Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Just a little note, here; if you are interested in Braille, there's a very good website connected with the American Foundation for the Blind called the Braille Bug. It's intended for kids, but it has a simple printable alphabet at this address. http://www.afb.org/braillebug/braille_print.asp The only thing it doesn't mention is that if you have a word that is all caps, you put two of the capital cell in front of the word.

Enjoy the story!

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasly twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. Richard had to go into hibernation, his Serpent's Hutch thickening to provide him protection from Scotland's bitter winter. Harry would miss him over the frozen months, but he always came back in the spring, and he had Hedwig, who was perfectly at home in this kind of weather, to talk to.

No one could wait for the Holidays to start. While the common rooms and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

Before the Quidditch match, Malfoy might have taken the opportunity to taunt Harry about his orphaned status and the fact that he had no home to go to over the hols, but the experience had jarred him somewhat. It was one thing to not like someone, even if they were in your own house, but quite another to have one of your housemates nearly killed right in front of you, whether you liked them or not. He was irritable, and not quite sure what to think, which left him snappish. Harry had warned Ron not to provoke him as all of his odd feelings were likely to get thrust upon the first easy target they found.

Ron, Fred and George, it turned out, would be staying at the school, along with a handful of other students, as their parents had decided to take Ginny and go visit Charlie in Romania. Blaise was staying, though he wouldn't tell Harry why, only joking that he was sticking around to keep Harry out of trouble. "Me? Trouble?" He said it so innocently, Blaise had to laugh.

"Yeah, you. Once you've got a full handle on your magic, you're going to be worse that the Weasly twins." Harry only grinned. While he wasn't one for pulling anything malicious, he'd thought the snowball trick was pure genius and wondered aloud how they'd done it. He was becoming known for pranking people just to cheer them up. A good laugh could do someone wonders.

As Harry, Blaise and Ron came up stairs from Potions one morning, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them, respectively, that Hagrid was behind it.

"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 Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasly? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts?"

Harry spun round and kept Ron from diving at Malfoy. He shook his head and whispered "Snape." No one else had heard him, but sure enough, a bare moment later he came up the stairs.

"Is there a problem here?"

Harry said, "No sir. Draco's just trying to get past all of us."

"Well, then, why don't you all get out of the middle of the corridor?"

Harry focused all his attention on Draco, reminding the spoiled Slytherin of what he'd seen in the dead eyes behind those shades on the train. He took discretion as the better part of valor and didn't deface the tree in passing as he'd considered doing.

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

"One of these days I'm going to tie the two of you together, shove you in a broom closet, and put three different kinds of silencing charms and three different locking charms on it. Then I'm going to leave you in there for the whole weekend! You're both getting on my nerves with your constant bickering." Harry sighed. "You two go on to the Hall, Ron, Blaise. There's something I want to look up in the library."

Harry was still trying to find the name Nicolas Flamel, but he was meeting with no success. He couldn't remember precisely what he'd read or where he'd read it. In fact, he wasn't sure whether he'd read it or heard it. But he knew he had to find out what significance that man had to the object Fluffy was guarding.

At first, it had all been about a mystery, and Harry loved a mystery, couldn't bare to see one go without someone trying to solve it. He'd worry at a puzzle until he'd completed the thing, just by the feel of the edges of the pieces, which freaked out old Jack, the gardener at the orphanage. But now it was more than that. Someone had tried to kill him, and he had no plans of taking that threat lightly. Somehow, he just knew that the murder attempt was connected to whomever was trying to steal this thing. It was worth killing to them, and they saw him as a threat. That meant it was likely someone who had seen his power get out of hand, and there was no telling who that could be. His control was so much better since he got his wand that it was a very rare occurence. It narrowed the list, but he still couldn't be sure of who it might be. All he knew was that Nicolas Flamel was part of that mystery, and if he wanted to find out who was trying to kill him, then he would have to solve the mystery.

He had finally involved his friends in the mystery after the attempt on his life. Blaise, Ron, Morag and Hermione had followed his reasoning easily and were well aware of Harry's power. The entire school knew about how the troll had been dealt with, even if they did tend to think that Harry had been the victor rather than Ron, and that was really what made the whole thing so vexing. The person they were trying to unmask hadn't tried to kill Harry until after Halloween, so it was very possible that they had only then realized what a threat he might be to their plans. Wandless magic, even in its infancy as it was with Harry, was a very real danger to anyone facing it, for the very reason that it was so bloody unpredictable, to the caster and their opponent. If Harry were to become angry, major damage could be done to a person's body before they had a prayer of knocking him out.

