Of Mirrors and Stones
Harry looked out of the window the Dumbledore had been looking out of in the memory. He could see over the Black Lake to the mountains in the distance. It was a beautiful view, so peaceful, and Harry felt that he could stand there and look out forever. The sun was high in the sky now, and he knew it must be around ten in the morning. The grounds below looked very inviting, and Harry still wanted to go sit outside by the lake, but he decided to view one more memory before taking a break. He returned to the Pensieve and emptied another phial of the silver memories into it.
-xxx-
Dumbledore's office reformed around Harry once more. He didn't even glance around to take in the office. By now he was almost as familiar with this scene as his own bedroom.
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, writing something on Parchment. Fawkes sat quietly on his perch next to Dumbledore. Harry sat on the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk that he usually occupied. He allowed himself for just a moment to feel that this was real and that nothing of the last few years had occurred.
Just then an owl landed on the windowsill and hooted softly at Dumbledore. He looked up and the owl flew in and landed on his desk. The large grey owl stuck out its leg and allowed Dumbledore to take the letter. Dumbledore gave the owl a treat and read the letter. Harry noticed the owl didn't fly away immediately, so it had to have been waiting for a reply. Dumbledore stroked the owl absent-mindedly as he read. Harry went round to read the letter over his shoulder.
Albus,
How are you my dear friend? Well, I hope. I heard the other day that your predecessor Armando Dippet was still alive and well. I was rather surprised. Perhaps he is making an attempt to outlive Perenelle and me...
I have been hearing rumours of late, Albus, that someone has been trying to get hold of my stone. Now, while I am not a selfish man, I am well aware of the consequences of the stone falling into the wrong hands, as I am sure, are you. My stone is currently locked securely away in a Gringotts high security vault. However, I do not entirely trust those goblins. I have heard of occasions where they get sticky fingers, or they fall under the Imperius curse.
I must ask you a favour at this time, Albus. I need the stone to be removed from Gringotts, and the only other place I could think of as being secure enough to protect it is at Hogwarts itself. It would mean a lot if you would accept this request and keep the stone under your guard for the time being, at least until these rumours pass.
If you accept, I shall send a letter to Gringotts, transferring guardianship to you.
Kind regards,
Nicholas Flamel
Albus looked up at Fawkes thoughtfully. "What do you think my dear?" he asked his bird. Fawkes eyed him and hooted softly. Harry could have sworn he saw the bird nod slightly. "You are right. We don't want that stone falling into the wrong hands." Seemingly satisfied, Dumbledore pulled out a sheet of parchment and quill and began writing.
My dear Nicholas
I am indeed well. I too have heard such rumours, but as I have not been in contact with Armando Dippet for a long time, I can neither deny nor confirm them.
As for your request, I will indeed take over guardianship of the stone. I agree with you, the stone cannot fall into the wrong hands, especially with the rumours that Tom Riddle has not vanished entirely, rumours I would have to agree with. I will retrieve the stone as soon as possible and secure it here at Hogwarts. I will ensure only those I know I can trust will be involved in its security.
Send my regards to Perenelle,
Albus
Dumbledore reread the letter and attached it to the leg of the waiting owl which then took off. Whatever work Dumbledore had been doing before the arrival of the owl lay forgotten on the desk as he pulled out another clean sheet of parchment and began devising a measure of security for the stone.
The memory changed around Harry. Dumbledore was now walking along a corridor alone. It seemed to be the middle of the night, but Dumbledore obviously knew where he was going. Harry was not sure where in the castle they were. The two of them rounded a corner, and Harry knew at once where they were. Dumbledore paused at the tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet, turned on his heel and paced up and down in front of the blank space of wall. Harry waited for the Room of Requirement to appear, curious to see what the Room would reveal this time.
A door appeared, and Dumbledore went in, Harry behind him. He recognised this room instantly. This was the room where the Diadem had been hidden, as well as Snape's textbook. This was the room that Crabbe had set alight with his uncontrolled Fiendfyre and had inadvertently killed himself. Harry shivered with the memory.
