Harry landed hard upon cold, dark ground. Part of his mind automatically registered the fact that the thin evening dew on the coarse grass beneath his fingertips would probably transform into frost before dawn. Quickly, he tried to shove himself to his feet, only to be slammed down face first once again.

The cold leather sole of a man's shoe or boot brutally pressed down on the back of his neck, accompanied by a subdued, cultured – yet ugly – laugh.

"Try that again, Potter, and I shall ensure that you are paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of your miserable life, however short that may be."

Lucius Malfoy! The last time Harry had seen him, Lucius was being arrested in the Department of Mysteries last spring. He'd been convicted and sent to Azkaban – but obviously, he'd been released … or escaped … either possibility probably due to Voldemort's intervention. And given that Lucius had lost the Prophecy which his master had expected for him to retrieve, he had much to atone for. Not good… The haughty blond aristocrat could never be trusted under the best of circumstances, and tonight, Harry knew his abduction from the castle did not begin to fall into the "best" category of circumstances.

Lucius' smooth drawl belied the threatening pressure against the top of Harry's spine, but he knew this man never made idle promises. Harry lay still – rather, he refrained from trying to scramble up – but he couldn't help reaching for his wand pocket, only to remember he'd not quite picked up his fallen wand from the dungeon floor before Draco jabbed him with the Portkey.

"I said, LIE STILL!"

Harry couldn't help crying out as the hard toe of Lucius's shoe kicked him in the back of his head before the man stepped on his neck again. "Screw you!" he gasped, his vision blurring with pain-induced tears. He tried to blink them away to gain a glimpse of his surroundings, to get his bearings, to seek an escape route … anything…

"Shut up, Potter! Don't you dare speak to my father like that!"

"Screw you, too, Junior," Harry growled, yanking his fingers away from the underside of Draco's own shoe before they got crushed.

"Now, now, Draco," Lucius said softly, "Leave something of Potter for the rest of the Dark Lord's followers to play with. We mustn't start the party before the other guests arrive."

Harry saw Draco back away slowly, a venomous look on his pale, pointed face. "But I owe him Father! After what he did to me… " The blond boy's voice trailed off, and Harry thought Lucius must be glaring at his son in warning … until a high, cold voice reached Harry's ears.

"Ah… At last… How nice that you could join us for our Halloween celebration, Harry."

Another pair of feet moved into Harry's range of vision – bloodless, bare, tipped by the fungus-ridden toenails from hell. Didn't Voldemort even feel the cold? It was practically November…

Swallowing hard against the raw fear welling up in his throat, Harry contemplated saying something suicidal, such as, "Sorry I couldn't R.S.V.P. to decline your invitation, Tom – your owl must have lost its way," but in the end, he kept his mouth shut, trying to look anywhere but at those sickening, corpse-like, scaly feet.

Voldemort paused, as if expecting a retort from the grounded Gryffindor, but then turned his attention to the younger Slytherin. "Well done, Draco. You've actually managed to get Potter here ahead of schedule."

Now, Harry could see Draco kneeling to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes, and he noticed the look of revulsion upon the other boy's features as his face approached the Darkest Wizard's disgusting feet. "Yes, my lord," said Draco, keeping his head bowed. "For some reason, Potter went to the dungeons before the Halloween Feast. I followed him back up the stairs and was able to Portkey him out of the castle without anyone knowing."

Suddenly, Harry realized that Draco had never seen Snape at the far end of the library corridor. If Dumbledore trusted Snape with good reason, Dumbledore would quickly learn what had happened to Harry. If Snape was a loyal follower of Voldemort, however, there would be no hope of rescue before the Death Eaters had had their way with the Boy-Who-Lived. This was Halloween, a date of significance in Harry's life … and Voldemort's. Without a doubt, the leader of the Dark side had some hideous ritual planned to take place this Halloween night. Please, he begged mentally… Please let Dumbledore be right about Snape. Please have Snape alert the Order. Please send help. Please…

"Excellent," said Voldemort. "Let them wonder why their prize Gryffindor is skipping the Feast. They might not even search for him, thinking to give him privacy in which to grieve for his long-deceased, foolish parents. How many years ago today did they die, Harry? Fifteen, wasn't it? My, how time flies."

