Once Harry saw the mirror, he couldn’t stop himself from getting up and walking toward it. He wanted to get a better look at it. Once he was in front of it, he realized that it was about eight feet tall. Carved into the wood at the top of the mirror was: “res ipsa loquitur.” Harry didn’t know what it meant, but looked into the mirror shocked at what he was seeing.

Harry looked into the immense mirror with shock. Staring back at him were his parents, but they weren’t clear. Their faces and bodies were blurred. He could also see another person who was blurred. Harry realized it was an older him. His older self looked to be a young adult. But when Harry saw his parents in the mirror, he didn’t see himself, and vise versa. All blurred and unclear. Harry was excited to see his parents. He saw that they were very pleased to see him. There were almost tears in his mother’s blurred eyes. His father was smiling at him with pure joy on his face.

But then the image changed. He saw himself older with a smirk on his face. For some reason, Harry got the impression that the image he was seeing was powerful and could easily control others. Harry almost wanted to kneel to his older self, but he resisted the urge. He looked at his older self closely. Harry saw that his hair was longer; he had broad shoulders and stood tall. Harry looked and saw a spark in his eyes which spoke: powerful.

What is this mirror? Why am I seeing my parents and an older me in the same mirror? Why are they blurred? I want to see my parents, not me.

Harry took a step back thinking that maybe that would change the image, but nothing happened. Harry continued to look at the mirror until once again his parents were standing behind him. Harry began to smile, happy that he could see them again. Harry’s dad put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and he didn’t resist, even when he, surprisingly, could feel it.

After looking into the mirror for so long, Harry decided to checked his watch. It was 3:12 in the morning. Harry realized that he had been standing in front of the mirror for hours. And when he began walking again, he almost collapsed on his way back to the Common Room. I should get to sleep. Or I’ll be falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Harry took off his shoes, changed into his pajamas, and crawled into bed. It took some time for Harry to fall asleep. For he was still thinking about the mirror that he had found. Harry eventually fell asleep wishing his parents were still alive, and wondering why he saw himself in the mirror.

For the next two weeks, Harry would, every chance he could, go to the mirror to just stand and occasionally sit in front of the mirror. He liked being able to see his parents because he doesn’t have any memories of them and no pictures. Harry was told countless times that he looks remarkably like his father and has his mother’s green eyes. But that has never helped Harry with him wanting to remember them. He wants to talk to his parents, learn from them, know their habits, know the good things about them, and the bad things about them.

But its just a mirror, and the image is always changing to his older self. For however long Harry was looking at his parents, he has to spend the same time looking at his older self. Harry’s older self was constantly looking at him and shaking his head as if he’s saying, “You don’t understand… not yet.” Then the older self always smirks at him.

Harry always feels like he has to look away, but can’t. His older self always intrigues him. Is this what I’m going to look like? Does this mirror show people the future? No, of course not. My parents are being shown in the mirror. And they are… dead.

Harry looked back to the mirror sadly, but the frown faded as he once again saw his parents smiling at him again.

It was yet another night, that Harry was waiting in the Slytherin Common Room for everyone to leave, so that he could go to the mirror. Draco was the last person in the Common Room with Harry. Harry was at a table finishing some homework, when Draco got up carrying a couple books, “Alright. I’m going to sleep. My eyes are pretty much burning inside my head. I’ve noticed that you’ve been coming to the dormitories really late. You shouldn’t work so hard.”

Harry was looking at Draco almost incredulously. He knew that Draco knew he wasn’t working; it was just Draco didn’t know what he was doing late at night. And it was, most likely, killing him that he didn’t know.

“Err… yeah. I’ll try to go to sleep earlier for now on,” said Harry, as he picked up his quill that he had placed upon his book, hoping that Draco would think that he really was working. Harry heard Draco leave and heard him go down. He waited a couple minutes, as he usually did, until he was certain that no one would know he was leaving. Harry closed his books and put his quill and ink in his bag. He put the bag in a corner, and walked to the stone door. Harry put his hand on the stone and walked silently until he got to the room with the mirror.

Harry decided that he was going to take Draco’s advice and try not to stay in the room too long because he did need sleep. He seemed to be getting less and less sleep. The mirror seemed to be drawing him toward it. He couldn’t get away from it; he always wanted to be looking into it. Whether he was seeing his parents or himself. Harry had to force himself to leave after staying there for an hour.

As Harry was opening the door to go into the corridor, he slammed the door into something hard. “Wha…?” whispered Harry, confused. He quickly slid through the door opening to find Draco on the floor rubbing his head.

“Ow. What were you trying to do to me?” said Draco, quietly. He got up facing Harry, moving toward the door.

Harry blocked the door. “I didn’t know you were there. Why are you following me?”

“What’s in there?” asked Draco, putting his hand on the door trying to pull it open, but Harry was standing in front of it.

“Nothing.” Harry closed the door to prevent Draco from looking in, but still stood in front of it.

“Then why are you guarding it? Is this why you have been coming to the dormitory late every night for the past two weeks? Come on, what’s in there?” asked Draco, folding his arms.

“Nothing! I go in there to think. There’s nothing in there,” Harry, trying to sound believable. He lowered his voice, he didn’t want to be heard by Filch or a professor.

Harry saw Draco narrow his eyes at him, disbelievingly. “Fine,” said Draco, as he began walking away. He turned back to Harry. “I’ll leave, you said you like being alone anyway.”

Harry stood there, but then followed Draco. They walked down a couple corridors without saying a word to each other, checking around each corner to make sure that no one was there before moving on. Draco walked slightly in front him, and while quickly glancing at him, Harry saw that he had a letter sticking out of his cloak pocket.

His curiosity got the better of him and he grabbed the letter out of Draco’s pocket. Harry knew that Draco had felt him pull out the parchment and he turned quickly to Harry, instinctively moving his hand to his pocket.

“What’s this?” asked Harry, as he skimmed over the letters on the folded parchment. It read: Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts. It was in handwriting much like Draco’s except it had more elegance to it, like an adult had written it.

Draco grabbed it out of his hands, his face screwed up with anger. “Don’t touch my stuff, Harry!” yelled Draco. Stunned the Draco had been so offended by such a harmless act, Harry just stood there watching as Draco walked hurriedly away. After realizing that Draco had spoken too loudly, Harry looked around him and quietly but quickly ran to the Dungeons.

“Awakening,” whispered Harry, out of breath as he looked nervously behind him. The stone door appeared and he entered the Common Room.