Notes:
ummmmmm sorry about the wait? have a belated Christmas chapter
Harry, Ron and Mandy decide that given Mandy is away during the Christmas holidays, they should postpone a visit to Fluffy until she returns. This, then, gives the two remaining friends pretty much nothing all that exciting to do during that time, which... well, that's fine. Something will probably come up.
"We haven't had a quiet moment yet," Mandy points out. "I doubt Christmas is going to be any different."
"Maybe," Harry returns. "It might be nice not to have to figure out a new mystery, though."
"There's not much to do here otherwise," Mandy states, not unreasonably. "We can't practice magic outside of class, we can't go flying outside of class, nothing muggle works here otherwise I'd have brought my GameBoy." She sighs, wistful. "At least going home'll let me use that."
"Didn't that come out last year?" Harry asks the girl. Dudley, being as spoiled as ever, had also gotten one soon after it came out, because one of the other boys had had one and he'd thrown a jealousy-fueled tantrum. And as Dudley tended to do, he'd broken it a few weeks later when he realised it'd take a while for games to come out on the console in Europe.
"Yeah, but we've got a few games for it," Mandy shrugs. "Nothing too special; Baseball, Alleyway - The Amazing Spider-Man; my brother got that for his birthday, I haven't had the chance to play it yet but he says it's okay in letters. Anyway - they're not bad, but it's kind of a shame I can't play them here, y'know?"
Harry shrugs. "I suppose," He says because he's never even touched a game boy. Well, one that wasn't broken; he found the one Dudley had trashed in the room he'd been given. Ron, who has no idea what a game boy even is, looks confusedly between his two friends.
"It'd at least have been nice to be able to listen to music while I study," Mandy sighs, "I mean, radios work here, but my little walkman? No such luck."
"They're not - muggle radios." Ron shrugs lightly as Mandy glances at him with a raised eyebrow. "Took this guy - I can't remember his name - but, it took him a bloody long time to figure out how to get it all playing nicely," Ron states. "'Cause we can't just use the muggle's radio stations, I figure? I don't know how it works, but he figured out a way to make sure we don't conflict or something."
"Oh." Mandy blinks. "Well, I mean, that makes sense, but with Walkmans - I... there's these things called cassettes, little tapes which you can record sound onto," She tells Ron, who, as a pureblood wizard with little contact with the muggle world hasn't heard of cassettes before, "like records, but smaller," She adds - Harry has seen a few record players around, so they have some ways of recording sound, he knows, and it's not like Mandy will have missed the one in Professor Flitwick's classroom, so it makes sense she'd know that Ron would know what a record was - "So I wouldn't be using radio - I'm not sure how I'd get signal up in the Scottish mountains, anyway," she muses. "I haven't seen any - radio towers? Around here," She frowns, lightly. "I should find out how that works, actually..." The girl trails off.
"Oh," Ron says, shifting in his seat slightly; embarrassed, just a little, judging by the reddening of his ears.
"It doesn't matter," Mandy leans back in her chair. They're in the common room, near the fire; it's too late and too early for the older years to be commandeering these seats, and as there's really no other chairs or tables near them, it allows their fellow Slytherins to give them a wide berth without it being too obvious.
It's not exactly not obvious, though. Harry still sees people looking at them with hard-to-read expressions on their faces out of the corners of his eyes, though the fact that they're hard to read might be because they're blurry.
"Bletch's glaring at us again," Mandy sighs, and lo and behold, he is. Miles Bletchley is a fourth year with a bone to pick with everyone, it seems, but sneakily and cruelly, with more of an emphasis on magical than verbal retribution.
Harry's just glad of how much of a chore it is to get to his and Ron's room; Bletchley hasn't bothered trying placing a trap for them, yet. Mandy, on the other hand, is staying with Parvati Patil in one of the rooms much closer and easier to get to than their's is, so she's constantly wary around the older student.
"We keep telling you to move rooms," Ron says, "He won't bother if you're further away than he can be arsed to walk."
"I know," Mandy rolls her eyes, "I know, Weasley, but Parvati's stubborn. I think it'll take a right shock for her to realise how unsafe it is there."
"Hopefully not." Gemma looks at the three of them. "Is someone giving you trouble?"
"Not yet," Mandy says, ominously. "But he's a right prat, it's only time until he does."
