Reflections of a Broken Plan
"Harry… hi," Neville said, approaching a bit nervously as Harry and the others sat eating at the Ravenclaw table. His hands were clasped together, and he avoided direct eye contact, though there was a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Can I call you Harry?"
"Of course, Neville. How are you? Did you have fun with your parents?" Harry asked calmly, offering a gentle smile that invited him to relax.
Neville nodded firmly. "Yeah. It's thanks to you… and your mum. Really… thank you so much." His voice trembled slightly, and for a moment it looked like he might cry—though it was clearly from happiness.
"You don't have to thank me. And besides, your mum turned out to be my godmother… I'm glad she recovered," Harry said with a calm but sincere tone.
"Yeah. The doctors were really surprised. They wanted to keep them under observation, to try and figure out how they recovered so… miraculously. But, uh… we didn't mention your mum. We kept everything quiet." Neville lowered his voice, as if he were sharing something important.
"Thanks for that," Harry said, nodding in gratitude.
An awkward silence followed. Neville seemed like he wanted to keep talking but didn't know how. After all, they weren't in the same house. Harry was a Ravenclaw, he was a Gryffindor… and Neville wasn't exactly chatty even with his own dorm mates.
Harry noticed immediately. His eyes shifted slightly toward Neville's wand, which was sticking dangerously out of his pocket.
"New wand?" he asked casually, just gesturing toward it with his eyes.
Neville blinked, surprised, and quickly grabbed it before it could fall. "Yeah… I used to have my dad's, but I gave it back. He'll need it now that he's better. So we went to Ollivander's. My parents took me. Grandma didn't want them to go out yet—said too much noise might be bad for them—but… they insisted. They didn't want to miss the moment I got my first wand."
He told it all with a wide smile, like it was the best memory of his life. Harry listened in silence, not interrupting.
"I'm really happy for you."
"Yeah. And now I can use magic more easily. I think I needed a wand that actually chose me, you know? I still struggle with some spells, but at least… nothing explodes when I aim anymore," Neville joked with a grin that brought a few quiet laughs from the group.
"That's a big step," Harry chuckled softly too. Then he straightened up slightly and looked at Neville with a bit more intent. "Actually, Neville… we have a little club. It's private for now, but if you'd like to join, you'd be more than welcome. We're actually heading there right now. Want to come along?"
Neville's eyes widened, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. He glanced briefly at the others: Hermione, Draco, and Daphne, who all nodded without hesitation.
"A club? Really? Yeah, I'd love to," he said, a new spark in his eyes.
Soon after, they walked together through the corridors toward their secret room. There, Harry and the others showed him the golems, explaining the enchantments, the tests they had run, and letting him interact with them. Neville watched, amazed, so excited that he even let out a genuine laugh when one of the golems wobbled and clumsily fell over.
They spent hours among spells, experiments, and magical games until the sun began to set. Finally, they said goodbye at a fork in the stairs. Neville returned to Gryffindor Tower with a proud smile, and the group of four headed back to Ravenclaw knowing that, maybe without realizing it, they had just gained a new friend.
…
Harry entered his shared room while talking with Draco about potential improvements to the golems. They wanted to make them more eye-catching—maybe with unique visual details to give them personality. But both froze as soon as they opened the door.
Red was there, lying on his back, wagging his tail with satisfaction. When he saw Harry, he twisted his body awkwardly and shot toward him like a red whirlwind.
"Red...? Didn't you stay home?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
The little dragon let out a sharp, eager sound, clearly proud of himself.
"Well, never mind. I kind of expected it anyway," Harry said calmly.
"You're seriously going to ignore that?" Draco asked, pointing at a painting on the floor that Red had apparently stolen and was using as a makeshift bed.
"Ah, foul beast! I am ready to fight you as long as it takes! My sword thirsts for your blood!" shouted Sir Cadogan from inside the frame, brandishing his sword fiercely at the empty air.
"Red… what did I tell you about taking things that aren't yours?" Harry sighed. "And especially not bringing them into the dorm where we might get caught."
Draco burst out laughing.