The three of them had been helping Harry with his research, and they had been all over the library, driving Madame Pince, the librarian, batty, but still they had found nothing, mostly because they weren't sure where to begin. What might Flamel 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.

Just before lunch was due to be served, Harry had just translated another volume when Madame Pince managed to sneak up behind him, something only predators and librarians were capable of. He just about jumped out of his skin when she touched his shoulder and a couple of books jumped with him, but they settled down quietly, an achievement for Harry.

"Sorry, boy. What are you looking for?"

"Not really sure," said Harry.

"Then off with you. You'll miss the food. Go on -- out! I'm dusting, and I don't want you getting in the way."

Harry smirked, knowing the kindly old woman was fond of him because he liked her books rather than because he was "The Boy Who Lived" and she was truly concerned with his welfare, having remarked when she didn't think he could hear her that she thought he was too thin. "You're all heart," he teased.

"Scoot!"

He wished he could tell Madame Pince what he was looking for, but he wasn't sure who his target was, and he didn't want them overhearing him.

Once the holidays had started, Ron, Blaise and Harry were having too good a time to worry too much about Flamel. Ron had asked for and gotten permission to stay in the Slytherin dorms with Blaise and Harry, not wanting to be left alone in Gryffindor Tower with his mischievous brothers, preferring to sleep on the plush and comfortable couch in the Slytherin common room. They all concentrated on having as much fun as possible, which included things like plotting how to pull pranks on Snape and get away with it and trying to beat Fred and George at their own game. It was fun to talk about, even if none of it would work.

They had a constant tournament of wizard chess going in the common room, with three different boards being maintained as they all played each other. Harry knew himself to be a decent player, his excellent memory standing him in good stead, and Blaise wasn't bad either. It was never certain which of them was going to win a game between them, but Ron was superior to both. He'd yet to loose to either one of them, being a superb strategist.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not really expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, it was to the hooting of Hedwig as she dropped things on his bed. "Well, well. Looks like I've got presents after all."

Grumbling issued from the bed next to him. Blaise said, "What'd you expect, rocks?"

"Let's go get Ron and open all these things together."

After the other Slytherin agreed, Harry grabbed his wand, put on his shades and levitated his gifts, walking out of the room with the objects trailing behind him. He laughed when Blaise called out, "Show off!"

Harry woke up Ron and the three boys gathered around the fire to open their presents. The first one, on the top of his pile, was from Hagrid. It was wrapped in thick paper with To Harry, from Hagrid dotted onto it in Braille with candle wax. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl.

The next one was a rather lumpy parcel. Ron exclaimed, "Oh, no! It looks like you've gotten a Weasly sweater. Open it, Harry. Emerald green with three silver dots on it. What kind of design is that? She usually puts an initial on them."

Guessing what the woman was up to, Harry took his wand and said, "Reddo in Engles."

"Oh, it's a letter 'H'. It was in Braille?"

"Yes, or the spell wouldn't have worked. It's based on the user's native written language, which is Braille for me, English for you. If you can read both, you have to specify, like 'Reddo Braille in Engles' or 'Reddo Braille de Engles'."

There was one other package from Mrs. Weasly, which set Harry's nose to twitching; a large box of homemade fudge. Harry dug right into it, unable to resist the wonderful odor of chocolate.

Blaise got a new cloak and a silver clasp from his parents, and Ron got a box of Every Flavor Beans from Hermione and his own box of fudge and a sweater from his mother.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping the garment, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her." Harry's next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. This only left one parcel. It was light for the size of it. Very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor. Ron and Blaise both gasped. Blaise said, "I've heard of those!"

Ron dropped his box of Every Flavor Beans. "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the soft, slick cloth off the floor. It was like water woven into material, cool and fluid, as if it had no grain.

Blaise said, "Someone's sent you an invisibility cloak!"

"Go on, try it on."

So Harry stood and put the cloak about his shoulders. "Well? I don't feel any different."

There was a major grin in Blaise's voice. "Yeah, but you sure look it, mate! You're like a floating head there!"

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

"Read it to me."

"'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.' It isn't signed at all." Ron sighed. "I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Harry felt very strange. Who had sent him the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Christmas dinner was a hilarious affair, with magical party favors, Hagrid getting tipsy and coming on to Professor McGonagall, who was just drunk enough to be flattered, and a spectacular feast for so few people. The Weasly twins had insisted that everyone who had received a sweater wear it, which neither Percy nor Ron appreciated but Harry took in good faith. After all, it was rare for him to receive gifts of any kind, and he wanted to show his gratitude. Later there was a massive snowball fight out on the grounds, everyone in the school but Filch, Quirrell and Snape getting involved. Harry had not allowed any of the other professors to be exempt, forcing the issue by smashing them with wet snow if they tried to escape the battle. He was amazingly accurate, and he never used his magic to accomplish it, only the sounds of his whistle, and he was very good at not getting hit himself.

