Memories of You

The match was over, and Gryffindor had won. Pansy’s heart felt heavy as she imagined the girl of her dreams celebrating, or crying alongside the boy. She had decided to stay away from the common room that night, in fear of having their identities revealed. She didn’t know that she could handle seeing one of the slytherin girls hanging out with any boys at the moment without her mood turning for the worst.

As pansy still had no idea who the girl was, she had decided to give her a nickname.

Hypatia.

It was the perfect name. Arguably the brightest witch that had ever walked the Earth, a historical figure for both wizards and muggles, known for her intelligence, kindness and unbelievable mathematical discoveries. It fit her well, she thought. If anyone deserved that title, it had to be her mirror girl.

Pansy walked up the stairs of Hogwarts until there were no more, ultimately reaching the Astronomy tower. The air was cold, and the snowflakes danced furiously throughout the night. She laughed bitterly. Even from up there, she could not escape the sounds of celebration coming from the Gryffindor tower, a few stories below.

“Draco?” She hadn’t noticed him, looking over the balcony. His white hair shined as bright as the moon, making him unmistakable.

“Pansy? What are you doing here?” He asked surprised, throwing her a small smile.

“What does it look like I'm doing, celebrating of course” She tried to joke but her voice cracked. She had brought the mirror with her, and held it tightly in her pocket. She hated how stupid she felt. She hated that even then, brushing her finger against the glass and fidgeting with the leather handle brought her some comfort.

“You look sad.” Draco pointed out. His voice was soft. Draco was the only person that dared to talk to Pansy when she was visibly having a bad time. Anyone sane avoided her in those moments, knowing better than to come in her way. “Do you want to talk about it.?” He asked.

She considered telling him everything. How she had found the mirror, their conversations. How she had never even seen her beautiful Hypatia. Draco would never make fun of her. But it was all too embarrassing to admit anyway.

“I met a girl, and I like her.” Was all she was able to mutter before tears started rolling down her face. Draco hugged her. He had grown tall, taller than she had imagined.

“That’s wonderful news, Pansy. Isn’t it?”

“No it isn’t. It isn’t because,” she choked in between sobs. “Because She doesn’t like me. Because now I have fully face the fact that no wizard will ever make me feel the way a witch does. I have to face the fact that I’ll lose love in order to keep my family and my life, and that I’ll never be able to have both.”

Draco held her tighter. He didn’t bother arguing against her, or telling her that her parents may react differently than what she thought. He knew. Their families were similar, and Draco couldn’t dare to imagine what his father’s reaction would be if Draco suddenly “decided” he no longer felt like carrying out their bloodline. So he let her cry in his arms for as long as she needed. After a few minutes, he spoke again.

“You know Pansy, you can count on me. Anything. You’ve been such a wonderful friend to me, and I need you to know that I’ll be there for you just the same. Whether it’s to hear you talk about this girl, or about your parents, or anything.”

Pansy smiled. She felt lighter now that fate had brought her to her dear friend.

“Thank you Draco. Truly. Maybe one day I’ll tell you all about it.”

Pansy eventually decided to go back to her dorm. She was about to place the mirror back into her nightstand when she suddenly heard muffled cries.

“A-are you okay?” She stuttered.

“I should’ve listened to you and come to see you after the match. I hate him!” Her voice was shaky.”

“I kept the mirror on me all night just in case you would. What happened?” Pansy kept her ‘I told you so’ to herself, and instead tried to adopt the same gentle voice Draco had used with her not an hour earlier. Though it wasn’t hard to guess. Her Hypatia had declared her love for that heartless boy and had probably been rejected. That made two of them.

“He’s snogging this other stupid girl! Right in front of me.”

“Ah.” Pansy didn’t know what to say.

“I hate him. And at the same time, my other friend is going through the exact same thing. My situation is nothing special, yet I am unable to react with maturity. I really am trying but this is too painful for me to be rational.

“I know how you feel. But I also don’t quite know how to cheer you up because there’s truly nothing you can do in situations like these. I’m truly sorry.

“Well, I already cried all of my tears away on my other friend’s shoulder. I’m not going to bother you with this tale as old as time. Let’s change the subject.

“Yes, I mean I almost feel like unrequited love is just bound to happen to all of us at one point in our lives. You could be petty and just not talk to him anymore at all. If he cares about you, at least you’ll make him pay a bit for what he’s making you feel!” Pansy tried to use a more cheerful tone. She truly hated to hear her cry.

“Yeah, you can count on me to not talk to him any time soon, that’s for sure! He can stay with his stupid girlfriend for all I care!”

“He’s stupid, she’s stupid, birds of a feather flock together! See, that’s why you and I are perfect for each other. We are smart, pretty, and deserving of better than the stupid boys in our houses, my dear Hypatia.” bragged Pansy. Flirting with the girl had become easier now that she knew there were no stakes, as her feelings weren’t returned.

“Talk for yourself. I don’t know if you’re pretty but I can tell you with certainty that I am the most normal looking witch there is, the type of face you’d forget the second after having seen it. Wait, why did you call me Hypatia?”

“It’s your new name!” Pansy said proudly. “I got tired of calling you ‘the girl’ in my mind, it’s not fancy enough for an honorary member of Thinkers of Hogwarts club, and I don’t know your name so I gave you one of my own!”

“And you chose my favourite witch?”

