If you're reading this, much love. Sorry for the delay in uploading, my mother has been on hospice and I have been in an absolute funk. I do not know when I'll get the next chapter up, either, since everything's up in the air, so... I guess, for now...

ENJOI

…

Winter had come. By mid-December, the world, it seemed, had been covered in snow and the Black Lake had been frozen over. Classes were cold and drafty, and James was thankful to the Scotch-Korean girl in the year above him who taught him the Heart-Warming Charm; remiss as he was about the absolute girlishness of it, he had to admit, it made going to classes much easier.

Owls had a hard time delivering mail in the cold weather. There were letters dated weeks prior that showed up in the beaks of unfamiliar birds, and many had to be rehabilitated by Hagrid before returning to their service.

Quidditch lessons were far less frequent now, as the season ramped up, and James was all the more thankful for that. Being three hundred feet high in the air at negative two degrees was not his idea of fun, and being there in the middle of a snowstorm was his idea of suicide.

Hermione, however, had found plenty of ways to keep him occupied. She'd officially taken over his place as the resident tutor, to Ron and Harry's horror, and had actually made their grades better. In exchange, James had spent every free hour crammed in the library, silently cursing as he was forced to ask Madam Pince for help in finding, then researching, any and all material related to famous witches and wizards in search of any reference of one Nicolas Flamel, without actually name dropping said character.

"For security," Hermione told him. "We don't want Snape overhearing or catching on."

He was already grouchy that he wouldn't be going home for Christmas, since their dad had an extensive overseas assignment over the holidays with Sirius. But add on the fact that he had to spend time with the librarian, much less ask for her help, made everything that much more irritating. She would probably be pretty if she put on a few pounds, but as it stood, she was a wrinkled, walking bag of bones with an irritated demeanor and harsh attitude.

He'd been forced to spend time with Fred making their kitty intoxicant after hours, which cut into his prank time, which cut into his sleep time. So yeah, he was a little moody.

"Shhhh!" Pince hissed at him loudly as he plopped a book down in front of her. He stared at her neutrally for a moment, and, not even gracing her with a response, left. He had the pages of almost a hundred books floating around in his mind, wasting his precious hard drive space on failed magical experiments and thesis' about the notion of using pyrite to fool muggle kings into thinking they had gold.

James walked out of the library, then, deciding that this was a fruitless endeavor, and he didn't want to do it anyway, and shrugged, giving it up entirely.

…

Shopping was not a hobby James Dean Potter enjoyed partaking in. That being said, he made a list of things he wanted to give to people and sent it to his mother to expand on, given her creative license was far greater than his. For Harry, he had her get some custom Quidditch gear. For Travis, he and his dad collaborated and gotten something truly special. Brian got a magically enchanted guitar case that could shrink to the size of a key and fit inside his pocket. Kiara...

Was difficult. She never really talked much, and never really talked a whole about her interests, so he had settled for telling his mother to get "Something girly."

For Ron, he had requested a wizard's chess set that had a bit more tenacity, loyalty, and gumption than the one in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione got a list of books Jame's found in a wizarding catalog, which included such riveting titles such as, "The Grat Revolootuns, a Heestory of the Goblin Rebellionz Told Frum a Goblins Purspocteve," "The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood, and More!" "Hermes Lament," and "The Notable Achievements of Alchemy, Where Science and Magical Fail and Succeed."

He asked his mom to get Hagrid a new, magically enchanted duster that protected its wearer from animal claws and kept them at a comfortable temperature. For Sirius, he asked her to get a new pocket watch that also let him know where he and everyone he cared about was. Uncle Remus had sent a letter asking them to get him nothing, as he was still working on his potions experiment at Sirius's house.

So, naturally, James decided potions ingredients was best.

…

Christmas day dawned as the coldest and grayest yet. James awoke first of everyone in the dorm, for once, and ignoring the mountain of presents on the foot of his bed, hit the showers in hopes of enjoying some alone time. His mind wandered as he stood beneath the hot stream of water.

How different life had become. Two years ago, Christmas was a bane. He and his brothers weren't given presents, as the orphanage had the mindset of "Jesus dying for your sins was present enough." The celebrations really only included Mass at the church and having them pray all day, with little to no family, little to no connection to be found.

It felt so empty and hollow, the words of the church. James had heard some of the orphans talk about what happened to them at the hands of the members of church, and it made his stomach revolt. He didn't know why those things never happened to him, Travis or Brian. Maybe it was because of what everyone knew they were.

