Written for the 'snake appreciation day' at Hogwarts school of witchraft and wizardry: Write an AU where a non-Slytherin character is in Slytherin. Extra prompt used: word – behold.

Written for the 365 drabble day event at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #9. mosaic

Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry assignment 6. Study of magical objects: remembral: Task #2: Write about someone using an otherwise banned object to cheat in something. Whether or not they get away with it is up to you.

Written for the 'light vs. dark' challenge: If it's a light character in canon, you will write it as dark and vice-versa.

Warnings: Erm, sort of character death... Slytherin!Dark!Timetravel!AU

A.N.: I honestly don't really know where this story came from... I just started writing and this is the result... I blame my trying to study tragedy in literature while writing this... too many dark thoughts XD

also, Story is slightly based on Robert Frost's Poem 'The road not taken'

Words: 1,959

The broken mirror on the wall, shattered by the choices made

Sometimes, we don't really know the difference between right or wrong. Sometimes we don't know the difference between friend and enemy. Sometimes, we don't really know which road to take. And sometimes, we don't know the difference between life and death.

However, they all do have one thing in common. We have to make a choice. Some are minor – for example deciding what kind of marmalade you want on your breakfast toast. Some are more severe – the desicion of who is allowed to live and who has to die.

There's no existing middle to hide behind. We have to make our own choices, and when it's been decided, there is nothing we can do to undo it...

.

Recalling her life, there has never been an easy choice. For some reason, there's always been a price that needed to be paid – no matter how big or small it has been.

Now, she once again made another choice.

With a racing heart she looks into the mirror that is hanging on the wall in front of her. It's been so many years since she had last seen herself like this… she has almost forgotten how it felt to be young again. How it felt to be an elven-year-old girl at Hogwarts.

'Yes, it is indeed a sight to behold,' she thought as she takes in her own appearance.

Her face is as beautiful as it was all those years ago. The wrinkles are gone, her skin is soft and shimmering in an ivory colour, and her lips are full and red again.

There's nothing left of the worry that was once written all over her face; nothing left of the sorrow she felt during the end of the war; nothing left of the scars she received in the final battle against Lord Voldemort.

Yes, he is gone, but in a way so is she. At least the person she used to be.

But once again, in order to be free of the Dark Lord's regime, a price has been paid. A terrible one, that is.

Whenever she closes her emerald eyes now, she sees the bodies on the grounds. Bodies of children and adults alike, of lovers and enemies, of pureblood and muggleborns… All lying on the ground, some of them with their once beautifully sparkling, but now lifeless eyes wide open; the happy faces she remembers now bore expression of shock and fear, that were carved into them.

She' shaking her head forcibly; desperately trying to get rid of the horrible images that keep haunting her. The feeling that it was all her fault… the feeling that if she had done something different, she could have avoided pain and sorrow… the feeling of guilt that was slowly but steadily suffocating her…

'It's going to be over soon,' she keeps telling herself and thinks about the small, round, golden shimmering object that is securely chained to the necklace that is hanging around her neck; covered by several layers of her black-first year Hogwarts robe. 'Yes, soon, all of this will be forgotten.'

At least, that's what she hopes. She has no idea if her plan will ever work out. She has thought about it for quite some time and often played with a strand of her long, curly ebony hair and back then grey-streaked hair while she was trying to figure out the best way possible to change what happened.

In the end, she found a way. It was illegal, and if someone else had told her about a vaguely similar idea, she would have probably screamed at them for even thinking about putting themselves in such danger.

But this situation… it was different. It was her way of righting wrongs. It was a sacrifice that – in her opinion - needed to be paid.

And if she truly honest with herself, she didn't care about right or wrongs anymore. There was this feeling buried deep down inside of her, that made her look at things from a different angle.

It made her realise that something within her had changed. The goodness that was once flowing through every vein of her body had - little by little, with each dead body she had seen - vanished into nothingness. By now, it probably has left her completely, and there was nothing left of the once so brave, courageous and selfless woman but a cold, empty and dark heart that cannot be effected by emotions like fear, pain or sorrow anymore.

She had made sure that the pain she felt once was nothing she would ever feel again. Even if that meant changing her character, changing who she was and becoming someone else. Someone careless and evil.

No one else can, but as she stares at her own reflection, she sees that her by many considered beautiful emerald eyes are cold as tone. True, they are filled with tears, because she would miss her old life, her old friends, her old family… because it will take her some time to get used to her new self. But she knew that it was only a matter of time until that happend.

Additionally, a lot of her friends, a lot of people she held dear, were victims of the war anyway; their lives forcefully taken in the cruelest of ways, which in return makes her remember why she wanted to change in the first place.

