The Mirror Clone watched Allen with a predatory gleam in its eyes, expecting to see the boy crumble. It had just reached into the deepest, darkest corner of Allen's soul and dragged his greatest secret—his very origin—into the light. It expected a breakdown, a moment of paralyzing existential dread.
But Allen didn't give it the satisfaction.
Instead of trembling, Allen's jaw set into a hard, stubborn line. His breathing, which had been ragged only moments ago, smoothed out into a cold, rhythmic pulse. He leveled his wand with a hand that didn't shake a millimeter. The Clone's smug grin faltered, turning into a confused grimace. It was supposed to be his mirror, his perfect reflection, yet it realized with a jolt of frustration that it couldn't read him anymore. Allen had retreated behind a wall of pure, focused intent.
What spell works against yourself? Allen wondered, his mind racing. How do you fight a ghost that shares your blood and your thoughts?
The air in the mirror dimension was thickening, the Clone's aura expanding like a dark stain in water. Every second Allen hesitated, the reflection grew more "real," sucking the vitality right out of the atmosphere.
"I'm not waiting for you to find a rhythm," Allen hissed. "Stupefy!"
The red bolt of light screamed across the distance. Allen didn't expect a one-hit victory, but he had to do something. To his horror, the Mirror Clone didn't just dodge; it shattered into six identical figures. Before Allen could even register the movement, six wands were pointed at him.
"Stupefy!" six voices roared in perfect, terrifying unison.
Six jets of red light converged on Allen's position. He threw himself into a desperate roll, the air crackling as the spells hissed over his head. He knew his own power better than anyone—a direct hit from one of those would be bad, but six? It would do more than just knock him out. He remembered Professor McGonagall in his Fifth Year—or rather, the books' account of it—where she took four Stunners to the chest and nearly died. Here, against a version of himself that lacked a conscience, the stakes were even higher.
He scrambled to his feet, weaving a frantic series of Shield Charms. Protego! The golden barriers shimmered and groaned under the weight of the barrage. The Clone—all six of them—began to circle him, their faces twisted in a synchronized look of triumph. They were enjoying this. They were watching him struggle like an insect pinned to a board.
Stop, Allen told himself, forcing his heart rate down. If I keep casting, I'm just giving them more ammunition to reflect. I'm literally fighting a war of attrition against a copy of myself with six times the firepower. That's a losing game.
He lowered his wand. He stood perfectly still, his shield dropping, leaving him completely exposed in the center of the six mirrors.
To his surprise, the six Clones stopped too. They mirrored his stillness, their wands hovering mid-arc. They looked at each other, then back at Allen, confusion flickering across their identical features. What is he waiting for? they seemed to ask.
Then, the lead Clone threw its head back and laughed. It wasn't a human laugh; it was the sound of ice grinding against stone.
"You think pacifism will save you? Foolish!"
Suddenly, the mirrors didn't just reflect light—they became light. A blinding, searing radiance erupted from the six massive panes, flooding the space until the world turned a featureless, burning white. Allen tried to scream, but no sound came out. A wave of intense vertigo swept over him, and he felt the floor vanish.
He was weightless. The sensation was terrifyingly pleasant, a drifting, ethereal bliss as if his very soul were being unspooled from his body. He felt his memories, his fears, and his joys being pulled toward the six radiant points of light. He was being thinned out, stretched until he was nothing more than a shadow.
I'm disappearing... he thought, his consciousness slipping into a warm, dark sea. Maybe it's better this way. No more fighting. No more secrets.
Just as his soul reached the threshold of the glass, a sharp, searing heat erupted from his forehead. It felt like a branding iron being pressed against his skin.
The green gem—Salazar Slytherin's heirloom—flared with a defiant, ancient light.
"Oh, damn it! I forgot about those two gems!" the Mirror Clone snarled, its voice sounding ragged and desperate.
The blissful drifting stopped instantly. Gravity returned with the force of a falling mountain, slamming Allen back into his heavy, physical body. He gasped, his lungs burning as they rediscovered air. The solid ground felt like a miracle beneath his feet.
The Clone, seeing its window closing, lunged at him with a feral shriek. It intended to merge by force, to shove its way into his skin while he was still disoriented. But the moment its ghostly hands touched Allen's robes, Salazar's gem emitted a blinding pulse of emerald energy.
The shockwave sent the Clone flying. It skidded across the glass floor, its form flickering like a dying television screen.
