Into the Looking Glass
Prompt: The Mirror of Erised has a twin, the Mirror of Riapsed. Unlike its counterpart, looking into the Mirror of Riapsed isn't at all encouraging, because it brings to the surface the looker's very worst fears.
A/N: Written for Week 2 of the Ollivander's Challenge by Simplypotterheads on Tumblr.
A/N2: rated Hard R for language, adult themes, and dystopia. This is not a story for 15 and under.
Disclaimer: No, I'm still not JK Rowling, and if I was, I wouldn't have treated Draco so harshly if he'd have not been so nosy. - DG
Cold air blew through the Great Hall, ruffling the cloaks and robes of the students at the tables. It was morning at breakfast, and time for the owl post to deliver mail for the students. From his seat at the table, furthest from the rest of the students, he watched the variety of owls deliver the morning post. A snicker from up the table announced the owl for that blood traitor Weasley. He watched in disdain the ancient owl crash into the table, breaking the pitcher of pumpkin juice and making a mess of the table.
"Hey Weasley, can't your family afford a new owl? They aren't that expensive!"
Ginny looked up. "Maybe if you turned a trick or ten on Knockturn Alley you could afford it yourself!"
She stared in defiance at Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode for their taunts then went back to the letter that she removed from the owl's leg. Spring term hadn't been kind to Weasley, but she was making an effort to keep her head down from the increasingly harsh punishments handed out to the students.
Draco schooled his features, trying to banish the memory of when he was forced to –
"Draco, isn't that your father's owl?"
He scanned the rafters and saw Bubo swooping down towards his seat. He was laden with a box and parchment attached to his leg. Unlike that decrepit and detestable owl that flew for Weasley, Bubo was a Eurasian Eagle owl and demanded his attention.
The owl dropped the parcel on the table and stuck his leg out for Draco to take the letter. He removed it then handed Bubo a banger from his plate. The owl took it with a hoot of appreciation and swooped back up into the rafters for the owlery.
Draco scanned the letter, written in his father's hasty written script. He gripped it harder when he read the request, which was nothing more than a politely worded summons, insisting he come home once the Easter holidays commenced.
Draco pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes and incinerated his note. As much as he would love to ignore his father right about now, he was obligated to obey his wishes. He didn't want further problems from his barmy aunt upon the rest of his family. She might be brilliant, and prodigious, but she would have no qualms turning her wand on her sister or brother in law if they didn't obey her completely. He already felt her wrath once and paid a heavy price for doing what she asked of him.
Draco stood up from the table while Pansy and Blaise looked upon him. Crabbe and Goyle never bothered any longer with him, not since the Carrows took them on as minions and protégé. He hated losing his friends, but it might be for the best. They were nothing more than just heavy hands and enforcers for the Carrows.
"See you in class," he said quietly. They nodded while he turned heel and walked out of the Great Hall.
"What about your package?" asked Blaise quietly.
Draco waved back behind him while walking away from the table.
Bugger. I don't want to go home. Place is a bloody tomb nowadays with those barmy bastards there.
Draco left the hall intending to make his early rounds. Rooms in the castle had to be secured during daylight hours, but he quickly was lost and mired in his thoughts about what he was to face once he arrived home to Wiltshire. Christmas was difficult to cope with. His barmy aunt was staying with them, along with the prat of a husband and his brother – along with that fiend called Voldemort. Easter would be no better, if not worse.
Home quit being home last summer right after Dumbledore died. He didn't realize the problem until the day before first term started. Everyone who was staying at the manor was dining in the Dining hall, feasting on leg of lamb, roasted hams, and various culinary delights. Father was drinking like one of those Weasley heathens, drinking wine directly from the bottle. He had only been home two weeks but he was not the man he was before he was sent to Azkaban. Having his wand broken by another was the final straw.
After dinner, Father would probably open a bottle of Firewhiskey and drink all of it in one sitting.
Mother was different. Mother picked at her plate, barely touching the asparagus almandine. She was too quiet at dinner, barely inquiring into his affairs, including the lack of acknowledgement in being Head Boy.
