Chapter 18
"I show not your face, but your heart's desire… How banal. I never thought I'd actually find this cursed mirror," I twisted my mouth in displeasure, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from the magical artifact. Honestly, after a quiet Halloween and completely ignoring the danger on the third floor, I didn't think I'd somehow end up in front of… the Mirror of Erised.
I had read about it back when I first started figuring out what the Sorting Hat really was and how many artifacts like it existed in this world. A mirror that showed your deepest desire was listed among famous creations of antiquity, notorious for driving unprepared wizards insane.
I remember thinking back in September that it might be the same mirror from the films, and I even made a mental note never to look into it if I ever had the chance… But that didn't work out.
"I don't know why the Headmaster placed something this dangerous in an empty classroom where groups of students often wander around, but… he definitely managed to lure me into the trap," I kept cursing to myself, looking toward the artifact with a dull ache in my chest.
What it showed me… I didn't think that after so many years I still missed my past life this much. Though it wasn't surprising. In this life, aside from the magic that fascinated me so deeply, I didn't really have anything truly important. And in the past life… there had been a lot. And I used to think I had already come to terms with my loss and learned to look ahead with optimism, drinking in wizardry and new possibilities…
Well. In reality it wasn't that bright. The moment I looked into the Mirror of Erised and understood what I was seeing… it hurt. Images of a past-future that was now impossible pushed me into a heavy sadness, and deep inside my heart rose an unnatural desire to look again—just one more time, just for a moment—so I could see the loved ones I'd left behind.
"But no. I'm not getting addicted to that drug. Especially since I'm not even sure whether Dumbledore can see the same illusions I see in this artifact," I stopped the weak impulse, forcing away the craving and hurrying out of the abandoned classroom.
Fortunately, there were other similar places nearby, where anyone who followed a few unwritten rules could be alone for training… or anything else. So despite the unexpected run-in with the cursed artifact, I didn't give up practicing a few new spells—but my mood…
My mood was ruined not just for the rest of the day, but for the rest of the Christmas break. The creaking ache in my chest refused to leave, and the urge to look into the mirror again flared up again and again… At one point I even wondered if someone had cursed or enchanted me, but reading more about Erised convinced me these were normal symptoms.
I had to accept it and fight myself for a while longer. It wasn't easy, but… once I started treating it as a kind of mental magic training, it got easier. And yes—right from the start of the Christmas holidays, I began practicing the Occlumency I needed so badly.
Over the last half-year I had gathered and memorized a huge amount of information on this branch of magic. I'd dug through a good third of the library, trying to understand the risks and benefits as clearly as possible, while not pushing too far into practical work… I needed to know what even the basics could threaten me with.
In the end, it seemed that if I were an ordinary child, touching this magic too early really would be a bad idea. But… logic and everything I'd researched suggested that in my case it should be more or less fine. And feeling cornered and desperately needing to protect my mind, I was willing to take the risk.
Because Occlumency and Legilimency—defending your mind and entering someone else's—weren't exactly "normal" wizarding magic. There were almost no wand movements, and not many special incantations either. It was mostly about willpower, mental strength, knowledge, and experience.
You could say mental magic wasn't active spellwork at all, but rather… a passive magical skill that had to be developed through… many methods. Yes—unlike Charms and Transfiguration, which I loved, there were many paths into mental magic.
From meditation and burning special aromatic substances that pushed you into deep trance, to self-torture practices and constant mental duels with another Legilimens. The last method was considered the fastest and most effective, but… also the most dangerous. A teacher could mentally cripple a student too easily, because that kind of training wasn't gentle by nature.
And the level of trust required between teacher and student in mental magic couldn't be ignored either. That path definitely wasn't for me. The same was true for magical "doping" in the form of potions or aromatic candles. They were expensive and gave me unpleasant associations… So for now, I chose to focus on meditation and… self-torture practices.
