Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Hermione X Self Insert)

Chapter 15 - The Mirror of Erised

Late at night, a lantern and hand appeared, but nothing else. The ensemble walked through the dark library and into the Restricted Section. The lamp was put down, and the cloak removed, revealing to be Harry, who searched the bookshelves.

"Famous fire eaters... Fifteenth Century Fiends... Flamel... Nicholas Flamel, where are you?"

Harry picked up a book and opened it. A man's face suddenly appeared from between the pages, screaming madly and loudly. Startled, the boy immediately slammed the book shut and put it back.

"Who's there?!" A gruff voice suddenly said. Harry whipped around, and quickly grabbed the cloak, causing the lamp to fall and shatter.

"I know you're in there." The voice continued, revealing to be Mr. Filch. "You can't hide."

Harry put the cloak over himself, and he crept around the caretaker.

"Who is it?" Filch asked in the darkness. "Show yourself!"

While he was preoccupied, Harry ran from the room, breathing heavily. He exited into the hall, where he ran into Mrs. Norris. "Could cats see through invisibility cloaks?" Harry thought, as the cat meowed and began to follow him. He ran around a corner, just as Snape and Quirrell appeared, the former pushing the latter into the wall.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell." Snape said in his low, monotone voice.

"W-what d-do you m-m-mean?" Quirrell stuttered.

"You know perfectly well what I mean." Snape said, before sensing something which caused Harry to hold his breath. Snape reached out as if to grab something, but didn't. He whipped his finger back in front of Quirrell's face.

"We'll have another chat soon, when you've had time to decide where your loyalties lie." Snape said in a threatening tone, before Filch approached holding the broken lantern.

"Oh, Professors." Filch addressed the two robed men. "I found this, in the Restricted Section. It's still hot. That means there's a student out of bed."

Upon hearing this, Snape and Quirrell darted off.

Harry found a door and opened it. On the other side, there was a vast, empty room where a large mirror stood in the centre. Harry moved closer, discarding the cloak. In the reflection he saw two people appear, a man and a woman; from the woman's green eyes and the man's glasses and messy black hair, he recognized them to be his parents, James and Lily Potter. The boy's eyes widened.

Back in the boys' dormitory, Harry came running in, the invisibility cloak masking his presence, and pulled back Ron's covers.

"Ron, Ron, come on. Get out of bed!" Harry urged in a hushed voice.

"What?" Ron said, rubbing his eyes.

"Just come on! You've really got to see this!" Harry replied, before pulling Ron out of the dorm with him.

Dayton, who seemed to be asleep, happened to overhear their conversation and was starting to question things. The boy had known Harry for seven years, so why was he not brought along?

Back in the room, Harry and Ron appeared as if magically and Harry ran to the mirror.

"Come look, it's my parents!" Harry said, pointing to the mirror.

"I don't see them." Ron said. "I only see me."

"Look in properly, go on." Harry said. "Stand there."

Ron did so as Harry stood out of frame of the mirror, and Ron was immediately shocked at what he saw.

"Look at me!" Ron said. "That's me! Only, I'm Head Boy, and I'm holding the Quidditch Cup! And bloody hell, I'm Quidditch Captain too! I look good." Ron turned to Harry. "Harry, do you think this mirror shows the future?" He asked.

"How can it?" Harry asked. "Both my parents are dead, let me have another look–"

"You had it to yourself earlier, give me a bit more time." Ron argued.

"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup, what's interesting about that?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "I want to see my parents."

The next day, in the Great Hall where most of the students, particularly the Weasleys, were eating, Harry sat glumly at the end of the table.

Ron approached him. "Harry, I know what you're thinking, but don't. There's something not quite right about that mirror."

That night, Harry was back in the room where the mirror stood, gazing longingly at the reflection where his parents had appeared to him.

"Back again, Harry?" A voice calmly spoke. Harry turned around and stood up, seeing none other than Professor Dumbledore.

"I see that you, like so many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore continued. "I trust by now you realise what it does. Let me give you a clue."

The elderly wizard slightly leaned in before he spoke again. "The happiest man on Earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is."

Harry understood now. "So, then it shows us what we want?" He inquired. "Whatever we want?"

Dumbledore nodded whilst looking at the mirror. "Yes, and no. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. Now you, who have never known your family, you see them standing beside you. But remember this, Harry. This mirror gives us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away in front of it, even gone mad. That is why tomorrow it will be moved to a new home, and I must ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live."

Harry looked back at the mirror one more time, knowing that Dumbledore was indeed right.

"Professor, can I ask you a question?" Harry asked.

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," Dumbledore said. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair of socks. People will insist on giving me books."

When Harry got back into bed, he realised Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But he then thought it was quite a personal question.