'Ciara! Ciara wake up!'
'For god's sake Harry, what's wrong?'
'There's something I want to show you. C'mon! Get up!'
She forced her eyes open and glared at the space in front of her. After mentally contemplating whether she should go back to bed or not, she slowly pushed back the covers and slipped on her robes and slippers.
If she didn't get at least one good nights rest this holiday-
She didn't have a chance to finish the thought before she reached the bottom of the steps, where Harry and Ron were waiting. Harry looked like he just ate ten pounds of sugar and Ron looked like he was dragged out of bed.
Oh boy, this will be fun.
Not giving her time to question what they were doing, Harry grabbed her hand, pulling her and Ron out of the Gryffindor common rooms, throwing a cloak over them. She could barely keep track of where they were going, all of the twists and turns blending together in her sleepy mind.
She also didn't notice that they were invisible until they passed a window.
She jerked to a halt and stared at the window with wide-eyes, "What the-!"
Two hands immediately placed themselves over her mouth. "Shh," the boys hissed, but she ignored them, gesturing towards the window and their non-reflection. They glanced at the window and realization dawned on them.
"You didn't tell her about the cloak," Ron hissed.
"It slipped my mind!"
"What cloak," Ciara questioned, "What the bloody hell are you two talking about!"
Before they could question it, Filch's voice drifted through the hallway.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
They all fell silent, gazing down the corridor as if waiting for Filch to turn the bend. Harry grabbed their wrists and kept pulling them along. 'I'll explain everything on the way,' he promised.
Ciara nodded.
By the time Ciara knew how Harry got his cloak ("how could you forget to tell me about something like this?") they had been walking for so long, Ciara's feet were bound to have blisters.
"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."
"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."
They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold (again), Harry spotted the suit of armor.
"It's here — just here — yes!"
They pushed the door open and Harry dropped the Cloak from around his shoulders, running towards the mirror. Ciara and Ron shared an uncertain look before following him.
"See?" Harry whispered, "Do you see them?"
"I can't see anything, mate."
"Me neither."
"Look! Look at them all . . . there are loads of them. . . ."
"Hary," Ciara said, "You're the only one standing in the mirror."
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."
Harry stepped aside but Ron stepped up before Ciara could. She watched him hesitantly, waiting to see if he was going to make some comment about Lily and James, but he just stood there, staring transfixedly at his image.
"Look at me!" he said.
"Can you see all your family standing around you?"
"No — I'm alone — but I'm different — I look older — and I'm Head Boy!"
"What?" Both Harry and Ciara questioned.
"I am — I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to — and I'm holding the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup — I'm Quidditch captain, too!"
"Is that even possible?" Ciara questioned, but she was ignored.
Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"
"How can it? All my family are dead — let me have another look —"
"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."
"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."
Harry stepped in front of the mirror, intending on pushing Ron out of the way, and Ron, still wanting to look at his reflection, pushed back. Ciara wordlessly stepped between them, pushing them both out of the center of the mirror.
"Honestly, you tow," she said in exasperation, "Fighting over a mirror? Really? I can't believe you-oh."
At first glance, she thought it was just a regular mirror. Harry and Ron were held at arm's distance from each other, both of them staring at her and wondering why she stopped talking.
But what caught her attention was the two people behind her. Hermione stood by Ron, rolling her eyes and smiling good-naturedly. And the person who stood next to Harry was...
Draco...
But it wasn't the Draco she had grown accustomed to during her time at Hogwarts. No, this Draco was like the one from when she was little. When they didn't have to worry about hanging out with each other and getting in trouble. When they didn't worry about getting hit with the Cruciatus Curse because they were a little curious.
He was smiling freely, his hair ruffled like it use to get when they were little and played tag for hours on end. His cheeks were a little red and his grey eyes were alight with joy and innocence.
If only they could look like that now...
Tears flooded in Ciara's eyes and she stepped away from the mirror. Harry lept to his feet and stared at her in concern, "Ciara-"
A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loud they had been.
"The cloak," Ciara said, "Quickly!"
Ron grabbed the cloak and threw it over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. The trio stood quiet and still, all of them thinking the same thing — did the Cloak work on cats?
Mrs. Norris's red eyes peered around the room, looking for the intruders that had been making the ruckus. After seeing nothing, she turned and left.
"This isn't safe — she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."
And as Ron pulled Harry out of the room, he didn't know that Harry kept looking back.
But Ciara did.
✨?¬レᄀ
The snow had yet to thaw.
