Harry Potter and the Perseus Castle

Harry Potter and the Perseus Castle

By Ahn Na Blue

Standard Disclaimer: We all know who owns Harry Potter. And we all know it isn’t me.

Chapter Three: Medusa’s Mirror

Before they had left, Hagrid told them to head straight north from Hogwarts, then to follow the Trail of Tears, an icy river that wound northeast into the mountains. The river would go underground then, so they would have to fly above the peaks to the center of the mountain cluster, where they would find Sapphire Pool, the glacial lake that fed the Trail of Tears. The Cave of the Faith was just above that, hidden in the side of a mountain. It was distinguishable by the glimmer of reflection that shone off the smoothed ice surface of its entrance.

“You guys warm enough?” Harry shouted over his shoulder.

“Yes!” Hermione answered for both of them. “But don’t you think we should fly lower so we can pick up the Trail of Tears?”

“We’ve a couple of hours yet, if Hagrid’s directions are right. I thought it’d be safer to fly up here. Less likely to be seen.”

“And it’s bloody cold!” Ron griped.

Harry ignored him and kept urging Buckbeak forward, tucking his face into his scarf and squinting his eyes against the biting wind. Behind him he heard Hermione say something, and then felt a small scuffle.

“Hey, be careful,” Harry grumbled. “We don’t need to be wasting time catching you if one of you falls off.”

“Harry,” Hermione said with her arms around him again. “You’d better take Buckbeak lower.” He looked back at her, puzzled, and she motioned over her shoulder to Ron, who was sipping lazily from his Flammarion vial. “Or he’ll drink all of his serum before we even get to the snow.”

Harry gritted his teeth. Ron, you great prat, he thought to himself, but used the reins to guide Buckbeak lower, until they were no longer hidden by clouds. It WAS much warmer there, and their necks slowly rose out of their scarves, where they had been tucked in like turtles’. Buckbeak seemed to enjoy it too, tossing his head and flapping more enthusiastically. Perhaps Ron had been right, Harry conceded, after all, he didn’t suppose there was much chance of being spotted. Most of the area was uninhabited, and they were still too high to be easily identified.

“How was that Flammarion serum Ron?” Harry asked. The wind was softer at this altitude and he no longer needed to shout.

“Oh, I didn’t actually drink any,” Ron said rather smarmily. “I just wanted to get you down here. Much nicer isn’t it?”

“Oh Ron, really,” Hermione scolded. She held out her hand and received two of the vials. She passed one up to Harry, who felt the golden heat in his palm before tucking it into his cloak.

Harry looked over his shoulder periodically as they flew, to make sure they weren’t being tailed by Deatheaters, and couldn’t help noticing how tightly Ron had his arms wrapped around Hermione’s waist. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what he was so annoyed about; she was his girlfriend, and she obviously had no interest in Ron. He still didn’t like it. Funny, he had never thought of himself as the possessive type. But then, he had never had anything to be possessive of before. He tried to refocus his attention on how tightly Hermione was holding onto him, and scanned the ground searching for the winding river.

It was two hours before they came upon it, but they could make no mistake. The Trail of Tears cut violently through the green, splashing up in little rapids, and unlike the other rivers they had seen, it was a light, ice blue.

“Follow that river, Buckbeak!” Harry exclaimed, and the three of them leaned forward as the Hippogriff soared faster, his head cocked to the side to peer at the water.

After another hour of flying, much of which involved zig zagging to keep to the stream (and Harry trying to comfort Hermione as she moaned ‘I think I’m going to be sick’ repeatedly into his ear) they reached the mountains and were forced higher as the river disappeared into the cavernous rock. It was bitterly cold up above the peaks, and this time, they all took out their Flammarion vials and sipped, tasting cinnamon and then feeling the warmth spread right to their fingertips. Even Harry’s nose, and the tips of his ears felt toasty and dry.

“This stuff’s fantastic,” Ron shouted, his joy at being unfrozen making him momentarily forget his anger with them. Harry and Hermione laughed in agreement. I might actually have to thank Snape, Harry thought and grinned.

They reached the center of the cloister of mountains, and Harry pulled on the reins, bringing Buckbeak to a standstill as they surveyed the peaks, quietly flapping. There were eight mountains, arranged in a jagged circle, and all were heavily shadowed.

“Well?” Ron asked. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered. Buckbeak was rotating slowly to allow them a look at all of the mountain sides. They were all dark granite and icy, but none of them reflected anything. Harry glanced up reproachfully at the covering of clouds, which blocked the necessary light and were also threatening to snow. “We might have to check each individual mountain.”

