Chapter 11: The Mirror of Erised
Neville's brow furrowed as he concentrated on the tactical spread in front of him. In the meantime, Ron made his move. "Knight to E5." A knight made of white marble moved forward a space, then came to life and promptly executed Neville's bishop. Neville slouched back on the bench and groaned. He was still the farthest thing from an expert at wizard's chess, but he could tell even amateurishly that he had been good and beaten. Then again, when Ron had first offered to teach him wizard's chess as his brothers had taught him, Neville had gone into it understanding that he would largely be learning by losing.
"Concede?" he cringed up at his best mate.
Ron at least made a good show of pretending to examine the state of play on the board with sympathy. "I think that would be wise, mate."
They gentlemanly shook on it, at the moment that Hermione came rolling up, tugging a suitcase behind her. She stared down in horror at Neville's decapitated Bishop piece. "That's totally barbaric!"
"That's wizard's chess," Ron shrugged with a what-can-you-do kind of smile. It dipped in the next second as he took in her things. "I see you've packed."
"See you haven't," Hermione retorted. Neville braced himself for an argument. Ron and Hermione had an annoying tendency to argue like a married couple, and the cordial tension in this moment gave off the impression that Hermione was a woman leaving her lover. He knew that his two friends still disagreed on the fall-out of Malfoy's fake duel and the three-headed dog, but come off it…. it was Christmas, after all.
"Change of plans – my parents are taking Ginny to Romania, to visit my brother Charlie. He's studying dragons there!"
"Oh, good. You can help me while I'm away then, to do some research on Nicholas Flamel…."
Ron groaned at the name. "We've looked a hundred times!"
Hermione's lips pursed as she stepped into him and whispered in his ear, "Not in the Restricted Section." She drew back. "Happy Christmas."
Neville watched her flounce away, before sighing and starting to rise from the bench. "I'd better hurry up and pack too if I'm going to be ready for the off aboard the train…" He noticed how Ron looked abjectly disappointed, though he attempted to hide it well.
"Is your Gran picking you up, then?"
Neville nodded, just as Seamus Finnegan came bounding up to them. "Top o' the morning, gentlemen!"
"Hello, Seamus," Ron grumbled, still sounding morose over being left alone, without his best mates. Neville was sure he wished he was going to Romania with his parents.
Next moment, there was a hopping noise, a kind of THUMP, THUMP, followed by scattered laughter as Harry Potter arrived. He was hopping like a bizarre bunny rabbit, his legs locked together as if glued.
Ron just sighed, taking it in. "You've really got to start standing up to people, Harry…" Neville was more sympathetic, appraising the bespectacled boy with quiet sympathy. If he had to guess, this looked like the work of Malfoy.
"How? I can barely – stand – at all!" Harry wobbled, the effort to keep himself upright leaving him out of breath.
"I know the countercurse!" Seamus eagerly leapt to his feet, only for Harry to jerk sharply and nearly topple over.
"No way! You'll just set my bloody kneecaps on fire!"
Seamus threw down his wand angrily, as Ron struggled to hold in a guffaw. "I don't appreciate cheeky jokes, Potter! Besides, if anyone has cared to notice, my eyebrows have completely grown back!" He turned on his heel and stomped away, only for the boys to all bite the insides of their cheeks: there was still a pronounced bald spot straight on the back of Seamus's head, the only remaining sign of his incident with the fire and the feather.
Harry nearly swayed into Neville, forcing the latter boy to prop his classmate up, and Ron sighed. "Wish you'd gotten here with Hermione about two minutes ago, mate; you just missed her. I can try to unlock you in her stead…"
Deciding that he stood a better chance of surviving if Ron performed the spell rather than Seamus, Harry nodded. Ron stood, thought for a moment, then waved his wand. "Locomotor Vivus!"
Harry snapped his legs apart and breathed with relief. "Thanks. Are you fellas staying for the holidays, then?"
"If you're asking to see whether I'll be around to bail you out, I'd rather not say…" Ron hedged, though a smirk was playing on his face.
"Not me," Neville stated. "I actually have to run and pack – all the faster to avoid hanging around with you saucy lads!"
Harry deflated a little, though he seemed pleased that, though not confirmed explicitly, Ron appeared to be staying behind. "You're probably one of the only others who is, Ron."
"You're not going home?" Ron blinked curiously.
