"

“I hate it when she does that,” Remus sighed.

“Which bit, the feather duster or kicking you out?” Harry said with a grin and Remus nudged his arm playfully.

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.

Snape scoffed. “I wouldn’t need her help in finding out what you were up to Potter, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And yet, you didn’t know until the last moment,” Harry said under his breath.

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 all, 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.

“Good luck with that. It’s almost like she has her own map of the library.”

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.

“I cant believe you forgot that they are Muggles,” Hermione said disapprovingly, shaking her head.

“Well I had a lot on my mind at that moment!” Ron protested.

“Oh yes, lunch must have been taking up quite a bit of space.”

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.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Fred and George said with a mischievous look.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive,

“Completely barbaric,” Remus sighed and Ron laughed. “What?”

“That’s exactly what Hermione said the first time she saw us play. So you can’t play then?”

“I never said that, I just said it was barbaric.”

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."

“Hate to tell you mate, but you still aren’t very good,” Ron said and Harry shrugged.

“That’s why we have you.” He replied smiling.

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,

“Actually turnips would have been more than I was expecting,” Harry said seriously.

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?"

Fred and George laughed. “You sure you weren’t channeling dad or something Ron?”

"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."

“You should tell her,” Ginny said to her older brother who shrugged unconcernedly.

"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.

“Ah, so that’s how you got it,” Remus said, glancing up at Dumbledore. “I was wondering about that.”

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.

“Interesting way of putting it,” Remus mused.

"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.

Remus chuckled. “That’s what James did, although he tripped a few times on the way to the mirror.”

"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.

“I never did thank you for that sir,” Harry said smiling up at Dumbledore.

“It was always yours Harry, I was merely the messenger,” Dumbledore said.

Snape groaned quietly. Of course, Dumbledore would be the one to give Potter that cloak. Was he encouraging the boy?

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?

“And his father, and so on,” Remus said with a nod.

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.

“Harry!” Fred complained.

“We could have –”

“- pulled some amazing pranks –”

“With that!” They finished.

"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."

“You switched them didn’t you?” Harry wondered, noting the two identical grins.

“Did we? Or didn’t we?”

"What's all this noise?”
Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving.

“Of course.” Ron mumbled.

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!

“Or prat,” Fred amended.

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."

“Not that you would know anything about that,” George growled, glaring at Percy. “Did you even check up on dad Perce?”

The red that was spreading through Percy’s face was answer enough and George snorted.

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.

Ron snorted. “Those are pathetic.”

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.

“At least those ones are funny,” Hermione said. “The Muggle ones aren’t.”

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.

There was a moment’s silence as everyone stared at Professor McGonagall. Then there was a roar of laughter, even Dumbledore and the other Professors (minus Umbridge) were chuckling. It took five minutes for everyone to calm down under McGonagall’s stern gave before Ginny started reading again.

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.

Ron snorted. “He’s terrible at chess.” He was talking like Percy wasn’t even in the room, something Percy definitely caught onto.

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.

Fred and George laughed loudly and Percy scowled at the table.

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.

Ron, Hermione, and Remus nodded in agreement.

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.

“I’m not sure about that. He always seems to be wherever students are causing trouble.” Remus wondered aloud.

“Too true.” Fred and George grumbled, having been caught many times, even with the Map.

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.

“The library Harry? Really?” Fred exclaimed.

“You have the power to go anywhere, and you choose the library?” George continued.

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,

“I can’t believe it’s just a rope that separates them,” Hermione said.

“Actually, there are several undetectable spells placed over the restricted section Miss Granger,” McGonagall answered.

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.

“Probably was,” Harry mumbled.

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.

“Probably do,” Harry mumbled again.

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.

“No! Not that one!” Remus exclaimed.

“Why not?” Neville asked.

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.

“That’s why,” Remus told Neville.

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;

“I think you might be right.” Harry frowned at Remus. “He does show up wherever there’s trouble.”

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,

“Unfortunately, he does,” Remus, Fred, and George sighed.

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.

Remus chuckled at that statement. “The first few times Sirius used the cloak he somehow managed to walk right into a few doors, not to mention a wall or two.

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.

“What does that mean?” Hermione wondered. Ginny, who had the book in front of her saw it.

Remus frowned as he mouthed the words to himself over and over again. “It means… ‘I show not your face but your hearts desire’,” he told them.

“How’d you work that one out?” Ron asked.

“He’s right. It’s what it says backwards, see?” Ginny said, holding out the book for everyone to see.

“Mirror language, figures,” Harry snorted, trying not to think about what was coming next.

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.

“What?” Several people exclaimed.

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?

Harry sighed. He almost wished that was all the mirror did.

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

“Lily,” both Remus and Snape breathed.

-- 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.

“James,” Remus sighed.

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?"

Hermione and Ginny both sniffed quietly, neither having heard about this part before.

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.

“You should leave now Harry, you shouldn’t have stayed there,” Remus said sadly.

“I know now…but at the time…”

“I know,” Remus said sadly.

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.

“That’s what it does. It draws you in, entrances you with what you want most.” Remus sighed.

“How do you know so much about it?” Harry asked and Remus grimaced.

“That’s a story for another time.”

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.

“Such tact Ronald,” Hermione said disapprovingly.

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?

Both Dumbledore and Remus nodded sadly at this, knowing that the mirror was working its magic on
young Harry.

"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,

“Well put socks or shoes on next time,” Fred rolled his eyes.

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.

Fred and George frowned at that. “You know Ron, you don’t have to be like Bill or Charlie.” Fred began.

“Or even Fred and I, or” George grimaced. “Percy. Just be you and you’ll stand out on your own.”

“They’re right.” Ginny said softly, sending a smile towards Ron. “Besides, you don’t need to be Head Boy to prove how smart you are, or Quidditch captain to show your skills, you do that already.”

Ron’s ears were bright red as his hair by the time his siblings were done talking.

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

Several people shook their heads at Ron’s question.

"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?

“Does it?” Harry asked Remus who shrugged.

“We never had to find out,” he said, secretly referencing to the Marauder’s Map.

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

“Good. One of you knows something is wrong,” Remus said approvingly.

-- 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."

“And is that a bad thing?” Hermione asked shrewdly and Harry wisely chose not to answer.

"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.

“Thank goodness,” Remus breathed, glad someone had intervened.

Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.
" -- 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."

“Mirror of Desire,” Ginny translated before continuing.

"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?"

"Kind of-"

"Sort of-"

"Not really."

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.

“You don’t need to be the best Ron,” Fred repeated kindly.

“Yeah, you just need to be you. Besides, who wants to be a Head Boy anyway?”

By now, many people were starring open mouthed at the twins, who in turn, were staring at Percy, who had the decency to look ashamed.

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.

Remus nodded slightly at that.

"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 stared up at Dumbledore. “I can’t believe I didn’t even catch that…you mentioned the cloak and I…”

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?"

“Harry,” Hermione shook her head.

“I know, I know.”

"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."

“Well now we know what to get you next year sir,” George joked and Dumbledore chuckled.

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

Harry made a disgusted face.

, it had been quite a personal question.

“That’s it. Who wants to go next?” Ginny asked and Ron raised his hand. “You’ve already read Ron.”

“I know that! But um…well I was wondering…why don’t we take a break for lunch?” At that moment, his stomach chose to growl and many people laughed but agreed to take a break. They made their way to the Great Hall, talking in groups of two or three, discussing all that they had read.