Harry and Ron made their way to their first class, Potions, according to their schedule. Upon entering the classroom, they waved at their Slytherin friends and took seats in front of them. The atmosphere was tense, with students from various houses filling the room. The sudden entrance of a man in dark robes caught everyone's attention.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a tall man in dark robes swept into the room. He turned around to face the class and began speaking in a measured, drawling voice, "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention."

Snape's gaze narrowed when it landed on Harry. "Mr. Potter, our new celebrity," he sneered. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry, looking confused and somewhat overwhelmed, admitted, "I don't know."

Snape continued his assault of questions, "You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar? And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry, his face flushing with embarrassment, replied, "I don't know."

With a tone dripping in sarcasm, Snape remarked, "Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's anger flared, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He stood up, his voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't ask for any of it," he declared defiantly.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter and raise your hand when you want to speak," Snape ordered, his cold eyes locked on Harry, but Harry refused to back down.

Harry clenched his knuckles, his voice determined, as he said, "You don't have the right to speak to me like that. I bet that none of the students in this class know the answers either."

Snape sneered, "Ah, the famous Harry Potter showing the same lack of respect for authority that his father had."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his voice low and intense. "You don't have any right to talk about my family. Much less about my father."

Snape decided to end the discussion, his tone final. "Get out of my class."

Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Neville, and Ron exchanged worried glances as they watched the confrontation unfold. "Fine. This class is stupid anyway." Harry huffed, picking up his books and slamming the door shut behind him.

Left in the wake of the heated exchange, Snape called the class to attention, his voice cold and dismissive. "Everyone, open your books."

Harry, still fuming from his encounter with Professor Snape, was aimlessly wandering the castle corridors. The muttering and huffing had become a way to vent his frustration, and he paid little attention to his surroundings. However, a small creaking sound from a door beside him caught his attention.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Harry entered the room. In the middle of this otherwise dimly lit space stood an ancient ornate mirror with an intricately designed golden frame. As he approached, he noticed an inscription carved into the golden frame, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."

Harry furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the strange words, but before he could dwell on it further, his reflection in the mirror captured his attention. He positioned himself squarely in front of the mirror and blinked in surprise.

At first, he didn't notice any significant difference, but then, to his astonishment, two figures appeared at each side of him. It was his parents, James and Lily. Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he turned his head to look behind him, half-expecting to see them standing there. But the room remained empty.

Turning his gaze back to the mirror, Harry couldn't believe what he was witnessing. His father, James, was holding a small girl in his arms. The girl appeared to be about two years old. Physically, she was a carbon copy of his dad, from the shape of her nose to the way she smiled. However, her hair was a shade darker than his mother's, and the shape of her eyes was distinctly like Lily's. The girl was laughing joyfully as his father tickled her, and she looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as the realization dawned upon him. That must be his older sister, Hermione.

Harry lost track of time as he stood before the mirror, unable to tear his eyes away from the heartwarming image it displayed. He had never seen his father smile with such pure happiness, and it tugged at his heartstrings. While he knew that his father loved him deeply, over the years, James's eyes had lost their sparkle, and his smile had become tinged with sadness.

James was utterly captivated by the little girl in his arms, his eyes sparkling with an affectionate warmth that Harry had never seen in his father's eyes before. Harry's sister laughed, her presence filling the room with an aura of love and happiness.

As Harry continued to watch, a deep sense of longing and bittersweet emotion welled up inside him. He knew that his father loved him, but he had also seen the grief in those same eyes, a grief that had never fully lifted after Hermione's tragic loss.

A lump formed in Harry's throat as he choked down a sob. His eyes filled with tears as he continued to observe his family in the mirror's reflection. In that moment, he cursed the individuals who had dared to take his sister away from them, robbing them of the chance to see her grow and share in her laughter and love.

"I see you've found it," the voice said, and Harry turned to see Professor Albus Dumbledore approaching him with his usual calm demeanor.

Dumbledore joined Harry in front of the mirror, his eyes twinkling with a familiar gleam. He turned to Harry and asked, "Do you know what this mirror is, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, as Dumbledore explained, "This is the Mirror of Erised. It shows a person's deepest secrets and desires. So, what do you see when you look in the mirror, Harry?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, sensing a slight tilt in Dumbledore's voice. He finally replied, "I see... my mom and dad."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully and probed further, "Is that all you see, Harry?"

Harry couldn't help but feel suspicious. "What more could there be?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively, as if to downplay the matter, and said, "Oh, many people see more than they initially realize."

Harry couldn't contain his curiosity and ventured, "Are you referring to my

sister, Hermione?"

"So you do know about her." Dumbledore's gaze remained fixed on Harry as he inquired, "Tell me Harry, what exactly do you know about your older sister?"

Harry took a deep breath and answered, "My father and my godfather, they told me that my sister's name was Hermione. She was born two years before me. She... she was kidnapped the same night Voldemort died."