"I see," Gemma hums, frowning lightly. "And you could put yourself in a safer position, but you won't?"
"I would in a heartbeat," Mandy reassures. "It's only smart to make sure you have some advantage, but - Parvati's stubborn. She thinks we can take whatever he throws at us, given there's only one of him."
"But he's older," Harry says. "And you're only first-years," Gemma sighs and appears to resist the urge to rub at her forehead. "Well, I'll see what I can say," Gemma says, "But you might be right. Sometimes, people do need a bit of a shock before they understand the severity of a situation. I'd just rather nobody get hurt because of some petty issues; we can't have the other houses know we're about to - crumble from within." She grumbles, and Harry thinks that part was far more for herself than anyone else, and in fact, the older girl looks so tired it might have even been unintentional.
"Well, best be off," Gemma says, straightening her posture. "Got Prefect duties to perform, rounds to make, points to take," She glances in the direction of the normal girls' dorms, and Harry can't see her face, but he can guess she wants nothing more than to be able to just go straight to bed, damn the consequences.
"At least the holidays are soon," She says - but there's a tone to her voice Harry can easily place. It's not quite the same one he'd have at the thought of having to go back to the Dursleys this summer (and, yes, he's avoiding thinking about that quite intensely) but it's similar enough to the tone Ron used when talking about his older brother's accomplishments on the train.
Resigned. A little gloomy, even.
"See you kids in the morning," She glances back at them. "Brocklehurst, tell Patil to meet me here; you might as well be there, too, it might help," Gemma asks of the younger girl, before leaving after getting a confirmation that Mandy will indeed do that.
"We should probably start making the treck back," Ron says, standing and stretching. It is about the time for that, Harry knows; any later and they'll be too tired to make the journey. Harry stands to follow, as Mandy waves a lethargic goodbye. "I'll wait up for Parvati," She tells them, and Harry nods. "Alright. See you," Ron returns, and the two of them start making their way to their room.
Lisa is very excited to be going home this Christmas, but she can't help noticing that the mood amongst her fellow Gryffindor first-years is not nearly as upbeat.
Oh - they put on a good face about it all. Pansy waxes eloquent about the yuletide celebrations she'll be attending, as she sneers contemptuously at all the Christmas decorations the Castle is slowly starting to gain as the last day of school and the start of the holidays grows ever closer. Tracey Davis talks about visiting the Isle of Man, Terrance Boot boasts about his family's plans, which include but are not limited to; visiting Canada, touring America, skiing in the Alps, and various other things that would take the entire holiday just on their lonesome, and seem wholly ridiculous to even try and attempt to do all at once.
He's very obviously lying, or at the least exaggerating. There might be one or two hints of truth in that, but Lisa can't sift them out for the life of her.
At least Vaisey's going to be having an okay time. (He's still got a terrible name though. Lisa will think this privately only - it'd just be rude to say it to his face, or tell anyone at all she thinks this.)
"I'll just be seeing family," He said to her when she'd told him what she was going to be doing. "Pretty much entirely Scottish, the lot of us, so I won't be going far. Not even going to bother taking the train; no point going to London to come back near here," He'd pointed out, reasonably. "I'll just go down to Hogsmeade with one of the seventh-year Gryffindors that's trustworthy and my Mum'll apparate me back home."
The week passes by smoothly, classes slowing down as Christmas approaches. Lisa notes down the holiday homework, of which there isn't that much, thankfully, though the unfortunate side of things is that it's mostly potions. Still, Lisa likes to think she's capable enough at potions, even with Professor Snape glaring at most of the Gryffindors and seemingly knowing exactly what sore spots to pick at to make people cry, but - well. If Lisa sits at the desk behind Pansy and Bulstrode, next to Vaisey, she's well hidden enough among taller people that he doesn't seem to notice her.
Lisa's Fridays are pretty empty given that she only has one full Transfiguration lesson and one, one-hour History of Magic lesson to go to, so the only thing different for her about the last Friday - unlike many of her friends back home, who have half days or something like that - is that it's the last Friday of the school term, and the Christmas holidays start the next day.
The castle is abuzz with holiday cheer, mostly - Lisa can see the start of proper decorations adorning the Great Hall when she goes down for breakfast that morning, and she can see many groups of friends all chatting excitedly about what they're going to be doing for the umpteenth time, and what they might be getting and various other holiday-themed topics of conversation.
