I stood in the forest.
I did not remember how I had entered it. I did not remember the castle. I did not remember the way there.
I simply was.
The stone lay before me exactly where it had before. Gray, cracked, surrounded by roots.
Only the forest was different.
There was no wind. No birds. Not even the quiet rustling that always existed where too many trees grew together.
Nothing.
I looked up. The branches were motionless. So were the leaves. The sky between them was black.
Not night-black.
Simply black.
I lowered my gaze. My eye did not hurt.
That was the first thing that should have worried me.
It did not.
I approached the stone. One step, then another.
There were no traces. None. No animals, no fear, no death.
The forest was empty.
I stopped.
Something stood on the other side of the hollow.
Me.
Not a reflection.
Not a mirror.
Me.
The same robes, the same hair, the same face. Black eyes. White light deep within the pupils.
He was looking at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
"Wonderful," I said.
My voice did not echo. The other me did not answer.
I raised my right hand.
He did not.
I froze. His hands remained lowered. Only his eyes followed the movement.
No.
Not the hand.
Me.
I stepped sideways. His head turned slightly.
It was not a reflection. I had known that before. Now I was certain.
"Who are you?"
Nothing.
I pressed instinctively. Not hard. Just enough to test.
The world twitched.
And suddenly I was looking at myself.
Not at him.
At myself.
My body stood on the other side of the stone. My hand was still raised, my face tense, my eyes fixed directly on me.
Except I was not there.
I was here.
On the other side.
I was looking through my eyes.
But I was not the one looking through them.
I wanted to step back. I had no legs. I wanted to blink. I had no eyelids. I wanted to look away.
I could not.
Oliver on the other side of the stone lowered his hand.
I kept looking.
No.
Something kept looking.
Through me.
At me.
And then the meaning appeared. Not a voice. Not a word. Nothing I heard.
I simply knew.
I SEE YOU.
I woke up.
I sat up so fast that the bed curtain swayed on its rail.
Darkness. Stone ceiling. The quiet breathing of people sleeping in the dormitory. My heart was pounding so hard that for several seconds it was almost all I could hear.
I breathed.
That helped.
Apparently.
I touched my left eye. Dry. My cheek. Dry. My nose too.
Good.
A dream.
Obviously.
After yesterday's overload, there was nothing strange about it. The forest, the stone, the pain. My brain had simply stitched it all together.
Normal.
Completely normal.
I looked at the bed curtain and did not open it for perhaps two seconds.
Three.
That was stupid.
I reached out and pulled the fabric aside. The dormitory looked exactly as it always did: beds, stone walls, Goyle's robe thrown over a chair, and one sock on the floor whose owner had apparently abandoned all hope of ever recovering it.
Nothing.
Of course.
I lay back down.
Closed my eyes.
Opened them.
I did not fall asleep again.
The mirror was my first mistake that morning.
Not because I saw anything strange.
Quite the opposite.
I saw myself. Messy hair, pale face, my left eye heavily bloodshot near the inner corner. Black irises. White light in the pupils.
Normal.
For me.
I stood in front of the mirror a little too long. Moved my head left.
The reflection did the same.
Right.
The same.
I raised my hand.
So did it.
"Wonderful. We're synchronized."
The reflection maintained a sensible silence.
I turned away and took two steps.
Looked back once more.
It was still looking where it should.
It was idiotic.
I knew that.
It did not help.
Malfoy noticed my eye before his first sip of tea.
"What happened to you?"
"Nothing."
Blaise looked up from his plate and studied me.
"That nothing has a particularly nasty color."
I sat down.
"I appreciate the concern."
"That wasn't concern."
"Of course."
Malfoy was still staring.
"Was it that branch?"
"Yes."
"The branch hit you in the eye and the nose?"
"It's going through a difficult period in its life."
Blaise snorted into his cup.
Malfoy did not.
"You really went somewhere yesterday."
I reached for some toast.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Outside."
"Oliver."
"Draco."
"Don't do that."
"You started it."
Blaise rested his chin on his hand.
"You were near the forest."
I looked at him.
Slightly too quickly.
His smile widened.
"Ah."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
Malfoy stopped looking irritated.
Now he looked irritated in a different way.
"You didn't go into the Forbidden Forest."
I took a sip of tea.
"That's a very specific accusation."
"That was a question."
"It didn't sound like one."
"Oliver."
I chewed a piece of toast.
"I survived."
Malfoy's jaw tightened, and Blaise stopped smiling. For a moment, things became strangely quiet.
"If you go blind," Malfoy said, "I'm not reading to you."
I raised an eyebrow.
"You already told me that."
"Apparently I have to repeat myself."
"Your sacrifice moves me."
"You're welcome."
Blaise looked at him.
"I could read to him."
