Harry Potter and the Magical Mirror

Privet Drive looked almost deserted in the early hours of Sunday morning, but one resident stirred. This resident's name was Harry Potter. A skinny boy of sixteen, Harry Potter was a very interesting character indeed. He had jet-black hair and round glasses, but the most peculiar thing about Harry Potter was a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. This scar was relic to a curse from fifteen years before, a curse that should have killed Harry, but instead rebounded upon its maker, draining the dark wizard Voldemort of nearly all of his powers, and ripping his soul from his body. The entire secret wizarding world celebrated the end of his reign of terror, and the boy named Harry Potter was made famous. Harry, however, did not even know until his eleventh birthday that he was in fact a famous wizard, let alone that he was a wizard at all. After that he began attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry's five years at Hogwarts were punctuated by a series of bizarre happenings and injuries that led to the return of the dark wizard Voldemort in Harry's fourth year, and the death of Harry's godfather, an innocent, yet convicted murderer, Sirius Black, his previous year. Harry's scar had always connected him with Voldemort, but, ever since that fateful night when Voldemort rose again, he had felt the same emotions as Voldemort if he had felt one of them in particularly strong way. This morning, he awoke to a searing pain in his scar, and found himself to be happier than if he had just won fifty-five Quidditch World Cups in a row. Voldemort was happy, a feeling that scared Harry senseless.

Harry tried shifting his mind to other things. It fell upon the Dursleys, they had actually been quite pleasant towards Harry this summer, now Uncle Vernon pretended to be actively interested when the subject of magical finances came up, and Dudley considered himself an active Quidditch fan. Harry knew why the Dursleys had been so kind this summer, they were scared to upset him, for if they did, they were afraid that Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody would come to carry out on his threat from the end of Harry's last school year. At first Uncle Vernon had been as rude as ever to Harry, but Mrs. Figg began to make weekly checks on Harry, and Harry just hinted that he was being mistreated once, and the next visit she brought Moody with her, and when Moody asked if the Dursleys had been treating him alright, Harry had told him yes, but his tone of voice gave it away that they had not. Moody had his wand out and on Uncle Vernon in a second.

"What did I tell you Dursley? Thought you'd go back on your end of the bargain eh? What if we went back on ours and a few well placed words just happened to slip out of my mouth when no one expected it hmm? What about it?" Moody asked menacingly.

"Moody, old man," Mrs. Figg had said, Harry could tell this wasn't about the threat last year, but if it wasn't what was it about?

"As the arrangement was fairer to your end, I believe I should ask you those same questions, Sir," Uncle Vernon had retorted.

"What could you do to me?" Mad-Eye asked, his magical eye flitting to Dudley and Aunt Petunia before finally coming to rest on Harry, "Harry, if they mistreat you again, if they so much as neglect your birthday you tell me, you go straight to your room and owl me, understand?"

"Yes Sir Professor!" Harry had said happily.

"Good, and don't call me professor anymore, I can't teach you much more than you already know, and since I no longer work at Hogwarts... No, matter you may call me by my first or last name as does your friend Ron, boy just calls me Moody, Miss Granger keeps on correcting herself every time she talks saying Professor, then saying 'err.. I mean Mr. Moody, Alastor...'"

Harry laughed and asked, "How are they?"

Moody shrugged, "You can't really tell what those two are doing, or the others for that matter, talking in whispers the way you three normally would, but you are safer here than there, if you ever need help though, ever need out, if you genuinely don't feel safe you write and I'll send our runaway to find you."

"Your runaway?" Harry had asked.

