Bewitched

"You reckon we should go after him?" Harry asked.

"In a minute," Ron said absently, still staring at the Mirror.

"It's just ..." Harry said. "I dunno, he seemed a bit, well, off."

"I'm sure he's fine," Ron said, making a vague gesture.

"Looking into a mirror that shows your heart's desire and screaming your head off doesn't seem particularly fine to me," Harry said with growing certainty. "And, I mean, he's injured and all."

"Hey," Ron said, suddenly alert. "What do you reckon Hermione would see in here? Herself with a load of the world's dullest books probably ... still, we should probably show her when she gets back. And what about Fred and George?"

Harry looked at Ron, his eyes narrowing.

"So you think we should show a bunch of people?" Harry asked neutrally.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "Just wondering what they'd see is all. What about Neville? Bet it'd be himself with no bandages holding a Remembrall that's completely dim, eh? Or an 'O' in Transfiguration."

No way, Harry thought. Could Milo have been right about the Mirror?

"I think," Harry said slowly, "that we should go talk to Dumbledore — or McGonagall."

"What, really?" Ron asked, as if Harry had just suggested they jump into a pit of venomous snakes.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I reckon the Mirror, it's, well, it's like Milo said, it's making you want to go and get other people to show it to." The last several words spilled out all at once.

"What?" Ron sputtered. "Need I remind you that he also nicked the contents of everyone's trunks because he thought they were, and I quote, treasure chests? He's off his rocker."

"But when I saw the mirror the next thing I did was to go get you two, and now you want to go get other people! It's just like he said!"

"I was just wondering what they'd see is all," Ron said defensively. "And anyway, it's not like it's a crime, is it? It's a fun mirror, I mean. But it's not like I was seriously considering it."

"That so? Or is the Mirror making you say that?"

"If I was being possessed," Ron said firmly. "I'd know about it."

"I didn't know when it made me show it to you!"

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Look, say you're right and it's this big dirty evil magic Mirror that's controlling me with its big dirty evil magic Mirror powers," Ron said patiently. "If that were true — and it isn't, but if it were — then we wouldn't be having this dumb conversation because you'd be controlled by its big dirty evil magic Mirror powers also."

Harry frowned for a moment, then a thought struck him.

"No," he said excitedly, "because he used Protection From Evil on me, remember? The Mirror can't influence me — but we have to find a teacher before it wears off! Can you remember how long it lasts? I can't."

"This is mad," Ron said exasperatedly. "We're just getting jumpy 'cause of Hannah and convinced everyone's possessed whenever they do anything. This time tomorrow someone will suggest we go get breakfast and everyone will be all 'He's possessed! Let's go run to Dumbledore!' or 'He said he was going to the loo! He must be possessed!'"

"That's what you would say if the Mirror were controlling you," Harry insisted.

"It's also what I'd say if I thought you were becoming an increasingly annoyingly paranoid git," Ron said, losing his patience. "Just saying."

"Let's just go find him and go to McGonagall, okay? I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"That we all get eaten by spiders in the hallway, obviously," Ron said. "But fine, let's go — if it's the only thing that'll shut you up about this. Now, where do you reckon he is?"

"Where who is?" asked a new voice. Harry and Ron turned, shocked, to find Milo leaning calmly against the doorframe to the classroom.

"You," Harry said while Ron said "What are you doing here?"

"What are you lot fighting about?" he asked, ignoring Ron's question entirely.

"Sir Paranoid here reckons we've both been bewitched," Ron said, "and wants to take us to McGonagall."

Milo snorted dismissively.

"Lead on, then," he said. "Not that it will accomplish much; that's practically impossible to detect."

"One second," Harry said. "Just going to grab the Cloak."

Milo raised an eyebrow briefly as Harry shoved his Invisibility Cloak into his schoolbag, but said nothing.

"Right, let's go," Harry said, shouldering his bag and heading to the door. "And both of you stay in front of me," he added, "just in case."

As they walked to McGonagall's office, Harry kept a firm grip on his wand — he wasn't sure just how much power (if any) the Mirror had over them, but decided not to take any chances.