Lisa sits down at the Gryffindor table, next to Vaisey - who, yes, is the only friend she's made so far, but Lisa doesn't mind that overmuch. She'd rather have one friend she can count on than many that she can't.
"Home soon," Vaisey says, as he loads his plate up with sausages, eggs, bacon and hash browns. "Be a nice break, after having to go to lessons nearly every day for four months." Vaisey, who was raised in the wizarding world but Lisa didn't know if he was a pureblood or not - and, rightly, didn't much care either way - had not gone to any sort of primary school. Most kids, he'd told her, when she'd expressed confusion, in the wizarding world do not, in fact, have any education prior to Hogwarts. There are the occasional day schools that teach little bits of theory once you hit seven, and some families teach their kids general muggle knowledge while others hire tutors in the magical subjects you can learn without a wand, like potions, history, and astronomy, but for the most part, kids aren't expected to know anything about - well, really anything at all, before Hogwarts. "You pick it all up as you go," Vaisey had said, shrugging. "I got taught a bit of maths here and there, but - mostly I just learnt from... existing, I suppose."
Lisa had felt very off-kilter for the rest of that morning - until Potions had put it out of her mind.
Now, Lisa pours herself a bowl of porridge and nods. "I imagine," She says because Lisa is very used to going to classes during weekdays, unlike her friend.
"There's going to be a fair few of my German relatives visiting this year," Pansy continued, loudly. She'd been doing this all week, with increasing frequency and volume as the holidays drew nearer. "They weren't able to last Yule, so this should make up for their absence." She'd been going on and on about the various traditions of the Yule festival her family and guests would be taking part in.
"Would you take a rest?" Moon snaps, lifting her head from where she's rested it on her palm as she twirled her spoon around in her bowl. "Yule this, Yule that. Yes - we know you 'honour the traditions of our ancestors', blah blah. Yule is outdated and barbaric, and I'm tired of hearing about nothing other than it."
Pansy bristles angrily, twisting her head around in order to glare at the other Gryffindor. "And you?" She sneers. "I don't suppose you're going to go home and leave out food for a jolly man in red, are you?" Pansy scoffs. "How muggle of you."
"If you must know," Moon says, frostily, "We use the time the holidays give us to honour Hecate, our family's patron goddess."
Pansy rolls her eyes. "How predictable. Couldn't think of a proper pagan deity to worship?"
"Just because the Greek pantheon is a foreign one does not make it inferior," Moon shoots back, "At least we're far more sophisticated."
"Yes, sacrificing people is so very civilised," Pansy retorts, grinning sharply. "At least we only sacrifice livestock."
"Bloody hell," Fay Dunbar groans into her full English. "It's eight-thirty am, please could you both not do this now?" She lifts her head and scowls at the two girls - her friend, Tracey Davis, pats her arm sympathetically. "Merlin forgive me but it really isn't the time for this," Tracey agrees. "At least leave it until lunch?"
Pansy straightens slightly, a light blush she'd likely deny high on her cheeks. "And what about you blood-" She stops herself forcefully, as Tracey narrows her eyes at the other girl.
"What about you?" Pansy finishes, lamely.
"Christmas," Tracey says, pleasantly. "Similarly," Hannah Abbot speaks up, her voice soft. "My family's Christian."
"You follow a religion that would burn you alive if given the chance?" Moon looks at the blonde strangely.
Hannah doesn't respond, just quietly returns to eating her beans on toast.
"Just stop," Fay snaps. "Let us all eat in peace, Christ."
Lily Moon purses her lips, but nods sharply and returns her focus to her food. Pansy pushes her sausages around her plate, moodily, but does continue eating after a minute or so.
Lisa glances at Vaisey, who shrugs. She sighs, finishes eating, then starts the treck to Transfiguration with her friend.
Draco crumples the letter he'd gotten that morning up in his hand for the umpteenth time.
I think it would be best, my dear son, if you stayed at Hogwarts or went to your Aunt's this Christmas. I cannot lie to you - your father is unhappy at the moment, and if you were to come I don't doubt that he'd do something rash.
He'd been getting letters the past few weeks that flip-flopped between come home and stay there and go to your Aunt's like his mother kept getting mixed messages when it came to his father's mood, and how well the man would receive his Hufflepuff son this Yule.
