16: Feeling of Betrayal and the Mirror

[Lysandra's Pov]

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up after the troll warning. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for us, embarrassed.

Harry and Ron, who were walking behind me and Hope, stopped in front of her, with the same flushed expression on their faces.

"I'm sorry..." said Ron. He, with his amazing genius mind, had insulted Hermione for actually doing the spell correctly, and trying to help him. Genius indeed.

None of the three looked at each other, their gazes glued to the ground, while Hope and I stood on the side, listening.

"I wish I had popcorn," said absentmindedly my green-eyed friend.

Pop... corn? What's that? Do you wear it?

I looked at her, curious about the new word she used. Maybe it was a muggle thing. With all the stories she told me about non-magical people, I can't say I wasn't intrigued.

She stared back at me, her left eyebrow raised, as if it was common knowledge. As light shed upon her, she sighed, "It's muggle food. Normally you eat it while watching a movie, but in this case - " she said, before realizing I wasn't understanding anything. "Yeah, I forgot you also don't know what movies are... You know what? Just forget it,"

I shrugged my shoulders. Even if I'm interested in muggles, Alaric would just laugh at it, explaining how the magical side of the world was better. How we had to go into hiding because non-majs feared our capabilities. Sometimes, he sounded too much like Grandfather.

I knew he was upset with me. And rightfully so. Our little group, as he called it, did indeed know something more about the troll. I'm sure if I told him about the Cerberus, he would sprint to see him.

Of course, I knew how to get past it. Play a tune, and the dog would take a nap. Nothing hard. Now... would I tell my friends about it? No.

Just because Snape showed some dislike towards Harry, it didn't mean he automatically was the culprit. His leg injury was probably caused by rushing to check on Fluffy.

Alaric wouldn't use legilimency on me... probably. If there was someone who could go past that dog, it was him. And I doubt that the creature was the only form of protection for whatever Hagrid had brought from Gringotts. The more trials it had, the more enticing for my brother.

I didn't want him to delve into something that probably wouldn't be worth, endangering himself. He was powerful, having almost complete control over the emotional side the dark arts would mess with.

But, there was this gut feeling that was haunting me since we discovered what was in the forbidden corridor. It told me that, whatever was protected there, it was with an objective in mind. What could it be?

While it was funny watching Hermione reconcile with those two air-heads, I slowly distanced myself from them, sitting on an empty couch in the common room.

"Something wrong?" asked Hope, before sitting on my left, a plate with pie in her hands.

I looked at her from the corner of my eyes. Even if she was stuffing herself with the pie, she did look concerned about me.

Still, I did say I wasn't going to tell Alaric about it, mostly because the troll just looked like a bad-planned joke. Yet, I couldn't shake this feeling that something was gonna happen.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head, which caused Hope to frown.

"You really suck at lying," she said as a matter of fact.

My brother, some weeks ago, said that Professor Quirrel had a menacing magical aura leaking from behind his head, beneath that horrendous thing he calls a turban. At first, I thought that it was a curse he had cast on him during his 'travels'.

Anyone with an IQ higher than a troll could tell that those travels were mostly made up. One just couldn't imagine Quirrel facing a vampire or werewolf pack.

But now, whenever I thought about it, the weird feeling that wouldn't leave me would get stronger. Maybe it was the seer's blood?

"Say... are you really sure Snape is trying to get past Fluffy?" I asked. Hope not liking Snape was also weird. While he didn't appreciate Harry, she barely showed any malice to her. Pretty sure he was worst with me than with her.

"At first I wasn't so sure. But now, with that injury? Absolutely,"

I sighed. While I did enjoy her company, she could be as naive as her brother sometimes.

__________

[Alaric's Pov]

Morning came once again. After completing my daily exercise routine, I checked my pocket watch. I still had some time.

In a second, I transformed into my animagus form. Stretching my jet-black wings, I lifted off from the ground, flying high around the clouds.

When I was in a dilemma, I would usually do this. It helped me clear my mind.

'Why would she hide things from me?' I thought. Normally, I would be upset with her, especially if it's Lysandra, seeing she was together with me since birth.

However, I knew she wasn't like this. We would usually share anything and everything. There was something that was keeping her from telling what she knew.

I grinned. She should know that omitting information like this from me would only make me more eager to find out what it was.

After getting back to the common room and cleaning myself, I went on with my day. In the evening, I was enjoying some free alone time, by the shore of the Black Lake. Occasionally, I would see a giant tentacle coming out of the water, before diving right in.

The day had been a peaceful one, apart from the fact I did ignore my sister. I wasn't upset with her, but I'm really petty sometimes.

Feeling the cold breeze try to break through the warming charms I had placed, steps crunching the snow sounded behind me.

My eyelids fluttered open, my gaze landing on the green-robed witch that was slouching over me, a stern but warm expression on her face.

"Professor McGonagall," I said, smiling.

