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Chapter 12
“Minny!” Harry almost bulled her over, legs moving at full speed. Minerva was currently lugging her duffle bag back into her dormitory, “Yeah?” Her brother hadn’t spoken to her in person since their last… debacle.
“I need to talk to you,” she noticed he couldn’t stand still, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. She looked around making sure there was no one around before she nodded.
“Over break, I went to the restricted library section to find more information on Nicholas Flemmel,” he whispered. Minerva smacked the back of his head, “Harry! Are you trying to get expelled?!” He quickly shushed her and adjusted his tilted glassed before continuing, “Long story short, Filch caught me so I had to escape.”
“Harry!” He caught her hand this time.
“I know, I know! But when I was running, I hid in this room. It had a strange mirror. Except… except it wasn’t just a mirror,” Harry moved his hands slightly as he yammered.
Minerva scrunched her face, “What do you mean?”
“In the reflection, I saw our parents. Mom and Dad. I swear I did, Minerva.” Mom and Dad. She went deathly still, her breath hitching, “Harry I understand that you’re angry with me. But this is too far-.”
“No! Ugh, come on…” Harry grabbed her hand and dragged her quickly through the halls. Minerva knew the best course of action would be to rip her hand away and never speak to her clearly psychotic brother again. But, on the off chance her brother was telling the truth… she could see her parents for the first time in her life. No one, especially an 11-year-old, could say no to that. He slammed the door behind them as they stumbled through the door, racing in front of the mirror.
Harry grabbed Minerva’s shoulders, positioning her directly in the middle of the reflection. “Just wait,” he gave her an encouraging nod. Neither of them took a breath, eyes locked on the reflecting surface. For a moment, all either of them could see was themselves. Then there they were… Whisps of red hair cascaded gently over Minerva’s shoulders as she watched her mother bend down and place a kiss on her cheek. Her father stood off to the side, rubbing a smiling Harry’s shoulder.
“Harry, what is happening,” Minerva whispered as tears filled her eyes. Harry shook her head gently, “I dunno. But you see them, right? They’re right here…”
“I see them,” She spat and wiped her eyes. Lily bent down and placed her chin on her daughter’s head. Minerva’s eyes fluttered closed, her hand instinctively reaching for her mother’s. A cold bucket of water poured over her body when she grasped no one’s hand. “How is this possible?” She turned to Harry, wild and angry. This had to be some sort of revenge.
“Minerva, listen to me,” Harry begged, throwing his hands up in surrender.
An old yet wise voice echoed through the room, “Ah, the Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore
The twins whipped around, brains going a million miles a minute to come up with an excuse. Harry gained his voice back first, “Professor! We were just-,” Dumbledore held up a hand gently.
“I know what you were doing. I cannot pretend to blame either of you. The mirror is a powerful force. I trust you’ve figured out what it shows you?”
The Potters shared a quick glance and shrugged. In truth, they hadn’t. Dumbledore laughed softly, the sound warm, “This mirror shows the looker what they desire most. For you, your parents and family united.” Ouch.
Harry turned longingly back to the mirror before whispering, “What do you see, Professor?” Dumbledore stepped in front of the mirror, gazing for a moment.
“I see myself as I am now. With Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup of course,” the old man smiled. Minerva couldn’t read Dumbledore. That’s what disturbed her about him. She was sure he was lying about what he saw, but she would never be able to prove it. He was too practiced in hiding intentions.
“Men and women have wasted away in front of the mirror, too consumed by a promise than reality. This is why I trust you’ll understand, I’m moving the mirror so you two never find it again.” Wait, WHAT?
“Professor-,” Minerva knew it would be a futile effort, but her mother was right there! Hand on her shoulder with a smile that rivaled the sun. How could she let that go?
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” He was gone a moment later, vanishing as if he had never been in the room. They warily looked at one another before sitting down. Harry and Minerva spent the whole night in front of the mirror, in front of their parents. It would be the first and the last time they ever did so. Snape would probably kill them for their insolence tomorrow.
***
“Harry, you’re being ridiculous,” Hermione sighed as she poked at her eggs. Minerva was sitting at the Gryffindor table with them for breakfast because her Slytherin friends had gone home on urgent business. She wasn’t stupid, it was odd that all of them left and didn’t tell her why. But again, she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t about to ask them why and get them all pissed off.