That honor was expected since Severus was named Headmaster two weeks prior, but he was rankled at dinner by the lack of feast thrown in his honor. He expected a trip into London with his Mother, a new wardrobe at the least, but certainly a stop at Cartier for a nice watch. Instead, he had to sit with these brutes watching them gorge themselves on fine cuisine acting like those blood traitor Weasley clan. In his years with his family dining at dinner did he ever realize that his father could be broken and his mother cowed.
A cackle from the other end of the room broke his thoughts. Carrow the cow was laughing at some stupid joke Dolohov told. Nasty bastard he is, thought Draco. Dolohov was similar in talent and mind as his Aunt and just as vicious. He had blood on his hands from his murder of the Prewitt brothers from 17 years prior. He had been 24 when he killed them in a duel. Draco didn't even want to consider that Dolohov had killed his own mother at the start of the last war when she was going to turn him in to the Aurors. It didn't stop them from capturing him anyway a month later.
Draco heard the rumors from Pansy who was his protégé for the most part. She might be intimate with Draco, but she took to Antonin as a mentor and favored uncle. He didn't want to cross him either. Draco learned that painful lesson the hard way with Dolohov during the Christmas Holiday.
The possibilities frightened him.
Draco looked up from his blind walking and found himself on the abandoned third floor hallway. How did I get all the way up here? It must have been one of the moving staircases with a wrong turn.
An open door at the end looked out of place. That door shouldn't be open at all. Snape is a stickler for doors being secured at all times. A prefect will be punished for this failing. It's not like I can take Pansy across my knee in the common room for this violation. It's probably one of those idiot Gryffindor prefects that slack in their duties. They can barely breathe without their mouths open much less perform their duties. They are good for nothing more than manual labor.
Draco strode the dusty and forgotten hallway The air smelled old, moldy, abandoned to time and rot. The cobwebs in the corner were ignored by the house elves who normally took their duties properly. Snape's rules held as strong as their obedience to their magic. An open door was a problem that would be addressed immediately and harshly.
He approached the door, looking for signs of life. No sounds were evident this far from the Great Hall or the other towers. He wanted to feel secure inside the walls, but he proved last year that the magic of Hogwarts wasn't entirely solid. There were weaknesses in the protection of the school if considered and exploited. He did last year and his world wasn't right since.
Draco stood before the open door absently scratching his left arm. It itched on occasion, but nothing remiss had occurred since Christmastime.
Draco opened the oaken door further, hearing the creek of the rusty hinges. Nothing looked remiss but he had to be sure before sealing the room and making his report. In the corner behind the door stood a floor length mirror, casually draped in worn brown canvas.
I know this mirror. Father mentioned it to me when I started school. He said this mirror would show me my deepest desire, even those I don't know yet. This mirror was the start of his own success, tapping into the ambition he desired above all else.
Draco stepped up to it and removed the canvas covering. He took one step back to appreciate the construction of the mirror. Across the top was gold leaf, along with ornate gold roses and enameled leaves on the sides. Down the body of the mirror were runes, etched into the gold itself. Gold plated feet secured the bottom in a heavy base. A normal adult couldn't move it since it appeared so laden in gold and silver. The mirror shined clear, with no tarnish at the sides or bottom that would show considerable age. He knew it was old, having heard the story from his grandfather one morning as a child. Maybe he could ask the Headmaster later if he knew the history behind this mirror.
He glanced at the inscription at the top of the mirror - Riapsed sinwo hssit ahwro fpeew llah suoy – before standing in front of it to see what his heart desired.
"Tell me what I want to know," he growled at the image in front of him.
Draco saw himself standing before the mirror, dressed in his black tailored suit, manicured fingernails, hair perfectly coifed. His cloak was of the finest velvet, collared in mink. In his hand was his wand. "I see myself mirror, dressed as I am. This is not what I desire to know. Isn't there more to this?"
