Chapter 17: Mirror Encounter
The third-floor corridor was a tunnel of darkness, the air heavy with the damp chill of stone and the faint, metallic tang of old magic. Midnight's silence pressed down, broken only by the mournful howl of wind outside narrow windows, rattling their frames. Alex Sterling followed Harry Potter under the Invisibility Cloak, the fabric cool and silky against his skin, its weight a constant reminder of their secrecy. Harry's trainers scuffed softly, his breath uneven with excitement as he led Alex to a hidden room, the door creaking faintly as they slipped inside. The air was stale, tinged with copper and dust, the stone floor icy under Alex's worn boots, sending a shiver up his legs. "This is it. The Mirror. Harry's obsession is about to pull us both in."
Harry tugged off the cloak, his face pale in the gloom, his green eyes wide behind his glasses as he pointed to a towering shape draped in a dusty sheet. "There, Alex. You've got to see it." His voice was a hushed rush, trembling with a mix of awe and need.
Alex hesitated, his fingers brushing the locket under his robes, its cool metal grounding him as he stepped around a stack of warped desks, their wood splintered and smelling of mildew. He pulled the sheet aside, the fabric rasping, revealing the Mirror of Erised. Its ornate gold frame gleamed faintly, ten feet tall, the inscription—Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi—etched in curling script that seemed to pulse with intent. The glass shimmered, its surface alive with a subtle, predatory hum, the air growing heavier with its magic.
Alex steeled himself, expecting a vision of power—mastery of the Artificer's Enigma, perhaps, or a triumphant future. "Show me something I can use. No tricks." He stepped closer, his reflection rippling, and the image shifted. He froze, his breath catching, a tremor running through his hand.
In the glass, he wasn't in Hogwarts robes but a simple sweater, its wool soft against his skin. A woman with his sharp grey eyes smiled at him, her hand resting on his shoulder, warm and real. Beside her, a man with a kind, weathered face laughed, ruffling Alex's hair. They stood in a cozy room, the air filled with the scent of fresh bread and faint lavender, a home he'd never known. The family he'd lost to the orphanage's cold walls gazed at him with love, their presence a knife of longing that pierced his chest. His fingers brushed the mirror's surface, cold and unyielding, and he recoiled, the ache raw and disorienting. "It's not real. It's a trap, and I'm falling for it."
[Analysis: Desire Projection (Mirror of Erised). Function: Prismatic Image Generation Based on Deepest Desire. Threat: Cognitive Feedback Loop (Obsession). Cost: 5 AE. AE: 25/50]
The system's cold logic snapped him back, the interface flaring in his mind like a lifeline. He clenched his jaw, the dull throb of CS pulsing behind his eyes, and focused on the Mirror's magic. "It's a feedback loop, designed to hook you. I can't let Harry drown in this." He stepped back, his boots scuffing the floor, the sound sharp in the silence, and turned to Harry, who stood transfixed, his face soft with grief.
"Harry, what do you see?" Alex's voice was low, steady, masking the tremor in his chest.
Harry's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "My parents. They're… they're here, with me." His hand reached out, mirroring Alex's earlier gesture, his fingers trembling against the glass.
Alex's stomach twisted, the shared pain a heavy weight. "He's hooked already. I need to pull him out before this breaks him."
The next two nights were a descent into obsession, the corridor's darkness a constant shroud as Harry slipped out, the Invisibility Cloak's smooth fabric brushing Alex's arm as he followed reluctantly. The air grew colder each time, the coppery tang sharper, the Mirror's pull stronger. Harry's eyes were bloodshot in Potions, his hands shaking as he fumbled a vial of crushed beetle, earning a sneer from Snape. Alex noticed the pallor of his skin, the way his shoulders slumped during meals, the Great Hall's chatter fading to a dull hum around him. "He's fading. The Mirror's eating him alive."
In the dormitory, Alex caught Harry slipping out again, his silhouette barely visible under the cloak. The air was thick with the musty scent of bed hangings and the faint hiss of the Black Lake beyond the window. Alex grabbed his arm, the fabric of Harry's sleeve rough under his fingers, his voice a fierce whisper. "You're killing yourself, Harry. You look like a ghost. We've got a mission—remember the Stone?"
Harry's eyes were glassy, his voice raw with desperation. "Just one more time, Alex. I need to see them. It's the only place they're real."
Alex's chest tightened, the locket's hum a faint comfort as he relented, following Harry into the cold corridor. "I can't let him go alone. But this is dangerous for both of us." The Mirror loomed again, its gold frame glinting like a predator's eyes, and Alex saw his family once more, the warmth of their smiles a cruel lure. The system flashed, urgent and red.
[WARNING: Cognitive Strain from Illusion. Current CS: 48%. Continued Exposure Will Increase CS Risk Exponentially. Recommendation: Immediate Withdrawal]
The CS spike was a hammer behind his eyes, a dull, throbbing pain that made his vision blur. He grabbed Harry's arm, his grip tight, his voice sharp with urgency. "They're not real, Harry. It's a lie, a projection of what you want. You can't live for a reflection."
He pulled Harry back, the sudden movement causing his foot to catch a loose floorboard, the clack echoing like a gunshot in the silent room. Both boys froze, hearts pounding, the panic snapping Harry's trance. His eyes cleared, a flicker of shame crossing his face as he stumbled back, the cloak slipping from his shoulders.
Before they could flee, a new scent filled the air—vanilla and cinnamon, warm and unmistakable. Albus Dumbledore stepped from the shadows, his silver robes shimmering faintly, his presence filling the room like a tide. His beard caught the moonlight, and his blue eyes twinkled with a weary kindness, though his smile didn't reach them.
"Back again, are we?" His voice was soft, almost musical, but carried a weight that pinned them in place. "The Mirror of Erised holds a terrible fascination, does it not? It shows nothing more or less than the deepest desire of our hearts. But it is not truth, nor life."
Alex stood rigid, his muscles tense, his gaze dropping to the floor to avoid Dumbledore's piercing stare. "He sees too much. I can't let him know I've analyzed this thing." He nodded slowly, adopting the posture of a chastened student, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Alex, his smile tightening, a cryptic edge to it. "And you, Mr. Sterling, seem to know the trick of looking away. A rare talent in one so young."
The words were a quiet warning, the Headmaster's eyes lingering too long, as if peeling back Alex's layers. "He's watching me. The sigil, the pranks, now this—he knows I'm not just a kid." Alex's pulse quickened, but he kept his face solemn, nodding again, the locket's weight a silent anchor.
Dumbledore gestured to the Mirror, his voice gentle but firm. "This mirror will be moved. Do not seek it out again. Men have wasted away before it, lost to dreams that cannot be."
The boys nodded, the air heavy with the scent of vanilla and the fading copper tang of the Mirror's magic. They slipped out, the corridor's chill biting their skin, the weight of Dumbledore's words lingering. "The Mirror's gone, but the Stone's still out there. And Quirrell's closing in."
[Mechanics Recap: CS at 48%; AE Recovering]
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