"Slow down," Greyson hissed in Harry's ear as they made their way through the darkened halls of the castle. "I don't want my legs appearing."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled as he juggled carrying a lantern and keeping the cloak covering them sufficiently.

"Why did you bring that anyway?" Greyson asked. "We could have just used our wands."

Harry made a face, a splash of pink across his cheeks barely visible in the dim light. "I forgot," he admitted. Greyson shook his head with a chuckle as they continued on cautiously.

They snuck in the forbidden section and Greyson's eyes got wide at all the books in this section. He had to get his hands on these after this whole Quirrel-Snape thing was over with. There were so many books and he was sure that he could convince McGonagall to give him written permission to read these. It would be criminal to leave all these books without the love and attention they deserved.

He watched as Harry opened one book where the pages seemed to form a sunken face. Greyson watched in fascination as its mouth opened wide and it let out a blood curdling scream. "Close it!" Greyson whispered harshly as Harry dropped the lantern in his hurry to do just that. "That's why we don't carry lanterns!" He froze as they heard footsteps approaching and ushered Harry to quickly move away and into a shadowed corner as Filch entered the library.

"Students out of bed?" Filch's nasally and raspy voice sneered, making Greyson's skin crawl and his breath stutter in his chest in an attempt to be even quieter. Greyson kept his eyes trained on the thin, hunched man and attempted to follow Filch's line of sight as he looked around through his oily, straggly hair.

Both boys stayed silent and continued to press themselves into the corner to avoid Filch's advance into the room. The last thing either of them wanted was to lose the cloak after just getting it, especially since it was one of Harry's only reminders of their lost past.

"Professor!" Filch snivelled at the sight of Snape rounding the corner. "There's students out of bed." He held up the shattered lantern in one gnarled hand. Snape merely nodded and scanned the library, seemingly completely uninterested unless the intruders appeared out of thin air. After a moment he turned away and continued his business as if he had never been interrupted.

"Go, I will handle this if I find them," Snape commanded sharply, much to Filch's obvious disappointment. With a heavy sigh and a mumbled acquiescence he made his way out of the library.

Soon enough the library was empty save for them, and Greyson couldn't have been more relieved. "That was close," he whispered. "Come on, let's go back to Gryffindor Tower before they come back. We can't afford to be caught."

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he breathed and they started the slow walk back.

Greyson nearly slammed into Harry when he stopped suddenly halfway through their trek back. He went to fuss at his brother for that but cut himself off at Harry's frantic hand wave towards their next intended hallway. Snape was pushing Quirrell threateningly and speaking in hushed but furious tones.

"What are you doing?" Snape hissed and then went rigid, head snapping around to look right at them. Quirrell didn't seem to sense them, continuing to be his normal jumpy self, scared out of his mind in Snape's displeased presence. Greyson stayed absolutely still as his heart hammered away and studied Quirrell's face, trying to see if the man who led the troll into Hogwarts had managed to sense them somehow. It was honestly quite hard to see Quirrell as 'evil' and he could see exactly why Harry swore it was Snape. This scene right here made Snape look even more suspicious, but Greyson knew deep in his gut that Quirrell was the one that was behind everything, from the break in at Gringotts to the releasing of the troll, Quirrell was the one constant. He was always there. Always involved. Greyson knew there was no way it was all coincidence.

He kept his hands on Harry's shoulders and was glad he did so because Harry started backing off to avoid Snape's searching gaze that, unlike earlier, hadn't faltered off once in disinterest. If he hadn't, then Harry would have left Greyson behind in his haste and revealed Greyson to Snape and Quirrell to investigate how he had suddenly appeared.

He followed closely behind a calmer Harry, trying to figure out how Harry was planning on getting back to the tower from the path he was going. "Harry, this isn't the way to the tower," he breathed and then they heard the soft patter of paws and a meow. And then there was Filch, again. Which gods had he angered? Who was this unlucky? All right. Time to take control.

"Follow me," Greyson demanded and led Harry straight to the room with the mirror. He closed the door gently behind them only moments before Filch's footsteps sounded right outside the door. Greyson let himself breathe a deep sigh of relief and leaned heavily against the door.

