Dumbledore and the Mirror.
It was past midnight. The boy was gone, and Albus Dumbledore was left to his thoughts once again, alone. What he had said to the boy stood true to everything Dumbledore believed; the mirror could drive men mad. It had been years since Dumbledore had ever looked into the shimmering reflection of his deepest desires.
He got up, reveling in the glow of the moon through an open window. The mirror was there, just a foot away from his right side. The old professor took a deep breath. "I cannot bask in my deepest regrets and desires." He murmured to nobody. And, with one determined step, he stepped in front of the mirror.
Out of the mirror peered a girl of young age, 15, no more. Her eyes were gifted with the similar twinkle that Dumbledore's eyes possessed, the ones that always twinkled during the feasts, and into the student's eyes. Her shy eyes passed over his form, a shocked expression balanced upon her good natured face. A single tear slowly made its way down her cheek as she stared at her brother, old and wise. A sad smile crossed her face, her eyes twinkling as she looked into his, her hand pressing against the surface of the mirror. Tears rolled down the professor's face, and then he too raised his hand, setting it against the cool surface of the shimmering mirror. "Ariana…" He whispered. His face fell into an anguished, grieving look. But then he saw someone else. "Kendra?" He whispered, recognizing the creases between her eyes. She looked down at Dumbledore, looking stern. But then her face broke into a tearful smile, as she too saw Dumbledore for what he was; old and wisened, wisdom-cast and good natured. She too had twinkling eyes, and they were filled with pride as she looked down at her son, fully grown and experienced.
Dumbledore dropped to his knees. "Mom?" He asked childishly, staring at her image.
But someone else had sidled into the image. The boy he saw had a well carved face, with a familiar wand sticking out of his pocket. Dumbledore immediately recoiled in anger, but then stopped. The boy wrapped himself into Ariana's embrace, and whispered something to her. She nodded and smiled; an understanding smile. And then Dumbledore understood, and his own face split into a smile. "Gellert?" The boy nodded, and smiled roguishly. Another tear slid down his face, but not of sadness. His heart lifted with joy. He pressed his hand closer to the mirror, and they all came loser, matching his hand against the mirror. Dumbledore stared down at his feet for several minutes, bowed. Then he finally drew away, still staring at their unfragmented image. He remained like this for several minutes, staring at their happy faces, their endless smiles, and the arm wrapped around his sister that belonged to Gellert Grindlewald, the man who killed her; the man who Ariana forgave. Then he tore his gaze away. This was not reality. This was not what he truly had. And so, with a great effort, he rose. He took one last look at Ariana's beautiful smile. Then he looked away. "I'm sorry." He turned and strode out of the now empty classroom.