The moon rose, the sun set.
The night sky was heavy and oppressive, shining occasionally between the clouds, like candlelight reflected in the starry heavens. A cold wind howled in the night, and silver snowflakes fell on the bare branches of the Whomping Willow.
The Headmaster's office was silent.
Dumbledore stood quietly by the window.
A slight commotion could be heard among the portraits on the wall. Headmaster Everard cleared his throat and whispered: "Albus, there's news from the Fat Lady. Someone left the portrait hole late at night, but they didn't see who it was."
"I see."
The portraits of former headmasters looked at him and nodded, then turned around and left the office, their footsteps fading away.
...
The castle was unusually silent late at night.
Harry cautiously observed his surroundings, adjusting the silk robe. He still felt a little uncomfortable. Even with careful steps, his shoes still made a slight noise on the floor.
Today had been the happiest Christmas of his life, but something persisted in his mind. As he fell asleep, the thought he had temporarily forgotten during the day resurfaced.
At eleven-thirty, Harry looked at the curtains over his bed, wondering what lay beneath the trapdoor in the fourth-floor corridor.
At half past midnight, he opened his eyes again, wondering who Nicolas Flamel was and who had given him the Invisibility Cloak.
At one in the morning, a whirlwind of thoughts ran through his mind, and instead of falling asleep, he grew more alert. Finally, wide-eyed, Harry got out of bed and decided to try something:
To test the Invisibility Cloak.
The fabric was light, softer than silk, so thin it seemed almost insubstantial, and he felt nothing underneath it. Wrapped in the cloak, Harry pulled at the edges with his hands to secure it, taking small steps forward, occasionally turning his head to observe his surroundings.
The portraits on the wall slept deeply, unresponsive as he passed their frames. Some, half-asleep, were startled by the faint sound of footsteps. They opened their eyes to see only an empty corridor, muttered drowsily, and closed them again.
What a magical Invisibility Cloak!
Harry's curiosity grew even more.
Who had given him this magical cloak? Could it be a friend of his parents, a professor at Hogwarts, or even Headmaster Dumbledore? Why didn't they reveal their identity?
Could it be a wizard from outside the school?
The faces of all the adult wizards he had met passed through his mind, but he still found no answer. He abandoned the thought and began to consider what he could do with the cloak.
The room in the fourth-floor corridor...
The idea suddenly crossed Harry's mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
The cloak was magical, but it couldn't stop the sharp teeth of a three-headed dog. Fluffy was a large canine with a keen sense of smell and enormous size. He could sniff out his position even without seeing him. A few casual attacks would be more than he could endure.
After careful consideration, Harry decided to check the Restricted Section of the library.
Lately, they had been searching for information about Nicolas Flamel, consulting numerous books on famous wizards of the past century, including Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Directory of Contemporary Famous Wizards, Key Discoveries in Modern Magic, and A Study of the Development of Modern Witchcraft.
Unfortunately, they hadn't found anything new. Hermione suspected that information on Nicolas Flamel might be in the Restricted Section.
Harry wrapped himself tightly in his Invisibility Cloak and headed to the library.
Madam Pince was on holiday, and the library was closed for the long break. Fortunately, the door wasn't locked, and when he pushed it, a dark bookshelf appeared.
Harry's heart raced. He found an oil lamp at the front desk, lit it, and went in. Crossing the cordoned-off section, he reached the shelves, examining the titles in the dim light.
However, the faded golden titles grew darker and harder to read. Some books even lacked titles. As if sensing hidden eyes behind the Invisibility Cloak, faint whispers began to emanate from some books, and bloodstains appeared on certain covers.
Harry wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he felt a surge of nervousness.
Any normal student would have run away by then, but he wasn't normal. He was a Gryffindor, the boy who had defeated You-Know-Who, a brave student!
After some thought, Harry finally chose a thick, silvery-black book, pulled it from the shelf, and set it on his lap. But before he could turn, the volume opened on its own.
"Ah!"
A piercing scream erupted.
The cry was so sharp and deafening that it echoed throughout the silent library, impossible to quiet even by slamming the book shut.
Startled, Harry dropped the book, pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, and bolted, stumbling so hard the oil lamp fell.
...
From behind the shelves, Dumbledore observed him; wrapped in invisibility, he rushed out of the library. He narrowly escaped, brushing past the caretaker who had come to investigate. But the caretaker's assistant, Mrs. Norris, sniffed and signaled Filch to follow, starting a thrilling chase.
Dumbledore watched them disappear, then stepped from the shadows, picked up the fallen oil lamp, and gathered the books. The books, screaming and moaning, fell silent instantly in his hands and were returned to the shelves.
At the end of the corridor, the caretaker and the cat were in pursuit, and the student ahead fled in panic, finally hiding in an abandoned classroom.
Harry held his breath, ear pressed to the door, listening to the caretaker's and the cat's footsteps fading away. Turning around, he saw an ornate, exquisite mirror in the center of the room. He approached, examined it carefully, and soon discovered its secret.
The mirror was filled with more than a dozen people, and the two in the center seized all his attention. One was a beautiful witch with crimson hair and green eyes. She stood in the mirror, gazing at Harry with a smile tinged with tears. The other was a tall, thin wizard with the same black hair and glasses.
"Mum... Dad?"
whispered Harry, his bright green eyes fixed on the reflection as if struck by lightning. Pressing his hands tightly against the mirror, Harry lost himself in the beautiful image. Only when the distant voices of Filch and Snape echoed did he return to reality, parting reluctantly.
Dumbledore silently watched as he donned the Invisibility Cloak and left the abandoned classroom. Emerging from the shadows of a corner, the headmaster didn't leave immediately but instead stopped before the mirror, pausing for a moment, gazing deeply at his reflection.
As the castle fell silent again in the night and the moon slipped behind the clouds, Dumbledore returned to his chamber, dragging his drowsy body back into a chaotic, fragmented sleep.
...
"Dumbledore!"
A knock came at the door, and the portrait of the headmaster on the office wall woke with a start, muttering complaints about being disturbed. A phoenix's head peeked from the Sorting Hat on the shelf, making a hoarse, raw sound, like a crow cursing.
Dumbledore, in pajamas, emerged from the inner room, looked at the morning light outside the window, and went to open the door. Seeing Melvin, neatly dressed, he was momentarily stunned.
"What is it?"
smiled the young professor. "Headmaster, I've been working."