A/N- I just had this idea and I couldn't get rid of it. So I finally gave in and wrote it.
Thanks to- Green Eyes and Glasses for beta-ing.
Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own anything else you might recognize either.
"Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry shook his head.
"Let me explain. 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. Does that help?"
Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."
"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly.
"It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
James Potter was having one of those nights where you just can't sleep. Maybe it was because he hadn't played Quidditch that day, or maybe it was because Lily Evans had rejected him again. But the fact remained that he was still completely and utterly conscious.
After tossing, turning and counting many a sheep, James finally rolled out of bed and grabbed his Cloak.
James' Cloak wasn't your average run-of-the-mill cloak for many reasons. Yes, it had been passed down through the Potter family for as long as anyone could remember, but that wasn't why it was so special.
It was an invisibility cloak. It was a very unusual invisibility cloak too. Regular invisibility cloaks generally lost the ability to make their wearer invisible with time, but generations after his cloak had been made, it was still good as new.
James had been eleven when his father had passed the Cloak onto him, and he remembered that day fondly.
The scarlet steam engine let off a shrill whistle; five minutes until departure, five minutes until James would leave for his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Son, I'd like to have a quick word with you before you go," came his father's voice from behind him.
Groaning impatiently, James turned around to face his dad. "I already told you; I haven't tried to smuggle my broom in, and I promised I wouldn't get into too much trouble,"
Charlus Potter laughed, his eyes twinkling. "I know James. I wanted to give this to you before you go," he said, handing his son a lumpy something wrapped in brown paper, which the eleven year old took eagerly. "My father gave this to me when I was eleven, so I think it's time I passed it on to you,"
"What is it?" James asked, prodding the package keenly.
"Well that would ruin the surprise now, wouldn't it? I don't want you opening it until you get to Hogwarts. And James," he said, lowering his voice, "don't tell your mother you've got it, or she'll skin me alive," he added, winking.
James opened his mouth, perhaps to ask another question, but was cut off by the uncharacteristically rushed voice of his mother.
"Why aren't you on the train yet? It leaves in two minutes!" Dorea Potter berated her son, shooing him towards the doors. "What's that you've got?" Dorea asked distractedly, seeing the parcel in her son's hands. "Never mind, never mind. Don't forget to write! We'll see you at Christmas! I love you!" she called after James as he sped away from her, his head hanging out of the window.
Rubbing her temples, Dorea turned to her husband. "You've given him the Cloak, haven't you?" she asked accusatorily.
"What? No of course I haven't!" but the guilt lacing his tone told her otherwise.
"Merlin Charlus, do you want to get him expelled?" she sighed.
"He won't get expelled Dorea," Charlus assured her.
"How do you know?" she shot back.
"I never did," he replied cheekily.
It wasn't the first time Charlus had made her laugh before a mission, and it wouldn't be the last.
Late that night after his new mates Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew had dropped off to sleep; James pulled out the lumpy something wrapped in brown paper his father had given him. Careful not to wake his friends, he tore open his newest present.
Barely containing a gasp of delight, James wrapped the cloak, smooth and water-like in texture, around himself for the first time.
Jumping off his bed, he pulled on his bathrobe and slippers and cautiously exited his dormitory.
It was the first nighttime adventure of many.
Shaking his head, James wrapped the Cloak around himself again and left the dormitory. Careful to jump the creaky step, he exited the Portrait Hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's call of "Who's there?"
James had wandered the castle at night so frequently that he allowed his feet to take him wherever they chose; thoughts of Filch and Mrs. Norris never entered his head on night's like these.
And so it wasn't until he actually spotted Filch that he realized where he was. He was on the seventh floor, in the corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was located. Panicking, James paced once, twice, three times, thinking of the closest hiding spot he knew.
With a thrill of dread, he realized he didn't have anywhere to go; Filch was catching up to him and the nearest hiding spot he knew was in the right corridor, and he was in the left. So you can see why he didn't question the appearance of a door behind him, he simply rushed into the room and shut the door quickly.
At the age of thirteen, James and his friends (they called themselves the Marauders) had managed to discover most of Hogwarts' hidden passage-ways and shortcuts, but it wouldn't be until James was sixteen that he would rediscover this room; The Room of Requirement.