"Er, mate," Ron said anxiously as they rounded one of the last corners to their destination, "not really sure how to tell you this, but your magic belt thingy seems to be acting up." Ron gestured at Milo's belt, which, now that he was looking closely, Harry noticed did, indeed, seem to be 'acting up.' One of the ten small pouches was wiggling around, as if something inside was trying to get out.

"It does that sometimes," Milo said with a shrug. "It's nothing that need worry you."

"Oh," said Ron. "It's just I never noticed it before."

"Isn't that where you keep your rat?" Harry asked shrewdly. He'd seen the furry little animal poking it's head out of the belt occasionally to look around. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever seen the buckle on that particular pouch done up before...

"Nope," Milo said blithely.

"Oh, okay," Harry said as if it were nothing. Something weird's definitely going on, he thought. Best get to McGonagall as quickly as possible.

"Still can't believe I'm voluntarily walking to McGonagall's office," Ron muttered. "Again. What would Fred and George say?"

Harry expected Milo to make a quip about just how 'voluntary' (or rather, involuntary) Ron's trip to the Deputy Headmistress's office really was, but Milo remained silent, staring straight ahead with his shoulders set.

It felt like it took ages, but in reality, it was only a four minute walk or so from the abandoned classroom to their destination. Harry rapped quickly on the door three times, not taking his eyes off of Milo.

"Come in," Harry heard.

"Right," Harry said, gesturing with his wand (although, in truth, he didn't know any spells off-hand that he would use on them anyways). "You two go in first, and leave the talking to me."

"You're mad, mate," Ron muttered, and pushed the door open.

"Misters Potter, Weasley, and Amastacia-Liadon," McGonagall said, rising from her chair. "What seems to be the mat— why are you holding your wand? And you, shouldn't you be in the hospital wing?"

"I think these two have been bewitched —"Harry started.

"Oh, come now," McGonagall said in a pacifying tone. "Why would —"

"— by a magic Mirror. And so have I."

"Mirror?" McGonagall asked sharply, suddenly alert. "Explain everything on the way. Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Ron asked as McGonagall stepped around her desk to the door.

"To see the Headmaster, of course. This nonsense about bewitchment aside, I need to talk to him about just leaving a certain powerful magical artifact where just anyone can bump into it."

Despite the fact that she had dismissed Harry's concerns about mental control off-hand, Harry noticed that McGonagall, who usually liked to stay at the front of any particular group, stayed a half-step behind Harry, Ron and Milo on the way up to Dumbledore's hidden office — a fact which made it somewhat awkward for him to recount the events surrounding the mirror.

McGonagall guided them down Hogwarts' ever-shifting halls, through false walls, up some stairs, down some stairs, up some more stairs, took what Harry swore were three left turns at one point and still ended up somewhere different, until they eventually stopped in front of an ominous-looking gargoyle statue. While Harry hadn't ever been to this particular statue, he was fairly sure McGonagall had taken a deliberately circuitous route.

Harry saw McGonagall's lips move, but a sudden ringing in his ears prevented him from hearing whatever it was she said. Just as abruptly as it started, the ringing stopped, and the gargoyle seemed to rotate upwards into a spiral staircase. Something about the way it moved seemed subtly wrong to Harry, but he'd seen enough magic to know not to analyze things too closely.

"Up you go," McGonagall said, and they trotted up the stone staircase to a heavy wooden door. McGonagall knocked politely on the door and waited.

"Shouldn't we just go in?" Harry asked, impatient. He didn't know how much longer Protection From Evil would last, or if it had already run out. "This is urgent."

"Neither the Minister for Magic, Rodrick Flamel, nor even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would dare enter the Headmaster's office without permission. So we wait."

Harry waited several uncomfortable seconds, tapping his foot impatiently against the ancient stone floor. Eventually, the door simply swung open to let them in.

Dumbledore sat behind a heavy oak desk, wearing a particularly eye-watering multi-hued robe and his trademark half-moon spectacles.

"Why, Minerva, what an unexpected surprise!" he said, looking genuinely pleased. "And I see you've brought guests! Is it tea time already?"

