"Boy. What have you done! Oh, what have you done!"

The second Fury's snakes hissed reproachfully at him. A tidal wave of anguish swept through Harry's brain. She was right! How worthless he was! He didn't deserve to live! Under the merciless onslaught of the Furies, Harry writhed on the ground in an agony of guilt and remorse.

"Your mother died for you!"

"It's all your fault!"

"If it weren't for you, Sirius wouldn't have died in the first place."

"Oh, boy, boy, worthless boy. How do you live with yourself? After what you have done to those you claim to love?"

"How many people do you think have died or been hurt to save the famous Harry Potter?"

And it was true! Everything they said was true! Harry wept.

"And poor little Harry."

"No-one else suffers as you do, do they?"

"Did you never think of the pain of those around you?"

"Those who do so much to help you and protect you?"

And Harry's mind became filled with heartwrenching images. There was Neville, both of his parents tortured into insanity by the Lestranges. It was years before he had even thought to wonder why Neville lived with his grandmother! There was Ron, always in Harry's shadow, generously offering his unstinting friendship. Lupin, his friends picked off and murdered one by one, dreading every month when he turned into the kind of beast he was sworn to destroy.

"NO!" Harry howled. "NO!"

But it was true, it was all true, how could he bear it, how could he live with himself: the tormenting images gushed through Harry's head like a river in spate.

Hagrid, whose giant mother rejected him and whose human father died; Dean Thomas, whose father had been killed by Voldemort's agents; Mrs Weasley, who lived in constant fear for her courageous family; Ginny, who had been possessed by Voldemort and nobody had even noticed; Dumbledore, dying a little every time one of his friends or agents gave up their lives in the great war; Snape, cowering in a corner while a hook nosed man…

Snape, a tiny corner of Harry's mind thought dimly. Remember your occlumency lessons.

Guilt skewered him. It pressed against his skull like a crown of thorns. It clawed his flesh with searing pain. It writhed in his belly, a lump of molten metal burning him up from the inside. It was all true. He was selfish, and guilty, and worthless…

But some of those people love you, the fragile voice insisted. They wouldn't want you to feel like this. Did your mother die just so you could collapse crying over it like this? If you don't get out of here, what will become of Ron and Hermione, waiting outside for you with Snape? Snape, occlumency…

"PROTEGO!" Harry suddenly bawled at the top of his voice, fumbling for his wand. "PROTEGO, PROTEGO!"

The agonies of guilt receded. Harry shuddered in relief. To his fascination, the Furies were retreating with expressions of horror on their dreadful faces. They had raised their hands to their bleeding eyes, and were wailing terribly. Of course, he remembered. The shield charm worked by rebounding the curse upon its originators. The Furies were getting a taste of their own medicine.

"I made him kill himself!"

"He made his mother suffer, but I made him suffer ten times more!"

"She never smiled again after I'd done with her!"

Still screaming self-accusations, the Furies fled, flapping their wings like seagulls caught in a storm.

Phew. Harry had a vague sense that things in this place came in threes. If he was correct, that meant he should have one more challenge to go.

The greyness was lifting, like dustcovers being swept away. A much greener and pleasant land spread before him. There were even apple trees in blossom, and a clear stream bubbling to itself.

Just a few metres in front of Harry was a mirror.

Harry approached it. Its surface was blank. It reflected nothing but silvery light. Cautiously he prodded it with his wand.

The mirror cleared and became transparent. Harry's stomach lurched. Standing on the other side of it were his parents and Sirius! They were lounging in an orchard, chatting to each other. Sirius said something that made his mother laugh, and his father good-naturedly threw a stick at him.

He had seen something like this before in the Mirror of Erised, and Dumbledore had told him it offered neither knowledge nor truth. Nevertheless, the familiar pangs of longing gripped his chest. He drank in the scene in the mirror. His father turned round. His mouth opened, and he said something to other two, excitement written in every line of his body. All three jumped up and walked towards the flat glass of the mirror, their faces glowing with surprise and delight.

"Hello, Harry," his mother said softly.

"Harry!" said his father. "We are so proud of you. So proud."

"I can't believe you're really here!" Sirius sounded choked with emotion.

