What We Want
Harry wandered around aimlessly, barely taking in his surroundings. How many had died because of him? How many would die? And was there anything that could stop the deaths from happening?
He looked up, disturbed from his thoughts by running into… a wall? Since when was that there? A frown appeared on his face.
He had been sure that he was wandering randomly towards the Transfiguration room. What floor could this be? He looked up and down, leaning over the banister, but the many floors of Hogwarts gave him no clue towards where he was except that he was somewhere in the middle.
A door wedged into a small space suddenly appeared in Harry’s vision. He had a sudden thought of Dumbledore. Dumbledore, with that twinkle in his eye… Dumbledore, angrier then Harry had ever seen him… Dumbledore, saying Hogwarts had many, many secrets.
Harry fought back the urge to start crying again. Merlin knows he had been doing enough of that since the funeral.
The door made itself clear in his mind and suddenly, he had a strange desire to open it up and go in. And a sixteen-year-old’s curiosity can not be easily ignored.
The door looked rather old, as if it hadn’t been touched in a few years.
Almost five years, in fact, as Harry figured out when he opened the door. For what he saw in there rendered him speechless for a good amount of time. He gawked for a few minutes.
Because sitting less then fifteen feet away from him in a small room was the Mirror of Erised.
It looked as good as new, but the inscription upon it a little faded.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi
Or if put in front of a mirror and spaced differently, Harry realized what it would say.
I show not your face but your hearts desire
‘Erised. Desire. How did I not realize this before?’ thought Harry, still in wonder that the mirror was still at Hogwarts. Suddenly he wondered if his heart’s desire would be the same as for years ago. Of course, he had changed a lot.
Hesitantly, he tiptoed up to right in front of the mirror, and gazed into the glass.
What he saw next both surprised and scared him an immeasurable amount.
He saw himself, but himself wasn’t… himself. This Harry had a cold look in his eyes, and the real Harry could recognize the signs that he was very, very angry. This Harry reminded him not of himself, but of the Harry that Crucio’d Lestrange, or the Harry that broke Dumbledore’s possessions.
The Harry had his eyes transfixed on something else. Harry’s eyes followed his mirror counterpart’s gaze. There, standing in front of a marble doorway (Harry didn’t know why there was a marble doorway, after all, why would he want to have his greatest desire fulfilled by a marble doorway?) was Voldemort.
He gasped. A clearer idea of his greatest want was forming in his head, and he didn’t like it.
The cold Harry didn’t move, and for a moment was locked in a stare-match with Voldemort. Then in one swift movement, Harry’s suspicions were proved correct.
His mirrored self took out his wand, and quite calmly, shouted two words.
‘Avada Kedavra!’
All tension Harry might have had with the mirror vanished instantly. He ran out of the room, ran away from the mirror and towards nowhere in particular.
Revenge. It was revenge that he wanted, that he desired. He couldn’t believe it! He wanted to use an Unforgivable, wanted to kill someone. He was no better then Voldemort.
A little voice in his head argued with that statement, but Harry needed to hear an case from someone else. Someone sensible. Someone like Dumbledore.
After a few moments of pondering, the answer came to him. Remus.
He prayed that Lupin was still in the castle. It had only been a couple days since the funeral, and he did say he would stay for a while.
The corridors passed by in a blur, and he almost ran into a couple of students. Then he did run into someone, but to his great surprise (and luck) it was just the person he was looking for.
“Lupin!” he exclaimed, experiencing a moment of happiness before remembering why he was looking for him.
“Yes, Harry?”
“Come with me.” It was a statement rather then a request and the former Professor took this into consideration.
“Where are we going?”
Between gasps of breath from running so hard, Harry made out a reply. “Found… mirror… Erised…”
Remus immediately knew what he was talking about, and that it couldn’t be good.
He had heard about the Mirror. He had heard that it shows you the deepest desire of your heart, and most importantly, he had heard that sensible men had spent their lives wasting away in front of it. He looked at Harry worriedly.
Harry started talking while trying to remember where he was before.
“I used to be able to look in the mirror and see myself with my family… in first year.”
Remus smiled, imagining a small Harry transfixed with a mirror reflecting Lily and James’s images back at him.
“But I discovered it again, and this time… it was different…” He trailed off.
