Chapter Text
For the first time in a long while, Harry wished to leave Hogwarts. The one place he called home didn’t seem that way anymore; his quiet walks across the grounds were no longer peaceful, he was always followed by whispered rumours and judgement. Ever since Voldemort’s grand announcement of his return, the wizarding world could not decide how they wanted to treat him.
He was either the Dark Lord’s prodigy or their returning saviour: The Chosen One. Thankfully, the majority of Britain decided on the latter.
From a liar to a murderer for the whole of fifth year, to not even three months later being their idol. Harry was struggling to keep up with it all, especially now that Dumbledore had decided to go back to his old ways of ignoring him. He didn’t need all this hassle, not with the wound of losing Sirius still so raw and bleeding.
It seemed that the only few people who noticed the unstoppable pace that Harry was falling at were Ron and Hermione. Even then, they had their own lives to try and live; with Ron’s relationship with lavender blossoming and Hermione’s studying, they only had so much time to offer Harry pitying looks as he sulked around the castle. So, as of late, Harry often found himself on his own, wandering the corridors with his invisibility cloak nestled in his pocket.
He didn’t use it as often as last year, but it still proved useful when Harry was being stalked by Malfoy, or when he decided to do the stalking. This time, however, Malfoy was on the prowl and Harry was not fortunate to see or hear him coming.
“Looking for another room to cry in, Potter?” Malfoy snarled, his face full of hate. “Pathetic, honestly.”
Harry really was quite stupid, choosing to skip Divination when he knew the sixth year Slytherins had a free period.
“Piss off, Malfoy.” Harry sighed, his back to the boy as he carried on walking. “I’m sure you’ve got to write Daddy a letter rather than bothering me.”
“How dare you speak about my father-”
Harry stopped and turned, “what? Can't handle that Daddy dearest is in Azkaban because he’s too much of a piss poor death eater.”
Malfoy turned an ugly shade of red, his wand pointed at him.
“Go on then, Malfoy.” Harry stretched out his arms, “maybe you’ve got a better aim than your dad.”
“Maybe I ought to be like Aunt Bellatrix, I’ve heard she’s got quite the aim.”
Harry wasted no time shooting a wordless stupefy, Malfoy collapsing to the ground. He ignored the boy's pained groan and declarations of Harry’s supposed regrets, he borderline stomped down the corridor. He was filled with rage, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He continued to walk mindlessly, hoping to dispel some of the anger before he encountered a professor that was no doubt looking for him as Malfoy whined in the infirmary, ready to give him a weeks detention, maybe two if Snape caught him, but thankfully he was too busy teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Eventually, Harry did feel calmer but he still continued to walk in whatever section of the castle he was in. The sun was beginning to set, which meant dinner was soon, and Harry didn’t particularly want his telling off to run into his meal.
However, as Harry turned to go back the way he came, he spotted something glimmering in a classroom whose door was slightly agar.
Harry allowed curiosity to get the better of him, he walked over and pushed the door open. His eyes instantly locked onto something he had not seen or thought of for years.
The Mirror of Erised.
It was still the same after so long. The gold frame with its maze of intricate details encasing glass that seems to have not been scratched or exposed to the elements once. Harry was too far to read the words but he could remember what was etched on the top: ‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’
I show not your face but your heart’s desires.
Harry looked away and outside of the classroom, neither seeing or hearing anyone, he made his way closer until his reflection came into focus.
Malfoy was right, he really did look pathetic. He looked like death was his next visitor as his dull, sunken green eyes traced his reflection. He did not have the golden tan he would usually get at the end of summer, it brought him back to the time when Vernon would lock him in his cupboard for days and only bring him out to cook and complete chores.
Without realising, Harry had moved closer to the mirror until he jumped at the sight of figures materialising behind him.
James and Lily Potter.
Harry was not surprised to see them, because his deepest desire never will change. They still looked the same all those years ago, young facing and a smile that was a little too wide.
The mirror didn’t stop there, no, for behind his parents Sirius and Remus materialised and the hurt within Harry grew bigger.
Things had changed immensely following the death of Sirius, including his relationship with Remus. Harry had begged the man to be angry at him for taking Sirius away, for not listening to his head but rather his reckless heart.