The image flickered and Draco disappeared. In his stead stood Potter, dressed in rags and appeared beaten and haggard. Potter swayed under his bindings, blood seeping from his ears. The scrapes down his shirt showed more blood mixed with dirt. He looked like a mongrel about to be put down, and with good reason. Half-bloods who stood in the way of change deserved their fate if they stepped out of their place.
Behind him on the ground lay that Mudblood Granger, in her final repose, along with that daft blood traitor Weasley. Draco stood in front of them, his eyes glossy, pointing his wand at Potter. Unlike when he had Dumbledore at wand point, his hands didn't shake in this task. He gaze was blank, imperiused to do his master's bidding. He couldn't hear, but he saw the flash of green from his wand.
Potter fell over in soundless wave of finality.
"Show me more!"
The mirror image shifted and Draco stood in the Drawing room. Now it looked like a throne room, with one ornate chair at the end. He recognized the chair instantly. It was his grandfather's chair from the music room. He had it commissioned decades before Draco was born, in celebration of finalizing an import contract from the Continent. That one deal cemented his fortune for the Malfoy family for decades to come. Green velvet on the seat complimented the Malfoy crest carved into the back of the chair. He stared closer to the silver glass of the mirror and saw the Crest had changed, one of a Basilisk in Strike.
Draco blinked in surprise.
Voldemort sat down in the chair, directing a minion to bring the prisoners before him. Draco knew that lazy hand wave since he saw it at Christmastime. Most were Mudbloods caught resisting, or the occasional wizard helping shelter and protect a Muggle family. To the fiend in the mirror, it didn't matter either way. He saw the carnage firsthand, a final solution at the hands of the inner circle living in the manor at the time. Murder or Mercy, he didn't care. He was a trusted lieutenant, doing his bidding in effort to curry favor. It was just more magical cleansing on his weary soul, scouring away what little conscience he had left.
Draco recognized the wizard before the chair. He held his head high, defiant in the face of destruction. Hayden Parkinson was trussed like a pig, awaiting his fate. Voldemort deigned to talk with the Wizard, contempt and anger showing on his visage. His twin stood behind the condemned, wand at the ready. One nod, and Draco executed Pansy's father.
Draco felt the nausea rise in his throat. He liked Pansy's father well enough when he went to call upon their manor. He was polite, cordial, and charming in his own way. He had welcomed him as a son in law to be, and treated him well.
More prisoners were brought in, and more blood was shed. He watched himself perform more executions than he could fathom. A small child was crying, watching his father be killed in front of him. Draco the murderer didn't care; he was following orders. He watching himself cruciate the Mum before she went mad, screaming while blood trickled out of her ears. The child was screaming before Alecto took him away from his comatose mum.
When no one else was looking, he murdered her too. No emotion flickered on his mirror image's face when he performed the coup de grace.
Panic gripped him, wrapping tendrils of fear around his malleable spine. "Oh Merlin, please, not again!"
The mirror flickered, and the scene changed. More prisoners were brought in. They were thrown to the ground and Draco stood paralyzed. Cowering before him were the professors of Hogwarts, trussed like pigs before a slaughter. His countenance stood behind each one, waiting for an answer he would never hear the question to.
Snape was first, staring straight ahead. Draco never heard the question, or the answer, but watched in horror as his other half lifted his wand and performed the killing curse on his most influential professor.
His doppelganger never batted an eye at the execution of his mentor.
Draco screamed in horror. Snape had been rough with him but also looked after him almost like an Uncle who was concerned for his well-being. Severus molded him into the man he needed to be.
He watched through blurry eyes the execution of McGonagall who stared defiantly at Voldemort, spitting at him before her murder happened. She slumped over dead, falling upon the remains of Severus.
Next was Pomona Sprout, her hair a mess and covered in scrapes and bruises. She was like Minerva, staring defiance and worked to stand from her position. The monster before her tried to force her to cower, but she fought against her fate. Once standing, she turned, glaring murder at the Draco behind her then turned back to Voldemort before her.
Draco watched, and read, the lips of her executioner – Suit yourself – and murdered her as well.