That night, though, as Ron and Blaise settled in to sleep, Harry couldn't. Something kept niggling at the back of his mind. The cloak. It had belonged to his father, a man that he had never known and would never meet. The note had only said to use it well. He just had to try it out! But it was after hours. He wanted to go roaming the halls, but how to do that without getting caught? He couldn't use his whistle or his cane; both would give him away in an instant. Others might not gain the level of detail he did from sound, but that didn't mean that they were deaf. Still, it put everyone else on his level, and he was much more used to it.

He considered his actions carefully, knowing that he would still be vulnerable to Mrs. Norris. An animal wouldn't have any trouble knowing that he was there, thanks to their other senses, just as he would know if someone were invisible around him. He knew the layout of the school well enough to not get lost now, but if he was running, he would need to have the cane handy. He decided he wouldn't worry about silence if he was running all out. And if worse came to worse, he would hex the cat, something small and annoying that would distract her just enough to let him get away. A hair growth charm would work quite nicely, as she would trip over the hair and it was easily solvable with a nice trim.

Harry got up, deciding to head for the library. He would be able to read as long as he liked and no one would be the wiser. He wouldn't have to worry about a lantern as another student would, one more advantage he would have in this little expedition. He put his collapsed cane and his wand in his pocket, then went to the foot of his bed and silently opened the lid of his trunk, finding the smooth, light-as-air material with ease.

Blaise rolled over in his sleep, making slight noises as he did so. Should he bring Ron and Blaise with him? But no. This first time, he wanted to do it alone. There would be plenty of other times to bring his friends along with him.

Harry was in the library for an hour reading about notable wizards of the day when he heard something that nearly made his heart stop. "Mrrrow?" Mrs. Norris! She sounded confused, probably because her ears and nose were telling her something different than her eyes, but that wouldn't stop her for long. He waited for her to leave then high-tailed it. He knew better than to try and make the dungeons before Filch got there, so he looked for one of the doors along the wall that he knew to be an empty classroom.

Just before he reached it, he heard Filch telling someone that there had been someone in the library. He flinched when it was Snape who answered. "Well, they can't have gotten far. Let's catch them." He was alarmed at how close they were to him. After all, being invisible wouldn't stop one of them from knocking into him. He was no ghost.

Finally he found the door he was looking for, and praised Heaven that it was ajar. He had no need to worry about them seeing it move as he slipped in, careful not to bump it.

He waited a while, listening for any sound that might mean they'd discovered his hiding place, but they just continued on past the door. He let the cloak fall to the floor in relief.

He took his cane out of his pocket and extended it, listening to the echoes it made as it tapped on the stone of the floor. The tapping actually gave him a more accurate picture, now that he knew what to listen for, than his whistle had. The drawn out noise would actually interfere with it's own echo. Not so with the sharp clack of plastic on stone. Just like a bat using a series of high-pitched clicks to navigate by. He wondered idly if he might find something that would click constantly. It would probably be less irritating than the whistle to those around him, as well.

The walls of the room were stacked with boxy shapes, probably that of unused desks, but there was something else in the room, as well, something tall and flat. Curious, Harry approached the object. His cane made a wooden noise as it struck the foot of it. A frame of some kind? Maybe it was a painting? Harry got nervous. A painting might spill his location to certain nosy caretakers. But no noise came from the object. He ran a hand along the frame and was surprised when the wood moved, forming Braille lettering under his hand.

Harry frowned. It was a different language or a code. No! It was spelled backwards, with weird spacings. I show not your face but your heart's desire. What would that mean? Something you would expect to see your face in would be a mirror. Harry touched the glass, confirming that guess for himself. But then something extraordinary happened. He saw something! In shock, he moved back, and the image in his mind disappeared. He quickly put his hands back on the glass, not willing to give up this chance to see something despite his dead eyes.

They were people, of that he was sure. A man and a woman, and they seemed to be standing behind him, along with several other people. He couldn't be sure how to describe the others, but these two seemed familiar, even though he could never have seen them, unless...

"Mum? Dad?" There were tears running down the woman's face as she nodded her head, even though she was smiling. The man was smiling too. It had to be them! There was no one else he would have been able to remember seeing! And as he looked beyond them, he noticed similarities in all of them to one of his parents. This was his family! He was seeing them, and seeing, for the first time in his life!