Dumbledore followed a path through the things piled up around them. Dumbledore seemed to know exactly where he was headed. Harry followed him until he stopped in front of a large flat something leaning against a cabinet. It was covered by a sheet of velvet cloth. Dumbledore pulled the cloth off to reveal a mirror. It took Harry a moment to realise that this was in fact the Mirror of Erised. Dumbledore stood in front of the mirror for a moment, staring at himself. Harry moved behind him to see what Dumbledore was looking at.
In the reflection, Harry saw Dumbledore as he had been as a teenage boy. Standing next to him was his brother, Aberforth, also a teenager. On Dumbledore's other side stood Ariana Dumbledore. She looked to Harry to be a happy, healthy young woman, unlike the frail frightened girl she had been. Behind Dumbledore and his siblings stood a tall man and woman. Harry recognised the woman as being Kendra Dumbledore, but she had been killed the last time Harry had seen her. The man, Harry assumed, was Percival Dumbledore. Percival had his hand around his wife's waist and his hand on his daughter's shoulder. All of the Dumbledore's looked happy, all were smiling. As they watched, Aberforth put his arm around Albus' shoulder.
Harry had figured that Dumbledore would see his family in the mirror, but to actually see it made Harry realise that Dumbledore had never forgiven himself for the breakup of his family. Dumbledore obviously wanted nothing more than to see his family together again as a unit, smiling as though nothing had ever gone wrong in his life.
Albus swiped away a stray tear that fell down his cheek. He pulled out his wand and cast a spell and the mirror floated gently away from the ground. Harry followed Dumbledore as he brought the mirror out of the room and down the corridor. Nobody disturbed them as they walked down flights of stairs and through doors to the third floor. Harry recognised the suit of armour that had marked the door to an unused classroom. Dumbledore set the mirror down gently, but did not stand in front of the mirror and gaze at his family. Harry knew that if Dumbledore had, he would not have been able to tear himself away, much like Harry had done.
Harry had just thought that when he felt the memory change. He thought for a moment that nothing had happened as he was still in the same room. He glanced around and saw Dumbledore sitting on a desk against the opposite wall to the mirror. He seemed to be waiting for something.
Suddenly, the door of the classroom opened and shut, seemingly of its own accord. Out of thin air appeared himself. Harry was surprised. He walked around the younger version of himself as memory-Harry sank down in front of the mirror. Harry remembered what he had seen in the mirror. It was something he was likely never to forget. It was the only time he had seen his entire family.
Harry – both of them – jumped when Dumbledore spoke. "So – back again, Harry?" Memory-Harry spun around to see Dumbledore sitting on the desk.
"I – I didn't see you, sir," stuttered memory-Harry. Real-Harry was astounded to hear just how squeaky his voice had been at eleven years old.
"Strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you." Dumbledore was smiling at memory-Harry. "So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor next to memory-Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
"I didn't know it was called that, sir."
"But I expect you've realised by now what it does?"
Real-Harry stood behind Dumbledore, listening to the conversation. He found it disconcerting to see himself sitting there, talking to Dumbledore. He had not realised just how small he had been when he was eleven.
While Dumbledore and memory-Harry were speaking, real-Harry was looking at the inscription at the top of the mirror. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. It dawned on him only then that the inscription was on a mirror. He thought to read it backwards, and when he did, it made all the sense in the world. I show not your face but your hearts desire. Harry smiled.
Harry thought that Dumbledore sounded wistful as he was explaining to memory-Harry that men can go mad staring at the mirror.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you do ever run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that." Harry thought that that particular piece of wisdom to be so very true, especially considering all that he had experienced since that evening. "Now, why don't you put that admirable Cloak back on and get off back to bed?" said Dumbledore gently.
Both memory-Harry and Dumbledore stood up.
"Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" asked memory-Harry.
"Obviously, you've just done so," said Dumbledore. Real-Harry laughed. Dumbledore's wit was sharp as ever. "You may ask me one more thing, however."
