Beyond the Broken Mirror

by Richan

Disclaimer: Seeing as how the closest I've ever been to England is Niagara Falls, it's a pretty sure bet that I'm not JK Rowling. I'm only messing with her characters' heads.

Warnings: Character death implied. Another angsty story. Written at 3 in the morning after working 15 hours straight on the remainders of the energy left from fighting the 'flu. I'm also telling you right now that there will be heavy slash, but not in this part.

Part 1

The Mirror Breaks

Harry listened to the whispers in the stadium and wished he couldn't hear them. The silence of the crowd was magnified when it was apparent that nobody was standing next to England's seeker. The announcer quickly went on to the next player, whose family was already loudly celebrating.

He followed his fellow players as the stadium emptied out, staying back to let them enjoy the family that loved them all the while wishing that *some*body was there with him. He should have known that the Dursleys had been right all along. Harry wasn't worth the energy or time to be part of a family, and it looked like they had also been right in that he didn't deserve friends.

Today was to have been special, but instead it had turned into a nightmare of proportions he hadn't seen since before he had defeated Voldemort two years ago. He had invited Sirius and Remus to the game, hoping that they would enjoy the game even if he didn't catch the snitch. The seats had been up in the box where the president of the quidditch association would be seated, meaning that they would be premium seats. Harry had had to give up the salary he would earn for the game for them, and had even arranged for rooms at one of the nicer hotels an hour broom flight to Dublin for post-celebrations. He had been hoping to get the chance to talk to Sirius and Remus before the game, but his coach had wanted the entire team to stay in the locker room until game time. Still, he'd been quite excited to see the two of them, even if the game went horrible.

Harry looked around the now deserted locker room and tiredly put his broom in his case, before changing out of his robes to the clothes he had brought for the party. The fine, linen shirt and smart, grey pants had been stylish enough to suit the party, while affording Harry some comfort in the middle of the Muggle city.

Deciding against going to the hotel, he apparated home and put his broom away, knowing he wouldn't be touching it for a long time. As he closed the closet door, he was assaulted by memories of two years ago, when part of him had died.

The last battle had been rough and losing Dumbledore had been the worst part. Harry could feel his chest tighten as he saw, once again, Voldemort throwing the killing curse at the headmaster, just knowing that he was too far away to do anything. A part of him knew that he wasn't to blame for it, but the larger part of him knew that it wouldn't have happened if Voldemort hadn't been so determined to kill Harry.

Flying had been one of the few things he had found pleasure in after the second fall of the Dark Lord. That was why he had gone into playing quidditch. It wasn't because he wasn't good for anything else - indeed, the Ministry had offered him several positions - but that it brought him joy.

Now that he knew he was alone, what was the point in flying? He couldn't share it with those he held dear. They obviously didn't think the same of him.

He thought back to a month ago, when Ron had made it clear that Harry wasn't welcome in his and Hermione's house anymore. Harry had apparated over, ready for the dinner his friends had invited him to, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bunch of flowers for Hermione in the other. Knocking on the door, he had found it strange when no one answered for a minute. Harry knocked a second time, and just as he was knocking the third time, Ron had opened the door, disheveled and clothing half on. His friend had yelled at him, saying that he had interrupted a very precious moment between him and his wife, and would he please leave them alone for as long as possible. Perferably forever.

Harry had stood there for a while, staring at the closed door, thinking that this must be some kind of joke. He knew that it was the correct day for the dinner - he still had the invitation in his pocket and had checked it twice already. After half an hour, he realized it was pointless of him even being there, so he had gone home and gotten smashingly drunk.

The next morning, he had taken out the tickets for the World Cup game he had gotten for his friends and had looked at them for a while. He had been planning on giving them to Ron last night at dinner, knowing that his friend would enjoy them since one of the chasers for England was from the Chudley Cannons, Ron's perennial favorite Quidditch team. Now they would go unused. Still, he had sent Hedwig off yesterday to Sirius and Remus, who shared a flat near Diagon Alley, knowing that they would appreciate the sentiment.

