Special thanks to darkphoenix31 - you've been an amazing beta.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, the Wizarding World and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims of ownership.
THE MIRROR OF ERISED
January 26, 1992
"That was a stunning move!" Harry exclaimed, after Callum had landed. "How on earth did you manage to pull that off? That too under the lights?" Wood had kept them for an extended practice session, and it was very late – close to ten. Visibility was pretty low, but that had not stopped Callum from executing one of the best manoeuvres that Harry had ever seen.
The older boy looked pleased. "It's called the Plumpton Pass," he explained. "If you fly with just the right direction and velocity, you'll be able to scoop the Quaffle up so it's hidden behind your sleeve and then when the other players are wondering where it's gone to, you have three seconds to figure out whom to pass to."
"Isn't the standard rule four seconds before you need to pass the ball?"
"It is," Callum conceded. "But get used to a second less and you can work with more time. It improves your reflexes and makes sure you don't end up making a foul."
Harry smiled and nodded at this piece of reasoning. He had taken an instant liking to Callum, and the older boy was always happy to teach Harry new things. Despite his popularity, Harry had noticed that Callum did not have any close friends – while he spoke to people with an easy familiarity, there was no one who was particularly close to him.
"You have Quidditch blood in your family too?" Harry asked.
Callum's dark cheeks flushed slightly. "I don't think so, although it's possible I could. I grew up with my mum – my dad left before I was born. My mum doesn't even have a picture of him. She does vaguely remember how he looked, but neither she nor I have found anyone matching his description quite yet."
"Oh," Harry said. He did not quite understand why Callum's dad would have left, but Sirius had taught him not to pry into someone's family unless they volunteered the information themselves. So he controlled his urge to ask Callum and changed the subject.
"How did you manage to get into the Defense Against the Dark Arts course? I've heard from the other older students that it's very tough."
"Sure is," Callum agreed. "But thankfully I'm quite good at studying – just about everything interests me. I don't have any plans to become an Auror, but for academic interest, I made sure to get into the course. And don't start worrying about this stuff this early," he told Harry, who looked a little sheepish. "You have a year and a half's worth of learning before you get to take the exams, just try to enjoy learning in the meanwhile."
"What are the exams like? Are they written or practicals?"
Callum frowned at Harry's refusal to give up the topic but sighed and replied, "A combination, really. There are two written tests, a practical exam for the spells and a viva for personality assessment and compatibility. Don't ask me what kind of questions they ask, it's different for every individual," Callum held his hand up pre-emptively, anticipating Harry's question. Harry's half-open mouth shut and he blushed slightly.
"The written exams are easy – nothing complicated, but you need to remember all your stuff well," Callum explained. "The other two are unique to the individual and so what they asked me is not something that they will ask you, in all likelihood. It's only tough to get in, though. Once you're in, you'll like the subject enough that you can't wait for the next class to roll around."
"Dad told me DADA helped him in Quidditch too," Harry said.
"Sure does. The duelling and the other exercises improve hand-eye coordination, so your skills with catching Quidditch balls improves a whole lot. And you learn a few basic patch-up spells, so you can use those if you get hit in a match."
"Patch-up?"
"Healing, like for fixing a strained muscle or a nosebleed. As a Beater, those spells are especially more valuable to me since the Bludgers I hit are as vicious to me as to everyone else."
"That's why I never liked being a Beater," Harry confessed. "The Bludgers are just too rough."
"I prefer Chaser myself, but well…we have three splendid Chasers. We're a bit short in the Beaters' department, so I need to fill in – since I'm not bad there, you know? Besides, the other teams all have magnificent Beaters, especially Slytherin – those Weasley Twins sure know their stuff."
Just then, an older boy showed up clad in Hufflepuff robes. "Hey Cal, are you free…well, well! Is that a firstie?"
Callum flushed deeply. "He's a friend. Also, the firstie has a name, and it's Harry Potter." The other boy's eyebrows rose in recognition.
"James Potter's son?" Harry nodded.
