Percy Weasley awoke with a start. The ceiling was glaring at him. He banged his head on his headboard. It was a quarter to noon. He was late for work.

            He was never late for work.

            And it was all the fault of some stupid mirror. . .

Flashback:

            It was a priceless treasure. One of a thousand collecting dust in the ministry's storage rooms. This green and red amulet he had just filed away could cure the blind – provided someone was willing to kill for it. How was that? Just like magic. A two-edged sword. Blatant hope mixed with certain despair. 

Percy had the overwhelming desire to run back upstairs to his reports on the desperate lack of good filawy hair available for import. At least when magic was small, it was useful, understandable, and quantifiable. It fitted into little boxes. And then, some moron had to open it up, Pandora drawn irresistibly toward it, let it loose and make something like this.   

            Something struck his eye, as he turned away. It was tall, soft and silvery. A mirror. Or more correctly, the mirror of Erisid. Percy remembered the notes about this one. The report had quoted "It shows nothing less than one's deepest darkest desires".

            It didn't look dangerous, the reflective surface covered with a soft blue drape, but then nothing in this room looked dangerous. Well, except maybe that skeletal hand in the corner. That looked menacing, although logistically it was only dangerous if you intended to utilize it.

            Percy remembered that the mirror had last been signed out by Professor Dumbledore in an attempt to guard the Sorcerer's stone. And it had accomplished it's mission fairly well. Except for the involvement of Harry Potter, but if there was anything he had learned in the time since The Boy Who Lived had become close with his family, it was that Harry did pretty much what he wanted to. Which were brave, wonderful, irrational, senseless things.

            The mirror was so pretty, the silvery script imprinted onto his mind. 

Besides, there was nothing this mirror could do to him. Make him waste away in front of it, endlessly desiring his heart's desire? Percy couldn't even think of his heart's desire. A better position in the ministry? A cozy little home with wife and kids? None of it rang true within him. He meant, he wanted that stuff, right? What sensible person didn't?

But deep, dark desires? He didn't have any of those. He should look into the mirror and see nothing but himself as he was. He had the good life, right? It was all good. He was working an important job, doing things that mattered in the grand scheme of things. Maybe he'd see himself with one of those really good coffees. The ones Helga makes, down in the luxuriant staff room?    

             His fingers found the folds of the fabric, pulling it down. The mirror reflected the soft shadows of the room, the dark aisles upon which artefact after artefact was heaped. If he squinted, he could make out the torches on the walls. But he wasn't there. The mirror was completely blank with no trace of his reflection.