Draco thinks, with a foreboding sort of feeling settling in his stomach, that he won't be getting another letter, this one telling him to come home.
He's in the Common Room. It's... very yellow, with some black and brown thrown in to balance it out a little. There are portraits of various Hufflepuffs adorning the walls, and paintings and pictures of luscious green scenery covering the rest of the blank grey stone. The Hufflepuff Common Room is in the dungeons, at least, which is some comfort; he might not be a Slytherin, but at least he's not in one of the towers.
The fire is warm, the chairs and couch much too squishy, too easy to sink into. The tables are wood, and the seats have cushions with various materials and patterns on them. There are some plants dotted around the place, and one or two bookshelves - there's one side-table that has a couple drawers, in which are a few old and worn chess sets and some gobstones sets missing various marbles.
Draco sits like he was taught to, on one of the armchairs in front of the fire, while he thinks.
"Hey, little cousin." Draco turns his head to see Nymphadora standing off to the side. She moves to lean against the back of the couch as she speaks, her hair turning a muted purple for whatever reason. "How you holding up?"
Draco's eyes dart over to where his only proper pureblood contemporary is sitting on a chair at the table, frowning mulishly at some parchment while some older year attempts to talk him through whatever it is he's supposed to know by now. Draco sneers lightly, automatic, as he turns his attention back to his cousin.
But he doesn't know what to say. He'd say he was fine if it were true, he'd say he was great on a normal day. But his mother told him he can't come home.
"What's that?" Nymphadora points and Draco closes his hand tighter around the balled-up parchment. "Just a letter from mother," He says.
"Bad news, huh?" She asks. Draco knows he'd normally not keep so quiet about whatever was in a letter, generally to lord it over someone less fortunate, so he knows why she might be able to figure that out.
It doesn't mean he likes that she can, though. A proper pureblood heir should be able to keep all their secrets to themselves. Draco's never been very good at that, though.
"It - I've decided to stay here this Yule," He attempts anyway. "Mother is devastated but -"
"Five points from Hufflepuff for lying to me, Draco," Nymphadora says, as she moves around the couch to sink down onto it. "Come on, I'm your cousin. Doesn't the fact that I'm family mean anything to you?"
Very much. Family first, that was what his mother had taught him. But this isn't the family he'd been taught to put first. She's a half-blood, a blood-traitor's daughter. It'd go against everything he's ever known.
Go to your Aunt's.
(I don't want you alone.)
(Draco can read between the lines.)
"Father doesn't want me home," he says. "He's - currently unhappy. Mother says he'll be fine by the spring holiday, but -"
"Your mum wants you to be safe somewhere." Nymphadora deducts. "Like at my mum's."
"She would like me to go to Aunt Andromeda's home, yes." Draco lifts his head, slightly. "But there is no reason I can't -"
"Don't even try it," Nymphadora rolls her eyes and leans back into the couch. "You've never spent a Christmas alone in your life. I don't particularly like you, little Malfoy, but I'm not going to leave my cousin alone during the holidays." She admits, freely, that she doesn't like Draco - and maybe that makes him feel a bit better about the whole thing because he really doesn't like her either.
The fact that his cousin doesn't like him doesn't sting at all, by the way.
"... Fine," Draco says, leaving a few moments before his response so as not to seem too eager. He's really not, anyway, and he'd rather Nymphadora - Tonks, he'd rather Tonks not make that assumption.
(Last names are distancing. If you don't use someone's first name, you aren't friends. It helps he can pretend it's because she prefers to be called that anyway if she asks.)
That Saturday, the students of the castle are all in a frenzy, getting ready to go down to Hogsmeade station in order to take the train back to London.
(Vaisey had gone the night before with a group of other under seventeen students and a few people with apparation licenses who lived somewhere in Scottland, so it made no sense for them to go all the way down to London. There were many in the group alongside him; Tracey Davis, Sophie Roper, Cho Chang and Terrance Boot, to name a few.)
"Mum and Dad are taking Ginny and going to visit Charlie in Romania," Ron had told Harry, before they'd both signed up to stay over the holiday, "So the rest of us - Percy, Fred, George, me - we're staying here this Christmas."
