//------------------------------// // Through the Looking Glass // Story: The Journey // by aliengirlguy //------------------------------// Chapter 1 Through the Looking Glass Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was staring intently at his own reflection in a statley tall standing mirror. No, he hadn’t transformed into one Draco Malfoy, miticulously fawning at his refelction, nor was he psyching himself up for another day of facing the fickle masses. He had another purpose in mind. Harry and the mirror were standing in the dark, cold, and damp recesses of a certain Chamber of Secrets, the only place Harry knew for certainty that he would not be disturbed, due to the handy little feature of being the only one currently at Hogwarts even capable of opening it, he supposed there was some uses to his unexpected gift from Voldemort. Some might think that choosing to hangout at a place where he nearly died (again) while fighting a 50 foot basilisk at the tender age of 12, after facing Voldemort (again) and being saved by some unexpected magical miracle (again) thus highlighting the trend of pure dumb luck that followed him around like an eager puppy, whether good or bad. Though he supposed that it was apropus given it was the more prominent presence of the bad that had brought him to this point... One Month previously... His troubles, or at least the latest batch anyway, had all started when some murderous arse slipped his name into the Goblet of Fire, an artifact of great magical power that was, for some reason, relegated to choosing hapless idiots to risk thier lives in some forsaken tournament that should have been kept in the mothballs. Unfortunatly for Harry, the cup was so impartial a judge that it didn't discriminate between willing participation and unwilling. Of course, the student body being what it was, he was unsuprised when more then half the school came right out of accusing him of entering himself into a tournament that would, in all likelyhood kill him. 'Why would I do that?!' he could exclaim, but the response back, and this actually coming straight from a certain jealous red haired prat who had once been his best friend, would be for the glorious fame and the pile of gold! Sure he could admit he was rash at times, jumping into dangerous situations and such, but that was usually because the adults around him left him, and by consequence at times his friends, out to dry when, as the American's so colourfully put it, the shit hit the fan, and thus there was no choice but to take care of it himself. It may not have always been the right decision most of the time, but it was never for selfish reasons. He wasn’t a glory hound nor an idiot as Snape accused him of at times, and after having his neck on the line so many times he wasn’t likely to want to risk it again. Even now, after the fact, he still ground his teeth thinking about it. Soon after his row with Ron, he had slipped away under his invisibility cloak in the dead of night and gone for the library in the vain hope that he would find someway out of this. He was not normally a big book reader, but when presented with the right motivations he could rival Hermione if he had to. It was on his third night, his nerves wrung tighter then McGonagall’s hair from the constant jeering by his fellow students, Ron’s backstabbing idiocy and the sympathetic pitying looks from those few who did believe him, that he headed for the forbidden Restricted Section. This time he had been more careful and had cast a silencing charm around the area in case he yanked out yet another cranky book like the first time he had ventured into this creepy place. After one screamer, a book that caused a minor hurricane, and one that tried to eat his face, he stumbled across something promising…literally. He had been fighting off the face eater book when he tripped over the hem of his robe and smacked his head into a near by wall and consequently pressed a trigger somewhere on said wall that opened a small cubby. Inside was an unassuming looking small book. So small, it looked no more then a few pages tucked between cracked dark purple leather with a silvery tassel attached to the spine. Cautiously, he poked at the book inside with the tip of his wand a few times. When it didn’t leap at him he warily reached inside and pulled it out. For something so small it felt surprisingly heavy and warm, making his fingers tingle pleasantly.That was when he was overcome with the strong urge to open the book, and so he did. And thus the fateful night he would meet his destiny while unknowingly shattering another. From one blink of a seemingly empty page, to finding himself in some strange tower room filled with jeweled toned velvets, satins, and gleaming golds. It was rather