He opened it.
An Introduction to Pain
Not a particularly welcoming introduction section. Not at all what he wanted to do to his friends.
He took it anyway and departed the library, almost walking straight into Filch. He doubted that, had he collided with the caretaker, he would have remained undetected. He ducked past the man, almost gagging at the proximity and darted away. He ducked into a classroom once he thought he was far enough away and sighed in relief.
He attempted to clear his mind and relax, taking in his surroundings curiously. It was one of the unused classrooms. There were more than a few of those, since the magical population had declined since the founders' day. This room though, contained something special.
A wonderfully carved mirror with words etched across its arch that read: 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'.
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Harry picked unenthusiastically at his food the next morning, exhausted. He had sat in front of the mirror all night, and when he finally dragged himself away it was all he could think about. He had determined the message in the backwards lettering, although personally, he firmly believed that the lettering should be mirrored. He returned that evening to have another look, telling himself that he had to be certain about what he had seen. It was nothing but a convenient excuse, and he knew it. He simply longed to see it again.
He pulled off his cloak and moved to stand in front of its gilded surface.
"Back again, Harry?" He knew immediately he was caught, and he turned slowly. Professor Dumbledore was sitting on a desk pushed up against the wall. Harry must have walked directly past him and never noticed. He'd been too focused on the mirror.
"I didn't see you, Headmaster."
Dumbledore hummed. "Strange, how near-sighted being invisible can make you," Harry was relieved to see a smile on the old man's face.
"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." His gaze shifted to Harry. "I expect you've realized by now what it does? It seems to have captured your interest even more than your new copy of Breaking and Entering the Mind."
Harry nodded, there was little point in lying. "You saw then?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore informed him, typically mysterious. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" A disillusionment charm then. Harry had only read about them and had never even considered attempting it. It was supposed to be incredibly complex.
"It shows us 'not our face, but our heart's desire', Sir."
Dumbledore nodded. "The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Not just our desires, which are often fleeting, it shows us our most desperate dreams. However, it provides us with neither truth, nor knowledge."
Harry disagreed immediately, and his face must have given his thoughts away because the headmaster raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Oh? Something you know, Harry?"
Harry hesitated. "I didn't know I desired this, Sir."
Dumbledore considered that for a moment, before nodding. "Perhaps," he conceded gently, "I suppose, in that same vein, you would consider amortentia a useful tool for learning about oneself?" Upon seeing the boy's confusion, he elaborated. "A powerful love potion, Harry. One that produces obsession in those who drink it. It smells like only those scents which would touch us most deeply."
Harry tried to decipher what the headmaster meant, before nodding. "You could learn who you loved by smelling it, or at least how they smelled."
He wasn't sure if Dumbledore agreed. Which made him more than nervous. The silence seemed to stretch on before the wizened man spoke again.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and be off to bed?"
Harry stood up, having forgotten how cold and hard the floor was. He extended a hand to help his magical guardian to his feet.
"Can I ask you something, Sir?"
"Obviously, you've just done so." Harry stared at him, and Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"Myself?" Dumbledore didn't so much as glance at the Mirror. "I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared again, unable to believe that the greatest wizard in the world desired, above all other things in his nearly bi-centennial life, socks.
"And you, Harry?"
Harry glanced back at the mirror. He saw himself standing there, holding his wand as his eyes glowed with power, much like Dumbledore's had back at Privet Drive. His wand was bright, and a powerful spell seemed anxious to escape. There was a blue light glowing just off the tip, wreathed in swirling wisps of white caught in the orbit of the glowing end. He was strong, and taller than Harry was now. An adult. He had a billowing cloak and fine, neat robes. He was regal and eldritch power seemed to pour from the man in the mirror. This man wasn't afraid of anything, certainly not other people, why should he be? How could he possibly be? The man in the mirror could strip every thought, tear any memory, feel any emotion someone had ever had in an instant.
The man in the mirror was a great wizard, who never longed to be shut in a cupboard. He was happy, and not the slightest bit empty inside. This was the man Dumbledore had described, a man who could stare into the Mirror and see nothing but himself.
"A new set of robes, Sir."