As the weeks passed by, and the snow started falling, Christmas took over the castle very steadily, until one morning Harry had walked into the Great Hall to the sight of at least a dozen Christmas trees, all very nearly completely decked out in tinsel and baubles and magical decorations.
Today, however - was finally Christmas. Harry and Ron appeared to be the only Slytherin younger years who had stayed; there were the occasional seventh or fifth year concerned about their exams who were still in the castle, but other than that, when Harry and Ron had awoken to find a tree and presents in the dubious safety of the common room, there were nearly no other people in sight.
"I've got presents," Harry says, stunned. He hadn't expected any at all - maybe a snide sock or penny from the Dursleys, but no more than that, and actually, much less.
"Move over," A gruff voice grunts. Harry and Ron move aside as the older Slytherin rubs at his eyes with one hand while he accios his presents, then gathers them up and stomps back in the direction of his dorm. Harry and Ron glance at each other, shrug, and decide to do the same, just without a spell they haven't been taught yet. Ron gathers up his presents quick enough, but Harry takes the time to see who he got them from. Hagrid, Ron, something from Mrs Weasley, Mandy, and a mysterious, tagless, wrapped bit of fabric, from what he could feel.
The two make their way back to their dorm with their presents and drop onto their respective beds before ripping into them.
"Mum always forgets I hate maroon," Ron grumbles lightly, but he still dons the knitted jumper, which along with being maroon has a large R on the front, presumably for 'Ron'. "Looks like you've got one too," He points to the present that's marked as being from Mrs Weasley. Harry puts aside the whittled owl-themed flute Hagrid had given him and opens that next. Lo and behold, there's a green jumper - 'to match your eyes, dear' apparently - with the letter H on the front. For 'Harry', quite obviously.
Harry grins as he puts it on, placing aside the fudge she'd also packaged in there for later. The present from Mandy is a Quidditch book and some sweets - 'in case you don't like the sweets', she'd written, 'have a book. Don't worry, it's on Quidditch, nothing boring. Merry Christmas!'
"What's that one? Who's it from?" Ron asks, gesturing to the mysterious package.
"I don't know," Harry says, warily poking it. "Can't be anything dangerous, surely." Ron says, "They check for stuff like that, right?"
"You'd think so," Harry says, as he picks up the present and carefully starts unwrapping it. Fortunately, it's not something dangerous - just a silky, strangely watery, large - piece of fabric?
"That's an invisibility cloak!" Ron exclaims, looking shocked. "Those are rare, they are! Look, it came with a note -" Ron leans over the edge of his bed and picks up the note that had fallen on the floor, then hands it over to Harry.
"Use it well," Harry reads, the script looping but not too small to decipher. He looks up at Ron. "There's no name, just - use it well, Merry Christmas."
Ron frowns. "They're not cheap, those," Ron says, "Demiguise fur - hard to get, since they're invisible, see, so when someone makes one of those they're -" Ron shakes his head. "Priceless, even if they only last about half a decade most times. We've got a cloak, something mum's family had, but it stopped working decades and decades ago. Worthless, now... fur's all ruined."
Harry nods, as he grabs the cloak and experimentally throws it around his shoulders.
"Wicked," Ron grins, and Harry looks down.
"My body's gone!" He exclaims.
"Well, what'd you think an invisibility cloak does?" Ron leans forward slightly, fascinated. "Can I try?"
"Yeah, here," Harry takes it off and hands it over. Ron grins, but Harry stops being able to see that when his head disappears under the cloak.
With this newfound freedom, the two of them set out to explore the castle much later - now they've got a means of being invisible, moving around after curfew is going to be much easier.
"Mind you, we can still walk into stuff," Ron had said. "Got't' be careful about that."
Harry and Ron explore the castle that night, after dinner. They explore the castle the night after that, too, out of excitement, but Harry, the third night, decides to go out alone.
Curious as always, Harry finds himself outside the third-floor corridor. There's nobody in sight - he's got the flute, he could just go in and check...
Voices. Harry quickly flattens himself into an alcove which appears to be missing its suit of armour - thankfully, not the only one on the hallway with the same predicament. Two people round the corner -
Quirrel and Snape.
Harry quietly sucks in a sharp breath and presses himself further into the dark alcove.
