As per request, Malfoy's mirror. Transliteration is writing one language using another language's characters, so only the sound is reproduced. For example, if you have ساحر in Arabic (magician) then you would write sahir in order to reproduce the sound the word would take.
Draco Lucius Malfoy
Draco moved silently and swiftly along the seventh floor hallway. He glanced back, just enough to see that Crabbe and Goyle were following him in the guise of two first year girls. Getting their hairs had been easy enough. Those girls left it around everywhere, shedding like a sick cat. The particular strands used for the transformation of the two oafs were from a hair brush. The Polyjuice Potion was supplied by the Dark Lord. It was probably produced by the barmy Potions master. Draco had initially looked up to Snape, admiring him for he was talented, from noble blood, and a trusted advisor of his own master. Now, Draco realized, Snape was trying to steal the thunder from the Malfoys. no doubt Snape was overjoyed when the Malfoy patriarch was sent to Azkaban.
Continuing his quick stride, Draco eventually stopped by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls how to do ballet. Draco stopped for a while, pondering how mad a person would have to be to try and teach trolls ballet. He then concentrated.
I need the Room of Hidden Things. I need the Room where the Vanishing Cabinet is hidden. A giant archway shimmered into existence, as if it was a mirage created by a trick of the light. Draco opened the door, and walked through the opening, shutting the door behind him. The only people that saw this were Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, each holding scales. They were to drop them if they needed to sound the alarm. The doorway disappeared as soon as Draco stepped inside the room, leaving Barnabas to teach his trolls the delicate art of ballet.
Draco walked through the maze of hidden things. Books littered the place, some on shelves, some in giant piles, and some strewn about. no doubt at least three fourths contained Dark magic so evil, only the Death Eaters would use it. (Draco had to remind himself that he was a Death Eater also. He clasped his left arm just thinking of it.)
Broken furniture was haphazardly discarded in this room. Bottles of alcohol littered the place. Draco was sure he even saw a package of a pound of crack lying on the floor, ripped on the side as if someone had thrown it in without a second glance. Nasty looking potions graced the tops of tables, and some spilt on floors, leaving a trail of hideous side effects where it fell. Expensive hats, cloaks, and a trunk full of jewels stood in his way. He even saw a banjo. Draco knew the labyrinth of the Room by heart. He knew exactly where he put the cabinet. After all, this was his job. On his way to the cabinet he saw something that caught his eye. A tall and thin structure, almost oval shaped, was covered by a dark cloak. Only its feet were visible, and Draco saw that it was made of solid gold. Intrigued, Draco pulled off the cover. After all, he had nothing but time. The Dark Lord demanded that he had until the end of the term. Right now, Draco was somewhere in the middle, and making excellent progress with the Twin Cabinets. Mr. Borgin was extremely willing to help, especially considering the...circumstances he was in. Nobody wanted to get on the bad side of Fenrir Greyback, much less the Dark Lord.
When the cover was pulled down, Draco had to rub his eyes to adjust them. It looked like a mirror, but it was nothing like one. Before he could concentrate on the apparent 'reflection' he looked at the engraving. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Draco tried cross referencing it with every language he knew. Nothing matched. French, Latin, Spanish, they all failed. He didn't even try the languages that didn't use the Roman characters, this mirror was obviously ancient, and ancient wizards weren't keen on transliterating.
Slowly, but surely, Draco lowered his gaze to the actual mirror. He was not expecting a normal reflection, the mirror was very obviously magical. Perhaps it showed what your future self will look like, or something like that. Whatever Draco was expecting, it was not this.
The 'reflection' showed Draco from a third-person view. It wasn't at all like looking into a mirror, more like staring into a flying camera. The image showed Draco, but he was doing something he hadn't done in a long time. Draco was smiling. He was flying on a broom, soaring through the clouds, and his expression was that of a man who had no care in the world. The real Draco stepped back warily. He tried to catch his breath. He envied the reflection as of now. The man in the reflection was free, while Draco was trapped, and burdened with despair, duty, and loyalty to his family. For years he had felt proud to carry the Malfoy legacy.
He had wanted to serve the Dark Lord, to purge his society of scum and mudbloods. They brought nothing but danger, and Draco didn't want to see his world crumble because some Mudblood had exposed the Wizards to the blood-thirsty society of men and women who were none but willing to kill their brothers if it meant that they'd have even a small nugget of gold. Now he felt the Malfoy crest on every piece of cutlery and jewelry around the manor was a burden. Everytime the Dark Lord, or even his Aunt Bellatrix, glanced at him, he flinched with terror. Despite his claims, the Dark Lord was not merciful.
Draco looked once again into the mirror again. If he could've seen himself, he would've seen an expression of longing, a yearning appearance decorated his face.
Draco realized what the mirror really did. It showed what you could never have. He punched the mirror in a blind rage, but as soon as his fist touched the glass, he winced in pain. The glass didn't shatter, but Draco felt as if his bones did. Shaking his hands, Draco left the mirror, ccatching one last furtive glance at the mirror. He set off to do his task.