The moment the words fell, the eerie sound immediately vanished. Michael's terrified expression froze, then quickly shifted to one of exasperation.
A moment later, two red-haired heads popped out from behind the mirror, one on each side.
"Huh, how did you know it was us?" Fred asked strangely.
"Your foot wasn't hidden well enough, probably?" George said, stepping out.
"Weren't both of us the same?" Fred retorted.
Earlier, they had thought a professor had arrived, and in their panic, they hid behind the mirror. One foot was tucked behind a claw-shaped support, while the other had to be held up, clinging to the mirror in an octopus-like pose.
When they heard that the newcomers were Wade and Michael, the twins' mischievous spirits flared. They pretended to be ghosts, hoping to see Wade and Michael flustered, but were instead called out instantly.
"What are you two doing here?" Wade asked.
"Same as you—seeing why our little Ronnie got knocked out."
Fred also walked to the pile of ash and squatted down, curiously poking it with his finger.
Michael said, "Then you should go to the hospital wing!"
"Percy went," George said, blinking. "Besides, investigating in the restricted section is more fun!"
"So this is Quirrell?" Fred asked, bewildered. "What kind of magic can burn a person like this?"
"Fiendfyre?" Michael guessed. He had only heard the name of this dark magic, assuming it must be far more powerful than ordinary Incendio.
"Impossible," George said. "Fiendfyre burns everything flammable; it wouldn't leave clothes behind—it looks more like… some other Dark Arts."
"Won't we know when Harry wakes up and we ask him?" Wade asked, addressing the question he cared more about. "Have you studied Fiendfyre?"
Fred grinned smugly. "We snuck into the library during our nightly escapades… read a few books the professors don't allow, like A Compendium of Spells, Secrets of the Darkest Art, and stuff…"
"Fiendfyre is too dangerous, hard to control. Cures for All Poisons is better though, you can learn some useful little jinxes," George generously shared his experience.
They studied the pile of dust for a while with no results. The twins, however, collected some ash to take back, saying they wanted to make a souvenir for their brother, Ron.
Michael circled the stone room, finding nothing. He walked past the mirror twice, then suddenly felt as if he'd seen something strange.
He backed up and slowly turned to face the mirror.
Michael's eyes widened in astonishment, then he suddenly blushed.
He was in the mirror, but Wade and the Weasley twins weren't… he saw Padma.
The girl's dusky skin looked healthy and vibrant, and her oval face held a captivatingly sweet smile. She wore a deep blue sari, revealing arms as smooth and slender as lotus roots.
The girl lovingly embraced the arm of Michael's reflection in the mirror; they were pressed tightly together, inseparable.
For a moment, Michael even began to envy his reflection in the mirror.
"What did you see?" Fred suddenly leaned over from the side, looking at him with surprise and teasing. "Your face is as red as if it's boiling water!"
"N-n-nothing!" Michael hurriedly shielded the mirror.
Wade also came over. He looked up at the words on the mirror and read them aloud: "I show not your face… but your heart's desire…"
He looked at Michael meaningfully.
Michael, flushed, cleared his throat, taking a deep breath to cool his face, then stepped away from the mirror.
Once he calmed down, he noticed that, from his current side angle, the mirror was empty, reflecting nothing.
"This is a magic mirror that shows one's deepest desires," Fred said, standing in front of the mirror, chuckling. "I saw our prank products become a huge success, with us both lying on piles of Galleons."
George also chuckled, "I even saw the Quidditch Cup!"
Michael saw Wade standing aside, with no intention of approaching, and asked strangely, "Wade, don't you want to take a look?"
"...Hmm."
Wade paused, then smiled. "What's in the mirror is just an illusion, right? So there's no real need to look—"
Michael nodded.
He understood it as—Wade clearly knew what he wanted, so he didn't need to find satisfaction in a mirror.
However, he still wanted to take another look at Padma in the mirror.
They lingered in front of the mirror for a while, finally breaking free from the illusory joy, and prepared to head back.
Before leaving, Wade turned back for another look—the magic mirror stood in the center of the empty room, as if making a silent call.
Wade lowered his eyes, his footsteps hurrying to catch up with the other three, as if fleeing from a whirlpool.
Harry slept for three days in the hospital wing before waking up. During these days, rumors were rampant throughout the school. Dumbledore did not reveal the truth, nor did he stop students from discussing the matter.
The few who entered the trapdoor were constantly surrounded, begged to retell their adventure stories again and again.
Neville, having been out of the game from the start, quickly escaped this predicament; while Theo, with the best temper, talked until he was hoarse. Sometimes, when he accidentally misremembered a detail, someone would loudly retort, "No, you didn't say that last time!"
Soon, except for the part Harry experienced alone, students across the entire school knew the other details of the story by heart. They all knew that Professor Quirrell had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone but suffered a terrible fate, defeated by Harry Potter and his companions.
Ron, who bravely sacrificed himself, became a Gryffindor hero. On the day he woke up, several Gryffindor boys carried him on their shoulders, from the infirmary all the way to the Great Hall. His mischievous brothers cheered them on, making Ron's face as red as his hair.
And privately, an even more "absurd" rumor was quietly spreading—that Quirrell wasn't actually Quirrell, but a puppet controlled by the Dark Lord… so Harry Potter had once again defeated the one whose name must not be spoken…
Of course, this rumor was too outlandish, and not many truly believed it. But precisely because they didn't believe it, they were even more excitedly telling everyone: "You know what? The truth isn't what you heard at all…"
Rumors grew wings and spread rapidly in all directions.
Dumbledore's attitude towards this was ambiguous. When directly questioned, he vaguely said, "Hmm… the Philosopher's Stone… it does indeed tempt many, especially those who wish to escape death…"
The questioner immediately understood—the name "Voldemort" means "flight from death."
"Yes, some of our students bravely confronted evil, displaying immense courage and responsibility. They protected the Philosopher's Stone…"
Dumbledore's tone shifted, and he said with a smile, "But Nicolas and Perenelle have destroyed the stone. They've decided to take care of some loose ends and then embark on an unknown path… For those who have lived long enough, death actually holds a unique charm, doesn't it?"
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