Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Chapter 7: Cold Christmas

---

November passes by. My actual birthday is on the last month of the second month of autumn on Lezaria, so I suppose November 30th is the closest equivalent. But that's not when I chronologically turn eleven, due to all the time travel and the fact that I'm on another world entirely with different yearly cycles. I calculated that, and it won't be until March, unless I die an awful lot before then. Time travel is confusing. I feel pedantic for even trying to keep track.

I hear a little about the investigation about the troll over the next few weeks. Unfortunately, they aren't able to determine anything conclusive. Still, as a result, the wards over the castle are strengthened and the entrances given some extra security. They can't conclusively rule out that it wasn't one of the older students pulling a prank that went horribly wrong, but they don't manage to pin anyone with it.

I've started reading Hogwarts, a History. Hermione was always quoting from it or mentioning something she read it in, so it reminds me of her. I think she would have wanted me to read it. She was always so excited about magic. Everything was new and bright and untarnished. How could any of our classmates have mistaken her raw, unbridled enthusiasm for lording over her knowledge and thinking that she was better than anyone else? It's so clear, in hindsight. I'd like to think that I'm not the only one to realize what we've lost.

I think the only one who might feel worse about Hermione's death than I is, surprisingly, Lavender Brown. Every time I see her in the common room, there's practically a cloud of guilt hanging over her head. To make matters worse, everyone heard her words after Charms that day, so she's shunned by her own classmates.

A month after that tragic Halloween, I decide to approach Lavender in the common room. She's sitting alone at a table, doing a bit of studying. Lavender stiffens as I approach, and looks over her shoulder at me. "You want something?"

"Just wanted to talk," I say. "Mind if I sit?"

"I can't really stop you," Lavender says.

I take a seat across from her. "I... er... I just wanted to say... I don't really blame you, you know."

"Uh-huh," Lavender says dubiously, not looking at me.

"I just... you know... you couldn't have known what would happen..." I say unsteadily. "You made a mistake. You weren't very nice. But that's all."

"Is there some point to what you're telling me, Harry Potter?" Lavender says bitingly.

"I just wanted to say, well... I forgive you," I say. "It's rotten of everyone to act like it was all your fault. And you looked like you could use a friend... you know?"

Lavender slams her book shut and stands up suddenly. "I don't need your pity, Harry Potter. Good night." She storms off upstairs to her dorm.

I watch her go with a sigh. Well, I tried.

I try to spread it around to our classmates that maybe they should ease up on Lavender a bit. They're still a bit afraid of me, but they don't really blame me for what happened that day. If anything, they do think that Draco deserved a good smiting.

---

Christmas is approaching. Another new holiday, for me, and this one seems to be the most important one of the year in this world, since most of the students will be going home for a break from school around Christmas. Professor McGonagall is collecting the names of students who will be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, and I put myself down for it. I have nowhere else to go, after all.

This is supposed to be a holiday spent exchanging gifts and feasting with family members. I don't even know if my family is still alive, but I prefer not to think about that. It's easier to avoid thinking about that, than Hermione. There's no constant reminders of their absense here. No shadow of guilt and grief hanging quietly over everyone's heads. It's my own private worry, and as such, I can leave it as a tiny shadow in the back of my mind instead.

So. I don't have any family here, but perhaps I should get gifts for my friends. I don't really know what's traditional to give. What's appropriate to give. I would hate to inadvertently offend someone by giving them something inappropriate. Being unfamiliar with the social customs and not wanting to embarrass myself, I decide to take a few minutes to as Professor Snape about it at our last "detention" before the holiday break.

"Professor," I say. "I've never celebrated Christmas before. What sort of presents should I get for my friends? I... er... don't know what would be appropriate, or anything."

"I see," Snape says. "Who were you thinking of giving presents to?"

"Well... there's Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom, of course. I should probably get something for Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, too... I don't know the girls in my year very well. And, er, I'd like to get something for you and Professor Dumbledore, too. You've both done a lot for me... Uh, it's not inappropriate to mention that you want to get someone a gift, is it?"

I'd have considered getting Draco something, at one point. Before Halloween. Before the words that shattered any possibility of friendship or trust between us. Now, it's all I can do to avoid hexing him whenever I see him. It's going to be a very long time before I can forgice Draco. If ever.