Harry winced at this, curling into himself as if ashamed. "Why would I? The alternative is…" He faltered when he noticed how Ron and Neville were listening to him earnestly. "My…. my Muggle relatives aren't exactly the best people…"
Ron's eyes bulged at this, like he took some deeper meaning from what Harry was admitting. "You mean they a -…?" Harry cut him off with a sharp nod.
Glancing between the pair of boys, Neville felt bad that they couldn't be with their families, for one reason or another, though unlike Ron, Harry appeared in no hurry to spend time with relatives. He supposed he was lucky, to get to go home to Gran.
A sudden thought struck him. "Ron, do you think if I asked Percy, he could let me borrow Errol?"
Ron blinked, thrown. "Er…. Sure! But don't you think you oughta ready for the off?"
"Change of plans!" Neville threw over his shoulder with a wink, as he dashed off to find Percy the Prefect.
At least of their year, it was just Neville, Ron and Harry Potter left in Gryffindor House for the holidays. The two foremost awoke on Christmas morning early, Neville grinning in pleased satisfaction at the small pile of presents under the tree, meant for him. Gran had been generous and understanding to send them on ahead by owl post, so that Neville could stay at the castle and keep his new friends company. Besides, someone had to make sure that when Hermione returned from her holiday, Ron had made a certain amount of progress in their investigation on Nicholas Flamel.
"Potter shouldn't miss this…" Ron turned over a package in his hands. "There's stuff here addressed to him, after all! – WAKE UP, HARRY! WAKE UP!"
Harry finally appeared on the dormitory balcony, black hair uncoiffed, glasses in hand. He squirmed to slap them onto his face and Ron beamed up at him, along with Neville giving the shorter boy a small smile.
"Happy Christmas, Harry."
"Happy Christmas, gents!" Harry's tentative smile flip-flopped as he saw…. "Ron, what are you wearing?"
"Oh, my mum made it," Ron sheepishly tugged at the wool sweater now across his shoulders. Then he smirked. "If you'd come on down, I'd wager good Galleons that you've got a matching one, too!"
Harry seemed quite astonished as he breathed out, "I've… I've got presents!"
"Well, yeah!" Ron encouraged, though he and Neville shared a surreptitious look of concern as Harry turned away to bound down the stairs. The glasses-adorned boy rummaged through the gifts addressed to him apparently in awe. From where he was perched in an armchair, Neville hunched forward curiously.
"Don't those Muggles of yours give you Christmas presents? An allowance, or… or something?"
Harry chuffed out a bitter laugh. "The Dursleys haven't given me pocket money in about six years. Even when they did, Dudley just stole mine anyway…"
Ron looked appalled, especially as someone whose family had never seen much money, allowance or otherwise. "These Muggle relatives sound like they were born in a bloody bin!" He was marginally heartened to hear Harry full-on laugh.
"They are at that!" Tugging the Weasley sweater that Ron's mother had given him (following Ron hurriedly writing to her on a hunch), he turned back to the boys. "How do I look?"
"More Weasley than I do, mate. You got the better color!" Ron sounded a little envious.
Harry grinned weakly, then returned his attention to another package for him. It was wrapped in brown paper, with a drawstring surrounding it. A small label was pinned to the side:
"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well….. There's no name," Harry frowned.
A particularly bright pattern of dapple sunlight suddenly shone brightly into Neville's peripheral vision and he hissed, turning back to the open window, where a Christmas morning sun was beaming brightly through. "Ron, mind closing those curtains, mate?"
Ron hopped up and was on his way across the room to close the curtains when Harry ripped open the packaging. The reveal of a long, strangely translucent piece of fabric made Ron slow to a halt and double back, distracted from the curtains entirely.
"What is it?"
"It's some sort of….. cloak….." Harry murmured.
"Goes with your Weasley sweater, old boy! Put it on!" Ron urged.
Harry swung the Cloak over his shoulders, tugging it about himself. The moment he did, his entire body vanished from the neck down.
"Whoah…!" Ron breathed.
Harry took one look at where his feet should have been and yelped. "My body's gone!"
"Neville, are you seeing this? I think that's an Invisibility Cloak!"
"I'm invisible?!" Harry's seemingly disembodied head spun about in a circle wildly enough that he lost his balance and keeled onto his side, so that the Cloak shifted off him to reveal the rest of him.
