"Are you alright?" I asked Harry as soon as we were out in the corridor. He nodded, both him and the ginger gazing at me in awe. I supposed they must have heard my little outburst in the bathroom. "You three should be getting back to your dorms," I advised, my voice a lot calmer than I was feeling.

"Dubois?" Hermione began quietly. I turned to face her. "Thank you," she said.

I shrugged. "You should really be thanking these two. I never would have found you if they hadn't been about to charge in there and get themselves killed."

"You really came to rescue me?" she asked the two boys, wonder and gratitude on her tear-stained face.

They both shrugged awkwardly. "I guess," the ginger one muttered, looking a little sheepish.

"I'll see you guys around at some point, then," I said hastily, and turned to leave before things got any more sickeningly heart-warming.

"Bye, Zara," Harry called after me.

I waited until they had safely arrived back at Gryffindor tower, the tracking enchantments I had placed on Harry letting me know where he was at all times. Then I made my way up to Dumbledore's office.

I knocked on the door, just in case anyone else was in. "Enter," came Albus' voice almost immediately.

I stormed into the room, stopping just short of the desk. "How could this have happened?" I demanded, my voice uncharacteristically raised. "The whole point of me being here is so that things like this don't happen."

Albus turned to face me, his face grave, and shrugged helplessly. "We have no idea."

"None of my wards were set off," I continued, furious with Albus and the Order and myself. "No enchantments broken. There's no way that thing could've got in by itself. Someone somehow managed to smuggle it in. And whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing."

"Salazar," Albus said, very quietly, "have you considered that it did set off the wards, and you perhaps… missed it?"

"What are you trying to say, Albus?" I asked flatly, a sharp undertone to my voice.

Albus sat down wearily. "I'm trying to say that… you've never been- happy. And ever since Harry was born, you've been more and more… unhinged. And I think it's become worse recently. You're good at hiding it, but… I don't know if its because of your dreams, or the pressure…. I just think that, perhaps, you're not in the best condition, mentally and emotionally, and that might have caused you to miss something."

There was a long silence.

I sat down heavily. "You think I'm losing my mind," I said bleakly.

"No," Albus insisted. "I just think that… that you could do with taking care of yourself before you start trying to take care of Harry."

I was quiet for a long moment. "It's easy to forget," I began eventually, my voice weak. "With all this power, and knowledge, and my centuries of memories… its easy to forget that I'm just an eleven-year-old. And it sounds stupid to say, because I'm also over a thousand, but… I am eleven. I am Zara Dubois, and she's a child. And she will never be an adult, because every time I close my eyes I see my own dead body. And I see Harry dead, too. And I've spent so long avoiding death that… it terrifies me, Albus." I was quiet for another minute as Albus gazed at me compassionately. "I want Tom back," I said quietly, my throat constricting.

"I know," Albus replied gently, a hint of sadness in his tone. "I understand, Salazar. More than you know, I understand wishing that things could go back to how they once were. Hoping that someone who is irredeemable might see the light again."

I looked up at him in surprise. "Who?"

Albus suddenly looked unfathomably tired and unhappy. "Gelert Grindlewald," he admitted shortly. At my look of shock, he shrugged self-consciously. "We were friends once. More than friends. But that was a long time ago."

"How could you bring yourself to fight him?" I asked softly. "To defeat him?"

Albus' eyes took on a faraway look. "I had to. I put it off as long as possible, but… in the end, I knew I must face him."

"Do you think I'll have to fight Tom eventually?" I asked, a little afraid of the answer. "Is that how it must end? With me killing him when he returns?"

Albus sighed. "I fear that may be the only way to defeat him."

I shook my head. "I can't do it, Albus. I can't kill my best friend. My family. I won't."

"Then we must hope that the prophecy is true," Albus said sadly. "And that Harry is indeed the chosen one."

As Christmas drew near, I began to notice that Harry was regularly sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night and spending hours in the same abandoned classroom. The room was not particularly special, and I was confused as to why Harry felt the need to travel there night after night. My paranoia kicked in, and I resolved to go there one night to see what had clearly captivated Harry so much.

When I arrived, Harry was seated alone in the dark, cross-legged, in a shaft of moonlight. I crept, invisible, into the room and peered into the gloom to see what he was gazing at with such enthrallment. The pale moonlight slanted in through the classroom window, and glimmered off the surface of a large, tarnished mirror.

My blood turned to ice.

I had not seen that mirror in almost a thousand years, but I remembered it all too well. It had once stood in the cavern where I now kept my host bodies, a perpetual reminder of my dreams, my ambitions- and what I stood to lose if I failed. When I had first discovered the mirror, not long after leaving Hogwarts, it had showed me a future, my future. A future of eternal life, of cosmic power, of limitless knowledge.

The Mirror of Erised had showed me immortality.

Eventually, I had wrenched myself free of the indulgent self-deceit the mirror prompted. I had resolved to destroy it- and when I had failed to do that, I had hidden it so that none might ever find it again. And yet here it was, exactly as I had left it.

My hypocritical curiosity got the better of me for a moment, and I approached the mirror silently, careful to avoid startling Harry. I stopped just before the glass, and waited.

For a second, all I saw was myself. Then the reflection rippled, and I gazed into the depthless green eyes of Evangeline Chambers. She smiled at me, a real, soft smile that lit up her face. And then, from behind her, Tom stepped up towards the glass. I felt as if someone had punched me in the chest.

Evangeline glanced at Tom, and they exchanged brief smiles before turning their gazes to me. Tom was exactly as I remembered him from school: tall, dark-haired, with cutting cheekbones and glittering blue eyes. Evangeline, too, was captured as she- I- had been at sixteen, her dark tresses tumbling around her beautiful porcelain face.

They were so, achingly, happy. I reached out a hand to touch the cold glass with my fingertips, as if I could somehow reach them, reach this utopian world where everything was perfect.

Then Harry stood up, and the illusion was broken. Ashamed, I tore my hand away from the glass and retreated back into the shadows, backing out of the room and running away down the corridor, as if I could outrun the content smiles of those idyllic ghosts.

Do you ever just read your own writing and be like, wow, how did i get so depressing? That's literally me all the time now :) Don't worry, I promise I'll put some funny stuff in there soon!

I just have a couple of things to say, and I'll try to be brief.

Number One: Recently there has been some controversy surrounding some comments that J.K. Rowling has made. I just want to make it absolutely clear that, although I (obviously) love the world of Harry Potter and all its characters, J.K. Rowling's views on any and all subjects are in no way my own, and I do not support prejudice or discrimination of any kind. This website is a wonderfully tolerant place, and I hope that by making Harry Potter our own, we can promote diversity and inclusivity in our writing. I will definitely be making more of an effort to do this.

Number Two, and on a lighter note: I've been thinking about starting another piece of writing! I'm not sure if it'll be Harry Potter related, or even a fanfic. I've currently got some ideas for a modern retelling of Frankenstein, which would have themes similar to Morality and Immortality. So, if anyone has any ideas, tips, etc or if you'd like to read something else written by me, please let me know.

Anyway, thanks so much as always.

Amy Grace xx