Harry had spent more than a week procuring the tickets, trading favors with his teammates for the opportunity to get them. He thought of the favor he'd done to get these two particular tickets and knew that his friend would never know the effort Harry had gone through for Ron. As it was, the humiliating pictures he'd had taken for the favor would be spread all over the wizarding world, when the public found out he was Mr. July in the Up and Coming Bachelors calendar.

Had he always been destined to be alone? He didn't want to be, having only Hedwig as his company when he wasn't practicing. Harry hadn't seen his godfather in more than two months, even though he had written several letters and gotten a few in reply. It had been just a few lines, but he had known that his godfather was working hard to establish the business he and Remus had started, Flying Dreams, selling various things that flew, namely motorcycles.

Harry wished he knew what he had done wrong, because it was obvious to him that he had done something to make everyone he loved go away. He wanted to know so he could correct it, make it all right again.

He picked up his glass, wondering when it had gone empty. Filling it up with the golden liquor, Harry stared out the window and saw the half moon hanging low in the sky. Wondering if Destiny was laughing, he poured himself another drink.

******

Sirius stared at the headline in horror.

ENGLAND WINS OVER NEW ZEALAND 620 - 480

POTTER CATCHES SNITCH TO WIN GAME

He scrambled for the drawer where he had been putting Harry's letters and hurriedly plowed through them, emptying them as quickly as he could. Halfway down the stack, two pieces of heavy parchment floated gracefully to the floor. They landed face up to reveal they were for two *very* nice seats in the Quidditch Association's box.

Sirius felt horrible. He had promised Harry that he would be there for all of his games, and now, with the biggest of them all, he hadn't shown up. He sat down at the table, his head in his hands.

"Siri?"

He didn't bother looking up at the sound of Remus' voice floating through the flat.

"Siri?"

"What's today's date?"

"August 4th," Remus replied. "Why?"

Sirius was quiet for a minute. "Tell me, do you remember sending Harry's birthday present?"

Remus looked startled. "Me send it? I thought you had."

Something broke inside Sirius as he stood up to look over to where he had put Harry's present and saw it was still sitting there. He heard Remus gasp beside him and knew that the other man had followed the direction his eyes had taken.

"What was yesterday?" Sirius croaked out.

"The third, Siri," Remus said slowly.

"NO!" Sirius shouted. "What was supposed to happen yesterday?"

Remus' eyes widened and opened his mouth to answer.

"The World Cup," Sirius said before his friend could answer.

"Shit!"

Sirius ignored Remus' swearing in favor of berating himself. He knew how important quidditch was to Harry, and just how happy he'd been when the coach for England had recruited him.

He sat back down abruptly when he realized that he hadn't talked to Harry about anything besides the shop for months since then, and hadn't even bothered to read his letters, let alone really answering them. His sole focus the last six or so months had been getting the shop going, knowing that his godson could take care of himself.

Well, that may have been physically, but Sirius had promised himself that he would watch his godson's emotions after that last battle and he had broken it.

The only thing he could do at the moment was to go and see Harry. So he would.

Half an hour later found him banging on Harry's door. Normally, he would have apparated into Harry's house, but for some reason hadn't been able to this morning. If Sirius hadn't known better, he would have thought the house was sad.

While he was doing this, Remus was checking the status of Harry's wards, a job that Sirius wouldn't have bothered to do now that panic was setting in.

"Harry!" Sirius shouted over and over again. For once he was glad that Harry had settled out in the country and there were no neighbors to pry into why he and Remus were here making such a racket.

"Siri?"

He turned to face Remus, who wore a grave expression.

"The wards... he's changed the wards. Like what it was like when he first bought it."

Sirius' eyes widened. Why would Harry need to do that? Nothing in the brief moments he'd spent scanning Harry's letters had indicated he was going anywhere other than home after the game and party the team's coach was holding, and certainly not for a long time at that if he set the security like it was.

They had floo'd to Ireland first, sure that Harry was still in Dublin with the rest of the team. Instead, they were horrified to find that he had never shown up for the party. Then had come the news that they had had a special ceremony last night and that they had felt bad that no one had showed up for Harry. Up until that point, Sirius had been trying to console himself with the thought that at least Ron and Hermione had been there. The two were Harry's best friends and had been for the last ten years or so. Why hadn't they been there?