Safe from the impending threat, he slowly surveyed his surroundings. The room appeared to be an abandoned classroom, but James had been in most, if not all, of Hogwarts' abandoned classrooms, and he felt certain he had never been here before.
By the light of the moon, James could make out an ornate mirror in the back of the room. The mirror looked very out of place amidst all the dusty desks and cobwebs, yet there was not a speck of dirt or a spot of tarnish on the mirror. Moving closer, he could see an inscription along the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Figuring it was in some sort of foreign language or another, he disregarded it and looked into the mirror.
Instead of being met with his picture; a thirteen year old boy with round, black glasses, messy raven colored hair and hazel eyes, he saw the reflection of a redheaded woman with bright, green eyes. And even though she was years older in the mirror, James recognized her immediately. It was Lily Evans.
Lily wasn't the only one in the mirror. There was a man standing next to her, smiling, with one arm around her. And James was shocked to recognize himself, only years older.
Lily was carrying a small bundle; a bundle of blankets through which James could see a tuft of hair, his hair.
Mirror James was holding the hand of a small, redheaded, hazel eyed girl; she had her hair and his eyes.
And standing around them all were his best friends in the entire world; Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.
What was this mirror? It obviously didn't show you your reflection like normal mirrors did. Did this mirror show the future?
Hungrily, James pressed his nose to the glass, taking the image in, gazing at Lily's happy face as she tickled the baby in her arms. Now if only Lily would really look that way when she looked at him; like he was everything she had ever wanted.
As he slipped back into the dormitory that night, he resolved not to tell his mates what he had seen in the mirror; they would think he was crazy. James knew he could tell his mates anything, but for some reason this seemed like an exception, something that needed to stay secret, something only he was allowed to know.
And just before he fell asleep, the thought crossed his mind that the vision in the mirror was just that; everything he had ever wanted.
Remus Lupin growled in frustration. Exams started tomorrow and he simply could not get this spell right. Charms was definitely his best subject, normally all the charms came easily to him, but for some reason the summoning charm (Accio!) was proving much more difficult than the rest.
Remus had resolved to practice the charm for as long as it took, even if that meant staying up all night. And to make matters worse, he couldn't find anywhere to practice the stupid charm.
The Gryffindor Common Room was occupied by a loud and raucous birthday bash for some seventh year that was turning seventeen. Remus knew better than to try to find a broom closet or abandoned classroom to study in during parties like these; they were all either occupied or going to be occupied by people looking for… privacy.
So Remus had taken one of his best mates (James Potter) invisibility cloak and gone off to see if perhaps the library was unlocked.
No such luck.
And so Remus was reduced to roaming the corridors, hoping to come across an unused classroom far away from the Gryffindor party and not too close to any of the Professor's living quarters.
Desperately, Remus racked his brain for a studying spot generally unused by snoggers; he was not willing to make that mistake again.
Remus slammed his book shut and threw it into his bag, cracking finally. How the Common Room could be this loud at six o'clock on a Sunday evening, he would never know.
It also didn't help that they had a test in History of Magic the next day. Remus was one of the only students in the second year; make that any year, who bothered with the subject.
Honestly, couldn't people be a bit more considerate? Some people were actually trying to study, Remus thought, annoyed.
He massaged his ears as the Portrait Hole shut behind him, reducing the noise infinitely. Second year Remus was still very ignorant as to the activities of the older students, or at least ignorant enough to foolishly open the door of the first classroom he saw on a Sunday night.
Relieved to find it empty and Peeves-free, Remus walked to the back of the room and dropped his bag on the ground, sliding into a desk chair and pulling out his History textbook all the while.
Grateful to finally be away from the noise and revelry that was the Gryffindor Common Room, Remus resumed his pursuit of the International Warlock Convention of 1289, quite content to remain that way until curfew.
He had been reading for barely an hour when the door to his classroom opened.
Already in a grumpy and extremely snappish mood, Remus prepared to give a very vocal telling-off to whoever the intruders were, be it first years or seventh years. However, his plan flew out the window immediately when two sixth years toppled into the classroom, locked together by the lips.
