Harry yawned and stretched sleepily. His head hurt, but the rest of him was blissfully painless. Salem had climbed onto his shoulder during the night and was now dozing there peacefully. Harry chuckled and scooped him up, cupping the small serpent in his hands as he climbed out of bed and walked over to the mirror.

“Morning, Sleepy!”

Shadow flopped upright, his tousled hair covering most of his face. ‘Well, look who’s cheerful this morning!’ Shadow dragged himself out of bed and staggered over to Harry. ‘That. Hurt. You. Moron.’

Harry coloured. “Um, yeah, sorry about that. You know how my magic’s been going haywire recently, so it wasn’t really my fault, but I’m still sorry. You didn’t look that hurt at the time…”

Shadow yawned again. ‘Yeah, it was weird. I could feel that you were in pain, but I wasn’t in pain myself, despite the fact that I could feel your pain in me…’ Shadow paused. ‘One thing I am sure about though; you concussion is affecting us both!’

Harry grinned. “Oops! So what’s got you looking so amiable this morning?”

Shadow glowered and rubbed his eyes. ‘This is your fault too. I had spend most of the night watching over you, didn’t I? And Snape looked like he was about to have heart-failure the whole time you were unconscious, so I wasn’t about to leave you.’

Harry was touched. “Oh, um, thanks, Shadow. I’m OK now, if that’s any help…”

Shadow smiled for the first time that morning. ‘Yeah. Yeah, it is actually. Come on, since you’re fine, you can get dressed and go and find out what Dumbledore was rambling about last night.’

“M’kay.” Harry got dressed slowly, not wishing to get dizzy as he heard some concussion patients could get if they weren’t careful. Shadow just stood, leaning against the mirror, blearily watching Harry. Harry even had to ‘brush’ his hair for him – every brushstroke Harry made through his own hair helped Shadow’s to straighten out, even though it had no affect on Harry’s mop.

Harry slowly padded down the stairs, idly listening to the voices echoing up from the kitchen. He pushed the kitchen door open and froze as the room went deathly silent, feeling strangely uncertain.

“What are you doing, young man?” Snape strode forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Are you still trying to get yourself killed? You should be resting!”

“No, listen, I’m fine, D…” Harry’s eyes went wide just as he realised what he was about to say. What an idiot! And I said it last night as well, didn’t I? Stupid!

Snape’s face softened a tiny bit. “Harry… sit.” He pushed him into the chair beside the Headmaster.

“Good morning, Harry. It actually might be best if we retired to the sitting room now that we’re all here.”

“OK.” Harry snagged two pieces of toast and followed on behind the departing Headmaster.

Snape gave them both a sour look. “Now I see. The two of you are involved in a conspiracy to cover the rest of my house with various food products.”

Harry smirked and shuffled up beside the Headmaster and muttered, “Darn, sir, he’s onto us!” causing the old man to laugh.

“Now, I’m sure you both want to know about what I have discovered, or rather, deduced,” Dumbledore stated as he settled onto the couch. Harry took a seat beside him and Snape claimed his own chair. “Both comfortable? Good.” The Headmaster conjured tea and handed some to them both. “The topic which I am about to broach with you has fascinated me since I was a boy, but I never even dreamed that I would encounter the enchantment.” Dumbledore saluted Harry with his teacup before his expression became strangely grave.

“Now, I shall need to delve into the history of it for you both, so please bear with me... In the time of the Ancient Greeks, there was a well-known saying inscribed on the Temple at Delphi which most scholarly men of the age tried to adhere by – ‘Know thyself and thou wilt know the universe and the gods’. Essentially, it implies that if you do not truly understand yourself, you will understand very little of that which is around you. Now, around this time, there was an exceptionally clever and rather intuitive young wizard – his name escapes me – who he thought it would be a good idea to capture the essence of this concept in a spell. Essentially, something that would reveal someone’s true appearance or nature.”

Dumbledore nodded at Snape, who had just refilled his teacup. Harry sat frozen, already enraptured by the tale.

“After many years of fruitless attempts, he hit upon a new idea that he could create a spell which his ‘Gnothi Seauton’ would be able to undo, for no other previously created enchantment was affected by it. And so, he crafted a spell – I could not find the exact Greek phrase for this, but it roughly translates to ‘change thy soul’. He then cast it upon his young apprentice; a boy of no more than eight.

“Because the man had been concentrating on himself – on how the success or failure of his spell would reflect on him – the spell focussed on the person most prominent in the man’s mind at the time and changed the boy’s appearance accordingly. Essentially, the enchantment altered the young boy’s appearance until he appeared to be the wizard’s own kin.

“Shocked and excited by the success of the new spell, he then cast the previously created counter on his young apprentice. It worked. The counter changed the boy back to his original form with no ill side effects.