Sirius stared at the door forlornly for a minute. Then he perked up a little when he remembered a little trick from his Marauding days and that he could pick the lock. Transfiguring a pebble, he worked the thin piece of metal into the lock to unlatch it.

Succeeding, he opened the door and his heart stopped.

The house was empty and Sirius understood that the house *was* sad. There weren't any traces of Harry to be found, and if Sirius hadn't been there before he would have thought that Harry had never set foot in this place. He searched the entire house and found the same emptiness but for one closet. Stored inside was Harry's precious Firebolt. He hadn't given it up even though there had been a newer, faster model because he held the broom dear, but here it lay abandoned like Harry must have felt last night.

Sirius couldn't turn from the sight, even as he broke into sobs and crumpled to the floor.

******

Ron stared at the owl. Well, he was actually staring at the letter attached to the owl's leg - the letter he had sent off not a day ago to his best friend. He felt terrible about yelling at Harry, and had written him in hopes that he would forgive Ron. It was just that he and Hermione had finally had a chance to spend the night together in a long while and he had wanted it to just be the two of them. He loved Harry like another brother, but he *loved* Hermione.

He knew that he probably wouldn't have written the letter if it hadn't been for Hermione asking why Harry hadn't shown up for dinner that night a couple of days ago. Ron had stared at her for a very long moment before asking her what all that was about. After listening to his wife explain that she had hoped Harry would enjoy a nice, quiet dinner with the two of them, he had felt an inch high. He remembered seeing his friend with both his hands full, and even though he had been extremely distracted, he knew he'd seen flowers in one of them. And then he remembered that he hadn't even sent his friend a birthday present the day before.

Feeling like a first-class heel, he'd sent off his letter in the hope that his friend would forgive him.

He closed his eyes and opened them to find Pig still fluttering in his spastic way. Why had Harry sent Pig back with the letter unopened? Even when they had been fighting the last time, Pig had always shown up with a small letter from Harry even when he was angry.

Officially worried at the lack of response, he plucked the letter from Pig's leg and sat down at the kitchen table. Just as he did so, the owl that delivered The Daily Prophet swooped in and dropped its parcel before taking to the sky again. Unrolling the parchment, Ron went into shock.

Bracing himself, he made himself read the entire article and almost choked when he read that Harry had been the only person not surrounded by his family and friends.

Merlin, but what had he done?

******

Five years later

Sirius wasn't ever going to give up searching for Harry.

Ever.

Even though Harry seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, there was no way he was giving up on his godson. He had already failed the man twice and there was no way he'd make it a third time.

He had searched the wizarding world for a while before realizing that if Harry had really wanted to disappear like Sirius thought he did, he probably had gone into the Muggle world. Since he was an adult, the only way to track him was to put a charm on him, and they hadn't done that. No owl reached him, so he must have charmed himself.

When what seemed like the hundredth owl Sirius had sent came back with its unopened letter, he had collapsed and nothing had broken the depression that descended over him. Even now he was only half the person he'd been before that fateful day in August when he realized that his world had crashed.

Right now he was searching Surrey again, just on the off chance that Harry had hid here even if it reminded him of the Dursleys. Sirius had already spent several days scanning the entire area and now it looked like this particular place was another dud.

He was about to step off the curb when he noticed a sheet hanging by a straggly piece of sellotape on the side of the bus stop. Walking closer to it, Sirius drew in a breath when he saw Harry's green eyes staring back at him from a colored plaque half covered by the ripped job wanted notice. Tearing his eyes away from the picture, he quickly read the paper and wished that he hadn't.

In Memory of James Evans

Who sacrificed his life

to save Jenny Barton, 9,

Matilda Barton, 7, and

Joseph Adamson, 7, in this

spot, 31.July.2006 from

certain death

Sirius couldn't breathe. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to find Harry and he would be able to make everything all right, make everything better than it had been. He would bring Harry home to meet his own godchildren, the appointment made in absentia by Ron and Hermione for their two children.