Playing for time, hoping to hear the members of the Order of the Phoenix arrive – or Dumbledore at the very least – Harry sneered his contempt at Voldemort's repulsive appendages, unable to raise his eyes above ground level. "Yeah – fifteen years to the day since I blew your evil soul out of your body, Tom. Four and a half years since I burned your soul out of Quirrell's body. And less than six months since I LOVED your soul out of MY body. Don't you know to quit when you're behind?"

"SILENCIO!"

Voldemort's rasping command launched the spell, cast with such force that Harry's body rocked beneath the anchoring weight of Lucius' foot.

In the ensuing absence of voices, Harry could hear harsh breathing coming from Voldemort and Lucius, with anxious, lighter intakes of air from Draco. The night lay quiet around the four of them, no sounds of mechanical civilization anywhere nearby in the surrounding countryside, although the faint rumble of a high-flying jetliner passed slowly overhead. A single cricket chirped a soliloquy in the chilly air, bidding farewell to the warmer seasons of the past. Off in the distance, below the stars hanging dimly over the horizon, a repetitive sound – a barely-audible rushing which rose and fell in an endless rhythm – caught Harry's attention. He tried to wrap his mind around it … and then he knew – the sea! They were within earshot of the surf … somewhere.

"Enough of this," Voldemort declared coldly. "It's time the others arrived. Draco – show me your arm."

Draco's feet moved nervously as he shifted his weight in order to raise his left arm while he remained in his kneeling position. His groan of pain indicated to Harry that Voldemort had pressed the tip of his wand into Draco's Dark Mark to summon the remaining Death Eaters. The young Slytherin breathed sharply between clenched teeth as his own Dark Mark created a burning beacon to guide his Dark comrades into their leader's presence.

Within a few seconds, the sounds of Apparition reached Harry's ears: loud cracks from the less skilled – or those who simply didn't care about the noise level – and softer pops of varying degrees from those who were accustomed to arriving at their destination without auditory fanfare.

When the masked menaces had assembled in a circle, Lucius suddenly removed his foot from Harry's neck and Levitated him into a vertical position, the toes of Harry's trainers barely brushing the grass.

"Where's Alecto?" asked Voldemort. "Amycus?"

"St. Mungo's, my lord. Spell damage. She should be released by the weekend, the Healers say. Stupid accident it was. They had to – "

"Yes, yes," interrupted Voldemort, sounding impatient. "And Severus?"

Right before Harry's eyes, the final masked figure arrived, his Apparition absolutely soundless.

Voldemort removed his wand tip from Draco's arm, and the boy crumpled over it, clutching the tortured flesh to his stomach protectively. Harry could almost feel sorry for him.

"You may rise, Draco," Voldemort said dismissively, turning his back on his youngest recruit, as though finding the boy's presence now irrelevant.

Draco climbed unsteadily to his feet and passed Harry without meeting his eyes as the blond moved to stand slightly behind his father.

The Darkest Wizard walked slowly around the inside perimeter of his followers' circle, not really studying them as individuals, but as if assuring himself that his Inner Circle was in in truth, complete. His robes, black as the vacuum beyond the farthest edge of space, rippled delicately across the damp grass with each measured step. Voldemort finally returned to the very center of the circle and cast his fiery red eyes upwards toward the east, where a waxing gibbous moon had risen and hung expectantly against its own glow in the heavens.

"Better had the moon been full this night," he murmured. "Or at its darkest." However – " He spun and his robes whirled about him like a soundless tornado, before floating to the ground once more as he stilled. "However … Halloween is the main thing, is it not, my dear comrades? Fifteen years ago this date, James and Lily Potter met their fruitless end in Godric's Hollow, defending the life of their only child … their dear little moppet named Harry."

The mocking tone of Voldemort's voice elicited a few ugly chuckles from the masks around the robed circle.

"But tonight," he continued, as if a professor lecturing to a class of eager students, "we shall prove they made their sacrifice in vain all those years ago. For tonight, their DEAR little moppet shall depart from the living, and the Boy-Who-Lived shall have his famous moniker stricken from every history book in the Wizarding world."

The circle of Death Eaters murmured and nodded approvingly, their wand hands twitching impatiently in the bright moonlight.

"From this night forth, Harry Potter himself shall become 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', for to mention the name of Harry Potter shall henceforth carry an automatic sentence of death to the utterer."