Horrified and transfixed, Remus froze and could only watch as the sixth years began to snog passionately, his voice failing him. He thought wildly that they would certainly notice him before things got too scarring, if only he could say something!
The sixth years never noticed him. They were in the room for at least an hour, according to Remus' watch. It had been about seven and now it was almost eight! To Remus it had been torture, unable to tear his eyes away for what seemed like days.
He stumbled back to the Common Room and proceeded to dump his stuff at the foot of his bed and, no longer caring about History of Magic, crawled in.
Remus shut his eyes tightly, the image of the kissing couple seared onto his eyelids. He pulled the blankets over his head and tried violently to go to sleep, preferably a dreamless one.
It was almost ten o'clock when his mates, James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, came in.
"Where's Remus?" he heard Peter's voice say.
"I think he's in bed Pete," James replied.
"What? No mate of mine will be in bed before midnight on a Sunday night!" Sirius exclaimed loudly.
Remus heard Sirius' loud, heavy footsteps approaching his bed.
Suddenly, his blankets were rudely jerked away, and the comforting darkness was replaced with the harsh light of the dormitory.
"Go away Sirius," Remus mumbled into his pillow.
Sirius crossed his arms stubbornly as he looked down upon the boy curled into a ball on the bed. "Give me one good reason why I should,"
"I've been traumatized," he answered.
Sirius bit his lip, thinking. "How about a compromise?"
"I don't care as long as you let me go to bed," said Remus.
"You tell us the story of your traumatizing and I'll let you sleep," Sirius replied. "Take it or leave it,"
Remus was very reluctant to relate the whole tale to his friends, but he knew that Sirius would never let him sleep if he didn't, so he opened his mouth and began his story.
Shuddering at the memory, Remus began to pace, back and forth, thinking.
I need somewhere to study and somewhere the teachers won't find me… Remus thought.
Groaning again, Remus turned around to kick the wall behind him, only to discover that he had been pacing back and forth in front of a door.
Remus frowned, puzzled by the door. It hadn't been there a minute ago…had it?
Nevertheless, he opened the door and proceeded into the room, praying it wasn't some super secretive snogging spot that he didn't know about because, well, he had never snogged someone before, a fact that Sirius never failed to flaunt.
It was true that most fourth years had snogged once or twice, but Remus simply didn't have time for girls the way Sirius, Peter and James did. He was the one who corrected all their homework, though Sirius and James' didn't need much correcting, and he was in the Hospital Wing for at least a couple of days every month.
What Remus wouldn't admit to himself was that he didn't have time for girls because he was a werewolf.
There was a loud clang as Remus accidentally knocked into a rubbish bin. Shaken from his rather miserable thoughts, Remus became acutely aware of his surroundings.
The mysterious door was apparently the entrance to one of Hogwarts' many abandoned classrooms. There were cobwebs hanging off of the cracked marble pillars and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. The room was dark and cold; there was no fire and no windows. All the desks had been haphazardly pushed to the side and the blackboard in the front of the room had accumulated a large amount of mold. But what struck Remus the most was the large, ornate mirror in the back.
Attracted to the mirror like moths to a light, Remus drew closer to better examine it, all thoughts of summoning charms far from his mind.
The mirror had a thick bronze frame and the glass was oddly muted. There was an inscription carved into the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru on wohsi. The mirror looked in no way special, yet there was something… magical about it.
Yes, thought Remus. It was most definitely magical. The glass was untouched by dust and the frame was free of rust.
His own reflection was looking back at him, smiling. It winked at him. Remus took a double-take. Reflections didn't wink. And then he saw it. There was a full moon shining brightly above him. And the Remus in the mirror was still most definitely human.
Remus blinked rapidly to clear the burning of the fresh tears pooling in his eyes. It was so unfair; his most deepest and desperate desire was right in front of him, reflected in a magical mirror, so close, yet so far away. This mirror reflected the impossible, that Remus knew.
He would always be a monster.
Sirius Black poked his head around the corner and then jerked it quickly back. Sirius was on a scouting mission. His purpose: to discover various secret hideaways and corridors for the Marauder's Map, which Sirius and his mates were aiming to finish before seventh year.