In his grief, Sirius never noticed the streak of magic that erupted from his hand. And he never noticed the car as he stepped back off the curb in his haste to get away from the plaque.

******

Remus eyed the black letter the owl was carrying. He knew that it was to inform him of someone's death and he dreaded opening it to find that they had lost Harry. Sirius was out searching for his godson to the point where Remus was worried about what must be left of his sanity.

His hand trembling, he took the letter and slowly opened it.

The scream of grief that erupted from Flying Dreams shattered the front windows of shops up and down Diagon Alley.

Later that night, Remus was staring at the plaque on the side of the bus stop for what seemed the thousandth time. He had apparated here in the hopes of finding Sirius alive - that maybe the letter had been an awful mistake - but it wasn't meant to be. Once the street had cleared as night rolled across the sky, he had noticed something he had overlooked earlier in his quest of finding out exactly what had happened.

Then he had seen the emerald green eyes peering back at him and all movement had ceased since.

In the back of his mind, Remus knew he should move, judging by the strange looks he had been receiving before everybody and their brother went home to their families. But he couldn't.

"That was a sad bit of business, that," a strange voice said next to him.

Remus was startled out of his thoughts and turned to see a man not much older than him, but definitely a Muggle.

"What...?" he managed to croak out.

The man nodded at the plaque. "That. He was a nice feller. Never talked much at all, but always helping the kiddies and animals around here. He were studying to be a doctor, I think."

Remus was quietly trying to process the information. Harry had been what?

The other man didn't notice his silence and continued talking.

"From what the witnesses say that morning, that young man were waiting at the bus stop - he lived over that - " he pointed across the streets to a bookstore - "shop and must have been heading to school. Those little kids were caught up in the crowd and somehow ended up in the street and the bus... People say they saw a strange flash of light - much like yesterday now. The next moment it were headed towards those kiddies and then bam! That young man was out of the stop real quick like and had tossed those children out of the way."

Remus tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Was this why Sirius hadn't paid attention?

He didn't say anything; he just nodded at the man and turned back to the plaque.

"You knew him, didn't you?"

He nodded slightly.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

Remus couldn't say anything. Harry had been twenty-six, too young to die like that. Hell, Sirius was too young to have died like he did.

He wanted to scream.

He was alone again, and this time he knew that no one was going to come back. And this time he couldn't blame Sirius, even if that really hadn't worked the first time. No, he was partially to blame for this. If he and Sirius hadn't been so involved with the shop, they would have had time for Harry and made him feel loved enough that he wouldn't have left to live only the next few years.

And how ironic that it had happened on Harry's birthday. That was what bothered Remus the most. Was Fate that cruel that she had to take him on his birthday, when he should be celebrating with whatever friends he may have made, even if *they,* his old ones, had forgotten it?

He touched the plaque, his hand shaking so much he couldn't control it. The cool metal was smooth and not at all weather-roughened. His fingertips glided over the raised plane of Harry's face, taking care brushing over the smooth curve of cheek so like his mother's. Remus touched the half-hidden scar on his forehead and suddenly everything broke.

Slumping to the ground, he curled up in a foetal position, grieving for both this boy who never had a childhood, and his best friend who had given everything up for him.

******

Ron shifted uncomfortably under the stares of those gathered at this place. It wasn't the place where he had expected to meet Harry again, but he had blown every chance with his friend. As it was, he was standing in front of his family and the few friends Harry'd had at his graveside.

They were holding a joint ceremony, seeing as how Ron's father had managed to arrange that Sirius would be buried next to him. He wasn't sure just how involved it had been, but his father was exhausted from dealing with the local government, no matter it was Muggle.

He was trying to think of something to say, but all that would come out was a mumbled "I'm sorry" over and over again.

His two sons were crawling beside Hermione, whom Ron hadn't been able to console at all since the news had reached their little house. They had named Harry their children's godfather even with him missing. Hell, their oldest was Alexander Heron Weasley. They had decided to use Harry's full first name as his middle name when they had seen him, the hair on his head almost as black as Harry's and just as messy.

