Invisible String | TVD x WIZARDING WORLD

THE MIRROR OF ERISED

The castle was quiet, the halls stretching long and shadowy. Tapestries rustled as they passed, and the portraits dozed, muttering in their sleep. Diana followed Harry through a series of secret passages and shortcuts she never would've found alone.

Finally, they reached a forgotten classroom, dust clinging to the windows and shelves. At the far end of the room stood a tall, ornate mirror framed in gold. It seemed almost alive, like it was watching them approach.

"What is that?" Diana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The Mirror of Erised," Harry said quietly. "It shows you your heart's deepest desire. Not what you think you want—what your heart really wants."

Diana hesitated.

She approached slowly, unsure what to expect. As her reflection formed, her breath caught.

In the mirror, she wasn't alone.

Behind her stood Damon, arms folded, a crooked smirk on his face like he was proud of her—like he always knew she'd survive the fire, and somehow rise from it stronger. Caroline's arm was linked through his, her smile as radiant as ever, but her eyes shimmered with something more—something fierce and protective. Klaus stood to one side, expression unreadable but somehow... at peace. Not smiling, but not frowning either. Just there, like a storm finally at rest.

Rebekah leaned casually against Stefan, who looked calm and sure, as though he'd found something worth anchoring him. Kol had an arm slung over Jeremy's shoulder, both of them mid-laugh, frozen in that precise moment when life feels like it might actually make sense.

Elijah stood poised and calm, a gentle hand resting on Damon's shoulder, the only one who seemed to meet Diana's eyes in the reflection—like he knew she was watching. Like he was silently saying, You're not alone. You never were.

And beside them all, lingering just outside the light but very much there—Regulus Black. Watching her with something gentle in his eyes, something that softened the sharp edges of his usually unreadable face. A guardian, a tether, a truth she hadn't known she needed until she found him.

In the corner, almost hidden by shadow, stood Draco.

Not speaking. Just there.

His arms were crossed, head tilted down ever so slightly, as if ashamed—or maybe just uncertain. His eyes weren't on the others. They were on her. Always on her. Separate from the rest, but never fully gone.

Diana's throat tightened.

She blinked hard, but the image didn't fade. If anything, it grew sharper, more vibrant. Like the mirror didn't just reflect dreams—it remembered them.

She didn't notice Harry stepping up beside her until he spoke, his voice quiet but certain.

"What do you see?"

Diana didn't answer right away. She looked a little longer, memorizing every face, every smile. She stepped closer, her breath fogging the glass.

"My family," she whispered finally. "All of them. Together. Happy. Even Draco's there... but kind of... separate. Like he doesn't know if he belongs."

She lifted a hand, fingertips grazing the cool surface of the Mirror of Erised. "They look so real."

"They do," Harry said, his voice laced with something older than his years. "I used to come here every night. When I thought I'd lost them."

She turned to him, studying the angles of his face, the way his eyes still carried shadows from a war no child should've fought.

"What do you see?" she asked.

He gave a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. "They're in the Quidditch stands. Mum and Dad. Cheering. Waving a Gryffindor banner like total dorks."

Diana laughed, and this time it wasn't bitter or broken—it was real. Small and genuine, the kind that warmed the space between them.

"I just..." she started, then paused, searching for the right words. "Sometimes I think about what it'd be like if things were normal. If we weren't all carrying around these invisible weights."

She moved away from the mirror, sitting down on the edge of an old, dusty desk that creaked under her. She kicked her legs slightly, like a child trying to feel small again.

"I used to dream about meeting my family," she said, softer now. "I'd imagine little things—Sunday breakfasts, birthday songs, someone brushing my hair while telling me everything would be alright."

Harry sat beside her, hands in his lap.

"What did your dad tell you?"

"That they died in a car accident. All of them. Nothing left. No grave. No pictures. Just silence."

"And now that you know?"

She shrugged, eyes on her shoes. "It's messier."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"But you still hope, don't you?" he asked after a moment.

She looked up at him, eyes glistening. "Always."

They sat in silence after that, letting the quiet stretch around them like a safety net. The kind of silence that wasn't empty, but full of everything they didn't say. Grief. Longing. Healing. The pieces of themselves they hadn't shown anyone else.

Then, very gently, Harry reached out and took her hand.

Diana froze—half a second, maybe less—but enough for him to feel the tremble.

Then, slowly, she relaxed, her fingers curling around his.

"You don't have to do this alone," he said. "You've got people now. Real ones. And me."

She looked at him, almost startled by the earnestness in his voice. "You?"

He shrugged, but his smile was soft. "I'm kind of great."

She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "You're alright."

But she didn't let go.

And for the first time since she'd arrived at Hogwarts—not as Diana Malfoy, not even as Diana Salvatore—but simply as herself... she didn't feel like a ghost caught between two worlds. She didn't feel like she had to prove her worth to be loved, or hide the shattered parts of her heart to be accepted.

She felt seen.

And maybe... just maybe...

A little bit loved.