"Pleased to meet you," the boy said, thrusting his hand out. "Antinous Selwyn, Heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Selwyn."
"Harry Potter, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. The pleasure is all mine," Harry reciprocated, shaking his hand firmly.
"Mind if I borrow Cal here? He's my best friend, you know."
For some odd reason, Callum blushed further and laughed nervously. "That's the new cover? Best friend?"
Antinous shook his head. "Good god, must you show no subtlety in the presence of foreign agents?" He winked at Harry conspiratorially before taking Callum's arm. "We're enemies who've been forced to collaborate on a school project, Heir Potter. Now, I really do need to borrow this guy here, I promise to return him tomorrow, alright?"
Harry nodded, slightly confused, as Antinous dragged the protesting Callum off towards the library. He wondered what Antinous had meant but gave up trying to decipher the cryptic words and walked slowly towards Gryffindor Tower, tired after a long day. Practice was quite brutal today.
Suddenly, Harry felt a cold wind blow past him. The lights in the corridor flickered once, then again. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he instinctively drew his wand, sensing something wrong in the atmosphere. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling passed and the corridor returned to normal again.
Harry stowed his wand away slowly but could not shake the sensation that something was off. The first-floor corridor was empty, late as it was – everyone was back in their common rooms. He switched to tiptoeing unconsciously, his eyes roving the corridor, scrutinizing even the portraits to check whether there was something suspicious. Nothing was visible but a sixth sense continued to tingle and all his mental alarm bells screamed DANGER.
Suddenly, Harry realized that he'd reached a dead end. Odd, he thought. Pretty sure this is the way to the Gryffindor Common Room, and I've never run into a wall here before. He reached out with one hand cautiously, his heart beating faster by the second.
Nothing happened.
Curious, Harry thumped the wall. Once, twice, thrice.
Still nothing.
Thinking he'd made a mistake, Harry turned back to walk away.
A loud WHOOSH sounded and Harry's eyes widened. A mist covered the corridor and cleared as quickly as it had appeared.
When it disappeared, the wall and Harry Potter were nowhere to be found at all.
Ron and Neville were pacing the common room, worried.
"You reckon Harry should've been back by now?" Ron asked, for the sixth time in about half-an-hour.
Neville nodded slowly. He'd initially dismissed Ron's fears and had pointed out that it was perfectly possible that Harry had been kept by Wood for an extended practice session. But just about fifteen minutes remained for curfew and by now even he felt that something might have gone wrong with Harry.
Suddenly Professor Riddle entered the common room and all the kids looked at him curiously. "Settle down, settle down," he waved, and made his way over to where Neville and Ron were.
"Mr Potter suffered some bruises in the course of his Quidditch practise, so he's in the Hospital Wing getting patched up," Tom explained. Neville relaxed immediately at this, but Ron's look of concern forced Tom to clarify, "It's nothing major at all, Mr Weasley, he'll be perfectly fine after some treatment. You'll see him in the morning, Madam Pomfrey's just keeping him a tad bit more so that she can make sure that he can take part in tomorrow's session again without much trouble."
"Can we see-"
"Absolutely not," Tom said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "You are to sleep at lights out and not worry about him. I can understand your concern, but rest assured that Mr Potter is well. Curfew is about to begin now, so I hope you understand that any attempts to sneak out will be met with consequences," he said mildly, meeting Ron's eyes which suddenly evaded Tom's own.
"Am I clear?" The two boys nodded, albeit Ron a bit more reluctantly.
"Good," Tom said, and swept out of the room hurriedly.
Ron and Neville looked at each other before shrugging near identically and made their way to their dormitories. In the corner, though, Hermione Granger opened another book and began to read.
Harry stared at the nondescript mirror in front of him, enchanted. The room itself was a tall and wide chamber, circular in appearance with no doors or windows. Strange and foreign runes glowed on the wall, and the very air thrummed with power.
If Harry had been able to see into the Quint, he would have seen a whirlpool around the mirror – sucking everything into it, drawing every bit of magic into its fold.