Unbidden tears fell while he watched everyone he knew as professors and mentors at Hogwarts perish beneath his gaze. The only one left standing was Slughorn, whom Voldemort seemed to hold in high esteem. Slughorn cowered like the opportunist he was, conversing with the master of the manor. A flick of his wand and Voldemort released Slughorn from his bindings.
Slughorn reached the improvised dais and bent knee and head, rising quickly before turning. His eyes were glazed and haunted from what he was a witness to.
He took three steps before falling over dead. Horace didn't see Bellatrix on the other side of her Master raise her wand and utter the killing curse. She turned to Voldemort uttering her reason, one of which Draco would never hear. Voldemort shook off her reason like an irritating fly.
"No," Draco croaked. "Please, Merlin, no more!"
The image shifted and he was wearing his same attire as now, but it looked haggard, threadbare, soiled. Before him stood his parents, cowering on the ground in front of him. The scowl on his face was cruel, more corrupt than his actions from Christmas at home.
Behind his parents stood his mad Aunt, cackling like a hen, along with that bastard Dolohov pointing his wand at his mother. Voldemort stood behind him, whispering in the malevolent Draco's ear, seductive poison or coercion – at this point, it didn't matter. Draco saw the madness in his eyes.
The mirror Draco lifted his wand and pronounced the spell, and his father fell over dead.
Tears fell while he stood impotent watching the horror unfold before him. Draco screamed. "No, this is not what I desire! I don't hate my father enough to kill him."
Horror turned to terror when Dolohov shifted his wand to the mirror Draco, and cast a spell. His doppelganger's eyes went blank, the spell obvious. "No, please Merlin no!" he croaked while watching his mirror image turn to his mother. He couldn't see the reflection's face but understood what he saw. His mother cowered before him, watching the wand draw closer. She lifted her arms to shield her face before the flash of green hit her in the chest.
Narcissa Black Malfoy fell backward, broken in spirit and in body. Her lifeless eyes stared upward at the chandelier in the room, reflecting light that was stolen from her eyes.
The three monsters stepped up beside him framing him in front of the reflection. Scorn showed on Dolohov while Voldemort threw his head back and laughed. The doppelganger stood there with a look of triumph on his face, empty of comprehension of what just happened. Dolohov moved his wand again, and slow dawning comprehension creased Draco's face. He saw the bodies before his feet, emotion clouding his features.
Pride showed on his Aunt's face while he heard the echoes in his ears, sibilant words that tore his heart asunder. Well Done Draco. Her kiss upon his cheek was caustic and poison laden.
His knees buckled and he crumbled to the floor like a marble statue.
Draco turned his head and emptied his breakfast to the side.
"No more," he choked out while the mirror flickered one last time. "By all Magic I hold dear, no more!"
The image before him flickered one more time. Like fiendfyre before him, he watched in terror, unable to pull his eyes away from the monstrosity before him. Through swollen slits of his eyes he saw the wretch before him.
He was shadowed by his Aunt and Dolohov, bound in ropes and covered in blood. He knew from the emotion on the coward's face before him that he was finished being useful to the monster in the mirror. Contempt radiated in his features and his stance looking down upon Draco Malfoy, the condemned.
Draco couldn't hear what was being said, or anything else going on. All he saw was the platinum blonde hair before him, and a personage stepping forward from the fiend's shadow. Draco continued to kneel, resigned to his fate, not bothering to look up once at her when she stepped forward into the light.
He realized everything he held dear in his mirror life was gone while watching the events unfold before his very eyes.
His girlfriend, his lover, his betrothed, stepped forward with her wand focused on him. She looked at her mentors, receiving nods of approval for what she was about to do. They asked of her what he failed to achieve.
Bellatrix and Dolohov stepped back from Pansy who knelt down and pointed her wand to Draco's head. Pansy shifted her wand and killed Bellatrix, covering Draco in gore.
He didn't flinch.
Pansy stepped back from him, cleaning herself first before kneeling back down to him. She cleared his face with a gentle cleansing charm, banishing the remnants of the last of his family from his appearance. She placed one well-manicured fingernail under his chin and lifted his face to hers. Her eyes showed a mania similar to the witch she just consigned to death.
