Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Under Harry's gaze, Kane stood still, facing the Mirror of Erised in front of him.

Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass window, casting dappled patterns of light onto the smooth mirror surface.

The world in the mirror suddenly distorted, the darkness receded like a tide, and in its place was a burning hall of the Ministry of Magic.

On the crimson carpet, Voldemort knelt on the ground, his snake-like face contorted, his black robes tattered.

And Kane—the Kane in the mirror—sat high above on a throne made of stacked dark magic books.

He casually placed his right foot on Voldemort's back, as if Voldemort were not the fearsome Dark Lord, but merely a disobedient dog.

"Climb," Kane lazily commanded in the mirror, twirling a magic wand between his fingers.

Voldemort really began to crawl, like a tamed snake, leaving a long trail in the ashes.

His wand rolled to the side, its tip broken, lifeless.

Ironically, Voldemort wore a collar inlaid with emeralds around his neck.

The collar was engraved with the name "Tom Riddle"—a proof of his humanity that he had once tried to erase.

"Call."

Voldemort's lips trembled, and finally he let out a hoarse "Woof."

The Mirror of Erised revealed a man's deepest desires—in the mirror, he didn't even bother to kill Voldemort outright, but instead chose to destroy his dignity in the most humiliating way.

"Looks like I'm more vengeful than I thought," Kane muttered to himself.

But the image in the mirror suddenly rippled like water, and the focus shifted to what was behind the throne—

Lucius Malfoy sat leisurely in the library, holding a book of Muggle poetry in his hands, sunlight streaming through the French windows and illuminating his unusually relaxed smile.

Narcissa was pruning roses in the garden, and the notes from the tip of her wand made the flowers sway to the tune of "Moonlight Sonata".

And Draco—

Draco, wearing the Quidditch national team jersey and the England team badge on his chest, was excitedly waving to the stands.

In the stands, Lucius and Narcissa held up a flashing banner that read "The Malfoys' Little Dragon," their smiles dazzlingly bright.

"This is what I really want," Kane whispered in the mirror.

Fingertips brushed against the emeralds embedded in the throne armrests—within them lay strands of silvery memories: Draco's first time riding a broomstick, Lucius clumsily decorating the Christmas tree, Narcissa secretly stuffing Kane's satchel with candy...

"......I see."

He stared at himself in the mirror, where Kane smiled brightly. "Not power... but family."

He chuckled, but then felt his eyes welling up with tears.

What is reflected in the mirror is not ambition.

Instead, it's about a boy who is reborn and discovers he doesn't have a system, and his deepest fear is that his family will forever live in the shadow of the Dark Lord, that Draco will be forced to become a second Lucius, and that Narcissa's smile will forever be tinged with sorrow.

Footsteps approached from afar. He quickly composed himself and looked up, regaining his usual calm.

"Ah, Hogwarts is always so lively late at night."

Dumbledore's voice came from the shadows. His robes today were embroidered with moving lemon patterns, and his cuffs were still stained with a little icing sugar.

Professor Older followed behind him, his long silver-gray hair tied back, holding a thick ancient book in his hands.

He saw Kane and Harry standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, and raised an eyebrow slightly: "It seems our students have also discovered the... charm of this mirror."

Harry instinctively took a step back, a flicker of panic crossing his face: "Professor, we just..."

"You're just attracted to it, aren't you?"

Dumbledore gently interrupted him, his blue eyes gleaming with understanding behind his glasses.

"This mirror does have that magic—it allows us to see our deepest desires, but it's also the easiest way to lose yourself, making you weaker and weaker, and causing you to lose yourself."

Professor Alder stepped forward, his fingertips gently tracing the ancient runes on the mirror frame: "The Mirror of Eris doesn't lie, but it also gives nothing. It merely... reflects your heart."

He looked at Kane, his gaze seemingly able to pierce through to the heart.

"Sometimes, we think we want power or revenge, but the deeper parts of the mirror often hold a more truthful answer."

Dumbledore pulled a handful of lemon sorbets from his pocket and handed one to each of Harry and Kane: "Harry, you saw your parents, didn't you?"

Harry gripped the candy tightly and nodded slightly.

"And Kane..."

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the blond boy and smiled slightly.

A glint of captivating silver light flashed in the blue eyes behind the crescent-shaped glasses.

Kane felt that familiar mental touch—the headmaster wanted to see what he saw in the mirror.

He smiled slightly, but instead of building a barrier against brain closure surgery, he did not.

Instead, it proactively opened a corner of its memory to that mental connection:

In the sun-drenched gardens of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa walks barefoot on the grass, teaching young Draco to identify herbs, while Lucius reads a book of Muggle poems in a nearby gazebo.

He himself—wearing a simple linen shirt—was pruning a wildly growing white rose.

Lucius had no Dark Mark, no pure-blood debates, only the rustling of the wind through the treetops.

Dumbledore's fingers suddenly crushed half of a lemon, Olaf.

"interesting..."

The old man murmured softly, the surprise in his eyes fleeting, "I thought I was going to see something more...dramatic."

Professor Old leaned closer curiously: "What? Did he see you turning Hogwarts into a chocolate factory?"

"More astonishing than that." Dumbledore wiped the sugar stains from his fingertips. "What he saw was...peace."

Harry looked at Kane, puzzled, who simply shrugged. "The rose garden at Malfoy Manor definitely needs pruning."

Dumbledore suddenly burst into laughter, which startled the portraits on the wall: "What a wonderful irony! We are always looking for the most complicated answers, while neglecting the simplest truths."

He turned to Harry, "My dear child, you and Kane are actually searching for the same thing—"

"A morning where you don't have to be a savior," Ald suddenly interjected, looking directly at Harry. "A chance to have breakfast with your parents."

Harry clenched his fist tightly, the candy wrappers cracking in his palm.

Dumbledore clapped his hands lightly: "This mirror will be removed tomorrow. It's too dangerous—both for the students and for..."

He gave Professor Olde a meaningful look. "Some professors who always come to peek."

"But before that,"

Dumbledore blinked. "Perhaps you two could talk more? After all..."

His gaze shifted between the two men. "Not many people can understand the loneliness reflected in the mirror."

As the old man turned around, the corner of his star-embroidered robe swept across the mirror, instantly reflecting the image of two boys standing side by side—much closer than where they actually were.

"Let's go, Albus."

Professor Old pulled away the principal, who was still trying to eavesdrop, saying, "I have a bottle of mead from 1910 in my office..."