His father was tossing an apple in his hand as once, in Snape's Pensieve, Harry had seen him toss a Golden Snitch. He grinned at Harry, and ran a hand through his black hair.

"Harry," his mother said seriously. "We need to talk to you."

"It's getting really rough out there." His dad's voice was soft. "Anything could happen. Look how many times you've nearly been killed."

Tears filled his mother's great green eyes, and began to well over onto her cheeks. "I couldn't bear if anything more happened to you, Harry! We are just so powerless to help you now."

"Thank goodness you made it here to talk to us. We have something very important to say to you. The truth is, Harry, we think you've done enough." His father's voice was very gentle. He had put an arm comfortingly around his wife's shoulders. "You have already suffered so much. And Harry, there will be even more suffering to come."

Harry's mouth had dropped open a little. "Wh- what? What do you mean?"

"Come and join us!" Sirius burst in. His eyes shone. "It's great here, Harry. Really great. And you could be with us, for always. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

It was. It was exactly what Harry wanted. To be with his real family. A smile began to spread over his face. Could it really be possible?

"How?" he asked eagerly. "What would I have to do?"

"It's easy, Harry," his mother cried. "All you have to do –"

"- is eat this!"

And the apple his father had been throwing up and down was flung through the mirror. With the reflexes of Quidditch, Harry's hand shot out automatically to catch it. He stared at it. It looked just like any old apple.

"That's all you need to do," Sirius said intensely. He had come right up to the surface of the mirror. "Eat the apple, and you can be with us."

"Oh Harry!" His mother was crying and laughing at the same time. "I just can't wait!"

Harry raised the apple to his lips. Like they said, it would be so easy. A spurt of joy made him laugh aloud. He looked in his mother's green eyes and smiled. He opened his mouth –

What about Ron and Hermione? the little voice at the back of his brain asked.

Harry pushed the thought aside. They would wait for a while in the valley of the Palace of Bones, but Snape would drag them back to Hogwarts before long. They'd be fine. They'd be a lot safer without a best mate like him to drag them into danger after danger, that was for sure.

What about the prophecy? Aren't you the only one who can bring down Voldemort?

Resentment surged through Harry. Why should everything always seem to come down to him? Snape accused him of thinking he was different, that he was special. Maybe he did. But how could he not? He was the Boy Who Lived. He was the one stuck with a prophecy saying he had to meet and overthrow the darkest lord of all time. Great fate-line to have, that one! It wasn't as if he had asked for any of this: no-one had a right to expect it of him. It was like his parents said. He had done enough.

"Harry?" His mother's voice sounded distressed. "What's the matter? Don't you want to be with us?"

"Of course I do!" Harry shouted, in an agony of indecision.

The dreadful images inflicted on him by the Furies ran through his head. They were all suffering so much. All of them. And perhaps – perhaps he really was the only one who could truly make a difference. Or was this what Hermione called his saving-people-thing talking again? Did he really think he was that important to the fight against Voldemort?

Dumbledore does, the small voice pointed out. A number of phrases from his very first year at Hogwarts whirled through his mind.

"It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends." Dumbledore.

"That's chess. You've got to make sacrifices."Ron.

"There are more important things – friendship and bravery –" Hermione.

And then, very vividly, the image of that awful occasion in the Ministry of Magic, when Voldemort had tried so hard to get Dumbledore to kill him. One thing was for sure: Voldemort really, really wanted him out of the way…

"I can't do it!" Harry yelled suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't come and be with you. I have to go back."

Tears streamed down his face. Before he lost his resolution, he stretched back his arm, and hurled the apple back through the mirror.

His father caught it. Harry watched his mother, his father and Sirius as their shocked faces faded away as if someone had run a wet cloth over chalked images. He was still crying.

He wiped his eyes, and took one last look at the mirror.

It was not empty, though. Sirius was there. A different Sirius, a different scene. This Sirius was alone, sitting under a tree and skimming stones across a lake. For some reason, Harry got the impression that he was very melancholy.

This Sirius turned around. He saw Harry staring at him through the flat surface of the mirror.

"HARRY!" he yelled. An expression of the most utter dismay spread across his face.