Snape smirks at me. "Relax, Stormseeker. There's no need to be so nervous about it. I imagine that none of your friends, nor Professor Dumbledore, would think it strange to get them anything more than sweets, if you can't think of anything else."

"And what about you, sir?" I ask. "What would you like?"

"You have no need to get me anything, Stormseeker," Snape says. "Considering I'm already getting your own blood every week, what more could I ask for?" He chuckles softly. "If you really wish to do something for me, I would suggest that you attempt to apply yourself more at Potions."

"Yes, sir," I say. "I'm trying, I really am. It's just hard for me. But I'll keep at it."

"Are you more complacent about learning Potions because you don't believe it will be useful when you return to your home world?" Snape asks.

"No!" I reply immediately, then admit, "Well, maybe a bit."

"While some potions may require substances found only on this world," Snape says, "the principles of potion creation will doubtless remain the same. Even if Lezaria has radically different flora and fauna. Does no one on your world make potions?"

"Er," I say. "Well, my Aunt Thelsa does. And she's hardly the only one..."

"Also, even if some of the things you learn may not be useful there, you are here at the moment," Snape says. "How long do you intend on staying here?"

"Until I get it right," I say quietly.

"You've already seen how useful some potions can be, have you not?" Snape says.

I nod in agreement. "This is true. I'll admit that I kind of dismissed them a bit at first, since I was more focused on spells with immediate effects, for combat and utility and whatnot. But there's a point to that. I'm better with magic that depends more upon intent... even if my wand movements are a little off, I can usually get something close to what I meant."

"You rely overly much on your emotions to direct your magic," Snape says. "And while this is a suitable practice for some forms of magic, I would suggest that you attempt to employ your Occlumency more when working on potions to help you focus."

"Yes, sir," I say. "I'll try."

---

I wonder what Hermione would have gotten us all, if she were alive. Probably books, I would imagine. She did so love her books. To that end, in addition to the candy that I send to Ron and Neville from myself, I also owl-order them each a book "in memory of Hermione". A copy of Quidditch Through the Ages for Ron, and a book about plants with tips for their use in potion making for Neville. And to somewhat disguise the fact that they're from me, and to have something else to remember her by myself, I send myself a different book on potion-making tips. Perhaps Professor Snape will appreciate both Neville and I doing better in Potions.

Ron is also staying at Hogwarts this Christmas, surprisingly. I wonder why? He's got such a big, wonderful family. Is he staying behind just to keep me company, so that I'm not in our dorm room all alone? I'd really rather he not sacrifice his chance to spend time with his family for my sake. I don't mind being alone. Still, these thoughts aside, I find myself grateful for the company nonetheless. But no, as it turns out, his brothers are staying as well, since his parents are going to Romania to visit his brother Charlie. I feel a little better about it then.

Christmas morning dawns, and Ron and I head down to the common room to find brightly-wrapped presents waiting for us.

"Happy Christmas," Ron says cheerfully.

"You, too," I say. "I wonder what I got?"

We set in at opening our presents. A small package for me on top turns out to be a flute, from Hagrid. Aw, that was nice of him, considering I hadn't thought to get him anything. I feel a little bad about that. Nor for Mrs. Weasley, who sent me a box of homemade fudge. I look over at Ron, who has opened up his Chocolate Frogs from me, and a hand-knitted maroon sweater from his mother.

"What's this?" Ron murmurs, holding up a box. "In memory of Hermione? I wonder who sent that?" He smiles a little upon seeing what it is.

"I got one, too," I say, showing him the potion book I bought myself.

"I wish she were still here," Ron says quietly. "So many of us were right rotten to her, and then suddenly, she's gone..."

"Yeah," I say softly. "But... they're never really gone, so long as we remember..." And it doesn't hurt to have time travel powers that might someday be useful in going back to do things differently. But I keep that part to myself.

"What's in your last package?" Ron says, poking to a lumpy, anonymous present.

"Let's see," I say, picking it up and tearing it open. Something flowing and silvery falls out and pools in my lap, and I see that it's a shimmering cloth.

"It couldn't be!" Ron exclaims. "An invisibility cloak? Those are supposed to be really rare and valuable."