"What do you know so far?" Snape asks the other teacher, tone low and dark. Harry can see plainly that he's holding his wand; Quirrel's eyes keep darting to it, as the man stutters through his response. Harry winces when Quirrel turns his head away from Harry; like in DADA, Harry's scar starts hurting.
"J-just h-h-how to ge-et past-t-t the d-d-og," Quirrel says, nervously.
"Liar," Snape hisses, lifting his wand and pointing it at Quirrel. "You are having trouble only with the last obstacle."
"I d-d-don't k-know wh-a-at I-It is-s," Quirrel steps back from Snape's wand. "A-And I-I ask you-u lower y-your w-w-wand; our m-m-master -"
"Quiet you imbecile," Snape snaps, but he lowers his wand all the same.
"Y-yes, o-o-f c-course," Quirrel mutters, glancing around. Harry's breath hitches in his throat when the man's eyes catch on the alcove Harry is hiding in, but he lets out a shaky, relieved breath when Quirrel moves on.
More voices.
"Students," Quirrel says. "P-prefects."
The two leave the corridor, and as predicted, two patrolling prefects look around. "Could've sworn I heard something," One mutters - Ravenclaw, maybe a sixth year. "Probably the paintings," The other mutters - she grabs her friend by the arm and starts dragging him down the corridor, quite thankfully, as he'd been about to check the alcove Harry was in. "Come on, it's the holidays. Anyone who's up now is just going to be punished by how tired they are in the morning anyway..."
Harry waits a solid few minutes before he leaves the alcove he's in.
Well. Now there's more evidence the two are working together, at least.
Harry doesn't go out for another few nights. But classes start back up again soon, come January tenth, so Harry thinks he might as well while the castle is so quiet and most of the prefects aren't patrolling.
Harry had told Ron by now what he'd overheard the two teachers talking about. "We'll see if Susan thinks they'll accept that as evidence," Ron had replied, and that had been that.
Harry gets out of bed at around midnight. Ron's soundly snoring away in bed, so Harry leaves him be - he gets his cloak, throws it on, grabs his wand and leaves the Slytherin part of the dungeons. He walks around and finds himself in the library.
Curious as always, because you can't accuse Harry of leaving things well alone, he wanders into the Restricted Section. It's not that well guarded, really; just a rope between the back of the main library and the books most students aren't allowed to read. After stepping over said rope, Harry looks around the shelves; most books don't have titles, and those that do he generally can't read them. There are a few that he can; 'Most Potente Potions'... 'Book of Spells'... 'Famous Fire-Eaters'... and, strangely, a black and silver bound book that, upon closer inspection of the front cover, is titled 'The Works of the Most Reverend Dr John Tillotson.'
Harry thinks for a moment but still decides to open that book. A high-pitched, and very loud screeching emanates from it immediately - Harry winces and slams the book shut. He hears, suddenly, a meowing sound. "Mrs Norris," Harry says to himself. He drops the book, which opens as it falls, and, rushing, pulls his cloak back on as he sprints out of the library. Harry runs and runs, doesn't think about where he's going - Filch knows this castle too well for him to hide in any one spot. Eventually, though, Harry has to slow down; he's eleven and tired, and this is a very large castle. He has to have lost Filch by now.
Still, cautious, Harry spots an open door to an unused classroom. He quickly shuts himself inside the room, just in case.
It's very definitely unused, Harry notes, once he turns around and looks at the place he's shut himself in. Dusty, with all the desks and chairs stacked against the walls to make space in the middle for...
Harry frowns and moves closer. It's a mirror. There's an inscription along the top - Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
Harry looks around. There's nothing in the room. He looks in the mirror - still, there is nothing there. Harry drops the cloak to the ground, and steps closer.
In the mirror, Harry is not alone. He turns, frantically, yet - in the classroom, there is no-one behind him. Cautiously, Harry turns back to look at the mirror.
Still, there are people surrounding him. Harry looks closely at these poeple - but he doesn't know who they are. He's never seen any of them before, not once. He doesn't recognise the woman, with her vibrant red hair and youthful face -
But he recognises the man. And he recognises her eyes.
"Mum?" Harry asks, quietly. She's smiling at him, but there's a sheen to her eyes like she's about to cry. "Dad?"
