Chapter 2
The Mirror
Harry let out a breath as Snape and Quirrell left. He slumped down, back to the door of the room.
He looked up and spotted a mirror. He grinned as he stepped over to it, expecting to see himself not being reflected again.
Instead he saw something shocking.
Looking back at him from within the mirror was a girl. He glanced behind him, but no one was there.
He stepped closer. The girl stepped closer.
He let the cloak slip off him.
He raised his left hand. The girl raised her left hand.
He stuck out his tongue. She stuck out her tongue.
He frowned, and she frowned back.
She copied all of his movements.
Ok… so this mirror shows you as a girl then.
A loud noise followed by Peeves' laughter startled him, and he pulled the cloak back on and ran out of the room.
The next night he returned. He wasn't sure exactly why. He just wanted to see this mysterious girl again.
When he once again found the room, he stepped up to the mirror. Once again, the girl was there. And this time, she was not alone.
Surrounding her were people, lots of people. He saw Ron and Hermione waving at him from just over the girl's left shoulder. Standing behind the girl were two people. One looked almost exactly like an older version of him. My dad. The other, a woman, looked like the girl, save for the hair colour. The girl had black hair; the woman had auburn hair. My mum.
In the background were many others, all either sharing this feature or that with him or the girl.
He focused on the girl. She was the same height as him. Her eyes and hair the same colour. The glasses were the same, although hers were in a much better state of repair. Her outfit, unlike his own, actually fit her frame. However, on her forehead…
Harry tore his eyes away. "That's impossible," he said.
"What's impossible, Harry?"
Harry whirled around. Standing by the door was none other than his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
"Professor!"
"I see you, like many others before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore paused. "I trust you have determined what it is it does?"
Harry shook his head. He had an idea. One he was unwilling to accept or admit.
"No? Well allow me to provide you with a hint. The happiest man alive could look into this mirror and see himself as he is."
Harry swallowed but said nothing. He could not admit that what he wanted…
Dumbledore said nothing.
"It… it shows you what you want?"
Dumbledore nodded. "This mirror will show you nothing more or less than that which you desired. I imagine what you saw was your family, alive. Perhaps your friends as well. Am I correct?"
Harry nodded.
"Do not fee ashamed, Harry. It is only natural to desire that."
Harry didn't say anything. That part was absolutely not what he felt ashamed about.
"Men and women have wasted away in front of this mirror. It is entrancing. Difficult to resist. It shows you what you desire, yes. But it can also pull you in using that. Making it difficult to want to leave. And with that, you best be off to bed. The mirror will be moved tomorrow morning, and I suggest that you do not go looking for it."
Harry nodded, picked up the cloak, and started heading for the door. At the door, he stopped. "Professor… what…" he trailed off.
"What do I see in the mirror?"
Harry nodded.
"I see myself holding a pair of long wool socks. Yet another Christmas has come and gone, and yet everyone seems to believe that I want books. Not that I do not enjoy many of the tomes I receive, but what I could really use is a nice pair of warm socks. Good night Harry."
Harry took this as a clear dismissal, slipped on his cloak, and headed back to his dorm.
Lying in bed, it occurred to him that perhaps Dumbledore had not been entirely honest. It was a rather personal question anyway.
Harry tried to sleep but could not. Floating in front of his eyes was the image of the girl. The girl who resembled him in many ways. The girl who possessed his scar. The girl, who Harry was sure, was him. Or, at least, who he wished to be.
It's impossible, he thought. Isn't it? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Magic can do many things. Could it help- maybe. But Harry couldn't think about that. What would the Dursleys say? It was wrong.
And yet… yet Harry couldn't help but want it.