Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful and talented J. k. Rowling. I will come to editing this unless anyone wants to volunteer, but for now enjoy the story after reading my brief explanation of two things: Rupert's visions ams Cassandra.

Yes, Rupert can see alternate timelines and futures, but he can tell the difference between what's definite and what's changeable. The problem is no one's ever tried to change the timeline before so Rupert doesn't know if what's definite can be changed if what's changeable is changed. Rupert is the first one to try this. another reason that Voyants can't talk about what they see is because when they're left untrained, they can't differentiate between the different timelines or realities. Can you see why Rupert's a little crazy now?

Now, Cassandra is both an ancestor of the Seers and the Voyants. She was a Trojan princess who was given the Sight by Apollo, but was then cursed never to be believed when she rejected him.

It was the middle of December, and instead of spending the day in the somewhat drafty Ravenclaw common room or struggling in the library trying to get as much work done before break as possible, Rupert was having afternoon tea and lemon drops with the headmaster. It was a rather innocuous affair. Rupert sipped his tea and kept his eyes fixed on the headmaster's forehead rather than looking into his twinkling eyes. Dumbledore grinned at him.

He'd been the one to invite Rupert in, but he had nothing to offer in conversation. It was slightly maddening.

Being able to see everything had not given Rupert any patience. Nor had it helped him with his temper.

"You want my advice?" Rupert said finally. He made sure to phrase it as a question. "You need to tell her. Next year would be best."

"Why next year?" he asked, finally taking a sip from his cup and ending the stupid "staring" contest they'd been having.

Now, it was Rupert's turn to grin. "I can't tell you that." Old man, he added mentally.

"She's too young," he said after some thought. "She'll be twelve years old. That's far too young. She needs to have a normal childhood."

"Of course she does," Rupert snorted. "With a loving family. That she doesn't have."

"Her aunt and uncle–"

"Barely keep her alive. Her cousin bullies her, she only gets to eat after she's done her chores. . . She only survives because she steals food! She's malnourished, Professor!" He'd finally remembered to use the man's title. While, Rupert didn't entirely respect him, he did know just how hard the man had worked to earn his position. "The least you could do is tell her about the prophecy! She needs to be warned!"

"It's too early," the headmaster asserted.

Rupert stood abruptly, setting his teacup down on the desk and gave the headmaster his most imploring look. "You will have your chance to tell her next year," he said softly. "I can't, and I hate it. But you have the knowledge and the ability!"

With that, he left.

Leaving his office, Rupert decided to head toward the dungeons and catch the others in the corridor. There was one advantage to having most of his friends in the same house. Unless his sister managed to change things for the better, Rupert held the vain hope that she wouldn't be too hurt in the end. In reality, he could see her sobbing into his shoulder sometime in the distant future.

(Sometimes everything in the future just seemed to blend into one huge mess of nonsensical images unless he concentrated.)

But then, all he had to do was remember when Clary had stopped Hermione from burning Snape's robes. It was a small, insignificant change in the timeline, but Rupert was optimistic enough to believe in the butterfly effect. Maybe they would save some lives after all. He could see it in alternate futures, he was just having a hard time understanding how to connect the different images coherently. In one images Ginny dies in the Chamber of Secrets, in another Lucy joins Voldemort. How do you avoid making one event happen without making something equally as bad happen?

Finally reaching the corridor nearest to the dungeons, it wasn't too hard to spot the four of them. Clary noticed him almost immediately due to the agitation she could feel from him through their empathy link, but she allowed him a little more time to calm down. As he took another moment to breathe, he noticed Malfoy rushing to catch up with them.

Rupert couldn't help but grin in anticipation for things to come. Malfoy barely had a crush on Lucy now, but their future together was set. Right now, the boy was just eager for her attention because she was the Girl-Who-Lived and she wasn't a Slytherin. She would be his only true friend and ally. All of his other friends were ambitious, conniving gits who feared Zabini and his mother's influence. But soon, he would become the Prince of Slytherin...

"Are you done daydreaming, Rue?"

