After the battle of Hogwarts, everyone wanted to go back to life as normal. One night though, Harry realizes that some are more desperate than others want to go back. To want is human and to want is what the Mirror of Erised specializes in. Which le...
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Currently, he was standing in a Hall of Glass.
Surely it was only magic that could make such a large and full of life castle so silent. Doors didn't squeak, windows didn't rattle and general eerie noises attributed to ghosts that normal spooked an old building like Hogwarts was seemingly absent. The light was eerily bright and white as it streamed through large gothic windows, dust dancing in it looking also like glittering sparks from a wand. It would be beautiful if Harry had enough energy to appreciate it.
Instead, this natural beauty was wasted on his wandered the empty halls hoping it would inspire his own mind to the same blessed emptiness. The piercing headache was a cold spike just below the surface, akin to an icicle falling from the highest tower straight into his skull. That blindingly powerful pain that magic, medicine, and alcohol had failed to maintain, now he was hoping the midnight wandering would do the trick.
He didn't know what time it was, all he knew was the moon was high in the sky by the time he was ripped from sleep by nightmares again. Now it was starting to sink again as the next day morning was quickly catching up with him. He walked in a slow stuttering pace, freezing and silently staring at anything little thing that caught his attention.
Harry was desperate to take in every detail, how the smoke curled from bewitched flames, the ornate designs of medieval objects every crack in the stone gothic window frames, in the hopes to paper over every burnt in detail of his nightmares. Maybe with enough inspection of a portrait, he could erase the way a body concaved under the falling building. Maybe the fresh air could almost cover up the memory of the rancid stench of decomposition and feel the thick level of grit that clung to his skin still. The sweat that was soaked into his hairline was finally cooling and drying in the nighttime air.
That was how he found himself in the Hall of Glass, a thin corridor of high vaulted ceilings lined with opulent stained-glass windows.
Harry was leaned up against the opposite wall, tucked into and barely visible alcove simply watching the windows. He was memorized by watching the dozens of windows, each with a mythical creature silently acted out the best moments of their idealized image. They were lifelike, similar to the portraits, but they were silent and didn't gossip or call attention to harry as the chattier pictures could. They gave him the space to think and watch.
Mermaids primped in a clear lagoon, Fae planted flower beds in spring showers, Phoenixes flew in the sun, Thunderbirds danced along with lightening and any number of creature Harry couldn't name eat, danced, sang and celebrated their little glass life. They were lifelike, similar to the portraits, but they were silent and didn't gossip or call attention to Harry as the chattier pictures could. They gave him the space to think and watch. He just stood there breathing in and out, his eyes even starting to droop in the moment of comfort
Suddenly, scaring the heart straight into Harry's throat, a person swiftly passed in front of him. Peeking around the corner he could see a set of dark robes skimming along the ground. There was a flash of chalky white hair, white enough to make the moon look dull by comparison A head of hair that Harry practically had a Pavlovian response to reach for his wand over. Draco Malfoy was wandering the halls late at night. Why would he be doing that?
