The Color of One's Eyes
The screaming from inside had stopped a few minutes previous, but there was nothing he could do. He had to wait, and he hated it. He heard talking through the door, and a sense of dread filled him. The door opened.
Anxiety.
Dashing auburn met baby blue.
"It's a boy, Mr. Potter." Doctor Banks affirmed, with a light smile that seemed very pleasant on his features. The Doctor had been an employee of St. Mungos for nearly twelve years, and had since worked in four separate departments.
He'd seen fathers snarl, he'd seen mothers look in disgust upon newly born, hell, he'd even seen a godfather strangle a tiny girl that had just emerged from her mother's womb.
He'd seen horrors, and he'd seen joy. He'd seen pain, and death.
But, never before, had he seen tears.
Tears, and laughter.
--
The sky was crying outside… or, at least, that's what her mother'd called it. Her father'd not cared. Half th'time, she, she had t'sleep in the cold, cold tears…
There had been a hole in the roof right over her bed back home, right where she slept. When she tried to move the cot, she'd been rewarded by a snarl, and a harsh smack across the cheek. She hadn't tried to move it again.
That had been when she was nine.
Dark, murky forest green eyes shuddered as a soft moan left her lips. No, no… this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed t'be here, with the bright lights, and th'people she'd not know. It was supposed to be with him. But he'd left.
And here she was, with horrid, horrible, painful contractions. She was birthing their baby without him…
But it would be fine, she knew, she knew it'd be fine. The lady said so, and it registered in some part of her broken mind, the words, they did…
It would be fine, because she knew that he would find his son, her son, their son…. How could he not, when she told the ugly, horrid, muggle lady the name of their son?
Tom after his father,
Marvolo after her father,
Riddle.
Tom would meet his father, she could feel it. And she'd meet him, again, in the afterlife…
The bright lights slowly dimmed, as did her gaze, that dark, murky forest green.
Three days later in the morgue, a thumb lightly closed the dead woman's eyes.
--
He was growing up so fast.
Auburn met emerald as James swept his wife into a kiss, simply ignoring the fact that his son was pouting up at them from his crib, the morning sunlight shining through the window. His wife, his Lily, had made the most perfect boy in the entire world.
She had made his life worthwhile.
"Da! Da!"
No matter the prophecy, no matter that they were in hiding. He could simply forget it all, with one glance into the brilliant emerald of his wife's eyes, or the innocent gaze of his son.
And his wife, his Lily, was pregnant. She'd told him just this morning, this October the thirtieth.
"Ma!" Harry whined, trying to get their attention. They weren't looking at him, and he wanted something!
The boy grinned as his parents separated.
"I'm so glad he has your eyes, love. My gems, both of you. My green, beautiful gems…"
"Ma?"
"Oh, James, do shoo off!" Lily said, flustered. "You'll be late for work!"
"Ah, shit! Look at the time!" He was already late!
"Shi, shi, shi, shi!"
"James Potter!"
"Oh, Lily, I didn't mean it!" He cried from outside the room as he dashed to get his robe.
"Shi, shi, shi, shi--"
"James!"
She could hear him starting the fire downstairs, and the pregnant woman rolled her eyes. Oh, her husband, sometimes!
"I'll be back later, love! Sorry!"
"--shi, shi, shi, shi!"
"Harry, love, do shush!" She cried, exasperated. She bent over to bat ebony strands away from his eyes. "What do you want, love? Are you hungry?"
"Nuh, Ma, mi-- mi-- mi… wuh. Miwuh! Miwuh!"
Mi…wuh? What was that, the witch wondered? Was it--ah. The mirror she used when applying glamours to cover blemishes. She smiled warmly at the boy, scooping him into her arms. When they got to her bathroom, she held him up, so that he could see his own reflection.
"Do you see yourself, Harry? Do you see your eyes, my eyes?"
The little boy, blissfully, shook his head. He always liked looking in the mirror, looking at those muddy brown eyes on the other side. He picked up a hand to wave at the mirror.
The person on the other side waved back, and Harry grinned. Lily kissed his forehead as she shifted his weight, and started to make her way towards the kitchen.
Harry, pouting, apologized silently to the person on the other side.
The mirror-boy, with a bruise on his face, cast a forlorn gaze at the departing emerald-eyed boy. Muddy brown teared up, as he turned away from the cracked, hand-mirror that the orphan matron had handed him.
"Now go back to your room, you wretch! And take your horrid eyes with you! And for heaven's sake, Tom, stop crying!"
Tom looked up at her, sadly, as she took the hand-mirror from him, before shuffling away.
He loved looking in the mirror, and seeing those green eyes. The only problem… the only problem was that he never had use of a mirror. Tom was four, and ever since he could remember, he hadn't seen himself in a mirror.
