Harry had thought, now they had Rebecca, that they would be progressing more quickly. However, it seemed she, too, had no idea where the other horcruxes were.
For the next month they could do little more than research on horcruxes and inspect the locket more closely. Plus most of the time Rebecca had other matters to attend to, so they were more helpless than ever then.
Frustrated with having found out so little and with each other, Harry, Ron and Hermione had taken to exploring more of Number twelve. Harry had had no idea how big the house was; though most of the rooms were filled with dark and disgusting objects, so he wasn't surprised Mrs. Weasley hadn't let them in.
Another thing that frustrated Harry was the fact that while he was trying to figure things out, Ron and Hermione sometimes snuck off on their own, and when Harry went to look for them he heard giggling and, to his horror, kissing sounds.
But that seemed to be the only time Hermione giggled around Ron; when they were alone. Their arguing had become more intense, and about such stupid things, like putting the toilet seat down and whose turn it was to look for doxy infestations. Even whether they should buy skimmed milk or full fat (personally, Harry preferred semi-skimmed, but he didn't say anything).
Also, Ron had been acting very oddly. He had become suspicious and overprotective of Hermione (this was another thing they bickered about).
He would sit in between Harry and Hermione as though to Keep them apart, and when Hermione got fed up of not making any progress and Harry comforted her, Ron would glare accusingly at him. But he just glared right back. Ron should trust her better than that, Harry thought.
He didn't know why Ron and Hermione being a couple bothered him so much, but when he saw them together his instinct was to pull their hands apart. It felt as though Ron had stolen a valuable and cherished treasure.
Remus and Tonks would often stop by, which led to them kissing and cuddling too. All this made Harry feel strangely lonely. It seemed everybody was in a relationship except him.
After four long weeks of having done nothing, Harry slammed his book down and prowled around the kitchen. He spotted a Daily Prophet lying on the table and snatched it up.
Ministers and mudbloods murdered
As the Dark Lord's rise to power continues, as does his noble work of purifying the wizarding society, even if it means a few sacrifices.
Rufus Scrimgeour, previous Minister for Magic, foolishly tried to fight against the Dark Lord, and was found dead in his filing cabinet, his arms separated from his body and a look of pure terror on his face.
Other deaths of mudbloods and blood-traitors have occurred constantly
Harry stopped reading. So, Scrimgeour was dead, and that left the Ministry unprotected for Voldemort to take over. The Daily Prophet obviously predicted this as well… "His noble work of purifying the wizarding society"…It was obvious they wanted to get on the winning side. It sickened Harry. They were such weak cowards, too scared to print anything anti-Voldemort, in fear that he'd get them as he got Scrimgeor.
He opened the page to see his own face, looking dangerous and unstable.
Potter Hunt
The hunt for Harry Potter goes on, and the public are warned that he is dangerous, and a threat to the vision of a peaceful, non-muggle existence the Death Eaters portray. Most likely to be seen in the company of mudblood Hermione Granger and blood-traitor Ron Weasley, there is a 2000 galleon reward for Potter's capture.
Harry's blood boiled. Dangerous, was he? It was just like fifth year all over again. Fuming, he put the paper down, grabbed an orange and began wondering the rooms of Grimmuald Place again.
He walked down a hall and spotted a door he'd never noticed before.
"That's odd" he thought, frowning "I swear that wasn't there before."
He stretched out a hand and cautiously pushed the door open, wand at the ready.
But inside it was a dark, windowless room. At first Harry thought the walls were covered with thousands of amber eyes, watching him from everywhere, but once his eyes got used to it he realised they were thousands of tiny mirrors, reflecting a single candle just beside the door. The room was quite enormous, probably rivalling the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but in the corners, where there were no mirrors, there was a thick, dense darkness that made the corners seem closer and the room seem smaller.
He walked down a flight of narrow, round stairs, hundreds of reflections of his own face watching him go.
As he got nearer , he saw there was a much larger mirror in the centre, and a figure was stood gazing though it as though it were a tunnel. A figure with bushy brown hair…
"Hermione?" Harry called, wand still pointed in case it was a trick. She jerked her head around.
"Harry!" for some reason she blushed and pressed her back against the mirror, as though trying to hide it. "I- err… what are you doing here?"
"Just having a look round" Harry frowned "is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, no, nothing wrong" she squeaked and glanced nervously at the mirror.
"Then why are you… Hermione" Harry had just noticed the strange writing inscribed at the top "is this the Mirror of Erised?"
"The what?"
"You know, the Mirror of E- oh yeah, you went home, didn't you" Harry said, remembering Hermione had gone home for Christmas the year he and Ron had discovered the Mirror of Erised and probably wouldn't remember what they had told her.
"What's the Mirror of Erised?"
"Well, it shows you what you truly want. Your heart's deepest and most desperate desire."
"That's my deepest desire?" Hermione had turned to face the Mirror and blushed even deeper. She drew her eyes away from the mirror itself and read the inscription in silence for a while. "I show not your face but your heart's desire" she recited.
"Huh?"
"That's what the inscriptions say, backwards" she pointed to the words: erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
"That's amazing" Harry looked at her with wide eyes. She had now turned scarlett. "How did you do that so quick?"
"Just reversed it and properly spaced it" she mumbled, trying to hide her smile "well, I suppose you're right." She looked uncomfortable and moved protectivly over the mirror.
Harry finaly understoodd why she was acting so oddly; whatever she could see in the mirror she didn't want Harry to see.
"Don't worry, I can't see whatever you see" he said hastily.
"You can't?" she looked relieved, and stepped back, still staring at the mirror. Harry studied her curiously. Her eyes were filled with wonder and longing, and she was biting her bottom lip so hard Harry thought it might bleed.
"What do you see?" he asked, though he knew she'd never tell him.
