The Mirror of Erised reveals one's deepest desire.
In its glass, Harry saw a family he had never known—his father, his mother, and others who shared his eyes and hair. They were smiling at him.
He reached toward the mirror, fingers pressed to the glass as though he could hug them.
In a hidden corner of the room, Dumbledore—still under an invisibility charm—wiped his eyes and sobbed, "So touching… Vaughn, do you see that? This poor child…"
Vaughn sneered, "Touching? You mean the kid who never met his family because someone dumped him on the Dursleys' doorstep and didn't even leave him a photograph?"
Dumbledore pretended not to hear, still sniffling dramatically. Only when Harry lingered too long, practically glued to the mirror, did he finally act. A wave of his wand and a few transfiguration spells later, the floor mimicked the sound of approaching footsteps.
Startled, Harry fled.
Vaughn shook his head. "Tsk. You dangle hope in front of him, then yank it away. You really are cruel."
Dumbledore smiled slyly. "Didn't you say earlier that the Mirror of Erised only shows illusions? That getting lost in them does no good?"
"That applies to us, not to a kid who's never felt loved."
Dumbledore ignored the jab, still listening as Harry's footsteps faded into the distance. Finally, he dropped the invisibility charm and sighed, "Yes… love. That's what Harry wants most. Vaughn, as his friend, I think you should—"
"Stop right there. You can train your precious Chosen One however you want, but I have no interest in joining the campaign. Just because I agreed to help you as part of our deal doesn't mean I'm tagging along with Potter 24/7. I've got other things to do."
Another failed attempt to nudge Vaughn closer to Harry. Dumbledore didn't press. Instead, he turned to the Mirror of Erised.
But the mirror reflected only their literal images—no secret desires.
They simply stared at each other in the glass.
"Not curious, Vaughn?" Dumbledore asked.
"You first. Why aren't you looking?"
"I've already seen it. Quite the spectacle."
"Oh really? Last time you claimed all you saw were woolen socks. So which is it? Spectacle or socks?"
"I swear, I'm telling the truth this time. Go on, have a look…"
Before the debate could escalate, the classroom door creaked open and Snape swept in like a giant bat.
He stepped between them, gazing into the mirror. Still, nothing happened.
The mirror wasn't broken, of course.
If it could speak, it might well scream, How is it my cursed luck to meet three Occlumency masters in one night?!
Snape stared blankly at his reflection. "Potter's returned to Gryffindor. He's unlikely to sneak out again tonight. No movement from Quirrell either."
Then, with a nod to Vaughn, "Mr. Weasley."
"Professor," Vaughn returned politely.
The three stood in silence before the mirror.
Vaughn and Dumbledore shared a look, then turned their gazes on Snape with curious intensity.
The pressure clearly got to him.
Dumbledore smiled. "Severus, would you like a go at the mirror? Vaughn says he'll look if you do."
Vaughn grinned. "Exactly, Professor. The Headmaster said it—if you dare to look, he will too. Aren't you the least bit curious what's in that mind of his?"
Snape muttered, "Childish."
But even as he dismissed them, he didn't look away from the mirror.
He was staring. Longing.
The two foxes—one old, one young—exchanged a knowing glance.
Then Dumbledore said brightly, "Ah! Vaughn, that reminds me—we never did finish our conversation on the Wolfsbane Potion and its political implications. Shall we?"
"Of course, Headmaster. Care to join us, Professor? Oh… right, you might not follow. Best if you wait here."
"Now, now," said Dumbledore playfully. "Severus just lacks recent field experience. Don't be so harsh."
"Apologies, Albus. You know I'm always honest and straightforward."
Snape's expression twitched as he glared at the two mischief-makers.
Only once they'd finally left—and their footsteps faded—did he turn back to the mirror.
At some point, the cold, emotionless face in the reflection disappeared.
And in its place appeared a beautiful woman with emerald-green eyes.
Snape's thin hand hovered toward the glass—then stopped, trembling.
Outside the room, cloaked in fresh invisibility spells, Vaughn and Dumbledore stood silently.
Through the door, they could hear muffled sobbing that turned slowly into heart-wrenching groans—someone desperately suppressing pain too deep to voice.
Neither made a sound.
They simply listened.
After a long time, Dumbledore finally waved his wand. He conjured the sound of their footsteps returning, accompanied by a fake argument whispered under their breath.
As the phantom footsteps neared the door, he dropped the invisibility.
Vaughn raised his voice, grumbling about the "pathetic old man" and stormed into the room, feigning irritation.
Snape, now composed again, noted their sour expressions and guessed they'd argued about something. He didn't care.
He simply nodded and walked out, saying nothing.
Once they were sure he was gone, Dumbledore tiptoed to the mirror again and sighed. "Love… it can turn even a cruel Death Eater into the most fragile of children."
Vaughn, for once, had no snarky retort.
Snape's love for Lily was something so pure, Vaughn couldn't bring himself to mock it.
To Vaughn's surprise, Dumbledore—who had been lying earlier—now stood before the mirror in genuine silence.
Then he waved Vaughn over. "Come. Look at mine."
Vaughn frowned.
"Don't worry. I won't ask you to drop your Occlumency. I just want you to see… what an old man still dreams of."
Vaughn hesitated, then joined him.
In the mirror, familiar faces slowly emerged: Ariana. Aberforth. And Gellert Grindelwald.
They laughed together in harmony, arms around each other.
The always-composed Dumbledore suddenly sagged.
He stared longingly at the scene. At the love. The unity.
Tears slipped down his cheeks.
"Vaughn…" he whispered. "There's no going back in life. Once mistakes are made, no amount of regret can undo them. Promise me—never let your beastly nature override your humanity. Please."
Vaughn said nothing.
And Dumbledore didn't expect a reply.
Instead, he pulled a folded note from his sleeve. "Finish your thesis and potion documentation. Send it to this address. I've contacted a few old friends. Tomorrow, the papers will begin your publicity campaign."
"Now go. Let me be alone a while."
Vaughn wanted to say something but held back.
He respected the courage it took to bare one's soul like that.
He couldn't do it himself. Didn't want to.
As he left, he looked back one last time…
Dumbledore sat on the floor, leaning against the mirror, whispering softly to ghosts long gone.
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