James shook his head under the water, letting droplets fly from his unkempt black hair. Last year had been the best Christmas they'd all ever had. Christmas dinner was a treat in and of itself, of course. They never celebrated a Christmas like that before, where they were treated to honeyed baked ham, Swedish meatballs, tons of different veggie dishes, and treacle tart.

And the presents were another bonus. They'd never had Christmas presents before, and while they knew the usual thing was for kids to ransack through every gift box with their name on it, the Potter family had a tradition; open one gift at a time, in order from oldest to youngest. Harry hated it, but of course he did. Harry was a normal kid. But to James, Travis, and Brian, it was this odd, but also warm kind of tradition that made opening gifts more intimate, and made the experience last longer.

It felt more... familial. Homely. It drew him even closer to his parents, his brothers, and his uncles. He found himself yearning for it again, which is probably why he was so mad he didn't get to go home to begin with.

When he emerged from the shower, dressed in his favorite Metallica shirt and humble, torn up, acid washed jeans, he found Travis and Brian, tired, but patiently waiting with all of their presents stacked in between two beds. They grinned and chorused, "Merry Christmas!"

Returning his own lopsided grin, they all sat, cross legged in a circle. Travis, being the oldest, opened James and their Dad's gift first. He almost cried at seeing a raggedy old baseball enclosed in bullet proof glass, signed by old Babe Ruth himself. Brian opened his gift from Mom first, and happily cheered as held aloft a book of guitar tabs on the latest Metallica album. James neatly unfolded his gift from Hagrid, a box of his infamous rock cakes.

On it went. Workout gear. Guitar strings. A brand new, high quality skateboard. Hand knit sweaters with their initials on them, made special at the hands of Molly Weasley. Rock cakes. Sweets. New, Ravenclaw specific robes. Books. Every gift picked in perfect detail to make their hearts smile a bit, and make the gray, cold world seem a bit more colorful, feel just a bit more warmer.

It wasn't as perfect as last year, but it would do.

…

The castle was almost completely deserted, now, so James didn't get the usual harassment for riding his new skateboard down to the Great Hall. It had been decorated by Hagrid, McGonagall, and Flitwick into a winter wonder land, with charmed snowflakes falling from the sky, boughs of holly strung up all around, and garishly bedecked pines stuffed into every corner one could be shoved in. The entire Hall was warm with blazing fire, but had a dazzling, snow-white glow that made it look like an ice palace.

Taking seats at the Gryffindor table, they joined Harry and the Weasley's for breakfast. They had promised Hermione they'd all search for Nicholas Flamel, but had been too wrapped up in the Christmas atmosphere and the free time to really do any digging, and as such, spent most of break in either of their respective Common Rooms, plotting ways to get Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle expelled, getting slaughtered by Ron at wizard's chess, and other antics.

Today, they just sat and enjoyed breakfast in comfortable silence, for the most part. Percy looked uncomfortable in his Weasley sweater. Fred and George forced him into it and made him sit with them, for a change, but despite his awkwardness, managed to make a bit of small talk.

After breakfast, they took to the grounds and got into a snow ball war. Fred and George sided with the Ravenclaws while Hagrid led Harry, Ron and Percy into creating a huge snow fort, forcing their opponents to think creatively on how to attack. The snow ball battle came to a climax when Fred and James came up with the idea to formulate an air attack with brooms. This would've worked, it not for Ron heroically coming up with an idea to weaponize Fang's drool and project it at them with the Leviosa spell, like miniature flak ice.

Dripping wet from melting snow and dog drool, they broke for lunch in Hagrid's hut with soaring spirits. James and Fred regaled an appalled Percy with tales of their most memorable pranks, from within Hogwarts and at the orphanage while Hagrid passed around a beef stew.

The rest of the afternoon was spent ice skating across the Lake, at Hagrid's behest. James, Harry, and Brian had two left feet when it came to it, and begrudgingly had to take lessons from Percy while everyone else all but raced around the frozen lake.

Christmas dinner was the excellent night cap they all could've hoped for. Hundreds of fat, roasted turkeys joined baked and boiled potatoes and many other goodies. Dumbledore himself provided the few students and all the faculty with wizard crackers, which exploded in clouds of red and green dust and gifted party favors. James himself scored his own miniature wizards chess board, a rememberall which he traded away for a deck of enchanted playing cards, and a magic snow-globe that accurately told the time, date, and location of where it was.

