Reflections in the dark.
The Invisibility Cloak felt like liquid silver as it draped over Harry’s shoulders, the fabric whispering against his skin. He moved silently through the darkened halls of Hogwarts, the only sound the faint echo of his own footsteps against the cold stone.
He didn’t know what had drawn him out tonight—perhaps the allure of the cloak, the thrill of invisibility—but something urged him onward. The quiet hum of ancient magic seemed to guide his steps, leading him through winding corridors and up narrow staircases until he found himself in a room he’d never seen before.
The room was empty, save for a large, ornate mirror standing in the center. Its frame was carved with intricate runes and strange symbols, glinting in the dim light of the lone torch flickering on the wall. At the top, etched in flowing script, were the words:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
Harry’s breath formed a soft mist in the cold air as he approached the mirror. The glass was pristine, untouched by dust or age, and as he stepped closer, the faint reflection of the room shimmered into view.
But then—
Something else appeared.
Not his parents. Not his family. Nothing he had ever imagined seeing.
The room behind him blurred, swallowed by darkness, leaving only a vast, empty space within the glass. And in that space—
The nun.
Her dark veil draped like a shroud over her pale, sunken face. The rosary beads hung from her fingers, clicking softly as they swayed in an invisible breeze. Her eyes—dark, hollow—were locked onto his, unblinking.
Harry’s blood turned to ice.
She stood in the mirror, motionless, the shadows twisting around her as though they were alive, writhing like serpents.
He took a step back, but her image remained, as if burned into the glass.
A cold whisper filled the air, though no sound escaped her lips.
“Mine.”
Harry wanted to turn away, to tear his gaze from the terrible sight before him, but he was rooted in place. His heart pounded in his chest, the rosary beads in his pocket growing heavy, pressing against him like a lead weight.
The nun’s form shifted, the shadows pooling at her feet. The mirror’s surface rippled, distorting her image, but she remained clear, vivid—too real.
Another whisper—this one colder, sharper.
“You cannot escape.”
A chill seeped into Harry’s bones, colder than the deepest winter night. The mirror felt alive, a window into a world he couldn’t comprehend—a world that had claimed him long before he had ever set foot in Hogwarts.
He stumbled backward, his shoulder striking the edge of the doorframe. The noise seemed to shatter the spell, the glass returning to its normal state—just a mirror, empty and silent.
Harry turned and fled, the Invisibility Cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a ghost.
He didn’t stop until he was safely back in his dormitory, the door locked and the curtains drawn tight around his bed. His heart continued to race, his hand clenched around the rosary beads as though they were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
He had not seen his family in the mirror. He had not seen love or happiness.
He had seen the darkness that had followed him—claimed him.
The darkness that was never truly gone.