The Watch
The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters had turned into a refugee camp, and now in the Weasley's paddock, a sea of tents stood around a large marquee which housed the injured Ministry employees.
Many of the refugees had since been inducted into the Order. Others, once recovered, would hide in Europe with their families.
Lily turned away from the window, gazing momentarily at her sleeping children. At three in the morning, she decided to tackle the clean laundry that needed to be ironed. She could not get another wink of sleep for the night. Her head was filled with too much worry and fear.
"Mum," Michael croaked, "are you starting your shift now?"
"Soon."
Her shifts in the marquee looking after the injured were long and arduous, but she was learning a lot from the Healers. "Go back to sleep." Lily tucked him in.
She checked on Christopher who was snoring and Jessica who slept with her thumb in her mouth. She brushed her daughter's hair through her fingers, pulling out a loose strand. She'll test it in the morning, always hoping the spell would say James is her father.
Suddenly Lily heard shouting and loud banter coming from downstairs. She listened in, and heard hurried footsteps. Then there was a quiet knock on her bedroom door.
"Lily, dear, you're needed." Molly Weasley sounded frantic.
"I'll be right out," she whispered. Feeling dread, she pulled on dressing gown and slipped out. "What happened? Is Petunia all right? James?"
Molly looked exhausted and frazzled. "Petunia's fine—this isn't about James—Azkaban's fallen and we have more guests."
"Harry?" Lily gasped.
Molly furrowed her brow. "No dear, he isn't here."
Without responding she made her way into the living room. Not a sound stirred in the crowded room as Kingsley and Bill moved to give them space.
There was a group of ninety children of various ages. They stood straight, their hands behind their backs. The boys all had crew-cuts while the girls had their hair up in braided pigtails. They all wore blue jumpers over grey pyjamas.
Minerva and Poppy were taking down their names, asking questions. None were hurt and were in good health, although some carried awful scars.
Sitting at the other side of the room were Tiberius Ogden, Broderick Bode, Mafalda Hopkirk, Florian Fortescue, and many others, including Gawain Robards—the ex Head of the Auror Department. They were some of the Ministry protesters imprisoned in The Black Square. They were all drinking tea, devoid of emotion. Lily noticed that their soiled grey Azkaban tunics were now stained with blood and ash.
"Who are these children?" Dedalus whispered.
She noticed that the children all had a dejected, broken look about them which tugged at her heartstrings, however none seemed frightened. They weren't children anymore, but soldiers.
"The Conditioned imprisoned in Azkaban. Atoner Agnes Cotter brought them here," Kingsley answered.
Lily was shocked when she noticed the navy robed Atoner speaking with Dumbledore. Dried blood stuck to her face and she held onto her bloodied shoulder.
The eerie silence was broken when a growing group of grief-stricken parents tried breaking through the guards surrounding the door. Lily was ungraciously shoved forward, into Bill.
"ROBERT?" a woman yelled. "Is Robert here?"
"Ma'am, calm down. We need to identify these children first—"
"THAT'S MY BOY!" The woman pointed to the tall, black teenager in the back row with the other older kids.
The boy craned his head, his brown eyes round like saucers. "M-Mum?"
As though the children had been snapped out of a spell, they started to move, blinking and letting their arms rest by their sides. And just like that, their regimented, stiff movements softened.
"Isabella?" a father said, scanning the children as he pushed through Arthur Weasley's hold on the door. "Izzie?"
"Daddy!" a ten year old blonde girl squealed. She ran, jumping onto her father.
He hugged her so tight, tears spilled from his eyes. "My little girl…" he sobbed, "I thought you were gone forever."
More parents enquired about their missing children. Lily's heart panged for those whose children weren't in this little group.
She couldn't handle the scene any longer. There was enough of the Order in there to sort things out. She walked outside into a quiet patch of the yard, clutching her chest; all the emotions pent up threatened to let loose in a flood of tears and agony. Harry, where are you?
"Lily Potter?"
Surprised, she looked up, quickly wiping her watery eyes. "I am, yes." She crossed her arms. "Agnes Cotter, I've heard a little about you."
"Dumbledore has spies in every nook and cranny." She held her wounded shoulder tight. Lily knew it needed to be treated straight away.
"Let me check your injury."
Agnes nodded, sitting right next to her, weary and tired. Cotter was a middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair. There was a dark, haunted look about her that Lily felt uneasy with.
"How did you rescue the children?" Lily carefully checked the Atoner's shoulder. A stab wound, she thought. She cleaned the area with a Scourging Charm.
"I was warned of the imminent attack. Auror Pickens and I took the children to the Order. We travelled through secret passages to The Blue Square. As we Portkeyed, Death Eaters got in. They killed Pickens and a dagger struck me."
There were more shouts in the distance. Lily and Agnes looked around, witnessing more parents pushing their way into The Burrow.