He didn’t however, because Remus continued to visit him throughout the summer. He would sneak Harry out for the day, while Harry himself ignored the threats the werewolf would make towards the Dursleys. In fact, Harry quite liked Vernon looking at him with fear every time the doorbell rang.
When things seemed to be getting better for him, Dumbledore decided otherwise. He swept Remus away to some werewolf clan in Europe, and Harry would be taken to The Burrow where he would go on to meet Professor Slughorn. Contact with Remus had then become next to nothing after that. When Harry sent a letter, it was either returned by a disgruntled Hedwig, or he never received a reply.
Harry’s eyes began to blur with unreleased tears as he became caught in his thoughts, however he started to notice that new figures had joined his parents and godfathers.
It took a moment for Harry to realise who he must be looking at. He was looking at other members of his bloodline, his grandparents. It was strange to see who he had inherited his features from - his green eyes and round face from his mothers side and his thin frame, shaggy hair and tan skin from his fathers side.
Harry couldn’t remember these people, if he even met them as a baby, but they looked at Harry as if they loved him his whole life. He had wanted this for so long, to see his family and Harry craved desperately to smash the mirror into tiny pieces and pull his family out, but Dumbledore’s words echoed in his mind before he could.
Harry took a step back, shaking his head as he turned back. As he walked further away and through the classroom door Harry felt a chill crawl up his spine, something that never meant anything good. Harry had to forget the mirror, to pretend that he had never walked into the room.
A few days had passed since his run in with the mirror, and Harry has tried everything to remove it from his mind. The detentions helped him enough, but for the first time, it was unfortunate that McGonagall had caught him wandering the corridors, and when she was aware of Harry’s point of view, his days of detentions were cut short.
He had tried so hard to move on, but there was an itch in the back of his mind; to go to that abandoned classroom, to sit on the dusty floor and sit in the rare silence and watch as his family smiled at him.
“Have you finished that essay yet, Harry?”
But Harry had yet to give in, because on the rare occasion that Ron and Hermione were getting along, they were the perfect distraction. It was late into the night, and they were the only ones in the common room. The fire crackled gently, big enough to keep the trio warm as they spread themselves against the sofas and rug. Harry wondered if he seemed different to them, but he supposed they would factor it down to his grief.
“He probably hasn’t even started it yet, Mione. Who cares anyways, Snape wont grade us properly.”
“He’s not allowed to grade us unfairly, Ronald.”
“Yet he still does. I mean, at least you’ve got Slughorn worshipping your feet, he’ll give you a good grade.” Harry threw a scrunched up parchment at Ron, a small smile on his face. “What?! Come on, Harry, that man probably has a shrine dedicated to you.”
“Only because he’s cheating with that god forsaken book,” Hermione frowned, disapproving in her eyes.
“Harry would be a fool not to use that book.”
If he were to be honest, Harry had completely forgotten about the Half Blood Prince and all of that, not at all useful for what was going on at the moment.
“I only worry, because one day Harry will get caught-”
“The day hasn’t come yet, so stop fretting, Mione.”
“Ronald-”
“Do you ever think about the Mirror of Erised, Ron?”
Harry certainly wasn’t doing that good of a job distracting himself. He didn’t know why he had cut in like that, perhaps it was that he had to get it out of his mind somehow, or that he didn’t want an argument to arise.
Ron went silent, looking at him with confusion. “No, I don’t, why?”
“I… had a dream about it the other day.”
“Really,” Ron rubbed the back of his head, “I mean, I haven’t thought about it since Dumbledore told us to forget about it first year.”
Hermione looked between the two, “mirror, what mirror are you two talking about? This better not be like that book.”
“No, no it’s not. In first year, Harry and I found this mirror that shows us what we desire the most, it’s called the name Mirror of Erised, and it showed me as Head Boy winning the House and Quidditch cup while Harry saw…”
“ I saw my parents,” Harry picked at a bare thread in the rug, “and I saw others who were supposedly my family.”
“Oh, Harry-”
Harry cut Hermione off, now gazing at the fire, “it was only a matter of time before I dreamt about it, what with Sirius and everything.”
Ron and Hermione shared a look, silent but saying a lot.
“Harry, mate, you know that you can always talk to us.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The common room stayed silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it never was between the three of them, but there was something different below the surface.
