Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter, all characters belong to JK Rowling :)

A/N: I've decided to include Remus in this story, I know in canon Harry doesn't know him yet, but I felt that it fitted this story, he seemed like the best character to be there with him at the end :)

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The castle was quiet. Not the usual kind of quiet—library quiet, corridor-after-curfew quiet—but something deeper. A silence that settled into the stones, low and steady, as if the building itself were asleep.

Harry moved without hurry. He'd made this journey countless times - he barely had to think about it anymore. Bare feet, pyjamas, the soft scuff of his footsteps lost in the long corridor. He hadn't bothered with his invisibility cloak; no one would be awake at this time of night. The portraits were still. The torches burned low. Silver moonlight spilled through the high windows, casting pale shadows across the stone floor.

The room was empty, except for the mirror.

It stood tall, its golden frame dulled with age, a thin layer of dust settled across the base. The inscription across the top was as familiar to him as his own name. He didn't read it anymore. He knew what it said. What it meant.

He stepped closer.

The glass was blank for a second, just his own pale reflection staring back at him, thinner than it had been at the start of the year, dark circles under his eyes.

And then they were there.

James and Lily. Always the same—just behind his shoulder, either side of him. His father's grin, hands in his pockets, his hair always in need of combing. His mother's soft expression, eyes crinkling at the corners, her hand resting gently against James's arm. They looked real. Present. As if they'd been there all along.

Harry sat down. The stone was cold, but he didn't mind. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, gaze never leaving the mirror. He had stopped trying to speak to them. It hadn't felt right for a long time. They never answered, but somehow he didn't need them to. It was enough just to see them—to feel seen by them.

The silence wrapped around him like a blanket.

Dumbledore had warned him to stay away from the mirror. That it showed not the future, not even the truth—only the deepest desire of a person's heart. That it could trap you, if you let it.

But Harry felt drawn to it in a way he couldn't explain,

The minutes passed. He lost track of them, as he always did here. It didn't matter. Time in this room never felt quite right.

He had spent whole nights here, the hours spilling into each other, blurring together.

But this time, something changed.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his reflection began to fade, until there was just his parents, staring back at him.

His mother reached a hand out towards him, as though inviting him to come closer.

He had never done it before. He had stood here dozens of times, maybe more. Had sat and watched, had fallen asleep in front of the mirror, had returned again and again. But he had never touched it.

He reached out his hand.

His fingers brushed the glass.

It gave way.

The surface rippled outward from where his fingers touched, the reflection bending, distorting, then reforming as he drew his hand away.

The glass wasn't glass anymore. It felt cool, almost like water, but with a strange thickness, like silk against his skin. His hand hovered for a moment before he reached out to touch it again. His fingers slipped straight through, disappearing into the mirror.

He jerked his hand away, scrambled to his feet.

Then he looked at his parents, still there, still smiling at him with the same warm expression.

He didn't think. He didn't speak.

He didn't hesitate.

He took a step forward, and into the mirror.

The glass rippled again at his touch, warping around him as he moved forwards, swallowing him.

And then he was gone.

The glass grew still once more.

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Thanks for reading! Take care 3