Recognition.

In the reflection you see yourself, but older. You have cultivated a well-trimmed beard. Your hairline has pulled back into a proud widow's peak. Your hair has grayed just beneath the temples. You wear purple robes embroidered with a golden W.

You realize how the mirror must work, it shows the desire of the gazer. Interesting, but ultimately strange. Most people know what they want, and a mirror that showed that would be very conditionally useful. Perhaps it was a gag gift of some kind, or a cursed item? Dumbledore had found a productive use for it but you aren't sure what- if anything- that you would really gain from this object.

You saw yourself as a prominent member of the Wizengamot. Which would definitely mean that you had restored the legacy of the Gaunts. It was rare to sit as a member of the Wizengamot without the express approval of the community, especially as a bastard of a disgraced wizarding family.

You find the mirror entertaining, as it was meant to be, but ultimately a diversion. You move to turn away, but find that your limbs do not move. You attempt to turn your head, but it doesn't respond. You scream silently as you fall away from your body and into the mirror. The last thing you hear is Hagrid calling after you.

"Marvolo! NO!"

You feel yourself falling through the mirror. The Figments of Erised whirling around you. You see yourself graduating Hogwarts, and achieving distinction in both politics and spellcraft. You see ephemeral fantasies swirling around you, idle fancies made real by the mirror. Here you are a dueling champion, there a professional Quidditch player. There you are slaying Voldemort, and yet in another fantasy you are taking over his dark armies.

The mirror reflects every idle thought and projects it back magnified. Tendrils of the mirror's magic grab at you, ensnaring you deeper in the enchantment. You feel it pull you farther in, powerless against the whims of the magic.

Unbeknownst to you Hagrid crouches over your body, a concerned expression on his face. He has recovered the mirror's face, hoping that it would help, but your eyes stare lifelessly forward.

"Marvolo snap out of it." His says his voice trembling. "I left my umbrella..."

A pair of large eyes peek over the lip of the stairway as Professor Trelawney peers down at Hagrid. The Groundskeeper looks up and sees her, and hope is sparked in his eyes.

"Sybill!" He says hoarsely "He's just..."

"He's gone." She says softly, excitedly. She makes her way down the stairs. She looks at your body excitedly, and perhaps almost jealous.

"What? He's righ' here." Hagrid protests.

"My gram would go..." she mutters as if that would mollify Hagrid. She peers at you with interest. "The Mirror?"

Hagrid nods warily.

"Interesting, the boy must have the Sight. It was rare in Salazar's line, but Mom always said it was there..." Sybill says with a smile on her face. "He's lost inside the vision."

"Ye have ta get him out!" cries Hagrid. "He was in my care."

Sybill snaps back to reality, looks Hagrid in the eyes and quails. "N-n-no, I couldn't. Its too dangerous... also I-I-I foresee danger, and he's-" She raises a hand to her temple. "Yes! I see him coming out on his own!" With that the professor scurries away before Hagrid can object.

Hagrid looks back at you, and he sees your breath coming out of your mouth in wisps. "Oh no, no, think Rubeus." He mutters. "We have to have something. Sybill said it was prophecy... Firenze!" The large man scoops you up, taking off towards the Forbidden Forest.

You are on your hands and knees. The ground is damp, the hard stone covered in puddles of water. You climb to your feet, and look around. Your eyes struggle in the dark, subterranean chamber. You fumble forward until you find a wall. Using the wall as a guide you feel your way around the chamber, looking for a way out. Dimly you remember falling through the Mirror of Erised, but you remember little else.

At the far end of the Chamber you come to a large statue, as your eyes strain to make out the details of the statue's face you realize you already know who it is. Salazar Slytherin, the progenitor of your line. The man whose legacy was the topic of countless rants, from patriarch and from painting. The worst part was- there was a family resemblance.

You stare at the statue for a moment or two wondering what to do when you stop dead in your tracks. There's another person in the room. You know him- its Corvinius Gaunt- the painting. He is talking to the statue, in Parseltongue. He is telling it that the time is not yet right, but that the Chamber is safe.