Harry could not speak, due to Voldemort's Silencing spell, nor could he move as he Levitated in place – Lucius must have put some sort of Binding spell on him. But he could see straight ahead, and Severus Snape stood unmoving directly across the circle from Harry. WHERE was Dumbledore and the Order? Surely they could have tracked Snape here by now? Frantically, he tried to wriggle, but Lucius' spells kept him absolutely immobile.

Voldemort fell silent and his followers waited patiently for him to resume.

The lone cricket gave one final chirrup before relinquishing the night to the silvery moon, the diamond stars, and the endless sighing of the sea. The air temperature suddenly seemed to drop in the silence of the night, and Harry felt himself mentally shiver inside, even though his body could not move. His teeth desperately wanted to chatter with the cold, but his jaws refused to respond to the urge. An unexpected torture, this – to be subjected to a cold which he possessed no means to fend off.

Voldemort turned gracefully, extending his hand toward someone behind Harry. "His wand, Draco."

"My lord?" The young Slytherin's voice sounded confused to Harry's ears.

"Potter's wand. Give it to me."

"His – his wand?" Draco gave an audible gulp. "B-but I don't have it… "

The snake-slit eyes blazed red as Voldemort stepped deliberately toward the boy. "Draco – Where. Is. Potter's. Wand?" The man's high voice carved each word from blue glacier ice.

"I – I – He had it in the castle – I disarmed him … before I Portkeyed him… "

Harry could no longer see Voldemort, but the wizard's voice had dropped to a hissing whisper just behind Harry.

"WHERE isss hisss wand, you carelessss imbecile?"

"I – I – " Draco sounded on the verge of fainting from terror. "I – he – must have – dropped it – in the castle – "

"CRUCIO!"

Unable to either wince or flinch, Harry had to endure the sound of Draco's screams without moving until Voldemort finally stopped the Curse.

"I need that wand," growled the furious leader as his Death Eaters stared at the blond boy still writhing and twitching on the ground. "Are you CERTAIN he dropped it – " Voldemort turned away from Draco with disgust. "Search Potter!" he ordered Lucius. "In case he still has the wand on his person … in case your incompetent SON is mistaken. I MUST have his wand for the ritual... "

Lucius Malfoy's hands traveled quickly over Harry's immobile body, feeling for the telltale length of one holly-and-phoenix-feather wand. The man turned out all of the Gryffindor's pockets, casting the usual bits and pieces of a teenage boy's daily life upon the dewy grass. His pale eyes stared into Harry's emerald ones and, for a moment, Harry relished the fear he could see there – fear of becoming the bearer of bad news… Lucius clenched his jaw briefly before speaking. "I'm sorry, my lord, but Potter's wand is not upon him. It must be as Draco said – "

Lucius was shoved aside so abruptly he nearly fell over.

Voldemort himself now bent over the varied belongings scattered before the Levitating Gryffindor. "It MUST be here… All my plans depend on it… " His Lumosed wand suddenly reflected back at him from the ground. "What's this?"

The Darkest Wizard straightened, holding a small round mirror between his fingertips. "Are you so vain, Harry, that you need to carry a mirror upon your person?" Voldemort smiled mockingly, holding the mirror up for all to see, and several of the Death Eaters laughed as if on cue. But then –

"I … detect magic," said Voldemort. "What sort of mirror is this, Harry? The magic feels … quite … Dark." Curiously, he peered at the mirror, trying to make out the faint markings burned lightly into the sturdy wooden frame. "What does this mirror do? And why would the 'hero' of the Wizarding world need to carry a Dark artifact? Speak, boy!"

Voldemort waved his wand, and suddenly Harry coughed and gasped for breath before he was able respond to the snake-like man's command.

"I didn't know it was Dark," he blurted defensively. "I just found it. On the ground in Diagon Alley. Like someone else had dropped it."

"Did you, indeed?" Voldemort's pale brow rose, crinkling his scaly skin. "And what does it do?"

"I don't know." Harry's own eyebrows indicated a shrug, and he shook his head, trying to avoid eye contact with the Legilimens. He hoped his words would ring with truth when he said, "I didn't know it was Dark, and I don't know how it's supposed to work. I just picked it up because I thought it might be handy to have a mirror to use when the Gryffindor bathroom gets too crowded – "

The circle of Death Eaters burst out laughing, and Harry felt his face go hot. At least, by moonlight, his blush would appear gray, rather than bright red.

"Harry, Harry, Harry… You amuse me, truly you do! It's quite a pity to have to kill you tonight. I wish I could keep you on – as my court jester."

