November passed. Too soon for the liking of the students, Dead Week was upon them. At first Aria had thought it rather ominous and that perhaps the wizarding world had some sort of death ritual before Christmas (or Yule if one followed the Old Religion), but it was quickly explained to her by Marcus Flint that Dead Week was the week before finals and finals happened the week before Christmas.
She was beginning to understand why the students lovingly called it Dead Week.
The Great Hall had become a meeting place for various inter-house study groups, most of them sixth and seventh years as those classes were more mixed between the houses.
Aria and Hermione had gotten a large group of Slytherin and Gryffindor first years to study several subjects together as they were taking the tests at the same time. Aria was pleased to see that, besides Neville and Hermione, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had joined their study group. It appeared that the girls in Hermione's dorm didn't want to associate with Slytherins.
Also to her delight, several other Slytherins joined their group. Theo, Daphne, and Blaise came, though Blaise insisted it was because he knew if he could copy Hermione's notes he'd pass.
Hermione sat as far from him as possible.
Halfway through the study session revising their DADA notes, Draco appeared, school bag slung over his shoulder, gray eyes darting about as if he were afraid something was going to jump out at him.
"What are you all doing?" he demanded.
"Defense," Harry answered.
"And if you can keep your snooty comments to yourself, you're welcome to join," Aria added, handing Dean's text book back to him.
"Or if you've brought food," Seamus called down the table. He'd arrived bag loaded with food from the kitchens.
Draco reached into his school bag and pulled out a box.
"La Petite Macaroons?" Daphne cried.
"My mother was just in Paris," Draco answered. "She sent me two dozen."
"Is this a peace offering," Ron questioned. "Where are your . . . others?"
"They don't care for studying," Draco answered. "Can I join you or not?"
"Whatever," Aria muttered, shoving Harry down so that Draco could squeeze between her and Harry. He opened the box of macaroons, letting Aria take the first pick. She peered at the pastry, sorted in various colors. She picked one labeled Dragonfruit which was a pinkish-red, sweet to her tongue, and absolutely divine.
"Sweet mother of Jesus," she cried. "This is amazing."
"You've never had a macaroon?" Hermione cried. Aria shook her head.
"Neither have I," Harry said, taking a chocolate one. "My aunt loves them though." His eyes rolled back into his head as he bit into his sweet. Draco was more than appalled that neither of them had ever had a macaroon before and let them have another. Aria chose pistachio.
Aria awoke on Christmas morning to find a pile of presents at the foot of her bed. Grinning she crawled to the edge of the bed and tore into the presents. From her dad she got school supplies like parchment, ink, and new quills. From Hermione she received her own copy of Hogwarts, A History, which made her laugh. Maybe now she'd get around to reading it.
Ron had gotten her a box of chocolates and Harry had given her warm mittens. Neville had gotten her a book on wizarding etiquette.
As she stared around at the gifts, her stomach flipped. Would her friends like her gift? Which was really nothing more than homemade cards that she'd convinced Professor Flitwick to animate. She only had two Galleons left and wouldn't receive her second half for first year until the week before classes began.
Climbing off her bed, a small box wrapped in red paper fell from the folds of her blankets. Curious at her last Christmas present, Aria scooped it up. There wasn't a note or anything. Odd.
Setting it down, Aria went about dressing and getting herself ready for the day. She grabbed her wand and the red box before heading downstairs where she found Harry already waiting.
"Ready?" he asked. He stepped to the bottom of the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory.
"RON!" he shouted. "Aria's ready!"
Seconds later Ron came running down the stairs, two packages in his arms.
"These are from my mum," he said, thrusting them at Harry and Aria. "They've been in my trunk for weeks."
Eagerly, Aria tore open the brown paper and gasped at the beautiful hand-knitted sweater that she pulled out, a deep emerald color with a silver A on the front. She immediately slipped it on before realizing that Ron wore a similar sweater but with an R. One look at Harry showed Aria he's gotten one with an H.
"It's wonderful!" Aria cried. "I'll write immediately to your mum and thank her."
"No need to do that," Ron cried, face and ears turning red. "It's just . . . Weasley sweaters are what she always makes for us. Each of us kids have one for each Christmas we've been here. Dad's got one too."
"Does she send one to your grandparents?" Aria asked, remembering Ron's description of his rather old-fashioned grandfather.
"I . . . don't know. I've never seen Grandfather wear one, though that doesn't mean Mum hasn't tried." The three left the Slytherin common room, trekking across the castle to the Gryffindor tower where the portrait of the Fat Lady glared at them while they knocked and waited for one of Ron's brothers to let them in.
Percy answered, looking very flushed and angry.
"Come in," he snapped. Then, "Fred! George! They're here. Give me my prefect badge!"
