Half Evans

Harry Potter is more than thrilled to find one last Christmas present sitting on his dorm room bed when he arrives back at Hogwarts. He barely registers Ron’s “what is it?” before he’s tearing into the red and gold wrapping paper without even a hint of decorum.

“Woah!” He breathes, as a shimmering silken cape drapes over his arms. But it’s Ron’s reaction that leaves his heart pounding.

“Holy shit!” Ron yelps. “It can’t be!”

“What?!” Ron grabs the cloak from Harry’s hands, running his fingers over it gently, before swinging it around Harry’s shoulders. He gives another excited yell.

“Look!” He squeals, and Harry turns to the mirror in the corner, and nearly faints at what he sees.

Which is nothing.

Well, not exactly nothing. He can see his fingers, which he knows are holding the front of the cloak together. And he can see his head.

But his body, which is covered entirely by the cloak, has disappeared.

“An invisibility cloak!” Ron exclaims.

“An invisibility cloak?” Harry asks incredulously. Ron walks a slow circle around him, poking him in places that have gone invisible.

“They’re really rare,” He says reverently. “I can’t believe you got one! Who gave it to you?” Harry shrugs his invisible shoulders.

“I dunno. I didn’t see a card or – wait a sec!” He bends down, grabbing a small piece of parchment off the floor. “Your father left this in my possession when he died. It is time it was returned to you.” He reads, and then glances up at Ron, who is staring at him open-mouthed.

“That was your Dad’s?” He shrieks. Harry turns back to the mirror and pulls the hood over his head, watching in amazement as he fully disappears from sight.

“My dad’s.” He murmurs.

Harry stows the cloak safely in the bottom of his trunk, resolving to try it out later that evening. He knows it’s against the rules to sneak out after curfew, but the allure of the cloak is too much for him to resist, and he decides to investigate some of the lesser travelled areas of the school. By the time supper rolls around, Harry is practically vibrating with excitement and can hardly wait for everyone to eat and bugger off to bed so he can get on with his evening.

But before he can leave the common room, the door bursts open, and a wide eyed and tearful Neville Longbottom is being dragged in by the Weasley twins.

“Dunno what they’re thinking!” Neville wails. “Keeping a bloody beast like that. I’ve never – not in a million years – could’ve killed me!” He dissolves into hysterical, wracking sobs as Fred and George lead him to a couch.

“What’s going on?” Harry asks, his curiosity sufficiently piqued.

“Neville was on the third floor.” Fred says ominously.

“Accidently!” Neville cries, picking his head up from the couch. “The bloody staircases move!”

“What’s wrong with the third floor?” Harry asks, and George raises an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you paying attention at the sorting ceremony?” He asks. “Dumbledore said straight off that no one was allowed on the third floor!”

“And now we know why.” Fred adds. Harry looks from one twin to the other.

“Well?” He says finally. “Why?”

“Because,” Neville whimpers. “Because of the three headed dog.”

Harry stares at him, his mouth gaping.

“A huge bloody beast, according to Neville.” Fred says.

“In one of the classrooms. Snarling.. drooling.. vicious..” Neville buries his face in his hands, a great sob wracking his body once more.

“Naturally, we’re going dog catching.” George says triumphantly, and Harry can barely contain his grin.

He knows exactly how he’s going to break in the cloak tonight.

Harry fixes the cloak around him and Ron, taking one final look in the mirror before they creep out of the dormitory.

“Bloody brilliant!” Ron whispers as they sneak past a couple of fifth years snogging on the couch in the common room. Harry elbows him in the stomach.

“Shh!” He whispers. “It’s an invisibility cloak, not a soundproof one!” They creep through the portrait hole and into the corridor and Harry feels Ron bounce excitedly behind him.

“You think there’s really a three headed dog?” Ron whispers, and Harry shrugs beneath the cloak.

“I mean, Neville was pretty scared.”

“Neville’s scared of everything.” Ron scoffs. “For all we know it could be a three headed kitten he found.” Harry doesn’t respond, instead continuing on in silence.

They climb up the marble staircase in silence, pausing when Mrs. Norris, Filch’s nasty cat comes creeping by, and they hold their breath, waiting for her beady yellow eyes to clock them and alert Filch to their presence. But to their delight and surprise, she simply looks straight through them before continuing her descent down the stairs.

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron repeats as they climb the last set of stairs to the third floor.

