Better Be Slytherin!

That was the other major difference of this holiday: Harry.

Severus had been teaching Occlumency to the Brat Who Wouldn't Let Him Be Alone almost every evening after dinner for the last two weeks, and the oddness of it was, Severus had not minded. Normally, a school holiday was a good chance for Severus to close up shop and retreat to his favorite place -- his quarters and his private lab -- where he would see neither hide nor hair of anyone else for the duration. This year, however . . . The Brat had drawn him out. The two of them had perused photographs of Lily, played chess, both wizarding and Muggle, and discussed magical theory, mostly about Occlumency, but also about Elemental Magic. For some reason, Harry seemed interested in the subject, and it was always a good feeling to have a willing and eager student.

And Harry was not only willing, he was . . . bright and amusing, and he had a charming way about him, especially when he was trying to redirect conversation away from a troublesome topic. Severus was . . . glad, yes glad that he had finally seen past the shortcomings of the boy's heritage to see him as a pupil driven to learn, and with the faculties to do so.

He had noticed, however, an odd melancholy about the boy the last couple days, and had come to Dumbledore tonight to see if the old man -- with his innumerable 'insights' into people (Read: means of spying) -- might help him suss out the problem.

Somehow or other, they had come around to speaking of snooker, a game Severus had never cared for, but which Albus apparently did. 'It started amongst wizards, your father would be overjoyed to know,' Albus said with a snort.

'Overjoyed, yes, I'm sure that's the word,' Severus rejoined.

'When the Muggles started playing, of course, the balls were kept on a billiards table, no longer flying about like bludgers, of course.'

Severus smiled wryly. 'Of course.'

Albus chatted for a few more minutes about the game, then added suddenly, 'Do you recall seeing the Mirror of Erised?'

'Do I . . .' Severus' eyes narrowed, recalling that magical artifact. He swallowed. 'Yes. I thought it lost after . . .'

With a kind smile, Dumbledore shook his head. 'No, no, dear boy. It is here again, at Hogwarts. I have been meaning to move it down into the Pit, but have been too slow--'

'Has someone gotten the Stone!?' Severus interrupted.

'No, nothing like that . . . just, I'm afraid the mirror has been discovered in its current location by two of our First Years.'

Since there were only two Firsties in the school at present, that meant only one thing. He sucked in a breath. 'Potter and the Weasley boy.'

'None other. I'm afraid Harry Potter in particular has become quite enamored of what the mirror can show him.'

Considering his conversations -- and innumerable hours looking over pictures of his mother -- with the boy, he could guess fairly closely what that was. 'Yes, I'm sure.'

'I'd like you to take care of it, Severus.'

Once upon a time, he had become enamored of the mirror himself, and he understood what Albus was asking. 'Of course. Tell me where he is.'

--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--

Watching the boy in the upstairs classroom the next afternoon, Severus eased himself onto the edge of a nearby desk top, a heavy feeling in his chest. Rather than say anything immediately, he observed the boy for some little while, trying to decide how best to approach the issue. Somehow -- probably with that damnable invisibility cloak -- Harry had managed to elude his usual watcher, the Bloody Baron, and thus Severus had thought all this time he was in his dorm, studying, in the afternoons. Severus would need to speak with the Baron, too, and discover why he had not been following his charge.

Towards the front of the dusty room, Harry was crouched in front of the mirror, looking hungrily into its depths. Severus could just imagine what members of his family he saw within. This is probably where he had scampered off to the night before, too, rather than play chess or look at non-interactive pictures of people he would never know personally.

It made Severus ache with sorrow, just to see. Finally, he could take no more of watching. 'Harry. Come away from there now.'

The boy's head snapped around as if he had seen a boggart. His eyes were very wide, but were ringed with dark circles. Had he been sneaking out at night, too? No . . . none of his alarms had sounded. 'Sir? I didn't see you.'

'No, I imagine not. Your eyes are all for that mirror.'

'I . . . er, yes. Yes, sir.' Harry climbed quickly to his feet and darted a guilty look at the artifact, even as he sidled away.

Severus slid off the desk and approached the boy, trying not to scowl. He didn't want to frighten the boy, after all. 'So. You've discovered the Mirror of Erised.'

'Erised? What's . . .' The boy trailed off and peered at the mirror again, specifically at the runic-style lettering around the frame: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. 'Erised,' he repeated softly, and his face crumpled. 'Desire.'

'Yes,' Severus agreed softly. 'You know what the mirror does, I assume.'

Harry nodded, looking at the floor. 'Shows you what you really, really want but can never have.'

The boy's words were like a kick in the stomach. How true they were, and yet . . . 'In a way, Harry. As it was explained to me, when I was a boy, the mirror shows us nothing more than the deepest, most desperate desire of