He blinked when he found Clary and the others standing over him (and inwardly scowled at his present height). She was watching him with the amused glint in her eye she always had when she caught him thinking about the future. He frowned and continued down the corridor past them with his head held high. A Voyant should be respected, he thought angrily.

"Rupert!" Clary called after him. "That brat! He has an ego the height of the Eiffel Tower and his mood swings don't help."

The others snickered as they watched him stride confidently down the corridor.

"So, what were you asking?" Lucy asked, turning back to Draco.

"Where are you spending the holidays?" he asked. "I was wondering if I could visit you and maybe bring you your gift."

Lucy smiled. "I'm spending them here with the Weasleys."

"What about your family?" he asked, casting Ron an unimpressed look. "Won't they be disappointed?"

She snorted. "They might be disappointed that I won't be around to cook their meals, but there's a better chance they'll be relieved."

Draco shifted a bit uncomfortably. He didn't know much if anything about her family. She knew more about his than he could guess about hers, but that statement taught him quite a bit. "Well, I'll still send you a present or at least leave it with Bonnet," he muttered. "This tends to be a busy season for us so I might not have time to send it on Christmas."

"What does your family do for Christmas?" Lucy asked.

"We host parties every night from Christmas to the beginning of the New Year," he answered. "It's been that way since my sister's birthday falls on Christmas Day."

"Really?" Ron asked, speaking up for the first time and surprising everyone. "Does that mean she enjoys it more?"

"No," Draco answered cheerfully. "In fact, she hates it since she has to dress up. The parties were my mother's idea. She only likes the fact that she can dance all she wants."

"Draco!"

They al turned and Lucy nearly groaned to find Blaise Zabini approaching them, as pompous and arrogant as ever. Not that Draco isn't arrogant, she thought. He's still just as Slytherin as the rest of them, but at least he's not all bad.

"We were wondering where you went," Blaise continued as if he hadn't noticed them yet. "Didn't you say you had invitations you wanted to give us?"

"Of course," Draco answered smoothly. "They're in my trunk. I just came to express my regrets that the Weasleys will have to stay at school this year with Potter for the holidays."

Zabini smirked with malicious intent as he turned to look at Ron and Lucy. "Oh my," he said, his slight accent coating his words with a note of mockery. "I do feel sorry for those students who are left here during the holidays."

"It's alright," Ron said, aiming his glare at Malfoy. "At least we don't have to sleep in the dungeons all year."

Clary had bite her lip not to snort at that.

It was then that Hagrid past by with one of the fir trees meant to decorate the Great Hall.

"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 Zabini's cold voice 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."

Ron dived at Zabini just as Snape came up the stairs. "WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Zabini's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Zabini 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 and Zabini pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking. Typical Slytherin behavior that Lucy didn't care much for, but it wasn't like she could do anything about it. She and Draco weren't even proper friends yet. He had done his best not to insult any of them, even with Zabini around.

"I'll get him,' said Ron, grinding his teeth at Zabini's back, "one of these days, I'll get him –"

"I hate them both," said Lucy, "Zabini and Snape." It was true, though the way Snape's looked at her still puzzled her greatly.

"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 Lucy, Clary, Ron and Hermione 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 fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"I forgot to mention it earlier," Clary muttered a little distractedly, "but I'm staying here for Christmas, too."

"You are?" Ron replied, a little baffled. "Rupert can't be too happy about that."

"He's happier than he would be if he had to stay here himself," she sniffed. "He's going home to practise with our Grandmother watching to make sure he's staying out of trouble. I'm 'to stay here and study diligently'."

"Your grandmother's making you stay?" Hermione asked.

"She's not making me do anything. If I stay here and study, I'll be able to concentrate and be a better guardian."

Ron, Hermione and Lucy exchanged looks that Clary didn't happen to notice. But Clary knew and had always understood that no one could understand her determination to protect her brother. What Clary herself didn't understand was how her determination might affect her health.

Hermione and Lucy had noticed her staying up late some nights studying. Some mornings they wondered if she'd slept at all. Ron had even noticed some days at breakfast or lunch when she would leave whatever minuscule meal she'd piled onto her plate untouched because she couldn't understand the theory behind a spell.