“Delighted by this eventual success, the young wizard published his findings in the magical community the next year, convinced that they would be useless in day to day life, but unwilling to have nothing to show for all his hard work.”

Harry gulped slightly and set his tea down on a side table; he had a feeling he knew where this was going. Surprisingly, Snape didn’t seem to have caught on.

“However, it did have a use, though the young wizard didn’t realise it at the time.”

Thought so.

“Fourteen years after it was published, there was a huge scandal concerning a mother who had cast the first spell on a child who was not of her husband. She had managed to pass him off as a genuine heir of the family for several years. However,” Dumbledore paused, his face grim, “when the boy turned fourteen, he started telling his mother about the appearance of a boy reflected in the pond, but when she checked, there was nothing there. She forbade her child to go down to the pond anymore, but he disobeyed and kept coming back with more and more stories about this youngster who was ‘just like him’.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Shadow…

“Soon after this, the boy’s magic started acting strangely; it made objects disappear, or exploded family possessions, all fairly minor, but the boy claimed to have neither control over what the magic did, nor knowledge of what the outbursts would do.

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck started to go up... It was like Dumbledore was trying to get Harry to brace himself for something... breaking the news to him slowly...

“And now we reach the most tragic part of the story; six months after the first appearance of the child in the pond, the false heir slowly started losing his mind. At her wits end, the mother took her son to the wizard who created the curse and told him everything that had happened.

“After several attempts to determine what aspect of the spell had damaged the child, in the hopes of fixing it without revealing the boy’s true identity the wizard gave up and cast the counter, revealing the child’s true form. Miraculously, this mostly restored the boy’s mind; his magic had been fighting itself, and while some parts of the child’s intellect were irreparably damaged, his mind was still salvageable once the interference had died down. Apparently six months was all it had taken before the boy’s magic had turned its destructive force inwards. But the boy never forgave his mother or the wizard, for saving him.”

Harry mouth was dry, but he forced himself to speak, to ask the question that was burning his throat all the same. “Why?”

The sadness in Dumbledore’s eyes terrified Harry. “From the second that the release spell was cast, from the second the fourteen year old started looking like the boy in the water – the child’s friend, his companion, his ‘brother’… ceased to exist.”

“NO!” Harry roared, leaping to his feet, and startling his companions so badly that they flinched. “No! It can’t be true, you’re lying! Not Shadow! I- I’d rather go insane! He’s my brother, my brother!” Harry turned to run, but stopped abruptly as Shadow appeared directly in front of him. Shadow looked Harry straight in the eye, folding his arms and shaking his head. How did this reflection come to mean so much to me? Why? How? How is this fair?

“You knew, didn’t you, Shadow? You knew this would happen.”

‘No,’ Shadow whispered, his voice broken. ‘No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t know.’

“Shadow, we don’t have to do this,” Harry pleaded. “I want, I need you in my life, please don’t agree to this, please!”

‘I…’ Shadow dropped his head. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

“We’ll go away; far away, where they can’t find us!” Unbidden, an image of Uncle Vernon standing in the hall and tearing bits of his moustache out flashed before Harry’s eyes. No. No… We’ll find a way.

Shadow just bit his lip and stared at his feet. Harry stared at Shadow, silently begging him to look up.

The silence was finally broken by Snape. “So… Harry is like this boy? Who’s his true father then?”

“Oh, Severus, isn’t it obvious?”

A soft choking noise was heard coming from Snape’s direction. “Lily… What have you done?”

Harry didn’t glance Snape’s way to see how he was taking the news that Harry had been agonizing over for weeks. All that mattered right now was Shadow, who looked very much like he was about to allow himself to be killed so Harry could survive. He couldn’t let Shadow do that. Snape might be his father, but Shadow was his soul.

‘I want to talk to them.’

“What?”

‘I want…’ Shadow drew a deep, shuddery breath and raised his face to Harry’s. A single tear hung from his bottom lashes, which, even as Harry watched, slipped free and rolled down his cheek. Harry stared in horror. Would destroying Shadow be as easy as watching that tear fall? The truth was; Harry was scared. He knew how powerful his magic was; how much damage he could cause if he lost his mind. But he couldn’t lose Shadow, especially not now. Maybe… maybe if they meet Shadow they will see reason. Maybe they would find a way to save us both...

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry whispered.

“Yes, my boy?” the Headmaster asked, more composed than a person, who had just watched a boy talking to himself for five minutes, ought to be. Harry deliberately did not look at Snape, but Snape seemed to avoiding Harry’s eyes as well.

“Is there a way – a spell – that will allow you to see Shadow, or talk to him?”

“Yes…” Dumbledore frowned. “But I have never cast it; it may not work.”

“Do it. Shadow wants it.” Harry turned his head away, trying not to show how achingly hollow he felt, how betrayed that these people would even consider killing a person he held so dear.