Fred and George tossed Percy his badge, grins on their faces.
"I see you two go the usual Weasley sweaters," Fred said.
"It basically means Mum's adopted you," George added.
"Honorary Weasleys!" the twins shouted, digging their knuckles into Harry and Aria's heads. Harry yelped while Aria managed to get an elbow into George's stomach before scampering off to the couch in front of the fire, rubbing her sore head and glaring at the unrepentant twins. Harry joined her, wearing the most betrayed look of anyone who'd had to suffer a noogie.
"Enough!" Percy told the twins sternly. "We're here to celebrate Christmas not scare away our brother's friends."
Ron glared at the twins at that thought.
After a few minutes breakfast popped into existence on one of the larger tables in the Gryffindor Common Room, complete with plates and silverware. The children heaped their plates with the hot, wonderful smelling food before settling in front of the fireplace to eat.
"So what do we want to do to celebrate Christmas?" Fred asked. "Snowball fight?"
"Isn't McGonagall thinking about banning you two from such things?" Aria asked. "You did throw snowballs at the back of Professor Quirrell's turban."
"She just can't take a joke," George answered.
Aria shifted on the couch, felt something poke her leg, and reached into her pocket, pulling out the red box she'd found on her bed.
"I forgot about this," she muttered.
"Who's it from?" Ron asked.
"Don't know. It hasn't got a name."
"Well . . . ." Percy grabbed the box and ran his wand over it, muttering several spells. "There's no jinxes or curses that I can tell. That was a detection spell, but only for childish things that you only learn in your first few years of Hogwarts."
"Like anyone would try and curse Aria," Ron cried.
"Don't be so sure," Percy warned. "She is a Muggleborn in the nest of snakes, and while nothing's happened yet, there may be those in Slytherin biding their time."
"Like Draco," Aria teased Ron. "He's probably waiting until he's taller than me so that it can be a fair fight." She ripped the paper off and found a plain box underneath. Lifting the top she frowned, confused.
Why was someone giving her macaroons?
"Macaroons?" Fred and George cried.
"Dragonfruit and pistachio," Aria said, lifting a small card. It was typeset.
"Who'd give you macaroons?" Percy asked. Aria shrugged. Ron and Harry made dramatic humming noises, making everyone look at them.
"Have something to share with the class?" Aria questioned.
"Well . . . ." Ron pulled out.
"Malfoy was the one to introduce you to macaroons," Harry said. "And you made quite a showing of loving the dragonfruit and pistachio ones."
Aria blinked once. Twice.
Then burst out laughing.
She laughed until her sides hurt and her sides ached.
"Don't be daft!" she cried, wiping her eyes clear. "Draco Malfoy, giving me a Christmas gift? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. He wasn't the only one who ate macaroons that day. It could've been Daphne or Theo who left me the gift. Blaise even. Malfoy! What a thought!" She struggled to control her laughter, but it took several minutes, in which time she packed away for macaroons for later and managed to finish her first helping of breakfast.
With much of the castle empty, and only having to report at meal times, Aria and her two friends were able to explore Hogwarts in better detail than during the busy school year. They discovered many empty classrooms with furniture draped with dusty sheets, classrooms filled with cobwebs in the corner and forgotten chalk and instructions written on the chalkboard.
Several times they tried to dare each other to go to the forbidden third floor corridor, but just the thought of the wrath of Snape made them cowards and they went off to find new adventures.
Two days before the term started they stumbled upon a large room that had benches against the walls, but no other furniture except for a draped object in the center of the room. Ron yanked the sheet off, sending dust flying. Aria, Harry, and Ron coughed and hacked as they cleared the air by waving their hands frantically in front of their faces.
Before them stood a towering mirror, ornate metal carvings surrounding the glass with strange words at the top. Aria decided to try and decipher the words later. The mirror, the glass, seemed to draw her and her friends forward. She peered into the depths of the glass . . . and gasped.
There she stood in her Weasley sweater and jeans, but behind her, standing at each shoulder, were her parents. There was her mum, looking alive and well and healthy! She peered over her shoulders, only to find Ron and Harry standing on either side, looking just as shocked at the reflection as she.
"What is this witchcraft?" she cried.
"I dunno," Ron muttered. "But I like it."
"Ron!" Aria cried.
"What? I think I'd make a good Quidditch captain and Head Boy."
Aria and Harry frowned.
"What do you mean by that?" Aria asked. "I see myself and my mum and dad. Harry, what do you see?"
Harry was silent for a few seconds.
"I see my parents too," he finally said. "And I think, behind them, are my ancestors. We're family."
"We're seeing different things?" Ron questioned.