Once the ceremony was over, Ron went and stood off to one side, not wanting to talk to anyone, including his family. His mother had tried to comfort him, but all it had done was to remind him that he hadn't been the friend he thought he was. It was like fourth year all over again, but with an unhappy ending this time.

He observed everyone that was gathered and saw that Remus wasn't handling this very well. He was worried about the older man. While Ron had known Sirius very well, he'd never been as close to him as Harry and Remus. And now Remus was alone once more.

That made him think of Harry being alone for almost four years. From what all of them had gotten from the few people that had known Harry in the neighborhood, he would talk with them, but had never offered a lot of information on himself but to a few. Those few, lucky people to have known Harry - or James as he had gone by - had told them that he was a serious young man who kept to himself even with them. The only thing unusual was the snowy owl he'd kept, saying that he had nursed it back to health and it hadn't wanted to leave when he went to release it. Ron had gone to the animal sanctuary where they had taken the bird after "James'" death and found Hedwig snoozing in one of the trees. When it had woken, the bird had flown down to Ron and perched on his shoulder and was even now resting in a tree above Harry's grave.

How terrible had it been for Harry with just Hedwig to keep him company? Ron couldn't imagine going through what Harry must have, from the time after the World Cup game to his death just over a year ago. And yet he knew that Harry had kept on living, no matter how alone he actually was. That was the type of man he was - to plow through everything even when the entire world was crashing down around him.

But to find out that Harry had made friends with only three other people in the almost four years he'd been living in this place.... Ron wasn't sure what to make of that development. Part of him reasoned that because he'd felt abandoned by his friends and family, it was doubly hard this next time. His chest clenched when he remembered that he had played an *awfully* big part in that. Hell, Malfoy probably would have been a better friend that Ron had ever been to Harry. He had been jealous of the attention his friend had gotten both before and after the war. He hadn't believed him when Harry had tried to explain about the Tournament in fourth year, and hadn't spoken to him for a couple of months when he found that Harry had refused to date his sister (a wise choice later down the line, but Ron had been too blind to see it). And then this final time, when he had, yet again, been the cause of his friend's pain when Ron really hadn't wanted to be around him at that particular moment.

Now all he could think about was that Fate had no mercy.

******

Remus wandered off when it was just him and Ron's family. He had been in this cemetery before when he'd been a child. In fact, this was next to the woods where he had been bitten. He had been around five, but really didn't remember much about that night. The day before, however, was still clear in his mind. He and his family had come to visit relatives that lived nearby, and his father, an avid ghost hunter and all-around eccentric wizard, had come to the cemetery to see if there were any Muggle ghosts around.

That had been before he learned life was not all happiness and roses.

He stopped when he reached the high fence surrounding one of the graves. A stone angel peered down from atop the massive headstone, the wings carved into a comforting embrace around it. But it was the expression on the face that had caught Remus' eye. The angel was smiling sadly, with a look in its eyes he'd last seen on Harry. Only when he had been talking to Sirius about anything from the shop to quidditch had Harry *not* worn a look like that.

Harry's eyes had been like that since his last year at Hogwarts, when they had learned Voldemort had attacked a group of students in Hogsmeade, killing everyone and the four teachers that had accompanied them. Harry had mourned each one when he had woken up from the vision of that scene, and Remus hadn't been able to imagine the grief and guilt he had suffered when he'd been pulled into that scene by his connection to Voldemort.

It was one of the few times that even Sirius had been somber when they had learned that Severus Snape had been one of the teachers with the group. The man had put up a valiant fight, taking down most of the Death Eaters around until the Dark Lord himself had shown up and taken out the traitor to his cause. It was only later, after the war was over, that Remus and Sirius had learned Snape had been tutoring Harry for the past couple of years and that the two had become friends.

Remus looked at the angel some more before reading the marker.

David Michael Evans 1937 - 1978

Marigold Rose Heron Evans 1938 - 1978

Beloved parents of Petunia and Lily

Like at the plaque where Harry had been killed, he reached a shaking hand to the angel. On his journey over the face, he didn't see the strange coloured patch of metal until it was too late.

Tbc