Malfoy turned his head.
"You?"
"No. I just wanted to see your face."
The kick under the table came a second later. Blaise nearly spilled his juice.
"Barbarian."
Someone stopped beside the table.
"Oliver."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Of course.
I looked up.
Hermione stood beside the table, with Harry and Ron waiting a short distance away. Her gaze immediately settled on my eye.
"Your eye didn't look like that yesterday."
"I know."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing I plan to repeat today."
Hermione frowned.
Malfoy snorted.
"That's not an answer."
"I noticed."
"You should go to Madam Pomfrey."
"No."
"Oliver."
"I can see."
"That doesn't mean everything is fine."
"It means the most important part is working."
Ron came closer and examined me.
"It looks awful."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Harry looked at me a little more carefully.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
"He's lying," Malfoy said immediately.
I turned my head.
"Excuse me?"
"You squinted this morning when you looked at the ceiling."
I stared at him.
"You've been watching me."
"I don't watch you."
"You just provided evidence."
"I sit opposite you."
"That does not make it sound better."
Blaise calmly continued eating.
Hermione sighed.
"If it starts hurting more, you're going to Pomfrey."
"Yes."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Was that 'yes, I'll go,' or 'yes, I can hear you'?"
Hmm.
"Yes."
Ron chuckled.
Hermione shot him a look.
"Don't help."
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly."
She looked at me once more.
"Seriously."
"If it gets worse."
Apparently that was enough. She did not look pleased, but she turned and left with Harry and Ron.
Blaise watched them for a moment.
"I'm beginning to understand why Granger wants to strangle you."
"That's deeply hurtful."
"To her?"
"To me."
Malfoy reached for his tea.
"No."
In Charms, my left eye proved that not everything had returned to normal.
Flitwick placed three small brass discs on every desk.
"I'm not interested in height!" he called from atop his stack of books. "I'm not interested in speed! Today we're practicing stability. Three objects. Three spells. No races."
Several people looked disappointed.
Lifting three discs was not difficult.
First.
Second.
Third.
They hovered above the desk.
Beside me, Blaise was trying to level his. One was tilting dangerously.
"Yours wants to escape."
"I know."
"It doesn't look happy."
"It's a piece of metal."
"Don't diminish its suffering."
"Shut up."
He corrected the movement of his wand.
The disc stabilized.
I looked at mine.
I could see the magic.
Not deeply.
I did not need to.
Fine lines of the spell held the metal in the air. Three separate structures. Simple. Clean.
In one of them, I immediately saw the point where the slightest pressure would be enough.
I did not plan to do it.
I simply checked.
Pain cut through my left eye instantly.
The spell broke.
All three discs fell. One struck the tabletop, another rolled across the floor, and the third hit Blaise's hand.
"Ow."
"Sorry."
He looked at me.
"Did you just apologize?"
"Don't get used to it."
I half-closed my left eye.
It throbbed.
I did not like that.
Not the pain.
Pain was pain.
The problem was that it had appeared instantly.
I looked at Blaise's spell.
I did not touch my own.
I only looked.
Pressed lightly.
Pain.
Immediately.
I let go.
Blaise lowered his wand.
"Stop."
"What?"
"Whatever you're doing."
"Very precise."
"You made exactly the same face twice."
"What face?"
"Like someone just drove a nail into your face."
I considered that.
"That's surprisingly accurate."
"You're an idiot."
"Mr. Peverell?"
Flitwick stood in front of our desk.
I had not noticed him approach.
He looked at the discs on the floor.
"A small problem?"
"Temporary."
"Then please try again."
I raised my wand.
This time I did not look deeper.
Did not press.
I simply cast the spell.
The discs rose.
One.
Two.
Three.
Stable.
Flitwick watched them for a moment.
"Very good."
His gaze lingered on me slightly longer.
"If you begin to feel worse today, please tell me."
"I'm fine."
He looked at the discs I had just picked up from the floor.
"Of course."
He walked away.
Blaise watched him go.
"I like him."
"It'll pass."
I looked at the three discs.
The eye worked.
I could see.
It only protested when I tried to do anything more.
That was considerably more irritating than the pain itself.
The problem with reflections was that Hogwarts was full of them.
Windows, display cases, polished suits of armor, silver trays, puddles of melted snow. All day, I kept catching my own face out of the corner of my eye., and every time I looked a second too long.
Not out of fear.
I was checking.
That was different.
On the second floor, I stopped beside a tall window.
My reflection stopped with me.
I moved my head.
The same.
"Idiotic."
"What?"
I turned.
Hermione stood several meters away.
Of course.
"Nothing."
She looked at the window, then at me.
"Are you talking to the window?"
"No."
"I heard you."
"I was talking to myself."
