October 14 — Ravenclaw Common Room (Past Midnight)
Rowan couldn't sleep.
The cube sat on the table by his bed, pulsing faintly with golden light. The ring inside had begun to hum when he held it, and now it vibrated with growing urgency—as if calling something to the surface.
He opened his notebook and flipped past pages of runic patterns and sketches of the Philosopher's Stone, until he reached a blank one.
He wrote a single word:
Truth.
And the cube flared.
For a moment, the room around him melted.
Then everything went black.
The Mirror Room
Rowan stood in a circular chamber made entirely of mirror glass. Walls, floor, ceiling—each a seamless pane, reflecting endlessly.
He could see himself from a thousand angles.
But none of the reflections matched.
Some were taller. Older. Some wore different robes—one in green, one in blood red. One had a scar across his face. One had silver in his hair.
And one was smiling… in a way he never did.
A voice echoed through the glass:
"The second trial is not about what you know.
It is about what you are willing to become."
Rowan turned slowly.
In the center of the room, the Mirror of Erised stood—its golden frame untouched by dust, its inscription glowing softly:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
But something was different.
There was another mirror behind it.
Darker.
Less real.
Like a shadow of Erised.
The Choice of Reflection
The voice returned, closer now, as if whispering in his mind.
"One mirror shows desire. The other shows truth.
One leads forward. The other leads back.
One gives. The other takes.
Choose."
Rowan stood between them.
He turned first to the original Mirror of Erised.
Inside it, he saw something that made his breath catch.
His family—Mum, Dad, all six siblings—standing tall and proud beside him. Percy with a hand on his shoulder. Fred and George giving mock salutes. Ron smiling in awe. Ginny beaming.
But they were not alone.
Behind them stood Rowan—older, dressed in silver robes lined with runes, wearing a circlet of stars across his brow. Wands—plural—at his side. A book floating by his hand. A crowd below, looking up.
He was… legendary.
Rowan stepped back.
Then turned toward the second mirror.
The Shadow Mirror.
He expected horror. Pain.
But instead, he saw… himself.
Just himself.
Alone. Not dressed in robes of power or fame. No audience. No family.
Just a boy.
Holding… the same cube.
Looking right back at him.
And then the reflection spoke.
The Mirror Speaks
"You've always known, haven't you?" the other Rowan said quietly. "That you're different. That this isn't just about school or spells."
"I have ideas," Rowan said aloud.
The reflection raised an eyebrow. "And suspicions."
Rowan didn't deny it.
"Do you know what I am?" the reflection asked.
"Me."
"No," it said. "What you chose not to be. I'm the version of you who stayed still. Who stopped at clever. Who never questioned the patterns under the surface."
Rowan took a step forward. "Then what am I?"
"You're the one who can rewrite them."
The mirror shimmered.
"And that's why they're afraid of you."
The Trial Begins
The mirrors vanished.
And Rowan was no longer alone.
Opposite him stood the reflection—not glass anymore, but flesh.
Identical down to the strand of hair.
Only… colder. Still. A little older.
A wand was in his hand.
Rowan raised his own.
The Trial of the Mirror had begun.
The Duel
It was not like dueling in Charms Club.
There were no turns. No etiquette.
It began with silence—and then exploded.
"Expulso!"
The reflection struck first, blasting shards of illusion across the floor. Rowan countered with a slashing wave of "Protego Maxima", deflecting the blow as the sound rang through the mirrored walls.
"Vinculum Umbrae!" his double shouted.
Shadow chains erupted from the floor.
Rowan leapt back, wand spinning in his hand.
"Lux Obscura!"
White fire erupted from his wand, scattering the shadows like frightened birds.
His reflection grinned.
"You've learned quickly," it said.
"I've needed to," Rowan spat.
Their wands locked in midair—light and dark coiling around each other.
And then, the double whispered something Rowan couldn't hear.
And the room vanished.
The Heart of the Trial
Rowan was falling.
Not through air—but through memory.
Not his.
Harry's.
He saw the cupboard under the stairs.
The loneliness.
The hunger.
The small hope of a letter.
Then—Hermione.
Ron.
Hagrid.
Then the Stone.
The pain of Voldemort in the back of his skull.
Then… Rowan.
Himself.
Whispers echoed around him.
"Why is he here?"
"He's not like the rest."
"He should have been born elsewhere."
"He's too dangerous."
Then came a voice that was not memory.
The shadow reflection.
"Your path is not about greatness. It's about influence. You bend the world without people noticing. And soon… you won't even need to try."
Rowan screamed in silence—
And landed.
Back in the mirror room.
Alone.
The Gift and the Price
A small pedestal had risen from the floor.
Atop it: a shard of the mirror. Cold. Smooth. Still glowing faintly.
Rowan reached out.
The moment he touched it—
Visions.
A dungeon deep beneath Hogwarts.
Flames circling the Stone.
Quirrell, whispering in Parseltongue.
Harry—bleeding.
A wand lifted toward the boy's heart.
And a voice:
"The final gate opens in fire."
The vision vanished.
The mirror shard dimmed.
Rowan dropped it into his satchel, heart pounding.
Then a second item appeared on the pedestal:
A silver coin.
Etched with two faces.
On one side, a lion.
On the other, a raven.
He understood.
A choice would come.
And he would have to choose between them.
October 15 — Forbidden Forest Edge
Rowan stood by the forest's edge, the cube now holding two items: the ring from the first trial, and the mirror shard from the second.
The third trial awaited.
He didn't know where or when.
But he could feel it drawing near.
Behind him, the castle whispered.
Ahead, the forest waited.
Rowan turned away from both.
And walked back to the tower.
Not because he was done.
But because soon, the others would need to know what he knew.
And they would need him ready.