Broadcast #6: Harry Potter

Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I make tonight.

Figaro, you know what I wish? I wish that my little Pinocchio might be a real boy. Wouldn't that be nice? Just think! A real boy!

—Master Geppetto, once upon a time

Harry and Ernie were the only two from their little band to stay for the holidays. Fall had gone by in a blink, and when the time came for them to say goodbye to all their friends, it had come as something of a surprise. The calendar didn't lie, however, and so Justin, Hannah, and all the rest left for home to spend Christmas break with their families. What remained was a thinly spread contingent of leftover students, barely enough to fit two handfuls. In Hufflepuff House alone, Harry had counted less than ten across all seven years.

Harry stayed in Hogwarts because the only other option was to stay with the Dursleys, and that wasn't much of an option at all. Ernie had stayed with him because of less desperate reasons: to personally continue their investigations on Professor Quirrell, as well as to keep Harry company. At least, those had been the reasons he'd given.

The others had been sad to go—Hannah in particular, though even Justin had looked the least bit hesitant behind his uncaring veneer—but their parents had been firm in wanting to see their children after so many months apart. Harry had asked Ernie why his own family was so lax, but the other boy had waved the question away like a bad smell. As it turned out, Ernie's father was rather busy, even during holidays.

The two boys had taken to exploring the castle in their time off. Sometimes it was in a vain attempt to find and follow Quirrell—they hadn't seen the defense professor since classes ended, though they knew he must be there still—but mostly, it was done out of a mixture of restlessness and excited curiosity. Hogwarts was the largest, most labyrinthine place either of them had ever been in, corridors twisting out and over each other like a nest of coiling snakes. They'd already managed to find plenty of weird things, whether it be secret pathways between classrooms, or hidden staircases, or the odd statue long unanimated.

Harry had asked the Grey Lady for any interesting locations. She was by this point something akin to friendly with him, even if her visits had been rarer than not. Ernie was creeped out by the ghost, far more than Harry's other friends, always more than an arm's length away from her translucent image. But she didn't take it personally, was barely interested in speaking to anyone other than Harry in fact, and had freely told them about something she'd found during her many haunts through Hogwarts' halls. Something new, installed that very year. Something she herself couldn't quite understand.

"A mirror," she had told them, floating over their heads as they sat comfortably in the Hufflepuff commons. The other students, the few who had stayed, were either asleep or off on their own misadventures through the castle, leaving the three alone in the dim light of the fire. "I can feel its magic, but know not its purpose. If I didn't know better, I'd think it ordinary. Nothing in its reflection seems unusual to me, but I am a ghost, and its charm might only be meant for the living."

Ernie, despite his suspicions of the Grey Lady herself, was more than intrigued at her proposition. That very night, they sneaked out of their commons, journeyed up out of the castle dungeons, and made their way through the silent halls to where they'd been told this mirror was. Sixth floor, end of the fourth corridor, a classroom with its door covered on both sides by large, dusty cabinets, as if hidden away.

Just being there, despite the wide and tall archways that made up Hogwarts' hallways, Harry barely felt like he was in the castle at all. The place was too far from everything else, like the most remote island in an otherwise clustered archipelago. The homey comfort he'd felt ever since stepping foot in the school was gone, replaced by the alien tension that a tourist might feel on vacation.

Harry looked at Ernie, and found that the other boy's expression spoke of a similar mind. Nose bridge creased in unknowing and cautious worry. It was encouraging to know he wasn't the only one feeling wary, and that wariness was enough to prepare them for what they found inside the room.

As the Grey Lady told them, the magical mirror they were looking for was dead center in the room. It was the only thing there, and the barren room seemed all the larger in its emptiness. Looking down, Harry saw small puffs of dust float up with every one of his footsteps before drifting lazily back to the floor. Next to him, Ernie sneezed.

"Blimey, you'd think they'd keep the place clean," the other boy said, a hand over his nose.

"Something tells me we aren't supposed to be here," Harry said, voice low, and left unsaid was his suspicion that no one was supposed to be there. That the mirror had been taken to such an extreme location, as if forgotten in some dusty corner of the attic, precisely so that it might not be found.

Ernie didn't pick up on that fear, and walked forward, hand still covering his nose and mouth. His voice sounded slightly muffled. "Well, duh. It's past curfew."

Harry sighed, but followed his friend closer to the mirror in silence. Soon enough, they both stood before it, their reflections staring back at them. The mirror was tall, at least twice as tall as either boy, with a thick and ornate frame in the shape of an oval doorway. On top, crowning the glass, were familiar letters carved into unfamiliar words:

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

"Any idea what that's supposed to mean?" Ernie asked him, and Harry had to shake his head. After a moment of silent pondering, Ernie shrugged. "Well, I don't see anything else. Maybe the Grey Lady was right. It's just a regular ol' mirror."

