"They found the mirror. It wont be long before they work out what they saw."

Dumbledore sipped at his glass of port and surveyed Sirius coyly.

"The '49? You broke out the vintage."

Sirius nodded with a grin. "I thought I'd better. It might, er, grease the gears tonight."

Sirius glanced guiltily at their guests, and offered more glasses around.

"Don't change the subject, Albus," Lily sniped. "Tell me what they saw!"

"They saw a baby," Dumbledore replied gently. "Their baby. Harry and Hermione are destined to have children. I didn't know their connection was so deep."

"We could have guessed at it," Malcolm proffered, accepting a glass from Sirius. "The alethiometer told Lyra so, said Harry was dripping in Dust, didn't it Lyra?"

But Lyra couldn't answer. She was red in the face, angrier than Hell itself, but held fast by Dumbledore's Body-Bind spell. He had thought it necessary ... and the still raw scratches on Sirius' face were testament to the old wizard's wisdom.

"Well, it did," Mal smirked as Lyra eyeballed him furiously. "You know, is there any way you can teach me how to do this spell? I could quite get used to Lyra in this state!"

"Alas, no," Dumbledore remarked, still considering Lyra curiously. "Though perhaps I may suggest some sort of harness? She's a ferocious animal, is that one."

"You don't know the half of it," Sirius chuckled, causing Lyra to turn her murderous eyes on him instead. "How is it that Petrificus Totalus doesn't cover the eyes, Albus? Lyra's like a psychotic, possessed doll over there."

"The spell targets the limbs, rather than the whole body," Dumbledore explained. "Ordinarily, the mouth can still move, too. But following the torrent of abrasive curses and threats that left Miss Lyra after I cast the spell, I rather felt I ought to include her jaw in the enchantment!"

"I quite agree," Malcolm nodded, grinning at Lyra's prostrate form. He was enjoying this too much, and he would pay for it later.

"This is all very well," James cut in. "But we are getting way off track here. "My son and this girl are destined to have a baby. What are we going to do about that?"

"I don't think you should do anything," Sirius replied. "Hermione seems to be a quite lovely sort of girl. I think you should just leave them to it, let nature take its course."

"Harry is eleven, Sirius!" James cried. "Nature can just do one!"

"I do not believe the image in the Mirror was imminent," Dumbledore placated. "This was a vision of the future, and only a possible, far off future at that."

"What does that mean?" asked Mal. "I thought this Mirror showed the truth."

"Far from it," Dumbledore corrected. "The Mirror shows neither truth nor wisdom, only the heart's desire of the viewer. What was strange about Harry and Hermione's experience is that they saw a vision together ... and they saw the same thing. I have never heard of that, and Harry and Hermione are far from the first couple to look into the Mirror together."

"A couple!" Lily blurted out, spraying James with Pinot Grigio. "Are you saying this Hermione is Harry's steady girlfriend now?"

"There is nothing on the Hogwarts grapevine to suggest it is official," Minerva McGonagall piped up from her seat near the window. "But you only need to watch them together for five minutes to see that they are already more than friends, even if they don't know it themselves yet. Indeed, I would say Harry is besotted with Miss Granger."

"But their age, Minerva!" Lily moaned. "They are so young."

"And, because of that, right now they are just the best of friends," Minerva countered gently. "But they are on the cusp of adolescence. When they begin to change in that way, so will their feelings for one another."

"Oh I don't think their feelings will change. They are already both quite set on that score. If anything, they'll only get stronger."

Everyone looked over to the fireplace, where Pantalaimon was preening his claws.

"What makes you so sure?" Malcolm asked.

Lyra's dæmon looked up balefully. It was still a shock for both Mal and Lyra to see Pan in his new owl form, coal-black with startling amber eyes. But they were getting used to it.

"I spoke to Papageno when I was last at Hogwarts," Pan informed them. "He says Harry pets him all the time. Pap sits on his lap, allows Harry to smooth him, all sorts of things. That means Hermione is gone on Harry already. Papageno certainly is, to allow such brazen contact. And if, as you say, Harry is besotted with her, then their feelings are already set. They both strike me as the implacable types."

