Guiding light
Chapter 4
Guiding light
Wednesday enjoyed the weather at the astronomy tower. It was unbearably cold and way better than any morgue. However, the pleasant environment was not making her task any easier. It was almost impossible.
She saw the punches, the vibrant colors, and those absolutely abhorrent laughs. She wanted to rage against them, but she could only cower…
Weak and pathetic craven! There was no place…
"Not this time, unfortunately. We will try again after a break. Hot chocolate or pumpkin juice?" Dumbledore's voice rang.
"I can keep going," Wednesday grunted.
"No, you cannot. Occlumency is one of the most arduous of the mind arts, and the mind is not a mere muscle, dear. It does not need endless repetition but one precise strike of understanding. Then it comes to the tenuous process of perfecting the technique. Additionally, we do not see any more of these horrid self-flagellating nightmares." Dumbledore explained kindly, shoving a cup of pumpkin juice in her hand.
"Where did I go wrong?"
"As I told you before, you must surround your mind with a metaphorical wall of trivial information. Such as things that you do not give enough attention to and generally remain in one corner of your memory. While you do that successfully, some of the memories you surround yourself with are not as trivial as you present them, and they open the way towards your inner thoughts."
Wednesday almost growled in anger. How could he judge what was irrelevant and what was not? But then the cold realization reached her. She had read all the available books on occlumency and knew that the old headmaster was right.
She exhaled loudly but remained on the floor cross-legged, slowly exhaling. The light of the moon illuminated her pale skin, making her look more like a ghost of a girl rather than a real one.
"How can I differentiate between them?"
"That is a question that has plagued the minds of countless philosophers since the dawn of time. While their findings are unquestionably interesting, they will not help us at this stage of your training. As a rule of thumb, revisit your selected memories and carefully monitor your body's reaction. Look for sudden increases in your heart rate, muscle spasms, or rapid changes in your breading."
That explanation satisfied Wednesday. For the last few months, she had read countless old yellow pages describing the practice of the mind arts. Every one of them was equally useless. The writers always wrote from a personal point of view, using abstract philosophical concepts and a never-ending list of archaic words that were old-fashioned even for her taste. There was no scientific method, no order, only pure chaos that almost drove Wednesday to madness, and not the pleasant type.
"Isn't the classification of important and unimportant thoughts based on these physical reactions extremely subjective?" She asked sharply.
"Depends on your worldview. If you want to read more about it, the school library has one wonderful copy of one amazing book titled The Ontology and Epistemology of the Arcane. It isn't even in the restricted section if you were going to ask me for permission." Dumbledore answered calmly, drinking from his cup slowly while watching the gentle dance of the snowflakes through the oval glass window.
Wednesday wrote it down fast in her notebook. While the readings were frustrating, they provided too much valuable information that was important for making progress in the subject.
"Now, let us try something different. You started to grasp the basics of the legilimens through extraction. We will finish today's session with basic extraction. I will visualize an object, and you…" Dumbledore was interrupted by the bell of the silver clock, which was sitting behind the empty professor's chair.
"Time flies when you are doing something useful." Murmured the old headmaster and turned towards the door. "Wednesday, follow me. There is something you need to see."
Wednesday was going to ask where he was taking her, but she bit her tongue and remained silent.
She went after the professor going down the stairs at an incredible pace, which certainly challenged Wednesday's stamina and endurance.
They went all the way down to the library and then passed it. They entered one corridor that was too affected by the freezing Scottish weather during the winter.
She smiled. The local weather certainly suited her, but it did not come even close to the pleasant freezer chamber at her family's mansion. Her heart panged. She chose to remain at Hogwarts during the winter break and continue her study of the mind arts under Professor Dumbledore. However, until now, she did not consider the implications that she would not see her family until the summer break.
It was way too much…
She quieted the treacherous voice, but then she remembered Dumbledore's lesson. Out of curiosity, she allowed herself to feel.
It was not something pleasant. Wednesday knew grief, but this was a new kind of it. An entire new shade of pain. She immediately regretted her decision. The sensation flooded her mind like an unstoppable tsunami wave. She felt as if her thoughts were drowning under the weight of the emotion.
Suppressing it was proving way more complicated than expected. She was getting overwhelmed, but her thoughts were interrupted again.
However, for the first time in years, she was startled. Wednesday had completely buried herself in her thoughts and subsequently completely ignored the outside world for a few precious moments until she crashed headfirst into Professor Dumbledor's robes. Thankfully, due to her size, she did not cause any commotion and saved herself from further embarrassment.
