The next day, Harry and Hermione found a room inside the Room of Requirement perfectly suited for potion-making. It had everything: standard pewter cauldrons (pewter, standard size 2), several sets of glass and crystal vials, and finely calibrated brass scales...
Hermione was still marveling at the wonders of the Room. "What potion are we brewing?"
Harry pulled a thick book from under his robes—Standard Book of Potions—and flipped to two marked pages. "We're making these two."
They were both antidotes to cursed black fire.
Naturally, this was in preparation for Snape's trial.
The antidote Snape had left on the table had already been used. If Harry didn't brew a new one, he wouldn't be able to get past the cursed flames again.
Since he hadn't yet learned any dark magic, there was no way for him to dispel Snape's fire through magical means.
Hermione carefully studied the formulas. "Why both? I don't think we need these."
"It's a long story. Like a kid without a mum. You'll understand next week."
These potions took about a week to brew, so Harry had no choice but to wait before he could go through the trapdoor again.
…
Early May.
Summer was just beginning.
It had been six days since Harry had last gone down to the fourth-floor forbidden corridor. Two months remained until the end of term, but the scent of summer already lit a fire in the students' hearts.
For first-years, these days were particularly tense.
Some threw themselves into revision with desperate urgency. Only a few calmly reviewed the main points from their professors' lessons.
Most, however, were only now realizing that their first year was nearly over—and that they'd spent most of it goofing off and learning very little.
Panic set in. The more they saw others calmly revising, the more they wanted to bash their heads against the wall.
In a frenzy, they began relearning spells, practicing charms, borrowing notes, and asking classmates for help.
Naturally, Harry and Hermione's textbooks became the most sought-after materials.
…
Ravenclaw Corridor.
As Harry walked through, several students looked at him curiously—wondering what he was doing there.
"I'm looking for Cho Chang," he said to a Ravenclaw girl he recognized.
She nodded, quickly lowered her head, and darted inside.
Moments later, Cho appeared. With her soft black hair and dark eyes, she looked just as calm and quiet as she had a few months ago.
Harry couldn't help but wonder how someone only twelve could be so composed.
Cho said softly, "What is it?"
"I was wondering if you could help me with something…" Harry said, suddenly feeling awkward under her steady gaze.
Even he didn't know why it made him nervous.
"Alright," Cho nodded without hesitation—not even asking what he wanted her to do.
Harry hesitated. "It might break school rules…"
Cho looked at him seriously. "It's fine."
Harry didn't bother with the clichéd line: "Don't you want to know what it is?"
He always thought characters who said that in books were complete idiots. If someone already agreed, why make a fuss?
"Tomorrow morning, seven o'clock. Let's meet in the Great Hall."
Cho nodded again.
Harry left quickly, feeling like her gaze followed him all the way down the corridor.
…
Time flew.
In the blink of an eye, another night passed.
Harry got ready.
Cho arrived first. Hermione followed shortly after.
They exchanged a glance—and quickly looked away.
Time to go.
It was Sunday, and most students were still asleep. They barely encountered anyone as Harry led them through winding staircases and corridors until they reached their destination.
"This is the room the Headmaster said no student is allowed to enter?" Hermione asked nervously—though there was a glimmer of excitement in her voice.
"Yep. But heads-up: inside is a two-story-tall, three-headed guard dog. Brace yourselves."
He gently pushed open the door.
Hermione's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Cho, however, turned pale.
Inside, the massive Hellhound sensed them immediately. It arched its back, growled, and fixed all three heads on the intruders. Its low rumble was like distant thunder.
Harry reached for the magical speaker—but suddenly winced as his arm was seized in a death grip.
He turned. Cho had hidden behind him, her fingernails digging into his arm like claws, face down, body trembling.
He stole a glance at Hermione, who was calmly studying the dog.
The contrast was striking—one was terrified, the other utterly fearless.
"It's alright," Harry said softly. "It'll be asleep in a second."
