The Dark Prophecy

The Mirror

"Who's there?"

The voice had come from Snape, who was brandishing his wand in front of him, lighting up the corridor, just a few feet from where Harry was hidden under the invisibility cloak, wand clutched in his hand also.

It had been a few hours since he had left the Forbidden Section, and he had just been heading back to the Slytherin common room when he'd came across Snape, and out of shock of seeing him in the dark, Harry had jumped, loudly knocking over a suit of armor. 

He couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if he came any nearer he'd knock right into him -- the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without Snape finding him. He walked straight past, searching the corridors suspiciously, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing shallowly, listening to his footsteps dying away. That had been close, remarkably close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket -- but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi". His panic faded away as he saw it, and he felt it almost calling to him, with some unseen voice, as he stepped closer to the mirror.

Frowning as he realized, instead of seeing nothing in the mirror, as he was under the invisibility cloak, he saw himself, looking with wide eyes back at him from the reflection. That didn't make sense though...how could it be?

That's when he noticed what stood behind him in the reflection, and whipped around, only to see the empty classroom. His eyes flicked back to the mirror, and he frowned slightly, studying the mirror.

There, staring back at him, was an image of himself - but not the col, sharp young Slytherin that Harry was accustomed to seeing. No, this reflection showed a figure of immense power and authority, radiating an aura of terrible, unrestrained evil. The face was twisted in a cruel, victorious sneer, and the eyes burned with an unholy gleam of ambition and malice.

Behind the reflection, Harry could make out the vague shapes of a tremendous crowd, all bowing down on their knees, faceless and unimportant, an army, all for him. The scene filled him with a sense of savage triumph, and a hungry, covetous hunger rose within him. This was the future he craved, the destiny that he would stop at nothing to seize.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his own face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly, beginning to eat as they sat down at the Slytherin table for breakfast.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"What did you see then?" Ron asked, and his eyes began to grow wider in awe as Harry explained it in great detail. "Wow--" he exclaimed, smiling in admiration, "Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?