One-sided Mirror

House: Gryffindor

Category: Themed

Prompt: Broom (object)

Word count: 562

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All I own is the angst that's about to occur.


Some objects, some material things, they speak volumes about who we are as people. Even from a young age, a child's belongings can say so much about their personality, and who they may grow up to be. Harry Potter was no different. Lying in the ruins of a house in Godric's Hollow, broken, surrounded by rubble, rests a toy broom.

None of the damage done to the Potter's house was ever rebuilt, and no one ventured onto the revered property. If they did, they would find the usual things, much to their shock. After all, the Potters were special! They weren't just ordinary wizarding folk!

Perhaps.

But even the most special of people tend to have the most ordinary of objects. For example, one Harry Potter's favorite toy, a child's broom. Normal, even boring in nature, and yet it represents so much.

For one, it connects the Harry of the past to the Harry of the now, with a love of flying serving as the common link. How one boy seems split into two, a before and an after, is confusing and nonsensical, and yet it makes all the sense in the world.

For another...it is symbolism, my friend.

That fateful night, that Halloween night, not so far gone in the past, this little toy laid innocently in the corner, unassuming in nature, unimportant in general. Surely you do not need to be reminded of what happened that night, however, there is a bit more to the story, something that can be told best through the tale of Harry's broom.

Don't laugh.

Lord Voldemort wreaked so much havoc that night, physical and emotional. Lives were lost, futures wasted, a child scarred in more ways than one. The Potter home fell, and with it their ordinary, yes, ordinary possessions. A piece of the ceiling fell upon Harry's little broom, splintering it in half and rendering it useless. As this one piece of his life was destroyed, the rest of it; his family, his home, and his security was broken, shattered, and ground beneath one madman's heel.


It was Halloween yet again, and Harry looked at a torn picture sadly. It was one of his usual pastimes, this night every year. Looking at the past through a one-sided mirror... That was as close as he would ever get to his family. This photograph depicted a young Harry, whizzing about on a toy broom whilst his father chased about after him. The happiness emanating throughout the image just made the sorrow he felt that much more real. Knowing that he had, at one point in time, had it all, lost it, and couldn't even remember the joy of a family, caused the gaping hole in his heart to ache and throb even more...

"Harry?"

The man looked up, not even bothering to hide his tears from his wife. She came to his side swiftly, kneeling beside him.

"I've been looking all over for you. The attic is one of your better choices in hiding spots," she murmured.

Her husband didn't respond, instead keeping his misty eyes locked on the little Harry zooming about on his little broom.

"You know it's not healthy for you to be alone tonight."

Again, no answer.

Ginny curled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his unmoving frame. No words were needed as she comforted The Boy Who Lived.