"There's a note," I say. "It used to belong to my father. Neat." I do hope that it's from Dumbledore, as I'd feel a little bad about it otherwise. Of course, if I were actually Harry Potter, I should be annoyed about someone giving me back my own inheritance in the guise of Christmas presents. As it is, though, I don't really care, as something like this could be really useful.

"Try it on!" Ron encourages me.

I slip the silvery cloak about my body. "Am I invisible, Ron?" I ask.

"You sure are!" Ron says. "That's wicked! I'd give anything for one of these. Anything!"

"Be careful what you say," I tell him. "Anything is an awfully broad subject." I smirk at him, pulling off the cloak and folding it up to hide in my robes. I'd rather not advertise that I have it, but it would be a useful thing to have on hand if needed.

"Well, yeah, I suppose," Ron says, looking a little deflated.

I chuckle at him and laugh off the seriousness for the moment. "Let's go have some fun in the snow while we can, shall we?"

This evening, a Christmas feast is laid out in the Great Hall for the much smaller than usual bunch of people at the castle. There's completely different sorts of food from the Halloween feast. There's turkey, and mashed potatoes with gravy, cranberry sauce... Does every holiday in this world have its own special traditional menu? The only real holiday we celebrated back home was the Festival of Lights, in midsummer when the new year turned over. I suppose this one is something like that, although their new year falls in winter rather than summer, which I find to be rather strange.

After everyone else has gone to bed, I decide to take my new cloak and explore the castle a bit. I'd like to see if there's anything interesting that I might find. There are no doubt many secrets tucked away in such a big and magical place as this, just waiting to be found. Preferably, most of them won't be trying to eat me, too. Like a ghost, I drift through the castle. I wish it were a little brighter, though, but seeing as it is the middle of the night, I can't really expect any differently.

I briefly consider sneaking into the Restricted Section of the school library, but dismiss that notion quickly. I know perfectly well that I'm not yet ready for more advanced and dangerous forms of magic. Perhaps another time, that might be worth more consideration.

I come upon what appears to be an unused classroom. Standing off to one side, there's a strange, ornate mirror. I wonder what it's doing here? Maybe somebody just wanted to use this empty space as storage, or something. Curious, I go over to take a look.

There are people in the mirror. I jump in startlement when I see, and look behind me uneasily, but there's nobody in the room with me. I take off my cloak and get a good look at it. Hermione is standing at my side, and I have an arm over her shoulders in a fond, protective gesture. Behind me, I see my family, alive and well. Hawthorne and Keli, and my mom, and Aunt Thelsa, the twins Helga and Hilda, even my great-grandfather Silver is there. The sight almost brings tears to my eyes. What sort of magic is this? Does this mirror show ghosts, or memories of people who are gone? Or what?

And yet, there's more to it than that. Upon closer inspection, I see that the image of me crackles with electricity. My eyes seem to be glowing. I get the impression of great power within me, and I don't understand. I would dearly love to study this magical artifact more closely and unlock its secrets, learn what it shows and why, and discover how it works.

I don't know how long I'm left gazing into the mirror, but after a while, I pull myself away and return to my dormitory. It wouldn't do to be sleeping past noon.

---

"Hey, Ron," I say the next morning. "I found something completely awesome last night with my cloak. Want to go see it?"

"Sure!" Ron says. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Didn't want to wind up sleeping all day," I say. "Shall we go tonight after curfew?"

"Okay," Ron says.

In the evening, I head out again with Ron. At least both of us are small enough still to fit underneath my invisibility cloak. That might get more difficult as we grow up, but for now, it's not a problem. I show him the way back to the unused classroom where the strange mirror is being kept.

"There it is," I whisper, pulling off the cloak. I don't think anyone's close enough to overhear us at the moment, as I didn't hear any trace of Filch nearby, but I'm compelled to be quiet anyway. "Go on. Take a look."

Ron steps forward and peers into the magic mirror. "Whoa! I see myself winning the House Cup! And the Quidditch Cup! And I'm Head Boy! And the Quidditch captain!"

I frown deeply. "That doesn't make any sense. It showed me something completely different."

"Do you suppose it shows the future?" Ron wonders.

"No," I reply. "Ron, it showed me Hermione, and my family..."

"Oh..." Ron says quietly.

