I know Saturday's almost over (or already over for some of you), but it isn't yet over for me.
Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Serpentine Stone
V. The Ones Within the Mirror
Harry quickly made his way out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, his eyes latched upon the sheet of parchment held within his hand - specifically, the grade scribbled within the upper left corner.
Outstanding.
It was the first Outstanding Harry had ever received. Harry felt a sudden rush of pride waft through him, nearly strong enough to drown out the incessant whines of his hungry stomach.
Grumble.
Not strong enough, unfortunately.
Harry turned on his heel, heading off to the Great Hall as he unraveled the parchment. His eyes widened as they took in the assignment in question. Harry remembered it; it had been assigned a few days prior, and had easily taken Harry more time to complete than anything else he had been assigned as of yet.
"Compare and contrast Light Magic and Dark magic." Harry said, reading the assignment's title aloud.
But why had he been given an Outstanding? He hadn't managed to come up with anything at all, regardless of what he tried. In fact, the things he had written in his essay were vague at best - his points were lacking conviction, and it was blatantly clear.
It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. Harry had consulted a number of texts - Emily's Notebook being chief among them. But for the first time, the notebook hadn't been of much help. Emily, it seemed, had also had a hard time finding more than a few differences between the two.
As such, Harry had simply gone on about perception - how a witch or wizard's way of thinking decided the similarities and differences. Although it had certainly seemed stupid at the time, it didn't seem as bad as showing up without anything at all likely would have been.
Harry shrugged, tucking the roll of parchment into his bag.
The last few days had been eventful to say the least. The troll that had somehow made its way into Hogwarts had been dealt with, although it had still managed to terrify both Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.
As far as Harry knew, Hermione had been crying in the loo over something rude the youngest Weasley boy had said to her. After the troll's presence had been announced, Ron, being the Gryffindor he was, had ran to tell her. The Hogwarts staff had arrived just in time to prevent the occurrence of anything horrible. Somehow - how exactly, Harry was not sure - but the two first years had become friends after the occurrence.
It wasn't the first time that something of such nature had happened. A week or two before the incident with the troll, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom (the latter supposedly having been locked outside Gryffindor tower for forgetting the password) had been caught loitering around the third-floor corridor after hours. Harry knew what that one was about; he had, after all, heard Malfoy and his friends sniggering about it in the common room.
Retaliation for the Quidditch stuff, most likely.
Harry's own life, however, had been far less eventful. Aside from the occasional chat with Nott, he spent most of his time in either his dorms or the library, pouring over Emily's notebook. Although he had yet to understand much about the spells scribbled within the notebook, the girl's views were interesting, and Harry often found himself agreeing with them.
As for his classes, Harry was doing more than sufficiently. His teachers voiced as much, with the exception of Professors Binns, Baker, and Snape (the former never bothered to address anyone about their proficiency, and the latter simply didn't care to do so for Harry).
Professor Baker, however, was different. She herself was not different - her eyes were still indifferent and her voice still detached - but there was now a drop of curiosity within her eyes, a slight sign of vague interest to be seen.
And she hasn't been nearly as mean. I haven't been paired with Pansy in a while now.
Nearly, of course, was the key detail. Harry had been paired with both Crabbe and Goyle, neither of whom were much better.
Harry shook his head, scurrying off to lunch to quench the hunger that rumbled in his stomach.
-(xXx)-
"Sure yeh don' want any?" asked Hagrid, motioning towards a plate filled with his infamous homemade rock cakes.
Harry frantically shook his head.
It was the middle of November, and, coincidentally, the day of the school's first Quidditch match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Nearly all of the students were gathered within the Quidditch pitch at this very moment, cheering on their houses or peers.
Harry, however, was one of the few not amongst their number. He instead sat with Hagrid in the giant of a man's wooden hut, discussing the months that had gone by.
"Best not ter go watch the game, anyway." Hagrid had said, "Might have a bit 'o trouble gettin' a seat my size."
Harry, not at all interested in having a repeat of Halloween, had ensured that the match was not mandatory. He and Nott had stayed behind during Professor McGonagall's most recent class to ask. The woman's answer was the reason why the both of them were currently absent from the game - the former, obviously, with Hagrid, and the latter lazily perusing a book within the confines of his dormitory.