He nods, smiling. Harry looks at the other people. There's an old man with Harry's knees, a woman with the same shade of hair. There's a kind-looking blonde lady, old, who looks like a mix between his mum, the redhead, and his Aunt Petunia. A man with Dudley's nose, oddly, and two people Harry can see with Harry's own chin - one of the only facial features Harry doesn't share with his parents.
His parents, looking at them, can't have been older than twenty-five. Probably younger.
Harry's mother Lily, as Hagrid had said in the shack all those months ago, places her hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry places his on her's in the mirror, but in reality, he can't feel anything there at all.
Harry's dad grins at Harry, then winks as he ruffles Harry's hair. Harry doesn't know anything about him, other than that his name is James Potter, that this is what he looks like, and that - that he was so very young.
"A pair of drunken layabouts," Aunt Marge had scoffed, then took a long drink from her wine glass. "No wonder the boy turned out like that." She gestured to him. Dudley had snorted into his food.
Lily and James don't look like drunks to Harry.
Harry sits down. His parents follow suit, and so do a few others. They smile at him, all of them, but all of them have that look in their eyes, too, that one his mum has. The one that makes him think they're about to cry.
Harry sits there all night.
"Where were you?" Ron asks at breakfast the next morning. It's Saturday, around nine-thirty. Harry had noticed the time when he'd gotten hungry, and had quickly made his way back to the dorm, but not before Ron had already left for breakfast.
"I found something," Harry said, happily, as he put breakfast on his plate. "I'll show you tonight, it's great."
"Well, what is it?" Ron asks, as he too loads breakfast onto his plate, in the form of a Full English. "Go on, tell me."
"It's a mirror," Harry says, quietly, glancing to see if anyone overhears. "In one of the empty classrooms. It showed me my family."
Ron blinks. "Makes sense the school has something like that," He says. "Loads of old stuff here. Who knows what's hanging around the place?"
Ron agrees to go visit the Mirror that night. The day, for Harry, passes slowly as he anticipates seeing his family again. "It's not like a mirror's about to just up and walk off," Ron reminds him, reasonably. "It won't be gone before we see it. It'll be cool if I can see your family - I'd like to show you mine, too..."
The time they decided upon arrives - the two sneak out of the dungeons, up the Grand Staircase and down a few corridors before Harry recognises a few paintings and, once again, sees the classroom with the ajar door.
Harry hurries them inside, drops the cloak perhaps a little carelessly, and drags Ron over to the mirror. "See?" He gestures, pointing to the mirror.
"No," Ron says. "I - I don't see your family, Harry."
"Well, what do you see?" Harry demands, stepping aside.
"Me," Ron blinks, a slight smile spreading over his face. "That's me! And I'm - Head Boy... I'm holding the Quidditch Cup - and, bloody hell! I'm Quidditch Captain too!" He looks at the mirror silently, for a moment. "I look good..." He adds, a little quieter.
Ron glances over at Harry.
Harry frowns in return. "Well, that's not my family," Harry says, looking at the Mirror.
"What do you suppose it shows you?" Ron tilts his head as he looks at the mirror. "Can't be the future -" "Given my family's all dead," Harry injects, dryly, "- Well, yeah - so what could it be?"
Harry thinks, for a moment.
Harry sees his own family. Ron sees - well, himself, but... having accomplished something.
"Maybe it shows you what you want," Harry says. "... Whatever you want."
Ron frowns at the mirror. "We should get going," Ron says. "It took us a while to find this place -"
"-No," Harry says, "Come on, we haven't even been here that long, I haven't even had a chance to look yet-"
"-You were here all last night, for around - I don't know, six, seven hours, I think if there's any reason to stay it's my turn -"
"-I've never even seen my family before this-"
Before Ron can retort, there's a meow at the door.
"... we didn't close it." Ron says. Harry turns, and Mrs Norris is there, staring at them.
"... Fuck," Ron mutters and grabs the cloak off the floor. He throws it over the two of them, and they escape from the room before Filch can show up. The two Slytherins run all the way back to the Common Room, through the Common Room, and only stop using the cloak once it'd get in the way of them getting back to their dorm.
Once back in the relative safety of their dorm room, Harry drops the cloak into his trunk as Ron flops down onto his bed.
"That was eventful," Harry says.
"I don't think you should go back." Ron sits up and looks at Harry, serious. "There's something about that mirror, Harry. It's dangerous."
