I just realized that at the end of the first chapter I said "1-3 chapters per year". Sorry if it wasn't clear, but I meant 1-3 chapters per year that Harry is in school. And it may increase depending on if I can condense all the BS he got into in those few chapters or not.

Also this would have been up a while ago if I hadn't have deleted half of the last scene for this chapter. I had to rewrite it so I'm extremely bummed, but I hope this is the last time it happens. T-T

-Xenia


Chapter 3: Erised

Harry Potter was always a curious boy, always waiting to solve one of Dudleys hated Christmas puzzles, or a complicated part of his homework. He was no different here, though he kept his curiosity under wraps better during the day than at night.

Tonight, he had had a nightmare, and despite not waking his new dorm mates, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back his screams a second time. He was exhausted, but knew that if he tried again now, all of his memories would break him faster.

So he took the cloak used by his father before him, and he went out to explore.

The castle was gorgeous at night. The moonlight would wash over the halls through the windows, contrasted by any remaining sconces that were lit up. It was quiet and cozy, despite the cold air that would cover him every so often.

He used this time to think, to reflect on his days, and sort them into their neat little corners of his mind. He had noticed that during the mornings he is fine, but as soon as he steps foot within the DADA classroom, his head explodes in pain and he can hardly concentrate. It has gotten worse too, he noted, as he could hardly step withing ten feet of the professor when Quirrell was present in the halls.

The man was jumpy, and his information was so wrong that the students used the books and practically ignored him. He would say that he had faced off against trolls but the way he bowed under the pressure of Snape's lesser glares spoke volumes.

And Speaking of, Harry had taken to observing the Potions Master as well.

Snape was so hard to read, but his tongue was sharp and his eyes so icy hot that they burned and froze you in equal measure. He had not been so outwardly angry at Harry since that first lesson, but he was not nice either. There were only a few students he visibly disliked, and Harry was glad to know for a fact that he was not one. He did well in his classes, and was happy to know that the man did care somewhat about him.

He still got a note from the man every monday, speaking to him about how he was adjusting, and reminding him to eat.

Now, Harry knew that teachers did not do this for most students, but it was still something that was just for him. He had already told the man his owls name, Hedwig, and asked why she never delivered Harry's notes to him directly.

Everything that Harry sent was answered the following monday, which gave the boy an extra lesson in patience, despite not needing one. This was just how it was, and as no one knew what they wrote to one another, as Snape had given him a stack of enchanted parchments for that reason alone. He was able to speak to the man about his headaches, and observations, update the man on his classes and overall see the man acting like an actual teacher. He knew that the professor would have been his head of house, and after speaking to him about what the hat said, Harry knew he could talk to the man about most other things as well.

Turning his mind from this, he reflected on the first flying lesson he and the first years had, and how utterly out of control it had gotten.

They had just gotten the brooms to listen to their magic, and one student was having a really hard time. Harry didn't know how to help Neville, but Madame Hooch was there so he instead worried about himself.

She instructed them on how to sit on the broom and hover, then left the clumsy boy to correct some of the others. This was when his classmate screamed and was thrown into the air, hardly able to control the broom. Everyone stared as he was whipped around, though when it became clear that he was headed for a hard crash, Harry found himself up in the air as well.

Neville was petrified then, and so was Harry because he didn't know what he was doing, but he knew that he had to get to the other boy before he fell off.

It didn't take long for that to happen though, and Harry wanted to curse whatever was listening to his bad thoughts just to make them real.

He had plastered himself to the broom, zooming after the other, keeping close to his path, but trying desperately to reach the other in time. The broom which Neville was barely holding onto hit at tree then snapped harshly into three pieces, and Harry knew this was it. They were too high up for a harmless fall, and none of the trees would catch the chubbier boy since they were practicing in a clearing.

So he did what he could, telling himself not to think as he turned himself upside down, clutching his own steady broom between his legs, and letting his front half fall.

He caught the splintered half of the broom, the wood digging in deep, but he held on, quickly grabbing the others hand so they could both let the done for broom go.