Dumbledore had traded his usual pointed wizards hat for a pretty floral bonnet capped with holly berries, and had loosened the school's rules regarding alcohol for the staff, leading to the professors partaking in his personal stock of wine. Flitwick happily abandoned the staff table, joining them for dessert and drunkenly regaled them with tales of when he was younger, and told them in exquisite detail of his dueling days. Hagrid led a loud, boisterous toast to the Potter twins for their "contributions to society," making James and Harry uncomfortable as all gathered in the Great Hall cheered them. Hagrid then swooped down and gave McGonagall a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek, making her own flushed face darker and leading her to giggle girlishly.

McGonagall. Giggling. Girlishly.

As the feast wound down to a close, Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Flitwick joined their table and James, Travis, and Brian taught them how to play five card poker, which wouldn't have even been possible given the usual rules, but Dumbledore had been insistent on James teaching them with his new deck of cards. Using turkey bones and snapped wizard cracker pieces as chips, they played poker well into the early morning hours, until Hagrid, of all people, cleared them all out of "chips."

…

The next day, Harry sat by a weary eyed, groggy James at the breakfast table.

"Meet me in the Gryffindor common room later, I need to show you something," he whispered into James ear before tearing into his bacon.

James planned on going up there anyways, so when he finished breakfast, let Brian sleep in and didn't bother tracking Travis down, and headed straight for the Gryffindor common. As soon as he gave the Fat Lady her password, he was grabbed by Harry and led to his dorm. It was cozy, with dark reds and small windows, giving it a warmth the Ravenclaw dorms forwent in favor of vaulted ceilings and more open visuals.

"Check this out," Harry gushed as he pulled a note out of an envelope. In the note, in elaborate, loopy handwriting, it was written,

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you

James quirked an eyebrow, looking at Harry, clueless, as his twin held up a dark purple cloak from his trunk.

"Its... a satin cloak?"

Harry grinned, and flung it over his shoulders, promptly making his body disappear. James's eyes bugged out of his head.

"OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!" James squealed.

"Isn't this wicked?!"

"Gimme gimme gimme!" James flung himself into the cloak and holding up his now invisble arm in wonder.

"We can sneak out every night and never get caught!" Harry cried victoriously.

"We can sneak into anywhere into the castle!" James agreed.

"We can knick sweets from the kitchen!" Harry laughed.

"We can steal books from the Forbidden Section of the library!" James sobbed joyously.

"We can go stargazing without being nabbed by Filch!" Harry dreamed.

"We can pulled pranks right in front of people's faces!" James roared.

"We can explore the Forbidden Forest!" Harry clapped.

"We can raid Snape's potions stores!" James cackled.

"We can see what's beyond the door Fluffy's guarding!" Harry gushed.

"We can-" James paused and gave his twin an impressed look. "That's brilliant."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Harry, that is brilliant! We don't have to find Nicholas Flamel, we can just get to the package immediately!"

Harry gave James a look of wide eyed wonder. "Tonight, then?"

James gave a rare, full mouth smile. "Tonight."

…

"Well, that didn't work out liked I planned," James gasped as he and Harry sank against the door Fluffy was once again secured behind.

"How did he see us?" Harry cried quietly.

"He didn't," James muttered, yanking the invisibility cloak off them. "I think he smelled us. I am so stupid! Why didn't I think of that?"

"What's that noise!" the familiar voice of Argus Flich called out.

"Oh no," James whispered as he tugged Harry to his feet as his twin yanked the cloak over their heads. "C'mon!"

Filch came around the third door corridor, Mrs. Norris at his feet. Her lamplike eyes pierced his, even under the cloak, making him seize. Harry grabbed his elbow in a painful pinch, and urged him forward. Filch passed them by, sweeping his lantern in frantic motions looking for them while Mrs. Norris never took he eyes off of them. Filch caught on, then, and swept the air where they stood, missing them only because Harry pulled them back.

"Peeves!" Filch thundered suddenly. "Stop pulling the wool over me eyes, you damn creature!"

"C'mon," Harry urged James, and they took off, James purposely stepping on Mrs. Norris's matted, furry tail as they passed before running as fast they could away. Mrs. Norris seemed to have them pegged, though, and followed them as they tried to get away. Filch wasn't anywhere near, having ran for the dungeons, but she dogged them around every corner, every staircase, and every turn.

James, tired of it, pulled Harry into an abandoned room, the only one with a wide open door. Slamming the ajar door into Mrs. Norris's face, James shucked the cloak off and gasped fresh air into his lungs, nerves frayed from being chased by the mangy, skeletal cat.