When Lily turned back to the Atoner's injury, the witch was staring at her. "Your son has inherited your eyes."
"Harry…" Her chest tightened. "Is-is he still alive?"
"I don't know, but I know your husband is safe. He was never kept in Azkaban."
Lily dropped her wand. "M-my husband?"
The Burrow's kitchen was a buzz with hungry witches and wizards. Around the table a few of the Order members were whispering amongst themselves, while the Weasleys discussed the attack in Azkaban. At the edge of the table Emmeline and Tonks were chatting about some cute Aurors they had seen in the Marquee, as they both tackled their bacon.
Lily stirred a cup of strong coffee and squeezed into a free spot at the table, between her sons. She pulled Jessica onto her lap and buttered toast for her. But her mind was elsewhere. She needed to speak with Dumbledore.
"I feel quite lost without The Daily Prophet," Percy mentioned, looking morosely out the window.
"Why? It wa' foo' o' shee' an-way," Ron blurted, with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
"RONALD!" his mother yelled. "Don't talk with your mouth full!"
The heavily compromised and biased newspaper wasn't amiss anyway; it was full of rumour mongering with Ministry propaganda. Fighting and Questioning the Ministry's Tactics Will Incur Severe Punishment... Unforgivables Allowed if Used against Death Eaters... And for a decade, 'The Order of the Phoenix is an EVIL vigilante group'… 'We want unity and loyalty from you. Those who do not agree are our enemies.'
Kingsley stood up, and Arthur scraped his chair back. The dark Auror placed a gentle hand on Lily's shoulder.
"Come outside, Dumbledore's waiting for us."
Lily told the boys to make sure Jessica ate, before stepping onto the Weasley's lopsided porch.
Dumbledore sat on the crooked old bench, throwing feed at a scattering of fat hens. "Good morning. Azkaban is no more—"
"What happened to Harry?" Her voice was on the verge of anger. "And where is my husband?"
"Harry is at Severus's, Lily. I have a feeling that you will want to see him, but do not go to Spinners End until I find a suitable disguise for you."
"How long have you known about this Mirror's existence?" Kingsley questioned, he looked torn and just as sour as Lily was. "What about James? What's going on? You owe us an explanation for everything! And no more Confund—"
"I've known about this Mirror boy ever since he set foot into this world."
Lily had to sit down on the porch steps and Kingsley paled. "How did you know?"
"As soon as you told me about his unusual scar."
"But you can't have realised that quickly—you're hiding something!"
Dumbledore raised his hand. "What I know can compromise the Mirror's existence."
Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead. "The poor boy… Albus, you should've told us, you should've trusted us. Instead you tricked us when we voiced our doubts."
Dumbledore bowed his head. "Perhaps, but the less we knew of him—"
"The less danger he'd be in," Kingsley snorted darkly. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Albus, the boy was put through hell! I have nightmares about it. Now he's recovering in a spy's house, surrounded by Death Eaters. You made us believe he was insane. I think you're the crazy one!"
"Maybe I am. I just want this war over and what I went through at Voldemort's hand, made… made me realise that there is no honourable way to end this," Dumbledore replied softly. He threw more feed at the hens.
"I've put up with your plans for awhile now," Kingsley spurned, "you can't keep ordering people to sacrifice themselves, or kill without a proper explanation."
"I'm sorry I haven't been straightforward—"
"Bit late for that," said Lily.
"Kingsley, given that you knew what the situation was like in Azkaban, with the advanced, gruesome magic Dolores Umbridge had gotten the Unspeakables to install after Harry's first escape," Dumbledore looked coldly at the Auror, "do you honestly believe we could have gotten Harry out?"
Kingsley fell silent for a minute before he answered and Lily waited, holding her breath. "No," he answered softly, deflated. "But we can rectify this. Let us help the boy now."
"No. There are more friends than enemies residing at Severus's. Our priority is to help Lily's son." He wiped his hands clean and looked up.
Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Care to tell us who is really on our side, besides Snape?"
"No—"
"What about James? Don't lie to me again." Lily could've exploded in anger. She really wanted to tell him how she was feeling. How it felt being ripped a part like this.
Dumbledore sighed. "He is well, and will return soon once we switch the boys. He was captured by Grindelwald along with your son. Harry is almost ready. I hope… I hope you will forgive me."
"I'm not the right person you should be asking for forgiveness!"
"Lily, if this Mirror boy had not escaped your basement, things would've panned out differently—"
"Then this boy—this innocent boy ended up in Azkaban and you left him there!" Lily turned around and stormed back into the Burrow.
Harry woke gasping for air. His heart was threatening to break out of his chest. He scanned his surrounding, blinking away the heavy urge to sleep again, and was determined to see the danger he was in.