Sure enough, the moment the music started playing, the massive creature wobbled and collapsed to the ground like a mountain of fur and muscle.
Cho finally let go, her face flushed with embarrassment. "When I was six, a big yellow dog chased me and bit me…" She instinctively covered her backside.
Harry nearly asked, "Did it bite your butt?"—but decided the topic was too awkward.
Hermione, ever fearless, walked up to the sleeping beast. "What kind of magic is this? Why did such a ferocious creature fall asleep so easily?"
Harry explained the dog's musical weakness.
Hermione nodded. "Its owner must be as dense as Hagrid. Who trains a guard dog like that?"
Harry gave her an internal thumbs-up. The clueless trainer? Was him.
Even asleep, the dog was still too terrifying for Cho. Harry gently took her by the arm and helped her step over one of its legs.
Hermione immediately widened her eyes in mock fear and scampered to Harry's side too—hoping he'd take her hand as well.
Harry: "…"
They cleared the rest of the rooms quickly under Harry's guidance.
Until finally—they reached the round chamber where the Mirror of Erised stood.
Hermione spotted the massive bronze mirror, etched with runes. "This is…"
Harry opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione held up a finger. "Don't tell me. I've read about this somewhere. Let me think!"
She scratched her head furiously, hair frizzing out even more.
Cho had already recognized the mirror. She'd seen it with Harry during Christmas in the attic.
The memory brought up a mix of feelings.
Watching Hermione struggle to remember, Cho suddenly spoke. "Harry, isn't this the Mirror of Erised? The one we saw during Christmas? So Headmaster Dumbledore moved it here."
Hermione snapped her fingers. "Right! The legendary mirror that shows your heart's deepest desire…"
She trailed off. "Uh…"
Her eyes darted between Harry and Cho multiple times.
Harry felt a chill.
Hermione huffed but said nothing more.
Quickly, Harry changed the subject. "Cho, the Philosopher's Stone is hidden in this mirror. I need your help to get it."
"This is the favor you mentioned?"
"Yeah."
Hermione immediately protested. "Why not ask me? I can do it too!"
"Then go ahead," Harry said.
Hermione had only wanted to complain a little, not actually be tasked with retrieving the Stone. Philosopher's Stone? That sounds familiar… which book was it in again? Oh well. If she got it first, Cho wouldn't matter.
She smiled sweetly. "How do I get it?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. That was a fast attitude change.
"Just stand in front of the mirror and think about the Philosopher's Stone. If it works, you'll know where it is."
"Got it." Hermione stepped forward eagerly. She was just as fascinated by the mirror as she was determined to prove herself.
"Oh Mirror, Mirror, who's the fairest of them all?"
Harry sighed.
Hermione shot him a mischievous grin, then focused on the glass.
Her eyes widened. "Harry! Does this show the future? I see myself getting all O's in the finals! Professor Snape's smiling at me! And I see you—you…"
She suddenly stopped.
From her very first words, Harry knew she had failed. But he was still curious.
Top marks? Of course. A smiling Snape? Yeah, only in a dream.
And me? What about me?
Harry looked at her expectantly, but Hermione buried her face in her robes.
He gave up asking and turned to Cho.
She was nervous—last time she looked into the mirror, she'd seen her own desires.
But she wanted to help Harry.
She took a deep breath, calmed herself, and walked slowly to the mirror, thinking: Please give me the Philosopher's Stone…
She stared at the reflection—froze—then suddenly gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.
Harry assumed she'd failed too.
He was beginning to understand Voldemort's frustration—knowing where the Stone was, but unable to touch it.
Still, he asked, "Cho, did you see where the Stone is?"
Cho turned, still a little dazed.
"The Philosopher's Stone? You mean this?" she asked, pulling a red, irregularly shaped crystal from her pocket.
"Whoa!"
Harry pulled her into a tight hug. A completely unconscious move—born from pure, overwhelming joy.
-
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⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter
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