CHAPTER ELEVEN - The Mirror of Erised

On the third night after Christmas, Attuoria headed down to the common room at ten o'clock. Earlier that day, Harry said he wanted to show her something, but they had to go at night. In the darkness of the common room, she spotted Harry walking out of his dorm with his invisibility cloak draped over his shoulder.

"We've gotta go fast," said Harry, holding up the cloak and allowing Attuoria to duck underneath with him.

The two of them winded quickly through the corridors, with Attuoria clutching onto his arm to make sure she stayed close to him. They stopped at a dimly lit classroom with one large, ornate mirror standing in the center. Harry threw off the cloak, quickly shut the door, and ran over to the mirror.

"Attuoria look -"

"So," a voice interrupted, causing Harry to jump and Attuoria to look to the side abruptly. Dumbledore was standing on one side of the room in the darkness, next to a pile of jumbled desks.

"I - I didn't see you, sir." Harry stammered, giving Attuoria a quick glance.

"Strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Although I suppose Attuoria already knew I was here?"

"No," Attuoria admitted, "I had no idea."

"So I see Harry has brought you here to show you the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore sat down next to Harry on the floor in front of the mirror. "Come, Attuoria, please join us."

Attuoria crept over and sat down on the other side of Harry. She stared at the mirror in front of her. It looked quite ordinary.

"I expect you've realised by now what the mirror does?" Dumbledore asked Harry.

"It - well - it shows me my family -"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy."

"How did you know -?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible." Dumbledore said gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

At Dumbledore's explanation, Attuoria focused on her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just herself, her human self, sitting down on the floor, next to Harry and Dumbledore.

"Professor, you said that the happiest man on earth would be able to use this mirror as a normal mirror?" Attuoria asked, and Dumbledore nodded. She took a deep breath. "I see myself, Professor. With you two, sitting next to me. Like right now." Attuoria said hesitantly, watching Dumbledore's expression through the mirror. A shocked look grew on his face, while Harry frowned.

"Everything you see is normal? Like a normal mirror?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes slightly wider under his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes."

"Wow," Harry breathed. "You must truly be happy."

Attuoria didn't think so. How could she be truly happy, when the only happiness she'd ever felt was from Christmas a few days ago? If anything, she was void of happiness. Happiness wasn't even wired in her mind. In the mind of a Nightmare demon, happiness didn't exist.

She watched Dumbledore, who was clearly thinking deeply about what Attuoria had just said. But a second later, he straightened himself up and readjusted his spectacles.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow," he said after clearing his throat. "Harry, I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you and Attuoria put that admirable Cloak back on and get off to bed?"

The two of them stood up, Attuoria walking over to grab the cloak from near the door.

"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" said Harry.

"Obviously, you've just done so. You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the Mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks."

Harry stared, and so did Attuoria. She noticed Dumbledore was purposely avoiding her gaze. He was hiding something.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Attuoria kept staring at him, but Dumbledore didn't cave in. He seemed adamant on keeping his thoughts to himself.

"We'll give you socks next year, professor." said Attuoria, trying to get his attention. Dumbledore expressed his gratitude but didn't look back.

The two kids returned to bed, and didn't say anything else. Attuoria heard Harry thinking the same thoughts as her, that Dumbledore might not have wanted to answer truthfully because the question was quite personal. But at the same time, Harry was trying to figure out how Attuoria was able to achieve complete and utter happiness.

Attuoria wasn't quite sure if she was ever going to find out how.

***

After that night at the Mirror of Erised, Attuoria started having dreams. She didn't even think it was possible for a Nightmare demon, who controlled a certain section of dreams, to have a dream herself. But she soon realised that what she was seeing in her sleep wasn't her dream. It was Harry's dream.

Many nights, she heard the sounds of high-pitched laughter and saw a flash of green light, with some blurred figures in the background. Gaining access to his dream also allowed her to enter his mind during sleep. She found out that this recurring dreamscape was the one memory he had of the night his parents were killed in front of him.

When Harry told her and Ron of his dreams, she didn't tell him that she already knew. She couldn't figure out why she was able to read his dreams all of a sudden. Was there a special connection or bond that happened between the two of them that night? Maybe it was something to do with the mirror? Nothing seemed to make sense.

Hermione returned to Hogwarts the day before term started, and for once, she was annoyed at all three of her friends, including Attuoria. The boys hadn't found anything about Nicholas Flamel, while Attuoria had done nothing to remind them of their task. But now that Hermione was back, they returned to spending their breaks at the library, skimming through books in hopes of finding something.

One day, Harry returned to the common room after Quidditch training with a forlorn look on his face. Attuoria sat on an armchair next to where Ron and Hermione were playing chess. Both were quite frustrated at one another (especially Hermione, because for the first time in her life, she was losing to Ron).

"Why the long face?" Attuoria asked, glancing up from the book she was reading as Harry entered the room.

"You'll never guess. Ron -"

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron. "I need to concen - What's the matter with you? You look terrible." He said after taking note of Harry's expression.