But as Harry could not yet see, he walked towards the mirror fascinated by its perfect smoothness. The surface rippled softly, not unlike droplets falling onto the surface of a lake. His senses tingled sharply, but he could not take his eyes off it.
He looked into the mirror and saw Him.
He was tall and thin, with toned arms and legs, his robes falling gracefully around his person.
His eyes sparkled with knowledge, but also with a hint of mischief and a dash of adventure.
Everything about him resembled the perfect individual – erudite, distinguished and undoubtedly illustrious yet fun-loving, caring and dashing.
Harry looked into the mirror and saw Harry Potter.
A series of vignettes flashed as he saw himself, grown up, ready to take on the world; passing his OWLs and NEWTs successfully with perfect scores, winning the duelling tournament and the Quidditch Cup along the way, and finally graduating at the top of the Auror Academy with a Mastery in Defense Against The Dark Arts to boot.
More images flashed as he stared, enthralled – images of successfully foiling criminal plots, of fighting criminals and winning, of saving the day and being awarded several medals for his valour.
He saw Neville and Ron applauding happily, both successful men themselves, happy to see their friend achieve the heights of glory. He signed kids' autograph books and posed with them for pictures. He casually did feats of magic that left everyone in awe and an entire generation of children read of him in books and newspapers around the world.
"Potter."
Harry paid no heed as he reached out towards the mirror, his hand touching the surface, creating ripples. His older self smiled at him, offering his hand to climb into the other world. The better world.
The ideal world.
"Potter."
Harry's hand began to dip into the mirror, but then stopped as he struggled with some part of him that still predicted impending danger. What could possibly be wrong?
Another hand went in. A rough pair of hands were on his shoulders now, pulling him back.
"Harry!"
Harry fought against the hands, which tried to pull him back even more strongly. In a fit of rage, he elbowed the person and kicked him on the shin. He dimly registered a loud "Oof!" as the other person sunk to the floor in pain, but his eyes never left the mirror. He wanted to go to the better world, the world on the other side.
Where he was perfect.
"Damnit, it's not real, Harry! The world on the other side is fake!"
A sudden burst of clarity shot through Harry. His mind was still sluggish but a gear turned lazily. It's not real.
But it could be. Why don't we just go?
Because it's not real. It's not what you want. You can't give in to this vision. It's fake.
With an immense burst of will, Harry managed to look away for a split second – just enough for the other person to pull him behind from the mirror. Harry's eyes watered and the whole world swam as he fought to steady himself.
When he finally trusted his legs to not give way, Harry opened his eyes to see the worried face of Professor Riddle.
"Are you alright? You were damn close to going in!"
Harry nodded. Then he croaked, "What-what was that?"
"That," Tom said with venom in his voice, "is the Mirror of Erised. A fantastical, mythical device that is one of the many arcane residents of Hogwarts. Despite my best efforts," he sounded extremely bitter, "I have been unable to move it to a better location. It was rather lucky that I sensed a disturbance in the Quint and instinct told me it might be the Mirror."
"It-it showed me something…"
"…a world where things were better? Where everything was perfect and your greatest desire was within your grasp?"
Harry nodded, his body beginning to slowly regain some of its energy.
"The Mirror of Erised is designed to show a person's greatest desire, Harry. It tempts and tricks you into looking into it, and when you have been enthralled it consumes you whole and uses your magic to survive."
Harry shuddered, thinking what might have happened if Professor Riddle were not there to alert him to the fact that it was a trap. "Thanks a lot for saving me, Professor."
Tom nodded, smiling warmly. "You're very welcome, Mr Potter. Now how about we take a trip to the Hospital Wing? I'm pretty sure nothing's wrong with you, but I'm sure I could convince Madam Pomfrey to part with some of her best chocolate that she stores for emergency purposes." He winked at Harry. "Trust me, I've nicked some when she's not looking and it's heavenly."
Harry smiled weakly and accepted the offer, grateful for the assistance. Tom tapped a glowing rune thrice, and a doorway appeared. They stepped out from it into the second-floor corridor.