"We came across a kid Dumbledore's been hiding long as you," said Moody darkly, "but more into hiding than you than you, trains him in private, this kid is barking mad, but he's a literal magical genius. He's a natural at most spells, but the problem is he had to run away from his adopted Muggle home when he was eleven to go to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore couldn't have him as an open student once he got there, because his father was a dark wizard who had killed the child's mother as soon as he was born. He won't talk about who it was, and refused to be seen until Sirius's death, it hit home for him, someone else hiding had died, scared the pants off him, but we all think we know who his father was, one of the wizards who fought not to be captured, the one who took the chunk out of my nose before being killed in the struggle. You remember a face when you see it in battle, he's the son of Evan Rosier alright, it was on his adoption papers anyway, legal proof, but none to the way he looks, strong lower jaw, distinguished eyes, overly noble looking, and acting for that matter. He ran from America after three years in that home, bringing a young American witch from a nearby house with him, her parents didn't argue much, they were Muggles, Hogwarts is better than most American schools, especially straight from Dumbledore, and all he had to do was say that, they'll attend with you this year, same age and all."

"What's his name?" asked Harry.

"He calls himself Max Aerials, his real name of course is Max Rosier, but he renamed himself legally by breaking into the police records in America and replacing the name with his favorite song, he likes anything he can get his hands on, big into the Quidditch, this kid's a hell of a Chaser."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry.

"Well I must be off to talk to Dumbledore. See you, Potter," said Moody.

"Send him my regards, will you?" said Harry.

Moody nodded and disapparated.

"I best be off too, Harry dear," said Mrs. Figg extending a hand which Harry shook politely. She nodded to the Dursleys and let herself out the front door, which shut with a dull thud.

Tonight though, was a different case, the Dursley's had made a huge deal out of his birthday, well bigger than normal anyway, he now had a full set of his own clothes in his closet, a television, and a punching bag. Harry was not really enjoying himself anymore by pushing his new borders with the Dursleys, the novelty had long since worn off.

Harry looked at the clock, Two-forty-nine, it read. Harry looked at the window, and to his very slight surprise he found his snowy owl, Hedwig, staring back at him. Lately Hedwig had been getting back from her nighttime hunts early. Harry supposed this might have some thing to do with the new dog-like pet his Half-Giant friend, Hagrid had sent him for his birthday. Hagrid had called it a "fluffneazle," and had said it would eat anything Harry tried to feed it in the letter attached to the cage he sent it in, It had taken a full flock of the schools largest strongest owls to carry the cage, Dumbledore had procured a license for Hagrid to breed magical creatures in such way that would not harm anyone else, Hagrid had a fixation with magical monsters. This was a cross between a kneazle, a niffler, and a puffskein, Harry had looked them all up individually before letting anything Hagrid created loose into his room. A kneazle was a loyal pet, a great judge of character especially in the case of bad people, with a lion like tail, and a great sense of direction. A niffler is an overall harmless, black, dog-like creature that likes to hunt down shiny objects and usually wrecked houses, but according to Hagrid this one hadn't wrecked his cabin even when Dumbledore came in with his shiny white beard. A puffskein, this was the attitude Harry thought his new friend had adopted a puffy little thing with a long tongue and large attitude for either playing around or laying around. It looked like a niffler though, a medium-sized black dog. Tonks and Mundungus Fletcher, to Harry's astonishment had sent him a new broom which Mundungus had received from one of his many stolen goods connections. This new broom was supposed to be even faster than the Firebolt. It was great looking anyway, a "Silverstag" it reminded him of a Patronus turned into a broom. Those two presents would come in fairly useful if Dumbledore allowed Padfoot, the new pet, into Hogwarts.

The Dursleys had baked a cake and let Dudley off of his diet to eat it. The Weasleys, along with their own cakes, had sent a wide array of magical gifts and tokens.

Fred and George had sent Harry dragon-hide robes, honorary to his being the benefactor of their joke shop in Diagon Alley. Ron himself had sent a large amount of Honeyduke's chocolates, a box full of Chudley Cannons memorabilia, a new pair of broom tail clippers, and a ring made from silver with a lion on it. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent the usual cake and candy along with their own improvised gift of a book on the history of all duels, magical anger, and all sorts of spells that might come in handy against dark wizards. Bill had sent Harry a necklace that, in an ancient tomb had been noted to boost magical power and severity of spells. Charlie sent Harry a bracelet of dragon fangs, and told him Norbert was teething, along with that he had told Harry that he believed he had discovered a smaller almost harmless breed of dragon, of course they could still breathe fire and had sharp teeth, the flames were smaller as were their fangs this meant they may soon be legal pets if enough members of the Department of Magical Creatures agreed to the matter. Harry thought, "Hagrid might get one, or two, or thirty, a day for Care of Magical Creatures Class," but he wasn't sure if he minded Malfoy being slaughtered by a rampaging dragon, slimy git.