lavish, and a tiny bit garish in his opinion, filled with more gadgets then Dumbledore’s office, and certainly looked like it had taken Dumbledore’s unique taste in fashion. Then He stepped out grandly from the shadows. It was a rather old man with a long silvery beard and hair that swirled around his torso like a snake, robes of deep purple and red that went surprisingly well with his tannish complexion and large dark blue eyes. The old man raised an arm, poised grandly before Harry and declared in a magnificent voice,“Greetings my student, I am the great and mighty-hey!” the old man’s grand introduction was rudely interrupted when a stool came sailing at his head. The old man ducked and then rolled when another soon followed. “Is this really necessary?” the old man called out as he flung himself behind a love seat. “Like I haven't heard this song and dance before!” Harry shouted, reaching for a water jug, “This isn’t the first time I’ve been sucked into an enchanted book!” Fling! , "Do you think I'm a moron? Like I'll let some bloke in a book have a go at me again!" crash! Fling!, "Well think again you old fart!" “Well tat was uncalled for. Look-“ the old man grunted as he ducked down behind the couch as said jug went sailing over his head, “if you would calm down, I’m sure that we can-Now that is my grandmother’s finest china!” CRASH! Apparently fed up with his guest’s antics now, the old man leaped to his feet and slammed his hands together and in a voice that made Harry’s bones rattle and the room go dark, boomed “ENOUGH!” Harry suddenly found himself no longer standing, but firmly seated in a plush high backed chair, his arms and legs tightly bound in gold rope. The room returned to its previous grand cheery air, and the old man huffed, waving his hand and wandlessly conjuring his own seat in front of Harry and sat down, pulling a cup of mead out of nowhere and took a few bracing sips muttering “Centuries of waiting, my promised student finally appears, and what does he do? He attacks me in my own boudoir! Kids these days!” With a last swallow he sent the cup away and Harry glowered back at the man who cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and taking it from the top, postured grandly, proclaiming, “Now as I was saying, I am The Great and Mighty Merlin! Greatest magician to have ever walked the Earth, and other places, and you have touched The Book of Memory! And through its powerful, and accurate, magical assessment, you have been deemed worthy to recieve my teachings! So rejoice!.” Harry’s glower intensified. “After hundreds, if not thousands of years-I think, time is rather difficult to tell in here- the chosen one, that being you, has found my book as it was prophesied and you shall be tutored to become the most powerful being in all of creation!” Merlin made a grumpy noise at the less then pleased expression on the boy's face. “So," harry finally drawled, “your telling me that you, you are Merlin? And that you have been waiting in some great dirty book in some great dirty wall for the slim chance that some bloke will literally stumble across it and open it?” “Well...destiny isn't an accurate science, and besides, I’m not the actual Merlin,” the old man coughed, “that would just be silly. He died along time ago. You can think of me more as his magical representation. A mere memory created by the even grander original, created to watch over the development of his heir, but for conveniences sake, continue to address me as Merlin or Master Merlin, now shall we begin?” “No,” Harry cut the old man off again. The construct blinked then frowned, “what?” “I said no!” Harry shouted, “I’ve had enough with this "Chosen One" businesses!, There is no way that I am being dragged into anymore of that nonsense! and prophesy? Pl-ease! That’s all bunk! I’ve had 2 years now of having my death predicted by an incense obsessed, sherry drinking fraud to know that its all worth mud!” Merlin, or the magical construct that called himself such anyway, stared at the one and only student he would ever have, the person he had been created for, who was calling his meaning of existence mud...who had said no to the greatest opportunity that any wizard or witch could dream of! Frankly, in all his imaginings, and there was quite a lot given all the time he had to kill, there was nothing that could prepare him for outright refusal. Harry froze in his attempts at struggling when a shadow fell over the old man’s face as he intoned “so my means of existence is mere bunk is it? The foundations of my creation is mud is it?” Harry suddenly felt a bit unnerved. Then the most horrifying sound for any awkward teenager with a glimmer of conscience emerged from under the brim of his overlarge hat. Sniffles. The