Harry didn’t look up as he listened to Dumbledore softly whispering words, and then Snape’s sudden gasp. He only turned around when Shadow looked up and strode past Harry’s left shoulder. A large mirror had been conjured in front of the fireplace and there, in the centre, stood Shadow.

‘Erm, hi.’ The boy smiled a little at the gaping men and let his long hair fall in front of his face. ‘So, well, you didn’t finish the story,’ he murmured shyly to Dumbledore. ‘I think we – Harry and I – would like to hear the rest of it before, well, before…’

Snape walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it, surveying the child standing before him. Harry noticed detachedly that Snape’s face appeared to be even more deathly pale than usual, but apart from that, his mask was unreadable. Shadow gulped and looked up at the man looming over him, nervous, despite the fact that Shadow was three inches taller than Harry.

Still looking at Shadow, Snape spoke. “So, Albus, you are saying that to save my son…” Here Snape’s voice cracked a little, but he obviously forced himself to keep going. “…this child has to die.” Snape held Shadow’s eyes as he said this and Harry felt a rush of affection for his father – Snape would never allow Shadow to be hurt, after all, he was Snape’s son too.

“Essentially… yes…” The guilt in Dumbledore’s eyes made Harry want to throw something. Guilt meant that all of this had to be true… Harry would have preferred it if Dumbledore had been caught to be lying through his teeth, or being as maliciously manipulative as some of the Slytherins said he was – anything but this.

“Dammit, Albus!” Snape shouted, spinning around to face the old man. “This child,” Snape threw his arm out and jabbed his finger in Shadow’s direction, causing him to flinch, “this child is not Harry! You are condemning one innocent life to save another! They are both people, Albus!”

“I know!” Dumbledore glared at Snape, anger flashing in his eyes, and for a moment Harry was truly scared. Snape seemed a little worried too. Then, the moment passed, and an old man was left sitting on the couch, his head cradled by one of his hands. “Do you think I don’t know this?” He sighed. “Perhaps it would be best if I finished the story?”

Shadow nodded, acting the peacemaker. ‘Please.’ He glanced at Harry, who was standing to one side of the mirror, his hands clenched in silent rage. ‘Harry, I didn’t stay up all night just so that you could make yourself sick again by overtaxing yourself. Sit down this instant!’ Shadow’s bossy tone lacked its usual enthusiasm, but he still managed to make Harry smile. And so, Harry sat, garnering disbelieving looks from the two adults.

They still didn’t seem to understand that he would do anything for Shadow.

“Now,” Dumbledore cleared his throat harshly, “now, the wizard from Ancient Greece did a lot more research into what had gone wrong with his spell to cause such trauma. In the end, he came up with an amazingly simple solution, which should have been the first thing anyone would have considered when crafting a spell that affects children… A young witch or wizard comes into their full, adult powers at the age of fourteen. The spell had no effect on a person over the age of fourteen.

“A spell that has hold over a child will not necessarily have a hold over that same person when they become an adult. The adult magic fights the enchantment when the child comes of Magical Age, often resulting in the destruction of said enchantment. For example; Stupefy would no longer keep someone in an enchanted sleep once the midnight heralding their fourteenth year has passed. The spell that has hold over Harry is much stronger than any normal one – it is the closest known enchantment found to truly alter a person’s ‘self’.

 “But his adult magic still fights it; resulting in this young man here.” To his credit, Dumbledore did look Shadow straight in the eye when he said this. At least he acknowledges the person he is about to send to his death.

 ‘How?’

“It’s like a defence mechanism – Harry’s body knows something’s wrong, but it can’t tell him that. So it uses its new, adult magic to create a way to let Harry know. I daresay one of the first things you told Harry was that he had a different father?”

Shadow looked miserable. ‘Yes,’ he whispered in a very small voice. Then he rallied. ‘But I’m not just a defence mechanism anymore – I’m Shadow!’

“Yes,” Dumbledore sighed, “yes, and herein lies the problem; the second Harry started thinking of you as a person, you became a person.”

Shadow blinked and frowned. Harry and Snape just stared at Dumbledore in confusion.

‘I- think I understand. Ever since you named me, I’ve been changing… I was no longer ‘Harry’ anymore, I was Shadow. And no person is the same as they were when they were ten, compared to when they are twenty.’

Shadow hung his head, dismay clearly written across his features. ‘I became myself, but I was still a part of Harry.’

Harry blinked. “But… what’s wrong with that?”

Shadow smiled wryly. ‘Ever heard of schizophrenia?’ Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t seem to draw in enough air, but Shadow wasn’t finished. ‘It’s even worse with wizards; the magic starts being pulled in two different directions, making it go and do things that neither side of the personality can control. And then…’ Shadow bit his lip, ‘it’s almost like the magic creates a personality of its own if left too long. This destroys both the original person and the double and leaves… well… a Shade or Demon or something even worse.’

