They Shook Hands - Year 1

The Mirror

After the Christmas feast, Harry and Draco went outside to go sledding, sliding down the hill onto the lake over and over, until their legs had turned to rubber, and their cheeks were rosy with the cold. Dinner was a casual affair of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake. Back in the common room, they sipped hot chocolate, and Draco began teaching Harry how to play wizard chess.

That night, after Draco had fallen asleep, Harry sat in bed, wide awake. He couldn't sleep. He still wondered who had sent him the invisibility cloak. He pulled it out and held onto it. It was smoother than silk, light as air. This had belonged to his father. Forget how rare they were, forget how costly; it had been his father's.

He had to try it out. Now. He slipped out of bed and pulled it around his shoulders. Where he should have seen his legs, he saw only moonlit shadows. It was a queer feeling.

The note had said, 'Use it well'.

An invisibility cloak was used to become invisible. He started with realization. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak! Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in darkness and silence. He could go anywhere with this cloak, anywhere at all, and Filch would never know.

Draco mumbled something in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? No, he decided. Not the first time; not with this cloak that had belonged to his father. This time, the first time, he wanted to go alone.

He quietly left the room and walked down the corridor to the common room. He bolted across the room and out through the stone wall. Where should he go? He didn't know. He walked randomly, as silent as a ghost. He saw a few of the ghosts out and about, but he said nothing to them.

He was near the library now. It was pitch-black through the doors and very eerie. He looked in at the tall bookshelves that held so much knowledge but hadn't helped them discover the answers they needed. Flamel's name was nowhere to be found in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was also missing from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. Those were only a few of the tomes the library held amongst the thousands and thousands of books.

Harry had been wondering for a time if they might ever find Flamel's name in the library. They dared not ask for help. In the library proper, it seemed a fruitless task. That last phrase jangled around in his head. The library proper...

Was it possible that information on Flamel was in the Restricted Section? He'd never looked there; you needed a specially signed note from a teacher to even look in any of the restricted books. As soon as the idea occurred to him, he knew it must be correct. In his mind, he could picture the velvet rope that warded off the forbidden books at the back of the library. Did he dare? He was invisible.

He grabbed for a lantern and lit the wick with a quick charm.

"Who's there?" came a voice. Filch! He'd seen the light! Harry dropped the lantern and ran. He might be invisible, but a floating lantern was enough to make even Filch suspicious, and he'd probably wake the Headmaster.

Filch's footsteps drew near, and Harry almost ran into him. He could see the caretaker's pale, wild eyes searching in the darkness, but they glided right over Harry. He ran, as silently as he could manage.

He came to a sudden halt near a tall suit of armour. He had been so busy getting away from Filch, that he hadn't paid any attention to where he was going. It was like the night of the duel all over again. The darkness made it impossible for him to tell where he was. There was a suit of armour near the kitchens, he knew, but he was at least five floors above there.

"Glad I found you, Professor. Professor Snape asked me to let him know if anyone was wandering around at night, but you'll do just as well. It seems someone's out of bed and tried to get into the library. I found this lantern dropped on the floor, and the wick was still burning. I've no doubt he ran for fear of his life."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer. To his complete shock, it was Professor Quirrell's stuttering voice that answered, "L-lantern? L-library? P-p-probably an older s-student t-t-trying to raid the-the-the Restricted S-s-section. I t-tell them they're n-n-not ready, but t-t-they are y-young and think they are im-im-im-immortal."

Quirrell? Sure enough, the Professor and Filch came around the corner, as Harry stood rooted to his spot. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor, and if they came much closer to him, they'd crash into him for sure. He wasn't immaterial, after all.

"We'll catch 'em, oh yes, we'll catch 'em. Hang 'em up in the dungeons and let 'em have a good screamin' we will, oh yes."

He backed away as quickly and quietly as he could. He could see a door ajar to his left. It would have to do. He squeezed through it, thankful for being skinny, and eased the door shut behind him after they'd walked by. He listened to their footsteps fade away. That had been too close for comfort.