"They're really rare…." Ron explained as Neville hurried to lend Harry a hand up off the floor. "…. Who sent it to you?"
"There was no name," Harry pointed at the discarded wrapping. "It just said…. Use it well….."
Neville couldn't sleep for much of that Christmas night. Nicholas Flamel, plus the mystery over Harry's top Christmas present, was keeping him awake. He and Ron would have to find enough answers to satisfy Hermione soon; they had only just over a week until she returned to the castle.
Impulsively, he clambered out of bed and tiptoed out of his four-poster and approached the trunk at the foot of Harry's. A plan had fallen into his head, one where he could get the information on Flamel and hopefully avoid what had nearly befallen him, Ron and Hermione with that three-headed dog in November. If he was right…
He fished around and, by touch, was able to procure the Invisibility Cloak that Ron claimed was supposedly rare. Here was a way to find the answers he sought, hopefully without getting caught out of bed, and he wouldn't have to risk being seen searching in broad daylight when the Library was closed for the holiday break, anyway. He trusted that Harry would understand. Slipping the Cloak over himself and finding a lantern, he sneaked out.
The Alohamora spell that Hermione had usefully demonstrated back in November helped him past the Restricted Section's gate. Keeping only the lantern visible, he scanned the shelves for anything on Flamel – a biography would be the most useful, though any tome would do.
Filch's damn cat showed up before he could get very far, and even though the Cloak was concealing him already, Neville dropped and left the lantern behind as he scrambled to hide. He watched as Filch himself approached, discovered the lantern, and then became startled himself when two more figures appeared, not noticing the caretaker at first.
Professor Quirrell looked even more simpering than usual and in danger of wetting himself from how Snape glowered down his hooked nose at him.
"I have much better things to do with my time, Quirrell; I have a previous engagement tonight, and I shan't be late for it…" Snape snarled.
"S-surely that's a better use of your time than interrogating me?" Quirrell stuttered.
"I will not have you stealing secrets from this castle without my knowing…." Snape hissed, stepping in dangerously close to his colleague. The men were interrupted by Filch.
"Professor: I found this, here in the Restricted Section." Filch held up the dropped, shattered lantern. "It's still hot! That means there's a student out of bed!"
The three faculty dashed away, leaving Neville to sneak out from the Library, invisible, behind them.
Not wanting to risk running into any one of them in stealing back to the Common Room, Neville ducked into the first unlocked classroom he tried.
The room he stumbled into was devoid of desks or any kind of blackboard. The only furnishing in the entire space was a tall object draped by a drop cloth. For some reason, Neville felt himself drawn to it until he was pulling the drop cloth away.
His reflection stared back at him out of a nearly floor-to-ceiling mirror. He was about to turn away when he saw two other figures materialize in its pane.
Neville stared, hardly daring to breathe. As the figures came into sharper focus, he could see that they belonged to two people whom he had only seen in pictures.
The man had curly hair, and a round face like his own. The woman flanking him at his other side was sweet-faced, slightly plump, but not too buxom. Her smile was quite lovely.
Neville cast his head over his shoulder, surprised to find that these people were not actually behind him, as this or any mirror reflection would seem to suggest. He nervously lifted his eyes back to the glassy pane, gulping.
"…. Mum?"
The lady's smile only broadened. Neville shifted his head.
"…Dad?"
Frank Longbottom dipped his head once, grinning through pursed and bow lips. Neville reached out a shaking hand to touch the mirror, touch his parents in the closest way he had ever come. He didn't care if he was getting the glass all smudgy.
"I'll be back," he promised in a murmur. Then, gathering up the cloak, he turned tail and ran.
"Ron! You've got to see this!" Neville somehow managed to modulate his voice, if not exactly the earnest passion in it, as he burst back into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. Ron blearily sat up, yawning and taking his best mate in.
"Bloody hell, Longbottom! D'ya have any idea what time it is?"
"Never mind that! There's something you've got to see – now come on!"
Spying the Cloak in Neville's fist, Ron's curiosity didn't allow him any time to consider that they were technically mooching off a classmate without asking. Neville, however, in a moment of conscience, hesitated just long enough so as to briefly debate waking Harry up and taking him along. After all, this was the boy's Cloak. Anxious to see his mum and dad again, however, he quickly shrugged it off. He'd be back to store the Cloak in Harry's trunk before the other boy even knew it was gone. Harry would understand….