The white that coated the landscape of Hogwarts castle numbed Ciara's eyes. The girl in question pulled away from the window, blinking her eyes as though to clear them. Harry and Ron sat by the fireplace, Harry staring at the flickering flames andRon staring at his friend in concern.
"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.
"No."
"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"
"No . . . you go . . ."
"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."
"Why not?"
"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it — and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"
"You sound like Hermione."
"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."
But Harry wasn't listening to Ron, only staring at the flames. Ron sent Ciara a desperate look.
"Harry," Ciara said, "Maybe you shouldn't go to the mirror tonight... or at all..."
His gaze was pulled from the fire and he sent Ciara a withering glare, "Why?"
"Because I don't think that mirror's safe. I've seen how you get around it, I don't want you to waste your life away looking at it!"
"So what you're saying is that you don't want me to see my family?"
"I never said that!"
"Then what are you saying?!"
"I'm saying that the mirror isn't safe. You shouldn't keep going back to it."
"I'm not having this conversation with you."
Before Ciara could get another word in, Harry stormed away to the dorms, leaving behind a distraught Ciara and a concerned Ron.
✨?¬レᄀ
Harry walked down the halls, his invisibility cloak draped over his shoulders.
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
He remembered when he was younger and he use to dream. He would dream about hope, about love, and about being accepted. It was a childish dream, but it was the only one he had. It helped him get through the day, made his little mundane life worth living.
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
He always found himself dreaming about his parents. What they looked like, what they hated, what they loved, what they acted like, who their friends were, what their Hogwarts house was, what they thought of him.
Would they be proud of him?
He'd like to think that they would be.
But he doesn't know.
And that's the sad part.
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
His mother. What was she like? Did she sit down and study all night long? Or did she spend all of her time with her friends? Was she kind? Was she smart?
Did she know how much of a monster her sister was?
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
What about his father? Did he laugh a lot? Crack jokes? Or was he serious and never smiled at all? Was he brave? Was he loyal?
Would he care about what happened to him?
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
"Password?"
"Mistletoe Berries."
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
But if he didn't have dreams, what did he have?
How about Ciara, you idiot?
The girl in question was sitting in an armchair by the fire, The Hobbit resting on her chest that rose evenly with deep, sleeping breaths. Her body was in an extremely odd position that could not have been comfortable in any way, shape, or form. But even when she was sleeping, Harry could tell she was originally facing the entrance of the common room.
Even after they fought, she had stayed up and waited for him...
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
He quietly walked over, slipping his invisibility cloak off his shoulders, and grabbed her book, gently sliding a bookmark before closing it. Despite the lack of noise, Ciara stirred and woke slowly.
"H'rry?"
"Yeah, Ciara. It's me."
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
She nodded, nearly slipping back to sleep when she jerked up, suddenly remembering something. "Oh," she cried, "I have something for you."
She reached over the side of the armchair, grabbing something that Harry couldn't see before handing it to him.
It was a picture.
The same picture she had gotten for Christmas.
He looked up in confusion, "I said you could-"
"I know," she fiddled with her fingers, "But I went to Professor McGonagall after you left and asked her to clone it so you could have a copy and-"
She suddenly looked upset, "I do want you to see your parents, Harry. I really do, but there's something wrong with that mirror! I know I-"
He grabbed her hand, bringing her rambling to a halt. His green eyes were alight with joy and something else Ciara couldn't identify. "It's okay Ciara," he said, smiling gently, "Thank you. I love it."
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
She returned his smile before a yawn escaped her lips, forcing her to pull away. Harry was still smiling, "You should get to bed, it's late."
"Yeah," she said with a playful glare, "You stayed out too late. You could have gotten caught."
"I didn't!"
"But you could have," she grabbed her book from the table and turned towards her dorms, "I'm going to bed. Good night Harry."
"Good night Ciara."
He made his way into his dorm and as he set his picture on his nightstand and pushed Scabbers off his pillow, his thoughts circled back to what he was thinking earlier.
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
But if he didn't have dreams, what did he have?
Maybe Harry couldn't dream of hope, love, or about being accepted. Maybe Harry would never know what his mother was like, or his father. Maybe he wouldn't know what his parents thought of Petunia, or if they would care that his relatives hurt him.
But he had Ciara.
While Ciara was by no means a parent, she gave him hope, she accepted him, and while love was a very big word, she certainly did care for him. He knew what she thought of Petunia (there isn't a time where his aunt was mentioned and she didn't swear her out) and he knew that Ciara hated that he was hurt.
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live Harry."
Maybe he didn't have parents, have dreams, but he had Ciara.
And that was good enough for him.