“It’s getting late, I should probably head to bed.” Harry stood, stretching and listening to his bones click, before walking off. However, he was stopped just before the stairs.
“Harry?” He turned around at Hermione's voice, finding worry across Ron and hers face. “This mirror, promise us you won’t go looking for it. Whatever’s going on, we can get through this. Together.”
Harry looked at them both, he didn’t know what was showing on his face, maybe it was the truth or perhaps he could show his lies well enough.
“I promise.” He turned back around and up the stairs. Harry wouldn’t fall asleep for hours, listening to the snores of his housemates, and when he did close his eyes, Harry dreamt of mirrors and warm smiles.
McGonagall had let Harry off early from his final night of detention, deciding that he had learnt his lesson well enough, but he didn’t go back to the common room like he promised.
No, Harry had found his way back to the mirror. After days of trying to distract himself, Harry had wandered the quiet corridors and ended up at that same classroom. He was somewhat proud of himself because Harry didn’t go inside, instead he sat on the floor next to the door, staring not at the actual mirror but rather the small one Sirius had given him.
Harry wasn’t sure when he had first started to carry it around. When he would be packing or unpacking his bag at the end of classes, looking at his reflection in the cracked glass seemed to calm him, to tell himself that he didn’t need the mirror behind him, but rather the one in front.
He had thought to write to Remus, to tell him everything that’s been going on, but ultimately decided against it. Remus couldn’t do anything, Harry didn’t even know where he was. Plus, who knows who was reading his letters, because he wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore or the Ministry to interfere, and Harry was sure that they would simply ship him off to St Mungos or just pretend that everything was well and fine.
So Harry was stuck staring at his tired eyes, moving the mirror left to right as he caught the glow of the torches. It also happened to be that the September wind was particularly strong, and as the breeze blew down the corridor the door slowly opened. Harry froze as the hinges creaked, worried that the mirror would somehow grow legs and end up in front of him.
Fortunately, it didn’t, but when Harry moved his mirror to the right he snapped his gaze away from the glass as he caught the gold framing. He held his breath, but Harry didn’t move his own mirror away, nor did he move from his position. He waited for a few minutes, his arm starting to ache as he continued to hold it up.
“Harry.” A feminine voice whispered in his ear. Harry wasn’t sure who it belonged to, Harry knew how his mum sounded, and it wasn’t like that.
“Go away,” he whispered.
“Harry, please. Just come here and have a look, it’ll make you so much happier.”
“No.” With every bit of strength in his body, Harry stood up but did not walk away.
“You can be happy, Harry. You can see us, see how much we love you.”
“You’re not my mum. You’re not them.” Harry began to walk away, closing his eyes as the flames flickered erratically and the wind howled.
“Harry, you know you’ll come soon enough.”
It wasn’t the feminine voice that followed Harry, it was now the voice of Sirius.
Something had changed after that night. Something within him was altered and Harry wasn’t liking it. Nightmares had started to plague his nights instead of mirrors and his family. They were relentless. Nightmares of Sirius telling Harry how he had killed him, how everything was his fault because of how reckless and foolish he was. Thinking that he was the hero while he could barely keep anyone he loved alive.
Harry had already been lacking sleep, but now it was rare if Harry even managed to close his eyes at all. The minute his mind began to rest, he was hearing cruel laughs of Voldemort and Bellatrix while those he loves cried out in agony.
Those same laughs were now bouncing around the walls of The Great Hall as he tried to eat, trying to engage in some semblance of normal. It was hard, because Harry had become more withdrawn than ever. Just like now, Harry was surrounded by his laughing friends, but he paid no mind as he pushed his untouched food around his plate, occasionally rubbing his ear on his shoulder to try to drown everyone out.
He was aware that Ron and Hermione were engaging in another silent conversation, but Harry was not in the mood to deal with them. It seemed, however, that they disagreed.
“Harry, you killed Sirius.”
Harry snapped his head up, looking at Hermione with disgust as her words caught up in his mind.
“Harry?” She whispered, glancing at Ron as her fingers twitched to reach out to him.
“What? What did you just say to me?” Harry snapped, now glaring and not caring that a few students around them grew silent.