Harry glanced around the room to make sure no one was close by. "Snape's refereeing our next Quidditch game against Hufflepuff."

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't, there isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

Ron and Hermione glanced over at Attuoria for help, who was staring at them blankly.

"Just play," she said.

Ron groaned and threw a chess piece at her (the chess piece yelled in protest), while Hermione looked annoyed.

"Are you kidding? And for Harry to risk his life again? Remember the broom from last time?" said Hermione.

"I still think it's Quirrell."

Before the three of them could start shouting at each other, Neville stumbled into the common room, his legs stuck together with a Leg-Locker Curse. The entire room burst into laughter. Attuoria had no idea why Neville's suffering was funny.

"What happened?" Hermione asked him, guiding him over to the group after performing the counter curse.

"Malfoy," Nevile said shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practise that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall! Report him!" Hermione urged Neville.

Attuoria chuckled, and all her friends' eyes snapped to her.

"Are you seriously laughing right now?" said Hermione, her eyes narrowed.

"Malfoy is such a twat." she said.

Her sentence was so random that Harry and Ron couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Twat!" Ron exclaimed, clutching his stomach and inhaling sharply. "Where did you learn to say 'twat'?"

Attuoria shrugged. "Seamus used it a lot."

"But in all seriousness, Neville, you've got to stand up to the twat!" Ron said, causing Harry to spit out a mouthful of air when he heard the word "twat" again. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked, tears welling up in his eyes.

Harry pulled out a Chocolate Frog and handed it to Neville. "You're worth twelve of Malfoy. The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville smiled slightly as he unwrapped the chocolate frog.

"And hey, Neville," Attuoria said, slightly inspired by Harry's speech. "Who cares what Malfoy thinks about you. I can assure you that out of everyone in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, not one person is going to ask for his opinion on anything."

Ron spat saliva everywhere and started choking with laughter. Harry chuckled along with him and even Hermione and Neville smiled. Attuoria felt nice that she was able to make them happy, even if it meant saying something slightly bad about Malfoy. But Malfoy deserved it. He's said countless rude things to her in the past few months, she had the right to say something bad about him, too.

"Thanks Harry, thanks Attuoria. I think I'll go to bed. Do you want the card from the Chocolate Frog? You collect them, don't you?" Neville handed Harry the card and walked away.

"Dumbledore again," Harry said disappointedly. "He was the first one I ever -"

He gasped, staring at the back of the card. Then he looked up at his friends.

"I've found him!" he whispered excitedly. "I've found Flamel! I told you, I read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here - listen to this: 'Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel!"

Hermione jumped to her feet, looking extremely excited. She dashed upstairs to the dorm and quickly returned with an enormous old book.

"I never thought to look in here! I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, staring at the thickness of the book in awe.

Hermione frantically flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Can I talk now?" said Ron grumpily after Hermione told him to shut up.

"Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"The what?"

"Oh honestly, don't you two read? Look - read that, there."

Harry and Ron leaned over to read the words in the book. Attuoria, after spending such a long time with Hermione, had already read more than enough books to know that the Philosopher's Stone was a stone that could provide people with endless wealth and the Elixir of Life. Remembering back to what Hagrid said about the package being a stone, the pieces were all clicking together.

Hermione excitedly told them of her conspiracy, which was the exact same as Attuoria's. Harry and Ron added their own ideas in. The only part Attuoria didn't agree on was the fact that they thought Snape wanted the stone for himself.

Attuoria still had her mind set on Quirrell.

The next morning during Defense Against the Dark Arts, her friends discussed the stone while Attuoria focused on trying to enter Quirrell's mind. Unfortunately for her, he did not look her way at all. Not even once. Perhaps he was just very interested in teaching facts about werewolves and hardly turned away from the board, which is what her friends had suggested, but Attuoria didn't think it was that simple.

The voice in Quirrell's head was too suspicious not to be taken seriously. The voice figured out that Attuoria was suspicious of Quirrell, something that she hadn't told anyone back then. If it could figure that out, who knows how much more it knows.

Then there was the possibility that Quirrell was hiding a person, or at least a face, underneath that turban. Whether it was a full person or a face, Attuoria knew that it belonged to the owner of the foreign voice in Quirrell's head. That was the only valid explanation to why Quirrell would have two voices in his head at the same time.

***

On the day of Harry's match, he, Ron and Hermione were so worried about Snape that their complexions turned an ashy grey. Attuoria had no idea how to comfort them and tell them that Snape wasn't going to curse Harry (especially if he was the referee), as they didn't seem to listen to her ideas. It wasn't really their fault. Attuoria didn't speak much, so her voice was of less importance during a group discussion.

Hermione and Ron clutched their wands in their hands as they stalked over to where Attuoria and Neville were sitting in the stands.

"Now don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as they slid into their seats. They were planning on using the Leg-Locker curse that Malfoy used on Neville to stop Snape in case he was up to his "funny business" again.

"I know, stop nagging me." Ron snapped.