Everything seemed different. He lay in a comfortable and warm bed. He wriggled his fingers and toes beneath the crisp and clean bed sheets, though moving them was a mistake and pain shot up and down the lower half of his body.
It didn't look like his dimly lit and damp Azkaban cell. Harry was in a large room with peeling blue wallpaper and a large fireplace. The ceiling was yellowed, the plaster work antique and the furniture was just as old.
Harry was in pain, and he felt weak and shaky. Then there was the occasional involuntary painful twitch which coursed through his muscles from repeated use of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry licked his lips thinking that he could do with a drink of water.
Then, looking over to the right he saw a familiar Gryffindor girl, Parvati Patil sleeping in a plush, blood red armchair. Harry was staring so much that when she opened her large brown almond-shaped eyes she stared right back at him.
"Hi Harry." She flung off her blanket and rubbed her eyes.
"Er, hi—" He coughed, his voice was hoarse and it barely came out at all. Breathing hurt and it was wheezy.
"You're going to be okay." Parvati sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing away his fringe.
He gripped her hand. "Wh-where am I? What happened?" Harry flinched when she pulled out her wand, muttering a spell. "What are you doing?"
"Just a Pain Relieving Charm... We rescued you and you're recovering at Snape's." She smiled as though this was the best possible outcome for him.
No way! No fucking way! He gaped in shock.
"Don't worry, you're really safe. Azkaban fell to the Dark Lord and the Atoners are dead."
Of course he wanted his revenge on the Atoners, but Agnes? No, she can't be dead.
"Everyone we rescued is recovering here."
Harry panicked. He definitely didn't want to be in the close vicinity of Death Eaters. It was bad enough he was stuck in Azkaban, barely able to speak with them. Now freed, things were going to be a lot more different. He tried getting out of bed, but blinding pain hit him.
"Let go of me, Parvati! I'm getting out of here," he gritted through the agony.
"Are you insane?" she yelled, trying to prevent him from falling out of bed.
"What's going on here?"
Harry froze. Looking up he saw Snape near the great ornate wardrobe and he was as menacing as ever.
"Sir, he wants to—"
"Stay away from me!" Harry shouted. He tried untangling the blankets around him, but fell, knocking into the bedside cabinet. Potion bottles cascaded onto his head, and the lamp crashed onto the floor. He cried in anguish, his entire body burning in pain.
Snape and Parvati towered over him. His eyes watered, as he felt them grasp his arms, trying to pull him up, but Harry lashed out.
"DON'T TOUCH ME YOU MURDERER!"
Snape pulled away abruptly as though stung. "Murderer?"
"You killed Dumbledore." Harry was still trying to untangle himself.
Parvati looked confused. "Dumbledore's alive, Harry."
"Patil, leave us," Snape commanded. She obeyed. He then crouched down beside Harry. "Potter, I don't know what I did in your world, but Dumbledore is alive here and I would never kill him. Unless he instructed me to do so..."
"Instructed to?" Harry asked. "Wait, you know who I am? Does Voldemort know?"
"Nobody here, except I, knows who you really are. Now, lie flat, I will help you back into bed." Twirling his wand, the sheets and blankets flew back onto the mattress.
"I can get up myself."
Snape snorted, as though he had just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.
Cool air rushed over Harry's naked body. He hovered into the air then gently fell onto the mattress. He felt revulsion that Snape was taking care of him, worse still, that he was trapped in his house.
Harry tried to sit up. But Snape pushed him down hard. "I don't want you anywhere near me."
"I find the situation just as distasteful as you do."
Snape repaired the broken splint tied to Harry's left hip and leg. Then he threw the bed sheets over him, before sitting down.
He gazed at Harry, curiosity now on his face. "This house is filled with recovering Death Eaters and the Conditioned. You must pretend that you are your Mirror. Do you understand?"
"Is Parvati a Death Eater?"
Snape sat back, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "The Patil sisters were conditioned by Pritchard, abducted after Hogwarts closed." Snape took a breath. "I assume that you know the dynamics of this world by now."
"I more than know. I've experienced it." Harry grimaced.
"Obviously not the welcoming party you had expected—"
"I didn't come here on purpose!"
Snape's look was nothing less than sceptical. "Now listen to me, you may have some, unwanted visitors in the coming days. Play your part well, Potter. Pretend you know them, be friendly."
"Voldem—?"
"He'll wait until you've fully recovered. However, I do hope you will have been moved by then. How are you feeling?"
"I'm alive, aren't I?" Harry relaxed. With his good arm, he moved the blankets up over his shoulders, feeling a sudden chill.
"Just barely." Snape leaned forward, his beady black eyes staring. "You were meant to die… they mutilated you."
Bile crept up his throat. "How long have I been here?"
