Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter. That's why this is on a fan-fiction site.
Author's Notes: This is sort of a companion piece to my one-shot The End. It can be read without reading the other one, but I think I'll suggest going and reading the other one afterward, to get the back-story of feelings between them in this fic.
Remember that one bit in Philosopher's Stone when Harry talks to Dumbledore before the Mirror of Erised? This story starts right after Harry leaves the room.
Someday
I walk over to the Mirror after young Harry leaves. I have been avoiding looking into it, unwilling to see the proof of my fears. It was so easy to lie to Harry, tell him something inconsequential. It is harder to lie to myself.
I take a deep breath before looking at the glass of the Mirror of Erised. Somehow, in this deepest part of the night, with the old castle silent and still around me, it is easier than I thought it would be to walk the last step until I am directly in front of the Mirror. And it is not socks I see, no abundance of wool is to be found in the image that stares back at me.
Ariana is there, smiling and happy, as is Aberforth and my parents. Right in the middle, as though he has been welcomed into the family, is Gellert, full of youthful mischief and as golden as a ray of sunlight.
My heart burns (need, love, grief.)
The temptation comes, as it always does whenever I allow myself the opportunity to remember. It would be so easy to walk into Nurmengard and release him. I am powerful, this I know. It would simple to make him see my point of view. I could save him.
The Gellert of the Mirror smiles at me, and puts an arm around Ariana, as though they are the best of friends.
No. I couldn't save him. Just like he couldn't "save" me.
But still, the thought lingers. I do not know what Gellert looks like now he has aged. Has he gone mad, stuck in that drafty place with no one to talk to? It would be my fault. I was his judge, his jury, and, ultimately, his executioner, by putting him into his prison. The world thinks it a just punishment, if a little anti-climatic, and approves of my wish to have him as far away as possible. They think it is because I hate him. I know it's because I love him still, somewhere deep down, in a place I only pay attention to when something reminds me overwhelmingly of him, like whenever I eat a lemon drop or read about the Deathly Hallows. I don't love him now. I love the man he was, the man I see in my memories, the man I thought I knew before the cloth was removed from my eyes.
I believe that I may see that man again. For I believe that somewhere there is a land full of joy and hope, where those who can forgive and feel remorse live for eternity, amid blue skies, fields of green, and neon pink butterflies.
I can picture him there, beside a river, or on a path holding my hand, golden and bird-like once more. We shall spend eternity there, perhaps, and I will be able to truly forgive him and he will be able to realize his mistakes, and we can live among sparkling stars and the people I have lost. I will be able to feel for him the love I felt when I was younger, pure love, with no anger or betrayal, but full of innocence and joy, the way all first loves are supposed to feel. I will be able to lead him, turn him away from his path.
Deep down, I realize I still feel guilt about our plans for the world.
Perhaps, I think, I could have stopped him
Perhaps we could have done something good.
Perhaps, the voice in my head whispers, if you had stayed, you would never have needed to lock him away.
Perhaps—
But no. There is no "Perhaps." There is no going back. I know this, in the brightness of day. It is here in the near dark that my defenses lower. Something about the vastness of the stars and the feeling of being the only one awake in the castle whispers hopes and dreams into my ears. But I know the truth, however much I try to hide it from myself in these hours. I did what I did, and Gellert did what Gellert did, and that is how things are.
Forces are shifting around us, I can feel them, whether because of my age and experience or because of a latent gift, I don't know. I can feel the storm brewing. Soon there may not be time for me to be weak, to think of the past between us. I do not know whether that is a blessing or a curse.
I stare into the image displayed on the Mirror's glass. Gellert smiles at me, unadulterated happiness on his face. My breath catches in my throat, and just once I allow myself to reach out and touch the cold surface of the Mirror, tracing over one of his cheekbones, smiling back when he seems to lean into my touch. Then I drop my hand and turn my back on what my heart desires, taking a steadying breath.
The sky is lightening, dawn coming early, playing with the long shadows in the room. The new day has come, and with it reality. It is time once again to let go of fanciful dreams and half-forgotten memories. I shove my past to the back of my mind, not to be thought of during the day, and stop remembering seemingly inconsequential memories, like how the sun shone on my sister's hair, or the one strand of hair that would never stay flat on Gellert's head, no matter how hard he tried.
I leave the room without looking back. The Mirror of Erised will be moved tommorow. Memories of my past will stay. But someday I'll no longer have to ignore them.
Someday, we'll be free.
Fin.