"Imagine missing the spell and hitting a player on the field." Attuoria said quietly, staring down at the field with her hands on her lap. "Or, someone catches you trying to curse a teacher and reports you, then you get expelled."

Both Hermione and Ron glared at her. "Would you rather Harry die?" Hermione hissed.

Attuoria shrugged. "He's not going to."

Her two friends didn't bother saying anything more to her, and glared intently at Snape as the teams began marching onto the field.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," Ron said to Hermione. "And look, they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there." Malfoy said with a grin, Crabbe and Goyle standing right behind him. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron ignored him. Malfoy continued.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - hey, look! Two more candidates! Knight, why aren't you the reserve seeker for your boyfriend? You could find the snitch, couldn't you? Oh wait, who am I kidding, you can't even find your parents!"

Attuoria just stared at him blankly, which clearly surprised Malfoy as this wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Attuoria didn't have any parents. His insult had absolutely no impact on her. She turned away.

"Uh - and you," Malfoy quickly said when he got no response, turning to Neville. "You should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville blushed bright red but quickly stammered, "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter. "Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron was so focused on Harry's Quidditch game that he didn't even respond. So, Attuoria turned around. With Malfoy here, Quidditch wasn't that interesting anymore (even if Snape was randomly awarding Hufflepuff penalties and calling the Weasley twins out for every single thing they did). Malfoy had just insulted the entire Weasley family, who have been extremely nice to her, so Attuoria felt the need to stand up for them.

"And if respect was relevance, then you've got none. At least the Weasleys have got both. I'm so sorry Malfoy dear," Attuoria said sarcastically, learning this tone of voice from listening to Lavender Brown gossiping about boys all day. "But did anyone in these stands ask for your opinion? For a Slytherin, you seem pretty desperate in trying to make the Gryffindors notice you."

Neville let out a little squeak, trying to hide the smile on his face.

Malfoy's fists gripped together tightly, his knuckles turning white. Attuoria could tell he absolutely hated talking to her, as his insults never seemed to go the right way. He switched his focus back onto Ron, who was watching Harry dive towards the ground at an amazing speed.

"Ah, you're in luck, Weasley! Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" Malfoy yelled, finding his voice again.

Before Attuoria could tell Ron that Malfoy really wasn't worth it and that he should probably focus on Harry, Ron had already jumped across the stands and wrestled the kid to the ground. Neville also clambered over to help Ron attack Malfoy.

Attuoria watched the boys helplessly. Crabbe and Goyle were trying to pull Neville off of Malfoy, but Neville had a surprisingly tight grip. Ron and Malfoy rolled underneath the seats, and Attuoria decided she was better off just standing on top of hers.

She managed to witness the last moments of the game as Harry zoomed past Snape on his broom, then raising his arm up with the snitch in his hand. The game had lasted less than five minutes. Attuoria smiled at Hermione, who was shrieking with happiness, jumping up and down and hugging Parvati.

The seat Attuoria was standing on was shaking. She glanced down to witness Malfoy and Ron still in their heated brawl. Attuoria sighed and grabbed Neville, who was about to get beat up by Crabbe and Goyle. She pulled him away from the two hulks easily (they were big but not very smart), and made Neville stand on the seat next to her.

"Neville, repeat after me. Locomotor Mortis." Attuoria said, handing Neville her wand.

"What?"

"Say it once. Locomotor Mortis."

"L-Locomotor Mortis."

"Yes, good. Now I'm going to hold the two boys apart, then you point my wand at Malfoy and confidently say Locomotor Mortis. Got it?" Attuoria said, bending down to get ready to grab the two wrestling boys by their scruff.

Neville nodded, looking nervous but excited.

"Alright, one, two, three!" Attuoria reached down and managed to grab the back of Ron's collar as well as the front of Malfoy's shirt. She separated the two apart for a brief moment and heard Neville say, "Locomotor Mortis!" with a confidence she didn't know he had.

Attuoria heard a thump and an "oof!", and knew that Neville had done it. She quickly pulled Ron up (still by his collar) so that he was standing. There was blood oozing down his nose.

"Come on Ron, let's go congratulate our best friend."

"We won?" Ron gasped, suddenly alert. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and left a long streak of red on his shirt. "Let's go! I can't believe it, it's been less than five minutes…"

Attuoria grabbed Neville's arm and followed Ron down to the pitch, where Harry was surrounded by students and teachers. She stood somewhere in the back, staring at Harry's happy expression with a small smile on her own face.

After their trip to the Mirror of Erised, Attuoria knew that Harry thought she was the happiest person on Earth. But Attuoria knew that in this moment, Harry was more happy than she could ever be, and she was truly happy for him.

Neville tapped her shoulder, holding out her wand in his hand.

"Thanks, Attuoria." said Neville, a genuine smile on his face.

"No problem," Attuoria said, taking her wand from him. "Kind of felt good to give Malfoy a taste of his own medicine, right?"

Neville nodded fiercely. "You're worth a hundred of him, Attuoria."

Attuoria laughed and shook her head. "No, I'm worth one of me. You, Neville, are worth nothing less than yourself. And that's more than enough."