"What do you see when you look in the Mirror?" Real-Harry saw as Dumbledore glanced into the Mirror. Harry could see Dumbledore's family reflected back, happy and smiling.
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks. One can never have enough socks." Dumbledore smiled. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books." Memory-Harry nodded, looking confused, and donned the cloak once more. Harry watched as the classroom door opened and shut. Dumbledore turned back to the Mirror and sank once more to the floor in front of it. Harry guessed that he wanted to treat himself to just one more night with a family that is whole and together.
The memory changed once more. Dumbledore was in his office, and it was obvious that the letter Dumbledore was reading had just arrived.
"Fawkes, we are needed urgently at the Ministry." Dumbledore stood and the phoenix flew over to him at once. As soon as Dumbledore touched the bird, there was a loud BANG and both the bird and its master vanished. Harry vanished along with them and the scene reformed around them.
Harry recognised the Ministry of Magic atrium with its tall statue of the magical beings. Dumbledore was already hurrying along the atrium when Harry got there. Dumbledore went to a desk near the wizard that usually weighed the wands of visitors. A small sign on the desk read Minister of Magic – Enquiries.
"I received an urgent letter from the Minister. Has he left any message with you for me?" asked Dumbledore.
The witch did not look like there was anything urgent happening at the moment. "Hang on," she drawled, "I just need to check." She picked up a small pile of notes and paged through them with no sense of urgency. "I don't see anything here for you. Take a seat and I'll ask the Minister for you," she said with not much expression.
Dumbledore turned on his heel and began marching towards the elevators. Suddenly he froze. Harry managed to catch the look of realisation before he called for Fawkes once more. Again, Dumbledore touched the bird and they vanished.
This time, Dumbledore had apperated to the lawn in front of the castle. Harry followed Dumbledore as he hurried inside. In the Entrance Hall, Dumbledore was met by Ron and Hermione. They were filthy and looked bedraggled. Ron had a bruise on the side of his head where the queen had hit him.
"Professor," said Hermione breathlessly. There was a look of panic in her eyes.
"Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?" said Dumbledore quickly. Hermione nodded and Dumbledore took off in a sprint. Harry was glad that he was so fit, or he wouldn't have kept up. They went through the door to the third floor corridor and Dumbledore paused at the door to the room Fluffy was in. The harp was still lying on the floor and Dumbledore quickly bewitched to continue playing. Once the dog was asleep, Dumbledore slipped through the trapdoor below the dog's feet.
As Dumbledore landed on the plants below, he cast a flame and the plant didn't touch him. He scrambled off of it and Harry was untouched by the plant. They hurried off down the passage to where Harry knew the keys would be flying around. Dumbledore pushed open the door and went in.
Dumbledore raised his wand above his head. "FINITE INCANTATEM!" he cried. Harry didn't think that the spell would have worked, but then this was Dumbledore. The keys all dropped like stones to the floor, the charm on them cancelled. Dumbledore stalked around for a moment, looking for the right key. He found it quickly and unlocked the next door.
The dark room light up to reveal the giant chess board. Harry was surprised to see that the pieces were whole once more after the game he, Ron and Hermione had just played, but then he remembered that the chess pieces do repair themselves after every game. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. I command you to let me through," said Dumbledore loudly. The chess pieces all shifted to the side and bowed to him as he passed.
Harry could smell the troll as soon as they went into the next room. The troll was still lying on the floor, out cold and Dumbledore paid it no heed, merely walking straight past it. Harry thought that Dumbledore would have a problem in the next room with the potions, but nothing happened. Instead he strode straight through into the next room.
Harry was stunned by what he saw next. Memory-Harry, the eleven year-old boy, had Quirrell by the arm and was hanging on tight. There was smoke coming from Quirrell's arm and the man was shrieking in pain. Real-Harry could hear Voldemort's cries of "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"
Real-Harry saw the anguish on Dumbledore's face for the brief moment it was there, before it turned to rage. "Harry!" he cried. "Harry!" Real-Harry watched as memory-Harry sank to the floor, releasing his grip as he passed out. Dumbledore darted forward with a swiftness Harry didn't think the man could achieve at his age and caught memory-Harry before he hit the floor. Dumbledore and real-Harry watched as Quirrell dropped to his knees, still screaming in agony.
