Snape stood silently before Dumbledore as warm candlelight flickered softly around them, casting long shadows that seemed to echo the unrest in their hearts.
Above the Mirror of Erised, Fawkes hovered briefly.
He pecked at the glass twice, then turned to Dumbledore and gave a sharp, echoing chirp.
Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly, his voice quiet but thoughtful. "Fawkes is very worried about Vizet. I imagine he's seen something… perhaps Vizet entering the mirror."
He extended an arm, coaxing gently, "Come now, Fawkes. You must be tired."
The phoenix circled once, then settled gracefully on Dumbledore's shoulder, his feathers dimly glowing in the candlelight.
"I wonder where Vizet has gone…" Snape murmured. Though his voice was even as always, his fingers moved restlessly, rubbing together as if in thought.
"You mentioned before," he said, "that the Dark Lord entered Vizet's mind. Just in case… I wanted to confirm it again."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it remains a possibility. After all, Voldemort returned even when the only thing he left behind was the scar on Harry's forehead."
Snape leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "So… Vizet vanished from the Headmaster's Office. Was that intentional on your part — or an accident?"
Dumbledore's voice dropped lower. "A bit of both. When it comes to Voldemort… I trust only what I witness with my own eyes."
"'Seeing is believing,'" Snape echoed, his tone cool but sharp. "If you hadn't held to that belief… no one would have dared imagine the Dark Lord had returned."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed quietly. "Magic is too elusive, too mutable to take at face value. That's why I hoped to see for myself the moment Vizet encountered the Mirror of Erised."
"In doing so," he continued, "I could confirm whether Voldemort had left traces within him — whether any part of him still lingered or sought to disguise itself. But something unexpected happened. This mirror… it is far more mysterious than I'd imagined."
"Mysterious?" Snape's gaze flicked briefly to the mirror, but he did not turn fully toward it. "Beyond showing foolish fantasies… what else is it capable of?"
"There are… deeper enchantments," Dumbledore said, gently stroking the phoenix's neck. "Why else would it reflect the soul's deepest desire? That kind of magic is not just clever — it's intimate."
Both men fell into silence.
Though each was well-practiced in Occlumency, even they had once seen fleeting, wistful visions within the Mirror of Erised — visions that had laid bare truths neither dared speak aloud.
"Back to Vizet," Dumbledore said at last. "Fawkes still maintains a link with him. If Vizet had left the castle grounds entirely…"
"That would mean he was possessed by Voldemort," Snape interrupted, voice lowering to a hiss. "But he didn't escape. So he wasn't invaded. Correct?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Correct. Fawkes has confirmed — Vizet is inside the mirror… in a place even I cannot reach."
Fawkes turned his head and looked at Snape, giving a surprisingly human nod.
"A place even you cannot reach…" Snape touched his chin, deep in thought. "Isn't that good news? It means Vizet was worthy of entering."
"Yes." Dumbledore's reply was quiet, but firm. "Severus, you should return for now. Whether we receive good news or bad… I will keep you informed."
Snape stood, sweeping his robes back over his shoulders. "Understood."
As the office door closed behind him and his footsteps faded down the corridor, Dumbledore let out a long, weary sigh.
There was unmistakable fatigue etched across his face — fatigue, and something heavier still: sorrow.
If even Fawkes's connection had weakened, then wherever Vizet had gone was no ordinary place. It was dangerous. Forbidden. Unknown.
Only the guardians, perhaps, were ever meant to enter.
Still, that knowledge did little to ease the ache of uncertainty.
"Another accident…"
His gaze drifted to the window, and beyond it, the darkened sky. It felt as though the stars had receded, taking his hopes with them — pulling him back through memory to a winter night long ago in Godric's Hollow.
An accident had taken everything from him then.
And now, history seemed to echo with haunting precision.
It was never meant to happen again… but fate had a way of circling back.
Dumbledore remained seated from dusk until long past midnight, the pale moon rising steadily above the castle. The sadness in his eyes deepened with the hour, his posture heavier with the burden of time.
Tap...tap...tap...
From time to time, Fawkes would peck gently at the Mirror of Erised and give a soft, forlorn cry.
"We'll find him," Dumbledore whispered, his voice faint as a breath of wind. "We will."
But something had changed.
The Mirror of Erised had begun to glow — mutating before his eyes — its surface now bathed in an eerie, silver-blue light…
------------------------------
A moment ago
"G-e-a-s... Geas. A fascinating bit of magic," Salazar murmured, tapping his temple lightly with one long finger. "If you wish to learn it… then find a way to locate my pet."
He looked at Vizet with an air of finality, and added, "As for everything you've seen and heard here — if someone asks later, you may speak of it... but my name must be concealed."
He gave a faint smile. "Go. It's time for you to return."
As his words faded, the wall behind Vizet rippled with magic. A tall, silvery mirror shimmered into view — framed with elegant, ancient carvings, glowing faintly with energy.
"All right… I'll do my best." Vizet raised a hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Founder Slytherin."
But before the final syllable had fully left his lips, the statue had turned back to stone — its warm, animated features frozen once more into lifeless granite. As though the old man had never truly been there at all.
Vizet looked down at the parchment in his hand. The neat, unfamiliar handwriting reassured him that everything he'd just experienced had truly happened.
"It's time to go back..." he said to himself, tucking the note securely into the inner pocket of his robe. "Headmaster Dumbledore and the professors must be worried."
Without hesitation, he stepped into the mirror.
Back in the Headmaster's Office, warm candlelight greeted him like a familiar friend. The room hadn't changed — still filled with quiet shadows and that gentle, ever-present golden glow.
Vizet blinked. Though he'd spent what felt like hours in the mirror world — dueling, deciphering, and pondering — he didn't feel tired at all. On the contrary, his mind was clearer than ever, sharp and alert.
He felt like he could review his notes several times over without breaking a sweat.
"Vizet!" Dumbledore stepped forward immediately, wand already in hand, scanning him up and down with a flurry of diagnostic charms.
Only when the wand finally ceased its motions did Dumbledore exhale — deep and relieved.
"It seems you're unharmed," he said, carefully observing Vizet's expression. "You… went somewhere, through the mirror? What did you encounter?"
His voice was full of concern, layered with curiosity. But as he spoke, his gaze inadvertently crossed the surface of the Mirror of Erised.
In that instant, something shifted in him.
His body froze. His shoulders trembled faintly. And an almost unbearable sadness flooded his eyes — one tinged not just with grief, but with a longing that stretched far back into the depths of memory.
Dumbledore blinked rapidly, turning away from the mirror, forcing his face back into composure. With gentle insistence, he led Vizet to a nearby seat.
Vizet caught the subtle change. He noticed the redness around the Headmaster's eyes, the fatigue that seemed suddenly heavier, and the silence that lingered just a bit too long.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," he asked carefully, "are you all right? You seem… very tired. Should I come back tomorrow instead?"
Dumbledore gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. "I am a little too tired, yes," he admitted. "Some sweets might help. They usually do."
His voice was hoarse — like the whisper of wind through old stone corridors. But the kindness in it remained, unwavering despite the shadows that now clung silently to him.
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