Laughter rang out around the circle once again.

"In your DREAMS," Harry sneered.

"SILENCIO!"

Voldemort's harsh shout faded away across the silent, silvery landscape, and Harry found himself muted again. The odd thought crossed his mind that this was the second time Voldemort had merely Silenced him, instead of casting the more-expected Cruciatus Curse. In one way, it was a relief, but Harry knew the delay was only temporary. Voldemort obviously wanted to keep him unharmed and fresh for the worse tortures of the upcoming ritual. And if Harry's wand comprised a crucial component for that ritual, Voldemort would undoubtedly send Snape to Hogwarts to find and fetch him the wand. Would that be Snape's opportunity to alert the Order? Although, one would think he should have already done it. If Snape was truly loyal to Dumbledore, that is…

The Darkest Wizard's pale, spider-like fingers held the mirror at arm's length in his left hand, and Voldemort peered intently at the reflection of his moonlit features, his red eyes glowing as he waited for the mirror to reveal its secrets…

As the minutes passed, the watching Death Eaters began to move restlessly – nothing obvious individually, but tiny movements multiplied by the number of onlookers caused a sensation of faint, constant motion beneath the circle of black robes as the masked men observed their master.

For his part, Voldemort continued to stare into the tiny mirror, waiting for something to happen.

Still dangling in mid-air, Harry's thoughts were his own for the moment, and the image of Mrs. Norris crouching patiently to the side of a mouse hole flitted across his mind. Like Voldemort – waiting, waiting, waiting…

"Ahhh… "

Voldemort's sudden exhalation stilled the Death Eaters as effectively as a mass Petrificus Totalus would have done. They watched as Voldemort brought the small mirror closer to his face, the better to view his reflection.

Harry had been watching the Darkest Wizard from the side, but his view abruptly altered, and he realized he was now seeing Voldemort's reflection through Voldemort's own eyes.

The scaly face blurred several times within the confines of the wooden frame, and the slitted red eyes of the reflection glowed with an evil knowledge that Harry felt Voldemort trying to comprehend.

"Show … me … everything… " whispered the Dark leader.

In response, the pale reflection backed off until Harry could make out the reflection's full figure. Strangely, the reflection was not that of a full-sized man – not that of Voldemort's reconstituted physical being – but the size of a scrawny, naked toddler with an adult-sized head. Below the pale face which grinned back at Voldemort like a Death's Head, the scaly body seemed twisted into impossible, permanent contortions. Misshapen limbs went off at odd angles from the emaciated torso, and the long bones themselves appeared to have suffered multiple, debilitating fractures.

As the reflection shuffled along despite the sickening torsions, the disgusting image's visible flesh began peeling off in long, bloody strips, leaving the reflection to ooze a tangible darkness from the rawness revealed. All the while, the mocking figure continued to grin and shuffle, grin and shuffle and ooze, grin and –

"WHAT IS THIS?" shouted Voldemort, his eyes fixed upon the horror reflected in the mirror. "What is the MEANING of this! Who ARE you?" he demanded of the hideously-grinning image.

The reflection pushed in close again, the slitted red eyes glowing evilly at Voldemort as they stared out of the mirror at him.

Caught inside Voldemort's mind, Harry felt himself retching at the sight of such unadulterated, deliberate evil looking him straight in the eye…

"I'm YOU!"

The words screamed in Voldemort's mind – or was it Voldemort himself screaming? – as the Death's Head laughed and laughed and laughed in the mirror…

Harry sensed Voldemort trying to drop the mirror, trying to fling it far aside, but his pale fingers felt glued to the wooden frame and he could not look away from the horrors playing out on the other side of the glass –

The slitted eyes burst into ruby flames as the Death's Head laughed shrilly –

The flayed, oozing, distorted body enveloped itself in thick sheets of crimson fire –

The endless, hideous laugh shredded itself into a leaping scarlet pyre upon which the burning body leapt with maniacal joy –

From amidst the flames, the burning red eyes scorched Harry's soul as the words repeated themselves with evil glee – "I'm YOU!"