"Three days. Your fever broke over the night. We've only been able to use spell work and healing incantations due to the nature of your injuries. Once you're able to drink the potions it will speed things up."
"Can't you maybe hurry it up a bit more? I can't stay here."
"Hurry up?" Snape snorted again. "You're just as idiotic as your counterpart. I was curious, hoping for a more intelligent Mage, but obviously you are just as dull—"
"I am not a Mage! And you're the same pathetic bully!"
"Bully?" Snape's said quietly, but Harry saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "For the record Potter, you displayed powerful Mage magic when we were tending to your injuries. You destroyed this bedroom."
"It could've been accidental—"
"No," Snape shook his head, "accidental magic is easily repaired. It took me two days and some help to work out how to repair this room. The magic you used was difficult to erase. It was almost Dark—"
"I am not using Dark magic," Harry growled.
"Being a Mage doesn't mean you're Dark—you're in fact invoking the ancient magic we wizards have lost through millenniums of interbreeding and blood dilution. It's considered Dark because the majority of wizards don't have this ability and don't understand it." He took a moment to readjust Harry's pillows. "However, without restraint, it's uncontrollable and destructive, thus our community was happy to have it bred out."
"But what happened to Harry?"
"Mages go through phases of magic—Potter, you need to rest—"
"I want to know more." Harry was determined to stay awake.
Snape sighed, checking his watch. "The first is important; it's called the Dark phase. As you freely absorb magic and life, this phase distorts the individual's soul so that it can accommodate their growing power and open them up to new potentials. People who become Mages through the Dark Arts tend to become evil. They end up absorbing so much power that they cannot control it and die. After all, the magic is unnatural to their bodies."
"What about a natural born?"
"Natural born Mages going through the phase don't use it to harm others, but may experience inner turmoil, evil ideas... They move on, regaining their normal sense of self."
"My Mirror hasn't moved past it." Harry was now fighting the urge to sleep. "And he's killed people."
"Being a Death Eater didn't help him at all. It made it worse." Snape shot up from his chair, startling Harry. "You need rest now. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?"
"I'm really thirsty."
Snape handed him a glass of water and watched him drink. "How are you feeling now?"
"All right, I think."
"Good. I'll send up your breakfast soon and we'll see how well you can manage food. You can only have clear liquids for a couple of days because of the damage to your bowel. Until your organs can tolerate the magic, we cannot give you the potions."
Harry blinked, his eyelids growing heavier.
"Do you remember what they did to you?"
He couldn't remember much past stabbing Brodes and shook his head.
"Do you want me to detail your other injuries?"
"Not now, maybe later." Harry shivered.
"Well, let me just tell you the seriousness of your situation, Potter. Besides the overwhelming injuries and infection, many of your fractures are cursed and could not be healed with wand magic. We will need to give you Skele-gro. Your back injuries are also cursed."
"Yeah, Cotter said something about that before."
"That whip the Atoners used had Skin Memory, always lashing on previous wounds to cause more pain and prolong healing. Your Mirror is still recovering from his."
He grimaced. He had suffered many injuries in his own world, but nothing to the extent what he had experienced in this one.
"You'll be pleased to know you'll still be able to sire children in future. However, for the moment you will not be able to— all nature calls will need to be preformed with charms and sitting will be painful for awhile."
Harry squirmed with embarrassment. He tried to lift the bed sheets to see first hand what the Atoners had done to him, but Snape gripped his hand.
"Do not," he said, "pick at your dressings."
"Just do what you have to!" Harry snapped, angrily, "I just want to get out of this place quickly."
Snape let go, his mouth curving into a malicious smile. "It will be our pleasure."
He must have fallen asleep again, because when he woke, the room was lighted by the lamp and someone was gently sponging him down with warm water.
"Stop—who are you?"
He might've seen her at Hogwarts before. She held the sponge in her hand with a look of fright in her eyes.
"Emily Miles. May I continue or would you like me to stop?" She soaked the sponge hesitantly. "It's my turn to watch you tonight."
"Watch? You're taking shifts? And please stop washing me."
The witch nodded, she quickly wiped his chest with a fluffy towel. He looked down, grimacing at the injuries and decided to stare at the ceiling instead.
But he dozed off again, because when he woke Emily had finished his wash and was dressing his injuries.
She kept giving him furtive glances, and then finally she spoke after pinning the last bandage. "Harry, I'm not really Emily Miles. I've Polyjuiced myself to be her…"
He flicked up an eyebrow, quickly eyeing the door, in case he needed to somehow miraculously escape. "Right… care to tell me who you really are then?"
"Your moth—Lily Potter."
Highly vigilant now, Harry tried to sit up, but this was a disastrous move. Every inch of him felt like knives were stabbing him. He couldn't trust her. "Do you know how dangerous—?"