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly satisfied with Harry's response, but he pressed further, "Is that all you know about her?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes, that's all they ever told me. I don't know anything else about her," he admitted. "What else is there to know?"

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with a calculating light as he smiled at Harry. "Well, Harry, I knew Hermione," he revealed, leaving Harry stunned.

"What do you know about Hermione, Professor?"

Dumbledore, pleased with Harry's eagerness to learn more about his sister, leaned in slightly and began to share the information he had. "A year after your sister was born," he explained, "a seer named Trelawney uttered a prophecy. The prophecy spoke of Hermione as a possible force to defeat Voldemort."

Harry interrupted, a note of skepticism in his voice, "Are prophecies reliable, Professor? My dad always said they're not."

Dumbledore dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, replying, "Your father had a strong bias against Divination, Harry. While it's true that not all prophecies come to pass, some hold great significance. Trelawney's prophecy about Hermione was taken seriously."

"I suggested to your parents that they go into hiding and entrust their secret to a trusted individual. However, they didn't agree with my choice of secret-keeper. Instead, they chose Hermione's godfather, Regulus."

Dumbledore continued his narrative, "I advised James and Lily to wait until the war was over before coming out of hiding in Godric's Hollow," he explained, "but Sirius had other plans."

Harry's eyes widened, intrigued and puzzled by this revelation. Dumbledore went on, "Your grandparents, Sirius, Regulus, and even Lucius Malfoy, devised a side plan. They intended to make Godric's Hollow a trap, allowing Voldemort to enter the house."

Harry couldn't contain his astonishment and confusion. He asked Dumbledore, "Why on earth would my parents willingly let the wizard who wanted to kill my sister into Godric's Hollow?"

Dumbledore sighed, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. "That is a question I've asked myself every day, Harry," he replied. "But your parents believed they were doing what was best."

As Dumbledore turned to leave, Harry couldn't help but voice one last question that weighed heavily on his heart. "Do you think, Professor," he began, "if my parents had followed your plan, Hermione would be here with me now?"

Dumbledore, not fully turning to face Harry, wore a faint smile as he gave his response. "What I think, Harry," he said softly, "doesn't matter. What really matters is what you think would've happened."

Draco prided himself on being someone who knew Harry better than most. However, he couldn't fathom what had put Harry in such a sour mood. It was evident that something was bothering his best friend.

One day, as Draco walked through the hallways, he spotted Ron Weasley nearby. He quickly called out to him and hurried over, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Weasley," Draco began, "have you noticed anything different about Harry lately?" His concern for his friend was evident in his voice.

Ron looked at Draco, his brow furrowing in thought. He considered Draco's question carefully before responding, "Yeah, he's been acting a bit off lately. Ever since that run-in with Snape in Potions, he's been all moody and distant. I asked him what's wrong, but he won't say anything. Also, he's not responding to his parents' letters."

Draco's eyes widened with concern for his friend. "Harry is not responding to his parents? What happened, have you asked him?"

Ron sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I tried, mate. But he's not opening up to me. Maybe he'll talk to you, though. You guys are close."

Determined to help his friend, Draco nodded and said, "I'll give it a shot. Thanks, Ron."

Harry had been visiting the mirror every night, sitting in front of it with his legs tucked into his arms, lost in thoughts and memories. It had become his private sanctuary, a place where he could escape the troubles and mysteries that had been haunting him.

As he sat there one night, a familiar voice broke through his reverie. "Hey, stranger," the voice said, and Harry turned his head to see Pansy approaching. He managed a weak smile and greeted her with a quiet, "Hey, Pansy."

Pansy settled down beside him. "Draco is going nuts trying to find you and talk to you," she informed him, her concern evident.

Harry nodded in acknowledgment but didn't say anything. Pansy decided to change the subject, asking, "What are you looking at, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the mirror. "The mirror shows a person's deepest and darkest desires," he explained.

Pansy's curiosity was piqued as she inquired, "So, what do you see, Harry?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, his voice cracking as he replied, "I see... my family, my sister."

Pansy's eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to look at Harry, noticing the tears that were welling up in his eyes. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a tight hug as he began to sob uncontrollably. "They could have saved her," he cried.

Pansy held onto him, pressing kisses against his hair, her heart aching for her friend. She asked gently, "Who could they have saved, Harry?"

Amidst his tears, Harry managed to speak, his voice filled with grief and regret. "My parents... they could have saved my sister if they had followed Dumbledore's plans. I would have my sister with me if they had listened."

Pansy pulled away slightly, looking into Harry's eyes with a soft, understanding gaze. "Harry," she said softly, "your parents did what they thought was best. They would never put Hermione or you in danger intentionally. The kidnapping was not their fault. They sacrificed two years of their lives to keep your sister and you safe."

Harry nodded, his emotions still raw, "It's just…I keep getting all these looks, and everyone seems to know more about my sister than me."

