"What were you thinking!?" Oleandra hissed as she dragged her Reflection Doppelganger by the wrist into the second-floor lavatory. "Apparating in the middle of the Great Hall like that!"
"That's my line!" the Reflection Doppelganger growled, wrenching her arm free. "What were you thinking, taking over like that? If it weren't for this body lacking a heart, I'd have had a heart attack, waking up in a tent in the middle of the forest with Harry and his friends!"
Oleandra was taken aback by her mirror clone's defiance.
According to the additional runic magic knowledge she had gained after Odin's failed attempt to possess her, the being created from the Reflection Doppelganger Spell was supposed to be an obedient, perfect mirror image of her, except with no magic of its own.
She frowned. "Is it broken, or something?"
Upon closer inspection, it did appear as though half the mirror clone's head had been smashed in by some kind of blunt object. Perhaps this damage was the cause of the glitch?
"This isn't funny," the Reflection Doppelganger snapped. "Change us back."
Oleandra ignored her and walked up to one of the sinks, taking out a tube of lipstick. To obtain the mirror duplicate's memories, she would normally have it walk back into the same mirror it had once stepped out of, but since she didn't have that particular mirror at her disposal, she would just have to draw another sigil on the mirror above the sink and have the duplicate climb into that one.
"Stop ignoring me, Viviane!"
Having just finished tracing her sigil, Oleandra paused for a second, lipstick hovering just above the reflective glass. She couldn't see the Reflection Doppelganger in the mirror, so she turned around and put a hand on her hip.
"This isn't the kind of reunion I was hoping for," the doppelganger sniffed. "I'd like to have my body back now, please. I feel naked without magic at my fingertips."
Oleandra tilted her head curiously to one side.
For some reason, the doppelganger thought it was a real girl. How very odd… but oh well, she'd figure out what was wrong with it once she'd had a look at its memories.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Oleandra, rapping the mirror at her side with her knuckles. "Now, I've wasted enough time with you. In you go."
Instead of obeying her order, the Reflection Doppelganger began slowly backing away, eyes flitting left and right in search of an escape route.
"This has to be some kind of trick," it muttered to itself, before raising its voice. "You're not really Viviane, are you? Who are you really? Loki?"
Oleandra knew herself too well to fail to notice that her other self was only asking questions to buy time. The instant it bent its knees, lowering its centre of gravity, Oleandra's fingers curled into the shape of the rune of the thorn.
"Thursaz!"
An invisible fist the size of a small lorry slammed into the clone, catching it mid-flight as it hurled itself at Oleandra. The impact sent it crashing into a toilet cubicle, crying out in misery as its body crumbled further, spilling glittering fragments across the floor. One of its legs flew off and landed with a splash in the toilet bowl at its back, while its left arm snapped off at the elbow and flew out of sight.
"Hm?" said Oleandra, noticing a rather familiar piece of parchment clutched in its fist. "Isn't that the Marauder's Map?"
Oleandra watched in morbid curiosity as her double slowly unfolded the map with its remaining hand. "No… it can't be…" it said dully. "The name… why…"
When the clone looked at the map, at the abandoned girls' lavatory on the second floor, she saw three names: the first was Myrtle Warren, hiding inside another stall, and the second and third were the same… Oleandra Greengrass.
"Oh, that'll come in handy," said Oleandra, snatching the Map out of her doppelganger's hands. "Letting Harry and his friends capture you really paid off."
She waved her wand and performed a Levitation Charm to lift the doppelganger into the air. Since it wasn't human, the charm worked as intended, and she sent it floating towards the mirror above the sinks. The reflective surface rippled slightly as it touched the clone, like a raindrop falling into a puddle, before allowing the body to pass through as though it were a window.
Oleandra laid a hand on the mirror. Its surface grew troubled, before finally turning completely opaque. A few seconds later, it regained its reflective properties, and Oleandra found herself looking at her own reflection once more.
The reflection blinked and slowly opened its eyes.
"I see, so that's its interpretation…" Oleandra murmured, sifting through the Reflection Doppelganger's memories as they streamed into her mind. "I suppose I can see why it would think it was the original…"
This earliest doppelganger's memories were fractured and full of unexplained gaps; quite unlike the one that Oleandra had employed to warm her seat on the Hogwarts Express while she went off with Mai to save the Muggle-Born from the Ministry of Magic's grasp.
"After taking the clone from my room in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry and his friends tortured it to get answers out of it about Dumbledore's inheritance…" Oleandra said out loud, to help herself organise her new set of memories. "…and it broke."
Although Oleandra put on a brave face each morning upon waking, mentally speaking, she was not faring well. The burden of saving an entire race from extinction rested squarely upon her shoulders alone; her sister was a Horcrux she needed to kill; everyone hated her, convinced she had murdered Dumbledore; and worst of all, she could confide in no one.
So was it any surprise that Oleandra started wishing she were someone else entirely?
Even just yesterday, after learning of Daphne's suffering, Oleandra had suffered an episode when her emotions ran wild and Viviane's memories overwhelmed her; perhaps this mental shock had travelled down the invisible thread linking her to her Reflection Doppelganger, jolting it from its trance and updating its memories, though it was impossible to say for certain. This magic was not safe to use for the Fae Folk, after all.
Moreover, upon waking in the morning, Oleandra would sometimes find she had subconsciously tapped into her stolen Metamorphmagus abilities to transfigure herself into Viviane, the strongest woman she knew, whilst she slept.
The first time this accidental magic had happened was when she had been forced to summon her Patronus to drive off Dementors at the Ministry of Magic, and it had occurred again this very morning, in fact— which was why the clone had seen her name as Viviane on the Map, furthering its misunderstanding that they had swapped bodies.
But one thing was certain: Viviane was gone, and there was no bringing her back, no matter how much Oleandra longed to hear her comforting voice again, no matter how she deluded herself, or how fervently she pretended to be her. She was using her dead mentor's memories as a coping mechanism; nothing more, nothing less.
In the end, Oleandra was all alone, even in her head, and alone she continued her journey.