The Marauder's Map was a magical map of Hogwarts that showed everything and everybody. Everyone in the castle had a dot labeled with their name on the Map that moved wherever its owner went.
Ducking around the corridor and almost hitting a suit of armor in the process, Sirius scurried into the hallway looking left and right as he went, determined against meeting any teachers.
It was true that Sirius wasn't actually doing anything wrong, but he was Sirius Black and therefore, the way the teachers saw it, he was always doing something wrong. Students were most definitely allowed in the left corridor on the seventh floor at noon on Saturday, last he checked.
Believe it or not, the Marauders knew the school rules better than Dumbledore himself. In their first year they had found a book containing all the rules (or rather they had bribed their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher into giving them one) and taken it upon themselves to memorize it. It was very useful as they could talk their way out of punishments by finding loopholes in the rules. ("There's no rule that says we're not allowed to flood the Entrance Hall with chocolate syrup!") It rarely ever worked, but it was still fun to see their Professors faces.
Sirius surveyed the corridor critically. The only thing of note was the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls the ballet. Magic always left traces, and Sirius couldn't detect much magic. There was, of course, magic in the air, there always was at Hogwarts. Still, this corridor had more magic in it than other plain, secret passageway-less corridors did.
There was a hideaway to find and Sirius would not leave until he had found it.
Suddenly, sharp, clicking footsteps punctured the silence.
Dragon bogeys, it's McGonagall, thought Sirius with a jolt of alarm. Good things never happened when McGonagall found him wandering the corridors alone.
Innocent, twelve year old Sirius wasn't doing anything wrong. There was no rule saying he couldn't be down in the dungeons, and there was no proof that he had just charmed Severus Snape's shampoo bottle to follow him around once he touched it.
Minerva McGonagall's brisk, stern voice cut through the air, stopping young Sirius in his tracks. "Mr. Black! What are you doing down here?"
Sirius turned to face the seething Professor, shrugging. "Nothing really, just taking a walk. Care to join me, Minnie?"
Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. "How many times have I told you not to call me 'Minnie', Mr. Black? And mark my words," she said warningly, "If I hear about anything…strange happening to one of the Slytherins, you will not get off so easily. Move along,"
Sirius, not believing his luck turned to continue his 'walk' when McGonagall stopped him again.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Black," she said.
Sirius gaped at her. "For what?"
"For-!" But Sirius never found out what he did wrong, because at that moment, Severus Snape came rocketing around the corner, completely naked and dripping wet, with a cackling shampoo bottle close behind him.
"MR. BLACK!" McGonagall shouted, eyes flashing.
Sirius Black was many things, but he was not foolish enough to stick around when Professor McGonagall was as angry as she was.
So he ran.
Panting, he burst into his dormitory, causing Peter to yelp and fall off his bed. James had leapt up and grabbed his wand, whilst Remus jumped violently.
When he realized it was Sirius, James sat down again and threw down his wand. "Blimey Padfoot, you scared me," he said.
Sirius looked around wildly. "Quick," he hissed. "Hide me!"
Remus raised his eyebrows. "What did you do, Sirius?"
"I charmed Snivelly's shampoo to follow him around once he touched it," he replied evasively.
"Yes I know you did, you told us you were going to," Remus crossed his arms and peered suspiciously at the panic-stricken boy.
Peter looked up at Sirius. "What happened?"
Throwing caution to the winds, Sirius sighed. "McGonagall's what happened,"
The boys groaned collectively.
"I was just coming back from the Slytherin Common Room; Reg told me how to get in, when I met dear old Minnie. I told her I was just taking a walk and she seemed to believe me, but she took five points off Gryffindor anyway. I was just about to get away when Snape came running around the corner, naked, with his shampoo following him," he took a deep breath. "I've only just got-,"
For the second time that night, the dormitory door flew upon and bounced off the wall. Professor McGonagall was standing in the doorway, looking as if she might actually breathe fire at any moment. Sirius dived under the closest bed, Peter's, and curled up, hardly daring to breathe.
McGonagall looked suspiciously around the room. "Have any of you boys seen Mr. Black, by any chance?"