She thought about that.
"I'm not sure that's better."
"Probably not."
She studied my eye.
"How is it?"
"Better."
This time, I was not lying.
As long as I did not try to do anything with it.
Hermione nodded.
"Good."
She started walking again, but stopped after two steps.
"Oliver?"
"Hm?"
"What you said this morning."
"I said a lot of things."
"'Nothing I plan to repeat today.'"
Ah.
I looked at her.
"Yes?"
"Was the 'today' deliberate?"
I said nothing.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
I smiled faintly.
"See you in Transfiguration, Granger."
I started walking.
"Oliver."
I did not turn around.
I did not go to the Room of Requirement until evening.
The door appeared after I passed the blank wall for the third time. Inside, a table, one chair, shelves, my notebook, and a bowl of cold water with a clean cloth were waiting.
I looked at it.
"Don't start."
The Room did not answer.
I sat down and opened the notebook.
I turned back to the words I'd written before drawing the map.
It looked back.
I stared at them for a moment.
The stone.
The forest.
The traces turning toward me.
And then the dream.
Me on the other side.
No body.
No eyelids.
I SEE YOU.
I turned the page.
No.
Dreams were not evidence.
My brain was allowed to do something strange after yesterday.
First, what I actually knew.
I wrote:
After forest. Left eye functional.
I stopped, then added:
Mostly. Light sensitivity. Pressure causes immediate pain.
I stared at the final sentence.
Pressure.
I had been using that word for a long time, and it was not accurate.
I did not push the Red Cap.
I did not push the troll.
I did not move them.
I did not try to make them weaker.
I simply wanted them to yield.
And they yielded.
I rolled the quill between my fingers.
I did not have a better word.
Yet.
Lower down, I wrote:
Red Cap - immediate response. Troll - strong response. People - varied. Spell structure - can be disturbed. Old trace - feedback.
I leaned back in the chair.
A Red Cap had instinct.
A troll had instinct.
A human had thoughts, emotions, magic.
A spell had structure.
A broom had structure.
In every case, there was something that could change state.
Something that could yield.
But a trace?
A trace should not have anything.
It was a remnant.
Not a ghost.
Not a living thing.
Not an active spell.
And yet when I pressed...
It gave something back.
I wrote:
Not resistance.
After a moment:
Reflection?
I read both entries.
I did not know.
Underneath them, I added:
Why can a trace respond?
I had no answer.
Annoying.
I reached for Elias and Aria's book and opened it somewhere near the middle. I flipped through several pages, passing notes in the margins, corrections, arguments with the author, and arguments with each other.
In the chapter on magical memory, I found something I had not noticed before.
Elias, you owe me two Sickles.
Underneath:
No.
Lower still:
Three now.
I frowned.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the text.
I turned several pages.
Do not touch that.
The reply:
Too late.
Idiot.
Accurate.
I snorted.
I read it again.
Idiot.
Accurate.
Completely useless.
Nothing about the eyes, the curse, or Death.
And yet for a moment, I did not turn the page.
Elias.
Aria.
Not surnames.
Not a ceremony.
Not people in documents.
Two students who apparently argued about everything.
The corner of my mouth lifted slightly.
I turned the page.
Several pages later, I saw the familiar handwriting.
Forest boundary - stronger.
Below it:
No.
Then:
Very scientific.
No.
My smile vanished.
I stared for a moment.
My left eye pulsed faintly.
I closed the book.
"Easy."
I was not sure whether I was speaking to the eye or to myself.
It did not matter.
I was not going back today.
I left later than I had intended.
The corridors were almost empty.
When I returned to the dormitory, Blaise was already lying on his bed with a book.
Malfoy stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar.
"Move," I said.
He looked at me through the reflection.
"You can wait."
"I could."
"Then wait."
"No."
He sighed theatrically and stepped aside.
I stood in front of the mirror.
The reflection stood opposite me.
Blaise turned a page.
"If this is some new obsession with your appearance, I'm beginning to worry."
"Only beginning?"
"Fair point."
I moved my head.
The reflection did the same.
I raised my hand.
The same.
Malfoy looked at me from the side.
"What exactly are you doing?"
"Checking something."
"What?"
I looked myself in the eyes.
"I don't know yet."
Malfoy opened his mouth.
"Don't ask," Blaise said.
"I wasn't going to."
"You're lying."
"Shut up."
I stepped away from the mirror.
The bed curtains were already drawn when I extinguished my wand.
For a while, I lay in the darkness.
The dream returned immediately.
The stone.
My face on the other side.
I SEE YOU.
I opened my eyes.
The mirror was beyond the curtain.
I knew exactly where.
All I had to do was pull the fabric aside.
Check.
I did not.
A minute passed.
Then another.
I still did not.