The recovery in the infirmary had been necessary, but Arthur found the environment inefficient. Once discharged, he didn't return to the Ravenclaw dormitories. Instead, he used a couple of spells to sneak around—the Disillusionment charm and the Imperturbable charm. These spells helped him move quietly through the restricted section of the library, where they kept all the really sensitive books.
The smell of aged paper and the intense magical energy surrounding the restricted books had an uplifting effect on him; it wasn't that he needed the walk to clear his head, but being around these things just made him feel a little better.
Arthur's fingers trailed over the spines of books that were chained to the shelves. His eyes locked onto a title: Rituals for Beginners.
In the world of Magical Britain, certain rituals were strictly off-limits, categorized as "Dark Magic" by the Ministry's governing system. However, to Arthur, this seemed like a rational approach. He believed that magic was simply a means to an end, a tool that could be used for various purposes, and the label of "Dark" was merely a way to caution users against exploring the more perilous aspects of magic. It was a way to discourage people from delving into the forbidden branches of magic, rather than an inherent property of the magic itself.
As Arthur flipped through the opening pages, he found himself intrigued. The content was a far cry from the usual magic he was familiar with—it delved into the principles of equivalent exchange and the role of environmental anchors. The complexity of the subject matter was evident, demanding a significant investment of time and mental effort to fully grasp. Arthur dedicated several minutes to committing the information to memory, carefully studying the foundational diagrams that underpinned the concept. Only when he felt satisfied that he had absorbed the key points did he return the book to its designated place, his mind already turning over the implications of what he had learned.
As Arthur reached for another book on alchemical theory, his always active spell [revelare] suddenly gave him a warning signal—the sound of footsteps, faint but unmistakable, was echoing through the room.
As he stepped back, his body seemed to fade into the darkness, becoming one with the shadows cast by a tall mahogany bookshelf. Suddenly, a hand emerged from the gloom, holding a lantern that cast flickering shadows on the walls. And then, he saw him—Harry Potter, his face a picture of frantic worry, his eyes scanning the shelves with a sense of desperation.
The boy's hand reached out, his fingers closing around a large, silver-bound book, its cover gleaming in the faint light.The moment Harry touched it, the book sprang open, unleashing a loud, piercing scream that seemed to shatter the stillness of the library. As it crashed to the floor, the sound waves reverberated through the quiet space, much like a warning siren blasting in everyone's ears.
'Trouble,' Arthur thought, his eyes narrowing.
As the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the distance, Arthur knew he had to act fast. It was Filch, the caretaker, and he could tell by the sharp, rhythmic snap of a cloak that Snape, the potions master, was with him. Without hesitation, Arthur swiftly turned around, his movements precise and calculated, and made a quick escape through a side door of the library. He managed to slip away just in time, avoiding the lantern light that would have given away his position.
Arthur tracked Harry's heat signature through the corridors. The boy seemed to be running at random, but he eventually ducked into an unused classroom. Arthur followed, maintaining his invisibility.
Harry was standing in the middle of the room, and you could see two different emotions on his face at the same time—he looked a bit sad but also really excited. It was a weird mix that Arthur couldn't quite figure out. For a while, Harry just stared at something in the corner, not moving or saying a word. Then, all of a sudden, he took off running out of the room, a crazy happy look on his face, like he was desperate to get somewhere or do something.
As he moved into the room, Arthur let his guard down just a bit, easing up on the stealth spells that had been hiding him, and stepped inside.In the center stood a massive, gold-framed mirror. At the top, a string of reversed syntax was etched: "Erised stra ehru tait ube cafru oyt on wohsi."
Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible, 'A mirror that reveals the deepest longing of one's heart.'
He stepped in front of the glass.The dusty classroom in the reflection didn't just change; it de-rendered. The gray stone dissolved into a high-resolution visualization that made Arthur's breath hitch.The mountain peak rose up like a shard of stone, its rugged edges softened only by a dusting of snow. The air around it seemed to vibrate with an otherworldly chill, as if the very atmosphere were thin and fragile. But beyond this frozen landscape, a vast expanse of cosmos stretched out—a kaleidoscope of nebulae and star clusters that swirled and danced in the darkness. And through it all, a gentle glow of gold seemed to pulse, like the heartbeat of the universe itself, weaving a thread of light between the stars.
Standing on that peak was a man.
He wore robes of absolute black—a material that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. His hair was stark white, a brilliant contrast against the dark fabric. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture radiating a calm, terrifying authority.
The guy in the mirror didn't have a magic wand or anything. But as Arthur looked on, the guy in the mirror slowly turned his head, their eyes meeting in a pretty intense stare.
His eyes were super sharp and cold, like he had seen everything that had ever happened in the past millenium, and it was all stored away in his gaze, waiting to be unleashed.He gave a smile, but it wasn't the kind that comes from happiness or friendliness. It was more like a smile that said he understood everything, and he was completely in control.
"A fascinating sight, is it not, Arthur?"
The voice didn't come from the mirror. It came from the shadows behind him.
Arthur didn't flinch. He was too drained to react, so he just turned around slowly. That's when he saw Albus Dumbledore sitting on a desk, his half-moon glasses gleaming in the soft moonlight. The desk was pushed up against the wall, and Dumbledore seemed completely at ease, like he had been sitting there for a while, waiting for Arthur to notice him.
"Director," Arthur acknowledged, his voice flat.
"Most people call me the headmaster," Dumbledore said in a gentle voice, "but I suppose you could say I'm in charge of things around here."
He got up from his seat, his eyes shifting from the mirror to Arthur's pale face. "You look like you've been through a lot lately," he added, his tone soft with concern. "I can see that you've made some big discoveries, and I'm guessing they haven't been easy on you."
Arthur's gaze drifted back to the mirror, a look of fascination crossing his face as he said, "I came across something really interesting."
"The Mirror of Erised shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts," Dumbledore said, stepping closer. "Harry sees a family. You, I suspect, see a world that finally makes sense. A world where you are no longer a passenger but one who sees everything and knows everything."
Arthur looked back at the man on the mountain—the version of himself that didn't need a wand to rewrite the stars. "It is a simple goal."
"It is a dangerous one," Dumbledore warned, his tone shifting from whimsical to grave. "Men have wasted away before this mirror, entranced by what they see. They forget that the reflection is not reality. It provides no knowledge. It provides only... longing."Dumbledore looked toward the door, his senses far more advanced than Arthur's current build, detecting Harry's return in the distance.
"The mirror will be moved to a new location tomorrow, Arthur. I must ask you—and Harry, though I shall tell him myself—not to go looking for it again. There are some things in this world that you're not ready to understand just yet, okay?"
Dumbledore leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for Arthur. "The study of magic is a noble pursuit, young Pendergast. But do not forget that a wizard without a 'Heart' is merely a machine waiting to break. Go to bed. Your recovery is not yet complete."
Arthur stared at the Headmaster for a long moment. He didn't agree with the director's analogy—machines only broke when they were poorly maintained.
"Understood, Director," Arthur said.
He turned and walked out of the room. He didn't need to look in the mirror again. He had already burned the image to his memory.