Pre-Note: Reposted to fix something I couldn't let stand. This story is ABANDONED and Pre-OOTP.
A/N This is my first story, so please review and be nice. Flames will be used to forge a sharp, pointy sword.
Disclaimer: There is not much point in suing me. I do not have money.
Well, without further ado - the story:
Chapter 1: Mirror, Mirror on the wall
When the dawn light hit his face and woke him up, fifteen year old Harry Potter jumped out of bed, ready to face a new day of fighting the dark.
An Order of the Phoenix meeting was planned for that day, and Harry was eager to get started. Unfortunately, it was not till that evening.
After showering and getting dressed, he went downstairs to eat breakfast with his stepfather and leader of the Order, Tom Riddle. Dad sure looks tired. The war seems to be taking its toll on most of the people I know, he thought. Actually, he thought ruefully, it is more of a rebellion than a war.
The Empire had taken out all but the last pockets of resistance, but the Riddle House was safe for the moment. It was currently the headquarters of the Order. Tom Riddle Sr. had allowed them use his mansion for the purposes of resistance. Muggles were way worse off than wizards these days. Albus Dumbledore, the Emperor, hated them, and now, with the Empire spread over all the world, most were slaves. So perhaps it was understandable that his Grandpa allowed his house to be used in such a way.
After a few minutes of silent eating, Harry suddenly spoke up. "Hey, Dad, I think I might explore the attic while I wait for the meeting tonight."
Tom looked up at him. "It is mostly muggle photos and old clothes up there," he warned.
"That is all right," Harry said. "It might be enough to keep me busy for a few hours."
"You never know. You might find something interesting. Good luck."
"See ya," Harry said, stuffing the last bite of toast in his mouth.
An hour later, Harry was getting bored. He was tired of antiques and pictures that did not even move. Then he spotted something interesting. it was a tall, simple mirror on the wall some distance away with some words in a language he did not recognize written on its upper arch. Something about it seemed to draw him.
Without totally knowing why, he started toward it. Up close he got a good look at it - it was stained a dark color that was almost black, and, except for the writing cut into it, had a large, plain oval frame. Harry reached out to touch the glass, and just as he felt the cold, smooth surface under his fingers, an observer would have seen something quite unusual - he vanished into thin air!