Today, she seemed fine, but tomorrow her hair could be as bushy as Hermione's and her skin could be drawn a bit tight around her eyes.

"We could get Fred to..." Ron started to whisper. And so a plan began to form between the three of them.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked after finally managing to set the tree upright.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me – Lucy, Clary, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library,"

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Clary, finally tearing her 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," Lucy 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 Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Lucy 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 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. After Clary had let slip that Snape's hadn't tried to hurt Lucy, their highest priority was to find out what Fluffy was guarding which might lead them to the real thief if it wasn't Snape. 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.

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. Lucy wandered over to the Restricted Section. She had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Clary sat at one of the tables nearby knowing they wouldn't have to go so far.

One little mistake, she thought. I might have to tell Grandmother. And then there would be the Black Quill... Rupert was lucky, he'd never been punished with it.

She was a Bonnet, after all, and Bonnets did not tell secrets so carelessly without permission. Rupert did promise that would be soon. She wondered exactly how soon soon would be considering her brother barely knew the difference between a month and a day. Time worked differently for Voyants. And Grandmother had said that they were only to offer the Chosen One their secrets when the time had come.

After Lucy was kicked out of the library, Clary joined her out in the corridor. It was then she realized that had been a mistake. It was clear that she couldn't be trusted alone with them! She'd already given Hermione a clue about Snape. What if she told Lucy about Quirrel?

Fretting, she thanked Merlin that Rupert didn't trust her with more information.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the other two joined them.

"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.

Once the holidays started, Clary, Ron, and Lucy found that they could finally relax and enjoy their time off. After a few days during which Clary refused to leave the library because she was trying to memorize her textbooks (because her grandmother would test her relentlessly once summer started), Fred came to the rescue. He'd simply snuck up behind her and Summoned her book. It was a simple and effective plan. Especially since she'd decided to do one subject per day and had come up with a study schedule that caused Lucy's eyes to glaze over when she'd tried to listen to Clary's explanation. Lucy had given him the rest of her books that same morning.

Clary wasn't very studious, but when it came to her brother, she was barely human.

She wouldn't eat unless Lucy and Ron brought her food. She would only come back to the common room to study by the fire while Ron tried his best to teach Lucy how to play wizard chess, a game that was much more interesting than normal chess but also more confusing.

After Clary had given up finding Fred to demand her book back, she came back to the common room to find Ron and Lucy still playing. Lucy was having trouble with the pieces Seamus had leant her.

Clary slumped into a nearby armchair and groaned. "Grandmother is going to kill me! Right after she bleeds me dry, of course."

"Why are you being so uptight?" Ron, asked moving his knight. "I'm sure you're grandmother's too busy training Rupert to worry about you studying on Christmas."

"Can't I borrow yours, Lucy?" Clary asked. "I need to learn all of the. Defense spells before January. It'll just be for today." She hadn't been upstairs yet, then.

"No," Lucy and Ron said simultaneously.

"Why not?" asked Clary frowning.

"Because the way you've been going at it for the past month can't be healthy," Ron answered. "Hermione owled us just this morning asking how you were."

"She sent me an owl, too."

"You weren't this obsessed with studying at the beginning of the school year, what happened?"

"My grandmother sent me a letter asking how I was doing," Clary shuddered. "That's code for 'you should be doing well in all your classes, how else could you learn to protect Rupert?'"

"What'll happen if you don't do well?" Lucy asked.

"When she saw the way Clary bowed her head, she fought the urge to flinch. It reminded her of how she would react when others would ask about the Dursleys. But surely, Clary's grandmother wasn't that strict, was she?

"I won't be able to protect Rupert," she mumbled.

"That can't be all you think about! Ron exclaimed.

"What do you mean?"

"It's one thing to care about your brother, but don't you have anything else you like to do?" Ron asked. "Like play wizard chess?"

"Rupert never goes easy on me, and I've never played with anyone else," she answered.

"I'll play against you," a voice piped up from behind her. She turned to find Fred with his arms folded over the back of her chair. "I'm not as good as Ron, but I'm definitely better than Lucy."

