A/N: Something I cooked up when I was supposed to be doing math homework *looks guilty*. I hope this makes up for it...

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own J.K. Rowling or any of her fantastic creations like Snape, Voldemort, Lily Potter, etc. I don't earn money from writing fanfiction. I wish I did - when my counselor asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up, I could say "fanfic writer"!

Well, yeah. Enough of my rambling. Just enjoy...

Mirror Mirror

Harry crept into the nearest doorway as he heard Filch and Snape forge an unexpected alliance, and not for the first time felt grateful that he was - by all rights and purposes - invisible. When the door was securely closed behind him, he allowed himself to breathe again, then immediately surveyed his surroundings.

By some luck of the gods above (if they even existed), he had not entered the third floor room that was forbidden and out of bounds to students. This room was mainly empty and dust infested. But there was an object in the corner that first caught Harry's eyes - a tall, gold-rimmed mirror that had strange words inscribed upon it:

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

Harry shook his head in confusion. He knew he had glasses, but that didn't mean he was dyslexic. Breathing in deeply, he moved in front of the mirror, expecting to see himself - albeit slightly disheveled after the close call in the Library.

But it was not his untidy mop of black hair, his thin, bony body, his trademark knobbly knees, and his bright emerald eyes that stared back at him. For a moment, Harry was startled, and then blinked again. The boy in front of him, inside the mirror, looked very like him except for a few key differences. Instead of a wild, untamed head of hair, Harry noted that the boy had smooth waves and curls that made him look like one of the models in Aunt Petunia's gossip magazines. His eyes were a vibrant crimson red, and his high, sharp cheekbones were a stark contrast to Harry's more delicate features that were softened by remaining baby fat.

Slowly, the Boy-Who-Lived derived the only possible conclusion - this was no ordinary mirror. Frowning, he stared back at the reflection and started. The reflection-boy was crooking his index finger, slowly beckoning him. "Don't talk to strangers, you little freak, you'll contaminate them." was the first lesson Uncle Vernon had taught Harry with the aid of his belt, so Harry reluctantly grumbled with dry sarcasm, "Sorry, I can't come over to you. Uncle Vernon says I'm a freak and I'll probably hurt you, too. Just like how I broke the right arm of dear Duddykins even though he was about fifteen feet away from me."

Then, Harry sat down and simply stared at the reflection again. The reflection seemed to have given up on getting Harry to come nearer, and so plopped down on the ground and assumed the Lotus position. Moments later, he seemed dead to the world, but Harry still didn't move to get up, though his old watch (a cast-off from Dudley) glowed with the electronic numerals "3:30". There was something peaceful and calming to watching reflection-boy meditate. In fact, Harry was so absorbed in thought that he paid no heed to the door creaking ever-so-slightly open and the distinct shimmer of a Disillusionment charm glint against the back wall.

"How are you, Harry, my boy?" a kind, grandfatherly voice intruded. Harry jumped up immediately, both surprised and embarrassed at being caught.

"He-he-llo, Headma-a-a-ster Dumbledore. I'm, um, ... fine," Harry stuttered. At this rate, he thought snidely, having regained his wits again, he might as well impersonate Quirrel and take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for the rest of the year. Quirrel stumbled over his words and was incredibly stupid in Harry's opinion - even a first-year could teach better than that. Though Harry was sure that with this stuttering episode, he may as well give even Quirrel a run for his money.

"So I see you have discovered the Mirror of the Erised," Dumbledore continued, his serene expression indicating that he had either missed the guilty look on Harry's face, or that he had tactfully chosen to overlook it.

"Is that what it's called?" Harry asked, curious. "Anyways, what do those strange words say?" he questioned, gesturing widely at the inscription on the top. "Are they even in English?"

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," Dumbledore smiled wistfully as he stared into the mirror, and Harry was tempted to ask what he saw himself in there. "Can you tell me what that means, Harry?" he said suddenly, focusing on his young companion again.

"It shows what you want...whatever you want the most in the world?" Harry said, unsure if his answer was satisfactory.

"Close enough," Dumbledore replied, clasping his hands loosely behind the back of his garish colored robes. "The Mirror of the Erised is a unique mirror - one of its kind. It had a twin once, long ago. The Mirror of Noisluper showed those who looked into it what they hated most - their dislikes, bad memories, even fears - and couldn't seem to get rid of. On the other hand..."

"...the Mirror of the Erised shows something you want desperately but can never have," Harry finished excitedly. "But what happened to the Mirror of Noisluper?"

"It disappeared several centuries ago, as I'm sure you have heard in a History of Magic," Dumbledore smiled benignly, eyes twinkling merrily behind his glasses.

"But Binns teaches History of Magic," Harry near-whined. "No one pays attention in his class. I've seen even Hermione fall asleep there."

"Ah, Miss Granger. A very intelligent young woman. But have you ever thought, Harry," Dumbledore paused maddeningly, "that Professor Binns perhaps waits until you all succumb to slumber before speaking about the most interesting facets of Magical History, the things that truly matter?"

Harry merely stared back disbelievingly before asking, "What do you see in the mirror? Do you see a boy?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Harry, each person has different wants and desires; thus, each person's vision must be different. Do you see yourself?"

"Look, see, I mean the boy right there," Harry's brows knitted together in thought before he turned reflexively towards the mirror. Deep red eyes sparkled at him and grew into a fire that got bigger and bigger until it surrounded Harry. The heat burned him and blistered him and the inferno was threatening to overwhelm his huddled body...

Then there was only the welcome darkness of oblivion.

A/N: Sorry to leave you hanging, but hope you liked it! Constructive criticism and comments are welcome! Thanks for reading. Please review!

~Dreams of Disaster