"If you do not mind me asking, Mr Potter, what exactly did the Mirror show you?"
Harry narrated the various scenes that he had seen and Tom's eyebrows rose marginally. Harry saw the expression and realized that he had basically told Professor Riddle that his greatest desire was to be the best in the world – someone like him.
I'm very selfish, am I not? he mused sadly.
"No, you're not, Mr Potter," Tom remarked, and Harry realized that he had spoken that bit out loud. "Wanting to be the best in the world is not selfish. It is a goal that someone can imagine only when they are remarkably self-confident in themself and their abilities." Tom looked at Harry very seriously. "When I was your age, Mr Potter, I too wanted to be the best in the world. And while others ridiculed my dreams, I never stopped believing I could be the best. Today, I shall forsake some modesty when I say that while I may not be the best in the world, I've come pretty darn close." Harry agreed enthusiastically.
"Did your vision involve you lording your achievements over your friends? Did it show you laughing as you saw their rather ordinary lives?"
"Of course not! They were happy too, and successful. They were…"
"…just not as good as you were," Tom finished. "A competitive spirit is nothing to be ashamed of, Mr Potter. It shows that you're willing to go the extra mile to get better and that you will realize and understand your shortcomings because you want to get better. If your peers outperform you in some class, am I not right when I say that you try extra hard so that you can get as good or better than them?"
Harry nodded sheepishly. "I always thought that it was wrong to want to get better than everyone else since that was selfish."
"It is most decidedly not," Tom emphasized firmly. "Wanting to get better at the cost of someone else is selfish. But motivating yourself to perform better due to healthy competition from your peers is not selfish. Wanting to be the best in the world isn't selfish either. It is something to aspire for, a goal to work towards." He turned to look Harry in the eye. "Promise me, Harry, that you will never let someone else win when you still can. If you lose? Accept gracefully, of course. But never give up when the fight can still be fought. Because it's not over till you believe it is."
A torrent of raw energy shot through Harry and he said, "I promise, Professor."
"Let's celebrate that spirit with a fine bar of chocolate."
Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room, still shivering. The chocolate and Professor Riddle's encouragement had helped him feel better after the encounter with the Mirror of Erised, but he still felt as though a great evil had passed straight through him.
"Potter!" a voice cried, startling him out of his thoughts. Hermione Granger sat alone in the common room, the time long past curfew, close to twelve-thirty – the pages of a heavy book fluttered as she set them down on the table.
"Wherever have you been? Professor Riddle sent a message saying that you were with him and that you'd be fine, so Ron and Neville went to bed – but they were worried too!"
"What are you doing up then?" Harry asked, mildly suspicious.
She blushed. "Just a bit of light reading," she said, and Harry snorted as he saw what qualified as "light" reading for the Muggleborn. "I was worried because I thought you'd been attacked too."
Harry stared at the girl uncomprehendingly. Suddenly, he realized what she was trying to say. "Oh no, it was nothing like that," he said. "Just lost my way a bit."
Hermione gave him a look of intense scepticism. "And losing your way makes you go absolutely white and shiver as though you've seen a ghost?"
"Why would seeing a ghost do that?"
"Err…never mind, Muggle expression. But seriously, you look very pale. Scared, even. And you're shivering!" Hermione moved up on the couch to give him some room to sit but Harry remained standing. She sighed.
"Look, are you going to tell me what happened? You may feel better."
Harry felt a flash of irritation at this remark and snapped back harshly, "I don't owe you an explanation, Granger. Professor Riddle excused me from being out so you don't have to worry about me violating curfew and losing points for Gryffindor. There's about four more years before you become Prefect, you know." He instantly regretted his tone and phrasing but couldn't help it – the run-in with the Mirror had left him shaken, and he had reached the limit of his patience for the night.
But Hermione's eyes filled with tears, "I'm...I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't want to sound bossy, I was just so worried. You've been a fr... you've actually been nice to me and I've been sitting here for hours thinking that you must have been cursed because of me and I just wanted to make sure you're alright."