"Yes I know, sweetheart, but Dumbledore and Severus know. The real Emily has gone home. She will reappear an hour after I leave in the morning."
"Right…" was all he could say. It was really disconcerting seeing his Mirror mother as another person.
There was a long pause before Lily spoke again. "I really wanted to see you. I thought you could do with a friendly face around here."
He was concerned that someone would hear their conversation. She seemed to have read his troubled expression.
"It's ok, Harry, Severus has put up many charms around the room."
"Severus? You're on a first name basis with Snape?"
Lily washed her hands in a bowl of water. "I'm judging by your tone, that you've had a difficult relationship with him in your world—"
"Definitely."
She lightly smiled. "I like to call people by their first names."
"Are you a Healer?"
"No, but I have had training over the years." She poured Harry a glass of orange liquid.
"I want to see you as you, when the Polyjuice wears off," he demanded, as she helped him sip pumpkin juice.
Lily's eyes now flicked hesitantly towards the door. "I will, but only for a minute. But, it'll be another hour before you can see me, and you may be asleep by then."
"Another hour? How long does the Polyjuice Potion last in this world?"
The Emily-Lily grinned. "It was for only an hour, until a witch currently in Australia told us—"
"Hermione Granger?"
"Yes." Lily looked pleased he knew her as well. "Well, last year, while she was at school, a teacher discovered that using kangaroo paws plant extended the life of the potion. They must be the red variety and only two paws added to the mixture increased the hours to three."
"I must remember that when I get back," Harry mused.
He did his best not to fall asleep. After dinner arrived, Lily bolted the door and as she fed him chicken broth, then jelly, he noticed her features change. Her curly brown hair grew longer, redder and thinner. Her features became older, Emily's thin lips turned fuller, and her eyes changed. Harry gasped, seeing her bright, green almond-shaped eyes. How he longed to see his mother close like this, alive.
Lily had a gentle heart-warming smile, which made her eyes glow. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was calming, motherly.
She was serene and comforting, almost like an angel.
"Happy to see you."
Harry had the sudden urge to hug her, but resisted. She was still a complete stranger. She may be his Mirror mum, but what he really yearned for was his dead mother.
"I'm, I'm so sorry about all that's happened—"
"Look, Lily—"
"Call me, Mum."
"I wish I could. I wish it so much. But you're not really her and I'm not your son."
She squeezed his hand. "While I didn't give birth to you, you're still my flesh and blood—just from a different place. I'm here for you if you want to talk about anything."
"Lily…" Still, Harry couldn't bring himself to say that word he longed to. "I appreciate your help and everything, but I really don't want to talk about what happened to me. I just need to concentrate on getting better, avoiding Voldemort and getting back home to finish my war."
"Sweetheart, you have to realise that it's not going to be as easy as you say it's going to be. I think the full impact of your ordeal hasn't hit you yet."
"Maybe…" Harry sighed.
"I've dealt with many tortured and abducted people over the last decade. Many have never come to terms with their suffering. I don't want that to happen to you."
"I've been through a lot in my own world, and I survived without anyone's help."
She looked at him sadly. "But just in case, if you need me, I will be here for you."
Her smile was filled with warmth. Suddenly Harry didn't want her compassion anymore. He knew she was trying all her best to make him feel better, feel like a son. He didn't want that.
"Maybe you should speak to your own son and see what he has to say about his life," he retorted, coldly.
A pained expression crossed her face.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her again and fell asleep instantly.
When he woke up, his Mirror mother was nowhere to be found. He looked over to the window and saw a mirror. He groaned in disappointment.
"I really don't want to do this now," he said. The mirror shimmered and with every minute he ignored it, it grew insistently brighter.
Sighing, he got out of bed, with not an injury or broken bone. He stared into the mirror. He took a deep breath and stepped through, the bright light on the other side put him off guard.
He was in a beautiful room with paintings adorning the green walls. The portraits were of all pale blonde wizards and witches, but their expressions were cold and sterile. A silver embossed carriage clock chimed above the large fire grate. The red Persian carpet was full of war scenes. Near the window was a large four poster bed covered with forest green velvet hangings, held back with gold rope. Harry didn't recognise the room, but judging it, he thought he was somewhere in Malfoy's house.
"This is my room," whispered Draco Malfoy as they stealthily entered. "The book shelf is over there." Malfoy pointed.
"Right…" The Mirror walked straight over as though he was on a mission to find something.
Harry followed the absconding fifth year boys, still wearing their Hogwarts robes under their hooded cloaks. His Mirror then gazed at the book titles.
"You won't find it there, Potter," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid to leave it out in the open."
"You sure you're not stupid?"
Malfoy's eyes narrowed to slits. He pushed the Mirror out of the way, pulled out an old tattered copy of, Hogwarts: A History, and opened the cover. He flicked through its pages as he strolled casually over to the bed, and then placed it on the bed.