"Soon," He hisses "Soon an heir shall come, and the cleansing shall begin. Sleep loyal servant, the Heir is coming."

Unsure if you should call out or hide, you watch as the man fades. In his place appears a young boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. Tom, you realize dimly. He's a prefect, he speaks in parseltongue to the statue.

"Sleep friend." He coos. "Our work is not yet done, but our message has been sent, I shall return for you soon, but for now sleep."

Why was he telling the statue to sleep?

Your vision swims, you see Harry, standing in front of the statue, holding a sword out in front of him. You attempt to call out, nothing here makes sense, but at your call the room begins to shake, begins to collapse. You run, darting towards the door must be. Scrambling through the collapsing rubble you see rocks land all around you. Each rock lands and catches fire as if they were the plumes of a phoenix.

You stagger out of the cave and see Albus Dumbledore standing in front of you. In his shadow stands Kingsley, Harry, and Hermione too. Each of them wears some symbol of office, an Auror Badge, a Minister's Hat, a Wizengamot robe. Your eyes don't want to focus. You cannot tell who wears what. You feel your head splitting open. You try to scream, but nothing

comes out of your mouth.

You start awake in a woodland clearing, the tree-boughs framing the night sky. Ironically, you can see the constellation Serpens staring out at you from the night sky. Your limbs are stiff and cold. Your face hurts. Every joint in your boday protests as you try to sit up.

You feel like **** warmed over, perhaps literally. Slowly getting your bearings, you realize that you are definitely in the Forbidden Forest. The last thing that you remember clearly was being on the docks by the lake looking at the Mirror. Then a vision overtook you, and you were here. It was night, so clearly a large amount of time had passed.

You hear a rustling sound from the trees, and spin, to see a strange creature emerging from the forest line. It bounds lightly through the trees like a deer or elk, but has the upper torso of a man. The Centaur has platinum blonde hair that shines siler in the starlight. His blue eyes flash as he makes eye contact with you.

You have never met a centaur before. In fact, you didn't know that there were Centaurs on British soil. You carefully move your hand away from your pockets. From what you know of Centaurs they are proud and quick to anger. You don't feel like testing your spellcraft against their arrows.

"Serpens greets, you." The Centaur says as he tromps into the glade. "Your sleep was deep, and fitful. The stars watched keenly young son of snakes."

Great, it seemed that the Centaur reputation for poetic speech was well deserved. You try to stand, but you can't seem to find your legs under you.

"Hold off in thy reckless departure." the Centaur says. "You are still not wholly back in your body yet, young one. There are those among the two-leggers who know me as Firenze."

You manage a polite nod. "I am known as Marvolo, among the same two-leggers." you croak out. Your voice is hoarse and dry. You are surprised by the sound of your own voice. It sounds more like the moan of the dead than yours.

Firenze smiles, but does not seem amused. "You're gift was a punishment this day, Marvolo. In the past I am sure that you've Seen, but the Mirror is a powerful item. It was built to show others what they wanted to see, but to those with the Sight... Well we See much more than the others, so there is more to see."

You nod, your neck at least seems to be coming back to life.

"Hagrid, the Forest Walker, and Spider talker, he returns for you."

"Spider?" you croak.

Before you could get an answer from Firenze you hear the heavy footfalls of Hogwarts' Game Warden. In a matter of moments the large man comes into the clearing.

"Marvolo yer awright!" beamed Hagrid. He and Firenze have a short conversation in hushed tones. From what you can overhear the conversation talks about whether or not you are safe to be moved.

"The small snake has returned, and his body shall mend." Firenze was saying softly. "When the sun rises its warmth will rejuvenate the strength taken by the night."

Hagrid nods, and scoops you up off of the ground. "Aye, Firenze, I think tha boy has had enough o' adventure fer the summer. I'll make sure he rests until tha' start of term."

The large man carries you off into the forest, and before you realize it you are asleep in his arms.