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They didn’t happen often, but James loved his late night walks. He was so busy with schoolwork, sneaking around with Reg, and spending time with his friends that he didn’t often have evenings free to walk around.
Tonight, however, he’d finished his homework, there was no early morning Quidditch training, and Reg and all of James’ friends were otherwise occupied, so he had the whole evening to himself to relax and destress.
James walked down a hallway on the fourth floor, concealed by his Invisibility Cloak. He didn’t usually go to this part of the castle after curfew since couples liked to use the empty classrooms to snog, but not this late. Even the prefects were asleep by now.
He heard a noise from one of the unused classrooms. James stilled. No one could see him, but if it was Mrs Norris, she always seemed able to find him even with the cloak on. That damn cat was always ruining pranks with her supersonic hearing.
Making sure to be as quiet as possible, James carefully stepped towards the ajar door and pushed it fully open.
The room looked empty; there were no people in it, not even any desks or chairs like you’d expect in a classroom. As James’ eyes panned across the room, however, he realised that it wasn’t quite empty. There was a large, ornate mirror towering over James. It had words engraved on it, but they seemed to be gibberish. Maybe it was a code?
James could feel the magic emanating from the mirror, so he pulled off his cloak and strode towards it to get a better look.
When he saw the image held on the surface of the mirror, he flinched.
It wasn’t an ordinary reflection. The mirror showed many things that weren’t there in reality. It showed Remus and Sirius with matching wedding rings. Sirius had an arm over Regulus’ shoulder, and Reg was smiling softly, that small smile that barely showed on his mouth but was abundantly clear when you looked him in the eye. Marlene was there too, in the kit of the Holyhead Harpies, her dream Quidditch team. Lily stood next to her, holding hands with Mary and clutching a book with her name on the cover in her other hand. Peter stood in the middle, shining with attention, not pushed to the outskirts as he often was. Hell, even Reg’s friends were there, Dorcas with Marlene, and Barty, Evan, and Pandora grinning on the side.
It showed many people who weren’t actually there, but what it didn’t do, was show James. All of his friends were there, smiling, happy, and living their dreams; without James.
He felt an ache of pain in his knees, and he realised that he’d fallen onto the floor. He barely registered the pain; he was trying to make sense of what he saw in this disturbing mirror.
He sat there for what felt like aeons trying to work out what this image could possibly mean, but it was pointless. He had no idea what this might be. Was it a glimpse into the future? Or some kind of hex?
Suddenly, James heard a creak behind him, and he whipped his head around. Standing behind him was none other than Albus Dumbledore.
Shit.
James had enough detentions as it was, he didn’t need another one for being out after hours.
He scrambled to his feet. “Professor, I swear-” he spluttered, until Dumbledore raised a song indicating that he should stop.
“Mr Potter, good evening. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say good morning,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.
Dumbledore came over to James and stood to his side, looking at the mirror.
“This is a fascinating magical object. Its name is the Mirror of Erised. It shows our deepest desires, most painful yearnings, and greatest wants. It has driven men mad from longing.”
Desires? But… how could that be what James desired? He wasn’t even there in the reflection.
“But, sir, it must be wrong,” James said with uncertainty.
“And why is that, dear boy?”
“Because this isn’t what I want, I would never want this,” he insisted.
“Perhaps you simply have not realised it yet,” Dumbledore suggested, “The Mirror is never wrong, Mr Potter. It is very advanced and complex magic. It peers into our souls, strips us of our conscious thoughts and hones in on our subconscious.”
“You mean, that’s what I want? But, why would I ever want… that?” James asked desperately, “It’s horrible.”
Dumbledore looked at him curiously. “Is it? Or do you just think it is horrible because you see something unexpected?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“Forgive me if this is an intrusion, but may I ask; what do you see when you look into the Mirror, Mr Potter?”
“Everyone I know… everyone I love… they’re all there, and they’re happy, and they’re together, and their dreams came true. And I’m not there. They lived their lives without me, and they’re all fine.”
The tears were flowing freely now. James felt like he was going crazy, but he couldn’t help it.
“Now that is very interesting, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said, “It suggests to me that you wish for your friends’ happiness over your own. Your own feelings are of no importance to you as long as those you love are content. You will stop at nothing for them to achieve their dreams. Your love for them is admirable.”
Is that what it is? Love? Or is it just obsession? Am I crazy? I feel crazy. Why am I so crazy?
“Is it?” James asked.
Dumbledore furrowed his brows. “Do you not believe so?”