He knew he wouldn't be able to right himself afterwards, so he held on as tight as possible with his uninjured hand, and guided them both back to the ground near their class. Neville landed in a terrified heap, Harry's blood dotting his clothes and face.

Harry had taken a second to fix himself on the broom, turning upright once again, and once he too was safely off his broom, they were being fussed over.

It seemed that while he was out saving the other boy, one of their classmates had run off to find a teacher. Out came both the Gryffindor and Slytherin heads of house, as well as the Headmaster and the healer.

They had all seen his stunt, and while Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle, and McGonagall looked impressed, Snape looked downright evil, glaring at him and even more harshly at Neville. Madam pomfrey saw to Harry's hand first, banishing the splinters that she could see, and telling him to keep his hand steady while she scanned for more.

He had, and after they were all gone, she cleaned his blood off of both the wound and Longbottom, then closed the open wounds. He hadn't realized they'd been so deep until she'd said he was lucky he hadn't nicked anything dangerous or impaled his hand.

This made Neville feel sick, and as the matron finished admonishing Harry she guided the other student into the castle to get some rest, plus a Calming Draught, and a Pepper Up Potion to sooth his shock.

From there he had heard the four professors left arguing. He made it look like he couldn't hear them and was anxious about what they were saying, especially when the other students were told to go to their common rooms for the rest of the lesson.

Thinking back on it, Harry was glad he acted that way, though it seemed like Snape knew what he was doing immediately.

They had been arguing over whether or not to admit him to the Quidditch team, which Snape vehemently opposed. The man had sited the fact that they only allowed second years and up to play for a reason. Which Professor McGonagall refuted by saying that Harry hadn't even batted an eye to the dangers and had come out of this just fine.

Snape then said something about Gryffindor tendencies rearing up early which had made Harry snort unexpectedly. The man did not turn, but still argued until he was nearly blue, but in the end Headmaster Dumbledore beamed and said he would see if there was a way to get the Board of Governors to allow Harry onto the team.

Harry had fought to keep his eyes from widening, he knew a bit about the game, and if it was so violent that they had to point out his lack of sense when it came to that sort of danger, why put him on the team?

He was honestly on Snape's side of all this, but knew that he was outnumbered. Though what was the worst that could happen?

As he traversed the halls he mused on other topics, like his budding friendship with Hermione. The two studied together off and on, and the girl had toned down her rambling explainations after realizing that Harry knew just about as much as she did on quite a few topics.

They were study buddies but as time passed they actually got more towards a friendship. She really was smart, and nice, so he could forgive her for always being a know-it-all. Ron however did not join them, ever, and he seemed to dislike Hermione either way, because she still spoke to him like he was her student.

Harry shook his head and sighed, then had a sudden jarring realization that he didn't know where in the castle he was.

He knew he was on the third floor, but the halls looked unused somehow, and a singular door was open.

He looked in, just to see in the middle of an old classroom was a covered mirror. He closed the door behind himself and removed his invisibility cloak from over his face, before walking towards the object.

It wasn't like it was calling to him, but he had already given himself over to his ever burning curiosity. The covering was soft, as he pulled it away, and at first he saw nothing, not even his own reflection. He looked around the mirror, and on the frame was written "The Mirror of Erised".

'Desire', he smiled a moment later, proud that the little word was also a puzzle, and that he'd solved it without much thought.

He looked into the mirror again, even less frightened than he should've been. Before long he saw himself in the mirror as he was now, though behind him, on either side were two people Harry had only ever heard about.

He hadn't really seen them before, so were they made up by the mirror, or was this really what his parents looked like.

The two people placed a hand on Harry's shoulders and he really wished he could feel it, to see that proud look in his dads eyes or the brilliant smile his mum gave so freely. He then noticed the bundle in his mothers other arm, and felt tears cloud his vision.

Oh how he wanted this! How he desired it, and yet the cruel reality that it was unreachable killed him a little inside.

The door opened and he wanted to turn around, fix his cloak and dash away, knowing they wouldn't see him, but he should have known better.