"Unlock!" he commanded. The book immediately flipped over a few hundred pages until a black rectangular hole appeared. Malfoy placed his arm into the abyss and yanked out the black leather bound diary.
"Is this what you're looking for?" Malfoy asked, waving it around.
Impressed, the Mirror snatched the book and scrutinised it. "How do you know it belonged to Tom Riddle?"
"It told me so," Malfoy replied, walking around him, wary of the book he now held. "I wrote in it, and Tom Riddle wrote back."
"When and where did you find it?"
"Christmas of third year, I was bored and I managed to get into this locked room below the drawing room floor, looking for treasures, and I came across it. I didn't think anything of it at first when I saw there was nothing written on its pages... but then I thought, it couldn't just be a normal diary, otherwise Father wouldn't have kept it in that room."
"What did you do after you found it?"
"I just had a bad feeling about it," Malfoy answered with wide eyes. "When the diary wanted me to write anything and everything about myself in it, warning bells rang. Still, I kept it. It's an amazing Dark object. Father would kill me if he found out I've stolen it."
Mirror Harry silently flicked through the empty yellow pages. "Can I have it?"
"Why are you so interested in it?" Malfoy sat casually on his bed, a crease appearing on his brow.
"Do you know who Tom Riddle was and is today?"
Malfoy shook his head. "Why should I care?"
"Riddle is Voldemort…"
The Slytherin seemed sceptical and Harry noticed that the boy did not flinch at Voldemort's name. "Well, if so, what are you going to do with it? Wave it in front of the Dark Lord's noseless face and tell him you know all of his secrets?"
"I just want to examine it, and yeah, find out stuff."
"Why?" Then realisation dawned on Malfoy's pale, pointed face. "You're not just spying are you? Dumbledore's got you up to something!"
Mirror Harry seemed worried and whispered, "If the Dark Lord ever finds out that this book being in my hands, just—!"
"Don't worry, Potter, I'd tell him that while you visited, you trespassed into that locked room and stole it."
He laughed. "Well, thanks for betraying me in advance."
"You're welcome," Malfoy said. "Listen, remember when you asked me if there are any of the Conditioned rebellious against the Dark Lord? We'll I've done some poking around and, have you heard of that missing girl, Emily Miles?"
The Mirror narrowed his eyes with a look of disgust on his face. "Yeah, hasn't Snape got her holed up somewhere?"
"She's okay… I've seen her around. She's older, and about to face the Cliff. I caught her sneaking around here recently when Snape visited. Miles might turn out to be a friendly."
Mirror Harry nodded. "Keep investigating her—"
Suddenly both boys cringed, grasping the tattooed Dark Mark on their arms.
"Come on, Malfoy, we've been summoned. By the way, don't you think you've over did it with the green?"
"Shut up," Malfoy spat, though a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. The boys disappeared out of the bedroom.
Harry looked behind, and saw that the book shelf had turned into a mirror.
The Gryffindor common room was mostly deserted. Harry had a feeling he needed to go up towards the dorm. Midway up, he heard robes rustling behind a statue of a griffin covered in Christmas decorations.
"Harry where are you?" Hermione said, charging up the stairs. "We need to talk."
"No we don't," the Mirror replied from behind the statue.
"You've been avoiding us for weeks." Hermione crossed her arms, staring at the statue. "Come out."
He squeezed out of his hiding spot and continued up the stairs.
"Harry!" Hermione protested.
"Leave me alone."
"No. We want to know what's been happening with you." She stopped, now whispering. "Ever since Dumbledore's made you to track Malfoy's movements you've changed. You're hanging around him more—"
"Jealous—?"
"—Oh grow up!" she hissed. "What's happening with the Horcruxes? What else can we help you with?"
"Nothing. Everything is going well."
"Tell me your plans?"
The Mirror stepped back. "Hermione, you need to give me some space."
"This isn't you. You're changing."
"Of course this is me. It was always me. I'm the one who needs to save everyone."
Hermione shook her head. "Are you sick of this?"
"I am. Now leave me alone."
"Then leave." She huffed. "Just leave. Tell Dumbledore that he can destroy the Horcruxes and you can just skip your merry way into a fantasy world filled with happiness."
He laughed. "Hermione—"
"You threatened a fourth year two weeks ago," she said. "He saw you coming in at three in the morning, battered, covered in blood and deep scratches that looked like they were made by a—"
"A yeti."
"Don't lie to me!"
"How do you know this anyway?"
"I'm a prefect remember. If anyone sees something dodgy they need to report it. You've avoided us ever since. Every time Ron and I want to speak to you, you disappear. What really happened two weeks ago?"
"I said, back off, Mudblood!"
Hermione's eyes widened; now it was her turn to take a step back. "You… you don't mean that, Harry."
