A Reflection of Himself

The following morning, Harry was sitting on his bed, looking at the photo album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. From time to time, Harry would pull the album out of his trunk and slowly look through it and think about his parents. The last time he had gazed upon its many pictures had been when Harry had been thinking about Sirius earlier in the school year, and ever since then, it seemed the only picture Harry had been interested in was the one of Sirius in Lupin's office, but after talking with both Lupin and Sirius yesterday, Harry had realized how much he had allowed himself to stray in keeping his other relationships strong in his life.

And then, of course, there had been Sirius's sad but all too true explanation of what he had experienced behind the veil and how he had not, in fact, had any contact whatsoever with either James or Lily Potter. Sighing heavily, Harry knew that it would have been too good to be true. He had been used to being an orphan his whole life, and even though he had found out more about his parents in the past few years, there still existed a longing within the very pit of Harry's heart, a longing that desperately needed to be filled.

Realizing that although he couldn't pick his blood-related family, Harry knew that his friends were no doubt a sort of family, and he felt horrible for having neglected them for so long. A couple of days had already passed since Ginny and he had had their falling out in what didn't seem like much of a relationship to begin with, but Harry knew that most of that was his fault. Knowing that he couldn't go back and change what had already been done, Harry frowned, wondering if Ginny would ever forgive him for his insensitivities. Hadn't Ginny been there among his other good friends last year when he had lost Sirius? Hadn't she known first hand four years prior what it felt like to be connected directly to Voldemort?

Harry glanced down at a picture of his parents, one taken shortly after they had gotten married. They appeared so happy, in spite of what was going on in the world all around them, but they didn't let the looming presence of the Dark Lord ruin their love they had for each other. Seeing his mother again, Harry realized just how much Ginny reminded him of her. Not only did both women have gorgeous, vibrant red hair, but Ginny, like Lily, was kind, strong, determined, understanding, and beautiful.

Removing the picture from the photo album, Harry placed it in his pocket. He closed the album softly and securely placed it in his trunk among many other things he held valuable: his father's Invisibility Cloak, the Marauder's Map, the mirror from Sirius, his Firebolt. Then, standing up, Harry sauntered over to a mirror on the wall and examined himself. He hastily tried to comb his hair down, but it was an effort made in vain, for once again, his hair, seemingly having a mind of its own, stood up on end in every known direction. He straightened his shirt a bit, and feeling satisfied enough, headed for the common room.

There she was. Ginny was sitting in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, intently working on some homework for Transfiguration. With O.W.L.s only a few months away, Ginny was trying to keep her study habits up, even though she knew they were a far cry from those of Hermione. There were only a few other students in the room, but they were engaged in their own work or conversations or games. Glancing around, Harry noticed that none of his other friends were around, so if he was going to try to talk to Ginny alone, this opportunity was among the best he would receive.

Harry apprehensively walked over to where Ginny was sitting and took a seat across the table from her. Ginny noticed Harry's presence, but she didn't say anything as she lifted her gaze from the parchment in front of her to Harry's green eyes. Casting a quizzical look in Harry's direction, Ginny eyed him suspiciously.

What does he want?

"Coming here to beg forgiveness?" Ginny retorted sarcastically.

"Er, yes... actually," Harry hesitated.

"Hmph," Ginny muttered. "And why should I forgive you?"

"Ginny," Harry said evenly, "I'm sorry. I really am. What I did... what I said... it was all completely selfish and rude of me. I was acting like a right prat."

"Yeah, I'd say you were," Ginny barked, "but the damage has already been done, Harry, so look, just forget it. Just forget that we ever had anything between us, 'cause, you know, I don't even think we ever really did have anything special. It's obvious that your attention has been elsewhere all year, and Merlin forbid it I should dare get in the way."

Ginny hastily reached for her books and began to pack them into her bag in a fury of emotion. Standing up, intent on returning to her room, where she knew Harry couldn't bother her, Ginny began to stalk away, but Harry was quicker. He blocked the way to the staircase and eyed her shrewdly.

Glaring at Harry, Ginny spat, "What do you want from me, Harry? Please get out of my way!"

"No," Harry replied, keeping his voice steady.

"No? No! Fine, I'll just go to the library, then, if you won't move-"

"Ginny, please," Harry practically pleaded, noticing that the other students in the room were eyeing them curiously. "Can we go someplace where we won't have an audience, at least? There's something I need to tell you, and I'd rather it be away from... well, prying ears and eyes."

"Something to tell me in private?" Ginny whispered, feeling quite sick. "Whatever you're up to, Harry, I'll have no part of it. If it's so important, you can bloody well tell me right here."

"All right, all right," Harry surrendered. "Just... sit down, okay?"

Staring Harry down hard with her brown eyes, Ginny sighed loudly and threw her bag on to the floor. Sitting down in the nearest chair, Ginny said, "Well, out with it, then."