"If you say so," Harry says, as he closes his canopy.
"I mean it," Harry hears. He doesn't listen.
"Back again, Harry?"
Harry jumps, then rushes to stand as he turns around. The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, is seated on one of the desks.
"Headmaster Dumbledore!" Harry exclaims, lamely. "I was - it's-"
"-Rather alright, Harry," Dumbledore stands and walks over to Harry. "Do you know what this is, my boy?"
"It's a mirror. It - shows you what you want."
"Close, very close." The Headmaster turns to look at the mirror. Harry follows his gaze to the inscription etched in the top of the frame. "The Mirror of Erised shows not just what you want, but the most desperate, deepest desire of your heart."
Dumbledore's gaze turns to Harry, who looks at the mirror. In it, he doesn't see his parents; much like when he and Ron had stood before it the other night, Harry sees nothing but a reflection of the room he's in as it is, no more or no less.
"It only works on one person at a time, as you have likely figured out," The Headmaster says. "What do you think it means, that when you look you see your family, and when Ron looks he sees a more accomplished version of himself?"
"I don't know." Harry says, awkwardly.
"That's perfectly alright, my boy." Dumbledore smiles kindly at him, his eyes twinkling. "But all the same, I'd like you to guess."
"... I never knew my parents." Harry starts, haltingly. "It shows me them because I - because I always wanted to." Harry has to think for a moment, about what Ron saw, but then he remembers -
"...You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
"... Uhm," Harry starts, "I think... he's got a lot to live up to, and he wants to, so he sees that?"
"Nearly," Dumbledore nods. "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 or 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." Harry looks towards the mirror. It seems so innocuous, just standing there.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. 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 picked up his cloak. But - ever curious. "Sir... Professor Dumbledore, can I ask you something?"
"Most certainly," Dumbledore smiles, "Though it seems you just did. You may ask me one more something, however."
Harry looks up at the Headmaster. "What do you - I mean, what... is it that you see in the mirror?"
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks."
Harry stared.
"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thinks, as he shoves Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
Of course, Harry told Ron about what had happened - minus what Dumbledore had said about Ron himself because Harry feels far too awkward about that to mention it; it seems... about as invasive as what Harry had asked of Dumbledore regarding the mirror, at the least - and Ron had nodded.
Come Sunday evening, all the other students were back in the castle, ready for classes the next day.
"I had a great time," Mandy tells them, at dinner. "Parvati also invited me to her holiday party - not Christmas or any other religious get-together, just a party her family were throwing - and though Brown was there too, it was a good time."
Mandy has a rather obvious and severe grudge against Lavender Brown, for whatever reason. Harry can't exactly see why, but he supposes he doesn't need to know. And he doesn't want to, either.
"Got a postcard from Romania," Ron says. Harry has seen it already, but Mandy hasn't yet. "Since my sister and my parents were there visiting my brother."
"Of course," Mandy nods, remembering. "How was that for them?"
"Alright, I guess," Ron says. "The postcard says they had fun. The most important thing that happened, though; Harry got an invisibility cloak."
Harry and Ron had, indeed, decided without actually saying anything to completely 'forget' to mention the mirror to Mandy. It had just been a whole incident, and they'd rather just - forget it ever happened. Of course, it wasn't as easy as that at all; though The Headmaster has certainly convinced Harry to avoid the mirror for the rest of his life, for now, that wasn't going to stop the nightmares it appears the thing has caused. Over and over again, he has dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackles with laughter.
"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," Ron says when Harry tells him about this Monday morning before they go down to breakfast.
"So, with that invisibility cloak of yours," Mandy starts, as she butters her toast, "We can use that to go visit Fluffy, right?"
"Yeah," Harry says. "Same day we agreed, at four on Wednesday, just, with the cloak now."
"Good," She nods, then takes a bite from her toast. "That's sorted then."
The three nod, and that's that. After breakfast, they go to class. Wednesday, in their shared opinion, cannot come soon enough.
Notes:
And... that's where I'm up to currently! sorry for the wait and for the deluge; I've been writing this mostly on AO3 and i keep forgeting to post chapters of my works over here, too. Which means all my other works will be getting loads of new chapters because they've been up on Ao3 for... Ages. So like... wow, sorry, but... I haven't abandoned anything? So at least there's that.