All three boys immediately adopted an innocent and confused expression. "No, we haven't," James answered.
"Why do you ask?" Remus looked up at her inquisitively.
"You mean to tell me, Mr. Lupin, that none of you have any clue as to how Mr. Black chose to spend his evening?" McGonagall glared at him. "Well I don't believe you, not for a second,"
"What did he do?" Peter asked.
"Your friend Mr. Black, Mr. Pettigrew, decided to jinx Mr. Snape's shampoo bottle to follow him around and no doubt startled the poor boy so much that he came running out of his Common Room and down the hall, nude and wet,"
James stifled a laugh. "I'm sorry Professor, but we really don't know anything about it besides what you've told us,"
McGonagall still looked unconvinced but also unwilling to stay in their dormitory for long .The rather strong smell of socks was probably getting to her. "Well when you do see Mr. Black, kindly inform him that he has detention with me every evening for the next three weeks," she glared at them again. "Good night, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew," with one last glare, she turned and slammed the door shut behind her.
Sirius crawled out from under Peter's bed, shaking.
James and Remus had dissolved into hysterics while Peter was looking, awe-struck, at the door.
"I don't think I've ever seen McGonagall this mad before Sirius," Remus choked.
"Hats off to you Pads," James smirked.
The memory instilled a growing panic into Sirius. Secret passageway, he thought. Please show up now.
To his utmost surprise and delight, a door appeared behind him. Grabbing the doorknob, he wrenched it open and flung himself inside.
Instead of a long, twisting passageway, Sirius found himself in an abandoned classroom. This must be the secret on the seventh floor, yet it was nothing special. Except for the fact that you obviously needed to do something particular to gain entryway, the classroom was just like any other classroom, abandoned or not. Everything was covered in dust and mold; Sirius even spotted a spider scurrying along the floor.
Then Sirius saw the mirror.
It had a fancy frame, and the glass looked almost crystalline. But oddly enough, it didn't show him his reflection, at least, not in the way most mirrors showed reflections.
The Sirius in the mirror was surrounded by people. Regulas, his brother, was standing next to him, an arm around him, laughing. Walburga and Orion Black each had a hand on his shoulder and were looking at him affectionately, the way a parent was supposed to look at their child. Their eyes seemed kinder, less cold, their faces laughing, less proud.
Remus, James and Peter were there too, and instead of his parents spurning their company, they seemed almost attached to the boys, like Mrs. Potter was.
Sirius blinked, but the image was still there, the image of a happy family, something Sirius had always wanted. He was fifteen years old and he didn't know what a real family felt like.
But he could never have it, because Walburga and Orion Black hated him for being a Gryffindor, hated him for being different.
Hated him for standing up for what he believed in.
Peter Pettigrew was in trouble. Not yet actually, but he was going to be, very, very soon.
A group of Slytherins were after him. Mulciber, Avery, Nott and Snape were among them, and everyone knew they were wannabe Death Eaters. The Death Eaters had already approached the Marauders, even though they were still only sixth years, and demanded that they join.
The Marauders had all declined, of course.
But they were still pressuring Peter, still threatening him, promising him things he had always wanted.
Peter wasn't sure how much longer he could resist.
His only option was to avoid another one-on-one meeting with them as long as he could. Peter knew that what the Death Eaters believed and were doing was wrong, but it seemed so much…easier.
Peter let out a squeak as he looked down at his map, the Marauder's Map, and saw the Slytherins rapidly approaching the corridor where he had taken refuge.
Whirling about, his small, watery eyes looking this way and that, he set his sights on the door just a little further down the hall that he had never noticed before. In his panic, however, it didn't register that a door had appeared at the end of the hall where there normally was no door, and that it probably wasn't very smart to enter a mysterious, randomly appearing door without his friends behind him.
But Peter Pettigrew wasn't very clearheaded or clever when he was panicked; he wasn't very smart on the best of days, either.
And so, only realizing now that there was no other option but to remain in the room, Peter turned.
Aisles of old spell books, experiments gone wrong, banned merchandise from Zonko's and more, were lined crookedly for as far as Peter could see. Taking a few tentative steps forward, he called out "Hello?"
Silence.
