"Look carefully, children." Professor Wellsek rasped in his scratchy voice. He stood, cloaked in his usual brown, at the back corner of the darkened room. "Look carefully, carefully, and tell me what you see."
I looked. So did everyone else, huddled together and watching Lilian Fowler stare at herself in a tall, claw-footed mirror. We stared and pondered, and stared harder, trying to look like we knew what we were supposed to be doing. But honestly, I had no idea what I was supposed to be seeing, and judging by the expressions on the faces of my classmates they didn't either.
The only person in the room, other than Professor Wellsek, who didn't have a confused look on inquiry on their face was Lilian Fowler. I noticed it first, then Sam Thompson and Elizabeth Watkins, and suddenly the whole class was buzzing in whispers. Lilian's face: that was our only clue that something was not as it seemed. Despite the embarrassment of having to look into a mirror for long periods of time in front of everyone, Lilian wasn't pink and embarrassed as she had looked when Professor Wellsek had first called on her. There was an unmistakable expression of joy on her face: like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. I looked: we all looked. But there was nothing to see other than her own reflection.
"Who's guessed it?" Professor Wellsek rasped. "Olivier? Brown? What about you, Kelley?" Martin Olivier, Natalie Brown, and Brandon Kelley all shook their heads, bewildered.
"What are we supposed to be seeing, professor?" Forrest Carson asked tentatively. "Or, are we?"
"Yes, you're supposed to be seeing something, that's for sure." It always seemed weird when a man with such a scratchy voice and wild gray hair smiled so kindly – it didn't seem to suit him. But he smiled a lot, Professor Wellsek, and it was always a smile of immense pride or adoring kindness. There was a rumor that Wellsek was the first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to have lasted at the school for more than one school year in nearly eight! A new teacher every year for eight years...and something so strange and wrong about each of them! If the myth was true, anyway.
Thank gosh we got Wellsek, anyway, I thought, and listened to him continuing.
"You are supposed to be seeing something, dear children." He smiled again. "However, like myself, I almost guarantee you cannot see what you are looking for; cannot see what Lilian is seeing." We shook our heads as one, a body.
"Miss Fowler?" Wellsek tapped Lilian's shoulder as he strode past her, breaking her from her reverie. "If you do not mind, if it is not too personal, can you tell the class what you have just seen?"
Lilian gave a look back to the mirror, looking very much like she didn't want to stop gazing into it. Tears surfaced in her eyes.
"You don't have to." Wellsek cautioned.
"No, no...it's all right." Lilian wiped at her eyes a bit and faced us, looking sad and a tad embarrassed. "This is so strange...I..." we waited.
"When I was six or so, my baby brother died...he'd had pneumonia and he hadn't had any inoculations or anything...they keep you from getting sick." she explained to the kids from wizarding families. "He was just too young to take it." She sniffed. "But I...I saw him in the mirror!" She paused, uncertain with herself. "At least, I think it was him. I'm sure it was him! He was eight years old in there...as old as he would be now, I guess." She sighed, frustrated. "Did I do it wrong?"
"You did it exactly right, Miss Fowler." Wellsek smiled. "Class, what you have just seen is the phenomenon of the Mirror of Erised." He paused, waiting for us to copy the name down. We stood as a class with our quills poised over our parchment, ready to take notes.
"A highly unusual magical object, this mirror has been in the possession of the school for quite a few years, usually locked away in one storage room or another. Quite a few years ago it played a role in protecting an object of extraordinary magical power, right here in this very school."
We all nodded, familiar with the events of the past decade or so. I was trying to remember what the magical object had been, in case it was on the test, when the purpose of the mirror was exposed.
"While not exactly a dark object with any sort of dark powers, this mirror has been and, indeed, is capable of driving men insane. Has anyone figured out what it does?"
Unsure, nobody spoke to avoid the humiliation of being wrong. Wellsek sighed with frustration and continued filling in the gaps for us, as he often had to do. He'd said more than once we were the quietest group of students he'd encountered yet, even for fourth-years.
"This mirror has an age-old spell on it, which even today few fullyunderstand. The late professor Dumbledore was one of them. This spell is such that, when the viewer gazes into the mirror, it shows them something other than their own reflection.
"What is shows them, more or less, is the deepest and most desperate desire in a person's heart and soul. If you long for it more than anything else, it will show up in the mirror."
Lilian went pink again as Wellsek continued to tell us about the history of, uses for and the spell upon the mirror. He told of how men had wasted away before it, driven mad by visions they didn't know were even possible to come true. He explained how a perfectly happy individual could use it as a normal mirror, because he lacked for nothing. No one was listening.
After dropping a bombshell like that and letting only one student in the class try it, nobody could keep still. The desire to look, just to see, was so intense you could feel its energy vibrating around the classroom. The buzzing of whispers became so disruptive after a while that finally Professor Wellsek had to relent.
