In fact, there was only one person that seemed to believe the likelihood of a jinxed broom. It was, oddly enough, the man who had threatened to give him a year's worth of detentions if he didn't put every ounce of effort into winning: Snape. Harry wasn't sure how he knew, but it was the only logical explanation for why he didn't mention the fall at all during Potions. He scarcely acknowledged Harry's existence during the entire class period.
And that was a good thing, because the stress, fatigue, and loneliness had the first year Slytherin close to snapping, which would surely have erased any momentary pity or traces of good-will that his Head of House had for him. Hermione gave him a pat on the shoulder, but seemed unwilling to ask what was the matter. Nonetheless, between small shows of concern and occasional conversation, her presence in his life, erratic as it was, remained a comfort. Sinistra continued to be away from her office, and hurried about during Astronomy, giving Harry an encouraging smile once in a while, but seeming very distracted.
One night in late October, Harry lay wide-awake on his bed, staring into the darkness. His mind was racing, and despite the utter exhaustion he was feeling during the day, his body seemed to be tingling with energy. Harry felt like he was being swamped under by these thoughts, and he knew one thing: he needed to get out.
Opening the curtains, he put on some slippers, threw on a robe over his dressing gown, and headed for the common room. However, somehow the great empty space still left Harry feeling trapped. Harry cast silencing charms on his feet, and decided to do something that had he been in a better state of mind, he would have known was quite foolish. Harry walked out of the hidden stone archway, ducked around to scan the hallway for observers, and finding none, set off.
Deciding that strolling right through the Entrance Hall was too risky, Harry opted for the hidden passageway that led to the 4th floor corridor, emerging near the entrance to the library.
Ducking around a corner, listening intently for any signs of his Potions Master or Filch and his cat, he hurried, his footsteps as silent as he could manage, over to an innocent-looking pillar. He tapped an innocuous spot of pillar with his wand, and with a quiet grating of stone against stone, a section of wall slid open, revealing a dimly lit passage and a stone spiral staircase. As the door closed behind him, Harry moved quickly up the stairs, a tiring climb from the dungeons to the 4th floor. He reached the exit, and tapping another brick, a slightly narrower door opened. Stepping through, he started for the library. It was silly, he knew, but a few minutes in the only place he ever felt at home in the whole castle might do him a lot of good.
As he walked down the corridor, he noticed a door slightly ajar, a mysterious, ethereal light emanating from within, drawing him closer. Glancing up and down the corridor, he stepped over the threshold.
He stood in a disused classroom, the desks shoved up against the walls. The sight of a towering mirror, - nearly as tall as the ceiling - framed by beautiful relief decoration instantly commanded his attention. Above the reflective surface was an inscription: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
Latin? Harry wondered. But even his limited knowledge of that language told him this was something different.
Out of sheer curiosity more than anything else, Harry stepped in front of the mirror…and froze, his breath caught in his chest.
It was clear that this was no ordinary mirror. He gazed, open-mouthed, at the half-dozen figures that he saw reflected in the crystal surface. Two men, two women, and two children, all strikingly familiar. He turned around, thinking, hoping just for a moment that what the mirror showed him was reality, but all that met his eyes was an empty classroom and a pile of desks at the back.
Chapter 7: Trouble with Trolls
Start from the beginning