Strength flooded back into Allen's limbs. He stood up, his mind suddenly sharp, the fog of the previous moments replaced by a crystalline clarity. He looked at the six mirrors, then at his own trembling hands.
If I exist, he exists, Allen thought. He is the shadow cast by the light of my presence. So... what happens if I stop being there?
He didn't hesitate. He reached for the ancient magic of his wizard robes, triggering the most powerful Disillusionment Charm he could muster. He didn't just turn invisible; he willed himself to be absent.
"No! Come back!" the Mirror Clone howled.
The six figures scrambled toward the spot where Allen had been standing, their hands clawing at the empty air. They tried to find him, to latch onto his reflection, but there was nothing to catch. Without a physical body to reflect, the logic of the mirror dimension began to collapse.
Allen, hidden in the folds of his invisible cloak, watched as the Clones began to fade. Their vibrant, dark colors turned into a sickly, translucent grey. Their forms became hollow, showing the distorted world through their chests.
"If the reflection won't die," Allen whispered from the shadows, "I'll just break the mirror."
He aimed his wand at the first of the six great mirrors. "Diffindo!"
The glass didn't just crack; it groaned under the weight of the magical severing. Before it could settle, he followed up with a concentrated Exploding Curse. "Confringo!"
The explosion was silent in this world, but the visual was spectacular. The mirror shattered into a billion diamond-like shards. He turned, his wand a blur of motion, repeating the process. Crack. Boom. Crack. Boom.
With every mirror that turned to dust, the Clone grew weaker. It wasn't just fading anymore; its body was literally cracking, mimicking the spider-web fractures in the glass.
"You... can't... leave..." the Clone shrieked, but its voice was thin, like wind through a keyhole.
Allen stayed invisible, watching with cold detachment. The gravity of the room seemed to reverse. The billions of tiny glass shards began to swirl in the air, creating a massive, glittering vortex. The Mirror Clone was caught in the center of the storm. Like a powerful vacuum cleaner, the vortex began to suck the Clone's essence into the shards.
The entity was torn into thousands of jagged pieces, its screams lost in the roar of the swirling glass. Finally, with a sound like a single, massive bell being struck, the vortex collapsed. The shards vanished. The light went out.
Allen reappeared, his invisibility fading. He wasn't in the mirror room anymore. He was standing in a vast, grey void. A thick, oppressive mist clung to everything, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. It was like standing at the bottom of a bowl of soup.
He walked, but there was no sense of progress. No floor, no ceiling, just an endless sea of grey. He felt a flicker of panic. Did I win the fight only to get lost in the void?
Suddenly, a sound pierced the fog.
It was a song. A thin, ethereal melody, sung by a voice that sounded like it was made of moonlight and silver thread. It was mournful, yet strangely hopeful, winding through the mist like a guide rope.
"Luna?" Allen called out, his voice swallowed by the fog. "Luna! Where are you?"
He stopped and listened. The song grew louder, a sad, haunting tune that he didn't recognize, but it felt familiar in his soul.
"I can't see you!" Allen shouted, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Keep singing! Please, don't stop!"
He began to move toward the sound, stumbling through the grey haze. Whenever the song paused for a breath, he would freeze, his chest tight with the fear that he'd lost her. But then the melody would start again, heartening him, pulling him forward.
The mist began to thin. The grey turned to a soft, pearlescent white. Up ahead, he saw a shape—a small wooden platform standing alone in the emptiness. And on that platform sat a girl with long, straggly hair and large, protuberant eyes.
"Luna!"
Allen sprinted the last few yards, bursting through the final veil of fog. He reached the platform just as the song reached its final, lingering note.
Luna jumped down, her movements light and airy, as if gravity were merely a suggestion to her. Her silvery eyes shone with a quiet, knowing delight.
"Hey, Allen," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. She looked him over with an unusually serious expression. "I knew you'd find me. The mirrors are very tricky, aren't they? They like to show people things they aren't ready to see."
Allen let out a long, shaky breath, the tension of the battle finally leaving his muscles. "I wouldn't have made it through that fog without your singing. I would have wandered there forever."
Luna tilted her head, a small, whimsical smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I can't take all the credit. You should thank Sarah."
She turned and waved a hand toward the side of the platform, looking at someone with a bright, welcoming expression.
Allen froze. He looked to where she was pointing, but there was nothing there—just the empty, white void.
"Luna..." Allen said slowly, his hand drifting toward his wand. "Who are you talking to? And who... who is Sarah?"