“That could take awhile,” Ron grumbled. “How long do you reckon this serum lasts?”

Harry was about to tell him to stop being negative and start being helpful, what on earth had Dumbledore sent him along for anyway, when Hermione pulled out her wand.

“Lumos Solarum!” she shouted, and a bright, sun-like ball emerged from her wand and flew out about twenty meters away. “Have Buckbeak take a slow circle past the mountains please,” she said matter-of-factly, and Harry obeyed, flying the hippogriff past each mountainside to allow Hermione’s miniature sun to light it. On the third mountainside, the one farthest to the west, the light was reflected sharply back to them, making them cover their eyes. Hermione lowered her wand and the solarum went out.

“There it is,” said Harry lowly.

Buckbeak slid a little on his landing, his hooves skidding and clip-clopping on the icy ledge. The three of them quickly dismounted, moaning and stretching their legs. Buckbeak stretched too, flexing his back and prodding Harry indignantly as if to tell him he had a very bony bum.

“Spending all day on a hippogriff doesn’t exactly put you in the questing mood,” Ron said irritably, rubbing his neck.

“Think of poor Buckbeak,” said Hermione. “He’s the one who had to carry us all. I bet he’s hungry.”

“And cold,” added Harry, observing a thin sheen of ice on the hippogriff’s beak.

Hermione led Buckbeak along the side of the cave, where there was no wind, took the small sack from her pocket and tapped out twelve tiny ferret bodies, each about the size of a tin soldier. Buckbeak peered at them skeptically as she added a few drops of Flammarion serum to the pile.

“It doesn’t look like much, does it mate,” Ron smirked, patting Buckbeak’s rump. Buckbeak squawked and pawed in agreement. But then Hermione pulled out the small jar of powder, and dusted the ferrets lightly with it. The ferrets seemed momentarily to shake, and then swelled to their original size.

“Wow,” Harry marveled, walking closer. He could feel the heat of the serum radiating from the pile. “And…Ew.”

Buckbeak however, did not share his disgust and clicked happily before chomping down his first ferret.

“He should be all right here until we get back,” Hermione smiled.

“Then let’s get going.”

****************************************

Harry led the way into the cave, which despite the cloudy day, was extremely well lit. The Cave of the Faith was composed completely of ice and mirrors, so every bit of light that came in was reflected off a million surfaces, giving the whole place an unearthly blue glow. Ron was looking dismally at the mirrors lining the walls. There were hundreds of them in various shapes and sizes. Harry mentally agreed with him. It seemed like it would take forever to find the right one.

“Well, any thoughts?” Ron asked loudly and they were each affronted by booming echoes of his words.

“Quietly!” Harry hissed. They both looked to Hermione, who had moved towards the east wall of the cave, and was studying each mirror. They appeared to be totally ordinary. She was mumbling to herself and shaking her head as she passed each one.

As they watched, she passed a mirror that ran from floor to ceiling, and as she did, her reflection was not her own, but Ron’s.

“Oh!” she cried, startled. “Well, this isn’t right.” Harry walked over to her and nodded. It was extremely strange to hear her voice and see Ron’s mouth moving as the words came out. And then he gasped as well, staring into the mirror. Staring back at him was not his reflection, but Hermione’s.

“This is weird,” he said, furrowing his brow and watching the Hermione-reflection do the same. Sure enough, as Ron stood in front of the mirror, he wasn’t Ron, but Harry.

“What I always dreamed of,” Ron sneered, not quite sarcastically, and Harry shot him a dark glance.

Hermione ignored them. “Medusa’s Mirror reflects the truth,” she said solemnly. “You can plainly see that this is NOT it. But I think we can rule out any ordinary mirrors as well. Medusa’s Mirror must bear some kind of enchantment, so only look for mirrors that alter your appearance in some way.” She turned to them. “If you think you’ve found it, don’t touch it. Just call the others over and we’ll all take a look. We don’t want to risk a catastrophe by choosing the wrong mirror.”

Harry and Ron nodded, and walked off to separate areas of the cave, watching their reflection as they passed each mirror. Harry paused at long mirrors that showed him to be very fat, and tiny mirrors that reflected him very old.

“Bloody Hell,” he heard Ron exclaim as he passed a mirror that Harry had just moved away from. “This one makes me look as fat as Goyle!”