"No, it's not, it's —"

"My colleague Professor Sinistra assures me that, due to the rotation of the earth beneath our feet hurtling through space around the great, smiling face in the sky that we call the sun, it is always tea time. Somewhere, at least."

"Er, well, be that as it may, I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you," McGonagall said, desperately trying to regain the initiative. "It's about the Mirror, and ... something else as well."

"I see," Dumbledore said gravely, all appearances of a foolish old man suddenly gone. Harry had never seen the Headmaster look so serious before. "Go on."

"Perhaps it would be best if Mister Potter explained," the Deputy Headmistress said.

"Very well. What's happened, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

As Harry nervously told his story, he noticed that Milo appeared to be sweating nervously.

"So, in short, you think you're all being influenced by the Mirror of Erised?" Dumbledore asked.

"Is that what it's called?" Harry asked.

"It is, indeed," Dumbledore said. "And, it appears, I shall have to have it moved from its temporary home. If it will put your mind at rest, the Mirror, while extremely powerful, does not have the ability to directly control the actions of those who gaze upon it — not to say that having their heart's desires revealed to them isn't a form of influence in itself."

"Oh," Harry said, greatly relieved.

"Still," Dumbledore said, "you can't be too careful, I suppose. If you would be so good as to wait here a moment?" Without waiting for a reply, the Headmaster stood up from his desk to walk over to one of his shelves of ticking silver devices on the wall.

"Ah," he said after rummaging about for a moment or two, "here we are. I've always been meaning to try this one out." Blowing what seemed to be generations of accumulated dust off of a complicated-looking spindly silver thing that Harry could only, in all honesty, accurately describe as a 'gizmo,' Dumbledore returned to his desk and sat down heavily. He placed the gizmo on the polished wooden surface where it made an ominous thud that seemed much louder than an object of its apparent mass would make. It had spiky protrusions. It had bits that whirled around for no apparent reason. It had twists and turns and knobs and dials. It had what looked uncomfortably like a dentist's drill only more, well, eldritch.

"But, Headmaster —" McGonagall began, looking astonished.

"Not now, Minerva," Dumbledore said, brushing aside whatever her protest was. "This," he said to Harry, Ron, and Milo with a dramatic flourish, "is the, De ... bewitcher of, er, Destiny."

"I'm sorry, the —" McGonagall began.

"Yes, the Debewitcher of Destiny. It's for, near as I can figure, revealing the presence of any form of magic that allows mental control, up to and including a certain Unforgivable curse."

"But detecting the Imperius Curse is all but impossible," Milo protested.

"Indeed, without the Debewitcher of Doom, it is impossible," Dumbledore agreed.

"Wasn't it called the Debewitcher of Destiny?" Ron asked.

"It's very versatile," Dumledore shrugged. "Now, who shall I use it on first?" As he spoke, he adjusted several knobs and dials on the device, which made its drill extension whir in an ominous fashion.

"I'm not going near that thing," Ron said stubbornly. "What would it do if we were, you know, bewitched? Not that we are, of course."

"Well," Dumbledore said, scratching his beard as he thought. "To be honest, I'm not completely certain. To the best of my knowledge, this dial here controls the severity of the Debewitcher's effect," he said, gesturing at a particularly large, unmarked dial. "It goes anywhere from simply revealing the identity of the guilty party to having the earth itself rise up and swallow the culprit whole."

Ron gave a low whistle.

"The only problem is, the dial is unmarked. Now, of course, the normal convention is for dials to turn them to the left for their lowest setting , but, as I'm sure you can tell, the designer of this particular device was quite clearly bonkers. So, just to be safe, I'm turning it all the way to the right." As he did so, the whirring of the drill-end increased to a frightening pace, and parts of the machine were pumping up and down now at a rate that was shaking the floor. "Ah," Dumbledore said. "See? Perfectly safe."

Harry swallowed nervously. Ron's face was white, and Milo licked his suddenly-dry lips.

"I-I'll go first," Harry said. He'd rather do almost anything other than go near that deathtrap of a machine, but he had to know if the Mirror was controlling him. Also, it set a good precedent for Ron and particularly Milo. Once he'd done it and (hopefully) survived, they couldn't very well back out.