"Nasty weather out." noted Hagrid, gazing out the crooked window as he raised a cup of tea to his mouth.
Harry looked outside. The sky was painted white with clouds, a few of which darkened momentarily before blanking once more. A light sprinkle trickled onto the earth, watering the plants whose leaves had just begun to fall.
"They still have to play?" inquired Harry.
"'Course they do." boomed Hagrid, "It's Quidditch, innit?"
Hagrid rose from his seat and made his way over to the kitchen, the entire hut shaking all the while. Fang, a Neapolitan mastiff (Harry had gotten rather good at recognizing dog breeds thanks to Aunt Marge's many visits), raised his head slowly, his jaw widening into a yawn as Hagrid passed by. A moment later, his head drooped and he returned to sleep.
"So," said Hagrid, returning with a teapot and a plate of biscuits, "Yeh never told me - how yeh enjoyin' Hogwarts? They ain't bullyin' yeh, those other Slytherins, are they?"
"No, they're not." said Harry gently as he took a sip from his cup, "Well, most of them are a bit rude, I suppose, but they don't care enough to do much. Even Malfoy got tired after a few weeks."
"That's good ter hear." said Hagrid, "I was a bit worried, yeh see - didn' think Malfoy woulda left yeh alone."
"I don't talk to any of them much." replied Harry, "Besides, he's a bit preoccupied with the Gryffindors."
"That's ter be expected, I'm afraid." said Hagrid sadly, "It's bin like that fer as long as I can remember."
"How long can you remember?" asked Harry curiously.
"I dunno." admitted Hagrid, "It was long ago, mind yeh, but I still remember most. Most of 'em Slytherins weren't all too friendly."
Hagrid lifted a gigantean hand to his head, pressing it gently against his forehead and closing his eyes for a short moment.
"I guess I've forgotten." admitted Hagrid slowly, "I don' actually remember much, come ter think of it."
"Nevermind that, it's alright." assured Harry, "It's not the Slytherin's I've got to worry much about anyway. I don't think some of the teachers like me much either."
"Who, Snape?" guessed Hagrid, raising his head.
"I didn't say that." said Harry before pausing, "But he's one of them, I suppose. How'd you know?"
"He and yer dad didn't get along well." said Hagrid, "What with the school rivalry an' - well, they didn't like each other all ter much."
"But I'm not my dad!" argued Harry, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation, "That's not my fault, I can't help it!"
"I'm not sayin' it's yer fault." assured Hagrid, "But that's the way it is, and there ain't much yeh can do ter to change it."
"Right." said Harry bitterly, "Well, he doesn't like me much, but he's even worse to the Gryffindors. At least he leaves me alone most of the time."
"That's the best yeh can hope for, I reckon." said Hagrid, "What about the others? They ain't all too bad, are they?"
"They're mostly fine." agreed Harry, "Binns is horrible though, and Professor Baker can be a bit, well, cold at times - but the rest are all pretty good."
"Dumbledore's tried gettin' rid 'o old Binns years ago." Hagrid told him with a wave of his hand, "Kept showing up though, so Dumbledore gave up."
Hagrid raised a cup of tea to his lips, as did Harry.
"An' I think yeh might not have properly gotten ter know Lilian," added Hagrid, "That's Professor Baker, mind you. She's nice, I remember when she was younger - came to Hogwarts in the 70's, she did. One 'o the friendly ones, she was."
"I don't think friendly is the word I would've used." noted Harry, taking another sip of his tea, "I don't think she actually likes anyone."
"Codswallop." said Hagrid with a dismissive wave of his hand, "She's lovely, just yeh wait an' see."
"If you're sure." said Harry eventually.
To be fair, she's getting nicer.
It was true; ever since Halloween, Professor Baker had indeed been a tad bit nicer to Harry. Nicer and nice, however, were two very different things - something Professor Baker had made Harry very well aware of with her actions.
Partners with Malfoy for the next four weeks. Brilliant.