The fabric was wide enough to comfortably fit both Neville and Ron under it, as the former retraced his steps back to the room. Upon seeing the mirror, Ron quipped:
"Well, at least this spare room isn't holding a dog this time…."
"Come on! Come look; it's my parents!" Neville dashed him over to the mirror. A moment of tense silence followed as Ron simply just stared at it.
"All right, I give up: what am I ruddy supposed to be looking at?" Ron deadpanned.
"You're not facing it center…. Look into it properly!" And taking Ron by the shoulders, Neville manipulated him into his own spot, grinning hopefully. "There! You see them, don't you?"
"…. That's me!" Ron suddenly shouted. "Only I'm…. Head Boy… And bloody hell – I'm Quidditch Captain too!" He wiggled a little, tickled pink. "I look good…." Ron's look of elated amazement only shifted once into a kind of confusion; perplexed, Neville thought he saw his best mate mouth what might have been, 'Hermione…..?' Then Ron blushed, stealing a glance at Neville.
"Mate – do you think this mirror…. shows the future?"
Neville wasn't sure why Ron had seen something so different from him, and he shrugged. "How can it? Both my parents are dead."
As a sort of test of what amounted to competing theories, Neville convinced Ron to come back to the mirror with him, only this time, they were taking Harry with them. If their little, bespectacled friend was offended that they had nicked his Invisibility Cloak without asking, he never let on.
Upon situating Harry in front of the mirror, Neville was more befuddled than ever when an emotional Harry reported how he could see his parents too! Except not Neville's parents – Harry was seeing his own!
"What…. what sort of magic is this?" Harry sniffled, glancing to Neville. Ron scuffed at his shoes, now appearing somewhat left out that he wasn't seeing what both his friends were.
"Why would the mirror show each of you your parents…. but not show mine to me?"
Harry regarded Ron with a kind of sad envy. "Maybe because you still have yours. Whereas Neville and I…." he couldn't finish.
Before he even realized it, Neville became just as determined to solve the mystery of the mirror as he was to solve the mystery of Nicholas Flamel, if not more so.
He soon found himself sneaking down to the spare classroom to sit in front of the mirror every night, watching his parents. The glassy panes never showed him anything else, nothing like the accolades Ron claimed to have witnessed. And his parents never spoke to him beyond bright eyes and smiles, but that hardly mattered. Just being in their presence, even if it seemed to defy all the scientific properties of reflection, was enough for the Boy Who Lived.
"Back again, Neville?" Neville was startled one night when the rumbling voice of Albus Dumbledore came wafting up to him and he twisted around where he'd been sitting criss-crossed in front of the mirror. The Headmaster didn't seem angry to have caught a student out of bed. "I see that you, like so many others, have discovered the wonders of the Mirror of Erised."
Neville stood awkwardly. "It… it shows me my parents," he confessed. He almost described what Ron and Harry saw when they looked into it, but held his tongue, not wanting to get them in trouble.
"Ah. I see." Though Dumbledore looked hardly surprised. "You must understand, Neville, that the Mirror shows us neither knowledge, nor truth. It only shows us the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts. Men have wasted away in front of it…. even gone mad!" Neville felt his blood chill. "That is why, tomorrow, it will be moved to a new home, and I must ask you….. not to go looking for it again."
Holding back tears, Neville nonetheless nodded. Though Dumbledore did allow him to stay and look upon his parents for as long as he wanted, only escorting Neville back to the Gryffindor Common Room when he was ready.
It had taken the pictures several days to develop – just one of many things Severus found tiring about Muggle cameras. Plus, another hour or two had been required to enchant the photographs so they could move, the way that magical ones did.
He knew he should have probably attempted to get a Christmas shot earlier than the actual day, and he shouldn't have been so risky as to use a flash camera to capture it. Her Christmas present would be several evenings late…. but, for Lily, it was worth it. Even through all the nonsense of taking the photographs the Muggle way. Severus thought it lucky that Longbottom and the other boys hadn't appeared to see him, perhaps thinking the bulb flash a trick of the sunlight.
It was dark when he arrived at St. Mungo's, a few nights after Christmas and Boxing Day. He snuck into the ward and then her curtained partition, per usual, happy to find her waiting up for him.
Lily's beautiful hazel eyes narrowed at him in concentration. "Se….Severus…. right?"