Pansy, never one to mince words, advised him bluntly, "Tell them to mind their own business, Harry. Tell them to fuck off."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her straightforwardness. "That's a pretty rude thing to do," he remarked.

Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically and teased him, "You're such a Gryffindor, Potter."

Feigning hurt, Harry asked with a mock pout, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pansy, unfazed, retorted, "You're so noble and polite that it's disgusting." This elicited a laugh from Harry.

Pansy then hugged Harry, a gesture of genuine warmth and support. She told him, "If you ever need someone to talk to who's not Draco or Ron, you can always approach me."

Draco had just finished reading a letter from his uncle Regulus when he noticed Pansy approaching the table, clearly tired and yawning. Blaise couldn't help but laugh as he asked Pansy, "Did you get into a fight last night?"

Pansy shot Blaise a glare and promptly slapped him on the back of his head, earning a yelp of protest. Draco watched with amusement as Blaise rubbed the injured spot. He then turned his attention to Pansy and inquired, "Why are you so tired?"

Pansy took a seat and poured herself a cup of coffee before answering. "I talked to Harry last night," she revealed, causing Draco's interest to spike.

Draco leaned in closer, asking eagerly, "You were talking to Harry? What did you two talk about?"

Pansy took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "Dumbledore," she said. "Apparently, that old man has fucked up big time, with Harry's mind making him believe that if James and Lily had followed Dumbledore's plan, Hermione would be at Hogwarts with us now."

Draco scoffed, clearly skeptical. "That's complete fucking bullshit."

Pansy nodded in agreement but added, "But Harry doesn't know that. He only knows what everyone else in the school knows — that he had a sister who was kidnapped."

Draco leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know much either," he admitted, "but I do know that my uncle James and Lily didn't fully trust Dumbledore and how he handled things."

Pansy, her expression turning disdainful, remarked, "That ugly old prune is a twisted, conniving bitch." She then turned her attention to Draco and said, "You should tell someone in your family about this, Draco, especially since Harry isn't answering his parents' letters."

Regulus had been sitting in the dimly lit room, engrossed in a book, when Kreacher approached him, a letter in hand.

"Master Regulus, Kreacher has a letter for you," the old elf's croaky voice informed.

Without wasting a moment, Regulus snatched the letter from Kreacher's grasp and eagerly tore it open, his expression growing darker with each word he read.

"Dear Uncle Regulus,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. Answering to your previous letter, something indeed has happened. About a month ago, Harry came across the Mirror of Erised, and Dumbledore was there. That old man, as Pansy calls him, had made Harry believe that it's Uncle James, Sirius, and my godmother's fault that Hermione got kidnapped.

He claims that Uncle James and Lily didn't follow his instructions and preferred to let Voldemort willingly into their house according to Uncle Padfoot, my dad, and your plan, as opposed to coming out after the war was over.

On a related note, Harry and Professor Snape had a confrontation the first week of classes, and it hasn't been much better since. Professor Snape has been treating Harry and Nev with absolute disdain in our Potions class. He constantly belittles them, calling them stupid and utterly useless at potions.

Yours sincerely,

Draco

p.s. Give my regards to Mother and Father, and tell Mother I can't wait for her to send me some éclairs."

Regulus could hardly contain his anger as he finished reading the letter. With a loud pop, he disappeared.

"Good you're all here," Regulus said, his voice serious as he approached them.

James, Lily, and Sirius, who were sitting together looked at Regulus, their expressions curious and concerned.

"What's the matter, Regulus?", James asked.

Regulus held up the letter in his hand and replied, "It's a letter from Draco."

Lily's eyes widened as she reached out to take the letter from him. She quickly began reading it, her expression shifting from curiosity to alarm as she absorbed its contents. She then passed it on to her husband, James, who took it with a growing sense of dread. Sirius, standing nearby, also read the letter over James's shoulder.

As they read, Regulus explained, "Since Harry didn't answer, I decided to contact Draco. This letter is Draco's response, detailing what's currently happening at Hogwarts."

Sirius's eyes flashed with anger as he cursed Dumbledore's name. "That fucking twisted old man," he growled. "he's messing with Harry's mind."

James's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. He exclaimed, "I distinctly remember telling both Trelawney and Dumbledore to stay away from my family."

"Reggie, little brother," Sirius couldn't help but smirk as he spoke, "you and I are going to have a little chit chat with Snape."

James, his jaw set in determination, declared, "And I'm going to have some words with Dumbledore."

Lily had been silent, her eyes darting back and forth between her husband and Sirius finally spoke up, her voice firm and determined, "I'm going to have words with both of them."

"Lily," James began, "are you sure about that? I know that deep down you respect Dumbledore and as much as it pains me to say it, you still care about Snape."

Lily met their gazes with unwavering determination. "I don't care," she asserted. "not anymore. Harry is our son, and he's being manipulated by that man into thinking we had something to do with Hermione's kidnapping.I won't stand by and do nothing. As for Snape… he's going to hear from me very soon"