"YOU USELESS CREATURE!" bellowed Voldemort. Suddenly, Quirrell went silent, and his face went blank. Something rose from the back of Quirrell like smoke and vanished. Harry watched the life leave Quirrell's eyes, and he crumpled over in a heap and didn't move. Harry almost vomited for the second time that day, but controlled himself. He saw Dumbledore stand and scoop the lifeless body of memory-Harry into his arms as though he weighed nothing at all.
Harry felt the tug of the end of the memory and was relieved that memory was over.
-xxx-
Harry sank into the comfortable chair in front of the desk and put his head in his hands. He breathed deeply, trying to settle his stomach. He had not seen Quirrell's death and had not wanted to. Voldemort had just used Quirrell as a vessel in which he could both exist in a stable body and have access to the school without suspicion. Nobody had suspected Quirrell wearing the turban, because wizards always wore strange outfits.
Harry picked up the letter that went with the memory and read.
Harry
These few memories were during your first year at school. As you well know, I was a good friend of Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle, and I had worked with him for a few months on his alchemy theories. He had escaped the United Kingdom during Voldemort's first rise to power, so as to avoid having his stone being stolen. He was not a selfish man, but he was a very wise one, and he knew that a stone like that, falling into Tom Riddle's hands would have disastrous consequences.
Once he returned to Britain, he hid the stone in a vault at Gringotts. But the rumours were that Tom Riddle was not dead, merely biding his time, and Nicholas wanted the stone safe. He would have left it here until Voldemort was vanquished once more had Voldemort not gone for the stone himself right here in the castle. As you know, Nicholas destroyed the stone, realising that it was not worth keeping it. He and Perenelle died peacefully and happily a few weeks after that.
Ah yes, The Mirror of Erised. I had known about that special mirror for almost as long as I had been at Hogwarts. When I discovered the mirror as a boy, I only saw my father standing next to me, and my sister healthy. I knew that it was dangerous to keep returning to the mirror, so I put that cloth over it and didn't return again for years.
I had placed wards around the Mirror in that classroom to alert me if it was discovered. It told me immediately when you had found it and I went there at once. I saw you there, staring at yourself, and I realised you were seeing your family. I couldn't take that away from you just then – you had not known your family your whole life. I suspected you would return the following night, and so I waited under the disillusionment charm. I was right, you did return for two more nights. I realised that you would become addicted to that vision you saw, and I had to stop you before you lost control.
Finally, I decided to show you the events of the night Voldemort tried to get the stone. I had become suspicious of Quirrell ever since he had returned from his travels. His entire disposition had changed. Granted, he was a nervous wreck, but I consider myself to be an excellent judge of character, and I could sense his hidden arrogance and power. There were a few incidences that caused me to suspect him further – incidences you put down to being that of Severus Snape's doing. However, as I am sure you know by now, I trusted Severus entirely.
That night I had received a letter from Fudge requesting my urgent assistance. He was not specific, and when that witch did not seem to know what was so urgent or didn't seem to care, I realised I had been tricked. It was then that I realised the full truth of the situation and returned as fast as I could, hoping you had not gone after him. When I saw Miss Granger and Mister Weasley in the Entrance Hall, I knew I had hoped in vain. When I got to you eventually, and I saw you fall, I feared that you had died. The piece of Voldemort's soul that had attached itself to Quirrell fled his body out of fear. Quirrell, who had become so used to that parasitic piece of soul that when it left him, he could not live without it. I suspect that Voldemort took some of Quirrell's soul with him to strengthen himself.
Thankfully, you survived another day to become our hero several times over.
A.D.
A/N: I received several requests for a memory that involved Harry himself. The first thing that came into my mind was this. The Mirror had always been seen from Harry's POV and I wanted to show what Dumbledore saw. Also, Harry didn't know what had happened to land him in the hospital wing that night. I always wondered what happened with Dumbledore, so there it is.
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