“I said you need to eat, Harry.” Hermione’s eyes darted around his face, searching for some explanation.
“Oh, right, well I’m fine, Mione.” Harry mumbled, flushing red as he cast his eyes down to his plate.
“We’ve watched you push that food around your plate for twenty minutes, Harry.”
“I’m just not that hungry right now. I’m sure Dobby won’t mind if I go down to the kitchen a bit later.”
“Of course he won't, but you need to eat something now.”
Harry huffed, growing annoyed, so he stabbed a few carrots with his fork and shoved them in his mouth. He looked his friends in their eyes as he chewed and swallowed. “Happy?”
“There’s no need for this attitude, Harry.” Hermione snapped, “if you’re upset about something then talk to us rather than doing whatever this is.”
Harry did feel bad, mumbling an apology before looking back down and deconstructing a piece of broccoli.
“She is right, mate. You did kill Sirius.”
Harry jolted, his fork scraping the plate. He stabbed the broccoli, shoving that into his mouth and grabbing hold of his knife.
“You’re the reason he’s dead.”
Harry chewed and chewed, washing his food down with pumpkin juice.
“You’re the reason you’ll always be alone.”
Harry bolted up, stumbling over the bench as he smacked his hands over his ears. “Shut up!”
The Great Hall plummeted into silence, professors and students all watching him. His breathing was heaving, wide-eyed as he looked at his best friends in shock.
“I-I’m sorry. I…I don’t know why I did that.”
Ron rose up from his own seat, hands out as if to sooth Harry. “I think we should go to the Hospital wing, Harry. Something isn’t right.”
You’re not right, went unsaid, but Harry understood.
“I’m fine.” Harry glanced at the professors table, McGonagall stood up and looked at Harry with concern as Dumbledore watched, no twinkle in his eyes. “I think I just need to be alone.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate. We don’t need to go to the hospital wing, how about we go take a walk outside, you might just be a bit hot.”
Harry looked at everyone, they looked at him like he was crazy. Their defected Chosen One. He felt a hand on his arm and when he looked to his right McGonagall was there.
“Come on, Potter.” She gently pushed him and Harry followed.
“I’m fine, Professor, really.”
She ignored him, walking behind Harry as she spoke to Ron and Hermione.
It was midnight in the Hospital wing. McGonagall had dropped him off, ordering him to get some rest and Ron and Hermione made themselves comfortable next to him. They whispered to Pomphrey as Harry left to get changed into pyjamas, and they were still talking by the time he was back.
“Right, Mr Potter. I’m going to give you a dreamless sleep, and I expect you to drink it and have a good night's rest.”
“Madam Pomphrey, I’m fine-”
“The words fine and Potter never belong together,” she shoved a glass vial in his hands, dark purple liquid inside, “you and your friends have an hour before you’re to go to bed. If I find you’re not asleep, you’re to take this, ” she said before walking off.
His friends didn’t say anything, instead Ron pulled out a game of exploding snap and began to divvy out the cards. They played for the whole hour, not saying much until Madam Pomphrey came over to shoo them away.
“I’m sorry you two,” Harry said as the two walked off, “I don’t know what happened and I-”
Hermione cut him off, a sad smile on her face. “Just get some rest Harry, and we’ll come see you first thing in the morning. We love you.”
“Love you guys too.” Harry returned the sad smile, watching as they left and Harry himself was left in darkness.
He tried to sleep, he really did. He tried on his right side, his left side and on his back but with no luck. All he could hear were the laughs and the words he heard Ron and Hermione speak. When Madam Pomphrey made her rounds, he pretended to sleep. He could feel her watching him, waiting to see if he slipped up, but Harry had enough experience at the Dursleys to not mess up.
He closed his eyes as he lay on his back, if he woke up from a nightmare or could not rest then he would uncork the vial and down the liquid. He listened to the snoring of other students and tried to match their breathing.
He wasn’t sure how long he was lying there for, but Harry suddenly felt the mattress dip as a weight settled next to him. Harry froze, keeping his eyes closed and silently hoping that it was a sleep walking classmate.
He waited but the weight stayed there. Harry was about to open his eyes to try to make out what blurry figure was next to him, but his eyes snapped open when a hand wrapped around his throat, and his glasses were shoved onto his face.