“I didn’t know that it was your favourite witch, it’s my favourite witch.” Pansy muttered, her cheeks turning red

“I love it. Now I just have to nickname you! What about Circe? The first ever documented witch, believed to have been the daughter of the sun itself. Fits you well seeing the size of your ego.”

“I like it.” Pansy tried to keep her voice somehow neutral while she forced the urge to kick her feet like a dumb teenager.

“I can’t believe we are giving each other fake names and avoiding divulging anything about our identities when honestly neither of us believe that the other is a curse anyway. I mean, what do you know about this mirror? Are there any others? Where did you find yours?”

Pansy hesitated telling the truth. Of course, she couldn’t say anything about the room of requirements, or about her and Draco’s mission.

“I found it.”

“How long ago?

“About two months ago? I don’t know, at least a couple of weeks before you and I started talking. I found it… on the floor. It was under a bench in one of the school floors in the main castle.” She wasn’t exactly lying, she was just omitting exactly what room she had found it.”

“As I told you, I bought mine a year ago. I think I’m going to talk to the man from who I bought it next time I go to Hogsmeade, perhaps we can find out some more about these mirrors that brought us together.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Pansy preyed that the vendor wouldn’t fix the mirror completely for the girl, allowing her to see her through the glass.

“Thank you for listening to me, but I really am falling asleep. Plus my eyes are already swollen shut from all the crying, so if I want to not look like an absolute disaster tomorrow, i better head to sleep.”

“Goodnight, dear Hypatia.”

“Goodnight, dear Circe.” Hermione played along, smiling.

_______________

Hermione had waited a week before going to Hogsmeade. Harry, and the newly named Circe, had been of great company now that she purposefully avoided Ron. While Harry was supportive of her endeavour, he couldn’t do the same, and still hung out with Ron. So it was on Saturday, as both boys lazily sat on a couch in the common room that she had decided to make the trek up to the little magical village bordering Hogwarts.

She grabbed her warmest cloak, one that she had knit during one of the endless summer weeks, and had wrapped around her neck her gryffindor scarf. Once outside, the cold pulled on her cheeks, and the snow that now coated everything blinded her.

It took her twice the normal amount of time to arrive at Dervish and Banges, but eventually made it inside. A mechanical bird saw her and whistled a string of notes, alerting the vendor of her presence. A gigantic chandelier composed of metal circles floated in the air, with tiny little candles dancing around it. Shelves full of magical gadgets reached the ceiling, and looked like they could fall apart at any second.

Hermione walked towards the half price section. All the objects found there were defective, and it was there that she had found her mirror.

“Can I help you with anything?” The vendor asked, having complied to the whistles of his metal bird.

“Actually, I came to ask you a question about something I bought from you a while ago.” She recognised the vendor as the same one that had sold her the mirror. He was of short stature, bald, with a crazy twinkle in his eyes. He had a metallic arm, and a beard that reached his belly button. He had always been polite, and ready to help anyone entering his shop.

Hermione took out the mirror from her pocket.

“I bought this from you, do you recognise it?”

“Yes, naturally! It was broken when its owner brought it to me, I was to fix it, which I did, but no one ever came back to pick it up. So I decided to put it up for sale when I cleaned up my office.” The vendor delicately grabbed the mirror and brought it closer to his face. “Unfortunately, it didn’t come with its twin. That’s why I sold it to you for so cheap, miss. Nonetheless, it remains a very interesting magical object. The wizard that made it was a real craftsman. When it was brought to me, the leather was completely peeling off, a friend of mine that knows more about this type of object even affirmed to me that this mirror was at least 200 years old!” The old man smiled. “So tell me, Miss, why did you come to see me?”

“Well,” Hermione started. She wanted to make sure she absorbed every bit of information that was being offered to her. “I have started conversing with someone that owns the other copy of this mirror.” The vendor frowned, this was a surprising story, even for him.

“And who is that person? Where did they find it?”

“She’s a student at Hogwarts, and she found it really recently on the floor in the castle.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you sure she’s telling you the truth? I don’t know you, miss, but in my own professional opinion, the mirror couldn’t have been found on the floor. It’s an antiquity, a family relic. Are you sure she isn’t just trying to take your copy for herself? Both together would be worth a small fortune. I mean without its twin, it isn’t worth much, which is why I sold it to you for so cheap, but I just can’t imagine that that girl is telling the truth.”

Hermione was disappointed with the little amount of information she had collected, but still excited to tell Circe about her findings. 200 years! She already imagined how excited her history-loving friend would be when she broke the news to her. She was about to leave the shop when an idea crossed her mind.

“One last thing, could you tell me who originally brought it to you?”

“Certainly so, Miss. Let me get my book log and I’ll be right with you.” The old man took out a book as big as his desk and pointed his wand at the blue leather cover. “Accio lexicum!” He said, and then interrupted himself. “Would Miss happen to remember in what month she bought the mirror?”

“I think it was on my very last trip here before going back home. June perhaps?”

“Alright, let’s try that then.” He waved his wand and the pages started flying one after the other until they suddenly stopped. The vendor leaned over his book, using his wand as pointed in order to not lose himself in the hundreds of lines traced on the singular page.

“Ah there you go miss, right there.” He moved away from the book so that Hermione could take a better look, pointing at a name.

Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes.

In front of her, spelled in long, fine letters,

was the name,

Cedric Diggory.