Harry said nothing, instead walking closer to inspect the words. He went around, to see if there was anything on the mirror's other side, and when he did, he heard Ernie gasp behind him.

"Harry! Come look!"

Harry strode back next to Ernie, whose face had taken up a sort of glow, eyes wide and shining. But as soon as he got close, Ernie's face dropped once more, twisting in confusion. Harry looked back at their reflections, and found them as ordinary as he had before. He turned to Ernie.

"What did you see?" he said, whispering. It still felt like they were sneaking by someone, and his voice lowered itself with little control on his part.

"I thought I saw…" Ernie paused, eyes narrowing. He glanced at Harry. "Walk over there for a second," he said, hand waving over to the side.

Harry cocked his head. "What did—"

"Just do it!"

Harry backed away from his friend, and Ernie himself kept his eyes straight on the mirror. When he was far enough, Harry saw Ernie's face light up again, the same look as before. Like he'd just found a chest full of gold, its glitter transferring over to his cheeks like some sort of virus.

"What is it?" Harry asked, a little louder.

Ernie's eyes were too shiny. Harry leaned his head in close, trying to see, and was shocked to discover that the gleam came from the beginnings of tears. "It's… It's my dad," Ernie said, voice breaking.

Harry blinked. "Your dad?"

"My dad… He's here." Ernie was smiling, but his lips wobbled. His breath hitched, and suddenly, he seemed to break out of some stupor. His hand came up and wiped hurriedly at his eyes. "He's just here. Or, his reflection. I dunno. Maybe… Maybe the mirror only works one person at a time?"

Harry stared at Ernie, eyebrows drawn in, his mind warring with itself. Eventually, he decided to pretend he hadn't seen anything. "I guess that makes sense," he said, taking a step forward. "Mind if I have a look?"

"Sure," Ernie said, walking over to him.

They passed each other quietly, only dusty footsteps sounding out in the echoing room. To Harry it seemed like Ernie tried his hardest to not meet eyes.

Now, Harry stood in front of the mirror. He saw himself, and at first, he was disappointed. There seemed to be nothing different, either about his reflection or what surrounded it. There was only him, Harry, alone, the same as always. He raised a hand, saw his reflection do the same. He turned his head. Nothing was changing.

He was about to say something, maybe a complaint, maybe a simple unanswerable question, but then he caught his own eyes. Bright green, the same as his own, but… different. On the surface they looked exactly the same, but something about them was unlike the ones he knew he had. There was an undefinable depth there, and as soon as he realized this, Harry had the strange sensation that he was being watched.

But the person watching him was himself. His reflection. It was both him and not him, a Harry he didn't know. A Harry exactly the same as the one he had looked at in the mirror every day of his life while brushing his teeth, or trying in vain to flatten his wildly curled hair, or straightening his glasses, every fleck of skin, every pore, every miniscule twitch, it was him. But something about those eyes…

They looked at him with width. It was the only way Harry could explain the goosebumps their look gave him. Width, as if those eyes were seeing something far larger than what was there. Eyes that made the what they looked at larger just by looking. Harry had a feeling that he'd seen eyes like those before…

"Harry!"

He whirled around. Ernie had snapped closer to him, face stricken with terror, and when Harry followed the other boy's gaze, his own face matched. There was a tall figure silhouetted against the door, far taller than any human being Harry had seen save Hagrid. But where the half-giant was thick and wide, this shadow was long, its head pointed.

We're caught, he thought, mind buzzing. We're caught.

The terror only increased when, with a simple lumos, the figure revealed itself to be Albus Dumbledore himself.

"My, this is a surprise," the old man said, his long and cascading beard waving like silk with every word. "Two stray badgers running loose past their bedtimes."

"Headmaster…" Ernie seemed, for the first time since Harry had met him, completely lost for words. "We… We…"

"Were only lost," Dumbledore said. He tutted, shaking his head gravely. "Of course, two first years such as yourselves couldn't be faulted for your incomplete layout of the castle. And with so few present, it is only natural that you couldn't find an older student to show you the way." His eyes twinkled at their gob smacked expressions, the wrinkles that lined them crinkling in delight. "I do hope my analysis is correct?"

Surprised as they were, neither Harry nor Ernie were foolish enough to miss out on such a carefully thrown life draft while they flailed in such deep water. They nodded their heads in unison.

