Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter, Jo Rowling does. I also don't own the character Mandy Ackerly. She's an OC for Nightwind's Seeing Eye To Eye and desperately needed punished. I also don't own the original idea of Mirror Image…it was a challenge issued by JennyElf on another site and I was the only one that actually did it.
Mirror Image
The noon sun was shining gaily through a clear, azure sky. The grass was growing thick and green, the birds chirped merrily, and the buzzing bees buzzed pleasantly. Hogwarts castle stood tall and gleaming in the summer heat with an unworldly brilliance, almost as if it had been constructed by the sun itself.
The students who normally roamed the now empty corridors and classrooms had been sent home for the summer holidays, leaving nobody behind to witness this castle's particular moment of radiance. Well, at least nobody who appreciated its beauty. The castle wasn't exactly completely empty. There was one man who resided full time at the school but where one would find magic and wonder this man saw only dust and grime. Where one might see happiness and knowledge, this man saw only inconvenience and never-ending cleaning.
This man was Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Currently, Mr. Argus Filch was sweating in great abundance as he attempted to haul around a thirty-seven pound mirror that usually resided above the Slytherin common room fireplace. Now, Filch was not entirely alone in the vast castle—he also had the portraits that hung along the walls to keep him 'company' as well as the house elves who helped him keep the castle in working order. Otherwise, he was completely void of human contact, exactly the way he preferred it.
Ouch! Watch what you're doing, said an eerily smooth male voice.
Filch grumbled his usual indecipherable grumbles and continued to lug the large mirror up another flight of stairs. Of course, much to Filch's distaste, talking portraits and house elves were not the only 'company' he had to endure over the summer. He also had mirrors to deal with. Many, many mirrors, most of which could talk… and talk they did.
You're going to scratch my frame. Be more careful! it said again in the eerie voice that was the trademark of a magical talking mirror. It was a human voice, yet it had a mystical hollow echo to it that made it inhuman as well.
"Shut it you," Filch snarled nastily as he felt his creaky knees give slightly under the awkwardly large mirror, "or I'll throw you down the stairs."
You wouldn't dare, Squib, the voice retorted viciously back.
Filch felt his face begin to burn at that comment and his hands shook with a fierce anger so much that he nearly did drop the annoying piece of glass and wood. He had always been very sensitive to the fact that he was a Squib, a person with magical ancestry but no magical ability themselves, yet he managed to regain his regular spiteful manner and kept lugging.
The only thing that kept him climbing those stairs (instead of smashing the mirror into nothing more than a horribly shiny mess right there) was the sadistic picture in his mind that played repeatedly. A picture of the Slytherin House mirror, made of ornate mahogany and willow, bouncing down the stairs, shattering into a thousand pieces, and finally landing with a sickening thud against the ground floor. The higher Filch was forced to climb, the further the mental image of a breaking mirror had to fall; the more insults it issued, the more bounces it received on the way down. The mess created would be worth it…
Five flights of this finally brought a weak-muscled Filch huffing and puffing to his destination: the corridor to his left and the first door to the right where he had stored the cleaning supplies he would need for this task.
Still holding the mirror to his chest with both hands, he kicked open the door and shimmied his way through and past the delicate objects blocking his way. Inside, the light was bright and blindingly beautiful, just as it was outside. Light reflected through the room so brightly that Filch thought he might go blind and he shielded his eyes with the back of his hand. Daring to squint into the light, he realized he hadn't covered the windows to block out the dazzling sunlight, resulting in the sun's rays reflecting off two hundred forty seven mirrors' glass.
Yes, crammed inside this small room sat two hundred forty seven variously sized magical talking mirrors that waited quite impatiently for their annual cleaning. Every summer it was the same thing; gather up the mirrors, carry them up to this room, wipe them clean, and carry them all back. Much to Filch's impression of glee, the Slytherin mirror was the last of the talking mirrors that he would need to collect and sat the insult-prone mirror down beside the Hufflepuff boys' bathroom mirror.
You clumsy oaf, the Slytherin mirror said as it's wooden frame sat lightly on the stone floor, you're going to break me one day.
Determined to ignore the insults, Filch went to the windows and hung a series of heavy blankets, leaving the only light to be the torches that hung along the walls and cast a flickering orange glow over the small classroom.
He began the job by shuffling around collecting the supplies he would need: glass cleaner, wood polisher, rag…rag—he stood looking about him trying to locate his stash of rags—no rags. Not a single one and Filch grumbled to himself when he realized he had no cleaning rags on hand. Certainly not happy at all, he shimmied his way back out the door into the bright, cheerful sunlight and turned toward a nearby cleaning cupboard.
Immediately after Filch exited the room, the mirrors began eagerly talking amongst themselves and the smaller-sized classroom became one big chatterbox filled with two hundred forty-seven male and female echoing mirror-voices.
Ger' off me! one said as it sat at along the wall at the very back of the room.
Well, when I grow legs, I will! answered the mirror that was leaning on it.
What's going on? said another from somewhere in the back. I can't see a thing!
Why are we here? asked another.
I don't need cleaned, I'm beautiful enough as it is!
I'm cleaner than you are, I don't need to be here.
I need cleaned, admitted the Hufflepuff boy's bathroom mirror, I can't wait for Filch to clean me. You have no idea what I've had to see this year.