"It'd appear so," Aria muttered, turning her attention to the strange words above their heads at the top of the mirror. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
"Is it Welsh?" Ron asked.
"How would any of us know that?" Aria answered. "This is obviously a powerful magical object. We should go to the library and try and find out what it is." She glanced longingly at her mum. Her mother smiled sweetly and even placed a hand on the shoulder of her reflection. She felt the beginning of tears prick her eyes and she hurried to turn away, even though she didn't want to.
"Personally I don't see what good this mirror is," she stated. "If the only thing it can show me is my dead mother." She ran from the room, Ron and Harry following behind. Aria did her best to keep the tears inside, she didn't want to cause a scene even if the castle was basically abandoned. If only she could have stood in front of the mirror forever and see her mother. If only her family hadn't been broken with such finality.
Harry slung an arm over her shoulder.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I wish I could've staid and looked at my parents too."
Later that night Aria slipped from the Slytherin dormitory and retraced her steps from that afternoon, keeping to the shadows to avoid an encounter with Filch and Mrs. Norris. Once she reached her destination she wasted no time in standing in front of the mirror, lighting her wand, and staring not just at the image of her mother, but at the garbled language up above.
Everything about the mirror felt old. Her magical core tingled the closer she stood to the mirror, giving her an uneasy feeling that which she tried to ignore because her mother was standing in front of her.
Breath shaking, Aria reached out with a hand, fingers ghosting over the mirror's glass. It was almost like, if she could reach through the glass, she'd be able to touch her mother once more.
"What a surprise to find you here, Miss Bourne."
Aria whirled about with a yell, almost tripping over the fallen sheet that had once covered the mirror. Headmaster Dumbledore held up his hands in the universal sign of peace before dropping them and coming to stand beside Aria in front of the mirror.
"You shouldn't be here, Miss Bourne," Dumbledore said. "It's far past your bedtime."
"I know," Aria murmured.
"I have this particular room monitored with spells," Dumbledore told her, "as it houses a rather powerful object. This, Miss Bourne, is the Mirror of Erised. Do you know what it does?"
"It shows us things," Aria answered, glancing into the mirror and at her mother's smiling face. "Things we want."
"Things we desire, young lady," the headmaster corrected. "I may want something, but that which I desire is always strongest in the heart and mind."
Aria glanced at the words at the top of the mirror and, suddenly, the words were no longer garbled.
"This mirror shows us what our heart desires," she said.
"Very good, Miss Bourne. Very good. Now you know why I had a ward on this room. A mirror such as this is a powerful artifact."
"Then why have it here at Hogwarts at all where we students can come across it?"
"Because most students do not have the fortitude you and your friends have when it comes to exploring the castle. And Hogwarts has a habit of changing up its unused parts. Why, just the other night I was out on my late night walk and I came across a lavatory that I didn't realize was there. The next day I went back to that same spot and it was gone."
Aria blinked sadly at her mother.
"What's the point of a mirror like this?" she asked. "Some desires can't be given or achieved." She thought of Ron's innocent desire to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, how different and naive it seemed compared to her's and Harry's.
"No. But perhaps looking upon the desire's of the heart can help one see their life in perspective. Or teach a lesson. Who knows what the creators of the mirror were thinking?"
Aria felt tears prick her eyes. What a foolish thing it'd been, coming back. Her mother was dead and staring at a mirror wasn't going to change it. Being told her mother was her greatest desire was no surprise, it only made Aria long for her more.
"I'm sorry, sir," Aria cried. "I don't want to be here anymore. Nothing good can come from this mirror." She grabbed the sheet and flung it back over the mirror. Her mother disappeared.
"Men far older than you have wasted away in front of this mirror," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his bear. "It is addictive, staring into the depths of your desire."
"It's also very sad," Aria sad. "Because my mother is dead and no matter how hard I desire her, I won't ever have her."
Dumbledore waved an arm towards the door and the two exited. Dumbledore closed the door and waved his wand over the wood. Aria hear the snick of the lock sliding into place.
"Sir?" Aria asked as the two of them walked down the hall. "What did you see, when you looked into the mirror?" What could one of the greatest (supposedly) wizards of all time desire the most?
Dumbledore smiled.
"When I look in the mirror, I see myself wearing the warmest pair of brightly colored wool socks."
"Wool socks?"
"Yes. Everyone seems to think I want books, but all I really want is a nice pair of socks. You can never have too many pairs."
Somehow, that didn't seem false. It also didn't sound like the truth either. But at his age, Aria supposed, one could never be sure.
She bid the headmaster goodnight at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeons and, using her wand, lit her way through the dark corridors back to the dormitory where she climbed back into her bed, but didn't fall asleep until dawn was beginning to break.