"Nevermind that," said Hagrid, "What about everythin' else? Yeh still seem a bit too skinny, mind yeh - I woulda thought yeh'd have gotten enough ter eat."
"I'm still not used to being able to eat all I want." admitted Harry quietly, "So I get hungry during the night. I haven't yet gotten hungry enough to sneak out of the common room, but I'm hanging on by a thread."
"That's a good thin', I'm tellin' yeh." assured Hagrid, "Yeh know Ron an' Hermione, don' yeh? And Neville Longbottom?"
Harry nodded slowly.
"They've bin lookin' into what's hidden up in the third-floor." said Hagrid, "I reckon they snuck in past curfew. I dunno how they found out about Fluffy, but -"
"Fluffy?" questioned Harry curiously, "Who's Fluffy?"
Hagrid froze, his eyes widening. He immediately got up from his seat, taking the teapot with him.
"I shouldn't have said that." he muttered quietly, "I should not have said that."
Harry left Hagrid's a few minutes later, watching from afar as a hoard of students in green and silver cheered loudly. He spotted three small students - all adorned in red and gold - quickly making their way down to Hagrid's hut. Flaming red hair, bushy brown locks, and the croaking of a toad made it blatantly obvious who the visitors were.
Harry decided to walk around the greenhouses, taking the longer route back into Hogwarts.
-(xXx)-
"Relashio!"
Harry swore under his breath as the fingers of palm spread painfully apart. His wand fell from his grasp, clattering against the classroom floor.
Harry glared at Malfoy as the blonde sniggered. They were not the only two in such a position; the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was filled with both amused and irritated students.
Professor Baker said to target the hand not holding the wand.
"Switch partners," called Professor Baker from the head of the classroom, "and begin."
"Relashio!"
Malfoy paled as a jet of bright violet light barreled towards him. He too dropped his wand, jumping up and down whilst cursing profusely, his right hand clenched within his left. He glared at Harry angrily, but the youngest Potter had long since turned his attention elsewhere.
Very few people around the classroom seemed to have gotten the hand of the Revulsion Jinx as quickly as he had. Malfoy, admittedly, was one of them - as were Nott and a Ravenclaw boy Harry didn' recognize - but that was it. Even then, Harry liked to think his was better than the spells of the other three.
I'm getting pretty good at this.
Not that it was saying much. Harry had learnt the Revulsion Jinx several weeks prior, largely thanks to a certain notebook. Harry glanced towards his bag, knowing what was within it at the very moment.
"You are doing quite well, I'll admit." said a voice from behind him.
Harry jumped, turning around at once. Standing behind him was Professor Baker, a hint of slight amusement present within her expression. It soon faded away, her eyes narrowing. They lowered slightly, seemingly noticing the way his right hand was slightly limp.
"Do not get complacent, however." she warned, "You should have stayed on guard, regardless of the instructions I gave."
Grumble.
Harry blushed slightly, trying his hardest to ignore the hunger that ached within his stomach. Professor Baker raised an eyebrow.
"And be sure to get yourself something to eat."
Harry nodded, glaring at Malfoy as Professor Baker turned her back. The blonde boy returned a feeble glare of his own, clutching his hand in pain.
"He's not going to let that slide, you know." said Nott as he and Harry departed from the classroom a quarter of an hour later.
They both watched as Malfoy stormed down the hall, clutching his arm. Pansy Parkinson and his two bodyguards trailed after him, the former seemingly mad with worry.
"He shouldn't have done it first." argued Harry stubbornly, "Especially not with a spell I already knew."
"I was wondering." said Nott with a grin, "No one could get a perfect spell on the first try."
"Professor Baker didn't think it was perfect."
"Yeah, well, she doesn't think anything's perfect, does she?" said Nott, "Mind you, she's been a damn slight nicer to you for a while - what'd you do?"
"Nothing." said Harry quickly.
Nott raised an eyebrow.
"Well, either way, Professor Baker doesn't count."
"Fair, I suppose." said Harry, "I haven't actually improved much since my first attempt though. I suppose it was a bit stronger this time, but that's about it."