Harry mentally chastised himself for being as curt as he had been – the girl's intentions were clearly more concern for him than anything else. Something about the sincerity of Granger's offer appealed to him, as did the fact that he really needed to get the weight off his chest. He sat down and told her everything.
When he'd finished, he looked at her sideways with slight anxiousness, hoping that she did not launch into a tirade because he'd been incredibly self-centred.
What he did not expect was a very sad smile and Hermione responding, "Potter, that was extremely brave of you."
"Eh?" Harry blurted and mentally cursed his eloquence, or lack thereof.
"I mean it," Hermione said, her face perfectly serious. "I…know how difficult it can be sometimes to look away from something that looks so appealing."
She gulped before she spoke, her voice quite feeble, "About a year back, I was reading a book in the library back at home. The planks of the ceiling had been loose for quite some time, but somehow dad hadn't gotten around to repairing them yet. I was lost in one of the books I'd been reading, and I was completely unaware of my surroundings."
She paused for breath before continuing, "My dad had just walked into the room and saw that one of the planks was dangling by its very edge. He called out to me to move, but I paid no heed to what he was saying. I remember thinking at that moment, nothing can possibly be more important than what happens next in this book."
Harry's heart filliped and his stomach grew uneasy. He had a vague idea that he knew what happened next.
"The plank fell and my dad rushed across to push me from its path. He managed to push me away but the plank fell on him and he suffered serious injuries." Soft tears shone in her eyes. "He recovered fairly quickly and without any lasting damage, but I couldn't help but think it was all my fault. Why had I not listened to his warning? I was too lost in the world of my book, a make-believe world where things were not even real."
She wiped away her tears, sniffling softly but smiling now, and Harry smiled wanly but was internally…confused. Hermione's experience could not have been easy for her to deal with, but being unable to look away from a book was very different from being unable to look away from his greatest desire. I mean, it's just a book, after all. And thankfully, her dad had no lasting damage either. Why's she so beat up over a small incident that happened so long back?
But it's not just a book for her, is it? She's not had too many friends, from what Ron's said, and she's grown up completely surrounded by only books for company. And you know just how difficult it is to cope with hurting someone you love, even if accidentally. How many times in that month did you apologize Dad for cobbling him in the elbow that one time, even though all he got was a slight bruise?
Suddenly, the realization of exactly what Hermione had gone through hit him. He'd heard her say it, but now he understood it as well.
"For what it's worth, Hermione, I think you're very brave too," Harry found himself saying. "You're brave for walking right past those bigoted ponces in the corridor like the other day and ignoring their snide and stupid comments. You're brave for not backing down and for not running away, and for standing up for what's right."
The Muggleborn looked towards Harry, tears shining in her eyes – but these were a different sort of tears, showing her happiness. "You really think so?"
"I know so," Harry said. "Ron can barely restrain himself when those idiots throw around those stupid slurs. I've told him so many times that it's not worth it, that he's just playing into their hands – but I can understand why he'd feel the way he does." He shook his head sadly. "It can't feel nice, being insulted for something that isn't even within your control. But you're able to simply ignore them, and that requires a different sort of bravery."
There was a comfortable silence as they looked at each other, and Harry felt emotions pass through a look alone – joy, sorrow, respect, and most importantly, understanding. His shivering was gone, the warmth of friendship wiping it away.
Then Hermione stuck her hand out in an unmistakable gesture. "Friends?"
Harry shook her hand firmly. "Friends."
February 1, 1992
Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione made their way back from the stands after having watched the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. It had been a close affair but Slytherin had come out on top, edging past Gryffindor four-hundred-and-fifty points to three-hundred-and-ten. Ron waxed eloquent about how well the Gryffindor team had played while the Slytherins had barely managed to keep up. "They were robbed of sure victory," he rued. "I think it was just a bad day, they did nearly everything right."
"Not really, Ron," Harry found himself saying. "Slytherin did play very well, their passing was better and they rotated the Quaffle with more ease. Besides, they had a better Seeker."
