Harry felt the cold under his feet as he walked into the room. He saw stacks of chairs and desks, piled at the back of the room. If the dust was any indication, the classroom hadn't been used in years. But one element didn't seem to belong to a classroom. A tall and majestic golden mirror.
He decided to go in front of it. Now that he had escaped Rusard and Snape, he felt he could have some fun, by playing in front of the tall mirror with his cloak. He expected a good laugh at the sight of his floating head.
When he faced the mirror, all his ideas to play with his invisibility cloak vanished. Soundlessly it fell at his feet.
Unconsciously, he took a few steps in the direction of the mirror. He was mesmerised by what he saw. Two people were facing him, with a bright smile avec were waiving at him.
"Mum, dad?" whispered Harry.
The smile on his father's face and the joy in his mother's green and vibrant eyes was all the confirmation he needed. He had dreamt all his life to be loved, acknowledged.
He felt his throat constrict. Harry was overwhelmed by the sight in front of him. He had seen how his Aunt and Uncle looked at Dudley but this was not comparable.
His feet were cold, and he had chills. He had forgotten to put slippers on and Dudley's old pyjama wasn't the most effective for a nocturn walk in an old castle.
But Harry couldn't care less. All that mattered was what he saw. For the first time, he could put a face on who his parents were. But he also saw everything that had been robbed from him, everything he couldn't have because he was a freak.
His emotions were in turmoil. Anger, sadness or joy, Harry didn't know what he was feeling. A mix he gathered.
His feet brought him in front of the tall mirror. His parents were still looking at him, smiling. They were so close.
He rose his right arm, slowly, to touch the mirror, to feel his mother and father. His mother was mimicking his move. His fingers were shivering. But they stopped dead in tracks at the touch of the frozen and solid mirror.
He saw his hands, placed on the glass of the mirror and his parents, still smiling. But a touch of sadness printed in their eyes. His mother's hand was also frozen in place, stopped by an invisible frontier.
The realisation hit him. They were dead. They weren't here. He was alone.
Tears feel from his eyes but he couldn't care less.
All his life, he had dreamt that some relative would come and save him from the Dursley. But the mirror was now meticulously shattering his dream and each shard was a painful reminder of this loneliness.
All his life, he had imagined the warmth of his mother's embrace, a smile from his father. All these little signs Harry had witnessed but never experienced. He could only feel the streaks of tears, rolling on his face and the coldness of his feet and hand.
The furniture scattered in the room started to float around him but he didn't notice. His cloak, laying behind him, glowed in the dark. Old runes illuminated the room, powered by the powerful emotions Harry was feeling.
He was hurt, deeply hurt by this daunting vision. His last dreams and bits of innocence manhandledfrom all these years at Privet Drive were vanishing in the most painful and taunting way.
He couldn't keep his eyes off his parents, who still watched him with a sad smile, as if they also had understood how unfair the situation was. His mother's hand was so close but would remain inaccessible.
Tears were now falling from his eyes. For the first saw, he could see his family. But it was also a terrible vision and a burden.
But the cold in Harry's hand was changing. It was like holding melting snow. His callous hand who had once been flat against the cold surface of the mirror was now wet and was sinking. The surface of the mirror was shimmering, and he caught glimpses of light. It was like watching the surface of the Black Lake at night. He could feel his hand , almost fully immerged in the mirror now. His surprise rose when seconds later, he felt his hand touch the stomach of his father.
He couldn't understand but he could see it. His eyes, who had never left his parents' faces darted down. There, hard pressed against James Potter's stomach stood his little hand. He didn't understand but the boundary between the room and the mirror had vanished.
Realisation hit him and gingerly, he brought his second hand to the surface of the mirror. Effortlessly, it crossed the thin layer and made his way to his mother's waist. Her hand made his way to his own and he felt her soft and warm skin.
Blinking back tears, he tentatively tried to walk through the mirror. Moments later, he had completely crossed the mirror and was being hugged by his parents. Nothing mattered for Harry, he was just overwhelmed, caught in the first embrace he could remember with his parents. All three of them stood silently. No words were needed to share their joy.
When Albus Dumbledore came to check on the mirror the next morning, he saw that Harry was laying on the groud, covered by a blanket made in a shimmering and soft fabric. When he looked up, his eyes widened. He wasn't greeted as usual by Gellert's smirk or Ariana's smile. The mirror hadn't moved. But the glass was gone and the only thing that remained was the golden frame and its daunting words : "Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi".
I hope you enjoy this small OS! Could you please give a review? It took a lot to write this and I'd enjoy some feedback. Thanks for reading and stay safe