Chapter - 87 : A Very Merry Hogwarts Christmas part - 3

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I had just opened it to the first page when Harry's book let out a blood-curdling scream. I yelped in shock and jerked away, losing my balancing and toppling out from under the cloak. I heard a muffled thump as Harry slammed the book shut, but the book kept on screaming.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, hurried and eager. I saw the book shoot out from under the cloak and back on the shelf and grabbed at empty air. I managed to get a handful of cloak and lifted it up, diving back under. My foot connected with the lamp and it toppled over, instantly doused.

Together we rose up and leapt the dividing rope in what would have been a truly impressive synchronized move, had anyone been around to see it and had we not been invisible. We careened down the Library aisles, trying to be fast and silent at the same time. Filch loomed in the doorway in front of us, lamp-like eyes boring through us. Harry ducked under Filch's outstretched arm and grabbed my arm, dragging me along after him.

That night I learned that it was possible to sprint on tiptoe, and it was quite a workout for the calves. But we got away scot free, sliding to a clumsy stop near a tall suit of armor.

"Where are we?" Harry hissed.

I looked around for a landmark, but things looked different in the dim light, and I couldn't be sure. "We're either on the fourth floor or the sixth," I muttered. "I'm not sure."

I raised a hand to wipe away the sweat that was collecting on my brow. That was quite the run we'd just gone on and it was hot under the cloak. I was surprised to feel thin fabric under my fingers. I winced, realizing that I still had a tight hold on the book I'd pulled from the shelf in the Restricted Section. I could have cheerfully slapped myself – that was like keeping the murder weapon as a trophy in terms of stupid moves. Instead, I tucked the book into the waistband of my pants, resolved to find some way to sneak it back to the Restricted Section later.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and someone's been in the Restricted Section."

Filch must have known a shortcut, because it was his wheezy voice coming at usdown the corridor. I looked at Harry, whose face was pale with horror. I was sure mine looked about the same. We both turned another few shades closer to the color of a piece of paper when a second voice replied.

"The Restricted Section? Well, then they can't have gotten far, we'll find them."

It was Snape. I could have groaned aloud at the idea of getting caught not only by Filch, but caught in front of my Head of House, and with Harry no less. I couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing at that moment. My eyes started moving, darting around and looking for a niche, a tapestry, something we could slip into or behind and hide.

My eyes landed on a classroom door that was to our left and slightly behind us. The door was hanging open just slightly. I latched onto Harry and started hauling him towards it. We squeezed through, and for the first time I was glad we were so thin. We managed to get through the gap without moving the door, sliding through into what seemed to be an abandoned classroom. Dark outlines of desks and chairs were piled against the wall and a larger teacher's desk at the front covered in a white cloth dominated the front of the room, an upturned wastebasket next to it. But propped against the wall was something that definitely didn't look like it belonged there.

It was an absolutely gorgeous mirror, as tall as the ceiling, with an elaborate golden frame and two clawed feet. Carved around the top was an inscription. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. I struggled with that for a moment, trying to figure out what it might mean. It sure wasn't English, and it didn't quite sound like Latin, either.

"What is it?" Harry whispered to me. The sounds of Filch and Snape had faded, but I almost didn't care, entranced by the mystery of the mirror.

"I don't know," I murmured. I grabbed his arm and tugged him closer to it. "Let's see!" I ducked out from under the cloak and moving closer, tracing my fingers over the details on the frame. It looked almost like stylized hearts, but I couldn't quite say for sure in the half-light of the moon coming through the window. I bent closer, narrowing my eyes, and ran my fingers over a section, trying to feel.

"Harry, come look at this, does it seem like-?" I paused. "Harry?"

He was staring at the mirror, the cloak in a puddle by his feet, his hands clapped over his mouth. He was looking between the mirror and the classroom behind him frantically, eyes wide with confusion and a little fear. Instantly I rushed to his side.

"Harry? Harry what's wrong?"

He slowly lowered his shaking hands, eyes fixed on the mirror suspiciously. "Do you see them?" he asked hoarsely. I looked all around, from the mirror to the spot behind him where he'd been staring. All I could see was us, reflected in the mirror.

"See who?" I asked uncertainly. I was definitely concerned now.

"Them!" Harry said, his tone insistent as he pointed accusingly at the mirror. "They were just there!"

"Who was just there?" I pressed gently.

"About ten people. They went away when your reflection appeared. Hang on." Harry was clearly getting himself back together. He gestured for me to step back, out of the mirror, and I did, watching him worriedly. He squinted at the mirror, muttering, "They're back. There's a lady, she's pretty, and she's got red hair like yours. She…" He reached out behind himself slightly. "She should be right here," he muttered, frustrated.

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