"That's true," James chuckled. "I don't understand what all this touching dæmons thing means, but you say it like it's important?"

"Imagine it as touching the deepest, most secret, most intimate part of a person," Mal explained, throwing an oddly longing look at Pantalaimon, who looked away reticently. "Between strangers, or even friends, it would be seen as a gross violation, as though crossing the most forbidden of lines.

"But between lovers, it is the act that cements the depth of their trust and intimacy between each other. Like allowing another to caress your soul."

"Wow," Lily whispered, sitting back and trying to imagine it.

"And this is what you say our Harry and Hermione's dæmon do?" James queried.

"It would seem so," Mal returned. "And if neither Hermione nor Papageno are disgusted on a fundamental level by the act, then I agree with Pantalaimon - it shows Hermione has given Harry her heart in everything but words already."

"And later she will give him a child," James nodded sagely. "I can live with that."

"James!" Lily shrieked. "What a thing to say!"

"What? Harry was likely to have a family some day," James argued. "So he met the girl he's going to do it with very early in life. It happens. Perhaps not very often, but it happens. It's dreadfully sweet, I think."

"Assuming they can survive this current threat," Dumbledore pointed out quietly.

And the air in the room tautened like a vice had pinched around it.

"Where are we with that?" James asked, instantly serious. "You still think it's Quirrell?"

"At this point I'm borderline certain of it," Dumbledore replied. "Severus used Priory Incantatem on his wand just after Halloween. There was an Alohomora that matched the signature we found on the dungeon door that was opened, and a spell we later recognised as a version of the Imperius, modified for larger animals."

"Then why not just stop him, if you are so certain?" Mal asked reasonably. "Seems rather reckless to let him run about unchecked if he is so guilty."

"Oh he isn't going unchecked, we are monitoring his movements closely," Dumbledore returned. "But we still don't know how he is contacting Riddle. And it is vital that we find that out. As soon as we do, we'll bring him in."

"Have you had any luck on that front?" Sirius asked, turning to Mal.

"No, not yet," Malcolm huffed grimly. He was deeply frustrated by his own efforts in this area. "But we are certain the Magisterium are facilitating it. Pan has tracked a lot of owls leaving Hogwarts and heading for churches in Scotland and Northern England. From there we are assuming that messages are reaching Witch Consul Riddle in our world, then orders coming back the other way. But your guess is as good as mine on how that works."

"And what about Lyra? Has she made any progress?"

Lyra seemed to bulge her eyes angrily, as Sirius looked at her.

"If we risk letting her speak, do you think she will have anything interesting to say?" Sirius asked.

"Define interesting," Mal quirked. "What I may find interesting you may react to quite differently. But I'm not the wizard around here. I have no power in this decision."

Sirius took a heaving breath. "Dumbledore ... let her speak."

Well ... if he did ...

"Pig! Swine! Gutter filth philandering bastard!"

Lyra hurled abuse as though a dam had burst. Sirius absorbed the tirade as best he could, including the cutting slights on his manhood and bedroom performance. Lily nodded in womanly solidarity, while James choked and tried to prevent his ribs from cracking as he held in a volley of laughter. He didn't want Lyra to turn her sharp tongue on him for misinterpreting the source of his mirth.

"Are you done?" Sirius asked, red-faced as Lyra stopped to draw breath.

"Not by half, Black!" Lyra hissed angrily. "Not by half! And you just wait till I can move again! Then you'll have it. Oi! Pan! What are you doing just sat there!? Do something useful. Peck his bleeding eyes out, or something!"

Pan turned his amber eyes on Lyra and said, in a weary tone, "Sirius' dæmon was always respectful to me. Don't drag me into your petty little revenge quest. You know it's all fake, anyway."

"Excuse me! It is not fake!"

"Do you really want to get into this? In front of everyone?"

Lyra huffed, panted crossly, then howled like a caged puma. "Argh, Pan! You really annoy me sometimes!"

"Good, at least you get a taste of your own medicine," Pan replied calmly. "Now just tell these people what we found out about Mary and, more importantly ... about Will."