The cave was one long tunnel, and Harry was glad that there weren’t separate passageways. All of the tiny, moving Harry reflections were starting to make him dizzy and disoriented. He was glad that Ron and Hermione were there; they gave him something solid to anchor his eyes to when they started to go hazy. He was just thinking how nice it was to be talking to Ron again, even if it was rather hostile, when he happened upon a strange mirror.

The mirror was large, and rectangular, about four meters by six meters, and the surface of it appeared to be rippling like water, casting no reflection, just a silver blur. But when Harry walked in front of it, the ripples stabilized, and there he was.

But it wasn’t him. The Harry that stood before him was ragged and panting. He had an angry but determined look on his face, and his wand was drawn. There was blood on his robes, and on his hands, and the scar that made him famous showed starkly against his forehead.

“Her- Hermione,” he stammered, unable to look away. “Ron, come over here.”

Hermione reached him first, and as she stepped in front of the mirror it rippled again slightly, to reveal her reflection. Harry heard her breath catch in her throat. The Hermione in the mirror was loaded down with magic textbooks and wearing Muggle clothes. Her hair was uncontrollably bushy and she had a look on her face that was both defiant and ashamed. When she bit her lip, Harry could see that her teeth were just like they were before Madam Pomfrey had inadvertently straightened them.

“What is it guys?” Ron asked, stepping in front of them to look. The mirror rippled and then cleared to show Ron’s reflection. Ron’s reflection was angry and mopey looking, with tattered robes that reminded Harry of Professor Lupin’s when he had first met him on the Hogwarts Express. Ron’s reflection had his wand drawn shakily; the tip held together with Spellotape. Ron’s reflection stood behind Harry’s, even though the real Ron was standing in front of him. Harry noticed that Harry and Hermione’s reflections were now holding hands, and frowned in sympathy for his friend.

“I guess this is it then,” Harry said flatly. All three of them were quiet for several seconds, staring into their reflection. Ron snapped them out of it by walking away.

“Well it couldn’t have been a worse one,” Hermione mused quietly. “It’s enormous. How are we supposed to get it back to Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know.” Harry had no idea how they were all supposed to fit on Buckbeak and carry a mirror that large for several hours in the freezing cold. “But we have to get it out of here soon. It’s getting dark out, and I really don’t fancy being in here in the dark.”

Hermione appeared to be thinking, pacing back and forth. Then she raised her hands excitedly, just as if she had been in class. Harry smiled at her affectionately.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

She thrust her hand down and used it to whack him in the shoulder instead. She was blushing. “I just had an idea. The ferrets!”

“What about the ferrets?”

“They’re covered with shrinking potion! Maybe if we rubbed them along the mirror, we could shrink it down until it’s small enough to carry!”

“You don’t think that’d harm the mirror?” Harry asked doubtfully. He was less than excited about rubbing dead ferrets on anything.

“It didn’t hurt the ferrets, now did it?” She had her eyebrow raised at him.

“Well no, but they were dead already.”

Hermione took the bag of ferrets out of her cloak. “Let’s just try it, alright? You take some and I’ll take some. Start on the right-”

“Don’t touch that mirror!”

Harry and Hermione both spun around. Hermione thrust the ferret bag back into her cloak as if she had been caught doing something against the rules. Ron had shouted at them loudly, and the echoes were still resonating through the cave. Harry thought he could see the mirrors on the wall shiver, and stood very still.

“What is it Ron?” Hermione asked.

“That’s the wrong mirror.” Ron was standing with his back to them, staring into a mirror the size of a large textbook. It was shaped like a shield. Harry walked cautiously over to him.

What he saw in the silver glass seemed at once completely right. The reflection showed him, walking with Hermione and Ron on either side of him, arm in arm. They were dressed in their school robes, and the sun was shining brightly on their cheeks. And they were laughing.

No matter which one of them stood in front of the mirror, the reflection never changed. It was always the three of them, walking, and smiling, and happy. The three of them looked at each other, at their scared, alienated faces, and then back at the mirror. When Harry spoke, his reflection spoke with him. His reflection wore a wide grin.

“This is the truth. This is our truth. We found the right mirror.” He watched as Ron and Hermione’s reflections nodded.

“At least this one’s easier to carry,” Ron said, and for a moment their reflections were perfect matches as they all three laughed, looking from one to the other. Harry reached out for the mirror and pulled it off the side of the cave. It came off easily, as if it had only been held there by a weak magnet.