"S'pose we got a good minute or two before Filch realizes Norris ain't with him, 'nother before she runs off to go find him," James muttered quietly, but Harry wasn't responding. Instead, he was standing, cloak around his left arm, in front of an oddly placed, tall mirror in the center of the room. "Um, Harry? Maybe you shouldn't stare into the obviously magical, weird mirror?"

"C'mere," Harry waved at him.

"Aw, hell nah," James pointed a finger at him. "This has 'terrible choice' mixed with 'obvious plot device' written all over it, and I don't trust it."

Harry didn't respond, just looked at the mirror, smiled, and turned behind him, frowning. He repeated this process a few more time before James began to worry about his mental health. Harry then tapped the mirror's reflective surface, and gasped. "Seriously! C'mere, I see mom standing up on her own and everything!"

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, James inched forward, and took the mirror in, in its entirety. It reached clear to the ceiling, had a perfectly reflective surface with no mars, dots, smears, or age-related imperfections like other ancient mirrors he'd seen. It was trimmed with ornate, intricrately moulded gold, and had written on the top, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."

When James looked back down at his reflection... he saw nothing. Him and Harry. "I thought you said you saw mom."

"I did!" Harry insisted pointing at the reflection over his left shoulder. "I do! Her and dad are happy and standing, with Grandma and Grandpa and everyone else with us, happy!"

James cocked his head a bit, and squinted. Harry watched him with bated breath, but James merely lunged forward and poked his nose. "Man! I gotta black head!"

"How do you not see them?" Harry demanded.

James's answer was cut off by the distant sound of Filch's wheezing. James slugged Harry on the shoulder. "We'll have to discuss your mental health later, right now, that's our sign to get outta here."

…

"Okay, pass me some of the rat spleens," Fred instructed later the next night. "And some of the tuna."

James handed the twin the ingredients, and sat back against the wall, working on his drawing for their potion's label. He and Harry agreed to return to the mirror with Ron later that night, when things weren't so hot. Moaning Myrtle popped her head out from her toilet and looked at him suspiciously. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she sobbed her way back into the S-bend of her toilet.

"How did you come across this piece of lovely real estate, Fred?"

"Hm?" Fred asked, popping his head out of his "trouble cauldron" and looking at James through a pair of goggles. "Oh, Myrtle's bathroom? Katie Bell mentioned it to me back in first year, we've been using it ever since for our experimental stuff. You have that catnip?"

"Yeah," James answered, handing him the bag of bruised flowers and leaves. "So this place is completely abandoned?"

"Well, a girl may come in here if they have to drain their beaker really bad, but they usually keep it in, because of her," Fred motioned his head to the sobbing toilet. "She does a good job of keeping the girls away by reputation alone."

"Huh," James grunted as he doodled around on his notepad some more. The words KitteeKrak were imposed in bubble letters, and a couple of oddly cartoonized cats rolling around the letters covered the page. He started filling in the bubbles with a light hatching pattern, and looked up. "Almost done?"

"Just a-boot," Fred answered, holding up a ladle of the oily, slightly viscous fluid. It reeked of fish, mint, and half-rotten meat. "Wanna try some?"

"No, thanks."

"Too bad. Though I suppose it wouldn't work on a mouse, though, would it?"

"Shut up!" James scolded, playfully tossing the notepad at Fred, who caught it.

"What's this? KitteeKrak? Is that what our concoction's called, now?"

"Well, it does take the euphoric properties of catnip and enhances them, just like a narcotic. Why not?"

Fred looked down at the picture and grinned whimsically. "Hey, you mind if I keep a copy of this, mate?"

"Go ahead. Well, is it done? Is it ready for a test run with our favorite cat we all love to hate?"

"We can do it right now, if you want."

James shook his head and looked down at his watch. "Nah, I gotta go meet- crap, I'm an hour late! We'll go through with this the day term starts, aight?"

"Sounds good, mate. G'night."

"Night."

James sprinted towards the Ravenclaw common room door. As soon as he got there, he whispered, "Harry?"

No answer. Harry had been stood up.

…

The next day, Ron had decided that the mirror was dangerous. He couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen, telling them as much and urged them not to go back.

But, Harry and James, being Harry and James, told him they wouldn't and actually did.

There were too many questions James had about the mirror. Why did Harry see his family, and Ron see glory, when James couldn't see anything? Why was something like that even at Hogwarts? Why did its maker write the inscription in a code?

