Memory's Prisoner

Chapter 7: First Year Adventures

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him. He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, and he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away.

"When was this?" Hermione asked, not recognizing this particular memory.

"Christmas, first year."

"Oh, when you two were supposed to be researching Flamel and were doing everything but that," she huffed.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled.

He was in an abandoned classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, propped against the wall facing him. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but saw no reflection. He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. Harry whirled around, his heart was pounding furiously for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror. There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder - but still, no one was there. He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. But he felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes were bright green -- exactly the same shape as his, then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

"Are those your -" the question trailed off as Harry went to stand next to his memory self.

"This was the first time I saw my parents," he whispered, both versions holding back tears.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

Harry laid back down as the memory faded. The curse was making him experience more emotions than he had had to deal with in ages, and it was taking a toll on him.

"Harry? What's the next memory," Luna asked quietly.

"I don't know. Other than me nearly dying a few times, not much happens in first year besides -" He gasped as he shot up. "Third floor corridor!"

"Please tell me you're kidding," Ron whined. Harry shook his head as the fog began to fade.

"Harry, if they see this, they'll see nearly everything from the end of each school year," Hermione said as the familiar potions puzzle she solved came into existence.

"Yeah, I know."

Memory Hermione read a slip of paper several times, walking up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.