Harry Potter: The Blogger of Hogwarts

The mirror I saw on the third floor was waiting there for me. I approached it very cautiously. I saw what it did to Hermione. She still hasn't told me what happened – nor should she if she doesn't want to. (But if you're reading this, Hermione, you really should at least talk to your parents about it. I'm sure they'd understand.) But I saw nothing nightmarish or horrible. Once more, I saw Potter's Platters.

"What do you see, boy?!" he said, shaking me back and forth.

I let out a long suffering sigh. "It's the fish and chips shop I want to run, sir. Why would it be anything else?"

Dumbledore gave a triumphant smile. "And yet you don't look so surprised to see your heart's desire in this seemingly ordinary mirror, do you?" Damn it! I keep forgetting this guy used to be a genius before he lost his marbles.

Fortunately, upon further examination of the mirror, I was able to come up with a great explanation. There's an inscription on it, printed backwards. It reads "I show not your face, but your heart's desire." I told Dumbledore this and he seemed to buy it.

"I just don't understand you, Harry Potter," he muttered. "Sometimes you are selfless and heroic. Other times, you are self-centered and arrogant."

"I'm eleven?" I offered. "That's…sort of our thing?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "My boy, I fear you are in danger of going dark."

I looked down at my skin skeptically. I've been living in Scotland in the autumn and I've been stuck indoors mostly to boot. If anything I've gotten paler. (Though at least it's not as bad as that one Hufflepuff prefect who looks like a vampire. Heck, he may even be one. I can't remember if I've seen him in the daylight.) "I've never been one for tanning. And that sounded super racist."

"Oh, of course not!" he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "You mustn't think that of me, Harry. Why, I have many colored friends." Yeah, I wasn't even going to touch that one. "I meant you're going down a path of darkness."

I smacked myself with how obvious that sounded now. "Oh, you thought I'm falling to the dark side, right?" He nodded cautiously. I shrugged and then a brilliant idea hit me. Stupid, but brilliant. Okay, maybe not brilliant, but hilarious. "Headmaster, did you ever hear of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

"I don't believe I have, Harry," he said, sounding politely interested.

Oh, this was going to be great. Hermione was going to laugh until she cried. "I thought not," I said in my best Palpatine voice. "It's not a story light wizards would tell you. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord so powerful and so wise, he could use magic to create…life." Dumbledore looked absolutely spellbound by this tale. It took all my self-control not to guffaw. "He had such a knowledge of dark magic, he could even keep the ones he cared about…from dying."

"What happened to him?" Dumbledore asked.

"He became so powerful, the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which, eventually, of course he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep." Dumbledore's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself."

Dumbledore's head turned sharply in my direction. "You believe Voldemort may have apprenticed under this Darth Plagueis?"

"Oh, I don't think so, headmaster," I said chirpily. "Plagueis lived a long time ago, in a –"

The door opened and Professor Sinistra stormed in. "There you are, Albus. What do you think you're doing?"

"Mr. Potter and I were just having a stimulating conversation!"

Professor Sinistra motioned for me to leave and I quickly hightailed it out of there. Even the thought of Dumbledore frantically going through the Hogwarts library for any mention of Darth Plagueis nearly gets me in stitches of laughter, even now. The rest of the time until break was completely uneventful. I was worried Dumbledore might do something to thwart me leaving the school, try to get me back to the Dursleys, but things went very smoothly. I took the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross – it was very jarring seeing Muggle surroundings – and from there, we teleported – or Apparated, as mages call it – to the Weasley residence, the Burrow.

[Image description: A very haphazard, dilapidated looking structure that only looks like it's standing up by the grace of magic.]

There's nothing quite like being in a magical household. Seeing normal household chores done through magic is startling at first and then starts to become quite normal. The whole place is filled with all sorts of magical gewgaws like this clock which tells the status of various members of the family. Thankfully, none of the hands of the clock, one for each family member, pointed at mortal peril.

The Burrow is nothing less than pure chaos at all times. In other words, the perfect place for me. There's always something going on. Whether it's the twins getting up to mayhem, Ron trying to track down that awful rat of his, or explosions coming from whatever Mr. Weasley is working on in the shed, the Burrow keeps you on your toes constantly.

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