The Potters and Evanses smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass that was his only link to them, almost hoping that it would suddenly disappear and he would fall into their waiting arms. Even if he could no longer see them, it would be worth it to be with them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The images didn't fade from his mind and he looked and memorized them, until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He whispered, "I'll come back," and tore his hands away from the glass, plunged once again into his eternal darkness. Then he hurried from the room.

"You could have woken us up," said Ron, crossly.

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

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

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weaslys, all the Zabinis. I'll actually get to see what you both look like!"

"Yeah. Shame about not minding Flamel, though."

Harry nodded. Yes, that mystery still ate at him somewhat, but it was mostly eclipsed by the wonderful sights he had seen.

"Harry, why don't you eat something?" Blaise sounded concerned.

But Harry couldn't eat. He was too wrapped up in the promise that he would once again see his parents that night. 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."

Only Harry's eidetic memory kept him from fearing that he would not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Blaise squeezed under the cloak with him, they had to walk much more slowly that night, but Harry found it quickly, keeping the cold and the oddity of the journey from getting to his companions. "Watch out for that suit of armor. We don't want to alert the cat."

They pushed the door open and dropped the cloak from their shoulders, letting Harry lead the way to the mirror so that they didn't trip him. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his hands touched the smooth glass of the mirror. His parents smiles seemed even wider than the night before. "There, can you see them?"

But Ron said, "No, I only see you." Blaise said nothing.

Harry frowned. "Why don't you look into it face on? Tell me what you see."

Reluctantly, Harry took his hands away from the glass and allowed his friend to look. "Do you see your family standing around you?"

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I'm older -- and I'm head boy!" Harry's brow crinkled. "See, Blaise? 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!"

"Blaise?" Something about this was starting to click in Harry's head.

There was the scuffle of movement as the Gryffindor and Slytherin switched places. "Well?" said Ron.

"I'm on a broom, but I'm not in a Quidditch match. I'm flying through clear blue skies, and I'm all alone." There was hope in Blaise's voice as he said it. "Do you think that this mirror shows us the future?"

"How can it?" said Harry with a mournful sigh. "My family are all dead."

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?"

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No...you go..."

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

"Why not?"

"I dunno. It's just weird, that's all."

Blaise spoke. "Ron's right, Harry. That thing gives me an odd feeling, especially how attached to it you're getting. And it's only a matter of time before Filch or Snape catches you."

"You sound like Hermione, all gung-ho about the rules." Their insistence was irritating him for some reason.

"Please, Harry, don't go."

But Harry couldn't help but want to see his family again. He'd been without them for too long, and neither Ron nor Blaise were going to stop him.

That third night he found his way with perfect clarity and in good time. He was cautious as a Slytherin should be, however, and was careful to remain stealthy as he went.

And there they were, as soon as his hands touched the glass. One of the old men had moved closer to the front this night, smiling brightly. Harry sank to the floor, his hands never leaving the smooth, cold surface and never loosing sight of those he was learning to recognize. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except --

"So -- back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as thought his insides had turned to ice. He turned his head slightly, listening more intently to the world around him than he had been. The rustle of cloth and the sound of the voice he'd heard told him all he needed to know. Albus Dumbledore was sitting on one of the desks by the wall. Harry must have walked straight past him and never even had a clue that he was there. He realized that he hadn't tapped his cane a single time, never listened to the echoes. What if Mrs. Norris had been in there?

"I -- I didn't hear you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to hear that he was smiling. "So," said the aging headmaster, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Remembering the reversed Braille that had raised itself from the frame on his first encounter with the mirror, Harry just nodded. "I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"Not entirely. It shows me my family, as though I could really see them."

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy, and your other friend Blaise as flying free through clear skies."

"How did you know --?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible. Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head, wanting the headmaster to tell him himself.

"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?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want, whatever we want most..."

"Just nearly right. 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 Weasly, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. And Blaise Zabini, who has always had his future mapped out for him by his family, whether he wanted it or not, sees himself in a future with endless possibilities that he alone may choose from. 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, Harry, and I must 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?"

Harry stood up. "I suppose you're right. I should have known in an instant that there was someone else in this room, but I didn't even check. I was totally distracted." He took one last longing gaze into the mirror, memorizing the faces of his mother and father, before dropping his hand and allowing the return of his customary darkness. "But the Mirror did give me one truth."

"What's that, Harry?"

"I know what they look like now. I'll never have to guess at it. I'll always remember."

There was once again a smile in the aging wizard's voice. "Perhaps it has done some good for you at that."

Well, that's it. Sorry it's taken so long. Reviews are appreciated as always!