Harry stared at his counterpart in horror as the whole weight of their situation came crashing down on him. He couldn’t lose Shadow because that would be like losing his soul, but if he didn’t condemn Shadow, they would become a monster, controlled forever by a terrible hunger for power. And it was clear Shadow was terrified by this thought.

When Harry didn’t respond, Shadow moved his gaze to Dumbledore. ‘Isn’t that right?’

“Yes. I am sorry.”

Shadow shrugged. ‘Not your fault. So what happens now?’

“Hopefully, if I remove your memories of being Shadow, it will revert your personality to what it was when you were originally created. By thus removing the dissonance you have created within Harry’s soul, I will be able to cast the ‘Gnothi Seauton’ on Harry and make him how he was meant to be.”

Shadow’s jaw clenched and his eyes shone like steel. ‘Do it!’

“Shadow, no,” Harry croaked, unable to fully believe this was really happening.

‘Harry.’ Shadow’s voice was gentle. ‘Be brave for me, please. Remember me when I am gone, but don’t stop me from doing this. I love you, I always will.’ Shadow swallowed and said much quieter than before, ‘Do it.’

Harry gasped, his limbs frozen in place as Dumbledore pulled out his wand. Time slowed right down until he could have counted the number of flecks in Shadow’s green eyes had he wished it, and, just as suddenly, it sped up again as if to make up for those sluggish seconds…

“Obliviate!”

“NO!” Harry scrambled off the couch and onto his knees, desperately trying to reach the mirror before the spell did. Strong arms suddenly grabbed him and held him back. “No, no, NO! Shadow! SHADOW!”

The spell hit and Shadow’s eyes closed, if only for a moment, but when they opened again, they did not know Harry. “Shadow,” he wheezed softly, his heart cracking into a million pieces.

‘Hello,’ said the boy. ‘Do I know you?’

Harry didn’t even see Dumbledore turn his wand on him, didn’t even hear the words of the spell, didn’t feel the effects of the enchantment dissolving around him as the spell hit. All he had eyes for was the mirror, the way the tall, polite looking boy with a scar on his right cheek and another on his forehead seemed to double over, to crouch on the floor in exactly the same position that Harry was in and gain a panicky, haunted look around his eyes. The boy was crying, but he was not Shadow; he no longer had a scar on his cheek.

SHADOW…

“Shadow!” Harry cried out, watching with panicky desperation as the boy in the mirror moved with him – a reflection, just a reflection. Harry scrabbled, clawed, bit at the hands holding him back, but they did not let him go. “Shadow, Shadow, where are you? Where are you, please? Please! You can’t be gone, I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO SAY GOODBYE! No…” The room disappeared in a blur of colours as Harry’s eyes filled with tears he refused to knowingly shed.

“No…” He turned to the man holding him. “Dad, Dad, please. He can’t be gone, h-he can’t…”

Snape pulled him into a tight embrace and Harry could feel his father shaking a little too. “I’m sorry, Harry. He’s gone.”

Harry didn’t know how long they sat there, broken, but eventually, something as mundane and ordinary as a cramp in his leg pulled him out of his grief. He slowly moved away and stood up.

Dumbledore was standing, staring at where the mirror had been, though Harry didn’t know if he’d magicked it away, or if it had disappeared on its own. Harry walked right up to the man and stared at him until he turned to look at Harry.

“I forgive you, you know,” Harry said, marvelling that his voice didn’t shake. “But only because Shadow wanted it.” Harry set his chin and glared at the old man, trying to convey every emotion he felt through that one look.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I understand, Mr Snape, and I thank you for your forbearance. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll leave you to your grief. I’m sure both of you have seen more than enough of me already.”

“Albus.”

“Yes, Severus?” The Headmaster stopped in the grate, his face pale and drawn.

“Thank you for saving my son.” Harry felt a hand descend on his shoulder.

“Would that it were not at such a great price.” And then Dumbledore was gone. Just like Shadow.

“Shadow’s gone.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed harder.

“Would you like to tell me about him?”

“One day.” Harry took a deep breath and looked Snape in the eye. “But right now, I’d like to sleep forever, please.”

Snape gently led him out and up the stairs. Harry had to move slowly to accommodate his new body, feeling a bit like Ron at one of his more gangly moments. Once Snape had settled Harry in his bed, he Accio-ed a potion and handed it over, watching him with a slight frown that formed a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

“What?”

“You… look so much like Lily like this.”

“Oh, right.” Harry quickly swallowed the potion to avoid any further conversation. I can’t deal with this right now. “Can you get rid of the mirror? I don’t want to see it again.”

A pause, then, “Of course, Harry.” Blissfully, the world chose that moment to fade away entirely, taking Harry away to a place where Shadow was not dead, to where he might be able to forget his grief, if only for a little while.