Behind him was Dumbledore, the image of his parents and sibling becoming transparent as it actually acted as a mirror, showing Harry the intruder. The man came up to him and spoke softly, telling Harry that the mirror showed the onlookers deepest desires, whether it be possible to reach or not. The images shown were inaccessible to others unless the looker spoke about it. That it was undoubtedly different for everyone, and that as people grew it would sometimes change.

He asked if Harry had seen his family, or something of the like, and all the boy could do was nod. He was steered away from the unlikely sight of his parents, but not before hearing their voices as they screamed about protecting him and 'Not Harry!'

It gave him a haunted feeling, especially as he knew these were his audio memories. He really could not remember what exactly they looked like, but those voices still haunted his nightmares.

Dumbledore led him from the room, closing the door and guiding the young man away from both the room and his outer turmoil.

Harry was guided back to Gryffindor tower, where he was told he wouldn't be punished for this, but to try to sleep at night instead.

He nodded, still in shock at what he'd seen and heard. But in the end he slept. It wasn't peaceful, it wasn't particularly restful, but he slept, and in the morning he looked like he felt.

He did what he had to do for the morning, using a bit of the makeup he had stored away from Aunt Petunia's 'hate' stash to fix the sleepless look he had. He hadn't needed it for bruises lately, so he had more than he thought he would this far into the year.

The day dragged on, as did a lot of the next few weeks, leaving him almost exhausted and unhappy. Snape had stopped sending him notes on their mondays, but he had taken to giving Harry random detentions and taking points for anything he could.

The man was an enigma, and while Harry absolutely loved puzzles, he knew that this particular puzzle would drive him insane sooner than it could ever be figured out.

That monday just got worse for the young boy, as his scar and his nose had begun bleeding halfway through DADA and both he and the squeamish Professor had had to go to the hospital wing. Quirrell was fine, except for the fact that he had seen Harry's blood and fainted.

Harry continued to bleed on and on until the Professor was out the large double doors.

It had stopped so abruptly that Madame Pomfrey wanted to keep him for the next few hours, and Harry reluctantly agreed, taking that time to think of what he could tell either Snape, his head of house or the Headmaster. He needed answers and he didn't think that any of this was normal. Even for wizards.

He would start with his Head of House, and if Professor McGonagall couldn't help, he'd ask Professor Snape. He'd only go to the Headmaster if everything else proved to be a dead end. The boy really didn't like pestering his professors, especially this early into his school career, but everything was wrong and he didn't know why.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Once Harry was out of the hospital wing he silently raced to the library. He would first try to read up on strange phenomena like what he was going through. Then even if he found anything, he'd talk to an adult and compare what they say to what he read. He would try to use it all to make a theory like they used to do in science class, and then come back to those same adults.

The emerald eyed boy really was too curious, but even after several hours and a missed lunch period, he still had nothing. Madam Pince had caught him looking at a deeper section of the shelves, and told him never to go there lest he wanted a detention or worse.

It was enough to deter him, for now, but unless he found something that he could work with, he'd sneak in there no matter what.

This was where Hermione found him hours later, still in the library looking at a book on magical scars and their significance.

"Harry?" She called, concerned that the boy she had come to think of as a friend was frowning so deeply.

"Yeah?" He asked grumpily, barely giving her his attention. The book was so dry and hard to get through that his headache from earlier was pounding in his brain.

Hermione sat next to him and pulled the book away from his face. "You've nearly missed lunch, and it's almost time for Herbology." She said softly. She knew exactly how he was, as she'd get like that too sometimes. He was frustrated at the lack of results, plus he was probably hungry too.

"I'll help you research more before curfew comes if you eat a little bit?" She coaxed. He'd done the same for her lots, and if the Weasley boy hadn't been there chomping and talking around his food for the majority of lunch she might've been able to keep her food down too.

"I--" Harry started, then paused. He didn't know what books to even look through, let alone if what happened was bad or not, and he trusted Hermione... fine, he'd let her help and then see what they could both find.