He'd seen emerald eyes.
--
Harry was hiding in the bathroom. He knew that the longer it took him, the longer he had before he had to see his mean uncle. His mean uncle that had spanked him yesterday for playing with Duddley's toy robot.
He hadn't meant to, honest!
"It wasn't my fault." The small boy sniffed, as he sat on the edge of the sink-counter, looking into the mirror. "I, I didn't mean to make him mad…."
"I know you didn't, brother." Responded the muddy brown-eyed boy, with the light, soft black hair. "I believe you…"
"T-Tom?" Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to wipe away the blood that he'd been coughing up.
"Yeah, brother?"
"W-will you come f-find me?"
"Ofcourse I will."
"Th-thanks."
Harry forced a smile. He knew Tom wouldn't be able to come immediately, he knew it. But he knew he'd come. He winced as his aunt shrieked at him from downstairs. "B-bye!"
Muddy brown threatened to tear up as emerald dashed from the mirror, towards who-knows-what. Tom was seven, though. He was older than his brother, and he'd be strong for him. He wouldn't cry like some sissy girl!
The small boy nodded to himself, resolute, just as he was pushed, face first, to the ground. Wha--?
"Talking to yourself again, freak?" The teal-eyed girl asked him, glaring.
One of her friends kicked him in the side, and it hurt. Tom cringed.
She kicked his hand, sending the small handheld mirror that he'd snitched spiraling out of his grasp. He heard glass shatter.
No!!
They'd broken his mirror!
They… they would pay.
Tom snarled.
Oh, they would pay.
--
"Tom?" Emerald implored the mirror, and the nine-year-old on the other side cringed.
He couldn't stand the sight.
"T-T-Tom…"
"…what is it, brother?"
"Y-you look older…"
"I… I'm sorry, brother."
"S'okay."
"How long has it been for you since we last talked, little brother?"
"F-four days."
He sighed, a feeling of dread clenching in his stomach. Tom rarely, if ever, could find a mirror. Sometimes, when he did, it was at a store, and… he couldn't very well talk to brother with all the people around! The last time he'd talked to brother had… been… nine months ago!
"I'll try and snitch a mirror from the market, brother."
"Tom?"
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you call me by my name?"
"Because I don't know it, brother."
"Well, it's H--"
"No!"
"…what?"
"I don't want to know your name, brother! I don't need to know it. I'll know who you are just by looking at your eyes."
"Oh. Okay!"
"You… you make sure you eat something, brother."
"I will, Tom." Harry said to the mirror, smiling.
Later, he felt guilty for lying.
--
"Tom?" He asked the mirror in the bathroom, with sad eyes.
He received no answer. He could see Tom, unconcious, and he could see the room around Tom.
And he could see the scarring tissue on Tom's throat.
One of the other orphans had tried to kill his brother.
Harry cried himself to sleep that night.
He was only six.
--
"Brother!" Tom grinned, his demeanor earlier completely gone.
"W-what, Tom?"
"M-magic! You won't believe it, brother! Magic… it's real! I'm going to learn magic, and I'll become so powerful, and then I'll come and take you from there, and--"
"…T-Tom, I've got to go weed the lawn…"
"I… I'm sorry, brother, I got carried--"
"S'okay. Sorry, Tom…."
"I'll--I'll tell you more about it next time, okay?"
"Okay. Bye, Tom."
--
Harry had listened with awe at the stories, at all of these names, at the tales of Headmaster Dippet, Potion-Master Slughorn, Transfiguration proffessor Dumbledore, and much, much more.
"And the best thing, brother, is that there's a huge library here. I'll find a way, I will. I'll get the power to find you."
Harry grinned, happily. He could always count on the muddy brown eyes of the boy on the other side.
"Bloody awesome, mate! Tell me more about… about the houses. What's Slytherin like, and why is Gryffindor so horrid--"
"Slytherin's bloody amazing! I've only been here for three days, and--and, oh, brother, you won't believe it. This mirror--it's in the bathroom right next to the dormitory! I can talk to you every day!"
"Every day? Really?"
"Yeah, brother. Every day."
"You're the best, Tom."
"I try to be, for you."
--
"TOM, TOM!"
"What?" The fifth year asked, flustered. He was straightening his robes. "What is it, little brother?"
"TOM, TOM, you won't believe it!"
"What is it? Brother, I have to go to breakfast and classes soon--just tell me, already!"
"I got my letter, I got my letter, it was in the post, and I got it, and I knew they'd take it away so I stuffed it down my shirt, and then I went back to the kitchen, and acted like nothing happened, and--and, I got my letter!"
"…Oh!" Tom said, his heart reaching out for the happy, eleven year old boy. His brother. He'd be able to meet his brother soon, maybe. "Oh, brother…that's amazing."
