The Mirror of Noitalever
Chapter One
Hermione Granger
"Okay, Hermione, so you know everything," Ron said. "Quit rubbing it in, will you? And let me finish this essay!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her Potions homework. Yes, she thought. That's right, Ron. I know everything. That's all I'm good for, she thought bitterly.
For once, she thought. For once I'd like someone to look past all the studying and the reading and on and on and get to know the real me! So I like to be informed! Is there something wrong with that? Well, apparently, if you try hard, people hate you because you make them look bad. Or something. Well then that's really very selfish of them, isn't it? I don't care what I read in that physical fitness book in third grade about no one laughing at people who try: it was wrong, wrong, wrong! People laugh at you no matter what you do.
"This is all your fault!" She yelled at Ron, slamming her book shut.
"My fault?!" Ron said, bewildered. "What'd I do?"
"You made me lose my concentration!" Hermione yelled, and she turned and stalked out of the common room.
On her way out, she overheard Ron saying something to Harry: "She gets more and more like McGonagall every day."
This succeeded in making Hermione angrier. She was not like McGonagall! And even if she was, was it really a bad thing? Honestly, there was more to McGonagall than just the essays and classwork! If Harry and Ron could only see that she was trying to do what was best for the students, to get them PREPARED, but...*sigh*...no. Harry and Ron would never see it like that. Well, Harry might; Ron never would. Ron never took anything seriously at all! All he cared about was Dungbombs and Quidditch. Boys! Honestly!
She stalked down the hallways, so lost in her thoughts that she didn't know where she was going, and, at the moment, quite frankly, didn't care! It took her several minutes to realize she was lost, a rare occurrence for Hermione Granger, as she had memorized the layout of the school in fourth year consulting Harry's Marauder's Map.
She looked around for a landmark, or a door, or something that would let her know where she was, but there was nothing. She sighed and continued walking down the hallway. There were no doors or paintings or statues or suits of armor here. It was very barren, and quite eerie. It was also terribly cold.
It looked as though no one had come here for years. There was a fine layer of dust covering the floor, so thick that it muffled her footsteps and, when she looked behind her, she could see footprints on the floor.
Spiders were crawling across the walls, appearing quite at home, and giant cobwebs loomed out at Hermione from the ceiling, blowing in her direction by the force of an invisible wind.
She turned a corner and saw the end of the hall. There was a window there, but it was so dirty and dusty not much sunlight was filtering in. Here the torches gave out (she was surprised the others were still burning), so she whispered "Lumos," to light her wand.
She saw nothing of interest, and decided to turn and head back when she saw a faded red tapestry hanging on the wall. Curious, she walked over to it. Secret panels or passageways were often hidden behind tapestries; maybe if she lifted it...Yes! There was a door! She jumped back for a moment to wait for a giant spider to crawl off the door handle before jiggling it. Locked.
"Alohomora!" she said, and the door slowly swung open to admit her to the chambers within. It creaked as it did so, and when she stepped into the dusty room, it slowly and creakily swung shut behind her.
She looked around in awe at an empty classroom, its desks covered with more dust than had been in the hallway. Books and folders still sat on the desks...uncapped inkwells sat next to dried-up quills. The teacher's desk looked much the same way. Hermione walked over to it and saw a half-graded paper sitting on top of a pile of twenty others.
She wasn't so sure she liked it here. She shuddered, and walked back to the door to leave. As she did so, a glint of something flashed in the corner of the room. She looked to see a magnificent silver mirror standing there, lain with a fine layer of dust and covered over with cobwebs. She walked cautiously over to it and just gazed for a moment, before magically cleaning it off with her wand.
She saw an inscription on the top. It said simply: The Mirror of Noitalever. Noitalever...Hermione rolled this word around in her mind for a bit, trying to decide if it sounded like any language she'd ever heard before. It didn't.
She looked in the mirror, simply out of curiosity, and was surprised to see not herself, but a completely different person altogether, staring back at her just as curiously as she was staring at them.