The third floor is deserted, as Harry had assumed it would be. What he hadn’t factored in was exactly how many large wooden doors there were.

“Better start checking.” He says, and he and Ron slip out from under the cloak.

They each set about trying to open the great wooden doors. The first three Harry tries are locked. The first couple Ron tries are just an empty classroom and a closet filled with mops and brooms. They continue on their way, unearthing trophy rooms, abandoned classrooms, storage rooms, and locked doors.

“I think Neville was full of it.” Ron grumbles as he slams the door on another empty classroom. Harry walks dejectedly to the next door, his cloak dragging on the ground behind him. He doesn’t want to admit defeat, he wants his first night with the cloak to be cooler than this, but he can’t help but feel maybe Ron is correct. He puts his hand on the handle of the door and pulls it open.

“Ron!” He exclaims. “Ron!” Ron stares in through the doorway with him, his mouth hanging open.

“Holy shit!”

Because a great three headed dog is staring at them, blinking sleepily.

“He was telling the truth!” Harry says in an awestruck voice.

“He’s almost cute, isn’t he?” Ron asks, taking a tentative step forward.

But the dog growls.

Ron drops his hand.

“Harry,” He whimpers, and it suddenly occurs to Harry what a momentously idiotic idea this was.

The dog growls again, and it bares three horrific sets of teeth.

“Run!” Ron yelps, and Harry slams the door shut and the two boys take off back down the corridor. They skid down the marble staircase, landing on the stone floor roughly, before taking off around the corner and right into Mrs. Norris, who stares at them unblinking.

“Oh, fuck!” Ron groans as the cat takes off, undoubtedly to hunt down Filch. “Harry, we’ve got a problem!” Harry glares at the direction the cat had taken off in and mentally kicks himself for forgetting about the stupid cloak.

“Classroom, Ron, now!” They take off back down the corridor and Harry flings open the first door he sees, catapulting himself inside. Ron slams the door behind them and they both back themselves into a dark corner, throwing the cloak over themselves.

Harry tries to slow his breathing as he hears Filch’s slapping footsteps against the stone floor, and he feels his heart drop as the door slowly creaks open.

“I know you’re in here,” He mumbles, a slow, malicious smile spreading across his face. “Can’t hide all night now, can you?” He prowls the room, peering under desks and Harry’s heart pounds so loud he’s sure Filch will be able to hear it. Behind him, Ron clutches his arm tight enough he’s sure blood will be drawn.

But Filch doesn’t find them. Instead he creeps out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“That was bloody close!” Ron sighs, and they drop the cloak.

“Too close.” Harry says. “We’ll give it ten minutes or so, yeah? To make sure Filch is gone?” Ron grunts his agreement, and they both slump against the wall, exhausted.

“So a three headed dog.” Ron says after a minute.

“A three headed dog.”

“What business does Dumbledore have storing a great creature like that in a school? He’s got the Forbidden Forest right there! Stick it in there with the rest of the weird creatures!” Harry glances curiously at Ron.

“What sort of creatures are in the forest anyway?” He asks. Ron shrugs.

“No one knows for sure, I think. Dad says there’s centaurs, and Percy swears he saw a unicorn once. All anyone knows is it’s chock full of dangerous stuff and no one’s allowed in there.”

“Bit wild that they’ve got a forest full of dangerous creatures right next to a school.” Harry muses. He leans his head back against the cool stone wall, before glancing around the room. “Where are we?” He asks. Ron shrugs.

“Abandoned classroom maybe? Seems like there’s a lot of those around here.” Harry stands up and begins to walk around, inspecting the items in the room.

“Seems more like storage. Old cauldrons, suits of armour..”

“Those things creep me out.”

Harry wanders to the back of the room and yanks a sheet off a large wooden dresser.

“Definitely storage.” He says. He pulls another sheet, exposing a large cabinet.

“You planning to mess everything up in here?” Ron calls as Harry dramatically unclothes a table.

“Perhaps.” He says. He grasps a sheet that is attached to a large structure that nearly touches the ceiling and pulls it off with a flourish, and gasps. A large ornate mirror framed in gold stands in front of him, a strange inscription etched into the gold on the top.

“Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi.” Harry reads, and furrows his brow. “What on earth does that mean? Hey Ron!” He calls, as he steps in front of the mirror. “Come check this – woah!” He blinks and rubs his eyes. His heart hammers inside his chest. His mouth goes dry. Because standing in the mirror next to his reflection are two people Harry never thought he’d see.