Upset-my-feelings-are-hurt,-world-shattered-by-you-insensitive-prick sniffles. Harry felt both horrified and a little guilty. He could safely say he had not expected his evening to take this turn. “Look,” Harry explained hastily, “I know that it seems harsh, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, its just…I’ve never really had good experiences with enchanted books, chosen ones, or predictions…I’m, uh…I’m sure that it doesn’t make you any less of a…person?” A slightly louder sob was his answer. “Look,” Harry was feeling less desperate (though he was feeling that in spades) and definitely more guilty now, “maybe…maybe we can come to some sort of agreement or something…I do have this problem…” “And if I helped you with this problem of yours would you agree to accept being my student?” the man simpered. Harry struggled futility one more time before sighing. 'Well what do I have to lose really? I'm as good as dead if I can't get myself out of this tournament, my life is shitty, and I lost oneof my closest friends. Sure, his story is a little uncomfortable in a few similarities to ol'Tommy boy, but I really don't have any other options right now.' Harry nodded to himself and outloud said, reluctantly, "If you can help me with my problem, then...I agree to being your student." Much to his surprise, as soon as he agreed, a bright light suddenly surrounded both him and the old man before disappearing. The man’s head shot up and he smiled winningly, his face completely dry. Harry’s mouth dropped open. ...Wait...Wha? “Well then! Now that we have reached an understanding, lets get cracking!” the old man rubbed his hands together, “so tell me my soon to be faithful student, what’s your problem?” Harry was released from his bonds with a snap of Merlin’s fingers and Harry shot to his feet in outrage and demanded “what the hell was that!?” “Mmmm? Oh! the light? That was the conclusion of a magical agreement brought about by an aggreement of great significance that requires both of us to fulfill or fall prey to a most horrible and gruesome fate, we become impotent” Harry’s eyes bulged and hands went to cover his lower front in horror. Merlin rolled his eyes, “Oh calm down, I meant magical impotence! Really now! what do they teach children in schools now a days?” Harry fell into his seat, and was so befuddled by everything that had just happened that when a green china teacup appeared out of thin air and flew to prod at one of the hands htat was now covering his face, he actually accepted the offered tea. “Well, now that our positions are clear on the matter, tell me what exactly your problem is? A rival trying to take over your lands? A plague? Infertility?” he leaned closer, “a damsel? a strapping lad?” Merlin snickered at the boy’s choking noises and his furious blush. “No!” Harry replied croakily once he had cleared his airways, “it’s a tournament.” “Oh? is that all,” Merlin looked disappointed as he leaned back in his chair, “a petty competition? Well that is easily dealt with, let me guess, you want to win?” Harry snorted, “No, I want to survive!” and with that he went off into a rather long tangent about the tournament, the goblet of fire, his opinions on the fickle nature of the public, which lead into an even longer explanation on his back story. When he was done, he flopped back in to his seat and took a bracing sip. “Feel better?” the old wizard asked bemusedly. Harry was surprised that he did indeed feel better. It had actually felt good to finally let out everything that had been bothering him. “Lesson one my faithful student,” Merlin lectured, “is that a burden shared is a burden carried.” The old man hummed as a surprisingly comfortable silence fell between the two as they drank their tea and Merlin stroked part of his beard in thought. Then he finally said “well, your problem to me seems to be more complex then you realize, but luckily easily remedied.” Harry frowned and the old man explained. “From what you’ve told me, and was unconsciously implied when you mentioned your relatives, you are coming from a situation where you are both made invisible to the point of harmful neglect, and contrastingly, to a sudden overdose of visablity to the point wher eyou are worshipped on one hand, reviled by others over the slightest of reasons, or outright fatally threatened by enemies or indifference. From what you’ve said, your at the mercy or those who are to blind or to willing to keep you where you are, and given your notoriety your unlikely to be able to strike it out on your own, and that little issue with the contract can be a pickle.” “Well when you put it like that,” Harry muttered darkly, “now I feel even more hopeless in my situation, thanks.” “You really have a listening issue don’t you?” the wizard replied, rolling