* * *

"So, he's going to move the Mirror. Where to, do you think?"

Harry opened his mouth wide, but Hermione's aim wasn't improving, and the flavour of that particular Every-Flavour Bean would have to remain unknown for now. Unless, of course, Papageno or Hedwig could work out what it was, depending on which one snapped it up from the floor first.

"I think the bigger question is why such a mirror would be here in the first place," Hermione countered, chewing thoughtfully as Harry landed his third successful Bean into her waiting mouth. She was quite cross that he was so good at this, but pacified by the flavour of the Bean. "Banoffee. Yummy. Banana sweets are some of my favourite."

Harry filed that key bit of information away for later. It might be a useful addition to his Christmas present ideas list.

"What are you thinking? About the Mirror, I mean?"

"Well, think about it," Hermione began. "Dumbledore said men have wasted away in front of the Mirror, meaning it must be fairly well known and sought after. So why is it here, at Hogwarts?"

"You think Dumbledore must have it for an important reason?" Harry mused, then his eyes went wide. "Ooh ... do you think it has something to do with the Philosopher's Stone?"

"It makes sense," Hermione replied. "Protecting the Stone must be the priority in Dumbledore's life right now. If it could enable Tom Riddle to return to power, all Dumbledore's thought must be bent on preventing that. And then a rare and unique artefact like the Mirror of Erised just happens to arrive at Hogwarts? Now, of al times? It's too much of a coincidence for me."

"But how could a Mirror help protect the Stone? It's just a mirror that ... um ... shows the true desire of someone's heart ..."

On reflex, both Harry and Hermione suddenly became deeply interested in other things. Hermione was choosing what she hoped would be the most disgusting flavour of Bean to throw at Harry next, while he became very intrigued by the worn nature of the armrest of his seat, fingering a loose thread until the awkward moment had passed.

For neither had looked the reality of their shared Erised vision in the face, either separately or together, so monumental a minefield was that to navigate. But they had developed an unspoken agreement not to mention it to each other, for now at least.

"That's exactly why it could be a useful tool," Hermione argued. "If someone wanted to use the Stone, they could see themselves doing that. But maybe they wouldn't see how to find it, so the Stone would be kept safe as long as the thief was distracted by the vision."

"And maybe Dumbledore has set up some kind of surveillance, to see what other people see in the Mirror," Harry added eagerly. "Like he did with us. Then he could see who the traitor was. But that would mean ..."

"- that the traitor is already here," Hermione finished for him, allowing an icy chill to flow from her to Harry via her dark proclamation. "But who?"

"My money's on Snape," Harry announced confidently. "He seems the type."

"Too obvious, plus he works for Dumbledore," Hermione disagreed. "We've both seen that, at Halloween and Quidditch."

"You think he suspected Quirrell?" Harry asked incredulously. "That stuttering fool is too much of a weakling to be a traitor."

"I agree, plus if Snape interrogated him he must have passed," Hermione replied. "I don't think Quirrell would have survived if Snape had questioned him strongly enough. He's far too weedy. But he's still here, so I think we can rule him out."

"Who else then?"

"I don't know," Hermione frowned. "No-one else is an obvious candidate. But I wonder what else is guarding the Stone."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we know that Hagrid gave Fluffy to Dumbledore to protect the Stone," Hermione reminded him. "And there's an enchanted trap door that not even the Weasley twins have been able to open. If the Mirror is involved too, I bet it isn't the end of the protections."

"You think there are more?" Harry asked, pondering the possibility himself. "Like a slew of enchantments? Maybe some of the Professors did things. They are all quite powerful."

"That sounds likely," Hermione nodded keenly. "I wonder which ones? Who would Dumbledore trust enough with such a task?"

"My Aunt Minerva, definitely," Harry proffered. "And probably Snape, who he seems to like. I wonder what they did. Powerful spells, probably, or something like that. You know, I think there must be more to this Stone than we know. Something unique. I wonder what it could be."

"Well they certainly seem to want to keep it away from Witch-Consul Riddle," Hermione mused. "That might mean it is unique to him. He cant want it to make gold, and he didn't seem sick when I met him, so the Elixir of Life wouldn't be much us either."

