I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 37 Magic Mirror, Magic Mirror

"Oh! Your knowledge is truly remarkable. I never imagined you would know about it." Dumbledore seemed somewhat surprised. "Then you must know its purpose very well."

"Of course, he can make people see what they desire most in their hearts. It's a very precious magical artifact. Professor, where did you find it?" Owen glanced at his glasses, then asked with a blank expression.

"Hogwarts has been around for a thousand years, so it's bound to have some treasures," Dumbledore said noncommittally.

Just as the two were talking.

The third young wizard to discover the mirror's wonderful use appeared.

"So, you've come again, Harry?"

Harry, whose attention was entirely focused on the mirror, was completely unaware that there were two other people standing in the darkness.

When he was called, he seemed to freeze, and after a long while, he stiffly turned his head and said, "I—hello Professor, uh—and Irving."

"That's strange, you've even become nearsighted after becoming invisible," Dumbledore joked.

"It seems you've also discovered the fun of the Mirror of Erised."

"Then can you tell me what you saw?"

"I—" Harry stammered, flustered by the sudden question, like a student caught cheating on an exam. His mind raced in his panic, and he blurted out, "I saw myself become the student council president. And I won the Quidditch Cup."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore smiled, then turned to Owen. "And you, child?"

"Me?" Owen stared at the Mirror of Erised and made a famous hand gesture, saying very seriously, "Ah! Magic mirror, magic mirror on the wall, who is the most powerful wizard in the world?"

Then the magic mirror showed a scene of a 19th-century wizard who inherited ancient magic going on a killing spree 0.0 (lol)

"I saw myself become the headmaster of Hogwarts!" Owen said in front of the current headmaster.

"A soldier who doesn't want to be a general isn't a good cook, and a student who doesn't want to be a headmaster isn't a good teacher. In twenty years, I will definitely be the greatest headmaster in Hogwarts history!" He said with a proud expression.

With his head tilted back, he exuded an air of commanding authority.

"By the way, Professor, what did you see?"

"Me?" The white-bearded old man was still smiling. "I—I saw myself holding a pair of thick wool socks."

"I never have enough socks," the old headmaster seemed a little distressed. "Christmas comes and goes, and I only receive one pair of socks. People insist on giving me books."

"Actually, I don't really like reading. I prefer an exciting adventure to reading. Besides, I've already read most of those books."

"By the way, Irving, next time you can choose a brighter color."

"Um—shouldn't the principal appear mature and composed? Bright colors might make people think he's unreliable."

He pointed to the magic mirror in front of him: "And did you really see yourself receiving the socks?"

Irving said seriously.

Then, as if something inexplicable had been triggered, both he and Dumbledore burst into laughter.

Two foxes, one big and one small. Oh! And Harry, the growing fox, isn't exactly honest either.

"I heard that you keep a Boggart under your bed and that your greatest fear is yourself?" After a moment, Dumbledore, having recovered, moved on to other matters.

"Maybe that Boggart is broken. I don't know what I'm so afraid of."

As soon as he finished speaking, Harry rolled his eyes. You're not scary?

That killing curse!

He had nightmares for two whole weeks.

"Is that so?" A wise light gleamed behind Dumbledore's crescent-shaped spectacles.

Afterwards, the three of them sat at a table next to the mirror and chatted for a long time.

Dumbledore persuaded Harry not to search for the Mirror of Erised anymore.

After warning Owen not to use the Boggart to scare the other students, the three of them left the classroom together.

As he was leaving, Dumbledore suddenly spoke up: "Regarding the Mirror of Erised, I saw my sister."

Irving had never seen the old principal with that expression before.

It was a mixture of regret, self-blame, and above all, remorse.

Even after all these years, he still hasn't let it go.

I still haven't forgiven myself for what I was like back then.

"She lost her life because of one of my mistakes." Dumbledore patted Owen and Harry on the head, as if making a dying wish. "I hope you never do anything you'll regret."

Hearing this, Harry nodded blankly.

As for Irving, he—he never thought he had made a mistake.

Whether in the past or the future.

"I understand, Professor," Irving replied vaguely.

Immediately, he uttered a truth: "Professor, actually, I really didn't see anything in front of the magic mirror just now."

He said, "I saw Hannah, Harry, Hermione, and they were standing around me, like we were taking a graduation photo. Lots of people gathered together. Maybe my dream is to graduate from Hogwarts?"

Irving guessed that, after all, he hadn't graduated in his previous life and had dropped out of school in fifth grade.

Having come into this world and attending Hogwarts, no one would not want to graduate from Hogwarts—well, no, it seems we do wish we never had to graduate.

"Oh?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, looking at Owen with unprecedented seriousness.

Suddenly, he laughed, laughed for no reason.

I've never laughed so happily before.

It was as if the gloom that had lingered in my heart since the giant attack had been swept away.

Those thoughts that stirred the mind transformed into snowflakes dancing in the cold wind. They drifted further and further away along the canyon that carried Hogwarts, eventually disappearing into the silent Atlantic Ocean.

It was late at night. The principal said.

It's time to rest.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

On the last day of Christmas, the atmosphere of the dinner party seemed to have returned to Hogwarts.

All students on campus participated in this New Year's celebration.

On the tables in the auditorium, there were a hundred plump roasted turkeys, piles of roasted meat and boiled potatoes, large platters of delicious sausages, bowls of peas mixed with butter, and dishes of thick meat sauce and cranberry sauce—every few steps along the tables, there were piles of wizard firecrackers waiting for you.

They usually contain small magical gadgets or prank props.

The Weasley twins really disliked that kind of thing.

Because they thought that was too childish.

On the Gryffindor bench, Harry seemed to have stepped out of the sadness brought by the Magic Mirror.

He and Fred raised a colorful explosion, the twins' masterpiece. After lighting it, with a "bang," the dazzling fireworks directly overshadowed the magic on the ceiling, as if to tear the auditorium apart.

The firelight illuminated every corner of darkness.

Harry and Ron immediately burst into laughter.

Even the usually serious Professor McGonagall didn't punish them. She had drunk some wine today, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

He just chuckled when he saw the fireworks.

Only at this moment can one discover that Professor McGonagall is indeed a Gryffindor.

Dumbledore also attended the banquet, wearing a pointed wizard's hat with a wreath of flowers on it.

His red and green robe was extremely ugly.

However, he didn't seem to care. While eating the candy that someone had given him on the table, he rolled up his robe and showed Professor Flitwick his new socks.

They were a pair of red socks with a cute pink pig's head embroidered on the liner.

He cheerfully introduced the pink pig to Professor Flitwick, saying it was called Peppa Pig and was a favorite story character among many Muggle children.

Looks like I can slack off today. Don't ask, it's because it's Saturday and there are fewer people working. The kitchen auntie only works five days a week, and I still don't get to eat on Saturdays! Why?! I'm going to die if I don't get to eat! (_)

(End of this chapter)