"You'd better return it. I think it'd be pretty obvious if a noisy and slightly insane knight went missing from his post," he said as he lay back on his bed and picked up a book.
"You're not coming with me?" Harry asked, glancing at him.
"Nope. I'm not in the mood to hear crazy tales about imaginary dragons and talking swords," Draco replied with a smirk.
"Red, feel free to eat Draco's pants," Harry said with a teasing tone as he picked up the painting.
"Hey! Don't give him weird ideas. Knowing him, he might actually do it," Draco said quickly, throwing a nervous glance at the small dragon, who was staring at him with narrowed, mischievous eyes.
Draco got up and went straight to his trunk, locking it while keeping a wary eye on Red. But the dragon simply turned away and trotted off behind Harry.
—
Walking through the Hogwarts corridors at night with a loud painting in his arms was far from ideal.
"...And so, the beast came, and we fought for twenty-seven hours straight! My sword was drenched in its blood, my armor in tatters, but I, brave and glorious, still stood at dawn!" shouted Sir Cadogan.
Harry, wearing a deeply tired expression, quickened his pace. Not even speed was enough to escape the knight's voice echoing frame after frame.
"Are you listening, boy? Do you want me to teach you how to wield a sword? You've got a good eye. And while I'm not the mightiest of the Round Table—I'll leave that to Arthur, or that traitor Lancelot—my blade is as sharp as my wit!"
Harry thought that throwing the painting out the window would earn him a standing ovation from the entire castle. But instead, he simply walked to the wall where the portrait belonged and hung it back up.
"It's been fun, lad! Should you wish to hear more tales from this noble knight, you are hereby invited as an honorary member of the Square Table!"
Harry didn't reply. He turned and walked away quickly, as if fleeing a duel.
On his way back, a red flash darted across a nearby hallway. Harry sighed. Again...
He followed the trail with calm but firm steps. After a few minutes, he found Red, his tail sticking out from behind a half-open door. He had entered an unused classroom.
"Red... what did I tell you about sneaking out at night?" Harry muttered, pushing the door open.
Inside, the small dragon was nibbling on the edge of a large, dusty object—a mirror.
Upon seeing Harry, Red stepped back proudly, as if he had discovered a treasure worthy of presenting to his master.
Harry, with his glasses on, noticed something engraved on the frame. Ancient runes, interwoven symbols, pulsing faintly with magic. For a moment, he had to take his glasses off—the amount of information was overwhelming.
"What is this?" he murmured, stepping closer.
The mirror was tall, imposing, with a richly carved golden frame. At the top, an inscription read:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi
"I show not your face but your heart's desire" Harry translated effortlessly, as if it were obvious.
He stood still for a moment, staring at his reflection. Then he raised an eyebrow and whispered,
"A rather interesting test, Headmaster."
He wasn't looking at the mirror—but at the dark wall behind it.
From the shadows, Dumbledore emerged, wearing his usual serene smile.
"Hello, Harry. I must say, this isn't a test… After all, you entered on your own, following your curious pet."
Red looked up at Dumbledore, then lowered his gaze toward where the man kept his wand under his robes. The Headmaster, perhaps unconsciously, brought his hand to his chest. He didn't understand why… but he did.
Harry didn't look away.
"Come on, Headmaster. Do you think I'm naïve? Why else would you have sorted me into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin, where I clearly belonged? Not just me—my friends, too. Daphne would've gone to Gryffindor, Hermione obviously to Ravenclaw, and Draco to Slytherin—with me."
He took another step toward the mirror.
"It was interesting to see that you didn't place me in Gryffindor like my parents. Very interesting, in fact."
Dumbledore's expression remained calm. He said nothing.
Harry looked at him steadily and went on:
"Before you give me your usual answer, let me guess. Something about the silly House Cup competition and earning points, perhaps? If we were separated, we wouldn't try so hard to win. We wouldn't want to compete against our friends. And if enough students thought the same way… the House system would begin to crumble."
Dumbledore was still silent, but his smile had dimmed.
"Or maybe you just don't like Slytherin. I suppose it's hard to ignore that Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters came from there. You didn't want me to end up like him. After all, I'm supposed to be… his equal."
