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The piece of glass doesn't make crass comments like the one in the Leaky Cauldron.
It stays silent as the shadows that seem to gather within it.
Shadows that appear to fall on Harry's shoulders.
He knows it's in his imagination, but that doesn't make it any less real.
His reflection is every bit of himself, just more free.
Because it is stuck in a silvered existence away from the troubles of the living.
He runs his hand through his raven locks.
So begins another day, which is always the first one of the rest of his cursed life.
