The Desillusion charm which I performed on myself was simple, a childsplay almost. I had learned it in my third year at Hogwarts and used it ever since in case I wanted to read a specific book and had to get it from the library at night our sometimes just to enjoy a walk on the lawns under the clear moonlight where for once no one, no sound, no distraction would disturb me and my thoughts. I had brought up some of my best conclusions out there. And sometimes I needed it for nights like this. Years of leaving the castle unauthorised had trained me in moving almost inaudible. Peeking carefully around every corner, I wandered down through the castle steering at an unused classroom in the dungeons. I did not fear the night as I was used to it and it offered the comfort on silence and safety which day denied. And there it was. The room. I unlocked it with a couple of spells as it was secured more carefully then a simple Alohomora could break. In the first run I had stumbled over this door one night when I had not come to eat during the day as I had been writing a very importand essay and could not afford to stop and possibly loose a thought which had been flooding my head like mad. So at night I had gotten very hungry and went to sneak a little somthing from the kitchens when my lumos-spell had suddenly vibrated, colliding with a patch of multiple magic. That had been how I had found that door and been eager to break through it's spells. Nowadays this had become routine. I sealed the door behind me with a simple locking-spell in case I had to lift it quickly and leave. That was Rutine also. I turned around and embraced the whole emptiness of the old classroom with all my soul. It was cool inside here as the summer had taken away the freezing cold of the dungeons but still left some cool air which chilled me all through. And there in the middle of the room, covered with a motheaten cloth stood the object I had been longing for since I had read those words. Your mother Kendra died. I lifted the cloth away and a dark, blinded mirror appeared. It was decorated with a heavy gold-frame, extending into three points at the top of the mirror which looked like the towers of a tiny castle. Written on the upper line of the frame stood: Erised stra ehry oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi It had taken me some time in which I had searched through plenty of books about ancient languages and runes to translate the words until it had appeared in my mind that as this was a mirror I might have to read the words through a mirror so read them backwards. Until then I had looked into the mirrir several times and the writing gave, if not a truly helpful so at least a general information of what mysterious things I saw. I show not your face but your hearts desire.
I positioned myself right in front of the mirror, eagerly waiting to see and to know if something had changed as the whole world seemed to have changed within the last few hours. But no, there they were. As familiar, comforting and unreachable as always. The mirror pictured me right how I stood, in my nightgown with the long auburn hair, but there surrounding me were my brother Aberforth, and no anger in his face, no stubbornness. There was my dear father who had died eight years ago with his unmistakable smile which almost made his eyes gleam with pride as he looked onto the three children of us because there next to me stood Ariana. She was pale as always but it was a healthy, yes almost pearly white with dark hair and full lips, so beautiful, so strong. One of her hands held a wand with witch she was performing little charms, that glittered over us and when the mirror-Ariana gave me a little kick with her elbow I thought to feel a soft touch at my side. Ariana laughed at my hand touching the place in surprise and she turned her beautiful face that had been lit up by the laughter towards the fifth person in the picture. Almost as tall as my father, with brown hair and dark, and intelligent eyes and a smile of wisdom, my mother Kendra towered over the Ariana, who resembled her so much. Just like Ariana I lifted my eyes up to her face and met with her gaze. In her eyes I found not the cheerful pride of my father but a deep wisdom and grief. She smiled and in the glass, took my hand into hers. My fist clenched together but I only grazed into nothing. There was no healthy Ariana and no father and no Kendra. Because my mother had died. Hot tears swelled out of my eyes and right in front of this mirror, in the darkness where no one would find me and see me like this, I went to my knees and inaudible sobs shook ma shoulders while I leant my forehead against the glass of the mirror. I was unbelieving in the face of what could not be denied and begged in the hot grief of my soul, even though I could not remember what was to be begged for anymore as for the moment there was nothing left but tears and when they would be gone there would only remind that destructed world but I would not be uncomplaining for what I had lost. With no tears left in the consuming darkness my heart swore revenge.
YOU ARE READING
The untold Story of Grindelwald and Dumbledore
Fanfiction"A tall, young man appeared behind the trunk of the old oaktree in our front garden. When he came over and extended my hand he had the unmistakably elegant movements of a wild cat. His hair was pearly white and as he came closer I recognised the dif...