"Then, if you would just place your palm here," Dumbledore said, pointing at a flat disc on one of the Debewitcher's spindly arms. Harry complied, taking care not to go anywhere near the more dangerous-looking appendages. There was a tense second or two as Harry waited for the results. The machine didn't, as far as Harry could tell, give any sort of feedback, but eventually Dumbledore broke the silence. "Well," he said, "it seems that you are, fortunately, no less — or more, for that matter — yourself than you usually are." Harry sighed with relief, collapsing into a nearby chair. "Now, Mister Weasley," Dumbledore said, turning to Ron. "If you would ...?"

Ron gulped audibly, but put his now-heavily-sweating palm on the disc. To his relief, nothing happened.

"See?" he said to Harry, pulling his hand away from the machine. "I'm fine, just like I said."

"And Mister Amastacia-Liadon," Dumbledore said, turning to Milo. "It's your turn."

"But I'm not possessed," he said stubbornly.

"I'm sure you're not," Dumbledore replied. "But, nevertheless, your two friends were brave enough to try it. Surely you — as, by your own admission, a hero — would be willing to do the same?"

"This is pointless," he muttered. "I'm sure we all have much more important things to be doing — especially you, headmaster, as Supreme Mugwump on top of being Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot — than entertaining a boy's delusions. I mean, you yourself said the Mirror can't —"

"You got his titles right," Harry said suddenly.

"Sorry, what?" Milo asked coolly.

"You get everything's name wrong," Harry said, backing away slowly.

"I don't —"

"You once called him the Supreme Muggle instead of Mugwump, and called the Chudley Cannons Cuddly. I've never heard you get two polysyllabic names right in the same sentence before."

"Well, maybe I thought it was funny then, but now things are impor—"

"You trapped Mordy in your Belt."

"He was being unruly," Milo said defensively. "He bit me. See?" Milo peeled off one of his weird blue gloves to show a small bite mark between his thumb and index finger.

"Maybe," Harry said skeptically. "He bit you because you're bewitched after all."

"I'm not —"

"Then put your hand in the machine and prove it," Harry said.

"Fine," Milo snapped, and stepped towards Dumbledore's desk. He reached slowly towards the machine with four sets of eyes boring into him slowly. Just as he was about to place his hand on the disc, he spun around. "Summon Hipp—"

"No," Dumbledore said quietly. There was no threat, no malice, and no particular volume to his words. He wasn't even holding his wand. Nevertheless, Milo blinked in amazement as his spell fizzled out in front of him.

"How did you —" he began, then noticed the large number of wands pointed at him. "Ah," he said. "I see."

o—o—o—o

"Enervate," Milo heard a voice say. In a panic, he rolled to the side and tried to stumble to his feet.

"Don't you dare," he said, feeling dizzy. The whole Material Plane seemed to be spinning in a somewhat concerning manner, and everything more than a few feet away was an indistinct blur. He didn't envy his chances of succeeding the requisite Concentration check to cast a spell given his current status.

"I was just —" the voice said again.

"Enervation, eh?" Milo asked, trying to hide just how dazed he was. "You can keep your 1d4 negative levels, if you please, and tell me what the Hells is going on. Or... or else," he finished lamely.

"I think we've got him back," someone else said.

"Blimey, you reckon?" a third voice said sarcastically.

"If 'onety-four' is a number," a female voice said sternly, "then I shall eat my hat. I believe the word you were searching for was fourteen."

"Everyone, stop trying to be witty," Milo said, his vision growing somewhat clearer, "and give me a straight answer."

"You were controlled by the Imperius curse for an unknown duration by an unknown party," a grandfatherly voice that Milo recognized instantly as Dumbledore's said. "But were discovered by your good friend Harry Potter who, in a notably rare act of sensibility for a Gryffindor, immediately did the sensible thing and told the good Deputy Headmistress. Thirty points for Gryffindor, Harry, by the way. In, what if I dare say was a characteristic fit of quick thinking, I then managed to convince you — and, more importantly, whomever was controlling you — that I could reveal the identity of your controller with this fifteen-hundred-year-old magical juicer. You were presumably ordered to attack us, and Minerva, regrettably, was forced to subdue you."

