What Did Dumbledore See In The Mirror Of Erised 소설 & 이야기

Those who were cursing me moments ago were now holding their breath. Every single eye turned to Tania, who was shaking like a leaf. "No... it's not like that..." Tania shook her head frantically, her voice shrill. "It's a lie! It's a trap Evelyn set up!" But no one bought it. The Blood Mirror was an artifact of the First Vampires. It never lied. Valerius rose to his feet. Hellfire blazed in his eyes. The crushing aura of a Lord suffocated the room.

“I didn’t expect you to be the killer. It wasn’t enough that you killed your parents-in-law. Why did you have to kill my mother too?” I looked at the three of them. They all had the same reaction. I froze for a moment. How was that possible? A mirror was just a mirror. It showed whoever stood in front of it. How could it show my face no matter who looked into it? But their grief did not look fake. What was so strange about that mirror? How could it make my wife, my trainee, and my neighbor all believe I was the killer? “I didn’t kill your mother. It wasn’t me.”

To Alaric, Caleb wasn't a hero, he was a reminder of the mistakes that led to the Thorne downfall. ​Suddenly, the lead vault sitting on the table in the center of the room began to hum. ​The silver mercury that had leaked from its seams didn't dry. It began to rise from the floor, defying gravity, swirling into a perfect, vertical circle. It formed a Silver Mirror, the surface rippling like a pond in a storm. ​“Don’t touch it!” Ryker shouted, moving to put himself between Elara and the mirror. ​But the mirror didn't attack. It began to show images nof the war, but of the past.

Headmaster Nocturne POV The door clicked shut behind Rowyn, her sobs still echoing faintly in the corridors beyond. The moment they faded, I turned toward the obsidian framed mirror hanging crookedly on the stone wall behind my desk. It was old, older than the school itself, and thrummed with ancient enchantments that even the Accord hadn’t managed to sniff out. Not yet. I stepped forward, the hem of my cloak brushing the floor, and pressed two fingers to the cold glass.

Now he looked at her and said, “The choice not to become cruel when cruelty would be easy.” Mira looked away, the words touching places she’d kept guarded. Darius added, his voice lower, rougher, “If Sera returns, I will not treat her as the reason you matter.” Her throat tightened. It wasn’t trust yet. But it was the shape of trust, fragile and real. Later, after Mira had been escorted to rest, Galen examined the broken mirror frame in the security office. His fingers found a thin strip of moon-silver hidden inside the wood. Ritual script was etched along the back, most too degraded to read.

I did not reach. You will decide… and regret it. Perhaps regret could be a compass. --- A ripple drew my gaze to the Mirror Hall. One scrying pane flickered: a girl with ash on her feet, sparring with a man whose blade carried a name he should not know. Flame leapt. His hands caught her. Neither looked away. I lifted a hand. The image blurred. Before it vanished, something slid across the glass: antlers, rot-gold eyes. Erik. The pane went black.

When the blood spilt on the bottom of the mirror it became absorbed by the obsidian, just as water settles in the sandy desert. For a breathless moment, nothing happened. Then the mirror shuddered. A thousand whispers flooded the room—Azaria’s voice, overlapping and fragmented. Her laughter. Her sobs. Her silence. And then—images. The mirror revealed her mother. Draped in ritual robes, face cold and hollow, she stood before Azaria—who knelt, barely conscious, her arms bound in sigil-stained chains. I felt my heart stop. The woman raised a dagger carved from bone. Around her, flames circled. Symbols of the Killing Heart Spell glowed in the air, ancient and crimson.

The room was silent. The air hung thick with something Emery couldn’t name, couldn’t explain. Her hands trembled as she lowered them, watching the broken pieces of the mirror glimmer on the floor. But they didn’t stay broken. Slowly... too slowly... the shards lifted, drawn together by unseen forces. They didn’t form a mirror this time. They formed a door. A new path. A way out. The Noble’s expression didn’t change. His gaze was steady, unreadable. Expected this, didn’t he?

He looked like a lost soul and I wondered what was on his mind. I let out a deep sigh. How I wished I was a Legilimens! (= a person who practices legilimency; the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings | for you muggles). Unfortunately, I was not one so now I could only have these questions inside my head left unanswered. * * * "Curiosity is not a sin…. But we should exercise caution with our curiosity… yes, indeed." — Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Haneul suspected this was happening to LJ, who tend to spend too much time with humans for his own good. "She's here. Just try to focus. You can do it." Haneul told LJ, surveying their surroundings again. They were at a tiny bar somewhere in the outskirts of Munich. If their surveillance were correct, their target would be arriving any minute there to celebrate her birthday. This particular creature is a Mirror, one of the very few born on earth wearing Lilith's biological form. Mirrors were more dangerous than the ordinary Lilim, so they had to bide their time and observe. But it had been about an hour, and there was no sign of the Lilim anywhere.