Severus Snape stood before Albus Dumbledore, the warm golden candlelight flickering erratically between them, casting restless shadows that seemed to mirror the unease in both men's hearts.
Above the Mirror of Erised, Fawkes circled a few times before gliding down to hover in front of the ancient glass.
The phoenix tapped the mirror gently—once, twice—then turned to Dumbledore and released a clear, ringing note.
Dumbledore shook his head softly. "Fawkes is quite concerned about Wyzett. I suspect he glimpsed something of Wyzett's return in the mirror's depths…"
"Come here, Fawkes. You've taken me all over the castle today—you must be tired." He beckoned, and the phoenix obediently settled onto his shoulder.
"I still have no idea where Wyzett has actually gone…" Snape's voice was utterly flat, but his fingers twisted restlessly together.
"You told me once that the Dark Lord had entered Wyzett's mind. So, just in case, you wanted to check…"
"That's right, Severus. After all, Voldemort returned even after leaving Harry with that scar." Dumbledore nodded, his expression grave. "It's only prudent to verify—again and again."
Snape leaned forward slightly. "So… Wyzett's disappearance in your office—was that by your design, or was it an accident?"
Dumbledore spoke quietly. "A bit of both, perhaps. When it comes to Voldemort, I only trust what I see with my own eyes."
"Seeing is believing…" Snape narrowed his eyes. "If you hadn't insisted on that, no one would have believed the Dark Lord truly returned."
"Indeed. Magic is endlessly wondrous, after all." Dumbledore continued, "That's why I wished to witness, with my own eyes, the moment Wyzett faced the Mirror of Erised."
"That way, I could see whether Voldemort was hiding in his mind—whether he was disguised. But something went wrong. This mirror… it's even more mysterious than I'd imagined."
"Even more mysterious?" Snape didn't look back at the mirror. "Aside from showing people their foolish dreams, what else can it do?"
"There are magics here beyond words…" Dumbledore stroked Fawkes's feathers absently. "Otherwise, how could it reflect the deepest desires of every heart?"
Both men fell silent. Despite their mastery of Occlumency, even they could not hide their true longings from the mirror's gaze.
"Let's return to the matter at hand," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "Fawkes is still connected to Wyzett. If he had left the school, it would mean…"
"Voldemort possessed Wyzett! But since Wyzett hasn't fled, he hasn't been possessed, correct?" Snape's voice dropped lower, coiling with suspicion like a snake ready to strike.
"Exactly. Fawkes tells me Wyzett is inside the mirror… somewhere unreachable, even by magic."
Fawkes glanced at Snape and gave a remarkably human nod.
"A place even you can't reach…" Snape stroked his chin. "That's good news, I suppose? It means Wyzett has simply… become someone worthy of entering the mirror?"
"Yes." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Severus, you should go and get some rest. Whether there's good news or bad, I'll let you know."
Snape rose, gathering his robes around him. "Very well."
When the door closed and Snape's footsteps faded away, Dumbledore finally released a long, weary sigh, the lines of fatigue and worry deepening on his face.
The fact that Fawkes's connection could be weakened meant that wherever Wyzett had gone was anything but ordinary—perhaps even perilous.
Even knowing that only a Guardian could enter such a place, he couldn't suppress a rising tide of anxiety.
"Another accident…"
He gazed out the window, as if searching the night sky for answers, his mind drifting back to a distant past—a year and a valley he never wished to revisit: Godric's Hollow.
Back then, too, it was an accident that altered his fate. Now, it seemed, history was repeating itself.
He'd never meant for things to turn out this way, yet somehow, fate always found the darkest path.
Dumbledore sat in silence from sundown until the moon hung high and pale in the sky, his worry and exhaustion only deepening as the hours slipped by.
Tap… tap… tap…
Every so often, Fawkes would peck at the Mirror of Erised, then sing a long, mournful note to Dumbledore.
"We'll find him. I promise," Dumbledore whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.
But this time, something was different. The Mirror of Erised began to shimmer, radiating a silver-blue glow…
Within the Mirror
"Geis—The Commandment! An intriguing magical mark." Salazar tapped his temple lightly with a finger. "If you wish to learn it, you'll have to find my pet first!"
"As for what's happened here, if anyone asks… you may reveal everything but my name. Now go! It's time for you to return."
As Salazar spoke, the wall behind Wyzett rippled with magical energy, and a towering mirror appeared.
"All right, I'll do my best!" Wyzett waved in farewell. "Goodbye, Headmaster Slytherin!"
Before he'd finished speaking, the statue had already reverted to cold granite, as if the wise and enigmatic Slytherin had never been there at all.
Wyzett glanced down at his notebook. Seeing his own handwriting, he finally relaxed, reassured that everything he'd just experienced was real.
"Time to go back… Headmaster Dumbledore and the professors must be worried sick by now."
He slipped the notebook into his robe's inner pocket and stepped through the tall mirror, returning to the headmaster's office.
The room was aglow with warm candlelight. Only now did he realize how long he'd spent in the mirror world—night had fallen once more, shrouding the familiar office in darkness.
Yet, despite the battles and the mental strain, he felt no exhaustion. In fact, he was invigorated—he could probably review his notes a dozen more times without trouble.
"Wyzett!" Dumbledore hurried over, scanning him from head to toe, then running his wand back and forth over him before finally exhaling in relief.
"It seems you're unharmed! Did you… travel somewhere else through the mirror? What happened?"
He peppered Wyzett with questions, but then, quite by accident, his gaze fell directly upon the Mirror of Erised…
For a heartbeat, Dumbledore froze, as if he'd glimpsed something extraordinary. His body trembled; sorrow clouded his face, tinged with a longing that cut to the bone.
He blinked rapidly, then quickly led Wyzett to a seat.
Noticing the redness in Dumbledore's eyes, Wyzett asked gently, "Headmaster Dumbledore, are you all right? You look exhausted. Perhaps I should come back tomorrow?"
"I am a bit too tired, yes. A bit of sugar would help, I think." Dumbledore nodded, his voice hoarse but gentle…
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