The room looked like an unused classroom, of which there were dozens around the school. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket. None of that mattered when he saw the highly unusual object in the room. It looked out of place, as though it were just here because there was nowhere else to put it.

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.

Now that Filch and Quirrell had walked away, his panic was fading, and his natural curiosity was growing. What was this mirror? Why was it here? He stepped closer, wanting to look at himself from under the cloak. He stood in front of it and gasped.

Harry had to clap his hands to his mouth to keep from screaming. He spun around, staring wildly into the shadows. His heart was in his throat, for in the mirror, he was not alone.

He saw no one. The room was empty. He took a deep, slow breath, trying not to hyperventilate. He turned back to the mirror.

There he was, looking pale and frightened. Also there, reflected in the space behind him, were at least ten other people. Harry looked over his shoulder, but he was still alone. Were they all invisible too? Was he going mad? What trick was this?

He looked back at the mirror. A woman was standing right behind his reflection; she smiled and waved at him. He reached out his hand and felt only the empty air. If she was truly there, then he should have felt her, so close were they standing in the mirror. He felt nothing. She and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair, and her eyes were just like his. He leaned in closer to the mirror. Their eyes were bright green, identical in shape, but she was crying. She smiled at him, but she cried nonetheless.

The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. The man wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did. The jawline, the cheekbones, all identical.

"Mum," he whispered, not daring to believe it. "Dad?"

They did not answer. They only watched him, smiling. Harry saw pride on both their faces. He felt weak all of a sudden, and he looked at the other faces in the mirror. Here he saw a pair of green eyes; there he saw a nose like his own; a little old man at the back even had Harry's knobby knees. He could have wept; he was looking at his family for the first time in his life.

The Potter family smiled and waved at him, and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass. Would that he could pass through and reach them. He felt a terrible ache inside him; half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stayed there he could not have said. The reflections did not fade and kept him company until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here; he had to get back to the dungeons. He tore his eyes from his mother's wistful face with a sort of wrenching agony. He pulled the cloak about his shoulders, and saw his father wink at him. A tear rolled down Harry's cheek.

"I'll come back," he promised, and he fled before he lost his strength. He ran as quickly and silently as he could. It took him several minutes to even figure out where he was. He took the quickest way back to the dorm he could find, praying he wouldn't run into Filch or Quirrell again.

When he was back in the dungeons, Professor Snape's domain, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe. He slid back the blank stone wall and stumbled inside, falling back against the wall as it closed behind him. He was home free.

Physically worn-out, emotionally drained, and absolutely exhausted, Harry collapsed onto his bed. He wanted to wake Draco and tell him all about the mirror. Just gotta catch my breath first.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly through the picture window. He had neglected to close his curtains last night; how careless. He glanced over to see that Draco's bed was empty. Harry sat up. He had to find Draco, had to tell him about the mirror. His parents!

The door to the dorm opened and Draco sauntered in. "Good morning," he said casually. "You might be able to make breakfast if you run."

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed.

His friend frowned at him slightly. "Yes, for these past eleven years, six months, and nineteen days."

Harry jumped up from bed and grabbed Draco in a hug. Draco sputtered and stepped back. "Geroff! Harry, what's gotten into you?"

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed again. "I made the most incredible discovery last night!"

"Did you go for a walk in the new cloak of yours?" Draco demanded, quickly putting two and two together.

Harry nodded rapidly. "I wound up by the library where I was about to go looking through the Restricted Section for Nicholas Flamel but Filch came by before I could look and I ran away but he took some shortcut because he'd found Professor Quirrell and they were searching for me so I ran and wound up in this room and there's this mirror and," he took a deep breath, "I saw my parents!"

Draco's jaw dropped. "You saw your parents?" he said, completely stunned. "Were they -- alive?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No, I could only see them in the mirror. I could see myself, but they were standing right behind me. I saw other people too, and I think they were the rest of my family, because I saw people with my eyes, my nose, my face. I have a family, Draco!" His hands were shaking.

Draco clasped his shoulders. "Harry, that's wonderful. I'm happy for you, mate."