The girl in the mirror had long, straight hair, and was wearing makeup. She held a schoolbook in one hand, a broomstick in another, and had a bag of Dungbombs slung over her back-although, Hermione noticed, it was quite smaller than a usual bag of Dungbombs. And she was smiling like crazy, as if she looked immensely pleased just to be standing there. She had to be the prettiest girl Hermione had ever seen.
Suddenly the person rolled her eyes at Hermione. "You're being stupid again," she said. Hermione jumped back, startled. "W-what?" she sputtered.
"It's me, you idiot! I mean, you! I mean, I'm you! You're looking at yourself! Not as how people see you, or how you want to be, but as how you truly are! You're more than just the books, and you should let people see that you ARE a girl once in a while." She shook the bag of Dungbombs suggestively. "And that you're not just a stick-in-the-mud." Hermione blinked.
"So...you're me?"
"Of course I'm you! And you knew it from the beginning, didn't you?"
"Well...no, I..."
"Yes, you did, silly? Remember, I'm you? You're only talking to yourself here. So you knew all along!"
"Is there a point to this?" Hermione demanded. The Hermione in the mirror rolled her eyes.
"But that IS the point, Hermione, don't you see? Sometimes there isn't a point to things. Sometimes you have to be happy to just...be. And to let other people be as well."
"Why are you so much smarter than me?"
"I'm not. Don't you see? I'm just telling you what you already know. You better go now. I bet Harry and Ron are getting worried."
"Yeah," Hermione nodded, only slightly weirded out by having a heart-to-heart with herself.
"Oh, and Hermione?" Hermione called as Hermione turned to go.
"Yeah?" she asked, turning around.
"Don't be afraid to let yourself out once in a while," she said, shaking the bag of Dungbombs again. "It might make you happy. -er. Happier." She concluded, nodding.
"I'll keep that in mind." Hermione nodded.
Hermione smiled and watched herself walk out the door and onward, to her friends.
Chapter One
Hermione Granger
"Okay, Hermione, so you know everything," Ron said. "Quit rubbing it in, will you? And let me finish this essay!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her Potions homework. Yes, she thought. That's right, Ron. I know everything. That's all I'm good for, she thought bitterly.
For once, she thought. For once I'd like someone to look past all the studying and the reading and on and on and get to know the real me! So I like to be informed! Is there something wrong with that? Well, apparently, if you try hard, people hate you because you make them look bad. Or something. Well then that's really very selfish of them, isn't it? I don't care what I read in that physical fitness book in third grade about no one laughing at people who try: it was wrong, wrong, wrong! People laugh at you no matter what you do.
"This is all your fault!" She yelled at Ron, slamming her book shut.
"My fault?!" Ron said, bewildered. "What'd I do?"
"You made me lose my concentration!" Hermione yelled, and she turned and stalked out of the common room.
On her way out, she overheard Ron saying something to Harry: "She gets more and more like McGonagall every day."
This succeeded in making Hermione angrier. She was not like McGonagall! And even if she was, was it really a bad thing? Honestly, there was more to McGonagall than just the essays and classwork! If Harry and Ron could only see that she was trying to do what was best for the students, to get them PREPARED, but...*sigh*...no. Harry and Ron would never see it like that. Well, Harry might; Ron never would. Ron never took anything seriously at all! All he cared about was Dungbombs and Quidditch. Boys! Honestly!
She stalked down the hallways, so lost in her thoughts that she didn't know where she was going, and, at the moment, quite frankly, didn't care! It took her several minutes to realize she was lost, a rare occurrence for Hermione Granger, as she had memorized the layout of the school in fourth year consulting Harry's Marauder's Map.
She looked around for a landmark, or a door, or something that would let her know where she was, but there was nothing. She sighed and continued walking down the hallway. There were no doors or paintings or statues or suits of armor here. It was very barren, and quite eerie. It was also terribly cold.
