"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to come home for break?" Gran's head asked from the Gryfinndor fireplace. When Neville sent an owl saying that he planned to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, she had insisted on using Floo Powder to speak to him face to face. Apparently, she believed that he was being kidnapped and forced to write under duress.
"Yes, Gran, for the third time, I'm sure," Neville answered, sighing. "Theodore's staying cause his mom's out of the country, so I thought I'd keep him company."
"And that's very sweet of you, but who will I spend Christmas with?" she snapped. "I can hardly go visit your mother and father, can I?!"
Neville flinched, and looked down at his lap, clenching the robes at his knees. "That's not fair, Gran," he mumbled.
Gran's face softened. "I'm sorry, Neville," she said sadly. "I miss them, too. I'll just spend Christmas with Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid. Take care of yourself, and have a Merry Christmas." Neville looked up just in time to see her head disappear with a soft pop, then bit his lip and looked down at his lap again. He felt guilty about lying to Gran. She had worked so hard to take care of him after his parents died, and he just blew her off for the sake of a ghost's curiosity. He wasn't even sure that Helena was telling the truth when she said she knew what was in the forbidden chamber, and he didn't know what he would do with the information once he had it. The rational part of his brain that sounded an awful lot like Hermione was telling him that he was being foolish and reckless, and that he should let his suspicions about Lupin go.
"Neville," Harry said behind him. Neville turned around and saw him and Hermione, dressed in Muggle clothes. "We're about to head out."
"Right," Neville said, standing up. "Well, have a good break, you two."
"Yeah, you too, Neville," Hermione said, hugging him. "Keep Theodore out of trouble, okay."
Neville nodded and watched them leave. He smirked. If only they knew who was more likely to get into trouble.
Christmas Day at Hogwarts was a relatively quiet affair. Neville woke up in his dormitory alone, and saw a small stack of presents sitting at the foot of his bed. He gasped and scrambled to open them. The first present came from Gran, and it was a book entitled Great Witches and Wizards of the Twentieth Century. A note was attached, which read: "Thought you might want to know what the academic world thinks about you and your parents. You used to ask all sorts of questions." Neville put the book aside and sighed. Once upon a time, he did want to know everything he could about his parents. However, his curiousity ran out a few days after his ninth birthday, after Uncle Algie had shown him the passage about his parents from this very book. He had learned a great deal about his parents' exploits as Aurors, but the book was more concerned with the night they died, and was mostly just baseless speculation. Thanks for the waste of time, Gran, he thought bitterly.
The rest of his gifts were much better by comparison. Ron's gift of a bag of Dungbombs was enclosed with an unexpected gift from his mother: a homemade light blue sweater with a picture of an unconscious troll on the front. Hermione had sent him a quill that tasted like butterscotch, which was useful as Neville had been known to chew on his own quill when he was dealing with rather difficult homework. Harry had sent Neville a large bag of Chocolate Frogs, no doubt hoping to convince Neville to actually start collecting the cards so that he would have someone to trade with. Theodore's gift was a pleasant surprise, a harmonica that had been painted the Gryffindor colors of red and gold. Neville wondered where he had purchased it, and made a note to ask him later. Finally, a small envelope with no return address was buried underneath the other packages. Neville opened it and found a letter.
"I have taken the liberty of putting together a small Christmas gift for you," it read. "It will reveal itself tonight when you carry out your assignment. I suggest you wait until 11:30 before you leave the common room tonight. A very Merry Christmas to you. Helena. P.S. Destroy this letter as soon as you are done reading it."
Neville read the letter twice before exiting the dormitory. He said his obligatory greetings to the few Gryfffindors who had also decided to stay for the Christmas holidays, and, under the guise of tying his shoe, tossed the letter into the fireplace. As he walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast, he thought about the note Helena had written him. Clearly, the gift she was referring to was going to help him with his mission that night. If he had to guess, it would be something to help him reach the classroom undetected. But what could it have been?
When 11:30 rolled around, Neville was slowly climbing out of the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. His heart was pounding so loudly, he was surprised that nobody had come to investigate the sound. He was convinced he could hear it reverberate off the stone walls. He walked along the wall very slowly, careful to place one foot in front of the other in order to mask the sound of his footsteps. It didn't help. Every sound, every breath was deafening. The castle seemed much larger and more cavernous in the dark than it ever did during the day, as if it meant to swallow him whole. This was a bad idea. He was bound to get caught. Even if most of the school was home for Christmas, he had noticed that Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, Hagrid, and Quirrell were all present at Christmas dinner just hours earlier. Yes, Helena had promised a diversion, but there was no way she could get the attention of all five of them. Dumbledore in particular was supposed to be repairing this artifact. He'd be right there waiting for Neville! Imagine the disappointment on Gran's face upon learning of Neville's real reason for staying at Hogwarts and his subsequent expulsion.