"Well done Draco," she whispered in his ear before laying a red lipstick kiss on his cheek. He flinched from her verbal caress. "It's nothing personal, lover, just business."
One last look from Dolohov, and she performed her curse. Draco Malfoy's mirror image fell over dead, an ignoble death for the last of the Malfoy line.
Voldemort stepped up to his adherent and celebrated his new monster's success.
Draco fainted.
"Wake up!"
Draco opened his eyes and saw dark brown ones looking down at him.
"How did you find this room and this artifact?"
Draco sat up and a new wave of nausea hit him. He turned and retched what little was left in his stomach. The pain in his torso was nothing like the screaming he still heard in his mind.
Headmaster Snape banished the sick that was spilled on the ground, pulling his Head Boy up to standing. Malfoy stood swaying on his feet from his earlier experiences.
"I asked you a question," he quietly sneered.
"I took a walk and came upon this hallway. The door was open and I was investigating. I know your standing rule about open doors in the school, so I came to close it and saw the mirror."
Loathing contempt dripped from his baritone voice. "Did you think this was the Mirror of Erised, the famed one that gives sight to deep desires? Did you listen to the rubbish that your father and father before him told you about? Did you bother to read the inscription before stepping into the bounds of this malevolent magic before you?"
Draco shook his head in shame. "No Headmaster. I was foolish and curious like a stupid child rather than proceeding with caution."
Draco looked up and received a slap across his jaw for his behavior. "You're lucky to be alive, you ignorant boy. Better men have perished watching the possibility of a future unfold before their very eyes. Stronger men have gone mad, had their brains boil inside their heads because they couldn't fathom that what they were watching was not their deepest desire, but their despair."
Draco groaned from his sore jaw and rampaging thoughts.
"Lesser men have tossed themselves off the Astronomy tower for what they witnessed in the mirror." Snape looked down upon his pupil. "Look at me."
Draco looked up, expecting the wand to his mind and not caring that he was about to have this thoughts invaded. He welcomed the company in his waking nightmare. He heard the whisper across his mind, and watched Snape reveal what he witnessed this morning.
As soon as it started, it ended. The headmaster stepped back, stowing his wand in his robes. No emotion showed upon his face.
"Go to the hospital wing, and ask the Medi-witch to sedate you. Inform her I shall be along shortly to explain and help her find a solution for you."
"Yes Headmaster," whispered Draco.
He turned for the door and ran down the hallway, leaving Severus in the room to consider what he just witnessed.
"Draco, come here."*
Draco rose from his chair in the corner and walked towards the first prisoner. He blanched, realizing that he was in deep trouble. He knew Granger and Weasley tied together, but if this was Potter, than his worst nightmares were being realized before his eyes.
"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf. *
The prisoner before him refused to look him in the eye, but he couldn't be sure. This prisoner was a waif of a man, long black hair and dark shadows on his jaw. He looked nothing like the boy he went to school with.
"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?" *
"I can't – I can't be sure," said Draco. * That was the truth. He wasn't sure.
"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!" *
Draco tried to back away, but his father shoved him closer.
"Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv – "
"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly. *
Draco stood before the prisoner, stinking of fear. His actions and choices could save them, or doom them all. The memories that they tried to wipe his mind of last week failed, and his abject horror still resonated in his soul. He knew this was the crux of his life. The choice he made today would break him or save him.
"… Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?" *
"I don't know," he said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where he mother stood watching. *
He reclined against the mantle, feeling ice cold against the blaze in the fireplace. His soul shook in terror for being honest for the first time to his parents. He knew he thwarted his father's plans, but he honestly didn't know that it was Potter.
He hoped that his moral cowardice was enough to save them all. He hoped that it was enough to change the nightmares that haunted his thoughts constantly for the past eight days. He hoped he had the courage – stupid Gryffindor courage – to face what was going to come in the coming days and weeks and possible years.
Fin
A/N3: All bolded/italicized quotes* are from HP and the Deathly Hollows, American Edition, pages 457-459 in the hardback edition.