12

Christmas was approaching.

Henry was studying, terrorizing the teachers with questions and corresponding with Liz.

His questions especially got to Flitwick. Firstly, he was the Dean of the Faculty, and secondly, he answered the question asked or told him what book to read to find the answer.

Thus Henry met Madame Pince, the librarian, and quickly became one of her favourite students. Why not?

The boy borrowed many books, read quickly and accurately, returned them all in good order and often asked what else was to be read - a shame not to love a child like that.

Professor Snape got plenty more, so he was quick to sneak around the school looking around. What's there to do?

You're on your way to lunch, and there you are...

- Professor, what would happen if the table salt in the experiment was replaced by sea salt? Professor, what happens if you add hemlock along with aconite? Professor, what plant alkaloids are used in both plants? Professor, what about...

The list of questions could go on and on. Take points off?

It's a no-brainer. The questions were asked politely, and a kid wants to know potions - well, you don't get killed for that. Not even if they really wanted to.

And Flitwick wouldn't understand, either. Snape had already asked to reason with the little brat, but he found a way out. Flitwick replied that children at Ravenclaw are always hungry for knowledge, so there was no surprise in the questions. And teachers are there to teach. No?

There was no cover-up, and he didn't feel like answering questions.

The only thing to do was to hide at least outside school hours.

What a... Potter!

Snape was especially wary of Christmas. There was no one for Henry to go to; he was staying at school, which meant... brrr!

He'd be holed up in the Pottery Room!

And you can't complain to the headmaster - if he put personal training on Snape, all he'd have to do was hang himself.

Snape guessed with absolute precision. Henry stayed at school. He wanted to go home but to Liz. Except...

Chemists don't suffer from paranoia; they enjoy it. And so Liz and Henry decided it wasn't worth paying attention to her. Summer break is another matter; no one will watch a kid for two months at a time. But over the winter holidays...

So Henry stayed at Hogwarts. Ron Weasley was also staying at school - his parents were going to Romania. Draco, on the other hand, was going home. He tried to invite Henry along, but he shook his head.

No.

Christmas was a family holiday, and the Malfoys weren't his family, which said it all.

He has no family at all except for Liz.

Alas...

****

Christmas night was marked by a conversation with Liz for Henry. His teacher had bought him a class book on organic chemistry and promised to give it to him over the summer. Henry wasn't expecting any other gifts, but life had its surprises.

Several parcels were found by the bedside.

One was from Malfoy. In it lay a book on the history of the magical world and etiquette. Henry nodded - and set it aside. Let's read it.

The second was from Ron Weasley. It contained an eerie brown and blue jumper with an embroidered "G" on the chest. Henry decided he'd have to burn it with something in the lab. Boy, sometimes even Dudley's rags looked prettier than this shapeless horror with long sleeves.

He opened the third bundle cautiously, hoping the jumper wouldn't come with knitted socks and a hat?

But there was a mackintosh. And a note.

"Your father left this item in my possession shortly before his death. "The time has come to return it to you. "Try to use it wisely.

Merry Christmas."

The cloak was long and soft, silver in colour, and it covered the boy from head to toe - and could have covered three other boys his size.

Henry threw it on - and walked over to the mirror.

And - froze.

The part of him covered by the mantle was not reflected in the mirror.

Was the mantle invisible?

Oh, cool!

On the other hand...

Who would his father have left the mantle for? And why was it only returned now? И... Isn't there some kind of gift on it? Say, five times you wear it, six times you'll be covered in scabs?

Henry resolutely rolled up all the presents, put the book on the table beside the bed, and put everything else away.

We'll sort it out later. Or have someone take it apart.

О!

Professor Flitwick!

****

The professor scrutinized the robe, turning it, touching it, and almost groping for a tooth.

- Yes, Henry, it is a cloak of invisibility. It's old, ancient. You say it was your father's?

- That's what it says.

- I hadn't heard about it. Perhaps...

- Either I'm being lied to, or it's an artifact that was kept quiet?

- Well done. You're good at logic.

- I try," Henry said, a little shyly.

- Keep trying. And the mantle... my advice to you, wait to use it.

- А...

- The safe at Gringotts can hold more than that. Until you're older.

Henry nodded.

- Can we....?

- Of course, we can. Even today. I'll ask the headmaster for permission, and we'll go to Gringotts in the afternoon.

****

The goblins greeted Henry almost as if he were their own with smiles and bows.

Henry bowed back - and gained access to his vault. A few coins migrated into his pockets, and the cloak settled snugly on the shelf.

Let it lie there.

Henry was again accompanied by Hookwolf, who politely inquired if Mr. Potter knew anything else as interesting as combat poisons?

Henry didn't know. But he promised to ask Liz over the summer holidays.

****

Dinner was sumptuous, but the teachers, of course...

