stop pissing me off (i can play god and cut off your oxygen)

might need me a refund (cuz imma need that time back)

Saturday morning found the four Third Year Slytherins refreshed and excited, all for different reasons. Fred and George were excited to finally get some answers from Jin-Woo about all the cool shadow shit and learn more about his background and powers. Valliope was excited because she could feel the walls she’d sensed around Jin-Woo opening up and letting them in, something she’d hoped for since the four of them met at the Station. Jin-Woo was excited because now his shadows had people to play with, even if they’d most likely cause chaos from behind the scenes with the twins.

When they went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, they noticed a tense atmosphere and the low hum of gossip filling the air.

Jin-Woo, who could hear everything being said, fought back a devious smirk when he realised people were beginning to wonder what happened to Professor Quirrell.

I have to hand it to Dumbledore, that little minefield test he’d set up on the third floor was rather juvenile, even for actual children. Chess? Riddles? That intriguing mirror? He couldn’t have been any more obvious, no wonder Voldemort hadn’t fallen for it. 

He couldn’t believe the old wizard would do something so risky, gambling so much for so little. When his shadows had first told him about the Cerberus on the third floor, the day before Jin-Woo had formally met Voldemort face to face (which was only three days ago, even if it felt like longer), he’d shown up hoping to gain a new shadow. Then he’d realised the overgrown dog’s purpose, and after a few days of debating whether or not he should play the Headmaster’s games—if only to see a glimpse into the man’s aged head—he decided to get to the bottom of the elaborate maze of trials. He’d made his way through the obstacles two nights ago, curious to see what was hidden behind all these challenges.

Imagine his disappointment when he figured out that each level in the multi-layer trap was a test, not for the ‘Dark Lord’, but for Harry. Then the fires of anger burned brighter, mostly on Harry’s behalf. It was bad enough that Dumbledore had let the child be clueless about the state of his family, and his heritage, for a decade, but to hold him back from preparing to shoulder the mantle unfairly bestowed upon him and place him in a trap unknowingly to manipulate him, use him as bait to lure out Voldemort? Jin-Woo’s hatred for Dumbledore reached a new peak upon that epiphany.

So of course, he bypassed all the challenges presented after the room of the flying keys—content with the memories provided by his shadows—and found himself at the heart of the trap to see just how deranged the Headmaster of Hogwarts was. He’d dismissed the mirror as a red herring at first, but then he’d sensed the magic wafting out of the mirror’s surface.

It wasn’t a sickly grey like Soul Magicks were, nor the ashy brick red of Blood Magicks, nor the deep void black that was Death Magicks. Instead, it was a warm, rich buttery yellow, tasting faintly of petrichor and salt, like the sea and the forest. Jin-Woo had stepped closer to the mirror hoping to examine the magic further, but then his reflection rippled and he saw them.

He saw his family. There they were, standing behind him, but he knew they weren’t really in the room with him.  He saw his mom, his dad, and his sister Jin-Ah; he saw Jin-Ho and Song-I, too. People he missed dearly, people he loved and cherished… The bitterness in him grew the longer the mirror showed him things he desperately wanted to return to his world to.

What is the point of this mirror? Why is this the end of the trap? What is Dumbledore hiding here that’s worth all this effort to reach? Jin-Woo had pondered in front of the mirror, trying to solve this newest riddle.

Then his reflection held up a raw, uncut ruby red stone and held it out to him. Jin-Woo hadn’t taken the gemstone, at first, not really wanting it. Then he began wondering why the reflection was holding the stone out to him because if this reflection was magical, and seemed to have some sort of connection with his mind (or heart, if that message at the top of the mirror was to be believed), it should know he didn’t want the stone because he had no use for it.