"It is a first year spell, to be fair." admitted Nott, "It isn't impossible. You're not getting secret lessons, are you?"
"From who?"
"I dunno, someone like Dumbledore?"
"W-what?" Harry stuttered.
Nott shrugged.
"I overheard some of the older Slytherins say something like that." said the boy.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Harry before pausing, "this week, anyway."
Dudley's said loads of dumb shite over the years.
-(xXx)-
Grumble.
Harry groaned quietly, rolling off his side and onto his back. He blankly stared upward, his eyes tracing the serpentine patterns that decorated the curtains of his four-poster.
It was nearing the end of November; the late evening of the twenty-fourth or the early morning of the twenty-fifth - Harry wasn't entirely sure which. Regardless, it was night time, and Harry had been trying his hardest to sleep. The constant aching of his stomach made the task far more difficult than Harry would have liked.
I should've nicked some snacks at dinner.
It was quickly becoming a recurring problem, one that Harry had been trying his hardest to ignore for quite some time now. Despite the ample amount of food provided during meals, the fact remained that Harry wasn't used to being able to eat so much. If he tried to do so, he'd simply end up throwing up.
On the other hand, if he didn't eat enough, he would get hungry during the nights, just as he was now. Harry, muttering quietly, rolled to the side, his arm reaching towards his bedside table. He tentatively reached towards the drawer, pulling it open.
Nothing.
Harry sighed, slowly pushing himself off the mattress.
Harry was rather fond of his room within the Slytherin dungeons. It was small, Harry admitted - but having grown up within the confines of a cupboard, such a thing was not a problem.
Emerald eyes glanced towards the window just a few feet away from the side of his bed. The endless depths of the Great Lake stared back at him, a soft green glow bathing the room. It was a serene sight (even if it was rather difficult to see further than a few dozen feet away) and it occasionally provided Harry with something exciting to see; last night it had been the giant squid, and the night before that it had been a group of mermaids.
They aren't as pretty as you'd have thought they were.
Harry turned away from the window, his eyes returning to his stomach.
Grumble.
Harry slowly made his way towards the door, pausing as his eyes fell upon the mirror in the corner of his room. Hastily grabbing a cloak, he draped it over himself before stepping out into the boy's first year hall, gently closing the door behind him.
It's good that the library isn't all too far from here.
Harry made his way down into the common room, pausing to check that it was empty before continuing onward. He pushed open the portrait hole (which, unsurprisingly, depicted a snake) before stepping outside, ignoring the sudden surge of nervousness that flooded through him.
It's better than anything else, after all. I'd rather go off to the library than starve again.
There was, of course, a reason why Harry was heading towards the library. Nott, having spent almost the entirety of his free time in the library, had gone as far as to hide snacks in the corner that he often occupied. Although they weren't exactly friends, they weren't enemies either, and so Nott hadn't bothered to hide it while they studied in the library several weeks prior.
"As long as you don't tell anyone, you can help yourself." Nott had said, "Just don't take any of the Sugar Quills - I like those."
"Madam Pince is going to have you slaughtered." Harry warned, though Nott had simply waved him off.
Harry was starting to feel quite pleased that the boy had ignored him.
Grumble.
"Oh, shut up." Harry snapped quietly, turning a corner as silently as he could.
Had it not been for the fact that this was the fourth night in a row that he had gone to sleep hungry, Harry might have not done it. But the fact remained that he was hungry, and he didn't want to have to talk to a Professor about it, nor did he want to sneak food from the table. It was stupid, really, but Harry didn't like pity much. It was uncomfortable to say the least.
And I'd know more about pity than most.
The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Thousands upon thousands of books could be seen, ranging in all sorts of sizes and styles. Many were old and battered, their words barely legible as they slowly faded away with each passing year.
Harry eventually reached the lonely table where Nott often studied. It was very close to the Restricted Section, Harry noticed; the row just behind it housed a plethora of tomes, many of which seemed far less benevolent than the books behind him.
Ignoring the strange books, Harry made his way over to the table, taking a seat in the chair furthest from where he came - the one lodged in a corner. He gently ran his hands along the underside of the table.
Found it.