His companion’s smile faded, and his face began to fill up with lines of concern.
“I saw… I saw… I saw myself! I saw myself… murdering Voldemort.” His voice had dropped down to a whisper, and he halted in front of a door.
They went in, Remus either speechless or choosing not to speak, and Harry turned a little bit paler.
The scene with him killing Voldemort was continuing, and to his surprise Snape entered the room.
Mirror Harry killed him too. Harry forced any feelings he might have down, just in case he might be enjoying this secretly. Lestrange came into the image, and Harry had to look away. “I’m killing Snape, too. Now… now Lestrange.”
Remus had enough. With some effort, he turned the mirror so it was facing the wall, but not without seeing his own want.
He was laughing. Tonks was next to him, holding his arm and also laughing, and beside them were Sirius and James. The full moon glistened behind a thick layer of fog, and Remus could’ve sworn he saw Dumbledore on the other side of the lake.
But back to business. How to comfort Harry.
He tried to reason. “Harry, wanting revenge is normal.”
“I shouldn’t. I’m only stooping to the level of Voldemort, wanting to kill.”
“No, you’re not. Voldemort kills Muggles for a sport. You only find yourself wanting to get revenge because he killed people you care about, people you love.”
Harry looked up, eyes wide. Dumbledore had said something of the like to him. “But this mirror shows the deepest desire of our hearts! I don’t want murder to be my greatest desire!” His voice had became somewhat strangled.
Remus bit his lip… Harry had a point. “Well then, we just have to convince you that it’s not, don’t we?” Harry nodded, unsure of how exactly Remus would do that.
His former professor leaned in. “What do you plan to accomplish by killing them?”
Harry bristled. Plan? He didn’t have a plan! “Uhh… revenge…?” He couldn’t think of a better answer.
“Is that it?”
Harry almost said ‘fulfill the prophecy’ but remembered Remus didn’t know about it. He thought quickly. “Voldemort wouldn’t be able to kill any more people.”
“Good answer. Okay, what else do you want most?”
He thought about it, and answered slowly to make sure he mentioned everything. “I want… Voldemort to be gone. I want Sirius back, and Dumbledore. I want to meet my parents and live with them.”
“How much?”
Harry was surprised. How much! “More then anything.”
Remus felt like a psychologist. Hopefully these tricks would actually work. But an inner voice interrupted. What tricks? You’re making this up on the spot! He ignored it and continued to talk.
“But Voldemort gone is the same as Voldemort killed, is it not? Only difference is that when he was killed, you were the one that killed him. Now you have to decide which is more important to you… revenge, or peace and having the ones you care about with you. I believe that you don’t really understand that concept, and once you do, your brain will rethink your greatest desire.”
Harry looked at him incredulously. Peace and his family or revenge! He opened his mouth to answer, but then realized Remus was right. He had wanted to kill Voldemort more then having him simply gone. He had wanted to kill Snape (the filthy traitor) and Lestrange more then having those he cared about back. He didn’t think it out, just wanted more then anything in the world to… get revenge, no matter how much he hid it from himself.
He imagined himself in the position the mirror showed him in. After he killed Voldemort, he felt a cold, unfeeling version of hate, glee, and relief come over him, and had to shudder with apprehension. It felt so wrong… yet so right.
Then he placed himself with his family and friends. As in his mind’s eye his mother smiled at him and father ruffled his hair, he felt a strange elation take him over. The strange feeling went all over his body, tingling his fingers and sending a chill down his spine, and he shuddered again, but this time, in a good way.
He opened his mouth again. “I understand now. Thanks, Remus.”
Remus smiled. He went back to the mirror and placed a hand on its handle. “Let’s see if you are telling the truth, Harry.” He turned it back around.
At first, Harry was reluctant, but when he looked up, he smiled.
He saw himself, Ginny, Ron, Sirius, and James, his father, playing Quidditch. He saw Dumbledore, Remus, Hermione, Tonks, and Lily, his mother, cheering on the sidelines. The sun was out, it was a perfect day, and he caught the Snitch and beat his father. James came over to him and hugged and congratulated him. The same tingly feeling came over his body.
Now he knew what he really wanted, though he also knew he couldn’t stop himself from wanting revenge. He wanted what every man wanted. He wanted to be with his family and friends. He wanted happiness.