"What are you doing here?!" she yelled, jumping out of her chair. "And where's my book?"

"In the last place you'll ever look," he rhymed. "Now, let's play. I won't go easy on you. White or black?"

"We're not done yet!" Ron exclaimed.

"No, we're not," Clary agreed. "White. If I win, you give me back my book."

"And if I win, you'll help us with our pranks next year."

And so began what turned out to be an intense three day chess match ultimately won by Fred. It had only last that long because the game would often be interrupted by Clary overturning the board because Fred had to be cheating or Fred snatching her queen off the board and being chased out of the common room. Ron and Lucy had to hide their grins, because, all in all, their plan was a success.

It was on Christmas Eve when Fred finally won their match and Clay would not get her books back until school started up again. They all went to bed, warm and content. Clary was a little worried about how she was going to catch up, but she was also a little relieved though she would never admit it. Lucy knew it anyway and smiled to herself as she climbed into bed.

The next morning, she knew to expect a gift from Draco, but what she hadn't expected was the pile of packages at the foot of her bed.

"Happy Christmas," said Clary sleepily as Lucy scrambled out of bed and pulled on her dressing-gown.

"You too," said Lucy. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, coal?" said Clary, turning to her own pile, which was around the same size as Lucy's.

Lucy picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Lucy, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Lucy 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. Sellotaped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Lucy a bit sarcastically.

"Rupert gave me a book and some Cauldron Cakes," Clary said. "Oh, wow, it's that book I've been meaning to buy about our ancestor, Cassandra."

Rupert had given Lucy a note that she didn't think was wise to tell Clary about. It didn't make much sense anyway. It read:

Dragons, Griffins, and snakes, oh my!

Everything you see is a lie.

Within you lies the fragment of soul

Of a man with an ambitious goal

But do not fret, do not worry.

You are not alone on this journey.

There will be lives saved, lives lost

But which side will pay the greater cost?

"We should go downstairs before we open the rest," Lucy said, folding the note and placing it in the pocket of her dressing-gown. "Ron's probably waiting for us."

So they got dressed and met Ron downstairs. They found him waiting for them in one of the armchairs wearing a maroon sweater, unwrapping a box of Every-flavor Beans. "From Hermione," he explained when he saw us.

Lucy received Chocolate Frogs. Clary's box had Cauldron Cakes.

"Oh, no," Ron groaned when he saw the parcels near the bottom of both of our stacks. "My mum's made you both Weasley jumpers."

"What's the problem?" Lucy asked, unwrapping hers to find the thick, hand-knitted sweater he was talking about.

"She makes them every year," Ron moaned. "Mine is always maroon."

Clary's was navy blue and sleeves reaching her fingertips, but she wore it happily as she tried the fudge included. Her grandmother had sent her a new book on defense spells. Her parents sent her a pendant bearing their family crest of the pentangle. The last present she unwrapped was a can of mixed nuts from Fred. Opening it she yelled out when something jumped out at her made her jump out of her chair.

"Fred!" she yelled. That idiot had to be waiting nearby.

He roared with laughter as he came out from hiding. "I didn't expect that to actually work! Did you, George?"

"Sorry, Clary," George apologized between peels of laughter. "Happy Christmas!"

"It wasn't that funny!" She blushed, as she awkwardly closed the can again.

But even Ron and Lucy were snickering and the blush spread to her ears.

"That was my way of calling a truce," Fred said finally. "At least for the holidays since you're going to start helping us next year."

"You call a truce by embarrassing me in front of everyone?" she asked, but she made no further comment and sat back in her chair. The twins left for breakfast just as Lucy reached for her gift from Draco.

It was a copy of the notes he'd taken when Snape had been trying to teach him Potions over the summer. He wrote that he hoped it would help. "Can I borrow them?" Ron asked.

"Nope," Lucy answered placing it with the rest of her gifts.