"Is anybody there?"
Silence. Silence.
Peter Pettigrew had not always been greedy and power-hungry. Maybe it had happened because he was constantly tortured by the Slytherins, or maybe it was because his only friends were the Marauders.
Maybe first year Peter would have hurried to find the rest of his friends so they could discover the room together.
But this was sixth year Peter and sixth year Peter relished the chance to do something noteworthy and special on his own.
Peter was the average Marauder. He knew it, too. He wasn't brilliant or particularly good-looking. He didn't play Quidditch, like James and Sirius, and he wasn't adorably bookish like Remus.
But one day, he would show everyone that hey, maybe Peter Pettigrew was just as good as his friends were.
Peter wandered the make-shift aisle ways, drinking in the room of forbidden things.
Potion bottles, dairies and pranking equipment were the most common, but there was also a huge mirror in the back, which seemed very out of place even in this room full of out-of-place things. The mirror looked like it belonged in a grand manor home, not this odd back room.
The mirror seemed to have a picture of a man surrounded by heaps of treasure. He had a beautiful girl on his arm, and there were people standing around the couple with adoration shining in their eyes.
And the man….he was Peter.
Peter stood, mesmerized. This was what the Death Eaters promised him, something he had always wanted.
But how could he be adored if he wasn't a good person?
Ten year old Peter shuffled nervously through the door on his first day of fifth grade. His parents had insisted he attend Muggle school before going to Hogwarts, despite his numerous protests.
Peter carried his books over to a desk towards the back corner of the room, by the desk of a pretty, raven haired girl. The girl looked at him oddly, almost as if she was annoyed at him.
"I'm Vera," she said.
"I'm Peter," he replied, hoping he sounded cool and confident. Peter had always gotten nervous around girls, especially pretty ones. Vera surveyed him critically through cold blue eyes. Sniffing, she turned and began to chat with the girl next to her, a tall brunette.
Suddenly, there was a small crash. A gangly blond boy lay sprawled out on the ground by Peter. Vera scoffed. "Oh honestly, Lard," she said to the boy. "Already tripping over your own abnormally large feet, I see,"
The boy looked very flustered as he gathered his things together. Feeling bad for the boy, Peter leaned down to help him. "Thanks," the boy said.
"It was no problem," Peter replied. "Your name is…Lard?"
"Yeah…er, well it's my surname actually. My name's Michael," the boy said, shuffling awkwardly over to his chair, which he had knocked over when he fell.
He nodded his head. "I'm Peter," he paused. "Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew,"
"Nice to meet you, Peter. And thanks again for helping me out there,"
Peter waved it away. "I'm sorry Vera said that to you," he snuck a glance to his right. "That was mean,"
"It's alright," Michael looked down at his desk. "It's not like it's a rarity or anything,"
Peter lowered his voice to a whisper. "You mean she's like that to everyone?"
Michael laughed bitterly. "Oh, not everyone," he looked over at Vera. "Just people like me,"
Peter was going to ask what exactly Michael meant by that, but the teacher, Mrs. Belfry, walked in the room and announced that they were to be getting assigned seats. The class let out a groan. The teacher said nothing, though Peter was almost sure that she had rolled her eyes behind her clipboard.
Peter's new seat was on the outer edge of the formation of desks. Much to his disappointment, the teacher did not place him next to Michael. Instead, she called, "Tessie Higgins,"
A shorter girl with caramel colored hair answered the call. She looked at Peter through large, blue eyes. But they weren't like Vera's eyes; they were full of warmth and seemed to sparkle a little bit.
"Hi," she beamed. "I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch your name. What was it?"
Peter blinked. "Um…I, uh….Peter," he finally managed to choke out.
Tessie beamed again. "Tessie," she said. "You're new here, right?"
"Yes," he replied. "I uh….moved….here last year,"
Peter had left his old school the year before. An older kid was bullying him, and Peter had accidentally used magic on him. So Peter's father uprooted the family and they had moved here.
Tessie looked sympathetic. "I moved here three years ago. I didn't know anybody. I had nowhere to sit at lunch. It was horrible,"
Peter hadn't even thought about where he would sit at lunch yet. "Well uh, Michael seems nice,"
Tessie brightened. "Oh, you've met Michael?"
