Mother Magic and the Philosopher's stone

Chapter Twenty-Two

He dreams of death and destruction that night. Lazy smoke trails up from burning buildings, he can feel the heat of the inferno on his skin. Whispers, thousands of them buzz around his head, overwhelming his senses, dropping him to his knees. He's an adult again, he thinks. 'I must not tell lies,' his hand says. The wand in his hand is not his own, it's a warmer wood, shorter and thicker, 'Vine, Dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches.' the wand supplies. The cold cobblestone should not be cold, it deserves to smoulder like the bodies lying in piles of snow. The flames licking their air hungrily, climbing higher and higher in their quest to devour, burn, destroy, devour. He sees shapes in the flames, large serpents and winged beasts. He stands, wand that is not his gripped in a hand that is. He runs, fast, and he does not look back.

Harry awakes, shaken and alone. He fumbles for his glasses, blurry shapes seem like enemies in a dark dormitory. It's late, or early, he cannot tell and isn't sure he wants to. The familiar shape of Ouroboros lies beside him, staring yet fast asleep. When he was younger Harry used to watch the rise and fall of his tiny chest, watching his dull eyes watch nothing. In awe of the life around him, the magic Ouro's presence proved was real. Did snakes dream? Harry doesn't want to wake him, so grabs his wand to check the time. It's two in the morning, and he just knows that he's awake by providence. Beside him, Ouro stirs, glassy eyes turned to life.

"Speaker?" he hissed out "wizards are supposed to sleep when it is dark. Have you decided to change your mind about the best hours to hunt?" Harry stroked his scales softly, fingertips brushing over their keeled edges to ground himself to this place. Hogwarts is still, so still, it feels lost to time. If he didn't leave, perhaps it would remain twilight forever.

"I couldn't sleep, Ouro. You don't have to worry about it, go back to bed." Ouroboros ignored his request, slithering across his speaker's lithe form in a serpentine attempt at comfort. His warming charm had worn off in the night. Harry casts another to protect his friend from the bitter chill. At the end of his bed is the brown paper package, undisturbed from where he left it that morning. 'Use it well,' he recalls it saying, and before he can change his mind, he wraps Ouro around his shoulders, heavier than he used to be, but Harry is as well, slips on his shoes and grabs the cloak.

Perhaps a walk would clear his mind.

--

The corridors of Hogwarts were emptier than Harry had ever seen them. The moon hung in the sky, illuminating the cold flagstones and Harry's path forward. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't much care either, wandering aimlessly from Ravenclaw tower seemed like the best way to forget the images of pain haunting his sleep, and it seemed that everyone at dinner, including the teachers, were rather complacent on yule. All the professors had partaken in professor Trelawney's sherry collection, except for Snape, which was who he didn't want to disappoint the most by getting caught out after curfew. The windows let in enough light to cast shadows on the wall behind him, but Harry couldn't make out his own shadow at all. It was as if he wasn't even there, the light passed straight through him, sound couldn't leave. Using his wand, he cast a Lumos, and found that the light didn't escape his cloak at all. 'What kind of magic,' Harry thought to himself, 'could go against the laws of physics?'

At the end of the corridor, a shadow approached. With his poor eyesight, Harry couldn't make out what it was, only that he didn't want to be caught, even accidentally by something or someone bumping into him. Explaining what he was doing out of bed, and how he came across an invisibility cloak would be too much trouble- so, he hid.

An open door to an empty classroom was only a few paces back, and Harry slipped inside with a practised ease. Hiding was a way of life at the Dursley's, he didn't not want to be noticed and bothered, and that same principle applied to being in the wizarding world, deified or vilified, without room to just be. Harry controlled his breathing, and adjusted the cloak to make sure that it completely covered him and Ouroboros, who seemed to be on the lookout for prey, and reared back in case his venom was needed.

'Is anyone there my sweet?' a sickly sweet voice called out, it was the caretaker, Filch, a nasty squib who hated anyone with magic but seemed to hate purebloods most of all. It didn't matter that Harry was actually a halfblood, the name of Potter was good enough to forfeit that luxury. Mrs Norris, now obviously the shape that Harry had seen stalking down the corridor only meowed back in response, walking completely passed the classroom that Harry hid in the corner of. Filch passed by moments later, his beady little eyes squinting through the gloom as he tried to figure out if anyone was there. Satisfied with his search, the grubby man kept walking, allowing Harry the pleasure of having a normal heart rate once again.

He looked around the room, dust particles illuminated by the fading moonlight. There was an empty blackboard at the back, with a few desks and chairs pushed into the walls to make room for a large ornate mirror, with gilded gold edges.

'Is it normal to house shiny objects in the middle of wizard habitats speaker?' Ouro hissed quietly into his ear. His forked tongue tickled Harry's neck, and he had to resist performing a full body shudder at its touch.

'No. I'm not sure but housing a mirror like this is definitely suspect. Perhaps they were just asking for someone to find it.'

The boy stepped towards it, spotting intricate carvings along the top and sides of the mirror's frame. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. The mirror said. Harry wondered what it meant. He took off his cloak to see himself in the mirror, chances are that someone wouldn't intentionally leave a random mirror in a classroom, so there must be something more to it, something Harry hadn't yet understood. He saw his own reflection gaze back into himself. Green eyes on green eyes, and then, it wasn't just him. Beside him were two faceless boys, tall and skinny with fiery orange hair. As much as Harry tried to make out their features, they escaped him anyway, too blurred to appreciate, but he knew they were smiling, even if he didn't know why. Both boys had their hands intertwined with his own, and Harry longed for that kind of easy familiarity. Behind the trio was Lady Magic, Death, Time and a few others including a man with messy black hair, and a woman with bright green eyes. His family, gods and humans alike. He stared, and stared and he couldn't look away. All of his family in one place, Death, who seemed far less dangerous trapped in a mirror, Magic, with that sweet sincere smile she always had when Harry visited, Time with an unknown woman with short brown hair chatting excitedly about something no doubt as random and as ridiculous as their last conversation. His parents, Lily and James, embraced and staring at him, eyes full of so much love it made his eyes water. Ouroboros brought him out of his stupor, with a dry bite to his hand.

'Speaker? You've been here for far too long, we should go.' and it had been hours, and the sun was climbing into the sky, greeting the world with pink and orange, and Harry realised how tired he felt and knew that he should climb into bed and sleep for at least a little while before Padma came to pester him about an essay or two. He got up, cold knees creaking with disuse, pulled on his cloak and left the mirror.

He didn't want to come back.