HP Fanfiction - "In The Mirror"
Title: In the Mirror
Author: mr_mercutio
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: 50.2
Prompt: 44 “Mirror”
Word Count: 677
Summary: Aunt Pandora finds Isabella with her grandmother’s mirror, and an unsettling gift is revealed.
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for my “100 Quills” Zabini universe. Prompt list can be found here.
IN THE MIRROR
The old woman doesn’t keep the door to her bedroom locked. Seven years of living alone with only her niece for company have finally done away with the paranoia that the thieves in the family will come for her possessions, and the girl knows better than to go rummaging. It is her safe haven, so when she sees that the door is standing ajar, her heart leaps into her throat, though she does not know why.
She gently pushes it open and sees the girl sitting at the vanity, her tiny hands placed neatly in her lap. The old woman is relieved to see that her potions have not been touched, nor has the jewellery. In fact it seems as though nothing at all has been disturbed, and the girl simply sits, calm and composed, staring into the mirror.
“Isabella,” the old woman murmurs. “What are you doing in here?”
The girl does not respond, just continues to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Frowning, the old woman draws close to shake her and demand an explanation, but then she glances into the mirror.
It is an old thing that had belonged to her mother and her mother’s mother, a beautiful piece of silvered glass in an ornate frame. While the frame is tarnished and worn, the glass itself is free of all imperfections, as clear and bright as she can remember it ever having been. She cannot remember, however, ever having seen the shadows that skitter across its surface. It is as though they are in the mirror itself, lying between herself and the glass, reflected back at her. Her eyes smart as they try to make sense of the images, and she blinks back tears.
“Isabella!” she whispers more urgently, but she cannot bring herself to look away.
The shadows become stronger when she squints, coalescing into snatches of faces that seem to be mouthing words at her. The lines that compose their features blur together as they shift into vague impressions of men struggling against each other, wands brandished and lines of vile green arcing through the mirror like cracks. The colours seem wrong, too saturated, as though painted by an artist in a hurry and lacking variety.
Her breath hitches as she sees a circle of black figures vomit out green light, which settles itself over a night sky and obscures the stars. Perhaps it is her imagination trying to make sense of insanity, but it seems as though the light looks like a withered face opening its jaws and spitting a serpent out towards her. She shrieks, and the sound startles the girl into blinking.
The mirror is clear then, reflecting only her own creased face and the tears that glisten on her cheeks. The girl looks up at her, concerned.
“Aunt Pandora?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”
The old woman kneels down next to the girl, gripping one trembling hand in the other. “What were you doing, child?” she demands.
The girl frowns, shrugging. “Looking in the mirror,” she says simply.
“Why did you come in here without permission?”
She bites her lip then, casting her gaze downwards. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if I could see the people again.”
A chill seizes the old woman’s spine. “You’ve seen them before?”
The girl nods. “Whenever I look in the mirror too long. I’m sorry, Aunt Pandora. Is it wrong?”
The old woman doesn’t want to admit to her that she doesn’t know. “Hush,” she murmurs, drawing the girl into her arms. “Don’t fret about it. Go wash up for bed, there’s a good girl.”
Smiling a little, the girl nods again and moves to the doorway. She stops, then, and turns to gaze up at the old woman soberly. “Don’t worry,” she says, her high voice full of conviction. “I won’t let the snake faced man hurt you. I promise.”
After she leaves, the old woman stares for many long minutes into the mirror, but all she can see is her own ashen face, eyes dark and lips trembling.
Author: mr_mercutio
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: 50.2
Prompt: 44 “Mirror”
Word Count: 677
Summary: Aunt Pandora finds Isabella with her grandmother’s mirror, and an unsettling gift is revealed.
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for my “100 Quills” Zabini universe. Prompt list can be found here.
IN THE MIRROR
The old woman doesn’t keep the door to her bedroom locked. Seven years of living alone with only her niece for company have finally done away with the paranoia that the thieves in the family will come for her possessions, and the girl knows better than to go rummaging. It is her safe haven, so when she sees that the door is standing ajar, her heart leaps into her throat, though she does not know why.
She gently pushes it open and sees the girl sitting at the vanity, her tiny hands placed neatly in her lap. The old woman is relieved to see that her potions have not been touched, nor has the jewellery. In fact it seems as though nothing at all has been disturbed, and the girl simply sits, calm and composed, staring into the mirror.
“Isabella,” the old woman murmurs. “What are you doing in here?”
The girl does not respond, just continues to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Frowning, the old woman draws close to shake her and demand an explanation, but then she glances into the mirror.
It is an old thing that had belonged to her mother and her mother’s mother, a beautiful piece of silvered glass in an ornate frame. While the frame is tarnished and worn, the glass itself is free of all imperfections, as clear and bright as she can remember it ever having been. She cannot remember, however, ever having seen the shadows that skitter across its surface. It is as though they are in the mirror itself, lying between herself and the glass, reflected back at her. Her eyes smart as they try to make sense of the images, and she blinks back tears.
“Isabella!” she whispers more urgently, but she cannot bring herself to look away.
The shadows become stronger when she squints, coalescing into snatches of faces that seem to be mouthing words at her. The lines that compose their features blur together as they shift into vague impressions of men struggling against each other, wands brandished and lines of vile green arcing through the mirror like cracks. The colours seem wrong, too saturated, as though painted by an artist in a hurry and lacking variety.
Her breath hitches as she sees a circle of black figures vomit out green light, which settles itself over a night sky and obscures the stars. Perhaps it is her imagination trying to make sense of insanity, but it seems as though the light looks like a withered face opening its jaws and spitting a serpent out towards her. She shrieks, and the sound startles the girl into blinking.
The mirror is clear then, reflecting only her own creased face and the tears that glisten on her cheeks. The girl looks up at her, concerned.
“Aunt Pandora?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”
The old woman kneels down next to the girl, gripping one trembling hand in the other. “What were you doing, child?” she demands.
The girl frowns, shrugging. “Looking in the mirror,” she says simply.
“Why did you come in here without permission?”
She bites her lip then, casting her gaze downwards. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if I could see the people again.”
A chill seizes the old woman’s spine. “You’ve seen them before?”
The girl nods. “Whenever I look in the mirror too long. I’m sorry, Aunt Pandora. Is it wrong?”
The old woman doesn’t want to admit to her that she doesn’t know. “Hush,” she murmurs, drawing the girl into her arms. “Don’t fret about it. Go wash up for bed, there’s a good girl.”
Smiling a little, the girl nods again and moves to the doorway. She stops, then, and turns to gaze up at the old woman soberly. “Don’t worry,” she says, her high voice full of conviction. “I won’t let the snake faced man hurt you. I promise.”
After she leaves, the old woman stares for many long minutes into the mirror, but all she can see is her own ashen face, eyes dark and lips trembling.