"They looked so proud of me," he said wistfully, picturing his mother's happy tears and the unmistakable look on his father's face. "I'm not alone anymore. Oh, they're not here, but I feel them now. I feel like I know them."

Draco squeezed Harry's shoulders tightly. He didn't say anything else. The blissful look on Harry's face said it all. "I'm going back tonight," he said, his mind made up. "You can come along if you'd like."

Draco shook his head. "Oh no, no more adventures. I already told you that."

"Suit yourself." Harry wasn't the least bit bothered. All he could think about was the coming night and the mirror that showed him his family. He didn't go up to try to catch breakfast. Though he went up to lunch, he didn't eat anything. When Draco suggested going to the library and continuing the search for Flamel, Harry thought it a waste of time. To ideas of playing chess, playing gobstones, or going sledding, he took no interest. He was going back to the mirror tonight; that was the important thing.

When the bell tolled midnight, he pulled the invisibility cloak out from under his bed and wrapped it around his thin shoulders.

"So you're going," Draco said flatly. He hadn't said anything against Harry's plan all day. Now he seemed to have found his tongue.

"You can't stop me, Draco," Harry said emotionlessly.

"I don't want to stop you," Draco told him. "This is your parents we're talking about. I have no illusions about persuading you not to go, but someone's got to look out for you. That someone is me."

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Draco. I knew I could count on you."

"Aww heck," Draco drawled, "you're gonna make me blush."

So they walked off, both of them under the invisibility cloak. It was slower going, since they had to walk in step. It took a bit, but they eventually were able to synchronize. It helped that Draco could hum very softly, and the melody kept them in time.

Harry tried to retrace his route from the library, but he must've forgotten a turn somewhere, because they wandered around for nearly an hour.

"This is getting us nowhere," Draco declared quietly. "You've obviously missed a turn somewhere, and we've been walking forever. We'll try again tomorrow."

"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

They saw the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw nothing else. Just as Draco was mentioning that his feet were developing blisters, Harry spotted the suit of armour.

"It's here! Right over here! There's the door!" They pushed the door open, ducked inside, and shoved it closed. Harry flung off the cloak and ran to the mirror. His mother and father were there, and they beamed at the sight of him.

"There they are," he said softly. "See?"

"I can't see anything," Draco told him.

"Look! Right there! There's so many of them!"

"I can only see you," Draco said.

"Look in in properly," Harry said, dragging Draco to the place where he was standing. His family vanished, and all he could see reflected in the glass was Draco in his dressing gown. Draco's eyes widened.

"You see them!" Harry cheered.

Draco stared wide-eyed into the mirror. "Look at me," he whispered.

"What do you see?" Harry asked him. "Do you see your family?"

"It's me," Draco breathed. "I'm older though. I look like Elan, but I'm not a prefect like him. I'm Quidditch Captain! You're there too, Slytherin's star Seeker. There's Millie and Theo, and we're all Chasers. We've stomped Gryffindor into the ground and taken the Quidditch Cup! Weasley's lying on the pitch bawling his eyes out!"

Harry didn't know what this meant. It had shown him his family, but had shown Draco a vision of the future. It made no sense. "Move over," he said. "I want to look again."

"You had it all last night," Draco said, not budging.

"You're just holding the Quidditch Cup," Harry argued. "What's so interesting about that?"

"I'm watching Weasley bleed his life out onto the grass." Draco was staring deep into the mirror.

"I want to see my parents." Harry stepped closer, ready to shove his friend out of the way. The ache in his chest was back.

"Don't shove me --"

A sudden noise in the corridor put an end to their discussion. Scarcely daring to breathe, Harry realized they'd been talking very loudly.

"Under the cloak!" Draco snapped, grabbing for it. They were just in time, as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Harry cursed to himself; why had they left the door open? Draco and Harry stood quite still, trying desperately to not make a sound. Did the invisibility cloak work on cats? She stared into the darkness for what seemed like ages. Then, without so much as a sound, she turned and left.

"She went for Filch," Draco said at once. "We're not safe here. Back to the dorm at once." He grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve and tugged his friend from the room.