"Um… me and y- er, someone else, with a… um… what do you see?" she shot. She glanced at him then turned away quickly. She was now so crimson she faintly resembled a tomato. Harry raised an eyebrow at her then stared at the mirror. But all he could see was his own reflection looking puzzled and Hermione's reflection looking embarassed.
"Er… well, when I was eleven I saw my family besides me."
"What about now?"
"Just us" he said blankly. Hermione made a funny squarking sound.
"And what are we doing?" she whisperd breathlessly. She had gone rigid, her eyes were wide and she seemed to have stopped breathing.
"Just standing here. It's like looking in a normle mirror."
"Oh" Hermione relaxed and breathed again.
"Maby it only shows one image at a time?"
"yeah… I, um, have some reading to do." And with that she turned and climbed the stairs.
Harry watched her go, deep in thought. He knew it was none of his biusness, but what had Hermione seen in the mirror? And why was she blushing so much? Was it embarrassing?
He glanced back to the mirror and did a double-take.
Hermione's reflection was staring back at him, leaning casually against the side of the mirror, arms folded. Harry gaped from the mirror-Hermione to the door where the real one had just left and back again several times. The mirror-Hermione watched him with an arched eyebrow and an amused expression.
He could still see own reflection, but it was faint and whispy, like a ghost, but Hermione's reflection was solid.
Mirror-Hermione grinned at him. It was an expression he had never seen the real Hermione wear: sort of mischevious and daring, bbut there wwas also a spark of something different in her eye. She was looking at Harry as though he were a delicious piece of meat.
They just stared at each other for a few minuets and then Harry slowly walked towards the mirror. As he did so mirror-Hermione stood up straight and watched him intensly through eyes that were brighter than the real Hermione's. He stretched his hand out untill his fingertips made contact with the cool glass, and then his palm, so his hand was resting on the mirror.
Mirror-Hermione stretched out her hand too, so their outspread hands touched, her long fingernails just visible over his fingertips. The glass suddenly became warm, as though she really had put her hand on his. Harry took a sharp breath.
"Or it could just be the warmth off my own hand" he thought.
Mirror-Hermione looked from their hands, separated by a sheet of glass, to Harry's astonished face. Then she raised her other hand to the glass, and Harry pressed his other hand to hers, nervously.
Without warning, ten real, flesh-and-bone fingers slid out of the mirror as though it were a sheet of water instead of glass, and entwined around Harry's.
He yelped and jumped back in surprise, taking his hands off the mirror. Breathing heavily, he gaped back at the reflaction. All of her was back in the mirror and she just looked at him innocently.
But that had freaked him out. Even the talking mirrors he had come across weren't like that. He backed away, staring a the grinning mirror-Hermione, then ran up the stairs and flung himself out of the door. But he couldn't resist having a last look at the mirror.
Mirror-Hermione was sitting down, leaning against the side of the mirror again and reading a mirror-Hogwarts: a history. She looked up at him, smiled and gave him a little wave. The corners of his mouth twitched and he ducked his head back out.
He couldn't sleep that night. His mind was too full of questions.
Everything about that encounter puzzled Harry. Why was the mirror-Hermione looking at him that way? How had she been able to come to life? Then again, it had only been fleeting, had he only imagined her fingers? And most importantly, why did the mirror of Erised show him Hermione?
Maby it was because he wanted his best friends to come out of this war safe and sound. But that wasn't right, why didn't it show Ron, or Ginny?
Wasn't the thing he wanted most his family? Maby he considered Hermione family. But again, why didn't it show Ron, he was like a brother to Harry. And besides, something was a bit… off about Hermione being his sister.
But he did know one thing, and that was that the mirror fascinated him. When they were supposed to be reserching, he would spend hours just staring at the image in the mirror. It was like the real Hermione, but very different, especially in the way she looked at him.
But this meant they were making less progress than ever, and Harry knew it wasn't good for him to stare at a mirror all the time…
"It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live" Dumbledore had once told him.
A week passed since he had first discovered the Mirror of Erised, and he lay down in bed to go to sleep, thinking once again of horcruxes and mirrors..
Harry was in a dark room, an emerald green fire cackling in the corner, but it seemed to be emitting cold instead of heat into the darkness.
"Enter!" He said in a high cold voice. Two hooded figures entered, holding a struggling person he knew to be Mad-eye Moody. Moody was bleeding, numerous gashes littered across his face.
"Alastor Moody" he snarled. The Death Eaters dropped him, and Moody kneeled before him, hands bound. He glared at Harry determinedly in the eye. Harry chuckled. Moody was known for his bravery. "So, thought you'd rescue some Mudbloods, did you? How… noble."
Moody stared at him defiantly, his magical eye whizzing round to stare st the Death Eaters.
"Crucio!" Moody fell to the floor in pain "where are they?"
"I'll- never- tell!" Moody grunted.
"Crucio! Who were they?"
"No! Not- telling!" Moody growled.
"CRUCIO! Who were you with?"
Moody was howling in agony, his eyes staring in opposite directions, foam frothing at his mouth and beads of sweat cascading down his forehead.
"My Lord, there were three others. We managed to injure another, a Weasley I think…" said one of the Death Eaters.
Harry looked deep into Moody's eyes… faces of nameless mudbloods Harry didn't care about flashed by… and then an image of a small golden goblet with a badger engraved on it came into veiw.
"What was that?" said Harry sharply.
"Your precious cup's gone…" said Moody quietly, a gleam of triumph in his eye.
"What?" said Harry disbeleivingly.
"It's gone!" Moody laughed "I don't know why you want it, but it's gone!"
"Avada kedavra!" Harry screeched furiously.
And then he was back in bed, covered in cold sweat and panting.
Moody was dead. The dreams were back.
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