Resisting the Mirror of Erised fell into the second category. And even beyond that, I'd tried a lot of new things lately. Because meditation didn't come easily—childish hyperactivity hadn't gone anywhere, and I struggled even with something as basic as "clearing the mind of unnecessary thoughts and emotions."
It wasn't that I had no success. Quite the opposite—I managed to enter a meditative state within the first three days, which, according to the books, was an excellent result, especially with no mentor. The problem was that every time I needed almost two hours just to tune myself into the right state.
And even then it worked only every other time, which provoked frustration and the feeling that my time was slipping through my fingers. Logic and reason didn't always win against blatantly childish impulses. Doing something that slow and even boring—staying still, not receiving any new input from outside—turned out to be difficult.
At least until I tried combining meditation with self-torture practices… Honestly, I just wanted to feel like some kind of Tibetan monk. And the first stages of "self-torture" didn't look that special. Lying on my back on "sharp stones"—which I replaced with transfigured Lego pieces, training Transfiguration at the same time—wasn't that hard.
Painful and unpleasant, but still tolerable… and surprisingly effective for creating the right mental state for meditation. Trying to detach from discomfort, I somehow slipped into a light trance on my own and then pushed it toward something deeper. Even if the method was unusual, the first successes in mental magic made me happy. So I had plenty of motivation.
In that sense, Christmas break came at the perfect time. I had enough free hours to feel the first real results of my effort. And I also got rid of the obsessive urge to look into the cursed mirror again… Even the longing for my old life quieted down.
Magic really had become my new hobby, my work, and my main passion all at once. It drew me in and easily held all my attention. So when the rest of the students returned to Hogwarts and classes resumed, I actually started feeling irritated. The school program was too… designed for ordinary children.
Most lessons bored me. So personally, I would have preferred to sit in my room almost without leaving, only breaking for training and the library. Thankfully, I'd long since been allowed to take certain less valuable books out of the library. My responsible behavior had earned me a bit of goodwill from the librarian…
Yes, the idea of burying myself in books and continuing my own education and growth appealed to me far more than wasting time in History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, or even Transfiguration… The last was my favorite subject, but Professor McGonagall stuck too rigidly to the textbook, so truly interesting things rarely happened in her lessons. Boring cat.
Only Charms and Potions remained genuinely engaging. In Charms, our Head of House often demonstrated unusual applications of spells that looked simple at first glance. And Potions… simply didn't come easily to me, so I had to work hard, leaving no room for boredom.
Though lack of boredom didn't equal interest—Potions still wasn't something I enjoyed, and I disliked the professor teaching it. If it were up to me, I'd attend only Charms, just to listen to Flitwick. But my opinion didn't matter. Skipping classes at Hogwarts came with unpleasant detentions and point deductions. Ravenclaw didn't usually worry about points, but pushing my luck too far would be foolish.
So I sat through classes… and afterward I often spent an hour or two with friends, acquaintances, and familiar faces. That took even more time, but it didn't feel like a burden. Talking with mostly hereditary wizards—even very young ones—wasn't boring. Their company was enough to satisfy my need for some form of social contact.
Life continued like that. Lessons went on, I slowly got used to mental magic without obvious consequences, and… I even started doing sports. It's not like I'd been lazy before—I'd never stopped basic exercise. Some habits were too firmly rooted to abandon. But…
It turned out Hogwarts had its own unofficial sports club. Muggle-borns and other wizards had organized themselves and gathered at least three times a week to play football, basketball, or other active team games. Most participants were older—third years and up. And nearly sixty percent of the club were Gryffindors, the House I had the fewest contacts with.
No wonder I hadn't noticed it for a long time. I'd taken the passing conversations I overheard for Quidditch talk or some other magical entertainment… I was wrong, and later I regretted it. Regular practice in games familiar to me lifted my mood, despite the obvious difficulty of competing with older students, and it let me almost fully correct my physical development.
And where that still wasn't enough—magic handled the rest, the positive effect it had on my body now impossible to deny.
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