Friendship
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is a work of fanfiction for entertainment.
...
Moony was earth. Solid, dependable, brown and green like the impossible-seeming moving willow that arrived a few evenings before he did. On rare nights Moony has a temper that matches the one on the tree. Most of the time he's just Moony, though, just a regular, dependable boy who dreams of having friends who accepted him even after they've read page 394 of their DADA book.
(Not an easy feat, finding friends like that, even at Hogwarts.)
Moony didn't come to see the Mirror very often, probably some sort of aversion to nighttime lights. Nonetheless, he was the first in his year to find the Mirror, right on the first night of the new term, almost immediately after the Sorting Ceremony, when everyone else had skipped off to bed with their new-found friends. Instead, this pale, skinny boy with a head of unruly hair and too-bright eyes that glittered in the dark spent his first evening wandering listlessly around the halls (as no one knew he was missing because he didn't know where the Common Room was, much less how to get past the Fat Lady).
For some reason, Mrs. Norris, the cat that was usually pretty good about finding lost students and ne'er-do-wells, didn't sniff out this particular errant boy; therefore, neither Mr. Filch nor the portraits, ghosts, or poltergeist, the usual suspects for directing lost First Years into the comfort of their beds, found the this boy, either. Only the full strength of the morning light found the boy languishing in front of the Mirror, oblivious to the delicious smell of bacon and sausages that roused classmates from their sleep.
The sun found only Boy, but an infinite number of boys and girls surrounded his dream self, a tangle of arms and legs waving, laughing, hugging, and cheering a child who somehow looked as ordinary as can be under the pale, twinkling light of the moon.
...
Padfoot was sky. Ethereal, wispy, blue and silver like the impossibly-bright star his family thrust upon him, along with about a dozen or so hard and fast rules about every single thing under that sky. Padfoot doesn't like or understand any of them. All these ancient, outdated beliefs were shackles to fanatically nonsensical crazies, and Padfoot wants- no, needs- out of the prison of what everyone wants him to do.
His soul yearns to be free even if his name costs everything that is right and good. Padfoot dreams of coasting through the utter freedom that is having no expectations at all, a bit like flying without a broomstick but with no destination or maps in mind. No family tree. No rules. No insanity. Just an endless stretch of open sky above, below, and all around.
(Not an easy feat, with a burden like that, not even at Hogwarts).
No one else understood the weight of the chains except the Dream Padfoot in the Mirror. That face is not just young-seeming but truly young at heart in the way children who grow up happy and cherished are. The same long, slightly awkward limbs still filled the space, except Dream Padfoot didn't need to bend awkward angles inside the frame. That Padfoot simply was in his straight-backed, slightly ruffled glory. Just a pure, simple soul sharing a toothy grin with a constellation of friends who cared more about who he was and less about who he was related to.
And so yet another lost boy came to see the Mirror more often than he needs, until one night he found someone already in his spot and decided, well, there was more than enough sky for two, wasn't there?
...
Wormtail was water. Flexible, yielding, colorless, shapeless, taking the color and form of whatever container he poured himself into. He's not the brightest of the bunch or anything remotely to memorable; therein lies the problem and the rub. All he wants is to fit in, to matter, to be someone that people remembered and admired, and he's not afraid to become whoever he needed to be for it.
(Not an easy feat, wearing mask after mask until one becomes you, even at Hogwarts).
Unlike the others, Wormtail doesn't find the Mirror on his own. He's following the three most popular, good-looking boys in his class on their nocturnal shenanigans around the Castle when they suddenly all disappeared into a room he had never seen before. He weighs the cost and benefit of tattling before he decides they might make him envy Snivellus by the time they were done. Yes yes yes yessssssssss. Much better to make friends with that trio than to be their enemy, starting with sharing in their secret discoveries.
And so the Mirror sees him creep up after the other boys are sufficiently far enough away, hidden under a gossamer Cloak.
Unbeknownst to them, this not-at-all-lost boy found himself grinning at the image of an ambitious, powerful being with a too-wide smile conquering the earth and sky above.
(The reflection was as clear as ice.)