"Maybe I do!"
"No," she shook her head, "you've handled the Horcruxes for far too long, you're stuck in this god-awful phase, and you're hanging around Draco too much."
"Yeah," he said, his eyes narrowing to slits, "Maybe I am."
"Are you… are you a Death Eater?" she whispered.
"No." He simply stared at her, even though Harry could feel the boy wanted to say so much more.
"Harry, please, tell me what's wrong. You know we care about you so much."
And then he seemed to loose his resolve and sat down on a step. "I'm just… I'm in too far deep, Hermione, with this phase. Too far deep. I just feel like the world is spinning out of control, and I can't stop it. I don't want to do it—I have no choice.
"Do what, Harry?"
"I have to do it now—I can't go through it again—I think if I do it, I may tip over. I'm so scared I might like it…"
"Scared of liking what? I know something really bad happened to you two weeks ago. Let us help you again, please. Please." She gently touched his shoulder. He yanked her wrist off, and gripped it hard. "Harry, you're hurting me!" she cried.
"Don't talk to me again. This is my fight so back off!"
A mirror flashed on the dorm window and Harry left the memory.
This time Harry was in a dark dilapidated room, with ivy and moss growing on the walls. Half the roof had caved in, and rats skidded past.
"Sir?" Mirror Harry said.
Harry turned around and found his fourteen year old Mirror right beside Dumbledore. The old wizard was looking at a small object he cradled in the palm of his hand. His eyes feasted on it. It was a ring with a black stone on it: Peverell's ring.
"Yes?" Dumbledore's fingers trembled as he now held the ring in his fingers, turning it. The light of the boy's ignited wand sparkled against the stone.
"Sir…" Concerned he placed his hand gently on Dumbledore's wrist. "Don't put it on. There's strong Dark magic on it."
"But I must know."
"Know what? It's a Horcrux. What else is there to find out?"
"I need to know if this is the Resurrection Stone. I need to know…" Dumbledore slowly guided the ring towards his finger.
"The Ressur—? A Deathly Hallow?" Mirror Harry flung the ring away from Dumbledore; it arched gracefully through the air, bouncing off the wall.
"HARRY!" Dumbledore yelled, smacking the Mirror hard across the face. The boy fell back stunned.
"SIR, DON'T—IT'S CURSED!" He yelled as Dumbledore picked the ring up. "ACCIO RING!"
The boy caught the ring effortlessly. Dumbledore growled angrily, and was about to charge at him, but as he placed the ring into his pocket Dumbledore faltered.
He staggered into a broken chair, regaining his senses. "What—? Harry, I'm so sorry—the ring— I had the strong urge— it did not want you to?" He looked at the boy in horror. "Harry, what have I done to you?"
Mirror wiped the blood away from his split lip. "The curse Voldemort put on the ring didn't have the effect on me because I've had nobody I know die. I'm sure there would've been another curse on it if you put it on."
"Thank you. I would've died..." Dumbledore helped him up, healed his cut lip and they left the house together.
Harry turned around and saw another mirror. He took another moment to look at Marvolo Gaunt's abandoned hut. He wondered if his Dumbledore had told him sooner about the Horcruxes if he'd still be alive today.
So the ring was definitely a Deathly Hallow. But as Harry blinked at his own reflection in the mirror, it felt as though his curiosity had died in Azkaban. He felt as though he never wanted to investigate anything ever again, yet here he was, in his Mirror's mind investigating.
Through the mirror, Harry found a very pale and ill Mirror Harry holding a broken blue teddy bear. He stood in Dumbledore's office in front of his desk, swaying.
Dumbledore was writing a letter and did not greet him. "You arrived three weeks late for the new term, Harry. Your friends are concerned and Draco had not known your whereabou—"
"This is the last Horcrux the Dark Lord made." He threw the teddy bear right into the middle of Dumbledore's letter, smearing ink across the page.
"You mean," the headmaster looked up now, peering at the boy above his glasses, "Voldemort."
The Mirror didn't respond as Dumbledore scrutinised the toy.
"So is this Neville Longbottom's teddy bear?"
Mirror Harry nodded, his ratty hair wet against his face. He fell back into the chair, exhausted. "Christmas day, I went to the Longbottom's house to explore—"
"You didn't bother joining your family for Christmas lunch."
"Well I had this feeling, a hunch, and I couldn't wait. I thought since Neville was a part of the prophecy the Dark Lord would've found the connection personal and made a Horcrux when he murdered the family."
"Did you find it there?"
"No, but it sent me on a wild goose chase into Europe."
"Excellent work!"
Dumbledore continued to examine the toy. The Horcrux had already been destroyed. The stuffing hung out of his body and it was singed where it was ripped almost in two. "Where was it? Are you hurt? You don't look well."
Mirror Harry opened his eyes weakly. "The Horcrux was in a vampire's lair."
