Fortunately, Cho Chang noticed him first.
She greeted Harry with a smile that was neither too familiar nor too distant. "Hi, Harry."
Although Cho didn't deliberately try to keep her distance, the subtle sense of unfamiliarity in her tone created an undeniable gap between them.
It was just as someone once said: "The most painful thing lovers can say to each other isn't 'I hate you'—it's 'I don't know you.'"
That faint sense of distance unsettled Harry. His intuition told him that if he wanted to become close friends with Cho, he had to break through the invisible barrier she had just set up.
Thinking quickly, Harry exaggerated his reaction, feigning mock outrage. "How dare you! You should address me as The Boy Who Lived!"
"Pfft—" Cho burst into laughter before quickly turning her face away, pretending nothing had happened. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hide the amusement in her eyes.
Seeing her laugh, Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had no logical reason for it, but he just knew that something had shifted between them.
Feeling much more at ease, he asked, "What book are you looking for? I'll help you find it."
"Sure," Cho replied with a radiant smile.
"I'm looking for a book on magical history—The Migration of Medieval Wizards."
Harry gave her a surprised look, tinged with a bit of admiration.
Cho felt self-conscious under his gaze. "Is there something on my face?" She rubbed her cheek, checking for smudges.
No girl, whether from the East or the West, could ignore how she appeared in someone else's eyes.
Harry chuckled. "No, your face is spotless—cleaner than the snow outside."
Sweet words came naturally to him.
Cho quickly turned away, pretending to focus on her search while hiding the blush creeping onto her face. "Then why are you staring at me?"
"I was just surprised," Harry admitted honestly. "I didn't think any girl would willingly read such a boring book on wizarding history."
Cho tilted her head in confusion. "Really? I always thought magical history was fascinating."
"Guess it's just a difference in interests," Harry said with a grin. "But I won't deny that reading history has its advantages. History shows us how things rise and fall, and people show us what we gain and lose."
Cho's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait—you can speak Chinese? And so fluently?"
Indeed, Harry had spoken his last sentence in perfect Mandarin. It had just slipped out naturally.
He nodded and responded in Chinese, "My Mandarin's even better than yours, you know."
A wave of excitement flickered across Cho's face. In a school where it was easy to feel isolated, finding someone who spoke her native language filled her with an indescribable joy.
But after a moment's hesitation, she squinted at him suspiciously. "Wait… you're not just showing off a few phrases, are you?"
Harry felt a faint sense of sorrow.
As a native Chinese speaker, being asked "Can you speak Chinese?" was a question that carried a complicated mix of emotions.
He replied, "Of course not. My Chinese is at level 99—I can recite five thousand years of Chinese civilization backwards. I memorized all Three Hundred Tang Poems by the time I was two. There isn't a single one of the Four Great Classical Novels I'm not familiar with…"
Cho stared at him, slightly dazed by his exaggerated claims.
"So… should we just speak in Chinese then?" she asked.
"Sure!" Harry agreed—after all, it had been a long time since he last had a proper conversation in Mandarin.
And so, they started chatting, their words flowing effortlessly in their shared language.
Every now and then, passing students would glance at them with puzzled expressions, completely lost as to what they were saying.
Whenever that happened, Cho felt an odd sense of giddy amusement—like she was secretly doing something mischievous. But instead of feeling guilty, there was a warmth in her heart, a rare and pleasant comfort.
They exchanged a knowing smile, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Oh no! We completely forgot about the book!" Cho suddenly exclaimed.
Without a word, Harry turned and walked away. A moment later, he returned with a black-covered book, pulling it from a nearby shelf just two aisles away.
It was exactly the book Cho had been looking for.
"How did you know where it was?" she asked, clearly impressed.
Harry smirked. "What, is there some rule that says only Cho Chang is allowed to read this book?" He chuckled before explaining, "Relax, I've read it before, so I knew where it was."
An awkward silence settled between them.
Now that Cho had found her book, there was no reason for her to stay any longer.
Yet, neither of them seemed eager to bring that up.
At that moment, as if understanding its master's thoughts, Little Cutie suddenly stood up from Harry's arms and leapt into Cho's embrace.
Cho instinctively caught the small cat, holding it gently to keep it from falling.
And just like that, the feline charmer did its job.
Cho immediately fell for Little Cutie's charms.
She gently stroked its soft fur, her touch full of affection, while the kitten purred in contentment, happily rubbing its little face against her chest.
Cho giggled, clearly delighted.
Harry, on the other hand, gritted his teeth.
Is this really something a female cat should be doing?!
Harry sighed and said, "Looks like my Little Cutie really likes you. Mind watching her for a bit?"
"Of course! Do you have something to do?" Cho asked, looking up at him.
She held the cat securely in her left arm while using her right hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
That small gesture—tucking her hair back—carried a subtle elegance that felt beyond her age.
Harry paused for a moment, slightly taken aback, then smiled.
"I just want to wander around this tower for a bit."
"All right," Cho replied sweetly. "I'll wait for you here."
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
After parting ways, Harry climbed up to the abandoned upper floor of the tower.
He was here to search for the Mirror of Erised.
He had never given up on finding it. Every few days, he would pick a building and search through it from top to bottom.
He had already checked this one before—the library tower—but today was just another routine check.
Step by step, he made his way up until he reached the fifth floor. Absentmindedly, he pushed open a door...
And froze in place.
The scene before him left him speechless.
It was an unused classroom. Old desks and chairs were piled along the walls, and a broken wastebasket lay overturned in the corner.
But what caught his attention wasn't any of that.
It was the tall, majestic mirror standing against the far wall.
It didn't seem to belong there. It looked like someone had stashed it temporarily, as if it had no proper place to go.
The frame gleamed gold and stretched all the way to the ceiling. Its base rested on claw-shaped feet, and across the top, a line of strange text was engraved:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
The Mirror of Erised.
If Harry weren't worried about someone hearing him from below, he might've shouted in excitement.
It had appeared before him at the most unexpected moment—and the thrill he felt couldn't be put into words.
He clenched his fists and pumped them in the air, trying to calm the surge of emotion inside him.
With a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and awe, he slowly walked toward the mirror.
What would it show him?
What illusion… what secret desire would the Mirror of Erised reveal?
He stepped closer… until his full reflection came into view.
And he stared, waiting.
...
And then his entire expression darkened.
His eyes narrowed as if he were about to kill someone.
"What the hell?!"
Harry had never felt so furious. He lifted his foot and kicked the base of the mirror with everything he had—
only for the cold metal frame to give him a brutal kick back.
Ow—
In the dead of winter, Harry stood there, eyes watering, one foot throbbing in pain.
And in his head, a line from an old song echoed quietly:
"The north wind blows, and the snowflakes fall..."
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
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