Ron handwaved this. "The fact remains, Gryffindor mucked up their chances. I feel they could have…"
Harry found himself barely paying attention, noticing that Neville and Hermione were chatting animatedly about Herbology, neither of them being particularly inclined towards Quidditch. Hermione had gradually become a part of their little group after the conversation she'd had that night with Harry. Ron had only been far too happy, while Neville had initially been apprehensive but had been won over by the girl's infectious enthusiasm.
Hermione had struggled initially but had slowly started to contradict the teachers less and less, stopping after class very often to clear certain misconceptions. Harry, Ron and Neville stayed back as well on many an occasion and had learnt some very interesting and useful information. Coupled with Professor Riddle's extra classes, it had meant that the four of them were packed with work.
It doesn't feel like a strain though, Harry mused. Yes, they had been forced to work quite a bit harder to cope with the slightly more advanced course – and in Harry's case, it had meant endless practice sessions ending with frustration when a spell had eluded him. But it had also given him immense joy when he finally mastered a spell and was able to cast it as easily as any of his friends. The last month has been fun. Tiring, yes, but fun.
"Look at those teachers' pets, strutting about in the sun," a mocking voice rang out.
Harry sighed and turned to see Zabini, Nott and Draco standing there. He could not help but try to catch Draco's eyes, but Draco did not return the gesture – he had not made eye contact with Harry at all since after Christmas.
"What do you lot want?" Ron asked, colouring almost immediately.
"Nothing, Weasley. We were just saying how much of a suck-up the Mudblood is," Zabini drawled.
Hermione flushed deeply at this and Neville immediately stepped in front. "You take that back, Zabini."
"Or what, Longbottom?" Nott took a step forward as well, hand on his wand. "What will you do?"
Neville had clearly not thought this would be something he would have to answer. "Well…I…err…" he trailed off lamely.
Draco snickered. "Shooting your mouth off never ends well, Longbottom."
Neville glowered and Ron shot back, "Look who's talking, Malfoy. Messed up any more "perfect" potions yet?"
It was Draco's turn to glare. "I don't need blood traitors telling me how to brew my potions, Weasley."
That did it. Ron drew his wand and pointed it at Draco's legs. "PETRIFICUS!"
Draco fell headfirst onto the ground as his legs locked together. Nott retaliated, "PETRIFICUS!" Neville was left flat on the ground.
"Stop!" Harry yelled with a lot more authority than he felt at the moment. Everyone turned to look at him and he blushed a bit. "There's no need to fight unnecessarily. I'd rather we just walk away from this."
Zabini laughed. "Afraid you'll get your ass handed to you, Potter?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "More that yours won't be in any condition for Madam Pomfrey to fix if this escalates." Zabini scowled and Ron sniggered.
"I don't want this to blow up," Harry cautioned again. "Let's just walk away."
Nott nodded after a moment and they cast the counter-curses on their respective friends. Harry picked up Neville, who was still grimacing from the hit to the floor. "You all right, mate?"
"I'll be fine," he said, dusting himself off. "Let's go, come on."
He shot one last glare at Nott before they turned to go their ways.
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"
The spell whizzed just past Hermione's ear and all four of them whirled to see Zabini smirking.
"FLIPENDO!"
Hermione's wand lit up with a fierce yellow light and the spell powered past the students. Draco managed to duck in time as the spell slammed into a tree behind, which shuddered.
A moment later, an enormous number of chirping noises sounded and the branches began to rustle alarmingly. Neville's face blanched.
"That's a Doxy colony," he said. "You just used the Knockback Jinx on it, which is fatal to them so they've been provoked."
Hermione looked unnerved. "They're poisonous, right?" The branches began to rustle with increasing vigour and Harry could make out small purple-brown creatures beginning to move in their direction."
"Yes, but they can be cured readily with the antidote."
"I'm not waiting to find out whether Madam Pomfrey has the antidote," Ron shouted. "RUN!"
