The fire in the Hufflepuff common room crackled softly, casting warm golden light across the cozy space. Cushions had been pulled closer to the hearth, and the trio huddled in their usual nook, each lost in thought. The glow made their expressions seem older somehow, as if the mirror had left a trace of something deeper behind their eyes.
"I still can't believe it showed us the same thing," Iris said quietly, curling her legs beneath her. "Well, almost the same. But it all felt so real. Like we were already living it."
"I want to see it again," she added, voice soft with yearning. "Just once more."
Hadrian's gaze shifted from the fire to her. "We shouldn't."
"But why not?"
"Because," he said carefully, "the future we saw... it doesn't come from the mirror. It comes from us. That was a possible life, not a promised one. We chase that future by choosing it — here, now, in everything we do."
Dora gave a small, thoughtful hum, leaning her head on Hadrian's shoulder. "He's right, Iris. The mirror shows us our hearts, but hearts can change. It's our choices that last."
Hadrian looked at them both — their closeness, their conviction — and smiled softly.
"We shape it. Not magic. Not fate. Just us."
Across the room, half-hidden in the shadows behind a pillar, Professor Sprout stood still, unseen by the students. She had entered quietly, not wishing to startle them — and then had stayed, drawn in by their words.
She had known they were exceptional. But to hear such clarity, such maturity, from first years…
It warmed her heart — and made her worry.
A mirror that powerful… lingering in an unused classroom? That wouldn't do.
Later That Night – Headmaster's Office
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers as he listened. His twinkling blue eyes were unusually still.
"So they found it," he murmured, after Professor Sprout finished her account.
"They did," Pomona said, nodding firmly. "But what surprises me most is how they handled it. Not with greed, or obsession. But with hope. And understanding."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, eyes closing briefly.
"And yet you ask me to move it."
"I do. Not because they are a danger to it — but because it is a danger to them. Even the wisest can be lost in what they desire most."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Very well. I shall relocate it. Somewhere… safer."
He rose and walked toward Fawkes's perch, placing a hand gently on the phoenix's feathers.
"I wonder," he said absently, "what it was that they apparently shared so much in common."
Pomona watched him a moment longer, then turned to leave.
"Whatever they saw, Albus," she said at the door, "I think they might just make it come true."