“I feel like… like I’m hurting them just by being around them. Like… Love is meant to be pure, right? It’s the purest thing in the world, but I don’t think I can do anything purely. I try to be the me that they want, but it’s so hard,” he cried, “Sirius wants a brother, and Peter wants a best friend, and Mary wants someone to gossip with, and everyone wants different things, and it’s so hard. I work so fucking hard to make them happy, and it just makes them feel worse half the time, and it tears me up inside, because all I do is try, try, try . I try so damn hard, and it never makes enough of a difference. It never helps them. Why can’t I help them?”
Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on James’ shoulder.
“Perhaps you should consider, young man, that they would be happier if you did not have to change yourself to try and make them happy. You can try as much as you like to be the exact version of yourself that they want, but it will hurt you in the long term.”
James felt hopeless. He let out a sigh and gazed dispondently at the mirror. He couldn’t make this future real by just being him. He wasn’t good enough, he knew he wasn’t. He looked at Reg’s smile, Marlene’s Quidditch kit, Lily’s book, Sirius and Remus’ wedding rings. He had to do something. He wanted them to be happy, he needed them to be happy. Whether he was or not.
“I just want to make things better but I always make them worse. I don’t know if I’m a good person,” James confessed.
“You are, undoubtedly, a good person, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore reassured, “Knowing your parents, I expected to meet the kindest, sweetest boy you could imagine when you first arrived at Hogwarts. Knowing you now, you are one of the bravest people I know, and the only one willing to give up everything they love to make their loved ones happy.”
“But I can't really do anything to make them happy,” James started, “I can't make the Harpies recruit Marls, or make Remus not a werewolf, or stop Sirius and Re- I mean, Sirius’ family from being such abusive arseholes. I can't stop people from being racist pricks to Mary and Dorcas, I can't stop people being blood supremacists and saying that Lily and Mary are impure or disgusting because they're muggleborn. I can't fix their problems.”
“You may not be able to outright solve their problems, but you certainly have an impact. You can't force the Holyhead Harpies to recruit Miss McKinnon, but you have been an excellent captain and have done additional training with her. You can't undo what Greyback did to Mr Lupin, but you let him share the burden of his struggles. You gave Mr Black a home and a family when his own wouldn't accept him, and you offered the same to the younger Mr Black. You may not be able to put an end to the discrimination that Miss Macdonald and Miss Meadowes face, but that is an institutional problem in our society, not a problem that one person can fix.”
James swallowed his tears and met Dumbledore’s eyes. “You think so?”
“Without a doubt. As for Miss Evans and Miss Macdonald, and the other muggleborn students, that is similar to the issue of racism, but I believe there is something you can do to help with that.”
James stood up straight. “How can I help? What can I do? I’m not giving up, no matter what, I’ll do anything.”
A sad smile crept onto Dumbledore’s face. “Mr Potter - James, if I may - I'm sure you have heard of a group called Death Eaters who are causing havoc across Britain in an attempt to eradicate those they deem impure. Well, what you may not have heard, is that there is a resistance. A group of soldiers trying to stop them. A group known as the Order of the Phoenix.”
James had heard of attacks on muggle towns, and on the families of muggleborn students. Too many times had he needed to comfort his fellow students over the deaths of their loved ones. If there was a resistance group, a group who would try to stop that- well, the Death Eaters had better start running.
Dumbledore continued. “If you would like to try and make a difference, then there is room for you in our ranks, as well as any of your friends who wish to help as well. You won't be in a combat situation until after you have left school, of course, but you could begin training as soon as next weekend.”
“I want to help,” James said with determination.
“I will let you know the arrangements for the beginning of your training,” Dumbledore replied, “Oh, and Mr Potter, one more thing.”
“Anything, Professor.”
“I'm afraid I will have to give you a detention tomorrow for being out of your room past curfew. Unfortunately, I will not be able to oversee it myself, being as busy as I am,” Dumbledore said, “but perhaps the younger Mr Black could oversee. If you aren't too opposed to that, my dear boy.”
With a wink and a cheery grin, Dumbledore left the room, his purple robes billowing around behind him.
James stood dumbstruck for a moment. Does Dumbledore know about me and Reg? And did he just set us up on a date?
He shook it off. It didn't matter if Dumbledore knew or not. James had a purpose. He had a way to help his friends, to help the Wizarding World. He may end up in pieces along the way, but if one thing was for certain, it was that his shattered edges would glisten through the whole thing.