The snow was still falling the next morning. Harry hadn't slept well. All he could think about was the mirror. Draco watched his friend throughout the day, noting that Harry was reticent.

"Harry, do you want to play chess? You were doing very well the other day." He hadn't been.

"No thanks." Harry's voice was listless.

"Gobstones?"

"No."

"You're thinking about that mirror, aren't you?" Draco accused him. "You're going back there tonight!"

"Maybe."

Draco sat down on Harry's bed. "I think that's a mistake," he said, looking directly at Harry. "Filch is out there. Mrs. Norris too. You said that Quirrell was wandering around. You heard Filch say that Professor Snape has an interest in knowing who's out of bed. Harry, trust me. Going out of the dorm again tonight is a bad idea. Stay here."

Harry shook his head. Draco had parents; he couldn't possibly know what it meant to Harry to see his family. He was going back to the mirror tonight.

Draco kept a close watch on him all day. When the bell finally tolled curfew, Harry reached under his bed and pulled out his cloak. He was about to pull it over his head when Draco clamped a hand on his forearm.

"This is a bad idea," Draco said. "You're risking detention, losing points, and shaming the House. You're not thinking. Remember what Snape said about having good reasons for the things we do?"

Harry shook his friend's hand off. "I'm going," was all he said before he pulled the cloak on and vanished.

"Harry! Damn it, Harry!" Draco groped in the air, trying to catch ahold of the cloak. Harry ignored him and slipped out to the common room and into the corridor.

He found his way more quickly than the night before. He was walking rapidly and making noise, but he didn't meet anyone. So long as he could stop silent whenever he encountered someone, they'd probably think it was a ghost or Peeves or something else.

His mother and father were smiling at him again when he stepped up to the mirror. One of his grandfathers waved at him, and Harry sank down to sit on the floor. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. He could be blissful now.

"So, back again, Harry?"

The voice startled him, and he felt his insides turn to ice. He turned to look behind him and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting on one of the desks by the wall. Harry must have walked right past the man without noticing, so desperate had he been to get to the mirror.

"Good- good evening, sir. I didn't see you there."

"Strange, isn't it, how being invisible can make you nearsighted," the headmaster said, and Harry was relieved to see that the old man was smiling. He got up from the desk and sank down to sit next to Harry on the floor. "I see that you, like so many hundreds before you, have discovered the wonders of the Mirror of Erised."

"Is that what the script on top says, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Very observant, Harry. I trust by now you've figured out what this mirror does?"

"It shows me my family, sir."

"Ah yes, and your friend Draco, what did he see?"

"He saw himself as Quidditch Captain. We'd won the Quidditch Cup, and the House Cup too." Harry didn't understand where the old man was going with this.

"Now then, can you think of what it is that the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Dumbledore's face was very serious.

Harry had no idea. He shook his head.

"Let me explain, then. The happiest man in the world would look into this mirror and see only himself exactly as he is. For him, the mirror would be perfectly ordinary. Does that help?"

Harry thought. His forehead wrinkled in concentration. "It shows us what we want? Whatever we want?"

"Almost," Dumbledore said gently. "This mirror shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire in our hearts. Draco Malfoy sees himself succeeding in a way that his older brother has not, at Quidditch. He sees the sport as a way to distinguish himself. You, Harry, have never known your family, so you see them standing all around you, proud of you."

Harry's eyes filled with tears. What a cruel mirror. It wasn't real, any of it. He wanted to cry, but Dumbledore was still talking.

"This mirror gives neither wisdom, nor truth, Harry. Men have wasted away staring into this mirror. They become entranced by what they see. Others have been driven mad, not knowing if what they see is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new location tomorrow, Harry, and I must ask that you not go looking for it again. If you ever encounter it again, you will be prepared for its mystique, but it does not do to dwell on dreams. You must never forget to live." Dumbledore got to his feet, and Harry did the same. "One must also not forget to sleep. Why not put that admirable cloak on and head back downstairs?"

Harry nodded and turned to go. "Professor?" he asked. "None of what I saw was real? Their love, their pride, none of it?"