Harry's hands wrapped around a small package, one that had seemingly been stuck to the table with the aid of Spellotape. His hand slowly entered the opening, removing an even tinier package from within.
Harry smiled as his eyes fell upon the chocolate frog. It wasn't much, but at least it would be filling.
He sat quietly at the table, eating as quickly as he could. After eating his way through a few more packs of chocolate frogs, Harry stood up, hastily placing the wrappers within the insides of his pajama pocket. He ducked down, checking Nott's package of snacks. The boy was fortunate to have chosen a table so out of the way; even now, the bag was quite large and plump.
Harry quickly grabbed a few more snacks before straightening up.
I'd rather not have to do this again.
The raven-haired boy smiled to himself, yawning as he straightened his cloak.
"Who's there?" yelled a scruffy voice from the front of the library.
Harry paled. He heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside - Filch's, if they matched the voice. Harry silently cursed his lack of caution, straightening his hand as he did so. His entire left arm was beginning to shake now - he was nervous, and the last thing he needed was to be caught sneaking out after hours.
Snape's going to kill me.
For a moment, Harry glimpsed the outline of Filch, a lamp held within his outstretched hand. The flames of the wax lamp flickered, casting a weak orange glow upon several of the nearest bookshelves. It was getting closer now - the orange light was nearing him; if Filch moved any closer Harry would surely be spotted.
Without a second thought, Harry turned around and bolted. He sprinted past the many shelves and up the corridor, Filch's angry shouts ringing painfully in his ears.
He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, Harry didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he had heard, but he must be five floors above there.
"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library."
Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied.
"The library? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
Harry paled further as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead.
Please don't see me. Please don't see me.
He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without them noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away.
That was way too close.
It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.
It was an unused classroom, from the looks of it. The dark outlines of desks and chairs were faintly visible, piled against the walls. An upturned wastepaper basket stood to one corner as well. Propped against the wall facing him, however, was something that didn't look as if it belonged there - something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.
It was the most beautiful mirror Harry had ever seen. It stood as high as the ceiling, an ornate gold frame complimenting it. It stood upon two clawed feet, feet that could not possibly be strong enough to support the oversized object.
Magic, then.
Harry silently read the inscription engraved upon the top of the mirror.
'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.'
His panic was fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape. Harry curiously stepped toward the mirror, his hand slightly outstretched. He paused for a moment, his head tilted softly to the side. For whatever reason, he had no reflection. Confused, Harry stepped directly in front of the mirror.
Harry froze. The room suddenly seemed a lot colder than it had a moment ago - for the first time all night, Harry's nerves were not the cause of his shivering. He felt the air suddenly leave his lungs; he could not breathe, nor could he hear, or think, or move - he was paralyzed, his eyes wide as they traced the outlines of the two people that accompanied him within the mirror.
A beautiful woman stood to his left, her long crimson hair cascading down her shoulders in waves. Her features were soft, delicate and loving. Her emerald eyes were watering slightly, watching him with a sad smile.
To his right stood a man with messy black hair nearly identical to his own. The man looked very similar to Harry - they both shared their lips, cheeks, hair, glasses and more, though Harry's features were slightly softer. Harry's eyes, too, were not brown like the man's - they were emerald, identical to the redheaded woman on his left.
Mom. Dad.
Harry's breathing slowly returned to normal, as did his heart rate, yet he did not dare move. He would not, could not bring himself to turn his head. He didn't want them to go. Not yet. Not now.
Not again.
The crying woman shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with love and despair. Harry forced his eyes from the mirror, slowly turning his head to the left.
There was nothing there.
Something cold pressed against his chest, and Harry felt his heart clench. His palms slowly balled into fists. Harry turned back to the mirror, his eyes watering slightly. The beautiful woman with the crimson hair was still crying, a soft smile gracing her features as she stared into his eyes. The black haired man with the glasses wrapped his arms around her, gently placing his hand upon Harry's shoulder.
Harry couldn't feel it.
A single tear fell from his eyes, splashing silently against the concrete floor. Harry ducked his head, staring at the ground in silence. He closed his eyes, rubbing the sleeve of his cloak against his cheek to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill. He forced himself to look up. His heart clenched once more.
