[Funny. Of the two review I received, two of them spoke mainly of Sirius. Whee, so I guess bring him back is a definite yes? Okay, he'll be coming. Probably around chapter five, I don't want him to come too early.
That reminds me, I still don't own Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Charlie, the Dursleys, Rita Skeeter, Sirius, James, Lilly, or any other character, and I've never been bitten by a werewolf or served by a house elf.
And of course, please read and review! Feel free to flame, although if you do decide to flame, give reasons. I don't what to know that you think my story smell like my sister's feet, I want to know why. Okay? Okay. Now, on with the story!]
"The Desrever Mirror," Harry read aloud. "Created in 1771 by Ilias Desrever, this mirror has never been fully explained. Images appear within it as mist-like forms. The imprint of a hand has been carved into the oak frame, serving as a keyhole. Chosen Ones are to place their hands in the indentation, and the mirror will change from its solid state, allowing the Chosen One to step through. What happen afterward, no person has returned to tell about.
"The whereabouts of this object, which has been deemed full of Dark Magic and dangerous, currently resides where only those who seek it might find it. Hermione, what /I this?"
"It's what's in my dream. And look!" She jabbed a finger at the mirror the page, more precisely, the writing on it. See, 'the answer lies within your dreams', that is, my dreams. It all fit-"
With a perplexed and somewhat worried look on his face, Ron interrupted, "'Mione, what are you talking about? What writing?"
Hermione showed him. "There, see it? That writing, right there."
Harry and Ron shared a glance, and, somewhat hesitantly, Harry spoke up to point out, "But, Hermione, there's no writing, just some funny symbols." At this, a frown crossed Hermione's face. She ran a finger over the markings on her page, a thoughtful look upon her face. For a moment, she looked lost, as though in another world; an instant later, she'd jerked her hand off the book as though the words had bitten her.
"Yes, yes, but..." she protested, searching for the right words to explain herself. "They mean 'The answer lies within your dream', it's as clear as day. Don't you just feel like those markings simply have to be talking about a certain dream?
"Er, no," chorused her two friends, casting more secret looks between them. Hermione shot them an unreadable look, and, suddenly, they all burst out laughing.
A frantic look in his eye, Harry quickly suggested that they go back to the common room and finish up their homework ('write a two foot report on the different types of Truth Potions and other related potions, due tomorrow', 'make a map of the current star positions, due in two days', and 'devise a plan suitable for training racing thestrals')
"Great idea!" cried the only redhead of the trio, probably experiencing for the first time what it was like to agree so readily to homework. We'll see you in the common room!" Ron hopped of his chair and the two scurried away, leaving Hermione to sign out her book and head back to the common room to do some homework before bed.
Night had fallen long ago, but still, Hermione was awake. The gentle sound of breathing was the only sound made by the others as they dozed, but Hermione lay wide awake. She simply couldn't sleep.
Rolling over, Hermione peered at the wizard's clock she'd gotten for Christmas. Blinking soft, indigo numbers cried to the world that the time read two forty three, a very silent and unexciting hour. Hermione turned back, but every time she screwed her eyes closed, the mirror popped into her mind, like a friendly reminder that the dream was waiting for her. No way I'll get to sleep tonight.
But she was wrong. An hour later, she woke with a start, soaked in sweat. Her clock creepily showed that it was three forty three, exactly an hour after she'd last looked at her clock. Shivering, Hermione crept from her bed for a drink, but upon returning to her sleeping-place, found she could bare to sleep. Tonight her dream had been more vivid then ever before, and for once, she could remember everything but what made her so afraid. Her dream-self had prowled down the Hogwarts hallways as silently as a cat, finally coming to a room that held the mirror. Though Hermione had begged her dream-self not to, it had placed it's hand in the indentation of a hand, and from then on, Hermione could remember no more. What she did know, however, is how to find the mirror, and she planned to find it tonight.
Hermione crept silently down the hallways. She moved surely, as though she'd been creeping in the dead of night to this room everyday of her life. Her pulse quickened as she approached the room, and the creak the sounded and she eased the door open made her leap a mile. Inside, and made sure the door as securely locked before turning slowly to examine the contents of the room.
"Wow." It was all she could do, staring at that mirror. It took her breath away. It had a sort of rugged beauty, almost noble. Inching forward, she ran her fingers along its dusty frame, feeling as though she'd been reunited with an old friend. Her finders crept into the indentation, and she laid her hand where it was obviously supposed to be placed.
"Enter..." A soft voice hissed through her head, making her jump. But she couldn't help trusting the voice, like it's hard not to trust that old man who's holding out your wallet, saying that you dropped it. When the mirror changed so that it looked like it was made from fog, she knew what to do without thinking. Not testing to make sure it was truly not solid, she stepped into the mirror...
... and her life turned upside down.