Neville stopped. He took two deep breaths and leaned on the wall, thinking. He could always turn back, try to figure out what was in the forbidden chamber another way. He only had Helena's word that the information she could give him was genuine. Neville looked back toward the Fat Lady's portrait. It was empty; the Fat Lady must have left for a nighttime visit to another portrait. He did remember hearing her gossip with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown about a romantic encounter with a portrait of a one-eyed astronomer. Neville shook his head and sighed. No turning back now, is there? he thought grimly, as he turned to continue forward. Just two floors down and I'll be there.
Neville was about to take a step forward when he heard voices. Stupid! Shouldn't have let yourself get distracted. He looked around frantically, and saw a door standing ajar. He ducked inside quickly, shutting the door as quickly and as quietly as possible. It was dark and cramped, and he heard Lupin saying "Really, Minerva, it was something to behold. I mean, Peeves has always been troublesome, but destroying the Vanishing Cabinet on the third floor is a new pinnacle of mischief for him."
"Remus, it almost sounds as if you are proud of him," McGonagall responded in her usual disapproving manner. "Feeling nostalgic for your old school days?
"Always, but that's not what I meant. I simply am expressing my frustration. How am I supposed to keep this castle clean and tidy with someone like Peeves running amok?"
"I wouldn't suggest an expulsion," McGonagall warned. "The Headmaster has been quite firm in his refusal when your predecessor worked here. Argus eventually got fed up and quit because of that,you know."
"Not because of his jealousy?" Lupin asked. "I would have thought that working at Hogwarts would be constant torture for a squib."
Neville couldn't hear McGonagall's response, as the voices were getting quieter and quieter. They were walking away. They hadn't noticed him. He could still pull this off. He waited until he couldn't hear any footsteps, then cautiously opened the door and peered out into the hallway. It was deserted.
The rest of Neville's journey to the fifth floor was relatively painless, with the exception of a brief encounter with a rat that nearly made him yell loud enough to be spotted. Once he found the room he was looking for (the only unused classroom on the floor. Why didn't Helena just say that instead of being vague?), he peeked inside the open door and was surprised to see it empty. Dumbledore must have either completed his repairs already or not have shown up yet. Neville said to himself as he walked inside. Either way, it's probably for the best that I don't take too long, just in case.
The classroom was fairly ordinary. Rows of desks and chairs faced a chalkboard in the front of the room. The large teacher's desk which would normally have accompanied the chalkboard had been pushed against the wall, and its corresponding chair was sitting next to it. The only unusual feature was the large mirror that stood in the center of the room, where one would imagine the teacher's desk belonged instead. Reasoning that this must be the artifact that Helena wanted to learn about – Either this or the chalkboard – Neville walked to the mirror.
He didn't look into the mirror right away. Something told him that it wasn't safe to look into a mirror that could possibly be magical if he could get away with it. Instead, Neville walked around and looked at the back of the mirror first. There wasn't anything special about that though, unless the magic was in the mirror's frame. Somehow, he doubted that Helena was interested in a mirror with a magically indestructible frame. Still averting his eyes from the glass, Neville walked back around to the front of the mirror and examined the frame around the glass. He wasn't sure what he was looking for at first, but then he noticed that what he had initially assumed to be a circular pattern in the frame was really loopy writing. The writing formed the words: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi," which, naturally, only confused him.
"Maybe," he whispered, "it's another language. Or a spell." He took a few steps back toward the door, and ducked behind a desk.. He wanted to maintain a safe distance. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on whosi!" he muttered dramatically and peered over the desk. Nothing had happened. No explosion, no fanfare, no talking mirror. Nothing. Neville waited a few more seconds to be sure, before walking right back up to the mirror. Wondering if it was even the mirror he was looking for, he looked at his reflection, silently asking it if it had the answers. Neville suddenly gasped and fell backward. His hand shot to his forehead, tracing over his scar, trying to confirm it was still there. There was no doubt anymore, that mirror was not normal. It had shown Neville Longbottom's reflection with one wrong detail: there was no scar.
Neville scrambled back to his feet and looked at the mirror intently. This time, the lack of scar wasn't the only thing different about the reflection the mirror was showing. For one thing, his reflection wasn't in an abandoned classroom, looking scared and confused. It was in the Great Hall, eating and laughing with his friends. People walked passed them and blissfully ignored them. Nobody in that world gave Neville any special attention. Nobody singled him out for something that he didn't remember. He was scarless. He was normal.
Neville didn't know how long he stared at the mirror, wathcing his reflection's perfect life. He didn't know when he had sat down, or when he moved so close his nose almost touched the glass. He didn't know how much time he had left before somebody would discover him. He didn't care. The mirror was all that mattered.