Yes I do, said the Gryffindor boy's bathroom mirror. The mirror made a sickened shivering sound and its reflection rippled a bit with the memories.
EW! cried out the Gryffindor house mirror. That's disgusting!
Oh, like you haven't seen worse from the common room, the Gryffindor boy's bathroom mirror replied.
The Gryffindor house mirror's reflection rippled, True…true…
A few minutes of such insightful conversation, Filch finally returned with an armload supply of cleaning rags.
It's about time, Squib, said the haughty voice of the Slytherin house mirror. How much longer will I have to endure these imbeciles?
Filch wanted to get rid of this particular mirror first, so rolling his eyes he brought out his glass cleaner squirt bottle, wood polisher, and a clean rag.
A now shiny and fresh Slytherin mirror stood before Filch, You missed a spot.
Ignoring the commands, he lifted the mirror in both hands and held it to his chest, the same way he had carried it up the stairs. However, he was far too tired to carry it all the way back down to the dungeons, so he would stick it out in the corridor in the meantime. Much to a disgruntled mirror's protests, Filch leaned it against the wall—glass side facing the wall so it couldn't see anything.
The Hufflepuff boys' bathroom mirror was on top so it would be next. Once again, armed with a cleaning rag and glass cleaner spray bottle, Filch approached the dirt encrusted magical mirror.
No! the mirror cried out as it saw Filch coming to it with the glass cleaner. Don't use the regular stuff on me! Use the good stuff! I want rid of these disgusting memories.
How could he have forgotten…The bathroom mirrors and certain others used a special cleaning solution that actually cleaned away their memories along with the usual dirt.
Please hurry, I need cleaned, the Hufflepuff mirror begged as Filch took his sweet time locating the correct magical solution.
It can't be that bad, said the Ravenclaw house mirror.
The Gryffindor boys' bathroom mirror piped up, Can't be any worse than what I've seen.
How would you know? the Hufflepuff mirror replied. That Justin Finch-Fletchley is one sick puppy. You don't want to know what I see every day.
Ew! the Hufflepuff girls' bathroom mirror cried out. You know Mandy Ackerly actually has a crush on that boy?! She told me nearly every single day! That girl needs to get some friends.
Justin still has two years to go yet, the Hufflepuff mirror said in a rather sad voice. I don't know if I can stand another two years of that boy. Argus Filch, where have you gone? I need—WHOO! The mirror was interrupted by the onset of uncontrollable laughter as Filch began rubbing the magical erasing solution into the mirror's reflective glass, tickling it and making it giggle hysterically. Where am I? the mirror asked when Filch had finished wiping. How did I get here?
Filch carried out the Hufflepuff mirror and leaned it up against the Slytherin mirror. It continued like that for hours. One by one, the collection in the corridor outside the classroom grew, yet it had barely made a dent in what was still in the room. Twice Mrs. Norris, Filch's beloved tabby cat, came to visit him but was always quick to leave as all the mirrors in the room began to sneeze. Apparently, magical mirrors were allergic to cats.
After a full day of cleaning, a tired and worn Filch (and his very sore arm), decided to throw in the towel for the night, and now alone in a darkened classroom, the mirrors began to snore as well. It had never made sense to Filch exactly why mirrors sleep, but it seemed to him they simply mimicked what the human world did at nighttime.
The night went on almost peacefully until sometime very early in the morning the mirrors had an unexpected guest. Moaning Myrtle, a teen-aged ghost who haunted the second floor girls' bathroom, had become curious as to the all of the activity taking place upstairs and had come to pay a visit to the mirrors. However, she became slightly upset when the mirrors couldn't see her, being that ghosts have no reflection. The Hufflepuff house mirror had even made the mistake of commenting that it couldn't see anybody, once again proving to Myrtle that she was invisible and insignificant and she broke out into a fit of tears, moaning and wailing as she flew through the wall.
Three full days of cleaning mirrors, enduring their comments, and listening to their self-indulgent conversations brought Filch nearly to his task's end. Two hundred and forty six mirrors stood stacked against each other and lined the corridor outside the small classroom where they waited with annoyance to be returned to their rightful places on the walls. Filch almost did a little jig when he saw that there was, finally, only one dirty mirror still left in the small classroom. This one was the smallest of all the magic mirrors: Professor Dumbledore's own private chambers mirror.
Unlike the others, this particular mirror was always very patient and quiet, almost as if it were studying its cleaner with a strange insight to Filch's inner self. It was a bit unnerving to have a talking mirror be that quiet but Filch cleaned it just like any other mirror; regular glass cleaner and wood polisher. Just as Filch was about to take the smaller mirror in his hand to carry it out, the mirror finally spoke.
Why do you do this, Argus? it asked in an old, creaky sounding mirror voice.
Filch looked down into his mirror's reflection, "Do what?" he asked suspiciously.
Why do you take us down every year in order to clean us?
Filch was a bit confused by the question. Many, many years he had been cleaning these mirrors in the same fashion and never has this mirror ever asked him such a question. "I have to," he awkwardly answered it. It felt very strange to be talking back to a mirror. Usually he just ignored their questions.
Why don't you leave us hanging and clean us there? It would be much easier on you.
Filch rolled his eyes. This was definitely Dumbledore's mirror, practical.
The End.
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A/N: Reviews make me happy. Please help me to be happy :) Well, I will be happy anyway...but your review would just make my day.