The crimson haired woman was gone. So was the black haired man with the glasses. In their place were two blurred figures, both of whom were slowly becoming more and more clear.
No. thought Harry angrily, his irritation easily overcoming his curiosity, Go away. I don't care. Go away. Bring them back.
But they didn't listen. The mirror distorted for a moment, like a drop of water splattering upon the surface of a pond. A moment later, the two figures were just as clear as their predecessors had been.
The first stood to one side of the mirror, a deranged smile latched upon her face. The majority of her features were obscured by the dark cloak she wore, but Harry could still tell that she was undoubtedly beautiful; curly black hair could be seen from beneath her hood, as could soft, fair skin. She cackled silently, shaking her head at Harry and the girl who stood beside him.
Harry silently turned his eyes to observe the girl in the mirror. He paused at once, his previous irritation forgotten.
The girl was, quite simply, beautiful - unfathomably so. Her skin was both pale and fair, her lips soft and sweet. Her hair, which was somewhere between black and dark brown in colour, was perfectly straight, framing her angelic face beautifully. Her features were soft, her cheekbones high, her teeth white like the stars in the sky. Her hazel eyes bore into Harry's, a myriad of emotions swirling within. She stood far closer to him than the other woman; their shoulders brushed gently against each other's.
Who either of the pair were, Harry had no idea. They were not anyone he had ever seen before, nor did they meet the description of anyone he had ever heard of.
Even I'd have a hard time forgetting the girl.
The ethereal girl smiled softly at him. She daintily raised her left hand, tapping the side of her neck before brushing her fingers against Harry's forehead. She wrapped her arm around Harry's in a serpentine manner, her smile growing larger.
Harry couldn't feel a thing.
Ignoring his disappointment, Harry studied himself in the mirror. To his immense surprise, his own reflection had changed.
He was older - only by a few years, but he most certainly was older. His Slytherin robes were bigger now, fitting him perfectly. His emerald eyes shined brighter than ever before, and in his hand was a wand that was not his own. The girl, Harry noticed, held two wands; one was his, and the other, Harry assumed, was hers.
The beautiful girl pocketed them before reaching a hand out, straightening his tie for him. She too, Harry realised, was wearing Slytherin robes.
Harry looked back and forth between the two women, his confusion growing. But they too were slowly fading away. Harry caught a glimpse of scarlet before he forced himself to turn around, not allowing his eyes to gaze upon the mirror once more - he wasn't ready, not now.
"I'll be back." Harry promised, not turning back.
He hurried from the room, wiping a tear from his face. The strangely beautiful girl frowned as he did, the sudden flash of scarlet slowly fading from her normally hazel eyes.
-(xXx)-
"Gently now, best not to set the room on fire!" squeaked Professor Flitwick from atop a pile of books.
Several days had passed since Harry's discovery, and none of them had ended as quickly as Harry liked. This very class was a perfect example of it; despite the fact that the class itself was quite enjoyable, Harry couldn't help but count down the minutes as their dismissal drew nearer.
It's the last class of the day. Harry thought silently, After this and dinner I can go back.
"Tempus!" muttered Harry quietly underneath his desk.
Twenty more minutes.
Harry watched as the numbers faded from view. He momentarily closed his eyes in annoyance before straightening up and turning his attention back to the spell he was meant to be practicing with his group.
"Incendio!" muttered Daphne.
A small stream of flames issued from the tip of her wand. They latched upon the spare parchment they were meant to be practicing on, fizzling out just before half the paper had been burnt away.
"You've got to tilt your wand, like this -" began Hermione, lifting her hand.
"I'm aware." snapped Daphne, "It's rather difficult to position your wand like that, unfortunately - you should know, considering what happened a few minutes ago."
Hermione blushed, lowering her head.
"Just hurry up." hissed Harry in annoyance, "Flitwick won't let us out if you haven't finished."
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?" she questioned, "And what, exactly, has got you in a hurry?"