"Okay," he said, rubbing his forehead in frustration with our lack of scholarly attributes. "If I donate the remaining fifteen minutes of class so you all can take a look, will that pacify you? We'll be working all tomorrow, of course." Trying to be gruff, as if he could be.
The din was deafening, laughter and excited screeching prevailed as we pushed and shoved each other to be the first in line. Like kindergarten children we poked and prodded, telling the others to hurry up.
It was hard to separate people from it. So enraptured by what they were seeing, they had to have fingers snapped in their faces to wake them from their daydreams. One or two boys had to be physically dragged away by Professor Wellsek, who muttered about the stupidity of letting fourteen-year-olds play around with such powerful magical objects.
I was near the end of the line and anxious for my turn. Time ticked swiftly by on the clock on the wall and people were taking forever with their turns at the mirror. Stupid hogs, I thought.
A girl ahead of me was talking excitedly with her friend about what she was almost sure she would see.
"I'm gonna see me as minister, I know it!" she giggled excitedly. "It's been my ambition ever since I was four!"
"Well, I bet I see my little bunny at home..." the other girl smiled fondly. "She's just the biggest sweetheart."
Kids who had already gone were talking excitedly about the things they'd seen: winning professional Quidditch games and talking with long-dead relatives and succeeding beyond imagination at things they really liked. One of the boys who had been dragged away was talking loudly, in a shocked voice, of the vision he'd had of his younger twin sisters dancing around his reflection and playing with flowers or something...I'd expected something different from him, who was a tad on the athletic tough-guy side. I bet he way lying. The other boy who'd been dragged away was just sitting and staring into space, and refused to tell anyone what he'd seen.
I was mostly excited to look in the mirror because I actually had no idea what the deepest, most desperate desire of my heart was. I got good grades and had no extreme ambition that I knew would show up: all my relatives were alive and well and I didn't miss my pet: she was asleep in a gray and black ball on my bed upstairs in my dormitory. I was curious as to what it would be. Maybe I would see nothing at all, other than my own reflection? How cool would that be: the only person in the whole class who wanted for nothing! I did wonder.
The bell rang when there were only five students to go: three people in front of me, myself, and one boy behind me. The five of us groaned in agony and disappointment as the rest of the class gathered their things and filed out of the room, talking loudly about all the things they'd seen.
"You five can come in at lunch Tuesday if you really want to." Professor Wellsek glanced at his pocket schedule, anxiously. "I have to head back to our real classroom now: I have the Gryffindor seventh-years to teach. You lot head off now, we don't need anyone wasting away here without supervision."
We parted ways outside the room, noticing with disdain that Professor Wellsek locked the door before heading back to his own classroom, rather in a hurry.
I wandered the corridors and found my way to my next class, Transfiguration, thinking only about that mirror. This wasn't fair! I wanted to see it – it wasn't fair that nearly everyone else had got to and I hadn't. It just wasn't. Now I'd have to live in suspicion until lunchtime Tuesday to see, and then I'd miss lunch besides. It was so frustrating!
Imagine my glee then when, heading back to Hufflepuff tower after supper that night, I happened to pass the empty classroom we had studied the mirror of Erised in. Okay, so I didn't just wander by – I purposefully passed it hoping some teacher would be near. I could claim I'd forgotten my book inside and they could let me in: it didn't matter though because I could see even from a distance that the heavy wooden door was slightly ajar.
Oh my gosh! I thought excitedly, my heart flying to my throat. I can look! I can look right now, without anyone else watching, and stay and look as long as I like! Oh my gosh!
Cautiously, because the door had been locked for a reason after all and I didn't want to get into trouble, I tiptoed towards it, keeping an ear on the hundreds of voices droning from the adjoining corridor. Peeking my head into the room, and seeing no one, I slipped in and shut it behind me.
The mirror was still there, tall and claw-footed with that Latin inscription at the top. It glimmered slightly in the early moonlight, and the back of it shone with the last few rays of the setting sun bouncing through the window and onto the mirror. It looked bright and glowing and almost holy, and I stared at it in awe of its beauty. Then I got down to business.
Carefully, and still really hoping that a teacher wouldn't come along and lock the door, I stepped in front of it, just as the others had done. It took a moment. There was my reflection all right, skinny and pale as usual, looking even paler in my dark black Hogwarts robes. Reddish hair hung limply and blue eyes stared brightly, anxious-looking and waiting for something to happen.
And suddenly that reflection wasn't there anymore. The change was so gradual I didn't even notice it until there it was: it was still me, but older. I was taller and fuller, with a larger chest and longer hair. It was soft and red like a shampoo commercial, and my eyes were still there and the same. It was very weird to look down at my body and see one thing, but look into the mirror and see myself as a few years older: perhaps seventeen or eighteen. And beautiful: I was beautiful.
My reflection smiled at me, showing a clean white smile with a braceless mouth. I ran my tongue over my real teeth, and there the braces still were. Uncanny.