A dark swarm began to descend on the students as they ran with all their might. The Slytherins had turned the other way and a separate swarm was pursuing them as well. Hermione was casting the Knockback Jinx behind her whenever she could, but the numbers in the swarm were just too many.
Finally, the students had managed to drive off the swarm – partly by outrunning them and partly by Hermione using the Knockback Jinx. They stopped to catch their breath, wheezing and huffing.
"Did anyone get bit?" Harry asked.
Hermione and Neville shook their heads, but Ron's face was pale. "We might have problems bigger than that Doxy swarm," he said. "Look where we've ended up."
They were right in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.
"Okay, so which way is out?" Neville asked. "We just need to go back the way we came, right?"
Ron was hyperventilating. "I've heard there's an acromantula colony somewhere in here."
Hermione was rapidly spouting all the information she had on the Forest. "There are centaurs who permanently reside in the Forest and are known for their skills at Divination. Many plants including Bubotubers and Knotgrass are found abundantly. The occasional Venomous Tentacula can be found as well in the north-east part of the…"
"Venomous Tentacula! I hope we're not in the north-east part," Neville fretted.
"Calm down," Harry comforted them. "Let's just try to find our way out of here, all right?" He pointed to the trail on the floor they'd made. "This is the way we came; it should be easy enough to backtrack. Let's not run this time though, it's closer to night-time and some of the creatures may come out then. We'll be out before we know it though, there's nothing difficult about it," he said confidently.
Except for the acromantula colony. And the Venomous Tentacula.
Oh, shut up.
They tread cautiously on the floor, making sure that there were no creatures around. Finally, Ron whooped with delight as he spotted a clearing. "I think we're back to the safe parts of the ground!" He rushed and tripped over something and landed hard on the ground with a THUMP!
The kids rushed over to him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." They turned to see what he had tripped over…and paled.
The unmoving eyes of a dead unicorn stared right back at them.
Tom Marvolo Riddle looked at the Mirror of Erised with undisguised distaste, his eyes carefully scanning its surroundings for any tricks. Of all the magical objects he had seen in his long association with magical research, the Mirror of Erised was by far the most dangerous and volatile. Unlike some other objects he could name, the Mirror had no sympathy for its powers being tapped into and thus found new and innovative ways to bypass wards, create powerful illusions and in some cases nearly modify reality as though it were barely a constraint.
The incident with Potter had been a classic example. Mist? Flickering lights? Tom's initial guess was that it had been a very powerful illusion, but Potter mentioned thumping the wall and finding it to be solid – something that not even the most powerful illusionary device that the Unspeakables had could manage. Somehow, the Mirror had managed to channel another dimension of space altogether in its desperate attempt to feed on a magical's power. Potter had been extremely lucky that due to Tom's own interest in the Mirror, he had installed extensive alarm systems around it and therefore had managed to reach in time to save him. The boy's also got a fairly strong will, he acknowledged. Most grown wizards would struggle to last the amount of time he did in front of the Mirror.
Tom held up the chalice in his hands and tipped it into the Mirror. It sucked it right in with a huge whoosh and Tom sensed a small burst of magic out from the Mirror – odd, considering that the Mirror generally only feeds on magic. Then he realized that it was something akin to a human burping after a full meal and paled slightly before recovering control over his thoughts.
The wards around the Mirror shuddered slightly as Tom exerted his full power against them, checking for signs of cracks or chinks but they held sturdily, not showing any obvious weaknesses. He sighed as he touched the glowing runes, tapping one thrice before stepping back into the third-floor corridor. For now, the room was as secure as it could possibly be.
The question was, how long before the Mirror found a way to break through these wards as well? And how disastrous could the next such incident be?
A.N I'm so very sorry for being this late, but real-life popped up - again - and I had to take a step back from writing for a while. Further updates may be slightly sporadic, but rest assured that I shall continue to write this fic - I have long term plans for it and no way am I abandoning it after coming this far. Thank you so much for all your reviews and favourites, it means a lot to me. Stay safe, and I hope to see you again soon!