This left only one parcel. Lucy picked it up and felt it. It was very light. She unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery grey 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-Flavour Beans he'd got from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is – they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Lucy picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Lucy threw the Cloak around her shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Lucy looked down at her feet, but they had gone. She dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, her reflection looked back at her, just her head suspended in mid-air, her body completely invisible.

She pulled the Cloak over her head and her reflection vanished completely.

"Rupert got one from our dad one year," Clary said, examining it. "He wouldn't leave his room without it for a week. He scared our mother half to death. That one looks like it's made out of different material though."

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Lucy pulled off the Cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing she 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.

There was no signature. Lucy 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 Lucy. She felt very strange. Who had sent the Cloak? Had it really once belonged to her father?

Before she could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded back in. Lucy stuffed the Cloak quickly out of sight. She didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Hey, we didn't notice before," said George. "Lucy and Clary got jumpers, too. And Clary's is the same color as ours!"

"It is not!" Clary stated somewhat stubbornly. "It's darker."

Fred snorted. "They're better than ours, too," said Fred, holding up Lucy's jumper for emphasis. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Neither of you have got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your names. 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 come halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy jumper over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Lucy and Clary got jumpers."

"I – don't – want –" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the jumper 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 sides by his jumper.

It had been Lucy's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of her mind all day. Not until she climbed into bed was she free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Clary, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother her, fell asleep almost as soon as she'd drawn the curtains of her four-poster. Lucy leant over the side of her own bed and pulled the Cloak out from under it.

Her father's ... this had been her father's. She let the material flow over her hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

She had to try it, now. She slipped out of bed and wrapped the Cloak around herself. Looking down at her legs, she saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, Lucy felt wide awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to her in this Cloak. Excitement flooded through her as she stood there in the dark and silence. She could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Clary sighed in her sleep. Should Lucy wake her? Something held her back – her father's Cloak – she felt that this time – the first time – she wanted to use it alone.

She 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. Lucy said nothing. She walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should she go? She stopped, her heart racing, and thought. And then it came to her. The Restricted Section in the library. She'd be able to read as long as she liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. She set off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around her as she walked.

The library was pitch black and very eerie. Lucy lit a lamp to see her way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in mid-air, and even though Lucy could feel her arm supporting it, the sight gave her the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope which separated these books from the rest of the library, she held up her lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell her much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Lucy couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Lucy's neck prickled. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe not, but she thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

She had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, she looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting- looking book. A large black and silver volume caught her eye. She pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on her knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, blood-curdling shriek split the silence – the book was screaming! Lucy snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, ear-splitting note. She stumbled back- wards and knocked over her lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, she heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside – stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, she ran for it. She passed Filch almost in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through her and Lucy slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in her ears.

She came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armour. She had been so busy getting away from the library, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. Perhaps because it was dark, she didn't recognise where she was at all. There was a suit of armour near the kitchens, she knew, but she 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."

Lucy felt the blood drain out of her face. Wherever she was, Filch must know a short cut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to her horror, it was Snape who replied.

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Lucy stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see her, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into her – the Cloak didn't stop her being solid.

She backed away as quietly as she could. A door stood ajar to her left. It was her only hope. She squeezed through it, holding her breath, trying not to move it, and to her relief she managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past and Lucy leant against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before she noticed anything about the room she had hidden in.

It looked like a disused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls and there was an upturned waste-paper basket – but propped against the wall facing her 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.

Her panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Lucy moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at herself but see no reflection again. She stepped in front of it.

Shehad to clap her hands to her mouth to stop herself screaming. She whirled around. Her heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed – for she had seen not only herself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind her.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, she turned slowly back to the mirror.

There she was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Lucy looked over her shoulder – but, still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was she in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

She looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind her reflection was smiling at her and waving. She reached out a hand and felt the air behind her. If she was really there, she'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but she felt only air – she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair like Lucy's and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine, Lucy thought, edging a little closer to the glass. We look so much alike. Bright green – exactly the same shape, but then she 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. It stuck up at the back, just like Lucy's did when Petunia tried to cut it short.

Lucy was so close to the mirror now that her nose was nearly touching that of her reflection.