Harry gasped loudly, thrashing as he grabbed at the arm around his neck.
“Stop moving, Harry.”
Harry did freeze, fear sending his body into shock. He was looking at Sirius. He was hearing Sirius. He was wearing the same thing the day he died, but he was pale, lips blue and hair lacking its signature wave. It was like the man had stepped out of Azkaban for a second time.
“Your friends are right, Harry.” Sirius whispered, squeezing slightly on his neck. “You killed me.”
Harry gasped, shaking his head.
Sirius laughed, sharp and cruel like his cousin. “No? You don’t think this is all your fault?”
Harry shook his head again, the pressure in his head growing stronger.
“If you hadn’t acted so recklessly, I’d still be here. Still be here to look after you, but you didn’t want that.”
“S-Sirius-”
“A matter of fact, if you hadn’t been born James and Lily would still be here and so would everyone else you killed.”
Tears rolled down Harry’s face, sobs trying to escape.
“I think it’s only fair that I give you the same treatment you’ve given others.”
A second hand made it to Harry’s neck. Squeezing tighter as Harry thrashed harder. He cried as he pushed at Sirius’ face as he tried to push his godfather off. It felt like it was going on for hours, whoever this was, because this wasn’t his godfather, hoping to make him suffer.
Eventually, Harry felt this surge of adrenaline and he slammed his knee straight into not-Sirius’ side. Harry sent the made tumbling off the bed as Harry breathed in deep, painful breaths.
Harry rolled himself off the bed, stumbling blindly as he ran out the hospital wing. Sirius’s voice was loud behind him.
“You killed me, Harry! You know you did!”
Harry had to get to the Common Room, to Dumbledore’s office, Merlin, even to Snapes. He couldn’t carry on like this anymore, something was happening to him and Harry had to end it.
He ran down the corridors, his wand left behind on the table, but that was the least of his worries. His bare feet were no worries on the cold stone, not as the sharp edges pricked his skin as he took a sharp right and then left.
He had to get to the tower, or to Dumbledore, or even Snape.
He carried on down the corridor, and ran up the moving staircase.
He had to get to the tower, or to Dumbledore.
“Harry! Come back!” Sirius called, whether he was actually behind Harry he didn’t know or even wanted to. He just knew he had to get to the tower.
“You murdered everyone, Harry!”
Harry took a left, and then a right and a left again, down a cold corridor and flickering torches. He was almost at the mirror.
He eventually made it, pushing the classroom door open and slamming it shut. His back hit the cold wood as Harry sobbed. He pushed himself away from the door and stumbled towards the mirror until he was on his knees. He pressed his forehead to the cold glass and whispered.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sirius.”
Harry gripped the gold frame.
“Please, please forgive me.”
Look at the mirror, Harry, everything will be okay.
Harry’s sniffles grew quiet and something uneasy bloomed in his chest. It was that feminine voice again, but this time there was an edge to it that Harry could not place.
The mirror will help you, Harry. All you need to do is look into it again.
Instead of doing what he was told, Harry slowly shuffled back as he kept his gaze down. Moments ago he was begging for this mirror as Sirius chased him, but now something was terribly wrong. Harry shouldn’t be here, he didn’t want to be here.
He was meant to go to Dumbledore, the Common Room or Snape.
Harry, look at the mirror.
The voice cracked, flickering between the feminine tone and a hiss. It made Harry’s heart race.
Harry took another step away, turning his back from the mirror. He didn’t even manage two steps before something gripped his shoulders and ankle. Harry let out a yelp, twisting his body to see what had grabbed him.
Hands. Cold, blue hands gripped Harry and gave no indication that they would let go. Harry tried to yell out for help, but the hands around his ankle pulled back and sent Harry flying to the floor.
They pulled and pulled as Harry lay dazed, his head pounding. They slowly pulled Harry towards the mirror and when Harry finally came to, he was finally able to let out a scream. His foot was halfway into the mirror and the rest of his body followed.
With his head still pounding and becoming drowsier by the minute, Harry’s nails scraped against the stone floor, trying to grab the desk leg next to him but his muscles grew weak.
Harry tried to call out one final time, but as his heart was enveloped by the mirror, the last thing Harry felt was pure fear as he lost consciousness.