his eyes, “remember what I just said? Your situation is complex, but the solution is rather simple.” “Oh really?” Harry drawled, “and what would your simple solution be oh wise Merlin?” Harry drawled. “Glad to see that you’ve seen some sense,” the old man preened, ignoring the sarcasm, “the simple solution is..." pause for dramatic effect, "that you strike it out on your own.” Harry slapped his tea down, making the cup yelp in alarm and fly off the table to huddle under a nearby dresser, “so your simple solution is to do the thing you told me was impossible in the first place?!" Merlin blinked, then chuckled heartily, gesturing for the boy to sit back down, who did with a peeved look. “My dear lad,” Merlin chortled, “who sad anything about striking out on your own here?” at Harry's confused look, he smiled, "and of course when I talk about here, i refer to the singular unimportant granuile of this reality in an inffinite sporgesborg of heres." And thus Merlin explained the concept of alternate worlds. “You, see,” he finished, chortling at the gobsmacked teenager who just had his sense of reality pulled out from under him, “all it will take is a few things: the right bit of timing, a large ammount of prep, and a sacrifice on your part, and your problem is solved.” Ooo ooo ooo Back in the Present... Harry leaned forward until his forehead was practically touching the surface of the mirror. After month of solid preparation and having already faced a bloody dragon of all things, timing keeping him from escaping the first task, Which he survived barily by the skin of his teeth thanks to Merlin's suggestion that he use his Parseltongue ability, which the old man was rather tickled that he had by the way, to sing the great lizard a lullaby, which put it to sleep, but unlike Fleur and he trance inducement, his dragon had apparently been a toss and turner as well as a snorer. The gouges, bruises and broken bones, as well as his body being set on fire, firmed his resolve to get out of this bloody tournament and the reality that made it so as soon as he could. Harry scratched at the now healed skin on his right shoulder idly. He was just grateful that he was out of the casts and off the salves and potions in time to do what he needed to do. The only decent part that came out of all this was his resolution with Ron, but it had not changed his mind. As much as he was glad to have the red head back, the idea of leaving everything behind, not just so he could survive the tournament, but leave it all behind. The Wizarding World, the Dursley's, Voldemort...his friends and his barily there godfather, it wasn’t enough ot turn him away from such a temptation. Under Merlin’s directions, and paying careful attention in Astronomy class more then usual, and hunting a bloody standing mirror made of pure silver, amongst other things, which was harder to find then he had originally thought, but he had gotten lucky and found one shoved into a small room deep in Slytherin territory, and hadn’t that been a treat trying to sneak a great bloody mirror from that nest of vipers! But it was all going to be worth it in the end. Finally, the night when the planets were in proper alignment had come, the mirror was prepared with the set of runes that Harry had painstakingly carved into the edges of the mirror with a knife made from purified moonstone (not as hard to get apparently, Snape was quite a collector and a firecracker released in his personal quarters after daring the Weasley twins was all it took to get the thing). The final ingredients to activate the ritual was the hardest though. “Now, do you remember the order of what you have to do?” Merlin said, drawing Harry from his thoughts as he floated like some fairytale jinn over a lamp except its a book. Harry nodded solemnly. He took position in the center of a circle of glowing white dust, a combination of fairy dust and dried house elf tears that sparked to life as soon as he crossed the line, standing in front of he first rune. “I give of my self, the lifeblood that flows through my veins so that new blood may flow in its place!” he intoned and grimaced as he sliced the inside of both hands, grimacing at the painful sting and the pool of blood the immediately dripped on the first rune. As soon as the drops of ruby touched the symbol it burst into a stream of red light which connected to the mirror, turning the surface of the glass blood red. Harry turned and stepped up to the next rune. “I give of myself the bone of my body so that it may be left behind and new bones fill the void to keep me steady.” He couldn’t help the stronger and louder reaction to the pain as he summoned the bone from the little finger of his left hand with a spell that Harry learned from Merlin that would