Harry nodded his consent, telling her in a soft shy voice what he was looking for and why.

In less than a few seconds Harry was feeling better, as he'd notice the glint in his new friends eyes. She was dying to sink her teeth into the shelves and discover something new. He laughed as he hauled them both from the library, only pausing to apologize to Madam Pince for his loud outburst.

They grabbed a quick lunch and ate while they raced outside to their next class, laughing all the while.

Once there they met up with Ron, and Hermione stopped smiling. She was unhappy at having to share her new friend with this boy, and it showed. But she didn't want to make Harry choose a friend so she stayed silent and tried to tolerate Ronald Weasley.

This would prove harder for the girl, as while Harry was an empathetic person, Ron seemed less so and would pick on her even when Harry defended her.

He stopped being vague about it one night before dinner, and even Harry couldn't stop the girl from running away in tears. Ron had pushed way too far tonight, and as Harry separated from the redheaded boy to look for his other friend he was stopped.

Snape had materialized out of nowhere it seemed, and he forced them to go to dinner. Harry tried to explain, but got a scalding look and decided to search for Hermione after making an appearance at dinner.

Neither of the two students had been eating well since their scar mission started, but he knew Snape would force feed him if he didn't at least make an effort. Not that the man had shown it, but he did start sending more messages during meals if Harry hadn't been there.

Dinner was moving so slow, and Harry was scared for his bushy haired friend. He had a bad feeling about tonight, and if the Great Hall doors slamming was anything to go by, his gut was right.

He turned, as did everyone in the great hall, and was surprised to see it was Quirrell who had rushed in. He looked disoriented and queasy, only screaming that there was a troll on the upper floors, before fainting in a heap.

The kids were shocked, the teachers were shocked, and yet as the Hall broke into chaos, all Harry could think of was the fact that Hermione went to the girls bathroom on that floor when she was sad or wanted to be alone.

The teachers told the prefects and head students to guide the younger years to their dorms, then guard the doors until the danger had passed. As they were all escorted out of the dining hall, Harry whispered to Ron that he would look for Hermione then met him in the common rooms. As the smaller boy rushed away worried, he did not notice the red head following.

Harry had been rushing through the halls, weaving in and out of alcoves as others ran past, but once he was near the third floor he heard a terrified scream and doubled his efforts.

Cursing his little legs, he pushed even further to see if it was truly his friend who had screamed, and missed the sounds of a second person running with him until he stopped just short of the doorway to the restrooms.

Soon after he came to a halt, he was pushed into the room by Ron, who hadn't stopped in time, and the two boys looked on in horror at the scene before them.

A horribly tall, unbearably smelling troll stood in the center of the room, its eyes trained solely on Hermione with his arm raised, ready to crush the girl with its club.

Harry didn't know what to do, so he did what he did best, and jumped in planning as he went. He shot a spell at the troll that sent rocks at its head, breaking the murderous concentration it had on Hermione.

"Hey! Over here ugly!!" Ron screamed as Harry seemed to have lost his voice. He gulped afterwards as the troll turned towards them and seemed intent on squashing them first.

They boys threw as many spells as they could remember at the creature, but became petrified when they realized nothing was affecting it how they'd hoped.

No, the troll had only gotten angrier, and as they really didn't want to die in a girls restroom, especially not in their first year, they jumped even further into action.

They knew that they didn't stand a chance with spells or charms, so they instead opted for a lengthy distraction, both throwing as many spells as possible while dodging the moving club as much as they could. They were trying to make as much noise as they could to get the teachers there faster, but that wasn't really working either.

Only a minute later, Ron hit it with a lucky tickling charm, and caused the creature to drop its heavy club, giving them a bit less to worry about. But now with both hands and feet free, the creature became belligerent, kicking, swinging its arms, and roaring as it tried to hit the two new threats.

Harry was a bit more agile when it came to dodging and weaving, so when Ron got the chance he checked the halls for a second, screaming that they needed help, but once again there was nothing.

He ducked back in and got ready.