But then the cave began to shake. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in horror as the mirrors nearest to the vacated space cracked sharply, lines running through them like lightning bolts.

“Oh no,” Hermione cried. “It was the wrong one!”

But it couldn’t be. Harry felt certain that the mirror he had in his hands was the right one. Anyway, there was no time to think about it, because the entire cave seemed to be preparing to send glass shards flying everywhere.

“Get to the entrance!” He shouted. Ron started off immediately, but Hermione fidgeted, looking back at the mirror they had been going to shrink. Harry saw her hand dart into her cloak. “There’s no time!” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her, clutching the mirror in his other hand.

Behind them he could hear sharp pops as mirrors burst and shattered. “Faster!” He yelled as Hermione screamed. The air inside the cave was getting colder, and it was getting dark with the light from the mirrors going out.

“Harry!” he heard Ron yell from just ahead of them, “Harry, it’s trying to shut us in!”

Harry looked towards the cave opening. There was a shimmering there, and a gathering of cold that he could feel as he ran towards it. Ice was beginning to form at the cave’s edges. His lungs stung with the cold air. He fought against it as he saw the opening of the cave ice over in a thin layer.

“Ron, run through it!”

“No!” Ron shouted back, and then, in a weaker voice. “It’s too cold…The ice’ll cut me if I go through…” Ron was slowing down.

No it won’t, Harry tried to call out to him, but his voice froze in his throat. He caught up with Ron and pulled him along, clutching both him and Hermione close. They ran at the wall of ice full force, and plowed into it with their shoulders.

For a moment Harry thought they’d be frozen like that, like fish surprised near the surface, the cold was so intense, but then they broke through and collapsed on the other side, their lungs fighting not to break.

Ron had taken a gulp of Flammarion serum, but was still shaking. “D-drink,” he shivered hoarsely. Harry raised his own vial to his lips, feeling like his limbs would crack with the effort. He poured some down and felt better almost instantly, although, like Ron, he was still shivering.

“You all right mate?” Ron asked, clapping him on the shoulder. “Got the mirror?”

Harry looked down at the shield-shaped silver glass in his lap. It still showed the three of them, laughing- “Hermione!” he gasped, looking around frantically.

“I’m fine Harry,” she whispered weakly. She was kneeling behind him.

“She was the first one to the serum,” Ron said brightly. “As usual. Probably had it out before we hit the ice, eh Hermione?”

She blushed. “Actually, I took a few sips as we were running through the cave. I’m sorry, I didn’t have enough of a voice to tell you to do the same, even with the serum, it was so cold…” She didn’t say any more, because just then Harry pulled her close and kissed her soundly. “But we got the wrong mirror,” she moaned.

“I don’t think so. This one still feels right.”

“Then why did the cave collapse?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was supposed to. Like it was cursed or something and didn’t want to lose it’s treasure. What do you think Ron?” Harry looked down. Inside the mirror, they were still walking and smiling. “Ron?” He looked up. Ron was nowhere to be seen. But he was just here a minute ago, Harry thought, and then remembered the kiss and kicked himself. He clutched the mirror tightly in his hands. If that was the truth, then things couldn’t go on like this. He looked up at Hermione regretfully and saw that she was looking at the reflection as well.

“Listen, Hermione,” he began.

“I know Harry,” she said softly. “He’s our friend and he’s hurting.”

“I just don’t think he’ll ever be able to handle this.” Harry watched her as he spoke, but she was still looking down. “Not now anyway.”

Hermione was starting to breathe strangely, but she nodded.

“Besides, our being just friends, it wasn’t really so bad, was it?”

She shook her head. “So, you think we should go back to being that then? Just friends?” Her voice was carefully controlled, business-like.

“Yes. Are you all right with that?” Part of him desperately wanted her to say no, to fling herself into his arms and give him no choice but to be selfish and stay with her forever. But she didn’t. She just sat there quietly, and then her breath hitched. Harry reached out to touch her face.

“If that’s what you want,” she whispered.

“Hermione, it’s not what I-”

“I’m going to get Buckbeak!” she cried shrilly, and rose to her feet to run to the side of the cave. Harry watched her go sadly, then stood himself. Once on his feet he could see her with Buckbeak, leaning against him and crying. On the opposite side of the cave he could see Ron, staring out into the distance and hunched over miserably. He looked into the mirror, at all of them happy together, and sighed. If this is the road back, he thought, it’s a bloody rough one.

To be continued…