Harry wondered as he'd opened Hermione's box of sweets, how the Weasleys had afforded all of that, but a book fell out from under the chocolates and interrupted his thoughts. He picked up the book and looked down at a picture of the Yule Ball of their fourth year marking a page titled, "Joseph Igor", He closed the book and looked at the cover it read: An Aspiring Aurors' guide to spells, other great Aurors, and Magical Tests. He tossed it aside for the moment laughing at Hermione's dedication to school.

He thought back to the Yule Ball this night remembering his gifts, "Those were the days no fear of Voldemort killing him, no intrusions on his thoughts nobody yelling at him, well, Ron and Hermione yelled at each other, but that doesn't count." His real worst fear then was the second task, or Rita Skeeter, and maybe that Sirius would be caught. Sirius had been his own father's best friend. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Two were left, but for some reason Harry now wished it was the other two gone and wanted his father and godfather back. For everything to be better, for wormtail, to be dead or worse, tortured with the Cruciatus curse into madness like his friend Neville's parents had been, but he didn't really want Lupin gone. He wanted Moony with him almost as much as Sirius.

He needed sleep, but found no rest. He found some parchment, and began to write:

Dear Cho,

I'm sorry. I can't find the words that fit the meaning better than that, anything would do as an emotion right now. I understand all you wanted was my attention for that small amount of time last year, but I had no emotion and nothing to say. I know how you feel now, surrounded by friends, but still alone without someone like Diggory to talk to, surrounded by enemies, and still alone. I know the second part all too well. That was my reason for everything I did last year. I can't say anything really in case my owl falls into the wrong hands on its way to you, but I was forced to keep most things a secret because of Umbridge and my own lack of knowledge on the situation. Dumbledore knew many things, and, caring too much about my emotions, did not tell me. I hope you do not resent me for keeping secrets from you, I couldn't tell anybody about anything if they didn't already know. I can only say I know about loads more than I did, and with Sirius dead I've been running a bit low. I was so scared of everything around me that I wasn't myself. I'm still a little shaken from everything that's been going on. Looking back on it I still wish I could say more, could you meet me in Diagon Alley? Send me your answer and I'll tell you what day when I get it.

Sorry again,

Harry Potter

Harry finished the letter and started thinking again, which resulted in a headaches worth of thought about Voldemort. So he decided to write thank you letters and try to get information about the goings on in the magical world. The Daily Prophet read of the dark days and defense against Death Eaters. The whole world seemed to be in shock, Voldemort was back, the dementors had been removed from Azkaban, and Peter Pettigrew alive and a criminal, Sirius Black innocent, what was going on? He wanted to write to Ron next.

Ron,

It's me, Harry. I don't feel safe anymore, I can tell something's up, tell Moody to come get me. We need to figure out a way to keep me safe until this school year. I want to talk to Dumbledore, something is definitely not right here, our enemy is happy. If Voldemort is happy then I'm in trouble. You know something maybe up between the Dursleys and Dumbledore, maybe it's about Dudley or Aunt Petunia. I don't know, but I don't think it's about Uncle Vernon, he's not related to my mom except by marriage. I know you can't tell me anything too important, so save it until we can talk face to face, if Hermione isn't with you, go ahead and owl her.

See you soon,

Harry.

Harry thought about what he had just asked of everyone in that house to do, He then wrote a quick thank you to Tonks, Mundungus, the rest of the Weasleys and Hagrid with another request to be picked up. He watched Hedwig fly into the dark night sky to deliver his letters. He turned, to see Padfoot lying at the foot of his bed. Harry went back to bed to try to sleep.