"Ginny, I-" Harry swallowed nervously. Why is this so difficult?! "I wanted to do something for you that would show you just how much... well, how much you do mean to me, and since we can't exactly go to Hogsmeade or out on the grounds for a picnic with all this snow, I had to think of something else, and, well, here..."

Harry reached into his pocket, his fingers fumbling over the picture as he grasped it, and he hesitantly handed it to Ginny, whose brow knitted in confusion, the anger leaving her face.

"What?" she asked softly. "Harry, I don't understand. I mean, this is a picture of your parents..."

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied, "but look at them. Don't they look happy?"

Ginny nodded. "But what does this have to do with us?"

"Well, everyone's always telling me how much I look like my dad and even act like him in some ways, and then today, as I looked at this picture, I realized how much you and my mum have in common. Ginny, I've been told that my mum was a sweet, beautiful, and strong woman, and in so many ways, you're just like her... all those things that she was. I dunno... maybe it sounds crazy. Hell, I don't even know if I'll live to survive this whole war-"

"Harry..." Ginny said with concern, reaching for his arm.

"Let's not deny it, Ginny," Harry said firmly. "It's a real possibility... but if I do survive, I dunno... I'd like very much one day to be married and have a family, and so, here's hoping. Maybe one day... one day, this might be you and me in a picture."

Tears welled up uncontrollably in Ginny's eyes as she exclaimed, "Oh, Harry!" She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her, taking him by surprise, but a flood of relief rushed over Harry in that instant as he smiled and placed his arms around Ginny.

For a while, they just sat there, locked in each other's embrace. Finally, reluctantly, Ginny loosened her hold just enough so she could pull her head back enough to look Harry in the eyes. Smiling, Ginny said, "You're forgiven."

"Aw, c'mon, Moony! D'you have any idea how boring it is to just hang - literally - around your office all day, especially when no one's around?"

"Keep that up, Padfoot, and I'll say you really do sound just like a dog begging for a treat," Lupin teased, laughing and shaking his head.

Sirius gave Lupin a pleading, innocent look, to which Lupin only chuckled harder. "Seriously, Sirius, what do you want me to do? I can't exactly lug your picture around everywhere I go."

"No, but I seem to recall you were able to strink me down in size so I was small enough to even fit inside your pocket," Sirius taunted. "You could place me inside your briefcase, and I swear I'll keep quiet. It'd be... interesting... to actually sit in on one of your classes, and seeing as I've never gotten the opportunity to see you teach, which still is a shock to me (although not as much as it was finding out about Snivellus being a professor), this would be the next best thing."

"All right, all right," Lupin agreed. "But you've got to promise not to cause any distractions, got it?"

"Got it."

With a wink, Sirius's portrait was shrunken down and placed inside Lupin's briefcase, and for the next few days, Sirius had the delightful experience of being a part of every Defense Against the Dark Arts class that Lupin taught, which was all of them, of course. Sirius had to stifle a laugh on several occasions when students answered questions wrong that seemed easy enough for a toddler to answer or when they apparently had "an accident" whilst performing a spell that was supposed to be protecting them from some sort of Dark Magic, not contributing further to harming the student-made-victim. Every night, Lupin would return Sirius's portrait to its normal size and place it back on the wall, especially if Harry was coming for a visit. All the while, Lupin and Sirius kept what they were doing between them.

Before anyone knew it, March had come. The days were growing slightly longer and warmer, and instead of snow to contend with, freezing rain and chilly, foggy days filled the air. As was a part of every month, Lupin had his transformation to undergo. He had gotten the Wolfsbane potion from Snape a couple of days beforehand, and since Lupin knew he wouldn't be able to teach his classes, he was entrusting them to the Potions Master yet again.

"You'll find all my lesson plans in my briefcase," Lupin explained in his office one evening as Snape brought the potion to him.

"That will suffice," Snape said, smirking, "and as long as you haven't been engaging the students in casting the Riddikulus spell on any boggarts that bear a resemblance to yours truly, then I will not assign any homework assignments on werewolves."

Picking the goblet up that contained the potion, Lupin drank it down as quickly as he possibly could, making a face at the awful taste.

"Agreed," Lupin replied, still trying to get the taste out of his mouth, "but you still manage to get your jollies by giving me this horrid-tasting concoction every month."

"You realize that sugar renders it useless, Lupin; you know this," Snape scowled.

Shaking his head and grinning, Lupin remarked, "Is all humor truly lost on you, Severus? Really, it was only a joke."

"I was not aware that I had come to your office to engage in such frivolities, Lupin," Snape drawled, "but since you are so inviting with such things, perhaps I shall assign homework on werewolves after all."

Lupin eyed Snape for a moment, not sure whether the Potions Master was being serious or not, for Snape's impassive face betrayed nothing. Finally, Lupin decided to simply give up.

"Well, as fun as this all has been," began Lupin, "I really ought to retire for the evening. It grows late."

"Indeed," Snape replied, nodding and standing up. "Good night, then."

Snape left the office, and Lupin, feeling quite tired all of a sudden, left as well, forgetting to return Sirius's portrait to the wall that night.