His parents.

He lifts a hand tentatively, watching as his reflection does the same. He waves. His reflection waves. He scratches his nose. His reflection scratches his nose. His mum laughs silently and shakes her head, and his dad mimics his movements, an impish grin on his face. Harry drinks in their appearance, their smiles, their movements desperately, committing it to memory.

And then he notices the others.

An older woman with brown hair that he recognizes as his Aunt Petunia’s mother. A man with hair as deep auburn red as his mother’s. A portly woman with grey hair and brown eyes that twinkled, and a tall man whose white hair stuck out in all directions. His father’s parents. His eyes well with tears as they all smile at him, and his mother wraps an arm around Harry’s reflection. Gently, he touches the shoulder her hand rests on, and his stomach gives a great twist as he finds nothing but the flannel of his own shirt. She smiles sadly at him, squeezing Reflection Harry’s shoulder. He smiles back, and a fat tear rolls down his cheek.

“What are you looking at?” Ron asks, and Harry jumps.

“Can’t you see them?” He says quietly, not taking his eyes off the mirror.

“Who?”

“My family. Right there. My mum and dad, my grandparents..” His voice trails off as he stares wistfully at the reflection, and his grandfather – his dad’s father – makes a silly face, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes. Harry giggles.

“Mate, there’s no one in the mirror but you.” Ron says. Harry shakes his head, his eyes still glued to the mirror.

“They’re right here Ron. You must not be standing in the right place.” Ron shuffles over and shrugs.

“You must be losing it. I’m just looking at you.” Harry finally tears his eyes off his family and he pulls Ron in front of the mirror, stepping out of the frame.

“Ron, look!” He says impatiently. “They’re right –“

“Oh shit!” Ron cries.

“What?” Harry yelps. “Are they okay? What’s –“

“It’s me! I’m head boy! And I’m quidditch captain! Harry!” He whirls around, gripping Harry tightly by the arms. “Harry! I know what this is! This mirror, it’s a future teller!” Harry furrows his brow, shaking his head slowly.

“No..” He says. “No, that’s not possible. I saw my family, Ron. My parents, and my grandparents. They’re all dead, it can’t be a future teller.”

“But I won the house cup..” Ron says, turning back to the mirror. “I’m shaking hands with Dumbledore.. I.. It has to be. What else could it be?” Harry feels his heart sinking as Ron stares desperately into the frame, his face so close his nose is almost pressed against the glass. "It has to be.."

“Ron, I.. I think we should head back.”

“Just another minute, Harry. Please.” Ron says, and Harry shakes his head.

“It’s.. it’s late, Ron. We already had one run in with Filch. We should probably go.” Ron sighs, and finally turns away from the mirror.

They don the cloak and creep out into the corridor, making their way back to Gryffindor Tower without any issue, and that night, Harry dreams of the family he never got to have.

The next night, Harry brings Dudley. He sneaks down to the dungeon with the promise of something cooler than anything he’s ever seen before in his life, and reassures him over and over that it’s nothing dangerous, promising repeatedly not to bring him to the third floor. Instead he pulls him into the abandoned classroom and drags him to the back of the room, yanking Dudley in front of the mirror and stepping aside.

“Well?” Harry asks in anticipation. Dudley stares wide eyed into the mirror.

“Harry,” He says slowly. “What is this?”

“I think it shows you want you want.” Harry says softly. “I saw my family. My parents, and my grandparents. Ron thought it was a future teller, but my family’s all dead, so it can’t be. What do you see?” Dudley swallows hard.

“I see.. me. I’m older though. An adult. And I’m at my dad’s house. He’s happy to see me. And I’ve.. I’ve got my wand, Harry. And Dad doesn’t care.” Harry grimaces at the way Dudley’s voice breaks. “And I’m.. I’m with..” His voice trails off.

“What Dudley?”

“Nothing.” Dudley whispers, his cheeks turning red. Harry watches as Dudley reaches out tentatively, letting his fingers trail across some unseen image in the mirror, before he turns abruptly and stalks away from the mirror. Harry sits down in front of it and smiles as the images of his parents and grandparents appear in front of him. His mum waves, before settling down in front of him, leaning against his father’s chest.

