AN: Okay folks this is my very first story I've ever written, even in school all my classes focused on essay writing so this is literally my very first venture into creative writing, so go easy on me. I realize its short but I shall try to make future chapters longer.
Harry Potter like in years past sat in the smallest bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive, shrouded in the all consuming darkness that comes just before the dawn. Alone and in the dark is when we as humans are at our most vulnerable, physically and most poignantly in Harry's case 's positive mood from his talk with Luna at Hogwarts was now a distant memory. Harry sat with nothing but his thoughts for company, and like most stagnant minds his was soon analysing and overanalysing the events leading up to this very moment. He was soon overwhelmed with guilt over his decisions of the previous year, not to mention the cost of those decisions. He had made the choice to go to the department of mysteries and in doing so caused his godfather untimely death.
Harry knew hindsight is always twenty-twenty but the demons in his own mind whispered all the things which would hurt him the most, he relived every doubt, every moment of mindnumbing fear, every act of anger,and most crushing was every moment of regret, of what could have been. It was an unending assault, every whisper was accompanied by crystal clear images of his failures, the two most often repeated were that of his Godfather falling through the tattered veil, and Hermione his closest friend being violently struck down before his very eyes. While Hermione had pulled through, his godfather had not and Harry realized that he needed Sirius, not just to ease his own guilt but because he had loved him as the dad he'd never had. They had for a time had each other, to be parted now before they had even truly bonded was even crueler that if they had never met.
Sirius Black, had wanted Harry to be part of his family, to Harry that was an unfamiliar concept, to be wanted. His entire life with the Dursleys had been a life of not belonging, constantly being reminded that he was a worthless burden. The desperation in Harry became as strong as the need to breathe, Harry lurched toward his trunk and flung it open snapping one of its hinges. He rifled though his possessions throwing them every which way without care. He had only one thought and that was to retrieve the mirror, Sirius had said if he needed him, to use it and while it had not worked the first time, it had to work now.
His hand felt around, searching, his sense of touch acting as his eyes within the dark recesses of his trunk. Finally after what seemed like an eternity his hand landed on the cold slick surface of the broken mirror. He retrieved his prize holding it tenderly, with a reverence others would give a blessed relic, which in that moment was exactly what Harry believed it to be. A dam burst within him and soon his glasses were fogged, he set them aside allowing his tears to flow and his vision to be unhindered.
He stared into the largest shard of the shattered two way mirror, hoping, wishing, begging and pleading with all his heart that he could see Sirius one more time. Harry took a shuddering breath and in a whisper that seemed as powerful as the loudest scream he intoned, "Sirius Black" and heartbreakingly naught but his own reflection stared back. He hung his head but then through his red and tear stricken eyes a miracle manifested. There in the mirror staring back at him wonderfully, unbelievably was the guant, tortured face of Sirius Black.
AN: If you think you know what's going on I can guarantee your wrong ;) Thanks for reading.