“First Snape lets the troll out of the dungeon,” Harry pressed, “Then he’s cornering Quirrell and questioning his loyalties. Loyalties to who, Hermione, huh?”
“I’m confused again,” Ron sighed. Minerva handed him a piece of gum which he happily smacked on.
“I’m with Harry on this one. I mean it’s odd,” Minerva shrugged.
“Of course you would believe him,” Hermione arrogantly shot back, “He’s your bother. It doesn’t make him correct.” Fair enough. But everyone knew in this instance, Harry was right. Minerva’s birthmarks on her hip had been burning recently. Harry’s scar had been stinging. No one had to be a genius to conclude the cause. The second half of the year was quiet, almost unnervingly so. Minerva felt on edge all the time, waiting for something to happen. When the Slytherin Royals returned they never said why they left, and she never asked. The ache on her hip told her enough.
***
“Look at you! Playing with your cards, pathetic,” Hermione scolded Ron loud enough to turn head in the Grand Hall.
“We’ve got final exams coming up soon,” she pressed. Minerva shared a laugh with Harry laugh at Ron’s annoyed expression.
“I’m ready, ask me any question,” the red head nodded confidently. Minerva smirked over at Hermione who grinned back. This is gonna be hilarious.
“What are the three main ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion?” Minerva cocked her head. The silence was telling if not Ron’s defeated sigh.
“I forgot…”
“And may I ask what you plan to do if this comes up on the final exam?” Hermione placed her elbows on the table. Ron was getting pissed, “Copy off you, I suppose,” he shot back. Hermione’s face flushed red with anger, “No you won’t!”
“Ain’t McGonagall giving us special quills or something? It like, blocks cheating?” Minerva took a bit of her apple. Hermione nodded vigorously, “That’s correct.”
“That’s insulting,” Ron scrunched his face.
“You just said you would cheat off of ‘Mione-,” Harry winced as Ron threw a chocolate frog box at him. Laughter suddenly echoed through the halls (surprisingly not at them). The four of them turned to see Neville Longbottom, entering the Grand Hall, legs fused together.
“Malfoy…” Harry whispered. Minerva stood and helped Neville into his seat carefully.
“You have got to start standing up to people, Neville,” Ron chastised. Minerva poured Neville tea with two sugars, just how he liked it, before handing it to him. Harry hit Ron’s shoulder to gain his attention, “I found him!” The red head took the chocolate frog inscription, reading it aloud.
“Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwold in 1945,” Minerva scrunched her face. Who was that?
“Go on,” Harry urged.
“For his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner NICHOLAS FLAMEL!” Ron practically flew out his seat. Minerva leaned across the table and snatched the inscription so Hermione and her could read it. Bright as day, there was his name: Nicholas Flamel.
“Dumbledore knows this guy then. Like personally,” Minerva cocked her head.
“We have to go. Now.” Hermione didn’t wait a second, already rushing out the Grand Hall, books clutched to her chest. Minerva kissed Neville’s head gently before running off. No one knew if Neville fell because of the charm or her kiss.
***
“I had you looking in the wrong section,” Hermione exasperatedly plopped herself onto the bench, the book meeting the table with a thud, “How could I be so stupid?”
Minerva stifled a snort, “Yes how could you?”
“I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”
“That’s light…?” Ron watched as Hermione thumbed through the pages, earning him a glare from the mousey haired girl. Harry read over her shoulder as Hermione easily scanned the page.
“Of course! Here it is,” She pointed with her finger, “Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer Stone.”
“The what?” All three said in unison.
“Honestly, don’t you two read?” She stared at the boys.
“What? Why just us and not her,” Harry complained, pointing at Minerva.
“When’s the last time you tried to read something without pictures?” Minerva smirked.
“Shut up,” Harry grumbled. Hermione paid them no mind, “The Sorcerer Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers.”
So, Snape tries to steal a rock? Who’s that desperate for house decor?
“…Which will make the drinker immortal,” Hermione concluded. Oh. So not house décor I guess…
“Immortal?”
“The only stone currently in existence belongs to Nicholas Flamel who last year celebrated his 665th birthday,” Ron’s eyes widened as he scrambled to get closer the page, making sure Hermione wasn’t messing with him.
“Wait, that’s what Fluffy’s guarding…” Minerva whispered earning a nod from the three children.
The Sorcerer’s Stone.