"Dear, oh dear, this will not do," a soft voice said behind him. Neville turned around. Dumbledore was sitting on a desk, smiling at him. Neville jumped to his feet and started to speak, but Dumbledore held up his hand. "I do not wish to hear your excuses, Neville, no matter how entertaining or well-rehearsed they may be. What we need to talk about is more important. You, like many before you, have discovered the allure of the Mirror of Erised."
"I-I didn't know it was called that, sir," Neville stammered. Who cares what it's called? he thought. You need to get the hell out of there, Longbottom!
"And I trust that you have figured out what it does?" Dumbledore asked. Neville blinked. Why would he ask that? Didn't he care that Neville had left his dormitory? "Let me give you a clue," Dumbledore said, evidently mistaking Neville's confusion about the reason for the question for him struggling with the answer to the question. Which, admittedly, he was struggling with. "The happiest man on Earth would look in the mirror and see himself exactly as he is, just like with a normal mirror. Does that help?"
"That would mean," Neville said slowly, figuring his best option was to play along and hope to get away with just detention or some lost points, "that it shows us something we want."
"Well," Dumbledore said, hesitating, "yes and no. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts."
Neville gulped and turned to look at he mirror. "But it only showed me without my scar. Shouldn't it have shown me with my parents?" He sniffed, fighting back tears. "What kind of son am I if I want to be normal more than I want to have my mom and dad back?" Neville stared at the mirror wordlessly for a minute or two, before angrily stepping forward and winding up to punch it. Dumbledore caught his arm and gently pulled him back into a hug. "Oh, Neville," he whispered. "Wishing a normal life for yourself does not make you a bad person."
"No," Neville shot back angrily, "not missing my parents makes me a bad person!"
Dumbledore was silent, and even though Neville couldn't see his face, he could imagine him raising an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked. "Whoever said that you didn't miss your parents?"
Neville gave a hollow laugh. Did he really not get it? "The mirror did! You said so!" he shouted.
"No," Dumbledore said patiently. "I said that the mirror showed nothing more or less than your deepest, most desperate desire. That is hardly the only thing you want, and any lesser desires that are not shown does not diminish their importance." Dumbledore turned Neville around, and placed his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "You clearly miss your parents very much, Neville," he continued. "Otherwise, you would not want to destroy the mirror and prove you miss them. But let us be realistic. Your parents died when you were just a baby. You did not know them, and it is not entirely unrealistic for you to hold some level of resentment for the fame their death has brought you."
"I don't," Neville protested, shaking Dumbledore's hands off his shoulders. "I don't blame them! That's You-Know-Who's fault!"
"Yes, it is," Dumbledore agreed. "But that does not change the facts. Though you did not know your parents, you were still raised by someone who loves you and cares for you. You're not desperate for love, but rather for acceptance and anonymity. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Especially since, in this hypothetical scenario that the mirror has shown you, it is still possible that Voldemort has not murdered your parents after all."
Neville turned back and looked at the mirror longingly. It made him feel better. Dumbledore was right. Of course he was. He was supposed to be a genius, after all. And since the mirror wasn't actually condemning him for his feelings, he could stare at it to his heart's content.
Dumbledore seemed to hear that last thought, as he then walked in front of the mirror and said, "Listen carefully, Neville. The Mirror of Erised shows neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away in front of it, not knowing whether or not the mirror shows what is real or even possible. "Tomorrow, the mirror will be moved to a new home. Promise me that you will not search for it." Neville didn't answer. "It does not do to let our dreams rule us, Neville," Dumbledore insisted. "Instead we should live in the present, and make our dreams come true. Now promise me that you will not search for it."
"I-" Neville hesitated. He wanted to see the life that he could never live. But he then heard the voice that sounded like Hermione tell him how reckless he was being. "I promise. Professor."
Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Good," he said, waving his wand, and conjuring a cover for the mirror. "Now," he added, putting the wand away, "I think it would be best if you returned to your dormitory before Professor McGonagall or Mr. Lupin finds us."
"Yes, sir," Neville said quickly, before he turned and almost ran out of the room.
Author's Note: Holy crap, how long has it been? Almost three months? I'm REALLY SORRY! I'm a bad person. I was preoccupied with school (I had to work my ass off to graduate), then I got a job at a preschool (which is terrible), I started working out (I'm sore all over), and I have to get ready for my summer camp job (super excited for that). Anyway, I'm back now, and I'm gonna work my ass off to get some more regular updates.
So, this update was a long time coming, and I don't know if it's very good. I like my idea for Neville seeing himself scarless in the mirror instead of his parents like Harry does, because they're different people and all. But I feel like nothing's really been happening. I need to figure out some way to shake things up. But then, what do I know? Maybe this update was great (it wasn't.). Anyway, please leave reviews, I really need the input.