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Not telling, then." surmised Daphne coolly, her expression blank, "Well, since you seemed to have not heard, as long as our parchment is burnt to ashes - and nothing else is," she paused, glancing at Seamus Finnegan (whose table had caught fire), "we can go."
Harry's eyes widened. He quickly took out his wand, pointing it at the parchment.
"Incendio!"
What remained of the parchment burnt away at once.
"How did you do that?" demanded Hermione immediately, her eyes wide with indignation, "That wasn't even the proper wand motion!"
Harry ignored her, returning his wand to the pocket of his robes. The bushy haired girl was right, of course; the wand motion Harry had used had been one employed by Emily, whoever she was. It worked far better, he had realised - although he was still more than capable of using the normal motion.
Harry tapped his fingers against the table impatiently, checking the time every few minutes underneath the desk. Daphne watched him all the while whilst Hermione frantically practiced the Fire-Making Charm. What little success she achieved was not on par with Harry.
Just a bit longer, Harry assured himself, Just a bit longer until I can see them again. And the two others as well, I suppose.
The reflections he had seen within the mirror had occupied his mind for days now, as had the nightmares that followed them. A burst of green light and two women screaming - the first in desperation and fear, the second in agony.
Both the nightmares and the reflections in the mirror had burnt their way into his mind. Even if he wanted (which he most certainly did not), he could not remove the images from within his head. He had never before seen his mother and father, after all; he would never forgive himself for forgetting them now that they were closer than ever. If the nightmares came along with it then so be it.
As for the other two women - well, Harry didn't know. He had been far more enraptured with his parents to have thought much about the other two. An image of the beautiful girl from before suddenly flooded his vision. He brought his hand up to his forehead, just as she had in the mirror.
His fingers came to rest upon his scar. He ran his hand over the smooth skin, brushing it gently.
"Brilliant work you three!" squeaked Professor Flitwick as he inspected their table, "Not a mark on the table, too! Off you go then!"
Harry, ignoring the curious look Daphne sent him, threw his bag over his shoulder and rushed out of the room.
-(xXx)-
The beautiful girl was back. So was the cloaked woman. Harry watched as the pair formed once more, ignoring the sudden rush of emotion that arrived as his parents departed.
They'll be back. Any minute now . . .
"I would have thought you'd stop coming by now." said a smooth voice from behind him, causing Harry to pale, "I doubt you've slept well these past few days."
Harry slowly turned around. Standing near the back of the classroom, her hands crossed behind her back, was Professor Baker. She watched him with a curious expression, her head tilted slightly to the right.
"I - I didn't see you, Professor."
"I wouldn't have expected you to." said Professor Baker, a touch of amusement now beginning to show, "Invisibility would be a bit lackluster if people could see me, wouldn't it?"
She did not wait for Harry to respond, instead stepping towards the mirror. She removed her hands from behind her back, her eyes pausing just above the mirror. Harry was relieved to see that she did not seem particularly irritated with him.
"The Mirror of Erised." said Baker quietly, "A very powerful and dangerous artifact."
"Dangerous?" repeated Harry, turning back to the mirror.
"Extremely so." she noted, turning to face Harry, "Have you discovered why?"
Harry shook his head.
"A mirror never shows a perfect reflection," she began, "But an inverted one. One that isn't true - not truly, anyway."
She pulled out her wand, waving it deftly in the air. Several flames formed in the air, coalescing into words.
'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.'
Professor Baker studied the words for a moment before flicking her wand again. The letters rearranged themselves from back to front.
'I show not your face but your heart's desire.'
Harry's mind raced as Professor Baker studied the mirror. After a moment's hesitation, she lowered her eyes to meet her reflection in the mirror.
It was subtle - nearly unnoticeable - but Harry still saw it. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her palms clenched, and her skin paled. A second later, they were gone as though nothing had happened. Her eyes, however, did not leave the mirror.
"Desire." whispered Professor Baker, "Such a strange thing. I'm unsure whether to consider it dangerously beautiful or beautifully dangerous. Both, I think. Bella would agree."
"Bella?" questioned Harry, watching as Professor Baker observed the mirror.
"An old friend, I suppose." she said absentmindedly, still watching the mirror, "But no matter."