"The headmaster wants to see you," she said, urging me to get up, "Enjoying the winter breeze? And odd hobby, I must say,"

Cleaning the snow on my robes, I got up, before starting to walk beside her.

"Growing up in a place that snows nine months a year, you learn to like it," I chuckled.

This past month had made my relationship with McGonagall closer, to a point I would say I trust her. It's not every day that a professor has the ideals she has. I would also say I trust Snape. The man likes his house's students, he just doesn't know how to show it.

Excelling in his class probably also helped, to the point he often more than not, lets a compliment escape his mouth.

I followed Professor McGonagall, walking through the corridors of the castle, before finally arriving in the headmaster's office.

"Go in," she said, "He wants to see you alone,"

Approaching the gargoyle that guarded the office, it suddenly stepped aside, reviling a circular staircase that led upward. I calmly walked up the stairs, before going through another door.

One thing was certain: of all the teachers' offices I had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting... It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of bookshelves, spread across the walls. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses and a variety of magical artifacts on display in the room, some even encased in enchanted glass. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat. The Sorting Hat.

The office was full of magical lights floating around, a trademark for the cluster of different spells.

Across the room, behind the desk, dressed in his ever so bright purple robes, with half-moon glasses resting on his nose, his white hair and beard shining with the light, stood Dumbledore, my grandfather's greatest enemy.

A scowl slowly formed on my face. I couldn't help but show distaste for the man who had imprisoned Grandfather.

"Lemon drops?" he asked, with a grandfatherly smile.

Weird way to start a conversation, "Yes, please," How could I refuse some good sour candy?

A surprised expression flashed across his face before a brighter smile appeared. He stepped towards me, presenting me with some of the sweets. He then turned to his left, walking closer to a mirror that was leaned against a wall, near a pensive.

"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi," I muttered, reading the engravings written on the gold frame.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," Dumbledore said, "The Mirror of Erised. Men have wasted away before it, not knowing if what they have seen is real, or even possible," he continued, sorrow embracing his tone.

"Tell me, my boy, what do you see?" he asked, a trace of guilty accompanying his words.

I gazed at the mirror, and it appeared to gaze back at me. Moments later, a clear image started to show up. A tall man, with a well-built physique, and silver-blonde hair appeared on it.

I needed intelligence below Ron to not recognize myself.

I took a better look at the image, taking in all the details. My right eye was its usual color, while, in my left eye, I appeared to be blind. The feeling the image gave off was of power. Controlled, but immense magical power. Around me, were numerous figures, some with enough features to recognize, others not so much. I could make out my mother, my father, cured, and my sister. My grandfather was also in the image, in a wheelchair. Beside him were two figures who appeared to be old, but I couldn't really tell who they were.

Right next to me, were three figures, also completely featureless.

In the background, a simple but elegant house, by a cliff near the ocean, just like I wanted.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, breaking my gaze with the mirror, causing the image to dissipate.

"While it's easy to lose oneself in their dreams, they are but that. Dreams," Dumbledore said, a worried expression one would normally show to those close. "And these dreams can only be achieved if you set your mind to it. Else, they are but illusions one uses to hide their pain,"

I looked at the old wizard, his voice carrying the experience of someone who had gone through a lot.

I analyzed his expression, not daring to use legilimency in someone so powerful. Why did he want to know what I saw in the mirror?

Thinking it wasn't harmful, I told him about what I saw, from the people surrounding me to the perfect house I had envisioned, to the lack of features some figures had.

"I see..." he said, before sighing in relief. The headmaster then sat himself behind his desk, gesturing me to do the same.

Facing me, he clasped his hands on top of the table, a smile decorating his face.

"Well, dear Alaric, we have a lot to catch up on," Dumbledore said, staring at me, chuckling at the confused frown I was making.

I looked at him, wondering if he was starting to become senile. I mean, he was the headmaster, not my uncle or something, right?

"I'm curious," he asked, with genuine interest, "Did your grandfather ever tell you about your grandmother?"

My grandmother? "Not... Not much. I only know her name. Ariana," I said, taking out the pocket watch I usually carried with me, before showing it to the headmaster.

Underneath the cover, some images would occasionally show, mostly portraits, one of them being my grandmother.

Seeing the image, his eyes glinted, sadness passing through them before he took a closer look at the watch.

He then took a pendant from his neck, opening it, before showing it to me. The same image of my grandmother was there.

"What the - Wait! Did you love her or something? Was the rivalry between you and my grandfather because of her?" I asked. I couldn't believe they had almost fought to the death because of my grandmother.

"As funny as that would've been," he said, laughing in a low tone, "It's not what happened. Ariana, or to be more precise, Ariana Grindelwald neé Dumbledore, was my sister,"

It took me a few seconds to process the information before my eyes snapped wide, and my jaw fell open. "So..."

"I'm your granduncle,"

Merlin's balls.

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A/N: Some foreshadowing with the mirror? Who knows!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!