While Ron spends a few minutes staring at it himself, I take a closer look at the mirror. There's an inscription on it, but it's in no language I understand. And I really wish I knew more about identifying and analyzing the enchantments upon things. Something else that will need to wait, I suppose. I have so much yet to learn, but I must be patient. I'm a Time Mage, after all. Time is on my side.

"Ron?" I say quietly. "Maybe we should go now. We don't want Filch or Mrs. Norris to find us."

"Just a few more minutes, alright?" Ron says.

I look at him with a touch of concern, wondering if he might stare at this thing all night if given the opportunity. "Ron!" I hiss. "I think I hear Mrs. Norris!" I grab his arm and pull him away from the mirror, throwing the cloak over us again.

"I don't hear anything," Ron murmurs.

"Shhh," I say. We sneak back toward the Gryffindor common room again and get inside, thankfully without alerting anyone to our presence. The two of us are back safely in our dormitory before either of us speaks again.

"Uh... thanks," Ron says. "I didn't think staring into that mirror would be so... captivating. It's a dangerous thing. I could've sat there looking at it all night."

"I don't understand what that mirror is supposed to be showing," I say. "For me, I had thought it might be showing me ghosts or something, but for you, it's showing what might well wind up being the future." Although, am I so certain that what it showed me wasn't the future as well? My future, at any rate.

"Well, I suppose I can think happy thoughts about it, anyway," Ron says. "I'm going to bed."

---

I decide to head out to examine the mirror once again the next night. Maybe I can get a little closer to unraveling this mystery. At least this one is a mystery that isn't inclined to try to rip my face off, and I have the presence of mind to be able to avoid staring into it enraptured for hours on end. I think Professor Snape's Occlumency lessons have been helping a little with that. I'm able to focus better and think more clearly, and this is definitely a good thing, even if I can't yet actually succeed in keeping Snape out of my mind.

I ignore the image presented to me in the mirror and examine the frame and the inscription, as well as looking around the back a bit. Hmm... the inscription... Something seems oddly familiar about it, come to think. Then it dawns on me. It's Flylish! Kind of. Or as somebody sensible might say, Kalorese written backwards. Oh, right, they call it English in this world, and spell things a little funny, but it's still pretty much the same language. It's the spaces in the wrong places that threw me off about the inscription at first.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire?" I murmur aloud, translating the inscription finally. That would explain it. It doesn't actually show the future, but what you wish to happen, no matter how implausible it might be.

"Back again, my boy?" says a voice behind me. Not Filch, but Dumbledore. I should have expected as much.

"Good evening, Professor," I say. "Was it you who gave me this cloak?"

"Indeed it was," Dumbledore says. "I thought you might find it useful, and you were the best possible person that it could go to."

"Thank you, sir," I say, bowing to him graciously. "Did you like my present as well?"

"I was always rather fond of Chocolate Frogs," Dumbledore says. "Although, three of the cards inside were of me!" He chuckles softly in amusement. "I see you, like many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"Delights?" I say, chuckling myself. "I'd say it's rather like a pitcher plant, and the only thing it's missing is a means to digest you once it has snared you in."

"Wise of you to recognize the danger in it," Dumbledore says. "Men have wasted away gazing upon the images that it shows to them."

"I didn't come back to stare into it, though," I say. "I wanted to figure it out, understand it, discover how it works. I'm a long way off from being able to decipher magic of this level, though."

"I see," Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling. "Nonetheless, the mirror will be moved to a more secure location after tonight. I would advise not seeking it out again."

"I wasn't planning on it," I say. "I figured out what it shows, but I'm going to need years of magical training if I want any hope of unraveling more than that."

"And what did you learn, my dear boy?" Dumbledore says.

"It shows the thing you want most," I say. "No matter if it's impossible. Your heart's desire... And I guess some people get more caught up in dreams than in reality."

"Indeed so," Dumbledore says.

I look at the floor. "I wouldn't have asked Ron what he saw if I realized that was what it did. And I'm not going to ask you, either."

"Just as well, my boy," Dumbledore says lightly. "I'd have just told you that I see myself holding a pair of fuzzy wool socks. One can never have enough socks, after all." I look up at him and see his eyes twinkling at me again. "Now, why don't you put that cloak back on and run along back to bed?"

"Yes, sir," I say, smiling faintly at him.