A/N: I'm not sure where I got this idea.

Disclaimer: I own nothing… especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

Mirror, Mirror

Harry's first bit of magical experience at the Burrow had been the magic mirror that had told him to tuck in his shirt. Ever since then, that same mirror seemed to have taken an enjoyment in harassing Harry.

The summer before Harry, Ron and Hermione were scheduled to leave, possibly forever, Harry had walked into Ron's bedroom to find that the same mirror had been lengthened and was standing upright against the wall. Harry peered into it with the slightest bit of concern, for he felt rather foolish in his formal clothes. The wedding was going to start rather soon, and Harry wondered how it would go. He was incredibly nervous, for fear of an attack, but everyone had assured him that precautions were set. The wedding was supposed to be in France, and they would be flooing there. Ergo, Harry didn't see the point of getting all dressed up if he was just going to be dusting ash of his dress robes.

"Comb that hair, Scruffy," The Mirror said in a wheezy voice.

"Oh shut up," Harry growled, for he was not in the greatest of moods. "It doesn't get any neater than this."

"No need to get snappy," The mirror snapped.

Harry rolled his eyes, withdrew his wand, and pointed it at the mirror. It was instantly silenced. Harry chuckled to himself and put his wand away, just as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He could tell it was Ron by the way he dragged his feet. Ron had been rather gloomy in the last few days, for he and Hermione had not really spoken since their stay at the Dursley's. Harry sighed, peering into his reflection as he thought of Ron's feelings towards Hermione and how they were getting him nowhere.

As Ron's steps grew nearer, Harry suddenly got an idea. A really bold, ingenious idea that could possibly get him in trouble if caught. Harry ducked behind the mirror and pointed his wand at his throat. The second after Harry had hidden Ron walked into the room and headed straight for the mirror.

"How do I look?" Ron asked the mirror, straightening his tie.

Harry, who really didn't know what Ron was wearing and could not check, replied, "Very nice."

Harry's charmed voice sounded exactly like the mirror's. He grinned.

"I'm sure that lovely girl will love it, too."

Ron made a sudden spluttering noise.

"Girl? What girl?" Ron said in a rushed, anxious voice. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure," Harry said. "I know more than you think. That pretty brown-haired girl you've got your eyes on."

Ron stepped back from the mirror slightly.

"How did you -?" Ron started, but Harry laughed.

"Ron, I know everything," Harry replied, "I know you've liked her for ages. Just ask her out, I'm sure she'll be more than glad to, er, be with you."

"Do you really think so?" Ron said, "Hey wait, I'm not asking a mirror about my love life."

"Too late, you already did," Harry said, "And I do think so."



"Well she's not acting like it."

"Women can be misleading," Harry said. "She's probably playing hard-to-get."

"Or 'Ron's too thick to notice me, so I'm not going to bother'," Ron replied morosely.

Harry closed his eyes and dug into his brain for an encouraging thought.

"You look great. She'll be pulled to you like a magnet," Harry said.

"What's a magnet?" Ron asked.

Harry fought the urge to hit his head against the back of the mirror.

"Just a Muggle expression," Harry said quickly.


"So why don't you just ask her out?"

"She'll turn me down, of course."

"How can you be so sure?" Harry pressed; his voice was beginning to hurt.

There was a pause, in which Ron stared into the mirror and at his reflection. He wondered whether the mirror was right. After all, it had been put there to point out your shortcomings, no? Only, the shortcomings were supposed to be strictly by appearance. And since when did Hermione even pass by this mirror, anyway?

"I just – hey wait, I am not going to carry on a discussion with an inanimate object!" Ron said loudly.

"Too late."

"That's it! You're going back downstairs!" Ron exclaimed, and went to pick up the mirror.

Harry, who saw Ron's fingers wrap around the edges of the mirror and begin to pick it up, panicked.

"No!" Harry shouted, and Ron let go of the mirror.

"What?" Ron asked quickly, as if there was an emergency.

"I heard her talking to someone," Harry began, not wanting Ron to move the mirror. "I heard her talking to someone about how she likes you, but you'll never notice her. So why don't you pay her a compliment or something?"

Ron made a funny noise and Harry could tell he was thinking. In truth, Hermione had told this to Harry, and it was a conversation he'd have gladly forgone.

"You know what?" Ron said in a voice that made Harry prepare for the worst. "I think you're right. I'm going to go tell her now."

"Brilliant," Harry replied, relieved. "Way to go, lover boy."

"Thanks," Ron said. "Are you sure I look alright?"

"Great. Wonderful. Now go!"

Ron left the room at a quick pace. When Ron's footsteps had almost died away, Harry climbed out from behind the mirror, smirking and congratulating himself on his ingenuity. He turned to face the mirror and took the charm off it.

"Not a word, you, or I'll smash you to bits," Harry warned it.

Just then, Ron came pelting back into the room, a large piece of his hair sticking up.

"Harry? Where were you?" Ron asked bemusedly.

Harry quickly thought something up, struggling not to laugh at his friend's hair.

"I was in the girls' room."

At the suspicious look from Ron, Harry added, "I was just getting a flower pot, but I couldn't find it. Don't worry, Ginny's already flooed to France."

"Right," Ron said, looking relieved. "Okay. I just forgot something in here. How do I look?"

"Er, brilliant," Harry replied, moving his wand behind his back and charming Ron's hair to lie flat. "Great. Wonderful. Let's go."

Ron gave Harry a strange look before the two left the room together, Harry only pausing to wink at the mirror on his way out. The mirror had the last word in the battle.

"Tuck in your shirt, Scruffy."



A/N: Don't ask.