Written for IWSC Writing School

School and Year: Hogwarts Year 4

Story Title: The Mirror

WS Theme: Pacing and sentence fragments

Optional prompt: [Word] Mirror

WC: 588

Era: 4th year, before the Yule Ball :)


The Mirror


Maroon. Why did his family like it so much?

Ron glared at his reflection. The lace around his neck gave him the appearance of a blooming flower, and the blotchy, stained maroon dress robes muted his normally-bright red hair. Add on his dumbfounded facial expression and he looked like a cartoon drawing, courtesy of a colorblind toddler.

"I look like my great aunt Muriel."

Ron turned to his side to view the line of buttons that traced down his back. He wanted to pluck them off one by one and destroy the integrity of his outfit, but then it would just fall off. Maybe it would leave him naked, shivering on the dance floor. How embarrassing would that be?

"The back looks no better than the front."

Ron froze at the sound of the disembodied voice. It'd been years since his mirror spoke to him, and he almost forgot it was capable of communicating. Back in his first year, the mirror would speak up occasionally, mostly just to answer the boys' questions about the dorms and reassure them. But now, an insult?

"Excuse me?" said Ron.

"You heard me," said the mirror. "The back looks terrible."

"Aren't you supposed to be nice to us?" Ron scowled at the mirror, which only had the effect of scowling at himself.

"I'm supposed to help you."

"So telling me I look terrible is helping, then?"

The mirror paused for a moment, leaving the air between them hollow and quiet. Then, it made a throat-clearing sound and added, "I just want to help you look your very best."

How diplomatic. Why did it even care?"

As if reading his mind, the mirror continued. "A first date is a big milestone in a young man's life, and I want it to go well for you. If you know what I mean."

What did it mean? If Padma thought he looked good and acted charming, then what? Ron shuddered at the thought of what he'd be expected to do… hold her hand? Kiss her? Gross.

No. He wasn't ready for that.

"To be honest, I don't know if I want it to go well."

"Hmm," said the mirror. "That surprises me. I thought you'd be thrilled about a date with Hermione Grang—"

"Hermione?" interrupted Ron. He shook his head like a dog trying to rid itself of water. "Hermione's not my date. I'm going with Padma Patil."

"Padma Patil?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Oh?

The mirror went silent, and Ron shifted from foot to foot, staring at his gangly reflection. The sleeves of his robes were too short, and his arms stuck out like a scarecrow. Stains dotted the hem and Ron didn't know — nor did he want to know — their origins. The thick fabric weighed heavily on his shoulders, trapping heat while his skin broke out in sweat underneath.

He did not look good. What would his date think? What would Hermione think?

"If it's Padma," said the mirror, "then I guess you have nothing to worry about."

"What does that mean?"

At that moment, the door to the dormitory swung open. Harry, looking sharp as ever in his classy black dress robes stood in the doorway. "Ready to go?"

Ron eyed his friend as a pit of envy formed in his stomach. Why couldn't he have robes like Harry's? Padma would like them, and so would Hermione.

Not that it mattered what Hermione thought.

With one last glance at his reflection, Ron put the mirror's words aside, at least for now.

"Yeah. I'm ready."


Please judge:

Bad sentence fragment:

"Maroon. Why did his family like it so much?"

Other sentence fragments that are hopefully not bad:

"But now, an insult?"

"Ron shuddered at the thought of what he'd be expected to do… hold her hand? Kiss her? Gross."