It looked as though no one had come here for years. There was a fine layer of dust covering the floor, so thick that it muffled her footsteps and, when she looked behind her, she could see footprints on the floor.
Spiders were crawling across the walls, appearing quite at home, and giant cobwebs loomed out at Hermione from the ceiling, blowing in her direction by the force of an invisible wind.
She turned a corner and saw the end of the hall. There was a window there, but it was so dirty and dusty not much sunlight was filtering in. Here the torches gave out (she was surprised the others were still burning), so she whispered "Lumos," to light her wand.
She saw nothing of interest, and decided to turn and head back when she saw a faded red tapestry hanging on the wall. Curious, she walked over to it. Secret panels or passageways were often hidden behind tapestries; maybe if she lifted it...Yes! There was a door! She jumped back for a moment to wait for a giant spider to crawl off the door handle before jiggling it. Locked.
"Alohomora!" she said, and the door slowly swung open to admit her to the chambers within. It creaked as it did so, and when she stepped into the dusty room, it slowly and creakily swung shut behind her.
She looked around in awe at an empty classroom, its desks covered with more dust than had been in the hallway. Books and folders still sat on the desks...uncapped inkwells sat next to dried-up quills. The teacher's desk looked much the same way. Hermione walked over to it and saw a half-graded paper sitting on top of a pile of twenty others.
She wasn't so sure she liked it here. She shuddered, and walked back to the door to leave. As she did so, a glint of something flashed in the corner of the room. She looked to see a magnificent silver mirror standing there, lain with a fine layer of dust and covered over with cobwebs. She walked cautiously over to it and just gazed for a moment, before magically cleaning it off with her wand.
She saw an inscription on the top. It said simply: The Mirror of Noitalever. Noitalever...Hermione rolled this word around in her mind for a bit, trying to decide if it sounded like any language she'd ever heard before. It didn't.
She looked in the mirror, simply out of curiosity, and was surprised to see not herself, but a completely different person altogether, staring back at her just as curiously as she was staring at them.
The girl in the mirror had long, straight hair, and was wearing makeup. She held a schoolbook in one hand, a broomstick in another, and had a bag of Dungbombs slung over her back-although, Hermione noticed, it was quite smaller than a usual bag of Dungbombs. And she was smiling like crazy, as if she looked immensely pleased just to be standing there. She had to be the prettiest girl Hermione had ever seen.
Suddenly the person rolled her eyes at Hermione. "You're being stupid again," she said. Hermione jumped back, startled. "W-what?" she sputtered.
"It's me, you idiot! I mean, you! I mean, I'm you! You're looking at yourself! Not as how people see you, or how you want to be, but as how you truly are! You're more than just the books, and you should let people see that you ARE a girl once in a while." She shook the bag of Dungbombs suggestively. "And that you're not just a stick-in-the-mud." Hermione blinked.
"So...you're me?"
"Of course I'm you! And you knew it from the beginning, didn't you?"
"Well...no, I..."
"Yes, you did, silly? Remember, I'm you? You're only talking to yourself here. So you knew all along!"
"Is there a point to this?" Hermione demanded. The Hermione in the mirror rolled her eyes.
"But that IS the point, Hermione, don't you see? Sometimes there isn't a point to things. Sometimes you have to be happy to just...be. And to let other people be as well."
"Why are you so much smarter than me?"
"I'm not. Don't you see? I'm just telling you what you already know. You better go now. I bet Harry and Ron are getting worried."
"Yeah," Hermione nodded, only slightly weirded out by having a heart-to-heart with herself.
"Oh, and Hermione?" Hermione called as Hermione turned to go.
"Yeah?" she asked, turning around.
"Don't be afraid to let yourself out once in a while," she said, shaking the bag of Dungbombs again. "It might make you happy. -er. Happier." She concluded, nodding.
"I'll keep that in mind." Hermione nodded.
Hermione smiled and watched herself walk out the door and onward, to her friends.