A sudden fierce pain in Harry's hand flung him back into his own body, and he watched in shock as scarlet flames erupted from the mirror still clutched in Voldemort's pale, spidery fingers. Voldemort screamed as the flames caught the sleeve of his robes. Frantically, the Darkest Wizard shook his left arm, trying to rid himself of the burning mirror, trying to extinguish the flames leaping along the sleeve covering his own Dark Mark…

As his black robes caught alight, Voldemort spun in panic, faster and faster, a flaming tornado scorching crimson in the night, still clutching the mocking mirror in his outstretched, blackening hand…

Death Eaters shouted in alarm – a few even attempted to drench their master with Aguamenti – but nothing could quench the burning whirlwind careening beneath the impassive, silver moon.

As their master went up in flames, nearly half of the Death Eaters fled in terror, their cracks of Disapparition echoing off the empty hillsides. The flaming tornado left a trail of fire burning through the grass, and the few Death Eaters who remained were forced to dodge this way and that as the whirling column of fire veered toward them, first one, then another, as if seeking their aid.

Suddenly, the whirlwind made a beeline for Harry, who still hung helplessly suspended under Lucius Malfoy's spell. Horrified, voiceless, the boy saw the fire spinning toward him, felt the heat of the flames singeing his skin before Snape Summoned him out of harm's way.

Seconds later, the burning dervish collapsed into a smoldering heap, and a glowing wraith arose from Voldemort's cremated remains. The wraith circled the few wizards who had not taken a frantic leave. They stared upwards into the faint vestiges of Voldemort's furious features.

"Do something!" screeched Bellatrix Lestrange, flinging her mask to the ground as she pointed toward the ghastly spectre of her lord and master. "Snape! Lucius! You have to help him!"

"Go to the Riddle Mansion!" Snape's voice rang out, before Lucius could even gather his thoughts. "Await our master there! We can do nothing here and now," he added, looking from Bellatrix's wild-eyed desperation to the blond Death Eater's hardening resolve. "The Dark Lord was able to return from the dead before – he shall do so again, but we must first discover his plans for his next resurrection."

With those words still ringing in their ears, several more Death Eaters popped away, and the Thing-Which-Had-Been-Voldemort circled the remnant of his followers one final time before swooping inland, leaving the stench of his burning flesh behind.

"What of Potter?" asked Lucius, stripping off his mask, staring into the distance where Voldemort's wraith had disappeared.

Snape slowly turned to look at the Levitated boy through the eyeholes of his mask. "He will be returned to Hogwarts."

"But the Dark Lord – "

"Not now, Bella!" admonished Lucius, glaring at the obsessive dark-haired witch.

"I agree," said Snape. "Our master must regain his strength before he decides how to deal next with Potter. Potter belongs to the Dark Lord. It is not for us to usurp his authority over the boy's fate. In the meantime… "

"Yes," smirked Lucius, "Let Dumbledore continue to keep the Boy-Who-Lived alive and healthy until the Dark Lord can perform the final sacrifice."

"Indeed."

"Draco… "

The younger blond had to clear his throat three times before he could rasp, "Yes, Father?"

Lucius beckoned his son impatiently. "I shall reactivate your Portkey to return you to Hogwarts. Keep it in a safe place until it is needed."

"But what about Potter, Father?" Draco objected. "He knows I have it now. He'll tell Dumbledore and McGonagall, not to mention his nosy – "

"I shall Obliviate him," Snape interrupted. "He will remember nothing of what has transpired here this night."

Bellatrix had finally dragged herself away from the pile of glowing embers, refocusing her attention on the defenseless prisoner. "Poor widdle Potty," she gloated, brushing cold fingertips across Harry's cheek. "Missed out on his own Halloween celebration, and he won't even remember one itty bitty bit about it."

Snape's eyes glared darkly at the woman through the holes of his mask. "Bella, do run along. I hardly think our master will be impressed if he arrives at the Riddle Mansion and his most DEVOTED servant is not there to greet him."

Bella shrugged, her shoulders lifting the wild tangle of her dark hair. "Whatever." She grabbed Harry's upper arm, her fingernails digging painfully through his thin shirt into his flesh, and gave it a rapid yank to send the boy spinning madly in mid-air. "Bye-bye, widdle Hawwy. Sssee you SSSOON," she added, her voice hissing in imitation of her master. With a wild cackle, she turned on the spot and disappeared.

Snape caught Harry by a random elbow and brought the boy to an abrupt halt, although Harry felt he'd left his churning stomach several rotations behind him. "Lucius, would you mind releasing Potter before you depart?"

Without a word, the elder Malfoy waved his wand and Harry toppled onto the cold, wet grass. Seconds later, Draco had disappeared, Portkey in hand, and then Lucius himself Disapparated, after directing a cryptic, "We shall expect you without delay," to Snape.

