Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.


Albus Dumbledore, December 27th, 1991

Albus waited for the boy to come to the Mirror again. He knew he would; they always did. The merest glimpse of one's greatest desire could leave men who had known more loss than most starving for a few more precious seconds with the enrapturing fantasy the Mirror provided.

After all, that was what it had done to him. He remembered seeing it for the first time; seeing a future in which he could avenge his little sister. Her magic had been crippled by the cruelty of those Muggle boys, and for what? Because they didn't realize that there were greater things in the world than themselves, and that his sister was in the possession of one of them?

His sweet, precious little sister who had never hurt anything in her life had been destroyed by a few naïve boys. That incident had permanently disillusioned him – he no longer viewed humanity with the idealistic innocence of a child. He wanted to reveal to the world the beauty in magic; prevent anything like what happened to his sister from happening to anyone else. That need quickly turned into a thirst for vengeance.

It made him furious, what had happened to his sister – and his father; for seeking retribution for her he had earned a lifetime in Azkaban – and the alluring future the mirror painted was one that sparked the first revolutionary ideas in his mind.

He remembered finally telling Gellert Grindelwald of the future he had envisioned, and Gellert was delighted – he had said that he saw the same things; that he too wished for such a future . . . they had broached the topic before, but had never actually imagined it as a concrete possibility. They began to fantasize a glorious new world, a Golden Age for wizards, where magic reigned free and Muggles knew who they were and what they had and respected them, even envied them . . . they pictured themselves leading the revolution, heralding the dawn of a new era to triumphant wizards worldwide. Two brilliant, exceptionally talented young men like them – how could they possibly fail? They would be hailed as heroes. Justice would be brought to their world by their hand.

But Albus began to neglect everything around him. He became less interested in speaking with those around him, even Gellert, and was consumed by the Mirror. And then one day, when Albus brushed past Gellert without even noticing him as the other boy tried to speak to Albus about something important, so intent was he on getting to the Mirror – Gellert grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against a wall, looking at him steadily.

Albus was furious. "What are you playing at?" he yelled. How dare Gellert dare keep him from the Mirror? He would see his future, be with his new, unencumbered Ariana, and Gellert had no right to stop him!

Gellert did not raise his voice. "This mirror – it's bad for you, Albus. It's slowly consuming you, taking over your life. You hardly eat anymore. You spend all your time in front of that mirror, rarely speak to other people, and you've lost sight of everything you used to hope and dream about."

"I have not," Albus snarled. "What do you think I'm looking at in that mirror? Everything I – we – hope and dream about. That mirror holds our future –"

"How do you think that future is going to come about if you and I do nothing to bring it?" Gellert demanded. "It isn't real, Albus. It only shows you what is already in your head and heart. You need to stop looking for it."

Albus stared at him stubbornly, his blue eyes bright with defiance. "Albus," said Gellert, his gaze intent. "It isn't real."

"I – one last time," Albus lied.

Gellert didn't blink. Albus was typically a master of secrecy and deceit – he had learned to lie from a masterful liar; his mother. But he did not particularly care if he was being obvious. He only needed to see the mirror again.

"No," Gellert said firmly. "Nothing good will come of that mirror, Albus, and if you were in your right mind, you'd see that. That mirror will not feed you, nor will it make your dreams a reality. Only you can do that. Forget the mirror."

Albus frowned, processing his words, and all of a sudden a hazy kind of clarity struck him as he began to register what Gellert had been saying. His friend's gaze was still intent, and Albus felt his heart begin to beat faster at the other boy's proximity.

He froze, and his gaze must have sharpened because Gellert pulled back. "Have I – how long have I been like this?" Albus asked suddenly, noting how ravenous he felt.

"Over a week," answered Gellert, his gaze lighting up with possibility – Albus was back. Their plans could be carried forth once more. Albus would not waste away, and they would bring rise to a brilliant age.

Albus paled. He felt a sense of loss, but he knew he would not allow himself to go back to that mirror. It was dangerous.

