A Reflection of Himself

Chapter Fourteen

The turning point had come. From that strange evening when Harry had been wandering the halls of Hogwarts and had found himself in the dungeons, face to face with Snape, things between Snape and Harry would never be the same again. Life was an odd thing, indeed, for it more often than not hurled obstacles and surprises in the way of the unsuspecting traveller along life's long road to... where, exactly? Harry wasn't sure if he knew, but for now, he was just trying to survive day to day. The future was a murky pond full of questionable monsters, and that was not something the young wizard wanted to dwell on.

Classes and homework filled much of Harry's days, and as he immersed himself in the work, he did so merely to try to keep his mind off Voldemort and the war that was at work within the wizarding world. Quidditch was there as well to help fill the void, and if anyone had wonderful, supportive friends, it was Harry. Ron and Hermione especially were understanding of Harry's reclusive behavior, but Ginny had been rather distant since that kiss on the Quidditch pitch. Weeks passed, and Halloween arrived with all its enchantment and wonder.

The Great Hall had been decorated with glowing Jack-O-Lanterns that hovered in midair high above the tables, and the Halloween Feast was as brilliant and impressive as ever. Harry was sitting in one of the armchairs in the Gryffindor Common Room, his nose buried in his Charms book, and both Ron and Hermione were regarding him curiously.

"Keep that look up, Harry," Ron teased, "and people will start confusing you with Hermione here." He gestured at Hermione, who in turned scoffed and shook her head, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.

"Really, Harry," Hermione added. "I most certainly never thought I would be the one prying you away from a book. Come on, the feast is just about to begin."

Harry looked up from the book and nodded, placing it in his bag next to the chair. He silently went through the portal with his friends, who exchanged glances. Why had Harry been so quiet as of late?

They reached the Great Hall in a matter of only a few minutes, and upon taking their respective seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry found himself flanked by Ron and Hermione. Ron wasted no time in digging into the food, and Hermione pleasantly talked with Ginny, who was seated across from her. Sitting across from Harry was Neville Longbottom, who Harry suddenly found staring at him questioningly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Er... nothing," Neville lied. He wasn't a very good liar, though, for his cheeks went all red, and he avoided looking Harry in the eyes.

"Oh, really?" Harry implored. "Then why the funny look?"

Neville leaned forward and whispered, "It's just that you've been so quiet even since... well, you know..."

"I'm fine," Harry muttered falsely. He most certainly didn't feel fine, but neither did he want to be discussing the disappearance and assumed death of Dean Thomas. Neville shared a room with Harry, after all, so he was remained of his classmate's absence every time he laid eyes on Dean's empty bed as well.

"You sure?" Neville persisted.

"Yes," Harry said exasperately. "Now, if that's all."

Harry fixed Neville was a penetrating glare, and Neville finally took the hint that Harry wanted to be left alone. Making a rather feeble attempt at eating, Harry poked at the food on his plate, but his appetite was practically nonexistent. He glanced from Hermione and Ron, noticing that they both seemed preoccupied, so Harry quietly excused himself, thinking that he would call it an early night and retire to bed for the evening.

He left the Great Hall, leaving all the noises of excitement and smells of delicious food behind him. As he headed down the hallway, he passed Lupin's office door, noticing that it was slightly ajar. Harry hadn't noticed if Lupin had been in the Great Hall at the Head Table with the other professors, so he decided to peek into the office and see if he was inside. Sure enough, upon looking inside the office, Harry watched as a very weary Lupin sat leaned over his desk. He had some papers spread out in front of him, but he was not reading them or grading them. Instead, his quill had been dropped to the side of the surface, and each of his hands was gripping fervently at the sides of his head, his elbows resting on the table.

Pushing the door upon with a resounding creak, Lupin bolted up with a start, and just as Harry apologized, Lupin recovered himself and smiled tiredly.

"Oh, Harry," he said, sighing, "it's just you."

"I thought you'd be in the Great Hall," Harry simply replied.

"No, I'm afraid not tonight," Lupin frowned. "If you've looked at the sky recently, you'd notice that the moon is nearly full."

"Oh," Harry nodded. "Right."

There was silence for a moment, and Harry began to wonder if he should leave the professor in peace, but then Lupin invited him in.

"It's still a couple of hours away yet," he explained, offering Harry a seat. "Besides, I've already taken the Wolfsbane."