Severus allowed himself a small smile. The past few months of implementing his recall method were turning out better than he had imagined. Progress was slow and incremental, but it was a huge victory to him that, after so many years, Lily seemed to be moving away from needing to ask him his name each and every time she visited. Now, night to night, she was remembering him! She was also now coming to accept that he, Severus, had once been a friend.
The next step, one that they were starting on now, would be to bring back bits and pieces of her old life. Taking the chair beside her bed, Severus shyly held out the photo he had surreptitiously taken of her boy.
Lily cocked her head to study the picture, puzzled. The image showed Harry holding up a Christmas present wrapped in brown paper, while Neville Longbottom and the youngest Weasley boy watched him.
"Who is that?" she pointed at Neville first.
"A first-year student of mine. His name is Neville Longbottom."
At this, Lily burst out into a melodious laugh. "Long….bottom! He has a long bottom, he says!"
Severus chuckled. "Yes, it is rather unfortunate surname, if you ask me…." Pursing her lips inquisitively, Lily pointed to another one of the photo's subjects, silently asking the question this time.
"That's Ron Weasley, another student of mine."
"So, you're a…. teacher, then?" Lily worked out.
Severus nodded. "Yeah. At Hogwarts, where we went to school together. And these boys are friends with…." It was he who now pointed at the photo's central subject.
Lily blinked, her desire to learn insatiable. "With who?" she turned her doe, hazel eyes onto Severus.
Severus took a deep breath. "Your son…."
Lily gawped at him, then broke into a beaming, bemused smile. "You're funny, Severus… I – I'm not a mother…." She pulled her knees up to her chest and then scissor-spread her legs so that the hem of her hospital gown hitched, bunched up around her hips. Severus nearly choked and averted his gaze almost too late. It seemed as if Lillian was trying to look up her own skirts, as if studying her naughty lady bits might give her the evidence as to whether she had, in fact, given birth or not. That was one thing about Lily's condition – her state of reverting back into something almost childlike had also made her more uninhibited.
"Lily…. Lily…. I don't think we need to perform a medical examination to ascertain…."
"But I would know if I had ever been with child!" Lily cried. "Given birth…." She still seem disinclined to belief him.
"No, it's true," and Severus showed her the picture again, pointing out Harry. "That's your little boy."
Lily tilted her head and frowned. "Strange…." She murmured. "He looks awfully familiar. Almost as if he's…." Severus waited on baited breath, hardly daring to believe it, and yet at the same time bracing himself for the moment when she would (inevitably, he simultaneously hoped and dreaded) remember James.
She didn't meet the moment, tossing her head and her auburn curls along with it. "I don't know who he reminds me of."
Severus wrestled down an odd grin of relief. Ah, well. Baby steps. He yearned for the day when she might recover all of her memories… but if she didn't recover the knowledge that she had once been married to James, well, he could live with leaving that breakthrough for another day.
He watched as Lily glanced from the photo of Harry to him and back again. "This is really my…. my….?" Severus observed, marveling, as her eyes filled with moisture. "My baby….?"
His throat tightened, and he managed to nod through it. Lily snapped her gaze to his.
"Can I keep this?"
"Of… of course!" Severus acceded. "I can bring you more, if you would like."
Lily bobbed her head, smiling radiantly. "Do." Her expression softened as her green eyes shifted slightly up, and something above them seemed to make her grin broaden.
"Mistletoe…." She murmured quietly.
Severus followed her gaze. There was indeed a sprig of the customary yuletide flower growing – organically, it appeared – down from the rafters.
Severus shifted his gaze back to Lillian just in time to see her leaning forward, and for one mad moment, he thought she was going to….
Her lips brushed along his cheek softly. He froze, after his body jerked a little in surprise.
Lily drew back, smiling quite shyly. "Happy Christmas, love."
Severus tried not to gawp at her, speechless that she would refer to him as 'love.' He tried not to wrestle over whether she had meant it as an innocent term of endearment or one more…. romantic…. Or why she hadn't, in that moment, just called him 'Severus' – a name he was becoming used to hearing more and more on her lips.
Her lips…. Those bow, plump lips he had always imagined having pressed against his own…. A bolt of courage seemed to surge through him like lightning, and he was just stooping forward to see whether she might let him kiss her pretty little mouth. But Lily turned her head back to fawn over Harry's photograph before he'd even completely risen out of his chair, and she didn't see.