The woman turned away from the mirror. She closed her eyes for a moment before facing Harry. The words which burnt the air faded away.
"What is it you see in the mirror?" she asked, her tone more hostile than before.
She must've not liked whatever the mirror showed her.
"My mum and dad." said Harry. Professor Baker nodded as though she had expected it, her eyes falling upon something just above Harry's head.
She probably did expect it.
"Two others, too." added Harry. Baker's head tilted slightly to the left, her blank expression marred with an iota of curiosity.
"I don't know them." Harry said, "A woman with curly black hair - I couldn't see her face, though, she wore a hood."
Professor Baker paused. Her cheeks hollowed ever so slightly.
"And the other?"
"Some girl." said Harry absentmindedly, "Dark hair, hazel eyes. Pretty, I guess - well, I mean, she is, but -"
Harry paused. Professor Baker had raised a hand, motioning for him to stop speaking. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and returned her attention to the mirror. She watched it with narrowed eyes, her jaw clenched.
"How did you find this?" she asked in a monotone manner, her eyes still latched upon the mirror, "How did you find the mirror?"
"I - er - I stumbled upon it, I guess." Harry admitted, "I snuck out to get something to eat - I was hungry."
Baker smiled softly for a moment, nodding her head. She suddenly paused.
"You know where the kitchens are?"
"No, one of my - well, one of my classmates stashes food in the library."
Harry watched as Professor Baker frowned, lost in her thoughts. He was beginning to sweat more, for it had suddenly dawned upon him that he had broken school rules, and that he could be punished for it.
Professor Baker studied him, her head tilted to the side as she often did. Harry could not tell what she was thinking - her face was unreadable, her emotions wiped blank. Nothing but a touch of coldness remained to be seen. It was quiet for a moment, and then -
"You have quite the talent for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know." she said smoothly, "The time isn't exactly ideal, but I think I'd like to help that talent grow further. Extra lessons, if you will."
Harry's jaw dropped. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been this.
"Don't look so surprised." said Baker, rolling her eyes, "You are more than proficient in the art - for your age, that is. Forcing you to stay put will only slow you down. To squander your talent would be unwise."
"I - you want to teach me?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"I already do." noted Professor Baker with slight amusement, "But yes, I do wish to teach you further. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at eight o'clock sharp."
"What would you teach me?" inquired Harry curiously.
"You'll find out when the time comes, I assure you," said Baker with a subtle smile, "But for now . . . feel free to wonder."
Harry nodded eagerly. Despite how useful Emily's notebook had been, there were still a few things that a notebook could not illustrate the way another being could. Harry watched as the woman opposite him moved forward, her eyes tracing the Mirror of Erised.
"The mirror will be moved to a new home by the end of the year." said Professor Baker quietly, her eyes having returned to the mirror in question. A short burst of anger was visible upon her face as she glared at it, though it vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared. She turned back to Harry, her expression now serious.
"I do not know where it may go, but it is unwise to look for it." she said, "It departs neither knowledge nor truth. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."
That sounds like something absolutely barmy that Dumbledore would say.
Regardless, Harry nodded (albeit reluctantly). He draped his inky black cloak over his shoulders - he had only just realised how cold it was, being so late into the night - and made his way towards the doorway, where Professor Baker was waiting for him.
A peculiar thought suddenly swam through his mind. Harry paused in his stride. He wasn't sure it was smart to ask - Professor Baker was not known for her kindness, after all. But she had let him go with a warning, and she had told him about her own parents during Halloween -
"Yes?" questioned Professor Baker, having noticed his sudden halt. Her left eyebrow was raised though her sapphire eyes remained as cold as ever.
Steeling his courage, Harry began to speak.
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
Baker's lips thinned and her cheeks hollowed by the tiniest of margins. Her fingers gently fiddled with a ring that wasn't there as she turned back to the mirror, and then to Harry.
"I? I see myself standing alone, powerful and strong. Just as I am now."
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Professor Baker may not have been quite truthful.
But, to be fair, thought Harry as he stared into the endless depths of the Great Lake from his dormitory window, it had been quite a personal question.
