Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

"Professor, I must ask—what brings you here in the dead of night, lurking around like a sentient wastepaper basket? You're not here specifically to keep an eye on me, are you?"

"And what about you and Miss Granger? You're not in bed either," Dumbledore replied, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Slowly, the old man approached the enormous mirror, gently running his fingers along the intricate patterns carved into its frame.

"This mirror is called the Mirror of Erised," he said. "It shows us the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts. But remember, what you see in the mirror is merely a dream. It cannot teach you anything or provide you with truth. Many have wasted away before it, ensnared by the images it reflects, unable to discern whether what they see is real or illusion."

"Tomorrow, this mirror will be moved to a new location," Dumbledore continued, turning back to Harry. "If you ever encounter it again, you must be prepared. Do not lose yourself in the dream it shows you. Always remember that."

After a pause, he smiled. "Now then, that's enough for tonight. I'm feeling a bit thirsty, so I'll leave you to get back to your dormitory. Rest well, Harry… Oh, and one more thing: the next time you go exploring the school, do try to avoid borrowing things without permission. It's terribly impolite."

Harry and Hermione donned the Invisibility Cloak and opened the classroom door. As Hermione stepped out, Harry paused, turning to glance back at Dumbledore through the shroud of the cloak.

"Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Just one," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Any more, and I can't guarantee I'll have the answers."

"What do you see when you look into the mirror?"

"Me? Oh, I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

...

In student dormitories where friendships ran deep, there was often a peculiar phenomenon: when most of the group suffered a misfortune, they'd find immense joy in dragging the remaining few down with them.

Such was the case with Ron and his friends. After being scared witless by the three-headed dog, the four of them huddled around the common room fireplace, warming their frigid hearts and plotting how to pull Harry—the sole "lucky survivor"—into their collective misery.

As for the dangers of the situation, the three Gryffindors didn't bother to think too much about it. Why three, you ask? Just take one look at Neville, who was so terrified he couldn't string a sentence together, and you'd understand.

After half an hour of scheming, exhaustion won out, and the group finally dragged themselves back to their dormitory. Not long after they left, two heads—one male, one female—appeared seemingly out of thin air in the common room.

...

Three days later, the Christmas holidays arrived at Hogwarts. Most of the students boarded the train home, leaving behind only a small handful. As a result, the castle felt eerily empty during the festive season.

Soon, Christmas morning came.

At five in the morning, Harry woke up as usual and shook Ron awake.

"Ron, time for morning practice."

"But it's Christmas!" Ron groaned, burying himself deeper into his blanket. "Just this once, can't we take a day off?"

"The enemy won't care whether it's Christmas or not!" Harry retorted, quickly dressing himself. With a flick of his wand, his rumpled blanket folded itself neatly. "Of course, if you really insist, I might consider letting you skip today…"

Overjoyed, Ron prepared to curl up for a few more hours of sleep.

"But I'll stop training with you altogether from tomorrow," Harry added.

Ron's dreams of extra sleep shattered instantly. He got out of bed and began dressing begrudgingly.

Over the past few weeks, Ron's performance in Charms and Transfiguration had surged ahead of other students—except, of course, for Hermione and their dormitory mates. In just over a month, he had earned Gryffindor a solid twelve points through sheer skill. He knew his improvement was thanks to their daily morning practice, especially the meditation technique Harry had taught him. He still didn't know where Harry had learned it, but it worked wonders.

And then there was the combat training. Just a few days ago, Ron had taken down Goyle with ease, thanks to the drills they'd been doing. If Snape hadn't intervened, Ron was sure he could've pinned Malfoy and made him cry.

Give up training? No way. Without it, how could he keep impressing his classmates? Even Fred and George, his twin brothers, excelled in their classes. If Ron couldn't even match them, he'd never hear the end of it at home.

"By the way… when are we opening our presents?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Presents? What pre—" Harry's eyes fell on the small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. He followed Ron's gaze and saw the much larger stack at the foot of Ron's bed.

"Doesn't everyone get Christmas gifts from their friends?" Ron said, squatting down to grab the largest package from his pile. He tore it open and groaned. "Ugh, not again—why is it always maroon?"

"I've never received a Christmas gift before," Harry said, watching as Ron pulled out a dark maroon sweater. "What's wrong? Don't you like the color?"

"I've never liked it," Ron grumbled. "But she knits me one in this color every year. Maybe she just ran out of other yarn."

Curious, Harry turned to his own small pile of gifts and began unwrapping them.

The first package was wrapped in thick parchment. Inside, he found a card and a flute. The card, written in bold, messy handwriting, read: "Merry Christmas, Harry! – Hagrid."

Harry blew a note on the flute, attempting to play "The Faraway Queen."

"Why does it sound like an owl hooting?" Harry muttered, scratching his head.

Next, he opened a box of assorted chocolates from Hermione. Then, Harry picked up a large, bulging package.

"I think I know who that's from," Ron said, blushing. "I told my mum about you in my letter, and… well…"

Harry pulled out a hand-knitted sweater in bright green. Ron groaned again. "Oh no, she made you one of those sweaters too."

"I think it's nice," Harry said, digging further into the package to find a large box of homemade fudge. He popped one into his mouth and grinned. It tasted delicious.

...

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