vanish the bone from and reappear it. He dropped his own finger bone onto the rune in disgust, unable to stop the tears of pain. Bloody hell that hurt! The second rune flared to life in a blaze of bone white light. Fires of blood and bone swirled around hte barrier, then hit the mirror, turning the surface an odd mixture of swirling red and white, like a melted candy cane. Steadfastly ignoring the limp bonelss flesh tube that was once his pinky, he stood before the last rune and with a deep breath, he pulled out his wand. “I give of myself the representation of the magic that flows through me, so that I might invite new magic to become one with me, and leave behind what once was part of me.” This part of the ritual was what Merlin reassured him would also sever the contract he had with the goblet. After all, magic could no longer be taken away that he was no longer connected to. The snap of his once faithful wand was harder to take then he had expected, worse then loosing his finger. He felt more vulnerable in that moment, and oddly more alone, then he’d ever felt in his life as he dropped the remains of his wand on the last rune. This caused the rune to flare to life in the most beautiful wave of gold and red fiery light, reminiscent of the sparks that had emerged from his wand the first time he had held it. It whirled around him, as if in goodbye, then it to impacted the surface of the mirror. Harry was nearly blinded by an intense wave of light, a commingling of all the colors brought forth, and only managed to keep from being blown into a wall by hitting the floor in the nick of time in the magical backlash. When the light show was over and the force of the explosion had died, Harry tentatively raised his head from under his arms and frowned when he realized that he was starring at an ordinary mirror again. “My goodness! I had forgotten how beautiful it was,” the old man chortled, wiping a non-existent tear, then turning to the boy, “oh don’t worry, the ritual was a success, here,” he gestured to a nearby piece of stone that got jarred loose from the ceiling, “pick up that rock.” Harry frowned but did as he was asked and grasped the stone in his good hand. “Good, now fling that stone right at the mirror,” Merlin instructed. Harry opened his mouth in outrage, about to tell the old coot exactly why that was a bad idea, when Merlin gave him a stern look and said “trust me.” Harry, figuring by this point that it couldn’t get any worse, since it seemed to have failed no matter what the old man said, hauled back and tossed the stone at the mirror… …which promptly vanished in a cloud of rainbow twinkles. He blinked and stepped closer to investigate only to have Merlin’s exclamation stop him, “whoa there lad! Aren’t you forgetting something?” “Keep your knickers on, I wasn’t going to actually go through, I just wanted to have a closer look,” Harry grumbled and picked up the book from the pile of rock, closing the cover with perhaps a bit more pleasure then was strictly necessary. The only way that the apparition could communicate with him was if the book was open by Harry. Another fun fact was that Harry was the only one that could do this, something that was both reassuring, preservation of his secret and all, and annoying as Merlin was rather chatty after being copped up for several centuries and Harry was his only outlet. Harry shoved the book into the saddle bag he had set aside. He as still uncertain why he would need a saddlebag of all things, would he need to ride a horse on the other side? Merlin had not been clear on what was on the other side, only that it was perfect for both their needs. Harry was not comforted by this, but Merlin had pointed out that what waited for him was significantly better then what he was leaving behind. Harry bit his lip as he stood before the mirror, gripping the saddle bag to his chest and took a breath then stepped towards the mirror. He hovered on the cusp of the edge, and for a moment his mind turned to the few people that he would regret leaving behind, there faces flashing through his mind, and the sadness he was sure that he would be causing them when his letter to everyone arrived in the morning post to be delivered to Hermione. Hedwig would be alright with her he was sure. He would have brought his faithful owl and first friend through, but Merlin had warned that he was unsure how she would be effected by crossing into the mirror, or the gateway into another world as it was now. He firmed his spine. He was sure that they would be upset, particularly Hermione, but his friends would understand in the end that what he had done was ultimately for the best and might even be happy for him, someday. With a nod, he closed his eyes, firmed his spine, and took the plunge.