Harry's mocking smile was barely visible, but his eyes sparkled with a mix of defiance and absolute clarity.
"How…?"
For the first time, Dumbledore seemed truly surprised.
"I know about the prophecy, Headmaster. Are you really asking that?" Harry said calmly, without arrogance—just certainty.
"My godfather escaped from Azkaban. Even if he didn't know the full content of the prophecy, he knew where it had been recorded. Do you think my mum wouldn't look into something like that? Even Aunt Selene would have… just out of curiosity."
He began walking slowly around the room, his voice serene, his steps steady.
"Truth is, you chose well. Ravenclaw suits me. I also know about Ron Weasley. That day we met his family… you cast a Confundus Charm, didn't you? They were probably just going for a picnic. But Ron didn't look at me with awe or greed… he looked at me with duty. Like someone carrying out an assignment."
He stopped, tilting his head slightly without needing to look at Dumbledore.
"The next time I saw him, that look was gone. I can guess why: Draco Malfoy is part of my group of friends. And everyone knows the Weasleys and Malfoys are… incompatible, even without Lucius."
Harry let out a humorless chuckle.
"Your phoenix bothering Red made no sense either. And the reason Red is here now is probably because he followed its scent. Even the painting… Red dragged it to the dorm. He didn't break it, though he tried many times. He used it as a bed, yes, but not because of the painting itself—it was the scent. It reeked of your phoenix. And Red brought it here expecting Fawkes to come looking for it."
He glanced sideways, as if revealing a trick already solved.
"Am I right?"
Dumbledore watched him in silence, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and quiet evaluation.
"That connects quite a few dots," he finally said in a calm voice. "But for now… they are only possibilities."
"Oh, and by the way," Harry added with a gentle smile, "don't try reading my mind. If you do, my mother might show up. And trust me… you don't want that."
He paused briefly before continuing in a softer yet relaxed tone.
"Besides, I rather enjoy dismantling plans by myself."
Harry turned back to look at the mirror again, but his voice kept flowing with the same sharp calm.
"Here's my theory: you're a meddling old man. You heard the prophecy and prepared a contingency plan in case Voldemort survived. In that plan, I'm the center. You're trying to train me. Or maybe test me. To see if I'm 'worthy' of protecting the wizarding world."
His words were simple, but each sentence landed like a needle.
"Am I right? Is that why you're keeping Quirrell here, even though it's obvious something is wrong with him? As Headmaster, you'd have noticed within the first month. So… what exactly are you playing at?"
A heavy silence followed. Finally, Dumbledore spoke, his voice lower and more serious.
"And what is your question, Harry?"
Harry stopped, pivoted on his heel, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"The night my parents were murdered… you knew, didn't you? Then why did you have my father's Invisibility Cloak?"
Dumbledore lowered his gaze briefly. When he spoke again, his tone was slow and measured.
"To be honest, Harry… I didn't know they would be attacked that day. I borrowed the cloak from your father a few days earlier. I wanted to examine it… I suspected it might be one of the Deathly Hallows."
For a moment, something shifted in the Mirror of Erised behind Harry.
A distortion.
A reddish glint.
Eyes watching from the other side.
But it was so brief, so fleeting, that Dumbledore wasn't sure if he had truly seen it… or if it had been a hallucination.
Harry didn't react. Or perhaps he simply pretended not to.
"I see…" Harry said quietly.
Then he smiled. A kind smile. Too kind. Almost friendly. The sort that makes people look twice.
"In that case, Headmaster, I'm pleased to inform you that, starting today, I'll be making your life a little more… interesting. I hope you're ready."
He turned with elegance, as if sealing a friendly deal, and began walking toward the exit.
"These next seven years will be quite fun," he added cheerfully as he passed by Dumbledore.
Red followed without a word, though before leaving, he cast one last glance at the Headmaster's robe—right where the wand was hidden.
Then he vanished behind his master, tail raised high.
—
N/A: I think at this point I made him too mature for an eleven-year-old. Hmm. But I really liked the chapter. I'll leave it as it is.