Harry doesn’t know how much time passes. Somewhere in a corner of the room, Dudley is snoring, having fallen asleep slumped against the wall. Harry knows he should wake him and get back to their dormitories, but he can’t tear himself away. His father smiles knowingly and twirls a piece of his mother’s red hair between his fingers.

“Care to share what it is you’re seeing?”

Harry jumps and his heart pounds in his chest. He looks behind him, his stomach dropping with dread as Professor Dumbledore looks down on him.

“Professor, I-“

“Calm down, Harry, please. We wouldn’t want to wake young Dudley now, would we?” Harry glances to the corner where Dudley is drooling onto his pajama shirt. “So. What is it you’re seeing in the mirror? Or shall I hazard a guess?”

“My parents.” Harry said, a bit uncomfortably. “Well, my family, actually. My grandparents as well. But mostly Mum and Dad.” Dumbledore smiles a little sadly.

“Ah. I had suspected. And your friend Ronald?” Harry gapes at him, and Dumbledore chuckles lightly. “There is very little that goes on in this castle that I am unaware of, Harry.” Harry’s cheeks flush.

“He saw himself as head boy. And quidditch captain.” Dumbledore gives him a small smile again.

“How very fitting.” He muses. “Tell me, Harry. Have you sorted out what exactly it is the mirror does?” Harry screws up his face, thinking for a moment.

“Ron thought it showed the future,” He said slowly. “But I know that can’t be true. My family’s dead, after all. There’s no way someone can come back from the dead.”

“Too true.”

“I think maybe.. it shows us what we hope happens?” Dumbledore moves to stand in front of the mirror, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“The mirror,” He says softly. “Shows us our deepest desire. Nothing more, nothing less than the thing our heart yearns for the most. For you, Harry, that’s your family, alive and well with you. For Ronald, it is to stand out and be known for his own accomplishments separate from his family. And for your cousin, I would say he probably saw himself with his father, being loved and accepted.” Harry nods, his heart sinking.

“But these things..” Harry said quietly. “They’re not.. they can’t come true, can they?” Dumbledore smiles a little sadly at this.

“It is our actions that will determine our future.” He says. “For Mr. Weasley and Mr. Dursley, only their choices will determine whether their desires will come to fruition.”

“But mine won’t.” Dumbledore places his hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“Death is the only constant in this life.” He says. “In spite of our best efforts, none of us have the ability to return someone to life.”

“I like seeing them.” Harry confesses in a small voice. “My parents, I mean. They looked happy.” He watches a slow smile spread across Dumbledore’s face in the mirror.

“I had the privilege of knowing them during their time at Hogwarts.” He says quietly. “They were both remarkable people. I was.. terribly sorry when they passed.” Harry doesn’t respond. He just stares at the old man in the mirror, watching his blue eyes cloud with emotion. “You cannot come back here, Harry.” He say suddenly. “Many have wasted their lives in front of this mirror, yearning for things they can never get back.” He moves away from Harry abruptly, and Harry watches as the images of his smiling parents materialize in the glass beside him. “The mirror will be moved today to a secure location. I would ask that you don’t go searching for it.” He grasps Harry tightly by the shoulders and turns him around, penetrating him with his piercing gaze. “Do not waste your life searching for things that cannot be found.” He whispers. “Your parents would not want that for you, and neither do I.” He lets go of Harry as quickly as he’d grabbed him and he smiles sadly down at Harry.

“I won’t, sir.” Harry promises, barely resisting the urge to take one last look at the family he’d never known.

“It’s time for you boys to find your way back to the dormitories. Morning will be here before you know it.” And with that, Dumbledore turns towards the door.

“Wait!” Harry blurts, reaching a hand towards Dumbledore. His cheeks flush as Dumbledore turns back to him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just.. you haven’t told me what you’d see in the mirror.” Dumbledore’s eyes drift to the ornate frame, and Harry swears he can see the twinkling of a tear in the corner of his eye. But it disappears as quickly as it had appeared, and Dumbledore grins.

“I see myself holding a nice pair of thick, woolen socks.” He says before sweeping out the door.

Harry rouses Dudley and tucks them both under the cloak. They creep in silence down the corridors and staircases that lead to the dungeon, where they bid each other a sleepy farewell before Harry begins the silent trek back up to the Gryffindor dormitories. As he slinks through the corridors, he ponders Dumbledore’s parting words, and can’t shake the feeling that the elderly wizard had not been altogether honest in his answer.