Many times she had asked herself why they had to die and she didn't. She still asks herself that question, but after hours of pondering she finally knows the answer. It was fate.

The choices made in life determine the way it precedes. It's like two roads that diverge in two different directions. One cannot travel both, but the action taken does not only influence your own fate, but triggers everyone else's in addition.

And the emerald eyed witch is aware of the fact that if she had taken a different path in the past, her heart would not have suffered this much.

And so she had made her choice. The choice to cheat on the future. The choice to change everything. The choice to change fate. Even if that meant changing parts of herself.

Tearing her eyes away from the mirror on the wall, she casts a quick glance towards the clock.

'She has to finish what she started,' she thinks and slowly turns around, 'the last part of the mosaic like puzzle is finally in its rightful place.'

Bending her knees, she lowers herself and lets her eyes wander over the equally dead body that lies on the floor in front of her again, but for the first time, she doesn't feel anything. Nothing at all. 'But why should she? She made up her mind, didn't she? There's no going back now.'

Reaching out her small, delicate hand, she carefully closes the green eyes of the dead girl in front of her and brushes her fingers through the so familiar dark hair. After that, she takes the girl's black Hogwarts tie and puts it around her own neck. The crimson red Gryffindor tie she had always worn with pride is carelessly thrown on top of the body.

In a way, she is glad to be rid of it; the memories that come with it remind her of a part of herself that she doesn't want to be any more. The goody-two-shoes Gryffindor, who cares for other people more than about herself, and the great and courageous heart that tries to protect her friends and loved ones and is then broken and shattered by all the deaths she wasn't able to prevent…

Yes, her being sorted into Gryffindor was a mistake. A mistake she was about to correct now.

Tracing the outline of the time-turner hanging around her neck with her delicate fingers, she takes one last, deep breath before she flicks her wand and cleans her blood covered hands with a quick spell.

A sudden and unexpected wave of guilt still hits her when she thinks about what she is about to do next.

But she has already killed the eleven-year old with her bare hands, so getting rid of the last piece of evidence that could prove the crime she had committed, shouldn't really affect her anymore.

Stealing herself, she whispers another charm in the secure room of the girl's lavatory and only seconds later the corpse of the little girl in front of her bursts into flames.

For a moment, the de-aged ebony haired witch simply watches. The sight of the red and orange colored flames, as disturbing as it may be, is also calming her down.

'It is for the greater good,' she thinks as she slowly summons a broom to sweep the remaining ashes together onto a pile.

Out of the pocket of her robes, she then retrieves a tiny little bottle made of glass. Carefully, she bottles up the little girl's ashes, then closes it and stoves it back into her pocket, where no one else would be able to see it.

She doesn't quite know what to do with it yet, but she is sure to keep it. In a way, it is also a reminder of the past, the life she once lived and the person she once was and she doesn't want to let go of that completely yet.

Finally, she glances at the mirror one more time. It feels strange to see herself as a Hogwarts first year again, and it also makes her a little nostalgic. But she has no time to be sentimental now.

She has to be strong and in an attempt to steady herself for what is about to come, she slamms her fist against the mirror; breaking it.

A little bit of blood spills from her hands and the mirror's broken pieces land on the floor with a shattering sound.

Before she leaves the lavatory for good, she puts her trademark square-glasses back on her nose and grabs one of the mirror pieces as a souvenir.

Right on time, she closes the door behind her again, excuses herself for taking so long on in the lavatory and stands back into the line of nervous first years as the deputy head leads them into the glorious hall.

Patiently, the emerald eyed witch waits for her name to be called and elegantly she ascends the stairs, takes a seat on the chair and waits for the hat to be placed upon her ebony curls.

The hat's reaction doesn't come as a surprise. "What – how – didn't I already sort – "

"Indeed you did, but you made the wrong choice," the girl thinks simply, but without room for argumentation.

"How – "

"Time-turner."

"Why-"

The girl sighed inwardly. "Well, let's just say… two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that will make all the difference."

"But-"

"People can change. And you should know better than anyone that evil isn't born, it's made."

Satisfied, she notices that her response left the hat speechless for a moment. Then, in a rather hoarse voice, he finally says it, the word she has been waiting for. "Slytherin."

The students on the green and silver colored house table start cheering as she descends the stairs with a satisfied and wicked smirk on her face and takes her new place amongst the other Slytherin students.

'Yes, she had made her choice,' she thinks to herself, 'And yes, everything comes with a price, but even if the only way to change fate is going back in time and killing her eleven-year old self to take her place… then yes, Minerva was more than willing to do that.'