"Mum?" She whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at her, smiling. And slowly, Lucy looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like her own, other noses like hers, even a little old man who looked as though he had Lucy's knobbly knees – Lucy was looking at her family, for the first time in her life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Lucy and she stared hungrily back at them, her hands pressed flat against the glass as though she was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. She had a powerful kind of ache inside her, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long she stood there, she didn't know. The reflections did not fade and she looked and looked until a distant noise brought her back to her senses. She couldn't stay here, she had to find her way back to bed. She tore her eyes away from her mother's face, whispered, 'I'll come back,' and hurried from the room.

"You could have woken me up," said Clary, crossly.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"You can come, too," Lucy replied just as eagerly. "And I want to see both your families, all the Weasleys and Bonnets, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and you'll be able to show me your grandmother, Clary." No matter how horrid a person she seemed, Lucy thought.

"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?"

Lucy couldn't eat. She had seen her parents and would be seeing them again tonight. She had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important any more. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd.'"

"Have some tact with your bacon, Ron," Clary said, rolling her eyes when Ron only looked at her quizzically.

What Lucy feared most was that she might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Clary covered in the Cloak too, they had to walk much more slowly next night. They tried retracing Lucy'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!" Lucy 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, Lucy spotted the suit of armour.

"It's here – just here – yes!"

They pushed the door open. Lucy dropped the Cloak from round her shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. Her mother and father beamed at the sight of her.

"See?" Lucy whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all ... there are loads of them ..."

"I can only see you."

"It's true, Lucy," Clary spoke up for the first time in a while. She was rubbing her eyes probably exhausted from the snowball fight she'd had with Fred and George earlier.

"Look in it properly, go on, Ron, stand where I am."

Lucy stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, she couldn't see her family any more, just Ron in his paisley pyjamas. 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 this splendid sight to look excitedly at Lucy.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"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."

"Get out of the way, Ron," Clary said, pushing him aside.

"Don't push me –"

She gazed into the mirror intently ignoring him. She thought she had a clue what it was, but she had to look in order to make sure. At first, she saw nothing different. No huge family standing behind her, no House Cup. There were only three people staring back at her: she, her brother, and her grandmother. Her grandmother had a hand placed on her shoulder, her eyes shining with uncharacteristic pride. Her brother had his hand on her other shoulder. Under her eye, she bore the full mark of the Voyant: the dark blue pentangle that her brother would probably have in a few years.

She touched the spot on her cheek just under her eye.

"What do you see, Clary?" Lucy asked breaking her out of her revery.

"My grandmother being proud of me," she answered simply. She got out of the way so Ron could continue looking. "My great-grandmother had a mirror like that, only it was a hand mirror. She would never let me touch it. One day, she broke it with accidental magic. She called the mirror evil."

"That can't be true –"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realised 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, Clary and Lucy 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. Come on."

And Ron and Clary pulled Lucy out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted next morning.

"Want to play chess, Lucy?" said Ron. "No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" "No ... you go ..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Lucy, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it – 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."

"I'm serious, Lucy, don't go."

But Lucy only had one thought in her head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop her.

That third night she found her way more quickly than before. She was walking so fast she knew she was making more noise than was wise, but she didn't meet anyone.

And there were her mother and father smiling at her again, and one of her grandfathers nodding happily Lucy sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop her staying here all night with her family. Nothing at all.

Except –

"So – back again, Lucy?"

Lucy felt as though her insides had turned to ice. She looked behind her. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Lucy must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror she hadn't noticed him.

"I – I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Lucy was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Lucy, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realised by now what it does?"

"It – well – it shows me my family –"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy. And it showed Clary her grandmother being proud of her."

"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?" Lucy shook her 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?"

Lucy thought. Then she 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. Clary who has often been chastised and ignored by her grandmother sees her proud beside her. 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.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Lucy, 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?"

Lucy 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?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks."

Lucy stared. "Are you joking, sir?"

"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."

"I'll get you some next year," Lucy said with a grin. She still didn't believe him, but she didn't feel like pressing the issue. It was a personal question after all.

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