Gellert gave him a shrewd look. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," he said.

A sudden noise caught his attention, and Albus watched as Harry slid to the floor in front of the mirror, his gaze never wavering. He was staring up at the mirror with a kind of obsessed adoration.

"So," sighed Albus. "Back again, Harry?"

The boy froze, slowly turning around. He seemed speechless for a moment before saying abruptly, "I didn't see you, sir."

Albus smiled. "Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," he mused. He felt his smile vanish, looking at Harry seriously. "So," he said again, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that sir," said Harry, but the name was irrelevant.

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?" Albus prompted. Even he had figured it out when he first saw the mirror, foolish though he had been back then, and Harry was not stupid.

"It – well – it shows me my family –"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy."

Harry looked startled. "How did you know –?"

Albus held the boy's gaze. "I don't need a cloak to become invisible," he told Harry. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head, and Albus had to remind himself that he was older when he found the mirror himself. "Let me explain. The happiest man on Earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror; that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry's brow furrowed slightly, and his eyes slowly lit up with realization. "It shows us what we want . . . whatever we want . . ."

"Yes and no," Albus said quietly. That was why the Mirror was so dangerous. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

Albus studied the boy in front of him. He needed to do for Harry what Gellert had done for him – what, he suspected, Ron Weasley might have tried to do, though he may not have realized why it was imperative Harry did not return.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry," Albus said gently, "and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared." He hesitated slightly before continuing. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up. "Sir – Professor Dumbledore?" he asked suddenly. "Can I asked you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Albus said, slightly amused. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I?" asked Albus. "I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared. "One can never have enough socks," Albus told the boy. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Harry looked utterly baffled by this, but he was silent as he went back to his dormitory. After he was gone, Albus breathed out a heavy sigh and returned his gaze to the Mirror. He had not looked into it in quite a while.

The image there was the same – it was always the same, and had been since his mother's death and the duel that split him apart from everyone he loved. Gone were the idealistic dreams that had led Gellert, who was never an evil person, to become a Dark wizard almost as feared as Voldemort. Gone were the wishes for retribution and a new era. He saw instead his family, whole and intact, standing before him – much, he thought, like young Harry Potter.

Albus still loved his brother. The deaths of his parents and sister were like a constant ache in his chest. And what he hadn't been able to admit to himself for a long time was that he still missed Gellert. Many people spoke of him as the Dark wizard Grindelwald. They spoke of the legendary duel Albus had won against him nearly half a century ago, in 1945.

Contrary to popular belief, Gellert had never been like Tom Riddle. He had always been very wild, very scathing in his attitude towards rules or restrictions of any sort. He had also always been very passionate about his beliefs, and incredibly human. His morals, however malleable, did exist, thought they were tempered by the fire of his ambitions. He was as driven by his emotions as any other, and he had never had an innate propensity for cruelty.

Albus remembered the motto they had coined – "For the Greater Good." They had never been driven by negative intent.

Gellert was definitely manipulative. Albus had sometimes wondered whether Gellert had been aware of his unrequited affections and had used that to his advantage. Manipulation, however, Albus could forgive – he considered himself smart enough to know when he was being manipulated and he himself had always been a master in deceit. He could not bring himself to believe, however, even after it all, that Gellert was evil.

That day when Gellert attacked Albus's brother – that day had easily been the worst of Albus's life, for he lost not only one family member, but three.

Albus returned his gaze to the Mirror, staring at his sister's brilliant smile as she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder; she was grinning up at their father, who was smiling at her affectionately. His mother was looking at her children fondly and the younger version of Albus had one arm thrown around one brother, Aberforth, who was not looking at him with hate, and the other arm thrown around his other brother – Gellert Grindelwald.

The future he had first seen in the Mirror could not have been more wrong. Time was a curious thing.

With one last glance at the Mirror, Albus turned to leave. He knew better than to stay. After all, if there was one thing he remembered, it was that it did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.