At the center of the room, on the cold stone floor, Harry Potter had long since forgotten the passage of time.
He had forgotten the outside world entirely.
His entire soul was immersed in the magnificent mirror before him.
He watched the "mother" in the mirror smile at him gently. He watched the "father" proudly place a hand on his shoulder. Greedily, again and again, he traced their familiar yet unfamiliar faces with his eyes, as if trying to engrave the illusion into his very soul.
Tap.
At that moment, a faint but clear footstep sounded from the doorway.
In this world of absolute silence created by illusion, the sound was unbearably distinct.
Harry's trance shattered instantly.
He spun around, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest.
A tall figure stood in the dim doorway, backlit by the faint light from the corridor.
Lucian Thornwick.
Harry's pupils shrank sharply in shock.
Why was he here?
How had he found this place?
"No… no!"
"I can't be discovered!"
The thought surged through Harry's mind instinctively.
In panic, he scrambled to grab the Invisibility Cloak lying carelessly on the ground, trying to hide himself again before he was fully seen.
But it was too late.
Just as his fingers were about to touch the cloak, a calm, unwavering gaze fell upon him.
That gaze was like a searchlight made real.
Harry felt as though it had not merely landed on his body.
It pierced through the darkness, through his panic—
Even through the legendary cloak said to hide its wearer from Death itself—
Straight into the most vulnerable depths of his soul.
Harry's hand froze in midair.
Every attempt to hide suddenly felt ridiculous… pointless.
He had been seen through.
Completely.
A rush of shame and embarrassment burned across his face.
He didn't know how to explain himself.
How could he explain to someone like Lucian—calm, flawless, almost godlike—why he had been sneaking here every night to stare at illusions in a mirror, soothing his miserable loneliness?
He didn't even dare meet Lucian's eyes.
Like a child caught doing something wrong, he lowered his head in silence.
But then—
When he saw Lucian's gaze move away from him and settle upon the glowing Mirror of Erised—
A new emotion surged through Harry, stronger than all his embarrassment.
Worry.
Harry suddenly looked up.
He stared at the mirror, dread flooding his heart.
He knew better than anyone how powerful the mirror was.
How irresistible the warmth it showed could be.
It trapped people.
It drained them.
It consumed them.
If that was the case…
Then someone like Lucian—whose mind seemed deeper, stronger, more unfathomable than anyone's—
What kind of desire lay hidden in his heart?
What would the mirror show him?
What kind of temptation… powerful enough to destroy even a god?
For a moment, Harry forgot his own embarrassment.
He watched Lucian calmly walk toward the Mirror of Erised.
His mouth opened.
He wanted to warn him.
To tell him about the danger.
To beg him not to be hurt by these false visions the way he had been.
But in the end… he said nothing.
Because he did not know how to warn someone who felt like a god walking among mortals.
Lucian ignored Harry Potter behind him, whose body had gone rigid with worry and tension.
In Lucian's eyes, there were only two things in this room.
One was himself.
The other—
The Mirror of Erised, said to illuminate the soul and reveal one's deepest truth.
He stopped less than a foot from the mirror.
His reflection appeared clearly upon its smooth, waterlike surface.
Meanwhile—
In the Headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore watched everything through the ancient silver mirror.
At that moment, he unconsciously held his breath.
Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes were fixed on the scene with unprecedented intensity.
His hands, clasped together before him, had turned slightly white from the force of his grip.
It was happening.
Finally.
Dumbledore felt his heart quicken.
More than anyone—
He wanted to know.
More than anyone—
He needed to know.
This boy who had created miracles again and again… who overturned rules… who was calm and rational to the point of seeming almost cold—
This seemingly omnipotent youth…
What did he desire most?
Infinite power?
Like Gellert Grindelwald, who once longed for magic strong enough to make the entire world tremble beneath his feet?
Or eternal life?
Like Voldemort, who feared death so deeply that he would pursue immortality at any cost?
Or perhaps the power to rule the world?
Like those fleeting Dark Lords of history, who dreamed of enslaving Muggles and building an empire ruled by pure-blood wizards?
Possibility after possibility flashed through Dumbledore's mind.
Each one represented a dangerous future capable of shaking the entire wizarding world.
For a moment, he almost feared the answer.
Yet he could not suppress the overwhelming curiosity swelling within his chest.
Because he knew—
The mirror's answer would reveal Lucian's most fundamental truth.
And that answer…
Would very likely determine the fate of the entire magical world.
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