Harry sat down and nodded again, unsure of what to say.

"Was there something you wanted?" Lupin questioned curiously. "I would have expected you to still be in the Great Hall with your friends."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I- I guess I just didn't feel like I belonged there for some reason," he tried to explain. "I mean, ever since... ever since Hogsmeade, things are only seeming more bleak. I keep wondering how many more people have to die before this whole blasted thing is over," Harry spat, furrowing his eyebrows.

Lupin stood up from his chair and came around the desk, kneeling down on the floor in front of Harry and trying to gauge the boy's condition. Concern was clearly etched all over Lupin's prematurely aged face as he took Harry's hand in his own.

"Harry," he began as firmly as he could, "look at me."

Harry sighed and brought his green eyes to meet Lupin's amber ones. His glasses were sliding down his nose, but Harry didn't seen fazed.

"Listen, Harry," Lupin continued earnestly. "This battle has been going on for ages, not just since Voldemort has been roaming the earth. There have been wizards throughout history who have tried to rule the whole wizarding world, claiming that purebloods were the only righteous wizards and that all others should be killed off. I'm a halfblood, Harry, and I'm a werewolf. That doesn't exactly give me an easy lot in life, does it?"

Harry shook his head.

"Just remember that you're not alone, Harry. There are people out there... friends and allies of yours... who do partly understand what you're going through. Both of my parents were killed last time the Death Eaters went about doing their horrible business, so I at least do understand some of the loss you've suffered. Sirius," he paused, gulping sadly, "was my friend, too. The dead never truly leave us, though, not as long as we keep them alive in our memory of them."

Harry listened closely and carefully to each word Lupin told him, and they reverberated through Harry's young body with profound truth and wisdom, reminding Harry of something Dumbledore had told him years ago:

"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? ... After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I'm not afraid of dying, you know," Harry admitted softly. "It's just the loss of everyone else that hurts so much..."

"I know, Harry; I know," Lupin reassured him, placing his arms around him. Harry returned the embrace, and when they parted, Lupin smiled weakly at him, saying, "It's getting late, and I fear to say that the transformation could occur at any moment now. I wish you a good night, Harry."

"Good night, Remus," Harry replied, standing up from the chair.

He sent a small but very appreciative smile in Lupin's direction and headed out the door. Returning to his dorm, Harry sat down on his bed heavily and released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Leaning over the foot of the bed and opening his trunk, Harry sifted through its contents until he found the mirror that Sirius had given him the previous year. Retrieving it from the rest of the things, Harry held it in his hands, gently running his index finger along the edges and then along the surface of the glass, which had been broken when Harry had shattered it in rage at the end of his fifth year. He looked at his image in the mirror, and like his fragmented reflection, Harry felt much the same way. He wondered when and if he would ever feel complete again.

"If only I could reach you, Sirius," he said absently to the mirror, but only Harry's own reflection stared back. He turned the mirror over and replaced it and then closed the trunk lid firmly. He leaned back against the mattress of his four-poster and sighed, recalling to mind something else Dumbledore had told him:

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."

Those were the words that the Headmaster had spoken to Harry when the much younger Harry had been gazing longingly into the Mirror of Erised at his long-lost family. Harry wondered what he would see now if he looked into the Mirror now. Would he see Sirius? Even if he did, it wouldn't change anything. Sirius was gone now. Harry knew that, but he didn't want to accept it.

Meanwhile, Lupin had left his office and retired within his chambers for the night. He felt very worn out and dizzy, knowing that the transformation would be occurring at any moment. He was idly glancing through his old yearbook from his days at Hogwarts, smiling slightly at the pictures of his old friends. Of all the Marauders, he was the last one left. Peter Pettigrew was as good as dead, after all, and Lupin was quite sure that if he could get his own hands on Pettigrew, he would promptly strangle the wretched creature himself. He thought with bitter humor about ripping the rat to shreds while in his werewolf form, but he knew that Wormtail's death would not avenge the loss of James and Sirius.

As his bones and muscles ached, Lupin could feel the changes begin to occur within his body. At first, the pain was mild, but it slowly intensified until he fell to the floor. He heartbeat increased, and his pupils dilated. Then, the transformation from man to wolf took full-force, and his body changed form and became covered in light brown and grey hair. The werewolf yawned and sat down in front of the yearbook, regarding it sadly. If there was one thing about Wolfsbane that was unfortunate, perhaps it was the fact that Lupin couldn't escape from his emotions while in his wolf form. Sometimes being a monster was easier.