"Alone at last," Severus Snape mocked quietly as he unceremoniously pulled Harry to his feet. "What the hell kind of mirror was that, Potter?" He yanked off his Death Eater's mask and took a deep breath of the crisp night air.

The Silencing spell had ended when Voldemort's bodily remains had collapsed, and Harry responded, "I honestly don't know, Professor. I did find it on the cobbles in Diagon Alley, just like I told Vol—him. It had strange markings burnt into the wooden frame – " He broke off as he watched Snape poking through the smoking pile of embers.

After several minutes of searching, Snape gave a muffled exclamation and used a long stick to prod a small, flat object from beneath the smoldering pile into the light of the moon.

"Are you really going to Obliviate me?" asked Harry, wondering if he had the strength to make a run for it and how far he might actually get if he tried.

"Quiet, Potter… " Snape's attention seemed totally focused upon the object, which he Levitated to examine more closely without touching it.

Harry slowly approached when he realized what Snape must have found. "Is that the mirror?" And after a closer look from behind Snape's shoulder – "It doesn't even appear damaged! After the fire and everything!"

And, indeed, in the concentrated intensity of Snape's Lumosed wand, the little round mirror appeared exactly as it had when Harry first picked it up. "It should have been charred – cracked – " The Gryffindor's voice reflected his confusion.

"Obviously, the mirror has magical protections," Snape retorted. "Where – EXACTLY – did you find this?"

"Right outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, lying face up on the cobbles. It had been rained on from the night before."

"And how – precisely – did you use this mirror? Aside from noticeably inadequate personal grooming, that is," the dark man added snidely.

Harry hesitated … but then, he really did want to know what had happened to Voldemort, after all. Not to mention, why his mother had appeared in the mirror, and after her defection, why his scar had turned black, then his forehead… "When I looked into it, I saw strange eyes."

"Explain."

Harry shrugged. "I saw my own face, but the green eyes of a stranger. They turned out to be… " He hesitated again.

"Yes?" prompted Snape impatiently.

"I – I know this will sound cracked, but they were my … my mother's eyes," Harry said quietly. "Everyone always said we had the same eyes."

Snape frowned. "How do you know they were … Lily Potter's eyes?"

"She spoke to me," Harry said simply. "We had a lot of conversations… She'd tell me stories… And then, the mirror stopped working. I could only see myself. Mum was gone."

The dark man was staring at him. "Why?"

"I think… " Harry bit his lip. "I think it was because I had sort of figured out the magic of the mirror. Maybe? She said it was an anomaly that we could communicate through the mirror."

"How did you figure out the magic?" Snape demanded, and in the moonlight, his face looked even paler than it should.

"Just something I overheard – between Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. They were talking about someone they knew, and they said something about the eyes being the windows to the soul, and I thought maybe if I looked into this mirror into my eyes – which are identical to my mum's eyes, - it might be like looking through my eyes into her soul… " His voice trailed off. "Anyway, I tried to ask her if that's how the mirror worked, and she vanished and never came back, no matter how hard I tried. And that's all I know, Professor."

Snape stared at him for a moment longer before blowing out his breath and giving a tiny shake of his head. "Do you know what kind of mirror this is, Potter? What the markings on the frame indicate?"

Harry shook his head, glancing sidewise at the mirror.

"This is a Mirror of Self-Awareness. The intended function is to allow an individual who lives in a state of denial a glimpse into his or her own soul, in order to face certain truths which the person doesn't want to admit. This type of mirror was originally developed about a decade ago, and was widely used by Mind-Healers as a shortcut in therapy, but due to unforeseen … side effects … a number of patients lost their sanity as a result. All Mirrors of Self-Awareness were subsequently designated as Dangerous Dark Objects by the Ministry of Magic and ordered destroyed. Apparently, this one somehow escaped the Ministry's notice."

Wide-eyed, Harry stared at the mirror still suspended by Snape's Levitation charm. "So … you're saying … Vol—What's-His-Face couldn't accept seeing who – or what – he really was in this mirror? And he caught fire as a result?" The Gryffindor's voice filled with skepticism. "HOW is that even possible? Sir."

"An excellent question, Harry, my boy."

Even Snape jumped at Dumbledore's unexpected observation.

"Must you arrive so … unobtrusively, Headmaster?" growled the glowering dark man.