Then Harry's face fell. "But you did say he didn't have magic anymore. Hermione, maybe that's it! Somehow, in some way that Philosopher's Stones aren't regularly used for, maybe Tom Riddle can use it to get his magic back!"

"Heaven forbid!" Hermione cried, sucking in a breath. "I hope not, Harry! I've done some reading, about what it was like when he was all-powerful before. It was a terrible world, it really was. It was just awful! Oh, Harry! We can't allow it! We cant allow him to get it back, we can't allow him to come back! Not ever."

"But what can we do?" Harry asked, shivering at Hermione's slightly desperate tone. He was on edge, a ball of potential energy ... energy he wanted to channel to one purpose - protecting Hermione. It was all he could focus on.

"We ... we can find it first," Hermione whispered. "Then we can destroy it! Stop Riddle from ever getting his hands on it!"

Harry felt the call of adventure stir in him, but it was tempered by something else. "But Hermione, if we do this, destroy the Stone, we would be condemning Nicolas Flamel to death. He'd die without the Elixir of Life."

"He's six hundred and fifty years old! He's lived long enough," Hermione sniped back firmly. "It's unnatural to live that long. And he is now a conduit for evil to thrive again. I'm sure he wouldn't want that. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Harry."

"Or the one," he agreed. "Okay, let's do it. Let's find the Stone first. But, where ti start?"

"Hagrid," Hermione announced.

"Hagrid? Why him?"

"He's part of the protections, he'll know what else we're facing," Hermione explained. "But he's also the weak link. I like Hagrid, but he's easier to play than a harp from hell. Flatter him enough and he'll tell us anything."

"And, Hermione," Harry began darkly. "If he'll tell us anything ..."

"- he'll tell others too!" she completed. "Oh, Harry! We have to move fast."

"Let's just hope no-one ever learns that all he wants in his life is a dragon," Harry added grimly. "He'll spill every bean for that prize. Speaking of beans, it's your throw."

This time Harry used his Quidditch reflexes to catch the errant sweet, which was on a trajectory to fly over his head and into the fire. He ate slowly as he considered his next question, one he was practically terrified of asking, but one he couldn't put off much longer.

"So, are you looking forward to going home in a couple of weeks?" he asked slowly. "You must be missing Lyra."

"Yes, I am looking forward to seeing her," Hermione confirmed. "And Mal, too. I hope they are both okay. You must be excited, to see you parents and Godfather again."

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry returned, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Um, Hermione? Would you mind - and you can say no if you don't want to - I mean ... can I can write to you over the Christmas Holidays? We wont see each other for almost a month and I'd like to stay in touch, if you don't mind, I mean."

Hermione blushed prettily, trying to control the cartwheels her insides were doing. She decided to be playful.

"Alright, you can write to me," she grinned. "But only on one condition."

"Name it," Harry blurted out eagerly.

"That I can write back!" Hermione teased. "They are my terms!"

"I accept!" Harry laughed. "You'll have to write your address down for me. Besides, I need to know where to send your Christmas present."

"You don't have to get me anything, Harry," Hermione flushed. "And please don't spend a lot of money if you do."

"I spend my money as I choose, thank you very much," Harry retorted. "Besides, I never had a friend at Christmas to buy a present for before, so if I want to get you something just be a graceful recipient and let me. Please?"

"Okay. Thank you, Harry," Hermione gushed warmly.

"And I hope you're getting me, something!" Harry funned. "I'm quite looking forward to opening it!"

"Oh, I have your present in mind," Hermione informed him cryptically. "And no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. So stop asking!"

"First-years should have been in bed half an hour ago!" the cross voice of Percy Weasley suddenly chimed from the shadows of the Prefects Dormitory staircase. "Get upstairs this instant, or it will be five points from Gryffindor for the both of you!"

"You'd take points from your own House?" Harry asked, as Hermione hastily packed away their homework from earlier.

"Mr Potter, I take points from my own brothers," Percy snapped back. "You are not any more exempt from the rules than they are. Now get to bed!"

And with another little frightened squeak from Hermione, they did just that.