DISCLAIMER: I do not own HarryPotter by J.K. Rowling! Had the series been mine, it never would have made it through the rough draft stage! Let's be thankful that I indeed do NOT own Harry Potter!
Deepest Desire
"Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" Harry looked down at Albus hesitantly from where he stood.
"Obviously, you've just done so," Albus said with a teasing smile as he stood up. "You may ask me one more thing, however." He dusted off his sparkling, flowing robes with long fingers before leading Harry towards the door.
"What do you see when you look into the mirror?" Asked Harry, stopping just before the threshold.
"I?" Albus feigned a thoughtful look, pressing a finger to his chin as he stopped next to Harry. Internally however, a great sadness weighed his heart down. Making it ache with a pain from very long ago. What would he see, really? He hadn't made it a habit of looking into mirrors that revealed his deepest desires after all.
"I see myself holding a pair of thick woolen socks."
Harry stared at him in surprise.
It was not a lie, at least. He did enjoy a pair of good socks while treading the old cold stones of the castle late at night. But alas, he couldn't bring himself to share what he truly thought. It was rather personal, something even he didn't let himself indulge in.
"One can never have enough socks." Dumbledore continued, brightly. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair." Dumbledore sighed wistfully. "People will insist on giving me books." He smiled down at Harry with sparkling eyes. Harry stared back in wonder.
And he knew all too well that he had to act the part of the all-knowing grandfather-like figure to Harry. He wasn't allowed to show weakness to this eleven year old boy. Harry was much too young and vulnerable. He was a bright boy; he didn't want to see the light dim in those so green eyes too soon.
He bid a farewell to an invisibly cloaked Harry. He waited a long moment to be sure that Harry had not turned back. He closed the door quietly and then turned to face the mirror. He couldn't see into it from this angle, he was almost glad of that. However…
Curiosity had gotten the better of him.
He took a few steps toward the mirror, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He had successfully avoided looking into the mirror ever since it arrived to the castle. But now, he had to know. He would not be surprised if it was his own curiosity that would cause his death one day.
What do you see when you look into the mirror? Harry's question bounce around in his head, fueling the urge to look even more.
What would be his deepest, most desperate desire? Did he really want to know?
Yes. A small, faint whisper floated through his mind.
He took another step then he was facing the mirror properly but he didn't look into it just yet. He stared down at his feet, almost afraid to look up. His heart was a heavy ache in his chest, suppressed under the weight of memories long past… of regret.
He took a steadying breath. He was well over a hundred years old! He had faced down one of the most powerful Dark wizards in history. He could damned well face his fears and look at that mirror. He knew that what he would see wouldn't be real, a mere illusion of what he wanted.
But could he accept that it was nothing more than an illusion?
He forced himself to look up at the mirror.
He saw himself as he was now, but he wasn't alone.
He touched the cool glass tenderly, his eyes began to mist.
"Oh Ariana, how lovely you would have looked." He whispered to the glass. "And Abeforth, how I wish I was a better brother to you."
A silver haired woman stood to his right, smiling brightly at him, her hand resting gently on his arm. A man stood to the right of Ariana. He looked a great deal like Albus, but a tad younger and much more subdued in his wizarding attire.
Guilt speared his chest with a white hot pain.
He knew all too well how his dear sister never would have the chance to experience such a graceful aging. Oh how he missed her terribly… And Abeforth, Ablus took him for granted and now…
Now Abeforth lived alone with his animals and pub, quite possibly full of hatred for Albus and his body and mind ravaged from hard times. His sister died long before she could ever become such a lovely woman.
Albus felt he deserved their scorn. He was a terrible older brother to them.
A silvery tear escaped down his cheek.
To his reflection's left stood a tall man, his curls faded to a becoming grey. He rested a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder in the mirror, smiling cockily at the real Albus.
"Oh, Gellert, where did we go so wrong?"
Once upon a time Gellert was Albus' best friend in everything, and then they took very different paths. They became enemies on the battle field then.
Dumbledore could see the hands touching him but couldn't feel it. He wanted so badly to look behind himself, almost hoping that they would be there.
But he knew better. They were long gone from his life and he could never bring them back.
Another tear made its way down his cheek, then another and another.
He silently wept for his lost ones. His heart clenched tight in the sharp claws of his regret.
Perhaps it had been hours or just a few minutes, he didn't know. But finally he forced himself away from the mirror. Away from the madness that had destroyed hundreds before him. He wanted to stay and just stare into the cursed glass but he couldn't do that. He couldn't let himself fall to the darkness so easily.
With a quick swipe of his eyes with a handkerchief, Albus flicked his wand at the mirror without hesitation. Sending it where it needed to be, and away from himself.
He had to be strong, he could not fall victim to his deepest desires that could not possibly exist.
A/N: I have always wondered what Dumbledore would have seen in the Mirror of Erised… What did you think he might have seen?