They were in a dark disused classroom. She wondered how many students and teachers Hogwarts had at its golden age. The castle had its last significant expansion in the mid-17th century. After that, slowly and surely, entire sections were utterly abandoned. Hogwarts, A History gave little information regarding that period of the school's history, was shrouded in mystery, and lack of information. Antonia Creaseworthy was the school's headmistress at that time. Wednesday had encountered two portraits of her in Hogwarts. Still, they constantly screamed when they saw her, an unusual reaction for such poorly animated objects in Wednesday's judgment.
She forced that train of thoughts out of her mind and focused on examining her surroundings. The classroom was covered in dust, as expected of any old abandoned prison cell renamed as a place for learning. It reminded her of home. Lurch always dusted the grand staircase in the early morning, and the house spirits removed it during the late evening. It was like a constant duel between her family and their residence.
Unsurprisingly, Potter was also in the room. He certainly had his way of finding dark and dangerous places; she briefly wondered if she could somehow use this ability to gain in the future. He was sitting on the cold floor, staring at a huge mirror placed before him.
Strangely enough, she also started to gaze into the mirror. Wednesday could swear she could see the roof of her family home on one of the upper edges.
"I — I didn't see you, sir. Wednesday?!" Said Potter after Dumbledore cast him one of his thought-reading looks.
"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Wednesday made notice of the discarded invisibility cloak wrapped around Potter.
"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Potter, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
"I didn't know it was called that, sir."
"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"
"It — will — it shows me, my family —"
"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy."
"How did you know — ?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, dear Wednesday, can you guess what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"
Wednesday shut her eyes because she found it impossible to avert them from the mirror. Something made her nauseous, and she would not let herself be more of an embarrassment today. So, she tried sitting on one of the desks, only to realize something that, for the first time in years, horrified her.
The desk was not covered in dust. The entirety of the room was completely clean, and it had been for some time.
"It is a mirage trap. It shows what we long for. Like travelers in a desert." She answered quickly. It conditioned her brain to think she was one step closer to her family home without looking at the mirror.
"Astute observation that is very close to the truth, but it is still missing something. Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror. That is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help, Harry, Wednesday?"
Potter said slowly, "It shows us what we desire. . .whatever we need. . ."
"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. Wednesday Addams, who is constantly misunderstood by her peers and mentors, will probably see an environment that does not try to judge and control her on the basis of what she is. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."
Wednesday could not hold her curiosity and took a quick glance at the mirror. She saw herself playing her cello surrounded by books and pieces of paper that she knew had come from her typewriter. Wednesday had never seen her face twist in such a way. At first, she barely recognized herself. Her counterpart in the mirror was completely calm and in a state of inner peace. She had become entirely one with the melody of her music. Reality did not exist beyond her instrument that had become one with her body. It was like casting a spell, freeing herself of all of the judging looks, and living beyond the constraints of her mortal coil. She looked like an ancient statue depicting a long-forgotten goddess.
In the background, she spotted something that she would have never imagined. Her parents, Potter, and even his two friends were quietly observing her with adoration. Her counterpart was utterly unaware of their presence, too engulfed in her world. In this extraordinary picture, her mirror self was completely herself—she was not masquerading as someone she was not, was not counting her many imperfections, was not listening to any version of the treacherous voices in her head, and was still loved by the people she did not define as absolutely moronic. Loved, not mindlessly admired, jealousy desired, or simply scared of her.
True companionship and unrestrained freedom.
She wanted to go closer to the mirror without leaving this beautiful scene. However, Dumbledor's words rang in her head. This was not real, only a fever dream that would haunt her until the hope in her had been completely extinguished. She closed her eyes and fought off the coming tears.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to look for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable Cloak back on and get off to bed? Wednesday, I will escort you to the Slytherin common hall. Professor Snape must be getting worried. The Bloody Baron always reports to him if some students are out of his reach."
She raised her mental shields and nodded silently. Dumbledore smiled at her, and they slowly made their way to the exit. Potter tried to inquire what Dumbledore had seen in the mirror, and surprisingly the headmaster answered.
A pair of thick, woolen socks.
An answer that made complete and no sense whatsoever. Dumbledore's words had the nasty habit of turning reality into their domain and making you question yourself why you ever asked or doubted the old wizard. However, Wednesday could see the lie in them, and judging from the look Potter gave him, she was not the exception.
She followed the old wizard in complete silence until they were at a safe distance from the cursed classroom.
"Good work there, dear. Did you see what you need to work on?" Asked the headmaster quietly.
She nodded solemnly.
"Do not despair, dear Wednesday. The mirror may not show us the truth, but that does not make all of our dreams and desires unreachable. You still have so much time to find understanding and happiness. The mirror is most dangerous when you have lived a life of regret without realizing it. For you, it is still too early, my dear. However, do not become obsessed with that dream. The most wondrous things are always unexpected."
She wanted to believe his words but ultimately couldn't. Hope was the most savage betrayer and the road of disappointment. However, a small part of her was open to that almost impossible possibility…