"I think... we're good," he said before sliding down to sit down on the cold stone floor. He realized with a jolt that didn't see his brother. "Harry?" He got back up and walked further into the room, spotting his brother standing wide eyed in front of the mirror.

"Greyson," he breathed in amazement. "Come see." Greyson walked up reluctantly, his gut twisting at what he knew was waiting on the other side of the mirror.

"What is it?" he asked, standing to Harry's left and peering over his shoulder cautiously.

"I see... I see Mom and Dad," he laughed giddily. "And there's our aunts and uncles and grandparents. Generations of Potters. Don't you see them?"

"Yeah," Greyson lied. He couldn't force himself to admit he only saw himself and Harry. He didn't know those people. The only family he needs is Harry.

"Ron has to see this," Harry said eagerly.

"Ron?" Greyson parroted. "Why?"

"He has to see them too," Harry explained, before heading to the door. Greyson nodded and moved so he was more centered in the mirror, hoping it wouldn't be that same horrible image, rubbing in his face what he longed for most but what was the furthest from his reach. It was, of course. More of the same. Him being praised and wanted and acknowledged. He turned from it and followed Harry numbly, not wanting to watch his desires played on the same taunting loop any longer.

The nights following Harry's discovery of the mirror made up a lot of sleepless nights for both of the brothers, but for very different reasons. Greyson spent many nights sitting up by the fire pouring over his books to distract himself from sneaking out every night to see the mirror.

The day before the other students were to come back, Greyson decided to visit the mirror once more. Perhaps there was something he was missing. He couldn't understand how Harry was so enticed with something he could never have. Something so far from reach that there was no point in wishing, but still Harry kept wishing and looking at it.

He considered turning back several times but still eventually found himself sitting there staring at an older him, happy and with no trace of worry or sadness hidden in his eyes as he basked in praise and warmth. "How?" he asked it in a pained whisper. "How do I get that?"

"Greyson," an aged and steady voice said from behind him. He turned quickly, barely stifling a gasp, to see Dumbledore standing behind him with . "Impressive, isn't it?"

"Not really." He didn't think there was anything impressive about a mirror that only showed him pain.

"No? And why's that?" Anger flared in Greyson's chest at the question and he stood up jerkily, approaching Dumbledore. He looked up into his eyes, breathing harsh and fast and feeling ready to yell and have a tantrum the likes of which he hadn't had since he was four. But those silver eyes, reminding Greyson of stars, seemed kind. All his anger and frustration collapsed like an uneven house of cards.

"All it shows is what I long for. And it's something that I don't think I will ever get." He found himself admitting in a small voice.

"Well, it is called the Mirror of Erised for a reason," he chuckled. "But that is a very wise approach to the mirror."

"Harry doesn't think of it the same."

"Oh?"

"No," he whispered. "He's been here looking every night... looking at something we can never get..." But as he said that he realized it was near impossible for there to be no other living relatives.

"Looking at what?" Dumbledore encouraged, obviously looking for more information. Greyson looked up at him again, not seeing him as that trustworthy now that he had calmed down some. While the wizard world saw him as great, Greyson couldn't help but place the man at arms length. If Dumbledore was interested in Harry, he could ask him. Greyson wouldn't tell him what Harry's desires were. It wasn't his place.

The man's eyes did not hold the same warmth that any of the Weasleys (save for Percy) or Professor McGonagall had. It didn't make him feel safe and cared for, but rather like the man saw himself as a king and only cared if a pawn fell before it had been properly used for the greater good.

"He just sees himself going pro at Quidditch," Greyson said after a pause that didn't seem too long or too short. He noticed when people lied a lot of times they took either too long or too little time to answer and Greyson wouldn't make the same mistake. "But, I have to go and do some research, professor. Have a nice night." He moved past Dumbledore to go look in the library to learn more about the Potter and Evan's family tree. He looked behind himself several times on the way there, just to be sure Dumbledore wasn't following. Greyson wasn't going to trust him just because he was the headmaster.