And suddenly, there he was. He appeared just as suddenly and unnoticably as my eighteen-year-old self had: one minute he was not there, the next minute he was.
Hy heart fell to my feet with disappointment. All that mystery, all that intrigue...just to see myself with a boyfriend? I didn't long for a boyfriend! I didn't wish I had a boyfriend and wasn't jealous of the girls who did. Most boys in my year were rather immature, actually. I was ashamed of my subconscious for apparently wanting this so badly.
I'd begun to turn, to go, but something caught my eye. I turned back, and looked again, carefully.
The boy in the mirror smiled out at me, with a smile the likes of which I had never seen before. I stared at him curiously as he slipped his arms around my reflection and lovingly kissed her cheek. She laughed. He stroked her hair and kissed her face, danced with her slowly and never took his eyes off her face, except to stare into my eyes. And always with that same startling expression: an expression of absolute, undeniable, never ending, unbreakable love. It scared me a little, to see someone who clearly loved me so much.
I began to look at him. His face was round and soft-looking, with only the tiniest bit of stubble protruding form his chin as though he'd forgotten to shave, or it had simply grown back since doing so. His eyes were bright green and the kindest eyes I'd ever seen in my entire life. They were so kind, they made me sad, and I wanted to reach into the mirror and pull him out so I could look at those eyes a little closer. I didn't realize how close I'd gotten to the mirror until my nose bumped the glass. My reflection's nose bumped the glass too, and the boy laughed at her for being so silly. As I pulled back, so did she, and he turned her towards him and kissed her nose better. As if it could have been hurt.
He wore muggle clothing, jeans and a t-shirt, and his bare arms wrapped around my reflection like they belonged there. Neither fat nor muscular, they were covered in fine black hair from the wrist to the elbow, and got patchy on the upper arm. He was taller than my reflection, just by a little, maybe half a head. His nose was large and his ears were small, and hidden behind a mass of dark black curls that came to his shoulders. His lips were pink and soft-looking, and suddenly I wanted more than anything in the world to feel them pressed against mine.
I'd sat down. I hadn't realized it, but I had, and was now sitting on the floor gazing up at him. My reflection was sitting too, and he sat down and pulled her into his lap. It nearly broke my heart that she could touch him and I could not, even though I knew that she was me. I reached out for his down-covered wrist and was met with the harsh shock of cold glass, and my mood slid even further. I would never get to touch this boy, never ever. I'd never seen anyone who looked like this at school, and if he was a muggle I would never find him. The world was immense. He might just be a figment of the mirror: he might not exist at all.
I ached for him as a tiny tear slid down my face, and down the face of my older reflection. He brushed it off her cheek and put it in his mouth, enjoying the salt taste. I liked to do that with my tears, too.
I have no idea how long I sat there, pining away and wishing he were with me. All I know is that sooner or later, when the sun had gone down ages ago and it was now properly nighttime, a hand gently touched my shoulder. As gentle as he'd so clearly tried touch me, I jumped a mile and tore my eyes away from this boy who loved me, watching his hurt expression as I turned away from him.
"So." Professor Wellsek rasped. "You got in."
I nodded, blinking back the tears that had been threatening to fall. I glanced behind me at the boy with the long black curls, who was quickly fading from view. The grizzled looks of my teacher were a real shock after that angelic face.
"Is he...Could he..."
"Whatever you saw may or may not be real." Professor Wellsek gently explained. "I strongly advise you to not dwell on it: the mind can make up many a strange thing with the assistance of magic."
"He..." I didn't know what to say. "He was so lovely." I finished lamely. I'd be embarrassed about that in the morning.
"I am not going to allow you to come back on Tuesday." My teacher said this kindly, yet I knew he meant it. "You've already been allowed to stare for far too long, and we cannot allow you to fall completely under the spell of this mirror. I urge you to forget what you've seen: I cannot abide the destruction of such a fine young mind."
"Yes, Professor." I whispered.
It was only later, when I was in bed with my cat in Hufflepuff tower, that I again allowed his face to swim into view. Those green eyes and soft lips floated above me as I dozed, thinking about him and what I'd seen.
Before I'd looked in that mirror I'd had no desire at all for a boyfriend. Even when I'd first seen him, I hadn't wanted him. Now, he was all I could think about, and I tried to remember everything about him I possibly could. I thought and thought, and finally came to a conclusion.
My reflection had been seventeen or eighteen. That was when, if he existed, I would meet him.
I knew he existed deep in my heart, more strongly than I'd ever known anything before. Somehow I knew without being told that his this was my soul mate: I had seen a glimpse of the man I would one day marry. If I couldn't meet him until I was eighteen, well...
I'd just have to be patient. That was all.
"I'll look for you!" I whispered quietly into the darkness, hoping no one could hear me. I waited a minute, as though hoping he'd answer me back. "Will you look for me?"