Henry knew very well what alcohol was and what it led to. And seeing half-drunk teachers...

Respect for them was hard to retain, and there was still study to be done...

He ate quickly and climbed out from his desk.

Unfortunately, the stairs rearranged as he tried to cross in his direction. And he ended up in front of some dusty corridor.

Explore?

Why not?

Curiosity pulled the boy forward. Teachers were busy, so why not poke around the corridor until the stairs were rearranged?

Henry pushed open the first door.

From the looks of it, it was an abandoned study room. Desks and chairs were piled in the corner in shapeless shadows, and a filing cabinet was overturned-but on the far wall was something that shouldn't be there, as if someone had brought it here to keep it out of sight.

There was a magnificent mirror leaning against the wall, up to the ceiling, in an exquisite gold frame, standing on a stand of two clawed paws. On top of the structure was a carved inscription: "Einalezh won't ewaza einezh art oen shi dive."

Henry approached the mirror for curiosity's sake. He stood in front of it and...

He had to put his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. He turned around quickly. His heart was pounding hard and sharply - for in the mirror, he saw not only himself but a whole crowd of people standing behind him.

The room, however, was empty. Breathing heavily, he slowly turned back to the mirror.

His reflection was there, pale and frightened, and behind him in the mirror were at least a dozen other people. Henry glanced cautiously over his shoulder - no, none. Or they were all invisible too. What if he had stumbled into a room full of invisible people, and the mirror had a secret - it could reflect even what was invisible?

He looked in the mirror again. The woman in the mirror just behind his reflection smiled and waved at him. He reached back - there was only air behind him. If she was standing behind him, he would have felt her, their reflections almost touching - but his hand didn't bump into anything. Both she and everyone else existed only in the mirror.

She was wonderful. She had thick copper-red hair and eyes - "Eyes just like mine," Henry thought, moving closer to the glass. Bright green - and precisely the same shape. Then he noticed she was crying; she was smiling and calling simultaneously. Next to her, hugging her shoulders, stood a tall, thin, black-haired man. He was uncoiffed and wore glasses. His hair was tousled in a tuft at the back of his head - precisely like Henry's.

Henry stepped so close to the mirror that his nose almost touched his reflection.

- Mum?" he whispered. - Dad?

But where did they come from!?

Henry bounced sharply away from the mirror.

A magical world, you say?!

What if it's a passageway to the world of the dead? And they're about to drag Henry there?

Wouldn't want that. He's still got stuff to do at home...

What the hell is that mirror anyway? What does it say on the top?! Instructions?

Henry took a closer look.

Well! Was it made by Jews or something?

The way it was written was definitely Jewish - from right to left.

I'm not showing your face, but your fondest wish.

And your deepest wish...

Henry concentrated. How about this?

This time he was standing on the stage, and there was a crowd of people in front of him. And he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

Great!

And now?

Now he had a mega-chic lab behind him. He and Liz could only dream of it. Thermostats, potentiostats, a chrome-plated steel fume cupboard that cost more than a cast-iron bridge... a dream!

Interesting mirror...

Henry squinted.

What was the mirror made of?

The rear wall, amalgam, glass...

And this mirror?

Henry made a promise to himself to come back here. And preferably with Ron.

****

Ron completely lived up to his expectations. He saw himself in the mirror - a Quidditch catcher, Head of the Faculty, some other celebrity... boring. Just as Henry thought - mental activity was not typical of him.

But on the third night...

Henry was just sitting comfortably behind the mirror. Screwdriver, nail gun (thanks to transfiguration), stool...

- Harry?!

The professor was brought in at the most unfortunate moment. Just as Harry unscrewed the back cover of the mirror.

- What are you doing?!

There was such holy terror in Dumbledore's voice!

- Good evening, sir. Interested, sir.

- IN WHAT?

- The composition of the mirror, sir. What has it been impregnated with to show all sorts of nastiness?

- Impregnated?! Э... Harry...

- Yes, Headmaster?

Henry thought it best not to pounce, realizing that the mirror probably shouldn't have been disassembled? Or at least shouldn't have been caught?

- Don't do that.

- Or is it a chip? Is it like a television?

- A chip? My boy, it's magic!

- A magic chip, headmaster?

- No!

- Then what is it?

Dumbledore coughed. The situation was clearly out of the ordinary.

- Harry... ...I'll arrange for a book on magic mirrors, shall I?

- Yes, Headmaster. Can I...

- No. You're not dismantling that mirror.

- Can I at least have a piece of amalgam analyzed?!

- No!

- Oh, Director!

- Mr. Henry Potter, stop breaking the magic equipment and go to your room.

- Yes, sir. As you command, sir.

Henry got away so quickly that it took Dumbledore a couple of minutes to realize that the little bugger would go unpunished.

Yes, he seemed to be beginning to understand Snape.