So, the following night, Harry and James, joined by Travis and Brian, found themselves kneeling in front of the teasing mirror, Harry with his hand on the glass in admiration, James poking it with his finger in investigation.

"So you don't see anything?" Brian asked as he, too, gazed into the mirror.

"Nope," James responded, as he wrote notes down in his pad. "What do you see?"

"I'm a famous musician," Brian said. There was obviously somethinng else, but it seemed to disturb him, so James didn't press.

"Interesting... What about you, Travers?"

Travis shook his head. "Nah, man, I'm with Ron. I ain't looking at that thing."

"Harry, what do you think this thing does?" Brian asked, as he poked his reflection.

"Dunno," Harry slurred in answer, gazing dreamily at the mirror. He looked torn between extreme happiness and utter despair. Their grandparents were right there, in the mirror, so close he could touch them. But they weren't actually there. James noted this on his notepad. He had brought it so he could jot down notes on the mirror to reference later, and possibly help in researching what the mirror really was.

James was struck by inspiration, then. He began writing the letters on the inscription backwards. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire," James whispered, as Travis looked over his shoulder.

They had only been there a half hour when a kind, mystical sounding voice called to them "So back again, James? Harry? I see you have found and unraveled the great pleasures of the Mirror of Erised."

James froze on the spot and looked at the mirror. "Harry, did grandpa just talk to us?" And then he saw the reflection of the tall, thin, and at that moment imposing figure of Albus Dumbledore.

"No, but I think he did," Harry answered between gulping in fear.

"So sorry, Professor," James stammered, grabbing his notepad and Harry as he stood up. "We didn't-"

Dumbledore waved his hands in nonchalance. "Not a matter, James, not a matter. Though I must say, how nearsighted we all come when we become invisible."

"Indeed, sir," James answered, playing along. If it meant not getting in trouble, why not say you were an ignorant idiot?

"No need to agree with everything I say, James. You are not, indeed, a fool. You only got caught because I knew you would come to find this wonderfully dreadful piece of magic."

"Right, er… sir."

"So, you four, like hundreds before you, have found the delights offered by the Mirror of Erised."

"I guess," Harry replied, holding his gaze to his feet. "Well, not exactly… I didn't even know that was what it was called."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked inquisitively, looking down his crooked nose at them with twinkling eyes.

"Well, James hasn't really…"

"What do you mean?"

"James doesn't see anything," James answered in third person. "He only sees himself, as he is."

Dumbledore chuckled at James' brand of sarcastic, annoyed humor. "You do not see… anything?"

"Nope. Zero. Zilch, nada… you get the picture."

Dumbledore gazed at James thoughtfully, as if he had grown another head and that it hadn't surprised him, but rather made him want to study it. "And you, Harry, see your family, as Mr. Gates sees himself as a prominent musician and family man, as your friend, Ron Weasley, so wrapped in being the forgotten Weasley son, sees himself surpassing his brothers in a swath of glory."

"How-"

"It doesn't require an Invisibility Cloak to make me disappear."

"You were spying on us," James stated simply.

Dumbledore gave James a "studying" look again. "In essence, I guess I was."

"What are you up to?" James demanded. "You set this up, didn't you?"

Dumbledore turned his head a bit and frowned, looking down his nose slightly at James, regarding him. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked softly.

"The mirror is yours," James answered, partly as a question.

"That's correct," the old Headmaster responded stoicaly.

"Which means you put it here"

"Also a good assumption."

"More than an assumption. I've read all about you. Nobody does anything you don't want them to."

Dumbledore gave a small, sad smile. "If only that were true."

"May not be completely true," James riposted with a pointed finger, but waved his hand at the mirror. "But when it comes to your stuff, I'm sure you wouldn't just let Filch or Hagrid dump this hunk a junk here without telling them to do it."

Dumbledore held his hands up. "I concede your point."

"You also have loopy handwriting, don't you?"

Dumbledore cocked his head and grinned, as the light bulbs exploded in Harry's head.

"It was you!" Harry exclaimed, pointing his finger at the headmaster. "You were the one to give me the cloak!"

"Guilty as charged, I guess," Dumbledore held his hands up. "Yes, I borrowed it from your father years ago. I merely felt it was right to return it to its rightful owners... you."

"Bull," James called, eyes narrowed. "You knew we'd use it, and throw this-" he motioned at the mirror again. "-in here, hoping we'd find it."