"Have you been contaminated?"
"No, they were just hungry."
"You need a few nights in the Hospital wing."
The Mirror nodded, and stifled a yawn. "Sir, Peter came to my house on Christmas Eve… He found something that he wants Charlie and I to investigate. Apparently there's some stupid myth it cures werewolf bites, but there's something definitely Dark about it."
Dumbledore frowned. "I can assure you there is no werewolf cure. I must reiterate this to Peter... if he ever decides to answer my call."
"I think there's more to this thing. It looks weird, like a piece of shrivelled something, all black and sharp looking. It's evil. When I touched it—"
"Harry, you must concentrate on the cup, and the locket—"
"But this thing is called—"
"The Horcruxes! The quicker they are destroyed, the quicker this war will end. Everything else means nothing to us."
Harry felt his Mirror's disappointment. "There is a cup in the Lestranges vault in Gringotts. Bellatrix said that Voldemort had entrusted her with it."
"When did she tell you and how did you get that secret? Why has it taken this long for you to tell me?"
"I used… other abilities to coax it out of her…" he replied. His face was devoid of emotion. "I did a detour before coming back to Hogwarts, and got the information out of her."
Dumbledore looked mortified. "Harry—"
"You told me to play my part, and I've used it to my advantage over my Mentor."
Harry was disgusted and Dumbledore seemed concerned now.
"Don't worry about the cup for now. That shall be the last one tackled because of its logistics... try to act only like a loyal puppy, nothing more. And you mustn't worry yourself over werewolf cures."
The boy still looked torn. "Sir—"
"Be careful, Bellatrix likes to play dangerously. One wrong move and she will make you pay dearly."
"Lately, I like living dangerously," he mumbled.
"I've noticed." Dumbledore stared gravely at him, with his quill hovering over the ink well. "I've also noticed the amount of torture you've inflicted as well."
"All part of playing the double agent."
Harry could tell by the scathing look on Dumbledore's face that he was beginning to doubt him.
"I can't kill yet, though and I've paid dearly for that."
"Care to elaborate?"
The boy shook his head, and Dumbledore grimaced. "At least tell your friends—"
"NO!"
Dumbledore inhaled deeply and inked the quill again. "While I am pleased that you have failed to kill when you are absent, you are still capturing Muggle-borns. I told you to avoid—"
"You think it's easy? I need to keep doing what Bellatrix has instructed me to do."
"Harry..." Dumbledore interlocked his fingers as he gazed at the boy. "You have been refusing my help, your training with me and our debriefs as of late. You are failing to tell me everything you are doing and keeping an unhealthy amount of secrets, not only with me, but your friends also. Let me help you through this phase, through your ordeals. I fear it is taking a stronger hold—"
"I'm fine!"
On the closet, that usually housed Dumbledore's Pensieve, a mirror shone. Harry walked through.
He knew it in his heart where one of the Horcruxes was: Gringotts.
In a familiar cave filled with water, Harry stood on a large rock, with a cistern filled with a greenish hue. A goblet lay forgotten on the ground. Malfoy was holding Mirror Harry in his arms; a long gold chain peeked out of his fist. Malfoy had the locket.
"Harry, are you all right? Speak to me." Malfoy shook him hard, his blonde hair cascading over his eyes.
His eyes fluttered open. "M'fine… really thirsty."
"We have to get of this place before I get you water. I've tried to charm it, but the Inferi in the water attacked me."
The boy laughed. Malfoy gasped when he sat up, pushing him away.
"I'm fine. Give me the locket." He looked at it and groaned when he opened the locket easily. He shoved it back into Malfoy's hands. "This was a waste of time!"
"Why do you—?"
Harry looked over Malfoy's shoulder as he pulled out a small yellowed piece of parchment. He read it out for Mirror Harry to hear, then, "Who the hell is R.A.B?"
The Mirror sighed, swaying. "Someone who wanted to screw the Dark Lord over… I just hope he destroyed it."
"But, do you think he or she did?"
"I don't know. I'm still going to look for it."
"Maybe there's another one at Hogwarts," Malfoy said out loud as he helped him to stand.
"Only the diadem was in the Room of Requirement. Believe me, I checked Hogwarts twice in fourth year."
Harry's heart fluttered. YES! He thought.
Mirror Harry pulled himself up with the aid of the cistern. "Draco, I haven't told you this, but the cup is in your Aunt's vault. I know this as a fact. As for the locket..."
"I could help you with that. I've been in that vault—!"
"No way!" Mirror Harry yelled, his words echoing in the cave. "I can't put you in further danger. Once the cup is taken he will know, and I will have to fight him after. I'll need to wait for Dumbledore and the Order when they're ready to fight."
The memory was over, and Harry returned back into Snape's spare bedroom.