Harry Riddle || Harry potter

Chapter 15: The Deepest Desire

Laughter. High, cold, cruel laughter. "You should be more careful who you cheat on your husband with," a voice began tauntingly. " It might come back to haunt you."

"Stay away from me!" a woman's voice screamed back.

"I'll give you two choices. You can get out of my way and let me take what is rightfully mine, or you can stay here and I can kill you."

"I'll never let you have him, you bastard! Leave us alone!"

"So be it, mudblood. Avada Kedavra!"

Harry shot up in bed, green light still dancing in his mind. After his heavy breathing finally returned to normal he stole a glance at the clock. 2:22 AM.

He sighed disgustedly. He knew he'd never get back to sleep after that nightmare without having it again.

He turned his head towards Draco's bed. The blond was sound asleep. Harry sneered at him.

Sighing again, he threw the covers off of his feet and stood up. It was time to explore the school a bit.

Harry ducked in a door and huddled down in a corner. He'd been trying to get to the Restricted section of the library, but Flich and his bloody menace of a cat had been on the prowl and he thought they'd spotted him.
After listening for several minutes and coming to the conclusion that Flich evidently hadn't seen him, Harry was about to turn around and leave, but a glint on the far side of the classroom caught his eye.

He quietly maneuvered his way around piles of chairs and desks and finally stopped a few feet away from a very large mirror. He squinted at what looked like an inscription at the top. It slowly came into focus.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry grinned rather idiotically. "The Mirror of Erised!" he exclaimed, a bit too loudly, he realized. His eyes widened and he clamped a hand over his mouth. He stood in silence for a few seconds, but once he was sure that no lurking teachers had heard him, he relaxed.

Cautiously, Harry scooted closer to the mirror and finally stepped in front of it. Slowly, very slowly, an image began to form. There was a woman, a beautiful woman, waving and smiling at him. Her hair was a dark red color and her eyes-

Harry bit his lip and did a double take.

Her eyes were a bright emerald green - his green. And they were the exact same shape as his, as well.

Harry had moved so close to the mirror that his nose was nearly touching the glass.

Who was this woman? As soon as he asked the question, he got the answer.

"M- Mum? My Mother?"

Harry really had no idea how long he stood there. He was vaguely aware that his jaw was still hanging open from the shock and that his feet were beginning to hurt, but for some reason he didn't make any attempt to move.

No attempt, that is, until a sudden noise jolted him back to reality.

Harry shook his head and quickly backed away from the mirror. He spun on his heels and didn't stop running until he got back to the dungeons.

"So what are you doing for Christmas, Hermione?" Harry asked while picking through his dinner. He was only half awake, as he'd been having that same dream over and over again.

Hermione's fork paused halfway to her mouth and she was silent for a moment. Finally she said, "Oh, I'll probably just stay at home with my sisters and parents."

Harry couldn't help but notice her voice sounded a bit strained.

"What are you doing, Harry?" she asked quickly.

Harry shrugged and shriveled his face into a mask of annoyance. "Dad will probably have some sort of business trip he'll take me on."

"Does your father go on a lot of business trips?"

Harry nodded. "Uh-hmm. For as long as I can remember he's been on the go. He mainly stays in the British Isles but he's gone everywhere at one point or another."

"And he takes you with him? That must be fascinating. But how did you go to school?"

"I was homeschooled. So was Draco."

Hermione glanced at the aforementioned blond. He just nodded absently at her, too absorbed in the Daily Prophet to say anything.

"So, how many countries have you been to?"

"Eleven. Romania, Egypt, France, India, Arabia, Russia, China, America, Italy, Ireland, and Scotland." Harry paused. "Well, twelve counting England."

Hermione looked positively entranced. "That many countries?! I think that's so-"

Harry grimaced. This was going to be a long night. Once Hermione got on a subject, she never shut-up.

"-types of culture and-"