The night passed, and morning dawned, bleak and cloudy. November had begun, but thankfully it was a Sunday. Harry slept later than most of the rest of his House, and by the time he finally rolled out of bed, breakfast was long past. He dressed and headed down to the Common Room, where he was greeted by Ron and Hermione. Hermione had apparently been helping Ron with homework, and as Harry took a seat, he noticed how close they were sitting to each other. He had his suspicions that they were more than just friends now, but he didn't have the desire or the inclination to ask.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said. "It's nearly afternoon, though."

"You missed a great breakfast," Ron added. "Speaking of meals, why'd you leave early last night?"

"I just wasn't really that hungry."

"You look positively horrible," Hermione pointed out with concern. "I mean, you're so pale and thin. Maybe you should see Madame Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted.

"No, you're not, mate," Ron countered. "C'mon, what's going on with you?"

Harry was finding himself easily annoyed, but then, as he watched his friends, a sudden feeling of loathing entered his mind. He glowered at them and stood up, approaching Ron with extreme anger, ready to attack, but a small voice in Harry's mind was trying to fight the feeling.

Go away, go away, go away, the voice repeated firmly. Get out of my head.

Harry couldn't say anything as Ron looked upon him with shock and began to back away, but then the small voice grew louder and more determined.

I said get out of my head! Go away now!

Still, Harry was closing in on Ron, and Ron was running out of room. By the twisted look on Harry's face, Ron knew that something was definitely wrong with his friend.

"Harry, it's me, mate," he stammered. "It's Ron... your friend."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, trying to get in the way of him as he closed in on Ron.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY NOW!!

Suddenly, Harry stopped dead in his tracks, and the feeling of complete hatred dispelled. Shaking his head and blinking a few times, Harry glanced nervously from Hermione to Ron, Ron to Hermione.

"I- " he began unsteadily. "I'm sorry."

Then before either of them could say anything, Harry darted out of the room. Voldemort had been inside him again, trying to control him, and Harry knew that it had taken much longer than he had intended to drive the Dark Lord out of his mind. He wanted to run away and never return, for he feared that he would be Voldemort's own weapon of destruction against everyone he held dear. Harry barged through the front doors and ran down the steps and continued across the grounds, his gaze fixed resolutely upon the gates. He wanted out. He needed out.

But then a sudden black mass glided out of nowhere right in front of him and yelled, "Stop!"

Harry nearly fell over, but a sturdy hand steadied him, but the grip on his arm was tight. Looking up, Harry's eyes met those of Snape.

"What on earth was that little display, Mr. Potter?" Snape barked. "Care to explain?"

Snape gruffly released Harry's arm and fixed him with a fierce glare.

"What's there to explain?" Harry retorted. "I'm a threat and a menace to the rest of the wizarding world, so they'd be better off without me."

"Boy, is your head on straight? When was the last time you looked in the mirror and saw a reptilian face with red eyes, Mr. Potter? You are not the Dark Lord, so unless you are having an identity crisis and need to put yourself out of your misery, my Lord, then I severely suggest you return to the castle, where students such as yourself belong, Potter."

"He was inside me!" Harry shouted with rage. "Don't you understand what that makes? Doesn't anyone, or are you all too damned daft to figure it out by now? Voldemort's trying to possess me!"

Snape visibility flinched at the mention of Voldemort's horrid name and found himself pulling Harry violently toward him, shaking the boy.

"Stop this insane talk this instant, Potter," Snape snarled. "You are the only person who can destroy the Dark Lord, and if you don't do it, then we're all damned... every last one of us. If you need reminding of that, I'll gladly oblige," he finished sarcastically.

Harry wanted to deck Snape and run, but he reluctantly knew that the Potions Master was right. Dropping his head, Harry sighed. "You... you're right."

Snape released Harry and nodded curtly. "Good, I'm glad we understand each other, then, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded.

"Let us return to the castle," Snape instructed, wanting to ensure that Harry actually did return.

Harry quietly followed Snape back into Hogwarts, and the doors closed to the outside world, but inside Hogwarts's walls and even inside Harry's mind, he wasn't safe.