Dumbledore's face was unreadable. "Your parents loved you, Harry. Never doubt that. If they were still alive today, I know they would be proud of you. I don't believe any of those feelings you saw were imagined."

That made him feel slightly better. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Harry." Harry could feel the old man's blue eyes watching him as he left the room.

Harry walked back to the dorm slowly. He knew that once he lay down to sleep, he would have to put the mirror out of his thoughts. So he walked slowly, trying to store up the images of his mother and father, holding them in his heart. He tried not to sniffle. Sniffling wasn't dignified.

Draco was sitting in a chair by the fire when Harry slid back the wall. He turned his head and peered over, trying to find his friend. Harry pulled the cloak off and sat down in the empty chair.

"You're back early," Draco said in a neutral tone.

"Dumbledore was waiting for me," Harry told him.

Draco's eyes grew wide. "Are you in trouble?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we had a talk. That is, he talked and I listened. He told me what the mirror is and what it does." He fell silent, his thoughts slipping back to his parents.

"Well?" Draco asked after Harry didn't elaborate.

He shook himself slightly. "It's called the Mirror of Erised. It shows you the thing you want more than anything else. Dumbledore said that you want to succeed in ways that Elan hasn't, so that's why you're Quidditch Captain holding the Cup."

"And what you want more than anything is your family," Draco said, understanding.

Harry nodded, his thoughts drifting again. "He said it gives us neither wisdom nor truth. People have died because they sat in front of it for days and weeks and just let themselves go. Other people have gone mad."

"Wow," Draco breathed. "Are you going to go mad too?"

"I hope not," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me that the mirror is being moved, and he told me not to go looking for it again. He said it wasn't good to get lost in dreams."

"Certainly not," Draco agreed.

Harry got to his feet. "I think I'm going to bed," he said.

Draco stood as well. "I'm going to sleep late come morning," he announced. "I've been waiting up all night for someone." He poked Harry on the shoulder.

Harry got into his pyjamas and lay down in bed. He could still see his parents; the tears on his mother's cheeks, the pride in his father's eyes. The images in the mirror had filled him with such longing, which was made all the worse for knowing that it could never be.

He lay awake for a long time, listening to the soft sounds of Draco's breathing, the only sound in the dorm. He stared up at his canopy, wishing desperately for sleep to come and banish the images. Finally, when he had all but given up hope, he closed his eyes and slept.


His dreams were terrible.

He had never dreamt of his parents before, for he did not remember them. Now he knew their faces, and those faces haunted his slumber. He dreamt of a house, a cozy home, filled with love and light. Then a storm would come, darkness would fall, and the door would burst open to admit a tall, cloaked figure. There would be a flash of green light, and his parents would vanish while a high-pitched, insane laugh echoed all around.

He came half-awake, shuddered, and sank back down into darkness. His dreams did not change, only repeated. Harry screamed in his head and came awake to find that he was still screaming. Draco was sitting on his bed, shaking him. Harry closed his mouth and hugged his knees into his chest.

"Bad dream?" Draco asked him. Concern was etched on his face. Harry nodded, and Draco put an arm around his friend. He didn't say anything else. They sat together until the sun rose, and Harry squeezed his friend's arm before he got up to go shower.

He was a bit more animated that day. He continued learning the basics of chess from Draco, who told him that Theo could teach him more, but if he wanted to excel, he should ask Elan for instruction. The pair played assorted card games to pass the time.

His nightmares returned that night. Everything was the same, including being shaken awake by Draco a few hours before dawn. When Harry told him about the dreams, all Draco had to say was, "Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe that mirror really can drive you mad."

With a week left before term started, the Slytherin dorms suddenly came back to life as some of the first year students returned to school. Tracy was pleased to see that Harry wasn't dressed like a slob anymore. Millie started a snowball fight with him and Draco that turned into a wrestling match, which Harry lost. Theo returned, intrigued about the mirror when he was told, and he reported no success in determining Flamel's identity.