"I took an understandable precaution, Severus, given that a number of my silver instruments had suddenly gone quite berserk a short while ago." Dumbledore's lips smiled within his beard, but his blue eyes failed to twinkle. "I've actually been here for a short while. I arrived in time to see Bellatrix take her leave. Since Harry appeared unharmed, which corroborated the readings of other of my silver friends, I decided to hang back and observe the proceedings from a short distance. Would you care to give me a quick rundown about what happened before my arrival?"

Snape's mouth tightened. "Essentially what Potter himself deduced. Draco Malfoy's abduction brought Potter to the Dark Lord. A body search failed to turn up Potter's wand, but it did produce a Mirror of Self-Awareness, which the Dark Lord peered into, screamed, and went up in flames. The fire itself seemed to originate from within the mirror. The other Death Eaters are now awaiting my arrival at the Riddle Mansion, where we will undoubtedly be pressed into service by the Dark Lord's … spirit … to resurrect him into bodily form once again."

"Then you had better run along, Severus," Dumbledore instructed quietly. "And do be careful."

"As always, Headmaster." Snape conjured a small bag and wrapped it around the Mirror of Self-Awareness. Handing it to Dumbledore, he said, "You'll want to destroy this." After a moment's hesitation, he pointed his wand at the smoldering pile of embers. "Obliviate!" Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "In case they check."

"Understood, my boy."

"Was that – " Harry pointed at the oblivious embers, "supposed to be for me?"

In the process of turning on the spot, Snape halted suddenly. "Would you RATHER I Obliviated you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head rapidly, trying to squelch the urge to dodge behind Dumbledore's chuckling figure.

"Watch your back, Potter."

Silently, Snape blinked out of existence.

Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore stood side by side beneath the cold moon. The elderly wizard turned the bagged mirror over in his hand several times before tucking it into a pocket of his embroidered robes.

"Tell me, Harry," he murmured, barely louder than the distant sea. "Do you have questions?"

The younger Gryffindor nodded. "Why was Voldemort's reflection that of a small – like child-sized – person, instead of a full-grown man? I can understand the distortions – he's so sick and twisted inside, that's what he'd see, isn't it? But the reflection in the mirror was no bigger than a toddler… "

Dumbledore looked carefully at Harry's moonlit face. "You saw Voldemort's reflection through his own eyes, didn't you?"

Harry nodded again. "I was inside his mind, seeing what he saw. He didn't understand it at first, but the reflection told him that the reflection WAS Voldemort. And then the reflection begin to burn, and then fire came out of the mirror and caught Voldemort's sleeve on fire, and then the rest of his robes went up … and now he's gone. We saw him go – like I saw him at the end of my First Year … after Quirrell crumbled into dust… But," Harry swallowed, remembering what Snape had said, "he can come back again, can't he?"

"Yes," affirmed Dumbledore, his tone hardening. "He can come back, and he will come back. Much more quickly this time, now that his followers know that it's possible."

"Will he need my blood again?"

Dumbledore put a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. "He would prefer it, obviously, but I believe his main concern will be to resurrect himself first and deal with the niceties later."

"Right." Harry looked at the ground and saw moonlight diamonds crystalizing in the frost forming on the frigid blades of grass. "But the size of his reflection … if the mirror allows you to see into your own soul – "

"You'll be needing this," said Dumbledore, extending Harry's holly wand. "Severus found your wand in the corridor near the library."

"Thank you!" Harry said, clasping his hand around the wand's handle, feeling it warm to his touch. "But the mirror – "

"Let's leave further discussion of the mirror till later, shall we?" Dumbledore said with a decidedly benign smile. "Perhaps during one of our private lessons? Very likely after Christmas," he added firmly. "I should like to do some additional research beforehand."

Harry hesitated, knowing full well he was being put off, then nodded. "Fine, sir. Whatever you say. But I'm really curious about the fire – "

Dumbledore gave an admonishing shake of his silver head. His blue eyes twinkled gray in the moonlight. "Take my arm, Harry. We may be able to catch the end of the Halloween Feast. It would be a shame to miss out on ALL of the sweets, after all."

Harry grinned, tightening his grip around Dumbledore's forearm.

"So, tell me, my boy, how are you getting along in Horace Slughorn's class – "

The two wizards vanished, leaving the gibbous moon to watch over the frosting grass and the softly-sighing sea.

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