"That's right, Headmaster," Ernie said, his voice trembling despite the small smile that made its way to his face. "That's exactly right."

Dumbledore's gaze fell to the mirror they stood next to. "It seems you two have found something rather special," he said, walking closer. The two boys stepped back, as if there were some invisible barrier that surrounded the wizened wizard, one which didn't force them away, but inspired them to make way of their own accord like parting waves. "The Mirror of Erised. I dare say you must have realized its purpose by now."

Harry frowned, but Ernie perked up, back straightening. "It shows you something you really want, right?" the other boy said.

Dumbledore nodded, standing in front of the mirror. He looked up at the carved words, and recited them as they were meant to be recited. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire," he said. His look then came down to the mirror itself, and he seemed to stare at his own reflection. Harry knew now that the old man was likely staring at something else. "Just so, Mr. Macmillan. Just so. Its magic seeps into your most private soul, extracting the true wants within. Many have found it quite useful throughout the years, taking in its wisdom with fresh eyes."

"What's the point?" Ernie said, a stinging resentment in his words. It was so unfounded in him that Harry had a momentary struggle placing the voice to the person he'd known for months. "If you already know, where's the use in something like that…"

His voice trailed off. Dumbledore stared at the mirror for a moment longer, then turned his head to see the two boys.

"Where isn't the use?" Dumbledore said. "You'll find, Mr. Macmillan, that most people have not the slightest idea as to what they truly want."

His eyes, Harry thought, his breath shaky. His eyes were like his own. Like the other him. Eyes that saw a wider world.

And it suddenly came to Harry that Dumbledore wasn't alone in having them. Professor Sprout, for all her strangeness, had a similar look. In fact, so did Ernie, though the boy only looked that way on certain occasions—that night, for one, when they'd been on the hunt for the mirror, and even during their trip into the forest on the second week of classes. Professor McGonagall, strict and direct, Professor Flitwick, so enthusiastic in his lectures. Now that he thought about it, Ollivander the wandmaker, as unusual as he was passionate, held those eyes. As did Hagrid, who might be confused for dull to anyone who didn't talk with him about magical creatures.

And Susan. In fact, she'd been the first person whom Harry had noticed such a trait in.

Whatever it was, it wasn't unheard of. Rare, yes, certainly in the hands of few people, but not so rare that it was impossible to attain. And all those that Harry had noticed such sight in were fantastic people. People Harry couldn't help but respect. What was this? What gave someone such eyes?

I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…

Without even meaning to, Harry's hand had reached inside his pocket and touched his wand. The Sorting Hat's voice boomed in his head, echoing in his ears.

Wasted, that's what you'll be, in Slytherin and the rest.

Wasted…

Wasted…

Wasted, wasted, wasted…

"Mr. Potter."

Harry snapped back to Dumbledore. The old man looked at him with, eyes that bore into his heart. "Are you quite alright?" Next to him, Ernie gave Harry a worried look.

Gulping, Harry nodded. "Just thinking," he managed to breathe out. After a second's pause, feeling the forest, the swirling words all together, he asked, "Headmaster, can I ask… What do you see in the mirror?"

Dumbledore fixed him with something resembling surprise, though his wrinkled face stayed as nonchalant as possible. It reminded Harry of Justin, who's poker face carried him to victory at cards all on its own. Then, the old man smiled.

"Oh, only myself, holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. Nothing very exciting, as it turns out."

Harry's first thought was that the old man was lying. He was almost sure. It was too ridiculous. Why would anyone's deepest desire be something as mundane as a pair of socks?

But something nagged at him. What was seeing wide, if not finding such value in something so small? Seeing the whole world in a mote of dust?

Dumbledore ordered them to bed, seemingly forgetting that they were supposed to be lost. He told them that the Mirror of Erised was to be moved. Far too dangerous to keep it somewhere any student could stumble into it. Many had gotten forever lost in their own fantasies, Dumbledore had said, sounding grim.

The two Hufflepuff boys made it back home easily enough, taking only a few minutes to run through the halls and down the stairs into their common room. Ernie had kept praising Dumbledore, calling him the coolest old man he'd known in hushed shouts. They got in bed and said goodnight.

Later, with Ernie's soft snoring in his ears, Harry turned his head to look out the window. It was a charmed window, showing the night sky even from their basement dwellings. The sky in it was clear and dotted with stars. Harry trailed the wings of the Milky Way, surfing the faraway clouds of cosmic dust, and as his eyelids grew heavy, he wished that he could one day find such size in a pair of woolen socks.

Follow, favorite, and review.