The next morning, Lupin was feeling none too well, and even though he had not yet undergone the transformation that was bound to happen that night, he knew he would have to spend the day in his chambers, resting. Meanwhile, Snape entered Lupin's office to collect the briefcase with all the lesson plans inside them. The first class of the day was with the sixth years.

As they entered the classroom and took their seats, Harry murmured to Ron and Hermione that Lupin probably would not be in class today, seeing as the time of month it was. Harry was glad to have his friends back, even though they had reassured him a couple of weeks ago that he had never really lost them, but Harry still felt like he had found something precious that he had missed for a while. Thankful enough that his classes seemed to be running smoothly, including Potions, and that he was on good terms with everyone again, Harry found that he didn't mind so much that Snape would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. When he had told Ron so, the red-haired boy exclaimed, "What are you? Mental?"

Now, Harry was simply smirking at Ron's apparent discomfort. Then Snape entered the classroom. Everyone stopped talking immediately and gave their full attention to Snape as he began to explain the lesson plan for that day.

"You will be learning how to block yourselves against many types of hexes," Snape lectured evenly, "although I recommend that you keep the hexes simple enough at first, so less... experienced... students can get a handle of the blocking spells."

Snape cast a glare in Neville's direction upon saying the last part. From within the confines of the briefcase, Sirius knew that his ears weren't deceiving him. What's Snape trying to prove by intimidating the students like that?

Before he could stop himself, Sirius blurted out, "If Remus heard you now, Snivellus-"

Snape immediately heard a muffled voice coming from within the briefcase.

What the hell? he thought, while at the same time, Harry thought, Sirius?!

The students near the front had also apparently heard and were gazing at the briefcase and Snape curiously.

"There's nothing to see here!" Snape barked, clearly annoyed. "Go! Practice!"

Hoping to shoo the majority of the students away, Snape grabbed the briefcase and muttered, "Silencio!"

Opening it up, Snape soon found the small picture of Sirius behind a few papers. Smirking, Snape whispered to the struggling Sirius, "And you thought you'd have a little fun at my expense, did you, Black?"

The whole time, Harry had been listening. Even though he was pretending to practice with Ron, he knew that it had to have been Sirius's voice he had heard just moments before. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. Going up to the front of the classroom, Harry demanded, "What's going on?"

"Potter, return to the lesson," Snape said tersely, closing the briefcase.

"No," Harry replied. "I know who's in there... What are you playing at, sir?"

"I'll have you know, Potter, that this was not my doing," Snape sneered. "Why would I place your beloved godfather's accursed portrait in the briefcase I would be using? I couldn't stand him when he was alive. You certainly don't think I would want to be in his presence now that he is dead."

"You-" Harry paused, very upset, "you don't stop, do you? You realize he can hear everything you're saying?"

"Potter, this conversation is over. Return to your lesson."

Glaring at Snape, Harry turned away and reluctantly returned to the lesson. The class managed to pass eventually, and by the end of it, Harry was once again on the verge of hating Snape. It seemed to come naturally, after all.

As Harry made to leave with his friends, something inside suddenly tugged him back. He wanted - no, needed - to find out what was going on and find a way to help Sirius.

"I'll be along shortly," Harry told Ron and Hermione.

They quickly nodded and left, leaving Harry standing near the doorway. While Snape was busy collecting pieces of parchment and organizing for the next class, he glanced up and noticed Harry.

"Don't you have a class to be going to, Potter?"

"Not quite yet," Harry said, walking toward Snape. "I want to know why Sirius is in Re- er, Professor Lupin's briefcase."

"I don't know, and it is hardly my business to inquire," Snape replied. "Why don't you ask him once he is well again? And why must you always challenge authority, Potter?"

Harry eyed Snape evenly. "It is mostly just your authority, sir."

"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape muttered. "If you persist in bothering me, it will be fifty."

Shaking his head, Harry walked away. From the door, he said, "You realize, Professor, that you would actually make a good teacher if you would only answer your students' questions sometimes."

Harry walked out of the room, leaving Snape staring at the empty doorway. Empty... just the way he had to act practically all the time. Emotionless. A void of a man. A shadow of a living soul.

Unlocking the briefcase, Snape released Sirius from the Silencing Spell, and upon Sirius's initial protests and name-calling, Snape was very tempted to replace the charm.

"Would you be quiet for just one moment?!" Snape barked at Sirius's picture.

Frowning, Sirius stopped talking and gave him a look that clearly said, "Well?"

"The boy defends you to a fault," Snape muttered. "I should say it's pathetic, but truly, he displays unconditional loyalty. He will need that to win this war."

Sirius nodded and remarked, "That's probably the wisest thing you've ever said, Snape."

"Perhaps, but... then again, I'm not the one locked in the dark," Snape smirked, closing the briefcase as the next class began to filter into the room.

"Keep quiet, and I won't use the charm again," Snape whispered silkily, quite enjoying this and feeling a sense of victory when he heard no reply