"Oh," said Milo, as the memory came back to him. The room was starting to stabilize, but Milo decided he'd be perfectly happy staying on blessedly solid the floor for a while nonetheless. "Then why did you try to cast Enervation on me?"

"Enervate, Milo, not Enervation," Dumbledore corrected.

"Demons and Tanar'ri," Milo shrugged. "Same thing."

"While I have lived for quite some time and accumulated no small amount of knowledge of magic, I do not know of this Enervation spell of which you speak — fittingly, since I presume it is from your world. Enervate, however, is a harmless, yet rather unfortunately named spell to wake up those rendered asleep or unconscious by magic."

"Then why did they call it a word that means to suck energy out of something?" Milo asked curiously.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Dumbledore said with the slightest of shrugs. "I'm led to believe that some people at the ministry are working on a functionally identical spell with a more appropriate name. But I digress. I don't suppose there's any chance that you can identify the culprit?"

"Sorry," Milo said. His vision had cleared to the point where he could clearly make out Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, and Professor McGongall's faces. "I was in the hallway near the Mirror when I thought I thought I noticed something, so I cast a spell that detects minds. It told me there were twelve sentient minds nearby, although I couldn't see any of them. Before I could find out more, I heard someone whisper 'Imperio', and then, well, you know the rest. Oh, speaking of," he said, unbuttoning the pouch that Mordy was trapped in. "Sorry, little guy," he said to his friend. "It's okay, now."

"The minds that the spell detected," Dumbledore pressed. "Are you quite sure they were sentient? As in, human-level intelligence?"

"Er," Milo said, trying to remember the spell description. "Anything living that's as smart or smarter than a newt."

"Could it have simply been the wall portraits?" Dumbledore asked. "I daresay, the one that guards Ravenclaw tower is a good deal smarter than a newt."

"No," Milo said. "Those are probably Constructs — er, magically animated objects — and therefore immune to the spell. So whatever they were, they were invisible."

"In fact, that is most unlikely," Dumbledore said. "The ability to become truly invisible, at least in our world, is extremely rare. It is more likely that these twelve persons or creatures unknown were hidden with, say, a remarkably good Disillusionment Charm." Oh, Milo thought. So that's why See Invisibility only worked on the Cloak. Go figure.

"One last question," Milo asked. "Actually, make that two questions."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "I will answer to within the confines of our earlier agreement."

"The first: how did you interrupt my spell? I'd assumed our different types of magic were basically incompatible."

"Oh, it was quite simple, really," Dumbledore admitted. "I simply used magic of a different sort. I reasoned that, since you once told me that you had worked and studied for your magic — rather than, say, being born into it — that it required a certain degree of mental fortitude and concentration to use, much like our magic."

"So you just..."

"Over the years, I've acquired something of a reputation for myself — most of it undeserved, of course — and I've found that a certain type of wizard, especially dark wizards, seem to believe me capable of almost anything. So, I simply commanded you to stop, and you, believing I actually had the power to do so, complied."

"What would you have done if that hadn't worked?" Milo asked.

"Ah," Dumbledore said with a slight twinkle in his eye. "In that case, I would have done nothing."

"Nothing?" Milo asked, shocked. "Then the Hippogriff would have torn you to pieces."

"I daresay not," Dumbledore said. "Minerva would have Stunned you well before you finished casting your spell. Now, as to your second question...?"

"Right," Milo said. "What the Hells was that Mirror?"

"Ah, the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said. "It shows the heart's deepest, and sometimes, unfortunately, darkest desire. Nothing more, and nothing less. I strongly urge you to put it out of your minds, for men have wasted away obsessing over it. Needless to say, it shall be moved to a more safe location as soon as possible."

"Good idea," Milo said, remembering the disturbing images the Mirror had shown him. "Now, if someone will help me to the hospital wing, I'm going to stay there until I've made an amulet of Protection From Evil for everyone and their cousin."