"A bold assumption," Dumbledore shot back with a smile and a quirked eyebrow. "Tell me, clever boy, have you figured out what this mirror does?"

"It shows people something they want," James replied not a second after Harry yanked James's notes from his hands. "'I show not your face, but your heart's desire,' it's the inscription on the top, only backwards."

"Yes, indeed," the Headmaster agreed, turning his face to look at James. "Your clever prowess continues to amaze the staff and I as well, James."

"Thank you," James shrugged. "Now about-"

"No thanks are needed. A simple statement of fact… but I digress. Allow me to explain the powers behind this mysterious mirror."

Dumbledore turned and rested himself upon a desk, motioning for them to follow. James growled at his questioning being waved off, but they sat, and Dumbledore proceeded to account for Erised's power.

"The happiest man on Earth could gaze upon that scratched and dented pane of glass and see himself, as he is. Does that help?"

"Not really," Travis muttered.

"Yeah, sure," James muttered sarcastically. "You're telling me that I'm the happiest man on Earth?"

"You're not even old enough to be considered half a man," Brian joked, punching James in the arm playfully.

James swatted at his brother. "Watch it!"

Dumbledore chuckled and waved for them to calm down. Harry then sat and thought for a moment. "So it shows us what we want. Whatever we want."

"Yes," Dumbledore bobbed his head around, as if the answer sounded fishy and he was looking for a better answer. "And no. It shows us nothing more than our deepest, most desperate desires in the world. You, Harry, who have never known the eldest part of your family, looked into the mirror and saw them with the rest of your family, as if they had not left this realm of existence, with your mother happy and healthy as she should be. You, Mr. Gates, sees your biggest passion as a means to make a living, being happy and free of that which shackles you to reality. Ronald Weasley, who has always been in the shadow of his eldest brothers and almost forgotten due to his younger sister, saw himself in a position of power and glory, having stepped out of their ever lingering shadow."

"To put it poetically," James agreed.

"Indeed," Dumbledore acquiesced. "And you, James. You are the most puzzling, because no man is truly the happiest, or so happy to have no lingering desires. You do not see yourself as Mr. Weasley, for you see no one's shadow to encompass you. You never even saw a picture of your grandparents, never knew your mother as healthy and don't even see her as disabled, so wishing them to be here, in their prime, has never crossed your mind. You seem to just live your life, day to day, as it comes, with no ambitions but to live the life given to you, day to day."

James realized with a start that the batty old coot may have had a point. James had been perfectly happy living in the now, and just… going with the flow.

"Ah… the understanding has come to its peak," Dumbledore smiled. "You now know after the hours you have spent this day why you, of all people, do not see anything but yourself in that mirror. You have everything you ever wanted," Dumbledore elaborated, pointing at Harry, Travis, and Brian before patting a long, slender finger on James Dean's chest, just above his heart. "You have that."

James looked down at the desk, slightly troubled. "I have everything I want… but doesn't that make me selfish? Shouldn't I want my grandparents alive? Or to see my mother out of a wheelchair, or-"

"My boy, that is anything but selfish. You are a follower of the Christian faith, yes?"

"Uh... not really. I just grew up in it."

"Then at the very least, you know that things outside of your control happens, with or without reason, and that what has happened, can't be undone. That is why you live for now. You know better than anyone to just… what's the muggle expression? 'Grin and bear it?' Sound about right?"

James nodded, but not feeling any better about it.

"I now must encourage you all to not return. Staring at a mirror full of unattainable dreams is not in anyone's favor. Even if you were to come back, you'd find the mirror has been moved to a better, more favorable position, and it wouldn't do to have any students caught out of bed after hours."

Harry and James stood and went for the door, knowing that they were dismissed.

"And James?"

James turned and regarded the headmaster, who had not moved a muscle from his spot on the desk. He made it look frighteningly small to James. "Yeah?"

"Living for the now is a very good philosophy for happiness, but I fear there will come a day when you will have to inevitably live for the future, and have to concern yourself with the machinations of people you want nothing to do with. I hope, for the sake of all that we hold dear, that day comes soon. However, I also wish, for the sake of your own happiness, that day never has to come."

"Right," James nodded, not understanding Dumbledore's prediction.

"Sir, may I ask a question?"

"You already have, Harry, but I will grace you with another."

"What do you see in the mirror?"

Dumbledore looked long and hard at Harry. He seemed to have gone off to another place and time, and was having bitter memories about it. "A pair of socks. No one can ever have enough socks."