"Mr. Edward, I didn't hear any voices. I strongly suggest you—"
Dumbledore's tone was instantly alert.
Hearing voices others couldn't was never a good sign, no matter where you were.
He moved to stop Edward at once.
Edward knew this too.
But his hands seemed to move on their own, reaching toward the Mirror of Erised.
It all happened in a flash.
Edward's right index finger brushed the smooth surface of the mirror.
A cool sensation spread from his fingertip, and as he touched it, the mirror rippled like the waters of the Black Lake.
Mist surged from the point of contact, enveloping Edward and pulling him inside.
The entire process took less than a second—so fast that even Dumbledore, standing nearby, couldn't react in time.
He could only watch as Edward vanished before his eyes, dragged into the mirror by some unknown force.
Behind his half-moon glasses, Dumbledore's gaze darkened, fixing sharply on the mirror.
It seemed this mirror held secrets even he didn't know.
Dumbledore drew his wand—a long, straight one clearly made of elder wood—and pointed it at the mirror.
...
When Edward came to, he had no idea where he was. A faint mist surrounded him, limiting his vision to about five meters.
His memory was still clear: he'd been lured by a voice from the mirror, touched its surface against his will, and was sucked in by the mist.
"Lumos Maxima!"
A brilliant light burst from the tip of Edward's wand, forming a glowing orb that floated in the air.
But even this dazzling light couldn't fully pierce the surrounding fog, only slightly expanding his field of vision.
The mist swirled and churned like steam, carrying a faint chill.
Where was this place?
Unable to get his bearings, Edward held his wand aloft and cautiously moved forward.
As he walked, a gentle breeze brushed past, parting the mist slightly.
Beneath his feet was a lush, green lawn, dew on the grass reflecting sunlight in a kaleidoscope of colors.
At the end of the lawn was a narrow gravel path, leading to a towering building.
It was a church.
The church wasn't large. Its arched doorway was adorned with intricate carvings, and a cross atop the spire gleamed with holy light. The two oak doors were tightly shut.
Sunlight streamed through colorful mosaic glass, casting blurred, vibrant patterns on the stone walls.
Edward stared at the church, feeling a strange sense of familiarity.
He'd never visited a church like this in the real world, but the carvings on the archway and the runic letters etched into it had left a deep impression on him.
This was the Lady Chapel, the main church of Glastonbury Abbey.
In both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, this was the resting place of King Arthur's tomb.
Thanks to his family's prime location near the grasslands of Glastonbury town, Edward had visited the abbey countless times as a child. He knew it almost as well as his family's Bedivere Manor.
In the real world, the church had long been ruined. Muggles believed it was destroyed in a fire in 1184.
But in truth, the Lady Chapel was wrecked in a significant wizarding duel.
Some ill-intentioned wizards had tried to disturb King Arthur's tomb, hoping to find relics like Excalibur, the sword from the lake, or the broken Sword in the Stone.
A fierce battle broke out between the tomb's guardians and these wizards, nearly leveling the abbey. Even repair charms couldn't mend the damage.
Why did Edward know so much about this?
Because the abbey's original guardian was his ancestor, Sir Bedivere.
After Bedivere's death, his descendants took up the duty until that fateful duel left the abbey irreparably scarred, forcing them to abandon it.
These events were recorded in a family chronicle passed down through generations. Countless ancestors had expressed their grief on those pages in various ways.
This included Edward's father, William, though unlike his forebears, William believed leaving the abbey ruins to Muggle care was the better choice.
Muggles, after all, were far more diligent about preserving historical sites than wizards, who often relied on repair charms and carelessly damaged important landmarks.
Snapping out of his wandering thoughts, Edward realized that while he recognized the scene around him, he still didn't fully grasp his situation.
Clearly, the mist had pulled him into the mirror's world. But why was the undamaged Lady Chapel standing before him?
The Mirror of Erised was supposed to show one's deepest desires. Surely his desire wasn't to restore the abbey? Maybe it was his ancestor Bedivere's desire, though.
And was this world real or an illusion? How was he supposed to get out?
He'd been pulled into the mirror right in front of Dumbledore, so the professor was likely already working on a way to rescue him.
Logically, staying put and waiting for Dumbledore—the greatest wizard alive, feared even by Voldemort—was the best option.
But Edward couldn't shake the feeling that being drawn into the mirror had a purpose.
It'd be a shame not to explore, wouldn't it?
Knights never lacked a spirit of adventure, after all.
Besides, he was curious to see what the Lady Chapel looked like before its destruction.
With that, Edward pushed open the seemingly heavy oak doors.
Sunlight spilled through the gap, illuminating the serene face of the Virgin Mary's statue inside the hall.
Her gaze fell on the center of the room, where a massive stone sarcophagus stood.
"Here lie Arthur Pendragon and his beloved Guinevere, resting eternally on the Isle of Avalon," read the gilded lettering on the sarcophagus.
Though Edward wasn't religious, the atmosphere prompted him to close his eyes and offer a brief prayer.
When he opened his eyes and looked around, he was surprised to find not just the Virgin Mary's statue but twelve others surrounding the sarcophagus.
These figures, holding swords or lances and clad in armor, stood solemnly as if guarding the tomb of the king and queen.
Edward hadn't expected to see statues of the Knights of the Round Table here. The family chronicle never mentioned anything about them.
He walked around, stopping before the statue closest to King Arthur.
Its noble features and slender frame exuded an almost ethereal, androgynous beauty, even in stone.
This was his ancestor, Bedivere.
Edward stared at the face so similar to his own, a strange sensation washing over him.
He could've sworn the voice he'd heard from the mirror came from this statue.
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