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It was strange, almost bizarre, that after more than a century, a battle, and the consequent reconstruction, the mythical Mirror of Erised was still in a storage room in the Hogwarts castle. It was a different room, of course, not the same where the just as much legendary Harry Potter had found it, and where Dumbledore modified the mirror, so that it could hide the Philosopher's stone; nonetheless, it was still hidden under a dirty, heavy cloth...until a sad Hufflepuff scholar found it during a lonely, nocturnal stroll through the castle.
It wasn't that she didn't like her sleeping room; on the contrary, the Hufflepuff dormitory was quite cosy, a very welcoming place; there had been a time when the view from the round windows, of dandelions and rippling grass, had filled her heart of sun and happiness. But how could she be happy now, when her heart was shattered?
No spell, no wizardry, no Muggle medicine could have saved her father; she knew it, and her mind had accepted his fate, his imminent death, long before it happened. It was her stupid heart, that couldn't give up, couldn't surrender to the cruel truth: he was gone, and she would never see him again. She feared the looming day when she wouldn't remember the little memories she cherished more: his calm voice, telling her that the breakfast was ready; the gentle touch of his calloused fingers on her cheekbones, drying her tears; his strong embraces every time she had to return to Hogwarts.
Knowing that he wouldn't be there for her graduation, and the other important moments of her future life, had already started to affect first her sleep schedule, then her appetite, and finally her grades. Mary, John, and Greg were worried for her, she knew it; but no words of support, no kind gestures could mend her broken heart. Oh, how she wished to be like Sherlock Holmes! The Ravenclaw despised sentiment, and lived without anguish or sorrow: there was no question about it, Molly was sure.
She was ruminating on those hopeless thoughts, when she noticed an open door. It was strange, she was certain that the last time she had covered the hallway the doors were all closed. Her brain, impatient to find a distraction from her usual gloomy cogitations, prompted her to sneak a peak. Everyone was asleep, even the caretaker was dreaming in his bed...none would see her.
Molly crossed the threshold, and half-closed the door behind her. The room was dark, and full of dust. "Incendio!" she ordered, pointing her wand towards the wall on her left, setting every candle in the chamber alight. The room was crowded with old chairs, broken tables and piled books; the only piece of furniture who seemed out of place was an enormous mirror, partially covered by a grimy blanket. The Hufflepuff exposed the mirror completely: it had clawed feet and an ancient, gold frame with the phrase "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi" carved on it. Molly removed her robe, and used it to clean the reflective surface.
Suddenly, a scene appeared before her eyes: a woman, in her late twenties, was walking down the aisle of a little chapel. By her side was an older man: his hair grey, a pair of glasses on his hooked nose couldn't hide his tears of joy. Oh, his eyes! They were of her same shade of brown, with flickers of gold that enlightened his gaze every time he smiled...she couldn't forget those pair of eyes even if she tried, because they were his father's eyes, and the woman approaching the altar was undoubtedly an older her. She couldn't believe it: she had found the Mirror of Erised, the one which showed the viewer's deepest desire!
She was so captivated by the images, that she didn't took notice of the fact that she was not alone in the room. Sherlock Holmes had followed her like a shadow during her nightly excursion, and had entered, observing her from afar. The Ravenclaw couldn't discern the figures appearing on the mirror's surface, but his keen ears could certainly make out the distressed sobs escaping from Molly's mouth. He started to approach her, stealthily, as it happened every time the patient and modest Hufflepuff was involved; unfortunately for him, his robe got stuck in one of the desks, making him lose his balance and fall head over heels over a stack of old, dusty volumes.
As soon as Molly looked away from the mirror, frightened by the hustle, the images disappeared; it was a real pity, because she was finally to find out who was waiting for her at the altar. She turned towards the intruder, not bothering to dry her tears of happiness.
"Sherlock Holmes, would you mind to explain to me why you are here?!".
"I could ask the same to you..." was his disgruntled answer.
"I asked it to you first..." Molly countered, and the young boy was startled by the unusual firmness in her tone. He took a moment to make up an excuse, and meanwhile he noticed the salty traces of her tears on her cheekbones.
"You were crying..." he murmured, and that notion made his heart squeeze uncomfortably.
"No...well yes, but that's not the point. The point is-".
"That you're sad, Molly Hooper". Sherlock finished her sentence, and Molly glanced down, embarrassed.
"I-I'm not good with this kind of things...Sentiments..." the Ravenclaw started, and took a tentative step towards the Hufflepuff, who moved back. "Mary, John, Greg...even Sally and Philip...they are all worried about you".
"There's no need to. I'm perfectly fine" she lied.
"Aren't you? And why are you wandering through the Castle at night? To exercise?". His sarcasm made Molly want to find a cruel retort, to hurt him...to make him feel a tiny bit of her pain, but she was Molly Hooper, the shy and kind Molly Hooper: she couldn't hurt a fly, let alone the boy she fancied.
She contented herself with a lame rebuttal ("It's not your business, Sherlock Holmes!"), and started to walk away, when his hand on her wrist stopped her exit.
"It's my business!". Sherlock raised his voice, and Molly turned to him, dumbfounded.
"I'm worried about you, too" he confessed. "I know there's nothing we can do to change the past...but I assure you, if it were a spell to bring your father back, I will perform it. For you".
Her unexpected hug caught the Ravenclaw off guard; but after a while, he started to welcom the foreign warmth of her face pressed against his torso.
"Thank you, Sherlock...". His awkward pats on her back made her understand how uncomfortable the situation was for the usually calm and collected Sherlock Holmes. Suddenly she yawned, and she couldn't help but blush at her friend's amused expression.
"i think it's time for you to return to your dormitory...Would you allow me to escort you, Ms. Hopper?". He offered her his arm, and still blushing she accepted it. "With great pleasure, Mr. Holmes".
As they were leaving, behind their shoulder, unbeknownst to them the mirror showed the image of a happy couple of newlyweds, leaving the church under a cascade of yellow confetti.
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