Elan brought back a message from Mr. Malfoy that while he was very angry that Draco had skipped out on the holiday, especially without discussing his plans beforehand, he understood and respected Draco's decision to stay at school. In a somewhat dry manner, he inquired if Draco would be staying at school over Easter holiday as well.

When they first heard his nocturnal screams that night, his friends had varied reactions. Crabbe dove under his bed, convinced that the world was ending. Goyle grabbed his wand and jinxed everything that cast a shadow in the moonlight. Theo had to practically be pried off the ceiling of their room. Elan, Abraham, and Peter all came running with their wands in hand, ready to combat whatever foul beast they were certain was murdering the first years in their beds. Draco explained everything to them, and a Silencing Charm was placed on the room. It had been deemed essential to peace and order in the House, especially for the frightened second years the next room over.

When classes started again, it was a relief for Harry to be back into his routine. When he studied long into the night, he didn't dream, and he didn't wake screaming. That was a relief both for him and his roommates.

The month of January passed with little note, until one Friday evening when the first years were lounging in the common room. Nobody wanted to study, because there was too much excitement about tomorrow's Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Harry didn't care who won the game, but he planned to attend anyway. He wanted to go mostly because it was Quidditch, and partially because it would be good for him to study both teams and their Seekers.

The usual debate was going hot and heavy when Harry opened up a Chocolate Frog, one of the many he'd received from Crabbe and Goyle for Christmas. He snatched the frog out of mid-air as it tried to jump away and bit off one of the legs. He swallowed it, still squirming, and giggled as it tickled his insides. He looked at the card to see Dumbledore again. He sighed, for he already had the old wizard's card, and had been hoping for Ptolemy. He flipped over the card to read the back and froze. He read it again, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. No, it was correct.

"Draco!" he hissed. "Look!" Harry shoved the card in front of his friend's nose.

"What do I care about Dumbledore the Muggle..." Draco trailed off as he read the card. "Blow me."

"What is it?" Theo asked curiously.

"'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel'," Draco said with awe in his voice. "Cor blimey, Harry, you've done it!"

"Let me see!" Theo demanded, reaching for the card. "Damn, I knew I knew that name, and I knew he was on a card, too."

"Shut your cakehole," Pansy sneered at him. "You didn't know any such thing, or we'd have had the puzzle solved by now."

"Our major problem in all this has been going about it arse about face," Millie said. "Finding just a name is impossible, as we've found out. With a little more information, we should have no troubles."

Theo glowered at Pansy. "It's too late to go to the library now," he said, "but first thing tomorrow I'll check."

"We've checked in the library a thousand times," she said, still sounding very obnoxious.

"Yes, but now we know what area of magic to look through," he replied. "There's a whole section in the library devoted to alchemy, which you'd know if you ever spent any time actually studying when you go there."

Pansy began to turn red. "Belt up, you tosser."

"Look, just because you've got nothing to say-"

"You waffle so much, no one gets a word in edgewise!"

"Why not throw a wobbly if you're going to cry about it?" Theo suggested. "I'm sure that would really impress our housemates."

"We shouldn't have any trouble," Tracy chimed in, ignoring the pair trading insults. "Good thing for us Theo is tres au fait with the library."

Draco blinked owlishly. "What?"

"Never you mind," she pouted, her lower lip sticking out.

"The search could take awhile," Millie pointed out. "We should all go, and after the Quidditch match."

"Yes, quite," Harry agreed. "You might want to just watch the match, but I've got to study it. Our match against Ravenclaw isn't all that far off."

"After lunch then," Draco decided. "We'll know what Flamel is all about by dinner."

Their plan made, the conversation drifted onto other topics. Everyone watched as Theo and Pansy traded barbs and jibes for about fifteen minutes without once repeating themselves or each other. While it was educational, Harry soon grew tired of their squabbling and went to take a shower before bedtime.

Later on when he was lying in bed, he thought he'd never get to sleep. The answer was close, he could feel it. Maybe once he knew why Flamel was so important, they'd know what was hidden in the school. Once they knew that, maybe he'd know why someone had tried to kill him. He was anxious, but he slept, and he didn't dream.



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