"Yeah,"
Tessie opened her mouth to say something else, but the teacher began her lesson for the first day, which mostly consisted of learning everyone's name and how the class worked and where everything was.
Three bells later, Peter wandered into the cafeteria. He had packed his lunch in a small, brown paper bag.
Students milled around, shouting hellos to old friends and stopping to chat on the way to their table. Peter stood on his tiptoes, scanning the room for Michael or Tessie. He was surprised to see her caramel head and his blond at the same table.
"Is it alright if I sit with you?" asked Peter as he approached their table hesitantly.
Tessie looked over at him. "Of course! We were just looking for you,"
Peter was shocked. They had been looking for him? But he had somewhere to sit, nevertheless, so he sat down between Michael and another boy with shaggy dishwater blond hair.
Besides Tessie and Michael, there were two boys and three girls sharing their table with him. Tessie took it upon herself to introduce them all. "That's Carter Linardos," a brunette boy grinned at him. "And there's Annetta Gray," a pretty girl with strawberry blonde girl waved at him. "Over here's Kelsey Augustine," a brunette girl with perfect teeth smiled. "And finally Elaine Richards," a girl with brown-black hair and large glasses half-smiled. "And Shawn Hotchkiss," the boy next to him with shaggy dishwater blond hair wiggled his eyebrows.
"So how was your first day, Peter?" Tessie turned to him.
"Oh, it was good, I suppose," a girl sitting on the other side of the cafeteria had caught his eye. She gave him the sort of look you would give a slug. But she was the prettiest girl Peter had ever seen, and that included Alysa Sterne at his old school. "How was yours?"
"Fine, but I really wish…" Tessie continued talking, but Peter had stopped listening. He was staring at the girl.
"Peter?" the sound of his name woke him from his daze.
"What?" he looked around to see everyone staring at him. Kelsey twisted around in her chair and followed his line of sight.
"Oh no," she said turning back. "You weren't staring at Crista Doering, were you?"
"Crista who?" Peter didn't like the tone of Kelsey's voice when she spoke Crista's name.
"That brunette girl over there, sitting with Vera Abnet," Carter supplied helpfully.
Peter blushed. "Well….she is really pretty,"
"She is," Shawn agreed. "But she's also…ah…"
Annetta glanced solemnly over at Crista Doering. "Just….take it from me, Peter. You do not want to have the misfortune of meeting Crista ever. She's possibly one the meanest people on this planet,"
Kelsey sighed. "Everyone adores Crista Doering and her posse. Everyone wants to be her. She's the school's definition of perfect,"
"Except not ours," Elaine spoke for the first time. "And that's why we all sit together. We're sort of outsiders. We don't care if Crista and everyone else thinks we're losers…so be it. We get to be ourselves."
Peter looked open-mouthed at her. "I think that's the smartest thing I've ever heard in my entire life,"
Elaine looked away, but Peter could see a small blush staining her cheeks.
Tessie laughed. "Elaine makes deep observation s and aces everything. She's freakishly smart,"
Shawn glowered. "Too smart. She can argue into getting everything she wants,"
Elaine remained silent for the rest of the lunch.
Peter never mentioned Elaine or Tessie or Michael to the Marauders. Most of the time, he tried to forget they existed.
But everyone had adored Crista and Vera, hadn't they? They were pretty and popular and smart, though not as smart as Elaine, and they also acted like they were better than everyone else, which, Peter supposed, made everyone think they were.
Slowly, Peter turned away from the mirror. The image it showed was much too tempting.
As he lay in bed that night, Peter tried to block out those hateful desires to be better than everyone else. But as for how much longer he could resist it, Peter didn't know.
The Marauders rediscovered the room where the mirror was held about a year after Peter had seen it. None of them associated their particular experience with the Room of Requirement, though none of them forgot the Mirror of Erised.
The inscription on the mirror was not written in a foreign language, like James originally suspected, but it was written backwards.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru on wohsi
I show not your face but your heart's desire.
I hope you liked this new one-shot! Happy holidays everyone, and a happy new year!
Review!
-Magic and the Marauders